Tumgik
#pm fanfic
chuunai · 3 months
Note
I had an idea for the 100 followers thingy- so like the babies thing but you’re a single mother (maybe teen mom?) and dazai (pm) falls in love with you and your baby :} ps- I LOVE YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF SUGAR 💗‼️‼️‼️
I’m trying I swear TvT
✧˚ · . you’re a virgin and I’m just a meth head - pm! dazai osamu
the new hire at the port mafia interests him. the baby, too.
Tumblr media
summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, mentions of teen pregnancy, reader and PM! dazai are seventeen, SFW, mentions of a former abusive relationship, mentions of suicide (it’s fucking dazai), happy ending.
Tumblr media
Assistants were something he never cared for much.
They came and go, either requesting to work for a different department in the Port Mafia after witnessing his peculiarities or dying. He hadn’t ever formed any bonds with them. Hell, he hardly knew their names. Dazai preferred to give them childish nicknames such as ‘four-eyes’ for the ones with glasses or ‘baldy’ for the ones who had barely began balding.
No use in actually getting to know them.
All they were good for anyway was organizing his work and making a schedule of meetings and pointless missions he’d hardly follow. And what could they do? Nothing.
Once, he had attempted to get Ango to apply for the job during an outing at Bar Lupin, but that four-eyes declined. So did Oda. Geez, his friends lacked faith in him. Dazai wasn’t that bad of a boss. His subordinates didn’t die that often compared to the others.
Then again, his most recent assistant had died via overdosing. Straight from the Port Mafia’s warehouses, too. Dying of his own stupidity because karma struck him down. The high may have been sending him to the clouds, but he got too close to the sun just as Icarus did and burned—or in this case, vomited—to death. Fun.
A replacement would be needed, yes, but that would involve looking through so many applications and that was boring compared to strangling himself or pulling Chuuya’s hair when the redhead was speaking with Kouyou.
He’d pick irritating the slug over paperwork any day. At least one was fun.
So he just had Mori pick one out. As long as they wouldn’t be a nuisance and knew their place, he didn’t care who it was. Boy, girl, whatever. All ages welcomed. Dazai preferred younger though. The old farts were annoying and so utterly dumb! So when a subordinate gave him a file for his new assistant, he didn’t think anything of it. He always got those for record keeping.
Although this particular individual piqued his interest as his eyes gazed over the information attached.
The age was young—seventeen, same as him. A girl. According to the report, you were previously stationed as a secretary for some lower ranking member. And you’d just joined, too. Only a few blissful months ago. Just barely a baby in the crime world. All dewy-eyed and truly unknowing of the dark underbelly of Yokohama.
Most interesting, though, and the thing that struck his curiosity was the fact that a small sticky note was attached to the last page.
‘Single mother of eight month old girl’
There weren’t many parents in the Mafia, much less teenage ones. Nobody had time to have a baby with the lack of safety. But you did. Someone desperate enough to provide for their child to the point where they joined an illegal organization without even being an adult yet. That took will and selflessness. Something he lacked.
And without having even met you yet, Dazai found himself fascinated by you.
Murmuring your name to himself, he found himself a bit startled at how smooth it rolled off his tongue. He liked it, too. Your name was nice to say.
Tossing the file onto his desk carelessly, Dazai tapped his fingers on the desk, mind wandering once more. If you had a child then you’d probably work your best to support them. You’d be competent enough for him.
Apparently competent enough to the point where you felt like you could handle bringing the baby to the Mafia HQ.
“I don’t remember hiring two assistants.”
Dazai’s voice came out as slightly amused and startled. There you were, standing in-front of his desk while occasionally shushing your…daughter? It looked like a girl, anyway.
“Sorry- her sitter wasn’t available and I-“
His eyes stared at your reddening cheeks—embarrassment and shame, he could tell—as you spoke again.
“I don’t really have anyone to watch her. I’m so sorry, sir.”
Sir? You called him sir? That made him wave his hand a bit dismissively. The only people who called him ‘sir’ were the random grunts and gunmen that served under him. Or people who were scared shitless of him.
“Dazai. Not sir.”
Sitting up languidly, his uncovered eye focused on the baby. Curls of dark hair fell over her forehead while her tiny hands grabbed at your shirt and hair. Funny, he thought.
“And the baby can stay.”
She reminded him of some of the orphans Oda took care of. Especially Sakura. Maybe they had the same name, too. Unlikely, though. She didn’t look like a Sakura, really.
Picking up a pen, he pointed it at you, a small smile on her face.
“Speaking of, may I know her mother’s name?”
He knew it already. But it felt more right if he convinced himself you told him.
“Oh! Yes, uhm, I’m (L/N) (Y/N). And her name,” Tapping your baby’s forehead, she released a small coo, giggling slightly. “is (L/N) Yukirou.”
“Winter baby, huh. I’ll guess, December 16th?”
This was so much fun for him so far. Maybe Yukirou really could be his second assistant. As a joke, of course.
Nodding, you began to ramble on about the baby as he relaxed back in his chair, spinning around and making funny faces at Yukirou. The small child giggled and outreached her fingers to him, probably infatuated by his bandages and messy hair. He didn’t touch her, though. No need to let such a good small thing interact with a person like him.
And so minutes went by. Technically, he should’ve been doling out tasks and trying to kill himself again—he had heard of a technique where one could inject apple juice into their neck and die, but he wasn’t sure it’d work—but it slipped out of his grasp. Maybe it was the fact you two were so close in age. The fact that in another universe you could’ve been classmates fueled this moment. Dazai didn’t really know people his age other than Chuuya, but Chuuya was Chuuya. You were new.
New to everything in this line of business. The killing, the release of morals. Then again, you were just an assistant. You’d never directly be involved with that. Just helping him out with whatever was needed.
Dazai thought that was a smart choice, whether or not you intended for it to be. As an assistant, you’d be safe from the gunfire and outermost threats. More likely to live and protect your daughter.
So caring in a line of work where lives were dispensable.
He wondered how you got there. Not to the Port Mafia—the file told him. But how you took on such a frowned upon job to solely provide for your child. Was the father a deadbeat? Or actually dead? His father was the same. Dead five years into Dazai’s life.
His mother tried her best, but she died too and he slipped onto Mori’s grasp. Hopefully your baby wouldn’t end up in the same situation.
The peaceful moment was interrupted by one of his men who dropped off a load of documents, side-eyeing you before leaving.
Dazai wished you hadn’t turned the conversation back to work.
“Sir, sorry- Dazai-san, would you like me to organize the papers..?”
Why did he forget that you were just an assistant of his? The medication must be making his mind woozy again.
“By date and incident, yep. Also, if you see any that mentioned a Chuuya, please throw them out. Or burn them. Preferably the burning part.”
His office was always to be kept rid of that ginger.
“On it.”
And so he doodled a noose on the wood of his desk while you slowly put the papers away. It soon became clear to him that Yukirou was making the job a tad difficult by trying to grab at the papers.
A slight idea of letting her crawl loose in Mori’s office and destroying it entered his mind, but it quickly left.
“Y’know, if she’s being a devil, I can play with her for a bit. I swear I’ll be good!”
The words left him before he could really process them. Next thing he knew he was wearing the baby carrier with tiny fingers pulling at his shirt. Instructions poured from your lips as he nodded and patted the baby’s back.
“I’ll kill you if anything goes wrong.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of that. You? Kill him? Never going to happen. Unless it were a double suicide, but you probably wouldn’t say yes.
And he replied when the slight fear in your eyes registered after remembering that he was your boss in the Mafia.
“If course, cutie. I give you permission to kill me if theoretically anything goes wrong.”
Dazai made sure to sneak a peek at your reddening cheeks before leaving his office with the baby strapped to his chest and tugging at his bandages like a little snake.
That’s how it all started. A boy and a girl who happened to have a baby.
He’d never regret how months went by as you two became closer and closer. Joking around, complaining about work, all the stuff friends did. Hell, Dazai even watched Yukirou sometimes.
Thank god Chuuya wasn’t there to see him watching children’s cartoons on your couch with a baby in his lap and a stuffed animal in the other.
Or how he insisted on covering some of your rent when you were struggling. Yukirou needs a home, after all. He sees himself in her a bit. And he didn’t want her to turn out like him. If he couldn’t change his own life for the better, he’d change hers.
And yours.
Much better than that dickhead that fathered Yukirou. You told Dazai about it one night when he stayed over after babysitting once more. Yukirou was napping in her nursery, and you two were sitting on the couch just talking.
Talking turned into sharing details of your lives, and he came up. Your old flame who ditched you. Breaking a promise that he’d be there for the baby and you. Dazai was silent all throughout it. Quiet when you spoke of the emotional abuse and stress that you had, quiet when you began crying over the fact you never got to graduate high school.
He was just there, daring to awkwardly rub your back as you vented. He wondered if you had talked about it before. Probably not.
Dazai felt like he too needed to share a story of his childhood too in exchange for yours. So he told you about the poor neighborhood he grew up in and the horrors he saw daily.
