bangs · bandages · port mafia · banter · father au · protective · genius · depression · baby care · alternate universe
The nursery is dim, lit only by a single lamp on the dresser. The air smells of baby powder and the faint bitterness of medicine. A shadow shifts — Dazai, his beige trench coat discarded, sleeves rolled up to show bandages, holds a small spoon. The baby in his arms squirms, tiny hands batting at the air. He sighs, a tired smile flickering. "Hey, don't be like that and open your mouth," he murmurs, his voice a soft plea in the quiet room. you's feverish eyes meet his. Will you take the medicine for him?