#I can look back at those scenes and breathe now knowing Dazai knew Chuuya was gonna be okay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadyteacup · 3 years

Note

Helloooo, can you do headcanons on Dazai having a strong S/O (ability wise) like nearly as strong as Chuuya? Cause isn't he a literal God lol. Thank you :]

Hewo! I had a lot of fun writing this...it almost turned out to be a oneshot :p , but dw, I managed to turn it into hcs :D

Here u go~

Thunderstruck⚡

Dazai x gn!reader

Reader has a strong ability...like, rlly cool 😎 it's my dream ability

This man is head over heels.

He loves how you scream over a cockroach but can rip people to shreds at the same time.

Since you didn’t mention any specific ability, I have gone ahead and given you a lightning ability.

Arahabaki is the god of calamity, that combined with Chuuya.

Raijin is the God of lightening. Your ability is pretty similar to His powers.

You can control the place, time and method of a lightning strike. You can also produce it on the spot and shoot it from your hands...kinda like Palpatine.

Your eyes turn arctic blue, with your hair flowing around you. You look like a literal Goddess/God.

He was mesmerised when he witnessed it in action for the first time.

You and Dazai were walking through Yokohama, observing the internal beauty of the city via small lanes and random alleyways.

Hand-in-hand, you two were chatting about how Dazai hadn’t tried the Napolitana pasta yet, despite living in a city that was rumoured to have invented the dish.

That’s when Dazai pulled you around a random corner and shielded you from the view of the road you two were originally walking on.

You knew better than to speak at such a moment and decided to observe and try to pick any signs of being followed.

Sure enough, you could hear faint footsteps come to a stop right at the corner, you two still being shielded by the corner. You both waited with bated breath, and after a while, the person went away.

Relieved, you were about to walk out of your hiding place, when a barrel placed itself on your head from behind. Your eyes widened and you froze in place. Dazai noticed the unknown presence and looked behind only to find you being held a hostage.

“Long time, Mr. Executive!”, the man holding you hostage said as he grinned at Dazai.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in prison, Ito san?”, Dazai said, offering him his own smile.

You could easily read through his façade. The smile was only a mask, covering his panic and fear. You had no experience in fighting, and Dazai was no match for this man. He had fought him earlier, but that was when he had Chuuya by his side. Dazai can come up with a spectacular and manipulative plan, and Chuuya, or his current ada partner, Kunikida, can execute it, considering their brawn. He was the brains, and his partners had always been the brawn. He can fight the occasional criminal, but Ito was a feared enemy of the mafia, who was both mentally and physically strong. He had always assumed that the mafia had caught him, and sent him to jail, thanks to the mafias feared double black, but apparently, he had gotten away, or had found a way to break out of prison.

“prison isn’t a place for a man like me; you of all people know that. So, I left! Decided to say hello to an old friend, now that I’m back.”

He moved his gun from your head, dragging it down to your chin.

“Turns out, my visit might actually kill two birds with one stone.”

Understanding the hidden meaning behind his words, Dazai tensed up. He couldn’t let him hurt you. He had to get you out f here. But how is he going to do that? There is no way out of this without either of you getting hurt. He must protect you, but what must he do?

You chuckled.

“Something funny, pretty thing?”

“Actually, yes.”, you say, “Do you know who you’re threatening?”, you smirk, your tone dangerously low and intimidating.

“You’re playing a dangerous game; Ito-san, wasn’t it?”

The man grabbed your chin, turning you to face him.

“I was going to let you go, but I suppose your naivety deserves a bullet to the head!”

You smiled, activating your ability.

A sudden jolt of electricity travelled into his body. Yelping, he let go of you. Using this window of opportunity, you kicked the gun out of his hand and pushed yourself away from him. Dazai quickly grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the man, and out of the alley. His main intention was to get you away from here. Away from danger. He hadn’t understood what had just happened, but he decided that right now, running was the best course of action.

You two turned multiple corners, crossed many junctions, and ended up at an open field. Beyond the field, a few blocks away, was a metro station. You two could head to safety from there. All you had to do was cross this abandoned field and get in the metro.

Multiple men, clad in a uniform of sorts, emerged from the shadows, circling you both.

“Thought you could run away, did you?”, Ito stepped into the circle, a proud smirk on his face.

“You will face the consequences for destroying my gang. We never broke apart, you see. All of us are back. And we will take over the mafia, defeat the ada, and control this city.”

“Good luck with that.”, you say as you let go of Dazai’s hand, ignoring his warnings to stay back. Kinda like that scene with odasaku :')

You spread your arms wide, activating your ability. Bolts of lightning shot out from your fingers, hitting a few of the men, dropping them to the ground.

The men had no time to react as you swiftly raised yourself off the ground, hovering over them, and unleashed your signature move, striking them with a large bolt of lightning from the sky.

The head of the group, Ito, activated his own ability, the ability to control metal. Multiple guns aimed themselves at you and began shooting.

You created a shield around yourself, effectively blocking the hundreds of bullets.

Meanwhile, Dazai sneaked behind the others, incapacitating them.

You continued to fight Ito, blocking his attacks, and sending a couple bolts his way, while simultaneously attacking the others. The field was a mix of bullets, sharp scraps of metal, and bolts of electricity.

At the end, Dazai sneaked up behind Ito, nullifying his ability, and knocking him out.

To say that he was surprised would be an understatement.

He had heard of an ability that controlled lightning, but this was his first time witnessing it in action.

'Heaven's Fury' was the name of your dangerous ability.

He thought it suited you very well..

You are calm and composed, but when angered, you can unleash madness upon your enemies.

You were always so elegant, and seeing you like this, using your powers and fighting atleast 20 people at once, he couldn't help but admire your majestic beauty.

Your ability gives me 'They tell me I'm a God, I'm lost in the façade, Six feet off the ground' vibes.

Dazai agrees with my opinion.

You look like a deity.

He liked the idea of protecting you, yes, but he found it so hot that you could protect yourself.

Hell, he now knows that you can not only protect yourself, but also take out an entire city on your own.

He would be much at peace now, knowing that he doesn’t quite have to worry so much about any past enemy of his taking revenge. You were stronger than almost all his enemies.

Will praise you, 24/7. He wouldn’t stop talking about it.

He wonders why you didn’t tell him, and you merely shrugged saying that he never asked.

He would brag about you to all his friends(ada members)

He would never tell anyone other than the ada members, though, as he doesn’t want anybody to do some research and find out a way to defeat you.

He prefers it to be an element of surprise and catch the enemies off-guard.

Loves watching the shocked and scared faces of those that decide to wrong you, leading to you using your formidable ability on them.

If you aren’t a part of the ada, he would definitely think that you’d be a great addition to the organization.

He would never ask you join, though. He wants you to be as safe as possible. It doesn’t matter whether or not you have a strong ability, he just wants you out of harm’s way.

Besides, using your ability can take a toll on your health too.

He just wants to see you happy and safe.

If you decide to join the ada, he will try to talk you out of it.

If you’re absolutely sure of your decision, he wouldn’t stop you.

Instead, he will accompany you on all your missions, and will ask Atsushi to come along too.

He is aware that you are extremely strong and don’t need anyone, but he will constantly worry about you, which is why he accompanies you.

Don’t get him wrong, he really loves you and trusts you, but he is just so worried.

So, don’t oppose him when he joins you, please. Poor baby is just really concerned for your health.

Will call up Chuuya and brag about you to him.

“My Belladonna is much stronger than you, chibi-kun ;p”

If you’re taller than Chuuya, Dazai will tease the hell out of poor hat man.

He'll be like,"LOL shorty XD. My s/o is both taller and stronger than you!!"

If you're not taller, it will still be hell for poor wine boy.

"I can't believe that you're weaker than my s/o! They're so much better than you, LOL"

"Shut up, bastard!"

"Pathetic chuuya.. You literally have a God inside you, and you're still weaker! LMAO"

I feel bad for chu chu :(

But, oh well, that's just them, ig :)

181 notes · View notes

ruubles · 3 years

Text

A Bundle of Crimson Roses (Pt.3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Warnings: Cursing , Alcohol , Suggestive Themes , Gore , Blood, Violence

Word Count: 6790

Y/N) stood at the back of the gazebo, her body leaned atop the white wooden rail as she stared out across the well maintained garden. Flowers twisted in the moonlight and swayed in the gentle breeze, rose bushes stood without a branch out of place and recently pruned, and the fountain brought a continuous stream of sound. These little details had been the focus of her attention, the only thing dragging her mind away from the bodiless head sitting on the ground behind her.

She hadn’t brought herself to do anything with it yet, leaving it there in hopes that maybe it was just a hallucination, but the longer she stood the more the realization came crashing down. In her time under the Port Mafia she’d seen, and done, horrible things that were considerably worse than this. Even so, she was shocked that someone would risk their life to get the corpse only to leave its head behind as a warning.

That’s what this was. A warning.

A warning to stay away. A warning to not track these people down. Whoever had been responsible for this murder was dangerous and they wanted the mafia to know that. They not only created a drug that could remove someone’s ability, but they went through all the trouble of tracking the victim down to keep this information from them. It was a basic strategy but well thought for this situation. As long as they left behind as little traceable evidence as possible then it would be near impossible to find the culprit.

“Fuck. That sure explains the missing body.” (Y/N) had lost herself in thoughts of the situation and hadn’t noticed Chuuya’s approach. She didn’t bother to turn around and listened as he approached her, his steps were shallow light as he took the longest route around the head. After a moment she felt him beside her, his arms crossed and laid on the railing. “You should have told me you found something, I was still searching the house!”

He huffed a little as he spoke, eyes focused ahead just as hers were. “Sorry, I guess I got caught up thinking about something. I haven’t had a partner in quite some time.”

“Tch. You don’t have to apologize, I’m not used to a partner either. Last time I had one, it was that shitty Dazai.”

(Y/N) chuckled, her grim face shifting to one with a slight smile. She shook her head at the mention of the suicidal man, he was quite the topic in the Port Mafia, even after he abandoned them. “I was never that close with Dazai, but I knew of him through a friend. It would seem many people perceive him in different ways.”

“Many people don’t like him, and I couldn’t agree with those people more.” Chuuya turned to look at (Y/N), finally acknowledging that she had at some point turned to face him. Her (E/C) eyes met his and he could see that glint in them, not the one of seriousness from this morning, but the playfulness he’d seen in her last night.

“Who are you Chuuya Nakahara?”

The question was a strange question, similar to the ones he’d been asked when they first met only twenty-four hours before. “That’s a dumb question for someone Mori spoke so highly of.”

“I’m no fool Chuuya Nakahara, I’ve looked into the case files of almost every high ranking member of the Port Mafia. You are the person with the least amount of information. I was able to get more from Mori’s own public file than your private one.” (Y/N) backed away from the ledge and took a few steps away from Chuuya, carefully watching her movements to stay a good distance from the head. “I’m working with someone who I know nothing about. Mori knows you’re loyal to him, but I have no reason to believe that you wouldn’t shoot me if the opportunity provided itself.”

“Now why would I do that? Mori made you my partner, and I’m not going to disobey a direct order from him.” Chuuya scoffed and turned to face her. “Plus you’re one to talk about minimal information when your file doesn’t exist. I may not be the most strategic person in this mafia, but I do like knowing who I’m dealing with.”

“It would seem we’ve hit a roadblock then. My files, both public and private, were burned upon request and I assume the missing information from yours is also ash.” (Y/N) stepped towards Chuuya, their eyes locked in a challenge with one another. Her eyes changed rapidly to a dark piercing gaze, as if the trust she’d gained for him had drained at a rapid pace. “I have no doubt that our partnership will be beneficial in this case, but if neither of us trust one another then I see no reason for us to be friends.”

~x~

Chuuya’s eyes remained glued to the road ahead, his ears honed in on the quiet breathing of the seat diagonal to his own. If he focused he could see the faint outline of a person in his peripheral vision, but their body still remained shrouded in darkness. (Y/N) had chosen to sit in the back of his car, to the seat opposite of her was a bloody bag securely buckled down.

They hadn’t spoken even a word after their show down in the gazebo, perhaps newfound apprehension had been built between both parties. Few people knew of Chuuya’s past, but he understood that the mystery made any relations he had with another person difficult. For all (Y/N) knew he was a treacherous fiend that would stab her at moments notice. Though that statement applied for him as well, he had done his digging in the hours before he’d seen her standing alone outside and the stories of her did not disappoint.

The woman without a face, that was the constant whenever they mentioned her. He hadn’t a clue what it meant but whatever it was made her dangerous. Far more than most people of the mafia. Tidbits of information wormed their way into his mind, some of which were likely untrue, but the more he learned the less he really knew. From what he’d been told she’d joined the mafia at a fairly young age, just a little bit before the Dragon’s Head Conflict, and during the conflict was when her true strength had come to light. Mori promoted her just after the whole fight started, but he told no one but Daza and a few people who knew of her.

“Tomorrow I propose we go to the scene of the fight. We could likely find some bullet casings or leftover blood. It could be a lead for where to find these people.” Chuuya could see in his eyes that even though she was speaking to him, she hadn’t turned away from the window.

“We could go in the morning and-”

“Afternoon.” She cut him off. “I have business to attend tomorrow morning and I would much rather not be forced to reschedule. My apologies for cutting you off, but please continue.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes but made no comment on her rude interruption. “Then we can meet up tomorrow afternoon; Do you need a ride?”

(Y/N) hummed to herself for a moment before answering him. “If it isn’t too much trouble. My business is at a bakery on Southwest Street: Kim’s Kreamy Delights. They have some of the best sweets I’ve ever tried, I’m a big fan of their Dasik, but Mrs.Kim only makes them on Lunar New Year. When it’s not around that time, I usually get a kkwabaegi.”

“You seem well acquainted with sweet treats, I assume you know that they aren’t healthy.” Chuuya’s comment was somewhat judgmental, but it seemed to fly over (Y/N)’s head. Her mind still focused on the warm treats she would get whenever she was in town.

“I know that, but I do things for the enjoyment of myself. We are members of a mafia Chuuya, I’ve never expected to live a long life, nor a happy one. If you wish to judge then do so but I will not be changing my habits based on your criticism.” He had thought she hadn’t noticed the backhanded rudeness he’d displayed but it seems as though she had.

There was a strange silence that fluttered through the air of the car as the light of the city finally made its way through the car's windows. Slowly the trees on the outer rim of the city turned to buildings and the streetlamps illuminated the faces, every post passing by in a fleeting second before another one replaced the eerie orange light. Chuuya’s car sped down the street, not one to abide by normal street laws, and every sharp turn brought them closer to the mafia’s headquarters.

After a couple of minutes he pulled up in front of the towering building, its floors spiralling upwards into the stars. Several windows could be seen alive with a blazing light, not a strange sight considering many of the mafia’s business matters occurred during this time of night. Usually Chuuya would be in there monitoring what went on in every crevice of that building, but instead he was heading home to an empty apartment where he’d be receiving regularly spaced messages updating him on what was going on. It had been Mori’s order for him to get some rest, but the work of a mafia member was never done when night fell.

“Are you sure I can’t drop you off at the place you’re staying at? I don’t mind driving a little further.” Chuuya had extended his offer not because he was kind, but because Mori had been clear that someone should be looking out for this woman. He’d gone as far as assigning Hirotsu to monitor her, there had to be a reason he’d want someone of such importance to watch out for someone as capable as an executive.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you for the offer. There’s some papers I want to take a look at before going to my residence.” (Y/N) opened the door of the car, bringing both her legs out onto the sidewalk with a gentle click of her heels. She hesitated before turning back around. Her hand latched onto the top of the sheet that they had used as a handle and dragged the head towards her. “I truly am sorry for my words earlier. One of my bad habits is trying to forget my past, and I let that get to me. If it’s okay, I would like to take back my rude words.”

That was surprising. In the garden, (Y/N) had been so serious and gave off the same feeling that Mori gave off whenever someone questioned his authority. She was authoritative when she spoke of her burned files and her going back on her word of their relationship being nothing more than partners was something he hadn't expected. Thirty minutes ago he’d fully been prepared for her to be just another person he sees at work, but yet here she was apologizing. Every time they spoke it was like talking to another person, but this is the one who he’d met that had no apprehensions brought about by their job; This was the woman who was behind the mask of the mafia.

“I’m not one for friends.” (Y/N) had tried to hide the slight slump of her shoulders at his words, but he noticed the slight change before she stepped out of his car. She closed the door without turning around and began to walk towards the building's entrance. Chuuya rolled the window down and called out. “But I would like to try one of those kkwabaegi you were telling me about.”

She stopped her motions and turned to face him with the smallest of smiles on her face. “You butchered that name.”

“Oh shut up!” He snapped before rolling up the window and speeding off. (Y/N) watched as his car went down the street and eventually turned the corner. Her (E/C) bleary with a tiredness she’d held for so long. They were far from friends, but in the mafia did anyone really have a friend? A life like theirs was not made for relationships greater than the ones they formed at work and that was a fact (Y/N) had learned a long time ago. She didn’t expect anything from Chuuya, but she hoped that maybe when this was all over that there might be someone who wants her to stick around.

“So are you enjoying your new partner?” The voice was deep and sudden, there had been no one around moments before. (Y/N) showed no surprise of this person's newfound presence; She had known the moment he had appeared behind her. “The kids aren’t mad, but they are expecting you to take them out for ice cream. You’d better not disappoint them or I’ll pour all your wine into a bush.”

“Oh come on Isaac, I may not be the most caring person in the world but I wouldn’t disappoint those kids. Not again.” (Y/N) turned to face her friend. Isaac stood with his head turned up as he let out a puff of air and watched as it turned white and then disappeared. He wore the same outfit he wore whenever he was bartending: A dark gray button up tucked into a pair of pitch black jeans, simple but with the added spice of five undone buttons to reveal a well sculpted body beneath. He was a person of habit. “Did you just finish a shift?”

“No? What gave you that idea?” They walked side by side to one another, Isaac’s hand buried in his pocket as they approached the building.

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, a deadpan expression replacing the sly smile she’d worn moments before. “You cannot tell me that outfit is the extent of your closet.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!” Isaac snapped, hand pulled from his pocket as he balled his fingers into a fist. “I have better fashion than you Ms.I-Dress-Like-An-Cubicle-Worker.”

“Oh quit it, you’re acting so childish, Isaac.” (Y/N) shook her head and walked into the building, neither of the guards questioning her presence much. Her comrade followed her lead and stayed close as though fearful of being found for being out of place. “I thought better of you.”

“Oh shut it you hag, let’s just get this over with.”

~x~

“I doubt there’s anything left at the scene of the fight. Especially if you say it's a city owned warehouse.” Isaac sighed and fell back on his chair before continuing. “They’re easy to access and I doubt that someone willing to go through all the trouble of disposing the body wouldn’t clear that place out.”

Mori sat at his usual spot at the head of the table, silent as he listened to both (Y/N) and Isaac shoot ideas off one another. He seemed enthralled in his own thoughts as he considered a plan of action. They all sat close to one another, Mori at the head of his table with one of them sitting in a chair on either side of the table. So close there was no need for their voices to be raised and that meant that anyone outside would have a hard time listening in.

It was strange for someone so strong and hated like Mori to allow an outsider like Isaac to ever be near him, but after all Mori had done for them both he trusted them more than a lot of the members of the mafia. (Y/N) was his executive and by extension Isaac was loyal, though he would not hold his tongue around him like she would.

“(Y/N), you must have an assumption as to who is behind this. Please clarify who it is.” Mori wanted to hear all the information, even if it might be wrong.

“Is that really even a question, Ougai? You’ve had the same assumption considering you didn’t only bring me back here, but you called a meeting with my old partner.” (Y/N) was apprehensive to continue, her idea had a lot of backing and would likely be true. For now it was only that, an idea, but the more they investigate the closer she’ll get to the life she used to have. “I think it was them. That old man is smart and a drug like this isn’t far from something he’d do.”

Isaac gritted his teeth, trying to find an argument for why it wouldn’t be them. Anything to keep the idea of them coming back out of his mind. They’d spent so much effort to escape their past and join Mori that even a possibility of the past coming back to haunt them was pestilent. “There wasn’t anything left with the part of the body they left behind. It’s protocol to leave them with every single body, you know that.”

“Of course I do, but there are exceptions to that rule! Given a direct order from him you don’t have to-”

“And if it is absolutely impossible, I know.” Isaac cut her off to continue his idea. “Something like this, so large, the old man wouldn’t want to let anyone take credit for it. He wants people to know it's them so they’ll be afraid.”

“There were roses in her garden.”

“You said she had a garden full of flowers of all kinds.” He argued back, hand hitting the table a bit too harshly. “A couple of roses bushes doesn’t fucking matter!”

“Enough.” Mori interjected. He’d taken both Isaac and (Y/N) in at a young age, but they both had a tough time before he found them. They may not have been together these past few years but they are still better partners than any two people who ever graced the mafia. Above all Mori sought to keep things neutral between them both so that they wouldn’t say anything they’d regret when things calmed down. “We have to think rationally and take a moment to talk it over. Neither of you are foolish, I’ve seen the things you can accomplish together but tensions are high right now. For now we assume it’s one of the recent organizations who have stood against us.”

It was silent for a moment as the pair thought things over. They’d lived a long life with shared pains but they both had managed to come out better for it. Isaac was raising five kids and smiled everyday as though it were his last, on the other hand (Y/N) buried herself in work and drowned herself with expensive delicacies to erase it all. They were like family and neither of them would blame the other for how things went after Oda’s death.

“If it’s not?” Isaac’s voice was low and gravelly as though he were on the verge of tears. It was weak and pitiful, but it explained exactly how they were feeling. “What if it is them, Mori? Do we fight them? We won’t win that.”

“It isn’t them.” (Y/N) cut in before Mori could say a word. “It can’t be. We went through so much to slaughter them during the Dragon’s Head Conflict. The numbers don’t lie, nearly every branch was pruned because of us. To come back now, and with enough people to even consider facing the Port Mafia, is impossible.”

Isaac slid his chair back and stood up, dark eyes more gloomy than they were glossy. “You seem to forget (Y/N), pruning is done to help a plant grow.”

~x~

Chuuya looked from his phone to the fancy hotel he’d parked across the street from. His eyes held hesitation as he scanned across the messages on his device one final time. Part of him wanted to ignore the messages and just go home, but doing this had become a ritual. A guilty pleasure that helped calm his riled nerves.

‘I don’t have work tonight if you want to drop by our special spot.’

‘C’mon Chuuya, at least let me know if you’re going to show up. I need to know if I should open the champagne sooner rather than later.’

‘Fine. I’ll be waiting, but until then let me leave you with a special present.”

‘Attachment: 1 Image’

Chuuya’s eyes scanned across the image once again, to say it was scandalous was an understatement. There was no face presented in the image, instead the picture captured a woman’s body adorned in a set of elegant hand-woven red lace lingerie. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the outfit considering he’d been the one to take it off her many times before.

Their relationship was nothing more than a late at night call whenever they needed to relieve some stress. Neither of them knew much of the other, their names had come the first night they’d grabbed a drink and their sexual desires came soon after. Though there were a few things he noticed: Her schedule was not linear, he’d get spontaneous messages throughout the month asking if he were free. Most of the time he could clear just a bit of time and make his way here to meet with her for a few hours.

They’d been doing this for months at this point and he still couldn’t wrap his head around the stupidity of his actions. Everytime he said he would end things off and never see her again, then as though he were wrapped around her finger he would be back here: Car parked in the same spot as always and his route to the room the same. A member of the mafia took a risk two or three times a month to visit a woman whose life he hadn’t a clue of.

Using his memory, Chuuya made his way through the lobby, passing by a clerk who offered a knowing nod in his direction. It was the same thing time after time but that familiarity was something he clung to. No one questioned him. No one asked why he did something. No one looked to him for answers. It was the opposite of what he did for work, but it was so much more freeing.

Taking the elevator up, Chuuya watched as the red numbers changed, going up one by one until finally the number fifteen. One final chime echoed through the metal cage and the doors slid open into a long spiraling hallway. Three steps out of the elevator, three doors to the right, and on his left. That path he’d memorized after his third meeting with this strange woman.

With a deep breath Chuuya tried to prepare himself to end this debacle that could become scurrilous if things were to go wrong. He opened the door and slid into the room quietly as though trying to go unnoticed. The sound of a running shwoer gently swayed throughout the room and he knew that she was getting ready for what she presumed to be his imminent arrival. He slid off his cape and hung it on the coat rack besides the door, his hat following suit.

The water shut off and a voice called out to him from somewhere beyond sight. “Oh Chuuya~”

Her voice was sweet as it called, drawing out the a at the end of his name to grab his attention. Getting the message he walked from the main room into the small, but still fairly large, bedroom. There she stood, body wrapped in a white towel that barely covered the most private portions of her body.

