So I Was Bored And Made This

A second attempt at drawing Dazai Dark Era digitally

I think it turned out far better this time

I still love him

No matter how tiny

I had some spare time today so I drew a little Chuuya..but then I realised I made him a bit TOO little..

biting the bullet (literally)

Was scrolling through AO3 and found this gem

Enemy to parent is a trope we have to popularise lmao

Dadmori

🦉

My partner critiques my fics in memes, I felt this on a very personal level.

⭐️senior year sucks⭐️

Henry Bowers x FEM!Reader

Chapter summery: you deal with Henry and his wounds. As the night grows later, the heart grows fonder.

Word count: 3,015

Estimated read time: 14 min

A/N: please read my important update on my page if you haven’t already

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Chapter 6

I won’t tell if you won’t

You get to the house gate and gently open it before ushering Henry to walk to the front door while you lock the gate. After a second of locking you jog over and meet him on the porch.

“Kevin is asleep, so keep your fucking mouth shut till I say so” you remark as you put your hand on the handle.

“Why? Don’t want your boyfriend to see you with another guy” Henry growled.

“I’m not even responding to that bullshit anymore dude.”You roll your eyes and take his hand again before opening the door. Henry follows you inside and you drag him up the stairs quietly. Once in your room you shut the door and take a towel from the hamper and shove it against the bottom part of your door to keep your voices from carrying.

“Sit down while I get everything.” You say kindly.

“Fuck you. Why did you even bring me up here?” You can see even as he speaks with hatred he’s still shaking. You hated to say it but as much as he was annoying you, you felt bad for him.

“Can you just fucking cooperate for 2 fucking seconds, Henry?” As you snap at him, killer stirs from his slumber on the bed. He growls lowly at Henry. You snap your fingers while your back is turned to the 2 of them and killer immediately softens. You pick up everything Kevin got you from the pharmacy. In retrospect you are kinda glad you were there for the fight. Otherwise you wouldn’t have had everything you needed to fix him up. You drop everything onto the bed and stand before Henry as he sits on the edge of the bed.

You look at him expectantly but he just glares at you.

“If I ask you to do something will you do it or will I have to do it myself?” You ask. You become aware of the fact you feel completely exposed. You are only in shorts and a short sleeve big shirt. Your tattoo is on full display. Your arm is on full display.

Henry grunts and you take that as a, “no I won't be helpful for 2 seconds so you can do something nice, even though I literally beat the tar out of you”

You reach out to him and he flinches. You still, then try again but slower. You take your robe off his shoulders and drop it to the floor beside the bed. You have to ask him to do something you really don’t want to. You have to ask him for something you know he will fight you on.

“Henry,” you state and his eyes don’t falter from yours. “I need you to take off your shirt” again without removing his eyes from yours in a steady glare he says.

“Fuck. You.”

You click your tongue. “Tu padre.” You snap back. “Either you take it off or I will. !” You just need him to stop being so fucking difficult.

Finally. His eyes move from yours to the floor as he stands. He turns around slowly and begins to shake harder. Is he scared? Embarrassed? What’s wrong? You find out what's wrong as he lifts up his shirt with his back turned to you. He’s covered in scars. Fresh cuts litter his skin along with bruises. Some look years old, some weeks, and some not even an hour ago. Long discolored marks across his back stand out against his tan skin.

He has a fresh(ish) cigarette burn on his back, maybe from a day ago? Who cares when it was from? It still looked painful. You pick up the Bactine spray and the cotton pads. You place a flat palm to the unharmed part of his back and he flinches. He’s still shaking like crazy. His skin is so warm and he smells like cigarettes, rain, and fire. You love the smell. If you could put it in a candle you would.

“This is gonna sting like a bitch.” You warn softly and he nods.

“Just fucking get it over with.”

So you do. You take the spray and do 1 spray on each individual cut and burn including the one on his neck (which was a little harder to get because he’s so much taller than you, and he was doing you no favors). Once you sprayed them you cleaned them with the cotton pads and covered them with bandages. Once you finish the cuts you lean down beside him to grab the bruise cream. You swear, that out of the corner of your eye, you say Henry bowers with tears on his face. You make no comment, you put the cream on your fingers and rub it into the bruises. New or old. You didn’t care, you wanted to help him heal faster.

