#bsd angst

“would you die for me?” dazai asked suddenly as you floated together down the river. you’d taken a spontaneous trip away, just the two of you, and were observing a quaint little river twinkling under artificial lights when dazai fell in. of course, you had to jump in after him.

you hummed, water tickling the sides of your face as you drifted beside him. “better. i’d live for you.”

dazai went quiet. you didn’t trust yourself to look over at him without sinking, but you reached out and tangled your hand in his.

over the gentle rush of water, you heard his breath hitch.

“but,” you said, and there was a slight tease on the tip of your tongue. “when we’re both old and have experienced life to the fullest… perhaps some poison in wine would be a peaceful way to go. i’d even let you pick the type.”

in your peripheral, you watched as dazai let his head fall beneath the quiet current. you counted to five before tugging him back to the surface, listening to him sputter for a few seconds before giving his hand a squeeze. “you can’t get rid of me that easy, my love.”

“i suppose not,” he agreed easily, voice a bit scratchy from the water that trickled in through his nose. “a wine of nightshade berries does sound like an exquisite experiment.”

“it does,” you mused. “an exquisite, future experiment.”

dazai hummed, but he didn’t release your hand. “spending the next few years or so with you doesn’t sound too bad, either…”

your smile was quick and real and painful. it was easy to throw his words back at him. “i suppose not.”

───── CRIMSON FRAYS ˛𑣲 ˚ .

synopsis.: chuuya doesn’t understand why you turn to self-harm every time you feel like you’re at your lowest, but he’ll do anything to make sure you’re okay afterward

pairing.: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader

cw.: sfw, established relationship, heavy trigger warning !! ⇢ explicit self-harm, kinda angsty, hurt / comfort, fluff at the end, mentioning of dazai osamu, sort of suggestive themes

wc.: 1.9k

۶ৎ note.: YAYAYA happy belated birthday to my love!! i actually wanted to post this on his birthday exactly, but i only now found the time to correct everything (had a busy week) so yeah :(( BUT AT LEAST IT’S ONLY THREE DAYS LATE GUYS AND NOT A MONTH (be proud of me please) anyway, hope you enjoy!!

he wasn’t supposed to see this. he wasn’t supposed to find you like this—so utterly broken and messed up.

but then again, it’s chuuya. it’s his apartment. and it’s definitely not his fault that you didn’t check your messages. no, this is your own fault for turning off your phone.

so how could you have known? that he’d be back from the mission early? that he’d stay extra quiet to not disturb you just in case you were sleeping on his side of the bed as usual when he’d be late?

you could have. if you had just looked at your damn phone. then he wouldn’t have had to find you like this—sitting on the ground, leaning against the frame of the bed, totally out of it and fucking miserable.

your body is trembling, fresh blood stains the ends of your sleeves as it trickles down your wrists, drenching the white fabric into a deep crimson color.

he’s at your side before your mind can even register him entering the room, kneeling down in front of you. his eyes are practically flooded with concern and a tinge of frustration.

he knows about your struggles, sort of. even though you never explicitly told him anything, he isn’t blind.

“you idiot… what did you do?” chuuya whispers softly as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

back in my time we had ACTUAL gut wretching, pain inducing, i-feel-like-im-gonna-throw-up, soul crushing, im-actually-sobbing, toe tickling angst/no comfort

How would dazai react to his s/o dead from suicide?

(mainly out of morbid curiosity) but can you imagine how badly he would have taken it? Especially considering oda has technically killed himself as soon as he decided to fight gide.

oh, i am more than willing to entertain your morbid curiosity before bed because i think about this sometimes like a depressed psycho. let me add more to the pain: gn!reader was his fiancé and he found you. trigger warning, read at your discretion.

‪✝︎ when he walks into the bathroom, seeing you laying on the floor, he already knows - it doesn't stop the initial shock, even going into some denial despite it all.

۫ ׅ he shakes you, useless, but he can't rule out the possibility ۫ ׅ his hands tremble ۫ ׅ his eyes are already lining with tears ۫ ׅ wonders if there's enough time to get you to yosano ۫ ׅ he shakes you again - nothing

‪✝︎ when it hits him you aren't moving, not breathing, his gaze is scanning for the culprit - pills. the simplest way.

۫ ׅ "that's not fair, my darling. we were supposed to go together" - said while on the brink of weeping, unable to breathe properly ۫ ׅ he thinks he had done something wrong, even though he knew you were just as depressed as he was - he will now never get that reassurance ۫ ׅ brushes hair from your face - you're not even cold yet ۫ ׅ wonders if there's enough for him to follow you ۫ ׅ sits down with his back against the wall, staring ahead, zoning out, tears falling that he is unaware about

‪✝︎ stays in the bathroom with your lifeless body for a while, unmoving.

