#nightmare fuel for Dazai

[saltedbiscuiit]

Dazai’s worst nightmare ♡

[anticidic]

Imagine how useless of a vampire Dazai would be if he could get turned into one.

He has no ability to help him catch others so he just has to run after people trying to bite them. Chuuya could theoretically sit on a really high ceiling and Dazai could never reach him, he's just jumping and flailing around trying to bite Chuuya.

And Chuuya's just: What the hell, man.

[spacexseven]

WOO I LOVE THE IDEA OF DEMON DAZAI AND CHUUYA FIGHTING OVER THE SAME DARLING please continue on that😭

hmmm i dont have anything to add as of now but please take A Short List Of Weird Things Demon Dazai Does instead :>

cw: yandere character, underwear theft, manipulation, biting, mentions of blood,

as mentioned before he has a thing for just studying you really intensely. he finds the differences between your physical appearance and his very fascinating since he's of a different species altogether

likes to bite your hands...he just finds yours so cute, lacking the natural claws and size that he has. he likes to feel the callouses, and if you wear long nails, he loves them

licks your hand as you're sleeping...just to freak you out. you always wake up to see him on the floor, smiling up at you—nightmare fuel!!

likes to wear your used clothing. he saw it on tv once, and has been obsessed with the concept ever since. now, if only he could get you to wear some of his stuff too...

uses his powers to manipulate you into doing his bidding. this can range from simply cleaning up after him to forcing you to lay compliant as he attacks you with wet kisses and attempts to bite into you

also uses his powers every time he has a fantasy of you. likes to play the scene out in your mind and see you lose yourself over it

steals your underwear!!! like he's such a degenerate!! and you know exactly why he's trying to get his grubby little claws on them for, don't you?

he's got a thing for blood—your blood, in particular. likes seeing you bleed and the taste of it. he's not a vampire, and he doesn't need it to sustain himself, but it gets him off.

uses the same toothpaste, shampoo, soap, etc as you. he likes to pretend like it's your scent that's rubbed off him and not him dowsing himself in your products

if you're a smoker, you need to get used to dazai just plucking your cigarette out of your mouth and try it out himself

and every time you eat a lollipop and leave the stick behind, guess whose mouth it's going into?

[chiara-hotel]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟒𝐭𝐡: 𝐒𝐡𝐲 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 (𝐏𝐨𝐞, 𝐊𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐚, 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢 & 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚)

Characters: Poe, Kunikida, Atsushi & Chuuya

BSD Characters with an s/o who gets very energetic & bubbly when talking about halloween (etc.). And enjoys baking, dressing up, making treats, eating treats, looking at halloween decor & watch halloween movies.

Poe:

- Poe LOVES seeing you so excited about the holiday

- Despite not being a huge fan of it like you are, Poe will gladly do anything halloween related with you!

- He spends a lot of money on decor for you because he knows you’ll love it

- Hes also a bit not used to seeing you so energetic

- Baking marathon!! Poe will but everything you need for all of your spooky treats (also Karl is the taste tester)

- Matching costumes!! I’ll let that go to your imagination

- Let Karl i’m on the matching costumes though

- Poe wouldn’t bea fan of the huge gruesome movies but he will watch some movies like Coraline, Corpse Bride or even The Nightmare Before Christmas (Poe is very confused why you guys were watching a Christmas movie at first)

- Ends up a little scared of your halloween obsession, but he also still loves you to death so

Kunikida:

- Now Kunikida with his journal, obviously he’s planning a bunch of events/dates every day until halloween to fuel your obsession

- Sone ideas: Halloween movie binge night, Baking halloween treats, going to a haunted house and many more

- Hes scared for the haunted house but tries to act calm (it fails)

- Dresses up as something simple with you, (he only dressed up because you forced him)

- Dazai chuckling beside you to add he sees kunikida all dressed up

- (He is not letting Dazai ruin his and your schedule)

Atsushi:

-When he was younger he probably didn’t get to celebrate halloween that much so he’s happier that you are so excited about it

- He gets really happy hearing you so energetic about something you like

- He LOVES baking with you! Atsushi will even recommend new treats to try out

- Atsushi also bakes a few for his colleagues at the agency (specifically Ranpo, but every one else gets some too)

- Hes going as a tiger, like his ability but he also willing to try on costumes at the store with you

- When you guys look at some of the decor hes a bit scared of the “more scary stuff” so he avoids those aisles and hides behind you as you walk down them :)

- Also buys some with you (a bit scary, but not too scary)

- Some decor he’d like to buy is probably pumpkins, kid-friendly blow ups for your lawn, and some things like that

- Similar thing with halloween movies, he likes the non-scary movies (yeah don’t watch really scary halloween movies with him, he will cry)

Chuuya:

- Shocked

- How you went from normally quiet, Shy & introverted s/o an extrovert very knowledgeable about halloween

- Chuuya also LOVES seeing you like this

- While you guys go shopping, he accidentally sets off a prop and gets scared (now he’s in denial that he got scared)

- Buys EVERYTHING related to halloween in that store, if you mention about how much it most cost Chuuya will just say “anything for you, doll”

- Its like an early christmas present except it’s all about halloween

- No space in the house? He can hire someone to expand the property, theres also the mafia headquarters for more storage (ya’ll probably have a huge house though so it’ll fit in a store room somewhere)

- Also buys A LOT of baking materials so you guys can make pumpkin pie, pumpkin cupcakes, pumpkin loaf, pumpkin pretzels and many more

- Cuddles while movie binging (he might get scared at some of the movies but deny it (it’s really obvious when he dies because he grabs onto you tighter))

[starlightshadowsworld]

Agency informant Izaya

Spoilers for Stormbringer

The day Dazai truly realised how much Izaya meant to him and how much he trusted him, was the day he lost Odasaku.

However, the day Chuuya realised it came a whole lot sooner than that. Don't get him wrong, Chuuya liked Izaya. He had expected the worst when Dazai had introduced his friend.

Chuuya was surprised to see someone so human. Izaya was wicked intelligent, he was probably one of the few people who could follow Dazai's line of thoughts.

But he was kind and didn't hide it. Doing things like researching wines just to keep up with Chuuya in a conversation about something he was passionate about.

The way he acted was eerily similar to the Flags. Izaya didn't falter even if Chuuya was in a bad mood, he was patient and always bright.

Chuuya wondered sometimes if it would be a good or bad idea to introduce them. But it turns out he didn't need to make that choice.

The scene in Old World was horrifying but immediately Adam began talking. However, it wasn't his voice that was speaking. "Izaya?" A relieved sigh filled the air.

"The one and only, I do apologise for the nightmare fuel but the bodies your seeing aren't real."

Chuuya frowned, walking to Lippman and inspecting the body. While it looked horrifically lifelike, it was fake.

"How did you..."

"Dazai let it slip you were being hunted down at our weekly chess game." Even without him being there, Chuuya could picture the anger on Izaya's face hearing the news.

"I did some digging, figured who his targets were and had your friends moved to a secure location." Izaya's voice became a lot more gentle "they're all here, say hi guys."

The collective "hi" from everyone shouldn't have made tears well up in Chuuya's eyes but it did.

They were safe, they were all safe and alive.

"But how you get the bodies and set this up so fast?" Asked Chuuya, curious. Izaya and Dazai would've had their game about 4 hours ago.

"Your friend, who I sincerely apologise for hijacking by the way, isn't the only one of his kind. While not as sophisticated, robots like him do exist. And I have more than a few people who owe me a favour."

Even so this was a lot of blood, and unlike the bodies it was real. As if reading his mind, Izaya carried on.

"The blood was the hard part but I contacted Mori and told him the situation. We made a deal, should the time ever arise I owe him a favour one I can't refuse. And he supplied me with what I needed now from the Port Mafia's blood bank."

Chuuya's eyes widened in shock.

"You... You made a deal, with the Port Mafia just to help me?"

"Of course." Said Izaya like it was nothing big. And it hit Chuuya just how much he cared about him. Izaya had put himself in danger, just to help him.

Despite befriending himself and Dazai, Izaya firmly stayed away from the Port Mafia's buisness. And especially from Mori who has his eyes on him for a long time.

The Flags had risked their necks by being close to him. For giving him proof he was human behind the Boss's back.

All because they cared about him.

They shouldn't, he was more trouble than he was worth but Chuuya couldn't feel anything but relief.

"Got any ideas for what comes next?"

Izaya chuckled "of course, but for that we should meet in a more secure location. The phone lines are bugged and as fun as this is, I should give your friend back his voice soon."

Adam came back, grumbling but he seemed relieved. Chuuya write down the address and started to move out with Adam in tow.

For the first time since thus shit begun, Chuuya felt like everything was going to be okay.

"Wait, what about you? He'll be after you." Chuuya ignored that he'd basically just realised and admitted Izaya was important to him.

Izaya's voice returned momentarily. "Oh don't worry about me. I'm a lot more difficult to kill that people realise. Besides, I've got a plan.

[chuuyas-nakahara]

we all talk about how dazai and ranpo would be a terrifying villain duo but can we add yosano to the group as well. 2 criminal masterminds with genius IQs and a former military surgeon who uses her anatomical knowledge for torture and will not hesitate to cut you to pieces with a chainsaw while dazai and ranpo stand watch. actual nightmare fuel

[231s-prompts]

so dazai gives mori (and fyodor?? unconfirmed but like- he would be the guy to) nightmares. q scares dazai to some degree. ranpo might as well give fukichi nightmares. mushitaro scared ranpo to some degree. kenji scares both the local gangs and my guy tecchou, but no one expects it from him.

THEREFORE queue a nightmare-fuel crack fic of kenji, q, and mushitaro inadvertently going around and scaring the shit out of everybody.

it would be easy to knock out a lot of people in the pm, ada, and guild because TRAUMA FROM Q DURING GUILD ARC, but what about police being scared of mushitaro because q just sneaks stuff in his pockets and no one can figure out where anything is?

tecchou telling the hd how fucking scary kenji is, no one believing him because it's KENJI we're talking about, and then one (1) bad day and four buildings are destroyed.

kenji not knowing who mushitaro is and just going along with the other two because like hell he's going to suspect them of wrong doing.

I'm sure the trio of mushitaro, q, and kenji could get up to more trouble but I have a headache

[scriveyner]

chase forever down 5/31

chase forever down | 5/31 | bungou stray dogs | 👿🐯 / sskk | #smarch 🔞| ~1700 words

Atsushi sat on the wall, kicking his heels off the stone as he watched Dazai and Kunikida talk to the government officials. Akutagawa leaned against the wall beside him, arms folded and completely disinterested in the proceedings. Even from here, Atsushi could see several of the agents giving Akutagawa looks, and it raised his hackles.

Continue on AO3 or:

“Getting defensive will only make you look guilty by proxy,” Akutagawa said without opening his eyes, and Atsushi’s mouth twisted into a scowl. He did that, now; like Akutagawa was reading his mind, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. “I can’t read minds.”

Atsushi stared at him, and the corner of Akutagawa’s mouth ticked up in amusement. “Come now, weretiger. As if you weren’t an open book enough already.”

“You’re creepy as hell when you’re like this,” Atsushi muttered, and Akutagawa’s amused aura did not fade. “What were you doing out here, anyway? It’s not like you to take an interest in a missing persons case like this.”

Which, it had been an utter surprise to run into Akutagawa here, in the dismal grey afternoon that kept threatening rain. He’d been third-wheeling with Dazai and Kunikida—which was far less fun than it sounded—when an ability user clearly interested in their case made their presence known. Atsushi shuddered involuntarily at the memory. He’d never seen so many spiders all at once.

That was going to be nightmare fuel for the next month, easy.

Akutagawa seemed to be weighing his silence. He watched Dazai gesticulate, and said, softly, “remember those vampire hunters?”

Atsushi blushed before he could even think of stopping it. Of course, he remembered. He remembered it very, very, very well, mostly because he’d never had so many orgasms in a row. “You think this is connected to that?”

“It could be.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Before what, weretiger? Do you think I will glibly announce my curse in front of every member of your precious detective agency?” He tilted his head and glared haughtily at Atsushi, and then after a moment of making his point, glanced away. “I’m not certain. It is simply a hunch.”

“A regular hunch, or a hunch-hunch?”

Akutagawa stared at him.

Atsushi gave him the most innocent look he could muster, and Akutagawa rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner before pushing off the wall to leave. “Wait, wait,” Atsushi said, sliding off his perch. Akutagawa didn’t stop, and Atsushi worriedly threw a glance over his shoulder. Kunikida was too involved to take notice, but Dazai waved, though.

He fell into step with Akutagawa as they wound their way out of the warehouse district. If Akutagawa had truly wanted to leave him behind, there were plenty of ways to do so; but instead, he walked sedately, and Atsushi walked quietly beside him.

It was nice, walking with him like this. Atsushi wasn’t entirely sure what he felt about Akutagawa, but he was at least comfortable beside him. It felt right. Akutagawa sighed aloud and glanced at Atsushi. “What is this?” he questioned, and Atsushi blinked owlishly at him.

“…this…?” Atsushi glanced at the warehouse district that they were turning away from, heading back into the city proper.

“Don’t be dense, weretiger. I meant between us.”

Atsushi stopped walking. “I don’t know.” Akutagawa had kissed him, and he still didn’t know how to take it. Was it just a thing he felt he needed to do, like the way he sucked Atsushi’s dick? Did it actually mean anything at all? Or was this just part and parcel of being the sole food source for a vampire? “I guess…a partnership?”

Akutagawa snorted. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought about you last night when I came. I think we’re a little outside of partnership territory.”

Atsushi stared at Akutagawa blankly.

Akutagawa seemed not to notice his reaction. “I don’t understand why things are so difficult when you are added into the mix. It is frustrating beyond all measure.”

“Wait,” Atsushi said faintly, holding up his hand and still stuck on the previous statement. “You thought about me when?”

