#dazai imagines

[dazaisfavoritemistake]

dazai is definitely not the type to believe in "till death do us part" bullshit. instead, he's gonna look at you dead in the eye and pull up with some dramatic "death will have to wait for you, you're mine now" thing while batting his pretty eyelashes at you

[ddostoyzelvskyy]

idk if the reqs are open and if you would be willing to write this so its okay to ignore it, but would you be able to write a dazai x reader where reader actually agrees to the lovers suicide thing bc they had their own problems and stuff, but dazai survives the attempt again while reader dies? and like how he would deal with that and stuff. tysm if you do write it!

LOVE, DEATH: THE DEAD MAN'S PARADE.

Dazai Osamu.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... omg, thank you for requesting! I lived for this kind of trope when it comes to Dazai, lol (it really feels heavy for me, but at the same time, it brought me comfort). anyway, I hope you enjoy! :) please, request again :3

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... major character death, heavy angst, dark romance, Dazai’s hopelessly in love, double suicide, typical canon violence, NSFW themes, reader’s ability had something to do with death...

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒... 860 words.

The sky dims and roars as the rain drown Dazai’s thoughts through his mind, the sound of brimming water reminds him of what he’s here for — with a warm but trembling hand clinging on his like a lifeline; the splashes of water on the sole of his shoes were cold, yet your body radiates so much warmth as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“What’s on your mind, Osamu?” Your voice was sweet, almost luring him into a peaceful sleep as he closes his eyes; fingers dancing across yours, savoring the remaining warmth. “You’ve been silent all our way here in the ocean.”

You knew he wasn’t so good with his words. After all, he’s a man of few words, yet he spoke with the same amount of volume that speaks his heart when the time comes or when your hands was desperately reaching and finding purchase in an act of sex; you were always reaching for him, lulling him with you to eternal sleep and freed from silent suffering you’ve been having.

He stared at the ocean; harsh waves reaches the shore and goes back again. He pertains it will be the same when you’ll regret this, and when you finally pull him back to the shore. But when he stared back at you, you were staring at him with a soft smile embracing your lips; your eyes were dim — almost helpless and hopeless but you were warm... Dazai never having second thought on doing this before, so why now?

Why does the honey of his eyes looks like that? He looked... alive more than ever. Was it because he decided to put you up with this? Was it because imagining a woman dying with him because of his petty obsession with death feels more satisfying than dying alone?

Or was it because you already decided this at the very beginning?

Your ability never lets you sleep, will kill you in your sleep, and would put you in a misery of life that’ll harm you for the rest of your life. Something he wanted — not this nullifying ability that always made him deprived of death.

Dying has always been a joke to him (or not at some times), but it has never been since you agreed into this arrangement. It feels more serious and there’s a tiny bit vulnerability that Dazai let himself slide; his fingers tremble and you hold his hand tight, you saw his eyes waver and a kind light flickered over his irises, creating a beautiful specks over his brown eyes as his hair clings on his forehead. He looks beautiful, a little boyish and the looks like the man you fell in love with.

Your voice echoes when you let out a reassuring laugh and it made his heart clench as he lets go of your hand; something he wished he didn’t.

“I love you.” You whispered through the air as you leaned on his shoulder, he was now carrying you, slowly, walking towards the shore where the water and your pain meets. The water slowly rises on his knees and the waves made him falter slightly due to force as he carries you on his back.

I love you too. He wanted to say out loud. He wished he did.

When the water reaches your head, you spoke again, “No matter what happened, I’ll always find you. And I’ll always love you like how you loved death.”

Dazai wanted to laugh at the irony. When the water reaches consumed him, his grip loosened as he grabs your hand, pulls you closer to him and kiss you once again. He saw how your eyes flashed in the darkness of the water as you both continue to sink further, deeper, and now he started to suffocate. There’s a strange glow in your body and your eyes starting to flutter shut, bubbles of water forming like champagne and creating a blurry figure on your face.

Dazai didn’t liked that. Not when he couldn’t look in your eyes and a realization dawned into him; he’s not holding your hand anymore — you were already meters apart in the depths of water and he watched you sink down, your eyes still on his with a smile on your face. He reaches to you, he breathe the water through his lungs as he started to squirm.

He couldn’t remember what happened next. All he could remember was the promise you made — or is it a curse? Because right now, Dazai can feel the pain filling his lungs. This isn’t the death he wanted; he wanted it with you.

