alwaysthefool
e.b.
@/youjustfeelused on ao3. i will write bsd fics
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I got the best fake dating Chuuya fic u guys are in for a self indulgent TREAT
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Melting (like ice in whiskey) Part 2
Part 1 is here:
Tags: alcohol mention it’s chuuya so borderline alcoholism, fluff, gun mention, dazai mention
Warnings: mild cursing, reader has very anxious responses, power imbalance
“Uh, I don’t drink.” During work, at least.
“Bummer.” He smiled at you, taking a sip. “You’re can take a break, seriously.”
You smiled back a little awkwardly, bowed, and left the room. That was strange. It was still only around lunch time, so you went back to the dark office, with the blonde woman finally off her keyboard. You didn’t really think about lunch as you took that opportunity to ask her about your new boss, his favourite coffee order, anything that could help you.
“Coffee? I’ve never seen him drink anything but whiskey and wine.” She replied.
Another red haired boy, with a bandage on his nose, rolled near your desk with his rolling chair, and chimed in “I saw him drinking gin once.”
The next fifteen minutes were spent between you, Higuchi, and the red haired boy known as Tachihara in discussing Chuuya’s favourite coffee order. You settled on authentic Irish coffee, sweet coffee mixed with whiskey and cream. You worried about his liver a little, it’s not like you wanted your hot and cold tempered boss to die soon. You wanted to keep this job as long as- well, until you found a legal job.
You tried looking up authentic coffee shops that sold Irish coffee— some place niche but still well rated. The place you found was almost across the town but it’s not like you had anything better to do. On your train ride there, you thought a little more about your boss’ schedule. It started late and ended late. Technically, you were supposed to stay until he did, but getting home that late was worrisome. You were also issued a gun but chose not to take it, simply because you didn’t even want to think about having to use it.
You eventually reached the Victorian style building, standing out from the modern architecture of the surroundings, giving you a strange feeling, almost like you’d enter another world once you stepped in. The café surprisingly didn’t have any customers except one brown haired man dozing off near the window. Something about him felt familiar to you, and something in the well lit café gave you a sense of peace in absolute opposition to the darkness of the Mori building.
You didn’t realise you had just stopped in your tracks until someone held your hand. A rough bandaged hand, but soft fingers, smelling like buttercream and iodine. “My, what a beauty.” The man from before spoke. “Tell me, have we met in a past life?”
You were confused, as a red haired girl yelled across the room “Stop harassing the customers!”
You pulled your hand away, murmuring an apology, and going to the girl at the desk, whose name tag read ‘Lucy’. “Could I get an Irish Coffee to go?”
“To go? Is it for someone else?” The man leaned on the counter beside you.
“Ignore him.” The girl spoke irritatedly, leaving to make the coffee.
“Um, yeah, it’s for my boss.”
“Your boss drinks at the workplace?”
That question stressed you out. This man wasn’t just anyone. You refused to respond and took a seat near the counter, but the inquisitive man sat right beside you, not showing any intention of leaving you alone. You had lies planned out in your head but it felt like he could see right through them. Almost like he was one of the guys from the detective agency you read about in the papers.
Actually, wasn’t it somewhere in this area…?
Realisation dawned on you as your heart beat rose. The man beside you felt familiar because you recognised his coat from a newspaper article. You were in the very vicinity of the detective agency.
That was alright, it wasn’t like he’d arrest you or anything. “So, about your boss, what do you do?”
You already know what I do.
“I’m working for a shipping company.” You wanted to tell yourself to shut up, or say something smarter at least. You put your head in your hands, shutting your eyes. “Sorry, sudden headache.”
“That seems to happen to a lot of mafiosos when they talk to me.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You wished the barista would hurry your order but she seemed to be taking her sweet time. You didn’t open your eyes, wishing all of this would stop. “Look, I… I’m not a criminal, this was just the only job available.”
“I know.” He spoke kindly, putting a hand on your back. You could feel him smile and as you opened your eyes and peeked at him, he really did have a gentle expression. It was like, with him, you didn’t have to watch your back. You wondered what Chuuya would think about a person like that. “But, there’s always a way out.”
He handed you his business card. You kept it in your pocket after a glance, meeting his eyes finally, a little relaxed.
“By the way, Irish was a good choice!” He patted your back, after removing his reassuring hand from it, whispering something to the barista and going up the stairs.
Was the agency on the top of this very café? You were amazed at how you went to the worst possible place, purely by coincidence. And what did he mean, Irish was a good choice? It wasn’t like he knew exactly who your boss was, and on top of that his favourite coffee order.
After a while, Lucy finally called on you. You hurried with the payment, leaving as fast as you could without looking insane. You decided to take the taxi back, lest you ran into another Agency member on the way, and reheated the coffee at the office. There was nothing else on Chuuya’s schedule until a little later, when he had to go for an inspection.