“Henry…” you say as gently as possible. “Turn around.”

You could see from his back that there was bruising on his ribs and you needed to not only apply medicine but also make sure nothing was broken.

“No.”

“Henry please. Your ribs could be broken just turn around.”

“I said. Fuck. No.”

“He-“ you were cut off by his arm coming back to hit you. You tried to grab it and it caused a struggle. Eventually after some fighting you flipped Henry around and pinned him to your bed. You didn’t want to hurt him but you didn’t know what to do. You sat on his hips and released his arms. They immediately went to hide his face. You pick the cream back up and gently rub it in. After you finish you gently press 2 fingers around the bruise.

“Does it hurt here?”

“No..”

“How about here”

“…” no reply, you guess that means a little. You press one more time to the darkest part of the bruise and ask again.

“Here?”

He hissed in pain as a reply. He has 1 broken rib and you think 2 bruised ribs.

“You have a broken rib and a couple bruised ones, if you ice them and don’t terrorize people for a few weeks you should be fine. No need for a hospital.”

He scoffs at you and pushes you off him. He stands to put his shirt back on. Wincing as he reached down then put his arms above his head to get it back on.

“Sorry about throwing dirt at you.” You snort. He didn’t seem to find it as funny as he sat back down on the bed beside Killer who was out like a light again .

“If you want I can turn on a movie and you can leave when you feel better?”

“I don’t want your fuckin pity.” He hissed.

“It’s not pity, it’s worry. And judging by the fact you ran into my shed, I’d say you don’t have anywhere else to go. Why not put up with me for a few hours until you feel better?” god talking to him was infuriating.

He didn’t reply to your comment, he just looked at your tattoo.

“When’d ya get that?”

“2 years ago”

“Why do you hide it at school?”

“The people in this town are major fuckin judge boats and I don’t need anyone having an opinion on something that is special to me” you deadpan.

He snorts “you got that fuckin right.” He agrees. He looks over to killer on the bed and questions, “what kind of a fuckin name is killer?”

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of this situation. Henry Bowers, on your bed, asking about your weird ass dog.

You tell him the story and notice he’s shaking a little less. “When I was like 8 I told Kevin while he was babysitting me and Issac that if I ever had a big scary dog, I’d name it killer because I think it’s a cute name and everyone else would find it soooo scary” you mock yourself. “So when Kev got him for me a year ago he just named him that.”

He thinks for a second, smiling a little at the story.

“Issac?” He questions.

“He was my best friend growing up. Died a few years ago from cancer. That’s when Kevin moved here” you felt like every time the 2 of you exchanged words the less he shook and the more relaxed you both became.

There was still blood on his face but you dared not ask him to clean it. You already pushed him so far tonight.

“You need any food?” You inquired.

“Fuck yes. I’m starving.” He groans. You liked him like this. Relaxed. Not being a dick. You can’t deny you found him extremely attractive.

Oh shit.

You like Henry Bowers.

The boy who fucking terrorizes your friends. The boy who gave you a black eye when you tried to help him. The boy you are currently sneaking into the kitchen with for some late night food. You have a huge crush. On Henry fucking Bowers. You turn on the light to the kitchen while you and Henry scavenge. You whisper to him to “take anything you like” after some fumbling around in the cupboard you drop a plastic container of cookies on the floor with a loud “THUD”.

You and henry freeze. Looking at each other with fear that you woke up Kevin. As if on cue you hear Kevin’s grumble from his room.

“______?” Your name comes to your ears through the door.

“Yeah? I’m just getting some food.” You look to Henry in panic and he’s just as lost as you.

“Okay big back. Stop makin so much fuckin noise” Kevin calls then goes back to bed.

You snort and Henry almost dies trying to hold in a laugh. Only your best friend would call you a big back while half asleep.