“Last night.” Akutagawa folded his arms, and half-turned in toward Atsushi. “When I was touching myself. I could not dismiss your face from my mind. It was…” here he trailed off, and Atsushi actually saw his cheeks turn pink.

“Oh my god.” They were not having this conversation right now, in public. Atsushi looked around wildly, but they were, for the most part, alone. The pedestrians were few and far between, the chilly air and grey skies doing their part to keep people indoors. “Wait. What do you mean “don’t take this the wrong way?” How am I supposed to take it?”

Akutagawa covered his mouth with his hand, looking impassive. “We both know that neither of us cares for the other, weretiger.”

Atsushi continued to stare at him for a long moment, and then turned away, pushing a hand through his hair. “I don’t fucking believe this.” He wasn’t really going to do this right now, was he? Oh god, he was.

Akutagawa was not prepared for Atsushi grabbing him by the lapel of his coat and yanking him after. “Weretiger, release me!”

Rashomon shot out from his coat defensively, but Atsushi winged Akutagawa around him, which thudded him back against a brick wall just inside a wide alley that cut between two warehouses. Rashomon cushioned his impact, and before Akutagawa could start a counterattack Atsushi slammed his hand against the wall beside Akutagawa’s head.

Then he grabbed Akutagawa by the ascot and yanked him into a kiss.

For a split second, he could taste the confusion coming off Akutagawa; then Rashomon collapsed back into his coat and his arms went around Atsushi, holding him in place against Akutagawa as they leaned into the wall. “And you call me the idiot,” Atsushi said, breathless, when they finally drew apart.

Akutagawa was staring at him. He lifted his hand to gently touch Atsushi’s face. With his lips parted Atsushi could see the hint of his fangs protruding. “Didn’t you just eat?” Atsushi asked.

“I just need a taste, weretiger—please…”

He had never, in his life, heard Akutagawa say please. Atsushi pulled at the bandage still covering his left wrist, and Akutagawa bit him very gently, lapping away the blood that welled from beneath his skin and never breaking eye contact with Atsushi as he fed. Warmth wicked down his arm, and Atsushi sighed, little pinpricks of pleasure starting at the base of his spine.

Akutagawa’s breath caught when Atsushi pressed up against him again, pinning him against the wall. Atsushi’s heart was going so fast; true to his word Akutagawa had only taken a taste, he was barely even lightheaded. And now he wanted a taste as well, eyes locked on Akutagawa’s, shimmering in the shadow of the building.

Atsushi shifted his weight, slid his hand between them, and pressed his palm over the bulge he’d felt in Akutagawa’s trousers. Akutagawa’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, still pinned on his; and Atsushi refused to look away, chin tilted defiantly. “You got your taste,” Atsushi breathed, pushing the ruffled hem of Akutagawa’s shirt up, finding that point where his trousers touched skin blindly. “Now I want mine.”

On his knees, now, Atsushi worked the zipper down, loosing Akutagawa’s trousers on his hips. He truly hadn’t anticipated getting this far, but he was dogged, driven now by a primal need to experience, to taste; and steadily, carefully, he freed Akutagawa’s erection from his underwear.

Akutagawa let out a soft sigh when Atsushi’s fingers wrapped around it, marveling at it. This was the first time Atsushi had touched his, he stroked the length slowly, wetting his lips. When he glanced up, Akutagawa had one hand in the front of his shirt, keeping the ruffled hem up and out of the way, but the other was flat against the brick behind him, braced there; and his eyes—still grey, with an iridescent tinge—were locked on Atsushi.

“You’re going to have to tell me,” Atsushi said, stroking him, eyes returning to the curve of his cock, “if I do something you don’t like.” That said, he nuzzled in close, getting a good whiff of Akutagawa’s scent before very tentatively flicking the tip of his tongue over the head of Akutagawa’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Akutagawa whimpered and covered his mouth with his hand.

Atsushi’s eyes shot back up to his face, and while Akutagawa had covered his mouth, the tips of his ears were very red. “What was I doing?” he asked, stroking Akutagawa slowly, getting a feel for him, “when you were thinking of me?”

Akutagawa didn’t actually answer, but that was okay. Atsushi was a bit preoccupied anyway, flattening his tongue and trying to remember what Akutagawa did with him and reimagining it. He couldn’t get much of Akutagawa’s cock into his mouth, as the thought of it hitting the back of his throat pre-emptively made him gag, and he drew back—and to his surprise, Akutagawa’s entire body tensed. “Oh, did you like—?”

Atsushi didn’t get a chance to finish the question before Akutagawa released on his face.

He had no time to react, Akutagawa’s cock pulsing in his hand, and all he could do was close his eyes and turn his face. He felt the thick, sticky fluid coat his nose and over his cheek, up into his hair—and after a few moments, he cracked an eye open, when he thought the worst of it had passed. Atsushi glanced up at Akutagawa, whose eyes were as wide as saucers, and his face was flushed red up to his hairline.

“Holy shit, a little warning, next time?” Atsushi said, wiping the cuff of his sleeve over his nose and succeeding only in smearing the fluid across his skin. “Oh god, is it in my hair?”

Akutagawa slid down the wall and sat, legs sprawled wide on either side of Atsushi, staring at him as he attempted to clean himself. “Weretiger…” Akutagawa croaked, and Atsushi looked at him, eye to eye.

“Good?” he asked, wiping his face again, and Akutagawa grabbed him by the collar and yanked him in close—and then he licked fluid from Atsushi’s temple. Atsushi shuddered at the contact and bit back a moan.

“That was…” Akutagawa’s hand tensed in his collar, and his other hand pressed against Atsushi’s trousers, watching Atsushi shudder again, eyes going half-lidded. He exhaled something Atsushi didn’t quite catch and then nipped his neck. “Don’t expect it always to be so quick, weretiger,” he breathed, face pressed to Atsushi’s skin.

Atsushi laughed and pulled his hands tight in the back of Akutagawa’s coat.

<< Chapter 4 ||| Start ||| Chapter 6 >>

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 FIRST LIGHT

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai severely overestimated his self-control. it takes approximately six days and thirteen hours for him to break, seeking you out again. when he does, he knows that nothing will ever be the same. {wordcount: 14.5k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART TWOOOOOOO, we have one of my fav parallels in this one, i know you guys will catch it immediately but u still must tell me when you do. also, there's another hint about badlands!reader & dazai's relationship in this chapter that happened after the events of the last installment so u must let me know if you catch that too. reblogs are always appreciated! thank you guys & i hope you guys love this as much as i enjoyed writing it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. + we have a bit more of unhinged thought processes on dazai's end. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings!

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

He understands now the temptation that Eve must have felt in the Garden of Eden with the forbidden fruit dangling right in front of her face. Traditional interpretation of the Bible places the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden on day six of creation; Dazai’s restraint has thus far rivaled that of the two Biblical figures. He’s on day six now, in fact; it’s been exactly six days, twelve hours and forty six minutes since he met you in the hallway of the club and each passing second has been more agonizing than the last. 

He isn’t sure how much longer he’s going to last. 

His office is dark and suffocating, the atmosphere so cold and unwelcoming that it has him craving the return to your warm and homely apartment so intensely that he thinks it might be making him sick. He turned off the light earlier when he felt a migraine coming on, hoping that the darkness would let his eyes and mind rest enough to catch it before it fully came on, but he’s realized that it probably wasn’t the light causing his headache, rather it was you.

He sighs as he tilts his head back, willing the migraine to go away even though he knows it's to no avail. But he can’t even rest his eyes in peace, because every time they slide shut, the image of you burns the inside of his eyelids—your soft gaze and bright smile, the way you held your hand out to take his and the way your lashes fluttered as you leaned into his touch. 

Six days, twelve hours and forty seven minutes. 

He thinks he would prefer the nightmares of his other lives to this. At least with those, they fuel his drive to press forward with his master plan, the reminder of your fates in the other worlds would scorch away any desire to seek you out in fear of bringing it upon you again in this one.

Now, every night for the past six days he’s been plagued with dreams of you—pleasant dreams. Dreams that when he wakes from them, he finds his cheeks wet and his chest heavy with such an intense longing for you that it makes him physically ill. He dreams of having you in his arms, kissing the top of your head as you do your best to study even with him making every effort to distract you. He dreams of watching sunrises with you, seeing the way the early morning colors wash over your face, your skin glowing and eyes glittering in such a vivid way that Dazai swears he can even picture it now. He dreams of a ring, and he dreams of his palms sweating as he walks with you down to the beach you met on to watch another sunrise, and he dreams of getting down on one knee in front of you just as the sun breaks over the horizon. He never dreams of a wedding, so Dazai theorizes that you never made it long enough for one to take place. 

And the realization of that alone should be enough to make the yearning for you evaporate but it’s not, because dangerous thoughts have been circulating through his head since the night he left you. Thoughts of how maybe this could be different. Dazai is the boss of the Port Mafia in this life, he has enough resources to protect you—more money than god and enough armed forces behind him to rival the nation’s government. He has the power to keep you safe in this life, more than he ever had in any other. 

If there was any life that he could be with you and ensure your safety, it’s this one. 

Six days, twelve hours and forty nine minutes.

Does he really want to give this up?

Dazai rests his arms on his desk, lowering his head down, eyes sliding shut again. He can see you again, the image of you from last week, laughing wildly at something he’d said—he can’t even remember what it was, he was so nervous that he can’t even recall half of the night, but he doesn’t really care at all what he said anyway, too enraptured by the way you react to it. 

He wonders if you’re there now. At the bar. Because what he does remember, of course, is your teasing grin as you tell him that of course, you’re scheming out a second meeting between the two of you because naturally you’ve decided that you already like him. And he remembers the hope thinly veiled behind your eyes, as you look over him, knowing that if the two of you are to meet again, it would be reliant on whether or not he decides to come back to the club, because you’ve already made your intentions clear.

Six days, twelve hours and fifty minutes.

Dazai’s throat feels swollen, his nails dig into his palms. He imagines you waiting there, he imagines the disappointment on your face as you slowly realize he’s not going to show up. And you’re so damn beautiful, radiant even beneath the shitty lighting of the club—he’s sure you saved a seat at the bar for him, and you’ve probably had dozens of interested men who’ve offered to buy you drinks, asking if you’d come to the club alone. And you’ll probably turn them down at first, telling them that you’re waiting on someone, but he wonders how long it’ll take for you to finally take one of them up on their offer after you’ve realized that Dazai isn’t going to show. He wonders if you’ll follow them out to the dance floor, he wonders if you’ll give them the same teasing smile you gave him. He can picture slim fingers caressing your hips, pulling you closer. He can picture your lashes fluttering as they lean their head down to ghost their lips against your neck, swaying to the music. He doesn’t want to picture anything else, but his mind, as always, betrays him. 

He wonders if you’ll take them back to your apartment—would you get right into it or would you sit and talk with them for a while? His head spins as his thoughts take an increasingly more dangerous spiral. It’s a bitter cold night out, maybe you’ll take the opportunity to make them the hot chocolate you’ve made him hundreds of times, thousands of times before—no, he corrects as the lines start to blur in a treacherous way, you’ve never made it for him in this life. Maybe it’s so cold out that you’d forgo small talk altogether, instead seeking out the warmth of someone else’s body—you’d take them by the hand, lead them into your bedroom and lay them back on your bed. 

Would you be gentle with them? Like you were with him? No, he reminds himself again, you’ve never been with him like that, not in this life. The pages of the Book pile around him, memories flooding him with an intensity that he’s never experienced before; he can hardly even remember what his reality is, all of the others blending and shifting together in his mind, making it impossible to decipher the lines between them. 

You’re dragging him to the beach to watch your first sunrise with him and you’re telling him that you want to see as many as possible with him—he wants to tell you that he thinks he might love you but he doesn’t know how to say it  You’re laying him back against a bed, asking him if he trusts you—of course, he does, how is that even a question? You’re leaning your head against his arm, standing before a familiar grave and accepting him for all that he is even after he strips bare down to all of the worst parts of himself for you—you shouldn’t, he wants to say desperately, but instead he’s telling you that he loves you, even though he knows it might kill you. And then-

And then he’s ripped violently from his fall into the pages of the Book as his phone vibrates and it’s not him anymore, it’s someone else, someone unworthy and undeserving, a stranger that you’d turned to because Dazai wasn’t there.

Dazai nearly heaves. He never should have indulged in you that night. He should have known he was never going to go back to normal after it. The difference between the memories and actually having seen you and heard you and touched you and smelt you was so much more severe than he ever could have expected. Now, the memories aren’t enough; he wants a life with you, he wants it to be his reality. He thinks that it’s not fair that he’s the only one who can’t be with you. He wants to make new memories with you so he no longer has to struggle with the blurred lines, so he doesn’t have to yearn for a life that he’ll never be able to experience, having to watch every single other Dazai get to have what he can’t.

Six days, twelve hours and fifty eight minutes.

He can do it, his thoughts are a bit manic as he tries to ground himself after the spiral. He has the knowledge. He has the power. He has the resources. If there’s any life that he’s able to be with you and keep you safe, it’s this one. He doesn’t have to hide from you, he doesn’t have to deny himself of you to protect you—he has the knowledge, he has the power, he has the resources. He can keep you safe. Instead of being the only Dazai who never gets to be with you, he’ll be the only Dazai who can actually spend his life with you—a long one, a happy one. He’ll have what none of them did. He can do it.  

Before he can stop himself, he speaks.

“Gin-chan,” Dazai calls softly, knowing that he doesn’t have to speak any louder for the girl to hear him. As soon as he hears the door to the backroom open, he continues with, “Have Albatross be ready downstairs with one of the cars.” 

“Of course. Where to, sir?” 

