#bsd anne

[yidhras-staircase]

Sometimes a family is a girl and her giant horrifying murder doll

+Dazai shitpost doodle under cut

[shininas-ideals]

In their safe space

[annievrse]

it's nice to have a friend

dazai x reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: a slow morning with dazai turns into being late for work. but do you really care? w/c: 0.9k c/w: dazai puts his head under ur shirt but its not sexual, established relationship, ur shorter than dazai, kunikida slander!! (all jokes <3)

"get out of there," you slur, your brain still waking up. the sun warms your face, and you mentally scold dazai for not closing the blinds last night after you fell asleep.

without opening your eyes, you know where dazai lays his head—it's his favourite place. the head-shaped lump under your shirt moves, and you rub your eyes in preparation to open them against the morning light.

dazai presses kisses against your sternum, leaving goosebumps in his wake. "...no," the sound is muffled, but you hear it perfectly. "comfy."

"osamu," you laugh, vision bleary with sleep when you look down at your chest. tufts of brown hair stick out of the neckline of your shirt and tickle your collarbones. dazai has his arms wrapped around your hips, and his legs tangle with yours under the sheets. "we have to go to work."

his hair brushes against your skin when he shakes his head. his hands lay flat on your back and his fingers dance along your spine. you twist your body in an attempt to get away from his ticklish fingers, but dazai holds you tight.

your whines and giggles soothe his aching chest and messy mind. holding you this close is one thing, but being the reason you laugh so freely makes dazai's supposed rotten heart mellow.

"c'mon," you urge, rubbing his bare back. dazai groans. "i'll bandage you up."

your boyfriend slips his head from under your shirt with red cheeks and a bird's nest for hair. then he leans forward to hover over you, his hair falling into his eyes, and you push it back to reveal his forehead.

"i love you," dazai whispers, leaning into your hand on his cheek. you push up on your elbow and kiss him, swallowing the sounds that escape his mouth.

"i will love you if we get to work on time," you fold your lips between your teeth, gauging his reaction. dazai slaps his hand over his chest and falls to the side, his body bouncing off the mattress softly.

"you're terrible. absolutely despicable. i can't believe you've finessed your way into my bed."

rolling your eyes, you turn onto your side to face him. "'samu."

"hm?"

"this is my bed."

dazai lifts his head from the tangle of blankets. "your bed? we both paid for it with the hard-earned cash we get from being better at our jobs than kunikida."

"get up," you scoff, hiding your smile as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. "and don't slander our coworker so early in the morning."

dazai shrugs and lays back down. a bird sitting on the balcony chirps loudly like your personal alarm telling you to hurry up.

brushing your teeth, you make a mental checklist of your work for the day. paperwork, a trip to the police station to obtain a list of suspects for the case you're working on, more paperwork, and—

hands slide around your waist. dazai presses his cheek against the top of your head and you jump from his sudden appearance.

"why are we awake?"

"work."

"ugh."

after rinsing your mouth and washing your face with a man attached to your back, you turn around to face him. dazai's eyes are closed, his hair flopping lazily over his forehead. you feel a twinge of sadness for your boyfriend and sigh. reaching to his side of the sink for the bandage roll, you stretch it out before his eyes.

your hands move deftly, wrapping the white gauze around his torso with accustomed skill. you peck his chest every once in a while, and work efficiently, almost completely covering his body in under two minutes.

"thank you," dazai says, his voice low. he squeezes your hips in gratitude before allowing you to wrap them too. dazai brings your hand to his lips after linking them together, his eyes on you. you look to the floor bashfully.

"if we're late, it's your fault! let's go! move!" dazai declares, running out of the bathroom. the sudden change in his demeanour does little to shock you, but the switch in blame does.

you laugh and shake your head, hurrying to follow him to the closet. bumping into each other, pulling clothes off hangers and snatching shoes from the shelf, you share kisses between you buttoning up his shirt and him tying your tie—you've always been hopeless at it.

you spend a little longer in the bathroom, and dazai goes to the kitchen to shove snacks into your bag. with your hair finally wrangled and brushing out dazai's hair when he's not paying attention, you're ready for work with 30 seconds to spare.

"new record?"

you nod while fixing your earrings and grab the keys from the dish beside the door. "we totally deserve a prize."

dazai pauses in the doorway, his finger on his cupid's bow. "breakfast before we turn up? surely they don't expect us to be on time."

you check your phone for the time and contemplate your schedule again. wow, are you turning into kunikida?

nodding quickly to forget the thought, you grasp his hand and pull him out the door, the lock automatically flicking closed.

