𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: pulling them close by their tie ♡
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: female terms used, (doll, bella, belladonna.)
# wc, 0.9k
𑣲 chuuya nakahara,
you wanted to try something new to chuuya.
pulling him close to you by his bolo tie that he’s always got on for atleast 12 hours of the day.
it’s perfect to hook your finger under and pull him close to kiss him.
you’d considered pulling him by his choker, that he’s also wearing almost all day long. but you’d likely choke him if you tried that.
so tie it is.
‘chuuyyaaa,’ you groaned. you were in his office with him, waiting for him to finish these last pieces of paperwork so you could go home together.
‘ ‘m almost done, doll. gimmie 30 minutes ‘nd then we can go home, ‘kay?’ you huffed, sinking into the leather couch even further.
the only light in the room came from a small desklamp on the table he was working at. it was already dark outside since he always works late hours, and this time you insisted on waiting until he was done, even if your complaints were endless.
there was nothing else to do besides staring a hole in the ceiling above, but then you got reminded of the genius idea you had earlier today.
you stood up from your lazed position on the couch, straightend yourself. and padded over to chuuya’s desk. where he’s currently aggressively scribbling away at the paper, trying to get it done as fast as possible.
he didn’t notice you walking towards him, which was exactly what you needed.
he only noticed when you’d come to stand next to him. ‘what’s wrong, doll?’ he asked you. face showing concern ‘cause he thinks something might’ve happened.
you turned his chair around so he was facing you.
you bent yourself over slightly, hooked a finger under the cloth of his tie. and pulled him towards you with the help of his bolotie.
‘[name]—!’ he didn’t have even a second to react before you caught his mouth with your own, kissing him deeply.
his eyes were wide open, pupils blown.
you pulled away with a grin, index finger still hooked on his tie.
chuuya was baffled to say the least. he didn’t even have the slightest idea of what you were up to, he didn’t even see it coming.
‘can we go home now, babe?’ you asked him in a pouty tone, your hand smoothing over his tie.
he still needed to finish the paperwork, there were still too many pages left— but he could care less about them right now.
‘yes, ma’am.’
𑣲 osamu dazai,
dazai is quite famous for being an annoying and persistent man.
yes you love him with all your heart, but boy does he get on your nerves sometimes.
he can’t function if you’re not in a 5 feet radius of him, he’s literally on your ass 24/7.
and additionally, his hands need to be on you whenever possible, a hand on the small of your back, his arms wrapped around your waist from behind when you’re sorting through paperwork, or simply him holding your hand, without permission. but if you tell him no he’ll whine like a baby, and that’s alot more irritating than him holding your hand when you’re clearly busy.
you also are unable to catch him off guard with anything since his attention is always focused on you.
he watches your every change of expression, even if it’s minor. he can read you like the back of his hand.
your face needs to be as straight as possible, not even a very small flicker of your expression can change. you can barely twitch your eyebrow, or he’ll notice what your upto.
right now you’re sitting at your desk, furiously scribbling away at the never ending stack of paperwork placed beside you.
dazai was also sitting at his desk, simply staring at the paperwork infront of him. for one moment his attention wasn’t fixated on you.
‘dazai, can you come here for a second?’ you asked from across the room, making the brown haired male look up from his desk.
‘ofcourse, belladonna!’ he practically jumped off of his chair and made his way over to you.
‘you miss me already? i know i’m irresistible~’ he teased with a shit eating smirk on his face.
he stood infront of you, hands in the pockets of his beige trenchcoat.
he was about to open his mouth to probably tell you something stupid, but then you tugged him towards you by his bolo tie and crashed your lips onto his.
the suddenness of it all nearly made him fall ontop of you, but he steadied himself by quickly getting his hands out his pockets and one hand gripped the edge of your desk, and the other grabbing a tight hold of your shoulder.
you pulled away from the kiss with a grin, finger still hooked on the fabric of his bolotie, your other hand resting on his chest.
‘my, my belladonna. didn’t know you had that in ya.’ dazai breathed, slightly out of breath from the intensity of the short, yet deep kiss.
you smiled to yourself. you successfully caught the osamu dazai off guard with a simple pull of his tie and a kiss.
you turned back to your paperwork like nothing happened, with dazai still standing over you with his hand on your shoulder.
‘shall we continue in the storage—,’ ‘no.’ you put a finger over his lips to stop him from finishing that sentence.
‘yes, ma’am.’
god he loves being pulled by his tie like that, he’ll definitely make you do it again. maybe with a leash, like a dog.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this is kind of sloppy i apologize 🥹
based on this thought.
🏷️: @peanut-butter-pancakez, @thatonemangapanelfrombeast, @vampviia, comment to be added to my taglist!
How would they react at first if they realized they like you?
✧ OSAMU DAZAI
Most likely, Dazai would act as if he’s joking. He’d be brutally straightforward, not letting you breathe too much in the agency office or finding any excuse to irritate you.
“I’ve heard our most beautiful colleague even has time for my documents too, isn’t that right, bella?”
Even if your heart sometimes beats faster when he compliments you or when he stares at you with that hollow yet intense gaze, Dazai still manages to annoy you far too often.
“You heard wrong.”