But now as he stared at the empty ceiling and silence, he realized that he never loved death more than he loved you. He loved death because of you and you love him that you chose death alone so he could live to love you endlessly.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2025 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

[sume3luvv]

Thinking about...

༉‧₊˚. o.dazai x fem!reader

now playing...

MELTING by kali uchis ₊˚ෆ

might be a few mistakes cuz sume did not proofread...

pre-boyfriend!dazai who has never thought that such a unforgivable and sinful person like him could be loved by anybody.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who never thought about love until he met you.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who first met you at the bookstore that recently opened down the street, which you worked at.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who requested philosophical and dark books recommendations, catching you a bit off guard.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who sighed in defeat when you had no idea what to give him because you never read that kind of genre.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who blinks in curiosity when you lead him to a brand new aisle filled with a genre that was completely different than what he asked for.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who bonds with you over your guys mutual interests for books, instantly becoming amused by your calm and kind personality in contrast to his melancholic, yet cheerful one.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who made stupid excuses to keep on coming back to the bookstore after the day you two met.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who gave you subtle hints that's he's interested in you, like brushing his knuckles against you by "accident" when he bought a book, or when he'd lean in to see your pretty face closer.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who gave up on giving your oblivious self hints and (in)directly asked you out on a date with that sly grin spread across his lips.

" you know what would be crazy? going somewhere, maybe a restaurant. you and me, together. alone. " " are you asking me out on a date? " you asked, raising an eyebrow. " hm.... I don't know, what do you think?" dazai teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who takes you out for dinner after saving his money and not recklessly spending it all, or losing it in a river from another suicide attempt.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who walks on the beach with you after dinner, shoulders bumping while fingertips brush against each other.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who stops and takes your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckle before flashing you a charming smile, causing your heart to do multiple flips.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who asks you to be his girlfriend while the sun is setting beautifully in the background.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who feels a pounding in his chest when you agree with the cutest smile. he can't contain his excitement as he cups your chin, bringing you face closer and kisses you gently.

" you mean it? " he asked, eyes lighting up. " you're really saying yes? " yeah, i am. " you replied with a shy smile. dazai grinned and pulled you into a tight hug. " wow... i must be dreaming. quick- pinch me so i know this is real. " you rolled your eyes playfully. " you're ridiculous. " " ridiculously lucky, maybe. because i'm finally dating the woman of my dreams. "

boyfriend!dazai who isn't afraid to show people that you guys are dating. for example, he would wear those 'i <3 my girlfriend!' shirts if you guys go on a date.

boyfriend!dazai who has his arm wrapped around your waist in public.

boyfriend!dazai who can be possessive in a good way.

boyfriend!dazai who swings your guys arms when holding hands as you guys take a stroll at the beach while watching the sunset.

boyfriend!dazai who believes you're a daydream, a woman too good to be true.

boyfriend!dazai who believes you put him under your spell, and that's why he's so deep into loving you. not that he's complaining, though.

boyfriend!dazai who thinks you get prettier and prettier every day.

boyfriend!dazai who studies your humor to make you laugh in order to see your pretty smile.

" ah! " dazai cries and holds a hand over his eyes. " what happened? are you okay? " you ask, eyebrows furrowing in a panic as you try and pry dazai's hands away from his face. " i just got blinded... by your lethal face card! " dazai jokes, peeking at you through his fingers with a grin. you couldn't help but snort and smile at your goofy boyfriend. " you're so stupid... "

boyfriend!dazai who rants to his coworkers about you, babbling about anything and everything about you. your hair, your eyes, you personality, the way you sleep at night- dazai just loves everything about you!

boyfriend!dazai who slowly opens up about his past, knowing he can't keep the ugly truth from your any longer.

boyfriend!dazai who, despite his flaws, is astonished you still want to be with him after finding about his past.

boyfriend!dazai who brings you to oda's grave with a proud smile and an arm wrapped around your waist as he introduces you to his old friend.

boyfriend!dazai who wishes oda was still alive to meet you.

boyfriend!dazai who melts whenever he sees your smile ignite, knowing that everything is alright.

boyfriend!dazai who feels safe and at home whenever he's around you.

boyfriend!dazai who has trouble sleeping at night, so he holds you close and watches you sleep at night, finding your peaceful slumber calming.

boyfriend!dazai who loves to be spooned at night, burying his face into your chest and listening to the even beats of your heart.