Alberta Einstein. She was a beauty to behold; her almond shaped eyes holding the deepest most dark irises you might ever see as if they were shadows coming to life with no light reflecting off of them. Long white hair would usually be flowing down her back and sway gently every time she took a step. Her figure was lean but she seemed to have curves in places that would make any man fall in a matter of moments. Now, standing bare in a bath towel, she was ravishing. Droplets of water dripping from her body and onto the floor, running from her neck down to her towel, and more littering the floor of the bathroom.

“I wasn’t sure you would show.” Her feet sunk into the carpet as she walked towards Chuuya, imprints of water marking her chosen pathway. Once close enough, her hand danced around his top button before easily sliding it undone. Slowly she moved to the second button and slowly began to undo it as well, but she hesitated. “Something wrong?”

Her eyes danced up to meet his, a shade so dark that his light blue eyes could never fathom their depths. “We should stop this.”

“You’re quite right, Chuuya. This relationship is going no where and it never will: We’ve been having casual sex for months but neither of us have caught an ounce of feelings.” She leaned into his lips, heat fanning across his face as she spoke, still continuing to fiddle with his buttons. “But isn’t that the fun part, my dearest Nakahara? Life isn’t about love even if people wish it was; It’s about enjoying yourself so much that you can’t possibly find it in your soul to frown.”

She leaned in and finally met his lips in the softest most gentle kiss she’d ever given to him. Her lips were warm as she pressed her body flush against his. With quick hands she undid the buttons at a much faster pace than the one she’d set before. Chuuya knew better than to let her do this once again but he quickly melted into her touch. Their lips entwined with one another as her mouth parted to let a gentle moan escape.

“I must say your sexual prowess surprises me. For such a short man you truly are skilled in bed.” She taunted his height, attempting to mask it with a compliment. They’d played this game time and time before.

“Tch. Same as always Ally, crude and judgemental so much so that you can’t even acknowledge your own shortcomings.” He moved from her lips to just under her ear, teeth grazing against her earlobe and sending a shudder down and throughout her body. “Last time we were together I specifically remember you getting so worked up that you could barely beg for more.”

She smirked and gulped down a large portion of air. Ally was not nervous, it was apparent on her face, instead she was excited. “That’s because I’m not a beggar.”

Chuuya had a response gliding across his tongue but before it could come out the incessant ringing of a phone bleared through the room. Ally let out an audible groan and pushed Chuuya away, hand lingering on his unbuttoned shirt for just a bit too long. Part of him wanted to pull her back but then he reasoned with himself and realized that his wish of ending things could still come true. With the interference of an outsider he had caught the slipup he’d made many times before.

“What the hell do you want, Thomas?” Ally snapped through her phone, she paced back and forth as she listened to the person on the other line. After a moment she stopped dead in her tracks. “You really are useless without me. Fine, fine I didn’t mean it.”

She turned to Chuuya and gave that smile, the same one he’d often give her when his work called him away from the hotel room. Though this time he was pleasantly surprised by the situation. Furthering contact with someone so wrapped in mystery was not beneficial in any way. If anything it was dangerous and reckless. She meant nothing to him and that feeling was mutual, so neither of them had any real attachments to one another. It was best to end things here so that neither of them had too many hard feelings when things would inevitably go bad in a few more months. Casual sex and a freind with benefits was the closest he’d ever get to a real relationship given his line of work, but even that was something he hadn’t saught after much in his time.

“I was busy.” She growled into her phone before taking a deep breath and calming her nerves. After a moment her resolve and anger faded in one swift motion and she sighed. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, just wait for me in the meeting room okay?”

With a final goodbye she hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bed. She followed suit with her phone and fell onto the white bedding, face smashing against the soft comforter they would usually be tangled in by now. “This is for the best Alberta. I meant what I said. My job isn’t the most lenient and I don’t need distractions right now, so this is my final goodbye to you.”

She turned to look at him, watching as he redid the buttons she’d worked to undo. Turning over she spread her arms across the bed and closed her eyes. A soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “That’s true, my job is also picking up pace right now. We have a big projecting starting and I’d hate to miss out on it because of an outside relationship. Perhaps when things settle down we could meet up again, relive the first we met.”

“That won’t be necessary, when I say final goodbye I mean it.” Her ears perked up and she sat up, realizing now that he had already left the room and slid on his jacket. She heard the door open and then once again his voice rang through her ears. “Find yourself someone who’s actually in love with you, okay? Someone who’s worth your time.”

With those final words, the door closed to the hotel room and she was left alone to her thoughts. Intrigued by the man who she’d enraptured by her beauty. She had no romantic feelings towards him, but she was quite sad that their days of booty calls would no longer be happening.

~x~

Chuuya walked through the halls of the Port Mafia’s building, against the order he’d been giving he returned to headquarters in hopes of catching Mori before he left. Though after travelling up to the top floor he’d come to the conclusion that his boss had already left. He’d likely have gone to get rest for the night or take Elise to do something better than sit around his office.

“Chuuya.” Kouyou’s appearance behind him was sudden, her steps quiet as ever as she approached with her usual long strides. Her dress swayed as she continued by his side. As usual she spoke and moved in a way so elegant that she resembled a goddess. “How is your evening? I could have sworn Mori told you to return to your residence.”

“It’s late Kouyou, you should’ve gone home hours ago.” Chuuya tried to divert the subject from his disobedience, but he knew that even so Kouyou would insist. She was a Port Mafia executive above all else but that did not mean she was heartless. It was fleeting comments that passed by ever so often that reminded him of this; She cared about him in a similar sense to how she cares for Kyouka. “Do you have any idea where Mori might be? It’s late but usually he wouldn’t have left by this time.”

“Last time I saw him, he was meeting with (Y/N) and that handsome young bartender. I always forget his name but he makes the most wonderful cocktails.” Her voice sounded nearly dreamy as she recalled the delicious drinks she’d enjoy ever so often. Kouyou was the type of person who could handle her liquor well, unlike himself, and he’d seen her drink a dozen fruity drinks without ever slurring a single word. It was honestly somewhat startling. “Though I do remember he stormed out and your partner followed close behind. They sounded as though they were having a heated discussion but I was too caught up in a phone call to hear much of what they said.”

“Isaac.” Chuuya said slowly , Kouyou perked up and turned to him with a soft questioning hum. “That’s his name. Why would Mori want to meet with a random bartender? I thought (Y/N) said she was going home.”

The woman next to him chuckled, she pressed the button to call the elevator before turning to him. “I have no clue why Mori would want to speak with that man but I assume he has a reason and we should not question him. As for (Y/N), I’m glad to see you’re getting along with her. You were quite opposed to your partnership during the meeting this morning.”

“Getting along isn’t the phrasing I’d use.” Chuuya grumbled, arms crossing as he turned to face the elevator instead of his mentor. “I don’t trust that woman. She’s hiding something and I’d rather not be staring down the barrel of a gun when I find out what it is.”

They fell into silence, neither of them knowing what to say. Chuuya wasn’t in the wrong for believing she was hiding something, no one who can switch their personality as quick as her is being genuine. Mori trusts her and that is abundantly clear but what isn’t is why he’d never heard of her. Another executive that no one knew of was strange to say the very least. For now he wouldn’t question her much, instead seeing what he can find out without her realizing he’s digging around for information.

Kouyou knew a little of (Y/N), Mori had told her some of the stories about the feats she’d completed during her time in Russia. She knew there was more to the story but if Mori had trust in her to stay loyal to them then it was not her place to question it. One thing was clear to her from the way that her boss spoke: (Y/N) was strong and she is not foolish, and keeping her hidden from everyone was a strategy of the finest creation. He hadn’t told her what his ability is but whatever it was it made her abnormally strong compared to a regular mafioso.

“Your accusation is likely true, she is hiding something from us but I believe that Mori knows exactly what it is. We’ve pledged our lives to the mafia which means we are to have faith in our boss.” Finally after what felt like minutes the elevator door dinged and began to open. “I have a strong feeling that you and your new partner aren’t nearly as different as you’d like to believe… Perhaps I’m just being foolish.”

“You really should be getting some rest, my dear (Y/N).” The voice of Mori coed from the elevator, his slender hands wrapped around her shoulders as he gave them a gentle squeeze. She tried to shrug him off but the further she got from his grasp the tighter his hold became. It was almost as though watching a father taking care of his young daughter, but below the surface they were hiding something. Chuuya and Kouyou had been so enraptured with their own conversation that they hadn’t bore witness to the quiet whisper Mori had slipped to (Y/N) before the doors were all the way open.

“Get off of me you old man!” She shouted, bringing her foot back on his before whirling around. Not noticing his presence, her back bumped against Chuuya’s chest. He stumbled a bit at the sudden added weight but his arms caught around her and steadied them both. Surprised, she turned to face her hero with an utterly sweet smile. “Oh? Hello Chuuya, I didn’t expect to see you again this evening. Did you not have plans to attend?”

Mori perked up at the mention of one of his executives, specifically the one he’d told to take the night off. “Plans fall through often, no big deal. I just thought I’d come to make sure that Mori had been given a full report on what we found.”

“There’s no need to worry Chuuya, (Y/N) has given me a full report and I have faith that your digging tomorrow will bring more information to light.” Mori straightened himself from the endearing man they’d seen moments ago. His voice had a cold demeanor as it always had when he spoke with them, though when he spoke with her it seemed he had a similar attitude to the one he used when communicating with Elise. “I have faith in the both of you to prove your worth as executives. May you prove my assumptions right that your partnership was not in vain, then perhaps I could be persuaded to give you both a raise befitting your work.”

(Y/N)’s eyes searched up Mori, her gaze travelling from his gloved hands up to his rigid smiling face. It was clear to her that he was faking every word and gesture as if hoping to give his two closest advisors a false sense of security. His whisper still rang in her ear, ‘For now, act as if our conversation with Isaac never happened. You are, and only are, an executive of the Port Mafia.’ The message was clear with what he wanted but the intent behind it was a mystery. Had he meant it as a form of comfort to remind her that her past was not to stop her from having a future, or was it a warning to keep up the act as a perfect mafia princess and play the diplomat role, perhaps it was neither and simply a reminder that her life has only ever been that of a pawn. Any way he went about saying it, there was obvious fabrication of joy in his face.

“Thank you, sir.” Chuuya took a low bow before his boss and Kouyou offered a small courtesy. “Though I would like to speak with you about a few things when you have the time.”

Mori looked from Chuuya to (Y/N) as though he were asking her what questions she’d brought about from Chuuya, but all she did was shrug in response. He would either ask about her past and her file or he would bring up the fact that their partnership was not in the best of graces. “I truly would love to speak with you about this Chuuya, but Elise has been waiting on me for hours! Tomorrow morning I should have a bit of free time if that’s okay.”

“That will be fine, thank you sir.”

“Now, as your boss, I must request that you all get some rest. Specifically you (Y/N). I know that bad habit of yours and I’d prefer it if it didn’t interfere with your work.” Mori’s words confused the two people who didn’t know much about her habits, but she understood it well enough. He had made a jab at her constant desire to work and the way she would stay awake until the point of utter exhaustion. It was a bad habit she’d had for a long time; But it was part of the reason she got so much work done. “Please do watch your phones in case there’s an emergency, but if there is not then enjoy your time off.”

Mori stalked away from the group and in the direction of his meeting room. “Well I should be going as well, I’ve got some place to be. May you both have a goodnight.” (Y/N) wasted no time in excusing herself from the situation, wanting nothing more than to find her way to a place she’d been meaning to visit since she returned to Yokohama.

“Do you need a ride?” Chuuya was not fond of (Y/N), and that feeling went both ways, but his partner had done nothing to wrong him yet. Until she did so, he would be kind and offer her a ride. Kouyou smiled to herself but used her fan to hide it; The gesture earned a glare from Chuuya. “I don’t mind, I’ve got a stop to make before I return to my apartment anyway.”

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you for the offer Chuuya.” (Y/N) stepped into the elevator and gave a small wave before the doors began to close and seal her away from them both. “Tomorrow afternoon, don’t forget okay?”

With that she was gone.

#Chuuya #Chuuya Nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #port mafia #mori ougai #bsd kouyou #bungou stray dogs kouyou #original character #original work #fan fiction #mature themes #bungou stray dogs #bungou SD #chuuyaxreader #bsdxreader #reader insert #xreader #bungo stray dogs

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afinepricklypear · 3 years

Text

Confessions & Deleted Scenes

I get a lot of anxiety when it comes to comments on my writing. When a story of mine starts to garner a lot of attention, replying to readers and continuing the work, becomes increasingly difficult. Maybe it’s a touch of Imposter Syndrome, but I get stage fright. Yet, if I got no comments, or I saw no increase in comments, I couldn’t continue either. It’s this strange “damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t” struggle. I used to get around it by starting new fanfiction accounts and starting over, rebuilding an audience in a new fandom, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to run from my stories. But. I’m in that mental place right now, even looking at comments and trying to muster the werewithal to reply makes me sick to my stomach and want to break down. I can’t breathe and I start crying, the thoughts in my head: I’m not this person, I didn’t write this thing that you liked so much, it’s trash, it’s all trash, and if I did, it was a fluke, and I can’t recreate it. Then the paranoia sets in: the readers are leaving, they see that I can’t do this, they hate me, they hate my work, I knew all along it wasn’t good enough.

Ah. Well. I’m working on it. I want to move past this and feel confident and continue with the stories in my head without the fear that no one will like it or they’ll like it too much so that eventually I’ll disappoint them. The words are there, I just can’t get them on to paper right now in a way that is satisfactory. So I’ll try and I’ll fail and I’ll try and I’ll fail.

In the meantime, while I get my shit together, here’s the original chapter 1 from my first attempt at writing “Wake Up” for my BSD fanfiction series Release (posted here on AO3). I haven’t read it since I retconned it, so it’s not edited. I wonder if anyone will find this here.

*Chapter*

A cold gray frost coated the windows of every building along the dusky alleyway. Chuuya leaned back against a building’s brick wall, crouched low to the ground, head tipped to one side, and a heavy gray, linen coat draped over his shoulders. He tried not to think about the lingering scent of urine on the air, or the fact his thin shirt and jeans provided little protection from the severe drop in temperature that evening. The hair on his arms and back of neck prickled on end, his ability, For the Tainted Sorrow, was desperate to unleash and wreak havoc on the cityscape around them. But like the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that, he wouldn’t be using his ability that night.

A week had passed since Chuuya was forced to join the Armed Detective Agency after his violent departure from the Port Mafia. The injuries he sustained from leaving the organization he’d called home for seven years, and the incident leading up to it out in Hiratsuka, were little more than dull aches and scars, now, thanks in part to the Agency doctor and her healing ability, but the memories lingered like bad dreams. He kept waking in the middle of the night, lost and disoriented, in a vaguely familiar bedroll that his instincts rejected as ‘home’. It was only Dazai’s slumbering embrace, unconsciously blanketing Chuuya with No Longer Human that kept Chuuya from doing damage to his surroundings on instinct with For the Tainted Sorrow.

On top of that, he was still adjusting to his change in employment, still settling into his decision and the concept that it could be right for him, even beneficial, to work with the Agency of detectives he’d called enemy a month ago, and even tried to kill on more than one occasion. Those facts, of course, were the reasoning behind the strict conditions of his joining the Agency, which included a moratorium on his ability use without ‘permission’ from the Boss, Agency President Fukuzawa, and a zero-tolerance policy of No-Killing, No-Torturing. To say sticking to these conditions proved difficult was an understatement but Chuuya was nothing if not willing to rise to any challenge. Even despite Dazai’s constant efforts to rile him up at the office, or Kunikida breathing down his neck, eager for him slip up so they could oust him like the Port Mafia. Every day he felt like a caged tiger, gawked at by zoo patrons, while pacing his confines, flexing his claws and unable to do anything with them.

Luckily, and speaking of caged tigers, Chuuya’s week with the Agency had been spent shadowing his new “mentor” in the Agency, Atsushi. He worked alongside the boy and the boy’s partner, another newcomer to the Agency from the Port Mafia, Kyouka. They were the greenest detectives in the Agency, so while the rest of the detectives took on any higher priority cases that walked through the door, Atsushi and his mentees were tasked with handling all of the smaller, more tedious, and lower risk ones. That night they were following up on a serial burglary case in a prominent neighborhood following a lead given to them by the Agency’s resident smug bastard detective, Ranpo. After hitting multiple dead-ends on their case all week, Atsushi finally took their case file to the “best detective in the world” and appealed to him with a box of candy to use his “Ultimate Deduction”. He recommended they stake out a particular convenience store in the targeted neighborhood that night – odd, because all of the burglaries had been at residences – and he warned that they were dealing with an ability user.

“As if we hadn’t already figured out we were dealing with an ability user,” Chuuya muttered under his breath. He hadn’t been impressed with Ranpo’s display. There had been no signs of a break-in, no forced entry, just items missing. The only clue was uncovered at one of the victimized houses, the back portion of a shoeprint cut in half by the house’s exterior wall. Chuuya shuddered again from a wintery breeze nipping at any exposed bit of his skin. He knew he should’ve brought a scarf, but he’d been too preoccupied about ensuring Dazai was properly packed and prepared for an overnight in Hiratsuka. Chuuya couldn’t decide if the other man was really so terrible at taking care of himself, or if he just got a kick out of Chuuya doting over him. Years of ‘hating’ one another had taught Chuuya the latter was more likely.

For the most part, the Agency was in limbo regarding their most recent case out in Hiratsuka that had revealed there was a mysterious organization kidnapping ability users for experimentation and using them to manufacture replica abilities. It was the kind of discovery that, according to everyone at the Agency, despite Chuuya’s skepticism, needed to be handed up the ladder to government officials for them to determine the next plans of action. Meanwhile, Dazai and his partner, Kunikida, were tasked with gathering any and all evidence left behind in Hiratsuka, as well as, maintaining relations with the leader of Hiratsuka’s syndicate, Lady Murasaki, who had hired Dazai to investigate the disappaereance of one of her employees, Fujiawra Sadaei, before the conspiracy was exposed.

It was Dazai who uncovered the entire plot, only to go missing himself, but not before setting up a series of cryptic messages to be sent to Chuuya. Chuuya had been ordered to ignore the messages and delete them from his phone, but he couldn’t turn his back on his former partner, and onetime Port Mafia traitor, regardless of the fact they’d spent the months prior sneaking off to play house together at a small house out in crater city, Suribachi. The decision, and a stack of intimate photographs from that Suribachi house that had been delivered unbeknownst to Chuuya to his former Boss, Mori Oogai, were the toppled pai gow pieces that led to his own fall from grace in the Port Mafia. He still didn’t know where the photographs had come from, but he narrowly escaped their fallout with his life.

Chuuya spotted Kyouka across the street at a park, sitting in a swing and fiddling with the phone she constantly wore around her neck. For all intents and purposes, she looked like a young, middle school aged girl, that was enjoying her winter break. Atsushi, Chuuya knew, was on the other side of the building keeping watch towards the backside. They all wore headpieces to keep in contact with one another.

“Was it supposed to be this cold tonight?” Atsushi’s voice crackled through the headset.

Chuuya frowned, letting his breath out in a puff of steam. He heard a crackle and pop from the metal dumpster beside him and, glancing to it, realized with a start that he could see the frost crystals growing, “I don’t think it’s ever supposed to be this cold, kid. Looks like an ice ability, user’s got to be nearby.”

“There’s movement,” Kyouka’s voice was soft, almost inaudible as a whip of wind roared from nowhere, but firm, “Above you. Third floor window.”

“I can walk up there, no problem,” Chuuya offered, itching for the excuse to defy gravity.

“No,” Atsushi quickly and sharply replied. Chuuya could feel the boy wince at the severity of his own reply through the headset, “I mean…what I mean is…I’ll go, Mr. Nakahara. You and Kyouka stay put, continue watching, in case anyone else shows up.”

Chuuya bit back his frustration, he knew Atsushi was only worried about him, as he said between grit teeth, “Fine. You’re in charge, kid.”

On the other side of the building, Atsushi activated his ability, Beast Under the Moonlight, partially transforming into a mystical white tiger form. He climbed up the wall in a few short jumps, and rounded the corner to investigate the movement Kyouka had seen. Chuuya tucked his gloved hands under his arms, his fingertips aching from the growing chill in the air around him. He stalked towards the back of the building to take up Atsushi’s post. After a couple minutes, Chuuya tapped his foot impatiently.

“You see anything interesting, kid?” he asked.

Silence.

“Atsushi? What’s going on up there?”

Still silence.

“Kyouka, you got eyes on Atsushi?” Chuuya said, pulling away from the backside of the building and hurrying back towards the front, spotting the little girl in her position at the park, dull gaze now fixed skyward, cell phone dangling from its chain around her neck.

“Yes,” she answered, her typical monotone trembling slightly, “He’s at the window. He hasn’t moved for many seconds.”

The sound of several gunshots erupted through the night, and before the ring of their report could finish, Chuuya was sprinting up the fire escape. One quick, last glance to the park to note Kyouka was gone from her post, as well, and without thought to his agreement in joining the Agency, Chuuya used his ability to lift the third-floor window, diving through its entry and rolling to his feet in a light fighting stance, hands loose at his side and senses on high alert. The hallway he’d landed in was empty and somehow cooler than outside, it felt like an ice box. Somewhere inside was the sound of soft sobs. He started forward through the dark apartment and nearly slipped backwards to the ground, catching himself on the wall and a hallway table, the framed pictures atop it quacking and falling over. He winced, but the sobbing didn’t stop, his carelessness hadn’t been heard. Breathing a sigh, his eyes dropped downward to find the wood floorboards were coated in permafrost.

Delicately, Chuuya righted himself and took small, deliberate steps to slide with some semblance of control along the hall. He passed by dark, empty rooms towards a luminescent glow ahead in what, Chuuya assumed, would be the kitchen. He sidled up next to the entryway, listened for a moment. The sobbing, he surmised, was a woman. There were no other noises. He frowned, reached for the knife he kept strapped at his thigh and held it low against his side, out of sight but ready if he needed it. He stepped into the kitchen.

On the floor, there was a woman kneeling in a tattered gray bathrobe, a gun on the ground beside her. There was splintered wood around shallow bullet holes in the wall on the far side of the room where her gunshots had hit. Chuuya’s breath caught. Outside of the window was Atsushi, his skin pale and lips turning blue. His eyes were moving but the expression behind them was dull, as though staring through a fog, and, every so often, his breath steamed the window in wet puffs.

The floorboard creaked under Chuuya’s weight and the woman reached for her gun, spinning around to point the barrel at Chuuya. Her crisp green eyes were wide, her short, chestnut colored hair falling in greasy, uneven dregs around her tear-stained face. From the corner of his eye, he could see Kyouka’s demon ability hovering beside Atsushi outside, its hand on the ethereal sword at its hip.

“Whoa, let’s be reasonable about this, lady,” Chuuya said, loud enough for Kyouka to hear from wherever she was hiding, undoubtedly nearby. He slipped the knife back into its sheath and put his hands up in as unthreatening a manner as he could, his mind turning possible outcomes from this encounter around in his mind. Every ounce of his body and heart was screaming to kill her swiftly, but then there was the niggling voice in the back of his head, that sounded not unlike Kunikida, whispering, when you slip up…

“I…I didn’t mean to…” the woman cried, whimpering, more, fresh tears forming, turning to droplets of ice on her cheeks, “It wasn’t my fault…I swear…it wasn’t…I had no idea what he was…I had no idea. Please…”

“It’s okay,” Chuuya told her, having no idea what she was ranting about, he assured her, “I know you had nothing to do with it. Not your fault, right? We all make mistakes, put our trust in people that turn around and betray us. You’re just a victim in all of this, huh? Why don’t you put the gun down, Lady Winter, and unfreeze my friend outside, and we can talk about this like civilized people, alright?”

The woman glanced over her shoulder at Atsushi outside, spotted the Demon before it could duck out of sight, and her eyes widened with panic. She yelped, half-crab walking towards the far wall, stumbling to her feet and dropping the pin of the gun, she pointed it back and forth between the window and Chuuya, her hands visibly shaking, unable to hold the gun straight. At that rate, she was more likely to miss than hit if she fired off a shot. Chuuya sighed, and placed his hands in his pockets. He was not cut out for this negotiation crap.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” he said, “We would’ve done it already if we were.”

That made her hesitate. Her eyes flickered from him to the window.

“Why are you here, then?” she demanded.

“Still trying to figure that one out,” Chuuya admitted with a shrug, he glanced at the wall behind her, those bullet holes and furrowed his brow, darting a look back at Atsushi, “Maybe you could start by telling us who you were shooting at.”

“No-no way,” the woman whispered, jabbing the gun at Chuuya, “You tell me who you are first, I’m not just going to confess my life story to some stranger that broke into my home.”

