Please, release me ✩ Dazai X Reader

Chapter 1

Hello my lovely readers, currently trying a new idea for a Dazai x Reader story, I'm not yet sure as to if I will continue this idea or not but here is the first chapter anyway. Dazai is always portrayed as his blood being blacker than port mafia blood so I'm rolling with that for PM Dazai. As Y/N is currently unable to speak any text within the [ ... ] is what is written down as another means to 'talk' to others.

Y/N = Your Name  |  L/N = Last Name

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(Age 18)

"You're my dog, you speak when I allow it, you see who I want you to see, you can eat when I say you can, without my permission you can't do a thing," he warns you as you sit on the floor in front of the man who tricked you into falling in love with him. You were just a naive girl who didn't know any better. However, out of all the men you fell for, it was the most dangerous one, whose heart was blacker than black. You didn't respond; after all: you hadn't been told to.

You didn't get a say in anything anymore.

"Seems you're smarter than I gave you credit for," he adds, still looking down at the pathetic state you were currently in. You had a neglected black dress that clearly was too small for you now, yet you didn't even bother pulling the dress down to attempt to hide your underwear that was on show. You hadn't been given permission after all.

The both of you were 16 when you met; 2 long years have passed since then, and it's been a painful 2 years. You never would have thought that falling in love with such an individual would become your undoing; who would know, especially at 16. You were such that it didn't take him more effort to entrap you within his honeyed lies and trap you.

You would expect a person to continue struggling or even feel resentment towards such a person; for you, such feelings had long passed as you couldn't feel much anymore.

The silence is finally broken when his phone loudly rings, almost echoing due to the metal walls. Picking it up with his slender fingers, he looks at it and frowns, clicking his tongue. Standing up from his desk, he looks down at you once more, "Stay," he instructs as if you were his pet dog that could only understand simple orders. You don't even bother to look at him and continue staring down at his feet as you hadn't been told to look up. He makes no movement for a while, that is, until he finally crouches down to your level and grabs your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes, his dark empty eyes with no love or compassion in them. "Understand?" he asks, and for a moment, you forget what you were supposed to do and actually respond. "Yes..." you reply with a hoarse voice from hydration, yet that wasn't what he wanted from you; you knew as soon as the words came out. Punching into your stomach at full force, you fall onto the cold ground, your head hitting the metal, causing a loud metallic thud. You didn't dare make another noise even though you wanted to scream in pain; noise would result in more pain. "Wrong," he complains, his expression turning even darker than before, standing up and kicking you until he becomes bored. "Remember you need permission to speak," he tells you, soon leaving, and now you're alone in the dark, refusing to move even a muscle. Because if you did move, you would only receive more pain and possibly broken bones again.

As fatigue sets in, you close your eyes and drift off into sleep, no longer being able to hold it back.

4 years later (Age 22)

It's been 4 years since that day: and the last day you also saw him: it's been a long process; you have finally come around a lot more and have something that almost resembles a regular life. However, since you have long lost the ability to speak, requiring to write down when you wish to 'say' something to anyone. The day he disappeared, you continued to stay in the same place, unable to leave. Someone had barely found you in time, and ever since then, you've claimed to have amnesia. It didn't take much for the man who found you to take pity on you and decide to take you in as if you were one of his own. He was a kind older gentleman; he never had children of his own: and his wife was long but gone, so he enjoyed your company despite you having lost your ability to speak. Regardless of having lived in his home for some years, you continued to use his last name Tanaka when addressing him. At times, you noticed he seemed somewhat sad when you did, yet didn't think much of it. After some time, you had come to think of him as a fatherly figure, yet you didn't dare address him as such; you weren't his child.

Recently you found yourself interested in an old film camera of Tanaka's; soon after noticing taking photos of Yokohama brought you some peace, he decided to gift you the camera one day. What he didn't know was the reason why it brought you a little comfort. After those hellish 2 years of being confined within a shipment container, carrying those photographs of the outside world with you reminded you were finally free, no longer trapped. Whenever you woke up from a nightmare, you would look through each photograph and remember that.

It was early morning; you had not long woken up and were now cooking breakfast for the both of you, as you usually did after Tanaka taught you how to cook. You enjoyed caring for him as it felt much better to have someone rely on you at least a little rather than completely depend on him.

Not long after you place the finished food on the table, Tanaka enters the room and warmly smiles at you. "Good morning, Y/N, did you sleep well last night?" he asks, sitting down, and you soon follow. You nod at his question and patiently wait in front of the food in front of you. Clasping his hands together, "thank you for the meal, let's eat," he exclaims as you both start to eat. It was a little thing he had picked on throughout the years, how you would only eat your food once you've been told to. Occasionally, you struggled to do tasks without another person telling you to: eating was one such thing, and you appreciated how he quietly went along with it; without any complaints. Once you both finish, he picks up all the dishes and chopsticks, "I can clean up here; would you be able to pick some groceries?" he asks, warmly smiling at you like he usually would. You nod in response to his question and take a white notebook from the bag beside you. When you wanted to 'talk', you would write down what you wanted to convey. [What do we need?] you write down, and he kneels down to write what he wants you to get onto the notebook. You try to smile back at him, but it turns out forced and awkward; you have long forgotten how to properly smile, but he always seems a little happier when you attempt to smile occasionally. "Your smile looks a little better today, Y/N!" he happily beams, smiling brighter than usual. [I'll be leaving now; I shouldn't be too long] You write down just before leaving the apartment.

Walking around the Motomachi Shopping Street, which was a five-block-long stretch of boutiques and shops. You had come to know some of the shop owners there, they would tell you stories of around Japan which you always enjoyed listening to.

"L/N, over here, I've a new story for you!" a familiar face calls you over, and you walk towards her, wondering what you'll hear this time. "Hear this, yesterday morning, my husband told me the strangest of things yesterday; he was fishing like he does every weekend when he and his friends caught a man in the fishing net; the man was alive somehow..." she begins to tell you, soon having to pause to take a breath as she had a habit of talking too fast sometimes forgetting to breathe. "Yet when they asked him what he was doing, he simply replied with enjoying the cool waters, of course, with the stupidest of grins," she explains. You had to take a moment to process such a story since you couldn't think of a single sane person who would want to do such a thing. "When I asked who's absurd enough to be drifting in the waters, he told me it was Osamu Dazai, an esentric from the Armed Detective Agency, I hear that man is always up to no good," she complains, resting her chin in her hand frowning in thought. Pausing, you finally decide what to write in response, [What did they do with him?] "Hm? Oh, my husband had to call a coworker of his to retrieve him, honestly to think someone like that is works for the Agency..." she sighs, clearly wanting to complain to another person, not that it bothered you; there was some enjoyment to be had listening to her stories. Though it definitely seemed like an individual you wanted to avoid.

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Hope you enjoyed this. chapter, I'm not sure if I'll continue but as always you are free to comment what you think of it.

✩ Author Ava ✩