I was thinking something with the reader who’s part of the Guild (we’ll have to ignore Zelda oops), perhaps at a masquerade ball or a party of some kind (New year perhaps?), I think that’d be something fun to write about!
author's note : OMG THIS TOOK SOOOO LONG BUT I TRIED. ┐(´ー｀)┌ either way, i really hope you enjoy!
cw : fluff, francis fitzgerald, guild employee gn reader. tell me if i miss something.
the guild was known to be extravagant in all goals they ever conceive. no expenses were spared as long as said goal was achieved; in this case, it was a gorgeous new years ball set at three hours before midnight, hosted by the one and only francis fitzgerald, leader of the guild. while it wasn't his idea — it was actually a offhand suggestion by margeret mitchell— he certainly put the effort and cash into the event. he was practically the strongest in the room with how much cash went into it, his ability being what it was.
⠀⠀⠀as for the rest of the members, margeret mitchel sure seemed elated, and lucy seemed excited too, you thought. margeret sat on your desk chair, all prim and proper as she watched you rush around the room for a proper dress.
⠀⠀⠀“c'mon, darl’. you needn't worry so much. it's hardly as if the sky will fall.” she muttered, stirring her tea. it was easy for her to say, she had all the flouncy dresses ... lucy, it seems, was going through your accessories drawer.
⠀⠀⠀“oi, you! no, not mitchel, you! you have less accessories that even i do! where are you bracelets, your rings?!”
⠀⠀⠀you mumbled your frustration incoherently.
⠀⠀⠀“lucy, dear. no need to add salt to the wound. i guess we have only one solution ...” mitchel muttered ...
⠀⠀⠀both you and lucy look up from your rummaging.
⠀⠀⠀“we, ladies, are going shopping!”
⠀⠀⠀ by the end of this escapade, all three of you had your outfits and were decked up for the night. lucy had picked a soft red dress, full with frills, layers of petticoats and a cute romantic vibe. despite her initial hesitation to spend, she seemed more than happy in her outfit. she enjoyed spinning in it.
⠀⠀⠀ margeret's however was far more sofisticated. a long, simple periwinkle dress with embroidered lace and a pair of satin gloves. she even had a parasol to go with it.
⠀⠀⠀ you had a sage green dress, soft and pleasing to the eye. the fabric hugged your waist, cinching it tight. the dress flaired slightly from there to your ankles, the leaf and white flower design adorning the cloth. lucy had been particularly elated about the accessories. hair pins, bracelets, a ring and a two layered necklace, all in gold.
⠀⠀⠀“there, darling. better?”
⠀⠀⠀ you were too busy staring in the mirror to actually hear it. you actually looked ... pretty. beautiful even. you weren't sure of then last time you looked this nice. you remember expensive dinners, silver cutlery and jewelry as a child but it all changed by eight. your father's business went bankrupt and as you grew, you'd come to forget most of those days. you hadn't remembered a fancy dress in all those years.
⠀⠀⠀ “thank you, marge, lucy ... thank you so much.”
⠀⠀⠀ margaret merely waved you off with a flick of her wrist and a dainty scoff. lucy gave out a triumphant hmph.
⠀⠀⠀ “told ya.”
⠀⠀⠀ you brushed it off with a giggle.
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ★
⠀⠀⠀ it's is half past eleven you're on your way to the ball, sneaking through a small secret passage you'd found when you'd first joined. the whole organisation is in high spirits with red, green and gold all over. while the christmas decorations arent entirely out yet, there was clear thought and planning behind the organisation of the even, poe and louisa were clearly working overtime. even the guest list was larger than you'd anticipated. roughly a thousand people were said to attend! you knew the guild had allies this was far more than you'd expected. you almost had to respect it.
⠀⠀⠀grabbing onto your dress, you rushed through the narrow corridor, past the numerous paintings on the wall. you'd swore you'd almost reached the end when you bumped into something. something solid. but it wasn't a wall or even a door.
⠀⠀⠀“ah, ah. careful, wont wanna ruin your dress now, eh?”
⠀⠀⠀eyes wide as saucers, you stared at the man you had quite literally fallen for.
⠀⠀⠀francis scott fitzgerald.
⠀⠀⠀he chuckled at the the look of surprise on your face, his face illuminated by his amusement. his blonde hair — warm from the candle lamps — was slicked back, with only a small strand falling on his forehead.
