Dazai Come Get Ur Mentee

i’m so in love with chuuyas side profile like ha ha u so pretty come home the kids miss you n all that ha ha

*taps mic*

UEDA KEISUKE AS CHUUYA

It’s been clear that the Tanizakis aren’t siblings from the very beginning

here’s some evidence now that it’s been confirmed canon…

everyone who’s read irl Tanizaki’s book knew that Junichiro & Naomi weren’t siblings as soon as they introduced themselves

BUT just because the Tanizakis aren’t siblings doesn’t mean you can’t feel uncomfortable about them. if you feel uncomfortable, GOOD. that’s exactly what they want

the Tanizakis, Mori— they all use these disturbing ruses to disarm or distract people in order to protect themselves, or to accomplish their goals. this is a writing device that asagiri commonly employs as a way to parallel the irl literature (it’s actually ingenious)

there are 4 main indicators that have always made it clear to me that Junichiro & Naomi are not siblings:

1. most obviously— their character designs. Harukawa is extremely intentional with character designs, & she very intentionally made Naomi & Junichiro look nothing alike

their eye shapes are purposely different

their color palettes are contrasting

even their differing styles of clothing have meaning

this was all done so that the audience could PLAINLY see that they’re not related— so that WE know that they’re lying when they say they ARE related

2. how the people around them respond to their act.

the general reaction is “don’t question it”— which is exactly what they want. “be distracted by how uncomfortable you feel so that you look away from what we’re hiding” (this is likely a protective measure)

3. most importantly, this is meant to parallel irl Tanizaki’s book “Naomi,” where the main character Joji picks up Naomi to raise her into his ideal woman, but since she's so young (& a minor) they call each other cousins (Joji makes no sexual advances on young Naomi btw)

however, his plan backfires because when Naomi gets older & they get married, she flips the script on him & manipulates HIM so that he's under her thumb (which is why bsd Tanizaki is at a domineering Naomi's mercy). Joji let her have her way because of his masochistic tendencies

4. lastly is the emphasis that Asagiri and the Tanizakis themselves put on calling each other siblings.

over & over, it’s “my brother this” & “my sister that”

like they’re desperately trying to convince us that it’s true (“don’t let your lying eyes deceive you”)

here are just a few of many examples from the light novels…

again, if you’ve read “Naomi” you knew that Junichiro & Naomi weren’t siblings as soon as they introduced themselves

just like if you’ve read irl Mori’s works, it’s clear that bsd Mori isn’t a pedophile

just like if you’ve read No Longer Human you know that Dazai’s an unreliable narrator. he makes you think he’s a bad person bc he believes he’s a bad person, but those around him see him differently (btw this doesn’t mean he’s never done anything “bad,” though bsd isn’t about morality— but that’s another discussion)

anyway, i’m so excited for the Tanizakis backstory to be revealed so that we can better understand why they use this defense!!

also let this be a reminder to READ THE LITERATURE if you’re able to!! even reading synopses & analyses of the coordinating books makes bsd make much more sense 🥹

reminder that this how you’re supposed to react while reading bsd:

also, if you’re interested in a post explaining how Mori isn’t a pedo, i wrote this analysis on twt. OR you can read this document that one of my moots sent me (remember: analyzing a character does NOT mean you condone any actions they may or may not commit!)

Bsd except Chuuya doesn't join the Port Mafia.

The Sheep notice Chuuya moping about the base. And they know it's because he misses Dazai.

And so they divise a plan to get Dazai to come over. Chuuya's too stubborn to do it himself so they've got to take matters into their own hands.

So naturally they stage a kidnapping.

Dazai: sat in Port Mafia headquarters What are you guys doing?

Shirase: holding a large sack Kidnapping you, obviously.

Dazai: Uh huh, and why are you trying to kidnapp me?

Yuan: Chuuya's upset.

Dazai:... Dramatic Oh no! I'm being kidnapped, by these strangers! crawls into the sack Don't even try to rescue me, it's too dangerous!

...........

Chuuya: suspicious Where have you all been? And what's in the sack?

Shirase: Oh trust me your gonna love this.

Dazai: pops his head out Tada!

Chuuya: Dazai?! brightens up Idiot get out of that thing.

