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shippaidan · 2 years

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no one says that they are afraid of love as beautifully as you do

>>chapter: five >>pairings: chuuya x fem!reader | dazai x fem!reader >>genre: angst >>status: ongoing >>words: 4,8k (that's a long one) >>cw: spoilers, she/her pronouns for reader, swearing, alcohol, mention of vomiting, mentions of death/suicide

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a/n okaay so since it's my birthday today, I decided to post new chapter yeehaw also I'm going out this weekend so I'll probably start posting requests on sunday/monday! sorry for the delay!

REGRET.

As expected, everything went exactly according to his plan. The freezing wall chilled his back, his hands were chained with thick shackles, and his spine was a little sore from being in the same position for a long time. It was not the most comfortable experience, that's for sure, but there had been worse. And besides, who was he to complain? He was just a kidnapped man.

After rather unpleasant confrontation with his former subordinate, he intensely analyzed the entire situation he found himself in and decided on the best possible steps he could take. However, the sound of footsteps snapped him out of his contemplations. Elegant shoes appeared in his line of sight, and the echo of the steps seemed to pound into his brain.

"Well well well, who do we have here? Plotting as usual?" That voice. That fucking voice. The familiar man stood in full view at the bottom of the stairs, at which Dazai rolled his eyes.

"Dammit,” he muttered.

"Dazai Osamu." Chuuya spat out with a hint of disgust in his voice. To be completely honest, he was definitely the last person Dazai wanted to see, but deep inside he was expecting this visit. He would never let such an opportunity pass him by.

"Oh, the same old Chuuya. How nice to see you here." Dazai sent him a bitter smile. "What brings you to my humble abode? Forgive the mess, I haven't had time to decorate yet."

"I only came to see you as a sad little prisoner. It is better than I could have expected." Chuuya walked closer to the cuffed man and glared at him with despising eyes. The amount of emotion that filled his body seemed to boil from his intense gaze. Rage, betrayal, hatred. A kaleidoscope of feelings shimmered in his irises as he slowly approached Dazai. Until they came face to face with each other.

"Did you miss me so much that you decided to visit me in my misery? Do you want to look into my eyes one last time before I am sentenced to death? How romantic." The wicked smile did not leave his face.

"Listen here, you may be able to fool Akutagawa, but not me." Chuuya walked even closer to Dazai and with a brutal motion grabbed his hair, clenching his fist tightly and pulling downward. With an intense and also a little bit sad gaze, he stared straight into the almost empty eyes of a former friend. "What kind of sick game are you playing now?"

"Playing? I've been captured and am awaiting execution as a traitor of Port-"

"Cut the crap. The Dazai I know would never get caught through bad luck or carelessness. If you were that stupid, I would have killed you long ago.” Chuuya clenched his fist even tighter in his hair. Holding back in this situation required inhuman amounts of patience and self-control, but he had no intention of losing his cool until he knew the real reason for Dazai's reappearance. The stakes were too high, and Dazai was far too dangerous as a player in this game.

"You overthink things too much, Chuuya. But you've always had a bad habit of doing that." Dazai sent him a sly smile, at which Chuuya scowled and let go of a fistful of hair. Every word coming out of his mouth made him nauseous. "I know you like the back of my hand, Chuu. After all, I wouldn't be such a good partner if I didn't know you, would I?"

"Fucking bullshit. Don’t change the subject." Chuuya grunted with annoyance.

"It’s honestly really nice to see that you haven't changed a thing. I bet you are still just a passive observer of your own life, accepting all the logs that fate throws at your feet? Am I right?"

"Oh, shut your mouth already and stop playing dumb. Why did you let yourself get caught? What are you looking for here?” Chuuya was slowly losing patience. Dazai's mere presence was getting on his nerves to the point that with the remaining strength he restrained himself from punching him. With every second of looking at his stupid smirk, memories of her face contorted from suffering ran through his mind. Her bitter tears, broken bottles and nights sat in the bathroom, holding her hair and stroking her back while she threw up the entire contents of her stomach. Chuuya hated Dazai for how much he made her suffer. He hated him with all his heart.

"The main reason is Atsushi."

"Atsushi?" The unfamiliar name caught Chuyua off guard. For a long time, something inside told him that maybe Dazai had come back for her after all. Maybe he had come back to shatter their little heaven they had carefully built over the past months. That would be something that would suit him perfectly. Thus, Dazai's answer both surprised and somewhat calmed him down. Now he got curious. „Who’s Atsushi?”

"That weretiger you're so obsessed with."

"Ah, that guy?” Chuuya waved his hand. "I'm not a part of this whole kidnapping thing. Akutagawa is in charge. I don't have any details."

"Then why were you so bothered by the fact that I'm here? Why else would I-" Suddenly, everything came together in Dazai's head. He laughed quietly, realizing the whole reason for his former partner's visit. His irritation, nervousness and suspicion. It all began to make sense. "Ah I can see what's going on here."

"What are you talking about, shithead?" Chuuya frowned. He definitely didn't like either Dazai's tone or expression painted on his face.

"It's not nice to play dumb like that when moments earlier you accused me of it." Dazai shook his head with mock disapproval. He sighed loudly and continued. "What a plot twist. The side character of his own life finally got the girl. That doesn't happen very often. You should be proud of yourself.”

"What the fuck are you-" Taken aback, Chuuya tried to interrupt him, but Dazai didn't seem to care.

"Don’t worry, I’m not here to take her away from you. I don’t want her. Although I am a little bit curious about how she would react if she saw me down here. I wonder if she would drop everything and run into my arms. What do you think?” He continued his vicious flood of taunting words, not quite sure why he reacted so violently. Why this thought affected him so much. Why imagining her at Chuuya's side felt so... wrong. So he threw out the worst words he could muster, though he wasn't sure if he wanted to fool himself with them or hurt someone in revenge. Maybe both. Maybe he wanted to hurt himself the most.

"Oi, shut up before you say too much. You don't even know what you're talking about." Chuuya felt such an uncontrollable surge of anger that he clenched his fists with all his might.

"It's a real shame that you only have her because I left."

"Last warning, Dazai. I swear to fucking god-"

"Why, am I wrong? Or does the truth hurt you that much?" The man's fury was like fuel for Dazai at that moment. „I’m really sorry I’m the one who have to break it to you, but she would never choose you, if I stayed. No one would.” Dazai's mocking laughter assaulted every cell in Chuuya's body. He saw red. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. He didn't even fully believe that Dazai would be capable of such a thing. To torment him with such cruel words. Was he really that heartless? „Tell me Chuuya, how does it feel to pick up trash after me?”

And that was the moment when Chuuya snapped. He couldn't bear a single word more from Dazai's mouth. They all bit into his brain and sowed the seeds of doubt with their sharp fangs. So he approached him without hesitation and punched him in the face as hard as he could. Finally, silence fell.

"Try to say one more fucking word, and you won't live to see your execution."

Dazai became more serious. Flames of hatred and betrayal seemed to burn in Chuuya's azure eyes. They stared at one another intensely, as if trying to read each other's thoughts, but neither of them dared to speak a word again. That is until, after a few short moments, the echo of footsteps on the stairs reached their ears.

"Chuuya, you' down here?" Oh no. Dazai opened his eyes wider in surprise. It was a turn of events he had not predicted. His heart started pounding like crazy. No, no, no. This was not how it was supposed to be. She wasn't supposed to come here.

"Yeah, I am." Chuuya replied, completely ignoring the cuffed man, and moved toward the stairs. As soon as her familiar silhouette stood right in front of him, Dazai lost all his previous confidence. For a moment, he even had the feeling, no, he sincerely hoped, that Chuuya's punch was strong enough to knock him unconscious, and that it was all just a hallucination. He was not ready to meet her face to face. However, the moment their gazes met, he no longer had any doubts. He would recognize that pair of wistful eyes anywhere. It was her. The real her.

This did not bode well.

A hot pain spread throughout his chest. She was exactly as stunning as he remembered her. Thousands of thoughts swirled in his head. He carefully watched her escaping gaze, just to avoid looking at him. Her slightly dejected figure. Her lowered tone of voice. As if she was trying to be invisible to him. But it's hard for her to be invisible when she was the one thing in Dazai's eyes worth looking at.