⠀⠀⠀“don’t worry, i use these paths too,” he said.
he stared at you for a moment, at you with reddened cheeks and a slack jaw. with a soft giggle, he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.
he walks right past after that.
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ★
⠀⠀⠀you still hadn't recovered from it. standing in the massive ballroom, you stood to the side, near the drinks, all to yourself. you could see the warm lighting, red velvet curtains, green ribbons. it was almost magical, in a way.
⠀⠀⠀interrupting your reverie, you heard a familiar voice ask, “may i have this dance?”
turning around, you saw the blond haired man with a hand outstretched, waiting to take yours. with what courage you could muster, you muttered the only thing you could.
ᯓ feat. osamu dazai, fyodor dostoevsky ( sepreated )
contains. fem!child!reader, platonic, fluff, stealing their clothes, copies them
word count. 0.5k
based on this request
bsd m.list - main m.list
𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆
You started with the bandages.
It was subtle at first, just a strip of gauze wrapped around your finger, then around your wrist. Dazai didn’t comment. He only raised an eyebrow and hummed like he always did, pretending he hadn’t noticed you staring at his arms while he changed his wrappings.
Then came the coat.
You dragged his long, beige trench coat through the hallway, drowning in fabric. The sleeves swallowed your hands; the hem brushed the floor. You strutted into the living room like it was a runway, chin lifted.
“Dazai-san,” you announced, voice serious, “I am mysterious now.”
He nearly choked on his tea.
“You’ve always been mysterious,” he said lightly, but his eyes softened. “Though I don’t recall being that short.”
You tilted your head, mimicking the way he did when he pretended to be thoughtful. “It’s because I am still loading,” you decided.
After that, it escalated.
You tried tying your own tie (crooked, obviously), copied his lazy slouch, even practiced his dramatic sighs. Sometimes you’d sit beside him on the couch, legs crossed the same way, staring into nothing like you were contemplating life’s tragedies.
“Are you brooding?” he asked once.
“Yes,” you said seriously. “I am brooding about snacks.”
He laughed, a real laugh, not the light, hollow kind.
One day, he found you asleep on the couch, wrapped in his coat like a blanket, bandages peeking from your sleeves. Your tiny hand clutched the edge of his notebook like it was precious.
He sat beside you quietly.
“…If you keep copying me,” he murmured, brushing hair from your forehead, “you might end up with my bad habits.”
You stirred. “Then I will copy your good ones too.”
He froze.
He didn’t move for a long time.
𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘 ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆
You started stealing his coats.
Fyodor owned far too many, long, dark coats with high collars, gloves always neatly folded in the pockets. You began wearing them around the apartment, the fabric trailing behind you like a royal cape.
One morning, he walked into the study to find you sitting in his chair, his coat draped over your shoulders, his gloves on your hands.
You were reading upside down.
“…Is that comfortable?” he asked calmly.
“Yes,” you said, not looking up. “I am you.”
He paused.
“You are… me.”
“Yes. I must observe quietly and judge people.”
You stared at him over the book’s edge, eyes narrowed in your best imitation of his unreadable gaze.
“…Very well,” he said, sitting across from you. “What is your judgment of me?”
You considered. “You need more snacks. And more naps.”
He stared.
Then he adjusted his gloves and continued reading like this was completely normal.
You copied everything, how he folded his hands, how he walked silently, how he tilted his head when analyzing something. Once, you even tried speaking in his calm, low tone.
“Tea is optimal at this temperature,” you said solemnly, while holding a cup of juice.
He corrected you gently. “Juice is not tea.”
“It is emotional tea.”
He decided not to question that.
One night, he found you curled up on the couch, wrapped in his coat like a cocoon. You had placed his gloves neatly beside you and folded your hands on your stomach like him.
“…I will protect like you,” you mumbled sleepily.
He turned off the lamp.
“And I,” he said quietly, “will ensure you never need to.”
osamuslvt ─ 2026 ꕥ
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ᯓ feat. osamu dazai
contains. teenager!fem!reader, teenager!dazai, fluff, sheep era, confession
word count. 1k
based on this request
bsd m.list - main m.list
You were part of the Sheep, not the loud, chaotic type, but the quiet one who handled errands, watched the younger members, and occasionally had to drag Chuuya away from trouble. So when Chuuya dragged you to the arcade to “blow off steam,” you didn’t expect to meet him.
