The “That’s Immoral You Shouldn’t Write That, We Need To Get That Taken Down” Discourse On Tiktok

And if you can forgive, love will truly live

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Dazai x Reader

Prompt: “'Sorry for showing up like this.’ You sighed, your shoulders relaxing in silent defeat. ‘Come in.’” 

TW: mentions of death (Oda), mentioned bad home life though not explicit

!Gender of reader is not specified!

A/N: I do plan on making a 2nd part where the reader and Dazai talk things out and get in a relationship, not sure when I'll finish it though

The word count for chapter 1 is roughly 2k

Also, this will be posted on my ao3, link on my master list

You had known Dazai for a long time, perhaps not as long as Chuuya has, but that’s beside the point.  

While you had grown up around shady people and been dealing with said shady people’s shady shit pretty much your whole life, courtesy of your shitty, shady parents, you hadn’t actually joined the Port Mafia until you were 17. Two years older than Dazai and Chuuya, but joined the Mafia around roughly the same time Chuuya had.  

With your ability, it didn’t take long for you to begin to climb the ranks. It wasn’t like you were trying to specifically reach the rank of executive, but gradually, you crept closer.  

About a year and a half after you had joined you had made a name for yourself, and that was also about the time you had met Dazai and Chuuya for the first time during a bigger mission.  

You had somehow managed to become something like friends with them on that mission and had become a somewhat regularity to be paired with them on large missions. You were tough enough to handle both their eccentric personalities as well as teasing enough to get along with Dazai and passionate enough to friend Chuuya.  

It was a weird trio you had formed, often being the one to defuse them when they began to bicker. And of course, apologizing when they disturbed the everyday citizens with their fighting when the three of you had time off to just be kids.  

Over time, you had begun to grow closer and fonder of Dazai, being able to relate to him more often than one probably should, but whatever. Sometimes, the two of you would find each other silently sitting at the docks staring off into nothingness, neither of you would talk, just simply get lost in your endless thoughts while enjoying the presence of someone who was similar enough to understand you.   

On one such occasion Dazai had broken the endless silence of the waves below your feet; inviting you to join him to meet with his bar friends. That was when you met Ango and Oda. They were pleasant company and you had found yourself growing attached to them just like you knew Dazai was, though he would’ve probably denied it at the time.  

So, when Dazai disappeared one night with no traces, followed by learning of Oda’s death. You knew.  

That didn’t make it hurt any less of course. Especially with how his sudden departure shed light on your feelings for him.  

While Chuuya presented himself to be finally rid of his presence, you both knew that Dazai leaving had hurt both of you. You had chosen to tell Chuuya Dazai’s reasons for leaving, not wanting the anger of Dazai’s leaving to grow into hatred, besides, Chuuya would’ve pieced it together eventually.  

And like that. Everything continued. The Port Mafia didn’t mourn over its losses. Executive duties called.  

So, when after 4 years of no contact, to say you were surprised at his being in the ADA would be an understatement.   

You hadn’t had the chance to see him yet like Chuuya had but you were there to witness Chuuya’s drunken midnight rant after having invited you over.  

“Oh, trust me, he’s as shitty a mackerel as he always has been. He hasn’t changed a bit.” Chuuya slurred off, grumbling under his breath as he laid his head down on the counter.   

You were both sitting at the kitchen island, a bottle of some expensive wine brand, open and mostly empty now, was on the counter between you.   

You sat with your body facing Chuuya, your head resting in your palm, elbow against the counter.   

“Mhm. He hasn’t changed a bit huh?” You spoke more for the simple sake of speaking, entertaining the drunk man before you. You didn’t need clarification of something you already knew.  

Dazai had always been capable of doing good. He just didn’t care between doing good or bad, it made no difference to him. He’s only working for the light because it’s what Oda wanted. Dazai not changing wasn’t a surprise. So Chuuya’s following words were a little less than expected.  

“Actually…” He paused, slurring off again before clarifying his words, his head remained poised on the counter. “He looked… brighter?” He seemed to question his own words before continuing. “Brighter and healthier. He seemed…” Chuuya trailed off again but not due to his drunken state. He stopped himself from finishing his train of thought.  

“Happier?” You finished for him.  