You and Henry finish getting some food and make your way back up the stairs. You sit on the bed together and turn on some stupid ass movie that you really aren’t paying attention to. The pair of you just talk.

“Bev told me you weren’t at school the rest of the day. You ditch?” He stiffened then relaxed.

“I lost my dads knife while we were chasing after you and those losers. Spent the rest of the day looking for it and never found it. Got home a little over an hour ago hoping my dad would be asleep. He wasn’t. The school called him about me ditching and he was pissed. Then he asked for the knife I took from him and he got even more pissed….” He trails of sadly.

You put 2 and 2 together. Henry’s dad hits him. You frown at the realization and really just want to give him a hug. He dosnt deserve that, sure he’s a fuckin prick most of the time, but you think that’s only a product of his dad hitting him.

Henry clears his throat before asking you a question to switch topics.

“So.. why’d you move here, with this guy?”

“That, my friend, is a long sad story I’m sure you don’t wanna hear.” You chuckle.

He leans back and props himself on his elbows on your bed. “Humor me.” He stated.

Fuck he was so attractive. This was not a crush you would be beating.

You sigh. Starting the story. “I have no idea where my parents are. They were the worst people ever. I tried to get the law involved multiple times to get out of that house but they didn’t help…” should you be telling Henry this? What if he tells someone else? Fuck. Here goes. “Both my parents abused me. My dad sexually abused me for years. And my mom beat me until I was blue. Eventually they started getting worse. Broken arms with no hospital visit to fix it. A concussion with no help.”

“One day I called Kevin and told him to get me out of there. He said he would book me a plane ticket if I could legally leave and they would not try anything. He didn’t want to get in trouble for harboring a runaway. I took emancipation papers to my mom and she beat the fuck out of me… she broke my phone knowing that was the only way I could talk to Kevin. When she was done she kicked me out. I didn’t have any friends and nowhere to go. So for three weeks I was completely homeless. The day I turned 18 I went back to the house. I took a sheriff with me to throw all my clothes and shit that I bought, with my own money in trash bags and I was allowed to stay at a shelter for a few days while I legitimately packed and got a hold of Kevin. He booked me the ticket and here I am. He told me I could stay here as long as I want.” You played with your hands in your lap and didn’t look at Henry.

You were scared of what he would say. What does he think of you? You finally get the courage to look up and he’s staring at you with these eyes? Confusion? Hurt maybe? You aren’t sure. You take the pressure off him answering and change the topic.

“Does all this mean you’ll be nice to me at school now?” You ask jokingly. You can tell he appreciates the subject change and snorts at the question.

“Fuck no. We aren’t friends. We just live next to each other” he rolls his eyes like that’s such an obvious answer. You belly laugh at it.

As the night goes on you continue to talk. You look at him as he focuses on the tv. You touch his arm and get his attention. He looks back to you and you feel your heart well up.

“If you ever need anything, text me ok?” You give him your phone to put in his number. Without a word he enters the number and sends himself a text. You know he won’t ever text you that he’s hurt or sad. But giving him the option of it makes you feel better.

You look at the clock and see it’s almost midnight, Henry notices and begins to stand.

“You going?”

“Yeah. My dad should be asleep by now.”

“Okay” you gently smile at him. “Make sure you lock the gates on your way out.”

“No need. I'll hop ‘em.”

You glare at him. “You better fucking not! You need to lay off that broken rib”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Fine. Your fucking highness. Bye” and as quickly as he ran across your property. He went.

You shut off the tv and clean your bed off before getting cozy. You knew tomorrow would be ok. You understood that you and Henry had an unspoken understanding of ‘I won’t say anything if you won’t’. And you wouldn’t. He wouldn’t tell anyone about your tattoo. And you wouldn't tell anyone he was in your shed tonight.

You cozy up under the covers with killer, who had unsurprisingly stayed asleep that entire time. It was a pretty good night. But what in the world were you supposed to do with this crush you had on the infamous Henry Bowers?