Chuuya smirked, tilting his head to one side, “Fair enough. We’re detectives, investigating the burglaries from that nearby housing community. Someone told us this would be a good lead for solving the case. I’ve got an idea who you are too. You own the convenience store downstairs, nice set-up, only store like it in this city block. I bet you know everyone in this neighborhood. Which house they live in, where they work, what kind of money they make, how many people they’ve got living with them, and what everyone’s schedule is.”

Another trickle of tears that froze halfway down the woman’s face and peeled off like crystalline beads.

“You and a friend get the idea that you could make a little extra cash, on the side. So, you start putting that information to good use. It’s gone good for a while now, but one of you got greedy…or maybe cold-feet, thought the other was going to talk. My friend shows up peeking in the window and it looks like betrayal. Shots are fired and your friend took off,” Chuuya said, “How’d I do?”

“Burglaries…?” the woman faltered, shaking her head, a look of puzzlement crossing her features, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Chuuya scowled, “Everything made sense though…”

Admittedly, there were still missing pieces to the puzzle. There was no sign of break-in, so he assumed her partner had the ability that got them into the houses undetected. The question of where the stuff was could likely be answered by a thorough search downstairs. Still, where was the partner, why had she been firing off a gun, and what had she been blathering on about when he got there…something about not being her fault and some mysterious ‘he’ – likely the partner, but what didn’t she know about him? Was he working another angle behind her back? As if on cue, a flicker of movement caught Chuuya’s eye, a man stepping through the wall behind the woman, a glinting chef’s knife in hand, poised to stab the unsuspecting woman in the back.

“Hey, watch out,” Chuuya shouted, moving before the words had left his mouth.

The woman, stunned by his sudden lunge at her, fired off a couple shots that Chuuya deflected easily. The man with the knife grabbed the woman, she screamed, Chuuya’s hand brushed the man’s forearm as the blade began to bite into her backside, and Chuuya sent the man flying back towards the wall. He passed harmlessly through. Chuuya pulled the woman behind him, darted looks around the kitchen, jaw set and muscles tense, searching for movement.

“Oh god! He’s going to kill us. You can’t do anything against him. You can’t, he’s too powerful,” the woman blubbered.

“Lady, we just met. Seems too early for you to make that call, don’t you think?” Chuuya felt the ground give out beneath him, and he dropped his gaze to find his foot sinking through the floor, “What the hell?” He darted an anxious look to the woman, barking out commands rapid-fire, “Unfreeze my friend. Find the little girl. Get out of here with them.”

He felt a pinch at his calf, he was starting to solidify in the floor. He sent out a shudder of energy and the ground gave out under him in a hailstorm of plaster and wooden splinters. He picked himself up from the wreckage, coughing and dusting away the debris, finding the startled man standing across from him.

“Dammit, that’s twice now you’ve made me use my ability. I’m on parole,” Chuuya yelled, rushing at the momentarily stunned man and swinging a roundhouse to his head. Chuuya’s leg passed right through, but he didn’t let it slow him down, swinging and thrusting kicks and punches with deadly precision, all of which would have landed if the man wasn’t a fucking ghost. Chuuya fell back, trying to hide that he was a bit out of breath.

“My turn,” the man grinned and began his own assault. When Chuuya raised a block, the man’s strikes passed through unhindered only to solidify and land their hit. He cut across Chuuya’s cheek, jabbed into his side, and blasted him back with a kick to the chest that Chuuya caught himself on with For the Tainted Sorrow. He spit blood and fixed his stance.

“So, you’re the thief, huh? Why do you want the woman dead?” Chuuya said.

“What business is that of yours? You can die with her if you’d like, though,” the man threw a cross jab and, as predicted, his hand passed through Chuuya’s block, but the second it was close enough to Chuuya’s face, the man was dropped to the floor with an increased density. The man used his own ability, and passed through the floor. Chuuya stumbled around as the man reappeared behind him and shot out a fist into his stomach. Chuuya stared down in surprise, puzzled at what the point was, the man’s entire arm was sticking through Chuuya.

“Do you know what happens when an incorporeal object becomes corporeal inside of you?” the man taunted.

Chuuya’s eyes widened, using his ability to propel himself backwards at a breakneck pace, feeling a growing tug as he flew away from the man. He stumbled rather than landed gracefully back against the far wall, gasping in pain, and grasping at his stomach, fingers brushing along a hand sized hole in his shirt, underneath the flesh was damp and jagged. He dropped to his knees and coughed out a thick wad of blood. His eyes blurred, and he shuddered, feeling like he might vomit. There was a crunch of debris under foot as the man approached. Chuuya steeled himself, his thoughts tumbling towards a singular decision: if he was going down here, he’d take the man with him. When the man became solid, Chuuya would crush him to a bloody pulp.

On his way across the room the man swept up a broken pipe from the wreckage, whistling dramatically some off-key tune.

“Where should I put this, I wonder?” the man mused, tapping the pipe in his hand, then pointing it to Chuuya’s forehead, covered in a thin film of sweat, “Your brain?” He lowered it to point at Chuuya’s jugular, “Your throat?” The man’s lip curled up into a sinister grin, as he hovered the pipe in front of Chuuya’s chest, “Your heart.”

“Do it,” Chuuya bit out, “You die with me.”

The man’s pupils dilated with his murderous intent, and he drove the pipe towards Chuuya…only to find resistance. The man frowned, desperately pushing the pipe at Chuuya’s chest but the pipe remained solid, refusing to pass through. Chuuya perked a brow up at the man, and the man scowled, swatting distractedly at something brushing the back of his neck.

“Oy, careful now. I almost lost contact,” a familiar voice chirped in mock cheer, the finger that had been gingerly touching the man’s neck giving way to a bandaged palm wrapping firmly under the man’s chin. Dazai’s face appeared peeking over the man’s shoulder, his other hand pressing a gun into the man’s side, “Hi, Chuuya! This seems like a bad situation.”

“Idiot. I thought you were in Hiratsuka for the night,” Chuuya replied, partially choking on his own blood and the mix of emotions swelling through him at the welcome sight of the other man.

“What’s this? Did you miss me already?” Dazai mused, his lips pressed into a thin frown, his eyes wide with amusement, “I suppose that means I’ll have to give you extra attention tonight...”

The man took their conversation to mean Dazai was distracted, seizing his opportunity, he swung the pipe over his shoulder towards Dazai’s head, and Chuuya’s hand shot out to grab the man’s leg and send him flying, first to slam into the ceiling and then crashing back into the ground, which cratered under his body. He wheezed, blood pooling around him, seeping from his every orifice. Chuuya guessed all of the man’s bones were broken, ground into a fine powder from the impact not unlike falling from a thousand feet overhead, and the thought made Chuuya feel a tiny bit better about the gaping hole in his stomach. Dazai stared blankly at the dying man and blinked a few times.

“That was dramatic, Chuuya.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole,” Chuuya said, words trembling, and his face flushed white, “Where’s the doctor?”

“I sent Kunikida to retrieve her, he took Atsushi and Kyouka with Miss Gould back to the Agency, as well. They should be returning with Yosano shortly,” Dazai knelt in front of Chuuya and smiled, careful not to touch as it was Chuuya’s ability alone holding his guts inside, and Dazai’s No Longer Human would nullify his one lifeline, “It’s a good thing Ranpo called or, it seems, I’d be coming home to a tiny pincushion. Ranpo said ‘Chuuya will definitely do something stupid tonight’. He’s never wrong, you know, so I had no choice but to come here.”

“We only showed Ranpo the file an hour and a half ago. There’s no way he called you with enough time for you to get back here from Hiratsuka. You never made it there, did you?” Chuuya replied.

“Hmm…what’s this? That’s very clever, Chuuya, to figure out on your own…Atsushi must be training you well. I’ll have to reward you later,” Dazai grinned from ear to ear, “A good dog deserves a good treat.”

Chuuya flustered and fell forward, Dazai scrambling back to avoid him as he slumped towards the floor.

“Hey, hey, slug, what are you doing? Taking a nap? I can’t reward a dog that doesn’t greet its master with energy,” Dazai cried out, concern laced beneath his otherwise lighthearted words. He sat down cross-legged on the floor, plopping his elbows on his knees and cupping his face in his hands, he began to explain, “Don’t you want to know that you’re right? We returned early from Hiratsuka. The government contacted President Fukuzawa. We have a meeting with them in the morning.”

“We, huh? You’ll actually show up to it, then?” Chuuya murmured reply, trying desperately to keep his eyes open as black, inky splotches exploded along the edge of his vision.

“Wha-at? You make it sound like I skip out on important work all the time,” Dazai complained, “That’s not very nice, Chuuya. You’re worse than Kunikida, you know.”

“…crossing…the line…” Chuuya murmured.

“It’s not polite to fall asleep when someone is talking to you,” Dazai said, worry now heavy in his words, “I have no choice but to show up. President Fukuzawa personally requested I be there. Ah…but there are really so many other places I’d rather be, more exciting things I could be doing.”

“…oh yeah…like where?”

“Where…hm…anywhere, really. A small country village with a cottage, cobbled streets and cafes. Vineyards and sweet-smelling pastry shops…” he sighed, his voice faraway, “Somewhere where there is a quiet room with an ocean view.”

“…sounds nice…” Chuuya was struggling to draw his breath in, “…should go…sometime…”

“Mmm…maybe. I wonder if someone will be waiting for me there,” Dazai whispered, and Chuuya couldn’t muster a reply. He felt the other man lean over him, breath tickling his ear, “Rest now, Chuuya. Kunikida’s car is here. I’ll take care of you tonight; you take care of me in the morning.”

Like hell, Chuuya tried to reply, but his energy left him all at once, and he leaned unconscious on the ground. It was a few hours later when Chuuya woke in the Agency clinic. He pushed himself up to sitting, found the doctor, Yosano, rearranging the medical supplies in her cabinet nearby. She spared him a glance over her shoulder when his bed creaked protest of his movement. On a nearby bed was laid the ghost man.

“Starting to think we should set you up a permanent bed here. It’s only your first week, but I’m sensing a pattern,” the doctor said, there was an edge to her words that let Chuuya know she hated the thought of him spending more time than necessary in her clinic as much as he did, but the comment was an attempt to meet halfway. They were far from being friends but they were co-workers now. As much as she despised saving his life, she’d continue to do it as long as he worked at the Agency, it was her weird way of saying he could trust her on that, at least. Chuuya gave her a wary look.

“You know, I never had nearly as many near-death experiences working at the Port Mafia as I have working with your Agency. I’m starting to think forcing me to join here was part of a grand ploy to torture me the rest of my life,” Chuuya replied. His throat was dry and his words came out rasped. He gave a nod to the man in the other bed, “You managed to save this tool, too, I see.”

“Despite your best efforts. Quite the number you did on him. I’ve seen the dead bodies of people who fell from hundred story buildings that had less concussive injury than this guy when you were done with him,” Yosano crossed over to the man’s bedside to check on an IV drip attached to his arm. She spotted Chuuya’s questioning look and explained, “Drug induced coma. His ability would make it difficult to keep him locked up, and this seemed like the better solution than forcing Dazai to hold his hand until we could transfer him to government custody.”

“Would’ve been a better punishment to trap him with the waste of bandages,” Chuuya muttered, inspecting the bloody hole in his t-shirt with a click of his tongue.

“Speaking from experience?” Yosano pointed to a bag on the chair beside Chuuya’s bed, “He brought you some clothes from home.”

Home. Home, with Dazai. Their home that they shared. Chuuya smirked, picking himself off the bed and making his way to the chair on unsteady legs, “Fine. Maybe it would’ve just been more entertaining for me. Dazai ‘loves’ holding hands with strange men.” He frowned. “Where’re the kids?”

“Outside, in the office, I presume. Drafting the report for your case tonight.”

She hesitated, pressed her lips into a thin line, examining Chuuya in a way that sent a tiny, self-conscious shiver down his spine. He ignored her staring, picked out the garments in the bag and busied himself with changing. She averted her gaze when he removed his ruined t-shirt, revealing a bandage over his stomach where the ghost-man had stuck his arm. Yosano had the ability to heal him completely, but she never did, only enough that he would live, leaving the rest for him to heal naturally. She thought of it as her own way of getting a bit of justice for Chuuya’s ‘victims’ during his time with the mafia, but from what he understood of how her ability worked, he decided she was really letting him off easy.

“Atsushi is alright, if you were worried. The woman had entombed him in ice, but the tiger kept him safe while he was trapped. His recovery after she unfroze him took no time,” Yosano leaned back against the cabinets and folded her arms across her chest.

Chuuya pulled the fresh shirt over his head and bagged up the tattered one, tossing it in a waste bin. He swept his hat off the chair where it has been propped up next to the change of clothes and strode to the door, leaving without another word. As the doctor surmised, Atsushi and Kyouka were out in the Agency’s main office area, hovered together over Atsushi’s computer. Ranpo was also there, sitting with his feet propped up on his desk, some flashy cartoon that looked to feature robots streaming on his computer screen and a box of caramel coated popcorn in his lap, he laughed uproariously between mouthfuls of the saccharine snack. Chuuya wrinkled his nose in disgust at the childish man and joined the kids.

“Mr. Nakahara, you’re awake. I’m so relieved,” Atsushi perked in his chair, looking sheepish, “I’m sorry…about what happened today…it’s my fault that…”

“Don’t stress it, kid, we were all caught off guard,” Chuuya shot Ranpo a scalding glare, Ranpo continued to watch his cartoon and showed no outward sign that he noticed the look, “Not that we couldn’t have been better prepared if someone had given us more to go off, but that’s not your fault.”

“Right…though I don’t know if any amount of preparation could’ve really prepared us for that. It’s a good thing Dazai showed up,” Atsushi said, and Chuuya bit back the reflexive bitter retort, reminding himself they were on the same side now, but it did little to sway the competitiveness he still felt towards the other man. He was doing just fine on his own, dammit, he didn’t need Dazai to rescue him, “We still haven’t pieced together everything, but it seems the woman’s name is Hannah Gould. She came to Yokohama from America to live as a refugee after her father died in the war. According to Miss Gould, the man’s name is Marcel Aymé but she doesn’t know anything about why he was at her place or why he was trying to kill her.”

“That doesn’t make sense. She said something about…something not being her fault and she mentioned a ‘him’ before that guy showed up. I was sure she was talking about this Aymé guy. She’s got to be lying,” Chuuya said.

“That’s what Dazai thought, Ranpo agreed but he told us she’s not lying about not knowing anything of the burglaries and Marcel is our burglar. We’ll be transferring his custody over to the Special Abilities Department in the morning when they come for that meeting,” Atsushi explained. He paused, his features furrowed. His eyes flickered away; his expression mildly guilty. Chuuya glanced at Kyouka but her face was lowered and features naturally blank.

“There’s more,” Chuuya decided, folding his arms over his chest and tapping his foot, “But you don’t want to tell me.”

“It’s not that,” Atsushi said quickly, his eyes shooting up to Chuuya’s, wide with emotion, “It’s just…”

There was the sound of a door opening and closing down the corridor where the Agency President’s office was located. Kunikida and Dazai’s voices preceded their entry into the main office area, bickering about something nonsensical. It seemed Dazai was trying to convince Kunikida that lemon juice mixed with a bit of clay was restorative when worn on the face and feet at night, President Fukuzawa trailed behind them. When they reached the office, Kunikida’s eyes swept over the room, deliberately avoiding Chuuya. He made a comment to the other two men, said in a gruff voice, “Atsushi, I expect your report on my desk in the morning,” and left for the exit.

“Nakahara. A word,” the Agency President said. Chuuya frowned, meeting Dazai’s eyes momentarily, but the other man gave nothing away.

“Sure thing, ‘Boss’,” Chuuya muttered, moving to follow President Fukuzawa back to his office.

“I’ll help Atsushi with his paperwork,” Dazai declared, cheerfully making his way to Atsushi’s desk.

“Shouldn’t you do your own paperwork…?” Atsushi pointed out to Dazai’s laughter.

“You’re so silly, Atsushi, if I did my paperwork, then what would Kunikida do?”

Once they were in the president’s office, Chuuya plopped down in the available chair and waited for Fukuzawa to pour out two cups of tea. Chuuya had only been in the office once before, when he delivered his choice as to what his post-Port Mafia fate should be. The feeling of that day, and the weight of that decision, came back to him as he settled back in the chair and braced himself for the inevitable fallout of his earlier fight with the ‘ghost’, Marcel. He’d used his ability multiple times, albeit the situation was life or death, and then did his best to kill Marcel.

“We’ve reached the end of your first week,” Fukuzawa began in a tone that Chuuya hadn’t expected. Fukuzawa set one tea cup in front of Chuuya, took his own to his seat. Chuuya glanced at the cup but said nothing. Fukuzawa fixed him with a cool stare, “How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” Chuuya replied, narrowing his eyes on the older man, scrutinizing him for the meaning behind his words. Mori could never be taken at face value, there was a plan in motion, and a plan underneath the plan, and a plan under that plan. No question, no matter how innocuous it may seem, was ever without some unseen intent. Working for Mori meant staying on guard, and being successful in the organization required looking under the layers to see the layers beyond, but also, understanding your place in those layers and, all the while, not questioning the parts you didn’t understand even as you were intended to predict their subtle meanings.

“You’re comfortable working with Atsushi and Kyouka?”

“Sure,” Chuuya shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the upholstery of his chair.

“And the other’s in the Agency? I know some have expressed a distaste in working with…”

“Can we cut the crap?” Chuuya interjected, eyeing Fukuzawa dangerously, “I know I screwed up tonight. I used my ability without your permission and I did my damndest to kill that Aymé guy. I’m not even going to pretend I’m happy he’s still alive, I would’ve squashed him into mush like the roach he is if I’d known the doc was on her way, made sure he was good and dead before she got there.”

“Is that what you truly want right now? Aymé to be dead?” Fukuzawa mused, “In the moment, it could be construed as self-defense, but to still feel so strongly after the fact…to kill him now might be called vengeance.”

“He stuck his arm right through my stomach and out my back. Call me crazy, but I kind of hold it against people when they stick things in my body without my permission,” Chuuya grumbled, slumping down in the chair and tapping his foot on the ground, “So what now, huh? What’s my punishment, ‘Boss’? Am I out?”

“I wonder, if you were given the chance now, left alone with Aymé, would you kill him?”

“Huh?” Chuuya wrinkled his brow, eyed the Agency President suspiciously, “What are you getting at?”

“Merely curious. Is there harm in answering, if you’re already ‘out’, as you say?”

“No. I guess I can’t get in any more trouble, can I?” Chuuya leaned his head back and frowned at the ceiling, “We’d be better off if he was dead. His power was difficult enough for me to take on, hell, he almost killed me, and it’s no secret, I’ve got the most power and skill here in a fight. Not to mention, the man walks through walls, how do you keep someone like that locked up short of sticking them in a permanent sleep or gluing him to Dazai?”

“He has certainly proved himself to be a danger to society.”

“Same is said about me, though, right? Kill what you can’t control. But that’s the government’s style, not mine,” Chuuya smirked wryly at Fukuzawa, reaching forward to take a sip of his tea, and feeling a strange nostalgia from the scene, flashing to a meld of memories of being a younger man seated on a tatami mat across from an oddly serene woman in a kimono, katana sheathed and laid flat beside her. Their conversations then had the same energy and Chuuya felt an inexplicable tranquility cast over him, as he realized, there’s no Mori-level hidden schemes here, Fukuzawa just wants to understand, “Like you said, in the moment, I would’ve killed him because I want to live and, besides, he pissed me off. Same for him, I got in his way, so he wanted me dead. Self-defense, if that’s what you want to call it. But now, I don’t know the whole story and I’d really like to know what the hell is going on. It’d be better to wait for him to wake up so I can ask him, rather than kill him in his sleep and never know, right?”

“And when you have your answers? Would you kill him then?”

“Not my choice, is it?” Chuuya said.

“If it was,” Fukuzawa prompted patiently.

“No,” Chuuya met Fukuzawa’s stare evenly, “If he wants to come for my life or my organization again, I’ll accept the challenge and I’ll make sure there aren’t enough pieces left for the doc to save, but what’s the point in killing him otherwise?”

“I understand.”

“So,” Chuuya crossed his legs at the knee and leaned back in the chair, smiling at Fukuzawa, “You still haven’t told me my punishment for breaking my parole.”

“Even though it went against restrictions imposed on you by our Agency when you joined, you acted in the only way that you could to protect your team and our organization’s interests. I wonder, in this type of circumstance, would Dr. Mori have punished you?” Fukuzawa said, folding his hands in his lap and looking at Chuuya with a stern intent.

Chuuya cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, thought it over a moment before carefully answering, “Mori always said that it’s okay to bend or break the rules sometimes if it’s for the greater good of the organization.”

“A reasonable concept. Why then do you believe that I should act less reasonably than him?”

Chuuya ran his fingers over his palm where he could sense, more than feel, under the fabric that aching scar left behind by Mori’s scalpel driven through his palm. Fukuzawa caught the action, the corner of his lip twitching downward.

“I’m not Dr. Mori, I have no ulterior motives,” Fukuzawa said, in a tone as cold and firm as granite. Chuuya’s eyes flickered to his hard expression and then lowered to the ground, “If we’re to work together, you need to understand that. I’ve conferred with Kunikida and Dazai, we’ve concluded your actions were reasonable given the situation. There is no punishment. Rest tonight, your presence is expected in the meeting with the government’s representative tomorrow.”

“Oh good, and here I thought you said there was no punishment,” Chuuya muttered. He rose from his chair and started to the door.

“Nakahara,” Fukuzawa called him to a halt, “Thank you for protecting Atsushi and Kyouka tonight.”

Chuuya nodded, feeling stiff and a thousand times more exhausted than after using Corruption as he exited the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He found Dazai seated atop Atsushi’s desk, his legs folded and his body entirely blocking the flabbergasted tiger boy and his bemused partner from the computer screen and, what Chuuya could only presume, was their unfinished report. Dazai was speaking excitedly about something or the other, his voice trailed off when Chuuya entered the room and he bounced to his feet.

“Excellent! It’s decided,” Dazai declared.

“Decided? What’s decided?” Chuuya furrowed his brow, certain he was going to regret asking that question. Atsushi and Kyouka looked just as puzzled, and Dazai puffed up, looking rather proud of himself.

“Atsushi and Kyouka will come over for dinner tonight and Chuuya will make us all a wonderful dinner.”

“Who the hell decided that?” Chuuya shouted, his cheeks flustering with the heat of his emotions, and his stomach flopped knowing the futility of his protest.

Dazai’s smile, of course, never faltered, “It is, after all, Chuuya’s fault that we’re all still here.”

“What? No, no, Mr. Nakahara, that’s not…” Atsushi quickly attempted to amend. Kyouka covered a smile, and Chuuya softened his expression on the two young detectives.

“Fine, but we’ll have to stop by the store for ingredients on the way home. I’m not feeding them canned crabmeat,” Chuuya said, leading the way out the door. It only took Dazai a few long strides with his long legs to catch up, resting his hand between Chuuya’s shoulder blades. Kyouka and Atsushi had to scramble to follow after.

At Atsushi’s request, and despite a bit of prodding, because that can’t be all you want, Chuuya prepped some chazuke for dinner that night, topping Dazai’s with crabmeat and Kyouka’s with some fresh tofu cubes, and seared salmon on his and Atsushi’s. He used dashi instead of the traditional green tea, and let Dazai serve the bowls while he plated up some dinner for the kitten winding circles around his ankles. Dazai was regaling the youngsters with a story from their mafia days, with an embarrassing amount of embellishments that Kyouka looked to be taking with a grain of salt and Atsushi devoured wide-eyed and overflowing with naïveté.

“…at that point, my part was done and once they had me chained up in the backroom, all I needed to do was wait for Chuuya to come ‘rescue’ me,” Dazai was saying, Chuuya poured himself a glass of wine, “Of course, Chuuya was late as always. He cleared out the enemy, we returned the hard-drive to Mori, and still had plenty of time for Chuuya to lose ten bets with me before the arcade closed!”

“Amazing! And he really figured out where you were and what you needed him to do just by your turning one book on his shelf backwards?” Atsushi beamed before his features crumpled a little, “I wonder…is it wrong to say that you two made a really impressive team…since the work was for the Mafia?”

“No way, don’t fill his head with that kind of praise, kid. Dazai doesn’t need any more of an ego,” Chuuya complained, making his way to the futon.

“Ah, just who has an ego, glorified hat rack?” Dazai replied haughtily.

“Unlike you, my superiority is real and earned,” Chuuya shot back, scowling down at Dazai with a hand on his hip.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand though,” Atsushi interjected before the two could become fully embroiled in their bickering, “Once you were inside of the enemy’s headquarters, Dazai, it seems like you could have cleared the guards and secured the drive on your own. I’ve seen you fight and if you’d had a gun…I guess I can’t help wondering why…”

“Why he called me into all of it? That’s easy to understand. It was more fun for him to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night and make me do all the hard work,” Chuuya sipped his wine and took the seat next to Dazai on the futon, “Also, back in those days, I never let Dazai have a gun when we worked together.”