Did it lessen the impact of your venting? Most likely, but in his opinion, he was trying to show you that he trusted you now too. He assumed it worked when you fell asleep on his shoulder. He took care of Yukirou when she woke crying an hour later. He would’ve been a much better father than that bastard.
It didn’t help either that Yukirou began to see him as her daddy. He was there when she turned a year old, gifting her all sorts of things. Scolding her when she nibbled on his hands. Doing nearly everything a dad would.
Even when she managed to say ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ for the first time, it was when all three of you were in the room together. In her tiny mind, it was her family. Her mama and Dazai—her papa. Oda congratulated him for becoming a father when you came along one day with him to Bar Lupin.
It didn’t live up to Chuuya’s reaction when he first heard one of his guys call Dazai a doting father. The shortstack had gone up to him asking if he really was Yukirou’s dad—rumors went around at HQ quickly—and Dazai had to sadly reply that he wasn’t. Sometimes he wished he was. Months of time with you led to nights in bed where he dreamed of a universe that he was really the dad. That Yukirou had his brown eyes instead of her dad’s blue ones.
It wasn’t fair.
Nor were his growing feelings.
Dazai was smart. A genius thinker and planner. So of course he noticed how his heart began to rapidly beat around you. The sweating of his usually cold hands.
He’d had crushes in the past, sure. But it didn’t equate to this. Such a strong connection only made it worse. Was it wrong his Google history lately was filled with questions about confessing to and dating a single mom?
Did you even like him back?
That question couldn’t be answered by anyone but you. It scared him. You probably didn’t. Not as more than a brother, anyway. His suicidal ideation and tendencies scared off any woman who wanted more than sex. But he probably wouldn’t be living long anyway. So he’d have to shoot his shot eventually.
Which he did after another five months of consideration and thought. Dazai committed this act by simply asking you to sort out some notes for him. A total of eight. Each one had a single word on it. If you correctly put them together, it spelled:
‘I like you. Do you like me back?’
Much to his relief and shock, you did. You did, and he had hugged you so tightly. Tightening their bond, too.
So he became your boyfriend. And he wore the title of ‘dad’ to Yukirou gladly. The little girl saw him as her papa, and he couldn’t deny it. Even if it wasn’t biologically, she was his. And yours.
Dazai’s life used to be mundane and slow, yet with his new…family, he felt genuine happiness for once. A reason to live.
That was the greatest gift he could receive of all.
Regular Tags: @twst-om-lover, @xxcandlelightxx, @sinfulthoughtsposts.
Tags for everyone who interacted with this post (it’s over 100): @walking-simp, @hypocritic-trash-baby, @heartsfourdazai, @cheriiyaya, @depressed-monarch, @nyxt0t, @baby-tini, @h0nk3rs, @internet-angell, @cupidszvlvr, @owosamu, @my-dear-melancholy, @dazaibae, @nekomafumafufan18-blog, @cvsmois, @lizsano, @nanamiinto, @inojuuy, @reomarys, @mayanakahara, @briiscoolig, @maislovebot, @syona-sachyo, @xieqq2, @angelof-darkness, @moriiko, @fuckthisfuckingshit, @daushu, @wrynue, @amnda-ft-fyodor, @rain-alucard, @hanayoshiii, @moemoekunn, @thatwasa, @miiiloo, @probablyzombiedinosaurs, @mauviese, @chips-and-vinegar, @https-dazai, @rragudoru, @leyla3x0, @cheetozai, @jillyfsh, @rylerboi, @linaaeatsfamilies, @zorizoras, @onlinewhisper14, @komicoral, @anim3-simps, @theoddsinner, @caayye, @scaramow, @such-a-silly-little-gy, @bunnybs-stuff, @psychiclovecollective, @sleepy-yumi516, @fromjas, @suzurans-world, @mrstengenuzui, @mitislm, @tealover111, @edgarallanpoeswifey, @baby-tini, @yaz4luvv, @deliciouscandysalad, @isrealityevenreal, @briefcreationcandy, @astr3eaa, @underscoredaniii, @nolongerhooman, @notalooo, @ratinawetsocksweater, @tomiroro,
Rest in comments I’m crying now also if your tag is white it’s because you didn’t pop up when I was doing the @‘s
604 notes · View notes
wroteclassicaly · 11 months
Text
No one really prepared you for it. They’d told you, sure, but you were always scared, always afraid you’d do something wrong to hurt him, that it would be painful for you, that he wouldn’t be attracted to you after it was over, that things would smell that shouldn’t. Should you do this, should you do that? A plethora of reasons came with why you had remained a virgin until you were in your 20’s.
And then you had sex with Eddie Munson…
He admires your stamina, your newly accumulated energy. How you went from this shy girl with tears in her eyes the first time he pressed into your cunt and nearly blew his load then and there, to the girl that insisted on having her mouth, hand, or pussy around his cock a majority of the time. You weren’t scared any longer, but hungry, fucking starved for it after you had a taste. Sex is amazing, and Eddie Munson is your dedicated god to worship.
That smart ass mouth, those talented fingers. If you weren’t touching yourself thinking about them, you were begging him, teasing him for them. It didn’t matter where you were, either. Eddie had through his magazines and interest within their centerfold contents made him the freak, but you were into anything. Even camping with your friends didn’t stop you.
As soon as the tent was up, the rain shrouded everyone’s activities for the better part of the evening, you were shoving Eddie into the wind-whipped material and closing it with a hasty ease, not even bothering with its unclosed flaps. You had shoved his shirt up, pulled on his chain, helped him assist in getting his pants below his ass, and your panties were pulled to the side as you rode him with focussed vigor.
“Love this, Eds. You always feel so good.”
You babble when you’re gone. Eddie is arching, trying not to be your little puppet, but with your warm and wet pussy bouncing on him, your cream pouring out around your opening and soaking his bush — he whines. “Jesus Christ, baby. You’re such a little sex fiend now.”
“Oh?” You roll your hips into a more agonizingly slow set of movements. It’s enough for Eddie to hear the summer storm, the culprit of this ruined camp day (fuck, this is a better end result), and the smell of the fragrant scent of those white flowers on the tall trees and their overhanging branches, seeping into the tent’s expanse.
You lean down and he eagerly accepts a kiss from your swollen mouth, cupping your cheek to take another. Your nose nudges his own as you finish your sentence. “Since I’m such a fiend, guess who isn’t getting to cum?”
You really fucking love sex now. Especially with Eddie Munson.
2K notes · View notes
luvfy0dor · 7 months
Note
Hi there! First of all I wanna say that I like your writing very much and that you're doing a good job! Thanks you for your hard work!
My requets/scenario is something about the reader (GN or fem.) who is sick/ feverish and due to that dehydrated and refused to take her meds. So the BSD boys (already fed up with your whining about feeling sick and annoyed and they just want to help you feel better blahblahblah...) take the pills and water into their owb mouth and kisstge reader to maje them take their pills. And maybe romantic feelings are already in the air yet no one had the balls to say something yet? And afterwards saying something like "Swallow" or "Come on, be good" to make th reader swallow?
If possible with Chuuya, PM Dazai ( i don't think one can piss ADA Dazai off SO much he'd act like this XD) and with someone else you could think of or like to write for.
Thank youuuu!
"C'mon, be good..." BSD x GN!Reader
╰┈➤ PM!Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor ༉‧₊˚✧
Description; PM/Beast!Dazai, Chuuya, and Fyodor with sick reader who just absolutely refuses to take meds.
Warnings; Maybe ooc in Dazais part? I've only read vol.1 of beast : (, cursing
Tumblr media
A/N; I started writing this yesterday morning and I just got sick today (update it was just allergies it went away after a couple hours) what a coincidence!? Also tyssm for the compliment!! Ahh it means the world to me when y'all like my stuff!! ♡
Chuuya Nakahara ੈ✩‧₊˚
Chuuya is a busy man, and when you refuse to take your pills, you're only wasting the time that he sets aside for you by being difficult. He's gonna take care of you, and you're gonna like it too. (Who wouldn't?)
Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
"C'mon, I'm not gonna sit here and listen to your whining. It's just a pill, put it in your mouth and swallow it!" Chuuya exasperatedly says, flailing his arms as he talks. The bottle of pills makes a rattling sound in his hands as they move around. You just scoff, keeping your arms crossed in front of your chest.
"Maybe, but it feels so weird going down my throat and I don't like it!" You say, your voice groggy and your nose sniffly from your cold. Your eyes were half lidded as you frowned at Chuuya. "Oh, and you like being sniffly 'nd having a headache?" He says with a roll of the eyes, putting his hands on his hips.
You thought for a moment. No, ofcourse you didn't like this feeling, but you also really didn't like taking pills. Chuuya had even tried offering the liquid medicine, but you didn't want that either because the kind he had for you tasted bad. You slumped back into the couch you were sitting on, huddling the blanket up to your chest.
You sigh before shaking your head. "No, I don't." Chuuya nods. "So take the pills, here." He hands you water and the pills themselves. You stared them down for a moment. They looked utterly massive in your palm and you could already feel the fish oil-y substance sliding down your throat. You gagged, bringing your hand up to your mouth. You groan.