boyfriend!dazai who knows every little thing about you. from your worst to your best.

boyfriend!dazai who kisses you any chance he gets.

boyfriend!dazai who feels the will to live his life because he has you.

boyfriend!dazai who loves his girl more than anything, and feels so unbelievably lucky to have you in his life. maybe god has never treated him good, but one good thing the lord has given to him is you.

a/n: it has been awhile since i've uploaded, so think of it as a treat! i don't what came over me, but i just had a blast of energy and the will to finally complete this imagine that has been in my drafts for centuries (or 2 months).

sume loves all of you guys! (≧ڡ≦*)

[moomuzan]

THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME ━━━━

whorezai :: cheater!tachihara

( ༊*·˚ ) 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙎 i don’t love you by my chemical romance :: bulls in the bronx by pierce the veil :: zombie by day6 :: loml by taylor swift

━━ 𝙃𝙀 𝙄𝙎 𝘼 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙍 „with them, he could be anyone, everyone, except the man you thought you loved.“ wc: 3.3k

━━ 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 none, regular angst, no comfort, cheating, dazai being dazai i guess, this one i headcanon so much, he‘d be such a bad partner imo

dedicated to: @saoirseyun

join my taglist @amvpk01 @sophistication-as @ezzyrainrunaway @howls-fallen--stars @plutouran @marsaiki @lovingyouat4am @xumyuii @cultluvin @cryptidfuckerofficial @dazaistn @dietcolavape @grayshadeofpurple @naviiq @vasarii @poekaryote

Amid this haven of darkness—her bedroom, where thick curtains devoured the neon glow of Yokohama’s restless streets—dim streaks of light sliced through the gloom, revealing the chaos: tangled sheets, discarded clothing, and the faint scent of perfume lingering in the stale air. Dazai sat on the edge of the bed, shirt unbuttoned and tie hanging limp around his neck. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands limp at his sides, as though the weight of his thoughts had momentarily anchored him. Behind him, she slept, her body curled in soft, unconscious surrender, her breathing steady and shallow.

Closing his eyes he inhaled deeply, but it did nothing to quiet the storm within him. The warmth of her body still clung to his skin like a ghost—a warmth that felt alien, temporary, meaningless. He didn’t even remember her name. It had been spoken earlier, murmured between coy laughter and the clink of glasses, but it had slipped from his mind as easily as it had entered.

Earlier that evening, he'd found her in one of those dimly lit bars he gravitated to when the emptiness inside him grew too loud. He hadn’t planned to go out, but as he sat alone in the apartment, watching the minutes tick by in deafening silence, the need to escape had become unbearable. You were there, of course, tucked away in the bedroom, your form faintly visible behind the cracked door. He’d caught glimpses of you as you moved—folding laundry, brushing your hair, the mundane rituals of domestic life that only amplified his sense of alienation.

Although he knew he could have stayed, could have walked into the room, sat beside you, and pretended to be the man you still foolishly believed he could be, he couldn’t bear the weight of your hope, couldn’t stomach the way you looked at him with those tired but unwavering eyes, as if you saw something in him worth saving. So, naturally, he’d left.

Dark, discreet, filled with people who weren’t interested in asking questions—the bar was the kind of place he liked. He’d taken a seat at the counter, nursing a drink he didn’t particularly care for, and surveyed the room with his usual detached curiosity. That’s when he saw her. She wasn’t remarkable, not in any way that mattered, but she had smiled at him, her lipstick-painted lips curling just so, and that had been enough. Still, the woman was easy. Not just in the way she leaned in close, her hand brushing his arm as she laughed at something he said, but in the way she didn’t ask for anything. Not his name, not his story, not even the illusion of sincerity. She wanted him for the same reason he sought her out: to fill a void, if only for a moment.

It wasn’t long before they left the bar together, her arm looped through his as though they were lovers rather than strangers. He didn’t remember what they talked about on the way to her apartment—if they talked at all. It didn’t matter. The act was always the same. The details blurred together into a monotonous rhythm of fleeting touches and shallow breaths.

And yet, there had been a moment, brief and fleeting, when he’d sought you in her. It wasn’t conscious, not at first. It was instinctual, an ache buried deep within him that he rarely acknowledged. The way her fingers brushed against his jaw, the way she murmured his name—he let himself pretend, for the briefest of seconds, that it was you. But the illusion shattered almost as soon as it formed, leaving behind a bitter taste in his mouth.