“Really? Why is that? I’ve seen Dazai shoot a gun before, he’s a very good shot,” Atsushi furrowed his brow in confusion.

“That was the problem exactly. He is a good shooter and…a suicidal prick,” Chuuya cupped Dazai’s chin, pulling the bandaged man’s face down to press a kiss to his jaw, and Dazai smiled sweetly at him in return, “I couldn’t trust him not to shoot me or himself.”

“Oh, I guess that does make sense,” Atsushi murmured, happily spooning some chazuke into his mouth.

“Hmm…always taking care of me. Such a good dog,” Dazai grinned, slinking his arm about Chuuya.

They ate over light conversation and then Dazai saw the two young detectives to the door as Chuuya cleaned their dishes. He smiled when Dazai crossed the room into the kitchen, slipping his arms around Chuuya’s waist from behind and burying his face in Chuuya’s shoulder. Chuuya relaxed back into Dazai’s embrace, continuing to scrub clean the pot he used to cook their rice that night.

“Mmm…Chuuya…be my lover,” Dazai murmured against Chuuya’s neck, his words vibrating warmly against the skin there, soliciting several shivers of pleasure.

“No,” Chuuya replied softly, rinsing the soap from the pot and his hands, setting the pot on the drying rack beside the sink. He squirmed out of Dazai’s grasp, reaching for a towel and drying his hands. Dazai remained by the sink, head hanging and arms limp, empty and cold, by his sides. Chuuya went to stand in front of Dazai, reaching up to push the shaggy hair from Dazai’s face, curling the tendrils around his fingers and pulling Dazai to his eye level, “I know what you want to do with your lovers, sicko, and I’m not interested.”

“Ah…is that right. So, what are you interested in doing with me then?” Dazai said, grinning into the kiss Chuuya leaned up to his lips, his arms slunk around Chuuya’s body, squeezing out the space between them and deepening their connection. Chuuya ended it first, pressing his forehead to Dazai’s, heat of their kiss coloring his cheeks and smile breathless. He slid his hands down along Dazai’s arms to find Dazai’s wrists, untangling the hold Dazai had on Chuuya’s waist. Chuuya entwined their fingers and led the eager Dazai to their bedroom.

#bungou stray dogs #fanfiction #random thoughts #bsd fanfiction #soukoku #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #dazai x chuuya #deleted scenes #bsd release series #bsd fanfiction wake up

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dazaii-sann · 3 years

Text

DAZAI x CHUUYA FANFICTION: ONE-SHOT [LOVE OR GUILT]

Blue.

Brown.

Green.

Yellow.

Orange.

Varied colors blended with each other like a 24-color palette. The wind blew from the west, causing the nearby tree leaves to dance along with the non-existent beat. The blue, clear water rampaged in silence, creating an almost seemingly soft serenade. A huge shining orb in the distance was split in half, projecting its reflection on the calm, unmoving water from below.

The whole place is quiet as if every single living soul had already vacated the area.

Well, not quite.

Two figures stood beneath a tree's shadow, taking refuge and solace after a whole day of struggles. The calm, light afternoon breeze soothe their souls as they look at the orange-painted sky.

Silence ensues but for them, it's what they need.

The quiet rage of the sea.

The hushing sound of overlapping leaves.

The way the remaining rays of the dusk kiss their flesh.

The sound of their even breathing.

Sounds romantic, right?

It is, except for one thing.

Everything, everything seems to retain its brilliance but something decided to exclude itself from that small band of glow.

A redhead's eyes… It's empty. The very exact opposite to his surrounding's radiance.

Meanwhile, the brunet beside him stood still, unmoving, as if he's already accustomed to that kind of scenario.

But is he?

No. Definitely not. Not in a million years.

Seeing his ex-partner like that made his knees wobble. All the remaining courage in his body had left him that even panning his head to Chuuya became an impossible task.

The guilt is slowly consuming him, pulling him into a world far more hellish than hell itself.

They stayed like that for a while, the stillness of the setting sun completely vanished into existence and was dethroned by a huge dark blanket covered with stars. The moon is in its crescent form, seems incomplete but whole all the same.

The coldness of the night embraced the two up to their bones, causing them to shiver.

"It's getting cold, Chuuya. Let's go inside?" The brunet proposed without looking at Chuuya.

He can't. Or maybe he actually can, but he chose not to.

Chuuya nods his head slightly and Dazai saw that movement from his eyes' corners.

Dazai's feet move in front of Chuuya's rear. With a slight push, the wheels on Chuuya's seat were sent into motion, carrying Chuuya's body along with it. Trails of the redhead's wheelchair and the brunet's footprints were engraved in the shore's sand and were immediately erased by the wave's arrival.

In just a few minutes, they reached a small house built near the shore. From its size, one can conclude that its interior can only shelter two people at once.

Upon entering the house, Dazai turned on the lights that he closed before going outside with Chuuya this afternoon. It has a simple structure. A kitchen, two couches and a table in between them, the comfort room, and a shared bedroom.

Dazai carefully lifts Chuuya's body and transfer it to one of the couches.

"You're so light, Chuuya~ Am I not feeding you well?" Dazai tried to annoy Chuuya like he used to back in the days but the redhead's expressions didn't even change. Not even a single move in his facial muscles. The brunet knew from the very start, that he could no longer hear Chuuya's annoyed response coming from his own mouth but he's still hoping, hoping that he could still hear Chuuya's voice one more time.

Chuuya's just like a lump of flesh without a soul inside of it. It is said that the soul is the trigger of an ability.

Maybe that's the exact reason why Chuuya lost his.

Ah no… There's no one to be blamed but Dazai.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

After moving Chuuya in a comfortable position, Dazai left him and went straight to the kitchen.

Dazai was a bad cook. Everyone must ready their pitiful stomach before taking in Dazai's food. Not only that but for the aftermath (puking included). But who would eat those kinds of stuff (can't consider them as "food") in the first place?

Everything changed when he started to live and take care of Chuuya over the past 3 years. He learned how to prepare varied homemade viands. Well, he doesn't want the redhead to eat canned goods every single day!

Dazai turned on the flame and let the ingredients fly and land on the pan's heated surface. He hummed a familiar tune, hoping that Chuuya might remember its tune but to no avail.

Dazai arranged the food into a plate and went to the redhead, utensils in his other hand.

Without a word, he scooped a spoonful and brought it closer to Chuuya's mouth.

"Say ah~"

If anyone could see this kind of scenario, the brunet looks like he's feeding a 3-month old baby.

"Well, he's indeed a baby," Dazai said at the back of his mind while moving the spoon back and forth.

After that dinner, Dazai once again carried Chuuya to their bed. It's not that big, but not too small. Just enough for the two of them.

Dazai then wrapped his arms around Chuuya's body. To give him warmth, a human's warmth to liberate the coldness of the night.

With the brunet's slender arms encircled around the redhead's body, and Chuuya's head leaning against Dazai's shoulder, they fall asleep.

Almost at the same time.

***

For three years, the very same sequence of events happened.

Watching the sunrise and sunset together.

Helping him to eat his own food.

And then finally, cradling each other until they got consumed by the God of Sleep.

Have they grown tired of it, especially Dazai?

Even he doesn't know the answer. He was known as the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia, someone who can see through everything. But why can't his superior, almost inhumane mind comprehend this feeling of longing?

Longing for what?

Is it for the return of his ex-partner's glory or the longing to return to his old life?

Maybe, but maybe not.

Dazai thought that the same exact happenings will happen again for today, and the days after that.

But he's wrong.

On with their usual routine, they watch the sun's tiny movement, trying to pull itself up higher in the sky as if it's trying to assert dominance and power. Somehow, the sunrise resembles Dazai every time he rose to bed, struggling his way up like he was being pulled down by the Earth's gravity. To make it less fancy, he's just simply lazy.

"C-chuuya… Is that you?"

Dazai froze, literally.

T-that voice…

Dazai panned his head to where the sound originated.

"A-ane…san…"

Kouyou smiled, but there's hidden remorse in it. The intensity of her eyes changed the moment it landed on Chuuya's frail body.

She looked away and face the brunet once more.

"It's been a while, demon."

***

"So… You're still taking care of him?" Kouyou sat in one of the couches inside of their house.

"Mm…" A simple nod is the only response that he could offer. He's not in the right mood to entertain a conversation right now, especially to those with whom he had ties.

Despite his seemingly uninterested remarks, he's still on the lookout. Who knows? Kouyou might try to do something funny. As for Chuuya, he doubts that this woman will do such a thing.

"I see… I see…" At the same time, a mocking laugh escaped out of her lips. Dazai, on the other hand, painted confusion throughout his face.

"It's all your fault anyway. You've got to clean your own mess and atone with what you had done."

Dazai clenched his fist as tightly as he could.

"Why are you still taking care of him?"

Dazai's lips went agape, trying to utter a word or two but failed miserably.

Why then? What keeps him from escaping and leaving Chuuya behind?

He doesn't know.

"I…"

"Do you love him?" Kouyou's question streak kept on bugging Dazai's feelings.

Dazai's so sure of that fact not until Kouyou retorted once more.

"Or is it because of guilt?"

Guilt, huh?

The brunet said no more and silence governed the two of them.

"Now demon… Which one is it?"

***

Darkness… Just pure darkness…

Or at least, that's what Chuuya sees.

He can't feel anything, nor grasp reality. He's just there, floating in the middle of nothingness. But amidst that abyss, he can feel his bones cracking, his body collapsing, and his blood leaking out of his system. The pain must be immeasurable and unbearable but none of those physical pains can equal his suffering.

He hates the dark, the emptiness because it always made him feel alone.

He can hear a huge crowd of people screaming at the top of their lungs as if their lives are in danger of death.

Yes, that's actually the case.

They're fleeing, away from the young boy in the middle of that immense object and that enemy he's battling against.

Their abilities clashed and the fiery battle caused a deal of damage to the establishments and facilities in the city, but Chuuya came out victorious. Yokohama is safe once again. The civilians already evacuated, thus no casualties recorded.

Everything's fine now.

But Chuuya's still not.

He's on his limit, and his rampage will continue up to the end of his life.

He had already accepted his fate, that corruption will disappear along with his existence but a bandaged hand tamed him.

But it's already late.

Chuuya got hospitalized after that. His life was saved, but his nervous system was badly affected.

Dazai couldn't help but blame himself. He was doing a lot of paper works at the armed detective agency's office (forced by Kunikida of course) but the unexpected foe barged its way to Yokohoma without even knocking.

That's why he's late to arrive at the scene.

Why did Chuuya activate his corrupted form without him?

He's such an idiot, an utter idiot…

But he's far worse than that.

***

"Chuuya~ Let's go outside?" Dazai asked his ex-partner but the latter shook his head weakly, much to the former's surprise. It's the first time Chuuya declined his invitation.

Instead of going outside, Chuuya points his finger to their room's direction, by which, Dazai understood and followed. Maybe Chuuya is just sick of watching the sun's routinary motion every day or he just wants to rest.

To ease his boredom, Dazai cooked for their supper, but a creaking sound came out from Chuuya's location.

Dazai dropped the spatula in hand and sprinted to their bedroom only to find Chuuya scribbling something on a small piece of paper. Because of his malfunctioning muscles, the pen he used created a noise as it dropped on the floor.

"Chuuya? What are you doi-" Dazai is stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw the letters inscribed on his paper. Beside the redhead is a small calendar with eighteen days crossed out for the month of June.

Today's June 19. Dazai's birthday.

"Ha…" Chuuya struggled to say something with his shivering and shaky voice. "Ha…ppy bir-th-da…y, sh-itt…y mac…ke-rel."

Dazai's heart starts to pound harder as if it wants to leap out of his ribcage. His head feels so fuzzy, but light at the time.

What's this feeling…?

Sadness?

Happiness?

Longing?

But Dazai knew that it's more than that.

"Now demon… Which one is it?"

"Ane-san… I already know the answer." He said at the back of his mind before embracing the redhead. He leaned closer to the former executive's ear and whispered, "Thank you, chibi."

Chuuya might not be able to restore his condition the way it once was but for Dazai, that doesn't matter now.

Whether Chuuya the petite mafia executive who kept on bickering with him back in the days or the Chuuya who's struggling to write a single sentence of greeting over a sheet of paper… Dazai's always fond of him, whatever the version.

And that will not change until the end of time.

-END-

#dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukoku #double black #dazai x chuuya #bungo stray dogs

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fifteenleads · 4 years

Text

Chuuya had worn pink ribbons in his hair on one of Dazai's past birthdays.

It had been the result of losing a bet, as always. The cunning bastard had an extra trick up his sleeve and reversed all of Chuuya's hard-earned points in UNO. He'd become the laughingstock of the entire Black Lizard force that day, and because of that, he couldn't say no to Dazai this time.

"Be my birthday gift," had been the exact order. Yet another variation of Dazai's "be my dog (for all eternity)" spiels, to which Chuuya had either merely ignored or responded to with any and all degrees of violence possible— none of which worked on Dazai, of course.

Having caught wind of the affair, Ane-san had been so kind as to style his messy hair into an intricate double-braid that went across his crown, then twisted and tied together with pins and pink ribbons made of real silk. It was, for all purposes, technically fulfilling his end of the bargain; Dazai would never deny a "gift" just because it didn't have large ribbons wrapped around it.

Considering how much Dazai had relished the challenge of undoing the braids and pins one by one with that smarmy mouth of his, Chuuya had let himself feel proud just a bit— even if it guaranteed that the same thing would only happen next year, and the year after that.

The next year had never happened, however. As well as the year after that.

Chuuya still kept those pink ribbons in his dresser, in a sealed box, never to be opened until— whenever that would be.

Maybe when he was finally ready to forgive.

He was loathe to admit it, but deep down, he missed Dazai a lot, insufferable mackerel that he was. The years have taught him to ignore that growing Dazai-shaped hole in his chest, but one day it will no longer be enough. He knew that much, and was prepared to live with it.

It was merely a consequence of certain events, the Boss had dismissed, and Chuuya had slowly begun to believe it until his mind went numb.

A knock on the door interrupts Chuuya's thoughts. He hadn't been expecting anyone for the day, given that it's his annual birthday leave. "Parcel for Nakahara-san," goes the voice over the intercom, a professional lilt with a hint of delight.

Normally Chuuya would pretend to not be at home until the other person gets tired and leaves; there's no way of telling what sort of person is lying in wait— a standard precaution of sorts for the line of work he's in. The knocking and ringing of his doorbell persists for a whole five minutes, however, and Chuuya's patience finally reaches its breaking point.

"Take a fucking hint, damn you!" he bellows into the intercom, glaring into the peephole to see which bastard dares ruin his—

In an instant, Chuuya's years of training and self-control fail spectacularly as he practically short-circuits, instantly breaking the door and tackling his visitor into the ground.

"YOU—!" he growls with a feral vengeance, "How dare you show up now after disappearing for two whole years!"

"Now, now, that's no way to treat your birthday gift," Dazai tuts back, totally unfazed. "Is this the welcome I get after so long? I thought you missed me more than that."

Sandy brown trench coat, black vest over a blue shirt, beige slacks, and bandages peeking out from all parts of his body. For all those months Chuuya had never seen Dazai, he would never, ever forget how much he hated that cunning smirk and those knowing eyes that have seen it all.

Yet, despite that— despite everything, Chuuya missed Dazai so much.

He responds to that feeling with his strongest punch to Dazai's face.

"I did," Chuuya answers after that, not bothering to wipe his bloody knuckles. "And you'd better believe I'm gonna yell at you so much, your ears will bleed after."

Dazai laughs weakly in response, a stream of blood from his nose flowing down his upper lip and into his mouth. With a sigh, Chuuya finally gets off Dazai's torso and helps him up. He probably has enough antiseptic and spare bandages in the medicine cabinet, even that shitty mackerel will thank him for it later.

"I swear to the gods, you have a lot of explaining to do," Chuuya mutters under his breath, Dazai's arm slung over his shoulder as they enter his apartment. "You're paying for the door."

"But I'm broke, Chuuya," Dazai languidly protests, his other arm lazily snaking around Chuuya's torso like it was a thin beanpole. "I live on three cup noodles a day, you know."

"I'll drop you," Chuuya threatens with a low voice. He doesn't resist the way Dazai clings to him, though, the extra body heat filling him with a warmth he has missed for so long now. Dazai definitely knows this, and may just be intentionally pushing his buttons, but Chuuya lets him be for now.

They have all afternoon to catch up, after all.

"Hey, Chuuya," Dazai calls out in a singsong voice, "Where'd you keep the ribbons from my birthday before? We should play dress-up!"

Chuuya, at least, has half a mind to not hurl the bottle of iodine at Dazai. Damn that shitty, insufferable mackerel, just after he made such a huge scene out front. (Chuuya knows that that one is his fault; he's just being petty, and he knows it.)

It doesn't stop him from playing right into Dazai's hands, though. (He knows that, too.)

"I threw them out," Chuuya deadpans as he gathers up the medical supplies to put them back. Dazai probably already knows where he kept those hideous things; the bastard has already stayed over for days on several occasions, after all. He mentally prepares himself for an embarrassing death by humiliation later, should Dazai succeed in retrieving those ribbons and do unspeakable things with them, knowing how he is.

To Chuuya's (greatest) surprise, Dazai hasn't moved an inch by the time he gets back. He hasn't wiped off that irritating, expectant smirk from his face, however. "Well?"

"I already told you, they're gone," Chuuya repeats, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice, since Dazai probably knows he is lying anyway. They both know that keeping up this charade is useless, but Chuuya has Many Things he wants to tell Dazai, short of kicking his ass and pinning him to the ground. And so he allows himself this much pettiness, at least— an injured man deserves at least this much kindness.

"... Fine, if you don't want to tell," Dazai relents after a few moments, letting himself plow down onto Chuuya's bed. "Is it just me, or are these sheets softer than I remember?" Twisting his body to bury his head into the pillow there, he lets out an exaggerated, satisfied moan, as if only to prove his point.

"Get the hell off!" Chuuya quickly clambers up to the bed to forcibly remove Dazai, who holds on tight to the pillow with a childish pout. "These are imported, dammit!"

"No waaay!" Dazai rolls back and forth, evading Chuuya's attempts to grab him by his clothes. "Aww, the little kid can't reach with his little arms and legs! What to do~?"

Chuuya has had enough.

He quickly extends his right leg to the other side of the bed and kneels, effectively trapping Dazai's squirming torso between his thighs, before leaning in and grabbing a fistful of hair. "I don't know what the hell you came here for, but my patience is wearing thin," Chuuya growls into Dazai's ear. "You've always had your way for so long, it fucking gets on my nerves, you know.

"I hate you, shitty Dazai. I hate you so much I want to kill you right now." Chuuya's vision begins to cloud, and the rest of his senses dullen until the only thing he can appreciate is his rapid heartbeat and angry pulse. He thinks he is losing control, as reckless and wrathful as the god that dwells in him.

How pathetic must he look before Dazai before he is satisfied?

How low must he go before Dazai before he is finally seen?

"Oh, Chuuya," comes an airy whisper, before cold hands cup his cheeks and a ghost of a kiss touches his lips.

The spell immediately breaks, and Chuuya's strength immediately leaves his body. Dazai lets him lie on his torso, the thick comforter separating their bodies. "Must you always be so difficult," Dazai mumbles wearily, one arm circling Chuuya's waist and the other gently combing through his hair. "Then again, that's just like you."

"... Shut up..." Chuuya mouths, unable to muster the strength to use his voice. "... Ribbons... in safe..."

"I know," Dazai confirms, his hands unceasing with their gentle minstrations. "They're in my pocket."

"... Damn you..." Chuuya says again, without any malice. He feels himself gradually drifting off. He knows this is how it would end, but... "... Won't... forgive you..."

"I know..." Dazai, too, starts to drift off slowly, and the next line, spoken in remorse, breaks Chuuya's heart: "I'm sorry."

Pink ribbons stained with tears fill his dreams that night, and the next morning, Dazai is gone, a check for a measly ten thousand yen left on the nightstand.

The sealed box in his safe remains untouched.

Chuuya buries his head into his pillow, inhales Dazai's scent, and lets himself cry.

For Eloise. (4/4)

... I have no excuse. (hides)

Happy birthday, my friend!

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukoku #skk #for eloise

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astxlphe-fics · 4 years

Text

Atsukyou Week Day 1 // Roleswap AU

@atsukyouweek

There is a boy with a bomb on the train, and if Kyouka can save him, then maybe she can save herself too.

(Platonic atsukyou)

Word Count : 4 296

Content warning: Graphic Depiction of Violence

Basically the train scene with Kyouka and Atsushi swapped. It was pretty fun to write uh.

“Thank you for your help, Kyouka-chan,” Yosano says as they carry the groceries on the train platform.

Kyouka doesn’t say anything, glancing up and nodding quietly, but Yosano doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll hide some of the sweets for you, so Ranpo won’t snatch them away,” Yosano continues with a quick wink. They walk onto the train and take their seats.

She eyes the man from earlier, who is carefully avoiding their gazes. When he bothered Kyouka about bumping into him, Yosano sent him groveling at her feet and he ran with his tail between his legs.

In Kyouka’s opinion, considering Yosano’s anger, he was lucky to have kept it, the tail.

“...Thank you,” she says quietly. “About earlier.”

“Don’t worry about such trivial things.” She waves her hand dismissively. “So, I heard you knew Dazai before you joined us?”

“Not really.” She thinks back about Dazai, whom she dragged out of the river just a few days ago. “I’d heard about him.”

She knew him only by reputation — Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia executive turned traitor, the one the boss still refuses to replace.

There isn’t much talk of him, unless you managed to pull Akutagawa or Chuuya into a rant, and what information she gathered during her past six months as a Port Mafia assassin was enough for her to recognize him as soon as he told his name.

He looked at her, eyes wide and round, before he laughed, recognizing her as a fellow turncoat.

“I killed 35 people,” she said that day— she ran away from the Mafia with the full intent of killing herself, at some point, but she ended up saving a man instead.

“So what?” he answered, and gave her a chance.

Or maybe it was him who saved her, the lines have blurred since then.

And so, she’d been hired, passing the agency test, though no one but Dazai — and probably Ranpo, smart as he is — knows of her background.

She is snapped out of her recollection as the loudspeakers let out a high-pitched sound.

“ An announcement from the driver's cabin ,” the loudspeakers sputter out. “ I apologize for the intrusion! Now, I am about to conduct a little experiment!”

The voice is familiar, one Kyouka has encountered several times before. She blanches, hand closing tight around Yosano’s arm. “That’s—”

The voice keeps going, enthusiastically announcing the passengers would be the subject of the experiment. Then, the train churns, shaken by a sudden explosion.

“Do you know who that is?” Yosano asks, having noticed her reaction.

"Did two or three people just die~?” the voice continues. “The next blast will do better than that! I have installed bombs at both ends of the train — enough to blow everyone up!”

“Kyouka-chan?” Yosano insists.

“Motojiro Kajii,” Kyouka answers, trembling.

Yosano stills, recognizing the name. Kajii, despite being in the Mafia, is still a bomber and explosive specialist well-known of the authority and, as a result, of the agency.

That Kyouka is able to recognize him by voice is a whole other can of worms.

“Well then, hello Kyouka-chan~" he calls in a sing-song voice. “ We’re here for your head, and if you you’re careful all those passengers may not be blown up all the way to heaven...it’s up to you!”

So, the Mafia is coming for her already? She joined the agency barely two days ago, how did they find her so quickly?

“We don’t have a lot of options,” Yosano says, deciding the aforementioned can of worms will have to wait. “Either we let them take you, or we jump out of this train with dozens of passengers. Or—” she sets her hand on her hips.

“We fight them?” Kyouka suggests. She doesn’t want to face Kajii, she would need to use Demon Snow to beat him, and right now this is the last thing she wants.

“I’ll got at the front and take care of the bomber. You go look for the bomb at the back.”

“Kajii has a special ability too.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Yes.” At Yosano’s questioning glance, she elaborates. “He is immune to lemon shaped bombs. He uses them to fight, especially if he is fighting up close. It allows him to stay unarmed while doing a lot of damage to his opponent.”

“Thank you,” Yosano says. “This information is precious; I’ll keep it in mind.”

Kyouka nods. “Be careful,” she tells her, because she knows Kajii and how dangerous he is despite appearances.

“Don’t worry.” Yosano pats her head with a smile. “We’re the Armed Detective Agency.”

Taking that as a reassurance, Kyouka takes off, running towards the back of the train.

If Kajii is the head of the squad behind this attack, then maybe he’s the only one with an ability. The bomber at the back, hopefully, isn’t as strong, ability or not, and she may be able to take him without using Demon Snow.

She pushes past the crowd pressing around her until she reaches the second to last carriage, fully expecting a group of black-clad, armed men to ambush her at any moment. Instead, she runs straight into a teenage boy.

