Bsd Fanfic - Tumblr Posts - Page 3
update about this:
It's going to be worked into something ;3
I won't spoil what fic/idea it's going into, but just know that what it's going into is going to be a big project. hehe.
""Chuuya! Why don't you remember me?"" — excuse me I am crying you have no right to do this to me 😭
:3
I'm going to take this as a 'i should eventually make a fic about this sometime' hhehe.
It shall be added to the list of things to be made :D
really random but I laughed when writing this
dosen't exactly spoil anything so I'll share it here <3
If I could, I would've eaten this fanfic
Chapters: 3/10 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dazai Osamu & Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Ozaki Kouyou (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Ambiguous Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya Relationship (Bungou Stray Dogs), platonic or romantic, IDK they care for each other, Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya’s Unconventional Mating Rituals (Bungou Stray Dogs), Case Fic, Disassociation, Memory Loss, mentions of dementia, Mentions of Death, Mystery Ability, Mystery, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, eventually, Lots of hurt before that, Don’t copy to another site, Mental Health Issues Summary:
Dazai is faced with probably the worst case of his entire career.
Nakahara Chuuya no longer cares about him.
Genuinely.
But it’s not his choice and as Dazai hurries to find the ability user behind it, more may be at stake than what he initially believes.
ok, so- I'm working on a short fic and part of it has each member of the DOA holding a flower that best represents them. Yn, I did some reseach but I'm still not exactly sure if what I put matches and I just wanna have the bsd fan's of Tumblr opinion!! ^^
Nikolai = bird of freedom flower
Sigma = white lily
Bram = monkey orchid
Fukichi = poppy
Fyodor = wolfsbane
Uhmm... here's my first actual fic lol, it's only about 1000 words I think? Ima finish the second chapter later. (it's wattpad, know, I'll get ao3 I promise)
Oh yeah it's a little Itty bit gore I think
Dostoevsky's origin story: the first time he didn't die, and the Demon was born
Imagine Fyodor Dostoevsky, young and alone. He is religious. He's faith is his light, he uses it as a compass to navigate through the everyday uncertainty. There are no adults to tell him what's right or wrong. Even if they do, their judgment is tampered with selfish cruelty.
Every so often, Fyodor wonders what makes him so different from other kids. Why is everything that he does is met with cold disdain? Even if he mimics other kids' behavior, adults still see him as a threat. Dostoevsky can't remember doing anything so irreparable that could upset them. But no matter how he tries, the only response to his efforts is disgust.
Maybe, he isn't meant to be loved. At least, right now.
If the family isn't ready to accept him, Fyodor starts looking for the meaning elsewhere. The bible clearly says to honor your parents. But how can he do that if they're so uncaring? Unless this is how it should be, and it's all God's plan.
The older Fyodor grows, the more he forces himself to look past his limited sensations, experiences, feelings. There must be more to the bruises, scars, aches in the stomach, cold sleepless nights. They're all a part of something he has to discover with his mind.
A meaning. He'll grasp it with his bloody fingertips and hold it until they finally feel warm. Until pain in his body will bother him no more.
Eventually, Dostoevsky realizes: it's all part of a trial.
The holy book was right about his parents. He has to respect them for all the efforts they've put in to teach him about pain. They relentlessly test Fyodor's resolve, strengthening his belief in God. They prepare him to become one of his most righteous servants.
This realization helps Dostoevsky cope with everyday struggles. Abuse paired with neglect becomes less painful, when he sees them as a part of a training. They're just shaping him to become better: less attached to his body, no more worried about his earthly life.
When Fyodor finally departs from home, he believes that he knows what God has for him in store. A painful life on earth as a path to Heaven. But still, he sometimes catches himself praying for better days, even knowing, he shouldn't selfishly desire them.
But that's alright. Because Heaven exists. One day, Dostoevsky will be there. He should be grateful for his place in Paradise, the one that's been promised to Fyodor through the suffering God has bestowed.
The only thing is left is to wait for a signal of departure. A moment, when God will call for him, and he'll gladly place his life on the altar.
And then this time comes.
Dostoevsky never forced himself to be careful about who or how he confronted. He was almost curious about which sinner would be the one to lead him to the martyrdom.
Fyodor lived from one plan to another, taking a corrupt society apart, making sure no sin would ever be overlooked or forgotten. He even forced himself not to fear skill users. They were demons all the same, albeit their abilities were quite flashy.
Dostoevsky occasionally wondered what would it feel like to have one of their powers? Maybe, he could enact a bigger change. But he tried to erase thoughts like that. His body, even at its weakest, was still made in God's image. He shouldn't wish any changes or distortions upon this form. Unless, he wanted to be cursed and abandoned by God.
Eventually, Dostoevsky picks an opponent who he can't defeat. He knows it, but the fight is still worthy of risk. He tries his hardest, but that's still not enough.
When a dagger is plunged into his heart, Dostoevsky locks eyes with the enemy and realizes: they're terrified. He almost smiles. His body will die, but the words he has said will hunt them forever, until the end of their days.
Fyodor's chest hurts unbearably, but that's a satisfying finale. His body is screaming its goodbye, but his soul feels lighter. Soon, pain won't be able to claw itself into his flesh. He's waited for it for many years. He's prepared. Is it happiness?
Despite that, part of Fyodor wishes he could stay alive longer, so he could continue his servitude to God. It's a sinful thought. If this moment is meant to be his last, he should comply.
There is so much more to a soul than a life on Earth. The endless beauty of light, the vast landscapes of paradise. Fyodor is ready to see them with his own eyes.
There is so much he'll never miss about his existence. All of his emotions: fear, desperation, grief. They're all soon be gone, caged in his dying body, away from his mind. God will take Fyodor's soul back. It will finally experience the touch of its creator. He will never be alone again. Soon Dostoevsky will be engulfed by a warm wave, leading him away from this reality. Fyodor welcomes a warm embrace of God, a being whose love is bigger than the Universe. He is ready to meet him.
But then He doesn't die. He opens his eyes in another person's body. He survived.
Fyodor almost feels relief, and is disgusted with himself for it. Does he really treasure his life more than heaven? Pathetic.
Dostoevsky lives on. He's forced to stay alive. He doesn't know what to think. Everything seems unreal.
A prolonged life. A second chance. For anyone else, this would be wonderful. A blessing. For him, it turns out to be a tragedy. An ultimate rejection.
Throughout his life, Fyodor was told so many times that he was “strange”, “not human”, “not like others”. But God wouldn't abandon him, right? That's what he believed in.
Now, looking at his new, freshly restored body, Fyodor started to wonder: what if he was the one who was wrong all this time? What if God didn't see him as a human at all? Even Judas died. But he could not.
Why couldn't he see heaven after working so hard to get there? Did he do something so terrible, even death couldn't accept him after that?
Dostoevsky spiraled deep into his mind, obsessively dissecting every bit of his identity. Which part of Fyodor was the one that doomed him to hell, to this earthly suffering forever?
There was only one answer. His special ability.
When Fyodor used to envision his path to Heaven, he calculated everything, except for that. He was simply unaware of being a skill user himself.