You weren’t here. You would never be here, in a room like this, in a moment like this. And maybe that was why he came to places like this, why he sought out women who were nothing like you. With them, he could be anyone—everyone—except the man you thought you loved.

But Osamu Dazai, the man he was, didn’t stay in that moment of longing for long. He didn’t allow himself to. Instead, he leaned into the guilt, welcomed it like an old friend. The guilt was his anchor, the only thing that tethered him to a world that often felt so distant, so unreal. It was the one thing he could still feel, and though he hated it, he also needed it. Without it, he feared he might vanish entirely.

While the other woman had been eager, pliant, her lips tracing the curve of his neck as her hands roamed over his skin, he’d let her take him apart, piece by piece, but even as her nails raked against his back, he felt nothing. It was mechanical, a performance they both participated in but neither truly believed in. Every kiss, every whispered word, every practiced movement—it was all an imitation of something real, a hollow mimicry of passion.

Once it was over, once it was gone, silence settled where chaos had drawn, and she’d fallen asleep almost immediately, her breathing soft and even, her body warm against his. Yet the man couldn’t sleep. He never could, not in places like this, not after nights like this. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor as though the answers to his endless questions might be hidden there.

He ran a hand down his face, pausing at his jaw, where her lips had been not long ago. The sensation lingered, faint but persistent, and it filled him with a strange, hollow ache. He hated it—the way her touch stayed with him, the way it seemed to seep into his skin like a stain he couldn’t wash away. But he hated himself more, hated the choices that had led him here, hated the emptiness that drove him to keep making them.

Finally, he stood, moving with the quiet precision of a man who had learned to leave without waking anyone. He dressed slowly, methodically, his movements as calculated as everything else he did. His tie hung loose around his neck, his shirt still wrinkled, but he didn’t bother fixing either. What was the point?

The walk back to your shared apartment was agonizingly slow. The streets of Yokohama were quiet at this hour, the city caught in the fragile stillness that came just before dawn.

He lit a cigarette as he walked, letting the sharp burn of the smoke fill his lungs and distract him from the faint perfume that clung to his clothes. He thought of you as he smoked, not with longing or love, but with the same detached fascination he always felt when it came to you. You were his partner, the person he came home to, but even that word-partner-felt foreign in his mouth. What were you to him, really? An anchor? A habit? Or just another part of his endless game, something to keep him entertained in between the nights he lost himself to strangers?

By the time he reached the door, the sun was beginning to creep over the horizon, casting pale light over the city. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob, before pushing it open. The apartment was quiet, the air heavy with the silence that had become normal between you. You were there, as he knew you would be, sitting on the couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. The soft light of the lamp illuminated your face, making the dark circles under your eyes more prominent. You didn't look at him, your gaze fixed on the cup of tea in your hands, but he could feel the weight of your awareness. You always knew when he came home.

While closing the door behind him with a deliberate softness, the click of the latch echoed loud in the oppressive quiet. For a moment, he just stood there, watching you. You were beautiful in a way that made his chest ache-not because he loved you, but because he knew he could never love you the way you deserved. He wasn't built for that kind of devotion. His life was a maze of manipulation and power plays, his heart a wasteland he had long since abandoned.

"You're up late," he said finally, his voice casual, almost teasing, as if he had just returned from a harmless night out with friends. The lie was so practiced it came effortlessly, slipping from his tongue like a well-worn melody.

You didn't look up. "So are you," you replied simply, your tone devoid of accusation, but also of warmth.

He moved into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and taking his time to drink it. The tension between you hung in the air, thick and suffocating, but Dazai thrived in tension. It was his playground, his stage, and he played his part flawlessly. When he finally turned to face you, his smirk was firmly in place, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mix of arrogance and amusement.

"You're not going to ask where l've been?" he said, the question light and mocking, designed to provoke.

Setting your cup down on the coffee table, your movements were slow and deliberate, before finally meeting his gaze. Your eyes were tired, but not with the kind of exhaustion that sleep could cure. It was the exhaustion of someone who had been fighting a losing battle for far too long.

"What's the point?" you said, your voice steady but tinged with quiet resignation. "You'll just lie to me."

For a fleeting second, so brief you thought you had imagined it, something flickered in his expression—something that looked almost like regret. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that infuriating smirk that made you want to scream and cry and leave all at once. He moved closer, his steps unhurried, until he was standing in front of the couch, looking down at you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

"Lie to you?" he echoed, his voice low and almost playful. "Have I ever lied to you, love?"