You knocked on his door. “Come in.”
Your boss’ table was filled with papers and files, so much so that even an assistant would need an assistant to go through them. He probably did not trust you enough to let you help with them, but like a golden employee, you sure as hell would try.
“Boss, I got you coffee!” You had heard from Tachihara he liked being called ‘Boss’, and being referred to a bit casually from people working close to him.
“So that’s what you were doing.” He did not sound happy. Your heart stopped. Could he have put a spy on you and thought you were a double agent for the agency considering you went there and spoke to one of their detectives? Part of you found this to be too far fetched, but your pounding heart told you to get on your knees and beg for mercy.
With quivering lips and shaking hands, you asked “Sir?”
“I told you not to fucking call me that!” He banged his fists on his table. You tried not to show your emotions but your body betrayed you.
You bit your lip. “I’m so sorry.” If you said anything more than that, you’d start crying. Didn’t your boss tell you to scram earlier in the day? So what was this now? Why was he so fickle? Did he have anger issues?
“You can’t even bring the fucking files in, do you think you get paid for nothing?”
You simply shook your head, keeping your head down, trying your best not to cry. You were just gone for 40 minutes. Why were you being scolded on something so trivial?
“Just keep the coffee and leave.”
You couldn’t afford to do that. You had to try your best. Mustering up courage, you began “Can I help you with-“
“I said fucking go!” He yelled at you. You bowed your head, kept the coffee on a table, hoping he wouldn’t notice your shaking hands. The second you left the room, the tears fell like water from a faucet. Even if it hurt, you had to keep it in and try your best. You couldn’t cry, not here. You had to keep going on. You took a deep breath, going to the washroom to wash your face.
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Taking a break inside the stall, you heard people outside say.
“Did you see them cry?” You realised they were talking about you.
“This one was so easy to set up.”
Set up? Why would they do that?
When you heard these laughs fade and footsteps leave the washroom, you stepped out. Who were these people and why did they put you in that situation? And by ‘this one’, did they mean they did it to other assistants too?
You got the gist of what was happening. A group of people in the mafia sabotaged all of Chuuya’s assistants to the point he’d stop wanting one, or to put a particular person in that position. They may even be spies who needed something from him. You couldn’t really go to your boss, or the boss with this outlandish theory, or even the detective you just met, considering that would be plain espionage on your part. You had to investigate that yourself, and maybe that could be your big break. You remembered their voices, at least.
You walked back to the assistant’s room, seeing the blonde woman typing again, and Tachihara goofing off with a masked mafioso. Surprisingly, things were left on your desk, a bouquet with a card congratulating Chuuya for something. “Oh yeah, a delivery guy left them at the lobby. You should deliver that to him.”
“Right.” You replied. The card was signed ‘Mackerel’, making you think it was code for someone Chuuya knew. The flowers were so fresh, even the thorns were intact, and they looked like they’d been picked with great care. Whoever ‘Mackerel’ was seemed like someone who did everything for a reason. You resisted the urge to open the card it came with.
You took a deep breath and knocked again. “Come in.”
Chuuya was relaxed, done with almost half the files. To your relief, he did drink the coffee. “Uh, someone named ‘Mackerel’ left these for you.” You felt weird calling him by his first name, or ‘Boss’ remembering the last time you called him that, so you chose to not call him anything, and go with ‘ums’ and ‘uhs’, as one would do when they didn’t know the name of a person.
“Who?” He sounded nice again, as if his mood changed like the time. You handed him the card and left the bouquet on his desk, wanting to say something, but staying silent. He opened the card with one gloved hand, looking somewhat cool in doing even that, making you sad somehow. Even a card was being treated better than-
Chuuya crushed the card in his hand. “That fucking mackerel.” He cursed.
Great. Is his mood gonna change again?
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it to you.”
“No!” He said politely, almost in a guilty tone. “I’m sorry. Truly, I shouldn’t have yelled at you when I was the one who told you to leave.”
Your eyes widened. None of your previous bosses, professors, or teachers ever apologised to you after yelling at you.
“The coffee was really good too.” He smiled. Actually smiled. At you. “Did you spend your own money on it?”
You just nodded, not really knowing if saying something could set his mood off again. “That won’t do. Here, take my card.”
He handed you a premium black card, one of those that even top celebrities couldn’t obtain. How did you get to work for someone so cool? You thanked him for the card, realising even a percent of money in that card could probably solve all your problems. However, it was for business use only.
Chuuya reached for the flowers, and something came over you, stopping him by holding his wrist.
“They’re thorny, Chuuya. Let me.”
You took the roses out of the bouquet, picking the largest one and clipping off the thorns with a nail clipper, and then handing it to Chuuya. As he took it slowly, you saw his wrist, ears, and face were turning red.
Shit, is he angry again?
“Thank you.” His voice was, for once, a little low.
