Guys this is long omg holy characterization? or nah?
Nsfw Alphabet template from @the-coldest-goodbye
My works: enjoy
Bye now - Mars ♡
Aftercare - What they're like after sex
Depends on if you're someone he loves or just a quick fuck
Quick fuck - he'll roll over and clean you up, maybe share a cigarette, stay in bed together both of you staring at the ceiling and when you fall asleep he'll leave
In love - clingy. So clingy, oh my god! Wants to crawl into your skin because the emotions he feels are so overwhelming and he can't express that like a normal person.
Will still clean you up but will want to stay buried inside you, he wants to cuddle and talk about the sex, his performance, what you enjoyed and what you didn't, what he can do better etc.
Wants to be the little spoon, actually falls asleep with his face buried against your chest, the tiddies keep the nightmares at bay
Body Part - their favourite body part on themselves and their partner
Himself - definitely his hands or mouth. He loves the anatomy of his hands, on the flip side, he also likes his mouth because he loves how he can sweet talk himself out of or into most people and/or situations. Regarding a partner, he loves his hands and mouth simply because of how much he can make his partner come undone with them
On his partner - I see Osamu as a boobs guy, don't get me wrong he loves all of you, but I can definitely see him having a boobies fixation. Obviously for the sexual stuff duhz, of course he's gonna fuck your boobs, suck them until they're oversensitive, but more so for the ease it brings him. He's stressed out? Hands are reaching for your chest, that's his stress balls now. He wants to block out the world? Face is buried between them as he clings to you and pout until you stroke his hair and he falls asleep
Cum - Anything cum related
At first he cums outside most of the time, he doesn't want to accidentally get someone pregnant. Comes on the nearest place, so if you're doing doggy he comes on your ass, if missionary he comes on your tummy, if you're giving him head he likes coming on your face. It's just something so satisfying seeing his cum on your face, he likes smearing it across your cheek and making you suck his fingers to clean him up. If his partner is someone who cannot get pregnant he's cumming inside. If he's the one getting penetrated, he would want his partner to come inside him.
Dirty Secret - A dirty secret they would have
Not a secret in his defense because if you asked he'd just tell you, but he stole your panties when you two first started dating, and every time he came over he'd return them and steal another dirty pair.
Also I don’t know if this would be considered a dirty secret but I'll include it anyway, he subtly trains you to look forward to his calls/ texts or visits. During your talking stage, if there is one, he would text you at a specific time everyday and overtime you find yourself looking forward to it. He won't tell you but he did it intentionally.
Experience - How experienced are they?
Very experienced, he's canonically a womanizer which implies he's experienced. He knows what he's doing and also he's good with anatomy so knows his way around the human body. Used to sleep around a lot, used women for sex and to bury, literally, his problems if only temporarily. If he's committed I can see him as someone being extremely loyal to his partner. Final verdict - experienced and his partner reaps all the benefits of that
Favourite Position - What's their favourite position during sex
Lotus or Chairman.
For lotus, he just loves the intimacy of it, he loves looking up at you and also being able to suck your boobs. Definitely buries his face into your neck and moans. When he comes he bites down on your shoulder. He loves talking you through it whilst holding deep eye contact, the type to hug you close as you grind down onto him
For chairman, he insists on doing it in front of the mirror. Loves making you watch yourself as he makes you come over and over again. If his partner struggles with body issues, he doesn't let you come until you praise yourself. Will rest his chin on your shoulder and toy with your clit until your legs are shaking and your head is thrown back over his shoulder. You definitely squirt and ruin the mirror
Goofy - Are they more serious or humorous in the moment
It definitely depends on the mood, but obviously for the most part Osamu is a goofball even if it is a mask. I genuinely see him cracking jokes during sexy time, he wants to set a chill and comfortable vibe. If the mood is more intimate then I can see him being serious and taking his time in loving you. If you wanna crack jokes, he's reciprocating that energy and a bonus is you squeeze him tighter when you laugh so double win!
Hair - How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?
The carpet matches the drapes. As for being well groomed it depends. He has periods of letting it grow wild, when he's in a particularly cruel depressive slump but if he's planning to hook up with people he definitely makes an effort to trim it
If he's with a partner, he asks them to shave him and he returns the favor if they so please. If you do want him to shave you, he's messing around and letting his artistic side out. Definitely shaves funny shapes into your bush before trimming/ shaving you
If his partner is someone who waxes, he lets you wax him. More for the pain aspect than the grooming aspect but you don't need to know that.
