#talk of past suicide attempt

[villainousshakespeare]

Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 15

Loki/OFC Rated E: Trigger Warnings: Smut (previous chapters) Sex, Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics, mention of torture and mind control, touch starved, drinking

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza  @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @queenofallhobos @just-the-hiddles-reads  @alwida10  @justjoanne242 @chantsdemarins @lovelysizzlingbluebird​ @lokiprompts​

Caroline sat back with a small smile on her face as she listened to Tony grilling Loki on everything related to the Infinity stones. It was amusing to her how similar their minds worked, despite one being grounded in Earthly science and the other in Asgardian magic. They were both quick, clever, and given to intuitive leaps that very few other people could follow. It didn't take long before she saw the recognition light up in each of their eyes as they took the measure of each other.

Having given up on personally following the ins and outs of galaxy creating and shattering rocks, Caroline allowed her intuition to turn her gaze over to Loki's brother. Thor had been uncharacteristically quiet as the two geniuses prattled on. As she looked at him now, Caroline saw uncertainty and even a touch of hurt in his eyes.

"Gentlemen," she said, getting to her feet, "I think we can all agree that I am not the practical science or magical artifact expert in this group. So, if you will excuse me, I am just going to see to something outside. Thor, do you think you could help me?"

"What is it you need, love?" Loki asked, immediately abandoning his conversation to possessively take her hand. "I would be more than happy to assist you."

"No, you stay and talk shop with Tony," she insisted, insides fluttering at the way he hovered over her.

"Besides, if you think I am letting the two of you out of my sight at the same time, you are in for a rude awakening," Tony added.

"I hardly think you could prevent it," Loki bristled, pulling her close to him.

"Down boys," she sighed, pulling away. "Thor will do nicely. Though Loki, if you would... something warmer would be nice."

She gestured down at her clothing, and a moment later she was covered from head to toe in a warm down parka, snow pants, hat, scarf, and mittens so that only her face was visible. She also noted that instead of the warm, feminine colors he had dressed her in before she was now swathed in green with bright gold accents. Clearly her prince was set on marking his territory, and despite her independence it gave her a giddy sense of excitement that Loki clearly considered her to belong to him.

"Nice," Tony commented as Loki kissed her mouth lingeringly. "Real subtle there, Sigfried. Surprised you didn't just pee on her shoes."

"Play nice, boys," she scolded as Loki glared at Stark. "We will be back soon."

Linking her arm through Thor's, she led him out the back door onto the small porch.

"What is it I may assist you with, Doctor Thorpe?" Thor asked as the door shut behind them.

"Well, to begin with, you could tell me what is troubling you," she suggested, looking up into the stormy blue of his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he sputtered.

"Thor, it doesn't take a therapist to see that something has upset you. You can talk to me about it if you like; I swear it will go no farther."

"I see you are as wise as friend Stark has said," he replied ruefully, running his hand through his long blond hair. After a moment, she saw him reach a decision as he turned to her again. "Is it true? Did Loki really try to end his own life?"

"I was not there," she began carefully, "but it certainly seems that way to me. Your brother was in the midst of a psychological crisis. The entire fabric of his life had just been revealed to be a lie."

"I didn't know about any of that," Thor told her, voice earnest. "Loki was always different, but I never imagined that he was adopted, much less of a different race! Had I known, I would have done more to make sure that he felt welcome and at home on Asgard."

"Perhaps you should have done that anyway," she gently reproved him. "Being different is difficult enough for children or even adults."

"You did not know Loki," Thor shook his head. "He was not an easy person to assist. His pride is prickly and his wit biting. Sometimes it seemed that he was daring the others to torment him. Still, I could have done more, you are correct. And I should have sensed something was wrong. But I was away! Father had exiled me, you see."

"I am aware," she nodded.

"Loki tried to speak up for me when I was exiled, but he was silenced. No one tried to speak against Odin a second time, unless they were a fool, and that he has never been. When he came to visit me here on Earth and told me that Father was dead and Mother refused to see me, that was the lowest I have ever felt in my life."

"It was a cruel thing to do," Caroline sighed, feeling for them both. "I cannot excuse it, but perhaps I can offer some explanation."

"Please."

"He was afraid," she said simply.

"Of what?" Thor looked baffled.

"Of you, Thor. You hated Frost Giants. You had just been banished for trying to exterminate them. If you returned, how could he be sure that you would not continue that plan down to the last Jotun living in your family's home?"

"I would never kill Loki!"

"I know that," she said, sensing it was true. "But think of how he must have been feeling. His world upside down, Odin falling asleep before he could ease the knowledge, Frigga consumed with caring for her husband. There was no one he could talk to. His secret was shameful in his eyes, and it came just at the same time ultimate power was thrust into his hands. Who could possibly handle all of that gracefully? Loki lashed out because he was in pain himself."

"I was so angry when I returned," Thor's face was screwed up with the memory. "He had tried to kill me, to kill our friends. And then, when I arrived, he was about to commit genocide!"

"He was about to do the very thing you attempted just days before."

"True, but it was Loki who counselled against it!"

"That was before he knew what he really was."

"Why would he do it?" Thor asked. "He knew it was against Father's wishes."

"I think it is three-fold," she explained slowly. "One, he wanted to vanquish the enemy to prove to Asgard that he was a worthy successor to Odin, making the realm safe as you had wanted to do. Two, it would prove to those who knew his shame, as he saw it, that his loyalty was to the world that raised him rather than the one in which he was born."

"And three?" Thor asked as she hesitated.

"And three, I believe that subconsciously he wanted to kill them in hopes that it would kill the Jotun within himself. It is not a rational motive, but surely you can see how one might seek to blot out what they saw as their secret shame in this way?"

"It makes some sense, what you say," Thor concurred at last. "I thought, when he let go, that he was merely seeking the easy way out. He had pretended before, during our battle. Hanging on to the edge of the rainbow bridge, he had called out to me as a brother, only to dissolve into an illusion when I tried to help him. I thought the plunge into the abyss to be some trick of this sort, that he was hiding away to make us suffer. It was the type of thing he might have done, only to reappear a day or two later. When he didn't emerge, I was distraught, thinking his prank had gone awry and that he was dead indeed."

"It may have been easier if was," she said sadly. "Your brother faced some horrible months, Thor. I will not betray his confidences and tell you of them, and in truth I do not know the whole, but you might ask him, some time, what he suffered after his fall."

"You have given me much to think on," Thor said. "I am glad to know that Loki is not the villain I had feared he had become, but at the same time I find I may not be the hero I had hoped to be."

"It is not that simple, Thor. No one is completely a villain or hero, or at least very few. We all have shadings in us. Sometimes it just takes others believing in us to make us choose the right path."

"I am glad that my brother has you to believe in him," Thor told her, taking her hand between his two large ones. "There is a lightness to Loki's countenance that I have not seen in some time. It is not hard to discern that you are the reason for that change. I will forever be in your debt for that. You are a good doctor."

"It has been my pleasure to help your brother see the light within himself," she blushed at the complement. "Though, to be honest, I stopped being his doctor some time ago. Our relationship is a bit more complicated now."

"I inferred as much from your position when we arrived," he said with a twinkle. "Once I realized that you were there willingly, of course."

"Of course," her blush deepened. "Quite willingly."

"I am doubly glad. You have my full support and blessing."

"Thank you, but I do not know if it is anything that serious," she added, not wanting to give a false impression.

"I know my brother, Dr. Thorpe - Caroline, if I may?" he asked and she nodded. "Loki's feelings for you are quite serious. That is writ plain all over his face, and your clothing. In fact, if I keep you out here any longer, he may just try to end my life again."

"Well, we wouldn't want that," she laughed, heart soaring. "Shall we go inside?"

"Yes, and thank you, for helping me to understand."

***

Loki's jaw clenched as he watched Thor escorting Caroline outside. It wasn't that he didn't trust his brother with her, or that he thought her eye might wander, he merely preferred to have her attention focused on him. He had only just found her; he was not ready to share her with the wider world.

"You and the doc, huh? Didn't see that one coming."

Loki looked over to where Stark was helping himself to a glass of the brown liquor. He was developing a grudging respect for the man - he was quick for a mortal - but that didn't mean he was willing to let him get away with disrespect.

"You will watch what you say about Caroline," he made his voice regal and impressive, but the irksome man just grinned in response.

"So, it's not just convenience then? I had to say, I was wondering. After all, she did come with the shiny blue teleporter. Gotta say you have good taste though. Much better than your taste in scotch, by the way. This is sorely lacking."

"Feel free to not drink it," Loki snarled as Stark tipped back the drink despite its inadequacies.

"Needs must," Tony shrugged. "How did you convince her to spring you? I've been working with her for years now and she always played by the rules before."

"I did not attempt to convince her," Loki answered honestly, enjoying the truth. "In fact, she was quite insistent on helping me. It appears as though I have a draw you are clearly lacking."

"Huh. Maybe it's the horns. You know... symbolism and all. Tell me, is the length indicative, or are you overcompensating?"

"I do not care to discuss my relationship with Caroline with you, Stark," he ground out, but could not resist adding, "as for my physical endowments, suffice to say that the lady had no complaints."

"Well, here's to that!" Stark poured himself another glass and downed it with a toast. "How do you drink this swill?"

"I don't," Loki informed him. "I rarely bother with your Midgardian liquors. Only a child would feel any affect from them."

"Really? What do you drink then?"

With a twist of his hand Loki produced a decanter full of his favorite Asgardian brandy. The deep reddish brown caught the light of the fireplace as he poured it into two snifters that had materialized on table. Stark picked up a glass, swirling it to bring out the flavors before taking sip.

"Now that is what I'm talking about!" he said, savoring the taste.

"Careful, Stark," Loki warned. "This is not a drink for children."

"Good thing I'm all grown up then. Damn, that's good!"

Loki chuckled, relaxing a bit as he sipped his beverage. Really, the man was not all bad. As long as he kept his tongue in check about Caroline, Loki could almost like him. They polished off the first glasses rather quickly, and Loki refilled for them both. He was feeling a familiar rosy glow spread through his limbs. It had been some time since he had relaxed in this fashion. While not as desiresome and intimate as his time spent with Caroline, there was nonetheless something pleasing about sharing a drink with a person in comradery. Before he knew it, they were exchanging stories and laughing like old friends. Only a small part of his brain remained nagging him about Thor and Caroline outside colluding.

"You mean to tell me, if I had simply tapped you an inch in any direction, the scepter would have worked?" he asked in horror as Stark finished explaining the mechanism that kept him alive.

"Swear on Jarvis' life," Tony replied, lifting up his t-shirt to reveal the glowing circle implanted in his chest. "Good thing you're not persistent."

"Good thing you're obnoxious, more like," Loki countered, reaching over to poke at the reactor.

"Um... are we interrupting something?"

Loki turned around to smile at Caroline as she and Thor walked back into the room. She looked so beautiful with the way the cold brought additional color to her cheeks. With a gesture that was a bit more elaborate than it strictly needed to be, he removed the winter wear he had dressed her in, leaving her once more in the t-shirt and shorts that he preferred.

"Does he do that all the time?" Tony demanded as Caroline shrieked in surprise.

"It can be convenient," she allowed, smiling as she walked over to stand near the fire. "A bit high handed, but useful. I see you two are getting along."

"I was just telling Houdini here how close he came to winning his idiotic war against humanity."

"I would not have enjoyed that," Loki said, having had time to consider the idea. "It was much more enjoyable to throw you out the window."

"Why do I feel like I should be offended?" Tony asked, not sounding offended in the least.

"Oh, come on Tony," Caroline laughed as Loki drew her down onto his lap and nuzzled against her neck. "I highly doubt he's the first person to want to defenestrate you. I can personally recall a couple of occasions when the thought might have run through my mind."

"You mean that, Loki?" Thor asked, his voice serious amongst the lighthearted tone in the room. "You are glad you did not win against us?"

"I certainly was doing my best to fail," he confessed candidly. "I all but wrote you a dissertation describing my strategy, brother. Do you really think I could lead no better assault than that?"

Wordlessly, Thor crossed the room and embraced him, an awkward feat since Caroline was perched on his knee. Loki was taken aback for a moment, but slowly he felt his eyes growing suspiciously moist. Blinking away the proof of the sentiment, he raised his arm to return Thor's hug, cautiously allowing the hard knot that had lodged in his heart to loosen ever so slightly.

"I should not have doubted you," Thor told him, holding the side of his face in a gesture Loki had experienced a thousand times. "Forgive me, brother."

"Yeah, the guy did still throw me out a window," Tony chimed in.

