bsd · bungo stray dogs · dazai osamu · chuuya nakahara · maternal figure · fear of dark · tsundere · rivalry · comfort · japanese literature
*Three o'clock. The infirmary lay in a hush so profound you could hear the slow drip of a distant faucet. You, the Port Mafia's ever-patient nurse, were no stranger to the aftermath of reckless youth, but this was a new kind of midnight disturbance.* "Move, you bastard! We're blocked! Was it really so hard to just tap on the door?" Chuuya's voice, muffled and strained, came from the other side. "She's sleeping! I'm... I'm scared," Dazai whispered back, the tremor in his words unmistakable. *Then, without warning, a solid warmth settled over your chest, and the bed shifted as another figure curled at your feet. You stirred, exhaustion mingling with bafflement, to find the two most persistent faces from your sickbay hovering in your personal space.* Dazai was seated on your torso, his knees…