"pancakes, here we come!"

[six-white-venus]

on death, on grief

bungou stray dogs- s2// anne carson// bungou stray dogs- s2//tell me something about yourself by @six-white-venus//war of foxes, richard silken//bungou stray dogs//wandavision//madeline miller//house md, s6e9//john green// house md s4ep16

[annievrse]

me or 100k?

dazai x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb

"would you rather kiss me for $100,000 or the prettiest girl in the world for $1m?" you ask your boyfriend, phone in front of your face.

dazai hums. "i'll take the $1m."

you don't realise your face drops at his response until he sits up from his place on the couch.

"what? i get to kiss you too, so i don't see the problem."

raising your eyebrows, you smile at him. "you think i'm pretty?"

"pfft," dazai laughs, reaching forward to grasp your hands. "of course, i think you're pretty. i think you're prettier than pretty."

you shove your face in your hands to avoid his eyes, but you can't help the thundering beat of your heart in your chest.

"c'mere," dazai giggles, pulling you toward him. you land with your face on his shoulder and laugh, peering up at him.

"i would kiss the prettiest boy in the world for $1m, too."

the only indication that dazai heard you was the immediate bloom of red on his cheeks. "we're not talking about me."

"yes, we are," you nod, pressing your lips to his neck. "you're prettier than pretty."

dazai scoffs, but it's a weak attempt at diverting your attention. "we gotta get to work."

you gasp, lips upturned. "osamu dazai insisting we go to the agency? who are you?"

"shut up," he whispers, dragging you to stand from the couch.

once dazai locks the front door, you turn to him. "i can't wait to let everyone know my boyfriend is the prettiest in the whole world."

"do that, and i'll tell ranpo what you did to his candy stash."

[annievrse]

who's gonna know you like me?

dazai x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: when a notorious gifted, george orwell, shows up in yokohama, you and dazai are sent to detain him. c/w: idiots in love ig, she/her pronouns, torture, blood, mutilation of a limb, kidnapping, dazai calls reader bella' w/c: 3.7k a/n: maybe this was a dream i had, maybe it wasn't, but what i do know is that i had to write this asap...

"I would thank you for helping us, Dazai," Ango Sakaguchi states. "But you owe me."

The brunette next to you rolls his eyes but continues walking down the long hallway of the complex. "Anything for a dear friend."

You're sure Ango can detect the obvious sarcasm in Dazai's voice, but he doesn't say anything. You look up at your coworker. Dazai's eyes don't stray from the end of the hallway, but you know there's humour in his gaze.

Dazai's fingers brush your knuckles as the three of you turn the corner. The sudden zip of electricity up your arm makes you pull away before he notices anything.

"So," you start, shaking your thoughts of Dazai. "What's this guy's ability?"

Ango side-eyes you. "Classified."

Rolling your eyes, you bump shoulders with Dazai to prompt him to help you. "C'mon Ango. If my shadows are restraining this guy, I wanna know why."

Ango only sighs and takes his glasses off. A faint scowl twists his expression. You guess Ango's stalling when he cleans his glasses with a cloth from his pocket before sliding them back onto his nose.

"His ability is 'Big Brother'."

You nod, urging him to go on. When he doesn't, you flick your hand out. "And..."

You're not expecting the voice from your left. "Wherever he looks will suffer the demand he thinks."

Tilting your head, you think it through. Whatever he looks at will suffer the demand he thinks of... You hold back a shiver. President Fukuzawa gave no details when he sent you with Dazai.

"I don't want to know how you obtained that information, Dazai, but if you go telling unauthorised personnel—"

"Relax, Sakaguchi," Dazai laughs, though the sound is strained. "Your secret's safe with me."

An alarm sounds as the door you've stopped in front of opens. Dazai almost stumbles to a stop, running into your shoulder before rubbing the spot with his hand. Your lips twist into a smile, and you try to suppress the clear fondness you have for him in front of Ango.

"Before we enter," Ango's voice is stern, and if he notices the casual intimacy between you and Dazai, he doesn't say anything. "I need to warn you of this man. He is extremely powerful."

Dazai sighs. "Why isn't he in the prison then?"

Ango's expression doesn't change. "He broke out."