He didn’t respond.  

After that, you had practically forgotten about Dazai now being in the ADA, too busy with missions and the seemingly never-ending, growing stack of paperwork.  

That was until tonight.   

It had been a grueling past few days, rainy weather, long meetings, missions to assign, missions to report and file, and of course your endless stack of shitty paperwork that had somehow found itself in your home office, taking up even more of your own time which was already short considering your importance to the Mafia.  

After you got home, sometime around the dead-ass crack of dawn, you had only grabbed a cup of coffee, one of the larger mugs you owned, before heading to your office for more work.  

Sometime, while in the middle of reviewing some report, you had fallen asleep, lulled by the endless pitter-patter of rain hitting the window in your office.   

You had slept most of the day away and upon waking, it had already grown dark outside, probably around 9 or 10 at night now, and you were thankful to whatever divine being had granted you a day off today because you would have been so fucking late. You chose to willfully ignore that Mori-san was technically the one who made your schedule. He was a good boss, competent in his decisions, but he was no divine being.  

Stretching in your chair, you could feel the soreness of your muscles from the previous day of work. There was a tightness in your back, worse than it normally was, courtesy of sleeping in your chair.  

A knock sounded on your door, soft when it made its way to your ears but still clear as it cut through the silence of the penthouse you called home.  

You dragged your body to your door, still completely dressed head-to-toe in your typical Mafia outfit with the addition of a few wrinkles, your shoes clacking noisily on the floor.  

“Coming!” You called out before the person waiting behind your door could think to knock again.  

Reaching your door, you work through your security system before opening your door, behind, a man you hadn’t seen for 4 years.  

Your tiredness slipped away from your body as you gasped. Your body now on alert as you stared at him.   

He was dressed in, presumedly, his ADA outfit, light in color. His bandages still covered his neck, probably the rest of his body, but the ones that used to cover his eye were gone. He had clearly gained weight since you had last seen him, though he still lacked a significant amount of meat on his bones someone his age and height should have.  

Chuuya was right, he looked happier. No. That was wrong. He didn’t look happy. He looked… sad? Guilty?  

They weren’t emotions you were familiar with seeing on him. Sure, you had seen both emotions on people in the Mafia during interrogations… but on Dazai? No. He hardly ever even faked them.  

He did look brighter though. Healthier.  

He also looked- no was drenched. His clothes were darkened by the rainwater still pouring outside. Dripping water on the carpeted floor. You could see a few dark spots on the floor down the hall, marking his trail.  

He beat you to a response.  

“Sorry for showing up like this.”   

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing in silent defeat. “Come in.”  

You stepped to the side, letting him in.  

You closed the door behind him as he observed the expensive and modern decorations. It lacked any personality, at least to an untrained eye. If one looked closer, you could make out a knick-knack here or there that didn’t quite fit the rest of the rather drab decorations.  

It lacked vulnerability.  

Your bedroom, though, where only you went into, your interests bled out.  

“I assume your room has more personality than this, no?” Dazai’s tone was off. A half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood.  

“Vulnerability isn’t something Mafia Executives have the luxury to indulge in often.”  

He didn’t respond.  

“You can hang your coat on the rack.” You spoke, staring at his back as he walked into your home. “And take your shoes off.”  

You turned down the hall towards your room, leaving Dazai to settle.  

As you walked you called out to Dazai, not facing him. “I should have some clothes that fit you.” Then as an afterthought, “I want you to take a shower.”  

When you walked back into the living room with some clothes, Dazai had actually listened, his coat was hung up and his shoes were in the genkan, he had also taken off his socks, probably soaked after being out in the rain.   

You walked up to him, handing him the clothes. “Go take a shower. There should be some rolls of bandages in there, though I’m not sure how many I have left.”  

He took the clothes from you silently, then: “Thank you.”  

You looked him in the eyes, trying to discern how much you didn’t know about him anymore. How much you needed to learn about him.  

“Have you eaten?” You spoke calmly, trying to ignore the thoughts and feelings swirling inside you without end.  

“I-…” He hesitated. “No. I haven’t.”  

Without another word, you left him to go take a shower. It was probably a good idea to make something to eat anyway, considering you were currently running off of a single cup of coffee.  

