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bleachification · 1 year

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in reverence - dazai

+ dazai x reader (fantasy au)

+ chapter THREE of all that glitters is not gold (prologue please read this first!!) is here :*

ch. one: dissonance; ch. two: trojan horse (also read these before)

next chapter (4): a painting’s ire

+ author’s note: i used past tense for funsies and idk if i hate it or not so pls lemme know which u guys prefer (ok now onto the fic)

Dazai did not speak to or communicate with you for the rest of the journey. You’d think that would have been cause for relief or gratitude, but instead you found yourself feeling… nothing. Empty. Like the past few days had been nothing but a hazy dream. One that you feared you may never wake from.

The trip was a five-day affair, a period of uneventful seafaring and mild weather. The dolphins you had seen one early morning were the highlight of your passing time. It was a pod of lively creatures that spun through the air and sped alongside the ship, each racing to be at the forefront of the group. Competitive things, they were. The freedom they enjoyed caused an ache in your chest to worsen—a feeling that you’d been in accompaniment with since childhood.

The evening you arrived at the Empire’s capital, Yokohama City, a blaring horn sounded and the ship burst to life. Servants and workmen of all departments and status flew around the vessel in a bustling frenzy. You were ushered off the ship by an assortment of guards and handmaids, a group that tallied a total of eight people, excluding yourself.

As you disembarked, you saw cartfuls of luggage being siphoned out the lower decks and onto the docks. The very docks that were swarmed with Imperial guards, officials, and servants. Each bore a golden insignia carved in the shape of a wolf’s head on their clothing—the seal of the royal family. It was the very symbol of Dazai’s lineage and power.

You shifted your eyes away, only to immediately squint at the harsh sunlight. With a hand blocking the dizzying rays, you stepped forward, ready to push your way through the crowd. You were heir to their nation’s most formidable foe—respect was not a luxury you had much expectation of.

But the moment you walked forward, a hush fell over the crowd, and a most startling thing occurred. Dazai’s people parted like the sea, carving out a path to the shining carriage that awaited you at the end of the road.

You took another step and was surprised once again. Every single person there knelt before you, heads bowed in reverence. In respect.

“This…” you faltered, unsure of yourself for the first time that week—since you first boarded the ship. “It is unnecessary.”

Dazai appeared from seemingly nowhere and stood beside you. “On the contrary. They are merely acting in accordance with what status dictates.”

He leveled his gaze on you. “They treat you as they should—as a ruling half of the Kingdom. The better half.”

Like a lion to a buzzing fly, you ignored him. Dazai frowned at your cold indifference, but decided to bite his tongue.

“Sire…” A soldier walked up to the King and began whispering in his ear, a bit frantic in his movements. Dazai’s brows knitted together, and you found yourself sorely curious about what sort of catastrophe could have made the normally nonchalant Dazai so anxious.

A few more murmurs from the both of them and the knight was sent running off.

“Anything I should be concerned about?” You asked, your inquisitive nature got the better of you.

Dazai cleared his throat and averted his gaze as if he was wracking his brain for an answer. He finally settled on one.

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about.” His tone was light; his smile big and cheerful. But you’d known this boy since the beginning of your lives. You could detect the tension in his jaw and the slight strain in his tone. Did he really think he could hide those things from you?

He hid many things, you reminded yourself.

“A poor excuse. If you will not allow me to be informed, then just say so. There was no need to lie.” You looked him directly in the eyes as you spoke your next words, “After all, have you not done that enough?”

Dazai’s smile fell and his expression turned momentarily cold. He leaned down, so that you were nose-to-nose. You refused to flinch—refused to let him get the better of you.

“I have done many things, Y/N. Some good, some questionable, and some bad. What I have never done is lie to you. Never,” he snarled.

You would be taken aback at his quiet ferocity if it weren’t for the fact that Dazai had stopped being someone to fear a long time ago. Instead, you shrugged.

“You could have fooled me.”

Without waiting for an answer, you turned and made your way down the path towards the carriage. Dazai followed behind in silence. He tried to open the door for you, but you got to it first, yanking it back with so much force the hinges seemed to protest out loud.

Dazai stumbled back just in time, narrowly missing a door to the face. “I understand your anger, but must you attempt to assassinate me on our first day back in my homeland? I am still King.”

“I am well aware of what you are. I just don’t care,” you state.

With a roll of your shoulders, you stepped inside and took a seat on one end of the lavish vehicle. Velvet, gold trimming, and taffeta pillows made up the interior. The exterior was a whole other story—led by four white-coated stallions, the carriage was the same shining colour and gilded with gold leaves. Extravagant and dramatic—much like its owner.

Dazai sat across from you and sighed. “You wound me.”

The carriage started to move. It was much smoother than you expected. The city lights blurred as the horses gathered speed, racing against the waning daylight. Nightfall would soon come, the setting sun in the distance was a clear indication.

“It likely won’t be the only time,” you said. There was no remorse or sympathy to be found—you were void of them.

“Y/N–” he started.

“Stop,” you interrupted him. Dazai’s mouth hung open mid-sentence as you continued. “I can barely tolerate your presence now. Do not make it worse by trying to converse once more. I have nothing to say to you and want to hear nothing of what you have to say to me.”

He shifted in his seat and leaned towards you, searching the planes of your face for any sense of familiarity. There was none. There were many things different about you, but many more just the same. The flickers of the old you that he saw in the stranger before him were about as fragile as glass, and much sharper. Much more… painful.

“We are married. You can’t possibly avoid me for the rest of our lives.”

You stared at him, unwavering. “I won’t have to.”

A slight furrow of the brow was the only indication of his confusion. “What does… Never mind that. We must speak, no matter how uncomfortable it is.”

You scoffed. “Uncomfortable? I am sitting across from the man that murdered my mother. The man that I am now wed to against my will!”

Dazai’s gaze fell to the floor at the anger rising in your voice. You didn’t stop.

“We are far past the realm of uncomfortable. You are lucky I do not slit your throat from where I sit. As far as I am concerned, that is more merciful than what you deserve,” you hissed.

He swallowed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “That night—Y/N you must understand, I–”

Again, your irritation surfaced and you cut him off. “Understand what, Your Majesty? Will it change anything? Will it change the fact that you plunged a sword through my mother and left her bleeding on the palace grounds like a stuck pig?”