To Gin’s credit, she doesn’t sound at all caught off guard by Dazai’s sudden request, as if it’s normal for Dazai to randomly decide to leave the Port Mafia base even though he can count on one hand the number of times he’s left the base since he ascended to the position of boss four years earlier. 

“... The club we own in Naka,” Dazai says after a few moments, fingers thrumming against the mahogany of his desk for a moment before he adds, “... Don’t tell Chuuya.”

“... Yes, sir. I’ll have Albatross get everything ready immediately.”

At exactly six days and thirteen hours, Dazai’s self-control shatters. 

You sigh. 

The seat next to you remains damningly empty despite the many attempts of handsome strangers trying to join you at the bar. You’re sure you must’ve turned down half a dozen by now in hopes that the stranger from last Friday will end up showing up but those hopes are very quickly disappearing. You want to convince yourself that maybe you’ve just missed him—it’s a rather large club, after all—but it’s not half as packed as it was last week; you think that if he were here, you would’ve spotted him by now. Or he would have spotted you.  

Dazai Osamu, you remember his name, eyes sliding shut briefly as you take a sip of your water, wondering if you should just switch to alcohol and drink your sorrows away, seek out one of the men who’d approached you already so you don’t end up spending the night alone. The thought leaves you unsatisfied, a pout rising to your lips around the rim of your glass as you finish off yet another glass of water. 

You swear that you’re not usually this pathetic—especially not over a man—but there’s just something about this Dazai Osamu that has you acting up. Like honestly, who even are you? Going to the club alone on a Friday night with nothing but some faint hopes that the man you’d met here last week would show up too? It’s so embarrassing, you think you might die—but somehow you’re not embarrassed enough to leave because you’re still hoping that he shows up. 

God, you think again, who are you anymore? You barely even know this man. You know his name and you know he’s handsome. And that’s just about it, but here you are, sitting bummed at a club because he isn’t showing even though he has absolutely no reason to. 

The bartender raises his eyebrows with a small smile and you pass the glass over to him, letting him refill it. He’s the same one from last week and he recognized you as soon as you took a seat at the bar, making sure to get you what you need and keep you company whenever there’s a lull in patrons flagging him down. It’s a stark contrast from the treatment that you got early in the night last week, where it had taken you twenty minutes to get a single drink and even then you could barely hold his attention long enough to tell him what you wanted. You can’t help but notice that he seems hyperaware of the open seat next to you.

As the bartender passes you another glass of water, you flash him a wavering smile, unconsciously sparing another awkward glance to the empty seat next to you. While the club isn’t quite as packed as it was last week, it’s not exactly empty and you’re starting to feel bad hoarding the seat when plenty of others probably want to sit down too. 

“I’m sure he’ll show,” the bartender tells you before he’s waved down by another patron. You wonder if he’s guessed who you’re waiting for or if it’s just meant to be some general comfort. “Probably just running late, he’s a busy man.”

Oh, you think, eyes widening, but before you can question him as to what he means, he’s rushing to go refill the drink of a blonde man on the opposite end of the bar.

A busy man. 

Who are you, Dazai Osamu? 

Even in your drunken state, you knew from the moment you met him that there was something off about him. The way he held himself, the way he looked at you, the way people treated him—it all screamed danger. Once you’d sobered up, you remembered all of the things you didn’t notice while you’d been intoxicated. You remembered the way people would rush to get out of his way or show him complete deference, eyes a bit wide and faces a bit pale. You remembered the way Takeda looked sick and scared when Dazai told him to go, and Takeda is usually a bull-headed and fearless man, it takes a lot to make him back down. You remembered his driver—he had a driver!—and how when he stepped out of the car to open the door for the two of you, you swore you caught a glint of gunmetal holstered at his waist before Dazai gave him a cold look and he quickly covered it up.

And you’re not usually a girl who seeks danger out, for as much as you went on your spiel about living life on the edge the last time you spoke to him, you’re usually a pretty careful person. If you were smart, you would have woken up the next morning and pretended that you were too drunk to remember the night before, forget all about Dazai Osamu and his dangerous smile and intense gaze. 

But you aren’t smart, evidently, because instead of forgetting about him, you spent half of the next day mourning because he didn’t even leave you his number and the other half of it scheming out the best way of running into him again. 

You sigh, resting your cheek on your hand as you prop your elbow up on the bartop, idly tracing the rim of your glass.

What is it about you, Dazai?

One meeting and you’re captivated. He must be some kind of witch, or siren, there’s no other explanation for how you’re so utterly enchanted by him. He spoke your name with the familiarity of a lover, watching you with gentle eyes even though they become cold and empty whenever they avert to someone other than you. And you—you felt as if you’ve known him your entire life. You’ve never had such an instant connection with someone like that before, you’re convinced that it’s fate at work, even if he’s adamant against the thought.

You want to see him again. You wonder if it was maybe just your drunken brain misconstruing things, although somehow you doubt it. You need to talk to him again to know if the connection is real, and if it’s real-

“Is this seat taken?”

At first, the voice doesn’t register as familiar, so you let out a soft puff of air, trying to figure out if you should deny another person. But as you turn to face the newcomer, your eyes widen a bit as you catch sight of the long, burgundy scarf hanging in your peripheral, stark against a long, sleek black suit jacket.

Your lips part in shock, head snapping to the side so you can fully look at the person to your left. Dazai Osamu stands there, hands resting comfortably in the pockets of his jacket, head tilted to the side, a small smile curving at his lips and a soft look in his eye as he looks down at you, comforting and warm compared to the cold emptiness you vaguely noticed from him at certain points last night.

You try to say no, it’s not taken, but no words leave your lips, so instead, you shake your head, eyes following Dazai as he takes a seat next to you at the bar. The bartender rushes over, all but abandoning the couple he’d been helping on the opposite side of the bar, pouring Dazai an expensive glass of whiskey and giving him a nod before going back to who he’d been helping before. Your eyes follow the man curiously before you turn your gaze back to Dazai, not speaking for a moment as you observe the way he stares down at the glass of whiskey for a second, the warmth in his eye slowly dissipating.

You don’t like it, and not because it makes you uncomfortable or anything, but rather because you just don’t like how alone he seems. So, you lean forward, smiling, and say, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Dazai turns his gaze back to you and the warmth returns, pools of honey rather than the endless void. You melt beneath it. 

“I vaguely remember a beautiful woman mentioning scheming out a second meeting,” Dazai drawls, dark eye lidded as he looks down at you, a half-smile decorating his face. “It would be quite remiss of me to be the cause of her failure.”

Your cheeks feel a bit a hot as you grin down at your drink. “While we’re on the topic of things I may or may not have said last week, I have to be honest with you. I totally lied about something,” you say with a laugh, leaning on the bar. He raises his eyebrow curiously. You give him a sheepish smile as you continue with, “I have absolutely no idea how to charm someone, drunk or sober, I was entirely speaking out of my ass, so keep your expectations low.”

The smile that curls to the corner of his lips is soft enough to make your heart skip a beat. “I think you just being yourself is plenty charming,” he murmurs.

You let out a noise caught between a groan and a whimper, face going hot. “Oh my god, you’re the charmer,” you accuse loudly, burying your face in your arms. “I’ll never survive. Handsome and charming, a deadly combination.”

As you peer your eyes open to look at him, you can’t help but notice the way his smile briefly falters at your words. You promptly decide to change the subject with: “Thank you for making sure I got home safely last week.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” he says, one pale, lithe finger tracing along the rim of his glass. Your eyes linger for a moment on the digit, mind wandering, before you force your gaze up; you can see the bandages peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his dark coat as your eyes drag his arm back to his face. There’s a knowing expression on his face, the smile on his lips a bit more sensual. Your breath catches as you avert your gaze, feeling quite like you’ve just been caught doing something bad.

“Sure I do,” you try to make the words sound casual and easy but despite your most sincere attempts, your voice is strained. “Not many people would go out of their way like that for someone they just met.”

Something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. You’re not sure what he finds amusing, but you decide you don’t care because you very much prefer it to the distant look that had been painted in them before.

“An unfortunate world we live in, then,” he says softly, but there’s a lilt to his tone that makes you feel like he knows something that you don’t. He doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it though as he asks, “Are you going to have anything to drink?”

You startle slightly at the question, glancing down at the glass of water you’re drinking before you tell him with a laugh, “I don’t know if I want to force you to deal with me drunk twice. Didn’t I promise I’d stay sober this time?”

“If I remember correctly, you only said ‘not quite as drunk,’” he says, lips tilting up a bit and god, the way he’s looking at you has you flustered, gaze lidded and intense, as if you’re the only one in the room and not in a club with hundreds of other people. “Let me order you something, I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh, that’s bold,” you warn, tossing him a teasing smile. “I'm very particular about my drinks, I’ll have you know. I’m almost curious what you have in mind that makes you so confident.”

“I have a good feeling about it,” Dazai says, tilting his head to the side as he waits for your decision.

You give a heavy sigh, pretending like it’s a difficult decision even though you know it’s not. “Fine, but only if you promise to cut me off after two. Whenever I hit three, I hit the floor.”

You extend your pinky toward him, waiting for him to take it, and when he does, you swear a jolt of electricity shoots up your arm. As he wraps his finger around yours, your heart skips a beat, your eyes meet his and you think you might get lost in the dark pools, you don’t think you would mind if you do and that scares you. You’ve never had someone make your heart flutter and mind haze like this, especially not so quickly.

“Promise,” he breathes out, barely audible above the thundering music and crowds. 

You dip your head down to press your lips against your thumb to seal the deal, and you think you fall even more when you don’t have to tell him to do the same, following your lead and kissing his own thumb to seal it. And you briefly wonder if this man might be your soulmate because he didn’t give you a single odd look and didn't hesitate for a second whereas when you’ve made pinky promises with some of your other friends and past partners, their expression always twists a bit in confusion or oddity at the second part.

Rather than letting go of your hand, he swaps to his other hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and resting it on your lap before he flags the bartender down—quite easily, might you add—and leans over the bartop to say something quietly to him. The man nods and rushes off, and you give Dazai a scandalized look as he turns his attention back to you, hyper aware of the warmth of his fingers against yours.

“You won’t even tell me what it is?” you gasp in mock offense. 

Dazai rests his other elbow on the bar top, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you through his lashes. You couldn’t drag your gaze away if you wanted to, tunneled onto him.

“It’s a surprise,” he says with a smile. “You’ll like it, trust me.”

“Quite confident for someone that hardly knows me, aren’t you, Dazai?” you giggle, raising your hand to cover your lips, and god, he looks so amused again, and so handsome. You might die. “That’ll be for me to judge.”

“Very confident,” he agrees, and you think he winks but you can’t tell because one of his eyes is covered by bandages. 

“So,” you begin, waiting for the drink. “You’re from around here then?”

You hope he is, at least, because you’d like to keep seeing him. Something about him is just so intoxicating, like a drug you just can’t get enough of. You think he must be, from the way he seems so familiar with the bartender and other patrons, but you could always be wrong.

You hope you’re not wrong.

“Mhm,” Dazai agrees, humming around the rim of his glass as he takes another sip. You hope the excitement you feel doesn’t flash across your face. “Yokohama born and raised… you?” 

Distantly, a part of you feels like the question is just an afterthought, as though he already knows the answer and you wonder if you’re that obvious, but you pay no mind to that, instead nodding. “Same,” you say, and then, “... I wonder if we have crossed paths before then. You’re so familiar, I can’t imagine that we’ve never met before… Maybe uni? Did you happen to go to UTokyo? I graduated there last year.”

Dazai seems to hesitate at the question, as if considering his answer. You wonder why, but he leaves you little time to figure it out because he finally replies, “No… I was in Tokyo for business for a while a couple years ago though.”

Your eyes light up. “Really?” you ask, leaning forward as you speak. “Where did you work? I know the area pretty well.”

He hesitates again, this time more blatantly, and you can see the confliction that briefly flashes across his face. How curious. 

“It wasn’t a particular storefront, or anything, just my line of work had me in the area for a while.”

You’re about to press into what his line of work is, desperate to know more about the man sitting in front of you, but you’re interrupted by the bartender returning with a martini so stunning that if it tastes half as good as it looks, you might fall in love. 

But you’re not going to make it that easy. 

“Go on,” Dazai says, leaning a bit back in his seat as he watches. He looks at you as if he already knows that you’re going to like it and you’re adamant on destroying his assumptions, you will hate this drink if it’s the last thing you do. “Tell me what you think.”

You lift the martini glass up to your lips carefully, the dark liquid so close to the brim that you’re nervous it will spill over the sides. He watches you expectantly, you pointedly hold his gaze as you take a sip of the drink and-

“Oh my god.”

Dazai looks utterly vindicated, raising his chin as you take a sip of the drink and stare at it in shock. It’s so… tasty. It’s creamy, and sweet, and you can hardly taste the alcohol but you can feel the tingle on your tongue and the light burn in your throat. All thoughts of the conversation you were having before the drink showed up disappear, and you’re focused solely on the glass in your hands and the man before you.

“So?” God, he’s evil. He almost purrs the word, as if he knows exactly what your response is going to be. He leans forward a bit, looking down at you through his lashes. “Give me the verdict, Your Honor.”

“It’s good,” you say, raising your chin in spite, hoping that your expression doesn’t betray but from the way his lips spread into a wider smile, you fear that you completely failed. 

“Just good?” Dazai croons. 

You pause for a second, debating on lying and telling him yes, just good, but the words you intend on speaking do not leave your lips. Rather, you say, “Okay. It may or may not be one of the best drinks I’ve had in a while. You have to tell me what it is so I know what to ask for.”

“Hmm.” Dazai lifts a finger to his chin, as if considering your words. “I don’t think I will.”

“What!”

His smile becomes a bit softer, his expression more teasing. “I think I’ll hold that information hostage, so you have to come out with me again if you want to drink it.”