۫ ׅ his mind is blank ۫ ׅ his phone might ring, he ignores it - doesn't hear it, actually ۫ ׅ has fleeting thoughts here and there on where you got the medication to begin with ۫ ׅ how is he going to break it to your family, your friends, the agency ۫ ׅ should he follow you

‪✝︎ when he finally starts regaining consciousness, he just breaks down

۫ ׅ he lost another thing he wanted most ۫ ׅ feels hopeless ۫ ׅ believes he will never have the happiness he knows he doesn't deserve ۫ ׅ eventually screams when he remembers you're just lying there - you're there but not and it's driving him crazy ۫ ׅ clutches you in his arms and hates he can't hear your heartbeat

‪✝︎ he is internally fighting himself whether to follow you to the afterlife like he always promised or abide by oda's dying wish to be better.

۫ ׅ you made him truly feel he had gotten better ۫ ׅ you're gone ۫ ׅ oda's gone ۫ ׅ he misses you both so much already ۫ ׅ he wants to see you two again

‪✝︎ the neighbor finds him and has to call the emergency number to get the coroner.

۫ ׅ he won't let them take you - they had to rip him off your body ۫ ׅ threatens to crawl into the bag with you - the professional psychologist doesn't know what to do to help soothe him like they're trained to ۫ ׅ begs them to euthanize him - they're planning to admit him ۫ ׅ has to be held back from climbing into the back of the coroner's car ۫ ׅ kunikida somehow ended up there just as the doors closed and has to be the one to console him - he doesn't know what to say other than convincing them not to send him away

‪✝︎ he misses your funeral.

۫ ׅ he couldn't face your loved ones - he didn't have it in them to tell them he couldn't save you ۫ ׅ he sits at your grave in his suit he had prepared for the wedding that will never happen after everyone else has left and the sun is going down ۫ ׅ he tells your ghost you're selfish for making him love you then leave him ۫ ׅ he's jealous you get to see oda before him ۫ ׅ he sleeps there all night

‪✝︎ he never fully recovers

۫ ׅ he doesn't bother with sleeping around ۫ ׅ he doesn't bother with flirting ۫ ׅ he wears your engagement ring as a necklace ۫ ׅ brushes off any stranger that tries offering him consolation ۫ ׅ everyone at the agency is secretly on suicide watch rotation - he knows

‪✝︎ he never comes to a decision on if he wants to follow in your steps.

۫ ׅ you'd be waiting there for him to yell at him if he did - like a hypocrite ۫ ׅ oda might be disappointed too - like a hypocrite

‪✝︎ he hallucinates you.

۫ ׅ everyone just lets it happen - "he's going through the unimaginable"

‪✝︎ he isn't ever really the same, honestly.

۫ ׅ he'll never know why you did it - you didn't leave behind a note

these are just my headcanons on what he would do if someone he deeply loved as a significant other, so much so he wanted to marry them, committed. may be out-of-character, but a man put through the worst once already going through it again can only hold himself together so many times.

-ghxst

i love being sad.

dazai masterlist

*falls off stage and dies*

18!zai centric (platonic) + hint of my hcs . @grassy-air @totalruinbutidolized @eternaldeceitflour <- ppl who replied to my earlier post #scared

when osamu dazai came to speak to you for the first time, he was bearing bad news.

terrible, horrible news. the worst announcement you had ever recieved.

the boy was only eighteen. your fiancee was only twenty-three. osamu was, in essence, just like a younger brother.

he barely spoke. the words choked out of his bandaged throat, as if they threatened to strangle him. yet somehow, the words also slipped out.

you remember it vividly.

a gloomy day, two desperate knocks to your door, a distressed young boy who was drenched to the core, rain and tears mixed on his face alike. blood washed off of his hands by the harsh storm water, though, the distraught look on his face did not.

and he wasn’t wearing that bandage on his eye.

strike one.

“osamu? what happened?” you open the door a little wider, removing your jacket to dry him off. you usher him inside, but he doesn’t budge past the doorway.

strike two.

“t-there’s something,” he gulps harshly, whispering with a hiss of urgency. “that i need to tell you.”

“it can wait, i’m sure. now come inside before you catch a cold,” you wrap your jacket around his shoulders, trying to bring him inside.

“no, i don’t think you understand—” he doesn’t have the energy to be rough with you.

“i don’t care, osamu. ‘saku wants me to take care of you—”

“odasaku is dead, [name].”

strike three.

for a moment, it feels like the world stopped.

who are you kidding, the moment you found out sakunosuke—your dearest ‘saku—is dead, your world stopped. stopped moving, stop existing, stop living—sakunosuke oda was your world.

and now he’s gone.

it feels like the whole world stopped, but the storm kept raining down. the cars kept honking in traffic, and the couples down the street still ran in the rain under the same umbrella. the kids with their whole lives ahead of them still were devoid of happiness and reason to live.

the world does not stop spinning for anyone. you have come to that realisation brutally, all of a sudden.