"For God's sake, are ya gonna take it or not?" He mumbles. "You know I don't wanna sit here and waste time arguing with your stupid ass." He says, pinching the bridge of his nose. You smiled, knowing he really didn't mean it. "Oh, or what? What if I don't take it?" Chuuya props his head up on his fist while glaring at you.
"Or else I'm gonna shove it down your throat and make you swallow it." He sighs, hearing you snicker a little. "Great wording, Chuuya. Well then, hurry up, I'm waiting." You raise your eyebrows playfully. He rubs his face with his hands exasperatedly. "You know I'm not being serious." He murmurs.
"Aw, why not?" You tilt your head teasingly. "Why do you want me to?" You averted your eyes, not having an answer. You shrugged.
"Dunno, it's just...a very you thing to do, so I'm just wondering what discouraged you." He sits up.
"Well, because you're my..." He thinks for a moment. "Really close friend, and I care about you 'nd stuff..." He says, very faintly blushing while averting his eyes. Had you not been around Chuuya so much, it would have gone completely unnoticed, but unfortunately for him, you had seen. And boy, were you gonna let him know.
"Aww, so you DO care! And here I thought you were just....angry." You tease. He scoffs. "C'mon, you're the very first to know that my temper isn't my only personality trait." He gets up from his seat, grabbing the pill and holding it up to your lips with one hand, water in the other. "Take it. Now." He says, looking into your eyes as he's bent down to your level while you lean back into the couch cushions.
"Chuuya, I told you I don't want to." He pushes the pill against your lips some more. "You clearly do, all day you've bitched and moaned about your headache, your temperature, your runny nose, and your sore throat. I'm done hearin' about it!" He glares at you. "C'mon and just take it, it'll be over before you know it."
You shake your head and turn it away from Chuuya, bringing the blanket up to guard your lips. He sighs, so fed up. You watch Chuuya take the pill into his own mouth, filling it with water before he roughly grabs your face and smashes his lips against yours. You're shocked, both by Chuuyas bold action, but also by the feeling of the pill in your mouth, slowly snaking down your throat as he pulls away.
"Ya swallowed it, right?" His face is a little softer now, but still seeming a little agitated. You nod. "Open up 'nd show me." You hesitate for a minute before opening your mouth. He inspects for a second before nodding. "Alright...Jesus, that was so hard for no reason." He runs his fingers through his hair, fanning himself with his hat. "It's so hot in here too...s'not just me, right? Why're you being so quiet?" He says, looking over at you as he pants a bit, his heart beating loudly in his chest. You just stare at him, a bit awestruck.
"Chuuya." Your fingers go up to softly brush over your lips. "You..just kissed me. What do you mean 'why're you so quiet'?" You say with a soft laugh, mocking his voice at the end of your sentence. His eyes widen, as if he were completely unaware of his actions. Instead of blushing or trying to excuse himself, all he did was shrug. "Well, I mean I know you're in love with me, it's real easy to see." He says, a grin creeping onto his face, making you blush.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever.." you laugh. Chuuya seemed pensive for a second, examining you while standing on the other side of the small room.
PM/Beast!Dazai Osamu ੈ✩‧₊˚
PM!Dazai is absolutely going to get this pill into your system, even if he has to shove it up your ass. Brotha is determined, and he's not gonna give up, so kissing you to get it down your throat was absolutely not off the table. As a matter of fact, it was probably one of his first choices...
Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
You hoist yourself up onto Dazais desk, shifting around and making yourself comfortable. The soft glow of the lamp illuminating the room, allowing you to observe smaller details, such as the marbled pattern in the floor tiles. After a few seconds, you hear the door open, the sound echoing in the relatively open space.
The fabric of your best friends black coat swayed behind him while he walked. You watched him approach the desk, a faint smile on his face. "Here, I brought you meds and water." He says, setting the pill bottles down on the hard wood surface. He notices the grimace on your face as you pick up the bottle and observe it. "Don't worry, they're the correct ones. I'm not trying to kill you." He says with a playful eyeroll.
You shake your head. "No, you're right, they're correct I just...ew, they're so...big." Dazai watches your facial expressions change intently as you study the pills. He sighs softly. "You'll live, these are prescribed to help people, not kill them. They'll go right down your throat, I promise." He says, sitting in one of his chairs, crossing one leg over the other.
"Well yeah but..." You say, sniffling. "There's nothing smaller...?" Dazai shakes his head. "Nope, that's all we got, so either take it or don't." He shrugs a little. You just give him a small glare. "If you chose not to take them, I don't wanna hear a single complaint from that big mouth you've got." Your friend says, twirling his finger a little as he passive aggressively points at you.
You just sigh and sip on the water her brought you. "Hey, that's supposed to be for taking that medicine." He says, his furrowed eyebrows really displaying his expression of annoyance. You continue sipping on the water until it's gone and completely empty. You can almost see steam coming out of his ears after that. He quickly gets up, walking over to the desk, and snatching the glass from the surface, angrily marching out.
You knew he'd be back, he has never angrily marched away from you for long. You just assumed he did it for dramatic effect at this point. A couple moments later, the doors swing open and Dazai walks in, his pace a little less aggressive but certainly faster. After closing the door, he walks up to you, shaking the pills out of the bottle until one was in his hands. He put the pill on his tongue before filling his mouth with water and roughly grabbing the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss.
You were caught FAR off guard. You had an inkling of a feeling that your feelings for your best friend were requited and not one sided as you previously thought, but now you were reassured. You leaned into the kiss, not even caring about the pill that was currently in your mouth. Dazai tilts your head back right before pulling away. "Swallow, got it?" He says firmly, his hand still placed on the back of your head. You nod right before swallowing the pill, suppressing a cough afterwards.
You deeply inhaled and exhaled seemingly desperately, almost gasping for air, considering your relatively sniffly nose. Once you caught your breath, the sound of your voice bouncing off the walls as you speak. "Good going, dumbass, now you're gonna get sick too..." You sniffle some more while blushing at the memory of Dazais action.
He just laughs for a moment, then shrugs. "Well, if I get sick I won't be a brat to you and refuse to take my pills, especially if you so kindly go out of your way to get them for me." You just scoff and roll your eyes. "Oh yeah, so far out of your way, fifty feet down the hallway is an utter journey, I'm sure." You reply back snarkily.
"Oh, it was." He says exaggeratedly. You just laugh a bit under your breath, examining the pill bottle again. "They better be miracle pills and cure you immediately after the struggle I put up to get them down your throat." He says, staring at you. "Well at least I know you care 'bout my safety." You give him a small smile, to which he reciprocates.
Fyodor Dostoevsky ੈ✩‧₊˚
Fyodor has so kindly offered to take care of you in your vulnerable moment of need, and he hoped you would be appreciative of that, but your unwillingness to take your pills does not really reassure his hope.
Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
Sniffles. Sniffles were all the filled the room the two of you sat in, you curled up in a blanket and Fyodor reading a book on a couch on the other side of the room. Most of the time, he had kept his distance from you because of your insistence on keeping him in good health. "Ugh, this is so annoying." You whined, rolling around in your blanket, your body language displaying just how fed up with this whole cold you were. You can hear a sigh from Fyodor, as will as the sound of his book closing.
"Well, y/n, I offered you pills and you have continuously refused to take them." He says, his face blank as he crosses his legs and rests his book on his lap. You just let out a soft whine. "Well yeah but....those pills are nasty, they're so big, I'll throw up before I can even try to feel better." You mumble, exasperatedly rubbing your face, pulling a bit at your skin. You can feel Fyodor staring at you from afar.
"Then I suppose you're not going to feel better as quickly as you potentially could." He replies, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and re-opening his book. "Well yeah, but like...well, in my defense you weren't very forceful about it." You say, trying to justify your actions. His attention turns back to you again.
"Oh, did you want me to be? I figured I wouldn't be forceful or push it onto you because you're very close to me." He says, almost as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Your heart couldn't help but flutter the tiniest but, a small smile coming over your face. "Well, I'm definitely gonna be more likely to take them if you're a little more insistent." You mumble a bit, to which he sighs, setting his book down once more and grabbing the pill bottle. He makes his way back over to you, holding the pill up to your mouth.
"Go on." He says, waiting for you to take the pill into your mouth, but you just grimace at it. "Okay, maybe I'm just not gonna take them.." you say, gagging at the idea. Fyodor just shakes his head. "You have to. As much as I don't want to force you to, I want you to feel better and stop complaining." He says softly. His face matches his words, not a single sharp edge or expression to either. He was gentle. You groan at the pill some more, earning yet another sigh from him.
"Okay." He shakes his head before placing the pill on his tongue and taking some of the water into his mouth. "Hey, what're you-" you're cut off by Fyodor softly pulling you into a kiss, passing the water and pill from his mouth to yours. After it's completely in your mouth, he pulls away but tilts your head back by guiding your chin upwards with his pointer finger. "Swallow." He mutters, watching your flustered facial expressions. You swallow the pill and water with a 'gulp' and stutter over your words a bit before you can get them completely out.