A jittery feeling spreads through your chest, heart fluttering, cheeks hot. “Oh? Look who’s scheming out our third meeting already,” you taunt lightly. “How the tables turn.”

“Of course, I’m scheming out our third meeting, maybe our fourth and fifth too,” he mimics your words from last week shamelessly. “I’ve decided I already like you, bella.”

The pet name rolls off his tongue easily, as if it’s second nature to him, and your face is on fire but Dazai looks like he’s shocked even at himself. You fumble with your words for just a second, it takes you a moment too long to recover but you think that Dazai doesn’t even notice in his stunned state. 

You decide to return fire. 

“I hope all of our dates aren’t just going to be at clubs,” you tell him with a smile that edges on flirtatious, cocking your head to the left.

Your words hardly register until you notice that his cheeks have become bright and rosy, hand instinctively coming up to hide his face. He looks entirely like he’s at a loss for words, lips parting and closing several times. It’s so endearing that you think you might really die now, but then the gravity of your words hit you like a train.  

Oh god. A date? A date?? This is only the second time you’ve met, that was way too soon. You-

“I’ll make sure the next place we meet is somewhere special,” he finally says, voice smooth and gaze gentle and- 

And just like that, you’re a goner.

You’re not sure how long you sit there talking to him. Hours, probably. It feels like no time at all and forever all at once. You lose yourself in his gaze, and his smile, and you think the whole world could be burning around the two of you and you’d have no idea just because you’re so tunnel visioned on him. The music drowns out, and all you can hear is his voice. The people around you blur out of focus, and all you can see is him. 

It’s insane, you think. You’ve never felt like this with anyone before. You’ve had so many flings and so many boyfriends over the years, but the way your stomach twists and turns and the way your head feels fuzzy with Dazai is so incomparable to how you felt with anyone else. 

You feel like you’ve known him forever. 

You feel like you’ve only just met him. 

How is it possible to feel like you know someone you’ve only just met so intimately? When you know you don’t actually know much about him personally but it still feels like you can read into the depths of his soul?

God, you don’t know, but you do know one thing, and it’s that you never want to lose this feeling. 

And that’s how it began. 

Every Friday for weeks, you find yourself at the club, sipping cheap martinis at the bar until a certain handsome man in a dark suit decides to finally grace you with his presence. Sometimes, the two of you would just sit at the club’s bar until the sun threatens to rise, when you finally go your separate ways and you make your way back to your apartment, falling asleep with a smile on your face and waking up with a giddy feeling still sparkling in your chest. Other times, he only comes by the club to pick you up, fulfilling his promise of making sure to take you somewhere nice when you find yourself fine dining at the fanciest rooftop restaurants in the city. 

He never stays over your place, even when he does drop you off. Sometimes he’ll hang around for an hour (you made him your favorite hot chocolate, he liked it so much that he nearly cried although he vehemently denied that was the reason why his eye got all misty), but he always leaves. You try not to let it bum you out, convincing yourself that it’s just because he doesn’t want to keep his driver waiting (albatross, you remember his name, he’s funny. you like him), but sometimes you can’t help the heavy feeling set over you when he makes his abrupt leave, wishing for just a bit more. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, for god’s sake. 

You also distantly note that you don’t really know much about him, even after all of these weeks his personal life remains a mystery to you. The closest you were able to get to prying anything out of him was when he showed up so late that you were on the verge of leaving because you doubted he would even show, he apologized and said a work meeting ran late. You asked him what about and he hesitated, as if he was about to say it, but then gave you some vague response and steered the conversation to something less personal.

That’s what’s happened every time you try to learn a bit more about him. You don’t really notice it in the moment because he’s smooth and charming about it, but he always manages to turn the conversation to you or some other general topic. You want to respect that he doesn’t want to talk about his personal life because maybe he’s coming to you to have some sort of escape from it, but you also want to know him beyond just the flirting over drinks and the slim things you can gleam from his reactions, words hidden between the lines of what he actually says.

Your friends think you’re crazy. They think he’s bad news. They’ve come with you to the club a few times to wait with you until he shows up and every time they see him you can see the weary looks that they shoot at one another. You don’t care what they think—or well, that’s a lie, you do care what they think, you’re just too enamored with Dazai for their words to have any weight. Which probably should be concerning, but that’s something for you to think about another day. 

Because now, you’re focused on him again. He’s been talking more tonight than he usually does—most nights, he’ll spend the majority of the time just listening to you, a soft smile on his face and a captivated look in his eye, but tonight, he’s been rather vocal, people watching with you and making sly advances that you think is just plain cruel considering he hasn’t even kissed you yet. 

But tonight, you’ve decided, will be the night. 

You’ve been trying to figure out how to go about it, if you should just invite him back to your apartment—something you’ve done before, so there shouldn’t be any nerves but you still find yourself wavering because you don’t know how you’re going to proceed once you get to your apartment. You are not a seducer. You have no experience in seducing. In fact, you are usually the one being seduced. So every time your lips part to ask if he wants to leave the club, you find yourself withering and faltering, waiting for a ‘better’ chance as if one will magically arise.

It does. 

It’s when a fight breaks out on the dancefloor a bit too close to where you’re sitting, certainly the result of some sleazy man trying to put his hands on a woman who already has a date, when you finally force yourself to stop pussying out. You let out a shriek as you stumble forward off your barstool when one of the men careens a bit too closely to you, and it’s only by Dazai’s swift reaction, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you to him and steadies you, that you don’t go toppling onto the floor. 

Your eyes widen as you watch the fight escalate, a bit entertained now that you’re safe in his arms from becoming collateral damage, but Dazai looks distinctly unimpressed by the scene taking place a few feet away, lips twisted into a deep frown. You watch as he shoots a sharp look to one of the bouncers lingering by the door, and you note how the man immediately moves forward to break up the fight. Interesting. You’ve noticed that the people at the work tend to be respectful to him, but that’s the first time you’ve seen them seemingly take a silent order from him.

You steel your nerves and you decide to try your hand.

“Would you… maybe want to get out of here?”

You look nervous, Dazai watches you carefully as he leads you across the club to the exits, so he figures that there’s something else going on in your head right now. You’ve been quiet most of the night, he realizes, and he wonders if something is wrong. If something happened. His mind immediately catapults to the worst case scenario: that someone found out about the two of you, despite how careful he’s been in making sure that the places he’s brought you to were locked down by the Port Mafia before you arrived with him, and you’re being threatened.

His thoughts race. Albatross should still be waiting where Dazai left him, so if something goes wrong, he’ll be ready. Dazai glances at you again, and he slowly realizes that you don’t seem nervous because you’re fearful of something, and his anxieties slowly are edged away. 

But that only gives rise to new anxieties because then what’s making you so nervous then? What did you mean by get out of here? Do you want to go somewhere else? (but where, the longer he’s out in the open, the more of a risk there will be without him taking precautions beforehand like he usually does) Do you want to be dropped off back at your apartment? (that’s what he initially assumed, but he doesn’t want the night to end yet) Do you want to invite him to your apartment? (it wouldn’t be the first time, but it doesn’t leave him any less nervous. he’s terrified of making the wrong move) Do you want him to invite you to his apartment? (god, he hopes not)

The last option cannot happen. You’re already suspicious from the way the bartender and the other club patrons have been treating him the past few weeks, and now you’re doubly suspicious, Dazai can tell from the way your eyes squint as the bouncers at the entrance of the club nod their heads to him. If he brings you back to his place, the tallest of the five towers making up the Port Mafia base, there’s no way you won’t put together that something’s up with him and the last thing he wants is to scare you away. Even if you don’t know what the buildings are exactly, you’ll definitely question him about his occupation, go back to the dangerous line of questioning you’ve been treading on lately, and when he can’t give you a straight answer, it’ll become all the more apparent that it’s something shady and if you’re smart, you’ll make an excuse to leave and then never seek him out again.

Realistically, he probably won’t be able to hide this from you for long, but it just has to be long enough for him to woo you so the news isn’t so jarring that it makes you cut off all contact with him. Although, Dazai isn’t sure if any amount of time will make the knowledge that he’s a mafia boss not jarring enough to flee. His heart feels a bit heavy, wondering if this is all a mistake because how the hell is he supposed to just accept it when you inevitably decide to leave? And isn’t that what he should want, anyway? He wants you to keep yourself safe, no matter what the cost, and if you’re the one to cut him off, then he won’t be tempted to come looking for you again. He can protect you from the distance as he initially planned with the memory of the nights he’s spent with you pushing him forward. So maybe this is for the best.

You accepted all of the other Dazais, the traitorous part of his mind tried to convince himself that isn’t a hopeless cause, even though he knows that there’s a stark difference between who he is in this lifetime, the face of Japan’s underworld, drenched in blood and rotting from the inside out, and who he was in all of the other lifetimes, desperately trying to make himself a better man so that Odasaku would be proud of him. 

Maybe you’ll understand, he thinks weakly as the two of you leave the club. It’s drizzling now, and his eyes cut across the parking lot looking for Albatross, but his thoughts are lost—you understanding would mean he would have to tell you everything. He can’t do that. Not just because you would probably think he’s delusional, or psychotic, but because it would put the very fabric of this reality at risk. He can’t tell more people than necessary and stage five… 

His plan. 

Dazai’s gaze shifts back over to you, the sudden remembrance of what he’s been planning since he came in contact with the Book so many years ago spreading like ice through him. He should take you by the hand and lead you to the car, the rain is going to start coming down harder any second now, but Dazai is frozen because in his manic state, when he’d decided he can protect you in this life, be with you in this life, he hadn’t even given any thought to what would become of his plan, and he’s been so consumed by thoughts of you the past few weeks that it’s hardly crossed his mind.

He has to force himself to move forward, ignoring the way his mind is reeling—if he decides to live, what does that mean for Odasaku? For Atsushi and Akutagawa and Chuuya? For the world? Would he be condemning everything he’s worked to protect? He still thinks he can do it—protect you, that is—but would it be at the cost of everything else? He feels sick, trying to figure out if he’s going to have to plot out a whole new plan, as if this one hadn’t taken him years to come up with and implement. 

But you don’t move to follow him to the car where Albatross is waiting when he steps forward. Instead, you tilt your head up to the sky, lashes fluttering as rain begins to drizzle down from the dark sky. 

And Dazai’s spiraling thoughts halt. 

He thinks you look beautiful—you’re always beautiful, but he thinks there’s something magical about the picture of the small smile on your lips as rain drops slide across the smooth skin of your face. He tries to force himself to look away so he doesn’t seem creepy staring at you, but he can’t bring himself to.

You don’t seem to mind though, because you turn your attention to him, eyes lit up in a way that makes his heart race. “Dance with me,” you say suddenly, holding a hand out to him, the soft smile on your face is a bit mischievous now.

Dazai looks down at you, raising his eyebrows. “Here?” he asks, voice tainted with a hint of incredulity. “Now?”

“Mhm,” you say, unperturbed, holding your hand out more insistently. 

Dazai thinks he isn’t capable of denying you much of anything, but he can’t help but hesitate. Not because he doesn’t want to dance with you—he would sell what’s left of his wretched soul for just a single dance with you—but because the longer he’s out in the open, the more of a chance there might be an assassination attempt on him. Every time he goes out, he’s gambling his life. It would put you in danger, and it’s not like he brought Chuuya along for if something goes wrong. Albatross is capable enough, but his ability is not combat centric. 

Being seen with you in general could put you in danger, doubts begin to sprinkle through his head again, his heart lodged in his throat as remembers that Fyodor Dostoevsky and Agatha Christie aren’t the only threats to your life. He’s been as careful as he could be but even with all of the precautions in the world, there are still risks. He’s made new enemies in this lifetime, hundreds of them over the years, and if any one of them caught wind of you and his apparent attraction to you…

“If you wanted to dance, shouldn’t we have done that inside?” Dazai drawls instead, trying to play it off. Inside, where it’s significantly safer. Inside, where Dazai knows that there’s less of a chance of unsavory eyes falling upon the two of you because the club is owned by the Port Mafia and everyone let in is screened. Inside, where Dazai can still convince himself that he has the power to keep you safe. You’re entirely unbothered by his question, so he continues before you can shoot him down, “Where it’s not raining, and where there’s actually music.” 

“Haven’t you seen all of the romance movies?” you complain, smile widening. “Dancing in the rain is romantic, Dazai. Who needs music anyway? C’mon, dance with me.”

And how is Dazai supposed to say no to you when you look at him like that? Eyes wide and imploring, smile gentle—you look at him in a way that Dazai’s only dreamed of, and he knows that he’s a goner. Well, he’s known since he first met you, but it’s being made abundantly more clear right now with the way his heart, which he usually has such keen control over, beats rapidly in his chest. His lips part because he still wants to try to deny you—for your sake, not his—but no words leave them.

You don’t wait for his response anyway, hand darting out to catch his so you can drag him out into the parking lot. His eyes widen, stumbling forward and trying to catch his balance—you only laugh, intertwining your fingers with his while your other hand finds his waist, spinning the two of you in a reckless circle. 

“Keep up!” you tell him with a smile that causes his breath to catch. 

Dazai thinks he might die. His head feels fuzzy as you lead him in a wide ballroom dance, sweeping across the vacant parking lot with ease. He thinks he must look like a fool being dragged along in your dance like a puppet, hardly able to keep himself from tripping over his own feet. 

He’s not sure how you’re able to keep yourself so graceful, heels splashing in puddles as you lead him through spins and turns and pivots, but Dazai thinks you’re beautiful. Again. Extraordinarily so, even. Rain is pouring down over the two of you, the drizzle quickly becoming torrential, and your hair is wet and matted to your face, mascara a bit smeared underneath your eyes, but you’re laughing, and Dazai thinks you’re divine. Heavenly. Too ethereal to be tainted by the likes of him and yet here he is, the putrid skin of his fingers intertwined with your untarnished ones. You raise your arm and his, beckoning for him to twirl beneath it.