He didn't pay the slightest attention to the conversation between her and Chuuya, but he didn't even look away for a moment. What a torture. Her completely ignoring Dazai was the worst form of penalty. He would have preferred a thousand times more if she had been the one to inflict punishment on him for all the mistakes of the past. Every part of his body begged for her gaze, her attention, her anger. He had to take control of himself and this situation.

"Oh, what a wonderful reunion! Would you like to join our pleasant chat?" He spoke up with an overly sweet smile. She, however, only gave him a vague glance and turned to Chuuya again.

"Give me the keys. When you're done talking to that man, just come to the car." Oh.

"That man? You wound me, darling. Is that how you greet your beloved?" Yes, that's exactly how you should greet someone like me. I should be destroyed. Please, destroy me.

"Beloved? You've got to be kidding me." The note of anger in her voice pleased Dazai. A little more and he'll get what he wants. Please make me feel something again. Make me suffer. Make me bleed.

"Oh don't be like that. It's me, your Osamu. Stop pouting and give me a hug. To the good old days." Just a little bit more.

"I know what you're trying to do and you won't succeed. You won't provoke me." Dazai fell silent. The fake smile came off his face and was replaced by shock, which unfortunately he was unable to hide. She could see right through him, couldn't she?

"Come on, why would I want to provoke you?" He laughed, yet inside he was shrieking, begging for some kind of reaction from her. He prayed that she would scream at him, cry, punch him, make a ruckus and start an apocalypse. Or that she would at least raise her voice a little and give vent to her anger. That she would make it clear to him that he was no longer welcome in her life. Anything, just so he could finally move on.

Please, I beg you, tear me down. I deserved it.

"I won't do it." She said calmly, as if reading his mind. Maybe in fact, she could read his mind. After all, she knew him better than anyone else in this world. She stepped closer to him and gazed straight into his soul with disappointed eyes. "You won't get the closure, Dazai. You don't deserve it now. Are you even aware of what you've done? You left me when I was at my lowest. I lost Ango, I lost Oda and that same night I lost you, and it was your decision to leave me. You don’t get to move on. I just hope you are doing well in your new life and it was worth destroying me completely. I really fucking hope it was worth it."

And the worst part was that... it was not worth it. He was nauseous. Every word coming out of her lips was like a dagger thrust and twisted in his heart. Of course, he was aware of what he had done to her. He wasn't that much of an idiot. But hearing it out loud hurt a thousand times more than he might have thought. He could feel Chuuya's burning gaze of hatred on him, but he didn't care. He focused all his attention on her, like a sponge absorbing the piercing words.

Her voice did not tremble. But Dazai's heart did.

"I don't think I need to tell you where to find the stuff you came here for. I bet you figured it out yourself a long time ago. Just get out of my sight and never come back. I’m not going to let you destroy everything again." And so, the two headed for the stairs without turning back. Leaving Dazai all alone with his greatest enemy. Himself.

From that point on, getting the information he wanted did not require much time or effort from him. The most effort, against all appearances, was to return home. Or rather house. He closed the apartment door behind him and sighed quietly with stale air. It could use some ventilation, that's for sure. He kicked his shoes into a corner somewhere and with a heavy step entered the room.

"I'm home." He muttered to himself. He did every single time, even if there was not a single person to answer him. Not a single person waiting for him. However, he continued this small habit, as if there was still a sliver of hope hidden deep in his heart that one day he would hear the long awaited words. Welcome home.

Home. What a strange word. What was "home" anyway? Everyone certainly has their own definition of it. Was home just a place where a person stored their belongings, spent their free time, and slept under a roof at night? Or was home the smell of a warm dinner, quiet music playing on the radio and more than one pair of shoes by the doormat? What was this enigmatic "home"?

Well, according to Dazai, home was a place on earth. A place where he could return with peace of mind, knowing that he would always be welcomed back and accepted. A place where he could remove all masks from his face and fully be himself, without fear of rejection. A place where someone would be waiting for him, who would wrap him in gentleness and patience. A place where he could die every night and be born again along with the sunrise. A small heaven on earth.

Dazai did not have a home.

Or at least not anymore.

He began to wonder if she had a home these days. Did her snow-white walls still exude the icy cold of forsaken souls and sleepless nights? Did her bedroom still smell of empty promises and broken voices? Did the phantom of the life he left behind seep into the concrete of the walls and haunt her every night?

Or maybe now the frost of her life had been replaced by a soothing warmth she had never experienced before. Maybe her living room was decorated with beautiful flowers and floating memories in photographs where her smile outshone even the summer sun. Maybe the couch was draped with soft blankets and a pile of pillows where she rested at her leisure, watching her favorite movies. Maybe there was a warm dinner waiting for her and the gentle smile of another person. Two pairs of slippers, two mugs of morning coffee and two spoons in the sink, after a late night ice cream snack.

Maybe someone had given her the home that Dazai never could.

He hoped so.

He stood in the middle of the nearly empty room and, for the first time in a long time, looked around carefully. The dark apartment without an ounce of soul was a perfect reflection of him. Devoid of any beauty, it brought no comfort, no sense of security or reassurance. Only empty walls, a bed that hadn't been made in weeks, and clothes scattered on the floor that he didn't have the energy to put back in place. It was his own hell, which reminded him of his misery and solitude every single day.

Or was it not hell? Maybe it was just purgatory. A place where he could atone for his previous life. Even if he wasn't very religious, Dazai was sure, this must be some kind of punishment. Punishment for all the crimes and sins he had committed. For all the lives he had taken, for all the blood he had spilled, for every broken bone and heart ripped from the chest. For every trigger pulled. For every family he shattered. For the fact that he was born.

He sincerely believed that someone like him should never have been born. From an early age, he had been searching for the essence of life, but he couldn't find it in anyone or anything in his path. So he gravitated to people and environments where feelings and emotions were uncannily real. Where no one bothered to mask their worst sides. Where he could observe behavior, and perhaps that way he could learn how to be human.

His biggest mistake, however, was seeking the meaning of life in a place that ended it without hesitation. He hoped that in the raw emotions of the murderers, he would find the truth about what really makes a person human. And all he found was his own downfall.

However, in the midst of this chaos of death and doom, there was also her. In her hard shell hiding a beauty that Dazai was not worthy enough to see. Her cold hands covered in gold so delicately put his fragments together as if he were fragile porcelain. He probably never gave a hint of it, but her every word touched a depth of his soul he didn't even know he had. In her coldness, she was warm like oozing blood, dripping slowly onto the melting snow. She was a breath of fresh air after a midnight downpour. The first sip of morning coffee. She was beautiful. Beautiful in such an incomprehensible way that Dazai never saw anyone like her again.

On a daily basis, she was surrounded by an aura of composure and calm. A determined gaze always focused on the goal. Ready to do anything to achieve it. Confident, unstoppable, merciless. Yet she was at the same time the embodiment of comfort and understanding. She never judged. She made everyone at the bar laugh with her sense of humor, and her breakfasts were the best he had ever had. Existence with her by his side was a little more bearable.

Above all, however, she was too good for him. Too understanding, too patient, too caring. She didn't care for him the way a person would care for a small child. She didn't hover over him, she didn't pander to his every whim, she didn't flood him with a wave of affectionate words. Most of the time, in complete silence, she simply stayed by his side, absorbing together the frost of the morning and the frost of their hearts. And that was enough.

Oh how dare he hurt her like that?

However, Dazai knew that he was no good to her. He was only giving her a substitute for what she really needed. What she really deserved. Even if she was a ruthless mafia executive, ready to pull the trigger at any moment, taking lives exactly like him, without hesitation. She was something more. Or at least in Dazai's eyes.

He did not yet understand the concept of love back then. In fact, he probably still didn't fully understand it. However, at the time, these feelings overwhelmed him. He wasn't used to the racing heartbeat, the burning warmth in his chest and the indescribable attachment that pushed him to spend every possible moment by her side. He wasn't used to it and was terrified by it. He was terrified by the very sound of the cursed word. He was terrified by the dependence on another human being and the prospect that sooner or later he might lose her. How would he survive losing her after exposing his whole heart? He knew that the best way out was to end their relationship before it developed. Nevertheless, he selfishly allowed himself to bask in her presence a moment too long. Then unforgiving fate proved to him once again that everything he ever wanted would be taken away from him.