You laughed then, a bitter, humorless sound that cut through the air like a knife. "Every time you walk through that door smelling like another woman," you said quietly. "That's a lie."

Tilting his head, he studied you with the same detached curiosity he might have given to a puzzle or a particularly interesting opponent. "And yet you're still here," he said, his tone almost gentle, as if he were pointing out a simple fact rather than delivering a cruel truth.

A truth that made you look away, your eyes focusing on the mug on the table, the faint steam rising from it already beginning to fade. "I don't know why I stay," you admitted softly.

But he knew. He always knew. You stayed because leaving would mean admitting defeat, because walking away from him would feel like tearing out a piece of yourself. He was your poison, and you drank him willingly, knowing full well the damage he caused.

Dazai knelt in front of you then, his hand resting lightly on your knee, his touch both a comfort and a trap. "You stay," he said softly, his voice laced with something almost tender, „because you need me as much as I need you."

And you hated him for it, hated the way he could make you feel so small, so powerless, and yet so completely his. However, most of all, you hated the way he was right. Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how many nights you spent waiting for him to come home, you couldn't bring yourself to leave. He was your ruin, and you loved him for it.

::

You stared at the ceiling, wide awake, the darkness pressing down like an unbearable weight. The world outside was silent, but the inside of your chest roared—an endless cacophony of questions, doubts, and raw, unfiltered grief. Beside you, Tachihara lay motionless, his breath even, his body still. You hated the way it looked like peace.

But you knew better.

The man next to you wasn’t sleeping, either. He hadn’t slept properly since the day you confronted him, since the truth you had both been circling for weeks finally spilled into the light. You wondered what haunted him now—the memory of her hands on him, or the sight of your face when you had seen the truth written in black-and-white on his phone.

And what haunted you? Was it the message? Or the way his voice had sounded when he answered, “I’ve been seeing her for a few months,” as if it was some minor detail, as if time made any difference to the wound it had left in your chest? Was it the fact that he hadn’t even flinched when you asked? Or was it the part of you that still ached for him, even now, even after everything?

How cruel it was, to love someone who had already ruined you.

Tachihara lay still beside you, his muscles tense, his body heavy with the weight of your proximity. He could feel your presence, feel your anger and heartbreak radiating off of you like heat. He wanted to reach out, to touch you, to say something that would shatter this unbearable silence. But what was there to say?

Sorry.

The word sat on the tip of his tongue, heavy and bitter, but he couldn’t force it out. What good was sorry? What did it even mean? It wouldn’t erase what he had done. It wouldn’t take away the betrayal or the image of her name on his phone. It wouldn’t make you trust him again.

And yet, regret consumed him, burning through his chest like fire. It was strange, the way regret worked. How it could lie dormant, hidden beneath layers of justifications and excuses, only to erupt when you least expected it. He had told himself it didn’t mean anything—that what he had done with her was separate from what he had with you. That you were different, that you were home. But now, as he lay beside you, drowning in your silence, he realized how naïve that had been.

You thought about asking him if he regretted it. The question lingered on your tongue like poison, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak it. Part of you didn’t want to know the answer.

Because what if he said no?

What if he looked you in the eye and told you it had been worth it? What if he said that she had given him something you never could? The thought made your stomach twist, but it wasn’t the worst possibility. No, the worst, the cruelest option was if he were to say yes. That he would tell you he regretted it, that it had been a mistake, that it hadn’t meant anything. Because then, you would have to wonder why. Why he had done it, why he had risked everything for something meaningless. Why you weren’t enough to make him stay loyal, to make him want only you.

And that question, you realized, was one you couldn’t bear to ask.

Tachihara thought about leaving. The idea had been circling in his mind for days now, an escape route he kept coming back to when the weight of it all became too much. Maybe, just maybe, it would be better this way. If he left, you wouldn’t have to see him every day and be reminded of what he’d done. You could start over, find someone who wouldn’t hurt you the way he had. Someone who deserved you. Yet, somehow, leaving felt like running, and running wasn’t something he allowed himself to do. Not in work, not in life, and certainly not with you. Not being ready to give up, even if part of him knew he should, he wasn’t ready to let you go, to walk away from the only person who had ever made him feel whole.

