sylacris

[sylacris]

another day of projecting on goro akechi

[sylacris]

futaba doodle for warm up

[sylacris]

disappointingly, i am not immune to persona 5, specifically this guy.

[sylacris]

— chrysanthemums.

elbert greetia x gn! reader

content: sfw ; angst ; character study ; mild(?) spoilers for william’s route ; victorian flower language ; self indulgent (screw plot)

(partially) inspired by: tonight you belong to me by patience and prudence

word count: ~754

a/n: first ikevil fic, trying to wrap my head around the characters …

Of course Elbert knows you belong to Will.

After all, you were the most beautiful when you're with him. He's seen the image many times throughout your stay in the castle. The way you light up when William enters the room, the lift in your voice when speaking to him, the love in your eyes when William is reflected on it.

The way that William is the reason for your beauty.

If the gods pried into his brain and search for the question he's asked the most—the question thought to himself in fitful nights of longing and early morning blues, something that even Elbert feels guilty of admitting through words— it would be:

Why?

Why you? Why William? Why not him-

That was the thing he has been trying to find the answer for ever since his own eyes landed on you that night. A robin caught in a gathering of villains, like a single white rose in a bush of red. He had almost wanted to pluck you and keep you to himself. Until William’s voice chimed in, recognizing you, and you, who shared the same sentiment.

A month passed by in a blur, it was easy for Elbert to get lost in time. But he would always remember the determination in your eyes in that meeting regarding the papers detailing the “crimes” of William Rex. Your eyes shone with a beauty brought out by the King himself.

You'd almost caught him marvelling at the sight of you.

He wanted to help, one way or another. However, the Crown could not move under the name of the Queen, or in large groups due to the risks in secrecy, so he asked Alfons to act in his stead.

“Your ability is suitable for infiltrating the enemy headquarters… May I trouble you to go with them?”

In the end, he's aware of why it was William you chose. It was a fact that he knew deep down in his heart, something he'd rarely acknowledge and yet will resurface everytime his mind wanders to the thought of you.

William Rex is everything that Elbert Greetia isn't.

And in that very fact alone lies Elbert’s own tragedy. One that'll slowly eat him up from the inside until there's nothing left but the remains of a monomanic yearning.

Not every beautiful thing could be his, Alfons would poke in the playful manner that he usually dons. But perhaps his words do hold weight in this situation.

It's alright, he can settle for watching from afar.

(No he can't. His curse could never allow it. He wants, he wants, he wants... And that was how his destiny wrote itself in tragedy.)

Elbert knows of the fact that he's awful at suppressing his tendencies. Hands that can't be kept to himself, always wandering to something he'd desire, it was usually a question of when he'll have it- rarely a question of if, up until now at least.

Those same hands that desired more, now held yours in a slow waltz.

"Al informed me that William went out on a mission... I was… quite surprised to find out that you did not come along with him."

"It's because it's quite late, and William insisted that I stay behind tonight."

step, step, step.

A dance across the garden, that was his invitation. Indulging in the opportunity that arose in William's absence. It was Elbert’s own way of satiating his want.

(though it will never be enough)

Some part of him feared that by interacting with you like this, he'd yet again desire for more. More than a longing stare across the dining table, more than a dance in the garden, more than just his hand in yours.

“How about you, Lord Elbert? You seem troubled these days.”

“...Ah, how so?”

And just as both of you reached the middle of the pavilion, you let go. The coldness setting on his hands faster than he'd like in the absence of your warmth.

And in the next breath, you'd take your leave- greeting the wistful earl a goodnight. Heels clicking as you step out of the pavilion and into the moonlight, until you were nothing but a distant figure, one he did not take his eyes off until you'd reach the confines of the castle, your silhouette disappearing from his sight

And once again, he stood alone in the garden pavilion.

The yellow chrysanthemums looked bitter under the moonlight, and he knows that those same flowers would never bloom in an azure hue.

© sylacris. 2024 —

[sylacris]

the archives have been renovated as per the request of the archivist~ apologies for the confusion, if there were any.

name switch | aesynvic ——> [ sylacris ]

Welcome to The Archives, overseen by Vihn. We exclusively put stories out for the public eye to perceive. The Archives aims to act as a method of preserving art, sharing stories, and a fun way to “get out of our shell”, as we’ve been told. Each “book” leads to a different world, where will you go next?