“what…?” your mouth doesn’t work as fast as your brain, it seems.

“he was shot. he knew he would die,” and all of a sudden, the boy you never knew could show—let alone feel—emotion was shaking. fear, realisation, a break down… neither of you could tell.

he was stuttering. his hands tremble as they cover his face; they smell like a coin held onto for too long. yuck.

but it’s odasaku’s blood, thus there is something worth cherishing in it, even if it is disgusting.

he is disgusting, but odasaku still found something worth cherishing in him.

and he found something—a lot, apparently—to cherish within you, thus he should be kinder to you. one day, or perhaps under different circumstances.

“what…?” you utter it out again, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.

but it seems osamu needs to talk about it. to talk to you, someone who would listen. someone who would share the same sentiment; the same grief.

“he knew it, [name]. he knew he would die,” osamu’s hands claw at his face, slipping to his neck and finding the ends of his bandages to tug at. pulling at them, with full intention to see odasaku at the gateway between heaven and hell. he knows which man goes to which respective afterlife.

“osamu, stop that,” your voice quivers as you try prying his hands off of his neck.

he slaps your hands off of his own, expression unreadable.

but it switches from unreadable to immediately full of regret in just a second.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry,” he desperately apologises, hands hesitant to take yours into his own. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so—”

you pull him into a hug. a desperate hug that tells him you understand.

you understand why he acted out, you understand why he’s suddenly unable to speak. you understand that he’s just a kid.

and he just lost his father figure.

sure, you lost your fiancee. husband-to-be.

there’s grief in that. a horrible, hell-ending inducing grief that makes you want to die.

but osamu’s never known anything like that.

not love, not friendship, not companionship—he’s never known familial love.

maybe not even a father figure; there was something less distinct than that. but it was just as strong. like family not by name or blood, but by connection and care.

and now, if oda was “father” in osamu’s dollhouse, you would be the other parent.

that evening, you sat on your couch with osamu’s dissociated figure laying half on your lap, and half on the floor.

you sat in silence together, tenderly stroking his hair.

one day, he will trust you enough to talk about his feelings. one day, he will accept you as a friend or member of “family”. whatever that is to him, anyway.

one day, he will tell you odasaku’s dying wish to him, in a light-hearted manner at a family dinner in a few years time. he’d laugh and nudge your shoulder as he tells you that odasaku said, “be on the side that saves people. if both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person."

one day, osamu will call you by your name without fearing the attachment he would gain to you by addressing you properly.

but for now, he’s staying with you as you both try to navigate this very odd thing called grief.

Osamu Dazai x Reader

After you were gone.

Dazai sat at the small desk in his room. It was around eight pm, the streets of Yokohama were full of people eager to go back home to their families and loved ones. The stresses of a long workday began to ebb as traffic drifted through the roads. He however sat alone, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

This was around the time you would have rung at his doorbell, a bag of homemade dinner hooked around your arm as you called out to him in your sweet voice. Then he'd answer, even on the worst days because you looked forward to this just as much as he did.

Then sitting on the table, he'd take out a bottle of liquor, didn't matter what, somedays Sake, and when he decided to be fancy it would be Japanese whiskey. Then you'd talk about your day, he mostly listened. You talked a lot, he just liked hearing your voice.

Today however the doorbell stayed quiet. No home-made dinner, no you. He hoped if he took out his fanciest bottle then you'd show up. He could lure you in with a flirty smile. But he wasn't capable of raising the dead was he?

He laughed bitterly to himself, taking a sip of his whiskey. It made its way through his throat in a familiar burn. This was simply the price of letting someone inside he should have seen it coming. He could now go back to being his usual self, keeping everyone at just a little distance from his heart.

TW: Suicide, suicide attempts, drowning, successful attempt, description of a rotting body, it gets gorey? Idk I'm too numb rn

A/N: here's an a/n I never thought I'd be writing, my bf sewerslide attempt was successful, it was drowning (I'm in my paranoid bag and think it's not and there's foul play) but whatever I feel so lifeless and in all my pain I just started writing this and i think this is kinda me processing what happened but it's like idk i refuse to believe ts. Depression is a real thing, please take care of yourself and reach out, there's people who genuinely care and love you (me typing this like I'm not having acute suicidal ideation right now lmaoo okay hyprocrite)

My works: enjoy

Bye now - Mars ♡

Dazai and you had always joked about him finally having found the beautiful woman for him to end his life with. You always played into his silliness.