Snatching your mission report out of your hands, he made you flare up, rising from your chair to grab it back unsuccessfully.
“Or…I can help you draw your conclusions faster, bella! Trade for trade.”
His smirk grated on your nerves even more. You muttered, “I hate you.” though malice laced it.
Your eyes widened as he gripped your waist, your documents held above your reach while his gaze pinned you down, looking straight at you from above.
“Aww, I truly don’t wish to upset my favorite colleague.”
And yet, no matter how much Dazai jokes, avoids seriousness, or dodges his own feelings, if your life were ever in danger (even if sacrificing you would perfectly serve his strategy) he would never hesitate to save you. Excusing himself with the idea that he’ll surely come up with another plan, though deep down he knows he can’t admit yet that you’re far more important to him than you should be.
✧ CHUUYA NAKAHARA
Chuuya couldn’t stand you from the very moment you entered the Port Mafia at the same time you refused to put up with his arrogance, always firing back whenever he provoked you.
Chuuya barely managed to keep his irritation in check, to stop himself from rolling his eyes when Mori assigned the two of you on the same mission.
“I don’t contest your skills at organizing us, but do I really have to be teamed up with her?”
You answered with the same subtle tone, yet throwing provocation in his face.
“Afraid you’re too weak to keep up?”
And still, Chuuya was utterly stunned when he saw you in action. How resilient, how strong you were. His eyes widened in admiration. Catching him staring, you couldn’t resist teasing, even if his gaze made your own heart hammer.
“Like what you see, foxy boy?”
Chuuya narrowed his eyes in annoyance, even if a betraying flush crept up his cheeks.
But his hidden emotions would only come out when fear overwhelmed him. When your life was truly at risk, he would break completely. Confessing everything in a shaken, frantic voice.
“Don’t you fucking dare die, [Name]! Don’t you—Shit! I can’t lose you. I-I really—“
Your lips twitched faintly as your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion dragging you down.
“I know, Chuuya. I know. Me too.”
✧ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY
He would never say it outright. For him, acknowledging interest in someone is a colossal weakness, especially in someone working at his side. He would blame it on admiring your intellect, on your obedience, on nearly accepting that he actually trusts you.
Instead, his methods are far from moral.
“You know you’re the best one along my partners, right, [Name]?”
He tilted your chin up, smirking down at you, his eyes attempting to hypnotize you and nearly succeeding.
You smiled back, gaze dropping to his lips before returning to his eyes with that addictive, dangerous look.
“How can I help you this time, Fyodor?”
And still, he would not treat you as he does everyone else. Avoiding (logically, strategically — as he calls it) using you as a mere sacrifice.
✧ RANPO EDOGAWA
Ranpo was utterly confused at first. Why weren’t his deductions working? Why did his heart pound inhumanly fast whenever you stood too close? Why did his body warm up when you praised him for his insights, but not when anyone else did?
It took him a long time to realize he actually liked you, and once he did, the best solution was to confess. And yet… without you, he doubted he would’ve survived it alone.
One day, after a mission, Ranpo came to you, catching you off guard.
“Hey, Ranpo. Are you okay?”
“Why do you always care how I am or what I do?”
You blinked. Once. Twice. You couldn’t tell if his tone was harsh or curious.
“Ranpo?”
His hands twitched, and when his eyes slowly opened, soft in a way you had never seen, you froze.
“Tell me why. Because I’m going insane thinking I’m the only one seeing you in a way I shouldn’t. It makes no sense.”
When you kissed him, Ranpo forgot all the months of headaches this had caused him, melting completely into your touch.
✧ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA
For Akutagawa, realizing he had feelings for you would be unbearable. Disgusted with himself, he’d rather lash out at you like a child whenever you were too “naive” for your own good.
“Are you fucking serious? Why did you come here? What if something happened and I wasn’t there?”
But the moment he raised his voice, he hated himself even more, especially if your expression showed the slightest hint of hurt. Frozen a second too long, he never apologized (not at first), choosing instead to storm off, guilt gnawing inside.
Yet, after a mission, when you came to clean and bandage his wounds with fierce determination, his chest throbbed violently. Your gentle hands touched his face, far too softly for someone like him.
“Why are you doing this? I only saved you because you were in my way.” His voice was low, yet not angry.
Your gaze met his as you murmured against his face, focusing again on his bruises.
“Every time?”
Your ironic jab irritated him, but he froze again when you leaned too close to grab another set of bandages.
“Because I trust you, Akutagawa. And because you’re stronger than you think. Scream all you want, but I know you have a good heart, Ryuu.”
His muscles tightened, eyes wide with fear and vulnerability. Overwhelmed, he couldn’t even move. All he managed was a weak scoff, hiding his gaze. Still, your smile start forming when you caught the blush on his cheeks.
✧ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA
Atsushi would be flustered beyond belief, confusing you endlessly at first.
If you hugged him too affectionately, he’d stammer an excuse and flee somewhere else.
If you were too sweet with him, praising him, he’d flush crimson and hide his face as quickly as possible.
But if there were even a hint of danger for you, he would be the very first at your side to protect you.
It would be impossible not to notice in the end—most likely kissing him after a heroic act, catching him completely off guard.