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© sylacris. 2024 — under maintenance

[sylacris]

— “say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime.”

alternatively: “save me, lead me from my solitude.” / i finally release the draft that’s been catching cobwebs in my docs since june 2023

phantom of the opera! dazai osamu x gn! reader

cws: possibly ooc, self indulgent.

wc: 1.0k

Track down the murderer! Do not let that animal escape!" The mob screams in rage, a fury directed at the one and only culprit of the chaos in the opera house.

They’ve had enough of this- this phantom. His demands, his actions, and how he acts like he's a being above them—the mob rallies above ground with torches and pitchforks, fueled by absolute despise for such a being.

"Too long has his reign of darkness terrorized this opera!" Shouts of agreement ring in the half-destroyed theater house, debris and glass littered across every surface of the floor, faint smoke wafting in the air as the mob charges underground.

"The phantom resides deep below! This monster cannot be left alive anymore!"

The echoes reverberate in the underground chambers; they are faint and barely audible, but you knew they were looking for him. Yet here he was, holding you like a vice in his arms, and yet his touch is soft, even warm. An arm circled around your waist while the other held your hand, faintly caressing your knuckles as if attempting to soothe you.

He leaned closer to your body, a slight weight piling on your back, burying his face in the crook of your neck, a sigh escaping his lips, his breath tickling your skin. You could only attempt to look at him through your peripherals, his tousled brown hair being the first thing you set your sights on.

The hand that held yours snakes upwards; he places both yours and his hand where your heart is. "May you sing for me, my angel?" he requests, and if you listened closely enough, it was as if he was begging, a tone you’ve only heard from him in jest, or perhaps in your unwaking nights.

"Osamu…" You voiced it out, the response to his words seemingly out of your reach.

He tilts his head. Dazai is not one to plead, however. "Please? For me?" He smiles softly. The traces of ‘the phantom’, the chaos incarnate that runs rampant along the crevices of the opera house, are no longer there; instead, it's the face of a man whose devotion to you—and only you—surpassed that of a thousand men in many lifetimes.

If that viscount could make you royalty, Dazai could make you an angel, he’d burn everything to ashes, meet death, and come back just for you. He’d repent, like the demon that he is, just to see you eye-to-eye, just to be able to hold you in his arms and call you his.

You knew he would do anything for you, and perhaps that was what instilled an odd fondness for such a man. His eyes reflected such solitude, an unwarranted loneliness befitting a shunned child.

Yet in those same eyes lies adoration, his piercing gaze thrilling your soul.

Adhering to his request, you gently hum a tune, one that he wrote for you to sing to. His gaze is fixated on you, a satisfied smile finding a place on his lips. His expression is akin to a child being given candy; you could almost excuse all his crimes with such a look.

Almost.

The arms wrapped around you let go, freeing you of his weight. You continued to vocalize as Dazai grabbed your hand in his and placed his other hand on your waist. Slow steps gradually turned into a waltz led by him.

“Come, embrace the darkness.” He softly sang to your tune, “Forget those earthly fears.”

"I'm here to keep you, to hide you,” he whispers. “Through music, I beguile you.”

He seems to be enjoying himself as you match his tune, with the final duet between a demon and his beloved angel taking turns. A duet only for the two of you to perform and to witness.

“Who appears to me—a friend or phantom?”

The hand on his waist moves to cup his cheek lightly; you could only guess that such an act surprised him as his eyes widened from your touch before leaning into it, savoring your touch.

"Who twines music for my soul to sing?"

A fond smile appears on your face, one that he wouldn't dare miss under the candlelit glow of his chambers.

"Show yourself to me, distorted angel."

“Do you fear the light as I fear for you? "You tilt your head as his eyes trail away from you.

"Are you afraid I'll leave you too?"

The hold on your waist falters ever so slightly as he lifts your hand, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. His melancholy so obvious, with a downcast air to him, yet he still manages to smile, that smile still persists; it’s almost disheartening how controlled he is. almost.

“I promise I'll keep you safe; let your fears be no more, my angel.” His honeyed tone tempted you with a promise, one of pure, unadulterated love, just for you.

“Let me be your freedom, your place of solace, a hideaway from the world above. Let us run away together, my angel.”

Dazai tilts your chin up, meeting his gaze—a look filled with hesitation as his eyes drop to your lips.

Yet the moment was fleeting, for the mob seemed to have come closer. Distant shouting, an angry cacophony. Who knows what they’ll do to you and to him once they reach these chambers?

(Kill. They’ll kill him.)

“Do you love me? "You whispered under your breath.

“What kind of question is that? "He raises an eyebrow, as if he has time to tease in this situation. With wholehearted assurance, he replies,

"You know I do."