You decided to not bother to cook and instead pulled out two packets of ramen in part because you were still tired as fuck, and you didn’t know if Dazai’s eating habits had changed or not.   

It was better to settle for something simple that he might eat if you were lucky.  

It didn’t take long for the ramen to finish heating up and for you to place it in two bowls so you placed them on the table. You were about to go check on Dazai when he turned the corner into the living room.  

Something was off, he had changed into the clothes you got for him, and his hair was still wet, dripping water off of his soft curls. He seemed… hesitant -nervous? More so than he had been before taking a shower.  

“I made ramen.” You spoke, realizing you had been looking for a bit too long. You gestured to the table with the two bowls full of still steaming ramen.  

“Thank you…” His voice was quiet, low. He clearly wasn’t bothering to hide his hesitancy, or perhaps he was just failing miserably in trying.   

You sat down at one end of the table and busied yourself with eating. You watched him shift over to the seat adjacent to you. 

Your eyes widened in upon noticing. “You’re not wearing your bandages?”  

He shifted in his seat, avoiding your gaze.  

“The hoodie and shorts are soft…”   

The ‘and I trust you’ went unsaid but understood.

Your face softened around the edges.

“Eat.”  

He responded with a nod before picking up his chopsticks.  

Soon enough you had finished your food, and though Dazai only ate half, it was more than you were expecting him to eat. You placed your dishes in the sink to deal with another time before returning to the table, though you remained standing. Dazai had yet to get up.  

“Do you want to watch something? I have a day off so…” You trailed off awkwardly.  

He looked up but he didn’t quite meet your eyes.   

“Sure.”  

The only light currently on was the blue light emitted from the television that was playing some show you were hardly paying any more attention to. After a few episodes, you had shifted from sitting awkwardly on opposite sides of the couch to where Dazai was now practically lying on top of you. He was lying his head on your chest with his face turned towards the screen, invested in whatever show it was that was playing. You had let him pick. You were far more interested in watching as he relaxed into you as you ran your fingers through his now, mostly dry, curls.  

“Tired?” Your voice no more than a whisper.  

“No…” He responded; a hint of a tired whine interlaced in it. A tone his voice always had when he was tired just didn’t want to sleep in lieu of whatever he was currently doing, which at the moment was watching a show while cuddling with someone he hadn’t seen in 4 years.  

“Sure~.” You teased as your nails gently scratched at his scalp.  

He grumbled something softly into your chest.  

You knew how bad, how dangerous your next thought was. It could end badly for both of you, but you couldn’t help when the words slipped from your tongue.   

“Why don’t we go to bed hm?”   

He responded with an unintelligible whine, pressing his face further into your chest, as he wrapped his lanky arms around your back.  

You sighed softly but even if he had clearly put on more weight, he still wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight against you physically speaking. You gathered what remaining strength you had in you as you wrapped your hands around his waist before shifting to a sitting position. Then you secured your arms under him to lift him up in your arms.  

“Come on, you lanky beanpole. Time for bed.”  

The talk could wait for tomorrow, after all, he couldn’t leave with his clothes still in the washer.

PT 2

⭐️𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬⭐️

Henry Bowers x fem! Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

chapter 4

Chapter summery: first day of school jitters

Word count: 2,793

Estimated read time: 13 minutes

A/N: we are ever so slowly getting closer and closer to what y’all came here for!

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Chapter 3

Oh aren’t you just a ray of sunshine

Bam!

You felt the sting of a fist across your face.

Bam!

Another.

Bam!

And then another.

The hits stopped about when you almost passed out.

They never stopped when you cried. Or when you said please.

You watched your mother get off of you.

Glancing at the blood on your knuckles as she stood, you couldn’t tell if it was hers or yours.

You waited until you heard the door to her and your fathers room lock before you crawled to the door and opened it. Using the door handle as leverage to stand. You wobbled to the mirror to look at yourself. You find yourself bloody and bruised with a black eye already swollen shut and blood coming out of every part of your face.

The phone on your bed rang!

You woke up with a jolt! Heavily panting and breathing. As you tried to figure out where the fuck you were. You were home. Killer was asleep at your feet and Kevin was just downstairs. You were home. You jump out of bed and rush to the closest mirror. You examine your face. It’s fine. Perfectly fine. Not a cut, not a bruise, not even a pimple. You sighed.