You bowed, and put the rest of the flowers in a vase, removing all the thorns. You could feel Chuuya just watching you, and in your distraction, you pricked your finger, pulling it away.
“Shit.” He ran up to you, holding your hand. “Be careful now.”
His gloved hands brought your finger to his mouth, as he licked the blood off. You would’ve done the same thing, but never expected him to do it. He blew on your finger, grabbing a band-aid from a nearby drawer, still holding your hand. He wiped off your finger with his own, and wrapped the band-aid on you.
Perhaps noticing your bewildered expression, he clarified “Habit. Taking care of wounds in the field and all.”
Sure. Surely it was just that, you figured, disappointment coming over you as he let go of your hand.
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#hcs#self insert fics#fluff#bsd x reader#chuuya nakahara#chuuya x you#chuuya x reader#fics#fanfiction
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Does anyone have a translation of BSD guidebook 1 (or any bsd guidebook for that matter)
#i only have a domestic card so i can’t commission you guys lol#but in case someone’s already translated it?#bungou stray dogs
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The captain’s used socks??? I-??????
Part 1
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Melting (like an Ice Cream) Part 1
Tags: Fluff, Reader is a bit over-enthusiastic, gender neutral
Warnings: unemployment mention lol, ultra embarrassing reader like 2000s rom com protagonist level embarrassing
Synopsis: You don’t want to lose your job as Chuuya’s assistant because it pays well. Multi part.
Chuuya sighed as he looked down at the document assigning him a new secretary after he rejected the previous few. He simply didn’t want one, but it was mandated for someone at his position. Plus, Mori wanted him to have a reduced workload. Considering Chuuya was too busy to attend the interview process, Mori personally selected whoever was most ‘enthusiastic’ rather than someone with experience or qualifications.
And that person was you.
Green but willing to do whatever to make this job stay. You were told your boss was a little cold and transferred others who were under him. It was stupid to take a job in the mafia but the current employment situation left you no choice. The pay was really good, and it wasn’t like you’d have to off people, at least that’s what the job description said. You just had to make reports, and help out the guy who did off people— one Chuuya Nakahara, and that too in the office. *
“This is going to be a piece of cake!” You chimed as you entered the Mori Corporation building, a very sophisticated mafia front business dealing with shipping ‘items’ overseas. You stood out like a sore thumb with a bright face as you swiped your employee card to enter the elevator area, pushing the button and greeting everyone there. Your previous job taught you to be nice to everyone because you never knew when you’d need someone’s help, but looking at how no one returned your greetings, you felt like perhaps it had the opposite effect here. You stared down at the document you prepared, reading your new boss’ schedule, wondering if you should’ve gotten him and his team coffee since you were early anyway and he didn’t have anything in store for the day.
As you reached your floor, you felt like people made snide remarks right as you stepped out the elevator. Hopefully it was just your imagination. You walked to the executive’s room, knocking on the door.
“Come in.” His sharp voice echoed.
You took a deep breath, put on your most professional smile, and opened the door, cheerfully introducing yourself. He looked up, a little surprised, then looked down again. “What are you so happy about?” He mumbled. Is everyone at this place this way?
Still, that wasn’t enough to set you off. “Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”
“Chuuya’s fine. Do whatever you want, just get off my ass.”
You blinked at his words, excusing yourself as you exited the room and made your way to the adjoining office where you found a few people working away on files. Oddly, there were no windows, and the lighting was too dim, despite which a blonde woman wearing sunglasses typed away rapidly. You sat on the desk beside her, where a note was left for you telling you to take the day off.
“But it’s my first day?” You spoke out loud.
The blonde woman beside you stopped typing, making the room eerily silent and said “You must be Nakahara’s new assistant. Well, enjoy your week off.”
“Wait, what?”
“He doesn’t really need- well, want an assistant but the boss’ wants him to try them for at least a week. They- well, you will be let off with a week’s pay.”
You couldn’t accept that. You needed that job, even without insurance, the pay was too good to pass up.
I just have to prove myself as an indispensable employee so Chuuya can’t fire me!
You devised your plan as you introduced yourself to the blonde woman named Higuchi, who too had a strict boss but somehow still held her job. “Miss, do you know which car belongs to Mr. Na- Chuuya?”
“Oh, you’ll know when you see it.”
You looked at the schedule and rushed downstairs, again greeting everyone on the elevator to no response. You ran out when you reached the lobby, greeting an old man at the entrance gate, who actually greeted you back.
It didn’t take long to find Chuuya’s car. A mahogany sports car, with a foreign number plate and tinted glasses, no car being parked near it. You walked to it and looked under it, checking it for explosives and the like, just stuff you’d seen in action movies.
“What the fuck are you doing?” A sudden, irritated voice spoke from behind you.
“Checking your car for explosives?”
