Thread by @Blind_Blossom, 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝑜𝓊𝓀𝑜𝓀𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓀𝑜𝒽𝒶𝓂𝒶 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒶 𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒 [...]

𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝑜𝓊𝓀𝑜𝓀𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓀𝑜𝒽𝒶𝓂𝒶 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒶 𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇.

They‘re staying close enough to help if needed and to visit the people they care about, but they are also trying to make up for all the lost time.

I want them closer and stronger than ever after a long conversation about adopting a child.

The discussion felt more tiring and difficult than any other life-threatening mission.
It got Chuuya on the verge of tears while Dazai was, for their first time in their relationship,

openly sobbing: the Demon Prodigy, /the/ Dazai Osamu, with his face hidden in the crook of his elbow like a child, tears running freely down his face.

Needless to say, it left Chuuya shook and softened and, quite frankly, freaked out as he tried to comfort his husband.

I want them to /learn/ something new and unexpected about their relationship during that discussion: that they share the need to give a orphan a second chance.

Although he never pressured Dazai before,

mindful of his partner’s needs, Chuuya was looking forward to the possibility to give a child a better life than he or anyone in the Sheep ever had.
He wants to save someone from an existence shuffled around between streets and shelters.

Besides, it‘s not like he’d ever

struggle to raise a child thanks to his former Executive paycheck.

However, he still decided to wait until Dazai was ready for the responsibility— and it happens sooner than they both expected.

Under a crushing pile of fears and insecurities, Dazai shares Chuuya’s desire to

spare someone a childhood bouncing from hospital to hospital, much like his own. He wantes to spare a child a headmaster like Atsushi’s, and a mentor like his older self was for Ryuunosuke.

He wants to make Odasaku proud.

After that discussion, Chuuya sends a box of

chocolates and a truck of chazuke to Atsushi to thank the kid for teaching Dazai that he /can/ be a good mentor.
The weretiger allowed Dazai to believe that he’s not damaged beyond repair nor broken without salvation: it’s something only Atsushi managed to do, and Chuuya

will be forever grateful for it.

Enter Soukoku’s daughter, Sonoko. Six years of pure brilliance and sass.

Dazai decided the name, brushing off Chuuya’s suggestions and complaining the chibikko would have called their child Kasa or something else hat-related.
Since a man has

to pick his battles — especially when married to /the/ Dazai Osamu —, Chuuya went with whatever his idiot of a husband decided without too much of a fuss.

I want Soukoku to start anew.

I want them to know that they can’t wash the blood off their hands, but they can learn to /live/ with it.
To forgive themselves and each other.

I want Dazai to hold Chuuya in the middle of the night when he’s trembling and dreaming

about unleashing Corruption, about saving a town that is not theirs to save anymore.

But I also want Dazai to hold on to his husband when Chuuya is dreaming of being left behind.
I want Dazai to never, /ever/ let him go, squeezing the smaller frame between his

bandaged arms as he rocks the redhead back to sleep, murmuring sweet nothings into russet strands.

I want Sonoko to slip into the master bedroom and fall back asleep between her parents whenever she has a nightmare, too.

And I want Dazai to be bratty and insufferable,

still spiting his chibi husband at every given chance. Of course, Chuuya still wants to punch him. However, it all fades to sheer /affection/ when Chuuya finds his partner, Ryuu and Sonoko fast asleep inside a pillow fort, with Rashomon lounging over a pillow.

Who knew a /coat/

could fall asleep and look like a demonic puppy from hell.

I want Dazai to buy a starry sky projector so he can transform Sonoko’s bedroom into a little universe. I want him to lay on the floor, Sonoko balled next to him and resting her little head on his arm as Dazai tells her

about the starts and the myths behind constellations names. He also tells her how he never bothered to look at the sky until his dear friend Odasaku reminded him of the importance of little things, and that he ought to cherish them.

I want Chuuya to be there for his family /always/.

I want him to be proud of the little scrap of normality he snatched from a fate that seemed written in blood.
I want him to tell everyone about Sonoko& #39;s many accomplishments, to tell them about how she’s sweet but smart.