He leans in to leave a small peck on your forehead, restrained even until now, when everything is high-stakes, yet that kiss alone seems to say everything you needed to know, yet at the same time, everything you already knew.

He hesitates at first before letting go of you. Walking to one of the draperies in the chambers, his hand grasps it before putting it to the side, revealing to you a secret exit. Of course. Of course, he of all people would have an exit strategy.

The downcast gleam in his eyes seems to disappear for just this once, as he’s back to that loveable, cat-like grin. With his other hand, he extends it to you as a final confirmation, a decision that you cannot undo once made.

And just this once, you’ve never been so sure of anything else.

[sylacris]

— “rather melodramatic, aren’t you?”

alternatively: “always your heart will be aching for my presence. You will see the moon, and it’ll remind you of me, of us, of what we used to be and could’ve been” / you were tasked to kill dazai osamu and yet…

dazai osamu x gn! reader

content: mild angst, smoking, a gun, dazai-typical suicide mentions, may be ooc, not proofread. inspired by: dangerously yours episode 1: masquerade.

wc: 1.5k words

a/n: nothing beats coming back to tumblr just to drop something i wrote on a whim. will i be consistently posting? if my motivation doesn't go away -v-

Dazai Osamu knew his past would catch up to him one day.

Not only associating, but being a high-ranking official in the Port Mafia is a time in his life that he not only refuses to come back to but perhaps even actively haunts him incessantly in those dark drunken nights and smoke-filled lungs. On those nights alone, he only has the company of sake bottles and memories of the past—both good and bad.

He knows that he'll never be a good person—not what Odasaku wanted him to be, at least—yet he tries; he always has been trying.

But there comes a time when it seems as if trying isn't enough and repentance will be the only solution—perhaps even his death would be worth more good than all of the good he's done combined.

And repentance he shall receive as his lover stands right in front of him with a cold glare that exudes such burning rage, an anger that could've made him falter even the slightest if only he wasn't looking forward to such a death in the back of his mind.

With a smirk that never seemed to disappear, Dazai reaches out of his pocket, making them raise their guard with a glare and a finger on the trigger. "Mind if I have a smoke?" He doesn't even wait for a reply before pulling out the cigarette and lighter from his pockets.

"You can do anything you please, Dazai," you grunt.

Dazai puts the cigarette between his lips; he really is so carefree, even in the face of an enemy, though perhaps he sees you less as an enemy and still as his love.

Glaring at the unfazed man that stood before you, you sighed. This was for your people; kill the demon prodigy; that was your assignment. There was no way you were going to back down after months of getting to this point.

"But that doesn't mean I won't finish my mission here once and for all. You won't get away this time, demon prodigy."

After hearing his former title in the mafia, Dazai's eyes seem to darken, and there is a slight furrow in his eyebrows before he composes himself once more.

He lights the cigarette, inhaling the smoke before puffing it out. With a sigh, the man looks at you, ever so calm, even at gunpoint. and states in a matter-of-fact tone, "You can't pull the trigger, Bella." You knew he could always perceive you like an open book; it was something he could always do.

"You can't pull it because you love me," he says, looking at you directly.

"Isn't that why you're taking your sweet time?" Dazai lightly taunted, taking another swing at the cigarette before throwing it to the ground.

"Who said I ever loved you to begin with?" you defended.

He took a step forward, placing his hands inside the pockets of his pants. "So all the times we spent together were nothing to you, Belladonna?" he frowned, yet something in his tone made you think he was looking down on you—or rather, almost not taking this situation as seriously as you are.

"Of course it was; that would be obvious to you already, no?" you bite back, yet Dazai had such audacity to only smile at your hostility. which ignited your anger even more: "I never loved you, and you never loved me; I know you were just using me; you deceived me; don't give me your pitiful excuses, Dazai."

Another step forward, and you backed away. "I never loved you?" He repeats what you said, almost as if he's stopping himself from laughing at your statement, as if you said something so horribly inaccurate that Dazai merely perceives it as a joke.

"I mean exactly what I said," you replied, only earning a chuckle from the man.

"You say I never loved you, yet you are the only person I've ever wholly entrusted my heart to; you say I never loved you when even though I knew about this plot of yours, I still stuck around." As each second passes, Dazai moves closer to you, which makes you alarmed, only gripping the gun harder than it should be, knuckles almost turning white.

You warned, "Stay back!"

Yet Dazai's brave; he knows how to get what he wants, and he wanted you.

