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lovedazai · 3 months

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02. ACROSS THE UNIVERSE . . . dazai tries to make up for lost time by taking you out to dinner.

ft. beast!dazai + f!reader, pm boss!dazai, civilian!reader, lovesick dazai, possessive behavior, implied stalking (he keeps tabs on you & has pics of you), spoilers for beast au light novel & manga, 2.3k w.c.

SERIES MASTERLIST

the walk from the elevator to dazai’s office is long. his footsteps are loud against the hallway floor, lined with armed guards who stand completely silent and still. they don’t dare to move a muscle as dazai passes them, his black coat fluttering behind him with every step he takes.

“gin-chan,” he calls as he nears his door, and the girl turns to him expectantly. he beckons her to follow him with a curved finger, and she trails behind him into his office. he stands before his floor to ceiling window, a glass wall that reveals all of the city. he looks out over yokohama’s skyline, buildings silhouetted against a clear blue sky, with his hands folded behind his back. “cancel any appointments i have scheduled for tomorrow. inform the executives i’ll be unavailable, too.”

she bows politely as he dismisses her with a lazy wave of his hand, watching her leave through the reflection of the glass, waiting to hear the soft click of his office’s mahogany doors closing behind her.

in the isolation of his office, a smile breaks out on his face. he collapses into his chair, cradling his cheeks in his palms, aching and rosy with joy. he couldn’t believe you agreed to go out with him; you always were too trusting, weren’t you?

he giggles, swarms of butterflies fluttering against his ribs and tickling his stomach. he wonders what you’ll wear; he recalls an image of you in a strappy little black dress during a night out with your friends a few months ago, and twirls himself towards his desk to search through his locked drawer, the one with the false bottom.

his phone rings from inside his coat pocket, and he doesn’t even look at who it is before he answers, his smile still on his face as he rummages through old notebooks and files. “yes?”

“you ‘won’t be available’?” chuuya scoffs. “what?”

dazai sighs dramatically, like the sound of his voice exhausted him. “i have a date to prepare for.”

“the fuck are you talking about?” he asks, voice curious despite his choice of words. “a date?”

“yes, chuuya. are you unfamiliar with the concept?”

“shut up. you’re going out with a stranger? without anyone to protect you?”

“she isn’t a stranger,” his voice turns cold, a stark contrast from his teasing tone.

“who the hell would ever go out with you?”

“don’t worry,” he grins, holding the phone between his cheek and shoulder, rustling through the drawer with more control. “you’ll meet her soon enough.”

he hears a muffled freak before the phone line goes dead.

he finally finds what he’s been looking for. he pulls a large envelope out, carefully unraveling the twine that holds it closed. he opens it, filled with all of the images he’s collected of you: sunbathing at the beach with your friends, picking up takeout after a late night at work, the wind blowing your hair into your eyes just as you’re leaving the bookstore. he sifts through them all with care before he finally finds the one he was thinking of. he sighs dreamily, tracing the curve of your body with his finger. his eyes never leave it, even as he presses the call button on his desk.

“actually, gin-chan,” he hums, still smiling at the photo. “one more thing. order a bouquet. have it delivered tomorrow afternoon. fourーno, five dozen red roses.”

he wears a suit; not one used for work, this was far too special for that. this one is untainted, only brought out of his closet and into the light of day to be freshly dry-cleaned and pressed. it’s not black the way his other suits were, this one is a deep chocolate brown with a wrinkle-free white button-down shirt and a black tie tucked beneath a sage green vest.

he lingers in front of his mirror, draping his coat over his shoulders, then sliding his arms through the sleeves. he tilts his head, he pulls on his collar, he straightens his tie. he’s never been so critical about his appearance before. he brushes his hand through his hair, glaring at his reflection when his fingers catch on knotted, neglected strands. he suddenly recalls a moment that isn’t his; it was before a gala for the agency when you trailed your fingertips along the curve of his cheek, brushing his hair back and whispering affectionate words about how handsome he was against his lips. he decides to tuck his bangs behind his ear.

even before he sends his driver off, he checks himself one last time in the reflection of the tinted car windows. he stands before the finest restaurant in the port mafia’s territory; it was no problem to request it be closed down for the two of you, being under the mafia’s protection.

when he sees another familiar black car arrive, he perks up. you step out, looking a bit dazed. you’re not wearing the black dress from the photo; no, he’s never seen this one before. it hugs your body perfectly, and the way the fabric contours your curves leaves him absolutely enchanted. he grins, imagining you picking it out to wear just for him.