Often not knowing what else to do, sometimes you’d be glad Kunikida would smack those thoughts out of his head in the moment, only for the two of you to get home and you to kiss the scars and soft bruises he got from the blonde violent nature.

You knew Dazai was suicidal, you knew he struggled with acute suicidal ideation yet somehow when you heard the news you found it impossible to believe

This had to be some mean elaborate prank on you, right? 

You felt lifeless, that was the only way to describe this feeling, knees buckling in on you as you fell onto the floor, sobbing into the phone as Kunikida comforted you as much as he could with over the phone, whilst also confirming they have successfully identified the body despite the body started to swell 

No, no, no, no, no, no this was a sick joke. A bad dream? A stupid prank from your lover? You grapple at anything before wanting to accept this could be true.

Slipping into his spare coat you headed down to the agency, determined to prove to them that they were sorely mistaken, that was some stranger and not your Osamu! It had to be.

The ride to the agency was a deafening one, even with the uber playing the radio, you were so caught up in your head, praying to every god out there for this to be false news.

And when you got there, seeing the body bag unzipped just enough for the agency members to see the face of this person who has passed, it was not your lover, it couldn’t be, you found yourself slowly approaching, with shaky knees and trembling hands, tears whelming up in your eyes as if your body knew what your mind refused to acknowledged, let alone believe.

By the time you were in front the person, the scream that escaped your lips was a foreign one, shocking all the members, the president took you into his arms, offering you what little comfort he could

The face that was laying there, motionless, swollen, bangs wet and sticking to his forehead, lips dries from the salt water, chunks of skin bitten off from fishes, body decaying and swollen from the water retention.

That wasn’t your lover. That wasn’t your Osamu, yet the handsome face, even in his rotting charm, was the same one you has kissed nightly, the one that you woke up to every morning as he pulled you back into bed for five more minutes

“Yosano, you can fix this right?!” your voice is shaky and your words come out in one word vomit, tears slipping into your lips

Fighting your way out of the President’s grasps, you flung yourself onto your lover, clinging to his body, cradling his face and lifted his lifeless head to yours, pressing down your forehead against his, “Osamu, please open your fucking eyes” your curse, “Baby, please, pleasee I beg” you sobbed into the corpse as the agency staff pulled you away from your sweet love.

“NOO!” 

Kicking and screaming and fighting with whoever touches you to try and hold you back, watching in bitter tears are they took his body away.

The days after files by too quickly, a wake is held every night, the autopsy results comes back, drowning and trauma they said. 

Going through the motion of necessary paperwork feel lifeless, you feel like a zombie. You feel angry that you’re in this unbearable pain and this is just another day to the employee.  Making the phone calls and breaking the news is worse, you hate the fake pity they all seem to give you. 

The funeral passes before you know it, he’s put down into the ground next to Oda and the agency tells you their door is always open for you, each member personally comforts you and offers the same pity, “I’m here if you need to talk”

But you don’t want to talk. Talk and say what? You are overwhelmned by emotions you just start feeling numb at this point.

The most painful days are the ones after. After family and friends have left, returned home, back to work, cases still left to be solved. 

But you, you’re stuck in your shared apartment, not knowing what to do, which room to enter first, collapsing on the couch you two often had your afternoon cuddles on.

Sobbingly reaching for your phone and flipping through your photos, only making yourself cry harder. Changing into his clothing, desperate to smell him. Sobbing and chuckling together when you find the remains of his stupid notes from days prior, 

“Bella, I ate your pudding, forgive me T^T”

His stupid scribbles about whatever thought he was having, clutching them to your chest and sobbing silently. 

What now? What were you supposed to do now? You have spent years getting close to Osamu, trusting him, peeling back his layers, and loving him all the same regardless. Suddenly all your fights felt meaningless and stupid, and all your kisses felt too short.

How would you return to life? Your job? Your friends? They could give you comforting words but none of them knew how much your heart was bleeding for the detective.

Selfishly you are angry at him for not staying for you but logically you know he merely lost a battle he fought very hard on a daily basis.

A small part of you whispers if you weren’t enough to make him want to stay. If all else fails, couldn’t you have just stayed for me?! You selfish man, I love you, and I hate you, and I hate that I love you!

Staring numbly at the photos, his smile so bright it took over his entire face, like sunlight in this terrible terrible nightmare. Quietly making your way into the bathroom and sitting inside the tub, letting the cold water soak you through his clothes, hugging your knees to your chest as you stare at the door, waiting.

Maybe this is a big elaborate joke and he’ll be home in a few with spicy curry and crabcakes, laughing jolly at how good he got you.

You sat in the same position, staring at the door, waiting for your lover to come back.

He has to, right?