He realized that his leave from the mafia would bring much suffering. What he didn't expect, however, was that most of that suffering would fall on him. Perhaps it was for the best. After all, he was the evil of this world. An outcast, looking for his own place, yet never knowing how to fully fit in.

Oh what in the world had he done? Was it all really worth it? Was abandoning everything just to fulfill a dying friend's last wish actually his path? Or did he make an irreversible mistake? Regardless, there was no turning back. Nor a chance to make things right again.

He did not predict the consequences. Oh how painfully he did not predict the consequences of this rash fulfillment of a promise. The beginning was not so bad. He disappeared from the face of the earth, holed up in his own world and waited patiently for the smoke of confusion caused by his disappearance to slowly settle. Time, however, verified him. His life completely lost any leftover shine and color, and turned into a pure attempt to exist from day to day. Dazai stopped living. Dazai began to vegetate.

And what's the point in that? What's the point in fighting every morning, only to spend another day in solitude and go to bed with the same sense of hopelessness as the day before? What is the point? The thing is, there is no point. That's why in Dazai's life, death was not a terrifying vision of the unknown, it was like a beautiful salvation, saving him from the burden of life on earth. From the weight of regret, remorse and rejection. He clung to the concept of death like a drowning man grasping at a razor, as his last resort. There were days when he desired it more than anything else in the world. To end this never-ending string of failures and disappointments. To close his eyes once and for all and finally truly rest. From the world, from people, from suffering. From himself.

Oh what a pathetically weak man he was. All it took was a moment, one look in her direction and a few words flowing from between her lips to shake the foundation of the entire new life he had built from scratch. But how could he ignore the blistering pain in his heart and the weight in his throat, brutally falling into his stomach? He couldn't get rid of the memory of her fleeing gaze, just to avoid catching eye contact with him. Her defensive posture, as if his very presence was a threat to her and an agonizing pain. And maybe it was. It probably was.

He saw her in many different situations. He saw rage emanating from her eyes and ripping out of her throat, he saw sadness overwhelming her mind and he saw joy filling the room with sunshine. He saw it all. However, he had never seen her so defeated and retreating. Or at least he had never been the one she was pulling away from. The realization flashed through his mind that he would probably never see her sincere smile ever again. And that thought somehow hurt him particularly deeply.

He began to wonder how their lives would have turned out if he had stayed in the mafia instead. Would they still be inseparable, giving each other every bit of warmth they could ever muster? Maybe they would have been more than just souls suspended in the void, accompanying each other through the hardships of the world. Maybe they would have crossed that invisible barrier and become something more. Maybe they would have learned to love. Or maybe their paths would have drifted apart over time, leaving a bitter aftertaste of shattered hope in their mouths. What if they met now? If they had met when Dazai had already abandoned his merciless alter ego, would their story have turned out differently? Oh how Dazai longed at least for a moment to go back in time and shake the younger version of himself. To tell him to come to his senses, that it's not worth it. That he is irreversibly losing something from his life that will never happen again.

He cringed at the very memory of his cruel words that he sometimes threw in her direction. How he used to reject her without a second thought and throw her out of his life. How brutally he was able to break her spirit time and time again, only to return the next day as if nothing had ever happened. He continually left her in darkness, doubt and despair, making her look for a way back on her own, while he reached out to her without hesitation, whenever he got a little lost. He wasn't being fair. He knew it.

He only hoped that someday she would be able to forgive him. Because he will never be able to forgive himself.

Maybe that was the sign that he had actually changed. Living in the light gave him a different perspective on the world. And because of this, the mistakes he made in the past weighed on his shoulders more than he could carry. So he kept collapsing. Every single day. And there was no one left to pick him up.

Dazai was so painfully miserable.

And now he was alone. Completely alone. Despite his daily conversations with his colleagues at the agency, despite the morning calls from an impatient Kunikida who rushed him to work, despite the smile that graced his face every day, he was alone. Like a clown performing in a circus, his each and every day began to resemble a pathetic performance more than actual life. Pretending as if he had not been dying the night before.

So in the end, was it really worth it? Wasn't he supposed to be happy by doing the right thing? Why was he so wretched, even though he did everything Odasaku asked him to do, letting out that one final breath on his deathbed? Could it be possible that Odasaku was wrong? Is it selfish of Dazai to regret his decision at times? Is it really that selfish of him to want to return to where he was truly happy? Even if only a little? To that questions, and a thousand others, Dazai unfortunately did not know the answer.

Of one thing he was sure. The night that would prove to be his demise, the night he would finally place a delicate kiss on death's lips, he will whisper into the eternal immensity of the sky. He will whisper as if he is whispering in her ear one last time. Hoping that the moon will carry his voice and reach her soul.

I'm sorry I was too terrified to love you.

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shippaidan · 2 years

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I hate it here so much, my new chapter is not showing in tags ugh

#xen|talking

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shippaidan · 2 years

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no one says that they are afraid of love as beautifully as you do

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

a/n okaay so since it's my birthday today, I decided to post new chapter yeehaw also I'm going out this weekend so I'll probably start posting requests on sunday/monday! sorry for the delay!

REGRET.

"Well well well, who do we have here? Plotting as usual?" That voice. That fucking voice. The familiar man stood in full view at the bottom of the stairs, at which Dazai rolled his eyes.

"Dammit,” he muttered.

"Oh, the same old Chuuya. How nice to see you here." Dazai sent him a bitter smile. "What brings you to my humble abode? Forgive the mess, I haven't had time to decorate yet."

"Playing? I've been captured and am awaiting execution as a traitor of Port-"

"Fucking bullshit. Don’t change the subject." Chuuya grunted with annoyance.

"It’s honestly really nice to see that you haven't changed a thing. I bet you are still just a passive observer of your own life, accepting all the logs that fate throws at your feet? Am I right?"

"The main reason is Atsushi."

"That weretiger you're so obsessed with."

"Ah, that guy?” Chuuya waved his hand. "I'm not a part of this whole kidnapping thing. Akutagawa is in charge. I don't have any details."

"What are you talking about, shithead?" Chuuya frowned. He definitely didn't like either Dazai's tone or expression painted on his face.

"What the fuck are you-" Taken aback, Chuuya tried to interrupt him, but Dazai didn't seem to care.

"Oi, shut up before you say too much. You don't even know what you're talking about." Chuuya felt such an uncontrollable surge of anger that he clenched his fists with all his might.

"It's a real shame that you only have her because I left."

"Last warning, Dazai. I swear to fucking god-"

"Try to say one more fucking word, and you won't live to see your execution."

This did not bode well.

"Oh, what a wonderful reunion! Would you like to join our pleasant chat?" He spoke up with an overly sweet smile. She, however, only gave him a vague glance and turned to Chuuya again.

"Give me the keys. When you're done talking to that man, just come to the car." Oh.

"That man? You wound me, darling. Is that how you greet your beloved?" Yes, that's exactly how you should greet someone like me. I should be destroyed. Please, destroy me.

"Beloved? You've got to be kidding me." The note of anger in her voice pleased Dazai. A little more and he'll get what he wants. Please make me feel something again. Make me suffer. Make me bleed.

"Oh don't be like that. It's me, your Osamu. Stop pouting and give me a hug. To the good old days." Just a little bit more.

Please, I beg you, tear me down. I deserved it.

Her voice did not tremble. But Dazai's heart did.

Dazai did not have a home.

Or at least not anymore.

Maybe someone had given her the home that Dazai never could.

He hoped so.

Oh how dare he hurt her like that?

He only hoped that someday she would be able to forgive him. Because he will never be able to forgive himself.

Dazai was so painfully miserable.

I'm sorry I was too terrified to love you.

#dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #bsd headcanons #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #dazai x you #chuuya x you #bsd angst #bungou stray dogs angst #dazai angst #chuuya angst #bsd series #xen|series

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shippaidan · 2 years

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omg requests i get for my event are so cool!! I'm so freaking excited to write them all

#xen|talking

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shippaidan · 2 years

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Ah, just to make sure I’m not misinterpreting anything - do we send in all things listed (song, colour, aesthetic, etc.) or just one? I just in a request, but wanted to double check! I’m so sorry if I misinterpreted 😓

First of all, thank you so much for participating!