“[Name], what—“ You leaned into him, brushing your lips against his before resting your forehead on his. “Y-you like me too?”
You smiled, nodding and that was all it took for him to cup your cheeks and press his lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss.
✧ DOPPO KUNIKIDA
Doppo would deny his feelings outright, embarrassed to even clear his throat or tug at his tie as though he couldn’t breathe—only whenever you teased him about how responsible he was.
You leaned your head beside his chair, watching him so closely he nearly spilled his coffee. Smiling with your eyes shut, you spoke.
“You’re so serious sometimes, Doppo! Can I help you relax a little?”
“I-I… Nevermind. No! No need…”
You chuckled as he exhaled loudly, teasing him before planting a kiss on his cheek.
“A real embodiment of a husband, did you know that?”
He would be shocked and flustered the entire day. Still, it would be the serious push he needed to finally invite you out properly with every minute and place meticulously planned.
✧ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA
You wouldn’t realize it at first. Even though you’ve known him your whole life, if Fukuzawa ever noticed his feelings drifting beyond platonic, his instinct would be to create distance.
Until you intervened.
“Even if you’re the President of the Agency, that doesn’t mean you can boss me around however you want, Fukuzawa!”
He sighed, rising from his desk and walking toward you. His hands folded beneath the green yukata under his black haori.
“It’s necessary to separate these matters. Our personal lives shouldn’t affect our work.”
“Oh, so you’d rather push me aside? What does that have to do with what’s between us and our personal lives?”
For a fleeting second, you caught Fukuzawa’s eyes widen.
“It’s not that I’m pushing you aside, [Name]. It’s simply—“
“You’ve developed feelings for me, haven’t you, Fukuzawa?”
He was not a man who lied. So he chose silence. Only action. He raised his hands slowly, his knuckles brushing your cheek gently. Devotion glimmered in his eyes, tangled with restraint.
✧ SAKUNOSUKE ODA
Oda was a serious man, respecting anyone who respected him, kind whenever he could be. And yet, when he realized his behavior toward you was different, he didn’t hesitate to speak—awkward as he was. For him, communication was the best solution.
After a long day, he waited for you, one hand hidden behind his back, ready to offer you a flower regardless of your answer. Apologizing or celebrating together.
“Oda?”
He swallowed, hesitant but steady
“If I’ve got the wrong impression, or if this makes you uncomfortable, please tell me. No pressure. I just want to confess that…I like you…and that I’d like to know you better.”
His thoughtful sincerity filled your heart more than you ever expected.
✧ ANGO SAKAGUCHI
Difficult. He was torn between avoiding the whole ordeal (such a headache) and admitting that he was helplessly drawn to you.
Still, one hint from you was enough to tip the scale.
After a few glasses of whisky, you convinced the bookworm to join you on the dance floor.
At first, he preferred to just watch you, leaning against the bar. But then, under his breath, Ango murmured, “Fuck it.” When you crooked your finger at him with that dangerous smile, he surprised you — his lips pressing onto yours, cupping your cheeks right there in the middle of the dance floor.
✧ SIGMA
Sigma would panic at first, afraid to ruin what he had with you, yet guilt gnawed at him for keeping such a secret.
His voice sabotaged him.
“I need to confess something.”
“What’s happening, Sigma?”
Your worried look only deepened his guilt. His head lowered.
“I’m so sorry…I hope you don’t think I’m a horrible person, or that I had any ulterior motives. You’re such an incredible person… and I’ve…developed feelings for you. I know it’s inappropriate—“
“Sigma…” Your shocked voice made him lift his gaze. “I wouldn’t have thought… And… I—I feel the same way.”
Now it was his turn to be shocked.
“You do?”
You nodded. Silence stretched between you, until both of you smiled, meeting halfway in a slow, gentle kiss.
“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.”
⋆ COLD HANDS ノ DAZAI AND CHUUYA! X FEM! READER 𓆩♡𓆪 <𝟑
୨ CW ୧ ― sfw , crack , teasing , established relationship , can't think of anymore ( ･ั﹏･ั)
꒰ fic type. imagines ꒱
. ୨୧ ⁺ req by anon : maybe could I request Chuuya Dazai not together (u don’t have to do it if u don’t want to) Where how they react to reader coming into bed late and putting her FREEZING hands up their shirts to feel their warm body
ℒ. notes ― I FINALLY REWROTE IT!! i hope the anon sees this<3 apologies for being a tad bit dumb LOL mwah!
CHUUYA
you slip into bed, later than you expected but sometimes work forces you to stay crazy hours ― chuuya knows all too well. you try not to make a noise, the squeaking of the bed causes you to cringe but chuuya didn't budge.
you cuddle behind him, letting the blankets fall over your body like a second skin ― your eyes sparkled at the thin shirt he wore. with a sinister smirk, you gently hover your hands over his sides and that's when you shove your hands under his shirt.
chuuya jolts with a shriek, like he's been electrocuted.
"THE HELL―?" his whole body arched away as far as he could the blankets practically go soaring if you weren't holding down most of the weight. you pull him back with a soft smile, pecking his shoulder like you've done nothing wrong.
he grabs your wrists, eyes wide, body turned to you, hair a mess ― he took this personally. "baby, what ― why are you like this?!" he lets out a tired whine, cupping your hand to his cheek.
as he recovered from your attack, he pulls your freezing cold hand to his lips, blowing warm air over your knuckles while mumbling slanders.