I want him to boast about how his daughter won Ane-san’s approval the same day they brought her home from the orphanage, changing Kouyou’s idea about /Soukoku/ taking care of a non-gifted kid.

Considering that she suffered the teen years of the devastating rivals, that means a

lot.
I want him to be the “cool dad with the motorcycle”.

I want Dazai to kiss him breathless just to remind the other parents at school that his chibi is taken, and thank you very much (“Possessive bastard,” Chuuya mumbles, but he& #39;s still smiling against his husband& #39;s mouth).

I want Chuuya to hold Dazai’s hand firmly at parent-teacher conferences: a silent reassurance when the former Demon Prodigy fears he might be a genius, but not /human/ enough for this kind of mundane tasks.
I want Chuuya to not be able to conceal a smile every morning, when

Dazai pads into the kitchen yawning and running a hand through tousled hair.
I want the former executive to fall in love again with his partner — his infuriatingly smart, damn-he-looks-so-hot-barefoot-in-an-oversized-tee husband — every day.

I want him to consider pushing

Dazai against the kitchen’s wall to kiss him even though they spent the early hours of the morning sharing slow, lazy, hot kisses in their bed.

And I want Chuuya to always let Dazai “sleep five more minutes” as the redhead showers and starts setting up the table for

breakfast.
Said five minutes regularly stretch into half an hour, until Dazai appears in the kitchen with a sheepish smile and a worn-out, blue t-shirt covering the bandages.
Yet, Chuuya never complains because no one knows Dazai& #39;s constant fight with insomnia better than him.

And I want Chuuya to be the kind of person who, every Saturday morning, wakes up before Dazai and Sonoko so he can buy coffee and cake from the Western Café down the street.

I want Dazai to wake up only when the door of the master bedroom squeaks open: his sight is still

blurry from sleep, but he sees the tiny frame cast against the door. Chuuya’s spot is quickly turning cold and Sonoko is on her tiptoes to reach the door’s handle.
She stares at Dazai from the threshold, puppy eyes wide and watery and so, so /convincing/.

“‘Hey, sweetie,” Dazai

mumbles, propping himself up on his elbows with a drowsy smile. “Are you ok?”

“Huh-uh.”

“Do you need something?” he teases. There is no /ill-intent/ in his gentle voice for once, just mellow playfulness.

Sonoko fidgets with the edge of her Totoro pajamas. Ranpo set off an

unhealthy (for her parents) love for the Ghibli character when he gifted Sonoko a Totoro onesie so she could match him and Poe, so Totoro PJs it is. And Totoro dresses.

And Totoro /EVERYTHING/.

Dazai will forever remember the day his ever-so-patient chibi husband almost

activated Tainted on the TV playing the movie for the 3rd evening in a row.

“…Daddy?”

Dazai sighs, already predicting the question. Not because he’s a genius, but because it’s an /every morning/ kind of query.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I come there with you? Pleeeeeease?”

Dazai taps his chin.
With sleep quickly fading away, he /feels/ the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, but still tries to hide it as Sonoko purses her lower lip.
Although her eyes are raven-black and her cheeks are puffier, the way she pouts is so similar to Chuuya that

Dazai& #39;s chest warms up. It’s strange to have someone clinging to his words because it’s /him/ and not because the Demon Prodigy is going to spill some unfathomable prediction.

“Hm, it depends—”

“Please, dad, pleaseee!”

“Fine.” He pats Chuuya’s empty side of the bed. “Hop on.”

Sonoko lets out a high-pitched, victorious squeal.
Dazai internally /melts/ as he helps her onto the bed and makes space under the blankets so the child can tuck her little, in-constant-sugar-rush self next to him.

/His daughter/.

If someone had told him when he was in the

mafia that he would adopt a kid (and a non-gifted one lacking any potential in battle, moreover) with a sluggish chibi, Dazai would have likely shot them.

Now, his hand is gentle and /caring/ as he smooths the blankets over Sonoko to make sure she’s comfortable.

