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trying to love but told i'm too much

dottore x reader

Being in a relationship with the doctor was always so hard. You thought, at one point, that it would be as simple as breathing. And it was... at first.

Too fast it turned into a chore in Dottore's point of view. Loving you, that is.

All too often you would find yourself in the presence of one of his clones. He would try to pass the clone as himself, but you would always be able to tell.

You were being too much. Too clingy. Too doting. Too nagging. Too needy. Words as such as those always seemed to leave the doctor's mouth.

So when he left for Sumeru, you finally had some time to think by yourself.

And when his clones started to disappear, right then and there you decided to leave.

If he would try to find you one day, you weren't sure, but being on your own definitely beats being called too much just because you love him.

Fanfic Request Info

If the fandom isn't on my list then don't request it

No NSFW -I might write something a little spicy from time to time but I won't cross the line into the realm of smut, just not comfortable writing it

Even if a fandom is on my list if I don't know the character as well it may take a bit longer

If my requests are closed then they are closed.

I may open requests to specific types of fics at a time: Oneshots and Headcanons. Rambles are me simply rambling so it's not really a request item.

You can request x reader or a ship

No romance requests with an age gap, (step-)siblings, (step-)parents, or cousins

-If you were to request say headcanons on a character or ship, it would go under the requests part of my master list, and the headcanons part

-My energy and motivation fluctuate constantly so there isn't a guarantee I get any request out in a timely manner

-If you want to request a fem!character x reader or a fem!character x fem!character ship in a romantic setting it will take longer. I'm not opposed to writing them but it will take me longer considering I'm not attracted to females

-I'm not caught up on Genshin's story quest and I refuse to quick start so I know nothing of any of the Natlan characters

Osamu get up‼️

I want everyone to know that this is me every time someone drops a comment on something I've written:

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

biting the bullet (literally)

Thinking of these two panels, but...

You were also with them when Fyodor died and you just so happened to be anemic too. So when Chuuya said those words, you gave him an appalled expression. A hand over your heart as your face morphed into one of shock.

"Chuuya! How dare you! I'm literally right here!"

Chuuya blanked for a second before it dawned, "I meant the other anemic son of a bitch!"

"So what?! Am I anemic son of a bitch #1 or #2?!"

"Why does that matter?!"

"Because I need to know how important I am to you!"

"For fucks sake, fine! Your anemic son of a bitch #1!"

"Am I your anemic son of a bitch #1?!"

"Yes, you're my anemic son of a bitch #1," he said with exasperation. Honestly, the things you make him do and say sometimes.

All the while, Dazai was standing off to the side. A blank look on his face as he wondered how you two ever got together...

Oneshot -Pushing and Pulling. Home.

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Soukoku - Dazai x Chuuya

A/N: This is the fanfic version of the comic with quite a bit more detail in it than the comic did. It has Dazai's direct thoughts leading up to his attempt from the beginning of the comic, as well as a look at Chuuya's own thoughts.

TW: blood, self-harm, suicide attempt, language

A/N: Also posted on Ao3

Comic version HERE

Nothing… 

Numbingly empty… 

A mirage of thoughts ran rampant throughout his mind with no end in sight. They pushed and pulled him down with arms of inky black darkness into the sheets below. 

The tug had been growing worse, harder to ignore over time. It came on gradually, leaving him little chance to fend them off before he realized it was too late. It had taken him too long to notice the grip of the demons in his mind. 

He didn’t want to admit that even after defecting from the Port Mafia, after surviving for two years underground, after doing everything for Odasaku, he hadn’t changed. 

Even after all of Fyodor’s bullshit, and he and Chuuya had finally become partners again -though now it meant more to them. 

He hadn’t changed. 

It had been a while since he had genuinely attempted anything, what with Chuuya’s watchful eyes. That and when he was around Chuuya, the darkness of his thoughts often receded, soothed by the ethereal man he had the undeserved privilege to call his lover. 

Sadly, with their differing jobs, it was simply impossible to be with Chuuya every minute of every day. 

In fact, Chuuya was currently away on an abroad mission. He was set to be back sometime tomorrow after having been gone for an entire month. 

Without Chuuya around to soothe the demons in his head, he fell. 

He fell victim to the grabbing hands. 

Pushing and pulling. 

Inky blackness. 

His face contorted in a frown as a restlessness overtook him. 

‘He’ll be back tomorrow.’ He tried telling himself through the cacophony of countless thoughts. Fruitless, really, but he didn’t want to hurt Chuuya. Not again. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

Blackness. 

Darkness. 

It filled his lungs like thick black blood. 

Sweet like honey with the seducing promise of relief. 

A quiet mind. 

With no thumping beat of a heart. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

His feet hit the ground before his mind could stop him. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

His hand reached for the door to the bathroom. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

Chuuya had stopped messaging daily sometime after the first week. Too busy with his mission. 

Chuuya hadn’t messaged him since last week. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

What if he was hurt? 

What if he didn’t come back. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

What if he didn’t want to come back? 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

His clothes hit the floor by the door, the bandages on his arms and legs following. 

Pushing. Pulling. 

The blade cut, stinging. 

Through his skin. 

Through the bandages still covering his chest. 

Red. 

Pushing. Pulling. 

Inky red blood flowed out. Seeped into his skin. 

Into the pristine white covering him. 

White never did suit him. 

Pushing, pulling. 

The water from the faucet meshed horrendously with his rampant thoughts. 

His vision was flooded with a bloody red color as his arm reached out in front of him to stop the running water. 

Waves of steam rolled off and over the tub. 

Pushing, Pulling. 