"I forgive you," Loki said, ignoring the mortal now lying on his sofa. "And for my part, I am sorry for what I said to you in your cell. About Odin and Frigga. You know Mother would never turn her back on you."

"I should have remembered that. As I should have asked you what had happened when you fell from the Bifrost."

Loki had to be careful or the swelling in his chest would overcome him. He knew how rare it was for Thor to apologize, not that he was in the habit of doing it himself. Wordlessly he looked at the beautiful woman in his arms.

She had done this for him. Not only had she freed him physically from his cell, but she had opened the cell in which he had imprisoned his emotions. Now, thanks to her, he had his brother back, he was closer than he had been in ages to making a friend, and he was hopelessly, dazzlingly in love.

He was happy, he realized. Happier than he had been for as long as he could remember. Which was surely why deep down he was also terrified.

#Loki #Loki/OFC #post avengers assemble #Loki needs therapy #Loki gets therapy #Loki needs a hug #Loki gets a hug #smut in previous chapters #talk of past suicide attempt #mentions of past trauma #Thor #tony stark #healing #love #slow burn #Loki Fan Fic

[traaumaa]

i feel like such a faker !!!!!!! i have been hospitalized multiple times and i know the things i do are not normal or healthy and would completely appall the average person so why do i still feel like nothing is genuinely wrong with me !!!!!!!!! i don't even want to be sick but i can't help feeling like everyone's problems are so much worse and i'm just doing things for attention even though i hide everything

#idk im just rambling #.txt #i haven't been hospitalized in ..almost 3 yrs now ? #my mom said 'we're past that 'phase' right?' sometime last year (talking abt my suicide attempts mind u) and i still think about it lol #i agonize almost everyday and all these huge problems i had back then (and still do) was just a little phase to them. #like they genuinely think im okay even though im completely on my own to deal with it.. no therapist or medications anymore

[bloody-bee-tea]

Last Words of WIP Meme

I was tagged by @sarah-yyy and @chaotic---calm to post something from my last wip. Content warning for a suicide attempt, I guess, but it’s in the past.

The first time Jiang Cheng notices the scar he doesn’t comment on it. It’s clear that Nie Mingjue is uncomfortable with it, going by the way he immediately pulls his sleeves down as soon as he realizes what Jiang Cheng is staring at and so Jiang Cheng just presses a kiss to his brow and doesn’t ask.

The questions are there though, of course. 

It’s pretty obvious how Nie Mingjue got the scar, considering it starts at the base of his hand and goes up his forearm on the inside but it’s also pretty obvious that it’s already well healed.

It must have been quite some time since Nie Mingjue attempted to kill himself.

Not gonna lie, I don’t even know if I am ever going to finish this because it feels as if the writing juices have left me. Tagging whoever wants to play as well

#bt talks #tagged #mingcheng #past suicide attempt

[mejomonster]

Ridiculously depressed but I am running ragged (which is surely worsening the depression ToT) so like the idea of weekly therapy to further exhaust me and trigger the anxiety more doesn't sound super compatible

#rant #like. i havent eaten in 6 days im fucking miserable amd on edge. my gi issues are FUCKED right now #so i cant eat and im desperate To eat asap so i really hope my gi issues improve soon jesus fucking christ #anyway... on top of that which... homestly on its own is enough to destroy me emotilnally and exhaust me.... #i also am intensely deptessed a friend has like 5 crushes 4 dating options #i looked up advice today! oh no the spiral! i am considering paying money for a matchmaking service just so i can hate myself more i guess #when even that fails. i havent had a crush in 5 years either. i had like 3 crushes BUT they were married or aro #so i stopped my crush. so basically no crush on available for relationships peolle in half a decade. k feel broken #i looked up how to develop crushes today. google amd youtube apparently think its so rare to Not crush that theres no fucking advice #and then on top of it i have regular run of the mill anxiety. where i disassociate if im in public or around strangers. #which helps Me cope and i Feel great. as in not scared. but it means i dont talk well to strangers. #i try to. but i barely know what im saying and i dont see anyone i see them vaguely then block it out. and thats how i handle public. #and if i can manage to be present i need enough of a crowd i can hide. and if i see an attractive person i look away #cause i turn red and cant breathe. and im chicken i guess. so ur supposed to LOCK EYES with hot strangers and stare. but i need to PRACTICE #and then i also need to practice just. MAKING myself go places that make my anxiety shoot up horribly #and just sit and make myself stare at random peoplr and touch my skin and make myself endure being present. #then i have to do the same thing in public places i Like (which makes me more anxioud and in the past often resulted in panic attacks then #suicide attempts and self harm during said pamic attacks) so im not like super hype to endure that #and id rather endure it WHEN MY HEALTH IS SOLID ENOUGH I CAN EAT #because currently? me hungty? me in immense pain? even non anxiety inducing situatilns are shooting my stress level through the roof. #spilling coffee right now is making me feel like dying. just cayse im hungry and exhausted. i want to work up to 1. gi tract DIGESTING FOOD #PLEASE GOD SOON. 2. my back doesnt hurt so bad so i can STAND in public #3 stand in a nonthreatening public place like a bookstore or grocery store and stare at people #4 stand in nonthreatening place and stare at Hot people #5 attempt to enter a place in public i LIKE A LOT like a local hobby club. attempt for an hour if needed #call it a win if i make it to the doorway befote the panic attack hits. 6 attempt again at least standing IN FRONT of building 5 minutes #7 attempt again and maybr peak in and use bathroom so i can leave if im scared. 8 attempt again to enter building and maybe finally join #event i want to join. 8 attempt looking people in the eyes and remaining present at Location i like. #9 attempt looking pretty people In The Eye. 10 attempt saying hi i like your X #11 attempt conversation (if i got through all prior steps). which. this anxiety work could take 3-4 months minimum

[sokkas-first-fangirl]

*

Bruno wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to talk about; truth be told, he didn’t even want to really think about it. A part of him would always be afraid of ending back up there, seeing no way out and trying to end it all.

It wasn’t just that the others didn’t talk about it, Bruno didn’t either.

He was still scared. He wasn’t sure how his sisters would react if he brought it up.

But…

But maybe it was time to try.

*

Bruno's never read a novel that so openly talks about depression before; he's never seen a protagonist he relates to quite so well. While it's a relief for him, it worries Dolores and Isabela.

Thanks to The Bell Jar, a long hidden secret is brought to light.

The family needs to talk about it.

After all, we talk about Bruno now.

#flickering #with the dawn you rise (with the day you blaze) #tw: past suicide attempt #tw: depression #bruno madrigal #we talk about bruno #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #dolores madrigal #isabela madrigal #abuela alma madrigal #abuela madrigal #alma madrigal #felix madrigal #agustin madrigal #mirabel madrigal #antonio madrigal #camilo madrigal #luisa madrigal #the madrigal triplets #madrigal triplets #pb&j triplets #pb&j encanto #encanto #encanto fanfic #encanto fanfiction #update #new chapter #next chapter #my writing

[not-poignant]

Ok so I know it was a past arc but I’ve been doing a ffs reread and was wondering.

What would Arden have done if Efs attempt was successful. Would he have been able to recover and move past? Or since we are here and I was wondering like. Amnesia au, Ef survives and loses his memory for a while and then is found again and like the question of is it right to make him remember all his trauma all over (though I know amnesia like that can sometimes just go away) I’ve much to ponder!!!

Okay so first things first, I hate hate hate amnesia stories (you didn't know but it's a squick of mine), but it's unethical and horrible as all hell to withhold someone's traumatic past from them just because they don't remember it. Like the visceral 'yuck' response I had to even the idea of that is profound. It's not even a question of if it's right - it's right and ethical and the right thing to do to tell them. But this is one of the many reasons I hate hate hate amnesia fics, the fact that this could ever even be a question fills me with horror and existential dread over the fact that people might withhold the actual authentic truth from me about my own life were anything like that to ever happen to me.

(The other issue I have with it is that 'amnesia fics where the character never recovers their past memories' should be marked with a Major Character Death warning because imho killing the character's mind and personality permanently is the same thing.)

So that's out of the way, sorry anon, I just don't think there's ever anything ethical about withholding someone's truth from them for any reason, and anyone who thinks there is - is putting their own selfish thoughts about 'saving someone' before a person's reality. There is no true 'do over' re: trauma. It is in the body as well as in the mind. And there's nothing to stop the person from having horrific flashbacks down the track and then literally think they're insane because no one told them the truth. If folks want to write that in fic more power to them but I reserve the right to yeet those fics into the sun (i.e. close the tabs or just never see them). Gross.

*takes a deep breath* *sips some tea* I have to stop or I'll just start ranting asdlkfjdafsa (ranting more).

As to Efnisien's suicide attempt, Arden would have recovered and found ways to enjoy life again. That's what people do after tragedies. It's pretty universal. Unless you develop something like Complicated Grief and even that's not meant to be static, and requires professional treatment and support.

It would have taken him a long time, a lot of therapy, and I imagine he might avoid people with PTSD in the future, or he might simply never have another partner because he was happy not having partners in the first place until Efnisien. But it's not like he'd ever forget Efnisien or not be upset about it in the future. Grief re: the loss of a loved one lasts forever. You don't forget it, you just...find a way to keep living and eventually grow room to have good things in your life again.

This was a pretty depressing ask, anon! I hope you're taking care, because I don't think this is where everyone's mind goes when they read FFS.

#asks and answers #falling falling stars #fae tales #fae tales au #arden mercury #amnesia fics are my nemesis #i don't think it's romantic to never move past someone's death #which is why i've never romanticised it re: Pitch in say the SALverse #where he comes to life *because* he starts moving on #this one hits close to home though #i'm so glad i never actually have to write any of the kind of horrible things #i've talked about in this response #suicide cw #suicide attempt cw #grief cw #loss cw #amnesia cw #idk what the content warning is for 'lying to someone for selfish reasons when they have amnesia' #'being immoral to people with PTSD' cw lol #administrator Gwyn wants this in the queue

[vibrantvenus]

In theory psychiatric hospitals and mental health institutions are so beautiful to me bc like. It's a mental illness right, so for the most part it's not physical. So the fact that society(theoretically) cares enough about these groups of people should be so beautiful. But in execution these places have historically been fucking awful, and outright hostile to the people that need their help. And it makes me so fucking sad bc i remember being in the hospital after trying to kms and being like. Literally high out of my mind but knowing that i absolutely did not want to go, and just wanted to be released to my uncles house and I just. Idk. There's no point to this post im just sad.

#mental health #girl help im being mentally ill on the internet again #tw suicide #its vague but i do briefly talk abt a past attempt #pixie fever ; angel dust

[fuckdamn]

slightly drunk but i’m sitting here thinking about jane margolis and like actually actively sobbing. i’m so sad she died what the fuck. her dad was a hardass and probably not someone i’d like very much irl but he also clearly loved her very very profoundly and if he didn’t like that he couldn’t always understand her lifestyle and choices and motives it wasn’t out of disgust or whatever it was because he was scared that if he couldn’t understand her then he couldn’t help her. is that fair to her?? no. and in the end he couldn’t save her because you can’t really save someone from themselves but how can that fact be any consolation when its your own child?? AND how can jane deal with being treated like a problem without internalizing that he thinks she’s a problem?? there’s no good answers there’s no right answers there’s only love that’s there despite everything and care and tenderness and the art that jane left behind and her room exactly how she left it like she could come back at any second but she CAN’T because don WATCHED them zip his lifeless daughter into a body bag and cart her off. that’s it. their last confrontation was a fight and the last time he saw her she was crying and she deserved better and she should have had more time and that’s all you can really say!! and don and jesse will have to carry on under the weight of not only crushing grief but crushing guilt (while the man who could have literally physically saved her will continue to justify his failure to act through increasingly twisted rationale). jane was edgy and snarky and ostensibly kept most people at arm’s length but she was vulnerable just beneath the surface and she was dry and funny and smart and self-possessed and creative and she made beautiful things and saw beauty in things and she was kind enough to give jesse a chance when nobody else would and making impulsive mistakes during a relapse doesn’t make her some kind of evil temptress who was in it for the money all along and the fact that i’ve seen so many dudebro takes that imply just that makes me want to scream. she was only in like half a season but to me she is utterly indelible i love you jane i hope you are painting sick ouroboros murals in the afterlife