You can send all of the things listed but you can also send two/three of them, both is fine! I think I didn't write it very clearly in the post so I'll precise it

And don't worry, every request I got is okay by far!

Have a nice day! :]

#xen|talking

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shippaidan · 2 years

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Welcome event!

Hello everyone!

I decided to hold an event, since I'm really new here on tumblr and need some break from writing my series.

Send me a song, a color(s), aesthetic and a character and I'll write a drabble for you! You can also include some details if you'd like something specific like genre of drabble or your favourite line from the song you've chosen.

status: closed

requests: 8/10

fandoms: Bungou Stray Dogs, Haikyuu, Boku no Hero Academia (only adult pro-heros and villains)

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shippaidan · 2 years

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no one says that they are afraid of love as beautifully as you do

>>chapter: four >>pairings: chuuya x fem!reader | dazai x fem!reader >>genre: a little bit of angst with some comfort, fluff >>status: ongoing >>words: 1,8k >>cw: spoilers, she/her pronouns for reader, swearing, mentions of alcohol, one (!) canon-typical mention of suicide plans, as always a lot of reflections and "what if"s , but mostly fluff (or as fluffy as I could get)

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HOPE.

That night, the scent of approaching spring was lingering in the air.

Their synchronized footsteps echoed through the walls of the nearly empty mafia headquarters. It was really late. In a good mood they were returning from a meeting with the boss, who once again praised them for another successful mission.

"Damn, what a great day." She raised her arms high above head, stretching her slightly sore joints. "And by the way, you did amazing today, Chuuya."

"Said the one who did almost all the work." He rolled his eyes with a smile on his lips. "You didn't even need me for anything. If this keeps up, Mori's going to start sending you out solo."

"Please no, don't even say that. I really like going on missions with you. Solo won't be the same."

"Yeah, same here. You're actually the best partner I've ever had."

"Oh stop it! You'll make me blush." She joked actually abashed, waving her hand. She still didn't always know how to take the praise that was constantly coming out of his mouth, but he lived for her reactions and definitely had no intention of stopping. He had to make up for all these years after all.

"I would definitely pay to see that. A powerful mafia executive with blushing cheeks? Priceless.”

"Shut up!" Their soft laughter carried down the long corridors, as she slapped him lightly on the shoulder, shaking her head.

Things began to slowly come together. Everyday life took on vibrant colors again, and hope once again found refuge in her heart. She was more happy to get out of bed in the morning, the sunrise spent with coffee in her hand no longer stirred unnecessary memories, and she preferred to spend her evenings with a good book than a glass of alcohol. She felt as if she had finally come back to life.

However, she would not be able to do it without a man right next to her. His very presence helped her to move forward. And everything was slowly getting better.

"Why don't we grab a drink? My treat. I’m dying for some whiskey to be honest." She suggested, getting into his black car. Chuuya sent her a doubtful look, turning on the engine.

"Yeah, sure. Great idea. Alcohol is exactly what you need right now." The exaggerated sarcasm could be sensed a mile away. "Better think about what we're going to order. I don't want to spend an hour choosing a restaurant like last time."

"No way! You pick the food tonight, I'm picking the movie. We take turns." She reminded him, but at the same time turned on her phone in search of restaurants open at this hour, while Chuuya focused his gaze on the road.

"You fucking cheater. You picked the movie last time, and I ordered Chinese." Chuuya glanced at her in disbelief, slightly offended. "It was that weird vampire thriller. The one with the guy who was turned into a vampire and dragged into a game of life and death, remember? He drowned at the end."

"Oh yeah, It was a really good movie."

"Well it was good, I admit. But now it's my turn."

"Yeah, whatever." She rolled her eyes and dismissed the man with a wave of her hand. "You're going to pick some shit again anyway."

"Wow okay. First of all, rude. Second of all, I have incredible taste in movies, don't even try to deny it. That last one I picked was just a minor slip up."

"Yeah, right. Incredible taste in movies my ass. The only movies you ever want to watch are the mafia ones."

"Because they're good!"

"Dude, your life is one big mafia movie, don't you get tired of it?"

"Never."

Their light-hearted banter has become her new reality. So did sleepovers, breakfasts together, movie nights and going out to dinner when there happened to be a shorter day at work. Their daily routines already included the other person completely and they couldn't imagine it any other way.

Almost every morning, moments before sunrise, she was the one who would get up first. With a quiet step, she would go to the kitchen and prepare two coffees, knowing that Chuuya would get up soon after her. She would take one of the mugs and, as usual, go out on the balcony to watch the slowly awakening city. Waiting for him to join her in this morning ritual.

Even now, there still were moments when she thought about the past. She did not wallow in despair over it, but simply reminisced. Her mind couldn't stop painting those familiar brown eyes, as beautiful as they always were. Those eyes which with their ice-cold stare looked only for any sign of danger or a place to hide. She still remembered so clearly, how they were never focused on her, always somewhere else. Even in his embrace, she could never feel the soothing warmth radiating from his body. Always icy cold, just like his words and gaze, always uncertain, always harsh like the darkness of night. Maybe Dazai was not human after all.

Maybe Dazai was the winter. Gently drifting snow on Christmas Eve morning, adorning the eyelashes and hearts of rejoicing people. A child's joy at the thought of making a snowman and a snowball fight on a pleasant day. But at the same time, a blast of harsh frost, right after the setting of the sun. An unforgiving frost that seemed to cut the skin with ice grains. A terrifying snowstorm, ready to destroy everything in its path without regard for the consequences. Frostbitting the hands and chasing everyone away to take shelter in a warm house. Yeah, maybe he was not human, maybe he really was winter after all?

But if that was the case, why did his presence remind her so much of humanity? Why did he at times lift his mask and allow her to see his wounded soul? If he was not human, then why was there a piercing despair in his eyes? The kind of despair that could only appear in the eyes of a painfully human martyr hurt by the shards of a cracking fate and broken promises?

In the days when she had him by her side, she had not dwelt on the subject. She accepted him completely, embracing his crumbled pieces and trying to ease the pain at least a little. And in return, he showed her what it meant to have a home. A place where you can always come back, where you are fully accepted. He gave her the sense of belonging that she had so longed for all her life.

Perhaps it was because of his martyrdom that she felt so comfortable in his company. Without judging each other, they lived from day to day, hoping that during one of them they would see something more in this travesty called life. Secretly sent glances during mafia meetings, that only the two of them could understand. Nights covered in booze where their throats would get sore from shouting the words of songs. Walks along the riverbank and plans for the perfect suicide. Training together, going out for drinks, playing for hours in the arcade. Those were the good times.

But those pleasant moments were mingled with thorns driven into her heart whenever Dazai grew cold again. When his words evasively pushed her away, when he excluded her from his life and once again tried to solve everything alone, as the pain overwhelmed him and drowned him in the depths of hopelessness. He always wanted to be alone whenever the coldness was about to return again. The kind of coldness that no other human could survive. Or at least shouldn't have to survive.

He was so freezing, how had she not noticed that before? Maybe she was blinded by her own emptiness, or maybe she only noticed it the moment she had gone from frigid air to a heat she hadn't known until now. Maybe Dazai was frozen only in comparison to Chuuya's warmth.

Thousands of "what ifs" swirled around her and sometimes she liked to imagine different scenarios of her life. What if she had been a different person those many months ago? Would Dazai have considered staying in the mafia then? What if she had found out about Oda's death before Dazai? Would she be able to stop him? What if she had dropped everything and gone looking for him? Would she find him? And even if she did, what would she do? Was there anything she could have done differently? And honestly, was she really supposed to stop him? Would it be a good decision?

One thing she was absolutely sure of. If by some miracle it turned out that she could have stopped Dazai after all, she probably wouldn't want to know about it now. She can't turn back time and change the story. What's done is done. And that's it. So she left the past behind and moved on. Of course, some memories still paint a smile on her face and that will probably never change. At the end of the day, he was the first person to show her happiness. However, she wasn't longing for that anymore.