“Where’s dad?” she asks, stirring when Dazai’s fingers start running through the dark strands of her hair.
Her voice sounds unfaltering: not an ounce of doubt that Chuuya will be /back/, never suspecting who her fathers used to be.
Dazai glances at the door of the bedroom, eyes

softening as he ruffles the kid’s hair.

“It’s the weekend, baby. He probably went out to buy you some cake.”

Her eyes glisten. “Can I have two slices?”

/Gosh, she really took after Chuuya’s appetite/.

Sometimes it seems impossible to think that Sonoko isn& #39;t her biological

daughter.

Dazai smirks. “It depends on how good you are at snatching them before daddy notices, sweetie.”

Because, of course, she’s /Dazai’s/ daughter: for her, lock-picking and snatching little things under people’s noses sit right next to piano lessons and martial arts.

I want Chuuya to come home (using gravity to sustain a tray of takeaway cups and a bag of freshly baked croissants because, sure, mass-murdering bad guys is hard but have you tried unlocking the door while holding a tray of piping hot drinks?) and to hear the giggles from the

bedroom. He beams to himself because, before taking a chance on this madness called family, he used to come home to an empty house. Not gonna lie, now it’s a hundred times more stressful but it& #39;s /better/, too.

And I want the former executive to /bask/ in the sight of the two

most important people in his life playing and laughing. Sonoko almost throws herself off the bed to greet him, but she’s caught in Dazai’s arms and all she can do is cry an enthusiastic “dad!”.

To this day, it still takes a moment for Chuuya to register the look of unguarded

affection painted on Dazai& #39;s lips as he drawls:
“Morning, chibi. Want to join?”

Chuuya shrugs, fighting off a smile to keep up at least a weak facade of authority. “Maybe it& #39;s about time you two get up, huh?”

“Chuuya~”

“Pretty please?” Sonoko chimes in.

Somehow, that thin voice and those puppy eyes have the power of /healing/ a part of Chuuya’s soul; they tame that cold, dark spot in him that believed that parents were made to sell unwanted kids to a government facility.

“Alright.” He sighs. “Scoot over, princess.”

She obeys,

pressing her little body against Dazai’s side as Chuuya pads across the room and plummets on the bed. He sits cross-legged on the space Sonoko made for him, muttering a /thanks, baby/ that rolls out of his lips naturally, softly.
However, the moment she takes a good look at

Chuuya, Sonoko /scowls/. As he glances down at his grey sweatpants and white t-shirt, Chuuya realizes too late that Dazai is grinning like a madman.

You see, Chuuya is the one who brings discipline whereas the mackerel brings ruckus and cheap magic tricks. Accordingly, the

redhead established a set of house rules - you know, like a /normal person/ (enter Dazai, the real overgrown child in the family).
Anyways, he just broke rule nr 3 in the board: & #39;wear stay-at-home clothes, change the bandages or wash off the blood before sitting on the bed& #39;,

though the last part goes unsaid.

Unluckily for him, Sonoko /adores/ being a pain to whoever breaks house rules.
In that split second, knowing he& #39;s not going to hear the end of it anytime soon, Chuuya regrets just a tiny bit Ane-san& #39;s influence on his daughter.

As she squints, Sonoko& #39;s dark eyes share the same sharp gleam that Chuuya remembers in a younger Dazai.
“Daddy, no.”

/Fuck, here we go,/ is everything Chuuya can think as he raises his gaze, looking at his partner for cooperation.

He should know better by now, because his

idiot of a husband is /wiggling/ like some ridiculous algae.

“Oh no! Daddy didn& #39;t change his clothes, how dirty~”

/Because bandages are so hygienic, right?/

“Ew,” Sonoko mimics, allowing Dazai to hug her.

“I—“

“Rule breaker! Boo!” Dazai cries before Chuuya can finish.

Sonoko follows suit with a similar comment but she& #39;s a /kid/: Dazai is the fucking mastermind.

“If you don’t shut up, mackerel, I—” Chuuya glances at Sonoko, recoiling. “…I’ll push you off the bed. Gently. & #39;Cause violence is bad.”

/Said the God of Chaos, but that& #39;s fine/.

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