Hair doesn't bother him, not on himself or his partner, he just like switching it up sometimes
Intimacy - How are they during the moment, the romantic aspect?
Can be romantic, but can be goofy. If you want a slow sensual love making session and express that to him, he does make the effort. Goes all out, rose petals, candles, lingerie, he lives to please
Makes you hold eye contact with him whilst you wreck him, if you look away he slows down or stops completely.
Jackoff - Masturbation
He is hypersexual, it's a coping mechanism from having to use his body for his advantage during his mafia days. Gets period where he doesn't have sex, touch himself, or his partner - it can last for weeks
On the flip side, has a fiend side where he can fuck his fist until his cock is raw
Keeps photos of his partner for when they're not around, steals their dirty panties/ boxer for when he masturbates later.
Either he masturbated everyday, multiple times a day or not for weeks
Kinks - Some kinks they may have, I'm gonna shamelessly plug my kinktober Dazai fics haha (in no particular order)
Choking - he loves choking you when he's fucking your throat, but he also loves you choking him. He likes receiving it more than giving, satisfies his self harm tendencies
Cum Eating - I fully believe that if he was in love he would be disgusting with it. Yes, he wants to eat your cum. Yes, he wants to come inside you and then eat the mixture of his and yours come oozing out of you. Yes, he wants to cum inside your ass and lick it clean.
Boob Job - he just loves sliding his cock between your boobs and fucking them until he cums on your boobies.
Exhibitionist - the idea of getting caught gets him going. Not only does it fuel the possessive side of him that wants everyone to see that you belong to him, but the way you cling to him and urge him to go faster whilst simultaneously milking his cum? He loves every minute of it.
Impact Play - ties into his self harm tendencies but he gets pleasure from certain impact plays. Will be thrilled to do the same to his partner but he always ends up going easy on them, he never wants to hurt you even if you give consent for it
Foot Fetish - if he's feeling especially sadistic he will make you grind your cunt on his foot and control your orgasms. If you come without his permission? He's punishing you either by pussy slapping, overstimulation, or edging
Blindfold - not so much for the actual blindfolding but more so of the fact that you trust him enough. He also loves letting you blindfold him and ride him until he's crying and wetting the silk blindfold
Filming - he needs masturbation material, but also being able to watch back and see how you both lose yourself in each other in such an animalistic frenzy, makes him feel oddly human.
Free Use - again it's more so the fact that you trust him so much to allow him this privilege rather than the action itself. Only allows himself to be free use to you if he loves you, if you're a fling he's not giving you that power but if you offer him? He's not saying no.
Edging - uses it as a punishment most days but genuinely enjoys watching you cry and beg for him to let you come. You're crying for him? His cock? You love him that much? He's delulu jkjk
Also loves edging himself either during sex or masturbation
Overstimulation - Lets you ride him until both of you are slumped against each other and still grinding, having to can't get enough of each other
Voyeurism - oh he loves this! He makes you touch yourself for his sick pleasure. If his partner is a virgin, he makes them touch themselves, makes them show him how they masturbates. Can definitely see him whispering "You need to stretch yourself open for me, Bella"
Orgasm Control - lovessss being the one who tells you when to come, when not to come. Equally gets rock hard when you put a chastity cage on him and send him to work. Loves that shit
Biting - the idea of wanting him enough to claim him via love bites and hickeys gets him going. He is a possessive bastard who loves biting you. Bites your ass cheek, your boobs, your neck, your ear, once bit your clit and earned himself a smack in the head
CBT - Cock and Ball Torture, this man loves when you cage his cock and balls, loves when you twist and turn it in ways that's so pleasurable it turns into pain
I could go on with his kinks but this is already so fucking long omg only for Osamu
Location - Favourite places to do it?
Bedroom - He feels most safe and comfortable here, honestly anywhere in your apartment really
Club/bar bathrooms - Turns it into a competition to see if he can make you moan and scream louder than the music
Agency Bathroom - It's sneaky and thrilling and he loves the nasty looks Ranpo gives him after
Agency Closet - You just squeeze him tighter when you think Kunikida is gonna find you
Cinema - Osamu is super smart and he can predict most movies so it's boring but he indulges in you by fucking you in the theaters.
Motivation - What turns them on, gets them going?