It was the most distinguishing element of his existence. The one that couldn't be overlooked easily. It was probably what others thought too, even without realizing it consciously.
“Crime and punishment”, this is how Fyodor decided to call that. It was so inherently inhuman it made others fear him, hate him, hurt him. They sensed that something was deeply wrong with him since he was a kid, even without knowing about his special ability.
This is why they pushed Fyodor away, even when he tried to help. This is why no matter how hard he studied the Bible, he was only a mere “Demon” in their eyes.
And they were right.
Dostoevsky's ability was a truly heretical curse. It dared to define God's plan and distort the time of death that was given to Fyodor by his Creator.
"Crime and punishment ". Like a ticking bomb with a set timer, like a festering wound ready to overflow with rot, it was always inside him, all along. It slept inside the body like a parasite. It curled around his heart like a snake, waiting for it's chance to poison his soul and cast him away from heaven.
Maybe, Dostoevsky always knew it too. That nothing he ever did was good. That's why he's so desperately sought God everywhere. As if trying to ask for forgiveness beforehand.
But could God ever give him that?
Fyodor's “gift” was with him since the moment he was born.
Did it mean that Fyodor had been the “worst sinner who ever lived”? Was he marked as such during the very first second of his life?
Yes, it was probably that.
Everything about Fyodor, even his thinking and breathing, was repulsive. It was a crime. A sin. A disgrace, truly. And staying alive was the punishment he didn't dare to define.
And there was the only way out.
If he's already the greatest sinner, he has to become the greatest martyr, the one who'll make a sacrifice like no others.
Maybe, Fyodor will finally earn the God's forgiveness. God will gift him death, the one that'll reunite him with humanity.
But purifying his own soul won't be enough. God won't forgive him for such a small miracle. His life is barely worth anything. It won't change reality, if he just throws it away and allows his body to perish. He needs more than this to make a change.
What if he purifies all sins? If his ability is the one that's made him evil, made him unworthy of forgiveness, he needs to clear world of all special skills.
It's his responsibility.
It's the only way Fyodor can be forgiven for existing.
If he tries hard enough, God will let him go to heaven.
Dostoevsky will die, and then he'll be finally good enough to stay dead. Forever.
Ranpo loves praise♡
Bottom!RANPO X Top!Fem!READER
| Praise kink, use of "Mommy" and "Baby", submissive Ranpo, creampie |
Ranpo loves praise.
It's so cute seeing a man who seemed so sure of himself be absolutely ruined just by a couple kind words.
Just a little compliment here and there, and Ranpo was putty in your hands.
It was dark that night, the only light coming from the moon itself as it danced its way in through the window. It crept up the floorboards until it reached the two of you.
Ranpo was deep inside of you, fucking you slowly and desperately. He knelt between your legs, his grip loosening and hardening against your thighs, keeping them apart lazily. His eyes were barely open, and in the darkness you saw only bright green slits staring back at you, awaiting your approval.
"Such a good boy, Ranpo, dear..." you cooed, finding the tired rhythm of his movements sweet and cute. He was such a baby, your baby after all. All he wanted all day was your pussy, especially after you'd been teasing him all day with those thigh highs that cupped the fat on your legs beautifully. Several times throughout the day, he thought he was going to cum on the spot everytime you leaned over to hand him some paperwork, or gently caressed your thighs knowing he was watching, or simply walking past, allowing your sweet aroma to fill his nose and in turn his dirty thoughts. But he made it, he was good, and he went the whole day without cumming or jerking off. That deserved a reward.
"Ahn, ah, M-Mommy..." He whined, his approval battery suddenly drained so quickly, desperately asking for more of your delicious praise.
"Yes, Baby?" You asked, as if you didn't already know what he wanted.
"M-Mommy, am-am I doing g-good?" He asked as he tried thrusting into you faster, hoping to please you more. Silly boy, just the thought of him not being enough for you was torture for him. He needed validation, he needed your praise.
"Yes, dear, you're doing so good..." you cupped his cheek with your hand, caressing him lovingly. "So good for me, such a good boy..."
"M-Ma...Mommy...." He moaned, slowly reaching his limit.
That's when you decided to bring in the big guns.
"Such a good boy, Ranpo, fucking me so well. So good for me, so good for Mommy...." you added a couple moans here and there, making sure your voice was as sultry as possible, knowing it made Ranpo go crazy.
His hips started stuttering and his grip on your thighs tightened. "M-Mom-Mommy!! Hah, hah...Mommy!!" He whimpered as he slowly reached his release.
That's when you started tingling all over, his cock reaching your sweet spot more and in a faster pace, you held onto his back to keep him close as you both came together.
Ranpo was breathing heavily now, thrusting in slowly, just once or twice, savoring what was left of that feeling, before slowly pulling out with a grunt.
He looked beneath him to find your pretty little pussy, liquids shining in the moonlight like wet little stars. His cum spilled out of you, overfilling your hole nicely. You put on your panties and let down the nightshirt that had been previously pulled up above your breasts, pulling your beloved into a sweet goodnight kiss.
Ranpo finally caught his breath within your mouth. "Please," He pleaded. "One more?"
"No, no, we have work in the morning, remember?" You said, watching him pout like a spoiled little child, it was so cute to see.
"Reeaaally?" He asked again as you pulled him into the covers. "Yes, really, now go to bed, Kunikida-san will yell at you for making us late."
"Why would it be my fault?!" He whined.
"Cause I'm blaming you, of course!" You teased. "Plus, I'm the one who has to shovel cum out of my pussy and take a pill tomorrow, it's only fair."
"Fine." He pouted, getting under the covers to go to sleep.
"But I know you're just doing this just so I'll be extra horny tomorrow."
"Ah, so I guess you don't need those glasses to deduct me."
"Of course! I'm the greatest detective, you know!"
"Of course dear. Goodnight."
"Hmmph. Goodnight."
As Ranpo slowly fell deeper into his sleep, you caressed him, twisting and twirling his black hair around your fingers as you silently read your book.
Ranpo sure does love praise.
Purpose! AU
Tags: major character death, depressed chuuya, hints of soukoku, hinted dissociative amnesia, decay of angels chuuya, fyodor pretty much wants chuuya to join him lol he's so whipped
I'm planning on drawing for this au too, but the quality of the pictures will be bad if I post them thru my phone. So here's my art account, posted straight from my drawing tablet, it's mostly mha art so far but I'm going to add hints of bsd in there too.
Art acc: @god-shit-girl-art
"Everything you have, and everything you've lost, I'll give it a purpose. Your past, your present, and your future, give it to me. And I will give you purpose."
Chuuya laid achingly amidst the softness around him. Linen sheets and silk pillowcases danced around him on his bed, and yet, he paid them no mind.
A heart can only take so much. But in his case, it seemed as if it had nothing left, nothing to give, nothing to own, nothing to fight for.
It had been 2 months since Dazai mysteriously died. He feels guilty for the fact that he cannot even remember how it happened. The death of his....someone....and his mind couldn't even grant him the decency to remember.
It was like that in cases of trauma. Just like the heart, the mind can only take so much before it breaks. Shattering like a mirror, some pieces will inevitably break apart, never to be seen again.
