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#muse / dazai osamu.
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dazai making up a whole language with fyodor that no one else can understand is amazing but imagine him using codes that, very objectively speaking, you could crack, it's just that no normal person would ever make the insane leaps in logic that it requires. except for someone familiar with dazai's weird thinking patterns, that is.
i just love the idea of dazai's unhinged antics being dialed up to an eleven when he was in the port mafia, and oda being the only one who simply wouldn't bat an eye at it but chuuya was the only one who would actually get it.
like imagine ango at the end of the jailbreak, his boss saying he should allow himself to sigh and lean back and maybe indulge himself, pat him on the shoulder, tell him what he pulled off reading heart rates wasn't easy and he should be proud for being able to keep up with such a plan
but ango i-drank-with-teenage-dazai-and-also-had-the-records-for-every-soukoku-mission sakaguchi can only remember the time dazai was like using greek sign language through his breathing patterns to communicate from a submarine from beneath the pacific ocean or something, and chuuya could not fathom how no one else could understand him.
and that was the day mori signed off on skk being exclusive partners because every subordinate in the room was crying tears of blood by the time chuuya finished explaining which blood pressure level was warning them about a bomb, which blinking sequence was him conveying the vault password and which series of inhales was just him calling mori a bitch.
(ango also pointedly did not want to think about how smug dazai had looked after the mission when mori confirmed skk would only be each others' partners for efficiency and to maintain everyone else's sanity
or about how when he called chuuya to tell him about dazai's prison break scheme he could only get like 3 out of 276 steps into the plan before chuuya rolled his eyes, said "got it" then hung up and pulled the whole thing off without a hitch.)
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yomeiu · 2 months
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collage.
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guacamoleroll · 2 months
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ɪᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ · ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ʙꜱᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ༉‧₊˚
featured. osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol, sigma. content. f!reader. based on a request. mentions of alcohol (dazai), mentions of food, nicknames, slavic dishes. (minor) spoilers for stormbringer. translation at the end. not proofread.
author's note. this was an incredibly fun request! these men either shift between being incompetent, or not being reliant on others, so it took a sweet turn.
would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!
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synopsis. the kitchen can be many things. a refuge from the toils of everyday life. a workshop for the creation of exquisite tastes. an assemblage of conversation over collaboration.
but one thing is certain—a well-endeavored meal can warm the coldest of hearts.
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𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 arrived home late one evening, tromping through the doorway with the confidence only a drunken man could muster. It had been one of those nights, ones in which he was all too aware of the hollowness of his own heart. One of those days where everything was too loud, the ones where he picked up every minuscule detail, whether he wanted to or not. So, he had taken to a drink or two to fill a void, only to dip into another—before he knew it, the room was spinning, and he found himself kicked out of the bar.
But he still had you to return to, so he gathered any soberness left within him and clambered to place his trench coat and shoes in the spots you had set out for them. He was glad you didn't hear him walk in. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been granted the opportunity to take in the view. You pranced around the kitchen, a lifted twirl in your heel as you stirred ingredients in a saucepan, the domestic mess of powders against your skin.
You were all his. The reason he had a home to return to. His sanctuary from his own mind. He often fretted—though he pretended not to—about the idea of you being taken away from him, a fact that he had come to accept as his reality. But in these simple moments, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that you encompassed for a moment longer.
His arms fit snug around your waist, his head like a puzzle piece against the curve of your shoulder. "Is that for me?"
You hummed, pressing a peck on his cheek as you leaned into him.
"You'll always have a meal to return home to, Osamu."
Yeah. He'd indulge for just a little longer.
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𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 did not expect to pass out. He had returned home from a weeks-long mission overseas, anxiously awaiting the moment you reunited and ran into his arms—only for him to arrive early to an empty home. You were at work, and it wasn't his fault the couch clung to him like a vice! For a moment, he thought he had been dreaming of the fresh smell of savory pasta sauce and spices.
Wait. He can't dream.
He cracked open his eyes, his vision steadily straightening out, and trudged into the kitchen with a befuddled pout, his sight narrowing in on exactly what you had been up to.
"Babe."
"Chuuya!" you yelled, almost losing your grip on your spoon before you managed to catch it, clutching it close to your chest as you twisted the knob on the stove to place the heat at a simmer. "You scared me!"
His arms crossed as he leaned on the doorway. "What're you doing cooking in here by yourself?" he asked sternly, scanning the contents of the pot along with your face. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was mad. But you did know better, catching onto the subtle tilt of his brow, narrowed in simultaneous amusement and disappointment. Cooking was often a partnered endeavor.