While you fell asleep Henry walked home. He was right. His dad was passed out. On a throne of beer bottles in the living room. Henry walked to his room and went to his mirror. He dosnt know why… but he takes his shirt off. Once his shirt hits the grounds he takes a look at the bandages you dressed him with on his torso and neck. Then he turns around and looks at his back. He sniffs out a gentle laugh as he sees that On the cigarette burn that was in the middle of his back on the left side, is a little pink Sesame Street band aid. The only “fun” bandage. All the other ones were beige.

All his cuts and bruises are dressed and covered in eithe ointment or a bandage. Even the old bruises that were almost healed has cream on them. He bends down to pick up his shirt and winces at his broken rib. He throws the shirt on his bed and walks to his bathroom to look in the mirror. All the blood from his busted eyebrow had dried and was a bitch to wash off. He dries his face and walks to his room. He locks his door before removing his pants. He down slowly in his bed trying not to irritate hide ribs and back. Clad in only his boxers he thinks about you.

He was fucking awful to you and he knew it. He saw the bruises on your arm and face in his mind and cringed. You were so caring for no reason. There was no reason in the world that he could have given to you to gain your help. But you did. You calmed him. Fed him. And even fixed him up. He dosnt know if you told him that story about your parents because of what he told you or not. He didn’t care though. He liked knowing, he felt like knowing about your past made him special. Though he’d never admit that.

A thought flashed through his mind that made him angry. ‘Maybe i hate her because she’s me, but better?’. That idea confused him. You had gone through abuse your whole life. Just as he had. But you were happy. You were free. You had someone who was willing to take you. He dosn’t find it fair that 2 people can go through the same thing and one can still end up better than the other. How was that possible?

He switches topics in his mind. You let him see you today. He saw your personality, your smile, your tattoo. He liked that at multiple points in the night, that bright smile was directed at him and things he said. Your laughter made his stomach hurt. Maybe he was getting sick? He didn’t say anything. But while you were laying on the bed, he looked at your tattoo arm. He saw a few small scars here and there. He wanted to know the story of every fucking mark. He couldn’t tell any of the others about you. He always kept his fellings private. And right now his curiosity of you was growing and mutating, but he didn’t know into what.

He thought of you and while he slipped into calm dreams. Dreams of your laugh. Dreams of you at the record store. Dreams of just, you

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Hope you enjoyed!

@amber-sekio new chapter!

It’s always

“When will fanfic writers update their stories?”

And never

“Does this fanfic writer have adequate enrichment to engage in writing behaviours?”

Fanfiction writers (Scriptor fictus) are intelligent animals who need plenty of enrichment as well as encouragement! If they’re stuck in poor conditions (e.g. have studies, work, have to actually write to have something written) then they require the proper enrichment to engage in more healthy behaviours, like writing. Remember, due to poor breeding and socialisation, over half of all fanfic writers suffer from low self confidence and executive dysfunction so take care of them!

Give your fanfic writers proper care. Fanfiction writers are a life long commitment.

And if you can forgive, love will truly live

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Dazai x Reader

Prompt: “'Sorry for showing up like this.’ You sighed, your shoulders relaxing in silent defeat. ‘Come in.’” 

TW: mentions of death (Oda), mentioned bad home life though not explicit

!Gender of reader is not specified!

A/N: I do plan on making a 2nd part where the reader and Dazai talk things out and get in a relationship, not sure when I'll finish it though

The word count for chapter 1 is roughly 2k

Also, this will be posted on my ao3, link on my master list

You had known Dazai for a long time, perhaps not as long as Chuuya has, but that’s beside the point.  

While you had grown up around shady people and been dealing with said shady people’s shady shit pretty much your whole life, courtesy of your shitty, shady parents, you hadn’t actually joined the Port Mafia until you were 17. Two years older than Dazai and Chuuya, but joined the Mafia around roughly the same time Chuuya had.  

With your ability, it didn’t take long for you to begin to climb the ranks. It wasn’t like you were trying to specifically reach the rank of executive, but gradually, you crept closer.  

About a year and a half after you had joined you had made a name for yourself, and that was also about the time you had met Dazai and Chuuya for the first time during a bigger mission.  