He does, and it’s awkward and clumsy because he’s too tall to comfortably perform the move, but you giggle loudly so it makes up for the embarrassment. And for a moment, Dazai can almost convince himself that this isn’t a life where he’s been forced to let the dark consume him for the betterment of the world; rather, it’s a world where he’s gone unsullied by the dark, his blood still runs red and you’re beautiful and you’re alive, and he’s just a boy who’s fallen so terribly in love with a girl so far out of his league that he thinks he might be dreaming when you return his interest. As he spins, he notices that his cheeks feel a bit strained and sore, and he realizes that there’s a smile on his face that matches your own, the muscles of his cheeks and jaw unused to stretching in such a manner and he hopes, anxiously, that it doesn’t look quite as unbearable as it feels.

If it does look unnatural, you don’t seem to mind. The rain blurs his vision and he’s forced to blink away the raindrops that keep falling into his eye, and for a split second, you’re standing before him in a pretty red dress on a sidewalk, and he’s the one leading you in the theatrical dance, dipping you down as lightning webs across the sky above the two of you, and he’s about to beg you for a kiss, he knows it but then-

He’s drawn out of his thoughts when you pull your hand back from his, but you don’t give him time to mourn the loss of your touch because then you’re slipping your arms around his neck, loose and casual. You’re pressed up close to him, chest brushing his and head tilted back so you can look up at him—a slower dance, swaying to the music of the wind and rain—and Dazai can hardly breathe. You’re so close. So close that he could kiss you if he wanted to. God, he wants to. He’s wanted to for weeks but every time he tries to gather the nerve to do it, he backs out.

“Where’d you go?” you ask softly, and he can barely hear you as thunder rumbles in the distance, brows furrowed in confusion, unsure of what you mean. You tap his temple twice gently, “Left me for a second there.” 

Oh, his throat feels a bit dry, realizing that you must’ve noticed when he started to slip back into the pages of the Book. Terrifying. Beautiful and terrifying, that’s what you are, if you can read him that well after meeting him once a week for a few weeks, he dreads to know how well you’d be able to read him once you start spending more and more time with him. But would it be so bad? To have someone that knows him so profoundly? He’s so alone all the damn time in this world, and you’re giving him a taste of a life where maybe he wouldn’t have to be. It’s terrifying. Tempting. He forces another smile onto his lips, and this time your eyes narrow, as if you know this one isn’t as genuine as the last. 

“How rude of me,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He’s so close, he realizes again, hyper aware of the way his lips are almost brushing yours. He could kiss you if he wanted, he repeats, and he wants so badly but he doesn’t want to scare you away. “To leave behind such fine company.”

You don’t look content with his apparent attempt at avoiding the subject, and Dazai’s throat feels tight because it’s not really a conversation to have with you here. Now. Ever, really. 

For once, mother nature appears to be on his side, because before you can press on the subject, lightning strikes dangerously close to where the two of you are standing, making you jump, eyes wide. He takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, guiding you over to where he left Albatross earlier in the night. 

The car is already running, Albatross is leaning back in the seat scrolling on the phone and Dazai nearly commits an atrocity when he sees that the man has his gun laying haphazardly on the dashboard. As if Albatross can feel Dazai’s murderous intent, he looks up from his phone and his eyes shoot open when he sees you with Dazai and he scrambles to holster his gun back at his waist. 

Luckily, you don’t notice. Or maybe unluckily, because your attention is still fixated on him and Dazai is not ready to have that discussion with you because how the hell is he supposed to say “Sorry! Lost in some worlds that don’t exist, and just so you know, we almost got married in some of them! And just so you know, I got you killed in all of them!”

Yeah. That would go over well. 

Instead, he opens the door to the car for you, letting you hop in the backseat. He follows after. Albatross slides his glasses to the bridge of his nose, an unscrupulous smile on his face that instantly has Dazai suspicious. He hopes the man knows that no friendship with Chuuya will save him if he decides to purposely embarrass Dazai in front of you. 

“You’re back!” You recognize Albatross immediately, a smile spreading across your face at the sight of him. Dazai is almost jealous until he remembers that you’re still holding his hand. “You weren’t driving last time.”

Right. Because of the raid on one of the Scarlet Gang’s warehouses in Tokyo. A mission that Dazai definitely should have been more available for on the off chance that something went wrong, but he was far too busy indulging in you. In his defense, he had no doubts that the mission would go according to plan—the Scarlet Gang is dangerous, yes, and Kawabata is a force to be reckoned with, but he’s simply not Dazai.  

“D’aw, didn’t think you’d recognize me, doll,” Albatross grins, tossing you a wink. “Good to see you again too. You’re significantly more sober tonight, aren’t you?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow a bit at the pet name, but he’s more focused on the way you throw your face into your hands with a groan, reminded of just how drunk you’d been the last time Albatross was playing chauffeur. You’re a messy drunk, he remembers fondly, he doesn’t remember ever seeing you drink in any of his other lives with you, and he feels a bit giddy at the thought that he gets to experience a side of you that the others never did. Even if he was spending half of the night holding your hair back while you threw your guts up, spluttering apologies through sobs and heaves. He would do it again. Without even the slightest hesitation, he would do it again. 

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” you ask, peeking one eye between your fingers to look at Dazai for confirmation. 

Dazai doesn’t even have the chance to assure you that no, you weren’t that bad, because Albatross is speaking again. Of course. 

“You were pretty damn bad, doll,” he grins, and you groan even louder, leaning your body over to rest your head on Dazai’s bicep. Dazai’s heart nearly leaps out of his throat. “S’alright though, boss took care of you.” 

“Did he?” you ask with a teasing smile, eyes glittering as you look up at Dazai, who suddenly feels a bit embarrassed, but Albatross rescues him. 

Maybe he does deserve the vacation he’s been bitching about wanting. 

“Where to?” Albatross asks, putting the car in gear, gaze flickering between you and Dazai briefly. 

Dazai is about to tell him your apartment when he catches the sudden apprehension on your face. He hesitates and waits for you to say whatever you want to say, but you don’t, instead you let out a puff of air and let your eyes slide shut. 

“Where do you want to go?” Dazai asks you.

You still look uncertain, but then you finally say, “I was meaning to stop and get some groceries at the convenience store on the way home. There’s one a few blocks away from my apartment. I can just walk over there if you drop me off at my place though, it’s fine.”

As if. The idea of you walking anywhere so late at night makes his skin crawl, especially considering there’s been a rise of violent crimes in the city that the Mafia has yet to get a handle on. He needs to push for that to be taken care of if he has to worry about you leaving your apartment to wander around so late. He makes a note to himself to bring it up to Chuuya later. 

“We can stop there on the way there. It’s no trouble.”

Albatross gives him a look, as if he’s asking if the boss of the Port Mafia is really about to go grocery shopping with a civilian in the middle of the night, forcing the Mafia’s best getaway driver to be their chauffeur. Dazai only gives him a cold, sharp look in return—if you need groceries, then they’ll stop for groceries. Simple as that. In a life where Dazai thought he’d never even be able to look at you, the chance of doing mundane chores like grocery shopping with you is not something he’ll just pass by. 

He can pretend to be normal. If only for a little longer. 

Until he has to go back to the base, and his lungs are clogged with corrupted air, being slowly suffocated by his surroundings.

Until you figure out who he is, and he’s alone again, being consumed by the void in his chest once more. 

He hardly considers the fact that he’s going somewhere with you where his subordinates haven’t made extensive efforts to ensure that no one suspicious is around to see the two of you. 

“Alrighty,” Albatross agrees, backing down as soon as he sees the expression on Dazai’s face. “To the convenience store.”

Your eyes brighten, a smile lights up your face. “Thanks,” you say relieved, and Dazai wants to say that you don’t ever have to thank him for everything and that he’d give you the entire world if given the chance, but he thinks that might be a bit weird so instead he settles on just giving you a small smile. “I’ll make you the best hot chocolate of your life when we get to my apartment. Just wait.” 

Dazai’s chest feels warm. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Wait here,” you tell both Dazai and Albatross as Albatross pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and stops the car outside of your building. Dazai, who’d been about to follow you, pauses from where he’s ducking beneath the doorframe to step out of the car, looking at you and waiting for an explanation. “... My apartment is a mess… I, um, wasn’t expecting company. Let me just… tidy up before you come in. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Dazai’s visible eye crinkles up in amusement as he sits back down in the backseat of the car and you immediately take off up toward the steps leading up to the second floor of your apartment, giddy and excited, grocery bag swinging and bumping against your hip as you make your way quickly up the steps. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You feel like a schoolgirl dealing with her first real crush, flustered and giggly, hardly able to hold a conversation without stuttering over your words. 

He’s just so… you don’t know how to describe it. Intense. But intense isn’t even the right word, because he’s not so intense that it makes you uncomfortable or overwhelmed, and that’s usually what you think of when someone is intense. Or maybe overwhelmed is a bit fitting, because you swear every time he sets his soft gaze down on you, your heart might leap out of your chest. Intense. Familiar, you don’t know how it’s possible to feel like you’ve known someone you’ve only met a few times your entire life.

Your fingers fumble as you try to unlock your door. One, two, three, it takes three attempts for you to finally slide the key into the lock, pushing open your door and stepping inside, free from the torrential rain and wild wind outside.

You sigh and rest your back against the door as you shut it behind you, eyes sliding shut. 

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

Someone important. 

Of course, you noticed how he was treated by the workers of the club—the bartender, the bouncers, even just the regular patrons. The restaurants he’s brought you to the past few weeks, they all treated him the same way. There were plenty of men there that were dressed in expensive clothes and held themselves highly, but none were treated the same way Dazai was.

Someone dangerous. 

You’d also caught a glimpse of the gun on the dash of Albatross’s car. (His driver, another point to note because who has a driver except very important people) Only three types of people have guns in Japan—military, police, and criminals, and you’re pretty sure he’s not part of the military or police force…

Someone you probably shouldn’t be so drawn to.

That should be enough to make you run. It really should be. You have no explanation or excuse for why you’re not besides the fact that you might not be as smart as you herald yourself to be. You shouldn’t feel giddy when he smiles softly at you, you should be nervous. You shouldn’t be longing for his touch, you should be avoiding it. Instead, you’re leaning against your door, smiling like an idiot after making him wait for you to clean up your apartment so you don’t embarrass yourself. 

Oh, you’re such a fool. But how could you not be with how he treats you? Tucking hair behind your ear, setting a gaze so soft on you that you think it might make your heart stop, dancing with you in the rain clumsily with rosy cheeks and wide eyes. How is it possible for you to reconcile the way the man acts with you to the way others treat him? Or maybe that’s just delusion speaking. It could be, honestly. You think if your brother was living with you, he’d be horrified, might lock you away for the rest of your life; you think your friends already want to put you in a psych ward and they’d only become all the more insistent if they knew half of the things you’ve noticed. 

But your brother left you and your friends don’t know, so nothing is stopping you from making what might be a terrible decision. 

You let out a breath as you push yourself off the door, placing down your grocery bags on the table by your door so you can scramble to pick up all of the stray clothes you’d tossed around your apartment as you frantically tried to find an outfit earlier in the night. You reach over to turn on your light, flicking the switch once, then twice, and then three times.

No way.

You sigh deeply, head falling back against the wood door of your apartment, knocking the back of your head against it twice in frustration. Letting out a irate puff of air, you push yourself off of the door and force yourself to get to work. It’s not the end of the world, hopefully it'll come back soon, the providers are usually quick with getting the outages fixed, even in your shitty area. 

You force yourself to move forward, frowning deeply as you scoop up all of the paperwork spread out on your coffee table, making sure to keep it all in order as you move them over to the desk you have by your window seat. You drop the pile down and cast your gaze out to all of the clothes strewn haphazardly around your apartment, cursing yourself for having been so messy earlier when you were trying on just about every outfit you own and then flinging them around frustrated when you decided they weren’t good enough.

You scowl as you bend down to pick them all up, deciding you’ll just stuff them messily in your closet and fold them later when you don’t have company. As you zoom around trying to snag all of the dresses and different pairs of bras and underwear scattered about, your mind races. Your stove should still work because your landlord refuses to install any modern appliances into your apartment, for better or for worse, so you have an old model that shouldn’t be affected by the outage. But you think it’ll be awkward sitting in the dark, you think you have a few candles stored away in your room—you’ll have to find them and set them up. 

Candlelit evening, how romantic! you think to yourself, a bit dreamily. You wonder if Albatross will be coming up to join the two of you in your apartment, you’d offered to make him a drink too but you figure it’ll be Dazai’s decision if he’ll be waiting outside or…

Or maybe, he’ll send him home. 

You get giddy at the thought—candlelights, slightly tipsy after a night out, you take a peek under your dress to try to figure out which underwear you’d decided on earlier and if you should change into a different pair but are delighted when you realize that you’d gone with your pretty red ones. 

You think he’ll like them. 

Hopefully. 

You like them, they’re your favorites.

Oh, you have to clean your bedroom too, you think to yourself in partial agony because you don’t know how the hell you’re going to clean up everything in there without making Dazai wait out there for an hour. You get anxious at the thought, worrying that if you take too long, he might leave, so you pick up the pace. You snatch the last stray bra hanging on the arm of your couch before taking off into your bedroom.

You hardly get a step into the room before you’re freezing in your tracks.

No way.

You stare at your bed, arms falling loose to your side, lips parted in shock. The clothes you’d cleaned up all drop aimlessly to the floor around you. Your bed is drenched with water—your sheets soaked, your mattress soaked, the ceiling heavy with rainwater from a leak you didn’t know you had.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out to yourself, unsure of what exactly you should do, never having had a problem like this before.