You couldn't resist laughter, cupping his cheek as if comforting an upset child. "You've had a long week, and you looked so peaceful lying there. I couldn't bring myself to disturb you."
He would've been quick to argue—you could wake him anytime, no matter the circumstance—but a thought overwhelmed him and kept his mouth at bay. You had done something for him, not with anything to gain, but simply because you cared. He was used to it happening the other way around, but this. . .this felt nice.
So, he relented, his ginger locks tickling your skin as he tucked his face into your neck with a sigh. "Thank you, baby."
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𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 had been busy preparing the next phase of his plans, though you supposed he was always busy—too busy to take care of his own basic needs, that was for sure. He was always sorting through different data, exploring multiple angles to achieve his goals.
With the many tasks flooding his brain, he hardly had time to abandon his screens. The skin of his thumb had worn from his subconscious biting habit as he looked over another spreadsheet of banking information, his hands about to slide over the keys yet again.
The scent of stroganoff stirred him from his trance. His eyes shifted to find a steaming plate of the delectable dish sitting next to him on the desk. And he finally registered the firm hand propped against his shoulder, with you looking upon him from above with a sweet but knowing smile.
"Eat."
He wouldn't have customarily taken kindly to such a harsh demand, but he bent to the stern look of your gaze, one that hid behind it a level of care he ravenously craved. You worried for him, not in the same fashion as his so-called "friends," but with the genuine desire to see him thrive, no matter the circumstance.
So, the demon allowed himself a momentary reprieve, kissing a smile into your hand before taking a bite of the dish.
"Delicious, as always, моя милая."
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𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈 had practically burst through the door, prepared to recount the travesties and trials of his day. That was until he caught onto the unmistakable scent of savory pirozhki filling. He followed his nose like a bloodhound, the smell creating a distinct path into the kitchen, where you stood, unaware of the man behind you as you mixed spices into a pan.
"What'cha cooking, dove?" His breath bristled against your ear as he sprung up next to you, using his ability with a shit-eating grin. Your expression mirrored his own, used to the stint of your lover's sudden appearances.
"I found some old Ukrainian recipes online and wanted to try them out." You held out a spoon, and he bit into the filling without a second thought—a mistake. He clutched his throat as his eyes watered, realizing it was too hot for consumption far too late. He finally managed to choke it down, releasing a loud whew!
"Trying to kill me so soon! How cruel!" he exclaimed.
Your laughter roared throughout your home, a shaking hand rubbing his back as you wiped tears from your eyes with the other. "Is it good?"
He brought a finger up to stroke his non-existent beard, humming a quick tune. "Hmm, perhaps a cup of chili powder."
"Коля," you deadpanned. "That's too much."
He sighed, a pout settled on his lips, but you caught the hand sneaking into the interior of his overcoat, snatching his wrist before he poured something irreversible into your dish. He cackled, attempting to pull away as you chased him around the kitchen island.
For a moment, it felt as if you were the only two people in the world—free of restraint. He could feel the bonds tied around him loosen. He could reach out, taste that sensation of freedom for himself. A freedom he had always found in you.
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𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 had arrived back to his section of the Sky Casino earlier than he expected, having a strange lack of paperwork. But he simply decided to take it as a sign that he had been doing good work, and ignored the anxious feelings that always sprung from not having anything to do.
"I'm home—!" he called, but was stopped in the entryway by a sweet aroma. It was intoxicating, and he couldn't resist the temptation to lurk into the kitchen.
"Welcome home, honey!" you called back, your voice echoing down the hallway. He stripped himself of his coat, leaving it folded on one of the benches before he trekked across the threshold, a curious shift in his furrowed brow.
You were baking cookies, fluffy chocolate-chip cookies. He couldn't resist the smile on his face, even if he wanted to, nor could he ignore the bubbling warmth in his heart. But he couldn't help his confusion.
"Cookies?" he asked, dipping his finger into a batch of dough before he popped it into his mouth. "What's the occasion?"
You swiped at him with a flour-coated hand before dusting the rest of it off on a towel. "You've been busy lately, so I wanted to make you something sweet," you stated as if it were the simplest thing. But those few simple words took him aback.
You cooked for him. No one had ever done that before, not without being an employee or attempting to manipulate him—or both. And in a matter of seconds, only enough to let in a sweep of hot air from the oven to warm his skin, he realized something that had long remained empty had been filled. He felt whole.
"Sigma!" you exclaimed, and he realized that he had tears streaming down his face. The look of concern drawn through your strained lips, your furrowed brow, and your shifting eyes only further set in his new reality—he had his family. He had found his home.
"I'm okay, love. Just. . .thank you."