"you could have asked me to warm you up, not put me into cardiac arrest."
he pulls you to his chest anyway, despite how cold you were, tucking your hands under his shirt properly warming you up this time, trapping them under his arm.
"there...you're lucky i love you," he spoke, "never do that again...unless you want some payback," he smirked, poking your leg with his cold foot and chuckles at your soft shriek.
he leaned over to kiss your forehead, pretending he's not enjoying this sweet moment with you.
DAZAI
you slip into his futon, the ground was cold ― but the heater in front of the two of you warmed you both up real quick. well, besides your hands.
you bite your lip to muffle your giggles as you ready yourself, your fingers tugging up his shirt and landed on his chest.
he just lets out a strained noise, not too loud but definitely a reaction.
he jolts, the futon skidding left and right as he rockets up to catch your hands, his eyes wide and hair messy ― you burst out in giggles.
his hands grab at your wrists and he pulls your freezing hands out of his shirt, his eyes turn from wide to a playful glare. "oh, seeking warmth?"
your giggles die down for a moment, your hands moving to cup his face but he stops you, leaning back and fell down with a laugh, you following him.
now you were straddling him, fighting for your wrists back but he didn't let you go. "ah ah ah! you asked for this, belladonna~ " he's got a tight grip, his eyes sparkle with tiredness and mischief.
"let me warm you up, nice and toasty, yes?"
with that, he turns you on your side and faces you, shoving your hands into his shirt again and trapped then under his arms.
if you complain he is too warm, for being in front of heater for a longer period then you've been, he'll just laugh ― soft ― shifting you closer you to him.
"oh come on, don't be so dramatic~ i'm your personality heater...with a price."
the price? kisses, and a whole lot of them.
he ends up wrapping every limb around you for the rest of night, waking up all hot but extremely loved.
ft. dazai, ranpo, akutagawa, chuuya, nikolai + BONUS ATSUSHI!
to everyone who needed a comfort version :) @hiitsme12345 @strawberry784 @kazuubaby @veyeruss @blueyescape and the nonnie who requested this in my inbox <3 (if you interacted with my post verbally i tagged you i hope that's ok ^_^; + here's the pin i got the banner from)
dazai.
he’s tried to flirt with you before. actually, he flirts with you constantly—like a habit, like breathing. half of yokohama probably thinks you’re already dating.
but you never took him seriously. not really.
and he understands why. it’s his fault. he’s too much of a joke to be taken seriously. too many empty smiles, too many lazy pick-up lines. he’s made a name out of playing pretend.
so this time, he wants to do it differently. no dramatics. no fake suicide attempts, no over-the-top metaphors. just him. just honesty.
the rooftop is quiet. the sun’s dipping behind the city, casting shadows across the edge of the building. he leans against the railing beside you, close enough that his arm brushes yours.
“you know,” he says, voice gentler than usual, “i think you’re the only person who’s ever made me want to stop playing around.”
you glance at him, lips quirking. “is this another one of your lines?”
he chuckles softly. “no. that’s the thing. it’s not.”
he pauses, gaze fixed on the sky. “i don’t expect you to believe me. i’ve made it pretty hard to take anything i say seriously. but… i think about you a lot. and not in the flirty, ridiculous way you probably think. i mean the quiet kind. the real kind.”
you blink, surprised. he’s not smiling. not like he usually does. his voice is steady, eyes focused, like for once, he’s showing you the version of himself no one gets to see.
“i know it doesn’t mean much, coming from someone like me,” he murmurs, “but i like you. properly. and if you’d give me the chance, i’d like to show you that i can be serious about you.”
your breath catches. he finally turns to face you, expression unreadable—but not guarded. not distant. for once, he’s not trying to be clever or charming. he’s just… trying.
you smile. really smile this time. and when you reach for his hand, he exhales, shaky.
“okay,” you say. “then show me.”
his hand tightens in yours like a vow.
ranpo.
he waits until the office is empty.
no one to interrupt. no one to tease. just you and him, sprawled on the agency couch, feet propped up, the remains of too many snack wrappers littering the table.
“hey,” he says, leaning sideways so his head lands on your shoulder. “so. big secret.”
you raise a brow. “yeah?”
he peeks up at you, eyes sparkling.
“i’m in love with you.”
you laugh, like he’s being silly. “that’s a bold way to start a joke.”
“who’s joking?” he says, grinning. “you’re smart and sweet and you always bring me strawberry gummies. i decided like a week ago. i love you.”
“ranpo,” you start.
“no takebacks!” he cuts in. “now it’s your turn.”
you pause.
“…my turn?”
he nods dramatically. “you’ve been staring at me like i’m your favorite puzzle. so come on. say it.”
you roll your eyes — but you’re smiling, cheeks flushed.