“S-Sorry!”

“You shouldn’t stay here,” Kyouka tells him. “You heard him. There is a bomb.”

“I know— I—”

Her instincts tell her something is wrong. The boy is a few years older than her, white haired and golden eyed, and she doesn’t recognize him at all. He is pale and looks just as scared as everyone else, but something is wrong.

He is dressed in black.

There is a gun strapped to his belt.

Then, he starts running past her, further towards the back of the train, and she runs after him until he’s cornered in the very last carriage — one the civilians have already evacuated.

“I— I’m Atsushi.”

“Kyouka.”

“I know.” He gulps, and his hand closes around the handle of the gun at his belt. “I’m supposed to keep the bomb safe,” he says, “and kill you.”

Atsushi doesn’t look like a mafia operative, but neither did Kyouka in her days. He is obviously a newbie, but it doesn’t make sense. Kyouka, before being a traitor, was regarded as a competent and powerful assassin, so why give this kind of task to a newcomer?

It doesn’t matter. Two days ago, she would have welcomed death gladly. She doesn’t deserve to live — she has killed 35 people in six months, her ability exists for murder, and her skills revolve around assassination.

But now her wish has changed.

“You’ve killed 35 people, so what?” Dazai said. “Does it make you unsuitable for the agency?”

She thought so, but Dazai is suitable for the agency despite having been an executive, and she passed the test — a test of character, for them to see how willing she is to help people in need.

Glancing back, she looks at the civilian in the next car. If she doesn’t find the bomb, they’ll die.

If she can save them, with her own skills, maybe she can truly believe Dazai.

Maybe she can give herself a chance. Maybe it’ll be okay for her to continue living in the light, to help people in the hope that one day she’ll earn her right to be alive.

Clutching at the phone, at the only thing she’s left of her mother, she shifts her position, moves herself in front of the open door and draws her blade, standing ready to protect them.

Atsushi’s hand shakes, and so does his gun.

Getting him to tell her where the bomb will be easy. He’s so scared of her it’s a wonder he hasn’t spilled his guts yet.

“Where is the bomb?” she asks.

“It’s—” He winces, and his free hand flies to his ear — an earbud, she notices. Someone is giving him orders from afar. Maybe Kajii? But if Yosano is keeping him busy... “If you try to escape, I’ll set it off.”

Someone on the other side shuts him up just as he goes to say something else, giving him more orders, and Kyouka takes advantage of his distraction. She adjusts her grip on her blade and moves. Her blade slashes through the teen’s shoulder, sends him sprawling backward on the ground with a scream of pain. He clutches at the wound, gasping, and she moves again, cutting his cheek.

She doesn’t want to kill him; she just wants him to talk.

“Where is the bomb?” she asks again, more forcefully.

The cut on Atsushi’s cheek heals before she can blink. So, he does have an ability — a healing power, then? Those are quite rare, but not suited for battle, making the fact that they sent him even stranger.

Pinching her lips, Kyouka attacks again, and he reflexively raises his arm to protect himself. She tries to hold back before she cuts through it too deeply, to avoid cutting the limb off, but her blade suddenly comes to a stop.

The teen’s arm has changed shape, stopping it before it could make damage. It’s now covered in fur — white and stripped with black — and his fingers have elongated in long, sharp looking claws.

He stares up at her, wide eyed, and they have changed too, now bright yellow with slit pupils.

“Oh—” His breathing becomes even more erratic. “It’s coming,” he says quickly, agitated, “I’m really sorry.”

And his whole body shifts. His skin boils over, his muscles distort and he lets out a pained grunt, killing intent rolling off him and Kyouka has to take a step back, fear only now starting a crawl up her guts.

A giant, white tiger stands in front of her, snarling.

“We are looking for a beast ,” Kunikida explained as he joined Dazai and her for dinner the night they met. “A giant, man-eating white tiger. The military police asked us to find it and dispose of it.”

The tiger the agency is looking for belongs to the Mafia.

All of Atsushi’s fear seems to have faded now that he is in his tiger form. He looks at her, eyes full of rage, and pounces.

Its claws rip through her clothes and sink into one of her arms, and she is thrown backwards, back hitting the train seats. Pain throbs through her but she doesn’t scream, merely grits her teeth and takes it.

Kyouka is a fool, sometimes. Underestimating the scared-looking teen was a mistake — has he been biding his time, camouflaging his killing intent, waiting for the moment he could transform and take her by surprise?

It attacks once more. She tries using her blade to fight back, but a single swat of his paw is enough to break it. Her body screams in pain as he hits her, and the severed half of her weapon clatters uselessly upon the floor.

She may need Demon Snow for this one. She grits her teeth, closing her eyes.

Her ability is good for nothing but battle, and she used it to murder 35 people under Akutagawa’s orders. Even before then, it killed her own mother. She doesn’t want to use it. But as the tiger looms over her, teeth bared, she knows she doesn’t have a choice. If he kills her, it could go after the civilians, and Kyouka will have been unable to save anyone .

The ghostly woman appears behind her, now bound to her will by the president’s ability. She takes in a deep breath, shoving aside her hate and disgust for it to focus on the fact that she is using it to save innocents.

It’s coming. I’m sorry .

She still can’t shake off the wrongness of the situation as Demon’s Snow cuts through one of the tiger’s legs. The suddenly missing limb throws him off balance and he collapse, but it doesn’t take long for it to grow back.

This Mafia newbie is a giant, regenerating tiger.

She doesn’t understand.

Why not set off the bomb like he threatened? Why keep up with the act until last second? Why is there still something wrong?

She thinks about the last six months, about Akutagawa’s orders coming from the phone and her ability reacting to it, outside of her control. She didn’t really want to kill anyone, but her ability had still obeyed.

It’s coming. I’m sorry .

It's not an act.

“You don’t control it,” she says out loud, staring up at the tiger. It stares back — there is nothing of the scared Atsushi in its eyes. “And you don’t want to kill me.”

The Mafia must have taken in another person with a destructive ability to make murder his life purpose, just like they did for her. She feels a twinge of sympathy for him — maybe, if she could convince him to show her the bomb earlier...

It doesn’t change a thing. Atsushi can’t hear her now. She closes her eyes, gripping her weapon tight. She doesn’t want to kill him either. But the civilians are her priority, she has to do everything in her power to keep them safe.

This isn’t Atsushi anymore.

The beast charges, and Demon Snow meets it heads on. Blood sprays around them as she cuts the tiger again, trying to slow it down. It heals fast, and she needs to be faster.

Distracting it with Demon Snow, she runs towards it. Another hit from the beast has her bones creak and protest, but she can’t give up. If it goes on a full rampage, bomb or not, everyone on this train is dead.

She slides between its legs and stabs its belly with what is left of her weapon. The beast roars and trashes, it tries to claw at Demon Snow, who avoids it. The metallic door bends and shatters under the blow. The people in the next carriage scream.

Before it can heal, she stabs it again and rolls out of the way. Demon Snow catches her and helps her as she jumps, grabbing onto the fur, until she’s on top of it.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You’re just like me. I wish — I wish I could help.”

Her halved, jagged blade sinks deep into the back of the beast’s neck.

It shakes, and throws her off, stumbling. Its legs folds from under it, and she sees the strange, eerily glow of its eyes fade as its body shifts again.

Leaving Atsushi curled up on the floor, groaning in pain.

Atsushi coughs, one of his hand massaging his nape. It’s already healed, just like the cuts on his stomach. He looks up at her as she presses her blade to his throat, eyes roaming all over her, taking in each of her injuries.

She’s still standing, and there is something like relief in his eyes when he sees it.

“Why,” she asks, breathless, “do they send someone like you against me?”

“It’s—”

The ear bud has fallen off and he is now palming around, trying to find it, until gaze fixes itself on something close to Kyouka’s feet.

When she glances down, she sees it. The communication device has fallen there. Careful not to move her weapon and cut his throat by accident — though she now doubts it’ll actually kill him — she steps on it, crushing it under her shoe.

No orders will come for him anymore.

“It’s a test.”

She almost lowers her weapon in surprise. “A test.”

He nods. “I am — a beast,” he tries to explain. “A beast of calamity. I bring misfortune to everyone around me. My life has no worth at all if I can’t be of use to someone—” he licks his lips. “Akutagawa said—”

Akutagawa. Of course, it’s Akutagawa . He must also be the one who convinced him he is a calamity.

“Akutagawa said, that if I kill you and protect the bomb, I will have proven useful to him, and they’ll keep me and show me how to control the beast.”

“And if you fail?”

“They’ll sell me — there is this organization looking for me, the Guild? Or the military police, he said they will put me down. But—” he shakes his head, and his voice’s pitch rises. “I don’t want to hurt you, or anyone! ”

She almost asks why he didn’t just say so — but the answers come to her by itself as she remembers the earbud she just crushed. If Akutagawa was on the line, Kyouka doesn’t doubt that, at the slightest hint of Atsushi trying to explain, he would have blown all of them to kingdom come.

First, they need to defuse the bomb.

“The bomb,” she says instead. “Tell me where it is.”

Paling, Atsushi tugs at his white tie, undoing it, before unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt, pulling it open to reveal part of his chest — and the bomb strapped to it.

She can’t, for a few seconds, breathe. Her knuckles turn bone white as she clenches hard around the handle of her blade.

The bomb is on him. Akutagawa put the bomb on him.

She doesn’t expect the sudden rage bubbling under her skin.

“Okay.” She says, trying to stay composed. “We will take it off.”

She can still save him. She can still keep him safe. She can save the passengers and Atsushi.

Kneeling besides him, she takes a look at the way the bomb is attached. It would be more prudent to carefully undo the strap than try to cut it with her weapon.

“He’s wrong,” she suddenly says. It’s been bugging her since Atsushi said it. “You’re not a calamity.”

“What?”

“Akutagawa is lying. He told me that my life only had value if I killed people. So, I did. But—” she shakes her head, looking for the straps holding the bomb to his chest. “I'm working on changing it, which means he was wrong. He will make you into a calamity if you obey him, but you don't have to. You can still get away.”

“Kyouka-san, I brought a bomb in this train.”

“So what?”

Compared to 35 people in six months, one bomb they’re working on defusing is nothing.

She looks at him in the eyes, serious. She wants this point to get across, to show him what Dazai showed her.

Unlike her, he hasn’t truly harmed anyone yet. If people like Dazai and her can have a chance at something different, at giving their lives the value they want instead of the one others want to give it, Atsushi can too.

“I put all those people in danger—”

“So what?” she says again. “Do you wish to hurt anyone?”

“No!”

Her fingers close around his wrist, steadying his trembling hands. “Then what do you wish for?"

“I want—” He choked on his own breath. “I want to fix this.”

“We will,” she promises and he looks at her doubtfully. “I’m from the Armed Detective Agency. It's my job to help now.”

It seems to calm him down, and he smiles at her tentatively. "Thank you."

She is just about to resign herself to cut through the straps when the speakers come to life.

“Announcement from the driver’s cabin!”

Yosano’s voice echoes through the train, and both Kyouka and Atsushi look up to the nearest loudspeaker

“Is Kyouka-chan alive? ” Yosano asks. “ That bomber wasn’t actually that much to deal with. According to him, the bomb on your end is set off remotely. It’ll blow fast if not defused properly too— is that right?” A soft mumble is heard through the speaker — Kajii sounding very out of it. Yosano hums in approval at the reaction. “The only way to defuse it is with the emergency button, that the Mafia member on your end has.”

Turning to him, she extends a hand without a word.

“Ah—” Atsushi stands and dusts his pants, before taking a remote out of his back pocket. “Yes, I have it.” He holds it out to her, allowing her to take it. “Here.”

Kyouka studies it. It’s a simple remote, with a single button at the center, but there is a gnawing suspicion in her guts. It’s too easy.

Akutagawa would never let them get away so easily — send a newbie so obviously unwilling to harm anyone with the only mean to defuse the bomb? That’s practically asking him to disarm it and make a run for it.

Was he counting on her to kill Atsushi swiftly and try to defuse it on her own? Did he think the prospect of being caught and killed — or sold to whoever gave the Mafia the most money — would be enough of a deterrent? Did he believe the promise of acceptance, of giving his life worth, would have him cave in and obey?

Atsushi looks at her expectantly, biting his lips, twisting his fingers. He tries hard not to show how terrified he is, and Kyouka nods at him, attempting to be reassuring.

She presses the button.

Her phone rings.

Heart pounding in her chest, she freezes.

The phone — Akutagawa used it to control Demon Snow, but she didn’t want to get rid of it anyway. It was what she had left of the mother her own ability had killed, and he couldn’t take that away from her.

With a shaking hand, she flips it open, and Akutagawa’s voice echoes from the other side. “ He pressed it, didn’t he?”

Her eyes fly to Atsushi, who is trying very hard not to move, and she makes herself sound more confident for his sake. “Leave him alone.”

Atsushi slowly backs away from her, but her focus is back on the phone.

“How cute, ” Akutagawa says dryly. “Don’t take it off, weretiger. Kyouka decided to take all the passengers with her.”

“Kyouka-san—”

She whips around. The bomb makes a ticking noise, and she drops the phone. It clicks shut as it bounces on her chest.

“Take it off,” she orders, but Atsushi takes another step back instead, towards the gaping hole left by the tiger’s claws earlier in the fight.

“It’s too late. I’m sorry — I— It’s my fault everyone here is in danger.” He’s speaking fast, words almost mixing with each other. “They’re right, I only bring trouble and bad luck but— it’s better if I —” His jaw clenches, and the fear fades from his eyes. “I want to fix it. It's the only way.”

He is getting closer to the edge. The train is passing over the river and the drop, on top of the explosion, would probably kill him, the explosion too close for the regeneration to kick in fast enough.

He’s going to jump, and it’s like she can’t move to stop him.

"I made this mess and my life has no value anyway, so if I can do something right—” His heels come to the edge of the drop. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Don’t—”

“Thank you, Miss Detective.” Atsushi smiles at her. “You helped a lot.”

He falls.

Kyouka runs.

She jumps after him, Demon Snow materializing in front of her, pulling her downward until she can wrap one of her arms around him. With a quick work of her weapon, her ability cuts the bomb free, and Kyouka grabs it with her free hand, flinging it away from them.

It blows in a jumble of unbearable heat and ear-piercing sound and a burning sensation on her skin, and Demon Snow embraces them, taking the brunt of it.

They hit the water hard and the cold makes her skin tingle where the heat burned her. She can’t see straight, can’t tell up apart from down.

When her head breaks the surface, she takes a large gulp of air and coughs. She stays there for almost a minute, refusing to move, her muscles aching but still holding onto Atsushi.

Then, she kicks her feet, trying to swim, though a kimono is probably not the best outfit for it. In the end, Demon Snow reappears on its own, gently wrapping its arms around them and pulling them towards the riverbank.

After being hauled there, Kyouka pulls Atsushi up on the dry ground, never once letting go of him. She breathes in deeply, the adrenaline fading, and her shoulders slump. Her kimono sleeves are charred, but thankfully she wasn’t burned in the explosion.

Atsushi still unconscious, she gives him a once over, making sure he’s not hurt. One of his sleeves is ripped and the slight burns are already healing, but he otherwise looks fine.

“We made it,” she whispers, holding him close, fingers running through his hair.

She will have Akutagawa’s skin if he harms him again.

Demon Snow sits by them, and one of her translucent hands rests on Atsushi’s shoulder. Kyouka pointedly looks away.

She did it. She used Demon Snow to help and protect, but still, she can’t forget that it’s her ability who murdered her mother, the ability she used to kill so many people.

But it saved them.

If she keeps using it to save people, maybe one day she’ll have earned her right to life, the same way Dazai is earning his own.

“Kyouka-chan!” The clacking of heals on the cement draws her attention to Yosano, hurrying in her direction. She stops once she reaches them. “Any injuries?”

“I’m fine,” Kyouka answers. The cuts the claws left in her arms sting. “But I’m not sure about him. I want to bring him back to the office.”

Yosano pauses, considering the tight grip Kyouka has on the boy, and the way Demon Snow looms over them protectively. The translucent woman’s head snaps up towards her, blank face evaluating her until Yosano is deemed harmless and she fades away.

“He is from the Mafia, isn’t he?”

Kyouka shakes her head no. “He is not an enemy.”

“Very well.” Yosano straightens up and fishes her phone out of her bag. “Let's take him home, then.”

#atsukyouweek2020 #bsd #bungou stray dogs #nakajima atsushi #izumi kyouka #bsd atsushi #bsd kyouka #cw violence #writing

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rafyki · 5 years

Text

Selfish [BSD - Soukoku]

Tags: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Literal Sleeping Together, First Kiss

Words count: 6215

Read on AO3

~ ~ ~

Chuuya was tired. His feet felt as heavy as concrete, his limbs hurt, his legs screamed in protest with every step he took, his shoulders felt like they were bending under a too big weight; he was even too tired to use his ability and reduce the gravity on himself. He just wanted to reach his room and collapse on the bed.

Some missions were easy, their enemies overthrown fast and without many troubles, leaving him and Dazai standing and ready to fight again if necessary; some other missions, though, gave them a too good fight, exciting while it lasted, while adrenaline ran fast in their veins, but then left them like that, stumbling through the Mafia headquarters, weary and almost devoid of energy.

Chuuya almost always preferred the latter - the sensation of a good hard fight making his blood boil in his veins was a feeling that never grew old for him.

He looked at Dazai, walking silently next to him. He let his eyes roaming over him, a vice Chuuya had let himself indulge even too much lately - but it was okay now, when the corridor was dark and Dazai's eyes were fixed ahead of him, lost in thoughts that Chuuya couldn't guess.

"You're still bleeding", he said, when he noticed the cut on Dazai's cheek, and the wound on his side that kept colouring red his shirt.

Dazai turned to look at him, and it seemed like it took him a few moments to really realize what Chuuya had said. He looked as tired as Chuuya felt.

"Oh", he said, looking down at himself. One hand went up to the wound on his cheek, touching the blood with his thumb. After looking at it for a second, he brought it to his lips, tasting his own blood. "It doesn't hurt".

"That's not the point", Chuuya sighed. "You should get those treated".

Dazai simply shrugged, and Chuuya sighed again, annoyed at the carelessness that Dazai showed towards everything and especially himself.

He knew he wouldn't treat those wounds - if there was something that Chuuya could say he knew about Dazai was that he couldn't take care of himself (couldn't, and most of the times simply didn't bother to do it).

They walked in silence for a minute or so, too weary for their usual banter.

"Come on", Chuuya said, breaking the silence when they approached his apartment. He grabbed Dazai's wrist and started to pull him towards the door, preventing him to move onward to his own room.

"I know you can't stay away from me, Chibi, but I'd really like to go to my room and sleep".

"Shut up, shitty Dazai", he answered, not having the strength for a better comeback and focusing on fumbling with his key and open the door.

Weirdly enough, Dazai really did not say anything more as Chuuya led him through the small apartment he called home and to the bedroom.

"Wait here, and don't dirty my sheets with your stupid blood, or I'll kill you".

"Sure, sure".

He went to the bathroom to take the first aid kit, groaning in pain as his every muscle seemed to be screaming and begging him to sit down and rest. He wasn't hurt like Dazai - he was actually very proud of the fact that he was definitely better than Dazai was at avoiding bullets and such, thanks to his ability - still, he probably needed to take care of himself, too.

Why am I even doing this?, he wondered, annoyed at himself and his own stupid feelings for the stupid waste of bandages waiting in the other room.

Chasing the thought out of his mind was as hard as usual.

Why did he even feel like that? He hated everything about Dazai - starting from his self confidence, to his continuous suicide attempts, from how annoyingly clever he was to how irritating he was when he decided that he wanted to make Chuuya's life difficult.

He cut his own train of thoughts off before he could derail on way too familiar paths. He had wasted too much time thinking about Dazai, the list of things he hated about him more often than not turning into a precise account of tiny details that Chuuya had gathered during all the times he couldn't bring himself to stop looking at his partner - like the quirk of his lips when he smiled, the dangerous light in his eyes when he was facing an enemy, the tone of his voice and the way it sent shivers down Chuuya's back, the freeing sensation that for some reason filled him whenever they were together and Dazai let the mask that he always wore for everyone else fall for a moment.

Ugh, stop it, Chuuya told himself, shutting the cabinet and hoping that his troublesome thoughts had been trapped inside.

Of course, when he came back to his room, he found Dazai lying on the bed, arms spread open at his sides, eyes closed, and a relaxed expression on his face. A way too relaxed face for someone who was definitely dirtying Chuuya's sheets with blood.

Why did he even like that asshole?

The kick on his legs was earned, and Dazai was probably expecting it anyway.

"Ouch, Chuuyaaaa, why are you like this, I thought you were supposed to treat my wounds, not cause more!"

"You dirtied my sheets, you fucking asshole", he replied, but he sat himself next to Dazai, and took out what he needed from the first aid kit, as Dazai got up and put himself in a sitting position.

They stayed in silence for a while, as Chuuya cleaned first the wound on Dazai's cheek, and then tried his best not to stare as he took off his blood soaked shirt - because, even in that state and covered in dirty bandages, Dazai was annoyingly pleasant to look at.

He was probably too caught in his own thoughts and being angry with himself for even thinking that sort of things, because Dazai let out a hiss of pain as Chuuya was taking off his bandages.

"Don't be so rough, Chibi, what kind of nurse are you even?"

Chuuya barely resisted the urge of punching him, or kicking him right in his still open wound. "Fuck you, I'm not your nurse! You should be grateful I'm even helping you, stop fuckin complaining".

"Why are you doing it?", Dazai asked after a while. The tone of his voice, quiet and unusually void of the familiar teasing edge, pushed Chuuya to look up from where he was cleaning the wound and met his eyes.

And what he saw in them almost made him feel dizzy. It was an honest question, like Dazai really didn't expect anyone - didn't expect him - to help him, or to care enough to do it. It made blood boil in Chuuya's vein. Of course he would help him, as if that was even a question!

"You wouldn't have done it yourself, and you sure as hell wouldn't have gone to the infirmary", he answered, breaking eye contact and resuming his work. "You suck at taking care of yourself".

He wasn't expecting the soft laugh that followed his words.

"I want to die, Chuuya. Taking care of myself isn't exactly my priority".

That made Chuuya even angrier. He couldn't understand it, couldn't get why Dazai was so careless about his own life, why he was so ready to throw it away.

He wasn't sure if he was angry only at Dazai for being like that or also at himself for not being able to help him in any way.

"You're so fuckin selfish, you know that?"

Another chuckle, but when Chuuya looked up again, he didn't see any teasing or laugh in Dazai's expression, only sad resignation, and maybe what could have been a hint of regret.

"Yeah, I know".

Unable to stand that look, and at the same time not really wanting to look away, Chuuya gathered his strength and turned away, taking new bandages and starting to wrap Dazai's torso again.

They finished in an heavy and not really comfortable silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

When Chuuya went to the bathroom to put back the first aid kit, he almost expected to come back to an empty room. Instead, he had to blink a few times to make sure that the scene before his eyes wasn't just a weird product of his overtired mind.

"What are you doing?"

"Tryin' to sleep", Dazai answered, his voice muffled from the pillow he was hiding his face into.

"That's my bed", Chuuya pointed out, as his eyes were fixed on Dazai, who was snuggled on his bed, lying on his uninjured side, his back to Chuuya.

"Yep, great spirit of observation, Chibi".

"You have your own room".

A sigh. "Are you planning on keep saying obvious things or will you let me sleep?"

Really, Chuuya asked himself, why do I even like this guy?

"You could take the couch if you want to stay here, why would I let you sleep in my bed?"

"You can take the couch if you want", Dazai said, as if it was the most normal thing, and he gestured vaguely with an hand, not even turning around when speaking.

Honestly, the guts that guy had. "Or I could just kill you and get it over with".

"You're too tired for that", Dazai said, the teasing tone in his voice evident despite the clear weariness. "Come on", he added, and patted the spot on the bed next to him.

It was really something, the way Dazai could at the same time make Chuuya's nerves pulse with anger and making his heart skip a beat or running like crazy.

"You're so fucking annoying", he murmured under his breath, part at Dazai and part at himself and his own feelings. He cursed again when Dazai chuckled and his heart decided that skipping beats was its new favourite thing to do.

The bed was more than big enough for the two of them, but that didn't make it any easier for Chuuya's traitor heart. And forcing himself to turn around and not staring at Dazai's sleepy relaxed features was probably the most difficult mission he had faced that day.

" 'night, Chibi".

Chuuya simply hummed in response, hating Dazai and the way he made him feel more than anything.

For once, he was grateful for the weariness of his body and mind, because he doubted that, if it wasn't for that, he would have managed to close his eyes that night. Instead, he fell asleep after not too long, his mind too tired to focus on anything but the regular and relaxed sound of Dazai's soft breathing.