All he knows is that before he died, however he died, Dazai had used his Ability on Chuuya. And now that he was gone, so was his Ability. Chuuya no longer has the power of gravity manipulation, but for some odd reason, he wasn't mourning over it.
Whether Dazai had left him a note, a phrase, a word, or anything at all, he didn't know. It was all a part of the shattered mirror that was his mind. He couldn't even remember how he died, or if he even left him anything. Part of him wished, prayed, begged for this to all be some sort of scheme, one of Dazai's old tricks. He wasn't dead, no, this is just part of his plan. Somehow, some way he and the ADA will fix this mess, and they'll be together again. Someday, any day now.
....right?
The creak of a large wooden door could be heard from across the room, reminding Chuuya of where he was. He didn't bother getting up, or even looking in its direction. He laid there like a lifeless dog, after losing its owner.
"Nakahara Chuuya," came a voice. Deep and laced with an accent. Chuuya knew who it was, and was half-hoping to hear the sound of an ADA member, telling him to get up and that Dazai needed him for the next phase of his plan.
When Chuuya didn't reply, footsteps answered instead. The sound of hard leather soles against the expensive polished wood, it rang in his ears. He never bothered to really listen to them before.
"I have to admit, it was hard to find you," said the man, tall and slender, his shadow doing justice to his sleek and mysterious nature.
"This penthouse of yours, seems far too big for just one person. However I do believe you'd been visited many a night, correct?"
Asshole.
Did he just call Chuuya a whore?
Perhaps it was the thinly veiled insult, or how Chuuya just realized that a powerful enemy whose strength outweighed his own was now in his bedroom, but the ginger found the strength to sit back up. However slowly and groggily, with his hair a red-orange mess that framed his face and a dress shirt unbuttoned across his chest. His blue eyes seemed more grey, now that Fyodor looks at it. Were they always this dull?
"What do you want you anemic son of a bitch," Chuuya said, it wasn't a question.
Fyodor didn't answer. Instead the two stared at each other, one with eyes posing no threat and one with eyes that couldn't pose any even if it wanted to. In his mind, the Russian compared the man's blue-grey eyes to that of an empty glass. Nothing to give, nothing but potential.
"Dazai's dead." Chuuya said finally. His voice was hoarse and he could taste his thick saliva. How long had it been since he brushed his teeth or combed his hair? Was he wearing the same clothes he did that day 2 months ago? Or was it that night?
"I am aware, yes." Fyodor said, his voice and demeanor unwavering. What did this asshole want?
Chuuya looked down, facing his hands that laid aimlessly on his knees, legs folded, blankets ruffled and forgotten. There were wounds on them. Why were there wounds on them?
"However, I am not here for him."
Chuuya looked back at the dark-haired man, noticing a change in his attire. His coat that had once terrorized countless innocents in its dark tone was now white, with dark feathers around the collar. He could barely see what was inside, though.
"You look unwell." He said.
"Yeah? Great, thanks." Chuuya retorted sarcastically. "That's what I was goin' for, actually."
Fyodor chuckled at his comment, voice deep and alluring.
"You know, Chuuya, a man is only as great as his biggest weakness."
"Fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Fyodor maintained his smile, and began walking to the side of the room slowly, leather shoes rhythmically playing the wooden floor like a piano. Slow and steady, each note just like the last. Like it was leading up to something.
"It's a story of power. Lose and obtain. Give and take. Something must be lost in order for another to be found."
Fyodor took one of the floor-length curtains in one of his pale, slender hands. His illuminating lilac eyes remained focused on the redhead.
"You lost one of your biggest crutches," He said. "And in turn, one of your biggest weaknesses. Ride a bicycle with training wheels, and you'll never truly learn to ride without them."
"Wait a second," Chuuya finally gained the strength to speak again. "Are you talking about Dazai?"
Fyodor nodded, as if he was happy to hear Chuuya was on the right track.
"The man was a necessary loss. The final stepping stone to your metamorphosis. Because of him, and everyone who you've lost before, you now have the choice to become something greater."
"And what's that?" Chuuya scowled. "Another one of your chess pieces? Another pawn to your sick little game? Dazai is dead, you've won. What more could you possibly want from me?"
"Ah, you take the king away," Fyodor said, "but the queen still has all the power."
With that, his hand flew to the side, opening the curtains wide enough to see the world below it, the world outside. Cars and streetlights, people out on the town, the moon shining just as bright as before, as if nothing had changed.
"Even without your Ability, I believe you still have the potential to create more," He said, staring up into the stars.
Chuuya emerged from the darkness of his canopy bed, the first time he stood on his own two feet in ages. He walked to Fyodor's side, entranced by the light of the moon.
"Ah, how fitting for it to be a third quarter tonight." Fyodor said.
"A what?"
"A third quarter. Only half the moon is visible tonight, the other is shadowed in the dark. And yet, it's still just as beautiful, no?"
Fyodor faced Chuuya, albeit having to look down a little bit to look him in the eye.
"Everything you have, and everything you've lost, I'll give it a purpose. Join me, give me your past, your present and your future, trust it with me and I will give you a new purpose."
Fyodor stretched his hand out to Chuuya.
"Together, the moon will shine even brighter than before."
"What do you say, Chuuya Nakahara?"
Some added changes to my Purpose! AU which featured brief DOA! Chuuya then moves on to ADA! Chuuya (bro is moving around organizations like PARKOUR!!)
So how Chuuya gets affiliated with the DOA-
I don't have all the details yet and I prefer to keep them more vague in the au since I genuinely have no idea which direction this story will go and I'd like to keep my options open-
But in some way either:
Fyodor kills Dazai
OR
the Port Mafia has some part in dazai's death (chuuya is not involved) like they refuse to aid the ada or just outright have the chance to save him but don't
(Likely due to something said in the earlier seasons where mori was scared dazai would kill him to assume his position as Port mafia boss)
If fyodor were to kill Dazai, it would take place a little after he takes over Bram's body, and to keep it EXTRA juicy Dazai is killed by falling off a roof, and somehow Chuuya isn't able to use his ability to save him. The one time this godforsaken ability would have helped him, it only aided in the loss of someone important yet again.
Fyodor gets Chuuya to join by saying that a world without his ability would free him from the burden of it, as well as proving that he and arahabaki are separate entities, meaning he is in fact human.
He also ties in how having this ability only brought him to the loss of all the important people in his life, and the loss of Dazai is kind of like the last straw
If the Port Mafia were to have a part in Dazai's death, chuuya would realize that his loyalty to Dazai is greater than his loyalty to the Port Mafia and leave of his own volition, no emotional Manipulation necessary. Joining the Decay of Angels would mean that his ability, as well as the abilities that in his eyes only bring more problems into this world, will one day disappear, and maybe he can finally live the normal, human life he earned.
Either way, it ends with a not-fully-healed-but-on-his-way-there chuuya joining the ADA in Dazai's place. He starts to resemble Dazai more, like with a slightly calmer, looser, free-er demeanor and even donning his tan trench coat. In this au, dazai and the others chuuya lost are to chuuya the way odasaku and ango are to canon dazai--they are the stepping stones that lead him to the light, the reason he joins the side that saves people.