All the Sheep just highfiving each other as Chuuya ceases his moping.

And happily bickers with his not boyfriend, who looks equally as happy to see him.

It never occurs to any of them they could've just stole Chuuya's phone to call Dazai over.

And it won't be the last time they kidnapp him either.

SOMETHING I WAIT FOR . . . dazai has a close call. he barely makes it to your apartment but you’re there just in time, in more ways than one.

ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, blood and injuries, mentions of drowning / suicidal ideation from dazai, a little suggestive in some parts, 3.6k w.c.

p.s.! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ if you catch the its okay to not be okay references, ily <3 !!

EVERYWHERE, EVERYTHING SERIES MASTERLIST

dazai hates pain.

if the idiot who shot him would’ve aimed just a little bit higher, it might've been a fatal wound. instead, all he did was graze his shoulder. it wasn’t enough to cause serious harm, but just enough to make him bleed in miseryー just his luck.

the man must’ve been dead by now, taken care of by one of his subordinates. he didn’t stay long enough to find out, slipping from the scene before anyone could try to force him into the mafia’s infirmary. he knows your apartment is close. 

he’s nearing the point of being injured where the pain fades and melts into pure exhaustion. he hates the way his blood feels against his hands, and he uses it to ground himself. it’s already soaked through his shirt, wet and warm as it seeps between his fingers and drips down his arm, absorbing into the bandages around his wrist. his already obscured vision is fading, white stars glistening from beneath the edge of his lashes, but he keeps his eyes trained ahead on your building. he swears you used to only have one apartment door, his vision doubling and growing hazy. 

just a few more steps. that’s all he needs to make it to you.

he huffs as his hand slips from your doorknob, sliding off the metal from his weak grip. he falls forward, blood smearing against the doorframe where his palm flattens as he tries to steady himself, pressing his forehead against your door with a quiet thump. you have to be home right now. right? please be home right now.

as soon as you open your door from the other side of your apartment, he collapses, landing against your chest. he curls against you, inhaling the scent of your skin with the desperation of a man who’d just been saved from drowning. 

“dazai?” you stumble backward, but he doesn’t weigh nearly enough to make you fall. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he grips your shirt in his hands, trying to press himself impossibly closer to you. he can feel the moment you realize he’s bleeding, your chest stalling mid-inhale. “oh my god, dazai.”

his jacket slips from his shoulders, falling to the floor limply as you carry him inside, kicking the door closed with your foot. his feet drag against your carpet as he tries to walk, but he’d rather use his waning strength to snuggle closer into your side than keep his balance. even with your body supporting his own, he plops unceremoniously onto your couch.  

“it’s okay,” he shivers when you start to unbutton his shirt, pulling back the bloody, frayed fabric stuck to his skin. he can’t tell if you’re talking to him or yourself. “you’re okay.”

his bangs are damp, yokohama’s humidity and his own sweat gluing them to his forehead. you push them back, stroking your thumb along the edge of his bandage over his cheek tenderly.

“are you hurt anywhere else?”

he tilts his head to press his face into your palm and smiles at you. you’re so pretty when you frown at him like this.

“i’ll be right back,” you squish his cheeks between your hands, making his lips pucker. “don’t try to move.”

he has to stop himself from reaching back out for you when you let him go. he squeezes the fabric of his trousers instead, watching you disappear past the couch’s limited view. he wants to pull you on top of him and beg you to ignore the blood leaking out of his body, to just wrap your arms around him and hold him until there’s nothing left between the two of you. it still wouldn’t be close enough; if he had the choice, he would shrink down and make a home inside your chest.

he tries his best to relax into the cushions beneath him. he’d much rather be in your bed than on your couch, but it was still yours, and that made it enough for him to want to sink into it until it absorbed him whole. your apartment was nothing like his hollow shipping container, the metal walls suffocating in the summer heat.

he could’ve dragged himself there instead. maybe he would’ve finally died from blood loss if he was lucky. that’s what he wants. really.

so then why did he drag himself here? because you felt safe?

dazai came to a realization a few days ago, one more painful than the wound in his shoulder, or the fact he has a mission with chuuya a few days from now. ever since it planted its dirty roots in his brain, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. 

it grew deeper every time his chest tightened around you, or his heart fluttered at the sight of your smile, or his stomach churned in jealousy when someone else touched you. 

this, his mind taunted him, is what people say love feels like. worst of all, when he whined to odasaku and ango about how annoying you were, they didn’t stop talking about his “crush” for the rest of the night. 

his body protests as he sits up, vision swimming as the walls of your living room tilt. he tries to blink it away when he hears you sigh as you come back from down the hallway. he makes his one visible eye big and pouts his lips when he looks at you.