He wasn't sure, next morning, if being grateful or not that the spot next to him on the bed was empty.

~ ~ ~

It became an habit of sort - Chuuya taking care of Dazai's wounds after a mission, when necessary, and then Dazai just refusing to leave his room and ending up spending the night in Chuuya's bed.

Saying he had gotten used to it and the proximity didn't affect him anymore would have been one of the biggest lie ever, because his heart kept skipping and pounding like crazy in his throat every time it happened, refusing to leave Chuuya alone and always ready to remind him of his misery and stupid feelings.

He still liked it, though (and at this point he couldn't really keep denying it to himself), despite how stupid the thought made him feel and the many nights spent without being able to sleep and staring at Dazai in the dark.

He liked the closeness, liked the warm feeling spreading in his chest as Dazai let himself be vulnerable (or, as vulnerable as he was capable of) when it was just the two of them. He liked the honesty of those moments.

He liked all that, and hated it at the same time.

Hated it because he couldn't understand why Dazai did it, hated it because it didn't happen often enough and, now, when Dazai didn't show up, his nights felt more lonely and his bed way too big just for himself.

Until, one day, it wasn't just to treat injuries after difficult missions anymore.

Until, one day, Dazai stared to come into Chuuya's house at night, occupying his bed without saying anything and sleeping there as if it was the most normal thing ever.

Sometimes, Chuuya came back to his apartment and found him already there, still awake as if waiting for him; some other times, he heard him easily picking his lock and coming in, followed the sound of his footsteps until they stopped near the bed, and felt the mattress bending under the new weight.

The first time it happened, it was the former.

"The fuck are you doing here?"

Dazai opened his one eye not covered in bandages and looked at Chuuya.

"Ehi, Chibi", he just said."Turn off the light, I was trying to sleep".

And really, Chuuya was completely justified for how his nerves pulsed and gravity increased around him making the floor crack. He was also, definitely justified for the kick he aimed at Dazai's back.

"This is my house, you useless mackerel, what are you even doin here?"

Not that he wanted him to go, obviously - as his traitor heart had kindly reminded him when it had made a somersault as soon as he had seen Dazai on the bed and the prospect of a lonely night had turned into that of spending it so close with his partner.

A thought crossed his mind, suddenly, and he cursed himself for not having had it before.

"You're injured?", he asked, moving closer to the bed, worry starting to creep into his him.

"Nope", Dazai answered, and finally raised in a sitting position and properly faced Chuuya. "Your bed is simply more comfortable than mine", he shrugged, as that explained everything.

It didn't, not to Chuuya.

“Bullshit”.

He knew that Dazai wouldn't give him a serious explanation, though, not until he himself wouldn't want to. So Chuuya swallowed another curse and his heart that was pounding painfully in his throat, and changed into his sleeping clothes (safely hiding his hat in the wardrobe, like he had started doing after one morning it had went missing and he had only found it later, sitting comfortably on Dazai's stupid head).

Than night, Chuuya couldn't sleep, both his mind and feelings a mess impossible to unravel. He looked at Dazai, so close that he would only need to move a few immense centimeters to touch him, and yet always so impossible to reach and to understand.

He looked at him, and thought he wanted nothing more than close the small distance between them. Maybe it was the tiredness from the long day of work that made him act on his desires without really thinking about it - and so, he moved closer, like a haunted animal afraid to alert the one chasing him, until they were closer than ever. Not quite touching, but close enough that he could feel Dazai's warmth like a ghost on his skin.

His heart hammered in his chest.

He would move away again, he promised himself, he would only indulge in a few dangerous minutes, a secret that the dark of the night could hold forever.

Dazai's breath was soft and regular, telling Chuuya that despite him moving, he hadn't even stirred. Seeing Dazai so calm and relaxed was a privilege, and one Chuuya was extremely grateful for.

What am I even doing?

What is he even doing?

He wanted to know - he needed to know. Maybe Dazai knew about Chuuya's feelings for him, and that was his plan for mocking him and making his life hell? Chuuya shook his head at himself - that wasn't like Dazai; he was perceptive and clever enough that the chances that he had understood were scarily high, but Chuuya knew he wouldn't react like this.

No, this was something else. Maybe Dazai simply didn't want to sleep alone.

Sighing, he gave up on trying to find an answer - Dazai was a dilemma, an unsolvable mystery whose answer only he knew. Chuuya had no chance of finding it on his own.

He still couldn't take his eyes away from him, though. Even in the dark, he could make out Dazai's features, the lines of his eyes, his jaw, his lips.

Fuck, I want to kiss him.

He turned around in a swift motion before the thought was even fully formed in his mind, blushing, his face coming aflame under the weight of the embarrassment.

He didn't sleep at all that night, he spent it awake, all too aware of the body so close behind him (and yet not wanting to move away from it and put a safe distance between them again), and wondering where would he even find the strength to face Dazai the next day.

~ ~ ~

Usually, Chuuya would wake up to an empty bed (for the nights when he could actually sleep). Empty and cold like no one was there in the first place, and the whole thing had been nothing more than Chuuya's way too vivid imagination playing games on him.

There were times, though, when Dazai would stay and Chuuya would wake up, open his eyes and find him still lying next him, asleep.

Those times were the hardest test for his nerves and self control, the moments when he couldn't stop himself from indulging in fantasies and letting them play freely in his head.

He had accused Dazai of being selfish, but in those mornings he thought the truth was that he was probably as selfish as him.

Because he didn't know why Dazai was there, why he kept coming back - and every time he tried to ask him, the answers were always the same obvious lies, or a taunting comeback that told Chuuya that Dazai didn't want to talk about it.

But, what Chuuya knew for sure was that he wanted him to keep doing so.

He wanted to be able to be close to him, bask in the sense of intimacy they had built for themselves when they were hidden behind the curtains of the night. He wanted to keep looking at Dazai relaxed sleeping face, looking at his lips and imagining how it would feel to kiss him. He wanted to keep being Dazai's hiding place from whatever was going on in his mind.

He wanted to take whatever Dazai was giving him, no matter the reason behind it.

He wondered if that made him selfish, or simply stupid.

~ ~ ~

It changed, one night, and the careful balance of pretending they had built inside the four walls of Chuuya's house came tumbling down.

Chuuya was lying in his bed, waiting and hoping to hear the front door open, and Dazai's careful footsteps crossing the apartment and coming into the bedroom. And so it happened, after some long minutes of hopeful waiting, as so often it did lately.

It was just like every other night. Until it wasn't anymore.

Until Chuuya felt Dazai crawling into bed, coming so much closer than any other time.

Until he felt Dazai's arm coming around his waist, and his body pressed against his back.

He couldn't help how his body stiffened at the sudden contact, nor the way breath stopped in his throat.

It felt like an eternity until Dazai spoke.

"Chuuya", he murmured, and Chuuya could feel his warm breath tickling the skin of his neck. "You awake?"

"As if I could sleep like this".

The words were forced out through the lump in his throat and Chuuya himself could barely hear them over the pounding of his own heart. Dazai could probably feel it, feel the way his touch made Chuuya's heart run and his mind a mess.

Not that it mattered - after all, there was an high chance he had always known (because Dazai was simply too clever and observant, and Chuuya had never been good at hiding his feelings, especially from him).

Somehow, the soft nervous laugh that escaped Dazai's lips was enough to reduce the tension in the room, and Chuuya felt himself relaxing in Dazai's hold.

Without thinking twice about it, he brought one of his hands over Dazai's, holding it.

"What's wrong?"

Because it was crystal clear that there was something wrong, something that was making Dazai cling to him like that.

Chuuya knew him well enough to know that some days, for Dazai, were much worse than others, days when he had a dark light in his eyes and a serious tone in his voice as he talked about the inconsequence and dullness of living, and the free release of killing himself; days when he felt farther away than ever, trapped in his own too intelligent mind.

Minutes ticked by without an answer - or maybe it was mere seconds, passing like a lifetime to Chuuya's senses.

"I sleep better when I'm with you".

The words were a breathed murmur again his neck

He had guessed it, in some measure, but hearing Dazai saying it made it true, real. The words, quiet and honest echoed in Chuuya's mind for some long interminable seconds.

"Is that why you've been stealing my bed all this time?"

"Mhm", Dazai hummed in assent, and his hold on Chuuya tightened ever so slightly. "Does it annoy you?"

Stupid question, the most idiotic question ever - it made Chuuya wonder if Dazai was really as clever as he claimed. Or if he simply wanted to hear the answer coming from Chuuya's lips - like a game, where if he had to be honest, so did Chuuya, too.

"You always annoy me", Chuuya said in the end. "But I could have thrown you out whenever I wanted, you know".

Their joined hands were lying against Chuuya's chest, his heart hammering against them, and there was no way Dazai couldn't feel it. Somehow, the thought wasn't as scary as is should have been.

"But you didn't". A beat, a pause. "Why?"

It felt like a callback to that night, the one that started everything, when Dazai had asked him why Chuuya was helping him treating his injuries - like they were somehow back where they had started.

It would have been easy eluding the question, saying something that could take the conversation back on a safe track. But Chuuya found he didn't really want that.

Instead, he let go of Dazai's hand, and turned around in his embrace, facing him for the first time that night.

They were close - Dazai's arm was still on Chuuya's waist, their chests were almost pressed together, their legs touching, their faces so close Chuuya could feel Dazai's breath on his lips.

Dazai's eye not covered by the bandages was fixed on Chuuya, and even in the dark Chuuya could imagine the curiosity painted in it.

"I guess-", he started, then swallowed around the lump constricting his throat. "I guess sometimes I'm selfish, too".

"I thought I was the selfish one".

"Yeah, well, we can both be".

When Dazai let out a breathless laugh, Chuuya felt it tingling on his lips.

Silence, a moment suspended in time.

"Can I be selfish now, Chuuya?"

"About what?"

A beat of silence, the the soft whisper. "You".

Chuuya had barely time to wonder what that meant and to nod before Dazai was kissing him.

It was soft, careful, hesitant even - everything Chuuya had never thought kissing Dazai would be.

Where he had imagined fire and eagerness from the very first moment, there was a slow and tentative touch, where he had thought there would be nothing but passion and chaos, there was a sigh against his lips and a gentle hand cupping his face.

It was nothing like Chuuya had imagined it, and maybe that shocked him even more than the same fact that Dazai was kissing him.

Until his startled and overwhelmed mind caught up to what was happening, and reminded Chuuya to kiss back. And he did, placing a hand to the back of Dazai's neck to bring him closer, and pressing his lips more firmly against his.

That seemed to be the only assurance that Dazai needed, like he had been barely testing the waters until then, giving Chuuya the chance to back out if he wanted.

As if Chuuya could ever do that, as if he could ever turn back now and give up something that he had been wanting for way too long, haunted by his own thoughts and feelings. He parted his lips, letting Dazai's warm tongue inside, licking into his mouth, sliding against his own, letting his taste invade his senses.

It was still different than what Chuuya had imagined, even with the hot touches and eagerness in the way they kept drawing each other in, closer and closer like they couldn't have enough – and it was true, at least for Chuuya himself; he didn't think he could ever get enough of the intoxicating ocean of sensations he was drowning in in that moment.

It was in the way – wanting and hungry and yet languid and possessive – that Dazai was touching him, his fingers stroking his skin, their legs tangled together, and in the way Chuuya, with their bodies pressed together, could feel him shudder with every new contact.

It was in the way it felt like Dazai wanted, needed that as much as Chuuya did. And that, was a fantasy Chuuya had never really let himself indulge.

Chuuya wanted to ask what did it mean, wanted to ask Dazai why. But, between the confusion and the overwhelming feelings clouding his mind, and the press of Dazai's lips, his taste filling his senses, and the burning touch of his hands, Chuuya couldn't focus on anything but what was happening right in that moment, and couldn't bring himself to stop.

And maybe, the truth was that right then and there he didn't need a reason, he just wanted to keep going, taking what he had desired for so long and that now Dazai was finally giving him.

So they kept kissing, lost in each other, their lips meeting over and over again, for an eternity. Until they both were short of breath and like that, still in each other's arms, they fell asleep.

When Chuuya woke up, Dazai was still there, snuggled up against him, hugging him, their legs still tangled together. His eyes were open, fixed on Chuuya, his lips curved in an almost imperceptible smile.

For a moment, Chuuya thought he was still dreaming.

"Stop staring at me, you creep", he mumbled, voice slow from sleep.

"Ahh, but Chuuya! You're so cute when you sleep!"

Chuuya hated how his heart started beating faster at the compliment, despite the obvious teasing in Dazai's voice - he blamed the fact that he had just woken up, and that he could still feel the pressure of Dazai's lips against his.

He breathed out in relief at the familiar banter that followed and at the fact that Dazai didn't move away, keeping close to Chuuya like he didn't mean to ever let go of him.

It had been like a dream, the night before, like they were moving in a limbo or in another reality, where they could do and say whatever they wanted, and it wouldn't matter anymore once it would be touched by the daylight.

But now, now it felt like the two realities had merged, and they didn't have to hide behind the night anymore.

So Chuuya leaned in, cutting off with his lips whatever idiotic thing Dazai was saying.

"That's cheating, Chuuya".

"That's strategy, mackerel".

There was still something, though, nagging at Chuuya's mind, a voice that kept whispering doubts at questions.

"Dazai".

The tone of his voice must have given him away, because there was now a glint of seriousness in Dazai's eyes.

"Why did you kiss me last night?"

He wasn't expecting one of Dazai's hand to find his own and staring to play with his fingers. As if it was normal, as if it was something they always did, and not something that made Chuuya's mind short-circuit.

"Why did you kiss back?"

"Don't answer my question with another", Chuuya said, rolling his eyes. Then added, "And you know why, anyway".

"Do I? Maybe I want to hear you say it".

"Fuck you", Chuuya shot back, but it lacked his usual strength. "And don't elude the question", he added.

A sigh. "You said it yourself, I'm selfish - I wanted it, so I did it"

Chuuya thought it was fair, in a way – maybe, the night before, both of them had been thinking more about themselves than the other, too lost in what they wanted to think about what the other wanted and what it would mean for them.

It could mean everything, it could mean nothing.

What Chuuya knew was that it wanted to at least mean something. And he didn't know what Dazai wanted, but he was willing to wait, let him be selfish, as Chuuya did the same.

After all, it really seemed that, when it came to Dazai, he really was selfish.

~ ~ ~

Nothing changed, on the outside. It was still the same - the same banter, the same continuous insulting and teasing each other, the same fighting together as partners. What was different was that now, when Chuuya imagined kissing Dazai, he knew what it really felt like, the the taste of his lips engraved in his senses; now, Chuuya knew he could indulge in his fantasies without feeling stupidly hopeless, because he knew he could turn them into reality whenever he wanted.

Now, when Dazai stayed the night - and it happened almost every day - there was no space between them, their bodies as close as possible, their arms around each other, their fingers entwined.

"You said you sleep better with me", Chuuya said one such night. "What did you mean?"

He had learned that at night, in those moments when nothing else existed in the whole world outside the two of them, Dazai was more willing to be honest. And Chuuya was selfish enough to take advantage of that.

"Just that", Dazai answered. "My dreams are way too crowded usually, it keeps me awake".

"And they quiet down when you're with me".

"Don't boast, Chibi, it's just because you're too noisy and annoying, you make everything else seem quiet".

Chuuya laughed, and his arms around Dazai tightened its hold. "Mhm, sure it is".

“And what about your days?”, he asked again, after a while. “You said that your nights are too noisy and crowded- what about your days, how are they?”

It was a while until Dazai answered, so long that Chuuya started to think he had fallen asleep, or simply had no intention of answering.

“My days are even too quiet, usually”.

“Do I make that better, too?”

“You're rowdy, it's a nice contrast”.

To be honest, Chuuya hadn't expected that answer. The warm sensation spreading through him had become pleasantly familiar, especially on nights like that.

He didn't say anything else, letting Dazai fall asleep and lose himself in quiet dreams.

~ ~ ~

Nothing changed on the outside between them, but Chuuya couldn't help but notice that the times he had to rescue Dazai from a river he had thrown himself into, or save him from some other fanciful attempt to kill himself, had decreased noticeably.

~ ~ ~

Another day, another difficult mission, and another night that saw Chuuya and Dazai walking side by side in corridors of the Mafia headquarters, heavy limbs and aching muscles asking for relief in several hours of sleep.

It wasn't a question, when they stopped before Chuuya's front door - that, at that point, wasn't even just Chuuya's anymore (and the thought made his heart flip happily, like every time he saw the evident signs of Dazai's presence in his home).

It was an established routine - Chuuya going to the bathroom to take the first aid kit, Dazai waiting in the bedroom (and Chuuya was now sadly used to his sheets being tainted by blood) for him to come back and treat his injuries.

At one point, Chuuya had told him he could as well start doing it on his own.

Dazai had replied with "Why would I when I have you doing it? And I know you like taking care of me, Chuuya".

"Only because you're a huge baby and refuse to do it yourself", he had replied, but the blush on his cheeks probably gave away the fact that Dazai's words were true. And, judging by the smug smile on his lips, Dazai knew it, too.

Now, as he sat besides Dazai, studying him and the injuries that marked his body from the recent fight, Chuuya felt strangely serene, as if he was exactly where he needed to be. He was willing and ready to take care of Dazai until he wouldn't do it himself; and the simple fact that Dazai let him, that he came to him for comfort, that he let Chuuya in while everyone else stayed locked outside – it was something, and more than Chuuya had ever thought he could get.

They hadn't talked about it, about what their relationship was, about what it meant – but, even without labels, they both knew.

Chuuya was snatched away from his thoughts by Dazai's voice, breaking the silence fallen between them.

"You're bleeding", Dazai pointed out, looking at Chuuya's arm, where one of the ability users they had fought earlier had managed to hit him.

He had taken off his jacket and shirt already, and his arm felt stiff and aching, but nothing he couldn't stand for a little while.

"I know", he said, and shrugged. "It's nothing".

"A bit hypocritical, eh, Chuuya?"

And Chuuya had to stop for a moment and laugh, because Dazai was looking at him with a smile and mirth in his eyes - and Chuuya had the feeling that Dazai had expected that kind of answer from him.

"Shut up, unlike you I'm gonna treat my own wounds later", he replied, as he started working on Dazai's wounds.

They stayed in silence, Dazai with his eyes closed, relaxed under Chuuya's touch.

When he was finished, Chuuya put away the dirty cloth, and took a clean one and new bandages to treat his own wound.

A hand suddenly put on his stopped him from moving.

"Let me", Dazai said, softly, a murmur in the quiet of the room, and he took the cloth and gauze from Chuuya's hands.

Chuuya, on his part, was too shocked to even reply as Dazai started cleaning his wound. His hands were delicate and careful against his skin, but still able to send shivers throughout his body.

The effect Dazai had on him, even with a single glance or a simple touch, was enough to send Chuuya's mind in a whirl of overwhelming feelings.

"So you do know how to do this", he said, more to break the silence and stop his own thoughts from derailing.

"Of course I do", Dazai answered with an overdramatic roll of his eyes. But his voice was low, thoughtful, at his next words. "I just never thought it really mattered - as long as it didn't hurt. And then there was you, ready to take care of me", he added, raising his eyes from what he was doing and meeting Chuuya's. "I'm not good at taking care of myself, but it's easier when you help me. And I like it".

"A bit selfish, eh, Dazai?", Chuuya said, voice as soft as Dazai's.

"Guess you're right", Dazai chuckled. His hand was still moving carefully against Chuuya's skin. "But-"

"But...?"

"I think I'm tired of being selfish".

Chuuya had to remember himself to breathe, swallowed once to clear his throat - a maybe his head, but that seemed like it had stopped working, too busy repeating Dazai's words. Their eyes were still locked together.

"Yeah?", he managed to say, a smile making its way on his lips. He found Dazai's hand, that had stopped cleaning the wound and was now simply resting on Chuuya's arm, stroking the clear skin, and took it in his own, their fingers lacing together naturally.

It was Dazai who leaned in and kissed him, a familiar gesture by now, but to which Chuuya still couldn't get used to. There was no hesitance, their lips firmly pressed together and moving against each other, their free hands finding their way on each other's bodies, keeping each other close.

Chuuya thought he would gladly spend the rest of forever kissing Dazai, feeling his touch, his smell, his taste, feeling him, like nothing else existed in the world and his senses were only made to feel him, and him alone.

“You know”, he murmured when they broke apart, breathing heavily against each other's lips. “When we kissed for the first time, I was think more about myself than you”.

Dazai laughed. “That makes it two of us”.

“Told you we're both selfish”, Chuuya said, his hand stroking Dazai's cheek, his smile brushing against his.

Maybe that was what made them a good match.

“And what were you thinking about now?”

“Us”.

Chuuya smiled. “ Me too”, he said, and kissed him again.

#bungou stray dogs #soukoku #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #soukoku fanfic #my fics

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awkwardbsd · 5 years

Note

dazai pls? :)

No problem! I am always happy to receive asks. This one was a little delayed because I napped during the middle of asking it. This is gonna get a little bit long (the other ones were long, but I never put a line whoops). This one gets into both anime (Dead Apple and otherwise) and manga spoiler territory. You have been warned!

First impression

I’ll be honest, I almost dropped this series a few times because of Dazai. I found the way that they introduced him was very… nonsensical and almost insensitive. It was definitely not what we would qualify as “politically correct” by today’s standards, and his appearance certainly was off-putting as well with the bandages flapping in the wind. He came off as a good-for-nothing scoundrel who was a little distasteful.

Current Impression

Well, he’s certainly changed! He went from being an irresponsible reckless fool to an irresponsible reckless fool with impeccable (and overpowered) intelligence and a purpose!

Favourite moment

Odasaku’s death scene and really any moments with Odasaku (pre and post-death). I know that those scenes were much more of a highlight for Odasaku, but it was also a pivotal moment for Dazai’s character.

Idea for a story

I was just talking about this idea today! It was in response to my BSD Questionnaire (which I’m having a lot of fun reading the answers for)

@dreaming-of-butterflies actually brought it up again (hehe)

I’m about to go on a bit of a tangent. Forgive my awful writing. The last fanfiction I wrote was for Peppa Pig meeting Dazai. I wish I was kidding, but yeah, my last fanfic was Peppa Pig facing off against Dazai.

It was early on a Saturday afternoon with the exhausted sun shining over Yokohama just before the curtain call which would call it a day. The Detective Agency was slow but still running when a man knocked on the door. He opened it apprehensively.

“Is there anything we can help you with, sir?” Atsushi asked.

The man stumbled back slightly. His voice croaked and trembled, “My name is Eliot… Thomas Stearns Eliot.” He glanced over at Atsushi as if there was something right next to him.

“Is something wrong?” Atsushi asked. He looked over to his side. There was no one there.

“It’s just that…” he slowly pointed, “there is a man there.”

“Pardon–”

“He is there. He is a tall stern man in a white coat. He keeps mouthing over and over again, ‘You cannot forgive me.’”

Atsushi staggered and lost his balance. His hands were trembling. Why? What was this man saying? The man from the orphanage, the headmaster, was there? He was dead! He was ecstatic about it. Words couldn’t form from his mouth.

“Atsushi? What’s wrong?” Tanizaki asked.

“I knew he was dead. He’s dead.” Atsushi mumbled under his breath.

The man was frazzled, “My ability… it’s called Until Human Voices Wake Us. It requires me to pass on messages from people who are dead. I must say these things or else something within me will vanish. If I ignore a spirit’s request to make contact, I lose a memory from my past. I want to know how to remove it! That’s why I came here! I want this ability gone! It has ruined too many people. I can’t take it anymore.”

“You!” he pointed to Kyouka who was on the opposite side of the room. “You have two people standing by your side. They look just like you.” He paused, “Your parents… they truly loved you. They are so happy for you. They say they are sorry for not being able to stay by your side. They wanted to protect you… they really wanted to protect you.” The man was now crying a little. “They said that they love you more than anything in the world and that they wish that they could’ve done something different than to spare you the pain of witnessing their deaths. ‘Please forgive us Kyouka. We promise to never leave your side. We will always love you.’”

Dazai walked into the room. The man flinched. The man opened his mouth, “There is a man with reddish brown hair next to you.” Dazai’s eyes opened wide. He had eavesdropped on the conversation, but he didn’t know that Odasaku would be at his side, not at a time like this.

“The man standing next to you… he has five kids, four boys and a girl. He’s smiling. He’s saying, ‘I’m proud of you.’” He was about to say more when Dazai placed his hand on the man’s shoulder nullifying his ability. Dazai looked like he had tears in his eye but not a single one was shed.

Unpopular opinion

I wish Ranpo got more of a spotlight than Dazai for his intelligence and capabilities. Ranpo is the smartest, but they always rely on Dazai to compete and solve all these problems. He’s always the one facing off with Fyodor and giving the exposition on “how we solved this”. I want to see Ranpo doing it because we don’t always get enough of it, and Ranpo is more than an ongoing side plot that plays into the main story. We need our crime-solving sleuth back! Dazai can be smart and he can solve things, but let’s not lose focus on the true #1 detective!