And that was the cruelest part of it all. He had betrayed you, hurt you in a way he couldn’t take back. But he still loved you. God, he loved you.

And yet, love didn’t feel like it could be enough anymore.

In between this hungry emptiness, you tried to remember the person you had been before him. Before his sharp smiles and warm hands, before the way he made you feel like the world was finally something you could bear. You had been lonely, yes, but you had been safe. And now?

Now you felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into an abyss you didn’t know how to cross. This man had been your anchor, your constant, your home. And now he was the storm, the thing tearing you apart piece by piece.

Tachihara wondered if you hated him. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. In fact, he almost wished you did. Hatred would be easier than this unbearable silence, this suffocating distance between you. Hatred was something he could understand, something he could face head-on.

However, you didn’t hate him. He could see it in the way you still lingered in the same room, the way you hadn’t told him to leave, even when you had every right to. And somehow, that made it worse. Because, in the end, if you didn’t hate him, it meant you still cared. It meant he had broken something precious, something that might never be whole again.

And for what? For a distraction? For a fleeting moment of escape from the weight of his own insecurities? The thought made him sick.

As you rolled onto your side, your back still facing him, you closed your eyes. You weren’t sure if you were trying to shut him out or if you were just trying to shut yourself in. Unapologetically , your mind wandered to the things you wanted to say to him. How badly you wanted to scream at him, to ask him why, to demand answers to questions you didn’t know how to phrase.

But you stayed silent. Not because you didn’t care, but because you cared too much.

Words felt useless now.

Turning his head to look at you, his chest ached with the weight of everything he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you that he was sorry, that he would take it all back if he could. He wanted to tell you that you were the only thing that had ever felt real to him, the only thing that had ever mattered.

But the words caught in his throat, tangled up in his guilt and his shame. He didn’t deserve to say them.

So he stayed silent, listening to the sound of your breathing, wondering if you were awake, wondering if you were thinking about him. About her. About whether he was worth saving.

In the end, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched on, heavy and unyielding, until it became something alive, something that filled the space between you like a living, breathing thing.

And maybe that was the cruelest part of all. Not the betrayal, not the guilt, not even the regret.

It was the silence.

A/N this is a re-do of my old cheating fic but sadder? and i added tachihara because i saw a delicious edit on tiktok… i still have to write my yandere fic that got requested like four times? maybe next week since university has started again and i am already not having it, dedicated this to @/saoirseyun because i am down bad.

yours, ella

[moomuzan]

“sold.” pt.3 pt.1 , pt.2

He had told himself it was necessary—a calculated sacrifice, sharp and cruel like the world he lived in. You had been the piece the enemy wanted most, the pawn they’d coveted enough to halt their siege, to tip the scales just long enough for him to win. Giving you up had bought him time, or so Dazai had convinced himself—a few precious days to dismantle their schemes, to set the stage for your rescue before they could destroy you. It had been, he thought, his greatest gamble. A perfect plan. His genius in action.

But as he walked away that night, the sound of your cries—the raw, broken edge to them—had carved something out of him he couldn’t name. Their laughter had followed him, cold and mocking, until it melted into the night’s silence, leaving only your voice behind, haunting and unrelenting.

Now, in the dim stillness of his apartment, the world he had fought so hard to control unraveled in his hands. The table was strewn with the aftermath of obsession—blueprints, cryptic notes scrawled in the margins, cigarette burns on paper that bore the weight of too many sleepless nights. The plan was flawless on paper, a labyrinth of misdirection and precision. Every contingency considered, every possible failure accounted for. And yet, when he stared at the last step—the step where he would bring you home—it all turned to ash in his mind.

Your face haunted him, vivid and unforgiving: the tears that had spilled down your cheeks as you screamed his name. The betrayal that hollowed out your voice when you called him a liar. “Trust me,” he had told you, with that easy, practiced smile of his—a smile that hadn’t faltered even as his stomach twisted into knots. “This is the only way.”

But no amount of logic could excuse the truth. He had traded you for time, for the slimmest chance at victory. He had gambled with your life, and even if he could bring you back, even if he succeeded, he could never undo the sin of handing you over.

The night he finally reached you, the sight of you shattered something in him that he hadn’t thought was still capable of breaking. The room was damp and suffocating, the air heavy with rot and blood. A single bulb flickered weakly above you, casting jagged shadows across your broken form. You were slumped against the wall, your breathing shallow, your wrists bound and bruised. The edges of his vision blurred as he dropped to his knees beside you, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

He breathed your name, trembling. “It’s me. I’m here to take you home.”