“dazai,” the medical supplies you always keep on hand are cradled in your arms as you walk back toward him. “i told you not to move.”

“you took too long,” he whines. “i’m dying, you know.”

“you wish.” you guide him back down gently, your hands leaving tingles beneath his skin in their wake. he watches you kneel beside him, organizing the little bottles and boxes on your coffee table. you press down on one of the white lids with the heel of your palm, twisting it and knocking it upside down. you hand him one of the pills that fall out, and he swallows it dry.

you open another one of your bottles, and the familiar, sterile smell could be nothing other than saline. it’s cold against his skin, but your touch is what makes him shiver and his hair raise. you squeeze his leg softly, running your fingers against his thigh. it ignites something warm in his stomach, but it fades to white pain when the liquid absorbs into his wound. he jolts, and you murmur an apology, squeezing his thigh a little tighter. you’re trying to distract him, and it works pathetically well.

when you get closer to clean the drying blood off his skin, he can’t help but let his eyes fall to your lips, slightly parted in concentration. you’re close enough for him to kiss, and against the ache of his shoulder, all he can think about is how you might taste.

he wonders how soft you’d feel if he traced the shape of your lips with his tongue. he imagines the sweet sting of you pulling his hair as he memorizes every inch of you he can, taking everything you give him and more. it’d be different from the other people he’s kissed, he knows it; using his mouth to get information out of theirs did nothingー if anything, he felt more numb when it was over. 

he can see a familiar box from the corner of his eye: it’s the brand of bandages he always uses, the only kind that doesn’t irritate his scarred, sensitive skin. he watches your fingers as they delicately pull the beginning of the roll, imagining the feeling of you wrapped around his bare body instead of the cotton he adorns himself with. 

you turn him on his side to wrap the bandages around his shoulder and under his arm. once the ends are tied, nice and snug around him, you sit back on your heels.

“can i have your hand?” 

he gives you both, trying to hide the way they tremble. you grab the one covered in blood tenderly as you begin to clean it off. 

“i guess you weren’t lucky enough to die this time,” you smile teasingly, but he knows it isn’t real. it doesn’t look right on your face, like a mask that’s too big. he can see the worry you try to hide, clouding your eyes like murky water. he hates it. “sorry.”

“i never get what i want,” he sighs. “i think i’m cursed. do you have something to cure that in one of those little bottles too?”

“i don’t know if you’ll ever die, even when you become an old man,” if, not when, he wants to correct, but holds his tongue. “you’re like a cockroach.”

“yeah?” he reaches up to poke your face with his bloody fingers as you try to hold him still. “you’re like a little kid.”

“you’re more like a kid than i am.”

“nuh uh.”

“yeah,” you giggle, catching his hand back in your own. you wipe down each of his fingers, gently scrubbing the spaces in between. “you are.”

when he speaks again, he’s surprised by how quiet his voice is. he almost hopes you don’t hear him. “how?”

“because,” your voice softens, holding his now clean hand. you trace over one of the lines on his palm with your thumb.  “you want to be loved.”

he feels like he can’t breathe as he realizes that for once, he doesn’t have the upper hand. all of his walls he’s so carefully built, it’s like they’re made of glass around you. the possibility that you see him more clearly than he sees you terrifies him. 

the painkillers are starting to kick in, drowsiness creeping up on him and making his eyelids heavy as he melts against the cushions despite his pounding heart. when was the last time he slept? he can’t remember.your fingers are gentle as they brush his bangs back. your touch makes his eyes fall completely closed before he feels something soft and warm presses against his forehead. he hears a whisper of his name, a quiet sweet dreams, and then he’s asleep.