Favourite relationship

I can go on about Dazai and Atsushi, but I think that ones really clear on why their dynamic is so great. This time, I’m going to focus on the Dark Era Trio and Odazai!

I’m going to be copying and pasting a lot of my previous post’s points. [Source] (also, sorry for OP because looking back on it, I completely hijacked their post and I’m really sorry for that)

Dazai still lives in the same body and soul that he did when he was in the Mafia. Despite moving from the Port Mafia to the ADA, he couldn’t pull the complete 180 on himself. He still lives in a shadow of his previous actions, and that’s why he truly doesn’t believe he’s a good person.

Odasaku saw that good in Dazai even during his darkest moments. If he didn’t believe in Dazai, he wouldn’t have told him to be on the side that saves people. Odasaku saw Dazai beyond his depression, suicidal urges, and the suffering he’s been through. He trusted him to carry on the legacy he left behind.

Dazai still can’t completely get over the death of his best friend. Look at the first set of screenshots.

Dazai: “Does it look like I’m visiting a grave to you?”Atsushi: “It does. [Why?]”

That look on his face is shock. He is still shaken. He still hangs and loiters by Odasaku’s grave as if he’s still alive. It’s not like he’s expecting him to get up, but he acts like he’s still existing.

Dazai, to me, is one of those people that would buy a crab and a plate of curry. He would place the curry on the gravestone of Odasaku. He eats some of the crab he brought for himself. He brings some alcohol. He talks to him all night and says all that has happened. He talks about the agency, Atsushi, Kunikida, and he talks about how he misses the trio. He admits he didn’t know what Ango has been up to.

Just look at this Wan! cover

Ango himself isn’t over the death either. Ango is the one who covered for the both of them so that Dazai would be able to leave the Mafia.

“I made use of it only once. Four years ago… so that Dazai-kun could live outside the Mafia. I erased his past sins.”“Why did you get your hands dirty only once?”“For a friend who is no longer here. To repent, at least minimally, for my sins to him.”

[Quote Source]

That’s why they’re my favourites!

Favourite headcanon

As previously mentioned, Dazai sits by Oda’s grave and has a meal.

Another mini-excursion because I feel like it. Again, forgive my awful writing because I really can’t write (probably because I don’t read).

“Yo Odasaku!” Dazai leaned against the grave of Sakunosuke Oda. He placed a plate of curry on the opposite side of the grave. Dazai tore open the shell of a crab and began eating it. Two glasses of alcohol were placed.

“Be on the side that saves people,” Dazai mumbled. “You know, the Detective Agency is a lot better than the Mafia! There are all kinds of fun people, and best of all, I don’t have to deal with that asshat Chuuya! You know, I got to blow up his car before I left. Thank goodness for Ango.” He paused and took a bite and a swig. “Speaking of Ango, I still really miss us. Lupin just isn’t the same without you. I haven’t talked to Ango in ages either… the guy works for the government now too.” He sighed then smiled, “But yeah, the Detective Agency is great! Chuuya isn’t there, Ranpo is the world’s greatest detective, I get to mess with Kunikida, Shachou is so cool, Yosano used to be in the Mafia but managed to escape, and Atsushi… you would love Atsushi! He’s so naive and difficult, he cries so often, but his heart… it reminds me of yours.”

#Dazai Osamu #ask #bsd #ask game #bungou stray dogs #not awkward #odasaku #Oda Sakunosuke #odazai

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leonawriter · 5 years

Text

Flirting With Disaster

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Characters: Atsushi, Dazai, Chuuya, others (most of the ADA).

Summary: All of the times Atsushi sees his mentor flirting with women, and the one time he did(n't mean to) with Chuuya.

...

The first time Atsushi sees Dazai flirting with someone, it's... he supposes it has to be Higuchi, in retrospect.

Dazai had complimented her, and then asked her if she wanted to die with him, and he'd thought it odd at the time, although... now that he'd known Dazai for a bit longer than that, maybe it was just Dazai being himself.

Except, even if he had been flirting with her in his own (very strange) way, he wonders if it should count. Because after all, that was when he'd bugged her, and made it so he could listen in on everything that was happening, just in case something happened - which, it had.

The next time - he wonders if he should count the fluttered eyelashes and subtle looks he shared with the ladies behind the tills, the woman at the train station before they'd settled down to wait for Naomi and Haruno, or not.

It all seemed as easy as breathing to him.

Sometimes, Atsushi was a little envious, wishing that he could have some of that confidence with people, even if he wasn't sure if he'd feel comfortable with being looked at like that by so many people.

Sometimes, he wasn't quite sure how Dazai handled the attention.

Dazai flirted with the waitress in the cafe down stairs, and it reminded Atsushi more of the way he'd seen him flirt with Higuchi, than anything else he'd witnessed.

The requests for aided suicide, as ever making Atsushi - and everyone else - uncomfortable, and only able to handle it because it was Dazai, and not anyone else, and the waitress never took them seriously either.

There was something else that felt familiar about the way Dazai had flirted with both women, though when he tried to put his finger on it, the connection flew away, like a butterfly caught in the wind.

...

"This is a formal occasion," Kunikida was saying, "and you are here as representatives of the Agency. As such, it shouldn't need to be said that everyone here should be on their best behaviour - and that includes you, Dazai!"

Dazai, who had been staring at someone as she had passed by, snapped his attention back onto Kunikida.

"But I'm always on my best behaviour, Kunikida-kun," Dazai said guilelessly, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Maybe," Kunikida said, teeth gritted, "if we could somehow get you into an actual relationship, you might stop tarnishing the Agency's good name by asking every woman you meet if she wants to commit a double suicide with you!"

Which, in retrospect, was probably not the best thing to bring up, or the right suggestion, given the way Dazai's eyes had lit up, and he had immediately started to hash out some rules for what was quickly becoming some sort of contest or game; there would be no asking anyone to commit suicide, and there would be nothing else that would cause either embarrassment or a scene, either.

Atsushi hadn't liked the look of it. He had the strong feeling that something, inevitably, was going to go wrong. Which wasn't helped by the way that Yosano and Ranpo were talking amongst themselves, with the distinct look of two people placing bets.

...

The evening started off well enough, which should have put everyone more on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but then it wasn't as though Atsushi wasn't busy himself with investigating all of the appetisers with Kyouka, and whenever she went off to go explore something else, he was trying to make himself unnoticed, in the crowds of clearly influential people.

People who... everyone else seemed to move among and rub shoulders with, with ease.

Maybe one day, he'd be like them, but, he had to admit, the closest he'd come to talking with someone as rich as some of these people looked, was probably whenever he'd been facing off against Fitzgerald, and he wasn't entirely sure that counted.

A glance told him that Dazai was sat at a table and talking to a woman with light brown hair in a blue dress, holding her hand and making her blush.

Atsushi looked away, not sure if his own red face was due to the feeling of seeing something he wasn't supposed to see, or just plain pure embarrassment.

Regardless, he got up and went back for another one of those little foreign pastries they were serving.

...

"Well?"

Kunikida, as their designated driver, as well as on his own initiative, hadn't touched any of the alcohol at all. Then again, neither had Ranpo, who'd stuck entirely to juice and fizzy soft drinks, which was... barely any different to normal, really.

Atsushi had, but only a little, and only because it was a novelty - look at this one, Dazai had said, more than once, it's sweet, and it goes well with the fish.

Dazai himself, who he'd seen drinking from time to time with... actually, Atsushi had lost count of the number of women he'd talked to, acting with each one as if he was some sort of Prince Charming, was somehow only slightly flushed.

"I found us three new cases, one new potential bodyguard detail job, and five new contacts," Dazai says, a beauteous smile on his face.

The look on Kunikida's face was one that Atsushi at the same time found hard to not laugh at, and also couldn't not sympathise with.

After all, the one time anyone didn't want Dazai to focus on work, and there he was, collecting information instead of finding himself some sort of girlfriend... not that anyone knew what sort of person would be able to not only put up with Dazai, but want to be with him like that.

Atsushi respected his mentor deeply, but even he wasn't sure of the kind of person who could not only accept Dazai for everything he was, ex-mafia and all, but also the sort of person that Dazai would even let in past his own defences, and allow to see the things that he hid from everyone, often without thinking.

...

Atsushi is talking with Kyouka at one of the tables, when they hear the commotion.

A commotion which is odd, considering that everyone who was supposed to be here, was here, and no one had spread the word around to say that anyone was coming back for any reason, which had to mean...

Something crashed, and there were raised voices, and the next thing Atsushi knows he's hearing the sound of a chair being scraped back, and then there's Dazai's back, because his mentor has started to head over to where it looks like there might be a fight about to break out.

He sees Kunikida discretely check for his notebook.

Kyouka lets her hand drop beneath the table, and Atsushi swallows, hard, because the last thing he wants right now is bloodshed, because they'd been having a good time, up until now.

The crowd parts, and at first he doesn't see - and then, he does.

A figure that strikes him as familiar, as if he's seen them before. A little on the short side, with red hair, and dressed smartly in black, but as though he'd already been somewhere before this, and Dazai was-

Dazai was touching the man's hand, and something about it reminded him of the way he'd been interacting with all of those women, except, it wasn't, because he barely seemed to be paying any attention. The touch was more unconscious than anything, in a way he hadn't seen form Dazai before.

And the man, whoever he was, wasn't shaking Dazai off.

"How did you even know about this?" he could hear Dazai saying - complaining - in that bratty way he got into when around Kunikida for too long. "You don't even have an invitation."

"Yeah? So what. Figured if they let you in, they'd let anyone in, and I'm not jus' anyone, now am I?"

"Chuuya's drunk."

Oh, thinks Atsushi, noting the way the others from their group have tensed up in just the past couple of minutes, and even more just now. So that's his name.

He's starting to think that he's definitely seen the man before, somewhere, but he still can't think how, and he knows that he's going to feel like an idiot later for it.

"Yeah? Well, look at you're, you're all... dressed up, and all, and- yuck, your breath smells of fish again. Stupid mackerel." 'Chuuya' nearly trips over his own feet, and Dazai rights him, taking it all in stride, and maybe more importantly, the other man adjusts for it, even drunk. "You smell like fish and you've got lipstick on your bandages."

Dazai takes his hands away long enough to check, Chuuya wobbles, and Dazai's there again in an instant, before Atsushi even really sees him move.

"Ah, that's it. You're sitting - we're sitting. Atsushi-kun! Chuuya's all drunk, so grab us some snacks~!"

He gets up to go, but isn't gone fast enough to miss Chuuya complain loudly that he wasn't that drunk, damn it, and this is exactly what pisses me off about you, shitty bastard.

It's a good thing he's been asked to be somewhere else for a moment, he thinks, even for just a moment. The atmosphere was starting to feel oddly claustrophobic, and as though he was interrupting something he shouldn't be seeing or hearing.

...

Half an hour passes with more of the same. Dazai is still in this Chuuya's personal space, and Chuuya is still see-sawing drunkenly between being far more familiar with Dazai than Atsushi thought anyone could be, and cussing him out in the middle of a formal party.

Somehow, Dazai doesn't seem the least bit offended, aside from the few times he says that he is, but Atsushi isn't all that sure if it's not all for show.

Chuuya reaches for a drink, and Dazai swipes it away and onto another table before he can touch it.

"It's because Chuuya's so small," Dazai says in a sing-song voice, "that Chuuya has such a low tolerance!

"I'm going to fucking kill you, I swear I'm gonna kill you," Atsushi hears Chuuya say in response to that. And maybe if he didn't have sharper hearing than most, he wouldn't have heard it at all, but he has.

"My schedule's busy for a few days," Dazai says in a noncommittal way, "you can always call to rearrange, though."

"What, and like you'd even answer the phone? Fuck you."

Atsushi shuffles a little further away, and finds himself gravitating back to Kunikida and the others. Being near Dazai was hard enough under normal circumstances, and this just made things worse.

Kunikida didn't help matters by looking like he'd just been slapped with a wet fish, all shocked and wide-eyed. Although, when he looked at the others, Kunikida seemed to be the only one reacting like this, to this extreme.

Yosano is handing money over to Ranpo, who looks smug for some reason.

"I... never really met Nakahara-san," Kyouka says, and he turns to see her sitting down with a glass of juice in both her hands. She looks up at him, unafraid. "I heard of him, back when..." When she was in the mafia, Atsushi fills in, and the rest of it begins to slot in after. The way they were so familiar with each other. Chuuya's - Nakahara's - brash attitude. The way he'd found the man's face and voice familiar. "But everything I ever heard said that he was a terrifying opponent... and someone you could trust with your life."

"Then... he's here right now, because..."

He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"I would say," Kyouka said, seeming to continue from where she'd left off, "if Dazai-san trusts him, then I think that we're in no danger."

Atsushi blinked, and nodded, able only to accept the high praise - of sorts - at face value, taking Kyouka's word for it.

...

"Ranpo and I actually had a bet on," Yosano confides in them later. Ranpo grinning from ear to ear as they watch Dazai disappear, half carrying the smaller Nakahara, confirms this. "See, there was another event that Ranpo had deduced was going to have mafia in attendance," she said, "and since it was hardly going to be a secret that we were going to be here..."

"We made a bet on how long it'd take for Mr. Fancy Hat to show up," Ranpo finished.

Kunikida made a strange sort of strangled noise, from where he was nursing something completely alcohol free, but that was being treated as if it wasn't.

"You... knew?"

"What? It doesn't take an ability as good as mine to figure out what's going on - Dazai shows interest in whoever's in front of his face," Ranpo said, and then paused to put a sweet in his mouth, "but he never sticks with anyone. But then any time those two get stuck in the same room, they're back at it like they aren't sure if they want to be bitter exes or if they're about to start being gross."

Come to think of it, that was what had struck him about the situation. The thing he'd not quite been able to pin down. Dazai with Nakahara had reminded him of the couples that'd been together for years, not the ones who'd only just started dating.

"But..."

"Dazai swings both ways, Kunikida," Yosano says, taking pity on the man. "It isn't really all that much of a secret."

"Well. Yes, but- him. That was-"

"Nakahara Chuuya, the gravity manipulator of the mafia... and Dazai's former partner, right?"

Ranpo snorts, and then bursts out into peals of laughter.

"Former partner? Maybe just in terms of work!"

....

AN: Inspired somewhat by the Tales/Mayoi "Looking Sharp" events, especially the (as yet unreleased in global) Dazai unit, and everyone's (JP and GL alike) reactions to Chuuya just recently.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd stuff #soukoku #Leona fic

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eatingfireflies · 5 years

Note

Fanfic ask game: A for Cat's Cradle, F, P, W and Z?

Yay thanks for the ask! :D For some reason I can’t make cuts so #long post #text heavy and I hope people’s filters pick those out

A: How did you come up with the title to Cat’s Cradle?

Firstly, there are two very good works with that title that I know of: Vonnegut’s novel and pengychan’s fic (which has a really good and probably my fave portrayal of Kubota). I wasn’t necessarily thinking of them when I wrote this fic, but there’s something about the game (it’s called ayatori in Japanese) that I guess resonates with us?

In my fic, Junpei likened Kubota’s emotions to the Gordian knot. The title of the chapters is part of the extended metaphor (as in ‘The knot unravels’ and ‘The tangled web’ for chapters 2 and 3). There’s a lot of strings there and I just went with that when I had to choose a title for the whole thing.

There’s also how when you try to make shapes while playing ayatori and have it all fail, you can get your hand ‘caught’ by the strings. Which is kind of like what happened to Junpei.

Lmao I don’t like talking about/explaining my fics because I feel people would be all ‘I didn’t see that at all and now my interpretation is ruined’ or ‘you’re so pretentious lol’ but here we are! :’D

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Oh wow this got really long? So I’m gonna put this under a cut! Well looks like cuts don’t work for me now. Wtf is happening.

This if from New Year’s Eve Bell, a fic I wrote for 365: A Soukoku Zine.

‘A promise is a promise.’ Dazai cheated, as Chuuya said. He doesn’t like taking chances, not when it matters, and has rigged the machine in the arcade before making a bet with Chuuya. ‘You said you'll be my dog.’

‘Never said that.’ Chuuya snorts, but even in the dim moonlight Dazai can see his face has turned pink. ‘You don't even like dogs.’

‘Fair.’ Dazai looks away from Chuuya, fixing his eyes on the temple bell as if it will start ringing if he stares hard enough. ‘Will you come with me?’

Chuuya breathes in sharply; any other time Dazai would have turned to look at him. But now Dazai finds he can't and has to satisfy himself with imagining the expression on Chuuya's face, surprise mingled with suspicion as he narrows his eyes at Dazai.

‘I'm not your dog.’

Dazai forces a soft laugh. ‘I know. That's why I'm asking.’

‘You'd really go so far just to fuck with the Mafia?’

In Mori's dreams Dazai will come back and become the Mafia's Boss. That’s not going to happen and the Mafia already has a perfectly capable second-in-command who can step into Mori's shoes once the old man pops his clogs.

It would be a shame if that second-in-command absconds with Dazai.

‘That's an added bonus, yes,’ says Dazai.

‘Oh?’ says Chuuya. ‘What's in it for me, then?’

‘Front row seat to my death bed.’ Dazai shrugs. ‘You'd want to make sure, wouldn't you? If I've really died. You can't just trust rumours.’

Dazai finally turns to look at Chuuya. For a moment they look at each other, until Chuuya breaks eye contact and laughs.

There are so many good Dazai/Chuuya fics in that zine and I’m probably the one person who went with a more gen interpretation (I didn’t tag the fic as Dazai/Chuuya so much as Dazai & Chuuya because I didn’t think it was shippy enough), but I love that convo because it allows the two of them just enough space to admit they are willing to keep each other company in their old age without admitting to their real feelings. I think it fits them.

When my roommate was all ‘that sounds like them’ I was very happy.

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

It depends on what people mean when they say planning. I’m the type of person who doesn’t like sitting down to write until I know how I start and how I end--something which surprised one of my writing professors because he’s the gardener type and doesn’t necessarily know where the story is going. But me, I like knowing point A and point B. Writing is usually just me trying to get there. That’s what I did for Kissing Santa: I knew what I needed and how it would end, I just had to reach that point. I didn’t plan on how to get there, though.

For fics like Dry-cleaning services, I had bullet points of themes I wanted to address and that’s probably one of the most ‘planned’ fics I’ve ever written. It’s still not planned, though.

My collab with @greaseonmymouth Hope & Legacy, was also planned. Which makes sense because there were two of us writing the thing and we needed to know where to go and if it could be done within our time limit.

W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?

Either works for me! The thing is, no matter how specific the prompt I still might not follow the thing so :”D I’m very bad with interpreting prompts tbh.

Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?

I might not write major character death unless I have to. You know how when people ask if you really need to write the word ‘fuck’ in your work? That’s me with major character death. (I don’t care if the whole story is peppered with fucks.) It has to have a purpose other than to shock or wring out some easy tears from the reader. L’s death in Death Note is one of the inevitable deaths that I think is handled well. Kaworu’s death(s) in NGE is also good. The deaths in Harry Potter are not that great (especially I think compared to how the deaths were handled in say, Lloyd Alexander’s Prydain series).

In fic it depends on how the writer handles the subject. I’m not opposed to it, but like I said before, it needs to mean something for me.

A permanently dead Kurashiki Akane will probably make me not read the fic.

#d talks #meme thing #long post #thanks for the ask!!!#chessanator #tfw you need to edit via html and hope for the best #okay so coding is being weird for me #so i'm going to try and make this post as avoidable and/or readable as possible #at least visually #text heavy

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melodramaticarting · 5 years

Photo

My first fanfic on Tumblr! This is for an anime called Bungou Stray Dogs. I’m a little obsessed with the character called Osamu Dazai in it. He’s named after a real life author, and his power “No Longer Human” is named after one of the guy’s works, which I read for research purposes.

After getting an image in my head (concept art picture above this text), this is my take on some thoughts/diary entry things Dazai has on different things other characters have said to him so far. Spoiler alerts for the anime and manga, which is all I've gone through for now.

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Life Had a Meaning?

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No Longer Human. Hah, I was never human.

Other than surviving for as long as possible (a human’s common sense), there’s very little meaning to life for me. I am a creature…that is somewhat emotionally deprived, generally speaking. I knew that much. The term was…psychopath, I think? An old man I tortured said that to me once. Most people set values and goals in life because of a feeling called “I want this to happen” has urged them to do so.

Allow me to present my resume. The world is my oyster. I am cunning and uninhibited by the laws of common men. I am dedicated and relentless with virtually no emotional fatigue if there is a goal. My record of “136 murders, 312 cases of extortion, 625 cases of fraud, along with various other sundry crimes” should prove these points if nothing else. Or did I really do those things for a reason in the first place?

So tell me.

What exactly is the point of living? I can own the world around me, destroy it, nip it’s buds and watch it re-grow in morbid fascination, but it wouldn't even be worth the work put in for it. Logically speaking.

Why does it matter? Is it because someone assigned the act of living a value?

“...man fears death and yet, at the same time, man is drawn to death… It is a singular event in one’s life that none may reverse.”

I wanted to unravel the secret in that phrase. I thought it would give me reason to live if I solved it’s puzzle, so I decided to use life for it instead. It became my raison d’etre, for death. That which has evaded me to this day. Successful suicide has proved to be a long-term project I must put everything into. And sadly, In the meantime, I’ll have to live. Ah, how I want to sleep till the end of the world like a log instead. The physical pain suicide attempts usually give me aren't that nice. As opposed to what everyone thinks, I’m just used to it.

The pain of drowning in your own blood when your lungs are punctured by bullets, it gives a burning sensation like your chest is on fire. The pain of involuntarily gasping for air when they don’t fill up because it’s leaking at the same time. The pain of actual water flooding your lungs when you drown in a river, when you can’t fight the involuntary response of your mouth opening to breathe anymore. The nausea that takes over your head when low blood pressure settles in, because you lost too much blood. Your body fights when you tell it to stop wasting effort, so you just let it. Then it gets excited all on it’s own, pumping blood more fiercely than ever to keep you awake and functioning. Sometimes weird things pop up, like that “life flashing before your eyes” thing. I just see a hole most of the time though.

It’s like an alarm clock you can’t snooze, so annoying. Then it gets really, really cold. I totally can’t stand those things. Just like that GSS Soldier who attacked Randou-san. I asked him if he wanted me to cut it short. Even though it was more than he deserved. I thought I’d be kind, but Chuuya stopped me.

Oh…right. A human doesn't think like this. I must carefully manage my persona on display. Like that scene I staged for him when we went to rescue Q in one of The Guild’s basements. I threw the knife down and muttered a logical half-hearted excuse for not killing him, like keeping myself valuable to the mafia. In truth I could already think of so many other ways to achieve the same effect, but one must be tactful when playing human. A moment of giddiness bubbled across the surface of my sinful pride as Chuuya said, “how naïve. Your goody two-shoes act also puts me off.”

Despite practicing over ten thousand hours, I've yet to achieve true mastery. Dogs can still sniff me out if I don’t keep them occupied, even the occasional human that acts like one. When someone comes close enough scratch the surface, they see The Hole, and they run in fear. I am a hopeless cannibal, serving this bottomless pit that will never be satisfied. If only I could find something that could fill it up.

“You told me that you might find a reason to live if you lived in world of violence and bloodshed..”

My hand slipped off the edge. No, don’t talk about that Odasaku. Now’s not the time.

“I did, but who cares-“ The edges of the hole are further crumbling away. Didn't that man see it?

“You won’t find it.”

…What are you saying, Odasaku? That’s not true. Don’t tell me that. It’s not. You’re wrong, Odasaku, please be wrong. Stop it.

“You must know that already. Whether you’re on the side who kills people, or the side who saves people. Nothing beyond what you expect will appear. Nothing in this world can fill that lonely hole you have. You will wander the darkness for eternity.”

What are you doing? You’re scaring me. I’m shaking. No. Stop. Stop digging this hole more. Stop making It bigger.

“…What should I do?” An inhuman voice is crying to the sky. Is it mine?

“Be on the side that saves people. If both sides are the same, become a good man. Save the weak, protect the orphans. Neither good nor evil means much to you, I know... but that would at least be a little more beautiful...”

“How do you know?” I stopped trying to mend the edge. A pit so deep, there’s not even blood.

“Of course I know. I know better than anyone.”

Does a monster have to be alone forever? Can they be with others?

“Because…I am your friend.” I had a hole in me too.

“Your methods…your sadistic way of hollowing out your enemies’ heart…Your blood…is Mafia black, more so than anyone else’s in this country.” Higuchi sounded so cold when she said that. I just wanted to share myself and connect sincerely with others, just like Kenji. People always ended up confessing their hearts to him, didn't they? It was just the same thing.

