#written.bsd

( STRAY SCHOLARS — A COLLABORATION )

A BUNGOU STRAY DOGS UNIVERSITY AU where writers take on the canon divergent persona’s of their favorite bsd characters in relation to you! this was a closed of collaboration, inspired and tailored by some of my mutuals on here (a proper thank you to them is listed at the bottom). below you can expect to find a masterlist of all the blurbs and their respective characters x reader along with the writer who wrote the piece—please enjoy!

AUTHOR’S NOTE this masterlist is incomplete and subject to change as writers publish their work; titles and synopsis’ are also subject to change. please be patient with our writers and check back regularly until completion. thank you, and enjoy!

STATUS eight of ten completed

pairing :: port mafia boys x reader (platonic)

genre :: smau, crack

warnings :: swearing, crude behavior

notes :: this is so fucking stupid goodnight

✿ TETSUSTATION — 2021 ; do not repost, translate, share without permission, or recycle my writing & layouts. this blog does not hesitate to hardblock in that instance!

pairing :: chuuya nakahara x f!reader

synopsis :: the dorm room is virtually empty, and yet chuuya insists on investing his minimal funds into stock. pillow talk with your best friend is anything but charming, and yet you adore it.

word count :: 1.2k

genre :: university!au (no abilities), friends with benefits/friends to lovers, economics major!chuuya

warnings :: suggestive & implied nsfw, mentions of alcohol, swearing

notes :: this is essentially a crack fic about chuuya being a pretentious econ student

STRAY SCHOLARS COLLAB MASTERLIST

curtains have no use if they aren’t blackout. however—the standard dorm set up doesn’t include such a luxury, so alas, you’re awoken to a diligent and unforgiving sunlight. the streaks are long and slice through the white of the bedsheets, despite dawn only surpassing the horizon minutes, if not moments, ago.

there’s hair in your mouth, and you pray to god that it’s yours, because there is very well a chance it might not be. still, you don’t stir—instead deciding to squint in irritation and pout to keep your tongue from moving the strand that dances on your lips. ignorance is bliss, perhaps.

“how did you even do this?”

over your shoulder, ranpo is resting his head, allowing his neck to mold to the cliff of your shoulder as he wallows in the heat radiating from your back. there’s a hand hovering over the base of your spine, but does nothing more, as his downcast expression goes to show that his mind is elsewhere.

he shrugs, “they fell out of my pocket.”

craning your neck to left, and straining your eyes to look at his features, you wonder if that’s really how his most prized possession broke, like he’d just let the refined frames slip out of his pocket without noticing. it was virtually impossible for him to have missed it, your mind jumps to conclusions but somehow miss your lips. you turn back to the glasses in your hand.

“well,” you start, “are these prescription?”

in a moment of comical confusion, he stands to his full height. the furrow in his brows is unbeknownst to you while tilting the frame to the side to get a closer look at the—since cracked—lenses. everything was intact besides the glass, and frankly, you could fix it in an hour tops—still, you don’t put it above yourself to let this opportunity slip away.

“i—yes they’re prescription.” he knows you can fix them, you know you can fix them, and yet the game of cat and mouse goes on out of ranpo’s inherent stubbornness, as he near refuses to fix them himself.

you sigh dramatically, “if that’s the case, it’s going to be a few weeks, love.”

“oh bite me.” he near scoffs with no malice intended, taking the glasses from your hands. any squalling done on his behalf as a way to heed your dexterity is long gone—and has since been replaced with snark. “are you going to fix them or not?”

the pad of your finger lands on your temple as you pretend to foresee a future where you do fix them for him, no questions asked. you take a page out of his book, and using your own deduction, you conclude that there is next to no fun in that—so you decide against it.