Your eyebrows fly to your hairline as you glance at Dazai, who, unlike you, doesn't give away his surprise. "You're kidding."

Ango turns toward you. "Orwell is dangerous. Be careful."

Dazai nods, not taking Ango's warning seriously—or he already knows what Orwell's capable of. The thought scares you.

"Return to base immediately after arriving at the location of the sighting, even if you don't find him. We'll need to do medical checks."

You open your mouth to ask about the checks but are interrupted when four men in combat gear appear in the doorway.

"Escort them to location 6846," Ango's monotone voice makes you glance at Dazai. He looks down at you and winks. "Report to headquarters every minute on the minute."

And then you're whisked away into the back of an armoured truck.

The bench you sit on in the rear of the truck is cold, and Dazai is close next to you; the side of his thigh warms yours, and you almost forget you're about to undergo the most challenging mission of your career.

"Agents 0345 and 0543 have reached location 6846."

The truck slows to a stop, and you inhale sharply to calm your racing heart. Warm hands enclose your shaking ones.

"Just nervous," You say offhandedly, but Dazai sees right through you.

"You'll be great," Dazai whispers, ignoring your excuse while watching the guards exit the truck. "You always are."

Your ears heat up at the subtle compliment, and you nod.

At the guard's gesture, you jump out of the truck and find yourself in front of an abandoned warehouse. The sun sets behind the building, cloaking you and the rest of the team in a murky orange.

"Boring," You mutter, eyeing the decrepit building. "I was hoping for an infiltration or a raid."

Dazai laughs darkly next to you. "It's never boring with you, bella'. Now, check the perimeter, would you?"

Suppressing a smile, you close your eyes. Sheets of darkness surround the building, making it impossible for anyone inside or out to see through.

You scrunch your nose. "I've got three heartbeats inside."

The armoured guards murmur around you, most likely commenting about your ability, maybe one updating Ango, but you block them out.

Retracting your shadows, you turn to Dazai. "Plan?"

Dazai pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue before walking straight for the warehouse; you follow.

"Top or bottom level?"

You listen to your shadows swirling around you. "Top."

Dazai nods once, squinting at the upstairs windows. He reaches behind him and flips his coat to the side. A handgun sits tucked into the waistband of his pants. He draws it, clicks the safety off and returns it to its place.

Instead of speaking, Dazai points to the open doorway to the left of the building. Upon closer inspection, you see a staircase beside the entrance and nod in understanding.

Before you leave, Dazai pulls you in by the waist, his grip firm. He presses his lips to your forehead. "Be careful."

You give him a deadpan look. "You be careful. I don't need you dying on me today."

"Never gonna happen."

Breaking off from him, you sneak inside and up the stairs, sending your shadows ahead. The heartbeats remain where they are.

The building is falling apart. The concrete stairs wobble under your feet, and dust falls from the ceiling. Without brushing it from your hair, you arrive at the top step. You're unphased by the prominent tripwire that is strung before your feet. Rolling your eyes, you step over it.

There's no sound when you peer around the corners of the numerous rooms for potential traps. A sudden intake of air has you spinning around. A man dressed in black stands in the middle of the hallway.

He draws his gun and aims for you, his trigger finger fast. The bullet aimed at your head hits the floor five feet away from you, your shadows retreating behind you.

"Wha—"

Darkness sweeps his feet from under him, and the gun goes clattering into another room.

"You're just human," You mumble, standing over him. Your mind is going a million miles an hour at the fact. The man shakes, and you kick his face to knock him out. You don't kill humans.

Turning around, you continue checking rooms. Entering the last doorway, your shoulders drop in disappointment.

"Really?" You groan, sighing. Your shadows didn't tell you about his presence—you swear they love him more than you despite dying out when he touches you.

Despite memorising his outline, finding Dazai standing there with a smirk and a hand around the wrist of who you assume is Orwell surprises you.

"How did you even get up here?" You look for potential entry points but come up empty-handed.

Dazai shrugs. "I never reveal my secrets in front of an enemy. But I'll tell you all about it later."

Orwell growls, and if it's because he just realised his ability doesn't work or something else, you don't know. But when you look at his other hand, or lack of it, you see why.

A pool of crimson sits directly under Orwell's mutilated arm, cut at the elbow. His arm drips blood steadily onto the floor, and the sight makes you nauseous.

Despite knowing Dazai's Port Mafia history and his capabilities to his core, you don't wish to figure out how or when he did this to Orwell. But the severed limb is nowhere to be seen, and there are no traces of blood on Dazai's bandages.