You think this is what you get, seeking out the cheapest possible apartment complex to stay in because you’re trying to save all of the money you have for school. Now, your mattress is ruined, your ceiling looks like it’s on the verge of collapse and oh my god, you left your laptop on your bed. 

A noise caught between a whimper and cry of frustration leaves your lips as you dive forward, fishing your laptop out of the massive pool of water flooding your bed. You hold it in front of your face between two fingers, watching as water drips from it down to the ground. 

There goes your laptop too.

You think you might be sick. 

Now, you have to deal with a landlord who is decidedly not helpful when it comes to issues in the complex and you have nowhere to sleep. Maybe you can call one of your friends to stay at their place, but it’s already the middle of the night and you know two of them have their own entrance exams tomorrow for the programs that they’re applying to.

Unless…

Your gaze shifts to the window in your room, looking between the blinds to see Dazai and Albatross still waiting outside in their car. 

Okay. Most urgent problem temporarily fixed. Maybe.

Dazai has a place. He has to. He’s clearly rich. It’s probably a much nicer place than yours too. You can go there, at least for the night. He wouldn’t just leave you with nowhere to go… right? No, of course he wouldn’t. You need to pack then, instead of cleaning. 

Okay, this is fine. 

It’s fine. 

It takes you about five minutes to grab a few spare pairs of clothes into the duffle bag laying at your bedroom door, occasionally tossing dirty looks at the leak ruining your bed. When you finish throwing your clothes in the duffle—unfolded and hastily, of course, they’ll be terribly wrinkled—you rise to your feet and swing the bag over your shoulder, making your way back to your door and grabbing your groceries. 

You don’t know what to say to him when you get back to the car. You’re probably being a bit presumptuous. Okay, a lot presumptuous—Dazai has never invited you back to his place, you’ve invited him to yours—but you don’t really have another choice.

You exhale as you step back into the rain, locking your apartment and making your way back down the steps to the complex’s parking lot. You don’t let yourself hesitate as you dart across the parking lot toward the car, fearing that if you take a second to actually think about what you’re doing—inviting yourself into someone else’s home!—you’ll probably back out.

You open the car door. You slide back inside, taking a seat behind the passenger seat. You drop your duffle bag on the floor between your feet and place your groceries back down between you and Dazai. You can feel both Dazai and Albatross staring at you. You stare ahead.

“... My apartment is flooded,” you finally say after a few moments.

Dazai doesn’t say anything, brows furrowing as he watches you. You can hardly bring yourself to look at him, trying to peek at him from the corner of your eye as best as you can without being too obvious about it. He’s not responding. Albatross isn’t moving the car. You’re getting the urge to bolt, to run upstairs and drown yourself in the puddle of water on your bed. 

Finally, Albatross clears his throat. “Boss?”

Dazai still doesn’t respond. You think you might be doubly sick now, and embarrassed. An awful combination, really. You know that he knows what you came back here hoping for, and you realize that he might just send you back to your flooded apartment instead because he obviously did not sign up for taking in some random girl that he’s met a few Fridays for the night because she has nowhere else to go. 

You finally turn your face to look at Dazai head on and you can feel that your eyes are glassy, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You don’t know how pathetic you must look for Dazai’s expression to shift the way it does, his conflicted expression crumbling as he turns away from you. You don’t want to know how pathetic you must look, you’d only feel even more humiliated.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai finally says: “Drive.”

Albatross’s eyes shoot open, he physically turns to look at Dazai, “But-”

You don’t catch the look that Dazai gives Albatross, too busy basking in the relief of having somewhere to stay for the night, but whatever it is, it makes Albatross turn back to face the wheel without another word, turning the car back on and shifting it into gear before pulling out of the parking lot. 

As soon as you’re on the move, you turn your attention back down to your phone, trying to figure out if you should message your landlord now or in the morning, dreading the inevitable argument you’re going to have with him. You fiddle with the device, occasionally sparing looks at Dazai, but the man is lost in thought next to you, visible eye distant and conflicted.

You can’t bring yourself to say anything so the whole drive to Dazai’s apartment is long and quiet. Even Albatross, who’s had no difficult sparking conversation the whole drive to your place, stays silent.

You’re bummed, all of the excitement you felt about bringing Dazai back to your place is long gone, feeling the stress of having to replace everything that’s been ruined by the leak and the anxiety of dealing with your landlord; all you want to do is sleep and die. Okay. That’s dramatic. But you’re exhausted and you really do want to sleep. Maybe not die, but definitely sleep. 

You lay your head against the window, eyes starting to droop shut, and you can feel Dazai glancing at you now but you can’t even bring yourself to look over at him. Instead, you keep your eyes trained outside the window, only perking up when Albatross finally starts slowing to a stop.

And then, you’re suddenly not tired at all. Your eyes widen as he pulls to the front of the tallest of the five black buildings that tower over the Naka ward, lips parting as you crane your head to look up out the window and then look pointedly back at Dazai, stunned.

Dazai refuses to meet your gaze, staring ahead. 

… You think that your instincts about this man must be spot on. 

Too bad you’re not listening to them.

“You’ve gone crazy.”

Dazai’s gaze draws up from the paperwork he’s definitely not doing, far too preoccupied with thoughts of you; it’s cold and cutting as it lands on Chuuya. His executive enters the room without any type of announcement, his voice just as cold as Dazai’s expression—he supposes it’s testimony to how angry he is, because Chuuya is only frigid in his anger when he’s really been pushed to the brink.

Naturally, Dazai only smiles, a slow and taunting one that he knows presses all of Chuuya’s buttons from the way the man’s bicolored eyes flash with fury. Chuuya storms over to Dazai’s desk, making his way until he’s standing right in front of him. 

“How so?” Dazai drawls, folding his hands over his lap as he leans back in his chair, tilting his head to the side questioningly. 

“How so?” Chuuya spits out, slamming his hands down on Dazai’s desk. Dazai raises his eyebrows and then lifts his chin, looking pointedly down to where Chuuya’s hands are splayed against his desk. Chuuya doesn’t flinch—of course he doesn’t, he’s Chuuya—but he does pull his hands back to himself, albeit snarling as he does it. “The hell are you bringing some random woman back to our base? Back to your room? Going out alone the past few weeks when you know you’ve got a bounty on your head higher than most world leaders? I was letting it slide but this is too far, why the hell is she here? You’ve gone crazy, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Careful, Chuuya,” Dazai warns, voice quiet, expression growing a bit flinty when he brings you up. Dazai doesn’t care if Chuuya wants to rail on him for being reckless, but he’s not allowed to drag you into it. He decides to not acknowledge the comment about you, focusing on the end of his tirade, “I was with one of the Flags, I wasn’t alone.”

“Albatross isn’t cut out for that type of combat and you know it,” Chuuya snaps, glaring at Dazai. “If one of those bounty hunters came after you, you both would’ve been killed. What’s gotten into you? Never took you for the type to be this reckless. You get a taste of a woman’s c-”

“I said careful, Chuuya. Know your place,” Dazai repeats, voice icy. The warning is gone, only a threat remains—Chuuya doesn’t need to finish his sentence for Dazai to know where he was going with it, the way the man’s eyes darted over to Dazai’s bedroom was more than enough to confirm it. 

“Is this a goddamn joke to you?” Chuuya asks, keeping his voice low, his lips flat and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t get it. You’ve always been so careful, more than anyone else. What the hell does one random woman have that’s making you risk all of this?” 

“I’m not risking anything,” Dazai tells him coolly, “and she’s not just some random woman.”

Chuuya’s expression shifts, brows furrowing deeper; Dazai can see the tiny cogs working behind his eyes as he thinks. He wonders if Chuuya has been drinking tonight, catching the pink hue to his cheeks and the hazy look coating his eyes. 

No wonder he’s so angry then, Dazai muses, he must have been out with Kouyou when he got word that Dazai left the base again without any protection detail and then brought someone up to his room who in Chuuya’s mind, could be an assassin for all he knows. 

Suddenly, the confusion clears and something closer to realization sweeps across Chuuya’s face. His gaze turns back pointedly in the direction of Dazai’s bedroom.

“That’s her,” Chuuya says, disbelief dripping from his tone. “The girl you’ve had Kouyou looking over for years. What the fuck, Dazai? I thought the whole point of having Kouyou look after her was so that you kept away from her.”

Dazai stares at Chuuya, only for a moment, because then his gaze drifts back to the door leading into his bedroom, mind drifting. He supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised that Kouyou told Chuuya about it—Dazai wasn’t explicit enough with his orders, only telling Kouyou to ensure that Dazai himself never knew anything about her. Of course, the woman would bring it up to Chuuya, probably hoping Chuuya had some insight into why Dazai is so insistent on your protection. 

Chuuya didn’t, of course, but he guesses that only made the topic of you and Dazai’s apparent random attachment to you even more of an interesting topic for their wine sessions. Honestly, he’s surprised that Chuuya didn’t realize earlier that the girl he’s been seeing is the one he’s had Kouyou assigned to. Kouyou surely should have known by now.

You’re fast asleep by now. He got lucky because of how exhausted you were over the stress of the whole situation: he didn’t have to deal with the questions that he was certain would arise as soon as you caught sight of the Port Mafia base. You were all but falling asleep on your feet as the two of you stood in the glass elevator leading up to Dazai’s apartment, the penthouse in the centermost of the five buildings consisting of the Port Mafia base. Dazai thought he was about to have a heart attack when you swayed on your feet and ended up resting your head on his bicep, eyes drooping shut. You only managed a few sleepy protests as he led you to his bedroom, asking where he was going to sleep if you take his room (the fact that you worry about him when you’re even on the brink of falling asleep on your feet made his fingers tingle), but you gave in quickly at his insistence. 

He should feel some sort of pity, or sympathy, because he could see the weariness in your eyes and the fatigue plaguing your body. Dazai might not be capable of feeling pity or sympathy for most people, but if he could feel it for anyone, it would be you. But he does not, and it’s for a selfish reason, of course: your misfortune led to you turning to him for help, and the thought of that alone makes his chest feel light and giddy. 

Yes, he’s going to have to figure out some sort of excuse tomorrow for when you wake up and inevitably have questions—he is not ready for you to know about his position in the Port Mafia—but right now you’re sleeping in his bed and you’re relying on him for help. His fingers thrum against his desk, jittery with excitement, he almost forgets Chuuya is there until he hears the man let out a sharp noise of disgust at Dazai's apparent exhilaration. 

Distantly, very distantly, he knows this is bad. You’ve been smart and observant in every universe, you’re going to put together that something is seriously wrong—you were not supposed to come back to his place, but how was he supposed to say no to you when you were looking at him with teary eyes and nowhere else to go? The thought itself feels like sacrilege. 

“You know what we are and what we do,” Chuuya says, voice calmer now as he shakes his head and fishes a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with his free hand before he turns to leave. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but you’re putting this girl in danger after the lengths you went to keep her safe. I don’t get it.”

He squints a bit as Chuuya’s words ring through his head. That’s what he had thought too, but he’s the last person to admit to Chuuya that he might be right. A cold feeling starts to set over him, spreading through his chest like ice. If he’s going to think about this realistically, you’re probably already in danger just from being around him. The likelihood of someone catching sight of the two of you the past few weeks is higher than he’s comfortable with, even with the precautions that he’s taken, especially with tonight outside the club and at the convenience store. The thought is terrifying, enough to immediately kill off the jittery excitement that had been running through his body. 

Dazai’s index finger traces the outline of his lips, his mind races. What does he do? If you’re in danger, he can’t just let you go back to your apartment and leave you undefended in a sketchier part of the city. His enemies will jump on it. They’ll target you. But he can’t just keep you here. It’ll be too risky, you’ll figure out who he is and what he does, and that’s not even considering the fact that maybe you won’t even want to stay. You might wake up in the morning and head to someone else’s place—you’d made a vague comment about not wanting to intrude and going to a friend’s house tomorrow but the thought makes his stomach twist a bit. 

God, he’s so conflicted. 

But the first thing to handle is making sure that you don’t go back to your apartment alone. The rest he can figure out later on—he has to decide if he’d rather try to keep you around the base and risk you figuring out what he does (god, he wants to keep you around) or if he should just send you off to a “friend’s” (he still stands by the fact that your ‘friends’ are shitty because what sort of friends leave their drunk friend alone at a bar with a stranger—even if he knows that he’d rather let the world burn than see harm come upon you, they don’t know that) with an extra protection detail. One that you wouldn’t know is there, naturally. 

But how does he make sure you don’t go back to your apartment after the leak is fixed? 

He thinks to himself, an idea coming to him swiftly. It’s a bit dark, yes, and he’s sure that if you knew, you’d run for the hills but… to keep you safe, he would do whatever it takes. Even if you’d hate him for it if you knew. 

But what you don’t know won’t hurt you. 

“Chuuya,” Dazai says before the man can leave his apartment. Chuuya stops dead in his tracks, not turning to look at Dazai, but waiting for whatever he has to say. “I’m going to text you the number of her landlord… make sure he doesn’t get her apartment fixed any time soon. And let Gin-chan know I might have a guest for the next few days so she’s not caught off guard tomorrow.”

Chuuya scoffs. “You’re a freak, Dazai.”

Dazai only smiles idly to himself, eyes sliding shut as he leans back in the chair at his desk, Chuuya leaves without another word, Dazai loses himself in thoughts of you. 

A freak? Yeah, maybe. In love? Definitely. 

Should he convince you to stay with him? The thought bounces around his head frantically. He doesn’t know the answer. The more careful part of him screams no, tells him that it’s too dangerous to keep you around. It’s dangerous for you, because the longer you’re around here, the more at risk you’ll be of getting hurt. It’s dangerous for him, because the longer you’re around here, the more at risk he’ll be of getting exposed,

But the less logical part of him, the one that’s consumed by the idea of you, and the chance he has of being with you, is much louder. 

