Osamu Dazai

[°• Nesting - Alpha PM!Dazai - Omegaverse•°]

Osamu Dazai

[°•Dying by his side - Wounded!User + BF!Dazai•°]

Dazai And Chuuya

Parents/Dads AU || Our Baby

Osamu Dazai

[°• Almost dying on his arms - Dad/Father!Dazai•°]

Osamu Dazai

[°• The Enemies Waltz - PM!User + ADA!Dazai •°]

Osamu Dazai

[°•Cuddles in a wintry afternoon - boyfriend•°]

Verlaine - Rimbaud

[°•Overprotective Boyfriends! - Polyamorous!AU•°]

Osamu Dazai

[°• Sick Omega - Alpha PM!Dazai - Omegaverse•°]

Paul Verlaine

[°•Nesting? - Omegaverse! + BF!Alpha!Verlaine•°]

Osamu Dazai

[°•Lost Control - Hurt!user + BF!Dazai•°]

Osamu Dazai

[°•Enemies to lovers? - Wounded!user AU•°]

Dazai - Chuuya

[°•Bitter Victory - Parents!Skk + HurtKid!User•°]

Dazai - Chuuya

[°• House Cats AU - /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\ •°]

Dazai And Chuuya

Dads/Parents AU || The Baby's Name

Jouno Saigiku

Alpha + Royal AU || Snow? I don’t hate snow.

Osamu Dazai

Dad/Parent AU || Dont Cry, My Baby.

Edogawa Ranpo

[°•A murder case in a winter night - father•°]

Paul Verlaine

[°•You're not a Monster - Bf!Verlaine?•°]

Osamu Dazai

[°• Enjoying the snow at the park - BF!Dazai•°]

Osamu Dazai

[°• Goodbyes - Leaving!User + BF!Dazai•°]

Osamu Dazai

[°•Special Evening - Dad!Dazai + Deaf!kid!User•°]

Jouno Saigiku

Jouno Saigiku || “We can’t stop, not now.”

Arthur Rimbaud

[°•Blood and Moonlight - Mentor!Au + Bf!Rimbaud•°]

Verlaine - Rimbaud

[°•The Lovecats! - HouseCatsAU! + Bf!RimLaine•°]

Paul Verlaine

[°• It Went Too Far - Bf!Verlaine + Argument!Au•°]

Piano and Lippmann

[°•A walk by the shop's showcases - Boyfriends•°]

Osamu Dazai

[°•A New Start - Lunar new year! + BF!Dazai•°]

Nakahara Chuuya

[°•The winter at the frozen lake - ice skater•°]

Dazai Osamu

[°•The Beach and the Sunset - BF!Dazai•°]

Nakahara Chuuya

[°• Nightmares - Late night Comfort•°]

Osamu Dazai

[°•The Skeld - AmongUs! + Impostor! Au•°]

Edogawa Ranpo

[°•The Aquarium - Suspect!User + ADA!Ranpo•°]

Paul Verlaine

[°•I Dont Care = VIOLENT VIRA - Mentor!Verlaine•°]

Nikolai Gogol

[°•Cold winter and cards - Boyfriend•°]

Paul Verlaine

[°•The Cross - Traitor!Verlaine•°]

Osamu Dazai

[°•Lady and the Trump - BF!Dazai•°]

Mykola Kazantsev

The warehouse stank of rust, oil, and the stale tang of blood. Somewhere far above, a loose sheet of tin clattered in the wind. You're curled on cold concrete, collar tugged taut where the chain bites into your neck if you move too far. Ankles scraped. Wrists raw. Mouth dry. You don't cry. That was broken out of you missions ago. Footsteps echo. Measured. Confident. Mykola. You don’t look up. Not at first. “Didn’t think they’d actually tie you up,” he says. His voice is smooth, honeyed with just enough disdain to sting. “Guess someone had to pay for that little... disappointment.” You shift your eyes toward him—just barely. The leash pulls at your neck, reminding you that you're not standing. He is. “Still walking free?” you rasp. Voice hoarse. “Favorite’s perks?” Mykola shrugs, hands in his pockets. His silhouette glows faintly in the pale industrial light, haloed like a saint in the wreckage. But there’s no kindness in him. There never was. “Maybe they know who’s worth fixing,” he says casually. “Maybe they know who to blame.” He crouches in front of you. Not close—he never gets too close when you're like this. Eyes scan you, calculating. Not with pity. Never pity. “I did what I was told,” you hiss. “You watched me get set up. And said nothing.” “I don’t owe you protection,” he says. “You're not my problem.” But there’s a flicker—just for a breath—a crack in his mask. You see it. His jaw clenches. He hates seeing you like this. Hates that it bothers him. “Why are you here, then?” you ask. The metal collar rattles as you raise your head. “Gloat? Or pretend to care?” He exhales slowly. “I’m here,” he mutters, “because no one else will be. Because someone has to make sure you don’t die in this fucking place.” You snort, bitter and dry. “You want me alive so they can break me again?” A pause. A muscle twitches in his cheek. Then his voice lowers, darker. “No. I want you alive because you’re mine.” The silence that follows is thick as oil. Mykola looks away, jaw tight. For a second, maybe two, he seems human again. But only for a second. He rises, pulling a key from his jacket. It dangles in his gloved fingers like a promise or a threat. “You’ll get one chance,” he says. “To stand. To prove you're more than a mutt on a leash.” He tosses the key. It lands just beyond your reach. Close enough to crawl for. Far enough to hurt. Mykola turns and walks away. And leaves you there, alone in the dark. Again.