I'm planning on drawing some of this au but on my art account, @god-shit-girl-art , so if you wanna see these ideas in picture form, you can follow me there!! I also wanna get some feedback on this au especially how you guys would prefer the way dazai dies, either by fyodor or by the PM. I haven't really decided yet and I'm not exactly sure what would be more in character for chuuya's writing. I may start a poll too
Red Man In The Shadows
Yandere Dazai X Reader
"Did you really think you would get away that easily, Belladonna?"
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Tags: Yandere Dazai, failed escape attempt, hinted kidnapping, Atsushi gets hurt in the crossfire, Manipulation, reader does subconsciously love Dazai, blood, stabbing, reader gets stabbed, use of "Y/N"
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[Atsushi: pls meet me at the warehouse tonight.]
The text was simple and direct. Two things Atsushi never was.
It came out of nowhere. You two weren't the type to text, other than the occasional "I'm here" and "be there in 5."
Ever since he had found you at Dazai's apartment, cold, fatigued and starving, he had preferred to stay close to you, thus, no need to text.
You had just started working at the agency a year ago. It had been over 13 months since then, and 5 months since you had mysteriously disappeared without a trace. And now, just 3 weeks since your rescue, you had started getting used to the feeling of being guarded. Being safe.
Dazai had left you in that apartment a couple months after taking you there. Had it been a punishment for misbehaving, or a way to evade blame and the law, or just one of his old mind games he loved to play on you, you had no idea. You had gone days, maybe more than a week without food, water, or electricity before Atsushi found you. Starving, cold, and confused, the agency took you back in like a helpless little dog who'd lost its owner. As for Dazai, they'll burn that bridge when they come to it. They know by now that that man was like a cockroach, sometimes he's here, sometimes he's not, but you'll never truly get rid of him.
The warehouse was cold and smelled like the nearby river. No lights, no people, just the moon and the sounds of water pushing against the structures above it. All this felt a little too familiar, and you were just about to leave, until you heard a voice.
"Leaving so soon?" It said. It was a voice you knew all too well, and hoped you would never hear again.
You didn't even need to look behind you to feel the dread of knowing who it was.
The sound of slow footsteps made its way to you like a snake following its prey. The man walked to your side, slender hand on your shoulder, before he finally decided to make his presence known. To make you look at him.
He played with your hair as you stared down at your feet. No, you thought. Not again.
"Hmm? What's wrong, dear? You look like you've seen a ghost!" His voice was still as cheery as it always was, but there was something else there. A hint of anger.
"I don't know why you're acting like this, I'm the one who should be upset. After all, you did betray me, didn't you?"
It was like it was a question. Like when your mother asks you if you did something wrong, even though she knows you did. She didn't need to ask, she just needed you to know she knew what you did.
"Please," you said softly, your voice almost breaking, tearing at the seams. "Leave me alone."
"Huh?" He said. "That's not very nice. I'm just happy to see you is all!"
"No you're not." You spat back, still with a hint of fear and dread in your voice. "You're angry. I know when you're angry. You can't trick me anymore, I know all your moves."
Dazai looked at you with a curious expression, or at least that's how it felt. You were still looking down at your shoes, wondering if they would weigh you down if you ran for it right now. The cold air of the warehouse spit on your skin like little needles. It hurt, but you had other priorities right now.
Dazai stood upright. "Well, guess there's no point in the theatrics now." He said with a sigh. He grabbed onto your arm and dragged you in the other direction. At this point you knew better than to try to fight. Letting him guide you, you kept your eyes to the ground before you finally got a whiff of it. The smell of blood.
Finally you looked up. The scent was strong and came from right behind you. Dazai stopped walking suddenly, and your nose became familiar with the scent. The scent of Atsushi.
You turned around to find your friend soaked in red, tears in his shirt and pants, and blood staining his hair and the ground below him. The blood was dry, meaning he had been there for a while.
"I-I don't understand." You stammered softly. "His ability...he should have regenerated by now..." it took you less than 5 seconds to find the culprit, although it should have already been obvious. You finally looked up at Dazai, at the psychotic man who hurt your friend.
"You canceled out his ability..." your eyes were as big as saucers, and your teeth began to chatter.
"You thought you could run away from me." He said, voice low and deep. His cheerful expression was gone, he wasn't even looking at you. His whole front side was covered in a shadow, as he was facing away from the only source of light you had at that moment: the moon. "But you can't. And because of you, a good man may die tonight."
"No..." you whispered, looking back at the bloody, battered man laying in front of you. "I didn't do this, it wasn't my fault, you were the one who-!"
"Had you just stayed put and waited for me," Dazai's voice was laced with venom as he took a step towards you. "Had you just rejected his outstretched hand this wouldn't have happened. Now you must take responsibility for his death. This is all on you, Y/N-chan. You did this."
You couldn't even look the man in his dreadful, venomous eyes anymore. His gaze hurt more than it should have.
"But you can fix it." He said. You looked back up at him with hope in your eyes and he handed you a knife. "End his misery, Y/N-chan. Finish what you started."
You took the knife in your hands and walked slowly towards the body. His chest rose and fell slightly, he was still breathing, but surely he was in pain. He was at death's door, all you had to do was ring the bell. Then this will all be over.
"I-I can't!" You said, turning to face the man behind you. "I can't do it, Dazai-san! He was good to me! He was my frie-"
"If he was your friend, you would want his pain to be over." Dazai took a big step before you and spoke with a voice as sharp as a blade.
"You have to pay the price for your actions, Y/N-chan." He said.
You looked down at the knife in your hands, and slowly pointed it at Dazai. A small sense of power crept into your soul. All he did was scoff.
"Someone's feeling brave," He said as he stepped closer and closer, until the knife poked at his chest.
"If you want to, you can do it." He whispered, a sense of seduction in his tone.
"After all, I did so many things to you back at that apartment. Your anger may be justified. But it doesn't erase everything you did to that poor boy."
"I didn't do anything." You said. "I was kind to him. He helped me. I didn't have anything to do with what happened to him."
"Play the blame game all you want," He said, "but there's still a body on the floor."
"There's about to be one more," you said. The blade poked deeper into his chest until a trickle of blood seeped out, but all Dazai did was smile.
"Go on, Belladonna." He said with a chuckle. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "kill me."
One breath. And then another. And then before you knew it the knife in your hands slowly disappeared from view.
You couldn't do it. You couldn't kill Dazai. You didn't know why, after everything he did, he definitely deserved it, but a part of you held the knife back. A part of you wanted to stay with him.
"Good girl," he whispered, taking the knife from your hands as you let go of it without a fight. Suddenly, a cold, sharp pain entered your abdomen and blood spilled from your own lips. Despite that, he held your chin and kissed you, tasting the liquid pain inside.
Once he let go, his lips were tinted red.
"Let's go, Belladonna." He said, as he slowly pulled the knife from your stomach. Your knees buckled, and now you were leaning on him completely. The man took you in his arms and carried you, walking out of the warehouse with you bleeding onto his vest and leaning on his chest.