You had somehow managed to become something like friends with them on that mission and had become a somewhat regularity to be paired with them on large missions. You were tough enough to handle both their eccentric personalities as well as teasing enough to get along with Dazai and passionate enough to friend Chuuya.  

It was a weird trio you had formed, often being the one to defuse them when they began to bicker. And of course, apologizing when they disturbed the everyday citizens with their fighting when the three of you had time off to just be kids.  

Over time, you had begun to grow closer and fonder of Dazai, being able to relate to him more often than one probably should, but whatever. Sometimes, the two of you would find each other silently sitting at the docks staring off into nothingness, neither of you would talk, just simply get lost in your endless thoughts while enjoying the presence of someone who was similar enough to understand you.   

On one such occasion Dazai had broken the endless silence of the waves below your feet; inviting you to join him to meet with his bar friends. That was when you met Ango and Oda. They were pleasant company and you had found yourself growing attached to them just like you knew Dazai was, though he would’ve probably denied it at the time.  

So, when Dazai disappeared one night with no traces, followed by learning of Oda’s death. You knew.  

That didn’t make it hurt any less of course. Especially with how his sudden departure shed light on your feelings for him.  

While Chuuya presented himself to be finally rid of his presence, you both knew that Dazai leaving had hurt both of you. You had chosen to tell Chuuya Dazai’s reasons for leaving, not wanting the anger of Dazai’s leaving to grow into hatred, besides, Chuuya would’ve pieced it together eventually.  

And like that. Everything continued. The Port Mafia didn’t mourn over its losses. Executive duties called.  

So, when after 4 years of no contact, to say you were surprised at his being in the ADA would be an understatement.   

You hadn’t had the chance to see him yet like Chuuya had but you were there to witness Chuuya’s drunken midnight rant after having invited you over.  

“Oh, trust me, he’s as shitty a mackerel as he always has been. He hasn’t changed a bit.” Chuuya slurred off, grumbling under his breath as he laid his head down on the counter.   

You were both sitting at the kitchen island, a bottle of some expensive wine brand, open and mostly empty now, was on the counter between you.   

You sat with your body facing Chuuya, your head resting in your palm, elbow against the counter.   

“Mhm. He hasn’t changed a bit huh?” You spoke more for the simple sake of speaking, entertaining the drunk man before you. You didn’t need clarification of something you already knew.  

Dazai had always been capable of doing good. He just didn’t care between doing good or bad, it made no difference to him. He’s only working for the light because it’s what Oda wanted. Dazai not changing wasn’t a surprise. So Chuuya’s following words were a little less than expected.  

“Actually…” He paused, slurring off again before clarifying his words, his head remained poised on the counter. “He looked… brighter?” He seemed to question his own words before continuing. “Brighter and healthier. He seemed…” Chuuya trailed off again but not due to his drunken state. He stopped himself from finishing his train of thought.  

“Happier?” You finished for him.  

He didn’t respond.  

After that, you had practically forgotten about Dazai now being in the ADA, too busy with missions and the seemingly never-ending, growing stack of paperwork.  

That was until tonight.   

It had been a grueling past few days, rainy weather, long meetings, missions to assign, missions to report and file, and of course your endless stack of shitty paperwork that had somehow found itself in your home office, taking up even more of your own time which was already short considering your importance to the Mafia.  

After you got home, sometime around the dead-ass crack of dawn, you had only grabbed a cup of coffee, one of the larger mugs you owned, before heading to your office for more work.  

Sometime, while in the middle of reviewing some report, you had fallen asleep, lulled by the endless pitter-patter of rain hitting the window in your office.   

You had slept most of the day away and upon waking, it had already grown dark outside, probably around 9 or 10 at night now, and you were thankful to whatever divine being had granted you a day off today because you would have been so fucking late. You chose to willfully ignore that Mori-san was technically the one who made your schedule. He was a good boss, competent in his decisions, but he was no divine being.  

Stretching in your chair, you could feel the soreness of your muscles from the previous day of work. There was a tightness in your back, worse than it normally was, courtesy of sleeping in your chair.  