#lotte.txt #truly part of it is that father/daughter stuff just Gets to me #and (okay tw for talk of my own mental health issues in tags) #(namely suicide and sh and things of that nature) #but when i think of my suicide attempts and the worst of my self harm issues. and the way my parents were so afraid and i couldn’t see why #because in my mind it was just a battle of wills — i wanted control (over my life over my death) and they wanted to control me #for reasons — whatever they were — i couldn’t internalize that they were angry because they were scared and they loved me #but looking back on that time in my life now with much more clarity and a much better relationship with them? #the thought that i was so close to TAKING myself from them? that they were so close to losing a child who they love? haunts me breaks me #and if those thoughts ever resurface i imagine imagining how crushed my parents would be — i can’t even actually *imagine* it because itself #too painful #and my father is rational and reasonable and utilitarian sometimes to a fault and i rarely see him show fear or intense emotion #he is very loving and very kind but he’s a solutions first comfort second kinda guy #and i just remember how the solutions he would offer wouldn’t always help but he’d always offer them and sometimes it was annoying #but like he was doing what he could. he was trying so hard to keep me present and safe and healthy and alive #i don’t want to look at all of this through rose colored glasses because i had some really ugly moments w my parents. as jane did with don #but the point is (and i’m lucky enough to be alive to realize this) that this was all predicated upon profound love #and like again. the thought of even picturing how my dad would take it if i died is too much to bear #even typing this is making me weep uncontrollably lol #but so like. when don drives past the duplex and sees the paramedics and already knows that the unthinkable has come to pass. #the look of abject devastation and hollowness on his face. like the light’s gone out forever. it breaks me to my fucking core #i identify with jane in a lot of ways and . and like . okay you get my gist #ANYWAY!!!!!!! :D #brba #jane margolis

[panlyv]

a

#i really wanted to talk abt the things i like w someone but no one gives a shit lmaooooo #and ik i have a hard time sharing in general but it really fucking sucks when i do share and its crickets #its always like that too hsjxhahdnshd im like oof ok i can share a little bit!!! and then radio silence #ik it isnt >against me< bc ppl are going thru stuff but it doesn't make it less hurtful:/ #anyways i feel fucking and exhausted #my motto these past few weeks has been if i die i die #like any normal sane mentally stable person i go to bed every day hoping i dont wake up to see the next <3 #ive done worse so whatever really its not like im gonna attempt suicide again but ugh im so tired of my life lately i really just wish to d #u know #anyways #fuck me!!!!!! i hate myself!!!! im unlovable unlikable and broken and my brother in christ ive spent the last decade trying to get better #but i keep finding myself in the same place over and over again #maybe there's nothing else for me so ill just have to accept it #ill be alone forever bc my broken brain cant do anything else #haha hope i die fr xx #this is so incoherent sorry #dawn.txt

[milo-is-rambling]

Redyed my hair (a slightly deeper pink shade but basically the same) and now I’m laying in bed thinking about all the ways I’ve changed who I am and what I believe over the years and I don’t recognize who I was when I was young but I sympathize with them even more than I ever thought I could I just don’t think of those pictures of me as actually being me because my mind has always been this and I’m sure years from now I won’t recognize myself now because obviously my mind has always been whoever I am then

#idk something about your mind maturing when you aren’t paying attention and then suddenly you feel like you’re twelve again from some stupid #memory and you’re struggling to even remember what it felt like to be in those shoes and you don’t know how much is repressing trauma and #how much is you smoking weed constantly and how much is you being depressed and so suicidal and mentally ill in your early teens that you #didn’t even bother to attempt to make memories so now anything you do remember drags you back to the worst depression of your life and you #forgot how bad it was until someone else brings it up and suddenly you’re that kid crying and hurting yourself and begging anyone to care #and being abandoned and laughed at and you feel like it will never end and then you open you’re eyes and it hasn’t been that way in years #and you’d struggle to even believe yourself because everyone else ignores the way they treated you growing up so now yoh internalize it and #assume you’re just crazy for these memories you have cause surely your family didn’t laugh at you sobbing surely they didn’t bandage your #self harm wounds and then sit you at the table and scream at you about homework and then your mother talks about her therapist and suddenly #having someone in her life to put your adhd in perspective and she realizes that maybe there were reasons you were struggling other than #being lazy but she never apologized she still doesn’t apologize and you don’t bring it up you don’t tell her you remember but the silence #between you is deafening and you can both tell you’re forgetting something and you don’t know what the other person doesn’t know #haha yeah anyways #my mothers therapy is going good and she’s finally realizing that her kid and her husband had very similar adhd patterns that affected their #entire lives and we’re not as visible and her sons adhd patterns where he was more hyperactive #like I’m happy she’s learning to deal with all this shit but now that she’s in therapy and talking about all these things with me growing up #while somehow not at all talking about all the bad shit it makes me feel like she doesn’t even know she did anything wrong and I don’t want #her to feel worse about it rn cause there’s nothing she can do and we’ve moved past it but like I still can’t cry in front of people without #this deep pit of self hatred and thinking someone’s going to laugh at me when I show real emotions so I keep it all inside until I explode #but yeah at least she feels better about herself now #like legit I am happy for her and I don’t want to make her therapy about me but like god damn woman just admit anything you did and apologiz #so I know that you know it wasn’t the right thing to do #acknowledge that you hurt and scarred me so I won’t feel so fucking crazy all the time #I got kind of poetry ish in the middle there but I went back to being bitchy ranty soon enough so now I’m gonna go smoke real weed and try #to sleep without thinking thoughts or using my brain for anything other than bodily functions

[fox-mulder-gets-pegged]

My caseworker asked me yesterday if I've ever been diagnosed with depression and it's like. Well first time I asked, they were like yeah sure whatever can we talk about the symptoms of paranoia and cognitive distortion you're exhibiting real fast? And then I asked a few years later and again they were like oh probably but I think the fact that you're like a textbook example of PTSD is more important. And then I asked again a few years after that and instead the guy spoke to me for like 5 minutes and handed me a test for borderline personality disorder, which I got a 100% score on. And then when I was in the hospital post suicide attempt last year, the lady cut me off to be like yeah depression sure ok sounds good now tell me more about the fact that you keep seeing ghosts and people's faces melting and you think people are plotting to beat you to death in the streets.

#me: can u pls give me an official depression diagnosis? #various doctors: no but i can tell you that depression is the least of your problems buddy #like girl I've been trying!!! #but the sheer amount of mental illness i be exhibiting is too overwhelming for one doctor to break into pieces #regardless i think the uhhhhh suicide attempt and history of self harm and low energy and perpetual sadness kinda speaks for itself #i think its bc the doctors keep being like well you're so obviously depressed we'll just skip right past that #and lets talk about what the fuck else is your problem

[keefechambers]

I wanna be blunt about this ongoing James somerton suicide threat issue but I don't want to connect it to my IRL Twitter to comment on the dogshit takes I'm seeing there or the good and well meaning but maybe too kind takes I'm seeing here.

Obviously, I hope that this is a false alarm cry for help fake threat. Yes, it would reinforce that Somerton is a self-centered egomaniac who can't handle consequences but that's preferable to dead.

But I work in local news and let me tell you something. I've covered half a dozen family annihilating murder suicides and heard hundreds of men making suicide threats over police scanners and a huge swath of these don't happen because they're depressed or because people are mean to them on the Internet. They're punishment. A person with an enormous amount of entitlement towards people around them gets backed into a corner and they punish the people closest to them by killing themselves or threatening to kill themselves.

No one wants to talk about this feature of suicide because...you want to help people who are struggling and guide them away from this path and being blunt about the fact that sometimes people die of suicide as a consequence of their own shittiness towards the world does not really help actively suicidal people. But suicide rates are higher in men not just because they have higher rates of untreated mental illness (a societal issue we must address for the sake of all) but because some people, often men, use suicide (but more often the threat of suicide) as a tool of abuse and control.

I'm not saying somerton is like, an icky abuser bad guy, he's just a run of the mill grifter scumbag, but his actions in the past show a clear pattern of escalating behavior that aligns with this.

Somerton gets called out -> somerton alleges physical threats of violence against himself and his fans rally around him supportively -> Harry calls somerton out in a bigger way -> Somerton says he's hospitalized but there are inconsistencies with the story but no one wants to talk about that because you wanna be nice-ish about a guy who just tried to kill himself and now he's trying to be framed as tragic but it doesn't really stick -> somerton apologizes again but his apology is rightly called out for lies and manipulative framing as well as his continuing attempts to profit off the community he betrayed -> James posts a suicide note publicly putting the onus of his own suicide on the loss of his friend Nick who he repeatedly threw under the bus and now everyone is rallying to say nice-ish shit and wring their hands in concern over poor james -> indefinitely repeat this vicious cycle forever until he actually does die or finally gives up and gets real, intensive therapy and a day job.

Thats not to say anyone's concern is misplaced, it's 100% better for him to be a living scumbag than a dead one. He deserves the chance to grow and learn and have a life outside of youtube.

But you don't have to portray this as the action of a sad depressed man who got bullied off the Internet. It's manipulation, whether he intended to go through with it or not and whether someone intervened or not. Not denying that internet bullying is a thing, I'm sure there were some people who were shitty directly to James but he made the choice to not unplug from this and to try and keep being a public figure rather than taking care of himself. He could have deleted Twitter, blocked anyone who was an asshole, gone to therapy and tried to move on with his life but if he'd deleted his channel he'd have lost monetization... Can't have that, right? So he posts some apology videos so his channel stays active and then complains about how ruinous this is while never trying to take real accountability.

But the reality is that people would have forgotten about him so quickly and maybe his job prospects would've been impacted but...that's on him, and that's for him to figure out but it's not actually life ruining. He chose to continue to engage knowing he'd get backlash and hate and he'd feel worse and worse and things would never get better without the time and space for people to forget.

He made the choice to make a public spectacle of his own alleged suicide. That is the action of someone who wants to put the weight of their suicide on someone else's shoulders and is morally wrong. He can be held to account for that, alive or dead.

#James somerton #hbomberguy #suicide mention //

[thedarkdisgrace]

Ok, follow up post to the original cause I wanted to actually offer my analysis/interpretation on this.

I feel like this is a right/left brain analogy 🧵

Dazai covering his right side, the side supposedly responsible for the emotional & artistic things. It says alot about his mindset, accurate for that time.

It’s intriguing, then, Kouyou covers the “logical” side

I feel like this lends to why Chuuya & Kouyou do get along well. While both Chuuya & Kouyou are no doubt very intelligent (Asagiri literally refers to Chuuya as a genius) they both still lean very much into their emotional side as well. Even if Kouyou seemingly does so less.

Kouyou reveals herself, however, not only in her care for Chuuya but we mainly see it how she handled the situation with Kyoka.

She could have insisted Kyoka come back without ever changing her mind but when Dazai presents her with a way to save Kyoka from dark, she agrees quickly.

Kouyou clearly cares & wanted to help & protect Kyoka even if she went about it poorly. She was trying to help based on her past experiences, lest we forget that she tried to leave the mafia herself once, for *love* no less. She also tends to get emotional when talking about her past or her wish to help Kyoka.

But once she was presented with another solution, a far better one, she didn’t do “what’s best for the mafia”. Kouyou agreed to what was best for Kyoka & that was definitely a more emotional choice.

This is an area where Chuuya & Kouyou align. So, of course they would get along.

Chuuya always seems to find the balance between his logic and emotion. However, he can easily & often does lean more into his emotional side first, then his logical side.

It’s similar for Kouyou, even if we don’t see it as much from her.

Back to Dazai then, when he left the mafia & the cover on Dazai’s “emotional side” was gone Dazai seemed to also move more towards that balancing of the two sides.

He started off heavily relying on his logical brain & struggled emotionally. Often feeling numb or apathetic mostly, hence his suicidal ideation.

Then he meets Chuuya & this shifts. Chuuya forces him to experience new feelings. As Chuuya is a living breathing example of most things Dazai felt the world lacked. It opened Dazai to the idea that there is more to the world, there is more to *people*. Chuuya intrigues Dazai enough to make him want to live a little longer again. Chuuya gave him a reason to keep going, a promise of more.

From the moment he met Chuuya, it was a process of letting more & more emotions seep into his mind & his heart. We see how he feared for Chuuya in 15 even after they just met, even though Dazai *knew* it was a plan.

I might even venture to go as far as to say Dazai may not have feared for someone else’s life that hard before. It was a burst of unrecognizable emotions to him. After this, he only had more & more emotion seep in as the years went by. In Storm Bringer he was ready to sacrifice the city to give Chuuya a choice.

That relationship opened Dazai up to others later, namely Oda & Ango. Which only further encouraged the intermingling of his logical brain and his emotions. Then reaching the point at which the bandages were finally removed entirely and then he, like Chuuya, moved to striving to find the balance rather than relying on one side.

Bringing us back to current Dazai as he is still attempting to find that balance.

He still leans more towards his logical side. This, of course, in contrast to Chuuya who, while intelligent, more easily leans into the emotional.