“i can’t believe you got a fancy car to pick me up from the train station,” you laugh breathlessly, more out of shock than amusement. “this is the craziest first date i’ve ever been on.”

something suffocating crawls up his throat as he imagines you going out with someone other than him. he exhales shakily, but conceals it with a smile as he holds the bouquet out for you.

your eyes widen at the sight of the roses, scarlet petals and emerald stems bundled in smooth matte paper and tied with a silk ribbon. your fingers brush against his as you take it from him, and he beams as you cradle it in the nook of your arm.

“thank you,” you smile up at him nervously, the bouquet nearly engulfing your form. “you look handsome. i’m not sure if i dressed fancy enough for this.”

“you look perfect,” he smiles, offering you his elbow. you are perfect.

your pretty fingers wrap around his arm, and your touch seers his skin through his clothing as he guides you inside. the ceiling is lined with glistening chandeliers, soft spots of light illuminating the velvet black that coats the restaurant. soft linen hangs off all the tables’ corners, plated with shiny porcelain dinnerware and delicate crystal glasses. he leads you to the one enveloped in flickering candlelight, tucked away intimately in the corner of the large dining room.

“oh my god,” you gasp, the sparkling light reflected in your wide eyes. “what exactly do you do for a living?”

he holds a finger up to his grinning lips, reaching for a menu. it’s only a single, thick page and you take it from him gingerly. he pulls a bottle of champagne from its home in the metal bucket at the corner of the table, ice cubes shifting to fill the gap it left behind. he pours your glass before his own, catching your gaze as you eye him shyly over the top of the edge of the menu.

“i’m not sure what to get…” you say softly. “i’ve never been somewhere like this before.”

“don’t worry,” he rests his chin on his folded hands. “i’ll pick something i know you’ll love.”

the food comes and goes. he couldn’t tell you what it tasted like, all he could focus on is the pretty girl in front of him. he’s the most dangerous man in yokohama, the puppeteer of its underworld; he has anything he could desire at his fingertips yet all he could possibly want is you, looking at him like this forever.

your eyes never leave him, and he could swear there’d be stars glistening in your pupils like their own secret universe if he looked close enough. you hang on to his every word, and you don’t even mind when he reaches across the table and slides his fingers in between your own. he thinks your palms fit together like two puzzle pieces; not molded around each other over time, but made with the purpose of being bonded to one another.

“you know, your hair looks really good like that,” you say softly, your eyes trailing over his face. he hopes the reason your pupils are dilated isn’t just from the dark lighting. it’s the same enamored look he catches glimpses of in his memory, when you’re hidden beneath the dim lighting of bar lupin, both of you too young to be drinking but doing it anyway.

“oh! i almost forgot to tell you!” he taps the edge of the table in lieu of clapping, not wanting to let go of your hand. he knows you won’t remember, but he can’t help but get excited at the thought of seeing that fond yet exasperated look on your face with his own two eyes. “i’ve been trying to make the firmest tofu. i finally succeeded!”

“really? maybe i can try it next time.”

next time. you want a next time with him. he wonders if you know he’d give you the rest of his life if you asked for it.

you were more than happy to talk to him, and it almost made it feel like you weren’t just two strangers eating dinner together. it didn’t matter to him that he already knew everything you were telling him. he loved listening to the sound of your voice.

your cheeks dimple as you smile, playing with his fingers as you tell him about how you finished your degree last month. he can’t help but swell with pride; he already knew, of course. the file he had personally made on you had only grown over the years with all of the little details he’d secretly collected about you.

it’s when you’re talking about a book you recently read that he begins to lose focus. he watches the way your lips shape around every syllable, but he can’t help but think about odasaku, how you two would’ve gotten along so nicely. it didn’t seem like you’d get the opportunity to meet him in any universe.

“are you okay?” you ask softly, your nails tracing the soft indent of his heart line across his palm.

“of course i’m okay,” he smiles so quickly, it’s as if nothing was ever wrong. quieter, he says, “how could i not be when i’m with you?”

“talk to me?” your voice is so sweet, and he inhales deep enough that he feels his stomach expand against the waistband of his pants. “i’m a good listener.”

“i have a friend,” he starts, his gaze falling down to the table. “he wasーis a writer, a really good one.”

“has he published anything?” you ask around a sip of your glass. “i’d love to read something of his.”