Chuuya sighed, pinching his nose bridge. “Headache in the morning.” He spoke under his breath, probably to not let you hear him, but you did as even his whispers were just naturally loud.
“Uh, sir-“
“Chuuya’s fine.” He repeated.
“Let me open the door, so if there’s an explosive, it doesn’t detonate on you.”
He rolled his eyes, holding your arm lightly to move you away. “All the more reason for me to open it.” He pressed a button on the keys he was holding, and the door opened upwards, in true sports car fashion. Before getting in the car, he looked to you and said “Look, I’m sorry for being rude in the morning. I’m just tired of… I don’t need an assistant. You can spend the week at home and you’ll be compensated for it. I checked your records, you’ve never been in an organisation like this before, right? Trust me, you don’t want to be here. Just go.”
He didn’t meet your eyes, but bowed politely and got in. You moved further back to let his car go.
Your new boss actually seemed nice, but seeing the job market, you did want to be there. No where else would hire someone with your experience, references, and grades at an actually liveable price. Even if you transferred to other jobs in the mafia, you didn’t think you’d be able to handle the field work they do. Accounts, budgeting, making spreadsheets and schedules, planning meetings, picking up someone’s laundry or morning coffee— that was fine by you. So you slowly walked back up, using the stairs this time so as to not meet anyone, going back to your cubicle beside the blonde woman who was still typing away rapidly.
Everyone around you was too busy to engage in conversation, and you wondered what you could do. Maybe meet with the people who hired you in the first place to ask them for— no, they were literal gang bosses, you reminded yourself. You stood up and went to Chuuya’s office, which you were given keys to.
Maybe I can clean up?
You hoped dusting didn’t count as snooping. You pulled your sleeves up and started cleaning the windows with a dust cloth you obtained from the janitorial closet. You dusted the curtains, vacuumed the carpet, wiped the table, even removed the cobwebs from the corners of the room. There was nothing more to do except organising the files, but you also didn’t want to be yelled at. You looked outside the window, watching clouds cover the city skies.
Did Chuuya have an umbrella?
You luckily carried one in your bag, owing to the unpredictable weather of the summer months. You went down, waiting at the parking lot. Sure, doing so much looked pathetic but being unemployed was even worse. As it started raining, you opened the umbrella and wondered what more you could do.
Luckily, Chuuya’s car arrived soon, speeding too fast for that weather. You rushed to his door with the umbrella.
“What the fuck?” He seemed confused at you holding the umbrella over him as he opened his door.
“Um, I didn’t think you had an umbrella?”
“I don’t need one. You use it.”
You watched in awe as he pushed past you again, the raindrops gravitating off him. Of course. Why didn’t you think of that?
You followed him, leaving your umbrella in the holder at the entrance. People stopped to bow at him as he walked past, and even greeted him at the elevator. It was then that you realised respect at the port didn’t come from being polite and making connections, but the kind of work you did. You had to take the same approach to get Chuuya to not fire you too.
You rushed out the elevator and opened his office door for him, which made him chuckle a little. “I should be opening the door for you, don’t you think?”
Everything he said was just so charming, almost kind. At the same time, he just seemed so intimidating and unapproachable. Something out of a dream.
You were lost in your thoughts and did not reply, or even notice his reaction to his office. At that moment, where he just stared in silence, you felt terror overcome you. What if he assassinated you there and then because you cleaned his room a little? What if the mafia executed in their style on the assumption of you being a spy?
“Hey, you cleaned up my office. Looks good.” He spoke unexpectedly, handing you his coat. You took it and hung it on a rack.
“Thank you, so much.” You were breathless. “I didn’t touch the files or cabinets because-“
“No need’ta be so nervous.” He seemed more friendly than he was in the morning. “You did good. You can organise the cabinets if ya want.”
Everything was too surprising. You wanted to be a strong employee and butter him up a bit more, but everything felt overwhelming. “Should I get you coffee?”
“No, I’m good with wine.” You resisted the urge to ask what he was doing drinking so early as he poured himself a glass. You were about to leave when he asked you something that would be the start of both your lives changing.
“Hey, would you like a glass?”
#slowburn#fic#bsd#bungou stray dogs#fluff#hcs#self insert fics#chuuya nakahara#bsd chuuya#chuuya x reader#bsd x reader#gender neutral#fanfiction
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Washing dishes is Dazai's favorite activity.
If you asked Kunikida, he'd say Dazai loves wasting time. Atsushi would say something more intellectual, like maybe he enjoys crosswords. Drinking would be Yosano's gess, since Dazai does it quite often, and Tanizaki would mention all the girls that call looking for him. Maybe petting the stray cats by the building, Kyoka would offer, and Kenji would agree excitedly with the notion — since he enjoys it, too. But none of them could guess what he really loves to do.