"Rest, darling." He said as you slowly fell into a deep slumber. He was saying something else, but you couldn't hear.
Meanwhile, Atsushi watched you go, barely even alive.
END
unfinished soukoku oneshot :) (let me know if i should finish it lol)
1.4k words, hurt/comfort, touch starvation + touch aversion “What the hell did you do?” The redhead snapped, finding himself frustratingly frozen in place. Despite their mask, the assassin seemed to smirk. “It takes a bit to set in. Don’t let anyone touch you, unless you want to have even more blood on your hands.” Panic and confusion took twin positions in the forefront of Chuuya’s mind. “The hell does that mean, you crazy bastard?” Their smirk widened, hand slipping off of Chuuya’s wrist. “Don’t worry, you’ll survive it. I’ll let you put the rest together.” or, Chuuya gets hit by an ability that will kill anyone who touches him. This isn't a problem until a mission requires Corruption.
It all began on a joint mission between the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency.
Of course, it was Chuuya and Dazai who were selected for the task. It seemed like the universe, and the people at their respective organizations seemed outright determined to place the two in close proximity whenever possible.
Most times, they both played up a practiced annoyance at having to even set eyes on one another, sending harsh quips back and forth in a public and dramatic fashion. It felt normal to the both of them, in a way that nothing else had in a long time.
The mission was excruciatingly simple. Perhaps that is what makes how desperately wrong it went all the more difficult to comprehend.
Everything was going smoothly, between the lack of any alarms being raised and a successful kidnapping of a certain powerful figure-- there was even a clear escape route. Until, of course, Dazai decided to peek around the man’s office.
“Idiot!” Chuuya had stage-whispered, still occupied with keeping their target from trying to escape. “We need to get going, there’s no time for your stupid ass to go snooping.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dazai replied, languidly coming to rest his arm on the desk and leaning over with a taunting smirk. “You’re almost as particular with your plans as Kunikida.”
For some reason, Chuuya had gripped harder onto the arm of the man they were intending to kidnap, enough to make him let out a muffled cry of pain into the duct tape over his mouth.
“Let’s just go,” The redhead had ground out through his teeth. “Come on, bastard. I’m sure you can handle not being a selfish ass one damn time.”
Not sensing the change in Chuuya’s demeanor, or perhaps just choosing to ignore it altogether, Dazai had continued a lazy stroll around the office, pulling file cabinets open and leafing absently through the papers held within them.
“We have plenty of time,” The detective had said, waving a hand at Chuuya in a gesture that could only be described as dismissive. “Feel free to go on without me, now that the mission’s completed. I’ll go back to the Agency later.”
Without thinking, Chuuya had scoffed aloud. When he spoke, it was as though his every word were a blade dipped in venom. “Great to know you’re still the same old Dazai.”
The words themselves wouldn’t have been enough to give the brunette even a moment of pause. No, it wasn’t until the end of the sentence that Dazai even really registered what his former partner was saying. Something in the way the redhead said Dazai’s name like it was a curse, like it was something that disgusted him to even say, had set something heavy with hurt and anger in Dazai’s chest.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Dazai had straightened, setting the papers down and taking a step towards where Chuuya was by the window.
Chuuya, being fractionally more insightful than Dazai, had realized that somewhere along the course of the conversation, their mostly-playful bickering had dissolved into something more serious, something harsh and angry that they hadn’t fallen into since Dazai had left the Port Mafia.
That didn’t mean he was going to stop.
“It means,” He said through gritted teeth. “That even though you’ve run off to play pretend and try to be the ‘good guy,’ you’re still the same exact asshole that I knew.”
Dazai’s gaze sharpened, and if it were directed at anyone other than Chuuya, it would have struck a lightning bolt of fear through whoever was unfortunate enough to be met with it.
That won’t work on me, dumbass, Chuuya thought, but did not say. Nothing you can threaten me with will ever hurt more than when you left.
“Why are you doing this?” The brunette asked, not quite hiding the way his fists clenched in his jacket pockets.
Because I want to hear you talk again. Even if it’s to shout at me and call me a hundred terrible things, I would tear the world down to hear your voice for just a moment longer.
“Just trying to make you pause and actually look at yourself for a minute,” Chuuya says instead, forgetting all about the hostage and the mission and any semblance of discretion. “Making sure you’re not deluding yourself into thinking you’ve changed even a little bit.”
A stab of something pierces Chuuya’s chest at the way Dazai’s expression shuts down, the way the angry light behind his eyes falls further and further away, growing colder and duller until it’s gone.
And suddenly, Chuuya is faced with the same dead eyes that Dazai had worn every day of his life when he was still with the Port Mafia.
In truth, the redhead had been painfully aware of how much Dazai had changed since joining the Armed Detective Agency. How he had been more lively, easier to talk to, and seemed to maybe have a trace of happiness behind the cold shell Chuuya had always known the brunette to be.
It wasn’t until all that was gone in an instant that Dazai’s former partner realized just how much had changed.
“Maybe you’re right.” Dazai said. Not an accusation, nor a question. More of an observation, something forged in neutrality and designed to pierce Chuuya’s heart.
I did this. He realized, all notions of continuing this argument leaving his mind at once.
“Maybe I am.” The words tasted like poison on his tongue, coppery like the nail he felt himself hammering into the coffin where their partnership rested.
Dazai nodded, and that was when all hell broke loose.
All at once, the hostage had taken advantage of Chuuya’s brief moment of vulnerability to wrench himself from the man’s strong grip, rolling onto the floor and making his way under the desk. On instinct, Chuuya lunged for him, only to find himself stopped by a harsh, unforgiving hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him back.
His mouth opened to snap at Dazai, because who else would dare distract him from their mission? The word died in his throat when he was met with a masked face disconcertingly close to his.
“Who the fuck are you?” Chuuya gritted out, trying futilely to wrench his wrist out of their grip.
After a tilt of their head, they whispered a few words that were muffled by their mask, and suddenly an overwhelming dread whited out Chuuya’s mind.
“What the hell did you do?” The redhead snapped, finding himself frustratingly frozen in place.
Despite their mask, the assassin seemed to smirk. “It takes a bit to set in. Don’t let anyone touch you, unless you want to have even more blood on your hands.”
Panic and confusion took twin positions in the forefront of Chuuya’s mind. “The hell does that mean, you crazy bastard?”
Their smirk widened, hand slipping off of Chuuya’s wrist. “Don’t worry, you’ll survive it. I’ll let you put the rest together.”
Chuuya still couldn’t move.
…
When next he came to, it was to the familiar feeling of being in a moving car. His eyes fluttered open slowly, lightheadedness bringing a strange cotton-like feeling to his mind.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Dazai’s voice came floating through the car, barely loud enough for Chuuya to even comprehend. “Care to explain what happened in there?”
“Not r’ly.” The redhead muttered, curling himself towards the window.
“Not an option.” Dazai shot back.
Why is he pushing this? Chuuya thought miserably, head pounding as he pressed his temple against the window.
“Because,” Come the answer, and oh, Chuuya said that out loud. “You froze up when that assassin got you, and promptly passed out as soon as they left.”
Before the redhead can even attempt to formulate an answer, the detective cuts him off.