"That was really your method of choice?" You mutter, hiding your blushing face with your the back of your hand. He raises an eyebrow. "Is that not what you wanted me to do?" You rapidly shake your head. "No, no! I just...I don't even know, thank you...for helping me take my pills..and kissing me, 'nd stuff..." You mumble, a bit embarrassed but so giddy at the same time. He just smiles a bit and rubs your back gently.
"You're welcome. You're an open book for the most part, y/n. Very easy to read." He says softly, before reclaiming his seat on the couch. "Now, I don't want to raise my chances of myself getting sick, or else I would sit with you." He says, grabbing his book again. "Yeah, alright...fair." you mutter, still a little excited over the whole thing. You giggle a bit to yourself and he hears it, he can't help but smile ever so slightly in amusement.
Tumblr media
886 notes · View notes
chocsra · 8 months
Text
"Gentleman, you say?"
15! Chuuya x reader
Reader is implied to be fem!, could still be gn!
Warnings: swearing, alcohol
Contents: your mafioso roomate being annoying, fifteen era, mafia! reader, pre-relationship, idiots in love, teen romance, fluff, ooc? chuuya (idk)
Sorry for grammar! Not proofread!
Tumblr media
Working in the Port Mafia wasn't so hard.
You were granted a new family, money and status. There were a select few members who were noteably young, as young as teenagers. This was mainly because of the gifted, limiting manpower into making criminal organizations choose children as their subordinates.
You didn't really mind it--being a kid in the mafia. It had it's ups and downs, yes, you did murder; but what would you have been really doing if you tried to live as a civilian as a gifted?
One thing you didn't like though--even hated, was the Port Mafia dormitory.
Constant parties, the overwhelming scent of alcohol and cigarettes in hallways, and don't start on the drama. Your only source of peace was the empty unit next to yours--at least that gave some sort of silence in the dreadful nights of Yokohama. Cramped in the tight apartment that secretly held mafioso teenagers, ones which the other residents thought of as school delinquents.
Until that asshole took it; the short ginger boy with a permanent scowl on his face, the boy who had the best style you had ever seen. And you hated it. Ever since you were fifteen, he and his smelly bandaged friend would storm into his apartment; have the loudest arguments--no, fights in the middle of the night.
Before, if you couldn't sleep, a nice cup of hot milk and basking in the night's breeze would do the trick. Now, there was a 50/50 chance he was there smoking on the balcony next to you, alone or with that annoying mummy boy.
It's been a few months since then, and you were sure that he hasn't even recognized you once as his neighbour; and it pissed you off, considering the amount of sleepless nights he caused you. It was safe to say you had one-sided-beef with the boy who used screaming as his fight or flight response.
And because finding someone absolutely insufferable meant asking numerous people about them, you asked a few of your subordinates who were into drama about said boy, eager to learn more information about him. Because he pissed you off, is why.
"Oh, you mean Chuuya? He like, used to be the King of the Sheep before he joined the mafia, I'm pretty sure." Your friend chided, you and a few other girls were standing in front the doorframe of Kouyou's office, all surrounded in a circle. "Really? That's wild." You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. "Yeah, and the guy who recruited him is that emo guy; he's supposed to be Bosses successor, right?" She asks, twirling a strand of her hair. "His name is Dazai, and yeah. They're called 'Double Black' or something." Your other friend joined in.
Just as you were talking, a tall woman with ginger hair and pale skin stepped out of her office; her elegent hands clasped together under her pink kimono.
"What are you girls talking about?" The woman questioned, her hair tightly held up by long gold pins. "[Y/N] was just asking about Chuuya, sis." Your friend replied, you scoffed in response. "I was just asking because he's an annoying neighbour!" The other girls laughed. "Oh, Chuuya, I was recently requested to take him under my wing." Kouyou responded, revealing more information. "Actually? What do you think of him?" One of the quieter girls asked enthusiastically, the woman only chuckled in response.
"He's quite the gentleman, I'll say."
Kouyou's words only echoed in your ears as you lay in bed, a pillow ontop of your chest. "Gentleman.." You repeat, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. "Gentleman my ass!" You kick the wall next to your bed to no avail, tightly wrapping your arms around the pillow. "If he was, he would've seen how tired my eyes are from not sleeping.. and finally shut the fuck up.." You mutter with heavy eyelids. It was around 2 am. And it was one of those quiet nights, thankfully; but you still had trouble falling asleep.
As you were about to finally drift off to sleep, cradling your pillow in your arms; a loud strum of a guitar sprung you awake. It sounded like a electric guitar, and the person playing it had a shit ton of energy. A sultry voice sang melodically as loud waves of music crashed from his guitar. You had an idea of who it was.
Storming out of your cramped apartment, only in a thin t-shirt along with loose shorts, you scrammed over to Chuuya's apartment door angerly. "I swear to God.." You curse under your breath, the damn guitar still audible. Closing your fist, you firmly knock on the boy's door.
Knock, knock
The fast-paced strum of a rock song quickly stopped, light footsteps could be heard behind the steel shaft, before he finally unlocks it.
"Yeah?" The boy cracks the door open, he had his short ginger hair down; and he wasn't wearing the black fedora and choker like he usually did. A red and white electric base guitar slung lightly over his shoulder and stomach, the cord connected to the bottom, leading to what you assumed was his bedroom. Chuuya was wearing loose black sweatpants along with an oversized white t-shirt. Even though the boy was small and lean, you couldn't help but notice the exposed muscles on his forearms. 'Shit.' You cursed at yourself, before meeting his stormy blue eyes once more.
"You're so damn loud all the time, can't you play that at another time of day?" You huffed, crossing your arms. "There are people trying to sleep." It wasn't the safest option to yell at a criminal who had possible connections you had no idea of, but you were also a criminal, and would definitely kick his ass if he tried anything, right?
Chuuya looked at you with a slight frown, but you were right in the end, so he sighed and ran his lithe fingers through his ginger locks. "My bad." He mutters, feeling a bit embarrassed. "That's all you can say?" You murmur, you felt a little bad, but he was the waking cause of your terrible eyebags. "You could be a little more quiet next time." You add on, looking off to the side.
"Yeah, I know. My fault." The redhead said, apologizing begrudgingly. You only sighed and assured it's okay now before you soon left. Knowingly storming off into your apartment as the boy watched you with guilt yet irritation on his face.
Although the next morning, you rubbed your eyes and opened the door to take out the trash. Only noticing a small box infront of your doorstep with a yellow sticky note on it, you crouched down to properly read it.
'Sorry we had to meet that way, neigbour. Take this as a peace offering.
- Chuuya N.'
As you opened the box curiously, it was homemade packaged bento, along with a small corgi made out of rice on the side. The stupidity of it made you laugh a little. Even though his handwriting made you question if he knew how to write at all before this; a smile still crept on your face as you took the box and note inside.
"Quite the gentleman, huh?"
662 notes · View notes
justcallmesakira · 1 month
Text
PORT MAFIA RANPO WHO....
Sypnosis: How about an au where ranpo is in the port mafia and has this sugar crush on ADA! Reader?...
PM! Ranpo x GN reader
Warnings: implied stalking, port mafia ranrizz, indirect kiss
A/N: GUYS I SWEAR I DONT SIMP FOR RANPO I SWEAR!!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
PM! Ranpo who got this crush on you who works with the ada while passing by a candy shop amd couldnt get his eyes off you since then! What a lovely candy to devour...
PM! Ranpo who intentionally gives Mori the idea of joining with the ada just so he can see you more often. He know what he is doing
PM! Ranpo who realises that you still stay cautious around "The smartest executive in the whole world" even after he sweet talked you with words you would die to hear.
PM! Ranpo who doesnt send his minions to stalk you, he can just do it himself cant he? After all he is the most known and strategic man in the mafia..
PM! Ranpo who just loves barging in the agency when hes sure no ones there to mess around with you and try to rile you up by getting a bit too close.
PM! Ranpo who set out a whole plan late at night by making thugs chase after you just so he can "save you" at the end
PM! Ranpo cornering you while the others fight and putting the lolipop he was sucking on in your mouth and then leaving knowing damn well he got you weak in your knees
PM! Ranpo who knows you also have the yearning to go after him but is too shy to admit so he just keeps makkng you flustered till you give in
Tumblr media
A/N: this makes 0 sense but ehh i wa feeling bored
Tags: @biscuits-spooky-corner, @little-miss-chaoss
Divider crds! : @plutism
195 notes · View notes
zhonglisbeloved · 9 months
Text
Dazai Osamu; Guns [drabble]
I'm writing after a while so it's a bit rough and pretty short but let me know if I should turn it into a one short or something? Requests are open and more information about how to request is on my profile :)
afab reader x PM!Dazai Osamu
Warnings: NSFW content below, gun play
Tumblr media
PM!Dazai who would one day bring up gun play randomly while going through his collection of guns
PM!Dazai who smirks on hearing you agree and orders you to strip and wait for him in the room
PM!Dazai who eats you out and makes you cum on his tongue hard before taking his gun and removing all bullets except one
PM!Dazai who fucks you with that same gun and revels in the way you whine and cry out in pleasure, how your legs twitch and you spread them wider, you're his good little whore after all~
PM!Dazai who'll grab another loaded gun and stuff it down your throat, you're scared he'll accidentally pull the trigger? keep praying he won't because he's losing his mind as he watches your sweet cunt take the gun so easily and listens to your gags and moans while you suck on the second gun
PM!Dazai who'll make you cum so many times that all you can think about is him and his cock
PM!Dazai who makes you get on your knees and suck him off while he holds a gun to your head, he'll shoot if you stop, and you don't know if the gun is loaded or not
PM!Dazai who thoroughly enjoys your reactions, expressions, and sinful noises, such a good slut for him, aren't you?