You clench your jaw and look away from it. Your gaze meets Dazai's, and he seems almost apologetic. Swallowing, you step further into the room.

"Don't look at her," Dazai says, his tone causing shivers down your spine. He walks in front of Orwell, fingers tight on the other man's wrist. He crouches down. "Look at me. I'm who you're after. Don't drag her into your fucked up shit."

The admission surprises you, and you circle the room to get a better look at what's going on. Orwell looks at you and giggles.

"How did you know? Hm?" Dazai mutters, head tilted. Orwell grunts, trying to rip his wrist from Dazai's hold, but it doesn't move.

"Me?" Orwell laughs bitterly. "The entire underworld knows."

Dazai curses lowly and glances at you. You're frozen in your spot, your shadows swirling around. Then he stands.

"Get up."

Orwell glares at Dazai and remains seated. his eyes are trained on you, and you wonder what Dazai was asking about. What does the entire underworld know about?

Dazai sighs, pulling his wrist. Orwell stumbles up, dripping blood wherever he goes. You send your shadows to wrap around Orwell's chest, thighs, and eyes.

"Shadow user," He mumbles, giggling. "You'd pay a special price where I'm from."

Disgust ripples through you, so you tighten your shadows until he yelps. Dazai yanks him forward and out of the room. You're close behind, avoiding the splatters of blood on the concrete floor.

Down the stairs and out into the open night, your shadows don't waver their hold on him, and neither does Dazai.

Stopping suddenly, you turn your head to the left.

There were three heartbeats.

"Stop!" You yell. Before you, everyone freezes, including Dazai, whose eyes widen.

Your name leaves his lips in an urgency you haven't heard before, and you assume he's just realised what you have.

Instead, there's a dull thwack to the back of your head, and your neck snaps forward as you fall over. Stars dot your fading vision, and there's an ache behind your eyes. The last thing you hear is Orwell's hysterical laughter and Dazai calling your name.

The moment you're conscious, you feel nauseous. "Wha—"

"Quiet."

You squeeze your eyes tighter; the light directed at your face feels brighter than the sun. You move your hands and feet to discern if you're restrained—you are. Mentally rolling your eyes, you shift in the hard metal seat you've been attached to.

Your shadows whisper about Dazai. They seem excited, which, in turn, gives you hope. Dumb, stupid hope.

"Water?" You choke out, voice scratchy against your dry throat.

"What'ya say?"

"Water. Do you have any water?"

A grumbling laugh echoes, and you're in another abandoned warehouse. Typical. Your hope wavers slightly.

When the man's footsteps come closer, you open your eyes into slits to gauge him through the light, and then you're suddenly soaked head to toe in ice-cold water. You gasp sharply and breathe heavily in shock.

"There's ya fuckin' water."

You're still hyperventilating and maybe shivering, but your eyes fly open. The brightness of the lamp hurts. "That was fucking rude."

The man disappears behind the light again. "You're a feisty one."

"Why am I here?" You decide to just go for it. Your shadows are dimmed, but you can feel one delicately swirling around your chained hands.

"You're one special lady, did you know that?" The man exclaims.

"Why don't you just kill me?" You spit, squinting. The silence that follows your question is unnerving.

Before you can ask again, the man giggles and says your name. "It's fun to play, don't you think?"

You scrunch your nose in disgust and try looking to your right. Your muscles burn as you do so, but you can see the night sky through the window in the ceiling. How does he know your name?

"You saw what I wanted you to see," He says. "Isn't that cool?"

You furrow your eyebrows and run through everything that happened earlier. Pushing Dazai's disturbed expression from your mind, you deduce a timeline.

The warehouse. Three heartbeats. Dazai. Blood.

Three heartbeats.

The realisation pours over you like the ice water, chilling you to the bone. You're breathless when the words leave your lips. "You're Orwell."

The light swings away from your eyes, and the face of the man you'd restrained with your shadows in the other warehouse appears in front of you. "Surprise!"

Dread claws at your chest. You're unsure whether you're shivering from the water still clinging to your hair or from pure, unguarded fear. If this is the real criminal you've been tasked with finding and detaining, then who's the other guy? What happened to Dazai?

The thought of him leaves you troubled.

"Who was the other guy? The one you forced your face on?"

"You're smart," The real Orwell hums. It was a human."