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моя милая = my dear коля = kolya
ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @lovedazai @osameowdazai @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @ajaxism @himikoslove @little-miss-chaoss @justcallmesakira @sillyspookycat @aureatchi @mxxny-lupin @emyyy007 @betweensinners
© ɢᴜᴀᴄᴀᴍᴏʟᴇʀᴏʟʟ 2024 — ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ. ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇᴅ
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sylacris · 4 months
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— “say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime.”
alternatively: “save me, lead me from my solitude.” / i finally release the draft that’s been catching cobwebs in my docs since june 2023
phantom of the opera! dazai osamu x gn! reader
cws: possibly ooc, self indulgent.
wc: 1.0k
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Track down the murderer! Do not let that animal escape!" The mob screams in rage, a fury directed at the one and only culprit of the chaos in the opera house.
They’ve had enough of this- this phantom. His demands, his actions, and how he acts like he's a being above them—the mob rallies above ground with torches and pitchforks, fueled by absolute despise for such a being.
"Too long has his reign of darkness terrorized this opera!" Shouts of agreement ring in the half-destroyed theater house, debris and glass littered across every surface of the floor, faint smoke wafting in the air as the mob charges underground.
"The phantom resides deep below! This monster cannot be left alive anymore!"
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The echoes reverberate in the underground chambers; they are faint and barely audible, but you knew they were looking for him. Yet here he was, holding you like a vice in his arms, and yet his touch is soft, even warm. An arm circled around your waist while the other held your hand, faintly caressing your knuckles as if attempting to soothe you.
He leaned closer to your body, a slight weight piling on your back, burying his face in the crook of your neck, a sigh escaping his lips, his breath tickling your skin. You could only attempt to look at him through your peripherals, his tousled brown hair being the first thing you set your sights on.
The hand that held yours snakes upwards; he places both yours and his hand where your heart is. "May you sing for me, my angel?" he requests, and if you listened closely enough, it was as if he was begging, a tone you’ve only heard from him in jest, or perhaps in your unwaking nights.
"Osamu…" You voiced it out, the response to his words seemingly out of your reach.
He tilts his head. Dazai is not one to plead, however. "Please? For me?" He smiles softly. The traces of ‘the phantom’, the chaos incarnate that runs rampant along the crevices of the opera house, are no longer there; instead, it's the face of a man whose devotion to you—and only you—surpassed that of a thousand men in many lifetimes.
If that viscount could make you royalty, Dazai could make you an angel, he’d burn everything to ashes, meet death, and come back just for you. He’d repent, like the demon that he is, just to see you eye-to-eye, just to be able to hold you in his arms and call you his.
You knew he would do anything for you, and perhaps that was what instilled an odd fondness for such a man. His eyes reflected such solitude, an unwarranted loneliness befitting a shunned child.
Yet in those same eyes lies adoration, his piercing gaze thrilling your soul.
Adhering to his request, you gently hum a tune, one that he wrote for you to sing to. His gaze is fixated on you, a satisfied smile finding a place on his lips. His expression is akin to a child being given candy; you could almost excuse all his crimes with such a look.
Almost.
The arms wrapped around you let go, freeing you of his weight. You continued to vocalize as Dazai grabbed your hand in his and placed his other hand on your waist. Slow steps gradually turned into a waltz led by him.
“Come, embrace the darkness.” He softly sang to your tune, “Forget those earthly fears.”
"I'm here to keep you, to hide you,” he whispers. “Through music, I beguile you.”
He seems to be enjoying himself as you match his tune, with the final duet between a demon and his beloved angel taking turns. A duet only for the two of you to perform and to witness.
“Who appears to me—a friend or phantom?”
The hand on his waist moves to cup his cheek lightly; you could only guess that such an act surprised him as his eyes widened from your touch before leaning into it, savoring your touch.
"Who twines music for my soul to sing?"
A fond smile appears on your face, one that he wouldn't dare miss under the candlelit glow of his chambers.
"Show yourself to me, distorted angel."
“Do you fear the light as I fear for you? "You tilt your head as his eyes trail away from you.
"Are you afraid I'll leave you too?"
The hold on your waist falters ever so slightly as he lifts your hand, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. His melancholy so obvious, with a downcast air to him, yet he still manages to smile, that smile still persists; it’s almost disheartening how controlled he is. almost.
“I promise I'll keep you safe; let your fears be no more, my angel.” His honeyed tone tempted you with a promise, one of pure, unadulterated love, just for you.
“Let me be your freedom, your place of solace, a hideaway from the world above. Let us run away together, my angel.”
Dazai tilts your chin up, meeting his gaze—a look filled with hesitation as his eyes drop to your lips.