You came to him, he reminds himself. You found him. He tried to be good. He did everything he could to stay away from you, but you still found him. And you chose to seek him out again. You chose to. It’s easier to blame it on you, convince himself that you brought this upon yourself, as if you had any idea what sort of sick and fucked up person Dazai really is, as if you have any idea what’s happened to you in every other universe because of him.

He can never go back to how he was living before meeting you; he can’t. 

You came to him. 

Why should he have to let you go now?

With that thought in mind, Dazai thinks the answer to his question is made abundantly clear. 

[sskk-ao3feed]

Nightmare Fuel || Shin Soukoku Angst

by sevyn_syn770

Shin Soukoku Angst - Atsushi has an episode about his past, causing him to do something that will effect his relationship with Akutagawa forever.

Words: 1490, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Akutagawa Ryuunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Yosano Akiko (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Kunikida Doppo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Miyazawa Kenji (Bungou Stray Dogs), Izumi Kyouka (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Gin

Relationships: Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke & Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu & Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo/Edgar Allan Poe (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Additional Tags: Angst, shin soukoku, Soukoku, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, In Character

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48620149

[im-a-chunky-potato]

I'm sorry in advanced.

Iguerretzai! The back of an iguana, the front of a furret, and the head of Dazai!

..........I need to know the anatomy of this thing now and what it can do.

Your'e welcome for this nightmare fuel<3

should i make a presentation explaining why dazai is a ferret and not a cat?

[sky-drgn]

Dreaming of You - Dazai x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1,014

Warnings: None??

Hope you enjoy! ^-^

Osamu Dazai was not one to believe in the supernatural. If it couldn't be proven one way or another Dazai was sure it wasn't real. That includes soulmates. There was no scientific reason behind it, no proof that they really exist. It's said that everyone has their own way of finding their other half. Be it matching tattoo like birthmarks, red strings, first words on each other's bodies, only seeing color when meeting the other's eye, or even having timers on their wrist. Other ways have been said, those, however, are the most common.

Now, Dazai has seen the birthmarks on people showing they are soulmates. However, they looked too much like tattoos to truly believe they were soulmate marks. Everyone he’s seen with them has been older and could easily get a tattoo. Not to mention being in the Port Mafia and only associating with others in the Port Mafia means that no matter their age, they have access to illegal means of getting a tattoo. So really he had no reason to believe they are what it's calmed to be.

Another reason Dazai didn't believe in the idea of soulmates? He didn't have anything to indicate he had a soulmate. It wasn't unheard of for people not to have a soulmate, it was just rare. Though, if he really thought about it, it was fitting that he didn't have a soulmate. Who would want the Port Mafia's Demon Prodigy as their life partner? He would never admit he wanted a soulmate, someone to help take away his loneliness.

"Oi, Markral stop spacing out."

"Oh Chuuya, you're back. And here I was just beginning to think you were killed overseas. How unfortunate for you to come back alive."

"Shut up. The boss wants to see us."

---

It wasn't often Dazai slept. Nightmares fuels his insomnia like nothing else can. However, when he does sleep, he'll occasionally have good dreams. And when he falls into one of those dreams he actually sleeps well.

The dreams? They are of another person, through their eyes. The first time he recalls having one of these so-called good dreams was before the nightmares started. The person whose eyes he was looking through was running towards the playground of a school having just been let out for recess. The language beginning spoken wasn't one he recognized at the time.

The second time he recalled having such a dream was years later. Dazai was about fourteen years old. It was nothing special. Just the day in the life of a middle schooler. He was able to recognize the language, it was English. He didn't start learning it until he was fifteen though. The person had been taking a test and was struggling. He wondered if he would have been able to solve the test if he knew what the words on the page said.

"You're here early Dazai. Something happen? You look down."

"OdaSaku! How kind of you to join me!" Dazai said enthusiastically upon hearing his friend's voice. "Just another day of work. The boss made me work with Chuuya again."

"I see."

It was quiet for a while as the two sat and drank their usual. Eventually, Ango joined the two men. Dazai was happy at the moment - as happy as Dazai can get that is.

"Huh? Is something bothering you Dazai?" asked Ango, noticing the younger male's mood flatten.

"I had asked him the same thing when I got here. Tried to brush it off as working with his partner." OdaSaku said before taking a sip of his drink.

"I really can't get anything past you two can I?"

"No, you can't. Now what's bothering you?" said OdaSaku as he put his drink down. The ice made a small noise as it clinked against the glass.

"Have either of you ever had dreams where it looked like you were living life through the eyes of someone else?"

"I haven't, no. That's because I have a red string," said Ango. "That's just another way of showing you have a soulmate."

"Ango's right. I don't have a soulmate, but I have heard those stories. People fall asleep and then as they dream they see the life of their soulmate through their eyes. Only if the other person is awake though. I think there are a few other conditions as well. I don't entirely remember."

"You two really believe that soulmate stuff?"

"How can I not? I can see the string attached to my hand."

"I didn't at first. Since I don't have one. But when I looked at the people around me, I knew it had to be true."

So maybe Dazai did have a soulmate? Really he wasn't sure how to feel about it. He had gone through life believing such a thing isn't real. And now maybe he has one? Dazai was really unsure how to feel about it all.

---

Some years had passed since Dazai had one of his so-called good dreams. The dreams showed him his soulmate's life through her eyes. The last one he had was when he was nineteen. His soulmate had been on a plane with a workbook in front of her. She was translating sentences into English and others into Japanese. He would be lying if he said he wasn't proud of her for working so hard on learning the language. Especially knowing how she struggled with the one she was forced to learn in high school. He wondered if he would meet her soon now that she was in Japan

He never did meet her. The dreams stopped as well. He remembered OdaSaku saying once that the other person had to be awake among other things. He wished he could ask the older male what some of the other conditions were. But he knew all he would get back was silence from the cold gravestone. Maybe it was better when she lived abroad. He would know for a fact that she was alive. Different time zones create higher chances of one of them being asleep while the other is awake.

[hellonoblesky]

hi dovie im writing that fanfic where albatross sneaks into soukokus bed. i need to know what his terrors would be about (im giving you a "PLEASE GIVE ME A CHARACTER ANALYSIS IM BEGGING YOU" look rn btw)

LOVe. LOVELOVE LVOE PEACE AND LOVE MWAH MWAH

SO. So. In the Trainwreck Trio au Albatross is the sole survivor of Verlaine's killing of the Flags, yeah? So he has nightmares n stuff from That alongside survivor's guilt, and a feeling of inadequacy because he couldn't save Doc who was the one person he really did think he saved there, and also bc they teased him for not being very smart all the time so he's like "AUGH why do I get to survive but all the smarter people died?? I'm not worth this, god DAMMIT" <- Which feeds into his nightmares and terrors, really sending him into a silly doom spiral of The Horrors

BUT ALSO the only reason Albatross even SURVIVES Verlaine's onslaught is that in this au Wollstonecraft was on standby for repairs for Adam, so Adam calls her and is like "HEY I THINK VERLAINE JSUT FUCKING MAIMED ALL OF CHUUYAS FRIENDS GO?? CHECK ON THEM PLEASE AND THANK YOU" so she goes in there with a team and they re-stabilize Albatross literally by having to move the majority of his organs and internal functioning system into a metal vessel and then working circutry and robotics through him so he's functional enough to pass as a normal person (given that no one pays attention to or makes contact to any part of him lower than his chest because it is Metal you knock on that man's stomach you hear Clanging)

^ This is important because alongside the Terrors and Horrors of watching pretty much his entire found family get torn apart right in front of him, Albatross begins a spiral into a state of questioning his personal humanity, the thought of "I should be dead I should be dead I'm not dead because of these machines in me I'm part of a machine now am I a Person anymore??"

Which feeds into a self-isolation that was originally fueled by his survivor's guilt and probably PTSD, because now he's like "Oh. oh those are normal people I don't think i. i deserve that. ok. hm. ok i'm leaving now."

AND TO HIM. TO HIM?? CHUUYA AND DAZAI BOTH FALL UNDER THE CATEGORY OF HUMAN. HE LOOKS AT THEM AND HE'S LIKE "Yeah... there they are,,, just normal guys..... not exactly the normallest of guys but they're more people than I am i think,,"

So, you remember that one post about dead albatross symbolysm? The kin awakening one? Yeah so the frantic sobbing-so-hard-he-can't-breath breakdown I mentioned he probably had at the end of that? That's like, within the AU timeline, so it's like

>SB Events >The Horrors (Self-Isolation Version) >Breakdown/Tipping Point (Catalyst for him being able to Begin to return to regularly interacting with people, starting w Chuuya) >The Horrors Pt2 (Adjusting to everything) <- This is the stage where the drawing I did takes place in! He's too unstable to just be able to Ask to stay over but he figures if he can Sneak in then it's fine >Dark Era (He's a lot better at this point but also he has an episode about Dazai leaving because Losing People Doesn't Go Over Well With Him) >Current day (Epic Gamer moment)

ANYWAY so the Terrors and Horrors you want to go for for ur fic are probably feelings of like. Feeling lost and struggling to find closeness but also being so close and Needing that closeness to someone, an unhealthy dose of anxiety but specifically the anxiety you feel when it's mixed with depression so it's anxiety but somehow?? Slower. Like it's definitely Anxiety but mixing it with Depression made it's constancy thicker so it's less a "fidget nervous gotta run gotta go fear fear fear" feeling and more of a "the swamp is swallowing me and the branch is just out of reach but if i can just move a little to the side here jsut a little", if that ??? Makes sense??

TL:DR: Survivor's guilt and a feeling of displacement. Horrors and terrors of the Depression stage of grief mixed with Anxiety

AND if you have other questions I can answer them :)!!!!!!!<333

[transsexualhamlet]

okayokayokay i have like. Q U E S T I O N S because i have *wanted* to read no longer human but have been afraid to SO -

1) what's it like? what do u think of it? im sooo curious 👀

2) do u think that asagiri-sensei based bsd dazai sorta off the book more than off the actual authour? i seem to remember reading that once but i dont remember if it was speculation or not

3) .......just infodump as much as you want, really; im Curious™️ and it looks like ur having fun with the book XD

p.s. - have fun with crime and punishment; thats a book ive DEFINITELY been meaning to read (but i havent had time to yet djfjdjfjf)

AHHHHHHH HI TYSM I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD ASK. I read the entire book in 2 hours before going to bed like four days ago, though it probably wasn't the best time to do it, that shit is nightmare fuel

I'm just gonna preface this with I know basically nothing about the actual author other than what's in the book, also I read the manga version (the junji ito one, yeah) so yeah I'm not sure how much that differs from the original text.

So for how much he based it off of the book vs the actual author, I couldn't really tell you- no longer human is somewhat of an autobiography, so I'd say that those work together. (it's complicated, bc the main character of no longer human is not actually dazai, but dazai is there, and they like??? basically say that that character and dazai are like actually the same person???? and they like, switch places at the end?? its really confusing, but basically, I'm treating the mc of no longer human as dazai himself.) The important stuff about the author that I know of worked into dazai's character is all in no longer human too so,,, yeah. I think saying that it's based more off of that book is probably true, though I don't know what asagiri was thinking.

But about the book itself- Yeah uhhhhhh seriously, I don't really recommend reading no longer human if you have much of a sensitivity to basically anything, especially the graphic novel version because when i say graphic novel i mean Graphic there is so much nudity, sex, s/a, addiction, violence, Mental Illness of all types, religious trauma, obviously suicide, and frankly just visually horrifying stuff

So everything under this is gonna be under a cut just cause Uh Yeah It's A Lot and i do not want to subject everybody to it

But reading it was certainly something I am glad I did, because it did teach me a lot about dazai and how he was created, as well as confirming a lot of theories I had about him that can't be confirmed or denied in bsd canon.

Like me and my friend were just like examining his character and kind of coming up with ideas about him- like we both agreed that he had Motherless Energy TM and that his dad had to have been an absolute fucking piece of shit. Also, we thought that he definitely had to have had A Lot of csa trauma and probably issues having to do with his neurodivergency when he was a child.

Literally all of that ended up being true within the canon of no longer human, so I was kind of impressed that we were so right?? It makes me feel better for thinking a lot of those things, especially since they're just Pretty Fucked Up.

But yeah its. No wonder he turned out that way when he was So Autistic and Masking So Much And So Badly and with absolutely no guidance as how to deal with his neurodivergency other than just fucking let anything anyone wanted happen sooooo he got raped, as a kid, like. A lot. A LOT. And basically ended up thinking that because of this all humans were just horrifying awful monsters and yeahhhhh things pretty much went downhill from there

I don't have a ton of time so you can send me more asks about it lol this is just barely scratching the surface this thing is pretty intense

A lot of other things that I think I can apply to bsd dazai as well, tho they're not gone into that much in the canon:

-This dude is like always fucking drunk or high, cause he just cannot stand being sober that much. He's a serious alcoholic and actually addicted to opioids and I cannot think that much differently about dazai. He's got issues.

but there are a lot of differences between Dazai and the no longer human mc, though there are enough similarities that this is definitely the dude he was based off of.

The main difference is that the no longer human mc is actually just a good guy. He's made a shit ton of stupid fucking mistakes, but he's trying to be a good man and he feels awful for the things he's done, which, I really cannot say Dazai has. Dazai is not a good man, I think everyone knows that. He doesn't really care that much lol

-both of them are like. Weirdly popular with women. Which is hilarious but like, with Dazai he doesn't really take it seriously, and he actually flirts with women. The no longer human guy like. He doesn't hes just like Tragically Attractive and women want to be with him and he has no clue how to say no so he just ends up being a whore bc hes socially useless. It causes a lot of problems bc hes like constantly cheating because of this lol.

