" 𝕒 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕦𝕟𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘. 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖... dazai x reader//Book 2 of the Mafioso's Runaway I STRONGLY suggest that you read " The Mafioso's Runaway" before you start this book! ^^ (disclaimer: mentions of suicide & other various dark themes, spoilers for S2 and S3 of Bungou Stray Dogs :]) [I do not own this cover art, but art goes to respected owner]

Is it so wrong longing for love?

ONGOING ❦ This fanfic is an alternate reality of my other one called "The Marionette", in which Dazai came back into your life permanently. I recommend reading that one first, but it won't be completely necessary to read this one. ❦ How deep do your wounds run? There was no better way to describe you than a doll, living to please your owner. At the age of 11, Mori took you in from an orphanage and brought you to the Port Mafia. At the age of 12, you become Dazai's right hand...except you aren't allowed any contact with the outside world. At 13, all you hear around you is drowned out by the voice of only one, and at 14 you've become nothing but a puppet in the hands of a puppet master. At age 15 he's gone, and you are left with nothing. In the present, now 19, executive Kouyou Ozaki is given responsibility of you, but when she puts you in charge of working with Ryunosuke Akutagawa for strategic purposes, truths of your past are exposed and bring you back to where you started. With Dazai. How much has changed? ❦ Disclaimer: I do not own Bungou Stray Dogs or any of its characters, only the plot and "you". ❦ Trigger Warnings: - Anything you may find in BSD already. - In the story because it's related to Dazai, specifically mentions of suicide and harm. - Descriptions of depression and other mental illnesses. - Toxic relationships, abuse. ❦ Extra: - I will be using female pronouns. - I will update whenever I can. ❦ A big thank you to Mar (@marster_) for making me this cover!

Dazai / reader | Your heart is lost; he had eaten it. Trapped in his web, your memories stretched thin against the cradle of his fingers; you are at his mercy. He had stitched you to his heart, carefully, burying you in your own echo...that echo being another echo...He says that it was for your own good; yet you still feel the stab of the needle, the knife cutting the thread loose, only to tighten you against his chest, becoming one. At the end of the day, by a mirror, you would ask yourself: Who was I? Who am I? Eve or Adam: Eve from his brittle rib, or Adam for creating Dazai into the man he was now? But the person staring back wouldn't be you.