His expression shuttered, a mask swirling with shame, frustration, and restraint fell into its place. “No. It will not,” he admitted.

Your lungs stuttered at his blatant confession. You knew it to be true—saw it with your own eyes—but having Dazai confirm your fears and the abominable truth they hid behind… it was like a clamp had tethered itself to your heart and refused to let go.

You forced any and all emotion from your expression and coolly regarded him.

“Then whatever you wanted to say is unnecessary and irrelevant.”

He tried to reply and voice his jumbled mess of emotions and thoughts, but the carriage had grinded to a stop and one of his own knights had opened the door for the both of you to exit from.

You had arrived at the Royal Castle; Dazai’s estate and your future home.

You were greeted with a symphony of trumpets signalling your arrival, in pure noble fashion. A giant structure laden from stone and glass loomed over you. The palace stood in all its glory—six stories of spotless marble and glittering gold accents. It shone even in the shadow of night.

Like always, knights lined up next to you and marched along as you entered the palace.

The foyer opens up into the second floor. Cascading steps as pristine as the rest of the palace sprouted from the center and widened into the arms of the second floor. Chandeliers hung from the painted ceilings that displayed artworks worthy of being in the holiest of cathedrals. Struck by the grandeur of it all, you almost forgot that it was the den of wolves. And you had just walked into it, with no one and nothing by your side except your wits.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dazai asked, slightly breathless. If you had just turned towards him, perhaps you would understand why he seemed so awestruck at the sight of his own home. If you had just turned towards him… you would have noticed his eyes on you instead.

“Truly fit for a King,” you muttered, gaze wandering across the statues and sculptures positioned around the room.

Dazai smiled softly. A wave of pride washed over him as he said: “It is all yours, from now until forevermore.”

You shattered that pride within an instant. “It is not. It will never be.”

“Y/N–” He began.

“I don’t want it. I want nothing of yours except perhaps…” You trailed off.

Except perhaps your head on a silver platter, you thought.

Dazai perked up. “Except what? Whatever it is, I will grant it if it is within my power. Actually, no, never mind that—tell me what it is, I will find a way to—”

Tired of his relentless energy and endless words, you briskly walked away from him toward an older looking man who stood in front of two other knights. He had long silver hair, the length was much like that of Chief Minister Kunikida. But that was where the similarities ended. Unlike the Chief Minister, the man before you was dressed in fitted armor and a cape, a heavy longsword resting by his side. He had a large build, and although his facial features were rugged and weathered, he still carried himself with an air of elegance. Like he had lived a thousand lives as a warrior and another thousand as a noble.

“Good evening. What is your name?” You asked.

The silver-haired man lifted an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and amusement coloring his expression. “Greetings to Your Royal Highness, I am Yukichi Fukuzawa, General of the Red Army.”

You cocked your head, faintly aware of Dazai in the background sulking. “The Red Army?”

“They are the throne’s guards. As well as the Kingdom’s first and last line of defense. The largest and strongest unit in my military,” Dazai interrupted, still sulking.

Again, you ignored him. “You are an impressive man, General Fukuzawa.”

The General’s lips quirked up into a slight smile, mirth glittering behind his eyes as he glanced over at his King. ‘You flatter me, Your Royal Highness, but I am merely a soldier doing his duty.”

“Such a shame, a handsome man like yourself off in the frontlines,” you sighed.

“Handsome?!” Dazai squeaked from somewhere behind you.

At that proclamation, the General let out a deep, rumbling laugh. It warmed you to the bones. “I am but an old man. You flatter me again.”

You smiled and held your hand out. He shook it, still shaking his head as his smile grew wider.

“I think we are going to be fine friends, General.”

“I agree, Your Royal Highness,” he affirmed.

Dazai cleared his throat violently—like a sickly cat hacking up a hairball. “Fukuzawa, why are you here?”

The General snapped his attention over to his lord, features turning serious again. “Sir. Aside from welcoming your darling spouse—”

You beamed. Dazai brooded.

“I needed to speak with you regarding the Membrance campaign… Updates are scarce… No word back from the… Time is running out…”

You huffed. Great. More whispering and secrets that you were not privy to.

You excused yourself as the two men whispered furiously to each other, both seemingly too lost in the urgency of the topic to care for your absence. Whatever it was must have been important, and you had to find out what it was about.

A helpful maid guided you to your room—another luxurious suite that was situated on the palace’s top floor. From that distance, you could see the stretch of the country—all the way to the forest before the border.

Finally alone, you pulled out your materials. A portfolio, an empty journal, twin daggers, and three vials of pure belladonna poison.

The portfolio, thick with papers and files, was shoved into a locked drawer. You tied the key around your upper arm with a string, the item now hidden beneath the sleeves of your clothes. The daggers were strapped to your thigh with a specially-made holster, and the empty journal was laid upon your desk. The poison, glass pots of clear liquid, were arranged in a line in the back end of your bathroom medicine cabinet, hidden in plain sight. It was the one place no one but a doctor would look, and even then, you could just pass it off as misplaced cosmetics. They were unassuming and plain, and yet a small drop could fell a horse.

You had barely shut the cabinet door before a knock sounded out.

“Yes?”

“Your Highness, I am here to help you prepare for dinner,” a girl’s voice rang out.

You allowed her in, although begrudgingly. The last thing you wanted was to have dinner with the King.

The young girl flitted around your room, running around with a mountain of clothing selections in hand, not to mention the shoes and accessories.

“Surely such fineries are not required for mere dinner?”

She blinked. “Um… Your Highness, are you unaware of tonight’s event?”

Your left eye twitched. “Event?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“What event?” You dreaded the answer.

Again, the girl blinked. “Why, your welcoming banquet, of course.”

Forget the poison, you were going to strangle your groom the moment you set eyes on him tonight.

The maid continued her busybodying—powdering, fitting, draping, bathing… the works.

As she sat you in front of the mirror, ready to finish your makeup and help you into the final attire choices, she asked: “Does Your Highness have any preference on visuals tonight?”

You stared at yourself in the mirror. A vacant shell stared back.