Seeing you. You breathing. You. You. You.
No seriously, he loves when you sass him, lives for banter, it turns him on so much
Watching you stand up for him gets him rock hard
Outsmarting him turns him on to no end
Physically, it would be you lounging around in his clothes, it just does something to his poor cock
When you two cuddle and you push back against him or hump him from behind, he lives for that shit
Someone who matches his freak gets him incredibly turned on
No - Something they wouldn't do, turn offs
Blood play is something I see him drawing a line at. He doesn't want to see you and blood together, he can't fathom the idea of losing you and that materializes with paranoia so blood play is a no no
Degrading, I can't see him doing this, yes he would playfully degrade his partner but it's nothing too intense. Yeah, he'll call you a dirty slut but never will he call you worthless or pathetic or such. Nor would he want to be degraded, his brain is already mean to him he doesn't want the person he loves doubling down on that
Cucking, he is a possessive man, I can't see him open to watching someone fuck the person he loves
Threesome, he is greedy and wouldn't want to share you with anyone else
Oral - Preference in giving or receiving
He prefers giving, loves to please and loves to be praised for it. Also I can see him as a lovesick fool who wants to do everything to make his partner's life easier. Hard day at work? Lay down babe, let me take your mind off it. Walking home? He pulls you into a dark alleyway and drops to his knees and buries his face into your cunt, lifting your leg over his shoulder. Eating you out is his favourite oral play
He does like receiving head, he enjoys fucking your face and throat but he would choose to eat you out over receiving head
Pace - Are they fast and rough or slow and sensual
Osamu can do both and he wants what you want. If he had a bad day, he wants nothing more than to pin you down and fuck you like a wild animal. Equally sometimes he just wants to kiss every inch of your body and sink inch after inch slowly into you, prolonging the sex for as long as possible
Quickie - Their opinion on quickies and how often
He loves a good quickie. Every time he tries to beat his score. He made you come in under ten minutes last time? This time he's gonna make you come in under five! Loves doing it during working hours, in the mornings, before a mission, he loves quickies. It's fun, and he enjoys the rush of feeling accomplished in making you come so quickly. Gets his heart pumping and he loves it
Risk - Are they game to experiment? Do they take risk?
Yes! He lovess experimenting, especially with a partner on the inexperienced end, he loves opening their world view and showing them all the wild and wicked ways he can ruin them. He will take a risk from time to time when he wants to spice things up but if there's even a tiny possibility of his partner getting hurt he shuts it down asap.
Stamina - How many rounds can they go for and how long
He has phases. On one hand he can go for hours on end for multiple rounds and still want more until you both are on the verge of passing out
On average, every day life he can last three to four rounds for multiple hours.
Toys - Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves
He has a collection and a discount code at the local sex shop. Loves using toys on himself and his partner. If he's not living with his partner, he sends them home with new toys for them to try out and then makes them tell him in detail how that experience was. If one of you buys a new toy, he makes you sit down and talks you through using that toy on yourself
Uses toys during sex for maximum pleasure
Unfair - How much they like to tease.
It's Osamu, I don't think I need to say much for this. He LOVES to tease. He loves to tease you until you're mad and drag him home and ride him until he's crying. Gets hard teasing and riling you up. If you work together, rip my friend. This man will torture you with ghost touches and filthy whispers against your ears during the most inconvenient of times. In an important meeting? He's playing footsies with you under the table. Makes you wear a vibrator that he can control from his phone and turns it all the way up when it's your turn to speak in the meeting.
Yeah safe to say, Ranpo is giving you a both nasty side eye, also makes you buy him candy for him to shut his mouth
Volume - How loud are they, what sounds do they make?
He moans like a fucking slut. High pitched and whiny to tease you but when he gets close it turns into deep groans and grunts. Whimpers out your name needily when you overstimulate him. By himself, he’s more quiet, moaning into your dirty panties/boxer
Wild Card - A random headcanon for the character
Wants to send the videos of him making you cum to all your failed relationship, won’t do it but fantasize about it
X-Ray - What’s going on under those clothes
A shower, a solid 5.5 inches, 7 inches when erect, pale with a flushed pink bulbous tip. Is HUNG, it’s always the skinny men I swear. Has veins running along the underside of his cock. His tip, the slit, is the most sensitive part of him.