729 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 ~°•*'▪︎
Fem!Cosplayer!Reader x Pm!Dazai Osamu
- I live with random inspirational drabbles that won't take me nowhere.
Tumblr media
Your cosplay is perfect.
The tie is tied tightly, the black coat on your shoulders secure, the bandages around your arms are tighten not to unravel, the ones in your neck loose not to hurt but at the same time secure not to collapse with every breath you take. The one in your face itches way less than you thought.
You are ready.
Near your home, in a little park very pretty and kept clean, your group of friends organises every saturday a "themed party", in which any cosplayer can join to have fun with others, make new friends with the same interests and generally spend a good time socialising. Today is one of those days, and you choose to cosplay someone you never did before; Dazai Osamu in his port mafia era.
Last time you went you cosplayed Tsukasa Yugi, and you want to make an easier cosplay this time (and also because you are madly in love with the former executive).
As expected, when you put feet there, you find other cosplayers with the same character as yours; some cosplaying Dazai from his present days, others mafia and one you met also had a red scarf around his neck, bandages on the other side of his face, which means Beast.
As you reach for your friend, the cosplay of one of the genshin impact characters sticking out, so colorful that it seems to just attract your gaze onto him, your feet reach the spot as a big smile frame your face.
"Oh, Yn! How are you doing? I'm glad you could come" he smiles politely as he takes a bite of the sandwich between his hands "Did you eat anything?" He asks then, before you could have any chance of answering.
"No, I will go now. Just wanted to stop by, you having fun?" You raise an eyebrow as you hit your friend on the elbow "You managed to cosplay who you wanted at the end? You won't bother me anymore now right?" His gaze totally tells you otherwise.
"...I'll just go eat something" your defeated toned makes him laugh as he begs you from behind your shoulders to forgive him.
As your hand grabs a sweet from the table, a hand tap your shoulder softly, almost not wanting to startle you. The touch makes you raise both eyebrow in curiosity as your head turns around to look.
First impression; a teen, just like you.
Second notice; bandages. Okay, must be cosplaying Dazai.
The teen is slender, very very thin, long fingers took behind their coat as their gaze flies sceptically on your form, brown, lifeless pupils engulfing you whole, as if they can grabs your cosplay and tear it apart; not to get you exposed and naked for some men impulses, just to want you out that outfit.
If this is a Dazai cosplay, it really is very authentic. You smirk "Woah, careful. Your cosplay is so real I could've mistaken you for the real Dazai Osamu there." you joke, keeping the sweet between your fingers, having the intention to wait for them to go away so that you can eat in peace.
Your words seems to make them beam, a sparkle that doesn't really come from their sincere soul appearing in their eyes. "Oh."
Simple.
Unimpressed.
Hollow.
Oh.
You blink at the unenthusiastic teen as they blinks and glances around in unease. Your limb flinch from the impulse to drag them out the party, since they don't seem to want to be here. If they didn't want to come, why did they bother so much to cosplay neatly?
"Do you.. want me to bring you out of here?" You doubtfully speak out, your hand placing on top of their shoulder, rough fabric rubbing under your fingers as you gently firm your grip.
Their head snaps towards you, a new light adorning their features before quickly dissipating itself as if it never existed. Their gaze is so empty, you can swear if Dazai Osamu ever were real, these eyes would be his.
After realising you asked them something, they carefully nods their head.
You stop with them in a more silent spot, maybe safer, before sitting down on the sidewalk, hearing their shuffling steps behind you before the figure appears, dragging itself down to sit on the spot next to yours.
"Are you okay?" You ask, tilting your head to the side.
This is not a good way to start a conversation, that's what your mind tells you.
"Yes, I am. I was bored. I heard a lot of music and laugher and happen to be curious" they answer, voice shallow, like a broken record playing itself in loop.
Your glance back at them "...so this is not a cosplay?" They blinks.
This time their vacant eyes rest on yours, so full of emotions, so different. "...yes, yes it is supposed to be." They don't seem too sincere, and now you don't really know what to think.
"...I mean, some bungo stray dogs outfits, if not all of them, can be used for the everyday living so I mean I get you if you casually decided to use them not to cosplay but in general. You just are one of the most proper cosplay of Dazai Osamu that I have ever seen. Way better than mine, my feminine face doesn't fit his features at all, I don't really have such a sharp jawline. Not that he has it that sharp but—" you stop yourself from talking, realising you are speaking with a stranger and not all of them are glad to hear you go too much talkative.
Their head turns to look at you after a few seconds, blinking eyes of a deer caught in the light as they tilt their head to the side with a frown "Why did you stop?" Such a simple question worked to ease the nerves on your stomach, even if it isn't strong enough to silence the voices in your head.
"Sometimes I tend to go overboard with talking, so I stop."
"Such a foolish thing to say. If we have a voice, better use it to the fullest, right?" They don't sound like they believes their own words.
This kid is giving you so much mixed signals it's making your head spin.
"...yeah. You are right" you softly smile as you glance back at the street, empty and free from any car passing. No one really take streets from this direction since there's nothing interesting in the zone where you live. It's not impossible but rare for cars to come this way.
They seem to be intentioned into asking you something, opening their mouth and closing it a couple of times before permanently keeping it shut, stuffing their chin on top of the knees, eyes dropping closed.
They look so tired.
You take a breath, imitating the position, one brown eye following your movement soundlessly. "...this feels peaceful" you mutter, a gentle smile grazing your lips. You don't drag your gaze towards theirs, who closed their eye after you stopped moving.
A phone start vibrating.
Once, twice, a grumble comes from the teen next to you they take out the device, placing it next to the ear; "Yes, boss?"
Boss?
Helplessly staring at the ground, the brunette often hums in understanding. "Got it. See you later. Byeee" shutting down the call they sighs dramatically, a note of their childish antics being shown for a fraction of second, before standing up looking like someone else rudely took them from their shoulders, forcing the motion.
"Looks like you gotta go" you smile, getting up as well as they turn their back to you. They don't talk. They don't even look at you. You just stands there, watching as their back disappears from the reach.
Realising they -or better he at this point- isn't a cosplayer will take you all the day, just as you are in your bed, stuffed between matress and blankets, you blink your eyes staring at the wall. The way your veins freeze, your breaths becoming uneven.
You hope with your whole being to never ever see him again.
109 notes · View notes
negativ3o · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
It's another late night in the Port Mafia. Dazai went drinking and fell asleep peacefully. Probably a rarity, thankfully chuuyas there to watch his partner.
141 notes · View notes
silawastaken · 2 months
Text
Since tiktok muted it you guys can have this 😖😖 if you've been ignored all day, this is why I'm sorry I got distracted T-T
idk if this is the platform for edits but this is the first one I've done in months and once again tiktok is useless now so yeah you guys can have this
86 notes · View notes
leclsrc · 1 year
Note
Uhhhh plsss number 24 prompt with Carlos
need some patience – cs55
genre: pwp, drabble, 1k celebration
24: deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer. title from this
nsfw warnings under the cut!
18+ because... fingering, dirty talk, praise, degradation too though
Carlos is criminally observant. It comes naturally, you suppose, what with racing and instincts and training and maybe even genetics. But the habit traverses outside of work, outside the car, and ends up putting you at great risk. Case in point, now—he’s got you caged underneath him, one of your hands on his firm chest.
“This is doing it for you.” He echoes what had started this conversation in the first place. You’d made an offhand remark about how big his hands are, how nice they feel, how dextrous his fingers look. “Turns you on.” Now he’s holding it against you, the little shit.
“I’d be clinically insane if it didn’t,” you talk back.
“Don’t get smart with me.” He smiles, leans closer and lets your lips meet. You’re grateful for it, tangling your hands in his hair and trying to pull him closer. The kiss deepens and you grow antsy, desperate for something more, bucking your hips upward to try and catch the friction you can’t find.
You whine, parting from him. “Please.”
“Tell me what you want,” he says, stern. You don’t need words. His thumb drags across your bitten lip, and on impulse—instinct, really—you drop it open, letting him press it onto your tongue. You suck on it, eyes glassy and begging, until his thumb’s wet and his vision is hazy.
“Fuck.” He runs it over your lips again, kissing you harder, tugging your tiny cotton shorts off. You’re wearing pink lace under, a bow right in the middle. A present.