“Make me devastating.”

hiiiii tags: @letsliveagaintoday @zjarrmiii

#dazai osamu #dazai #dazai x reader #dazai fic #dazai angst #dazai x y/n #bsd #bsd fic #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs fic #fukuzawa #bsd fukuzawa #fantasy au #dazai au #dazai fanfic #enemies to lovers #lovers to enemies #x reader #angst

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lnkedmyheart · 11 months

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What would soukoku be like if they were in a high school au?

If you mean in the sense that pm skk get sent to school, they'd mostly keep their 15 personality but given the circumstances and the situation they'd have to reign in some of their violent tendencies.

If you mean if skk went to school and were normal kids, IDK, we dont know much about canon Dazai before the events of the series or from before he ended up on the streets. We do know Chuuya was a rowdy kid who would literally fight off kids double his size to defend his family. Imo Dazai would be a bit prideful. He'd be ridiculously smart but probably won't apply himself unless he really wanted to. He probably wouldn't have been that popular given that he had literal emo freak energy as a kid but he could still pull girls who were into that weird kid type cause he is objectively good looking and can really turn the charm on if he wanted to. He'd have a close knit small group of friends.

Chuuya would still be boisterous and rowdy, i think he'd really excel at sports and academics in general but he'd also be kinda rebellious. Lord forbid he actually wear his uniform properly. He'd be that vaguely well known kid that is somehow friends with literally everyone but also sort of prefers to be on his own.

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mouton-e · 1 year

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quick n silly violinist!chuuya idea

so i lied and i think i actually do want to post some writing here because twitter honestly is a nightmare in so many ways...

anyway, here's some skk au where chuuya is a violinist and dazai is just fucking around in college or something (idk not important). for anyone that doesn't know, it's not uncommon for violinists/violists to have a small bruise around the left jawline area as a result of playing for a long time. the funny thing is they can look like hickeys, so that's what people sometimes call them (violin/viola hickeys). i was just thinking about it after seeing some online (ray chen's 'play with ray' reel) and this scenario came to me -- this was only supposed to be like 200-300 words max but here we are with 1k LOL. will probably touch up and upload to ao3 a bit later but for now:

the first time dazai noticed the small bruise by chuuya's lower jaw, he thought oh. well. good for him and whoever got to give him that very visible mark. maybe it was just a one-night stand, in which case again, good for chuuya for getting some. did not upset dazai at all. no, he was not experiencing odd twinges in his gut each time he made accidental eye-contact with the hickey.

the next day chuuya was still sporting it, in the exact same spot and just as vivid as the previous day. dazai didn't want to say he was curious, but he couldn't help his mind going into overdrive trying to figure out the individual behind the hickeys. if chuuya noticed a layer of distraction lining dazai's usual childish comebacks, he didn't comment.

a week later chuuya still had that damn hickey, and at this point dazai was more scoffing at this evidently enthusiastic hickey-giver than anything else because yeah, we get it, you love to kiss and suck and bite on the incredibly attractive area below the stupid chibi's jawline and leave a mark for everyone to see, but honestly couldn't you be a little more creative on where you leave them each time? like he has a whole neck free for access, not to mention collarbones too, how could one possibly refrain from— and dazai had the horrible realisation that he was. very jealous. and possibly in love.

the only solution was to avoid chuuya, of course. the alternative would be dazai struggling not to blush and stumble over his words when he made eye contact with the redhead, so dazai would just simply not see him. yes, this was fine. this was great! no chuuya, no annoying feelings or unwanted physiological reactions.

(lie. not seeing chuuya did not stop the images of the hickey from haunting dazai, or causing his face to heat up.)

it came as a relief disappointment when chuuya finally confronted him, around two weeks later. dazai had burrowed himself into a nook in the university library, content to play a mindless game on his laptop while surrounded by piles of unopened books, realising too late the sound of familiar purposeful footsteps. he was seized by the arm and tugged out the library door, whines of "ow, oww chuuya," gone unheard.

chuuya let go of him once they were in a secluded corner, then whirled around with hands on his hips.

"why are you avoiding me?" he asked. his expression was expectant, mouth set to curl into a scowl.

dazai discreetly flicked his eyes towards the underside of chuuya's jaw. it was still fucking there. he turned his chin away in a display of haughtiness. "i have to get back to studying. i don't have time for chatting with slugs."

he made to leave, but chuuya grabbed his arm again.

"no, you dick, you are not slipping your way out of this. i bet you weren't even studying, anyway. why are you avoiding me?" then a slight pause. "did i do something?"

oh. no scowl, then. instead chuuya's lips were pursed, brows knitted in something like... worry?

dazai panicked. "no," he said quickly. "well, you didn't do anything, it's more like the doing of one such thing unto you that, you know, has rendered me-"

"what the fuck are you talking about?"

now chuuya was peering at him suspiciously and dazai just knew he had to look away, away from the piercing blue or else he would be an embarrassing red — yes, good, away from the eyes and past the chin and the jaw and oh fuck, there's the fucking hickey i need to stop looking at it oh god why can't i look away-

"why are you staring at-" chuuya looked down at himself in confusion. "what are you looking at?"

dazai snapped his eyes up, guilty as if he had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar. chuuya looked more concerned than ever.

"dazai," he said slowly, eyes narrowed, "are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

defeated, dazai sighed. he squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath through his nose. then, fixing chuuya with what he hoped was a look of nonchalance, dazai asked the million-dollar question: "who gave you that?"

"... gave me what?"

he gestured vaguely towards the chuuya's neck. "the... hickey," he finished sullenly.

chuuya looked bewildered. he blinked for a few seconds. then, like he was gradually reaching the solution to a puzzle, "are you asking about my violin hickey?"

dazai blinked back. "huh?"

he pointed at it directly. "this?"

"... yes?"

"ah." the redhead seemed to be biting back a grin. "i see now."

chuuya inched forward and laid a hand on dazai's shoulder. the latter tried to pretend he wasn't having trouble regulating his breathing. "dazai," chuuya said. "this is a bruise that resulted from practising violin. not from... somebody's mouth."

"oh," dazai said dumbly.

"you'll see that quite a few violinists and violists will have it."

"oh," he said again.

chuuya was definitely smiling now. and dazai's face was definitely red.

"is this why you've been avoiding me?" chuuya asked, voice wavering on a laugh.

dazai scowled. "fine, chibikko. yes, i was avoiding you because i couldn't stand seeing that bruise on full display every day, and— don't laugh, you're being mean!"

chuuya had tipped forward, head shaking against dazai's chest as he failed to contain his giggles. "you were so disturbed by a hickey that you couldn't even talk to me?"