You curse. You don't begin to think about Dazai's torture of the man.

"And now that you're here," He continues. "Dazai will show up any second—"

How he knows you and Dazai's names doesn't scratch the surface of your questions. Amid Orwell's rambling, you feel the chains loosen around your wrists. The sound is muffled by your shadows as the metal lowers to the ground, and then you feel the chains on your ankles weaken.

"—we're gonna have so much fun! You and me." His eyes are wild when he looks at you, but you feel no coercion in your mind or body.

And then he frowns. You avoid looking at him directly, but you fear the worst when his forehead creases. He's staring at your feet, and your heart stops.

"I was gonna unchain you, but it seems you've already done it for me."

You leap from the chair and direct your shadows at his face to cover his eyes. He can't force you to do things if he can't see you.

But then you go rigid and know he's got ahold of you. You feel your body walk toward him; your movements are awkward. The voice at the back of your head is screaming for release from his claws, but there's nothing you can do except for what Orwell forces.

Your arms are thrown to the side, and your legs move in ways you don't think they ever have. He's making you dance.

"All we need is some music and an audience, and we've got a performance!"

His maniacal laughs echo in the large room, and despite your fear, disgust, and hatred, your face remains neutral.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and Orwell forces your mouth into a grin. "And she can smile! Such a pretty smile for a pretty girl."

Your shadows are nowhere to be found, you're sure they were forced back when Orwell took over your mind.

He rushes toward you, his face close to yours. His breath is acrid, and you try and tear your head away, to no avail.

"Now for questions!"

It's not your usual torture technique, but when your body crumples on the floor and pain shoots up your spine, Orwell is done with the act.

"Who sent you and Dazai to my hideout? Who ratted me out?" He growls, kneeling before you.

Your lips move before you can stop them. "The Government."

Orwell hums, standing and walking around you in a circle. Your back aches and there's an uncomfortable grasp around your lungs.

"Is it true you're involved with Dazai in a different way than just being in the agency together?"

The question throws you, and so does the way he asks it. But, like the other question, you answer before you're aware of what you're saying.

"Yes."

Orwell hums. The answer satisfies him, but you don't know why.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

The question makes you shrink with unease. "No."

"That's something Dostoyevsky got wrong," He whispers. The name raises alarm bells in your mind, but you can't speak.

"Does Dazai know what Dostoyevsky's up to?"

"No."

"Maybe you're hopeless after all."

When he's not looking at you, you can move the tips of your fingers. The longer he has his mind on something else, the more you gain feeling back into your body. His clutch on your windpipe eases, and you can finally breathe steadily. Where your hand lays on the floor, darkness stirs.

"Dostoyevsky said to remove the hopeless ones—"

Before he can finish, there's an explosion outside the warehouse. It's only a split second, but your shadows whisper about the explosion when Orwell's focus on you completely detaches.

Dazai, Dazai, Dazai...

The edges of your vision become blurry, and you go to swat away the growing darkness before Orwell can see you falling back—but he's the one who's forcing you to pass out.

Dazai feels his knees weaken when he sees you on the floor. Anger rises within him, and when he spots Orwell's hunched body in the corner, he makes a beeline for him.

"What the fuck did you do to her?"

Orwell turns from where he's loading a rifle. His fingers tinker with the bullets, but they keep slipping from his grip. Dazai's smile is feral, and he tilts his head like a predator observing its prey.

"I thought I asked you a question," He sings. "And I don't want to ask it again."

Dazai knows Orwell is trying to control him, but the commands are hopeless. Orwell then turns his attention to you, who still lies unconscious in the middle of the room. A sick grin breaks across his face, and then he's making your body writhe on the floor.

Dazai grabs his wrist, twisting it with a strength he'd never used since he left the Port Mafia—that Dazai is dead, or he was. He can never seem to control his emotions around you.

Trying a different approach, Dazai states the obvious. "You tricked us."

Orwell's expression lights up, and he laughs, forgetting about his broken wrist, and, by extension, you. "I did! Wasn't it great?"

Dazai raises an eyebrow and digs in his back pocket for his folding knife with his other hand. "It was. But I like what I'm gonna do to you more."

When Orwell was hired by Fyodor Dostoyevsky to take out Osamu Dazai, he was aware of the man's ability but not his dark specialities. For what he did to you, Orwell will never see it coming.