it only really feels like he blinked. when he opens his eyes again, it’s dark. the light from your kitchen leaks through the hall, permeating the living room in a soft glow. he wiggles his toes, feeling the soft blanket you draped over his legs while he slept.

he gets up slowly, creeping off the couch and across your floor. he peeks past the kitchen doorway, grinning when he sees your back is facing him. you’re halfway bent over the counter with your chin resting in your hand, staring absently at the tea kettle on the stove, waiting for it to boil.

he keeps his steps quiet, walking on the tips of his toes. he sinks his teeth into his lip to bite back his smile as he leans closer, taking advantage of the fact you’re completely zoned out.

“boo.”

you flinch, hand closing around a butterknife on your counter, still smeared with jelly from a late-night snack. you turn sharply, pointing the dull blade in his direction. he grabs your wrist before it grazes him, smiling innocently.

“dazai,” he thinks his name sounds so pretty when you sigh it out like that. you drop the knife back onto your counter. “should you even be standing right now? go lay back down. i can bring you something to eat.”

the thought of you taking care of him like this ignites that warm feeling in his stomach again. an image of you as his personal nurse forms in his mind, and his insides flip at the thought. he wonders if being an executive would give him enough leniency to put you in a little white dress; surely there was one lying around somewhere at headquarters.

“what, did you hit your head too?” he whines when you poke his forehead, hard. “are you feeling better?”

he pouts at you, gaze drifting over your shoulder to a bottle of sake on the counter. it definitely wasn’t there the last time he was here.

“oh〜” he perks, holding the bottle up by its neck, eyes sparkling. “this is fancy! where did you get this from, hm? some secret date i don’t know about?”

“ane-san,” your eyes narrow as he flicks the stove off, breaking the seal on the bottle excitedly. “it was a gift from her after we finished that raid in osaka.”

he sniffs it, then takes a big sip straight from the bottle. it leaves a pleasant sting along the inside of his throat as he swallows.

he sits himself down on your kitchen tiles, pressing his back against the cabinets, cradling the sake in his arms. there’s something angelic about the way your kitchen light haloes around you as he looks up at you from the floor. 

he holds the bottle up, sloshing the liquid as he wiggles it back and forth. he pulls it out of your reach each time you try to grab it until you have no choice but to sit next to him, stretching across his lap to take it from him. you follow his lead and take a small sip from the mouth of the bottle, sighing as you sag backward. 

“what happened this time, anyway?” you tilt your head toward him lazily, gaze dipping down to his bandaged shoulder. 

“someone had bad aim,” he sighs, holding a finger up to his temple. “missed my head. unlucky, right?”

you take a bigger, longer sip.

“i don’t like when you get hurt, you know.”

he’s relieved your head is on his bandaged blindside; he doesn’t know if he wants to see the look on your face right now. he takes the bottle from you, taking a longer sip of his own.

“do you remember when we used to go to the beach?” he can hear the smile in your voice, and it makes his own rise on his cheeks. the two of you would always go after missions, bodies bruised and hair knotted. it was always early enough to watch the sunrise from the shore, eating a breakfast of shared instant ramen and candy stolen from the konbini down the street. 

he can only ignore the way the edge of the counter presses into the back of his head for so long, leaning his cheek against your hair and listening to you breathe. he can tell you’re getting tipsy when you start to cling to him, clumsily crawling into his lap. you insist on being the one to rebutton his shirt, swatting his hands away when he tries to do it himself. 

“can we go now?” the curl of your lip hits him like an arrow through his heart. “to the beach? please?”

you’re so close again, looking up at him so prettily through your lashes. your hands warm as they rest above his heart, like you could go right through him and steal it for yourself, and he knows he could never possibly say no. 

you pick his coat up off the floor before you leave, draping it over his shoulders. you tug it a little tighter around him, nodding to yourself in satisfaction before you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers and tugging him out the door.

the nighttime air is warm and sticky, but it gets cooler the closer you get to the shore. he keeps your smaller body close to his, guard raising as you approach the edge of port mafia territory. 

the sand sinks beneath his feet with every step, and he pulls his shoes off by the heel. the waves lap calmly, dancing back and forth with no audience to watch as they tease the shore. he breathes in deep, feeling his lungs expand, inviting the salt and sand inside.

you drop limply onto the ground, laying your head on his shoulder when he sits next to you. it’s quiet, only the distant sound of traffic and the soft splashing of water.