A knock sounded on your door, soft when it made its way to your ears but still clear as it cut through the silence of the penthouse you called home.  

You dragged your body to your door, still completely dressed head-to-toe in your typical Mafia outfit with the addition of a few wrinkles, your shoes clacking noisily on the floor.  

“Coming!” You called out before the person waiting behind your door could think to knock again.  

Reaching your door, you work through your security system before opening your door, behind, a man you hadn’t seen for 4 years.  

Your tiredness slipped away from your body as you gasped. Your body now on alert as you stared at him.   

He was dressed in, presumedly, his ADA outfit, light in color. His bandages still covered his neck, probably the rest of his body, but the ones that used to cover his eye were gone. He had clearly gained weight since you had last seen him, though he still lacked a significant amount of meat on his bones someone his age and height should have.  

Chuuya was right, he looked happier. No. That was wrong. He didn’t look happy. He looked… sad? Guilty?  

They weren’t emotions you were familiar with seeing on him. Sure, you had seen both emotions on people in the Mafia during interrogations… but on Dazai? No. He hardly ever even faked them.  

He did look brighter though. Healthier.  

He also looked- no was drenched. His clothes were darkened by the rainwater still pouring outside. Dripping water on the carpeted floor. You could see a few dark spots on the floor down the hall, marking his trail.  

He beat you to a response.  

“Sorry for showing up like this.”   

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing in silent defeat. “Come in.”  

You stepped to the side, letting him in.  

You closed the door behind him as he observed the expensive and modern decorations. It lacked any personality, at least to an untrained eye. If one looked closer, you could make out a knick-knack here or there that didn’t quite fit the rest of the rather drab decorations.  

It lacked vulnerability.  

Your bedroom, though, where only you went into, your interests bled out.  

“I assume your room has more personality than this, no?” Dazai’s tone was off. A half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood.  

“Vulnerability isn’t something Mafia Executives have the luxury to indulge in often.”  

He didn’t respond.  

“You can hang your coat on the rack.” You spoke, staring at his back as he walked into your home. “And take your shoes off.”  

You turned down the hall towards your room, leaving Dazai to settle.  

As you walked you called out to Dazai, not facing him. “I should have some clothes that fit you.” Then as an afterthought, “I want you to take a shower.”  

When you walked back into the living room with some clothes, Dazai had actually listened, his coat was hung up and his shoes were in the genkan, he had also taken off his socks, probably soaked after being out in the rain.   

You walked up to him, handing him the clothes. “Go take a shower. There should be some rolls of bandages in there, though I’m not sure how many I have left.”  

He took the clothes from you silently, then: “Thank you.”  

You looked him in the eyes, trying to discern how much you didn’t know about him anymore. How much you needed to learn about him.  

“Have you eaten?” You spoke calmly, trying to ignore the thoughts and feelings swirling inside you without end.  

“I-…” He hesitated. “No. I haven’t.”  

Without another word, you left him to go take a shower. It was probably a good idea to make something to eat anyway, considering you were currently running off of a single cup of coffee.  

You decided to not bother to cook and instead pulled out two packets of ramen in part because you were still tired as fuck, and you didn’t know if Dazai’s eating habits had changed or not.   

It was better to settle for something simple that he might eat if you were lucky.  

It didn’t take long for the ramen to finish heating up and for you to place it in two bowls so you placed them on the table. You were about to go check on Dazai when he turned the corner into the living room.  

Something was off, he had changed into the clothes you got for him, and his hair was still wet, dripping water off of his soft curls. He seemed… hesitant -nervous? More so than he had been before taking a shower.  

“I made ramen.” You spoke, realizing you had been looking for a bit too long. You gestured to the table with the two bowls full of still steaming ramen.  

“Thank you…” His voice was quiet, low. He clearly wasn’t bothering to hide his hesitancy, or perhaps he was just failing miserably in trying.   

You sat down at one end of the table and busied yourself with eating. You watched him shift over to the seat adjacent to you. 