Yearning - How high is their sex drive
He has moods, as I’ve stressed during this entire long rant about him lol, his sex drive is high normally unless he gets into a depressive slump and doesn’t touch himself or you for weeks on end
Zzz - How quickly they fall asleep after
He will clean you both up before snuggling up against you. Always waits until you fall asleep first before he attempts to sleep. Sleep never comes naturally to him but being pressed up against you always helps.
꒰ boyfriend!dazai ꒱ who fell in love with you long before he ever admitted it
He noticed everything about you—the way you spoke, the way you reacted to his jokes, even the little habits you didn’t realize you had. By the time he confessed, he had already accepted that you had quietly become the most important person in his life
꒰ boyfriend!dazai ꒱ who pretends he isn’t clingy, but somehow always ends up leaning on you
His arm around your shoulders, his head on your lap, or his chin resting on your shoulder while you’re doing something. If you point it out, he’ll just smile and say you’re imagining things
꒰ boyfriend!dazai ꒱ who teases you constantly just to see your reactions
Flustered? Cute. Annoyed? Even cuter. He lives for the way your face changes when he leans a little too close and says something embarrassing
꒰ boyfriend!dazai ꒱ who casually calls you affectionate nicknames like it’s the most natural thing in the world
Belladonna is his favorite, but he’ll also slip in my love or beautiful mid-conversation without even realizing how soft it sounds
꒰ boyfriend!dazai ꒱ who says he isn’t the jealous type… but suddenly appears beside you when someone flirts with you
His arm wraps around your waist and he smiles politely at the person talking to you. The smile looks friendly. The message is not
꒰ boyfriend!dazai ꒱ who melts when you play with his hair
He’ll pretend to complain about it, but the second your fingers run through it he gets quiet and relaxed
꒰ boyfriend!dazai ꒱ who randomly shows up just to see you.
At work, outside a café, waiting somewhere you didn’t expect him. When you ask why he’s there, he’ll shrug and say, “I was bored… and you’re my favorite distraction.”
꒰ boyfriend!dazai ꒱ who gets strangely quiet when you look at him with genuine affection
For someone who jokes constantly, those moments catch him off guard. Sometimes he just stares at you like he’s trying to understand how he got so lucky
꒰ boyfriend!dazai ꒱ who loves quiet moments with you more than he’ll admit
Sitting together, sharing snacks, talking about nothing important. For someone like him, peace is rare—and you somehow make it feel easy
꒰ boyfriend!dazai ꒱ who sometimes looks at you like he’s still surprised you chose him
He hides it behind teasing and jokes, but there are moments when his expression softens in a way that says everything
osamuslvt ─ 2026 ꕥ
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teaser . . . new to the armed detective agency, somehow admitted in without the usual examination protocol, you blend in almost fine. except, it's not fine, as you find yourself becoming a victim of dazai's charms.
starring . . . dazai osamu x reader
genre . . . fluff, angst, a bad mother, jealousy, a misunderstanding, a bomb explosion too i think, injury
final rating . . . SFW
duration . . . 7k words
director❜s notice . . . yes, yes, i did combine 3 asks each a year old at least to write this.
It was supposed to be a one-day event. A keynote speech, a few panel discussions, awkward mingling, and then finally back to your lonely apartment and cheaper-than-it-looks instant ramen. You had your speech notes tucked into a sleek black folder and your voice prepped with honey water and too much nervous rehearsal. Your boss had called it a “great networking opportunity”, though it was only bearable for a night.
Technically, the symposium was prestigious. Big names and bigger egos. You were one of the youngest speakers invited, which your boss made sure to remind you of in front of others, always with that half-laugh that made your skin crawl. “They wanted you, huh? Well, don’t blow it.”
And thankfully, you didn’t. In fact, your talk on crisis communication strategies during high-pressure negotiations went off without a hitch. You even got a few nods of approval — which was better than what your co-workers had. Before thanking everyone and leaving the podium hurriedly, your eyes scanned the crowd once more. There were so many people in there; a woman with violet eyes, a man eating candy during your entire Q&A session (rude, but somehow endearing?), a man in a dark trench coat, bandages up to his neck, who didn’t clap, didn’t nod, and didn’t react — just watched you hawk-eyed.
In the middle of the post-event reception, while you were debating whether to try some of the sophisticated hors d'oeuvres or just fake a phone call and escape, a tall, silver-haired man approached you.