"chuuuyaa, you don't understand! it was excruciating seeing the thing because my brain kept telling me i should be the one to administer it!"

the laughter died down. chuuya looked up, eyes widening with the realisation of dazai's words. his hand was still clutching the taller's shoulder, leaving their faces just a breadth apart. dazai watched in fascination (and maybe a little satisfaction at having the upper hand again) as a healthy blush began to spread across chuuya's cheeks. "o-oh," he echoed.

"yeah," dazai breathed. "so what does chuuya say?" he leaned down slightly, a hand straying by the other's waist. "can i have a taste?"

after a second, wherein chuuya's gaze shifted from brown eyes to lips to eyes again, he dipped his head back down to rest against dazai's chest with a huff. "not here, you idiot. i'm not having you kiss me for the first time in the middle of this damn building."

"gasp, chuuya, my kiss is that special to you?"

"shut up and get your things, shitty mackerel."

dazai beamed.

#mouwrites #bsd #skk #potentially cringe #my sillies #haughty jealous and in denial dazai is so fun to write #wrote this pretty quickly as it's just for fun so please don't take any mischaracterisation to heart #if you do have any problems with what i've written though i'm happy to discuss it Civilly #tags to be updated idk

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fudanshipoe · 7 months

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the brightest star in the sky 🌌

— g rated, sigma & dazai pre-relationship, 1.7k

- they/them for sigma (Sigma is transfem nby in this au, but this is set pre-transition)

- pre-ADA member sigma

- stargazing, descriptions of hospitals and panic attacks

- day 5 of my fem sigma week event (stars)

- first in series of ada sigma au oneshots

- cross posted on my ao3

The first and last thing Sigma sees is a bright light. No light at the end of the tunnel, bit a blinding, fluorescent glow above them. What feels like needles prickles from head to toe, a dull throb vibrating through every vein in their body, somehow scalding hot and ice cold to the touch. They hear the faint, monotonous drone of a– heart monitor? Sigma was hardly familiar with medical equipment, but they were briefed on it concerning the Casino having a clinic room, and had limited knowledge from the past. They were watching their body behind a mirror, eyes cracked under the blinding– fluorescent?– lights.

A hospital. That was where they were, likely. It was the most they could deduce in the thick fog in their brain. Sigma stirs, their body heavy, all energy drained. Their eyes squint against the harsh light while they try hard to recollect their scattered thoughts.

A noise, someone clearing their throat, cuts through the monotonous buzz surrounding Sigma. They blink a few times, focusing their eyes and moving their head to the side. It's a hard feat, taking what nonexistent energy they have. Dazai smiles back at them. It's Dazai, Dazai is in their hospital room. A thick lump forms in their throat, and they swallow the questions crawling through their mind.

A weak groan bubbles in their throat, and the sound catches Dazai's attention. He speaks with an even tone, a reassuring demeanor carefully crafted through his relaxed posture, “Ah, I was starting to think you'd never wake up! A regular Sleeping Beauty, aren't you? Escaped the kiss of death, it's rather unfortunate, don't you think?”

What an absurd response, Sigma thinks somewhere in their clouded mind. Everything about this strange man was, from his mind to his behavior. It made Sigma more exhausted to even try to figure Dazai out. Their eyebrows knit together, and another low moan is all they can manage to respond with, but Dazai doesn't seem to mind. The book he held in his hand is set on his lap, Sigma doesn't bother trying to be nosy and read it from that far away. Not when their head is pulsing from the inside out. Dazai stands up, striding over to Sigma's bed.

Like the mind reader he is, Dazai begins to answer the string of questions circling through Sigma's mind. “You were in a coma for a few weeks. After that rat Dostoevsky left you for dead, Chuuya and I were able to take him down. The others took care of the rest. Everyone is in remission now.” His arms are spread out by now, and the high, overacted lilt to his voice grates Sigma's ears. They shift, pulling at the IV connected to their arm without meaning.

Dazai reaches out, putting a firm hand onto their shoulder, “Don't do that, you'll rip it out.” The tone of his voice drops, and Sigma can tell he is speaking in earnest now, “Things are still being figured out. I was able to get Yosano to help you, so that knife wound won't bother you.”

And he was right, they noted. Of all of the bone-deep aches coursing through Sigma's body, none of it feels at all like a stab wound. Yosano was the doctor, they were sure. None of this was important, though, and Sigma knit their brows together with hard focus, any effort at isolating their thoughts.

Sensing that Sigma could understand him just fine, Dazai continued. “Rest for a bit, alright? You can fill me in later, I've done my part."

There is nothing left in Sigma to refute him, so they reluctantly nod. Any conversation after that goes unheard by Sigma, blurring in the background along with their vision as the exhaustion overtook them.

The world continues to be dark, even after Sigma's eyes are open. It takes them a minute to register that it is late at night, or early in the morning, they can't begin to tell. A soft grunt escapes their lips as they arouse in a stir. It takes a valiant effort to brace their arms against each side of the hospital bed and pull themself upright. The one positive note Sigma can make is that they can at least sit up now. To Sigma's surprise, Dazai is still in the same chair as before. Sigma can see the vague shape of him in the darkness.

They struggle to untangle themself from all the wires, but Sigma takes caution as to not yank their IV needle. The room is eerily silent. The long twisted shadows of the surrounding medical equipment spurs an unfamiliar, dreadful sensation in the pit of their stomach. Sigma has dealt with being thrust into alien situations countless times, it's one of the simple things they experience being in their place. The uncertainty of it plummets them into emotional turmoil they know all too well.

Sigma makes the brilliant decision to slide off of the hospital bed, using the IV pole as a form of support. It slips from their grip a few times while Sigma tries to keep themself steady, though the effort proves failed. A soft thump is heard when they finally collapse into the chair next to Dazai's, all energy depleted by that little action. Hospital chairs certainly are uncomfortable. The cheap material sticks to Sigma's legs through the thin hospital gown material despite the low temperature of the room. They push the IV pole away from them finally to beside their chair.