Your eyes widened in upon noticing. “You’re not wearing your bandages?”  

He shifted in his seat, avoiding your gaze.  

“The hoodie and shorts are soft…”   

The ‘and I trust you’ went unsaid but understood.

Your face softened around the edges.

“Eat.”  

He responded with a nod before picking up his chopsticks.  

Soon enough you had finished your food, and though Dazai only ate half, it was more than you were expecting him to eat. You placed your dishes in the sink to deal with another time before returning to the table, though you remained standing. Dazai had yet to get up.  

“Do you want to watch something? I have a day off so…” You trailed off awkwardly.  

He looked up but he didn’t quite meet your eyes.   

“Sure.”  

The only light currently on was the blue light emitted from the television that was playing some show you were hardly paying any more attention to. After a few episodes, you had shifted from sitting awkwardly on opposite sides of the couch to where Dazai was now practically lying on top of you. He was lying his head on your chest with his face turned towards the screen, invested in whatever show it was that was playing. You had let him pick. You were far more interested in watching as he relaxed into you as you ran your fingers through his now, mostly dry, curls.  

“Tired?” Your voice no more than a whisper.  

“No…” He responded; a hint of a tired whine interlaced in it. A tone his voice always had when he was tired just didn’t want to sleep in lieu of whatever he was currently doing, which at the moment was watching a show while cuddling with someone he hadn’t seen in 4 years.  

“Sure~.” You teased as your nails gently scratched at his scalp.  

He grumbled something softly into your chest.  

You knew how bad, how dangerous your next thought was. It could end badly for both of you, but you couldn’t help when the words slipped from your tongue.   

“Why don’t we go to bed hm?”   

He responded with an unintelligible whine, pressing his face further into your chest, as he wrapped his lanky arms around your back.  

You sighed softly but even if he had clearly put on more weight, he still wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight against you physically speaking. You gathered what remaining strength you had in you as you wrapped your hands around his waist before shifting to a sitting position. Then you secured your arms under him to lift him up in your arms.  

“Come on, you lanky beanpole. Time for bed.”  

The talk could wait for tomorrow, after all, he couldn’t leave with his clothes still in the washer.

PT 2

Relationship Headcanons

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

TW: none? I think? 

DAZAI 

I said it in my Soukoku fic, Dazai wouldn’t know affection if it slapped him in the face ten times 

Like he might realize when someone is showing interest in a sexual kind 

And he would probably notice if someone is crushing on him 

But like, if he likes them back? 

No 

Man is blind 

He’s too busy panicking over read denying his own thoughts and feelings over you to analyze your actions 

He’s busy trying to think of anything but how pretty you are when he sees you -thank you very much 

No joke though, this can be applied to pretty much anyone he cares about 

I mean he practically had a heart attack when Atsushi gave him flowers 

Anyways if he finally admits to himself that he likes you then I could see him trying to push you away if I’m being brutally honest 

He doesn’t want to lose you and he believes that anything he wants that he obtains, will be striped from him sooner or later 

But…, in a perfect world he would eventually work up the courage to ask you out 

He would probably avoid directly asking you but this is Dazai so he could defiantly figure out some round-about way to ask 

As for the relationship? 

He would still be his teasing self 

But he would tone it down 

Not because he doesn’t want to annoy you but more so because he actually lets some of his masks down when alone with you 

He defiantly is very clingy to you 

Man has been touch starved for a long time and he fears attachment too much to be touchy with the ADA members 

But now he has you, who not only tolerates him but has decided to stay with him? 

Of course he’s not going to let this chance slip from his grasp before all this inevitably ends (he’s still in denial) 

He never cared much for holidays like Christmas or Valentines 

But now he wants to experience them, with you 

He’s always thinking, plans and outcomes racing through his mind, what ifs and regrets  

But like, if you ruffle his hair, his brain just stops. 

Like no thoughts, he short circuits 

When his brain returned to him the first time it happened he panicked 

Like, who gave you that amount of control? 