A boy with bandages and a lazy grin, leaning casually against a game machine, caught your eye. Dazai Osamu.
He froze the moment he saw you. Chuuya noticed immediately.
“Hey, are you even listening-?” he started, but Dazai ignored him completely.
“Hello,” Dazai said brightly. “You’re very cute.”
You blinked, and Chuuya sputtered. “HEY?? DON’T FLIRT WITH MY FRIEND RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!”
Dazai tilted his head, as if studying you. “Is your name ‘my friend’? That’s adorable.”
You hid your face, mortified. And just like that, Dazai decided he liked you.
After that day, he started showing up everywhere: the arcade, convenience stores, street corners. And every time, he shamelessly flirted. “Ah, there you are, my beloved.” “We should run away together.” “If you ever need a partner in crime, I’m available.”
Chuuya would throw his hands up, yelling, “STOP SAYING WEIRD STUFF LIKE THAT!”
Dazai would just smile at you, totally unbothered. “But she could be,” he said with mock seriousness.
One afternoon, you were sitting on the arcade steps with a juice box, watching Chuuya and Dazai argue again. Dazai plopped down beside you.
“Do you like arcades?” he asked quietly.
“They’re fun,” you shrugged. “I like watching Chuuya get competitive.”
He poked his straw at his drink and hummed. “…What do you like?”
No one had asked you that in a while. You told him about books, little hobbies, stray cats you liked, and dreams of seeing the ocean again someday. Dazai listened, resting his chin on his hand.
“You’re interesting,” he said after a while.
“You already said that,” you laughed.
“I meant it in a serious way this time,” he added, and you could see his cheeks tint slightly pink.
From that day, tiny moments began to sneak into your routine. He’d bring you candy “by accident,” sit next to you during Sheep meetings pretending he was bored but listening intently, and even let you doodle on his bandages, refusing to take them off. Every time he told Chuuya, loudly, “She laughed at my joke. I think we’re destined,” Chuuya groaned and threatened to throw him out a window.
One evening, you found yourselves on the roof, city lights glowing below. “Hey,” you asked, “are you just flirting with me to annoy Chuuya?”
Dazai was quiet for a long moment. “…At first,” he admitted, then added softly, “but now I just like talking to you.”
You handed him a piece of candy without a word. He smiled, taking it carefully. “I’ll keep annoying Chuuya, though,” he said, and you groaned but laughed.
And for once, Dazai Osamu wasn’t plotting anything. He wasn’t being dramatic or mysterious. He was just a fifteen-year-old boy, completely lovesick, and absolutely smitten with the way you laughed.
─
Dazai decided he was going to confess.
This decision lasted approximately three minutes before he started treating it like a grand theatrical production.
You noticed something was off the moment he showed up to the Sheep hideout with flowers. Actual flowers. Slightly wilted, probably stolen from a convenience store display, but still—flowers.
Chuuya stared at them like they personally offended him.
“…Why do you have flowers.”
“For romance,” Dazai replied, beaming.
“WE’RE FIFTEEN.”
You pretended not to hear and sat down with the others, but Dazai immediately dropped into the seat beside you, bouquet in hand, leaning way too close.
“These are for you,” he said, placing them on the table like he was proposing.
“They’re kind of dead,” you whispered.
“Love is fleeting and tragic,” he said solemnly. “Just like these flowers.”
Chuuya kicked his chair.
─
He spent the entire meeting trying to impress you.
He volunteered to take out the trash.
He helped the younger Sheep members with homework.
He even listened when someone explained a boring plan instead of zoning out.
Every time he finished something, he’d glance at you like, Did you see that? I am a functional human being.
Chuuya noticed.
“So this is what it takes to make you responsible??”
Dazai nodded proudly. “I am a changed man.”
You quietly handed him a juice box.
He stared at it like it was a sacred offering.
─
Later that night, he found you sitting outside, leaning against the railing with your phone.
“Hey,” he said, sitting next to you, suddenly quieter than usual.
“Hey.”
He held out the flowers again. “You didn’t take them earlier.”
“I didn’t want to steal them from you.”
“They’re for you,” he insisted, a bit awkward now. “Confessions are supposed to come with offerings.”
You took them carefully, even though they were a little droopy. “Thank you.”