“i dunno.” you kick an imaginary pebble and skip ahead of him—leaving him in the dust of your refusal.

ranpo decides that if you won’t give him your help, he’ll just have to take it. in a moment of great haste, he lunges forward, and before you can slip away his hand is wrapped around your wrist. the tug of his upper lip is instinctive as he pulls you back towards him with the force of a whip.

you can’t help but use his shoulders to soften the blow, as you near fall forward into him, as he raises your conjoined hands high above your heads. if you knew any better, you’d pull the hat off his head and take off running, or something of that nature—but you don’t—not when he’s looking at you like that.

a deer caught in headlines, he figures, watching your eyes widen as he smiles innocently—as if he didn’t just steal the air from out of your chest and replace it with a depleting ozone.

“so,” he speaks lowly, “know if you can fix them yet?”

ranpo’s glasses are back snug in his pocket in approximately forty-eight minutes.

“nikolai, i don’t like this anymore.”

glancing over from the shelf of dried vegetables and other feed, he smirks at you, “what do you mean?”

still, he knows exactly what you mean. it’s hard to miss, really—especially when the reminder is resting on your shoulder, head to claw in red and blue feathers. it’s been maybe thirty minutes since you picked him up, and yet your already regretting adopting such an exotic pet, as it nibbles at your ear gently.

“i think he’s trying to tell you something,” nikolai snorts, watching you crane your neck away. however, you soon learn the parrot is more flexible than you are, and quickly closes in no matter how much distance you try to put between you two. 

frankly, you blame your boyfriend. if it wasn’t for the impulse pit stop, you wouldn’t have a bird on your shoulder right now, purchasing feed and other supplies to bring home with you—to an apartment where you aren’t even sure if birds are welcome in the first place.

“it kinda—,” you duck slightly, “—kinda hurts.” you grumble, in an attempt to sway him into helping you. however, nikolai seems to be content in just watching you struggle, standing up straight and tucking both hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.

so you weren’t an animal person, you made that very clear when he tried to bring home a stray dog last summer. still, you assumed a bird wouldn’t be so bad—they’re contained, and you convinced yourself they’d have less of a reliance than other animals did. however, you were quickly learning that you may have been fed the wrong information.

glaring at him, you attempt to tickle his empathy, though he doesn’t budge. he tilts his head to look straight at you, in all your strained glory. with your hands held up, you wonder if maybe you should touch it, or if it’d get mad. nikolai can practically see the gears turning behind your eyes, but to no avail.

it’s almost pitiful, so he laughs. sticking his pointer finger out in front of you, and whistling to the parrot. it cheerfully detaches itself from the tip of your ear, and hops onto his finger. you straighten only when he pulls his finger back towards himself, eyeing the bird as it settles in against him.

“see, that wasn’t so hard.” he remarks, leaning down to make eye contact with the animal. he wags the opposite finger teasingly, watching it attempt to teethe, only to pull away at the last second. at least one of you is having fun.

“nikolai.” you start, “are we going to be able to do this?”

he looks up, “hm. what do you mean?” you smile, at the unintentional parroting of his past self.

now knowing what to do with your hands, you circle the bird—motioning to it in all of it’s plumosity, “this—with the bird and all.” 

then, with a small smile, he silently leans forward. only when he’s inches away from your face does he speak, “follow me.”

lowering and lifting his pointer finger once again, you catch on and do the same to yours—hesitantly bringing your extended hand in front of your face. nikolai has to wait for your hands to stop shaking momentarily, before he presses his knuckle against your own, creating a small bridge for the bird to walk across.

a hum slips from his lips, and the parrot treads lightly from nikolai’s finger onto your own. softly, you inhale, holding the air in your chest in fear that the parrot will fly away if you so much as blink. his smile only grows as you eye the claws that delicately wrap around your finger.

both of you are still for a few moments, and once you seem settled, he pulls back—watching your eyes widen as you become accustomed to the sensation. the self satisfaction you can feel radiating off nikolai is seemingly contagious, as a small smile finds its way onto your own face once again.

he’s well aware you’re not an animal enthusiast, not really one for creatures with so much energy and free will, and yet you put up with him each and everyday. if you can get used to him, you can most certainly get used to a bird (it’s far cuter than himself, anyways).

“we can.” he put it’s simply, “i know we can.” 

"your stupidity is astounding." it tumbles out of your mouth. glancing back out the window, you notice the morning light pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling windows of the detective agency. the quintessence of autumn is well in full swing, and yet the sun kisses you with the tenderness of an august sky.