She built her life anew. Learned to see the positive in this turn of events. After all, if their story had played out differently, she would have missed the amazing moments that are now called everyday life.

And life at Chuuya's side was a little brighter. A little warmer. She felt so unimaginably human with him that sometimes she forgot what it was like to be a void. They floated together around the sufferings of life, in their worst moments looking only at each other. Never looking away. Always lifting each other up when fate crushed their shoulders and brought them to their knees. They were each other's safe haven. The only good thing in this merciless life.

Every moment had meaning. Dancing together in the middle of the kitchen in slippers and worn pajamas, waiting for the microwave popcorn to finish popping. Singing favorite songs from musicals with the obligatory overdramatic acting. Buying two coffees instead of one. On free weekends, which didn't happen very often, going to their favorite rented cottage and spending quality time in silence, surrounded by the serenity of nature. This was her new reality, one she once not even dared to dream of. Full of hope and a beautiful promise for the future.

If Dazai was the harsh cold of a winter night, Chuuya was the scent of spring lingering in the morning breeze.

And she realized that spring might be her favourite season.

a/n woow, a happy chapter? I really wonder what will happen in the next one....

also, thank you so much for so many notes on this series! I may plan something as a "thank you" soon, so stay tuned! see you in the next one, loves!

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shippaidan · 2 years

Text

training wheels

bungou stray dogs | G | 578 words nakahara chuuya x reader/oc

not everyone was taught how to ride a bike as a young child.

“how do you not know how to ride a bike?”

“how do you not know how to make onigiri?”

“okay, fine, you win.”

Czytaj dalej

#okay i felt that so personally because i cant ride a bike 😭#like no one ever was patient enough to teach me #i need chuuya in my life rn damn #i love it so much #chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #xen|recommends

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shippaidan · 2 years

Text

no one says that they are afraid of love as beautifully as you do

>>chapter: three >>pairings: chuuya x fem!reader | dazai x fem!reader >>genre: angst, hurt/comfort >>status: ongoing >>words: 2,9k >>cw: she/her pronouns for reader, swearing, alcohol, smoking, mentions of blood, basically whole mental breakdown, a lot of anger and self-blame, yelling and aggression

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RAGE.

A heart-wrenching scream ripped from her throat and cut brutally through her quiet apartment as soon as she closed the door behind her. She forcefully opened the refrigerator and pulled out an almost full bottle of alcohol. The cap was thrown somewhere on the ground and without hesitation she took three large sips, wincing slightly as she did so. She set the bottle down on the table and began pacing around the kitchen. Shaking fingers entwined in her hair and clenched into tight fists, pulling hard on strands. She tried at all costs to distract herself from the hurricane that was wreaking unimaginable destruction in her mind. She thought she had put it all behind her. Oh how wrong she was.

Months passed one after another. As a coping mechanism, she threw herself into a frantic whirl of work, trying to avoid moments when she would be alone with her thoughts. When such moments did come, they were usually lonely evenings, which she completely drenched in alcohol.

Evenings like this one.

She wasn't having such a bad day at work. It was productive, but not stressful. She finished the paperwork, filled out all the reports, delivered them to her boss and even got a praise for a recent mission. She had her lunch, as usual, with Chuuya in his office, and they spent the whole time having fun small talk and joking around. They exchanged gossip about their coworkers and even planned to ask their boss for a weekend off together, so they could get away somewhere far away and relax from the hectic city and the rush of work. She was having such a good day, so when did things start to go downhill?

Dazai's case had long since become a taboo subject in the mafia. Everyone kept quiet about the prodigy executive's betrayal and didn't return to the topic, for which she was extremely thankful inside. Dazai was slowly fading away into the past. Memories of him covered with dust, somewhere in the back of her mind. And everything was going so well. Until a face so confusingly similar to his flashed before her eyes, somewhere in the huge crowd in downtown Yokohama.

Time slowed down. Even the raindrops seemed to stop in mid-air, and the din of people was muffled by her galloping thoughts. His face flashed before her eyes for only a second, and she wasn't even sure if it was really him. But how much it hurt. Only then did she fully realize that he was not completely gone. He wasn't dead. He had simply left her alone to start a new beginning. Without her. She meant so little in his life that he walked away without even once looking back. While he was her whole world.

He left her alone to grieve for her friend and to come to terms with the betrayal of another. Just like that, he'd thrown her out of his life like trash, selfishly fleeing from his problems. Damn coward. Always fucking running away.

Only one feeling filled her in that moment. Unbridled and burning rage.

She couldn't remember the exact moment when she relatively came to herself. She regained full consciousness when once again she took the bottle in her hand and this time drank it almost to the bottom. The alcohol burned her throat just as brutally as the anger burned her heart. She screamed again in anguish and threw the bottle against the wall. Small shards of glass along with the remains of the alcohol decorated her floor, creating a beautiful mosaic. Beautiful, if not for the circumstances under which it was created. But couldn't things created out of pain be beautiful? Are they doomed to failure and ugliness just because of the way they were created?

The glistening glass mesmerized her. It will never again create the vessel it once was, but does that mean it no longer has any value? That it does not hide a beauty that can only be discovered by destroying its original form? That it cannot be a picturesque mosaic on the floor of a broken person? Is it not the same with people?

She fell heavily to her knees and with particular care began to pick up the fragments of glass, as if she had just collected her own soul and mourned for it.

Her blank gaze was fixed on the glass that was hurting her hands, just as her own thoughts were sabotaging her. Small droplets of blood bubbled to the surface, but she felt no pain. Everything was interrupted by the ringing of the phone aggressively shattering the heavy silence of the apartment. She immediately recognized who was calling because she had set a custom ringtone for him a few weeks ago. Their favorite song.

She was about to ignore it and let the sounds envelop her, but she didn't have the heart to once again break the promise she had made to him a few weeks ago. So she clumsily got up from the floor, putting the glass down on it, and went to the kitchen to get the phone. As soon as she answered the call, a familiar voice rang out from the speaker.

"Hi, I just talked to the boss and so far next weekend should be ok. When I get home, I'll look for something we can rent, so I thought maybe-"

"Hey Chuuya" her voice hoarse from earlier shrieks immediately silenced the man. "Can you come over?" It cost her a lot to utter that sentence. Never before had she spoken so openly about her weaknesses and admitted to her dark moments. Not even to mention asking for help. But she knew that this time, she did not want to go through it alone.

"I'll be there in ten. Are you ok? I mean physically." He asked, and the echo of his footsteps in the underground parking lot could be heard in the background.

"Yeah. It's just, I don't want to be alone right now. I think I need a hug." Admitting it out loud was harder than she thought it would be. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe the realization that Chuuya had taken her seriously and once again had to come to help her clean up the mess in her life, but she felt vulnerable. The man was ready to drop everything, to completely abandon his plans for a relaxing evening with a glass of wine, just because of her. What must she have done in her previous life that she deserved someone like that?

"That's okay. Everything is fine. I'll be with you in a moment." The sound of the engine starting came to her ears.

"I hate him, you know? I hate him with all my heart."

"I know, hun. I know." Pet name felt so natural on his tongue. He could definitely get used to it. "I'll be over in a minute and we'll talk, you'll tell me everything."

She nodded, even though she knew he wouldn't be able to see her. However, after a moment's thought, she realized that she didn't even have anything to tell him. Nothing major happened. The whole situation was beginning to take on a nasty pathetic hue in her mind. The anger bubbling in her stomach was no longer directed solely towards Dazai, but she too had become a victim of it. It was pathetic how weak of a human she was.

She looked around the demolished apartment that she didn't even remember destroying. She had probably done it that evening, somewhere between taking more sips of alcohol and despairing over her own weakness. Broken plates and glasses adorned the counters and kitchen floor, dirty dishes were piled up in the sink, pillows were scattered all over the living room. And she sat next to the mosaic she had created.

The clock read an hour well past midnight. A wave of heat hit her. Her breathing became heavy and irregular. Furious at her own powerlessness, she clenched her fists and tried with all her might to stop herself from hitting the wall. The only thing that actually stopped her was the fact that she was still on the phone with the man heading to her apartment. She didn't want to worry him further, after all, she had caused him enough problems already.