Yet the moment was fleeting, for the mob seemed to have come closer. Distant shouting, an angry cacophony. Who knows what they’ll do to you and to him once they reach these chambers?
(Kill. They’ll kill him.)
“Do you love me? "You whispered under your breath.
“What kind of question is that? "He raises an eyebrow, as if he has time to tease in this situation. With wholehearted assurance, he replies,
"You know I do."
He leans in to leave a small peck on your forehead, restrained even until now, when everything is high-stakes, yet that kiss alone seems to say everything you needed to know, yet at the same time, everything you already knew.
He hesitates at first before letting go of you. Walking to one of the draperies in the chambers, his hand grasps it before putting it to the side, revealing to you a secret exit. Of course. Of course, he of all people would have an exit strategy.
The downcast gleam in his eyes seems to disappear for just this once, as he’s back to that loveable, cat-like grin. With his other hand, he extends it to you as a final confirmation, a decision that you cannot undo once made.
And just this once, you’ve never been so sure of anything else.
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littlemusic-muse · 2 months
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For @bsdfanweek
Day 2: Camellias | Floral Troubles | “You want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”
Inspired by this image
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naonap · 5 months
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hi bsd community i just wanted to remind you all that irl dazai liked to paint because i need more media (fanfics, fanarts, animatics, whatever) where he's painting please please please
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bandaged-writer · 1 year
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imagine you're dazai's best friend. the person who joins him in his shenanigans, occasionally cooks for him and who he's seen naked under the shower, because he couldn't find the batteries for the dying remote control.
it's dazai who agrees to pretend to be your boyfriend when your parents come over; you know they'd be on your back regarding this matter.
he plays the role of your boyfriend perfectly. he flatters your parents, has you in his arms, an embrace that was too intimate to be considered friendly, and throws compliments your way that you had never heard before.
but once your parents leave and dazai doesn't drop the act, do you say:"you can stop pretending. they're gone, you know?"
to which dazai replies with a smooth "what if i don't want this to end, belladonna?"
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Oda is going to wake Dazai up with gentle kisses pressed to his face. "Dazai, I know it's our vacation, but we had plans." He teases quietly, avoiding his lips until the other was awake.
Dazai was still of course asleep but he was relaxing on the bed in his sleep. However, he turns his head slowly but not too much showing a light smile on his face from his sleep.
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fyodorloveclub · 1 year
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I'm announcing with Honor that I'm still stuck on Dazai and his Oral fixation/lactation kink! But he would be such a menace about...One moment he's all nice and gentle while you comb your fingers through his hair softly and the next second he bites down on your boob and demands to be fed while wailing like a baby,just smack him over the head.
JUST SMACK HIM YEAH PLS for some reason i had the urge to write a blurb abt this. here ya go
you sigh contently as you burrow deeper into the mess of blankets you have on your bed as dazai tightens his grip around your waist, hugging you even closer. he almost purrs into where he has his face buried into your stomach as you card your fingers through his thick, wavy hair, making you smile. the tv mounted on the wall plays softly in the background, and you twirl a lock of hair in between your fingers as you lazily watch an old rerun of your favorite baking show. you thought dazai had already fallen asleep, breath even and form still, until he had started pawing at the hem of your t-shirt. brows furrowed, you gaze down to see his hand slithering up to your chest, pushing the shirt up with it almost to your shoulders. he takes your breast into his hand and massages it softly, his cold hand making you shiver. then he's shimmying his skinny body up closer towards you to bring his face right to your chest before meeting your eyes with his. his deep brown, doe-like eyes meet yours in a look of feigned innocence. "can i?" he asks, batting his long eyelashes. you roll your eyes. "right now?" he nods his head like a little kid. "osamu..." his face immediately falls at your hesitant tone, pouting dramatically. "please?" he whines. you groan. "pleaseeeee?" dazai starts sniffling as if he's going to cry, burying his face into your chest. "so you hate me?" "osam- oh my god, no, i don't hate you." "If you didn't hate me, you'd let me suck," he whined again, letting out another fake sob. now you're sighing in annoyance as you let out a defeated fine..., sitting up to take your t-shirt the rest of the way off. dazai smiles, pleased to get what he wants, as he closes in on your breast, prodding at the warm fat with his nose. he presses soft kisses all over as he reaches your nipple, pressing one long kiss to the sensitive area before latching his mouth onto it. he grips your other breast tightly, kneading the soft skin with his fingers as he sucks on your nipple. you can feel his body relax as he falls into the motions, slurping noises obvious over the quiet hum of the tv. you shiver each time his teeth accidentally graze over the hard bud, but you know he's not meaning to hurt you. dazai had always found so much comfort in just sucking on your nipples, absolutely loved the way you'd scratch his scalp as he lapped at your breast and snuggled in close to the warmth of your body. and you couldn't help but admit that the way he suckled was so endearing, and loved how it put him so at ease. the man had so much to be anxious about always, if feeding into his oral fixation calmed him down at all you'd happily do it for him. even if you did tease him for it, only just a bit.