And as Dazai goes to work on the man, carving and gauging, he only thinks of avenging you. Blood paints his beige coat, and he thinks it a shame that something this dirty has to ruin your favourite jacket of his.

The screams of the gifted make his blood sing, and he knows, somewhere deep in his dark and twisted heart, that you'd do the same for him.

Your limbs tingle as you wake. A sound close to a whimper escapes you, and you realise you're no longer on the concrete but in someone's lap.

You open your eyes slightly. A familiar jaw and brown hair come into focus. His hands are secure around your waist and under your head.

"Hey," Dazai mutters your name, it sounds nice coming from his lips. "I've got you, you're safe."

It takes you a moment to realise this isn't a dream—only because of the smell of rot violating your senses.

"You're okay." You're sure Dazai's saying it more to himself than you. "He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

You've never seen such concern in Dazai's eyes before. You shake your head, blinking away the bleariness.

You think of what happened earlier, and the memory makes you cringe and laugh awkwardly. "He made me dance."

Dazai makes a noise at the back of his throat. He doesn't seem to think it's funny. He moves his hand from your waist to your face.

"Where's the other guy?" You ask, liking the feel of his skin on yours.

"I killed him." His bluntness causes you to come to your senses faster.

"Why?"

"I didn't like how he looked at you," Dazai's brown eyes meet yours. "And I thought he was the real one when you disappeared. Thought it was all his fault."

Sighing, you reach your palm to his cheek. His skin is softer than the last time you touched his face, or maybe you're still hazy, but the feeling is comforting. You swear his cheeks turn pink when you smile at him, but you forget it when the sound of footsteps is racing toward you.

"Dazai," A familiar voice calls, and you can't place it until your name follows soon after.

Ango is breathless when he stops before you. "Are you okay?"

Dazai nods, and you smile. "All good, Ango."

Ango rubs his forehead. "Good, good..."

You grab Dazai's hand, and he immediately squeezes your fingers.

"Orwell has been detained, he's being transported to Meursault now."

"But he escaped," You state, brain still a little fuzzy.

"He did," Ango says. "But we've taken... extra measures this time."

You don't miss how Ango glances at Dazai; you can guess what he did to Orwell.

You groan. "You did not."

Dazai stares at you with a softness only reserved for you. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, bella'."

So you don't.

"Make sure you're at headquarters in half an hour," Ango mumbles.

Dazai says nothing and watches him return to the truck. You call his name softly.

"I was scared," You whisper.

Dazai sighs. "So was I."

You sit up, swallowing your shock at his blunt honesty, and take his face in your hands. "Thank you."

Dazai shakes his head. "Don't thank me. I'd put myself through anything to save you, you know that."

"He asked me about you," You blurt, watching closely for his reaction.

Dazai goes stiff. "Who?"

"Orwell."

Dazai swears. "About what?"

"Dostoyevsky."

"Shit," He helps you stand. Once on your feet, Dazai wraps an arm around your shoulder. You lean into him.

"That's bad, isn't it?"

Dazai doesn't answer your question. "It means they're aware you mean something to me."

The statement brings warmth to your chest, but then you remember what the fake Orwell said to Dazai.

The entire underworld knows.

"Oh, guess I'm famous," You comment plainly. You tried to make it a joke, but there's little to joke about when your life's in danger.

Dazai laughs bitterly, fingers dancing on your shoulder. "Just means I gotta keep an eye on you at all times."

"You wanna stay over tonight, don't you?" When you get outside, the horizon beams with morning light. "Or, this morning..."

Dazai presses his lips to your hair. "You know me so well, bella'."

[ukumiii]

I love them sm they’re so dear to me 🤲

[dostokatz]

⋆ ♱ THE GUILD LITERARY REFERENCES ♱ ⋆

[justplaggin]

the room's exit is blocked. it looks like the buildings outside collapsed... but i don't understand why. is there a way to get out? i would like to know that myself! || then it's now or never. i'm using demon snow to escape. please stop! you'll be crushed to death!

why are you stopping me? because... your death would cause him pain.

[reverentreaper]

Lucy ||bsd fanart||

[chupenguin]

I was thinking about how similar An and Yosano are, and how they should be besties and then I realized that we also got two trans martial artist that could get along so well

I also need Kuina and Chuuya being bff

[micahzdort]

I'm no pick me girl but I would say "You don't understand them like I do" if you mischaracterize my favorite character and ship horribly

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Honestly though. Where are Ranpo and Yosano?