“Touch me,” you say, on the cusp of begging. “Carlos, please.” He hasn’t even tugged your panties off and already your brain is half gone, reducing you to brief, stuttering sentences. 
“You know I love these,” he comments, his fingers light and ticklish around the lace. “You’re getting them all wet.” His hand comes down, a slap on your clit through the fabric that has you spasming with the sting, the subsequent pleasure. Your panties are pushed to the side, a gasp leaving you when he pushes two fingers in at once, already sensitive from waiting so long.
Carlos doesn’t need to physically restrain you, just mumbles something rough in your ear—“You’re gonna stay still for me, okay? Don’t move”—and you’re nodding along, docile, obedient.
You’re tight, muscles tensing when he curls his fingers and continues spilling filth from his mouth into your ear. You drop your head back, a throaty whine leaving you, trying not to move too much. Trying to be good for him. “Feels good?”
“Yea,” you murmur. “Amazing.”
He laughs, just as breathless as you are. “You like being stretched out like this? Bet you knew what you were doing commenting on my hands, baby. You knew you’d end up being fucked like this, hmm? You’re too spoiled, always getting what you want. Maybe I need to teach you a lesson, yeah? So you stop acting like a slut?”
“You’re being mean,” you whine. He curls his fingers hard and tears of overstimulation spring to your eyes, rolling softly down your cheeks. With a free hand, he wipes them away.
You hear yourself get wetter, sloppy around his fingers. He smiles. “Yeah? You’re getting wet.”
He pulls his fingers out to slap your clit, shoving them back in not even a minute later, not allowing a break. You whimper, writhing, fully disobeying his rule involuntarily. You’re so close, clenching hard around them, clit swollen and sensitive. He gazes down at you hungrily, his eyes darker than ever watching you whine and bounce around his fingers. And then his fingers curl just right and your whimpers taper off into nothing as you gush release all over his hand.
He’s praising you as you go, but it’s cloudy in the haze of your orgasm; you pull him close, let him nestle his head in the crook of your neck. You both stay put for a while. Then: “Your tongue isn’t so bad either.”
447 notes · View notes
fearandhatred · 9 days
Note
What would you write for the title "Forget-me-nots in your crown"? 👀
this is kinda long so i put it on ao3 too lol. spit this out in 2 hours so there are probably mistakes. apolocheese
<3
Crowley wavers by Jesus's side as he addresses a man named Matthew, sat at a taxpayer's booth, and says "follow me". And the man gets up to do so. Crowley hears the unspoken dismissal for what he thinks it is, and turns to leave, but Jesus stops him with a gentle hand on his forearm.
"Come," he tells him, "let's have dinner together."
They go to Matthew's house that night, bustling with the chatter of the other people Jesus invited to the dinner. Crowley stands next to Jesus and looks around, past the milling disciples and the table of food, to all these strangers. Taxpayers, prostitutes, idolators. Crowley feels lumped in, but also oddly out of place.
"Am I here as a sinner too, then?" he asks Jesus, teasingly, vulnerably.
Jesus looks back at him, eyes kind. "As a friend," he says simply, and Crowley could weep.
Not even a day passes after that before Crowley gets his next assignment from Hell.
-----
Crowley follows the mob all the way from Gethsemane to Golgotha, hidden in the shadows and carrying her basket full of flowers she doesn't actually sell. She sees Jesus's skin, welted and bleeding and bruised, no part left unmarred, but she doesn't interfere. She can't. She would miracle a lighter burden on his shoulders, healed cuts or softer soles, but she knows it wouldn't go unnoticed.
And she's ashamed to face him. So she just follows at the outskirts of the crowd of guards, opposers, and curious strays, and doesn't intervene.
But then Jesus stumbles and falls, pressed down violently under the weight of his cross, and Crowley rushes out without thinking, kneeling in front of him with a hastily miracled cup of water and dropping her basket of flowers from her arm. He looks up at her, eyes unsurprised at her presence and kind, always kind even when blinded with blood. He smiles. "Friend," he says softly before accepting the water Crowley brings to his mouth, and she tenses her jaw to hold herself together.
The mob and the generals stand silently, uninterrupting and observant. A rare reprieve of kindness, maybe, or another act of cruelty.
"After what I did?" Crowley says just as softly, fragile, a statement in the form of a question, trying to still her shaking hands so none of the water goes to waste. When she'd been told of her next temptation, that she would be the one to start the chain of events that would lead to Jesus's death, she had locked herself in for a week, close to deciding to go against orders for once in her life.
But she'd been too cowardly, too weak to do so, again, always. So she'd hid from Jesus instead.
"It is my Father's will," he tells her now as a fact, but with a tone so far from impassive it makes her quiver.
"Well," she says, uncertain and still ready to flee, but content with their proximity. "Is there anything I can do?" To help, is what she means. Let me ease your burden. Just then, one of the guards pushes down on the heavy cross with his foot in warning, brutish in the way he doesn't even look when he does it. Crowley lifts a hand instinctively, whether to nudge the guard away or lighten the weight of the cross she doesn't know, but Jesus gives her a glance of knowing, and her hand falls.
"Be kind," is all he says in response to her question. At first she thinks he just means be kind to everyone, a do-unto-others jab for a demon who betrayed her only friend, or a slight towards the guard. But he says it just loudly enough for her ears to hear and no one else's. And despite it all, she knows him. He looks unwaveringly at her, face honest and open. She knows that it's not just because of the torture and exhaustion he's endured that has stripped him down to his bare bones, but also because that is who he fundamentally is. And she knows he also means be kind to yourself.
She swallows, and the silence stretches on like they have all the time in the world, before the guard finally kicks at Jesus's side and yells at him to get up. He pushes himself onto his knees weakly but without protest, cross dragging down his back and leaving layers of skin scratched raw and gaping.
Be kind, his words ring in her head like they will until the end of time. Be kind to everyone, be kind to yourself. It'll be a long time before she can even start on the latter, but the first she can do. She can be kind to the man with kind eyes, her dear friend, a son with no choice but to do their father's will, a being destined to live only for others.
"Wait!" Crowley fumbles, reaching into her robes to disguise her miracling of more water. "Wait, please."
The guard mutters curses at her under his breath, but blessedly, he lifts an impatient brow in thin acquiescence. Crowley brings the water up to Jesus's lips again, and when he's drunk it all, he tilts his head tiredly in gratefulness. Another trickle of blood makes its way down the side of his face, and Crowley winces at the thorns digging viciously into his head, hammered into his skull like nails.
Unthinkingly, she reaches out and brushes his hair gently away from his eyes, careful not to have any stray strand pull on the thorns. Then, aching, she reaches out for the basket of flowers she discarded, plucking the first small bunch of flowers within reach.
Forget-me-nots. She would laugh if the realisation didn't cause her hands to resume their shaking. Because she is a sinner, she is sin itself, and her and Jesus should not be friends. They should not even be talking. But they are, and they do, and Crowley finds deep in her core that she would kill herself for him to remember her just as they were. Not as what she is but as who she is, as the true self that she thinks he sees when she's around him. As a friend. And she doesn't ever want to forget him.
She digs her nails into her palms to steady them, then brings her hands back up to his head. She weaves the small flowers into the thorns as carefully and intricately as the crown itself was woven, with hands just as stained. Forces herself to look at the blood crusted around the stems, the matted hair. The unworthiness, the uselessness of what she's doing.
When she's done, she pulls back with a sharp inhale as if coming back to herself, and looks away almost guiltily from the superficial bandages that are her small, insignificant flowers. Hates herself immediately for thinking that she of all beings could be the slightest balm for someone paying the price of sin.
But Jesus has never judged her for anything, and when she chances a glance back at him as he struggles to his feet, he's still looking at her. Looking at her with love, and with kindness. She thinks the kindness might mean more to her than anything else.
She slinks back into the shadows as the crowd moves forward.
-----
When they reach Golgotha, Crowley has discarded her flower basket, and she spots Aziraphale instantly in the growing crowd. She contemplates leaving him be, but she wants to get closer, so the chances of him not seeing her would be slim. She pushes through the crowd, steeling herself against Jesus's cries of pain. When she slithers up to Aziraphale's side, he turns and smiles at her in acknowledgement. She doesn't try to smile back.
In any other situation, she would laugh at how the only two beings she's acquainted with are an angel and the Son of God. For now, it just hurts.
"What–" she starts, then clears her throat as her voice cracks slightly with clogged-up tears. "What was it he said that got everyone so upset?" This time, her words come out as flatly curious and uncaring as she intended.
Aziraphale huffs out a breath. "'Be kind to each other'," he quotes.
"Oh," is all Crowley can reply at first. She turns away from Aziraphale to blink a sudden onslaught of tears away. "Yeah. That'll do it."
She stays until the sky darkens, long after everyone has gone and she's the only one in this place left alive. She lets the tears fall, then, looking up at the man splayed out on the cross, as human as anyone could be. She doesn't know if she'll ever be the same again. If there'll ever be anyone to care for her like he did.