“And every time I tried to carry you out, you flinched and started pleading that I don’t touch you.”
Fuck. There went Chuuya’s chances of hiding this particular incident.
“Explain.” Dazai’s tone left no room for argument.
“Fucker hit me with ‘n ab’lity,” The redhead tried to explain with his leaden tongue.”Said nob’dy could touch me.”
There was a pause. “And you just took their word for it?”
“F’ck off, Dazai,” Chuuya really didn’t have the energy to deal with his former partner being disappointed in him. “No point risk’ng it.”
There was a pause, and for a moment Chuuya let himself believe that maybe Dazai had actually respected his judgment and let something go for once.
“I’ll research abilities that have restrictions on touch,” Is what the detective says when he eventually does speak. “We’ll get you out of this, Chuuya.”
Chuuya doesn’t think he’s being too delusional when he hears a promise woven into the words.
Dazai and atsushi both try to kill themselves on the same roof, at the same time
Tw for su!cide obviously
This is pretty bad but in my defense it's like, 2am right now.
Word count: 457
----- ------- ------- -------- --------- ------
It was a sad night, nothing particularly bad had happened, and it hadn't been raining, it just felt sad.
Dazai stood on the edge of the rooftop. He was hoping to finally succeed in killing himself. He'd been trying for years but luck had never seemed to be on his side, but tonight, tonight he would succeed. It was a perfect night for a suicide attempt, dark, cloudy, a little bit foggy, no one would interrupt him tonight.
He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the fall. He took a small step closer to the edge, this was it, finally. Just as he was about to fall he heard the door to the roof creak open. Turning around. He saw a familiar head of white hair staring at him.
"..Atsushi? What are you doing here?"
Atsushi didn't respond, he was trying to gather his thoughts. He had finally worked up the courage to do it, he'd wanted to just give in and kill himself for years, but he always got too scared and stopped before he did anything fatal.
"Atsushi?" He was snapped from his thoughts by Dazai calling his name.
"Oh- uh, y-yeah, Dazai?"
"What are you doing up here this late, Atsushi?"
"Oh, right, me. I'm.. I'm here to.. uh-" he hadn't considered the idea that someone could be here already so he hadn't bothered to come up with am excuse for if he got caught. "I- I'm here to enjoy the view! Yeah, the beautiful night sky! Isn't it great from up here! Ha...ha." He knew that he was not convincing anyone with that pathetic excuse, especially Dazai, who already figured out what was going on.
"..The view is nice from up here, you're right, although, I'm sure that's not actually why you're here, is it?" He sits down a few steps from the edge, patting the ground next to him to signal for Atsushi to sit next to him.
Atsushi sighs, "You're right, it's not."
"I assume you're here for the same reason as me, right?"
Atsushi doesn't respond and Dazai takes that as a yes.
"Well, I guess if neither of us are gonna succeed tonight there's no point in being here, huh?" Dazai stands up and stretches, and Atsushi follows after a moment.
"I guess not."
"Man, all this trying to kill myself has really made me hungry, let's get something to eat and..talk a bit, sound good Atsushi? My treat~!"
"Yeah... let's do that."
And with that, the two of them made their way down the building and out to find some restaurant that's still open at 2am.
Maybe tonight hadn't worked out the way they wanted it to, but it still worked out in the end.
bsd fic idea I had a while ago!!
Atsushi finds out that the orphanage is doing the same thing they did to him to another kid and decides that no one deserves to suffer the way he did and saves them.
Now he has to deal with his life at the agency and raising a kid that no one knows about (he like, idk, rescued them in the middle of the night or sum, and kyouka lives either on her own or with yosano or something idkk)
I think it would be interesting
It would probably start with the rescue, and then a bit of fluff/the kid getting comfortable and then either the agency or akutagawa would find out and then maybe there'd be more fluff or something
If you are in the bungo stray dogs fandom, like soukoku (if u don’t like skk what the fuck is wrong with u are u homophobic??/hj), and HAVENT read I Was Screaming Your Name through the Radio you need to fix that. I just finished it, it’s fucking perfect, like actual perfection. I was struggling so hard to keep a straight face reading the last chapter in the car next to my brother mentally I was screaming and dying in gay/pos.
read it
here I’ll even give you the link
Be gay, do bad flirting
STOP THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I PICTURED IT WHEN I WAS READING IWSYNTTR THIS IS SO PERFECT WTF
With my zero knowledge of graphic design, but with a lot of caffeine in my body and an unhealthy obsession with I was screaming your name through the radio, I tried to design the cover and back cover of Double Black :)
when ur reading a bsd au and u STILL get surprised when miraculously ✨odas alive✨ as if fanfic isn’t the exact place for people to try and heal from the trauma of bungo stray dogs via fix it fics
Imagine an AU where everyone saw in black & white until they met their soulmate, then they saw colors for the first time.
Cue Dazai being kicked into a wall & upon opening his eyes the first colors he sees are within flaming red hair & piercing bright blue eyes. A green jacket hugging the kids figure as his foot remains planted on Dazai’s chest.
Chuuya sees stark white bandages across one eye and beneath an ill fitting white dress shirt. Dark chocolate colored locks. One honey brown iris with flecks of maroon shining in the sunlight. A black coat lying beneath him.
They both freeze for a moment, staring intently at each other, eyes blowing wide at colors they've never seen before.
Then they make eye contact, holding it for one beat, then two.
Then slowly it dawns on them what this means and, of course, their expressions move from awe to irritation. They bicker immediately, neither of them willing to give into fate.
Chuuya scoffs. "Oh fuck no, no way my *soulmate* is some shitty kid from the fucking mafia."
"How eloquent. As if such a tiny, brutish *slug* could ever be *my* soulmate." Dazai mocks in return.
Bonus points if the colors fade when they’re not together, until they accept they’re soulmates that is.
┊DRUNKEN NIGHT IN YOUR ARMS┊˚✧
┊ONE SHOT┊NAKAHARA CHUUYA X GN!READER┊
Chuuya birthday special, attempt on fluff (prolly failed womp womp), 838 words, unedited
warnings: ooc(?), cringe :3, alcohol, Chuuya being drunk-ish, cuddling, so much cringe I would be ashamed of this in the future
(a/n): This is the first work I publish on Tumblr help... Didn't know what I was doing tbh js winging it w a few ideas from my readers on Quotev
Birthdays weren't celebrated in the Port Mafia.
You knew that, but a little something for Chuuya won't hurt.
“What’s this?” Chuuya asked, staring at the white box with a loose lid that you placed on his lap. It was a fairly large one, decorated with a red ribbon on top.
“Open it,” you smile, taking a seat next to him.
Chuuya had just returned home, after a long day. The first thing greeting him was you knocking on his door and pulling him over to sit on the couch, before handing a giant box to him.
“Is there a bomb in here or..?”
You bit back the urge to laugh. “No, why would I put a bomb in there?”
“I was kiddin’,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, a small smile on his face. He tugged off the ribbon, gently opening the lid, curious on what's inside.
“Ta-da! Happy birthday, Chu!”
Chuuya's eyes widened in surprise, jolting in surprise when the box suddenly moved.