“We’d like to offer you a position at the Armed Detective Agency,” he said calmly, like he was inviting you to tea.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“A position at the Armed Detective Agency.”
No preamble. No small talk. No explanation. The fuck?
You blinked. “Why?”
He didn’t answer, nodding towards the agency’s table. And there he was again, the bandaged man, with his elbows on the table, cheek in his hand, watching you.
“I thought your agency had an entry exam,” you said slowly, still trying to process his invitation. Who the hell comes up with that as a conversation starter? Plus, would your boss even let you go this easily? You shuddered at the thought of him finding you speaking to the famous Agency’s President (he’d probably ramble about how you were trying to escape his company).
“We make exceptions,” Fukuzawa replied.
Why?
That night, you couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t excitement. It was something colder, tighter, lodged under your ribs like a sliver of glass. The next morning, your boss called you, and told you not to come in.
“Why not?” You asked, perplexed.
“Oh, you know, organizational restructuring. It’s best for everyone…” he said, and hung up on you.
Was it even possible to get fired on a phone call?
You stared at the phone in your hand, then out the window of your apartment. Slowly, you got up to unpack the bag you usually took to the office. What had you done wrong, or right, or whatever mix of both got you noticed?
Then your mind drifted to the President from yesterday. Were you being traded? Thrown out? Or, you wanted to laugh, hand-picked? None of it made sense, and no one was telling you anything either.
Two weeks later, you stepped into the lobby of the Armed Detective Agency with a suitcase, a folder of credentials. The receptionist smiled politely, leading you into the main office. There was the same woman with violet eyes there, Yosano, as she introduced herself, complimenting you on your skin (though, judging by the look on her eyes, it might’ve been a threat).
“Oh, you made it! Was starting to think you’d ghosted us.”
You turned around, and there he was again; the bandage man, Dazai, you learned. Your eyes drifted from his neck to his arms. Was he always this injured?
Kunikida didn’t like you.
He never said it, but you could tell. In the way he’d glance at you over his glasses like he was still trying to figure out what category to shove you into — and failing. The way he excluded you from mission briefings unless absolutely necessary, or left you off group messages and claimed it was an accident.
He was structure, incarnate. A man made of rules and order and iron-spined ideals that he recited like prayers. Everything in his world had a purpose. Everything earned its place.
You, on the other hand, had skipped the evaluation.
No trial run. No paperwork anyone could seem to find. Just a quiet invitation from Fukuzawa after a symposium went sideways.
You might’ve laughed about it if it didn’t feel so... personal. Like being let in through a door you weren’t supposed to notice, only to find yourself standing in a room full of people waiting for you to prove you belonged there.
“Don’t mind him,” Ranpo said one morning, already laying across your desk like he owned it. “He’s just bitter you got in without jumping through the hoops.” He started poking at your pen cup. “Got any lollipops?”
“I don’t keep candy.”
Ranpo blinked. “Why not?”
You hesitated. “...Personal trauma.”
He paused for all of three seconds. “Diabetes?” Then he stole a paperclip and vanished.
You did not have diabetes.
Yosano, at least, was genuinely warm. She didn’t speak to you like you were a new recruit or a fragile thing. Just offered you tea sometimes and invited you out with her when she went shopping. You found yourself saying yes more often than you expected, although the others would run and hide whenever she needed someone with her on a shopping spree.
Atsushi was kind too. But it was like someone had told him to be nice to you and he was still working out why. Kenji gave you radishes, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with them, so you just kept accepting them with a thank you and a soft smile.
And Dazai?
Dazai was strange.
Sometimes he’d flirt — shamelessly, lazily, like it took no effort at all. He’d lean in close while you worked, so close you could smell his cologne (clean linen, faint citrus). His arm would brush yours casually, too much so, like he wanted you to think it didn’t mean anything.
“What are you working on, pretty thing?” he’d murmur, voice low and velvety, with just enough edge beneath it to make you question if the sweetness was real. Sometimes he’d tap a finger against your notes or circle a word in your planner just to leave a trace, a little ghost of him.
It wasn’t fair, the way he played affection and indifference with the same mouth. Because other days? Nothing. Not a glance, not a smirk. You’d walk in, say good morning, and he’d brush past you like you weren’t even there, like you were just background noise.
The first time it happened, you thought you’d done something wrong. The fifth time, you stopped pretending not to care. He kept you guessing, and because of that, you kept looking.