Before she turns to leave, a single forget-me-not dislodges itself from the crown of thorns atop Jesus's lolling head and drifts softly down, landing softly on her outstretched palm.
32 notes · View notes
stuffeddeer · 6 months
Note
yk sometimes pm!dazai or ada!dazai takes off his trench coat and he only has his button up and waistcoat on? (its giving slay ngl) so maybe if he had a partner he’d occasionally lend his darling his coat because it’s cute and vv silly…
his coat pocket would have the weirdest things too: a crumpled page of the suicide book, a piece of bandaged that has yellowed due to oxidization, dog food etc
in my head im like how Dare he tarnish his beloved suicide book but that mf probably has 12 more copies at home lmao
I feel like instead of dog food he'd keep cat food for the street kitties that wander up to him :( he'd give them little pets and laugh so softly and sincerely as their heads bury into his coat pockets!!! He's all "You must've smelled the treats, hm? It's a good thing I keep them on hand for smart kitties like you," as he gently pushes them away so he can dig his hand in there to feed them rrgggg
PM!Dazai was shocked to see you shivering beside him. He was usually the one to get cold before you, and yet he found himself practically overheating in his black coat as he pulled it off his shoulders - at least that’s what he told you. Practically turning blue, you weren’t in any position to decline as he plopped it on your shoulders.
You immediately stuffed your hands in the pockets, trying to warm up your frozen fingers so they could move again. After a moment, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you turned slowly to look at the brunet.
“Dazai…”
“Yes, love?” He sends you a large grin, a teasing lilt in his tone.
You deadpanned, clearly unamused. “Your cold ass hand is not helping.”
His fingers intertwined with yours, his grin only growing as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll take my coat back if you’re gonna be ungrateful,” he stuck his tongue out.
You smirked before pulling Dazai in close, wrapping the coat around him as well by wrapping your arms around him. “I’d never be ungrateful to my lovely Dazai! C’mon, I’ll keep you warm, too.”
“But I’m not cold— “
“I felt your freezing hand, Dazai; You aren’t fooling me.”
ADA!Dazai doesn’t need a reason to give you his coat. You look cute, and he wants to help you look cuter. Reason enough, right?
The two of you were lounging around working at the agency, with you focused on the report Kunikida had politely asked you to take care of. Dazai had been on the opposite side of the room at his own desk, coat draped behind him on his chair as he stared at you. His face was resting in the palms of his hand, leaning forward on his desk to get a better look at you.
Wow…
The way the setting sun came in from the window to light up your face had Dazai perfectly silent, mesmerized by you and your beauty. A loud sneeze came from you, whole face scrunching up as your elbow covered your nose briefly. Your sincere apology before immediately going back to your work had Dazai holding back coos, just wanting to hold you close and dote on you in the moment. He stood up, heading over to your side of the room and standing behind you. His coat was draped over his arm, the fabric rubbing against you he leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.
“You must be getting a cold, hm?” He draped his beige trench coat over your shoulders, pulling your arms away from the report and stuffing them through the sleeves.
The action had you laughing, caught off guard as he pretty much dressed you in his coat. “You alright, Dazai?”
“Mhm, just wanted to keep you warm as your thoughtful boyfriend.” He leaned his body onto you, arms draped around your shoulders and chin digging into your head.
“Wow, you’re so sweet,” you replied sarcastically. Of course you knew he just wanted to see you wearing his oversized coat. “What would I do without you?”
Your hands slipped into the big pockets, letting out a soft chuckle as you pulled out crumpled up papers. “Do you keep these on hand?” You ask teasingly, reading the many ways to die as you flattened out the pages. In the margins were notes he must’ve scribbled down, many of which are just your name with little hearts scratched around them.
Dazai quickly snatched the pages from you, shoving them in the pockets of his white pants instead. “That’s nothing you need to worry about, love.”
137 notes · View notes
idiototheinternet · 13 days
Text
Would y'all like me to write a BSD highschool AU? Ideas i'm thinking of using include
ooc mori who takes okay care of dazai and is just overall really stressed and tired with being a surgeon
chuuya immediately thinking of dazai as an asshole because dazai is wearing a turtleneck under a hoodie from late August to the beginning of the school year, as well as having a blond 'sister' (in chuuya's mind, people with blond siblings are no good)
Old man yaoi between Fukuzawa and Mori
Late night conversations hanging out on the roof
Big sister Kouyou
Dazai is obsessed with sonic and may or may not force his friends to make what is technically the snapcube fandubs
Ranpo gathers information for both the school paper and the forensics club
Oda isn't dead and he and Ango are both newfound restraints for dazai
Poe edits the school paper and plays(loses) against Ranpo at clue on fridays
Atsushi has a striped ragdoll cat that follows him around
HALL MONITOR KUNIKIDA
Akutagawa tries to kill Atsushi on a daily basis by now
Chuuya has a big fluffy dog named Daisy Bell
Dazai somehow found a male calico and named it pickles
Yosano runs the forensics club and gets the ada gang together
Karl is judging and is co-writing this fanfic with me
38 notes · View notes
kavennnn · 8 months
Text
fic rec bcos not everyone in the world who can read it has read it and that is a problem, Magic and Mystery by Allegory_for_Hatred, it's a pretty popular fic but for very good reason, it's a crossover between Harry Potter and Bungou Stray Dogs and even if you arent a big fan of crossovers (i am not usually) this is really good, it's about 11 year old Dazai and they write him really well, although Harry isnt there (he legit isnt mentioned but im pretty sure this is one of those aus where he didnt have plot armour and died when he was a baby) it is really good seeing a younger Dazai interact with the rest of the cast, year one is complete and is incredible and really long and despite the fact that year one was started in like 2021 they are still writing year two!! like actually it's 93% (as of yesterday) complete and i know they are still working on it bcos ive watched the percentage go up over the weeks (ive been hyperfixated on M&M for months omg pls read it it's that good) also i didnt mention but there are no ships so,,, also even if you arent a big fan of hp (im not) it's still a very enjoyable fic
111 notes · View notes
that-one-raccoon · 6 months
Text
Hell's Hounds Magic and Mystery Incorrect Quotes
because i said so and because Coil just updated
Dazai: What are you talking about Hermione? You love it here!  Hermione: I'm not sure I do, I think I've just developed Stockholm syndrome.
George: Dazai's first detention, I'm so proud.  Fred: Whoa, back up. Why did they get detention?  Ron: Because they're an idiot.  Hermione, terrified: They can do that??
Dazai: *coughs blood*  Fred: Don't die, Dazai!  Dazai: Don't tell me what to do! Draco: I made tea.  Ron: I don't want tea.  Draco: I didn't make you tea. This is my tea.  Ron: Then why did you tell me?  Draco: It's a conversation starter.  Ron: It's a horrible conversation starter.  Draco: Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.
Ron: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like-  Ron, to Blaise: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual.  Dazai, to Hermione: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire.  Fred: There are two types of people.
Lockhart: You wanna fight?! You got one!  Dazai: Okay! *raises fists*  *Fred runs in, scoops Dazai up in their arms, and runs away carrying him*  Lockhart:  Lockhart: What?
George: You've been given a new job to do, but I'm worried it might make you angry.  Draco:  Just say it quick, like ripping off a band-aid.  George: You have to teach Dazai how to do magic.  Draco: ...put the band-aid back on.
Dazai: *gets set on fire and screams in agony*  Dazai: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.
Dazai: Arson? Oh, you mean "crime brûlée".
Dazai: I’m telling you, my dogs are competent.  Blaise, rushing in: Dazai! Fred tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!
George: If I can't cause tiny bits of chaos every day, I think my body will shut down.
Fred: Dazai, wake up!  Dazai, half asleep: Five more minutes…  Fred: You’ve been in a coma for two years!  Dazai: …  Dazai: Okay, two more minutes…
Fred: I’ve only had Dazai for a day and a half but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.
George: Hey, can we stay in your dorm tonight?  Dazai: Why?  George: Fred fiddled with an ouija board and cursed ours.  Hermione: Ron doesn't know how to banish spirits, so he just threw salt at them and yelled "DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A HOTEL TO YOU?!"
Draco: What are you planning to do?  Fred: Hey, now.  "Planning"?!  Do you KNOW who you're talking to?!
Draco: Stop failing.  Dazai: Don’t tell me what to do! I'll fail right now!  Dazai: *Succeeds*  Dazai: Dang it!
Draco: How do you sleep at night knowing people don’t like you?  Dazai: With the fan on.
81 notes · View notes
ddostoyevskyy · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
LOVING THE MOON
ALTERNATIVE TITLE: WHEN THE NIGHT APPEARS
Dazai Osamu
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... f!reader, suicide ideation, PM!reader, PM!Dazai, major character death, written in 1st person's point of view (use of I and me), romanticization of suicide, sensitive topics, reader is described long haired for plot purposes.
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... I feel worse, so I have to write it off. A short drabble. I'm sorry if this is nowhere near Dazai's character, I just need to get this out of my system before I kms. Don’t hesitate to request, my request box is always open:)
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒... 2.124k
MASTERLIST.