Sigma folds their hands neatly in their lap, surveying their surroundings. Though the room is bathed in shadows, a bit of light spills in from the moon above, casting just enough so Sigma can see the room. Now that they're up and awake, they can really take it in. The room is falsely welcoming. A sterile smell lingers in the air accompanied by the blank wash of the room itself. Everything was white, except for some beige accents like the chairs, the small table between them, and the average looking painting of a flower vase above the hospital bed. Their eyes sweep over the room with disinterest until they look out the window. Sigma can only assume they're in Yokohama, which is evident by the amount of light pollution. Not that it was an obvious enough assumption to make beforehand, on account of Dazai's information earlier. The sky is muddled between hazy artificial whites and yellows against the stark black above. Blurred together in an unrecognizable mass. The stars are hardly visible beyond the clouds. It is a sight causes them to sigh.

A sudden interjection is heard, a sharp contrast to the thick silence from before, “I'm glad to see you're up and moving.”

Sigma's head whips over their shoulder to face the tired smile on Dazai's face. They swallow before they nod once, blinking at him. “You scared me.”

“I could say the same. My apologies, I'm a light sleeper. I haven't gotten any rest, cleaning up this mess has been so busy.” It's an awfully honest statement coming from Dazai. Sigma can't find any indication that he is trying to play a little game, which takes a bit of weight off of their chest to worry about.

“It sounds like it.” No other words can be said right now, so they relent to stare back out the window to avoid conversation.

Dazai, on the other hand, does the opposite, and continues to prod Sigma with a question, “Is there something interesting out there? I suppose you've probably never been around a big city before.”

Hesitantly, Sigma shakes their head. The reality is they haven't really done much in their life. What has there been to do? Three years of qualms over their own existence and place in this distant world doesn't exactly leave much time to experience regular life. A few awkward moments pass before Sigma is too antsy to let the silence hand over, “I was trying to see the stars.”

“The stars?” Dazai rubs the back of his stiffened neck, stretching his limbs from the ache of napping in a chair. Sigma watches him closely, and Dazai returns the favor back.

It's unclear what either of them are searching for anymore, so Sigma confirms his inquiry. “Mhm. I think they're pretty.” That was at least one of the things Sigma had time to do. Staring up at the sky, some silly attempt at escapism into their own imagination.

“I see.” The simplicity in that response can only irk Sigma. Their grievances dissipate quickly, for once, when Dazai continues. “Do you actually know anything about them?”

It's a difficult thing to answer. Knowledge about the nature of the world is understandably limited for Sigma. They start, “Oh, not much.” The conversation can't go dicey again, or else Sigma will die, so continue to keep up the impression that they can still feel their own limbs. That they aren't about to collapse under the weight of their own situation in front of someone else. “Um– they make shapes?”

Dazai squints his eyes against the darkness before a look of recognition forms on his face. “Constellations.”

“Con– constellations.” The word falls messily off of Sigma’s tongue. “Yes, those, thank you. I know a few by their shape, the um– the spoon one?”

Their face flushed when Dazai laughed at them. It was ridiculous to even try conversing with him, everything was a joke to this man. Thoughts race through Sigma's head while they curl inwards on themself, but those thoughts are quieted when Dazai's flurry of giggles dies down. “It's called The Big Dipper. There's the Little Dipper too, connected to the North Star.” A confused expression must be visible upon Sigma's features because Dazai continues on, “The very bright one, that you use for navigation.”

“I see.” At a loss for words, Sigma echoes Dazai's earlier remark. “Thank you for the information.”

“You're so formal about everything, you remind me of Kunikida.” Fondness colors Dazai’s tone now at the thought of his friend and partner.

A wall is put up in Sigma’s mind as they nod, the action catching Dazai's attention. He leans forward in his chair a bit, easing some of Sigma's worries as he speaks. “Don't worry, you'll be introduced to the rest of my coworkers some time soon. I know you've met Atsushi.”

Sigma casts a glance back out the window, before they nod curtly. “I would like to meet them.”

#allen writingz #fanfic #bungo stray dogs #bsd #sigma bsd #bsd sigma #dazai bungou stray dogs #dazai bsd #fanfiction #sigzai

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sskk-ao3feed · 3 months

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Lavenders that adorn us

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/4rAkEMa by D1sagreeable_Ev3nt Shrouded in mist a lone man stumbles through the endless cloud of uncertainty. He’s desperate, frantically looking for an escape from this never-ending blanket of gray; perhaps he is seeking much more than freedom from the fog that encompasses his person - his being- ;a juvenile metaphor for his unfulfilling life which too is weaved of lies and deceit, the strings knitted so tightly around him he doesn’t know which lies belong to who; becoming an endless war of superficial trust that breaks too easily,too fragile,too weak, he is alone. Through the mist he sees a silhouette of a man, a tall man, is this person a new friend or foe? Will they destroy or save him? An angel or devil? Fate and time will tell, he runs to that person; Nakahara Chuuya has nothing to lose. —————————————————— Nakahara Chuuya, the successor of the Baki Group; he is pessimistic about love when suddenly gets involved with a demon named Dazai Osamu and due to complications makes a contract marriage with him, in order to solve mysteries that haunt both their past, present and future even if both parties would rather sit on a hot grill naked than do anything remotely romantic with the other.(definitely a lie) Words: 8053, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Soukoku but they’re thrown in Kdrama AUs 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: Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs), Paul Verlaine (Bungou Stray Dogs), Arthur Rimbaud (Bungou Stray Dogs), Original Characters, Natsume Souseki (Bungou Stray Dogs), Flags Ensemble (Bungou Stray Dogs), Mori Ougai (Bungou Stray Dogs), Ozaki Kouyou (Bungou Stray Dogs), Tachihara Michizou (Bungou Stray Dogs) Relationships: Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya & Ozaki Kouyou (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu & Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke & Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Demon Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Human Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Demon/Human Relationships, Fake Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dazai Osamu Being An Asshole (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya's Unconventional Mating Rituals (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya Is So Done (Bungou Stray Dogs), Protective Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Possessive Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu is a Mess (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu Needs a Hug (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya Needs a Hug (Bungou Stray Dogs), Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Moral Ambiguity, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Manipulation, Past Lives, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Mystery, Character Death, not skk tho dw, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - No Powers, except for Dazai he js has different ones, Bad Person Mori Ougai (Bungou Stray Dogs), Inspired by My Demon (TV), Nakahara Chuuya Swears (Bungou Stray Dogs), Married Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Near Death Experiences read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/4rAkEMa