A million thoughts ran through her mind. She realized that for every thousand memories with Dazai that she carefully nurtured in her heart despite sincere attempts to erase them completely, she had just as many with Chuuya. Their missions together filled with cheerful banter, driving through the streets of a sleeping city in the middle of the night yelling out the words of their favorite songs, cigarettes smoked in silence, and conversations in which they almost touched each other's bare souls. He was always present in her life, even if she didn't always see it. And now it was dawning on her that all this time she had trusted the wrong person. Oh what a rotten being she was to not notice someone so wonderful right next to her.

For Chuuya, the road dragged on forever. He felt as if the whole world had turned against him as a red traffic light awaited him at almost every intersection. He stifled the urge to curse at any driver who drove too slowly in front of him, even if they were going according to the speed limit. Only the sight of an approaching apartment complex took a heavy stone off his chest. He sighed in relief and deftly parked in the nearest free spot.

"Okay, I’m here, so I'm hanging up. Wait for me." Taking only his phone with him, he got out of the car and headed across the parking lot. He nodded in greeting to the local security guard and got on the elevator. He didn't have to knock. Instinctively, he pulled an extra key to her apartment from his pocket, but it too turned out to be unnecessary because the door was open.

And the sight he found broke his heart.

She sat curled up on the floor against the wall, surrounded by broken glass, her face hidden in trembling hands. The whole apartment looked as if a hurricane had passed through it. It was possible that it had. Her temperament already more than once reminded him of an untamed element.

Paying no attention to the mess, he calmly walked over to her huddled body and crouched in front of her. "Hey..." He whispered, gently stroking her shoulder. "Come on, let's get you up off this floor."

She lowered her arms and raised her gaze to him. She didn't see a hint of pity or disappointment in his eyes. Only pure affection as a slight smile crept onto his lips. However, she didn't want to get up from the floor, which at that moment was her safe haven, and he respected it.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to aggravate her already vulnerable state.

"There's nothing to talk about. Nothing happened. I'm just fucked up." She laughed unhumorously, tilting her head back and resting it on the wall behind her.

"Don't say that. You're not fucked up." Something inside her snapped.

"Yes, I am! Don't you understand that nothing happened? Literally nothing! I just saw a guy on the street who looked a little bit like that shithead and I freaked the fuck out! I can't do this anymore, Chuuya. I'm exhausted, hurt, and so fucking furious!" All the anger she was trying to suppress flowed out of her mouth in the form of the worst curses she could find. Chuuya, however, didn't even flinch, his gaze fixed on her face. "That fucking prick is probably having the time of his life right now, and here I am whining like a damn baby! No wonder he fucking ran away! Who sane would stay with an unstable fucked up bitch!

The silence on his part stopped her.

"What? Why aren't you saying anything?"

"Go on." It wasn't a challenge on his part, but sincere encouragement. "Scream out everything that's on your chest. You'll feel better." And so she did. She threw out every negative emotion she had been bottling up inside of her up to this point. Chuuya only remained patiently by her side, soaking up every word and casually making sure she didn't do something dangerous in a fit of rage.

Once the only sound that surrounded them was just her heavy breathing, Chuuya smiled slightly. Being careful of the shards of glass lying around, he helped her up and sat her in the chair right next to him. He had already noticed her cut palms before, so throwing a quiet "I'll be right back" he went to the bathroom to get a first aid kit.

"I'm proud of you." He broke the silence in a soft voice as he disinfected her small wounds. She only shook her head in disagreement.

"You're too good to me. You can't keep coming over every time I fall to pieces again."

"And who's going to stop me?" He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging anyone who would even try to keep him from being there for her. Yeah, right. They both knew damn well that there was no power that could stop him, especially with his stubbornness and loyalty. When Chuuya was around someone, he was there for better or worse, no matter what.

"I'll have to. I can’t do this to you, Chuuya. It's like every day I sink into this bottomless abyss of despair. Eventually, I'll pull you down with me. "

"Then let's drown together. I don't care." He really didn't care. He was perfectly willing to go through hell with her if it was going to help. And that's what she both adored and hated most about him. On one hand, her heart was weeping for such a person in her life. A person who would just be there and not leave her when things got tough. But on the other hand, guilt was eating her from the inside out. Guilt that she had so thoughtlessly used his good heart for her own needs. Many times she tried to cut herself off again, but each time he appeared at her door with a gentle look in his eyes and a patience that many saints would envy. He simply refused to let himself be pushed out of her life.

He shouldn't have to put her back together again. He shouldn't have to play the role of babysitter, making sure she was doing all right, tending to her scraped knees after another fall or helping her up. But she was putting that burden on him, only adding to the bundle of stress he already had in his life. She was sickeningly selfish. No wonder everyone left her. It was all her fault. As usual.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, overwhelmed by her destructive thoughts. She was genuinely afraid that if she kept going like this, even he would leave her. And that was something she would definitely not survive.

"Stop it. No apologizing. I know exactly what you're thinking right now and I don't want to hear a word of that bullshit. You can't apologize to others for asking for help. And especially not to me. I'm really grateful that you did." He finished sticking small colorful band-aids on her fingers and put the first aid kit down on the table next to her.

"Chuuya..." Again she tried to reason with him. To make him realize that everything that was happening was pure nonsense. But he didn't let her get a word in edgewise.

"I won't let you be alone. I'm right here and I won't leave you. No matter what happens. You hear me? I won't leave you." He said each word while staring straight into her eyes, as if trying to make sure she heard and understood every single one of them. And that she was aware that he was completely serious. And that was the first moment in many years when thick tears flowed from her eyes. She broke through all barriers she had carefully built up to that point and burst into a wail so heart piercing that the walls of this apartment had never heard such. So did the man who immediately wrapped his arms around her shaking body. With slow movements, he stroked her back, trying to soothe the pain as violent sobs ripped through her throat and salty tears were soaking into his shirt. He nimbly pulled her off the chair and cuddled her tightly into his chest.

She let him, and somehow his embrace began to slowly mend her shattered heart.

There may have been no hope left for the glittering mosaic that adorned the floor, but there might still be some left for her. Thankfully, she was not made of glass.

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shippaidan · 2 years

Text

no one says that they are afraid of love as beautifully as you do

>>chapter: two >>pairings: chuuya x fem!reader | dazai x fem!reader >>genre: angst, hurt/comfort >>status: ongoing >>words: 2,6k >>cw: spoilers, she/her pronouns for reader, swearing, smoking, mentions of alcohol, small argument

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DENIAL.

The sun was slowly peeking out from the horizon, and its gentle rays coming through the large window began to fill her apartment to the brim. Her tired gaze was fixed on the steaming mug of hot coffee she had made a few moments earlier. Which night in a row had she not slept? She seemed to have lost count. Or maybe she had slept? She couldn't remember.

Her phone rang for the fifth time that morning, disturbing her blissful silence where she indulged in the emptiness that filled her heart. She still had a few hours until her meeting with Chuuya to leave for their mission. Whoever tried to reach her could wait.

She stood up from the empty kitchen table, switched off her phone, and turned her tired steps toward the glass balcony. A cool breeze of fresh morning air swept into the apartment. With her elbows she leaned against the balustrade, lit a cigarette and once again let her thoughts drift away.

The slowly awakening city painted a gentle smile on her face. Normally, she wouldn't spend mornings like this alone. He was always beside her, sipping his sweet coffee and enjoying each other's company in silence. They didn't talk much, yet such precious moments were stored in her heart with much care.

If someone asked her "What kind of man was Dazai Osamu?" she would not have to think for long. He was never a gentle man. He was impulsive, arrogant, cruel and unforgiving. He did not understand empathy or compassion; he abhorred sensitivity. He relied solely on himself, taking on so many different masks that he had long ago forgotten what kind of person he once was. His morals and value system were very different from those of average people.

Yet at the same time, he was the only person who never questioned her humanity. Perhaps that is why it was in him that she found her safe place on earth. In moments when she felt like a black hole, consuming everything around her and devoid of emotions, it was him who sometimes even painfully reminded her that she was still human. Somewhat ironically, coming from someone who had renounced his own humanity long ago.