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mumblingmuse · 5 months
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alternate caption: osamu dazai should become a model. (inspo and sketch process under the cut).
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i am deviously down bad for this man.
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starsburned · 7 days
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✏️ -also shirase and dazai
@memoryextrction pulled dazai from the fire.
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Shirase: BWWAAAAAAAAAA! Oh, you hear that? That's the wrong opinion alarm. Dazai: That is not something you actually have installed. Shirase: Sorry, say again? I couldn't hear you over my alarm that YOU SET OFF with your WRONG-ASS OPINION.
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yomeiu · 9 months
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I cannot position myself with graceful nature, to take upon the role of a righteous person, and not have it be the deceptions of a farcical liar.
Sincerity lacks my actions, and the world has a way of knowing.
His voided gaze reaffirms on own his mirror image, at last. Bestowing upon himself a self-critical examination. Two brown irises in return, glower back blankly. The delicate skin just underneath is sunken in. Discolored into a sickly grey, this detail allocates a incurable tiredness to the man.
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guacamoleroll · 4 months
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— 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖎'𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖒! ⋆⁺₊
featured: osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol, sigma
content warning(s): fem!reader, domestic moments, mentions of marriage, kisses and cuddling, these men are whipped, fluff, references to christmas traditions
author's note: i hope you're all enjoying (or at least relaxing) during the holidays! sit back, grab a cup of steaming coffee or hot chocolate, and enjoy some sweet moments with our bungou boys ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-
summary: what gifts do our bungou husbands gift you during the holidays?
would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!
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𝗢𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗨 𝗗𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗜 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺
Your eyes flutter open as sprinkles of sunlight peeking through the blinds serve as your only alarm, traces of chocolatey hair prickling your skin as he nuzzles into your neck. Your fingers twirl the coils of his knotted tresses, smoothing them into shining waves before pressing kisses against his ear. And that's when you see it.
A basket perched on your nightstand, tied neatly with a bow, and piled high with various cosmetics and accessories. As you sort through each item, feeling nostalgia pinging with every gift, you realize there's a reason you recognize them. 
Each is a small element from a moment in your relationship—the nail polish you wore on your first date, the lipstick you chose for your first kiss. He notes the quirks of others subconsciously, though he chooses to ignore them unless it benefits him. But not with you.
He cherishes every ephemeral habit—the crease of your forehead as candles burn on, the haze of your eyes as raindrops pour down, the indention of your lips as movies summit closed. You're always too preoccupied to notice, but he gawks at you without shame, admiring the purity of your features. He is known for being abstract, but you are his complete opposite. So completely unabashed in sharing your opinions and sentiments, even through your own expressions. And in a way, you're far braver than he believes himself to be, so he knows he must remind you of that.
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𝗖𝗛𝗨𝗨𝗬𝗔 𝗡𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺
Your sleep is interrupted by a yelp. For a moment, you wanted to keep your eyes closed, still sluggish with sleep, but a sequence of other noises pulled you out of bed. Unaware of the eyes peeking out from under the covers, a smirk on their proprietor's face as you shuffled out of the room, you journeyed into the living room. And he knew that you had found precisely what you were looking for when he heard a barrage of coos and badly muffled shrieks escape your lips, rushing back into the room with a puppy snuggled in your arms, a cute bow fastened to its collar. He knew your heart had been stolen at a glance, much like he had been long ago.
That puppy is now your child, a part of your family. Even if you don't realize it, this dog expresses his eternal fondness and dedication to you and any family you plan to have. He would prefer to pick a larger dog breed, the loyal type of canines that remain devoted to their families (Akitas, Belgian Malinois, German Shepherds, etc.). He knows you'd love any dog, but he wants to guarantee that you'll be protected if he isn't there.
And don't be surprised if an engagement ring follows a few months later. You're raising an animal together—your fur baby—and while it's a bit out of order, he wants to tie the knot officially. And you'll have the cutest little ring bearer in the world ⋆˙⟡♡
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𝗙𝗬𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗥 𝗗𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗘𝗩𝗦𝗞𝗬 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺
(I briefly discussed this in a post a while ago, but I wanted to expand on it a bit further.)