Sluggishly, your head turned at the sound of his voice, and for a moment—just a moment—relief flickered in your eyes. But it was snuffed out as quickly as it came, replaced by something raw, burning, and unrelenting. You flinched as if his very presence hurt, your body curling in on itself as much as the chains would allow.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice hoarse, brittle. “Don’t touch me.” The words cut him like glass, but you didn’t stop. “You… You did this.” Your breaths hitched, pain evident in every trembling word. “You gave me to them.”

His chest tightened, the weight of your accusation threatening to crush him. “I had to,” he whispered, as if the words could absolve him. “It was the only way to keep you alive—”

“Alive?” The word was spat from your lips, sharp and venomous. You lifted your head, and the sight of you—the blood on your lips, the tears streaking down your hollowed cheeks—made his heart seize. “Look at me, Dazai,” you choked out, coughing violently. “This is what you call alive? You promised me. You promised you’d protect me.” A sob tore from you, raw and guttural. “And you sold me.”

“I came back for you,” he pleaded, his voice breaking as he reached out again. “I—I kept my promise—”

“You don’t get to say that!” you screamed, your voice cracking under the weight of it. The chains rattled as you twisted away from him, your body trembling with the effort. “You don’t get to act like you care. You don’t get to pretend you didn’t choose them over me.” Tears fell freely now, mixing with the blood on your lips. “You always lie, Dazai. That’s all you ever do.”

He froze, the truth of your words striking him harder than any blow ever had. He had lied. He had lied to everyone, but worst of all, he had lied to you—to the one person who had believed him, who had trusted him. And now, he could see it in your eyes, in the way you refused to look at him fully: he had destroyed that trust.

“I’ll fix this,” he whispered, the words trembling on his lips as if speaking them might make them true. “I swear, Fuck, just—just hold on. I can—”

“Stop,” you rasped, cutting him off, your voice trembling but resolute. “Stop lying to me.” Your head tilted weakly to the side, away from him, your face slackening with exhaustion. “Just leave, Dazai. Just… go.”

His breath caught in his throat as he watched you close your eyes, as if shutting him out completely. For the first time, he saw the truth: you didn’t believe him anymore. You didn’t want to. Whatever had been between you—whatever fragile, unspoken bond—was gone, crushed beneath the weight of his choices.

And when your breathing slowed, when your body finally went still, Dazai felt something inside him die, too. He reached out one last time, his fingers brushing against the warmth that was already fading from your skin, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do.

As he stayed there, kneeling in the suffocating silence, his hands trembled as they hovered uselessly in the air. He wanted to beg for your forgiveness, to scream at the universe, to claw back the moments that had led to this. But the room remained silent, the weight of your absence pressing down on him until it was unbearable.

By the time he finally rose, it was with all the heaviness of a man condemned. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. The memory of your face—your anger, your betrayal, your brokenness—would be carved into him forever, and he knew that no redemption could ever erase what he had done.

The night air bit at his skin as he stumbled into the streets, the stars above cold and unfeeling. Somewhere in the void, he wondered if you would ever forgive him—if you could ever find it in you to understand the impossible choices he had made. But even as the thought came, he already knew the answer. He deserved the darkness waiting for him.

He deserved to carry this guilt, this grief, until it swallowed him whole.

[moomuzan]

S⃣   O⃣   L⃣   D⃣

༘⋆CHARA. — chuuya, dazai, akutagawa

༉‧TAGS — angst!

➶ ˚A/N — i am a sucker for angst.

ੈ INFO — they sold you to the enemy. | pt.2 here

„You promised me, CHUUYA, you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible over the pounding in his ears.

Chuuya couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. He felt your words like a blade, cutting deep, carving into his chest. He was a man of promises—someone who always delivered, no matter the cost. Yet here he stood, helpless as the enemy’s grip tightened around your arm.

His hands were shaking now, hidden in his pockets. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop the words that wanted to pour out. “I know,” he finally muttered, his voice hoarse. His head dipped lower, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face.

“Look at me, Chuuya.” Your voice cracked, the heartbreak bleeding into your words. He flinched, but his gaze stayed fixed on the floor. If he saw your face now, he’d fall apart. He’d break, and then neither of you would survive.

“Please,” you begged, pulling against the enemy’s grip. “Say something. Say you’ll fix this!”