Yet another thing between them that completes & balances each other. Soukoku will always pull the other back when drifting too far.

So, of course, Soukoku complement each other & it benefits them both.

Having Kouyou on Chuuya’s other side I think also does help Chuuya stay grounded while in the mafia. Chuuya isn’t one to lose who he is but I think having someone else who he knows *cares* like he does helps.

Now, additionally, if we apply this to Beast, I think this also says alot about beast Dazai & why Asagiri says beastzai would be the hardest for someone to portray.

Because *this* Dazai, is perhaps *too* far into his emotional side. He’s always intelligent but in beast, his actions aren’t fully logical, they’re emotional.

He appears cold & calculating as always but he saw another version of himself suffer the great loss of a best friend & allowed his emotional desire to prevent that from happening take control. Thus, his emotional side takes over, thus him covering the opposite side from canon Dazai, he’s covering his “logical” side.

I feel like this is the main difference between all the various Dazai we’ve seen.

PM Dazai relied heavily on his logical side, especially before meeting Chuuya. He rarely took emotion into account unless it involved the 3 people he actually cared for. We see him make emotional choices when it involves Chuuya, Oda, and Ango. Dazai did seem to let more and more emotion seep in over time as a result of knowing them, however, leading to that moment the bandages are removed.

Beastzai is leaning far too heavily into his emotional side, getting lost in it even. Acting solely on an emotional desire rather than a logical one. His desire to prevent a tragedy. He only was using his intellect to further that emotional desire.

Canonzai went through a steady progression, meeting Chuuya starts to open him up, this extending over time to Oda & Ango, leading to the cover on his “emotional” side being taken off.

But beastzai skipped all of that, all the *progression* to that point for canonzai & so beastzai just got all these intense emotions he never experienced before all at once when he saw canonzai’s memories & therefore he sunk far too deep, too quickly into his emotions.

Now current/ADA Dazai is the balance of the two extremes, and seemingly the closest to happiness.

ADA Dazai uses his logical brain as always but he also actually takes emotion into account as well and has more people he actually cares for now.

I think that says alot to the theme of bsd, leaning into that “everything is grey” dynamic. Everything is about the *balance* of things. Showcasing that anything in extremes in either direction doesn’t work.

Anyway, just some thoughts I had and interpretations of mine. Take them as you want, as always.

Oh and just to be clear, I don’t think Dazai was ever “emotionless”, even at his worse. Even if he was numb and apathetic. He was also lonely.

Just saying the more people he came to care about (Chuuya, Oda, Ango then later the ADA) the more he was able to feel a variety of emotion.

My original post:

#bsd analysis #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #ozaki kouyou #bsd #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #skk #bsd kouyou #bsd manga

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 YOUNG GOD

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: after an agonizing two weeks, dazai finally returns to you and a much needed conversation takes place. {wordcount: 11.6k; fem!reader, sfw, romance}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE AT INSTALLMENT 5 ALREADY!!! this is so bittersweet i'm literally about to cry, i hope you guys have enjoyed badlands and i hope y'all join me for unreal unearth next week!! i got to add one of my favorite quotes in this chapter hehe you guys get extra points if you spot it. reblogs definitely appreciated!! i’ll reblog with the taglist as soon as it decides to show on the dash & in the tags!

WARNINGS: explicit mentions of past suicide attempts + past self harm & scars

SEE: BADLANDS SERIES MASTERLIST READ: UNREAL UNEARTH SIDE B

Dazai is exhausted. His ears ring and his bones ache, his feet are unsteady beneath him and his body pleads for him to rest. Around him, the other members of the Agency are ecstatic, he thinks he’s gotten more hugs in the past hour than he’s gotten in his entire life. A part of him feels warm—he feels like he belongs, and his place in the Agency has always been one that he’s questioned. On bad nights, he used to think that the last place he truly belonged was on one of those three bar stools all those years ago, that being a member of the Agency—more than just in name, actually being a member—was nothing but an unattainable dream, because how could he possibly belong amongst people who are so unfailingly good that it makes his tainted heart stick out like a sore thumb? 

But now, Atsushi cries in relief at the sight of him and Yosano wraps him in a hug so tight that his already brittle bones threaten to snap; Kunikida’s throat spasms as he squeezes Dazai’s shoulder and Kenji and Kyouka throw themselves into his arms. Naomi and Haruno cling to his hands, while Tanizaki tears up in front of him with balled fists as he tells him that he’s missed him. Ranpo shoots him a wild grin and a salute and Fukuzawa pats the top of his head telling Dazai that he’s proud of him, and Dazai thinks he might cry because he feels like he’s finally found a home. 

An incomplete home, but a home nonetheless. 

Because even as he recounts his side of the story, watching hazily as Kunikida writes it all down, his mind is barely connected to his own body. His body feels prickly and his mind is muddled with fatigue, his brain throbs so painfully that he thinks he might actually be dying. He’s overwhelmed and anxious—the strain that the constant games of misdirection and manipulations with Dostoevsky has placed on him is finally becoming too much for him to handle. He’s on the verge of collapse and he needs to be somewhere he feels safe before that happens, and there’s only one place—one person—that fits that criteria.

You. 

He doesn’t even register what’s happening as Kunikida, Yosano and Atsushi help Dazai out of the office and into the back of Kunikida’s car. Atsushi sits with him in the back seat as Kunikida and Yosano take the front—they’re driving him somewhere, but Dazai isn’t even entirely sure where, and his tongue feels too heavy in his mouth for him to even ask. Atsushi is talking to him, he might even be telling Dazai where they’re going but the words sound like a distant hum and as he tries to read the boy’s lips, it all just seems blurry and unfocused. 

He doesn’t even know if you’re okay. 

Queen captured.

The words ring in his head over and over again as they have since the moment Dostoevsky uttered them aloud, but he doesn’t know what Dostoevsky’s capture of you entailed. He doesn’t know if you were killed. You could have been killed. If Dostoevsky had a lover, a weakness that Dazai could target, then they would have been the first person that Dazai aimed to take out to throw the Russian off of his game, and he would show no mercy. You could be dead, for all he knows; no one in the Agency had mentioned whether or not they knew if you were okay, or if they had, Dazai hadn’t heard it. 

You could be dead. 

Dazai’s vision spins again, his stomach lurches as Kunikida takes a turn too wide—he can’t keep himself grounded no matter how hard he tries. He wants to tell Kunikida that he needs to see you, he needs to get to your apartment complex and make sure you’re there, and if you’re not, he needs to talk to your neighbors and make sure you’re at least okay. Until he does that, he can’t rest, no matter how much his body begs him to give in. 

He loves you. He’s sure of it now. He knew it before he left you two weeks ago. He thinks he might have known it all the way back then on the night you rescued him at the shore, when you woke up in the middle of the night and sat with him on the couch after making him hot chocolate. He thinks he fell in love with the bright smile that lifted to your lips when he took a sip of the drink you made him and you realized he enjoyed it—no one has ever looked so happy to see him happy with something before, no one has ever cared enough about him for that.

He is so completely and irrevocably in love with you that Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to live in a world without you. The thought alone makes his skin crawl and his chest cave in. Before he met you, he had long accepted that he was destined to be alone, that he wasn’t a human but instead a thing caught between monster and man—he had accepted that he was incapable of loving, and even more so, that he was incapable of being loved. 

You had changed his perspective on everything, you had changed it so absolutely that Dazai doesn’t think there’s any going back to how he once viewed the world, how he once viewed himself. He’s started looking forward to sunrises, if it means he could watch them with you. He’s found himself looking around Yokohama and seeing places to take you rather than scouting out places for possible attempts. God, he’s even saving his money—Dazai Osamu has never saved money in his life because he hoped that each day would hopefully be his last. He’s blow it on alcohol and food and stupid trinkets that he didn’t need, but now, he’s caught himself putting aside some of his paychecks so he can save up for a nicer apartment that the two of you can live in together.

Dazai thinks that he can’t breathe, his throat feels swollen and he brings one of his hands up to tug at the collar of the white sweatshirt he’s wearing, tugging at it as if it’s the reason that he can’t breathe properly.

Dazai can’t go back to a world without you. He can’t.

Next to him, Atsushi is reaching out to him, as if trying to get him to calm down and Dazai doesn’t even want to know what the expression on his face might be right now. Everything is crumbling and tunneling around him—Atsushi, Kunikida, and Yosano are all dissolving, the car doors are fading away, the buildings and the streets and all of the scenery is just disappearing. 

Shit, he thinks, trying to figure out how the hell to ground himself. Shit, shit-

The car comes to such an abrupt stop that Dazai would have gone flying into the seat in front of him were it not for Atsushi throwing an arm across his chest to stop it from happening, the brakes screeching loudly and the car skidding. Yosano is pointing wildly, shouting something and Kunikida is shouting something back, something along the lines of her nearly causing him to get into an accident, but Dazai can only follow to where Yosano is pointing too, gaze dragging across the woman’s arm in the direction of the beach to the left of the car.

He wonders if he’s hallucinating. 

His fingers are shaking violently as he reaches out to push open the car door, squirming out of Atsushi’s protective hold. He flings himself out of the car desperately, nearly crashing hard onto the concrete—the fresh air is almost dizzying as he inhales it, pushing himself to his feet as quickly as possible. His broken leg screams in protest, but Dazai ignores it, vision blurring for the sparest moment before it focuses in on the figure standing on the beach in a familiar long, tan coat. 

His lips part to call your name but no words leave them—he’s not sure if it’s because he’s still half out of it or if it’s because he’s scared that if he calls your name and you don’t respond, it’ll confirm it’s just a hallucination. 

But he doesn’t have to say your name, whether it’s just by chance or if you heard the brakes of the car screeching, you turn in his direction. 

You’re wearing his coat; it’s too long on you—the tan edges are dragging against the sand and whipping around you as the wind picks up. But you’re wearing his coat and you’re beautiful; your expression shifts into one of recognition and then shock as soon as you see Dazai in the near distance, the sun is starting to set over the horizon and the soft orange glow casts an unearthly glow over you, and Dazai thinks everything about this is entirely unreal. He thinks that you might be some sort of angel, or some other type of divine being, and he thinks that he doesn’t even deserve to look at you, much less consider you his.

As he makes his way toward you, he can’t even put together all of his thoughts in a coherent manner. You’re alive is the first thought that rings through his head, the relief is almost debilitating. All of the days he spent with his heart in his throat, unsure of whether or not his decision had gotten you killed, have finally come to an end. The next thought that runs through his head is god, because he’s imagined this moment dozens of times since he first had to leave you. He’s imagined running to you, scooping you into his arms and swinging you around, holding you close and refusing to let go because Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to let go of you again.

Except that’s entirely how it doesn’t go.

Dazai barely makes it to you before his legs are giving out on him, as much as he tries to ignore the pain, it evidently becomes too much for his body to handle. He’s collapsing into you the moment he makes it to you. His head is still throbbing, his leg is screaming, his body is aching, but your hands are instinctively grabbing him to break his fall, his knees crashing against the sand, and Dazai just can’t bring himself to care about the agony. He doesn’t care that his body is coming apart at its seams, he doesn’t even notice as you lower yourself down into the sand with him.

“Osamu.” His name leaves your lips in a breathy whisper, one that’s riddled with disbelief and longing—something else too, but Dazai can’t decipher it in his muddled state. “You’re here.”

He tries to say your name, but he’s pretty sure it comes out garbled and unintelligible. Distantly, he can feel his fingers twisting into the fabric of his jacket, trying to clutch onto you as best as he can in spite of the numbness that still threatens to consume him. Then, your grip on him shifts from the instinctual grab into your arms wrapping around his waist, one hand splayed across his back and the other sliding up to cradle his head to your chest as you hold him close, and Dazai thinks all is right in the world again. He doesn’t want to move, he doesn’t want to think, he doesn’t want to do anything but just let himself melt into you.

The feeling of your touch for the first time in weeks is enough to chase away the creeping numbness and anxiety, and everything still hurts but all of it dulls in comparison to being in your arms again. Dazai’s breath is shaky, he teeters over the edge of collapse now that he’s finally with you, his weary brain betraying him as it uses the comfort of your arms as an excuse to finally surrender. His vision swims—he’s not sure if it’s from relieved tears or exhaustion, maybe both—his nose is flooded with the scent of you, the scent of home.

“You’re here,” you whisper again as if you can’t believe it; Dazai can’t even blame you because a part of him still fears that if he lets go of you, you’ll disappear, a cruel trick on him played by his treacherous mind. You pull away from him and Dazai’s fingers instinctively cling to you harder, trying to get you to stay in place, but his body is far too weak for it to be effective. 