The water bled red as he stepped into the tub. 

Burning. 

A pleasant burning from where the blade had cut through him and from the water as it came into contact with his skin.  

The burning water seeped through his bandages, further burning. 

Burning to combat the endless, bone-deep, freezing cold. 

The inky red blood polluted the water. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

Pushing and pulling him into a soothing embrace of darkness. 

Quiet. 

_____________________

The door clicked behind him softly. 

He could feel the exhaustion deep in the marrow of his bones as he hung up his coat and haphazardly kicked off his shoes into the genkan.  

He called out into the quiet house.  

“Dazai! I’m home!” 

He was greeted with silence. 

He was supposed to arrive home the next day, so perhaps Dazai was asleep? 

It was well past 2 in the morning. 

But Chuuya knew Dazai always struggled to fall asleep. And since Dazai began to live with him, he relied on him to sleep. 

‘I need my Chibi heater to stave off the cold! If you leave, then I’ll be left freezing and awake!’ 

The memory flashes through his head as he places his hat on the dining room table. 

“Dazai?” 

Silence. 

He made his way towards their shared room when he noticed the bathroom light on. 

He knocked softly on the door as he called out to him. 

“Dazai?” 

There was no response. 

A seed of fear sprouted into a hideous flower in his gut. 

Dazai wouldn’t… He had been clean for so long now. 

He called out again, hopeful to get a response this time. 

“Dazai? Are you in there?” 

Silence. 

He reached to open the door, unlocked. 

His mind went blank as he looked at the bloody scene in front of him. 

He stood there for a second that felt more like an hour, a day, a month. 

He could see the steam from the likely scalding temperature of the water.  

The blood was a vibrant red. Fresh.  

The scent of iron filled his nostrils. 

Then the panic set in. 

He suddenly felt like a victim to the gravity he normally had flawless control over. 

He rushed forward to check Dazai’s pulse, with little care for the blood staining his clothes. 

Through his own rapid breathing, he was able to subtly feel Dazai’s slow pulse. 

There was so much blood. 

He let his mind wander to what could have happened while he was gone while he fell back to old habits. Picking up Dazai’s limp body, unplugging the drain, pulling off what remains of his bandages. Rinsing the blood still on him, redressing his wounds with two layers of bandages to avoid any more bleeding. 

When he got to the ‘clothing Dazai’ step in his habitual process, Dazai began to stir into consciousness as he pulled up boxers over his legs. 

He hardly noticed as his mind continued to drift. His hands moved to pull one of Dazai’s heavenly soft sweaters over him. 

He left Dazai sitting on the stool in the bathroom as he finished cleaning the mess, mumbling to himself as his mind returned from drifting. 

“…got Dazai cleaned, bandaged, and dressed…” 

He pulled off his blood-soaked gloves, tossing them into the trash. 

“Dinner can wait I guess… and I’ve got to change…” 

He looked over himself, clothes stained red in blood. 

“Dammit! And I’ve still got that report…” 

A soft sniffle from behind him pulled him from his thoughts. 

Behind him was Dazai, still sitting just like how Chuuya had left him to clean up. 

He crouched down in front of him, reaching out to wipe some of his tears. Hesitant on whether Dazai was up for touch. 

When Dazai didn’t shift away he brought his hands down to gently run along Dazai’s thickly bandaged knees. 

He was at a loss for words, not having quite come to terms with the fact that if he had returned tomorrow, as was planned, Dazai would have been dead when he found him. 

“…Do you wanna talk about it?”  

His voice hardly sounded like his own, tentative, shaky, unsure. 

Finally, a response reached his ears. 

“Not really…” 

Dazai’s eyes were blank, devoid of any feeling, as he looked into them. 

He closed his eyes, sighing, both at finally being able to hear his voice and at the emotionless stare. 

Then, Dazai spoke again. 

“Can we… talk tomorrow?” 

He didn’t realize he had been frowning until he felt his lips pull at a small smile. 

Before they had gotten together, Dazai would never have asked to talk about something. If he didn’t bring up something then Dazai would never do it. And even when he did try to bring something up, Dazai would attempt to deflect and distract him from the conversation. 

“Yeah… tomorrow. For now… I’ll change, we can order food and watch a movie. How’s that sound?” 

“Cuddle?” 

A soft chuckle left his lips at the hesitant tone Dazai spoke in. 

“Yeah.” 

Chuuya was hardly paying attention to the show, thinking of everything they would have to talk about tomorrow.  

He felt Dazai nuzzle into him, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked down at the soft brown curls against his chest. Dazai’s head was turned toward the TV but from what he could see, Dazai’s eyes were closed, asleep.  

He smiled, letting his eyes close. 

He could feel sleep begin to overtake him now that he was finally home. 

Home being the man in his arms.

Working on a mini soukoku comic that I'll hopefully actually finish

Got the idea during science and it won't leave me alone so I must draw

I might make it digital... eventually

...hopefully

Anyways, it's pretty dark considering the first picture I drew was of Dazai attempting...

Oh and with that second au I mentioned, I'm currently changing some of the bigger things so it will be a bit

Rebloging cause it was on my feed

Not surprised at all lmao. This is kinda weirdly accurate though

@opulent-valkyrie @tomatosoupizzie @echolikesgarlic @swixtern @yebyyhfushi

surprising no one, except me. I got orange cat?!?!

Thank you @ysmtttty for sharing this! Tagging some people to do this too. @chunkypossum @areyoudreaminof @g00seg1rl @whisperingmidnights @queercontrarian @thelov3lybookworm @jon-snows-man-bun @olenvasynyt and anyone else who wants to do this