Ranpo knows Dazai loves doing the dishes with you. He'll unwrap his bandages more and more confidently each day, waiting as the sink fills with lukewarm water and soapy bubbles. You'll stand by his side happily, a dishrag in hand you'd forced him to buy long before you moved in.
The two of you would work without talking for a bit, Dazai scrubbing away whatever grime was left on plates while you dried off his hard work. The feeling of the water in his bare arms brought him peace, knowing the soapy bubbles covered his scars, but you also never commented when he'd pull them up and out of the comforting submerged space to hand you a plate. You'd hum beside him, the notes of whatever latest pop song got stuck in your head while at work today filling the small space between you two.
Dazai would knock his shoulder into yours playfully, grinning down at you softly as he passed over another dish. He loved when you'd almost drop a glass into the sink when taking it from him, face burning and eyes wide as you make an adorable startled noise. The humming tended to stop then, as you'd focus all your energy on not dropping anything else.
That's when the conversation would start. Dazai would ask for work drama, and you'd happily oblige. From intimate humming to workplace gossip, Dazai loved all of your sounds. If he could record these moments to keep forever, they'd become his white noise as he slept in your arms.
"Your fingers must be pruny. Do you want to switch jobs?"
You were always so considerate of him. He'd pat down his hands and forearms and you'd gently help him wrap his bandages back up, making sure not to let your gaze linger. Sometimes Dazai would lean over and sniff your hair as you worked, smelling your shampoo and nearly swooning. You'd pat his arm once gently to let him know you were done before turning to the few remaining dishes. He'd always leave the harder ones for you; bigger pots and pans and whatever the fuck a colander was. "It's just a big bowl! It even drains on its own," you'd huff, but never complain more than that.
Just as cute as ever, you'd wash them without complaint as he smiled victoriously. You both knew what he was doing, but even the "harder objects" were simple so you didn't mind. It'd be Dazai's turn to talk as he'd tease you for being so gullible. He'd mention his day, complaining about Kunikida's reports that he so graciously took over (which were Dazai's reports, actually) and how scary and nearly disastrous his meeting with a random dog was that he had passed by on the way home — a dog that was leashed and following beside its owner obediently.
The way home to you, to this vulnerable moment you both shared in the quiet of his apartment. He loved how focused you'd get on scrubbing away the grime, allowing him pause to stare at you and admire your dedication. How beautiful can one person be? And the way you'd get all flustered when you turn to hand him a dish to dry only to see him basking in your ethereal visage always caused him to grin.
He'd pepper your face with kisses, his now dried hands grabbing your soaked ones to pull you away from the kitchen and to the couch. You'd whine and complain, saying you only had a few dishes left, but you never tried to pull from his grasp while dutifully following suit. Dazai loves to cradle you close to him, forgetting about whatever worries him for a few moments.
Dazai loves doing the dishes.
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Mfs on Instagram posting story leaks without warning… hell is hot
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Where are you guys reading chapter 114 already???
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you described my social situation in its totality in your new fic. i slightly feel seen.
Good to know! I was in the same situation a while back and got reminded of it. A pro tip is always take a friend or a flask when you don’t know anyone at a social obligation event lol
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(I don’t write all of these, but would like to know most people’s preferences!)
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Stranger (x Fyodor)
Warnings: None probably but ask to warn
Tags: Fluff maybe, gender neutral, no spoilers
Another party you knew would end up in your pile of things that made you sadder. Once again you were reminded that you didn’t have any friends, did not know anyone there, but had to attend as a dutiful heir to an absent family. Even people that knew you pretended they didn’t, and you wondered if it had something to do with the way you look.
You did not even try to strike up conversation. In places like these, you could only speak if you were introduced by someone else. Although sitting alone was a common experience for you, looking at others socialising made you feel like an alien.
I just have to make it through a few hours, you told yourself as the loneliness brought forth a hint of a tear to your eye. You could do with anyone, just anyone, anyone to be there with you and speak to you. Just one friend.
Please.
As you could not bear the welling loneliness and embarrassing experience of sitting alone looking at either other people or your phone, you stood up from your seat and headed towards the balcony, only to bump into a tall, dashingly handsome, thin man, with violet eyes that matched the colour of your clothes. You felt like that couldn’t be a coincidence, and in his beauty, doubted if you had chosen your garb for that very purpose.
“Uh, sorry.” you spoke a little awkwardly, trying not to gawk at his eyes, politely moving aside to enter the relieving air of the balcony. You cursed yourself mentally for not knowing how to communicate in a more polished manner, but the view of the stars in the sky, the cool breeze, and the lack of other people made you forget those thoughts for a moment. But it was the darkness you loved the most, even if it was scary, it was empty. Devoid of souls.
Or so you thought.
As you leaned on the railing, you noticed that person beside you again, yelping from how he appeared out of nowhere.
The man chuckled. “Apologies if I scared you.”