A stack of uniform presents pile in symmetrical mountains around the base of your shared tree; each fold intricately pristine. However, he insists on having a large breakfast, reveling in your anticipation with each course as you eye the gifts—it's too cute. Once you've finally reached the tree, he observes with unstated delight as you rip open the wrapping paper, only to discover hardcover copies of classic novels in your favorite genres.
He knows you peruse through his personal collection while he is away on missions, missing him and seeking comfort in his familiar words. Without your knowledge, he has caught you with a beaming grin on your face, skimming the story, enamored by his annotations. So once you've finished the book, with your thoughts written neatly inside the pages, he'd offer to swap with you, finding a sudden interest in the story.
Because the way your brain operates is absolutely fascinating to him—it is, in his (correct) opinion, one of your most stunning attributes. He finds himself seeking other ways to look into your thoughts, and if you just so happen to get inside his head as a result, he finds that he doesn't mind all the much.
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𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗜 𝗚𝗢𝗚𝗢𝗟 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺
He would be bouncing up and down as soon as the sun rose, forcing you onto the sofa as he picked presents up from across the room. However, breaking away from tradition, he insisted that he opened the first few, utilizing many of your gifts as props for a little skit.
He enjoys your laughter more than any other sound in this world. It's such a freeing sight, watching you throw back your head, unable to help yourself. Even in the midst of his antics, he finds himself unable to avert his gaze, wide-eyed as you laugh without a care in the world. To him, you're always beautiful, but especially when you're happy.
And in that, he realizes that he wants to make you laugh all the time. Every second that you're together should be filled with joy. His heart constricts painfully whenever he sees sorrow on your face, and he has made it his prime duty in life to relieve your suffering. Anything that has ever made you laugh is collected in those gift boxes, and he feels lighter than ever as you giggle in your seat.
You have become the rope that tethered him to the ground, but he finds that he no longer wishes to fly free. Perhaps he has become exactly what he used to fear: his own attachments anchoring him, but he doesn't mind. He is a fool, but only for you.
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𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗠𝗔 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺
He has never had anyone to celebrate the holiday with before; there hasn't been a reason. So instead, he would bury himself in his paperwork, trying to find a purpose through the letters, though he knew it was all in vain. So when he finds someone to celebrate with, he will ensure that you will stick around until the holiday next year.
You're met with bundles of presents, heavy with luxurious clothes and fragrant accessories, things he knows you like. But one of those gifts stands out amongst the rest: a simple box with a neat but fashionable outfit inside. Your eyes scan the seams, and it dawns on you—these are handmade. 
He knows his stuff about fabrics and colors, constantly choosing different options for the casino, and one of his stress-relieving hobbies (in my headcanon) is sewing. Before you came into his life, he made his own clothes, finding only brief comfort in the repetitive stitches.
But there is something so domestic about creating clothes for someone you care about. Thoughts of them are embuded in every stitch, seams pressed with care as it's molded to flatter your body specifically. It reassures him whenever you walk around the building, showing off your new clothes with a smile on your face—you are his family, his home. His other half. And you are here to stay.
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ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @justanotherjester @sillyspookycat @kotysluny @aureatchi
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sylacris · 9 months
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— “rather melodramatic, aren’t you?”
alternatively: “always your heart will be aching for my presence. You will see the moon, and it’ll remind you of me, of us, of what we used to be and could’ve been” / you were tasked to kill dazai osamu and yet…
dazai osamu x gn! reader
content: mild angst, smoking, a gun, dazai-typical suicide mentions, may be ooc, not proofread. inspired by: dangerously yours episode 1: masquerade.
wc: 1.5k words
a/n: nothing beats coming back to tumblr just to drop something i wrote on a whim. will i be consistently posting? if my motivation doesn't go away -v-
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Dazai Osamu knew his past would catch up to him one day.
Not only associating, but being a high-ranking official in the Port Mafia is a time in his life that he not only refuses to come back to but perhaps even actively haunts him incessantly in those dark drunken nights and smoke-filled lungs. On those nights alone, he only has the company of sake bottles and memories of the past—both good and bad.
He knows that he'll never be a good person—not what Odasaku wanted him to be, at least—yet he tries; he always has been trying.
But there comes a time when it seems as if trying isn't enough and repentance will be the only solution—perhaps even his death would be worth more good than all of the good he's done combined.
And repentance he shall receive as his lover stands right in front of him with a cold glare that exudes such burning rage, an anger that could've made him falter even the slightest if only he wasn't looking forward to such a death in the back of his mind.
With a smirk that never seemed to disappear, Dazai reaches out of his pocket, making them raise their guard with a glare and a finger on the trigger. "Mind if I have a smoke?" He doesn't even wait for a reply before pulling out the cigarette and lighter from his pockets.