Looking at him, she got the feeling as if she was looking in a mirror, their personalities were so blatantly similar. Both so sure that they were no longer human, at the same time seeing the humanity in each other.

And both oh so terrified of love.

Could their bond be called love? They had no idea. Probably under different circumstances, it would have been easier for them to figure it out. The perspective of a normal life was so distant to them that thoughts of such vulnerable and tender feelings like love, seemed like a sin. The one sin they both didn't want to commit.

People like them didn't deserve a happy ending. They didn't deserve the warmth of home, the whispered declarations of affection and the gentle stroking of fingers on bare shoulders. They were not made for love and they both knew it perfectly well.

So why did his absence disturb her heart so much? She should have known that everything she held dear would leave her sooner or later. Once again she gave herself hope, and once again fate brought her brutally down to earth. The empty space next to her, screamed louder than it should have. But one's absence is never quiet. Absence is loud, ferocious, and without mercy, it digs its claws into the souls of those left behind. At every moment reminding them of what will never return.

If she knew how to cry, she might have shed a tear by now. Or maybe the gravity of the situation had not reached her yet. Deep inside of her, she still felt that Dazai would change his mind. That he would in a moment cross the doorstep of her apartment, briefly apologize for this minor crisis, and they would return to their normal lives. Yeah, that's definitely it. After all, he wouldn't leave her like this without a word, would he?

In her imagination, she saw his black coat fluttering in the wind, his remorseful face with the bandage wrapped around his eye, and his disheveled hair. She could almost hear his heavy footsteps through the hallway of the apartment complex, heading toward her apartment. She could almost hear the intense knocking on her door.

Oh wait, there really is someone knocking on her door.

Her heart dropped in her chest.

For a moment she stood transfixed like a terrified deer staring at the headlights of an oncoming car. The knocking, however, did not stop. If anything, it was getting louder. With an unsteady step she entered the apartment, put out her cigarette in the ashtray and placed the mug of already cool coffee on the table in the living room. A million thoughts ran through her head at once. She was almost certain that on the other side of the door stood the one that had been occupying her thoughts for the past weeks. She was so ready to open the door and welcome Dazai back into her life.

Standing at the door, she took a deep breath.

"I swear to god, you better open the fucking door before I kick it down." Oh it's Chuuya. She grabbed the handle and glanced at the clock hanging in the kitchen. They were supposed to meet in three hours, why did he come here now? She smoothly opened the door and was met with the man's annoyed face. "What the fuck were you thinking? Are you out of your mind?"

"What are you doing here? We still have plenty of time to leave." She asked, letting him inside.

"What am I doing here? Are you fucking kidding me?" confused, she went to get her coffee mug and took a sip shrugging her shoulders unfazed. "I texted you last night and I've been trying to reach you for the last two hours. For two damn hours you didn't deign to answer the phone and then you fucking turned it off."

"Okay, why are you yelling at me? What the hell is your problem?" she raised her voice and furrowed her brow in annoyance. Chuuya already knew where the conversation would go, so instead of digging into it, he took a deep breath, trying to calm down a bit, then brushed his hand through his hair. Only then did she notice that he came to her in sweatpants and a t-shirt, a huge contrast to his everyday elegant style. He didn't even have his hat with him, which, after all, he never parted with. He had to leave in a hurry.

"Look, I know you're going through a rough time right now, but you can't do this to me. I was worried." He said in a tired voice, sinking heavily into the kitchen chair. "Suddenly you disappeared without a word, stopped answering texts, turned off your phone. For a moment I thought you went after him. Or... you know."

A warmth of shame coated her entire body. She selfishly cut herself off from the one person who was there for her no matter what. Drowning in the depths of her own thoughts, she didn't think that she might be dragging others down with her in the process.

Chuuya sighed loudly, as if in relief, and rubbed his face with his hands. The adrenaline began to slowly wear off, and as a result, he felt a hit of fatigue from the nearly sleepless previous night. He yawned loudly and looked at the girl, who was avoiding eye contact with him. Despite the visible shadows under her eyes, messy hair and worn pajamas, the sun illuminated her figure as if she was the only thing worth looking at. And to him, that's exactly what she was.

They were both aware that the time has just come in their lives when they have only each other. Both abandoned, both lonely and hurt. Chuuya was able to sacrifice the rest of the hope he kept in his heart to give her at least some of what she had lost. Of course, he had also lost a friend of sorts, if he could call Dazai that. Their relationship was complicated, but he was not entirely indifferent to him. Their daily bickering and petty squabbles were frankly quite an entertainment in Chuuya's life. Dazai's betrayal and abandonment of the mafia was like a stab in the heart for him. Another person didn't bother to stay in his life. Chuuya couldn't quite name the feelings he was going through. He definitely felt rage, but that was an emotion he felt relatively often. Other than that, he was unable to describe how he felt.

Oda's death came as no big surprise to him - after all, it is an inseparable part of their job. Death lurked around every corner, and every sunrise could be their last. He had long ago learned to accept that. Ango's betrayal hadn't come as a shock, either. Everyone does what they can to survive. And truth be told, he wasn't even that close with them. Other than nods of greeting or brief exchanges about work, he didn't have much interaction with them.

Unlike her, he didn't belong to the world of "Lupin Bar folks" as he used to call them. He always lived somewhere beside them. Always present, but never included. He didn't know the atmosphere of a dim and smoky bar, drinks on the rocks after a long day at work spiced up with casual chats with close friends or wobbly walks home together. Chuuya was always alone. Always the second option.

Actually, it didn't bother him as much as one might think, that he was her second option. He was so used to it that he didn't even know what it was like to be the first option. So he was happy with what he had. She and Dazai always had their own little world, and yet Chuuya genuinely enjoyed their company. Even if Dazai gave him a headache at times, missions together as the three of them were always a bit more fun than when done alone. Of course, he would never say that out loud in his life.

However, his favorite missions were the ones he did with her as a pair. He could recall endless conversations that were carved into his memory. There were moments when she gave him a glimpse into her hidden world, when they both bared their souls to each other without fear of the other stabbing knives into them. He had never opened up to anyone before as much as he had to her. The bottles of wine they drank together, the cigarettes they smoked, the motorcycle rides, all stored in his mind as one of the most precious memories of his life. They were some of the few times he felt and was glad to be alive. And he was eternally grateful for them.

She was his best friend, even if he wasn't hers. And he was okay with that.

But now that she had lost three of the people closest to her, he was the only one she had left. He knew full well the feeling of abandonment and betrayal, and even though it would not be the easiest thing to do, he was willing to try to fill the void left behind, even in the slightest.

The silence between them was not uncomfortable, and yet she felt a strong urge to break it. However, she didn't know how to put her thoughts into words, so she took the last sip of her cold coffee, wincing slightly.

"I'm sorry" She lifted her gaze and for the first time that morning she caught eye contact with him. "I didn't mean for it to turn out this way. I guess I just needed some alone time, I don't even know. But it won't happen again."

"Well it fucking better not happen again, or I'll beat your ass." Chuuya rolled his eyes, pretending to be still upset. She laughed quietly, setting the empty cup down on the counter and approaching the man from behind.

"Oh come on, Chuuya, don't be mad." She wrapped her arms around the man's shoulders and hugged him tightly. She leaned in slightly and hid her face in his neck. Chuuya stiffened at first, not expecting this turn of events, but he quickly relaxed and gently stroked the arms wrapped around him. "I really am sorry."

"Oh fine. I'm letting you do this only because you're sad." He rolled his eyes again, but the smile never left his face.

"I'm not sad." She muttered into his neck.

"Yeah, and I'm a fucking basketball player."

"Well, you could be. Theoretically, if you were on the ceiling, no one would be able to stop you and-"

"And that's the moment when you should theoretically shut up." Their soft laughter filled the kitchen, warmed by the shy glow of the sun. She slowly untangled her arms from around his shoulders and walked over to the coffee maker.

"Or even better, I could make you a coffee. I'd offer to make some breakfast, but I doubt I have anything edible in the fridge, so coffee will have to do." She pulled a second mug from the cabinet and turned on the machine. She casually looked in the refrigerator, just to be sure. "Yep, nothing in there."

"Relax, we'll grab some breakfast on the way. Oh and we also have to stop by my apartment on the way. I need to grab some decent clothes. And my hat.”