“Oh, it’s okay.” You mentally cringed at your awkwardness again. But anyway, what was he doing back there? You thought perhaps you should be the one to start making conversation, so you introduced yourself. “Um, hi, I’m [name].”
“Adorable.” You realised he was staring at you, not even turning away when you looked at him to talk. It felt like he could see right through you, and if he looked away, it meant he was done reading. You regretted asking for a friend earlier, but didn’t have it in you to leave. Besides, he was cool, in a rat sort of way. “I’m Fyodor.”
He kept staring, and you couldn’t take it. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Because you’re beautiful, and I don’t understand what you’re doing here alone.” He finally looked away. “I never intended to make you uncomfortable.”
You didn’t have any meek ‘oh it’s completely okay’s in you left, so you decided to stay silent. You didn’t want him to leave, however, and kept thinking about him calling you beautiful. As for why you did not have a date, everyone you asked kept cancelling. It was strange, to say the least, and made you feel pathetic, so pathetic you couldn’t even tell Fyodor off because at least someone was speaking to you.
“So tell me, what are you doing in the balcony?”
“Getting air.” You lied, more eager to ask what he was doing there. “You?”
“Keeping an angel company.”
You blushed at the response, hating yourself for it. “You’re really direct.”
“It’s no secret I’d like to whisk you away from here.” He looked at you again, and so did you, his dark eyes glittering in moonlight, everything about his pale face perfect.
You didn’t realise how long you’d just been staring at each other, or when he closed the distance between the two of you, his lips feeling dry and somewhat chapped, but perfect, as you kissed him back, as if allowing him to drink from your own lips. His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, as yours rested on his shoulders. Even though you were the one out of breath, he pulled away first, as if allowing you to breathe.
“Sorry.” He noticed. “You were just too… sweet.”
Maybe you had one more ‘oh it’s completely okay’ left in you, just for him. “Now, how about we go somewhere more private, and less… suffocating.”
“Please.”
#daaaarling guess who’s back from jaillll?#fyodor dostoevsky#bungou stray dogs#fics#fanfiction#bsd#Fyodor x reader#self insert fic#self indulgent#fluff
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hope you're doing alright ❤️
No but you know what that means! New fics coming up!!! I have 3 i need to upload here from ao3 and one in the works
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Hurts Like Heaven (Dazai x You)
warnings; death, angst, disease, unrequited love, double suicide mention
tags; hanahaki disease
[Author's note: Obligatory definition of hanahaki disease (from fanlore dot com lol)-- Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. In this variation, the reader's symptoms peak up when they actually see Dazai. There's no surgery option in this one 😈]
Fuck, not him again. You could almost cry as you saw Dazai at the cafe, flirting with the waitress, making jokes again. There was no way he wouldn't know as your situation was at its worst, and you couldn't run out because you weren't in the physical condition to. The most you could do was hide your face in your arms and pray he didn't see you. You had decided not to get coffee that day, settling with just green tea to make yourself feel a little better, but you knew just seeing him would give you at least a week's worth of dreams. Just the thought hurt so much. Dazai, who had never outright rejected you, who you could never tell your feelings to, scared of the fatal rejection, but more so, rationally knowing you couldn't give him the love he needed, and he couldn't love you. Your worlds were too different-- you couldn't begin to understand him-- and his heart was elsewhere, unable to love again. You were similar too, both sad with an evil past and tragic fates. The only difference was, unlike you, he could be saved.
And thus, you let that little dandelion seed of a wish fly out of your hand, only for it to bloom as a petal in your lungs.
You had known him for only a year and started to like him for less than and a half, and it would kill you in only a matter of weeks.
You'd just smile and hide your pain whenever you saw him, excusing yourself and going around back to cough up blood and petals. That didn't hurt as much, neither did knowing you'd die, but what hurt was seeing him. It hurt like heaven. There he was again, with that smile, those eyes that hid a world you couldn't begin to understand, those bandages that you knew hid more than scars, that hair, those hands you wished so badly to touch, even if it would kill you. Death? Blood? What was that? The only thing that caused any substantial pain was the longing, and you wanted so bad to quash it. Your solution was avoiding him and forgetting all about him eventually, no matter how long it took. As long as he didn't appear before you, it would be okay. So why, still, did you decide to stay in the city?
"If it isn't [Name]!" That rich voice chimed, and you heard the chair across you being pulled. Of course he saw you. Of course it would be like that. Of course you couldn't get your night's rest.
Part of your heart bloomed with feelings, and the other wished you hadn't stepped out of your house that day.
You removed your hands from your face, and gave him a weak smile, trying your best not to let the ache in your chest show.
"I feel like I never see you anymore." He pouted those perfect lips as an extremely deadly joke, forcing a few coughs out of you. You immediately turned away, and hid the blood and petals in your handkerchief.