You lean back and bring your hands up to cup Dazai’s cheeks and it takes all of his willpower to not just let himself fall limp. Your expression twists a bit, he’s not sure what you see—nothing good, definitely. Yosano splinted his leg and cleaned up the wounds on his face, but his ability canceling hers prevents him from getting the wounds healed quickly, so his face is bruised and swollen, cuts litter his skin from when the elevator had crashed to the bottom floor. 

He thinks he must look disgusting, he doesn’t even know how you can bear to look at him. But he supposes that’s not a new thought to cross his mind, he’s never understood how you can look at him the way you do.

“What happened to you?” you breathe out, and Dazai’s lashes flutter as your thumb ghosts over his cheekbone, eyes searching his for an answer to your question. Dazai doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t, leaning into your touch. “God, Osamu, you look like you’re about to drop dead.”

“Are you calling me ugly?” 

Even in his objectively terrible state, Dazai is able to croak out the five words, although he’s sure the playful lilt is lost in his fatigue. You stare at him for a moment, as if you didn’t hear him properly, but then your expression shifts into one of disbelief and your hand flies to your mouth to smother the laugh that he’s missed so desperately the past two weeks.

“Can you walk?” you ask after a moment, hand lingering on his cheek before dropping down to his forearm, squeezing gently. 

Dazai winces at your words, shaking his head—he barely even made it to you, he’s not going to make it all the way to your apartment complex.

You let out a puff of air caught between a laugh and a sigh. “Guess we’re doing this again,” you say, a teasing cadence dancing in your tone. Dazai’s brows furrow a bit in confusion, but then you’re grabbing his arm and trying to heave him to his feet. “At least you won’t be pretending to be unconscious this time.” 

Dazai struggles to help you as you do your best to get him onto your back; a nostalgic feeling sweeps through him as he remembers the first time the two of you met, waking up after a failed suicide attempt to find you cursing and complaining as you try to haul him back to your apartment. He wonders if you knew what you know now back then, if you would have still stopped to help him—but that leads him to a line of questioning that he doesn’t want to approach yet. 

Do you know where he’s been? 

Do you know his past? 

Do you know everything he’s done?

He pushes the thoughts away. 

As if the gods above remember the event and want the two of you to reenact it as close to the original as possible, he feels a few drops of rain splatter against his face.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He hears you complain as you finally get him settled on your back. “Keep your gangly legs to yourself this time, I don’t need them knocking into me this time.”

“... I was purposely trying to trip you, you know?” Dazai admits, voice hoarse and weak and the smile curling to the edges of his lips is lazy but it’s real for the first time in what feels like forever. “I thought it would be funny.”

You gasp loudly. “I knew it! You’re such an asshole.”

Dazai laughs, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck—he wants to bask in the light feeling that’s replacing the emptiness in his chest, but a part of him can’t help but feel like this is only the eye of the storm. 

Back in the car, Kunikida looks a bit worried as you struggle to get Dazai onto your back. 

“Should we go help her?” he asks quietly, glancing over at Yosano.

But Yosano doesn’t respond to him. She has an uncharacteristically soft expression on her face as she watches you laugh loudly at something Dazai says. He finally looks somewhat coherent again now that he’s with you, still in pain but that detached, disconnected look in his eyes that had been terrifying Atsushi is gone. 

“No.” Atsushi is the one to respond to Kunikida, smiling lightly as he finally drags his gaze away as he watches a genuine smile twitch to the corners of Dazai’s lips as you nearly trip and fall under his weight. “Let’s head back to the office.”

Dazai has been sleeping for hours.

You let out a soft puff of air as you idly comb your fingers through his hair, eyes tracing his face. His right eye is completely swollen, his lip is split, you can see bruises littering his neck that disappear beneath the bandages he wears, his leg is broken and splinted. Despite all of that, he still somehow looks at ease as he rests in your lap.

You’re not as at ease.

Well, a part of you is, against all of your common sense. Having Dazai back in your arms is far more comforting than it should be, with the conversation that needs to be had looming over you. The sight of him sleeping peacefully in your lap, the feel of his heart thrumming beneath your hand, the sound of his steady breathing, it’s all enough to alleviate your body and mind of the stress and anxiety that has been crippling you for the past two weeks.

He’s alive. He’s okay. He came back to you. 

You find consolation in the thoughts—in the few days you were detained by the Hunting Dogs, all you could do was think about Dazai. Your mind raced with worst case scenarios and crippling fears. In spite of all of the allegations placed against him, you still love him—you’d known it well before he left and the relief you felt seeing him again before was enough to confirm it.

You think it’s dangerous, and maybe a bit stupid; a part of you knows that you should run for the hills, the crimes that Jouno Saigiku listed out are nothing to scoff at, and even putting aside morality, his former position as an executive of the Port Mafia should be more than enough to have you fleeing, if only because that puts you in danger too. No one gets to the position that he supposedly obtained without gaining masses of enemies and no one leaves it alive without doubling said enemies. 

But you’re not running for the hills—not because of his crimes, and not because of the risk of being with him—and that scares you a bit. You’re having trouble reconciling the Dazai you know with the one you’ve been told exists. Even when you recall all of the times you woke up to find him staring out your window with an unsettlingly detached expression, eyes too still and too black to be normal, as if they absorbed all sound and light around him; when you recall all of the man’s strange idiosyncrasies that just don’t line up with the front he puts up; when you recall that night in Kyoto where he refused to divulge what his previous job was, you just can’t. 

The logic fits, your brain can see it and piece it together, your heart just won’t accept it.

Your knuckles graze the side of his face, a conflicted expression crossing over your own. 

You don’t know what to do.

A part of you doesn’t want him to wake up, because you know that when he does, you’ll be forced to have the talk that you’ve been dreadfully anticipating since you learned about his crimes and imprisonment. You don’t know what you expect from the conversation, you don’t know how to approach it, you don’t know what you want to know nor why you want to know it, you don’t even know if you should continue with your relationship with him and you don’t even know why that’s still a question in your mind because obviously you shouldn’t continue a relationship with him. 

Your brain feels like it might implode.

You take a step back.

As you always do when you’re faced with conflict and feel yourself getting overwhelmed, you try to take a more logical approach. First, you make yourself a chart: pros and cons, always a favorite of yours, centering around Dazai and your relationship with him. Then, you make a list: everything else you need to know to properly weigh into each of the pros and cons.

Pros: 

Dazai makes you happy. (An important pro, you think, maybe it’ll outweigh all of the rest.)

Cons: 

138 counts of conspiracy to murder.

You pause. 

Distantly, you wonder what your life has come to—making a pro/con chart with one of the cons being 138 counts of conspiracy to murder. You press your hand against your mouth, staring ahead as you reconsider every action you’ve taken to lead to this moment. Promptly, you decide to scrap the pro/con chart and move right on to the list of things you need to know. 

What do you need to know?

First off, you need confirmation over whether or not the allegations are true—if they’re not, then you’re spiraling for nothing and you can move on happily in your relationship with Dazai.

If they are?

You swallow thickly. You need context—you’re not sure what type of context would justify those crimes, you don’t think there’s any justification for them, honestly, but there must be a reason as to why you cannot reconcile the Dazai that you know with the one you’ve been told exists. You like to believe that you’re good at reading people—although you’re definitely questioning it now—so there must be some context that you’re missing as to how the “alleged Dazai” became the “known Dazai.” 

And maybe—just maybe—if you can understand that, then maybe you can still move on in your relationship with him. Because even if his crimes aren’t justifiable, people can change and it would be beyond you to scorn someone trying to do their best to become a better person. It’s not like you’re some squeaky clean, paragon of virtue anyway: your university and grad school is mostly being paid off by your brother’s blood money from the underground rings, and yeah, it doesn’t really compare to being a former executive to the most dangerous gang in Yokohama but it definitely narrows your room to judge. 

You glance back down at Dazai.

Your eyes meet wide, tired brown ones that immediately shut as soon as he catches you looking at him, as if pretending to still be asleep.

“Dazai Osamu, we are not playing this game again.”

Dazai reopens his eyes with a sheepish smile but he doesn’t say anything for a moment. Slowly, his expression shifts, the corners of his lips furling downward as a mixture of realization and resignation pools in his eyes. 

“You know.”

The two words are so unassuming yet so damning, your heart lurches and your stomach churns. Dazai isn’t looking at you anymore, he’s staring up at the ceiling, waiting for you to speak.

Is that confirmation? Just like that?

“I don’t know anything until you tell me,” you decide to say, your voice a bit tighter than you intended for it to be.

Dazai’s eyes draw back to you, studying you carefully. He looks conflicted—over what, you’re not sure. You think if he tries to blow this off rather than explaining it to you, you might lose your mind. You’re giving him a chance to explain on his own terms and if he doesn’t take it-

You reach out instinctively as Dazai starts to push himself off of your lap into a sitting position, fingers brushing his back worriedly. 

“You shouldn’t be moving around,” you tell him quietly.

He only shakes his head, finally speaking, his voice so quiet that it’s barely audible. “Let me take you somewhere.”

S. ODA

The four letters engraved into the headstone before you have been weathered by time, you can see lichen creeping across the slate and stone flaking at the edges—enough for you to put together that whoever has been put to rest here has probably been gone for a few years. Questions itch at the tip of your tongue but you bite them, waiting for Dazai to say something instead so that he can lead the conversation.

He has yet to say a word. From the moment that he slid into the passenger seat of your car, the only words that he’s spoken have been directions to the cemetery. The conflicted expression that had been etched onto his face has finally disappeared, smoothing out into an eerily blank one that you can hardly stand to look at because you know only dark thoughts must be racing through his head. 

You wrap your arms around your waist as another chilly wind whips around the two of you, grateful that you’d thrown a jacket on before leaving your apartment. Dazai is only dressed in his trench coat, too thin for the cold but he refused to wear anything else. You’re not sure why, but you have caught him burying his nose into the collar and inhaling, memorizing your scent as if it’s about to disappear. 

“I officially joined the Port Mafia when I was fifteen,” Dazai finally says. You raise your eyebrows a bit, wondering just how much autonomy a fifteen year old has to willingly choose to join the Mafia, but you don’t voice your thoughts, waiting for him to continue. “I met Nakahara Chuuya, a current executive of the Mafia, that same year and we earned the moniker Double Black for being the most lethal pair in Yokohama’s underground. At sixteen, I was put in charge of the boss’s personal covert ops unit and I was promoted to executive for all of my accomplishments, youngest underboss in the Mafia’s history. I’d eliminated countless rival organizations, opened numerous new distribution channels for all of their illegal trades, and had a hand in planning nearly all of the major operations both within and outside of Yokohama.”

His voice is void of any emotion, a cold monotone as he speaks the words like a bland recitation of a prewritten speech; his eyes are too empty and far too still as he stares ahead at the grave in front of the two of you. It’s unnerving; somehow, you think you like it even less than the actual matter of what he’s saying.

“Until I was eighteen, I continued to be the driving force behind the Mafia’s rapid growth and ironclad control over Yokohama; while I was an executive, no foreign organization dared to try to usurp control over any of our territory. They’d give up their territory if they knew I was the one heading the expansion operations, because they were scared of me and because they knew it was a lost cause trying to defend against me. Whatever you heard about me, it’s all true and probably way worse than you could ever imagine.”

The silence between the two of you following his words is damning—the wind is too loud and the distant sounds of cars honking and brakes screeching is jarring. You can hear your heart thudding in your ears, you can feel your gut twisting, your fingers tremble from where they’re stuffed in your pockets. Dazai is a statue next to you, his eyes haven’t budged, his limbs are stiff. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think him a corpse

Your lips part to speak but no words leave then. You take a moment before trying again. “How did you end up with the Mafia?” you ask, your voice is much weaker than you intended for it to be. 

Because that’s what you need to focus on—the context, that’s what you’d decided before he woke up and that’s what you’ll stick to, not what he’s done, but first how he ended up there and then why he left. You can’t imagine a fifteen year old willingly choosing to join the Mafia, so you think there must be more to the story. 

For the first time since the two of you arrived at the grave, Dazai moves—it’s subtle, a twitch of his fingers and a tug at the corner of his lips but it’s gone in an instant, you almost miss it. 

“I tried to kill myself when I was fourteen.” Bile rises to your throat almost as soon as his words process, you finally turn to look up at him but his expression hasn’t shifted at all. “The doctor tending to me ended up becoming the new leader of the Port Mafia. I was kept around as an insurance policy, and partly by my own volition, but I joined willingly at fifteen after turning him down several times.”

“Why?”