“me too,” he sighs, and you tilt your head curiously. “i’m afraid we…don’t speak anymore.”

your sympathetic gaze makes his chest tighten, something invisible constricting around his lungs until it’s hard for him to breathe. the last thing he wanted was for you to pity him, not now.

“it seems like he had an impact on you,” you squeeze his hand between yours once more. “i’m sure he still thinks about you and misses you as well.”

he had to resist every desperate instinct in his body that told him to throw the table aside and kiss you right there.

you’ve made it to dessert, and dazai swears he’s never been happier in his miserable life than right now; this was all going so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. you brighten when the waiter places a small plate in front of you, carrying a piece of cake cut into a perfect rectangle and drizzled with sugary sweetness. he watches the way your pretty lips curl into a smile against the prongs of your fork as you taste it. some frosting smears against the corner of your mouth. he reaches across the table and swipes it away with his thumb, grazing your lips.

you freeze, eyes wide and blinking as you stare at him. the warmth of your cheeks spreads against his palm, and he greedily lets his hand linger as long as he appropriately can before he pulls back.

he thought it’d be painful to say goodbye at the end of the night, unsure how many more moments like this the universe would allow him to indulge in before it ripped you away from his grasp, but he can’t stop himself from smiling as you wrap your arms around him when you walk out of the restaurant, cheeks rosy from the champagne and the winter breeze.

you tug his hand gently, trailing your own up his arm until you can tug on the lapels of his coat and pull him to a stop. when you push your lips to his beneath the glittering lights of yokohama, he nearly bursts into tears. all his hair raises against the cotton of his bandages as you slide your arms across his shoulders, and he presses against your lower back until you’re flush against him. he can’t believe this is really happening to him; he waits, ready to wake up alone from some cruel dream, but he doesn’t. there’s no chill from the empty sheets next to him or the plush of his pillow against his head. it’s only you, with the sweet smell of your perfume and your soft tongue trailing along his bottom lip.

you pull on his tie, wrapping the fabric around your palm until your thumb is close enough to smooth against the knot, the tip of your nose brushing against his.

“would it be too forward of me…” you kiss him again, pulling away just enough to mumble the rest of your sentence. “...to ask such a pretty boy back to my apartment?”

he grins, cupping your cheeks and pulling you back to his mouth.

BSD MASTERLIST

taglist . . . @dazaichuuya69 @dazaisfavgf @annoyingpainterprincess @avocate-assia-dazai @kissesmellow21 @ceranchi @walking-simp @starmaiya11 @liliavalentine @seimpathyopera @little-miss-chaoss @17cherries @getoso @s1eepybunny @auraxins @anqelically @kentopedia @causenessus @aureatchi @fyotherat @sigmoon @dazaisgrl @vicsxwy @yyyxti @dazedflvr @ryunosnke @humsamu @ko-fi-heart @angelzai @ttaehyxx @n31ly0ung @msunknown911 @cyndaquels

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x you #dazai imagines #dazai x y/n #bsd x you #bsd fluff #dazai fluff #bsd x y/n

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sonder-paradise · 1 year

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𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

◊ ft. chuuya nakahara, gn!reader

◊ genre. comfort, chuuya's hopelessly in love with you

◊ a/n. it's been a while since i've written for tumblr.

Chuuya is a man of many talents. He wants to believe he is anyway. But there’s a lot he’s unsure of after the moon greets the city and he’s left alone with his thoughts. So, when the sun rises and kisses the city skyline, he watches it with a heavy heart. The mood of the week sinks like a boulder in the ocean.

It’s incredibly lonely in the sky.

He doesn’t fly about too often. Only when he wants to see the sunrise and prays for someone, anyone, to stop this torrid void in his chest. The gravity around him settles once more and he allows himself a brief moment to tumble down, down, down in the vastness of the city. Skyscrapers rush past him, guiding him down to the ground. His stomach plummets along with his body.

And then it all stops. That familiar red glow redefines him and he’s floating once more. That elation evaporates from his body and he stares up at the sky once more. It’s not like him to do something so idiotic. Even if he is in control of his own body and the abilities it holds.

He stuffs his hands in his pant’s pockets, staring down at the cracked sidewalks of Yokohama’s city. The sun soaks the stores and streets with a stunning golden hue. Nothing seems to be alive as if the entire city has disappeared. The emptiness in his chest tightens and grows.

Then, his phone vibrates in his back pocket. He shifts his expression into an unreadable frown, before delving to pick it up.