"Don't you wonder what was going on in my mind every time we were together, knowing you had ulterior motives to get closer to me, yet I still accepted you wholly, for what can i do when what my brain says is not what my heart wanted to follow?" Dazai sighs, shaking his head.

"I don't care; I don't care about you! Everything I've worked hard for has led up to this; don't try and stop me, Dazai." Empty threats leave your mouth as Dazai seems to ignore your mild distress.

"Oh Bella. If only you knew just how much of a fumbling mess you've made me. You took my heart, yet I would gladly let you take more of me as you pleased. You've made a fool out of me, yet I'd play the jester in your story if it meant it would satisfy you."

"You tricked me into loving you!" you shouted through gritted teeth and a clenched fist, not thinking properly in your state as your eyes whip around to find something, anything, perhaps an escape route but

"Were you not the one who approached me with the intention of stealing my heart?" Dazai retorts. He always knew how to keep your eyes on him, and now that the gap between the two of you is gone, it almost feels like you are suffocating from how close he is and how much adrenaline is in your veins.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"My, Bella, if you were resolute on doing this then you would've shot me minutes ago. But look at where we are now. A point blank shot yet no bullets being fired at me," Dazai teases, placing his hand on top of the gun you held up, "quite a situation we have here, yes?"

You remained silent, dropping the gun on the floor as your hands shake from how hard you've clenched them, carving moons on your palms as you avoid Dazai's eyes, sorting your mind. You needed to kill him; that was what you'd been working for for so long. However, in a few words and touches, he already had you around his finger yet again.

And God, was it so annoying.

"You're so still; your face is like ice—what are you thinking?" He's gotten close enough to where he reaches to cup your face, as your shaky hands really couldn't muster the courage to shoot him as he says.

A held exhale leaves you: "What does anything you have to say matter, Dazai?" You bit your tongue before looking down: "If I fail now, everything that I've worked for and everything that I've been raised to do up until now would be… useless." You mutter as he merely observes you.

"What can a breaking heart do if it is left to choose between what it has known for so long and what it wants to love now?"

Dazai smiles at you with pity as he traces your jawline before tilting your head up to meet his eyes. They looked at you as if you were the night sky. Dazai has always given you such a soft look in your time together, directed only at you, and you would be lying if you said your stomach wasn't filled with butterflies—though whether it's from the adrenaline or from his lovelorn acts, you'd never know.

"Well, then I'll give you a choice, darling," Dazai starts.

"Shoot me and complete your mission. No one has to know of this ordeal, and you get to leave scot-free back to your organization." He pauses.

"However, when the time comes, you will find moonlit nights strangely empty because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer. Always, your heart will be aching for my presence. You will see the moon, and it'll remind you of me, of us, of what we used to be and could've been."

"I don't-" 

"Shh, I'm not done yet, Bella," he lightly warns, placing his index finger on his lips and chuckling before continuing on.

"Or, you could choose to follow me, stay as my lover, and join the Armed Detective Agency. If anyone from where you came from looks for you, we will do everything in our power to protect you. You have been interested in what we do in the agency; not only that, you are an ability user too, no?"

You gulped, biting on the inside of your cheeks as you pursed your lips at his question before giving an answer: "Yes, both of those are correct."

Dazai gives you a closed-eye smile and says, "Your eyes would have such a shine in them whenever I talked about the agency on our little dates. I bet they'd like you."

Your thoughts couldn't help but imagine what it would be like with the agency. You lightly smile at such a statement, and if Dazai picked up on it, which you assume he did, which he always does, unsurprisingly, he chose not to comment on it.

"So, Belladonna, what will your choice be?"

[sylacris]

— Moonflower

alternatively: a conversation between a poet and his lover / i need a break from writing about dazai.

chuuya x gn! reader

content: drabble, fluff, established relationship.

wc: 332 words

Chuuya fucking loves you. A lot, in fact.

That fact is never lost between the two of you, and he makes sure it's like that.

There are times where he wonders about your relationship—not that he has doubts, but more so, he wonders how everything happened.

In his eyes, you were the light to his darkness, and when he mentioned this as you lay peacefully in his arms, you could only chuckle at his view of you.

"I’m no light," you deny, opening your eyes to look up at him. That tired yet tender expression on your face makes Chuuya smile warmly, lips curling in both affection and curiosity.

He raises an eyebrow, stroking your hair. "Why do you say that?" He inquires, curiosity rife in his tone. His mild confusion only deepens when you return his smile.

You reach out your hand to touch his, humming in thought. "I’d say I'm more of a moonflower at best," you mused. "And you’re my moon."