#ao3feed sskk #akuatsu #fic rec

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id-amia · 2 years

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rules

“Stitch it together, knit it together, patch it up. What can possibly I do...?”

do not interact

if you ship taboo ships, i won’t write for them

racist, xenophobic

homophobic, transphobic, aphobic, etc

ableist, anti-recovery

if you’re here just to hate or bully

request rules

i have the right to decline any request i don’t want to do

please don’t be mean or rude if it takes a while for me to finish your request, i’m usually busy with school

please specify if you want it as headcanons or imagines/oneshots (if not specified, headcanon by default)

if gender of reader isn’t specified i will use gender neutral terms

strictly no requesting pedophilic, incestual, non-consensual or abusive relationships (unless the prompt is a character saving the other from one)

no smut (suggestive themes are okay just no very descriptive nsfw)

no romantic or sexual plots with children or childlike beings (paimon, kusanali)

no kaeluc or other ships with controversy (like ships with unspecified ages and relationships)

no canonically/heavily coded gay or lesbian characters in mlw ships

things i’ll write

angst, fluff, angst/fluff, comfort, crack

x readers

character x character

poly relationships

headcanons

aus

__![character] (ex: darkera!dazai, fem!chuuya, enby!rui)

sometimes i doodle

fandoms

animanga

haikyuu

bungou stray dogs

love live

bang dream (not caught up in the game)

games

project sekai

danganronpa

your turn to die

witch’s heart (bonus stage)

persona (4-5 only currently, a little bit of 3)

doki doki literature club

genshin impact (until 2.6 irodori)

ensemble stars (en only for now i’ll catch up when im free i only know mayoi im sorry)

misc

percy jackson, heroes of olympus, magnus chase etc

vocaloid (they’re different depending on the song so please use bang (!) a lot)

blacklist

mori ougai

fukuchi ouchi

romantic teruko okura

romantic odazai

romantic more more jump with men

romantic tsukatoya

haiji towa

izumako (enstars)

theres probably more i missed so i might still ignore some requests that arent in the list

please don’t claim any of my works as your own or reproduce to other sites without permission

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goddamnitdazai · 3 years

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Doldrums | Dazai {AU}

The Tea House is the only clean place in all of the three outlying territories; the capital and castle are overflowing with gold. There's boredom in both places and freedom in neither. Dazai finds the only way to amuse himself and you're just curious enough to agree. {fic under the cut} [ao3 link] x [patreon]

The long reign of the king ended unexpectedly. Within the first few months of the king’s death, the prodigal heir to the throne was crowned the one-hundred-and-fifteen King of Tartalya. Despite what the royal family toted to the public the new king only resembled his father in strategical demeanor. The prince’s (now king) features were prominent and sharp whereas the previous king had cheeks still plump with baby fat and a wide smile. Prince Osamu never smiled; that was the rumor anyway.