Inside the box was a puppy. A golden retriever to be specific. The puppy was staring up at Chuuya, tail wagging slightly.
“[Name]...” Chuuya called, voice trailing off.
“Hm?” your expression drops for a moment, wondering if you've done anything wrong.
Jokes on you, you did quite the opposite, he loved it. “Thank you,” he mutters, looking adoringly at the pup, gently patting the head.
They say alcohol reveals one's truest feelings.
You guess that it’s true, with Chuuya mumbling off whatever went through his mind.
Hours passed, the clock ticking just after midnight. Chuuya opened a good bottle of Romanée-conti in celebration, though, just a glass down and he's more than a little tipsy.
Intoxicated, Chuuya was leaning over a balcony railing, ranting off. The topic ranges from reminiscence of the past few years, to musings about how much he loves you. The truest thoughts spill easily from his tongue while he's under the influence.
You, of course, remained sober, listening to every single word leaving his mouth.
You noticed he was getting too tipsy, a soft flush appearing on his cheek, barely noticeable under the faint moonlight. So, with care, you started to lead him back inside, holding his hand and guiding him towards the couch, before heading towards the kitchen.
“Here you go,” you hand him a glass of cold water, hoping to help get him a bit sober. Chuuya’s low tolerance for alcohol always ends up as a challenge for both of you, but it wasn't something you couldn’t manage.
Chuuya took the glass, drinking it down in one go. The whole world is still spinning, but at least his mind is a little less foggier. He'll get a killer hangover in the morning, though he's leaving that as tomorrow’s problem.
Covered in darkness, the room basked in a soft type of atmosphere. The puppy was content with his new home, sleeping comfortably on a bed you bought along with you.
You sit besides him, putting away the glass into the coffee table in front of the couch, only to feel a weight leaning on your shoulder. Soft music played quietly in the background, just some background noise while enjoying each other's company.
You moved your positions so that you were leaning on the arm rest, Chuuya laying on top of you, face buried on your chest. The two of you ended up in this position, cuddling up against each other under the influence of alcohol.
“Chuuya,” you whisper, a soft smile tilting your tone. Your fingers carding through his red hair, entwined within the soft locks and lightly tugging at the loose knots.
“Mmm?” he let out a small hum in reply, tiredly glancing at you with loving eyes. He was relaxed, at the moment, indulging himself into the comfort of your warm embrace, simply existing in the moment. An arm around his waist, resting in his back, the other tangled in his hair.
You shift your position a bit, placing your chin on top of his head before planting a soft kiss on his forehead, in which he smiled at. “Are you comfortable?” you ask, burying your face on top of his head. The light scent of wine and cologne meeting your senses.
“Mhm,” he answers, voice slurred and muffled against the fabric of your shirt.
You let out a small laugh, brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. “Good to hear,”
Chuuya remained silent, only leaning into the touch with a content smile, staring at you. Your hold on him was comforting, he could just fall asleep right there. He probably will, anyway.
He could feel the warmth from your body, like a radiator. Chuuya snuggled closer, yearning to be as close as possible to you. You two fit like two pieces of a puzzle, it felt right.
“[Name],” he muttered, leaning up enough that you could fully see his face, mesmerizing eyes staring at your own.
“Yes, Chu?” you reply, all your attention to him.
“Thank you,”
@tofumixp on Tumblr. only on Tumblr, Wattpad and Quotev. don't steal
┊STORMY CALLS┊˚✧
┊DRABBLE┊DAZAI OSAMU X GN!READER┊
Words: 244
Warnings: ooc (?), cringe, thunderstorms
requested
(A/N) I'm very picky when choosing which stuff to post on Tumblr so maybe that's why I barely publish here 🐺
Rain clouds covered the sky where the sun was supposed to shine. The thunderstorm had been going for minutes now, covering the world in a rather depressing gray. God, you hated the noise. The loud, repetitive drops of rain. The flash of lightning followed by a fierce crackle of thunder.
Stormy weather was the bane of your existence.
You decided to sit in your bed, going to work was the last thing in your mind when the weather is as shitty as this. The rain is making you feel gloomy. But you didn't need the negative thoughts. No one does.
His number was on speed dial, on the screen was a name you’ve long gotten used to.
Dazai picks up almost instantly, already prepared to talk with you. You would be lying if you said his voice didn't bring comfort to your weary thoughts, soft words calming your nerves.
The call was the sanctuary you needed. It was like a peek of sunlight shining through the vast, bleak storm that was seeping into your mood.
The rainy morning turned into a fleeting thought. No main thing to chat about, just a bunch of topics in one bundle, stringing from one to another. But that was more than enough.
Maybe it was how his voice sounded so pleasingly soothing when he tried, maybe it was simply his presence, but whatever magic was laced over this simple phone call brought a sense of tranquility over you.
divider credit: @/cafekitsune
┊PASILYO┊˚✧
┊ONE SHOT┊DAZAI OSAMU X GN!READER┊
words: 1,941
unrequested
additional/warnings: ooc (?), cringe, nausea, mentions of throwing up (light), minor swearing typical Dazai suicide mentions (light), public display of affection, and uhh kising
Happy birthday to my glorious princess, y'all 🗣️‼️
Rays of sunshine outlined the furniture of the Armed Detective Agency. Dazai was at his desk, folding origami when he was supposed to be doing a report. It was one of those quieter days in the office, a rare day where there weren’t many cases to finish.
A buzz from his pocket. Dazai checked the notification, reading a message from none other than you.
|[Nickname]: sneak outside 🙏|
And they say he’s a bad influence…
———
Standing outside the building, you wait for him. It was the perfect weather, the sun decided to be warm—and not in the way where it’s painfully hot to the point that just a short walk would leave someone sweating.
“[Name]!” you easily spot the familiar caramel coat through the small crowd, Dazai happily escaping work to join you. “I got your message,” he remarked, walking until he’s right next to you.
“Happy birthday,”
A beautiful bouquet of flowers entered his field of view, forget-me-nots wrapped in a beautiful light blue. A silk white ribbon tied the thing together, a gift looking alike to the summer sky.
What’s next was a pretty sight, flushed cheeks and a surprised detective. Dazai couldn’t help but go speechless, not one to be used to affection. You almost wanted to tease him about it, but decided not to, showing a twinge of mercy upon the man.
“Hey… Earth to Osamu?” he snapped out of his daze, feeling you tug on his sleeve.
“Ah– uhm,” he makes a poor attempt to cover his embarrassing reaction, covering his face with a hand. It was fun to make him flustered, a feeling you rarely see him have. “Thank you…?”
You scoff at that dry reply, placing the bouquet on his hands before tugging his sleeve again, starting to pull him somewhere. “Come on, I’m spoiling you today, so we better start early if you wanna make the most of it.”
Dazai followed after you, letting you drag him on. It took a while, but he came back to his senses, a soft expression gracing his face at your words. “Really?” he asked, almost tauntingly as he tried to get a specific answer out from you.
“Yeah, yeah,” you answered, walking slower so that you’re side by side. “Whatever you want,” you say, looking at the pathway ahead as you barely conceal the smile on your lips.