[saffron0v0]

Anne's one and only priority.

[annievrse]

red carnations

dazai x reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic c/w: 1.5k wc, alcohol, one mention of dazai's suicide book

“Oh, shit,” Dazai laughed, stumbling over his own feet as he stood. 

You paid no mind to him, digging your face further into the couch to shield your eyes from the sun's glare. Groaning, you squinted through the daylight to peek into the kitchen, where Dazai tried his best to fill up a glass with water from the sink. 

“How did we end up out here?” He asked, rubbing his eye with his knuckle and taking a sip from the cup as he walked back toward you.

“Pretty sure it was Kunikida’s cheap ass rosé,” You said, face twisted in disgust. “Why did you make me drink that again?” 

You took the glass from Dazai’s outstretched hand and ignored him when he jumped onto the couch beside you. His hand circled your thighs and brought them onto his lap, his fingertips rubbing softly on your skin. 

“If I recall correctly,” Dazai puts his forefinger in your face. “You were the one who forced it down my throat. I took no part in stealing Great Kunikida’s favourite alcoholic beverage.”

You shook your head, sipping water from his glass and raising your hand to run your fingers through his messy hair. “Never let me steal it again.”

“Mhm,” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, tilting his head into your touch. “It’s hard to sway you when you’re set on something.”

You rested your head on the back of the couch and looked at him. His cheeks were still tinted deep red from when you last saw them last night, but you were unsure if it was from the hangover or something entirely different. 

“Are we gonna clean the candle wax off the shelf?” You mumbled, eyes flickering between his dark irises. 

Dazai sighed loudly, turning his face forward, breaking your staring competition. “Nah, we’ll clean it up next time.” 

You raised your eyebrows, nails grazing the top of his bandages at the back of his neck. "You'll clean it up next time."

Dazai glanced at you, fingers running higher up your leg. If he wasn't so entranced by you, maybe he would've declined.

“Have you heard from Dazai lately?” You asked Yosano as you walked into the ADA. 

Yosano turned to face you from her desk, eyebrows knitted. “Yeah, he was just here, like, 20 minutes ago.”

Your mouth opened slightly in disbelief. “Really?” The question came out in a whisper, and you were too caught up in your thoughts to notice her calling your name. 

“Why?” Yosano asked, now standing in front of you with her arms crossed. It seemed everybody else in the office was out, so it was deathly quiet while you contemplated what to say. 

Nonetheless, you felt your face heat up at the memory. “He came over on Sunday night, and we–“ 

“Don’t tell me you–” Yosano shook her head, eyes locking onto the fading maroon bruise on your neck. 

“No!” You gasped, body tingling with embarrassment. “No, just let me explain.” 

The universe only gave you 12 minutes to explain your current predicament before Atsushi and Kyouka walked in, confused looks on their faces when they saw you waving your arms around. 

“What’s going on?” Atsushi asked, placing his black gloves on his desk. 

“Where’s Dazai?” Yosano inquired, raising a single eyebrow at the younger boy. 

“Oh!” Atsushi looked at Kyouka, who turned away and pretended to shuffle papers on Kenji’s desk. “Uh, he’s… around, you know how he is.”

“Uh, huh,” The physician nodded, tongue pressing on the inside of her cheek. “Kyouka?”  

The teenager paused her hands, dropping the documents. “He’s downstairs.” 

Atsushi groaned softly while you and Yosano shared a glance. “Thanks.” 

Dazai had always gotten a kick out of begging various women to die with him; that much was true. And you didn’t mind – why would you? You weren’t exclusive, and he could go after anyone he wanted. At least, that’s what you told yourself when you saw his cheeks were still burgundy – you could see that much. But what you couldn’t see was the face of the waitress who sat with her back to you. 

The pain on your face must’ve been obvious because it was enough for Yosano to call his name, venom dripping from her words. 

Dazai popped his head up at the sound, a smile spreading across his cheeks when he saw you. “Belladonna!” But his expression then morphed into one of panic. “You need to leave!” 

You were taken aback. “What?” 

The brunette stepped around the waitress and walked toward you, eyes bouncing around the room. He finally stopped before you, hands reaching out to take yours, gaze locked on the woman beside you. “Yosano, take her upstairs.” 

“Dazai–”

“Please,” His dark eyes were pleading, yet they twinkled with something close to mischief. “I’ll let you know when to come back down.” 