But it’s alright, she doesn't have to understand. Odasaku taught me that day already. Monsters could make friends, too.

---------------------------

One day I found a guide. Someone who had been where I am, and he found a way out. He told me how.

I didn't cry when he died, because only humans cry. I've long been disqualified as a human, but I’ll take a look at where he pointed. He gave me a new direction.

…maybe a reason to live, too.

----------------------------

“Nakajima Atsushi-kun, do you know whose grave this is?”

“No, but it’s someone dear to you right?” Did he just mean sentimentality? An emotion reserved for humans?

“…Why do you think that?”

“I've never seen you visit a grave after all.”

“Does it look like I’m visiting a grave?” Am I acting like a human?

“It does…why?”

…He’s just like a dog.

“Was it someone you loved?”

Haha, what a naïve face. Great for molding. I've been trying to do that. A little differently than my hellhound back at Port Mafia. My little kouhai that is strongest when he is chasing after me. Like a beast, without a single care for dignity. Another reason I left the mafia.

What? I didn't just leave because Odasaku told me to. No, even my tolerance had a limit sometimes. Mori sacrificed my friend to get a Gifted Business Permit (I do acknowledge it was a logical course of action.) All I could see from then on was a piece of paper dyed in his blood, that would stain my hands forever, if I stayed. That would be a liability for me in the future. I also placed a bomb in Chuuya’s car before leaving.

Exploited Ango to erase all my past crimes on paper.

Severed the connection between the accelerometer and Ango’s airbag to make sure he landed within an inch of death.

Just a little exchange to clarify personal boundaries between old friends. A natural course of friendship. Then there were the women, right. I didn't know what to do with the women.

“I’m gonna send your address to every woman you've left crying.”

I think real fear struck me for a moment. Chuuya…sometimes I think he’s a woman too. He fucks like one.

He also…doesn't leave me alone like one.

“Enemy of all women!!” His name-calling that night reverberated in my head for a while.

As a mentor, I love both Atsushi-kun and Akutagawa equally, but they just couldn't be raised the same way. It would be best he didn't realize, but I do wonder sometimes why Akutagawa doesn’t understand that. His strength is best brought out by pulling out the rug beneath him. He developed an intense desire to survive in his childhood days, and I attached that to a leash (what good is training a dog that you can’t control?). A pathological need for approval from me. It’s like a drug that makes his growth self-sufficient. Atsushi-kun on the other hand, needed a warm and loving environment. He’s too paralyzed by trauma.

When Atsushi-kun asked me how he should feel about the headmaster’s death, I repeated what I most commonly saw. “When someone’s father passes away, they will cry.” (The only death that ever arrested my conscious for more than a moment was Odasaku’s. I can only say it made the hole bigger, which I didn't know how to explain in words.)

Another reason being his first teacher already having taken up residence in that part of his heart, where his abuse carved out a gaping cavern. It would be unwise to compete for the same space, or use the same paralyzing trauma as a motivational device. Atsushi-kun’s fragile mentality requires my daily presence right now, but I do see him improving as time goes by. In a way he’s actually stronger than Akutagawa because of that.

“Victory is yours, Atsushi-kun.” I remember how his face lighted up at those words. I was right. “Your spirit prevails, and this city is saved.”

And with that setup, Akutagawa will crash at him repeatedly for me, and Atsushi-kun will always stop him. Iron sharpening iron, meaning I have less work to do. There’s too much to prepare for before judgment day, I can only nurture so many soldiers at the same time. Especially if they’re in two different organizations that can butt heads anytime. I even have to take care of the toys around Atsushi-kun to make sure they don’t break.

Kyouka-chan was so distressed because she killed thirty-five people, so I gave her some inspiring pep-talk—and compared her case with Atsushi-kun. I couldn’t let her know how many people I've killed. How annoying. I reminded myself again it was for Atsushi-kun’s growth. Raising him was essential in the quest Odasaku guided me to ---save people. To save myself.

“People exist to save themselves...”

Can I believe Odasaku had a feeling called “care” for me, and I for him? Did we need to be certified humans for that?

“A mafia member who doesn't kill...huh,” Odasaku…are you telling me I’m in the right place? Were you leading me to Atsushi-kun? Hah…if only you could see this. He even made the hellhound I trained swear off killing for six months. That’s so incredible. You were right. Being on the side that saves people just might be way more beautiful.

A/N: Yes, I researched how people die and what it feels like in case you’re wondering.

#bungoustraydogs #nakajimaatasushi #osamudazai #anime #manga #fanart #nakaharachuuya #dazai #fanfic #no longer human

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shinsoukokuvalentine · 6 years

Text

Fireworks

(And the holiday special is: An Obon festival! A city near me has one every year and they’re always a treat. I hope you enjoy ^^)

124/365: Fireworks

There were a few things Akutagawa expected when Chuuya dragged him outside once again for the Obon festival. Being told to wear a yukata was one of them. Having a mask forced onto his head was another one. He wasn’t even surprised when Higuchi won so many prizes in the shooting game that she was asked to leave.

However, encountering Dazai in public wasn’t something he had predicted.

“Chuuya!” Dazai called, waving his arm far more than he needed to. Just one glance at him caused Chuuya’s formerly happy smile to settle into a grimace.

“What are you doing here?” he spat. Dazai grinned, striding over to them through the crowded street, his sandals clacking on the pavement.

“I should say the same to you,” he said with a swagger in his step. “What is a band of wanted criminals doing enjoying the festival like some average law-abiding citizens?”

From behind Chuuya, Akutagawa scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve been asking him that all day,” he muttered. Chuuya whipped around and fixed him in a reprimanding glare.

“You stay out of this,” he hissed under his breath, “Or I’m sending you home.”

“That’s what I want,” Akutagawa said with a groan. Dazai laughed at them, munching on his cotton candy as if the scene in front of him was an entertaining stage play. Ready to emphasize again that he just wanted to go home, Akutagawa opened his mouth only to be cut off by another sound.

“Dazai-san! Wait up!”

That voice froze him to the spot. Running behind Dazai, tripping occasionally because of how unfamiliar the sandals felt on his feet, Atsushi squeezed his way through the crowd, even as his mask fell over one of his eyes.

“Chuuya, I assume you’ve met my latest protege,” Dazai said, putting one hand on Atsushi’s back. Both Atsushi and Akutagawa seemed uncomfortable at that action, with Akutagawa flinching and Atsushi smiling nervously.

“Not that I know of, but I’m sure this won’t be our last encounter,” Chuuya said, nodding once at Atsushi, who gave an awkward wave. Dazai sighed dramatically, throwing his shoulders back.

“Oh, only during such a festival could two polar opposite sides join together on one street and exchange respect!” he swooned, catching the attention of a few onlookers.

“I don’t have a shred of respect for you,” Chuuya growled in barely more than a whisper, trying not to draw any more eyes towards them. “I’m just here to enjoy the festival. You weren’t part of the plan.”

Dazai shrugged. “Too bad. This isn’t just your city, you know, and if I want to enjoy the festival too, I’ll enjoy it all I want. Heck, I bet I can enjoy it more than you.”

Chuuyas fists clenched at his sides. “Wanna bet, bandage-waster?”

As their mentors’ argument rose over practically nothing, Akutagawa saw Atsushi approach him out of the corner of his eye.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Akutagawa sent a subtle glance his way. The ground seemed to hold his attention, but Akutagawa knew better. Atsushi rocked a bit on his feet - partially because of his inexperience with sandals - and fiddled with his mask as it slipped down his face again. Akutagawa had no doubt that Dazai had bought that tiger mask for him - he had a habit of taunting people like that.

“I didn’t expect to be here,” Akutagawa said, turning his eyes back to Chuuya and Dazai, who were doing nothing but hurling insults at each other in public. “Chuuya-san brought me here. But I wasn’t enjoying myself until I saw you.”

Even the smallest glance at Atsushi proved that his face had lit up in a blush.

“Would you… Like to go with me? I don’t think Dazai-san will let up any time soon,” Atsushi said, his voice small. Akutagawa nodded, and wordlessly, they walked off together, leaving their mentors to argue over who’s having a better time.

Atsushi wondered if Dazai knew. If he did, he hadn’t said anything, Atsushi can’t express how grateful he was for that. If anyone else from the Agency - or the Port Mafia, for that matter - realized that their two trump cards were dating, the results could’ve been catastrophic.

Luckily, they managed to sneak away from Chuuya and Dazai without arousing suspicion. Almost instantly after they were out of sight, Atsushi tried to reach his hand over to Akutagawa’s. They hadn’t tried hand-holding yet; they’d only been dating for a little while, after all. But there at the festival, surrounded by couples, seemed like the perfect time to start.

However, as soon as their fingers touched, Akutagawa practically jerked his hand away. Atsushi stared at him, unsure of what he’d done wrong. They locked eyes for a moment, a second, long enough for Atsushi to see the uncertainty in Akutagawa’s eyes, before he turned away again, nonchalantly asking Atsushi to show him how the yo-yo game worked as if nothing had happened.

“Oh,” Atsushi said quietly. “I didn’t think you’d want one…”

Akutagawa nodded. “You’re right. I don’t. But it looks like one of those frivolous things that you’d be interested in.”

Atsushi’s lip twitched. “Way to undermine my interests…”

Almost immediately, a crease marred Akutagawa’s forehead. “You’re right. Sorry.”

Once again, Atsushi searched his face. As far as he knew, Akutagawa would only offer genuine apologies to Atsushi and Atsushi alone. But it made sense: neither of them wanted the smallest error to endanger their newfound relationship.

Which only made Atsushi’s empty palm feel colder.

“Well, you buy this little metal hook that’s woven onto a paper string,” Atsushi explained, going on as if Akutagawa’s distance wasn’t hurting him in the slightest, “And you try to grab one of the yo-yo hooks. But since they’re in the water, your hook falls apart easily.”

Akutagawa glanced down at the kiddie pool full of floating yo-yo balloons, surrounded by children and their encouraging parents. “I’m going to get you one,” he said flatly, and he left just as quickly, going over to the booth to purchase a hook. Atsushi barely had a moment to blink.

“Wait, you don’t have to-!”

“Got one.”

Atsushi’s jaw fell slack as Akutagawa held up a black water balloon with pink stripes. Handing it over to the flabbergasted Atsushi, he added, “My hook didn’t break; can I go again?”

Atsushi nodded, and somehow, he ended up with a collection of five water balloon yo-yos before Akutagawa’s string finally fell apart.

“I almost got you six,” Akutagawa said as Atsushi sheepishly requested a bag to carry all of his boyfriend’s prizes, “But that last one was heavier than the others.”

“I appreciate the effort,” Atsushi stammered, walking over to him with most of the yo-yos in a bag. The black and pink one he carried alone, its rubber band on his finger, bouncing it up and down idly.

“I’ll carry the bag for you,” Akutagawa said, reaching his hand out. Atsushi smiled, his heart swelling at every one of his boyfriend’s gestures, as he passed the bag to him.

For a brief second, their fingers brushed. Atsushi’s heart fluttered. Yet again, just as quickly, Akutagawa pulled away as quickly as if Atsushi’s touch had stung him.

Atsushi’s smile faded. Akutagawa glanced over at him, frowning slightly.

“Is something wrong?”

Atsushi opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped. Akutagawa should be having fun; Atsushi had no need to bog him down. Instead, he smiled again, bouncing his balloon as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Of course not,” he said. “Are you having fun?”

Akutagawa nodded, offering the tiniest bit of a smile.

“Now that I’m with you,” he murmured, which brought a blush to Atsushi’s face. Still, he struggled to maintain his smile, wondering that if Akutagawa enjoyed his presence so much, why wouldn’t he touch him.

They spent the rest of the afternoon together, buying snacks, playing games, sometimes just sitting together and admiring the festival. The sun set gently around them, bathing the street in an orange glow as staff began to set up the fireworks.

Atsushi munched on an iced banana as they stood together, waiting for the show to start, holding bags of trinkets and treats. He peered over at Akutagawa and couldn’t help but chuckle; the oni mask he had bought for him still sat sideways on his head.

It may have just been the peace of the moment - the last rays of sunlight, the festival falling ever quieter, the streetlights slowly switching on above them - but whatever the case, Atsushi wasn’t thinking. Without looking, he reached his hand out to Akutagawa again.

Akutagawa pulled his hand away immediately. Atsushi turned to him, unable to hold his frown back anymore, unable to stop the hurt in his voice or in his eyes, unable to stand this for a moment longer.

“Do you not want to touch me?” he snapped, causing Akutagawa to suddenly look at him, eyes becoming wide.

“I never said that,” he said.

Atsushi’s fists clenched a little. “You’re doing a great job of showing it,” he said. “I’ve been trying to hold your hand all day, and every time I try, you jerk your hand back. Do you hate touching me that much?”

Akutagawa’s own eyes began to show a hint of pain then, and Atsushi immediately regretted his words.

“I mean… It’s not, that big a deal…” he tried to recover, to step back, just anything to keep Akutagawa from being upset.

But Akutagawa’s frown became stony. “Yes, it is,” he stays firmly, causing Atsushi to pause and look him in the eye once again. “I’ve been hurting you, haven’t I?”

It took a moment, but Atsushi nodded once. “You’ve hurt me worse before, though… This isn’t that big a deal.”

He messed up again. He flinched when Akutagawa sighed; he couldn’t seem to do anything but upset him.

“I know,” Akutagawa muttered. “Which is why I want to do my best to make up for all of that. And you’re upset right now, so I need to fix it. Isn’t that what boyfriends do?”

Atsushi pulled his lips back slightly. “But I don’t want you to be upset, either…”

Akutagawa hesitated. A shadow settled in his eyes, as if he couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to say.

“I’m not,” he said, and even despite his pause, his tone was genuine. “But… I’m not sure.”

“About what?”

Akutagawa looked down at his hands. “Holding hands… It’s displaying to others that we’re together. That… You’re mine.” His gaze traveled back to Atsushi, and even though his face revealed little, his eyes said more than he could ever express. “Are you ready for that? Am I… Ready?”

Atsushi felt his heart warm as if Akutagawa blew onto a fire within him. “I am,” he whispers. “I’m yours, Ryuunosuke. No matter what happened in the past.” One last time, slowly, gently, he held his hand out. “And I’m ready to show the world.”

Akutagawa looked down at Atsushi’s palm. After a second, with shaking fingers, he took his hand in his.

Almost immediately, he relaxed. His bunched-up shoulders fell, the tiniest of sighs escaped his lips, and when Atsushi squeezed his hand reassuringly, you’re doing great, this is perfect, the tension left his grip.

Atsushi smiled. The fireworks whistled and burst in the sky, lighting the city with color once more before the festival’s end. Akutagawa met his eyes, warmth shining there, before he unexpectedly pressed a swift kiss to Atsushi’s lips.

Dumbfounded, all Atsushi could do was stare at his lover. Akutagawa smiled as the fireworks lit up their faces.

Atsushi never wanted to let go of his hand.

“Hey, bandage-waster.”

“Hm, Chuuya?”

“You know Akutagawa and Atsushi are dating, right?”

“Oh, for sure. About everyone in the Agency knows at this point, too.”

“Wonder how long they’ll keep thinking it’s a secret.”

“Probably until everyone knows it already.”

“Well, they’re cute together.”

“Yes they are.”

#shin soukoku #sskk #atsuaku

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nighthaze138-blog · 5 years

Text

He could see that thin, black-clad figure standing outside on the balcony, back to him, and posture tense. Atsushi bit his lower lip anxiously, before he padded towards the door, hesitating slightly as he grasped the handle.

When the door opens with a soft noise, Akutagawa froze in front of him, and the slight humming of Rashomon can be heard. Atsushi paused. Akutagawa was still obviously very angry, embarrassed, and quite possibly humiliated.

“I... didn’t mean to hurt you.” Atsushi said, clasping his hands behind his back, tiger ears flattening against his head, tail wound between his legs. Akutagawa turned to face him, steely grey eyes flashing with anger and frustration.

“Well you did, okay?!” Akutagawa shouted, fury lacing his tone. Atsushi jumped back at the explosive anger, ears flattening further against his head, tail curling around his hip defensively. The whiskers on his face quivered with the scent of anger that radiated off of Akutagawa.

“I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again.” Choking back a sob, Atsushi turned tail and ran back into the house, stumbling over his own feet, nearly tearing the front door off its hinges as he ran.

“Fuck!” He heard Akutagawa curse distantly, then the sound of rushing footsteps behind him. Panicked, Atsushi transformed his legs into his tiger’s, pushing harder, swiftly gaining speed and distance from Akutagawa.

No. Don’t come after me. Don’t get my hopes up. Don’t let me fall again.

Atsushi whimpered in the back of his throat, shaking himself before allowing his tiger to fully take over as soon as he reached the patch of woods. He ignored the thorns and branches that ripped and tugged at his pelt, catching bramble, twigs and burrs in the thick white fur. He just wanted to get away from those fury-filled, steel grey eyes.

“Jinko!” He heard Akutagawa’s hoarse voice, quiet but slowly gaining volume, telling Atsushi that he was near. Another call came, reverberating through the woods. Atsushi slowed his pace, leaping over some bushes and landing softly, without breaking any more branches, cutting his path short.

Slinking into an empty cave, Atsushi crawled deep enough so the moonlight wasn’t shining on his white fur, turning around to peer out of the entrance, keeping every part of his body stock still.

Only a few seconds later, Akutagawa stumbled forward, reaching the same clearing and knees buckling as he coughed harshly. He drew a hand to his lips as he continued to cough, a wheezing noise wracking his thin frame. When he pulled his hand away, there was blood. Forcing himself to stand upright, Akutagawa looked around.

“Jinko!” He called again, breaking off into a fit of coughs. His voice was rough, though a bit high-pitched with an edge of desperation. “Jinko!” His voice broke this time. Atsushi’s ears flattened against his furry head. Akutagawa’s hands clenched by his sides, and he cursed beneath his breath as he stood still and listened.

Atsushi held his breath, kept his body stock-still and closed his eyes. It was only a few moments later when the footsteps left, however, Atsushi waited several minutes before breathing again.

Opening his eyes, he saw that the clearing was empty, and Akutagawa’s scent had faded. Crawling out of the cave, Atsushi crept, low to the ground, ears and whiskers quivering as he padded deeper into the woods.

Akutagawa was searching, still searching for that fluff-brained idiot. Why had he lashed out like that? The broken expression on Atsushi’s face, the unusually meek tone of his voice, the way that his ears flattened against his head, his tail curling against his hip, it all hurt Akutagawa’s chest.

It was a throbbing pain, something he wasn’t used to.

“Jinko...” Akutagawa’s voice was hoarse, throat sore from all the screaming he’d done. His phone rang, and he answered it with shaky hands. “Ye-”

“Atsushi left his phone at the apartment, and so I called you instead. Where the hell are you two?! ” It was Chuuya. Akutagawa nearly dropped the phone.

“N-Nakahara-san.” Akutagawa stammered.

“Don’t Nakahara-san me! Where are- Dazai, fuck off. I’m on the phone. Where are you two?”

“I’ve lost Atsushi!” Akutagawa blurted. The other end of the phone went silent. Akutagawa couldn’t even hear any breathing.

“You’ve what?” Chuuya’s voice was deadly quiet, soft, full of threats, and Akutagawa shuddered.

“I think I made him mad, or hurt him, and he ran off. I tried going after him but he was too fast.” Akutagawa responded.

“I told you that the entra training would’ve been good for you.” Dazai’s ridiculing voice came through, though it was followed shortly by a slap. “Ow, Chuuya!”

“Shut the fuck up, Dazai. You’re not helping. Akutagawa, where are you now?” Chuuya asked.

“The forest.” Akutagawa heard Chuuya curse.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Chuuya said, before hanging up. True to his words, a few minutes later, Chuuya appeared, landing lightly on the ground, obviously having just used his Ability to get there quicker. He looked livid.

“Atsushi! Get your furry little ass here right now!” Chuuya immediately let a bellow rip. Dazai appeared a few moments later, looking a little bedraggled and out of breath just as Chuuya stomped off in some direction.

Akutagawa and Dazai heard branches being ripped from the trunks as Chuuya searched for the white tiger.

“What did you do?” Dazai hissed at Akutagawa. “It shouldn’t be this hard to find a gigantic white tiger in the dark!”

“I just yelled at him,” Akutagawa said. “After he apologized for not wanting to hurt me I just yelled.”

“Isn’t the feeling between the two of you mutual?” Dazai asked brazenly, so straightforward that Akutagawa felt his cheeks flush. “You want to touch and kiss him, he wants to touch and kiss you, yada yada yada, oh, but wait, you fucked it up.”

“I know that I fucked up and I was only thinking about myself,” Akutagawa grumbled.

“Well, what’s done is done. Let’s help Chuuya find your future boyfriend.” Dazai announced, ignoring Akutagawa’s flustered sputtering and walking down the path of destruction Chuuya left in his wake.

A few minutes later, they heard a low murmuring voice, and as they rounded a tree, they saw Chuuya, standing in a moonlit clearing, reaching up and stroking a white tiger’s muzzle gently. The tiger’s eyes were closed, and a rumbling purr was heard from the tiger’s chest.

“You idiot,” Chuuya sighed, pressing his forehead against Atsushi’s nose. Atsushi purred even deeper, nuzzling his head against Chuuya’s arm, nearly knocking the short redhead over. Atsushi chuffed happily, and Chuuya just sighed, burying his hands in Atsushi’s ruff.

Even though Akutagawa knew that Chuuya and Atsushi simply had a brotherly bond due to Chuuya bringing Atsushi up, and the fact that Chuuya and Dazai were indeed dating, he couldn’t help the petty jealousy that ran through his veins.

Atsushi suddenly seemed to notice the other presences and tensed, lips curling back in a snarl as he saw Dazai, whiskers quivering. Akutagawa noticed that Atsushi didn’t look at him.

“Hey Atsushi~” Dazai grinned as he spoke in a sing-song voice. “I know you don’t like me, but you know, one touch of my finger and poof, the big bad kitty’s gone.” Atsushi’s whiskers and ears twitched irritably, and he huffed, sitting down on his haunches, one giant paw pulling Chuuya close, almost defensively.

“You know that he can probably kick your ass even without his Ability, right?” Chuuya called, before he easily climbed up to sit on Atsushi’s back, leaning on the top of his head. Atsushi’s tail flicked back and forth.

“Whatever,” Dazai shrugged, before grabbing Akutagawa by the wrist and yanking him forward. “It’s your turn now, Akutagawa.” Atsushi stared at him with glowing golden eyes, unblinking, and unmoving. Akutagawa swallowed thickly, before he spoke.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you.” Atsushi still didn’t blink, merely yawning, jaws gaping as his teeth gleamed in the moonlight. From his peripheral vision, he saw Chuuya jump lightly off of Atsushi’s back, tugging Dazai away, ignoring the brunette’s complaints.

Akutagawa shuffled on his feet and reached out, hesitantly. Atsushi didn’t stop him, keeping stock still, only his whiskers quivering, and allowed Akutagawa to place a hand on his nose.

Huffing softly, the tiger leaned into Akutagawa’s touch, standing and winding gently around Akutagawa’s body, tail dragging lightly across the thin man’s cheek, before the massive cat stopped before Akutagawa.

In a brilliant flash, Atsushi was standing before him in his human form, hands clasped behind his back and a determined gleam in his purple and gold eyes.

“I’m afraid that you’ll leave me like everyone else. No one ever stays with me. I’m a waste of space and air. I don’t deserve to be walking here on this earth.” Atsushi said with clarity. His eyes were unwavering, serious. Akutagawa felt his heart clench with how little self-worth Atsushi had. “I don#t think that we’re going to work out-”

Akutagawa cut him off by dragging the younger one forward, pressing their mouths together. Atsushi let out a soft gasp, and fell into the kiss, hands coming up to clasp at Akutagawa’s shoulders.

“Chuuya’s still here.”

Kiss.

“Kouyou’s still here.”

Kiss.

“Kyouka’s still here.”

Kiss.

“I’m still here.” Akutagawa breathed, kissing Atsushi longer, deeper, with every sentence spoken. Atsushi let out a soft whine, falling further into Akutagawa.

“Ryuu.” Atsushi gasped, hands dragging up the length of Akutagawa’s pale neck to frantically frame his face. “Ryuu, Ryuu, Ryuu.” Akutagawa’s name is uttered between kisses, between short pants and breaths they take before diving back in.

“God, you’re perfect,” Akutagawa whispered, before pulling back and hugging Atsushi tightly. His coat fluttered around their ankles, and as Atsushi let out a contented purr, Akutagawa knew that everything was going to be alright.

This is based on my Atsushi Port Mafia AU that can be read here. I’m not quite sure if I want to add this scene in, or if it’ll be a bonus scene. :3

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #shin soukoku #soukoku #atsushi nakajima #akutagawa ryuunosuke #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu

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