“fine. maybe i love you too.”
he beams. “knew it.”
and then he throws an empty candy wrapper in celebration.
akutagawa.
he thinks about you more than he should. that’s the first thing he realizes.
he doesn’t understand it, not fully. love has always been a concept that felt distant, messy, something he didn’t believe himself capable of. he’s sharp edges. he's violence in a coat and gloves. not the type to fall in love, and certainly not the type anyone falls in love with.
but you’re different. you talk to him like he isn’t a weapon. you listen even when he’s quiet. and worse—you smile at him. not out of fear, not out of pity, but real, warm, genuine.
it terrifies him.
so for a while, he stays silent. watches from the edges. offers you small things—tea when you’re tired, his scarf when it’s cold, walks you home when the sun sets too early. he doesn’t have the language for affection, but he does his best with what he knows.
his hands are shaking.
you don’t notice at first — it’s cold, and he’s always a little stiff in winter. but when he reaches into his coat and pulls out a folded letter, the tremble is unmistakable.
“…i wrote something,” he mutters, not meeting your gaze.
you take it, unfold it gently. the handwriting is stiff and neat. it smells faintly like ink and metal.
you read it.
twice.
it’s… him. awkward and formal and painfully sincere.
“i do not know how to express this well. but i want you to understand. i care for you in ways that are unfamiliar to me. i would like to be more than your friend, if you allow it.”
you look up at him — he’s still not looking at you.
“akutagawa,” you say softly. “you don’t have to write it down.”
he stiffens. “…i thought i would say it wrong.”
you tuck the letter close to your chest. “you said it perfectly.”
he finally meets your gaze.
and when you step closer, take his hand, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years.
chuuya.
chuuya’s always been a planner.
he doesn’t just wake up one morning and decide to confess—he thinks it through. overthinks it, really. you mean too much to him to mess it up.
so he makes sure the timing’s right. that you’re both free that evening. that the weather’s good, his shirt is steamed, and his hair is cooperating. he even goes to the nice florist two train stops away just to get the bouquet you always pause in front of.
he’s a little overdressed—navy coat, gold buttons, sleek slacks—but it’s all intentional. he wants to look good for you.
when he shows up at your door, flowers in hand and a nervous smile tugging at his lips, he clears his throat like it might steady his heart.
“i was wondering if you’d let me steal you for the night.”
you grin, teasing. “steal me? sounds criminal.”
“just dinner,” he laughs. “and maybe a few things i’ve been wanting to say.”
he takes you to your favorite place. gets a table by the window. even remembers how you like your food. he’s all charm and smiles—until dessert comes, and his fingers tap once against the table.
“alright,” he says, quieter now. “this might sound stupid, but…”
you look at him, waiting.
he reaches into his coat pocket and sets down a small velvet box. not a ring, not yet—but a necklace. gold. subtle. elegant.
“i like you,” he says, voice low but certain. “more than i probably should. and i know we joke around a lot, but i mean it. i think about you all the time. you’re always in my head. and i want—i want to be someone important to you.”
you go a little still.
“you don’t have to answer now,” he adds quickly. “i just… wanted you to know.”
you lean forward, resting your hand over his. his breath catches.
“you already are.”
chuuya’s eyes flick up. “what?”
“you’re already important to me,” you say, smiling. “i thought it was obvious.”
he lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh—like relief.
“well,” he grins, cheeks warm. “i guess i worried for nothing.”
when he walks you home, he offers you his arm. you loop yours through it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. the necklace stays in your hand the whole way back.
he’s still grinning when you kiss his cheek at your door.
nikolai.
you don’t know what to expect when he drags you through the empty carnival grounds at dusk, laughing wildly about a “grand surprise of cosmically romantic proportions!”
“there better not be pigeons,” you mutter.
“just one,” he grins, bouncing on his heels. “but he’s strictly here for moral support!”
the carnival’s closed. long empty. you’re about to ask how he even got in when he waves a glittery ticket stub in your face.
“it’s not trespassing if you bribe the gatekeeper with a bag of cotton candy and a song about love,” he says, then winks. “besides. it’s for a good cause.”
he tugs you past ghostly snack stands and darkened booths until you reach the carousel—paint chipped, horses frozen mid-gallop, the whole thing quiet and still.
“ta-da!” he flourishes an arm. “romance!”
you blink. “…you brought me to a haunted carousel.”
“correction,” he says, hopping up onto the platform and pulling you with him, “i brought you to the haunted carousel where i plan to confess my eternal love for you, complete with dramatic lighting and perhaps a confetti cannon.”
“perhaps?!”
he spins around one of the horses, hands flared wide. “now imagine—me, you, one slow rotation, the soft creaking of aged machinery, and then—” he twirls dramatically, catching your hand and dipping you like you're in a musical. “—i bare my soul.”
you laugh, cheeks warm. “is this your way of asking me out?”
he pauses. still holding you. still just a little too close.
“…yeah,” he says, softer. “it is.”
your breath catches.
he smiles. not wide and ridiculous, like usual. just a small thing. honest. there’s a flicker of nervousness in it. something a little too real.
“i know i joke a lot,” he says. “i know i’m too much. but i mean it. i’m not playing around with this.”
you stare at him, heart suddenly loud.
“…i like you, too,” you whisper. “you’re not too much. you’re just—you. and i kinda love that.”
his eyes widen.
then, in perfect nikolai fashion, he whoops loud enough to startle three birds from a tree and pulls you into the tightest spin-hug imaginable.
