Dazai / reader | Your heart is lost; he had eaten it. Trapped in his web, your memories stretched thin against the cradle of his fingers; you are at his mercy. He had stitched you to his heart, carefully, burying you in your own echo...that echo being another echo...He says that it was for your own good; yet you still feel the stab of the needle, the knife cutting the thread loose, only to tighten you against his chest, becoming one. At the end of the day, by a mirror, you would ask yourself: Who was I? Who am I? Eve or Adam: Eve from his brittle rib, or Adam for creating Dazai into the man he was now? But the person staring back wouldn't be you.

g.nikolai x reader | The mad are merely more than unstable. You, (first name) (last name), are institutionalised in a psychiatric ward, convinced a stalker is out there to kill you. Trapped in the paranoid ruins of your mind, you wish for a saviour; and he comes, in the form of a man named Nikolai Gogol.

D.OSAMU/READER - After your entire crew's demise, you land on the fourth habitable yet deserted planet on a main sequence star light years away from the solar system. What you don't expect to see is a young man living on this planet, except he's not human at all; he's a nine tailed fox. What happened to the inhabitants? How did he become its sole survivor? The more you learn about the sordid history of this planet, the more you unearth about this strange man whom you come to call as Dazai Osamu.

YANDERE!DAZAI/READER || One day you find that your flat is boarded up. Why? Then when you looked up at the sky, you are met with the heterochromia gaze of a blood moon besides the normal moon, a crimson sister: this is not your world.

Do not question, do not defy. Act like an obedient doll that can be manipulated by a puppeteer. The 'one' who finds you broken first will be your puppeteer until either of you dies. The cycle then continues. Again. Again. And, again. --- Eternal Fate-Completed

Right and wrong were never rivals. Only illusions dressed for different crowds. Mercy is just cruelty waiting for applause, and justice is vengeance with a better tailor. Love manipulates, truth distorts, and kindness rots when no one's watching. Morality isn't a compass; it's a costume party. And the ones who wear white the loudest are often the ones with the dirtiest hands. You call it wrong because it doesn't suit you. I call it necessary because it works. And deep down, you understand me.