"You can do anything you please, Dazai," you grunt.
Dazai puts the cigarette between his lips; he really is so carefree, even in the face of an enemy, though perhaps he sees you less as an enemy and still as his love.
Glaring at the unfazed man that stood before you, you sighed. This was for your people; kill the demon prodigy; that was your assignment. There was no way you were going to back down after months of getting to this point.
"But that doesn't mean I won't finish my mission here once and for all. You won't get away this time, demon prodigy."
After hearing his former title in the mafia, Dazai's eyes seem to darken, and there is a slight furrow in his eyebrows before he composes himself once more.
He lights the cigarette, inhaling the smoke before puffing it out. With a sigh, the man looks at you, ever so calm, even at gunpoint. and states in a matter-of-fact tone, "You can't pull the trigger, Bella." You knew he could always perceive you like an open book; it was something he could always do.
"You can't pull it because you love me," he says, looking at you directly.
"Isn't that why you're taking your sweet time?" Dazai lightly taunted, taking another swing at the cigarette before throwing it to the ground.
"Who said I ever loved you to begin with?" you defended.
He took a step forward, placing his hands inside the pockets of his pants. "So all the times we spent together were nothing to you, Belladonna?" he frowned, yet something in his tone made you think he was looking down on you—or rather, almost not taking this situation as seriously as you are.
"Of course it was; that would be obvious to you already, no?" you bite back, yet Dazai had such audacity to only smile at your hostility. which ignited your anger even more: "I never loved you, and you never loved me; I know you were just using me; you deceived me; don't give me your pitiful excuses, Dazai."
Another step forward, and you backed away. "I never loved you?" He repeats what you said, almost as if he's stopping himself from laughing at your statement, as if you said something so horribly inaccurate that Dazai merely perceives it as a joke.
"I mean exactly what I said," you replied, only earning a chuckle from the man.
"You say I never loved you, yet you are the only person I've ever wholly entrusted my heart to; you say I never loved you when even though I knew about this plot of yours, I still stuck around." As each second passes, Dazai moves closer to you, which makes you alarmed, only gripping the gun harder than it should be, knuckles almost turning white.
You warned, "Stay back!"
Yet Dazai's brave; he knows how to get what he wants, and he wanted you.
"Don't you wonder what was going on in my mind every time we were together, knowing you had ulterior motives to get closer to me, yet I still accepted you wholly, for what can i do when what my brain says is not what my heart wanted to follow?" Dazai sighs, shaking his head.
"I don't care; I don't care about you! Everything I've worked hard for has led up to this; don't try and stop me, Dazai." Empty threats leave your mouth as Dazai seems to ignore your mild distress.
"Oh Bella. If only you knew just how much of a fumbling mess you've made me. You took my heart, yet I would gladly let you take more of me as you pleased. You've made a fool out of me, yet I'd play the jester in your story if it meant it would satisfy you."
"You tricked me into loving you!" you shouted through gritted teeth and a clenched fist, not thinking properly in your state as your eyes whip around to find something, anything, perhaps an escape route but
"Were you not the one who approached me with the intention of stealing my heart?" Dazai retorts. He always knew how to keep your eyes on him, and now that the gap between the two of you is gone, it almost feels like you are suffocating from how close he is and how much adrenaline is in your veins.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
"My, Bella, if you were resolute on doing this then you would've shot me minutes ago. But look at where we are now. A point blank shot yet no bullets being fired at me," Dazai teases, placing his hand on top of the gun you held up, "quite a situation we have here, yes?"
You remained silent, dropping the gun on the floor as your hands shake from how hard you've clenched them, carving moons on your palms as you avoid Dazai's eyes, sorting your mind. You needed to kill him; that was what you'd been working for for so long. However, in a few words and touches, he already had you around his finger yet again.
And God, was it so annoying.
"You're so still; your face is like ice—what are you thinking?" He's gotten close enough to where he reaches to cup your face, as your shaky hands really couldn't muster the courage to shoot him as he says.
A held exhale leaves you: "What does anything you have to say matter, Dazai?" You bit your tongue before looking down: "If I fail now, everything that I've worked for and everything that I've been raised to do up until now would be… useless." You mutter as he merely observes you.
"What can a breaking heart do if it is left to choose between what it has known for so long and what it wants to love now?"
Dazai smiles at you with pity as he traces your jawline before tilting your head up to meet his eyes. They looked at you as if you were the night sky. Dazai has always given you such a soft look in your time together, directed only at you, and you would be lying if you said your stomach wasn't filled with butterflies—though whether it's from the adrenaline or from his lovelorn acts, you'd never know.