"Holy shit, are you okay?" As if nothing missed his eye, he exclaimed "Is that blood?!"
"Um." You composed yourself again, despite all the pain, thinking of a lie. "Yeah, actually I... I have pulmonary hemosiderosis."
You thanked the knowledge that came from 20 seasons of Grey's, but also slightly cringed at having to keep up a ridiculous lie in front of a detective.
"Do you need any help?" To your dismay, Dazai stood up and sat beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder, making you feel like you'd explode there and then.
Three weeks of bedrest, five weeks of bad dreams, and an even shortened lifespan.
"Please get away from me." You almost cried, closing your eyes and jerking him off reluctantly.
"Alright, just relax, okay?" Even then, he was so cool as you heard him take his original seat. You slowly opened your eyes again, knowing you'd made a mess of your image in front of him. Perhaps his concerned eyes hid a resentment for you, but you didn't care. You just loved him.
"Yeah, sorry, it can be contagious." You lied, knowing he could go home and google that it was not, and hoped he didn't care about you enough to but Dazai stared at you with a look of absolute sternness. Of course he wouldn't believe your lies. But do you know? I wish you knew.
"That so?" He spoke in a way it didn't sound like a question. "Anyway, you do not seem well. Please let me take you to the hospital. Or Yosano, if you're more comfortable with that."
You had already been to Yosano once before, and she told you she couldn't cure that, wishing you all the best as you lied and told her the person you liked already rejected you. He didn't even like you enough as a friend. You were nothing to him, but the unfair universe made him mean so much to you. It wasn't like you didn't understand him. You did, and deeply, but something had gone wrong in both of your destinies that made you end up that way. Dazai was worlds apart from you, and you couldn't reach him. Maybe that pretty girl he had been talking to recently would, maybe someone like Chuuya could, maybe his friends from the agency could, but not you. No, you were just an acquaintance.
And at that moment, you realised no matter how much you tried to ignore him, it wouldn't help-- that you'd die, and you'd feel happy about it. You lost everything to someone like that, all your dreams, your precious life, your esteem and confidence, only for love. Did your life mean nothing beyond that? If you told him, and he reciprocated your feelings, you'd still die from his inciting dream of a double suicide. If he rejected you, you'd die alone. Maybe not doing anything and taking that impossible chance to make your life your own would mean something, despite the disease having a 100% fatality rate if the feelings are not reciprocated.
"No, this is normal, trust me." You finally gave him a reassuring smile. "Besides, I don't think hospitals can help anymore."
"What?" He looked shocked, reaching out to take your hand, and you let him, comforting him instead by rubbing a fragile thumb on his palm . Did he really not know? Why did he look so shocked? Did he care? Those feelings overcame you, and you coughed a little more, apologizing quickly.
"Please tell me there's a way."
You took a deep breath. "Mine's a special case. Even with surgery, there's no chance."
"No..." Dazai looked away from you, outside the window, that pained and distant expression you'd fallen for crossing his face. In that moment, you finally understood it. It was a longingness for something.
"It's fine, buddy." You pulled your hand away from him owing to the ache in your lungs. "I still want to try, you know. I want to live." He still did not look at you as he put his chin on his shaking palm. "And I wish the same for you."
He forced a smile, finally looking at you with those same dead eyes you were always curious about. Now you knew that it meant despair. Dazai was a poem you could only decipher at the brink of your death, and he was far more beautiful and pure than he knew he was.
"If I could, I'd give up my worthless life for yours."
You commanded your lungs and heart to keep at bay, as if telling death you needed a moment before peacefully accepting its call.
"Your life isn't worthless, you know. You did so many good deeds. If you feel like dying, maybe it's because you just need purpose."
Dazai's eyes widened, and it was as if, for a moment, you thought he could love you back, and things would work out, that you could save him and yourself. But those moments were always fleeting, because you knew you had no purpose either, and you'd fall into his vices like you'd fallen for him.
"Do you think you can manage a walk? The weather's beautiful today."
Dazai helped you up, and held you tightly as the two of you walked out, the blossoms from the trees flying about. The scene was almost like a movie, and you knew you were at the end, using the last of your strength to walk, the disease taking over your body completely, the pain being nothing just because he was holding you.
"You're right." You breathed. "It's beautiful. I-"
You wanted to say more to him, you wanted to be held for a little longer, you had so many dreams, and so much you wanted, but your body finally gave out, as you violently coughed blood and petals, Dazai catching you as your feet lost their hold.
"[Name]!" He yelled as he held you in his lap, scrambling his head to find a way to help you somehow, pausing when he saw the petals blossom out of your mouth. Although the thought of you loving someone else hurt him deeply, he still begged you to tell you who it was, whether you had confessed, if there was a chance.
"Hey..." You croaked through tears and coughs. "It's okay, friend. I'm happy to die in your arms."
