𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

C҉u҉r҉v҉e҉y҉ K҉n҉i҉f҉e҉ 𓆙 Dazai Osamu x Reader

Requests are going to be closed for a week so I can catch up on these four last ones and work on my books!

This is lime 🍈! You know what that means mature content!

Reader is female and $uicidal I can't spell. If you feel like this come talk to me! My dms are open!

Requested by @AnimeThot_xoxo

Anime is Bungou Stray Dogs streaming on Funimation and more.

Enjoy~
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No longer human.

That's how you felt. That's how you saw humanity.

The one single humanity that built up of drug dealers, mental people going crazy in rehab, and the most important ones that had all of their pawns laying out with a leader to drag them all into the mess.

Gangs.

Money and trade. And consequences for the actions of some people that got caught in the act. There was many challenges to face with this.

Not to mention many rules that followed something so bad people grew to live off of.

In order to be in one you needed to have a gun. You couldn't be a big mouth or people would judge you and the big boss leader would eventually get you and track you down.

Blood.

That's all of the pressure out on everything when you were in a gang.

Not very much a gang, but you all did have guns and alive cases for the greater good. It helped a lot to be distracted with some kind of thing, like a hobby.

You have never had a normal hobby before, nothing just fit with you and stuck as a happy hobby.

Painting you were too stressed to do that.

Reading did get boring when no books were good in any place.

Trying out sports was very hard because you were already a young adult, your joints didn't work like they would have as a toddler to begin with.

You were a sickly child. You were born about a week earlier than you were supposed to be.

Your mother had cancer in a brain tumor. She took so many pills. She had lived a good life already seeing you born.

Your mother died about years later, when you were about six. It started of as a simple headache from the cold autumn breeze.

She was getting chills from the cold weather everywhere, your mother was too weak to even eat soup. All she drank was tea and pills.

Your sickly mother was growing weak and more ill. You would have never thought you'd see her like this.

She was alive, but dead. Death was taking its role on her. Your mother's soul was slowly traveling out of her body and flying with the winter breeze at every breath she took at any given moment.

You couldn't quite place your finger on her death, you were really small after all so nobody was to blame for you not understanding.

It was said to see her in bed with the covers crowding her more than your hugs could wrap all around her.

The limp body she was dying in. Her cheekbones were as sharp as ivory on a platform. Her fingers were old and felt like little leaves of thin paper, they were boney.

It was so sad because your mother was just turning fourty. She was still very young.

She said she had the best life giving birth to you and marrying your father. Your dad, that was the first time you saw him cry.