“No, I don’t want to go upstairs. Tell me what’s going on,” You argued, snatching your hands out of his. 

“I’ll tell you later, okay?” Dazai added. 

You tore your gaze away from him and fought against the tears in your eyes but let Yosano guide you back to the office anyway, a look of abrupt understanding on her face that you couldn’t begin to comprehend. 

Upon returning, Kyouka looked regretful, and Atsushi had his head in his hands. 

“Get over it!” Yosano announced, rolling her eyes when the pair jumped in surprise. 

You were at a loss for words and tired. “I’m just gonna go home.” 

“No!” Atsushi sprung up from his chair, clearing his throat when Kyouka glared at him. “I mean,” He coughed. “Just stay here a while. I’m sure everything’s fine.” 

But you shook your head and grabbed your bag from the floor where you’d left it when you arrived. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” 

A knock at your door was the last thing you wanted to deal with. Covered with two blankets and a tea in your hand, you grumbled when the knocking didn’t stop. 

So, you got up, paused the episode you were watching and opened your front door. 

Your breath hitched when you recognised Dazai’s shoes on your doorstep, a bouquet of red carnations covering his face. “What do you want?” 

Dazai violently shoved the flowers to the side, his face visible now. “What do you mean ‘what do you want’?” He pushed past you to enter your apartment and placed the bouquet on the kitchen counter. “I’m here because you left the office.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, irritation simmering in your veins. “I’m going to ignore the fact you just invited yourself in.” 

“Whoa!” Dazai taunted, shrugging his coat off his shoulders. “What’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong with me?” You questioned mockingly. “You!” 

“Me?” He tilted his head. 

“Yes, you!” You stepped in his direction, skin heated and blood pumping quickly. “You told me to leave the cafe, so I left! Dickhead...” 

Dazai treaded slowly toward you, palms facing upwards. “I told you to stay in the office until I called you.” 

“What am I?” You laughed bitterly. “A dog?” 

Dazai sighed and shook his head. “You know what, you’re right. I shouldn’t have phrased it like that, but you didn’t have to leave.” 

“You’re impossible, Osamu.” 

Dazai raised his eyebrows in shock at the use of his name. “Oh, okay. I’m the impossible one.” 

“Yes!”

“What if I said I asked you to leave because I was planning the best date of your life in the cafe?”

This made you pause. “Huh?”

Dazai took your hands in his, but you wouldn’t pull away this time. “I wanted to ask you out properly. But, someone had to open her big mouth and ruin the surprise.” 

“Kyouka did nothing wrong,” You laughed. “You should’ve just told me.” 

“Do you know the definition of a surprise? Or should I get the dictionary for you? Perhaps send you back to first grade?” 

You slapped Dazai’s bicep and twisted your lips in thought. “Were you really going to ask me out?” 

“Do you think I would subject myself to a florist for fun?” Dazai joked, nodding his head back at the flowers on the counter, placing his hand delicately on your cheek. “Of course I was! I like you.”

“Oh, Dazai,” You mumbled, voice thick with emotion. 

And for the first time in the entirety you’d known him, Dazai was speechless, awaiting an answer that you’d soon give him. He chewed on his bottom lip, never fearing drawing blood because the thought of rejection was more painful than anything he’d ever tried from his book of suicide. 

But when you smiled, pinching his pink cheek between your thumb and forefinger, Dazai knew it would be okay. “You’re so cute.” 

“Wha–What?” He pouted. “I’m bearing my soul to you, and that’s all I get?” Shaking his head, Dazai let a smile slip out. “Lord, give me strength.” 

“Shut up!” You laughed, hand on his neck to pull his face closer to yours. And when his nose bumped yours, his hands found home on your waist. “I adore you, Osamu.” 

[a-random-weeb]

Omg has anyone seen 'Sugar apple fairy tale'

it's not popular at all, and it's the girlest anime you will ever watch in your life BUT ITS SO GOOD MAN

like, Challe is so hot, I just started watching the anime. I don't normally simp for emo anime characters idk why I'm so obsessed with Challe. The art style is SO PRETTY TOO. If you haven't watched it, watch it. I don't even know why I love it so much, j just do, there's something about it that's just- y'know- idk

if you haven't seen it WATCH IT

anyways comment/message me if you you've watched it I'd love to chat with fellow fans (No spoilers though)

also if you see this someone I'm begging you to write a Challe x reader fanfic (and tag me in it) PLEASE