Your words seem to take a bit of time to register in his head; "huh," he mumbles, which makes you stifle a small giggle. "What do you think?"

"That doesn't make any sense," he deadpans, and you finally can't contain your giggle as he rolls his eyes.

"It kind of does." Your smug smirk is not helping his mild doubt in your words.

"Explain."

Your eyes light up. "Well, a moonflower only blooms at night when the moon is out." You start explaining as Chuuya listens intently, stroking your hand for no particular reason. "So, the moon is the one that reveals the moonflower’s true nature, and the only one that sees them as such."

Chuuya nods at your explanation and says, "Well, there's a problem with that, though."

Confusion riddles your face. "What?"

"It’s the other way around, doll," he smirks, the hands on your own snaking down to wrap around your shoulders as he leans his chin on your head. "I’m the moonflower; you’re the moon."

[sylacris]

— “because love can burn like a cigarette, and leave you alone with nothing”

alternatively: a flirty conversation in a bar, based on the conversation in the song ‘lovers’ rock’ by tv girl

dazai osamu x fem! reader

genre: short fic, fluff

word count: ~740 words

Dazai leaned closer to you, his eyes filled with mirth and his face shining with the expression of someone who wishes to be amused, as his lips curled up into a smile—a teasing one, if you will. "I know I once told you that I kissed a thousand women." He trailed off, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression, yet you knew.

You liked to believe that you knew him like the creases in your palm, as if he were as familiar to you as the very back of your hand, and you could tell that he was enjoying himself. "That was a lie," he admitted in a sing-song tone, and he smiled as he saw his words pull a giggle out of you. He watched intently as you returned the same mirth and tease he gave as you leaned to rest your head on the palms of your hands.

"I know," you replied, a really simple statement, and yet you noticed just how much of an effect it had on him: those very words made him smile a little brighter, even if slightly. He knew for certain that you were playing along with his shenanigans.

He sat up straight, running a hand through his unruly and messy head of hair— hair that, in your eyes, was a mess that only added to his charm. "I’ve only kissed 2... or 300," he proudly states, gesturing the numbers with his free hand, winking at you. His other hand swirling a shot of whiskey. He copies your stance, propping his elbow on the counter and resting his head on his palm.

"Now, how many men have you kissed?" He inched ever so slightly closer, as if challenging you, yet he meant well. But you both had been in the bar for a while…Perhaps he was slightly drunk as he said those words.

You swirled your own drink, your eyes trailing to the glass and back to his awaiting stare. Dazai noticed your eyes trailing back to him, giving you that charming, closed-eye smile again. You smiled back. You’ve come to accept that Dazai will always be an enigma. Even if you understand parts of him, there will always be more to unearth, or not. As dramatic and playful as he is, Dazai is a person with many secrets—secrets so vile that they're deeply rooted in his very being, sealed and shut away with walls he both built and maintained till this day.

Even with those walls, you’d think to yourself, with a wish you have only whispered to the moon on the nights where loneliness crawled and clawed in your very being, 'I’d wait for you.' And you would take that solemn oath to yourself, preserving it in the confines of your own heart.

"Very few," you whispered, which somehow seemed to catch Dazai off guard. His eyes slightly widen as his semi-crafted smile falters for the first time in this conversation. He attempts to quickly compose himself, it was a sight you could’ve missed if you weren’t so intent on staring at him. "‘Very few’?" He raised an eyebrow. "But you offered me a kiss." His lips turned down, and his tone took on a bittersweet curiosity. "Why?"

Why?

A question you couldn’t even answer yourself, one you actually pondered a lot about. Why did you offer him a kiss?

You delve into that question deeper; Why? Was there a bigger reason why you offered him a kiss that day? Your eyes wandered around as you pursed your lips as the both of you fell into silence, with only the soft jazz music in the background, your thoughts racing to find an explanation, and Dazai’s eyes observing your current state. He thinks it's cute—your thinking face, staring so intently at the different kinds of alcoholic drinks in the bar, your desire to give him a clear answer. He takes a sip of his drink, putting the empty glass on the counter.

And then it comes to you—it was such a simple answer.

A smile crosses your face, one of bashfulness yet certainty, as Dazai once again raises an eyebrow at your sudden change of demeanor. "Such a foolish reason, I believe..." you tucked your hair, facing Dazai with a soft expression, one of utmost adoration. A look he could never fathom being directed at him.

"I just wanted to kiss you."

those words— it made his heart skip a beat.