“YES! i KNEW the carousel would work!!”
you laugh into his chest, dizzy with him, with the moment.
he kisses your forehead, light and fleeting, before pulling you up onto the carousel horse beside him.
“ride of your life,” he promises, already reaching for the controls. “confetti cannon pending.”
atsushi.
he doesn’t have a plan. of course he doesn’t.
he tried to make one—really, he did. even wrote a list of all the things he could do to show you how he felt. but the truth is, atsushi is terrible at planning things when he’s nervous. and nothing makes him more nervous than you.
so you get a knock on your door at 7:43pm. he’s holding a paper bag and two cans of your favorite tea.
“…hi,” he says, sheepish. “i, um. didn’t cook. but i remembered you said you were too tired to make dinner, so…”
you let him in, and he fidgets while you open the bag. inside: takeout from your favorite place. nothing fancy. just exactly what you wanted.
you beam. “atsushi…”
“you deserve good things,” he says, then winces. “i mean—not that food is the only good thing, but—i wanted to make sure you ate. and that you know i care.”
he looks like he wants to disappear.
you walk up to him and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “you’re the sweetest person alive.”
he stares at you. like you just reset the universe.
“i… i am?” he stammers.
you smile. “you are.”
you spend the night on the floor, cross-legged, sharing food and watching old cartoons. atsushi’s shoulders slowly relax. he laughs more. he leans against you once, shyly—and doesn’t move away when you lean back.
eventually, you glance at him, gentle. “you’re always doing nice things for me. why?”
he fidgets with the hem of his sleeve.
“because i like you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “a lot.”
you blink. “you… like me?”
he nods, cheeks flushed. “i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. i just—I wanted you to know.”
you set down your drink. reach for his hand.
“atsushi,” you say, “you make me feel safe. happy. seen. how could i not like you?”
he blinks once. twice. and then—like sunlight breaking through clouds—he smiles. full and soft.
“…really?”
you nod. and this time, he’s the one who leans in first.
a/n my nikolai part was kinda ooc at the end but erm that's ok 😓 and YAYAYAY ATSUSHI i love writing for him. he's only in this version because i'd never dare friendzone him my love augh
synopsis.: being the only one who truly understands dazai practically guarantees he’s doomed to love you and vice versa ♡ og req here
pairing.: dazai osamu x gn!reader
cw.: sfw, no established relationship, fluff, confession, perhaps a more feminine reader but overall it’s gender neutral, kinda bittersweet, very introspective, reader is extremely similar to dazai
wc.: 2.1k
۶ৎ note.: i strongly urge you to go read the original request to understand what this fanfiction is about, but of course you don’t have to! i think it’s quite clear even without reading it, but just in case you want some extra clarity (see what i did there? i am so funny, i know) also, i am actually quite proud of how this turned out :) i hope you guys like it
you are used to it by now. his constant flirting, i mean. perhaps a little too used to it.
you remember the day dazai first approached you. mindlessly complimenting you. it was right after his entrance exam, when he first started working with the agency.
for some reason, you stood out to him then—and still do. of course, you were skeptical at first, like everyone else. after all, a man wrapped in bandages who seemed to have never existed before the age of twenty is… unusual, to say the least.
yet you never questioned his motives. never made him feel any less worthy, despite knowing nothing of his past. dazai appreciated that, but at the time, he couldn’t decide if you were simply naive for trusting him so easily or if you had figured him out from the start.
even today, he still has no clue how someone could ever understand him.
but you somehow do. and that unsettles him. so much that he actually has to pause when he talks to you sometimes, to keep him from spilling every dark secret or morbid thought that consumes his filthy mind.
and while he knows his charm has zero effect on you, it’s easier for him to talk to you like that—focusing on making you blush instead of giving you even the smallest chance to read him. even if he can’t help but rely on your understanding every so often. though he would never admit that.
dazai leans against your desk this afternoon with deliberate casualness, his sleeves pushed back as usual and allowing you to gaze at the bandages peeking from underneath.
sunlight filters through the tall windows of the agency, small flakes of dust visible, floating above the paperwork and half-finished reports.
you are reviewing and correcting a file, your posture relaxed but attentive, brows faintly drawn in concentration.
“you know,” he muses after a moment, voice light with idle curiosity, “most people become flustered when they realize someone is flirting with them.”
your pen keeps moving across the page, the sound deliberately drowning him out, as if he hadn’t spoken at all.
“it’s quite impressive, actually,” he adds, watching you rather than the report in your hands and letting the words hang in the air, “that you can ignore it so calmly.”
you still do not look up, but for half a second, your pen wavers. just a fraction. then it continues again, steadier than before.
“i’m simply choosing not to encourage bad habits,” you reply evenly.
dazai smiles. of course you would say something like that.
most people react to his flirting predictably. they laugh, grow flustered, sometimes encourage it without realizing they are doing so. it is easy to navigate those reactions, easy to steer them wherever he pleases.
but you simply… decline the premise. he rarely gets rejected, although he isn’t sure if you’re really rejecting him. your words and actions are just as mystifying as his own.
truthfully, it would be easier if you just mocked him outright. at least then he would nervously laugh it off and retreat behind the usual dramatic theatrics.
instead, you treat his advances like a puzzle you have already solved—interesting once, but hardly worth solving again.
you’re making it hard for him to know if you actually despise him, even though from another perspective it might look like you do.
but simple-minded people don’t know you like he does. they don’t realize how much thought you put into each word that leaves your mouth.
so he keeps trying anyway, not sure what he’s hoping for.