“i wish it could be like this all the time.” you sigh. there’s a determined glint in your sleepy eyes when you look up at him. “let’s run away.”

he smiles, tilting his head toward you until your noses are close enough to brush. “and just where would you take me?”

“i don’t know,” you mumble. “i don’t care as long as i’m with you.”

he always thought he was born with an empty cavity in place of where his heart should be, but around you, it felt so full he could explode. he thinks if he tried to say anything right now, something icky, like the pile of seaweed he can see rotting by the water, would come out of his mouth instead.

a particularly big wave draws your attention away from him, and he frowns when you look away. it only deepens when you stand up and leave him, walking towards the ocean. he watches as you stumble down the wet sand, squealing when the water splashes against your feet. you don’t stop walking until the water is deep enough to cover your shins.

he follows you to the water, hopping on each foot over the big rocks. he’s careful not to slip, crouching on the furthest one out to keep a closer eye on you. he keeps his weight on his ankles, spreading his knees and resting his arms between them. he feels drops of salt water hit his face as the waves crash against the sea stacks, gently blowing the fabric of his jacket. 

you turn back and smile at him, holding your hand out. the moon is large and eternal behind you, taking up nearly all the space in the sky and casting a pale blue glow over the dark water. it reflects onto you, illuminating your body in soft light, and he swears he’s never seen someone look so beautiful. you open and close your hand impatiently when he doesn’t move.

“what are you doing over there?” you tilt your head. “c’mere. it’s warm.”

he doesn’t bother to pull up his pants as he slips into the ocean, letting the waves move the fabric as they ebb and flow. he looks down at himself; he nearly blends in with the water, looking black in the night. he almost thinks he’ll dissolve into it like ink and wash away into the sea. 

you beam at him as the water laps at your knees. he wiggles his toes into the wet sand and waits to feel the unbridled joy that standing here seems to cause. all he feels is goop between his toes, and he sighs in disappointment. he wants to understand why something like this made you so happy. he wants to feel it too.

“isn’t it nice?” you smile up at him, and he wishes he could bottle it up and keep it for himself. that smile was just for him.

don’t.

he leans closer. he can’t help it; there’s alcohol still warm in his veins, and you’re magnetic.

don’t.

even closer, until he can feel your soft exhale against his face, eyes big. he always thought you were the prettiest up close.

you’ll lose her once you have her.

he freezes. he doesn’t have time to completely change his mind and forget this little slip-up ever happened before you close the gap, pressing your lips against his. you’re just as soft as he imagined, gentle even when you kiss him, like he was something worth handling with care.

you pull back all too soon, looking down at where his legs disappear beneath the water.

“sorry,” you mumble, and the watery way your voice comes out makes something ache deep inside of him. “i…i don’t know why i did that.”

oh.

he didn’t kiss you back.

he didn’t move, he didn’t even breathe. he almost wants to laugh; you really like him too. you, with your stupid smile, making his heart flutter and his stomach hurt when it’s directed toward him. you, letting him sleep in your bed when he breaks into your apartment, holding his blood-soaked hands and letting him get close, despite knowing what he was. you were so, so stupid. 

he cups your cheeks with trembling fingers, bringing you back to his mouth. this could be the biggest mistake of his life; the fact he wants you could be your death sentence, but he’s never wanted anything else so badly before in his entire, sad life. 

he thought it’d be weird to touch you like this, but it only feels right. when his hands hover over your waist, you press them into your skin, and he can’t help but think they fit perfectly there, like you were made to be held by him.

you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers brushing against his nape, and his knees nearly buckle. he thinks if they did, if he fell into the sand right now and washed out to sea, he’d be content, but you’d never let that happen. he wouldn't even be mad if you resuscitated him; nothing would be better than your lips breathing life back into him. he wonders how mad you’d be if he tried to pull that as an excuse to have another kiss.

he kisses your forehead, your nose, and then tilts your chin up to kiss you properly agai , swallowing the giggle you press against his lips. he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get enough of you now that he’s had a taste.