He swallowed hard, his throat burning as if the words you wanted to hear were choking him. He forced himself to take a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was sharp, cold, and unlike him. “This is how it has to be,” he said, each word tasting like ash.

As they dragged you away, your broken sobs followed him, echoing in the silence long after the door slammed shut. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees, his hands trembling as he buried his face in them.

“I’ll fix this,” he whispered into the empty room, his voice cracking. “I swear to God, I’ll fix this.” But a voice in the back of his head mocked him, reminding him he might be too late.

“Don’t look back,” AKUTAGAWA told himself, his nails digging into his palms so hard they drew blood. He stood still as stone, his back turned to you as the enemy tightened their grip on your arms. “If I look back, I’ll hesitate. If I hesitate, they’ll see my weakness.”

“Ryunosuke…” Your voice broke as you called his name, and it cut through his defenses like a blade. He squeezed his eyes shut, the tension in his body rigid and unrelenting. He’d been called many things before—monster, dog, murderer—but he had never been called by you like this: betrayed and broken, as if he had just destroyed your world.

“Weakness,” he reminded himself bitterly. “This is your fault for trusting me. This is what happens to people who think I’m capable of love.” Yet his heartbeat thundered in his ears, betraying his carefully crafted indifference.

“I’m doing this for you,” he muttered, barely audible. His voice cracked, and he bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He wanted to turn, to fight, to take you back and rip through the people who dared to touch you. But his mind screamed at him: “If you try, they’ll kill them. You’ll lose them forever.”

When you cried, “I thought you cared about me!” something inside him cracked, the thin layer of control he clung to threatening to shatter completely. He finally turned his head, just slightly, so his voice could reach you.

“I do.” It was barely a whisper, but it felt like a confession ripped from his soul. “That’s why I’m doing this.”

The door slammed shut behind you, cutting off your cries. Akutagawa stood alone in the silence, his body trembling. He stared down at his bloodied hands, the world blurring before his eyes. In the hollowness of his chest, he realized too late that he’d sold the only thing that had ever made him feel human.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?” The enemy sneered, dragging you forward. “Selling people out. I wonder how many others have been in their place.”

DAZAI tilted his head, his smile painted perfectly in place. “Oh, you know me,” he said airily, his voice like silk. “Anything for the thrill of a deal.” But the words tasted bitter in his mouth.

You stumbled, and he felt his body twitch forward, instinct urging him to steady you. He stopped himself, locking his hands behind his back. He couldn’t afford to slip—not now.

Your voice was shaking, trembling with disbelief. “Why, Dazai? Why are you doing this?”

He laughed lightly, as if this was all part of a game. “Oh, belladonna,” he drawled. “I thought you’d know better than to trust someone like me.” He forced his grin wider, ignoring the way your teary eyes twisted something sharp and unbearable in his chest.

You lunged toward him, stopped only by the enemy’s firm grip. “You liar!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “You said I was safe with you. You said you’d protect me!”

The smile on Dazai’s face froze, just for a fraction of a second, before he leaned closer, his breath brushing past your ear. “I did,” he whispered, so low the enemy couldn’t hear. His eyes darkened, the mask slipping just enough for you to see the torment buried beneath. “And this is the only way I can keep you alive.”

You froze, his words not quite making sense as the enemy tugged you away. Dazai straightened, his easy grin back in place, but his hands were trembling, hidden behind his back.

“Take care of them,” he said to the enemy with a casual shrug, though his voice held a razor-sharp edge. “If they come back with so much as a scratch…” He didn’t finish, but the chilling shift in his tone was enough to silence even the smug laughter of the room.

When you were gone, the silence engulfed him. His grin faded as he turned and walked away, his steps slow and heavy. Alone in the dark hallway, he let out a shuddering breath, his hands pressed against his face. “I’ll fix this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I swear, I’ll fix this… even if you never forgive me.”*

[heartz4verlaineszz]

Lol imagine FYODOR / CHUUYA / DAZAI pinning you against the wall cuz ur an assassin that snuck in, and his knee is between your thighs while his hand is holding both of your wrists, and his other holding a gun at your head before he notices his gun is uncocked so he uses his mouth to cock it before aiming it back at you again

[ryrasinterlude]

i have adhd and cannot sit down to write something but just hear me out. pm! reader having hate sex with dazai who returns to the port mafia after the deal made with the ada😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇(please kill me)