"hm." dazai notes, lowering the coffee cup from his upper lip, "there's at least one positive adjective in that sentence."

it's hard to imagine working without dazai, these morning conversations wake you up more than the mediocre joe they serve in the break room, and lord knows ranpo's sharp whine is anything but pleasant any hour of the day. still, sometimes the things he suggests are absolutely appalling.

yet, you can't help but go along with every single one of them, because he makes entertaining his spontaneity sound much too appealing compared to the foreseeable consequences.

this morning, the two of you are leaning against his desk for a change. it's closer to the window, and there’s less papers on it today than there are on yours—though you're convinced he snuck some of his work onto your pile when you weren't looking.

a way's away stands atsushi, hunched over slightly as he explains something insufferably simple to kenji, who always has that dumbfounded look on his face (though, you'd be a liar if you said it wasn't adorning). dazai is staring him down like prey, about to hunted by a fairly lanky bobcat.

both of you are nursing your coffee in the same way, at a similar pace, yet he drinks his relatively faster than you do. it's not a race, but at the same time it may as well be—everything is a silent tournament with him.

perhaps that's why you tend to trail after his unfinished thoughts like the cat to his mouse—nevermind, that sounds much too unappealing and prompts a scowl somewhere on your face.

"he's not going to listen," you taunt, "atsushi's all the way over there—and besides, he's not as naive as he seems to be."

dazai shrugs halfheartedly, glancing at his shoes and rubbing the tips against one another, "maybe, but I think wild animals do as they please." he then looks up at you, teasingly, "or do we need to have another national geographic viewing?"

this time you laugh with your chest, thinking back to when he badgered you to watch a nature documentary, only to fall asleep on your couch minutes after it started. that was the last time dazai stayed over your house, and you have a feeling it wasn’t the last—so you blacklist the channel until further notice.

"you didn't retain a single thing from that program, and don't try to use our newest member—who you recruited, might i add—for your sick little animal experiment."

"maybe they should put you in a zoo." you conclude, smirk ever present in your voice.

dazai joins you in laughing this time, and you can hear kunikida clearing his throat in your general direction down to your left, following the column of desks and spinning chairs. you quiet down, dazai reluctantly follows.

a moment of silent, and then a newfound determination fizzles off his speech like overflowing soda pop, "i'm gonna do it." he whispers, leaning over to reach the shell of your ear.

in an attempt to sound indifferent, you barely acknowledge him—yet subconsciously you lean in.

craning his neck forward, dazai cups the side of his mouth with a free hand. with the roof of his mouth, he whispers rather loudly, and you wonder if such an approach defeats the purpose or not, "psst psst psst!"

following the expected silence, you remind him that his apprentice is indeed more human than feline, "it's not going to work—,"

"hello?" atsushi is speaking in dazai's direction, but not looking directly at him—yet even from a distance, you can see his pupils continue to widen as his flicks his gaze every which way. only when kenji taps his forearm lightly does he blink back into the conversation.

in utter disbelief, you stare. there's no possible way he could've heard the borderline degrading cat-call, and yet it seems atsushi’s sense’s had gone into overdrive. staring straight ahead, you can feel dazai's self-satisfied energy radiating off of him. still, you refuse to give him the gratification of your gaze as you process the fact that (once again) he won.

"looks like i'm a cat-whisperer after all!" he remarks with glee, only to shift to a state of convoluted deviousness the next, "now pay up."

university au masterlist

stray scholars :: multiple characters

osamu dazai

loose ties :: 2.8k, l2e

cat whisperer :: 0.5k, comedy

ranpo edogawa

shuttle bus :: 1.6k, university au

fixer upper :: 0.5k, fluff

chuuya nakahara

anything but stocks :: university au, 1.2k

nikolai gogol

parroting and other domestics :: 0.5k, fluff

✿ TETSUSTATION — 2021 ; do not repost, translate, share without permission, or recycle my writing & layouts. this blog does not hesitate to hardblock in that instance!