"Well, then I'll give you a choice, darling," Dazai starts.
"Shoot me and complete your mission. No one has to know of this ordeal, and you get to leave scot-free back to your organization." He pauses.
"However, when the time comes, you will find moonlit nights strangely empty because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer. Always, your heart will be aching for my presence. You will see the moon, and it'll remind you of me, of us, of what we used to be and could've been."
"I don't-" 
"Shh, I'm not done yet, Bella," he lightly warns, placing his index finger on his lips and chuckling before continuing on.
"Or, you could choose to follow me, stay as my lover, and join the Armed Detective Agency. If anyone from where you came from looks for you, we will do everything in our power to protect you. You have been interested in what we do in the agency; not only that, you are an ability user too, no?"
You gulped, biting on the inside of your cheeks as you pursed your lips at his question before giving an answer: "Yes, both of those are correct."
Dazai gives you a closed-eye smile and says, "Your eyes would have such a shine in them whenever I talked about the agency on our little dates. I bet they'd like you."
Your thoughts couldn't help but imagine what it would be like with the agency. You lightly smile at such a statement, and if Dazai picked up on it, which you assume he did, which he always does, unsurprisingly, he chose not to comment on it.
"So, Belladonna, what will your choice be?"
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littlemusic-muse · 2 months
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For @bsdfanweek
Day 5: Soulmates | Alternate Universe | “Are we fighting or flirting?”
Thought it would be fun to do a Hades!Chuuya and Persephone!Dazai. Have not seen it done before, so why not?
Inspirations: Helm of Darkness Sheep Version and also the King of Sheep Skull for young chuuya was too fitting.
More rambling on this AU Below Since I have a lot of thoughts:
I have seen a lot of Hades! Dazai and Persephone! Chuuya and many of those fics are really good. But in the case of Soukoku, I have not seen a fic/art piece where Dazai is Persephone with Chuuya as Hades. Ao3 has Dazai in different pairings when he is Persephone.
One video that inspired me is overly sarcastic production's YouTube myth video on Hades and Persephone and this fic. I was introduced to the concept that Persephone and Demeter's origin is much older than Hades, though they were still wrapped up with the king of the dead, which is not Hades, but ancient Poseidon. They also have a lot of spooky lore surrounding them where they were feared to the point they were not talked about. Persephone could be considered more powerful because she is linked to the Underworld and entitled to a lot of secrets. At this point, I had decided to draw Dazai as Persephone and Chuuya as Hades.
Also, there is the line: Dread Persephone and Stalward Hades. Persephone has been considered the more frightening one out of the two, though both are terrifying.
Few bullet points on them
Cerberus is a dog. And somehow Chuuya owning a three-headed dog when he canonically loves dogs seems fitting
Persephone has way too much fear-based symbolism and is known as the queen of the dead. Dazai is feared reputation-wise but also can be seen surface-level as friendly.
Both Hades and Persephone have wrath-based tales in which if someone outside of their relationships flirts/tests the relationship with one of them, the other will reign the wrath on them.
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gemkun · 2 months
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how are you ruined ?
  VERITAS
      ⸻       ruined by loneliness
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  you   are   so   lonely.   you   are   miserable   in   your   solitude.   you   hate   that   you   cannot   bring   yourself   to   reach   out   ,   to   ask   for   help.   you   will   be   forgotten   by   all   who   never   knew   you.   your   biggest   fear   is   that   you   will   die   alone   ,   and   you   know   this   fear   will   be   seen   to   fruition.   you   refuse   to   extend   yourself   beyond   the   box   that   others   put   you   in.   and   it   is   a   box   that   no   one   dare   come   near.   you   are   lonely   because   you   are   afraid   of   yourself.
  DAZAI
      ⸻       ruined   by   trauma   
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  you   cannot   get   over   the   past.   you   are   constantly   remembering   ,   never   forgetting.   you   can't   live   in   the   moment   because   the   moment   is   not   what   brought   you   here.   you   are   birthed   ,   raised   ,   and   killed   in   the   past.   you   will   never   get   over   what   was   done   to   you   ,   be   it   big   or   be   it   small.   you   cannot   escape   what   you   refuse   to   confront.
tagged by: @deathsmaidens ( kisses u on da mouf ) tagging: @oneireth ( sunday & caelus ) , @avgiin , @ephemyrals ( teru ) , @autymns , @eldkitch ( chuu ) , @starspurn ( aven ) , @celesticlnstcrs ( jy ) , @jueying ( df ) , @godweeps ( chibi ) , @defiedlife ( aven ) & anyone else who wants !
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