You look at the clock by the mirror on your desk to find that it’s only 20 minutes before you were planning on waking up. School starts today. Yippie.

Yesterday Kev didn’t take you into town because there was no reason to. The town was dead. Everyone was focused on getting ready. So you and Kevy sat at home and relaxed. You didn’t need new clothes because no one knew these clothes were actually like 2 years old. You didn’t need to go supply shopping because the teachers would tell you what you needed the first few days of school. When it was starting to get late Kevin suggested you sleep in your own bed with killer to get as much rest as possible. Much to your discomfort. You agreed. You open the blinds to your balcony and sit in your robe against the railing. Soon killer woke up and nudged you with his head. You kissed his stupid face and started to get ready.

You showered the night before so you were clean. You quickly did your makeup and got dressed in some Jeans and a baby blue knitted sweater. You put your hair up into a loose clip and stuffed you work clothes (pantyhose, shorts and a loose band tee with cut neckline so it hung off your shoulder. Along with a cardigan sweater in case you got cold.) into your cloth messenger bag and went downstairs with killer. You quickly fed him and got yourself some juice before going to Kev's room.

“Kevy, I gotta go now” you said quietly.

“There's an old bike with a basket in the farm shed so you don’t have to walk. Don’t let killer out” he grumbled and the turned over to face away from you.

The thought of everything, you smiled to yourself. You locked up the house with killer scratching at the door, before wandering to the farm shed. You found a perfect light blue bike with a wicker basket attached to the front. You wheeled it out, Checked the tires, and once you deemed them good you set your bag in the basket and rode off making sure to lock the property gate. As you rode down the main dirt road you noticed that the pigs police cruiser wasn’t there. But that asshole's blue car was. You didn’t stop and continued riding until you got to the main entrance of Derry high school. You rode your way to the farthest most hidden bike rack and locked up your bike. This rack was more hidden because of how far it was from a usable entrance. There was a door here but it looks to have been blocked off for some reason.

As you are walking back to the main entrance the bell rings.

“Ah fuck” you mumble to yourself before you start jogging to the entrance. You have no fucking idea where your classes are and you don’t know who to ask for help. You get through the front main doors and almost instantly feel eyes on you. You look too old to be a freshman but no one has ever seen you. You stick out. Hell, even the freshmen are looking at you. You are new in town and everyone knows it. You keep your head high and walk around trying to find your first period. You eventually figure out all core classes are coded by hundreds. So your first hour. Chemistry is in the 600 hall. By the time you figure that out, the bell has rung and you are the last person in the halls.

How the fuck is that possible? How do the freshman know where their fucking classes are? You groan and walk to your class. When you go to open the door to room 605 it’s locked. With another groan you knock loudly. You hear the woman’s loud voice inside halt and you hear footsteps stomping over to you. ‘This should be good’ you think to yourself sourly. The door opens and an old large woman greets you.

“Your late” she spits as she gestures you inside, closing the door behind you.

“I know” you reply.

“Why?”

“Excuse me?” You question. What does she mean why? It’s the frist day of school.

“Why were you late?” She repeated bitterly.

“It’s the first day of school” you state and a couple of the kids at the lab benches snort. You are becoming increasingly aware that you and the teacher are standing in front of the class, basically arguing.

“That is no excuse. The class tours were 2 weeks ago. you should have attended” she spits at you once again.

You are getting so frustrated and annoyed with this conversation you want to hit something. You didn’t want to put the spotlight on being the new kid today but it looks like you’ll have to.

“Listen miss. I wasn’t even fully packed to move here 2 weeks ago. I was officially enrolled 5 days ago and just got my schedule 3 days ago. I got lost. May I please sit down?” You snap at her.

She looked surprised at your tone and hurried over to her desk to find a clipboard.

“Ah I’ve found you. It appears the only free seat is with mr Bowers in the back”

All the students tensed. Oh how bad could it be? You walk down the rows to see an empty Seat in the aisle. Shame. You would have loved the window seat to look outside. As you pass the last few students you see the boy sitting in the window seat. He’s really cute. You look at him for a second, scanning him. Brown mullet. Tall. Sleeveless shirt. His arms are crossed and he looks pissed. You sit down before he can notice your staring. Maybe if you get here early next time you can take the window seat. Though he doesn't exactly look nice enough to be beat to a seat. The large woman talks about nothing for about an hour and then the bell rings.