Per Tartalya tradition the new king was married within the first month of his new position. His wife, the dutchess of a rich port territory, fawned over him endlessly. A polished depiction of what Tartalya’s queen should be. Sweet, humble, and above all else, proper. Tartalya’s prior king required indisputable perfection within his court and their partners. Any imperfections were snuffed out quicker than a strong wind extinguishes a candle. The ruthless king’s only heir was no exception to these strict expectations; a rumor from the high court states the prince’s wife was picked when they were both ten years old due to her bloodline, manners, and demeanor. Rumors from the high courts were often stretched and dissected until they resembled fables, but there was truth to some extent. That is what you were taught to believe anyway. Take the words of a man with as you would an ill-cooked gift; chew with conviction then spit it out when their back is turned. You were taught this of all rumors and of all men. Of the region claimed by Tarayla’s century-old monarch, only three territories have been allowed to rule without direct sanctions from the high court or prince. They are considered the dark outliers in both qualities of life and the quality of inhabitants. These three territories provide shelter for merchants coming to port looking to gamble and drink, criminals from other territories seeking asylum, and those who are not able to afford a single room within the cheapest region of Tartayla’s kingdom. Like many of the other inhabitants born in Valnnin, your mother chose to leave you at the Tea House under the care of the Ozaki clan the day after you’d turned five. She was paid a handsome fee and signed a contract never to return to the Tea House. Supposedly, many women bear children simply to drop them at the Tea House for the reward. That rumor was not hard to believe given the state of Valnnin. Decent money offered the means to escape Valnnin to the closest region in Tartayla, Soinet, where large farms sit on rolling green hills lush with purple fruit that grows plentiful on tall trees. Anyone who made it out of Valnnin stayed out; by starvation or success. A part of you hoped your mother starved. There are worse fates in Valnnin than the Ozaki’s Tea House, though. Bred with a sharp wit and long cherry-red hair the Ozaki clan were well known all over Tartayla for their refined charisma and elegant beauty. Some of these traits were able to be passed on to the right young men and women making the courtesans of the Tea House the highest priced commodity in all of the three territories. Top earners are allowed to live in the lavish rooms on the top floor of the Tea House. The Ozaki house, a four-tier traditional home lit with gold paper lanterns and endless vines wrapped over a cobblestone bridge, sits across the Tea House. The watchful guardian for the inhabitants of the Tea House. Other than becoming part of a legacy family in Valnnin, like the Ozaki, the best living was at the top of the Tea House. Residing in the middle, for now, was comfortable enough. “___, dear you’re staring.’ Kouyou tuts, whacking your knee with her lace fan. When her fan is fully spread the gold filigree becomes a long winding dragon sifting through the clouds. A well-known symbol of the Ozaki clan. The dragon is imprinted throughout the Tea House and stamped on the inside of each girl’s wrist in gold ink. Ownership and protection, that is what they preached while poking your skin with a hot needle. “Is that potted ivy really that intriguing? It must be with how rude you’re being during our conversation.” Her long manicured nail brushes over your nose to draw your attention. Her touch instantaneously forces your shoulders to go rigid as your eyes drop to your lap. Kouyou’s sharp nails bite at your jawline. “Don’t be rude to our company tonight. Understood?” You nod, wincing a bit at her grip. Kouyou-san only showed this type of intensity with newer girls in order to hammer in the traditions of the Tea House. You, however, had been here for fifteen long years and knew every twist and turn. Your familiarity had risen to the point that you and the other girls made wages on some of the staff’s mood based on an eyebrow quirk or tense knuckle. For the most part, you won each round. Kouyou-san did insist your looks and keen eye made for a high commodity, however, the blessings around your features were not as god-like as some of the girls. You were sure they came from a line of Queens and Goddesses long before humanity stomped over the grasslands. “Kouyou-san, I don’t understand why you won’t inform me who I am waiting for.” You shift uncomfortably in your silk robe. The pillow beneath your knees had become a hardened lump of clay that was sure to leave bruises. “Using the gold room is above my station.” “It is.” Kouyou agrees without an ounce of hesitation. If you were allowed to show your true emotions a dark frown laden with knitted brows would be reflecting back at Kouyou. Tea house manners forbade any type of backtalk, verbal or otherwise, toward the ladies of the house. It had been a long time since your feet had been whipped into a bloody mess due to your expressions. “You should be thankful a man of high caliber is interested in your company.” You exhale through your nose and adjust the pillow subtly just for something to grab and ease the tension rising up your spine. The golden room was incredibly expensive and reserved for foreign clientele or a man rich enough to buy the country twice over. What you could gather from the maids who set the room was scarcely what you could consider good information but their gossiping mouths let out that the changes were due to the man’s incredibly specific taste. Instead of immaculate gaudy golden candles, simple paper lanterns were hung in shades of red that bounced off the polished wood walls. The marble table had been replaced with a smaller traditional one stacked high with poker chips and two crystal glasses. A bottle of imported whisky more expensive than the entirety of Valnnin had been staring back at you for the better part of an hour. Jewels from all over the country were heaped into woven baskets spilling out their glittering gemstones of blues, pinks, reds, and purples. One stone looked as big as your palm. Within the baskets, bracelets, and necklaces sparkle and hang over the rim like a used handkerchief tossed in the garbage. Money can’t buy taste, you think to yourself, though you wouldn’t mind pocketing some of those jewels to sell later. Abruptly the double doors open and the lanterns are snuffed out. Above your head dangles an imported odd-shaped light with arms extending outwards holding each white candle as if it were trying to scorch the walls. Kouyou stands to greet the unknown guest. Gliding across the wooden floor as a swan crosses a lake. You remain perfectly poised. Long red dress stretching out your arms to pool against your thighs. The Tea House provided silk garments for expensive clients that showed skin without being over-zealous. A strong dip in the back revealing your spine for wandering fingers. Bare shoulders for teeth to graze and tease. Your lips had been painted deep red to accentuate a pout worthy of a diamond necklace. Beyond Kouyou’s tall stance you barely make out the rough edges of a man much taller than Kouyou. “Enjoy your time, sir. Please, let me know if I can do anything to be more accommodating.” Kouyou’s bow is deep and longer than usual. The man doesn’t bow back. The guards that had accompanied him to the golden room remain on the other side of the screen door once it’s closed, another uncommon occurrence. You get to your feet and walk towards the man in the same manner Kouyou did. You’d done this a hundred times. A thousand. Something high up, but there was an odd sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. Circling the pit of your belly like a serpent through the grass. “Good evening. Who do I have the pleasure of spending time with? I’m afraid my tongue has gone numb in excitement.” The man chuckles and takes a step forward; you take in his form with a simple blink. His hair is an unruly slue of dark browns overlapping each other held back by a deep ruby pin, an odd style but the capital tended to couple foreign fashion with traditional garments. The stranger is incredibly tall, thin, wearing traditional Tartayla clothing though the crest on his lapel doesn’t ring a bell. It did not mirror the crests members of the court wore nor the men stationed beneath them. Scribes, military, footmen, all members of the palace wore crests revealing their status to the world. A palace aid, even, would be able to afford the golden room for a night. “That’s a lie.” He takes another few steps towards you. Swift. His long legs easily bring him close enough for you to smell his cologne. Expensive and foreign. “I specifically told Ozaki not to speak my name. A clever way to ask without asking.” You blink rapidly but hold your ground, folding your hands politely in front of your thighs. His stare is honey lined with liquid gold. “As expected of a woman raised in the Tea House.” “I did not want to seem ill-prepared.” You finally answer, “It is uncommon to not know the name of my companion prior to meeting.” Nicknames--you roll through the most requested, but none of them fit. He bends a bit, you expect a hand on your cheek or your chin; he grips your throat. Contracting your airways with an eerily gentle touch. “You can address me as Dazai, nothing else.” His gaze remains ice cold. Something about the name bubbles up and up until your mouth unintentionally drops open just enough to let out a silent gasp. Prince Dazai. If he would let go of your chin you could bow to him but he anchors himself to the ground. “Ah, there it is. I can let go that you did not recognize me considering we let the territories