“bad habits? so you see my affection for you as a nuisance rather than something that could blossom into something beautiful?” dazai says, speaking in riddles and allegories once again. “where has your sense of romance gone?”
you turn another page in your report. “if it were genuine affection,” you say calmly, “you wouldn’t hide it behind a joke.”
the answer lands more precisely than you likely intended, and for a brief moment, dazai’s smile thins.
ah.
so that’s how it is.
you aren’t oblivious to his advances, and you certainly aren’t immune to them. you’re ignoring them on purpose. you’re waiting. waiting for something that dazai knows he struggles with the most: being honest about his feelings.
the realization settles somewhere beneath his ribs with a heavy weight.
of course you would want something direct. you of all people would never accept half-truths wrapped in humor or laced with innuendo. unfortunately, that was exactly the kind of thing dazai osamu specializes in.
his gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he pushes himself away from the desk with an easy stretch.
“ah well,” he says lightly, hands slipping back into his pockets. “perhaps i’ll improve my habits someday.”
you hum in vague acknowledgment, already absorbed in your work again. however, you can’t help but follow him with your gaze once he starts walking away from you. the distance feels wrong and a pang of guilt washes over you.
later, the office hums with its usual rhythm, paperwork being shuffled around, kunikida lecturing a familiar brunette, and ranpo’s candy wrappers flying around.
the floorboards creak as someone moves between the desks, and atsushi suddenly appears beside you, holding a report that he very clearly needs help with.
from near the window, where kunikida is currently pulling on dazai’s collar and berating him over something trivial once again, he can see it clearly—the soft look in your eyes at atsushi’s clumsiness and his nervous yet stupidly gentle demeanor.
he isn’t sure why you always carry this look whenever you interact with atsushi. it’s tender, warm, filled with an almost endless patience. he wonders what it would take for you to look at him like this, just once. the thought lingers longer than he’d like it to.
but then again, how could you? dazai is nothing like atsushi. he doesn't possess that same gentleness, and he certainly has no desire to pretend he does. after all, what use would your love be if it’s directed at a persona he copies instead of his true self?
what even is his true self? that’s something not even dazai himself can answer properly and neither can you. not really, at least. he fears nobody can.
from time to time he wonders if you can see through his carefully crafted façade and decode the thoughts he tries so hard to hide. he has a hunch you can, though only sometimes.
those rare moments are the closest anyone has ever come to understanding him. so he can’t help but want to keep you close, desperately hoping you might help him understand himself a little better.
and perhaps that’s absolutely, disgustingly selfish of him. and perhaps it’s not true love. he’s not sure he’s ever felt true love before, for god’s sake. but from what he knows, you seem to be giving him a feeling uncannily close to it.
so he doesn’t care if he’s selfish for craving your existence every second of the day.
once atsushi returns to his desk, you focus on your own work again. you can practically feel dazai’s gaze lingering on you.
and while you know he definitely has a soft spot for you, you don’t want to risk getting vulnerable with him, not when you don’t know how deep it truly goes.
however, it is quite amusing knowing he feels just a tiny surge of jealousy.
you know dazai isn’t jealous in the sharp, possessive sense that would cause him to intervene, but you hope it at least makes him think about his feelings for you.
because at the end of the day, you’re ready and only waiting for him to be ready too.
the night shift drapes the agency in a different atmosphere altogether. the city outside is reduced to distant traffic and a muted glow, the windows reflecting more interior than exterior now. the overhead lights are dimmed, casting the office in a warm shade of amber.
you look over only to see dazai lying on the couch, a book open in his hands. he hasn’t turned the page in several minutes. you two are the only ones left in the office.
“you’re being awfully quiet,” you say, stopping just a few steps in front of him.
eventually dazai lowers the book covering his face, but he doesn't look up immediately. “why, do you miss being blessed by my oh so delightful voice?” he muses, sitting up straight.
seeing that his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t get a reaction out of you, he exhales faintly, the breath almost sounding like a laugh. he pats the spot next to him, gesturing for you to sit down beside him.
the cushioning of the couch dips slightly once you sit down, and for a moment neither of you speak. the air feels heavier all of a sudden, the urge to fill the silence growing stronger with each second that passes.
you turn your upper body toward him, only to catch him looking at you already. the way he studies you so carefully steals your breath away, and for just a split second dazai earns the privilege of witnessing your soft gaze.
though it disappears quickly, as if you’re reserving that look for someone else. someone that’s not quite him.
“you know, they say the eyes are the window to the soul,” dazai begins, a fragile smile adorning his lips as he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“your soul is the prettiest i’ve ever seen. but i wonder—what do i have to do, so that i can always admire it instead of you only allowing me glimpses of it?” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.
you lean into his touch without meaning to, furrowing your brows in frustration at his words. they are confusing, a tangled mess hard to decipher. it’s irritating you.
but before you can say anything else, dazai lets out a knowing chuckle. he knows what you want; he just loves teasing you too much to give it to you so easily.