-Dazai has a much more poetic view of it all? The no longer human guy is just fucking suffering and hes like why is this happening to me im so awful and i bring misfortune to everyone around me and its not fair and he wants to die and everything but it's not at all in the same way that Dazai does. Dazai acts more like an author than him, in the sense of his "I want a death that is narriatively satisfactory and I want to know the meaning of living by seeing the worst of it and observing how it is to be a human" yeah that's not the same at all. No longer human man really just doesn't understand them and is just. Not having fun

-Also, it's really the thing about Dazai having such an utter lack of religion compared to his original counterpart. Like, the main thing that kept this dude alive for so long was the fact that he had so much religious trauma and was constantly guilty and worried he would go to hell and basically scared of everything. Bsd dazai is like, nearly the opposite, he's the kind of dude who was born and raised atheist, and in the kind of way that he's trying to basically come up with his own meaning of life and religion to follow, whereas the original is struggling to live with one that's been perscribed to him. Both are Very Neurodivergent but it was, handled differently

And yeah i really do have to keep this short, you can totally ask me more and I have a lot more to say but one thing I want to bring attention to is the fact of something they do have in common- their masking. It's a big part of no longer human, about how the mc doesn't understand social customs and what is acceptable or how to talk to people or seriously be happy, so he basically comes up with this "clowning" which is basically, make a fool of himself on purpose all the time so people will never take him seriously or think he's good or smart. That's something dazai completely does, wholeheartedly, and something that fucks him up bad in no longer human. And I think that could be examined a lot more deeply, this dude has issues and so many of them are related to autism. God, I have so many thoughts but aghhhhhhhhhhhhh i hope u enjoy

[chocolate-parfait]

IM SORRY IN ADVANCE!!! It makes me feel horrible but like... 💀 for Mozart and Isaac... lowkey want Dazai but I think I’d rather die than to see his despair lmao. I hope hope youre well and take your vitamins~~

I'm (kinda) back for now!! Here ya go and sorry for the wait~

(TW; death and mentions of suicide)

☠️ How do they react when they find out their s/o is dead?

Mozart

Natural death:

The void caused by your departure is always there, lingering in his troath like the bitter aftertaste of a terrible medicine. Sometimes this tight and oppressing feeling squeezes his heart as if a sharp string constricting his whole being

The more you love someone, the more you find it difficult to move on one once they're gone. The same way, at least one part of Mozart's mind is always focused on the memory of you, your smile, your scent, the feeling of your touch. When his thoughts start overwhelming him as he's playing the piano, he suddenly changes tempo and transforms whatever he's playing into something more akin to a violent storm. Then, when he's finally relaxed a bit, the tune becomes what one would describe as a soft, light rain with a tinge of sadness underneath

Whenever he's not cooped up in the music room playing, he can be found wandering the empty halls of the mansion like a lost soul in purgatory. He's tired and his limbs feel heavy, and during the first months of his mourning he doesn't even have the force to throw his usual hard stares and harsh words at the other residents. After some time, despite his constant longing to see you, his mood improves ever so slightly, but he knows he probably won't be getting back to his tiptop shape anytime soon, not that he actually wants to. To feel happy without you by his side is almost a blasphemy to him, and this time he's not going to change his mind

Sudden death:

He will never be able to forgive himself for not protecting you. From the outside he's as pale and dull as the ashes left after a fire dies out, but underneath it all, there's a flame hotter than any star in the endless space, a raging storm of anger fueled by sorrow and utter desperation. Though he may not be as expressive, his music speaks volumes. His piano is now the only thing he focuses on, and anyone who passes by the music room can understand how well it must mirror the state of his soul. It becomes painfully clear how deeply affected he is even to Mozart himself when he nearly destroys some piano keys from hitting them with too much force. He doesn't really care, he just wants you to come back, but knowing how unlikely that is, he can do nothing but deal with his emotions in the only way he knows, through music

Once his overwhelming rage subsides, he's left with nothing but a dull ache that spreads from his heart and tightens in the coldest of embraces, the exact opposite of your warm and loving one

Ever since when you're no longer with him, no one has ever heard a happy tune coming from his piano ever again

Isaac

Natural death:

You're the first person who truly loved him, embraced him and supported him unconditionally, and after you decided to spend your entire lifetime with him, saying he feels grateful is an understatement. Of course there won't be a moment in which he won't be thinking of you nor missing you, but after the gloom and a talk with the other residents, he feels confident enough to try and face life again

This does not mean that the process is an easy one, and it takes him quite some time to get used to a life without you. He's so used to holding your hand and talking to you that sometimes he wakes up with the illusion that you'll be there to greet him. When he realizes that you're no longer there, his heart almost stops beating as tears start forming in his eyes

Sudden death:

He cannot forgive himself. Your death causes him to revert to his original hermetic state. His confidence is crushed, his heart hollow and his mind numb. He had always known he wasn't man enough to protect you, and now for his stupid mistake you had lost your life. If you hadn't met him you'd probably be somewhere happily smiling as you enjoy your life to the fullest. Though he feels guilty for doubting your love, his brain acknowledges that it's the very reason why you had to suffer so much

After uselessly pleading Comte to find a way to bring you back to life, he finally surrenders to the utter desperation that angrily whirled between the the walls of his heart. He starts neglecting his research, his job at the university, his own needs and hunger. More often than not he cries himself to a sleep haunted with nightmares and feverish visions of you. With you, a big part of him died, too, and there's no angel nor devil that can make him feel alive him anymore

Dazai

Natural death:

He had always known this day would've come, and surprisingly enough he's way calmer than what he thought he'd be. Maybe his brain hadn't yet fully realized what happened, but mostly it's because you had spent your whole life loving and protecting him from his dark and unhappy thoughts and tendencies, so now he couldn't bring himself to let your efforts be in vain.

Your positive energy has rubbed off on him, but though tries his best to smile it off, there's still a hint of desolation in his golden orbs. He's going to feel extremely lonely without you there, but he wants to try and keep up a front by focusing on the immense gratitude and love left in his heart for you. If he spent the rest of his days slumped over his tear stained pillow you'd probably feel really sad too, right? That's what he wants to believe and it pushes him to at least try pretending he's fine

Sudden death:

How could he be so blind and foolish to crave something so atrociously horrible during his life? Was this the salvation he had so much believed in? Dazai's heart fills with contempt towards life and destiny. All those times you told him life wasn't something that exists for the sake of atonement, he had believed you like a child would with their mother, but the truth was another

You, who didn't have any faults nor commit any sin, why was it you who had to pay the price for something you were not culpable of? But in his heart he knows the answer. The only mistake your pure soul could be accused of was loving him. He, who could not protect you. He, who had wasted an entire life running to reach the end as fast as possible, believing that all his wrongdoings would have been forgiven if he did so

But now what use does he have of all those worthless conjectures? Now that you are no longer there, now that he's left alone in his suffering, now he could perhaps embrace the cold end without the egotistical wish to be forgiven, but to meet you again instead

[normiewrites]

To celebrate the last Friday the 13th of the decade, I decided to write a small fanfic in honour of the nightmare before christmas, one of my favourite films. 

This is also my first time writing for Dazai, so I hope y’all like it!

I suggest hearing the song before reading

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouAt_5UO83s

P.S - this will be my last post till my winter break

Let’s find out (The Nightmare Before Christmas AU) - Dazai x (g/n)Reader 

The wind nipped at your skin, but it didn’t feel cold or warm, in short it didn’t feel like anything. You could never feel anything, being something constructed in a lab. You wished to know how the petals of the dragon lilies felt under your hands as you traced your hand across the stem, making sure not to get bitten by it, and how the glistening soil felt against your knees as you knelt in the garden. In the distance, you could hear the Halloween parade fading out, the annual celebration which was all that anyone in the town ever lived for. No matter how much you loved the gore and fanatics, you longed for something more, something that was different. Or rather, someone who was different.

You sighed softly, knowing that in a matter of minutes Doctor Finklestein would call you back to the lab to lock you up and labour for him, and despite feeling nothing you shivered at imagining how much he would scold you for ruining your knee stitches with the soil. Alas, you did eventually stop caring over the years, but he made you, so there was always the threat that he could break you. You longingly stared at the forest on your left, the dark trees so close yet so far together, as if hiding something from you. You knew to never go there, it was always mentioned when the Doctor let you out, yet that only fueled your curiosity.

“Y/n!!!!!!”, you heard the crackly and stretched voice from afar, the echoes telling you that it came from the tower, your supposed home.

Just as you were getting up, you heard a faint familiar voice, making you dash behind a nearby bush, the thorns of the toad snippers barely bothering you.

“There are few who'd deny, at what I do I am the best

For my talents are renowned far and wide

When it comes to surprises in the moonlit night

I excel without ever even trying

With the slightest little effort of my ghostlike charms

I have seen grown men give out a shriek

With the wave of my hand, and a well-placed moan

I have swept the very bravest off their feet”

You gasped softly, watching as the man in the bandages and beige coat walked through the garden, plucking a dragon lily and sighing softly as it nipped at his chin. He brown hair danced in the wind as he threw the flower onto the ground, walking towards the hill on the right of the garden. He slowly crept up the hill, hands in his pocket as his head faced down.

“Yet year after year, it's the same routine

And I grow so weary of the sound of screams

And I, Dazai, the Pumpkin King

Have grown so tired of the same old thing”

Your eyes widened in revelation. You had always admired Dazai from afar, scared of weirding him out with your revelations of the town, but you never knew how he truly felt. In some ways, it’s as if you both were the same. You never knew how the King of Halloween could feel so bored with it, but you couldn’t deny you felt the same.

“Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bandages

An emptiness began to grow

There's something out there, far from my home

A longing that I've never known”

Now with the yellow moon behind him as he stood on top of the hill, you could no longer see the way his brown dead eyes glistened in horror. His deep honey voice filled the emptiness of the garden as the wind made the ends of his bandages and coat trail behind him in the wind. He picked up his head, hands out of the pockets as he waved them around, a dramatic in play.

“I'm a master of fright, and a demon of light

And I'll scare you right out of your pants

To a guy in Kentucky, I'm Mister Unlucky

And I'm known throughout England and France”

You restrained yourself from screaming out as he started to walk forward, scared that he would fall, yet the tip of the hill grew and grew, following his every step as he walked down back to the garden, a soft blue essence floating behind him, leaving a ghost like trail. Of course, how could you forget, he was the King of Halloween.

“And since I am dead, I can take off my head

To recite Shakespearean quotations

No animal nor man can scream like I can

With the fury of my recitations”

You watched in awe, like every other citizen of the town would, as Dazai took off his head, holding it in his hand as it stared back at his neck. There was no blood, no pain, just pure magic and the true horrors of the Pumpkin King. He was now at the edge of the forest and you could see the darkness of it sucking him in. He couldn’t resist it either, and it felt odd that something so strange and unfamiliar felt so comforting and attractive. Putting his head back on, he went in, walking through the forest with his head down, his lament ongoing. You didn’t think twice before following him, hiding behind trees and trying your best to avoid the twigs and dry leaves on the ground.

“But who here would ever understand

That the Pumpkin King with the demon grin

Would tire of his crown, if they only understood

He'd give it all up if he only could”

He, who had everything, would give it all up if he could? The man so praised for what he does, would give his crown away? Nobody ever really knew him then, and you never knew that he would be the someone who was different. You would expect it to be one of the mice buskers who lived in the alleyways, not the Pumpkin King.

You both weaved through the forests, the threes getting thicker and lighter as you continued your journey through the barren foreign land. The first signs of the new day painted everything, the orange of the pumpkin sun appearing through the trees.

“Oh, there's an empty place in my heart

That calls out for something unknown

The fame and praise come year after year

Does nothing for these empty tears”

You could feel his longing seeping into your brain, the sadness of his voice snapping you out of the reality of the party town. Dazai stopped at a small opening just as his head whipped up, looking at the trees that circled him. It didn’t look natural, but then again what was natural in this world? What was more odd was the different markings on the doors, and doorknobs? There seemed to be doors on the doors, all leading to somewhere different.

“Oh, what’s all this?” he wondered out loud, looking at each of the five trees.

He first looked at the one before him, the tree marked with a big red heart, then the next, a tree with a green four leaved plant on it. What were these things? There were no pumpkins and skeletons, and such vibrant colours were absent in the town of Halloween. Then he turned around, looking at the other trees, marked with a colourful egg and a type of bird, but the one that caught his attention the most was the tree marked with another green tree, shiny balls and presents decorating it.

“So pretty, it’s the complete opposite of everything here” he whispered, loud enough for you to hear, as he walked towards the tree.

Your grip on the tree that you hid behind tighten, a few splinters entering your cloth like skin as you tried your best not to warn him. You watched with a held breath as he wrapped his hand around the doorknob. He was about to open the door, but he stopped and sighed softly.

“Wanna come along, y/n?”

You stiffened up, hearing your name whispered from his lips. Did he know you were watching him all along? Was he angry? What was he going to do to you now? You kept cussing out in your head, hands clenched into fists as you stepped out into the open, looking down, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

“Don’t worry, I enjoy having a cute stalker, but I’m tired of the distanced stares. Why not look at me up close and personal instead, darling?” he charmed, smirking softly at you as you looked up into his eyes, cheeks flushed.

You don’t say anything as you walk towards his outstretched hand, biting your lip in anticipation. You felt awful for what you had done, yet your curiosity and longing for something different overpowered those emotions as you curiously looked at the tree shaped door, feeling his arm wrapped around your shoulders. For the first time in forever, you felt a warmth shoot down your body, the feeling unique as you softly leaned into his touch. You could feel his stare on your wondering face and you couldn’t help but stutter.

“W-What is this, D-Dazai?” you asked, mentally slapping yourself for stuttering in front of him.

You could finally see the deadliness of his soft brown eyes, a whole paradox that you wished to explore.

“Let’s find out, y/n” he whispered, opening the door in front of you, a gust of wind and white particles flowing out, accompanied by the darkness of the mysteries that lied beyond.