exist as an extension. Not much royalty passing through here? What a scandal~”. He releases your jaw and walks over to the table in the center of the room. Out of instinct, you follow behind with your head bowed just slightly. What would the prince be doing here? You presumed when royal blood desired the flesh of someone else other than their betrothed they found it easily among the many women of the court. “Dazai, what is it you desire tonight?” Common phrases of your trade finally return once your tongue has melted off the shock. “Business.” He states, taking a seat on the plush pillows. “Come, and don’t speak unless I ask you a question.” Dazai pats his hand on his lap as he speaks. You follow his command and walk yourself to his lap. The scent of him is overwhelmingly pleasing in comparison to the other men that have requested this position. With your back against his chest, you can feel the ruffle of fabric on your bare skin from his vest, it’s an interesting sensation. You’d never felt this type of material before. “Now,” Dazai starts voice a rich smoky tenor, “you will come with me to the capital and sit just like this. You won’t speak, you won’t move, you won’t do a thing except look as you do now.” He drags his knuckles down your spine. “All you need to know is that. What lies in this room,” he lazily gestures to the jewels in the collapsing baskets, “will be your payment.” All you can do is nod dumbly. What the hell did he want you at the capital for? To be a lap ornament? What a strange request. You want to say no, to tell him you’re much more than a porcelain doll to play with. Your wit and charm has made you the favorite of so many men of his own court. Dazai presses his nose to the curve between your throat and shoulder. “You may ask one question but make it quick, I dislike having to ride home during the day.” Dazai gave you information without giving you detail. The bare-bones without an explanation or purpose, but he was the prince. You couldn’t pester him for more like your regulars who gave vague requests--of which you denied regardless of what it was. Taking a courtesan out of the Tea House was strictly forbidden. There was no amount that would interest the Ozaki women to allow their charges to leave the premises with a client. Every person had their price, though, it should have been obvious considering your line of work. “Am I to be a lap ornament for your entertainment or to prove a point to another person?” Dazai pauses his hand on your spine. For a moment your heart freezes--until he begins to laugh. Harmonious and cheerful, it almost sounds sweet but the tingle in your spine tells you otherwise. “Both,” Dazai places his hand on your thigh giving the soft flesh a tight squeeze, “but the latter. I don’t find very much of this world entertaining in the slightest.” Abruptly his teeth graze the shell of your ear as his hand wanders beneath your silk dress finding the edge of your hipbone. “This is just to waste time.” __________________________ Jealousy was not something prince Dazai experienced. However, the man across from you seemed to be dripping green with it. You vaguely recognized him, a court-appointed general from the land across the sea. The name escaped you, anytime he appeared at the Tea House for your attention his words sank to the bottom of your consciousness. His conversation was as dull and his hands were fat with sausage-like fingers that didn’t know how to properly undo the knots that held your dress together at the side. He never had enough money other than to converse for twenty minutes and stare at your nude body. Prior to the meeting, Dazai had walked you through the main courtyard filled lined with enormous evergreen trees and rose bushes taller than your shoulders. Members of the royal court bowed and held their tongues as you passed. Your clothing served as a clear indicator of your position in the Tea House. Dazai had made it a point to dress you in the most elegant outfit the Tea House allowed. Draped in gold and black with hints of deep scarlet beneath the split up your thigh. The palace was, unsurprisingly, massive in size and stature. Getting lost for hours within its corridors and monumental rooms seemed inevitable. Had Dazai let you wander from his side. “Do not speak or move without my permission.” His only warning punctuated with a sharp slap to your ass. While the meeting went on Dazai’s hands grew increasingly curious in tandem with his ever-rising boredom. Beneath the table, his fingers roamed between your legs never touching where you wanted. They drew teasing circles just outside your lower lips. Dug crescents into the meat of your inner thighs. The longer the meeting went on the higher his hands reached. Inside the deep cut of your dress to squeeze your breast while he spoke about the outcome of a fictional war the general had threatened, apparently. Something about trade prices rising. Anything happening beyond Dazai’s grip wasn’t sticking to your psyche. By the time the meeting was finished sweat was beading down the back of your neck. Your cheeks had grown hot to the touch and your clit was aching for touch. Dazai simply stood expecting you to catch yourself. “You will not be returning to the Tea House.” It was all he said before two guards escorted you down a long corridor lined with paintings of the royal bloodline. ___________________________________ The first time he fucked you the moon had appeared in splendor. Bright and bold against dark skies empty of stares and clouds. His wife had requested him to come to bed early. Her long dark hair falling in gentle curls illuminated by the candelabra she held in her fist. You watched from the corner of his study as Dazai used that talented tongue of his to herd her back to bed. Once the door was shut and locked with a metal key Dazai bent you over his desk and fucked you deep and slow. He left bite marks on your neck and laughed when you begged so pathetically to cum around his cock. At first, there was nothing inside him. No emotion to his touch and no passion beyond the carnal desire to fuck you when he needed release. His wife would often stare at you when you passed in the corridors trying to find some sort of entertainment. You had heard nothing of your position at the palace nor had anyone questioned your existence there. Dazai demanded you stay within his sights at all times and would punish you with hard slaps to your bare ass when you wandered too far. He was the softest after he left a red handprint on your behind. He’d cradle you in his arms and call you pretty things like a lover would. It only served to deepen your confusion in both your own feelings for him and what he wanted out of your existence in his life. _______________________________________ The queen’s illness came on rapidly and without a cause. She was pale with a fever and sickly looking. Her skin stretched over the bones of her face and her eyes looked glass. Nothing the doctors were doing had made a difference. She existed on her large bed surrounded by basins of water and broth, her ladies in waiting rotated washing her and feeding her the best they could. She couldn’t move on her own accord except to speak in a low muddled voice. Dazai did not visit her often. After a week she had been moved to her own room down two corridors and across from the King’s quarters. The bed was burned and the room scrubbed clean until it glistened. Dazai didn’t ask, he never did. When your room turned up empty you knew to find him in his quarters. His long legs propped up on the ottoman beside the window, fingers over his favorite book gifted by a friend long gone from this world. His touch had become gentle in the past few weeks. You presumed, at first, it was due to his grieving and perhaps guilt for the affair. Yet he did not change the frequency in which he kissed you, fucked you, held you against his chest for a few minutes before he eventually left the bed to finish whatever work he’d thrown across the floor when he grew too aggravated or bored. Nights he wanted to fall off the edge of the world he tied your hands to the bed and played with your body until sunrise. Dazai left his mark where he pleased. Nothing felt as good as his hands, his attention, his tongue. Rarely did he ever keep himself on top. No, he expected you to ride him. Make him cum while he watched you grow addicted to the feeling of his cock inside of you. ______________________ Dazai had to produce an heir, he said, one morning while you’d been eating breakfast at his side. His wife could not fulfill that duty while sick. You pause for a moment and set your glass down. Looking at him as the sun rises behind his head. “You know I can’t have children.” Part of the process of becoming part of the Tea House; everyone went through the procedure. “What do you plan to do?” Dazai wipes his mouth with a napkin. “What makes you believe I haven’t already finished what I planned to do?” He places his elbows on the table and folds his fingers beneath his chin. That same gaze from the day you met him in the golden room returning to douse you in something unsettling. You blink at him and lean back in your chair. “As long as the queen remains alive you are not able to marry another. You will be expected to wait to have a child with your wife when she is well again.” Dazai tilts his head. “I don’t want children.” He says nonchalantly. “Dazai..” What makes you believe I haven’t already finished what I planned to do? “Dazai.” His grin spreads wide, eyes darkening despite the light from the windows splashing halycon all over the room. “Eat up, _____. I’m growing bored.”

#dazai #dazai osamu #bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #dazai fanfic #my writing dazai #fantasy au #dazai au #bsd fanfic #dazai is kind of a dick #what a surprise #dazai one shot

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