Tumblr media
There is a boy I have watched from afar. A boy with brown, curly hair and dark eyes. I watched him through the shadows where I'm certain he can never see me through those bandages wrapped around his head, covering one of his vision. He's ruthless with his subordinates; despite his slender figure yet broad shoulders that was draped by his dark coat and set of bandages covering his arms where his longsleeve, white button-up shows — he can throw a hell of a punch and kicks.
Mori Ougai, as I remembered my boss' name assigned me to watch over his youngest executive in the darkness where I am always out of reach; my ability were as black as my clothes and the dark circles around my eyes because of the sleepless nights with countless nightmares and horrors of screams are always haunting me to sleep. Mori Ougai told me to be aware as the boy I've been watching from afar became more fearless and formidable.
And, I always told to myself that someone as strong as him is not fitted for the Port Mafia. He can be something more. His strength and capability of surviving in the middle of fights and gunfires are admirable, that I know I cannot do life like him nor survive in such thing called life. I watched him through the darkness where it looks like he is the light; the form of strength and beauty at the same time despite clouding with grey clouds that never rains.
I have heard of his ability and I think he can help me tame those beasts in my nightmares.
But, I think he could only murder me in my sleep if I dare to.
He looks so out of reach despite being near in sight.
Moon.
That's what he reminds me of.
My whole world stayed still, heart pacing in such waves of emotions when one day, his dark eyes averted to the darkness where I've always been for the past four years since he and I were fifteen. My breath caught on my throat, but I held back my voice. His brown eyes held little to no emotion, but I could see a hint of confusion and amusement.
He saw me.
For the first time in my life, someone saw me despite hidden in the dark —hidden in the depths of my ability.
My silent gasp surely had reach his ears by the way he’s now intently looking at me without blinking, a slight smirk mused on his lips. “What do we have here? Are you real? I’m not hallucinating that there’s a pretty woman staring back at me, am I?”
The men in black glances at him with furrowed eyebrows as they averted their gazes to where the dark haired man staring at. That’s impossible, did he really saw me? Or maybe he’s really just hallucinating the way he called me... pretty. Nevertheless, I bit back my voice and stayed silent in the darkness of my ability, but his dark eyes never left me the whole time process of their assigned mission.
“Dazai?” A man’s voice appeared, Oda Sakunosuke, a Port Mafia member who never shot any bullet from his gun, a man with morals. His hair is dark maroon while his eyes are in a shade of sky blue with a stubble face. “Where are you looking at?”
He pointed in my direction as I stayed quiet. “Do we have a new Port Mafia member?”
Oda’s eyebrow furrowed, “None that I know. Why?”
“Is there any ability user who use shadows?”
“There’s one, I think the boss has been keeping and another high ranked like you, but I don’t really know any details. I was told this upper rank is only active at night.” Oda answered as he stared where Dazai has been looking too and I internally screamed. Did that man noticed me too? I’ve been hiding and watching him for four years, and now, he have taken notice of my presence.
“Do you see her? There,” Dazai pointed on my direction again as I shifted on my position, the darkness following me whenever I move, whenever I go and even in my sleep as they appear in my dreams. “She’s moving away, Odasaku! Let’s catch her.”
Shit! I hissed under my breath. Mori Ougai told me that if this man ever notice my presence, I should never face him.
But just like the moonlight shining through the darkness of the night, I can’t escape its light even if I hide through its own darkness; through its own shadows.
My breath were caught when a surprisingly warm hand despite his cold demeanor had caught my wrist as I abruptly stopped when a green dust of light appeared before my eyes and all those darkness I’ve been hiding from disappeared, the coldness I’ve felt for almost my whole life momentarily fading.
“See, I told you, Odasaku! I’m not hallucinating!” He said, enthusiastically and I frowned, a shaky sigh escapes my lips as I kept my head lowered while his fingers wrapped around my wrist in a firm grip. It was so warm as though soaked in a summer sun with an evident of rough fingertips that sent tingling jolts on my spine. Warm, that is only the thing on my mind.
Why don’t night can’t feel like this? Like the touch of his hand; like the sudden momentarily sparks of euphoria in my system. Night always feels cold and scary and I can’t enjoy the dose of the daylight because I’m always hiding in the dark. It burns in my skin as if my flesh is on flame as he tugged me near the sunlight as I hissed.
My eyes averted to the man with maroon hair as he stared back at me with furrowed eyebrows.
“(Name)?” My name escapes his lips and I pursed mine.
“You know her? (Name)?”
“I thought you were dead, (Name).” Dazai momentarily let go of my wrist, yet I felt him tug on the hem of my dark coat’s sleeve as Oda stepped closer to me. I have known him, Oda Sakunosuke. He’s also the reason why I am not eaten properly by my own ability and now he had found me once again.
“I thought so too... Sakunosuke.” My voice came off as whisper.
“You look worse than the last time I saw you,” He retorted and my lips formed in a small pout. He didn’t have to tell me the obvious, but I feel warmer than I expected as he put a hand on top of my head before softly patting. “But I’m glad, you’re alright.”
My lips softly parted as I breathed. He sounds like a father scolding his daughter now, and I don’t blame him for that.
I was too drawn to the moon that I never realized I finally liking the night.
Oda managed to pull me out of the darkness again with the help of him; the man who made me love the moon again. I can’t help but to appreciate such short time Dazai Osamu and I known each other — even though, I’ve known him for years, there’s nothing to compare to when he’s already been aware of my presence even in darkness. I viewed him as the moon — shining so bright in the dark, despite his dark eyes. Or maybe I’m just too lonely that I seek his warmth that he made me feel in just a touch of a hand.
I am addicted to the moon and its scent.
The sparkles of the moon in the dark sky is something I never adored. But this moment when Dazai and I coincidentally met on the rooftop of the Port Mafia’s headquarters. His scent alcohol mixed with cigarettes, both sending tingling sensation on my sense of smell.
“The boss told me I could find you here,” He leaned on the railings with both of his arms folded as I am seated at the edge of railings. “Penny for thoughts of a pretty lady?”
A random thought came across in my mind as I glance at him, his dark eyes already looking at me. Despite its hollow and emptiness, it sparkles under the bright full moon and it made my heart flutter as my gaze softened, my lips parting slowly as I licked my lips before I raise my arm, letting go one of my will to live as my other hand gripping the railings.
I finally caressed the moon.
My hand planted on his dark hair that was surprisingly soft in my fingertips. I could feel him halt on my touch as I grab a few strands of his hair covering his face.
“I want to cut my hair this short and I want to buy a pretty white dress, so I will look beautiful when I die.”
The moon is also looking back at me.
He turned completely silent as he stared at me, examining my face as his gaze hovers on my lips before his brown eyes came back to mine. He let me caress his hair as I brush it away from his handsome face.
“You’re drown to death too?” He muttered, voice basking with the wind as though caressing me in such a gentle manner — but there’s no gentle in his manners, nor mercy with his beauty caressed by the moon.
“Maybe,” I answered with honestly. “My life has been slipping away eversince Mister Mori asked me to watch over you. I have been stucked in my ability which conquers me to the darkness for all my life.”
The moon smiles at me.
Although, not a heartwarming smile, he gave me a smile that made my heart shivered.
“How do I look?” He grinned and my heart can’t do it anymore.
I called the moon pretty.
“Pretty.” I mindlessly said as his grin fade a little, his reaction really caught off guard but his smile came back again as he shook his head.
“Someone had called me bastard and stupid, but I never thought I will encounter someone who’ll call me something unexpected.” He marveled at the way my face flushed in shade of embarrassment as I pull my hand away from caressing his hair.
“(Name), if I give you a reason to live, will you take it and live with me?”
The moon gave me a reason to live.
My eyes darted on him, almost a glare with furrowed eyebrows as he anticipated my answer, but I fell silent like my sleepless night without my horrors of screams as though my nightmares are already calm, the waves of my emotions are already tamed; that I am no longer in the dark. He grabbed my wrist like he did when he had nullified my ability of darkness — tonight, he grabbed my wrist to pull me away from death.
“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”
The only thing I could muster to say to the moon as it stared back at me with those dark eyes that held emotion I didn’t understand at first. But, when I realized it after he left — after a friend had died, I hid with the darkness again where I belonged before he pulled me into the light of his own darkness.
The moon brought light to me as it also push me to the pit of darkness again, darkness I called warmth as he gazed at me.
He made me love the moon; the moon that he is — illuminating and dominating against those multiple stars that I never noticed until my heart chose to. If that what makes him the moon, I can be the stars — shining in the dark sky and blinded in the moonlight. Both planets and orbits lined up in the universe and in the middle of it, there’s the moon that gave me the reason to live. I realized how much of an impact he emotionally gave me unconsciously.
The day he left, the day I appreciated the full moon; the moon that resembles Dazai Osamu — the mysterious man who made me leave the dark I am used to. And, the day he left, he brought my heart with him.
My moon.
Tumblr media
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved 2023 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.
101 notes · View notes