“I… thought something would happen. For so long, I just… couldn’t feel anything, and I didn’t see the point in living because of it. I thought that maybe the more extreme emotions—violence, death, desire—all of the things that are found in abundance in the Mafia… I thought that if I could be around people who display all of these things so plainly, that I would be able to see and understand what makes humankind human. I thought that maybe it would help me feel more human, and find some sort of reason to keep living.”

You exhale, eyes sliding shut for a second. You feel nauseous—hands lighty trembling as you desperately try to digest the large pill he gave you as quickly as you can because you still have more questions but god, what type of fourteen, fifteen year old feels so empty inside that he turns to the Mafia to try to feel something?

“You were a kid, Osamu. You’re not some incarnate of evil for ending up where you did, you were failed by all of the adults in your life,” you finally say quietly; you’re the one staring ahead now, and you can feel his eyes on you but you don’t dare to turn to look at him because you know that it’ll make you crack and you need to continue. Clearly something else happened when he was eighteen that led to him leaving the Mafia but what? Your gaze trails back to the grave in front of you, a sinking feeling in your chest. You take a deep, steady breath before asking your next question: “What changed at eighteen?”

“I didn’t leave the Port Mafia because I had some great epiphany as to the immorality of my actions,” Dazai snaps. His voice is tight and borderline antagonistic, emotion finally seeping into the monotone, as if he’s trying to convince you that he is what you claim he’s not. “I-”

He cuts himself off abruptly, his voice cracks, you lift your gaze to his face and your throat spasms when you notice the black pits have been replaced with the warm brown you’re used to, a vast array of emotions swimming within them, too many for you to pinpoint a single one.

“He was my friend,” Dazai finally says softly. “My only one, maybe. When he died, he told me that if both sides are the same to me—evil and justice—that I should become a good person, I should save people. So, do you understand? Nothing about me has changed since back then, and the only reason I’m on the side of the ‘good’ is because someone else asked it of me, not for any altruistic reason. I’m still the same now as I was then.”

“... I don’t think that’s quite true,” you tell him after a few seconds of silence, and you can feel him look at you and you can practically hear the bitter ‘what do you know?’ that he’s about to let out, so you force yourself to continue before he can. “I think that if someone had told me all of this a few weeks ago, I would’ve laughed in their face. I never once-”

Dazai scoffs. “So, you don’t understand,” he says, voice reverting back to that empty tone you hate, but his body is tense and he’s looking anywhere but you. “I’m good at putting up fronts, wearing masks depending on who I’m around; it’s how I learned to blend in with people. The man you know doesn’t exist. I’m a fraud, my blood runs black; when I’m pushed into a corner, I invariably fall back into old habits. I’ll never leave the dark and I don’t belong-”

“I think you’re wrong,” you interrupt him, recalling Yosano’s words from two weeks ago—he’ll never believe it himself. “I don’t think you’ll ever see yourself from an objective standpoint. I don’t think you want to believe that you’ve changed for the better, but I think you have. I’m not stupid, Osamu, and I’ve never been one to fall for people’s acts, no matter how good they might be. I’ve known something was up with you since that first night when I woke up and found you staring out the window, and still, I have never once doubted that you were a good man.”

“I killed people to get out of Meursault, I was willing to torture people to get information when the Guild showed up in Yokohama and then again when the Decay of the Angel arrived, I’ll manipulate anyone and everyone around me to see my plans through, I…”

Dazai is still listing off all of the reasons why he’s still a bad person, and maybe you should be listening but you can hear the way his voice is becoming increasingly more tinged with desperation, as if he’s intent on convincing you to change your viewpoint on him. You wonder if he thinks you’ll run, and then, you wonder if he’s trying to make you run—each sentence he speaks becomes more descriptive than the last. 

He’ll find himself sorely disappointed, because you’ve already decided that you won’t run. You’re still not convinced that this is the smartest decision on your part; Dazai is dangerous and being with him is dangerous, not because of him himself, but because of the threats that still linger from his past, but you suppose love always drives people to do stupid things in its name anyway. Even now, as he lists off all of these terrible things, you can’t imagine your life without him—you think a life without him will be dull and gray, and you’ll always look back to the time you spent with him as the happiest you ever were, regretting the decision you made here. 

You’re not the type of person to live a life full of regrets. 

And whether he sees it or not, you think he has changed. You’re not the only one—Yosano, Atsushi, all of the members of the Agency see him in a similar light as you, but he’s so blinded by his past that he refuses to see himself in the present. Even the things he says now, all of it was done in the name of protecting the people he cares about, and that’s not something you’re going to condemn him for. 

“I think he’d be proud of you.” You cut off his tangent with seven quiet words and Dazai goes utterly still and utterly silent next to you. “I didn’t know him, of course, but I think he’d be proud of the man you’ve become, Osamu. Change doesn’t happen overnight, you were surrounded by the dark for so long, and from such a young age, that it might take decades to remove its influence over you, but you’re trying and you’re saving people. I wish you could see yourself the same way I see you. I think he would be proud.”

You wonder if you pushed too far, sparing a glance his way. His brows are furrowed so intensely that you can’t hope to try to imagine what might be going through his mind, brown eyes flooding with emotion as he looks down at his friend’s grave.

“I’m not someone that was born to be with people,” he finally croaks out. “Romantically or platonically. I’m not right in the head. Manipulative, constantly trying to kill myself, prone to jealousy, pettiness and casual cruelty. There are so many people trying to kill me that I stashed guns in your apartment when you weren’t home just in case they came after me while I’m there—I don’t care if they get me, but they might go after me when I’m with you, or even go after you to get to me. Sometimes, I regret leaving the Mafia because I feel like it’s the only place I actually belonged because it’s the only place where I was actually good at what I do.”

You don’t speak, instead letting him list off everything that he thinks is wrong with him, laying out bare all of the things that he tried so hard to hide from you over the past few months. He can’t look at you, eyes trained ahead and you can see the way his fists are clenched in the pockets of his trench coats. He lowers his face into his collar again, burying his nose in the fabric before continuing. 

“During really bad slumps, I can barely get out of bed even though I can’t sleep; sometimes I won’t eat for days unless someone notices and forces me to and if they do, I usually get nasty with them; and I’ll do just about anything to die. Atsushi-kun has had to fish me from more rivers than I can count, Kunikida-kun has had to drag me to the hospital after trying to overdose on pills or drink various types of poisons, Yosano-sensei has spent days watching over me because she didn’t trust me not to try again once one of them saved me.”

His voice has mostly returned to that cold monotone, but there’s a hint of emotion clinging to the edges that he just can’t wipe away, something caught between desperation and pleading. Your throat feels tight and swollen and you think that your heart might be shattering a bit with how he’s so set on pushing you away and convincing you that he’s simply too horrid to be loved. 

“I can’t cook. I don’t clean. I hardly shower. I’m more often drunk than I am sober. I can barely go a week without trying to kill myself at least once. I suck at saving money because I figure I’m going to die soon anyway, so I don’t see the point in it. I have an awful lifestyle and more unhealthy habits than I can count. I've tried to change it but I always fail. I don’t know how to comfort people and when I’m confronted with conflict by people I care about, I’ll avoid them until I can act like nothing's wrong. I’ll be more of a bother than anything else, really.”

“I still want you,” you finally say quietly, watching as a distressed expression sweeps over his face.

“You really don’t,” he protests weakly. You wonder if he’s trying to convince himself of it, or you—maybe both.

“I do. I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s rotten work,” he breathes out, a last ditch attempt to persuade you away. 

“Not to me,” you tell him firmly. “Not if it’s you.”

“I don’t deserve this.” Dazai shakes his head, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him. “I don’t understand—everything I told you and you’re still… I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

“I disagree, but regardless, that’s hardly relevant,” you say absently, finally reaching out to loop your arm in his, resting your head against his bicep. “Do you want this? Do you want me?” 

“Yes.” His voice is so hoarse and so low, as if he can barely bring himself to say the words out loud.

“Then it’s yours. I’m yours.”

Dazai’s jaw is clenched so tight that you’re worried he’s going to damage his teeth, he brings his hand to his eyes as if to cover the upper half of his face. You squeeze his arm a bit, comforting, eyes sliding shut.

“Everything I touch withers and turns to ashes,” Dazai rasps. “Anything I never want to lose is always lost. I’m scared that by being with you, I’m also killing you.”

“I’ll take that risk, if it means I can be with you,” you tell him, watching as he shakes his head, still refusing to look at you.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he exhales quietly.

“You love me for it,” you tease lightly.

“I do,” he admits, and your eyes shoot open a bit at his words. You glance up at him, but he’s looking ahead, expression downcast. “And I’m sorry about that.”

“Are you apologizing for loving me?” you ask, a bit incredulously.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Osamu…”

Your voice is soft, you’re not sure what you want to say but you falter when Dazai suddenly looks down at you. His eyes are so exhausted, he looks like he hasn’t had any rest in years—his shoulders sag and his arms hang limply at his sides. You think that maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to all of this when he’s still recovering, but you also think that the fatigue is not just physical.

 “I’m so tired,” Dazai suddenly whispers, resting his forehead on the top of your head. His voice cracks a bit over the word, you slip your arms around his waist, letting him lean into you.

“Then let’s go home, yeah?”

“... Yeah, let’s go home.”

When you get back to your apartment, it’s still dark but you know dawn will break soon; as Dazai stumbles over to your bed, you make your way to the window. You close the curtains so that Dazai will be able to sleep easily even after the sun rises, and then move over to your nightstand to turn on the dim lamp so you can at least see a little bit. 

Dazai drops his coat onto your desk chair before he takes a seat on the edge of your bed, feet planted on the floor as he stares ahead at the wall. He looks lost, conflicted; you don’t know what to say to draw him out of it, so you decide not to say anything. Instead, you make your way over to him and take a seat next to him—your thigh brushes his, arms ghosting each other’s, and Dazai immediately leans over to rest his head on your shoulder, eyes sliding shut.

You lift your hand to cradle the back of his head, fingers idly carding through his dark locks. You feel him let out a shaky breath, the air hot against your skin, and you turn your head to the side, pressing your lips to the top of his hair, lingering for a moment before resting your head against his.

“Lay down and get some sleep,” you tell him softly. “I’ll stay with you.”

Dazai exhales, but he doesn’t budge from where he’s leaning heavily against you. “... I need to take off my bandages,” he finally says quietly. “They’re drenched in sweat and blood, haven’t had a chance to change them since I left… I don’t want to get in bed with them on.”

You pause and then ask, “Do you want me to go grab the new roll I bought? I can step out.”

“I don’t have the energy to put them back on,” he finally murmurs, and then a bit more hesitantly, he adds: “Can you help me take them off?” 

You think your heart is in your throat. In the months you’ve been with Dazai, the only glimpse you’ve gotten of his body beneath the bandages was that day he showed up at your doorstep bleeding out and you had no choice but to cut through some of them to patch up the wound, and even then, you only saw the sparest bits of his body, only what was necessary to stop the bleeding. He’s been so careful to keep it hidden from you and now…

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Of course, I can.”

You shift a bit so that you can kneel behind him on the bed, fingers curling around the hem of his white long sleeved shirt. You tap his arm gently, a silent ask for him to raise his arms, and when he does, you slide the thick cloth off of his body, leaving him in his pants and the bandages that cover every inch of visible skin besides his face and hands.

He was right, they do look disgusting—most of them are yellowed and frayed at the edges, as if they’d been drenched with water and dried several times over. There’s blood staining the bandages on his side and a black tarry substance clinging to the bandages wrapped around his waist. You lean forward and press your lips against his shoulder, over the somewhat clean bandages that are covering the skin there, and you can hear Dazai let out a sharp, shaky breath in front of you.

“Ready?” you whisper, fingers grazing the clip fastened to the bandages on his neck, holding them in place. 

He only nods, so you press another soft kiss to him, this time to the crook of this neck, and unfasten the clips to unwind the bandages from around his neck. To your credit, your fingers don’t falter when a rugged, discolored scar is revealed, looped around his neck; it’s mostly faded, but it’s still rough beneath the pads of your fingers. Your eyes linger though, there’s no question as to what caused the scar and your mind instinctively draws back to all of the offhand comments and jokes that Dazai has ever made about ceiling beams and nooses and your throat feels a bit tight.

You dip your head down to press your lips against the nape of his neck, right over where the rough skin crosses. You can hear his breath hitch, you can feel the way he shivers, but you don’t say anything as you continue to unwind the bandages around his chest and torso. You’ve seen most of the scars that litter his back from when you’d had to patch up his bullet wound, but it’s different seeing them without the fear of him bleeding out fogging your brain. 