He stared at the ground. “So, um. I like you.”
You blinked.
“I know I joke a lot,” he rushed, words tumbling out in a way you’d never heard before, “but I wasn’t joking about that part. Talking to you is fun. And you don’t look at me like I’m weird or dangerous or something.”
You smiled a little. “You are weird.”
He laughed quietly. “Yeah. But you stay anyway.”
You thought about that. About arcades and candy and doodled bandages and him showing up everywhere just to sit next to you.
“…I like you too,” you said.
He froze. Completely. Like someone had unplugged him.
Then he burst up, dramatic as always. “CHUUYA! SHE LIKES ME BACK!”
Chuuya’s voice echoed from inside. “I DON’T CARE! STOP YELLING!”
You laughed as Dazai sat back down, cheeks flushed, trying to look cool and failing miserably.
“So,” he said, trying to regain composure, “does this mean we’re dating?”
“…If you want.”
He stared at you for a moment, then gently held your hand like he was afraid you’d disappear if he moved too fast.
“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll try to be a good boyfriend.”
You squeezed his hand.
From the window, Chuuya watched you two, sighed, and muttered, “This is the worst timeline.”
osamuslvt ─ 2026 ꕥ
comment here is you want to be added to my taglist!
🏷️ @melisaqqu , @chrispychuya , @chocolatemilk4hara , @stellas-starry-sillies13 , @techimochi , @bladeyose , @adamesmermarryme , @dinhnguyenphuongmy , @angelofdarkness2 , @peanut-butter-pancakez , @crowconfetti , @lillyinfandoms , @secretlyasnail , @willowbsd , @kpopmultistans , @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred , @fedyacheese , @softjelly , @virag-creations , @xiaos--wifeyy , @chuuyashatdust
Hihi dear yvonne, may i offer you 15!dazai who meets reader (his age) for the first time, n shes all emo n edgy with piercings n stuff n gets this absolute enlightenment abt himself. Like "omg this is truly how i feel" n she introduces him to like emo music and he immediately clicks w it cuz hes an angsty 15 yo. lol
AUTHOR'S NOTE · omg thank you SO MUCH for requesting, i know this took a while but i swear im getting to the requests! MWAH! i loved the idea honestly. i only know that punk rock comes under emo and i listen to mcr and p!atd. so there's that too.
15 ! dazai who never cared for aesthetics. he was far too busy with something or the other to care about his appearance. he was beating chuuya at video games! who cares if his hair is messy? he just got finished with another mission, does it really matter is his socks don't match? he was far above this sort of thing, you see. that was until he met you.
15 ! zai who heard of you through chuuya, apparently both of you got along through the overlap of your music taste. rock music, punk, that sort of thing. chuuya said you were cool and he'd brushed it off. he didn't care who slug made his friends with, he didn't need them! and yet ...
15 ! zai who finds himself staring at you when he first saw you. he finds you ... interesting. your hair parted to the side, the bright coloured hair dye, the earphone dangling off your ear, the small snakebites you'd gotten ... the sheer edginess you carried yourself with drew him in like nothing else. it was only hell from there.
15 ! zai who takes it upon himself to follow you around like a lost puppy. he doesn't know how to approach you per se, he somehow has gotten the nerves ... so he chose to tail you everywhere you went. after missions, in the mornings, even at night when you'd stay up, he'd show up at your door. and when you'd ask him what the hell he was doing, he'd simply look at you with largest brown eyes till you relented. he began to grow on you in a way.
15 ! zai who eventually gets closer to you. he knows your favourite band is panic! at the disco, he knows you steal hair dye from the local shop sometimes for you hair, he also found out you diy your clothes sometimes. but one thing he knew for a fact was that you loved your music. you had at least one earphone in at all times. so, of course, he brought it up.
15 ! zai who just had to ask, “just what the hell do you play that requires you to keep your earphones on so often?” you weren't expecting the blatant question, usually he hovered more than he talked, but it seems he had more to say today. you merely handed him an earbud.