"Yes, sir."

The smell of freshly ground coffee filled the room as she placed two mugs of the steaming beverage on the table in front of them. They savored the taste in silence, in a much lighter atmosphere than before. Until Chuuya decided to break it again. There was one thought that had plagued him since he came.

"Hey, when I knocked earlier, did you by any chance think it was him?" She raised her widened eyes at him. "I'm just curious."

"For a second, yeah." She admitted, not wanting to lie to him. There was no point in lying to him anyway. The man sighed, looking at her thoroughly and trying to form the next words in his head as gently as possible.

"You do know he's not coming back, right?"

"Chuuya, I feel like-" She hesitated. Should she really pour out all her thoughts and feelings to him? Would this be a good idea? What will he think of her? Will he think that she's crazy? On the other hand, she was sure she would explode if she didn't share this with someone. So she risked it. "I feel like it's not over yet. Osamu always had a plan and he never shared them with others, this definitely could be one of them. He wouldn't treat us like this, I'm sure of it. He wouldn't leave us without saying goodbye. And certainly not after Oda, that would have been too heartless of him. And Osamu is not a monster. He's not the best person in the world, but he's not a monster. You will see, he will be back. I can feel it in my bones." She ranted quietly, falling into a whirlpool of her own thoughts. Worried, Chuuya drew down his eyebrows in consternation, watching her and her uncontrollable mind closely. He thought she was slowly beginning to come to terms with her current situation, but she had not yet fully accepted it.

Oh, dear. It was worse than he expected.

She couldn't stand the tenderness and pity swimming in his irises. So she shifted her gaze to the rising sun outside the window of the open balcony, as if still searching for that one silhouette. The one that was never to appear in her home again.

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shippaidan · 2 years

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damn i forgot that i changed blogs, i have to follow everyone again

#xen|random

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shippaidan · 2 years

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no one says that they are afraid of love as beautifully as you do

>>chapter: one >>pairings: chuuya x fem!reader | dazai x fem!reader >>genre: angst >>status: ongoing >>words: 1,4k >>cw: she/her pronouns for reader, implied alcohol abuse, swearing, smoking, spoilers!

series masterlist | next chapter

NUMB.

A long forgotten cigarette rested between her fingers. The silent darkness of the night seemed to seep into her soul, staining her insides the heaviest shade of black. Mafia black. The weight of the universe almost crushed her shoulders, as if she suddenly had to carry all the stars in the sky. The moon, which until now had been her best companion during her nightly vigil, was now laughing in her face. You were left alone again.

She hadn't felt such an immense emptiness in a very long time. The last time was probably when she was barely thirteen years old, wandering the streets, looking for her place on earth. Looking for a bit of space where she could squeeze her frozen, frail body in without bothering anyone. In those moments, it was just her and the night sky full of stars. Exactly like tonight.

She didn't like to dwell on her painful past, yet this evening the overwhelming void in her heart wouldn't let her think of anything else.

So many years had passed, but the feeling of being abandoned still unsettled her whole body as much as ever. There was a stoic composure on her face and her lungs were filled with cigarette smoke, yet her heart and soul shook as if she was that frightened thirteen-year-old girl again, abandoned once more by people who were supposed to be her anchors.

Her mournful musings were disturbed by the echo of footsteps stepping in elegant shoes. She didn't want to see anyone. She wanted to drown in solitude in the depths of her own grief and suffering. She wanted to be alone.

"Got one to spare?" a familiar voice asked. Without raising a blank gaze, she put the cigarette between her lips and with her free hand pulled the entire pack from the breast pocket of her black shirt. She handed it to the familiar man, hoping she wouldn't have to explain her state. That he would drop the issue and let her sink in quietly. They could return to the conversation tomorrow, once she had everything sorted out in her head. But not tonight. Please not tonight.

"What's up?" he spoke up again after a few moments, leaning against the wall beside her. "You were doing so well at that whole "staying sober" thing."

As if surprised, she looked at her left hand, in which she was holding an empty wine bottle. Ah yes, she had bought it that evening after all.

Who was she trying to fool? Chuuya would never let her carry the burdens of reality alone. He wouldn't be able to ignore her miserable state. Especially when she was so visibly weak and vulnerable, and her mask of an unshakeable and powerful executive of the mafia completely drained away in lieu of the tears she had been unable to shed for years.

As if sensing her reluctance, he sighed quietly and lit a cigarette. He gazed at the starry sky, waiting for any reaction from her, but after a moment he accepted that she apparently did not want to talk about her day. He hoped that whatever happened, he wasn't too late to save her from her destructive thoughts and complete shutting herself off from the world. For now, he was going to stay beside her, even in silence, and give her at least a small piece of the feeling that she wasn't alone.

"Bad day?" she spoke up in a hoarse voice, getting the young man's attention. "You don't usually smoke."

"You bet. I got new annoying job from boss, everyone has been pissing me off today and on fucking top of that, some idiot blew up my car. It could have been better."

"That sucks."

"Yeah."

There was another painfully long silence between them. Thoughts floated around each other, eyes danced among the stars. She debated internally whether or not to tell him the truth. It would come out anyway, so she should be the one to break the news to him. But would she be able to squeeze it out of her grief-stricken throat? Pushing unnecessary thoughts to the back of her mind, she pulled herself together and spoke again.

"Have you heard about Oda?"

"What about him?"

"He's dead." She blew cigarette smoke out of her mouth. "And Ango was a mole." A trembling laugh tore from her throat. God, how grotesquely funny it was. In an instant, her entire world that she had so carefully been building was irretrievably gone. She felt as if fate was taunting her. As if it was mocking her hope of having any place on earth. After all, she had been proven so many times that she did not deserve happiness. Not even a small fraction of it. She should have seen this coming by now.

Her last remaining solace was the man right next to her, and even though she wasn't a religious person, in that pitiful moment she prayed to all the gods that at least he wouldn't abandon her.

"What about-"

"He left." she interrupted him, putting out the remains of her cigarette with the sole of her shoe.

"What?" Chuuya didn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. He wouldn't do that, would he? He wouldn't dare.

...

Would he?

Chuuya looked at her thoroughly for the first time that evening. At first glance, she looked perfectly normal. Well, maybe her hair was a little less put together, and the shirt unbuttoned at the collar didn't fit her style either, but other than that, she looked just like she usually did. There was just one detail that would have escaped anyone but Chuuya. She didn't have a gaze so devoid of emotion even in her worst moments.

He already had his suspicions that something terrible happened as soon as he saw her, but he hoped with all his might that the truth would turn out to be completely different.

"Dazai" saying his last name turned out to be more difficult than she expected. After all, she had always called him Osamu. Perhaps it was some pathetic attempt on her part to distance herself. Either way, it wasn't working. A burning pain erupted in her chest, taking her breath away. "He's gone. He left the mafia."

She cringed at the sound of her own voice. So weak and so unlike the commanding and confident one she usually has. The weight of her own words completely crushed her. She wasn't fully aware of them yet, as if she still couldn't realize that her old life wasn't coming back. It wasn't until she said those few words out loud that everything became so painfully real. „He left me. He left both of us.”

Silence. There were no adequate words Chuuya could get out of himself to give her a bit of reassurance. Hell, he didn't know how he was supposed to handle this information himself. He wanted so badly for his suspicions not to come true. Once again, he was disappointed. And hurt.

"The boss knows?" he asked, not quite sure which way to take this conversation.

"Not yet. But it's only a matter of time before he figures it out." She pulled out another cigarette and lit it. Chuuya, however, nimbly took it out of her hand and threw it on the ground. Annoyed, she raised her eyes to glare at him, but when they caught eye contact with each other, it hit her. The azure of his eyes held sorrow and compassion so great that a burning pain wracked her heart once again. Only the soft whisper of her name was carried into the darkness of the night, as if he was trying to gently pull her from the torment she was inflicting on herself.

Chuuya's heart was breaking twice as hard at the sight of her suffering. He cursed quietly under his breath, then pulled her into his embrace and wrapped her up as tightly as if he was trying to put her crumbling pieces back together. And she let him.

She let him, just in the hope that maybe his embrace would somehow magically ease her numb pain.

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