They look much harsher against his pale skin now—the worst is still that deep, jagged one that runs from his shoulder to the corner of his hip, but you can’t help but notice that there are more that you hadn’t noticed that day. Most of them are various types of cuts and slashes, some deeper than others, and healed bullet wounds, your gaze is particularly drawn to the most recent one on his upper back. It’s fresh compared to all of the others, still red and easily agitated—your fingers brush over it for a moment before you lean in to press another kiss to his shoulder blade, right over where the worst of the scars begins. 

You shift from behind him to sit at his side, dropping the bandages that had been covering his chest, torso and neck haphazardly onto your bedroom floor before reaching out for his right arm.

Dazai withdraws immediately.

His expression is guarded, you think that his eyes seem a bit glassy but you can’t tell with the dim lighting. You don’t say anything, and you don’t reach out again; after a few moments of him studying you, his shoulders slump and Dazai moves his arm so that it’s back in your lap. Your eyes trace his face one last time, making sure he’s okay, before you lift your fingers to start unwrapping the bandages, starting at his bicep. 

The skin of his bicep is mostly clear—there’s one light scar cutting through its side, as if a bullet had grazed him. When you move down to his forearm, Dazai is stiff and you can see the discomfort on his face, but he doesn’t pull away, so you continue. 

And you falter, because as you loosen the bandages to remove them, you catch sight of the deep scars lining his wrist and forearm. The skin is uneven and discolored, there’s hardly an inch of visible skin on his lower arm that’s not covered by the vertical scars. He’s staring at you, dark eyes heavy and inspecting your every reaction—he’s looking for something, and you don’t know what, but you just decide to do the same thing you’ve done every other time you finished taking off a set of bandages and lean down to press your lips against his pulse point, moving over to do the same to his other wrist after unwrapping the bandages there too.

Your gaze flickers down to his legs, where you can see the bandages on his ankles peeking out from the white pants he’s wearing, a bit too short for his long legs. You pat his thigh gently and say, “C’mon, let’s get you out of these ugly things.”

Dazai shifts up just enough for you to help him slide the loose plants off so you can toss them off to the side, leaving him in his briefs and the bandages wrapped around his thighs and calves. You move to kneel in front of him, instantly getting to unwinding them, starting at his ankle. 

“Do you remember what you told me back then?” Dazai asks quietly, looking down at his lap instead of you. “The day we met?” 

“I told you a lot of things that day,” you say lightly as you glance up at him, careful as you unwrap the bandages around his calves. You kiss his knee. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You said you’d change the trajectory of my life,” he murmurs, twisting his fingers absently. 

Vaguely, you remember the words, smiling a bit in amusement. 

“About the hot chocolate?” you question, laying a kiss to his other knee before shifting up to unwrap the bandages on his thighs; you make sure not to let the pain show on your face when you notice that his inner thighs are as littered with scars as his wrists and forearms, all of them dangerously close to his femoral artery. 

“Yeah.” He lets out a puff of air akin to a laugh, but when you glance up at him, you see there’s very little amusement on his face. In fact, he looks more wistful than anything else. “You really did, you know? Not with the hot chocolate, obviously, but just… you. You did.”

You sit back on your heels as you look up at Dazai, taking his hand into yours before lifting it to your lips, kissing his knuckles softly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. When he continues, his voice is hoarse, bordering on a plea, “Don’t ever go somewhere I can’t follow.”

“Somewhere without you?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice as you kiss the palm of his hand before letting go so you can move to unwrap the bandages from his other leg. “Sounds dreadful, I would never.”

He lets out a noise as if he doesn’t entirely believe you, as if it’s some inevitable fate that the two of you will face. So when you finish unwinding the bandages and push them off to the side with the rest of them, you lean up on your knees to cup his cheek, pulling him down a bit to you so you can press your lips to the corner of his. 

“You’re stuck with me.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” he croaks out, and the wry laugh he lets out falls flat. 

You squeeze his hand again before you rise to your feet, and when you do, Dazai’s throat spasms as you stand in front of him, looking down at him. He’s stripped bare in front of you now—physically, emotionally, and he looks at you with an expression that lets you know that you have the power to utterly ruin him. He’s trusted you with his heart, handed it over to you on a platter after having guarded it so desperately and carefully for so long, and you can see the vulnerability in his dark eyes as he watches you restlessly, waiting to see what you’ll do with it. 

You lean forward again, pressing your lips against his forehead softly and then to his own, a chaste, innocent kiss that lasts no longer than half a second. 

“I love you,” you tell him quietly. 

Humans cannot live without a heart, so if he’s to give you his, it’s only fair that you give him your own—though realistically, yours has already been his for a long time. Your heart beats in his chest now, and his in yours, and you wonder if he understands the gravity of what that means but you think he does, if the way his expression crumbles has anything to say about it. His hands fly to your waist, dragging you down onto his lap. His fingers bite a bit too deeply into your skin for it to be comfortable, but you only wrap your arms around his shoulders and let him bury his face into the crook of your neck. 

“I think I might’ve been born just so I could meet you,” Dazai admits, words thick and throaty, muffled against your neck.

You smile lightly, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, turning your head to the side to kiss his temple. “I feel the same,” you whisper, because there’s no way anything but destiny led you to Dazai Osamu on that beach—one way or another, you were fated to be with him. 

Dazai pulls his face from where he’s had it tucked in your neck to press his lips to yours; he kisses you desperately, hands rising to cup your cheeks. In one swift motion, he has you pinned down on the bed, hips and chest flush to yours, hand slipping behind your head to tilt your head so he can deepen the kiss, and you’re reeling at his sudden switch up, struggling to keep up with him. His tongue traces the inside of your lip, deceptively gentle compared to the way he has body pressed against yours.

Your hands fly to his waist, sliding over his bare skin, over all of the rough ridges of his scars and his body shudders against yours violently, unused to the feeling of someone touching him without his bandages as a barrier. He pulls back, tugging at your bottom lip softly before moving just far enough away for your lips to be brushing, sharing the same sliver of air. You can feel his breath fanning across your lips, it smells of the peppermints you have littered across your desk and distantly, you can’t help but wonder when he managed to steal one, but the thought is only fleeting. It’s dizzying, hot, so intimate that you think your heart is about to fly out of your chest.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Dazai breathes out, dark eyes searching yours as he speaks.

“Me neither,” you agree, and then you smile, leaning up to steal another kiss from him, and then another, and then another. “Good thing we have the rest of our lives to try.”

Less than a week later, you stand in the chaos of the Armed Detective Agency as they argue over a new case—and by they, you mean Yosano and Kunikida with Dazai occasionally making antagonistic comments to try to make Kunikida blow a fuse. You don’t really know what you’re doing here, you suppose the Agency doesn’t really care and you have nothing better to do anyway —you lost your internship at the Ministry of Defense, obviously, with all of the chaos that went down and classes have yet to start up again, and Dazai begged and pleaded for you to come with him to work because he ‘can’t stand having to look at Kunikida-kun’s ugly mug all day,’ but you figure it’s only because he wants to sneak off to you whenever Kunikida is distracted.

Like now.

Dazai has flopped onto where you’re lounging on the couch as he watches Kunikida and Yosano go at it, head resting on your chest, giggling to himself as Kunikida’s face goes red and Yosano looks increasingly more entertained. You’re idly playing with his hair as you scroll through your phone, distantly listening to the argument that you’re pretty sure Dazai instigated just so he could slink away from his desk.

It’s only a matter of time before Kunikida notices Dazai’s scheme and drags him off of you, but it’s nearly the end of the day anyway and you and Dazai are going to the theme park in the Kanagawa prefecture once he can leave work, so you’re excited. You think you’re going to ask Atsushi, Kyouka and Kenji to come along with the two of you, even if Dazai pouts and scowls over it, because they’ve spent most of the day talking to you when Kunikida was forcing Dazai to actually do his work. 

“Ranpo will be here soon,” Yosano goads Kunikida. “We’ll see what he says.”

Kunikida’s eye twitches and he parts his lips to speak but before he can, the door to the Agency flies open and a familiar dark-haired man comes bounding in, snacking on a bag of sweets. Tanizaki follows behind him, looking exhausted if not a bit relieved to be back. 

“Tanizaki got us lost three times,” Ranpo complains, making his way through the reception area toward the interior. Tanizaki looks disgruntled, as if he doesn’t entirely agree with Ranpo’s statement but is beyond arguing about it. Ranpo pauses next to the couches where you and Dazai are lounging. “It’s you.”

Your eyebrows raise a bit when you notice the thinly veiled irritation in Ranpo’s voice. Dazai looks up, eyes a bit narrowed, and both Yosano and Kunikida pause from where they were about to bring their argument to Ranpo, sharing a look with one another. 

“Ranpo-san, don’t be ru-” Dazai starts to complain, although you can tell there’s a hint of tightness to his voice. 

“First, everyone in the Agency ignores me when I tell them not to take this case; then, I go out of the way to warn you about the Hunting Dogs and instead of listening to me, you throw yourself into the heart of Yokohama and make yourself easy pickings for them,” Ranpo rants. “I don’t even know why I try.”

Realization strikes fast, your face feels a bit hot. Dazai sits up from where he’s laying on you, looking between you and Ranpo, a bit confused. 

“... You were R,” you realize sheepishly, wondering how you hadn’t put it together sooner. 

Ranpo all but sneers. “Aren’t you supposed to be an honors student at Waseda? I swear, sometimes I think I’m the only person in my life with brain cells.” he says snidely, pointedly raising his chin and looking away from you as he adds: “I suppose your arrest wasn’t entirely a bad thing, though—made the police force more willing to open their eyes with their wives and family members going off the deep end about the Hunting Dogs. But still, after all the effort I went through to get that warning to you…”

He finishes with a loud scoff, but you’re more focused on the aghast expression on Dazai’s face as he looks at you, and you brace yourself for the conversation that’s about to come, wondering how the hell you’re going to get out of it.

“You got arrested?” Dazai blanches, eyes wide and face a bit pale.

You wince, laughing a bit sheepishly. “Yeah… ha, look at us, in jail at the same time! Couple goals, huh?” 

Dazai doesn’t look half as amused—a mix of disbelief, guilt and a hint of anger all visible on his face. You don’t know where the guilt is coming from, but you figure he must blame himself for it somehow, which you think is a bit ridiculous because it was your choice to let yourself get arrested when you had the chance to flee. You think that your trip to the amusement park is going to be tainted now, because you know that as soon as Dazai gets the chance, he’s going to bully you into an interrogation over what happened, so to salvage the night and spare yourself the headache, you finally make your move.

“Atsushi-kun, Kyouka-chan, Kenji-kun, Osamu and I are going to the amusement park later, you should join us!” 

The look Dazai gives you is nothing short of betrayal, but luckily, Atsushi, Kenji and Kyouka, who’ve all lit up at your words, excited, can see it from where they’re sitting. You smile sweetly up at Dazai, leaning up to steal a kiss; he is disgruntled, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Oh? The one in Kanagawa?” Yosano suddenly asks, interested. “We’ll come too.”

Dazai buries his face in your chest, letting out a muffled groan. Yosano tosses you a wink, seemingly having forgotten about her argument with Kunikida as she throws her arm around the man and gives him a sharp look.

“Won’t we, Kunikida?” she asks with a terrifying smile. Kunikida looks as if he’s going to protest but before he can, Yosano’s arm around him tightens. “Won’t we?”

“Fine,” Kunikida bites out, looking none too pleased. “I need to hurry and finish this report then, so let go.”

Ranpo points at you. “You’ll fund my cotton candy for the night as an apology for the unnecessary headache,” he declares and you let out a huff of laughter in agreement.

“Can Naomi and I come too?” Tanizaki asks, a bit hesitant as he glances at you and notices the way Dazai has slumped into your chest, defeated. “We’ve only been once when we were kids. It’d be fun to go back.”

“‘Course,” you agree easily. “Dazai and I are gonna head out now though, I have to run to the store before we go.”

Kunikida only waves you off—he probably doesn’t even register what you asked, too focused on getting his report done—so you push Dazai off of you and rise to your feet, stretching because your back has become a bit sore from lounging around all day. Dazai nearly topples onto his ass, shooting you an accusing look before standing up straight.

You hold your hand out to him, he takes it, looking a bit mollified. 

“See you in a bit,” you tell the Agency, and you get various different goodbyes as you leave the office.

As soon as the door shuts behind the two of you, Dazai is scowling at you. “You’re devious,” he claims. “Inviting them all to avoid a much needed conversation. Diabolical.”

“Learned from the best,” you coo, leaning into him and nudging his arm with your shoulder. He rolls his eyes, you grin. “Please, you and I both know you would spend the whole night trying to talk about it if we go alone and it would piss me off. We can talk about it when we get home.”