15 ! zai who had his world turned upside down listening to the guitar rifts of the song you currently played. from the glazed eyes and blank face, you could tell he was having a few ... realisations. and after exactly 3 minutes and 43 seconds of the song later, he says, “my fucking god.” you know he's been changed forever.
author's note : WAAAAHH HE IS!!! my baby and love HEHEH tysm for requesting. he does not get enough love
pm!dazai who wakes up at before you. he always switches on the bulb, the dim one that doesn't wake you up. in the minimal light available, he is greeted by the sight your sleeping body rising and falling with every breath. you were a heavy sleeper. you'd tried to get him to rest too but to no avail. he had long forgotten what that was, there was no more room for such a thing anymore among all the violence and chaos. granted, this was exactly hat he'd asked for but regardless, he couldn't help but envy the peace you seemed to have. especially as you drifted into some place he knew he couldn't reach, especially not with how he was. all he does instead is tuck a strand of your soft hair behind your ear and watch you with held breath as you stir only for a moment before stilling again. he sighs in relief. he hadn't woken you up just yet.
author's note : WAAAAHH HE IS!!! my baby and love HEHEH tysm for requesting. he does not get enough love
pm!dazai who wakes up at before you. he always switches on the bulb, the dim one that doesn't wake you up. in the minimal light available, he is greeted by the sight your sleeping body rising and falling with every breath. you were a heavy sleeper. you'd tried to get him to rest too but to no avail. he had long forgotten what that was, there was no more room for such a thing anymore among all the violence and chaos. granted, this was exactly hat he'd asked for but regardless, he couldn't help but envy the peace you seemed to have. especially as you drifted into some place he knew he couldn't reach, especially not with how he was. all he does instead is tuck a strand of your soft hair behind your ear and watch you with held breath as you stir only for a moment before stilling again. he sighs in relief. he hadn't woken you up just yet.
Hii! Loved daily being an awkward mess of "idk how relationship works"
Could u do something maybe with oda? Like how would he be in a relationship?
ODA SAKUNOSUKE ♡ BF HEADCANONS
about fic⠀・⠀fluff, no tw
author's note⠀・⠀TYSMMMMM FOR REQUESTING! its my first request (〃´𓎟`〃) i didnt know what format to use so i went with hcs. divider by @ ・ honeyluvsw
i have a firm believer this man love language is acts of service, you can pry this headcanon out of my cold dead hands. he shows his affection through the small things, like making you lunch, noting your favourites, that sort of thing.
absolute gentleman but doesn't think it's gentleman behaviour. he believes it's the bare mininum. even if you try to explain it, he will merely look back in confusion with that stare of his.
however, i like to think he doesn't give compliments or voice his love per se, he definitely prefers actions more. almost to a fault. he doesn't say i love you much. he will if you say it first but it wont come from his side often. not because he doesn't, more because he never really felt the need. he knows he loves you and doesn't think he has to prove it. you'll most likely have to tell him you want to hear it more.
as for conflicts, you'll rarely have them. i cant see him arguing to save my life </3 he'll probably just leave you to calm down. as his lover, there is nothing you can do provoke him. nothing at all. he's the type of guy who'd let you cry, scream and hit all you want without saying anything himself. he will let you as long as it helps you.
the things he'd love most about you would be either: 1] your intelligence, 2] your caring nature (especially with the orphans) or 3] elegance. he's a SUCKER for all three.
now, to address the elephant in the room. he'd tell you about his job in the mafia, no secrets there, but he won't mention the rest at all. if he has to leave, he'll write a little note but you'll never get more details than that. he wants to keep you as far away as possible while being as transparent as he can. a thin line to walk but he's trying :)
all in all, pretty good guy, as far as bsd goes. you've hit jackpot. as a curry connoisseur (ie. an indian) talk have my blessing to eat as much of it as possible.
author's note : WAAAAHH HE IS!!! my baby and love HEHEH tysm for requesting. he does not get enough love
pm!dazai who wakes up at before you. he always switches on the bulb, the dim one that doesn't wake you up. in the minimal light available, he is greeted by the sight your sleeping body rising and falling with every breath. you were a heavy sleeper. you'd tried to get him to rest too but to no avail. he had long forgotten what that was, there was no more room for such a thing anymore among all the violence and chaos. granted, this was exactly hat he'd asked for but regardless, he couldn't help but envy the peace you seemed to have. especially as you drifted into some place he knew he couldn't reach, especially not with how he was. all he does instead is tuck a strand of your soft hair behind your ear and watch you with held breath as you stir only for a moment before stilling again. he sighs in relief. he hadn't woken you up just yet.
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