“Whatever I want?” a cheeky grin. “Even a double suic–?”
“Anything but that,” you cut him off, turning your head just to see him laughing softly, slightly covering his face with the blue flowers.
The soft appearance of genuine happiness is a great look on your lover.
———
“Let’s try that one again!”
The sheer look of horror on your face was picture worthy. Dazai decided that the perfect way to spend his birthday was to try the roller coasters having motion sickness written all over it. “God, no.”
Sure, you did suggest going to the amusement park, but these aren’t the rides you expected to go to. Dazai was milking everything out of this opportunity, trying out every single attraction in the park but the calm ones.
How many times have you gone to the same roller coaster, now? Thrice? Four times? That drop still gets you. “How the fuck are you not even dizzy…?” you ask, sitting down on a bench to collect yourself
Dazai was laughing at your predicament, earning a glare from you. “Fine, fine, we’ll take a break from the rides,” finally some mercy on your nauseous self.
You sigh, before hunching over slowly, seeing black in the corners of your vision. “Fuck, I think I’m throwing up.” a pat on your back, but the brunet’s not very discreet giggles made it feel like it didn’t help at all.
Luckily, you didn’t start vomiting. You ended up buying him lunch despite his claims of not being hungry, making him sit down on a shaded table to eat. The park had a few food stalls around, so you two had plenty of choices to pick from.
His eyes scanned the selection of food stalls before his gaze landed on one. He perks up a little, tugging on your hand to get your attention. “Hey, let’s get takoyaki.”
You nodded, holding his hand as you went to the food stall, buying him the food he wanted before buying food for yourself. Dazai of course just had to steal your food, taking bits and bites here and there. You didn’t mind… mostly.
“... If you’re gonna end up eating my fries anyway, why didn’t you just buy some?” you ask, as he stole another bite with a shrug. You could only brush it off, wanting to get it over with so you could make most of your time here.
“Because stealing yours tastes better,” he replied, a terrible excuse. A mischievous glint can be seen shining in his brown eyes as his fingers stole another one, not even hiding it at this point now that you pointed it out.
You gave a sigh of defeat, letting him steal as much food as he desires. It was a quick snack break, before you two continued your little birthday celebration, so you just let it pass.
The sun was already shining right above you when you finally got back on your feet, fully recovered to try more attractions. His hand had found yours, as you looked for more things to try out. Dazai’s eyes found themselves following the path of the ferris wheel, the sight of it catching his eye.
Slow, scenic, peaceful—the complete opposite of the previous rides you two have gone on. A grin appeared on Dazai’s face, and he tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the entrance to the ride. “Let’s go on that one,” he says, a hint of eagerness in his voice.
You couldn't help but let out a breath of relief, seeing that he finally chose a calmer ride. The procedure to enter was short, buying a ticket, going in line, before entering the ride.
The gondola was simple, the sleek white car fitting the both of you on one side perfectly. It was slow and gentle, moving bit by bit as it got turned higher into the sky. “Much better than those adrenaline-fuelling ones, huh?” he mentioned, looking at you through his peripherals.
“Yes, actually. At least we can actually converse instead of screaming our lungs out,” you retort, turning from looking out the large windows to him, meeting his gaze with your own.
Dazai held in the laugh settling in his throat, shamelessly seeking your hand to hold again. He loved the contact. “You’re the one screaming out of fear, though,” he pointed out, pulling himself closer to you.
You roll your eyes, allowing him to be as close as he wants—as close as he needs. It took a while, but your capsule eventually reached the top of the circle, getting the highest view.
The brunet decided that you were a headrest at the moment, leaning his head on you before turning to the window on his side, slowly falling silent.
This was what you hoped you could distract him from. That faraway look was in his brown eyes as he looked at something long gone. It was another year. Another year without him, another year he'll slowly grow older than he could ever get.
Another year, and this time, he'll remember him longer than he's known him.
The view outside the windows was breathtakingly beautiful. Yokohama in clear view to both of you. From high-rising buildings to the crystal lake near the park, everything was graced with the warm afternoon light. Yet those brown eyes couldn't find the same warmth you could.
That solemn longing was a look you didn't want to see him make today. You wished his mind wouldn't have to think like this just for a day. Just for a moment. Just for now.
So, you nudge his leg with yours, earning his attention. “You wanna get crab later?” you ask when he turned to look at you, hands on his to hold. You'll distract him for as long as needed. You'll keep him away from those thoughts and bring the warmth he needed on a day he would otherwise hate.
Dazai turned around, snapping out of his train of thought at hearing your question. A smile stretched on his face, grip lightly tightening on your hand. “Of course the answer is yes,” he answered.
At least he doesn't look so solemn now. You subconsciously bring a hand up, brushing a strand of his dark brown hair behind his ear, your touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Way longer, actually.
“...touchy today, hm?” he teased, a cover up to him growing flustered under your affection. “What, can't keep your hands to yourself?”
“Don’t even start,” you reply with a threatening edge. Dazai raised his hand in surrender, keeping his silence with a cheeky smirk.
———
Crisp wind blew on your hair, you closed the door behind you in a rush. “Slow down, we just ran up a bunch of stairs–” you gasp out, out of breath as Dazai dragged you to a rooftop. The Agency building's rooftop.
The brunet only chuckled at your reaction, stopping to let you catch your breath. “Alright, alright! We're here anyway.”
You take a deep breath in, the air finally getting in your lungs properly. “We’re here early, you didn't have to– you did not have to drag me and run all the way up,” you groan, wheezing in suffering.
The sun was almost setting, hanging just above the horizon. You two wanted to catch the sunset, deciding that this is the best spot to watch as it settles down the city skyline.
Dazai held your hand, tugging you along to the edge of the building. “This would be a romantic time to die,” *he remarked, making you deadpan.
“Nuh uh,” you retorted, looking at his steps just a little more cautiously in case he decided to swan dive over the edge. “Would be a great time to watch the sunset though.”
As you said that, Dazai looked up, catching the way the skies were painted in pink and orange hues. It was an ethereal scene—one that should be painted to preserve.
You glance to the man beside you, seeing him gaze off into the sunset. It wasn't a lie that he was pretty, with how the sun outlined every feature on his face, basking him in a warm light.
“You’re staring,” he hummed, brown eyes glancing at you, already prepared to send a barrage of teases for catching you in the act.
Confessing you were was the only way out, then. You let out a scoff, the sound half a chuckle. “Yeah,” he turned to you, the sun leaving its last trails of warmth before letting the moon reign in the sky. “Happy birthday.”
Dazai smiled, a soft look on him. “Shouldn’t I get a present?” he asked, leaning towards you with a hint of what he wants. The brunet reached for your hand, pulling them to cup his cheeks.
A fleeting kiss, before another, dragging him closer to press your lips on his. You could feel how the warmth spreads to his face under your touch, feel how he smiles against each kiss.
You hear him giggle, leaning back just enough to speak, still holding his face. “More?”
“More,” he nodded, feeling giddy with each touch. Just for the moment, he felt that life was worth living. You pull him closer, resting your forehead on his.
“Whatever you want.”
divider credit: @/cafekitsune