“And now.” The smile that Dazai gives you is all teeth, you grimace. “How did you get arrested?”

You just shrug. “They asked me for information, I refused to give it. I figured if they were going to come after me one way or another, it’s better that it happens in public—people don’t really take kindly to watching someone get arrested for associating with an organization that they’ve all associated with at some point or another because they’ll get scared that they’re next.”

Dazai looks at you, distinctly impressed. “You are devious.” He sounds proud, your cheeks heat up a bit, but then his expression drops again. “But still reckless. You could’ve been killed.”

“But I wasn’t.” You wave him off and then absently bid goodbye to the cafe owner and his wife as the two of you leave the cafe and make your way down the street to where you’d parked this morning. 

“But you could’ve been,” Dazai stresses the words, he’s a lot more tense than you expected, his jaw is tight. He catches the way you’re looking at him and shakes his head, letting out a puff of air. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“It’s my fault,” he tells you, and you immediately scoff, rolling your eyes. “It is, you don’t understand—I was with Dostoevsky in Meursault, I had to make a decision-”

“Shut up,” you tell him, irate. His mouth shuts instantly. “Stop acting like I have no autonomy. I knew what I was walking into, I chose to do it anyway. That’s the end of it, stop blaming yourself for every little thing that goes wrong, Osamu. You’re only human, you can’t control everything.”

You can tell that Dazai doesn’t believe you, but that’s an argument for another day. Luckily, Dazai doesn’t look too keen on pressing the subject anyway. Instead, conflict sweeps over his face as he studies you.

Finally, he asks quietly, “You never doubted the Agency?”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Are you kidding? There’s no way anyone’s going to convince me that the people in that office building are terrorists. That’s absurd, I figured there was something supernatural going on, just didn’t know what.”

Dazai looks at you, disbelief painted on his face. You’re not sure why until he lets out his own laugh, shaking his head. “The Decay of the Angel had a reality altering book,” he explains, eyeing you as the two of you continue down the sidewalk. “And you managed to somehow subvert the reality they created with it.”

You can’t tell if it’s a question or not, and for some reason, you feel distinctly seen as he looks down at you with an indecipherable expression. So you just shrug. “They shouldn’t have written such a ludicrous reality, then,” is all you say, a bit awkwardly.

Dazai only laughs again, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You lean your head into him, smiling softly. You bask in his presence, letting the warmth of the setting sun wash across your face as you share a few moments of silence. 

As the two of you reach the parking garage you’d parked in, Dazai suddenly stops, looking down at you. “Do you believe in fate?” he asks quietly, uncertainty in his eyes as he watches you for a response.

“Yeah,” you tell him. You’ve always believed in fate, and you believe in it a bit more after meeting Dazai, because somehow you know that you were always destined to meet him, that your fates have been intertwined since the moment the two of you were born. You simply cannot imagine a life without him, not in this world or any other. “String theory, multiverse, I think the world’s a lot bigger than just ours. Why?” 

You glance up at him curiously. “You do?” he asks a bit distantly, leaning down to ghost his lips against your forehead. Then a bit more hesitant, he continues, “If you think there’s more worlds like ours… do you think we’re together in all of them?” 

You snort, which is obviously not the reaction Dazai expects from the way he jolts, but before he can take offense to your reaction, you speak.

“Definitely,” you say so confidently that he almost looks taken aback. “I’ll find you in every universe, you can count on it.”

You think he looks beautiful right now as the sun finally sets over the horizon, the pale orange tints of the coming dusk making his skin glow, his eyes soft and fond, full of longing as he looks down at you. You’re struck with a distinct urge to kiss him, but he looks so divine in this moment that you can hardly bring yourself to move, spellbound as you admire him.

“Yeah,” he finally breathes out, “I will.”

i don’t even really have words guys 🥹 i’m literally about to weep i can’t believe it’s over

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x reader

[jackiepackiee]

After seeing your recent post I'mSending in my request Love!!

How would the bad men take care of their wife who get amnesia due to blood loss which resulted by being shot by a pistol or gets into an accident during a mission.

You have the free dom to make it like a one shot or head canon for these men

Dazai, Kunikida, aktugawa, fyodor, Nikolai, and Chuuya

Other than that take care love!! Make sure to stay hydrated! 💞💞

𝐵𝒮𝒟 𝓍 𝒜𝓂𝓃𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒶! 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲/ 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾, 𝒦𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓀𝒾𝒹𝒶, 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - 𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

CHUUYA NAKAHARA

Absolutely mortified

He has memory loss to (from the lab and Araharbaki) and knows how much it can mess with a person

He wants the best for you, and this clearly isn’t that

He fears in his heart and soul that you might question your humanity like he did so he will kill before that happens to you

Back to the mission itself

He hates for you to do solo missions, but Mori’s call is Mori’s call at the end of the day

Even if you weren’t alone, he only trusts a handful of people with your protection

Black lizard, all the executives, and the ADA if it’s during an alliance

But no, you weren’t with a safe group

So when you got hurt (which was not expected, Mori wouldn’t send you on something just to hurt you duh) he was PISSED

Wiped out the enemy in seconds

Yelled at Mori as to why he didn’t just send Chuuya instead

When you’re in the hospital, he waits outside

He would hate to scare you

I mean, he’s pissed and he knows you hate when he raises his voice to any level

But… all hell breaks loose when he finds out you have amnesia

Pushes right past the doctors and doors

If you forget him… he’s flipping tables and going to find whoever hurt you and actually kill them this time

He’s inconsolable

You’re his love, and to forget that is a pain of death

He may not visit you much at first, but he’ll come around

If you do remember him, he’ll take the biggest sigh of relief ever

Hugs you

And believe me, he will buy whatever therapy, drug, or surgery that will help you

Helps you relearn everything important

For your wedding, he had to put on your wedding dress and pretend to walk down the isle to maybe make you remember

Cried at how beautiful you looked

Labels images in the house by event, person in the photo, and date

So you can know what special moments you’ve had

A sliver lining is that he can take you on a tour of the city, showing you all the sights for what for you is the first time

And you forget all the gore and pain you’ve seen in the port mafia

Over all, he’s coping, but he’ll come around and help

DAZAI OSAMU

He is a changed man from the port mafia past, but he almost forgets his resolve

Never has he doubted your skill, it’s the absolute terror and pain he knows other people wouldn’t hesitate to inflict on you that he fears

He’s seen it first hand

So when you’re completely alone on a mission he sorta freaks out

Less jokes, no suicide attempts till you’re back

But… you aren’t back soon?

And when you’re finally back, it’s with Kenji crying and using his super strength to carry you to Yosano

The poor boy was so scared, he had found you while looking at the local park

Safe to say, Dazai was frozen in place at the blood that has trailed from the door to Yosano’s office

He was mad. But not yelling

No, he was calculated and cold

He walked to Fukuzawa’s office, and asked for the enemy name

No one knows what happened in the 30 minutes he was gone…

Back to you, he knocks and talked with Yosano for a while

When he heard you had amnesia, it was the first time she saw him so vulnerable

“Does she remember me?” “I don’t know, Dazai.”

Walked in slowly

If you remember him, he’ll immediately give you a hug

Knowing that is enough for him

But if you forget?

I hate to say this, but he may try to distance himself

“You got your chance with in, and look at what ended up happening” is this thought process

But, he’ll visit Oda’s grave and think it over

He knows then that you need him

You need your husband, your Osamu

So the next few days is him having you help with cases he knows the criminal, but wants your mind to have a workout

Doesn’t try for any affection because he knows you may be to weak

When you finally kiss again, he has never put more passion into anything

During his time of caring for you he doesn’t make a single comment about suicide

After losing your beautiful memories and mind, he can’t imagine losing you

Your life is like a glass, held by his slim hands

And he’ll kill before anyone does this to you again

KUNIKIDA DOPPO

Kunikida is often “serious”, but Dazai can attest he’s never seen him so truly and utterly serious before

Not in his scolding, fatherly way

But in a cold, quiet way

He doesn’t even touch his book for at least a week

Thinks ideals make so sense now that his wife is hurt

And he didn’t stop it

When he first found out, he dropped his book

He clutched his ring to his chest

Walks into the room you’re saying in slowly

“Love? Do you… remember me?” “Sorry, love? Please don’t call me that, sir.”

Tears fall, but he wipes them before you can get concerned

Even if you don’t know him anymore, he knows with your kind heart you’ll comfort a crying stranger

And he wants to be the one comforting you

He tries his best to explain everything

Showing his ring, the photo of the two of you he keeps in his wallet, and even has Yosano confirm it

He doesn’t cope well…

OR

“Love? Do you… remember me?” “Kuni… hi.”

Hides his face in his hands

He has never been more happy in his life

Rushes to you and kisses your hand

Now, he still has to teach you life again

And who better than an ex teacher?

He’s so patient

Uses cute little techniques

He is… okay

I mean, he wants you to be okay

You will definitely heal the fastest with him

He spares all his free time into helping you

Makes little drawings in his notebook for you to learn objects again

And, he readjusts his schedule! All for you

Only for you

#bsd x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd fanfic #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya x you #dazai osamu x reader #bsd kunikida #kunikida x reader #kunikida doppo x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x fem reader #dazai x y/n #dazai x you

[moronkombat]

Mk 1 men reacting to someone insulting their s/o right in front of them? Aka how to commit suicide in 12+ different ways

Reiko would not tolerate any slander to his partner and would instantly get up in the face of the person who dare insult you

He doesn't do the pleasures himself. Instead he advises you to beat them into submission while he watches with a coy smirk

Is very offended and doesn't sit idle when he hears it. He'll move past you tell them to try repeating that again

He's threatening but only in body posture and and facial expressions. If they were to throw a punch his way, he'd catch it and headbutt them

He's upset at what he hears and feels like lashing out towards the one who insulted you

Syzoth regains his composure and instead comes to your side and gives you a compliment and tells you not to listen to fools who like to bark like dogs

He laughs, maniacal and wicked. He tells them, through chocked laughter to repeat what they said

Once they do, he laughs some more before beginning to viciously beat them to death, screaming at them to never insult you again

Raises a brow and asks them to try and say that again because they must not be talking to you, his perfect partner

Trips them with his staff before spitting on them and leading you away with a caring smile

Hums a laugh, while looking them up and down. He claps his hands telling them that was a good attempt at an insult but Shang Tsung will show them real hurt

Absolutely eats them alive with his words. Tearing them apart and absolutely destroying all their confidence with just his words alone

Sneers toward the one who insulted you and walks over to them slowly. He looks up them up and down very quietly

His hand finds their neck and he squeezes tightly until they can no longer breathe before dropping them to floor

Gets up in the person's face and begins telling them to say that again and more than that while he begins to back them into a corner

He corners them and threatens them. Tomas tells them if they dare say another word, he'll have them choking on their tongue

Raiden tries to defuse the situation and is then insulted too. He doesn't mind, he simply nods his head

But then he quips back with something witty which angers them and they go to hit him but Raiden is too quick and dodges it before easily subduing them

Isn't one to stand idle after hearing someone insult you. He calls out to them, calling them an asshole before pushing them

Kung Lao begins threatening them and says if they're gonna try and be a tough guy then try to be one with him and see what happens

Absolutely furious. He can't hope to contain his rage and he's grabbing them by the collar and shoving them against the wall

He lashes out at them with his words and nearly crushes their throat but he sees you from the corner of his eye and you look scared. Bi-Han stops then, dropping them to the floor and rushing over to you before the two of you depart

Asks if he heard thar right and wraps on arm around their shoulder. He shakes his head and gives them a hardy slap on the back

Johnny offers some "friendly" advice by saying that if they dare say anything like that again, they'll have no more teeth left to talk with

Any insult given to you is an insult to him. Shao does not take kindly to insults

He doesn't say a word to them, merely crushing their head with his large hand before returning to your side as if nothing happened

Furrows his brows. He wants to get you out of that situation as quick as possible He leads you away from that person.

When the person who insulted you tries to follow, Geras is quick to freeze them in time and break their nose before continuing on his way with you

Tells them it is unwise to insult the lover of someone powerful and when they laugh in Liu Kang's face he sighs

He had hoped for a peaceful ending but it seems that not an option. He sharply kicks them straight in the gut, sending them colliding into the wall

His heart hurts knowing someone has disrespected you. Kuai Liang gets between the two of you and stares them down

Tells them if they are looking for a fight, they'll find one quickly and that it will not end well. Flames will engulf his fist as a show of power

Baraka has had many insults thrown at him but hearing one being thrown at you? He will not tolerate that

He grabs them by their shirt and begins threatening to turn them into minced meat if they dare insult you again

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