That annoying ass conversation happened with every teacher for the first three periods. You didn’t know where the fuck anything was. This school was weirdly bigger than your last one. Finally it was lunch and all the students were allowed off campus to eat. You hadn’t seen any of those really nice kids from next to the diner yet so you decided to wander around outside. Strangely enough that’s where you saw them. By the bike rack. They saw you too. The girl you remember as Beverly waved you down with a big smile. You jogged over to them and greeted them.

“W-w-we were just ab-b-b-bout to go get some food. Wan-n-n-a come with?” Billy asked.

“Sure!” you replied and they all hopped on their bikes.

Mike was the one to notice you didn’t have one.

“Do you need a ride?” He asked sweetly.

“Oh no I have a bike I just have to go get it. Is that okay with y’all?”

They all nod and you smile and lightly jog away to the hidden bike rack. As you are coming back you hear a commotion. You duck behind a pillar and peek out to look at those kids being picked on. They are being pushed and shoved by a really tall guy, with longish hair, a chubby guy with a hat, a skinny guy with dyed blonde hair, and that cute guy from chem class. You watch as that bowers guy goes up to Bill and licks his palm before smearing it on Bill's face. The boys laugh and get into that blue sports car. Of fucking course. The boys drive off and you run to the others with your bike.

“Are y’all okay? I saw a little of what happened!¿Estás herido?” (Are you hurt?)

Stanley turned to you looking sad. “That was just Bowers and his goons”

Richie chimed in “they fuck with us all the time. Look what they did to Ben here” Richie grabbed the bottom of Ben’s shirt and lifted it up revealing an almost healed cut in the letter H. Ben quickly shoved his shirt back down and glared at Richie. Obviously embarrassed that you saw his stomach less than a day of knowing him.

Eddie pipes up “who cares, they aren’t here anymore and I need to take my meds with food. can we please just fucking leave?”

You wonder if Eddie always seemed this on edge. All of you bike to a nearby food truck and enjoy some bullshit tacos and burgers.

“What class you got next, new kid?” Beverly nudges you with a smile.

“Oh I actually don’t know yet” you pull out your phone to check. “Remedial math 2 in room 108… where the fuck is 108?? I ain’t seen a 100 hall in this fucken school.” You grumble to yourself and Beverly laughs.

“Yeah the map of this place is pretty hard to Learn. I have that class too. So does Richie. We can help you get there.”

“Thank god. All day I’ve had to announce to asshole teachers and their classrooms ‘IM NEW’. Might as well just write on my forehead and call myself the constitution with how I got people lookin’ at me.”you sigh.

“Where are you from? You have an accent.” Stanly asks.

“Oh it pains me that you noticed I have that.” You whine dramatically.

“Don’t worry,” he laughs. “It’s not bad. you can just hear it on certain words”

“I’m from Texas” you answer.

“Oh that totally makes sense” Ben says

“I beg your pardon” you raise your eyebrow at him not sure if you should be offended.

He immediately gets flustered at the thought of making you offended “I don’t mean anything by it I just mean you seem like someone from Texas you know. Kind of intimidating but really really kind…” he trails off.

“He means you have a resting bitch face” Richie proclaimed then took a fat bite of his greasy burger.

Ben immediately tried to defend himself but you started laughing so hard you snorted, making everyone else laugh. you knew you had a resting bitch face. It was just funny to hear how hard Ben tried to dodge saying it.

The group finished their food and you all rode off back to the school. They locked their bikes up then walked you to lock yours. Then Beverly and Richie walked you to class. The teacher gives you an assigned seat in the second to last row all the way to the right. To your displeasure that Bowers guy walked in as you sat down and walked to the seat right behind you with his chubby friend a row ahead and to the left of you and 2 seats to the right of Richie. Thank god Beverly was at the front row and on the complete other side of these assholes. The class continued again with no real topic. The end of class came and as Richie stood to get up the chubby asshole and Bowers made their way to him. grabbing him and pulling him aside. You looked at Beverly and she nodded at you to leave while she took care of it. You felt bad but you did as she said.