“is this really okay?” you’re looking up at him with eyes bigger than the moon, glittering just as bright.

“yeah,” he can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. “it’s okay.”

BSD MASTERLIST

taglist . . . @little-miss-chaoss @almond-t0fu @yaeeko @annoyingpainterprincess @callm3-tash1

@janbannan @snowsilver2000 @mochiii-sama @aureatchi @bakananya

@warcelia

Elias if he was EVIL: I will respect your boundaries and have a healthy relationship with you

Silas if he was EVIL: You want to stay up late? Haha you don't have to tell me I'm not your mom or anything

Lavi if he was EVIL: I'll take care of you today darling you just lay down

Ciaran if he was EVIL: I have self respect

Theo if he was EVIL: I'll actually go up and talk to you like a normal person

Micah if he was EVIL: I seek physiological help

murase would be the type of dad to purposefully embarrass his son (chuuya) in front of his friends

Hii!!! Sorry to bother you,I hope you are healthy as always❤️

So, i have a funny idea with Dazai (and others Character if you like), like what about Reader is a woman + tomboy but she more handsome and popular than him (Even though reader is a woman).How will they react about that!

If you don't like it you can skip itt! Thank you❤️❤️

───𝗣𝗢𝗣𝗨𝗟𝗔𝗥

Headcanon in WHICH, Dazai react to reader being more popular then him

A/N: :D

→Masterlist

DAZAI OSAMU

Denial is the first step of grief they say, and thats what exactly he felt.

I mean, with a ego as big as the sun, Dazai Osamu never in his life met with such a crisis.

what crisis you may ask?

Well, you and him were in a cafe, when a girl approched both of you.

Dazai being Dazai, thought the girl was approching him because, Who can resist his beautiful face and charms?

Oh boy how wrong he was when the girl turned her back towards him.

"Um...Miss you look so cool, I want-"

Dazai was so deaf to the conversation after that (Lmao)

Like he knows you are the most beautiful human to exist on earth but people turning their back on him for you??

He used to get free chocolates to eat from girls and free vegetables for the venders but now? IF HE IS WITH YOU HE HAS TO PAY???

"Hey lets go the market together!" "NO"

Bro is actually really sad cause no free stuff for him #he'sbroken

One time, he actually made you wear a mask when you both went outside for the evening walk, and the next moment a toddler boy came upto you and gave you flowers.

Bro got jelous of a boy.

A TODDLER BOY WHO CAN BARELY WALK PROPERLY

why do i think he made you wear this mask?

LIKE HEAR ME OUT

"Y/N pleaseeee" "NO DAZAI I AM NOT WEARING THAT...THAT MASK" "PLEASE"

and the mask in question would be this:

WHY DOES IT EVEN EXIST IN THE FIRST PLACE WHAT THE FUCK HELP

I mean after sometime, he might as well as give up and use you as a medium of free food gainer (as if he doesnt already)

"Y/N PLEASE RIZZ THEM UP FOR FREE CHOCOLATE" "yeah i dont really want you"

Like he is fr secretly proud of you.

Even asked you to sign his shirt so that whenever you get famous, he might as well as have a original merch.

"Dazai why am I voted as the most handsome/beautiful person in yokohama?" "Well its the truth tho?"

You got delivered free chocolates and flowers after

"WE CAN OPEN A SHOP WITH THAT" "No babes we cant, its not enough" "..." "NO DAZAI YOU ARE NOT ENTERING MY NAME IN A PAGENT"

Sometimes i think he as well as enter your name into politics

"I AM NOT ENTERING THE WORLD OF POLITICS NOW DAZAI ISTG" "BUT YN I SWEAR IT WILL BE..." Whispers "Chuuya please pick me up i am scared" "ARE YOU TALKING TO CHUUYA NOW?"

I officially lost my senses.

TAGLIST: @averagehisoilluenjoyer @high-on-dazai @ruru-kiss @kissesmellow21 @just2normalperson

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People joke about Dazai and Chuuya being romantically experienced or whatever, but I think it's the opposite. Chuuya doesn't know what that stuff is because Mori thinks it's funny

coraline au !