After that first time he continued to try and get you to do it without asking 

He needed his brain to shut up every now and then, and now he has a reliable source 

Anyways, he likes to be a spoiled princess 

No one can change my mind 

For all his predictions he will never be able to predict your love and kindness for him 

CHUUYA 

Someone give this poor man a hug 

Ugh, my heart 

I can‘t imagine him wanting to date a normal citizen, too much of a risk 

So you’d probably have to work in the Mafia 

Even then, dating you would still be placing a huge target on you 

He would actually take you out on dates before asking you out 

Dates with him would be romantic 

Like dinner by candle light vibes 

He’d be strategic on where you guys sit 

No need to be precarious on what you order, it’s all on him 

When he does ask you out he would be slightly flustered but it just makes him adorable 

Say yes, he doesn’t deserve to be hurt any more 

He would spoil you to no end 

If you want it, you can have it 

You’re the only one allowed to call him short 

He might get flustered from PDA in the start but will gradually warm up to it 

Nothing clingy, just hand holding, a hand around your waist, a quick kiss here or there 

But if he sees some guy hitting on you? 

Down right possessive, arm snug around your waist, shoulder to shoulder 

And if he’s drunk? Even worse 

Like he’s pulling you onto his lap just to make sure that asshole knows your taken 

If you do work in the mafia with him, he likes going on easier missions with you 

And while he knows that you can handle yourself just fine, he can’t help but imagine something bad happening to you when he isn’t there to save you 

He’s lost too many people in his life, please, don’t leave him as well 

He loves when you rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat 

And while you do that he’ll run his fingers through your hair 

Chuuya loves to spoil you rotten as I stated, it’s his love language 

So sometimes he’ll just hand you his black card and let you go shopping with friends or something 

In fact, he encourages you to buy what you want 

FYODOR 

Honestly? Where do I start with him? 

Like congratulations if you meet him and make it out alive 

I don’t know if I should congratulate him taking an interest in you though 

I feel like he believe that the interest he had in you was purely innocent curiosity 

But I also don’t think he would try to delude himself for as long as Dazai does 

Eventually he would notice that something was different about his interest for you than usual 

And while he would hesitate to put a name to it so quickly he would eventually give in after realizing there was no stoping this feeling from festering in him 

After coming to terms with his romantic? Feelings and interest in you he would definitely begin to manipulate you into feeling the same way for him 

If you don’t already that is 

If you don’t confess then he’ll definitely do the same thing Dazai did 

And when you agree, he of course knew you would, he makes you move in with him 

He can’t let his dearest other slip from his finger now can he? 

I feel like before ever getting into a relationship, you would have been made aware of his ‘work’  

Please, make sure the man eats 

And takes his iron pill 

Nikolai is getting a little tired of that daily routine despite how much he loves to be around Fyodor 

Anyways, dates aren’t a very common thing in fact, very, very rare 

I mean… what did you expect? 

Man’s a literal terrorist 

That being said, from time to time he’ll leave his ‘lair’ to spend time with you 

If you ask, he’ll gladly play the cello for you 

If he snaps at you for ‘bothering him with pointless things’ when you bring him his iron pill or food just listen 

Don’t bother him with such things 

And then same thing the next day 

And after some 4 or 5 days he’ll stumble from his room 

Staggering as he tries not to collapse or faint from both his lack of energy and his iron deficiency 

And when he walks into the kitchen trying to get the iron pill bottle open? 

Let him stumble his way over to you and ask for help before you finally do as such 

And he realizes just how dependent on you he’s become 

It’ll happen again eventually 

But as of that moment, it’ll at least be awhile before the cycle repeats 

(That last part of Fyodor’s was based upon some fanfic I read for him. I'm not sure who it was by, but I’ll tag it if and when I do find it.) 

A/N: anyways, believe it or not, I love Chuuya just as much as I do Fyodor and Dazai 

I’m just not as confident in his character. Since I’m a lot like Dazai, he comes easy to me and by substitute, Fyodor does as well 

But Chuuya? Despite him being one of my 5 favorites along with Dazai and Fyodor, I just don’t resonate personally enough with him to write him really well