"Don't say that! You're not dying!" He wished he knew you better to figure out who it was, and you wished he knew you better to know it could be no one else but him. That no one had showed you the kindness he had shown you, that no one helped you life he did, that no one understood you like he did. You were so happy just to have known him. He made your life better despite also making it end; he made it beautiful and gave it a little meaning.
However, you weren't strong enough to tell him all of that, so you chose your final words carefully. "Thank you for everything, Dazai. I was happy to have loved you."
He held you tightly as your eyes closed, those persistent flowers that had plagued you so finally withering as your breathing stopped. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream at you for not telling him, knowing you could be saved because he loved you too. He wished you knew that you could've saved him, that you were enough for him, that he'd overcome his own insecurities and pursued you first instead.
And in the midst of all that regret as he did nothing but hold your still warm form, a single petal bloomed in his lung.
#bungou stray dogs#bsd#hcs#bsd fics#bungou stray dogs x reader#dazai x reader#self insert fics#hanahaki disease#fanfic#bsd osamu dazai#headcanons#drabble#oneshot#angst#major character death
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ANON WHO SENT THE REQ I'M ON IT, PEOPLE WAITING FOR beautiful monster PART 2 I'M ON IT!!! i have exams and i dont study for them but two of them are ones i cant get away with writing just anything for so i actually have to study
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realising chuuya won't be in s5
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sweet treasure (sigma x you)
tags; fluff, cuddles
"I really liked when you hugged me last week." Sigma confessed through a red face, pretending to be deeply interested in his coffee to look away from you.
You smiled. "Of course, it's what friends do. You needed that comfort."
It's not like he didn't understand why he felt so comfortable with you alone, you were his genuine friend, but why did he want to keep you close? Why did his heart desire your little affections? He took a deep breath and looked at your warm face, that didn't seem to see him as anything other than a friend. Just being a friend is enough too. He convinced himself.
"Can we do that more often?"
"Do what more often?" You tilted your head. Sometimes Sigma felt you were even more oblivious than he was.
"Hug..." He looked away again, knowing he was visibly a blushing mess. "On the couch."
You laughed. "Do you mean you want to cuddle?"
His eyes widened, and he tried not to seem to eager as he nodded. It's not like Sigma didn't have game, but being with people from dating apps or people that pursued him made him feel too vulnerable. He didn't trust them like he trusted you, but if you didn't like him like that, then there was no chance he'd let his friendship be affected either.
"Platonic cuddles are a thing, right? If you're okay with-" He began.
"Of course!" You beamed at the suggestion. "I do it all the time with my friends."
That seemed to sting him a little. He felt as if he was completely fine being your friend, but he wanted to be the only friend who'd do things like that with you. An exclusive affection.
You led him to the couch, asking him if he was comfortable in what he was wearing-- branded silk sweats in the luxury of his living room. The first time you came over to 'chill' at his house, he was in formal garb, which made you laugh. You told him to wear whatever he was comfortable in unless the two of you were going to a fancy place, which led him and his stylists down a spiral of what would look comfortable and yet make him look attractive. You on the other hand, always came in shorts and a t-shirt, without any makeup or your hair done, and still making his heart flutter from the exposed skin.
You almost plopped down on the couch, a very homey piece of furniture, already covered in blankets and pillows, underlying it rich saffiano leather. Sigma, a red mess, sat down next to you, moving his hands to pull you on to his lap, laying down with you and engulfing you completely, his legs intertwined with yours, and barely an inch of distance between you two. That act made everything in his body tingle, his heart going haywire, and stomach almost bursting from the anxiety.
"W-wow." Even you were a blushing mess. You didn't expect that. Your face fell on his silky hair, and hands held his own. "Sigma, you did your research, huh?"
"Mm." He started to get sleepy, nuzzling his face onto the crook of your neck.
"Okay." You murmured to yourself. "Okay, sure, this is fine."
"Just like you." Sigma mumbled, half asleep, jolting awake 5 seconds later. "I mean-"
You shifted around to face him, closing whatever distance was between you two, pressing your chest against his, and resting your head on his arm. His legs felt a little heavy on yours but you could manage. "By any chance, Sigma," You booped his nose, smiling at his red face and flustered expression "do you perhaps, like me?"
He didn't want to look at you so he buried his face in your neck again. "Yeah. Fuck. And it's okay if you don't, but please let me stay this way for a while."
"Idiot." You also smiled and kissed his neck. "Also, this isn't how friends cuddle."
"Really?"
"Yes! Don't you dare cuddle with your friends like this!"
Sigma let out a laugh, pulling away to peck your lips, leaving you flustered and speechless.
"I'm happy, you feel what I feel."
#gender neutral reader always by the way#bsd#bungou stray dogs#drabbles#oneshot#sigma bungou stray dogs#sigma headcanons#hcs#sigma x reader#self insert fics#fluff
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