“what i mean to say is… i love you, bella,” dazai says, his words simple and unadorned. “i love you.” a truth spoken out loud and directly for the first time ever since you've known each other.
you stare at him, searching his gaze for anything—anything that could stir a hint of uncertainty within you, but there is no mischief, no doubt. only something frighteningly sincere.
your heart begins to flutter and you exhale shakily, releasing a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. the tension in your muscles slowly fades, and your whole body suddenly feels light.
relief settles over you as you give him a warm smile. “i love you too, dazai,” you say, covering his hand that has moved to cup your cheek with your own.
“i almost thought you’d never say it,” you add in a lighthearted tone, letting out a small laugh. but dazai doesn’t laugh along with you. instead he remains silent, his smile faltering just a little.
“i thought i didn’t deserve you or your love. i still think i don’t deserve any of it. especially not when there are people who can offer you something far less complicated,” he says, his voice low but steady.
your brows draw together and you gently take his hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly. “who says i want less complicated?” you say, pausing briefly.
it’s true, dazai is a complicated person and you’re certain this isn’t going to be easy with him. but then again, you’re complicated, too. you’ve made terrible mistakes, too. you’re tainted for life, too. yet dazai still finds beauty within your tarnished being.
“no one’s perfect, dazai. myself included. if i were, my heart probably wouldn’t ache for you,” you whisper softly, leaning in to wrap your arms around him and draw him in for a hug.
“i love you. no matter how much you think you don’t deserve any of this, i think you do and nothing is going to change that. so let’s just… cherish whatever this is between us.” your lips occasionally graze the tender skin of his neck as you bury your face in it, simply relishing in his embrace.
you hear dazai swallow thickly, and he reluctantly returns the hug, resting his chin atop your head. your comforting warmth seeps through his clothes and the bandages that cling to his skin. it calms his racing mind, especially paired with your soothing scent.
“of course, you’re right,” dazai whispers, wondering how long this relationship will last. he hopes it lasts forever, until both of your grounding heartbeats grow eerily still. but that’s probably just wishful thinking. maybe. who knows?
note.: PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU CHANGE YOUR USERNAME, I WAS HELLA CONFUSED omg (｡ŏ﹏ŏ)
we need more dazai osamu being an awkward mess ... ♡ — dazai x gn!reader
⠀⠀⠀⠀how odd ...
⠀⠀⠀⠀the port mafia didn't leave room for the weak. he knew that better than anyone. as the boss' right hand man, he knew he was one of the smarter kids his age. he'd toughed out much harder battles, than this, strategised through far worse.
⠀⠀⠀⠀and yet, he was brought to his wits end by a very, very common problem ... his crush was in tears.
⠀⠀⠀⠀ you, in your teary state, were sitting on a park bench beside him, sobbing as you curled up into yourself. you barely reached his nose (he liked to say he couldn't see you, he definitely could. too much., actually. he couldn't take his eyes off you). and the only word he could think of to describe you was ... cute. for the first time in his short life, he's felt an inexplicable urge to cling to someone, despite everything. he knew you'd be torn away from him the minute he got to close, the second he got complacent but even then, he couldn't help be drawn closer each time he sees you.
⠀⠀⠀“im sorry you had to see this,” you mumbled. you were crying over an argument. “i was hoping to wait a while before i cried, but ... i couldn't help it. im so sorry.”
⠀⠀⠀⠀at the moment, you face was red from crying, nose especially so from all the tissues, eyes were bright with tears. the only sound between you was the soft noise of sniffling and the eventual tears that flowed back. it felt pathetic, how little he could think of to say at the moment.
⠀⠀⠀⠀he could feel his hands twitching at their sides, itching to be doing something, he wasn't entirely sure what. he'd never recieved any form of comfort. he lived in a shipping container for god's sake and the only visitors he had there were stray cats in the dock looking for fish. when he was sad, he'd merely pet them. they'd all gotten familiar with him after a point, and they purred like engines when he gave them any attention. he vaguely remembered that petting stray cats calmed them down so ....
⠀⠀⠀⠀before he could even think twice, his hand was right on your head, gliding through your hair, where it stayed, drifting through your locks.
⠀⠀⠀⠀“wh–what?” he looked up from the strands of hair. she seemed to be looking at his hand ... “what are you doing, ‘ai?”
⠀⠀⠀⠀ oh. oh god.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it was only now that he noticed that he was practically petting you like a cat ...
⠀⠀⠀he pulled his hand back into his lap as fast as possible, as if he's been caught stealing. he seemed to be trying to play it off with a distant expression. it wasn't working too well, however. his ears were far too red to be fooling anyone.
⠀⠀⠀“sorry,“ he replied curtly. “i thought it would help.“ he was picking at his nails as he did.
⠀⠀⠀a moment of painfully awkward silence hung over the two of you as dazai looked away in pure embarrassment and you looked back with confusion.
⠀⠀⠀next thing he knew, you'd had grabbed his hand again, placing it on your head, right where he previously had.