The rest of the day flew by and before you knew it school was over. You walked out of school to find some of the group at your secluded little bike rack by the blocked off door. It was Mike , Ben, Beverly and Stanley. you all talked as you waited for the others to meet up there. I guess this was the new spot to dodge the group of dicks running through the school.

Eventually the others come out and give you a quick goodbye as you run back into the school and into a bathroom stall. You take off your jeans and put on your pantyhose then your jeans over them. Just so you aren’t caught naked from the waist down on the way to work. You loved your pantyhose because they had built in shorts. No one would be catching you ass out. You thought to yourself.

You walked out of the bathroom and back to your bike. You rode off the way to work and stopped at the bridge. You had to cross it anyway to get to work and no one was around. why not get changed here? You shed your sweater quickly and get the band tee out of your basket and put it on. Next you took off your shoes and jeans and as fast as you could, slid on your shorts. You slipped on your light black cardigan sweater. Then You threw your shoes in the basket, and rode to the shop without them.

There was one thing you were wrong about. You weren’t alone. There was a blue Trans Am parked just to the side of the bridge in a parking lot you didn’t see.

All the other boys were inside stealing some smokes while Henry Bowers sat in the front seat and watched you.

New girl with a tattoo?

How interesting.

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You hop off your bike and grab your bag. Quickly locking it in the bike rack in front of the store before heading inside.

“Honey I’m home!” You playfully yell. You can almost hear his eye roll from the isle he’s in.

“I’m organizing. Can you manage the front?” He shouts back.

You run to where you hear his voice.

“Only if I can play one of the guitars, I need to relax before I invent my own saw trap out of these vinyls. Make a saw from records and lower myself onto it just to get away from the hick town.” You groan.

“Well aren’t you just a ray of fuckin’ sunshine” He laughs at your dramatics. You always did have a way with words. “Sure, no one is in right now so go crazy.”

You jump with excitement and sprint to the guitars. You find a beautiful pink custom fender electric and take it off the wall. You run over to the front desk, plug it into the amp and begin to play whatever comes to mind.

You missed this.

You know it may seem redundant to think about but you feel so relaxed around Kevin. You feel home. Even if this town sucks and you can’t stand more than a few people. It’s home because he is here. You are playing guitar while he organizes like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he never left. Like momma is sitting at home waiting for y’all to barge in and distract her from her rewatch of Jersey shore. Like Issac is sitting in his room playing video games. You know they aren’t though. That burns deep in your chest. But you and Kevin have each other. That’s all y’all need for now.

“I love that song” Kevin quips at you from the floor of aisle 2.

You hadn’t realized but you began playing some dumbass dad Rock song. It was the rock version of Smooth Criminal by Alien Ant Hill. You continue to play with a smile. That was before some people came in and immediately started roughhousing around record players. Kevin got up and walked to you with an empty crate in hand.

“You deal with these freaks. You don’t know how to sort yet and I really gotta get this done.”

You nod and continue strumming to the song in your head.

He smiles and walks to the back room where killer is sleeping. You turn down the volume of the amp to see the boys, Who you only now recognize as the Bowers gang, huddled together by the CD’s.

‘Oh fuck’ you internally groan. This is gonna fucking suck.

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Hope you liked it!!

Rebloging cause it was on my feed

Not surprised at all lmao. This is kinda weirdly accurate though

@opulent-valkyrie @tomatosoupizzie @echolikesgarlic @swixtern @yebyyhfushi

surprising no one, except me. I got orange cat?!?!

Thank you @ysmtttty for sharing this! Tagging some people to do this too. @chunkypossum @areyoudreaminof @g00seg1rl @whisperingmidnights @queercontrarian @thelov3lybookworm @jon-snows-man-bun @olenvasynyt and anyone else who wants to do this

Kitsune Dazai!!

Ahh this is so good! ❤️

Small WIP from the fairly new 15skk figures (Dazai’s) ☺️

No one ever talks about how frustrating it is trying to erase sketch lines 🥲

Corridor

Dear Tachi

He's so adorable I wanna squeeze him <3

I like him so much <3333

Kitty