“Nakahara speaking, what’s up?”

“Chuuya, what are you doing up so early?”

His eyes glimmer a vibrant blue and he’s staring up from the sidewalk at the golden city. Your voice sounds soft and tired. He can imagine how sweet you appear with sleep buried in you eyes.

“That’s a good question… I could ask the same for you.”

“Last minute work…”

A pause lingers in between them and Chuuya can make out the rustle of your clothing.

“I couldn’t sleep. Bad dream.”

“Dream?”

Ah, shit.

“Chuuya, I know you don’t have dreams.”

Fuck.

He pauses, swallowing thickly.

You knew. Of course, you knew.

He had told you before and that’s all you needed to remember. You would ask and he would be at a loss for words all over again.

“Sorry,” he thinks a little, “I don’t know why I said that.”

You laugh on the other end of the phone. The noise is gentle and quiet as if you're trying not to wake someone up.

Chuuya clicks his tongue, feeling his cheeks warm from partial embarrassment and partially the sound of your laughter echoing through the phone.

“Shut up. Why did you even call anyway?”

You stops laughing on the other end, seemingly thinking over the answer yourself. He wants to comment about how you shouldn’t have spoken in the first place, but the words trip on his tongue when you speak again.

“I don’t know either, honestly. I think I was just tired and thought about you.”

He clears his throat, covering his face with his free hand. You're too much sometimes. He wants to say that you should be saying that to someone you love, or that you're certainly much too tired for these sorts of phrases.

But he doesn’t.

He’s not sure he wants to.

What if your answer scares him?

Instead, he sighs into the speaker.

“Want me to pick you up?”

“Mmm… That’d be nice. I was about to fall asleep in the office.”

“Let’s not do that. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Chuuya remembers the first time he met you. There was a tenderness about the meeting. Regardless of the outcome, he confided in you. Your outstretched hand was one he was always willing to take. He grasped onto it and held it so tightly he feared he would scare you away.

But as he tumbles into the office, spotting your figure snoozing away at her desk, he can’t help but fear so much more. Your face is buried in your arms and the coagulated arrangement of items on your desk including an intimidating pile of paperwork makes his chest fill just a bit.

You stir, blinking back the exhaustion from your expression. Then, you smile. It’s a quiet and tender smile. Chuuya feels it engulf his chest and take over his body.

He’s enraptured by you utterly and entirely.

But he sighs, shaking his head as he strides over to you. He clicks his tongue, reaching over to brush away a loose strand of hair. You look up at him and chuckle, taking his fingers in her own and clasping it to your cheek so as to bury yourself in the palm of his hand.

His chest swells and he sits at the desk.

“Thank you for coming…”

“No, thank you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

You stir slightly. Your eyes meet his and for a second Chuuya’s worried he’s shown you too much of the side he tries to keep away from others. He attempts to suppress that, taking his hand away from your skin.

“Nothing, forget it… I’ll drop you off at your place.”

You shakes your head, leaning back against his arm. His face burns deeper by the second, but he takes it slowly this time.

“No, let me just rest for a second. Stay with me.”

“Fine… But just this once.”

He can feel your light breath against his skin. He hopes that you can’t feel his pulse through his veins. It feels just about ready to ignite into hot, molten flames. He covers his face once more, trying to remember the last time he felt so strangely… relaxed and alert all at once.

But he takes in a deep breath, looking down at you again.

His chest feels so full all of a sudden.

Taglist: @todorokichills @alittlesimp @greenshirtimaginesii @darlinqserenity @nameless-shrimp @whorefordazai @requiem626k @missrown @nonsense-corner @kiyokoxd @jessbeinme15 @starglow-xx @shadyteacup @scul-pted @kuraxmasha @yochicoz @pompompurin1028 @trashykawahq @swrdemon @life-sus @foolishestchildofchilds @fyodorscello @planetxiao @dazaiaiko @chuuyasboots @allisonlol @questioningmyownexistence @sebtomm @nullified-kiss @nathansside @cuteflowers-101 @sigmafied @boombboi @scarletta-ruan @skgch @httpsobi @dazaiscum @thekaylahub @luciferspen @dazaisfavgf @alice0blog @irethepotato @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @disa-ster @mastering-procrastinating @aestellia @killmewithafanfic @ay-chuu

#[🖋] writing #nakahara chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #chuuya fluff #bsd comfort #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara x you #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x gn reader #bungou stray dogs x reader

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