You were composed, always. You remembered everyone’s names. You offered to help Yosano sort case files even when your own inbox was full. You kept pens in a little organizer, color-coded by function. You took notes in meetings with clean margins and underlined dates. You laughed when appropriate, smiled when expected, and didn’t ask why Fukuzawa had offered you a job without so much as a trial run.
It felt like a test you hadn’t studied for. But you still passed. You always passed.
One afternoon, Dazai wandered into the break room while you were making tea. you offered a polite smile, the kind you practiced in the mirror when you were trying not to give anything away.
He didn’t return it, just stood there silently, watching you stir your cup.
“…Need something?” you asked.
He tilted his head like a cat. “You always look so calm.”
You blinked. “Is that a bad thing?”
He didn’t answer. He reached past you to grab a sugar packet and left without another word.
Other times, he lingered. He would sit at your desk when you were in the middle of emails, eating pocky or flipping through some file you’d left open. Once, he made a paper crane out of your post-it note, then set it on your keyboard like a gift.
“You’re too neat,” he said once. “Like a doll someone put together just right.”
You looked up. “and you’re too loud, like a talking microwave.”
He grinned. “Touche.”
The worst part was — you liked the attention. Even when it confused you, even when it made your stomach twist in weird ways. There was something about him that felt… inevitable. And you were trying. God, were you trying not to slip away in his current — trying and failing.
So you stayed busy. You wrote mission reports, edited proposals, and kept up with logistics and meetings and strategy calls until your head spun. You were always the one with the answer. always the one people came to when they needed a plan.
Still, some days, you caught yourself watching the door, waiting to see if he’d glance your way.
Just once.
And when he didn’t, you went right back to your notes quietly, like nothing had happened.
—
You hadn’t meant to say it.
You were curled up on Yosano’s couch in your sleep shirt and someone else’s hoodie, a half-empty wine glass sweating on the coffee table and a bowl of strawberries between you. Some old movie was playing, neither of you really watching it. Your legs were tangled over hers lazily, socks mismatched. She smelled like lavender shampoo and clove smoke, maybe.
It had started out normal. She asked how work was, you groaned. She asked if kunikida had said anything rude again, and you nodded. She asked if dazai was still acting weird around you and—
You hesitated.
She didn’t miss it, though.
Yosano turned down the movie with the remote, then leveled a look at you. “You’ve been blushing when he teases you lately.”
You blinked. “I have not.”
“You have. You also smile at your phone after reading his texts.”
“I smile at everyone’s texts.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You smiled when he sent you a photo of a sock he found on the sidewalk.”
“...He said it looked like a sad little ghost.”
“Mmhmm.” She sipped her wine. “Just admit it.”
You stared down at your knees, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. “It’s not a thing,” you said, quietly. “It’s just — I don’t know. I might have a tiny crush on him. maybe.”
She was silent for a second. then, “Finally.”
You groaned and buried your face in your hands.
“Hey.” she tapped your knee with her toe. “It’s not a big deal.”
“No, I know, I just… saying it out loud makes it real.”
“Do you want it to be real?”
You didn’t answer right away, you didn’t know how to. You just sat there for a bit, letting the question settle. Yosano didn’t push.
Eventually, you said, “I like how he listens. Not always seriously, but… he remembers things. Like the way I take my tea. The author I mentioned once in passing. When I get quiet, he doesn’t try to fix it. Just sort of… makes space.”
Yosano gave you a slow smile. “So you like like him.”
You groaned again, sinking deeper into the couch. “God, I’m twelve.”
“You’re not. You’re just human.”
You didn’t say anything. You were smiling, though — small and stupid and full of something warm you didn’t know how to name.
Outside, the rain started. Yosano passed you the wine bottle. “He’s lucky,” she said. “Not that I’d ever tell him that to his face.”
You took a sip and laughed. For the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like a stranger inside your own skin.
---
You were having a decent morning.
Tea brewed just right. A clean inbox (a rare blessing). The sun came in soft through the office window, painting warm lines across your desk. Kenji had brought in those little red bean buns again. Atsushi smiled at you in the hallway. Even dazai hadn’t done anything weird yet today.
And then your phone rang. The name on the screen made your stomach twist.
Mother.
You could’ve let it go to voicemail — you should have. But you didn’t. You never did.
“Hi, mom,” you answered, voice already two decibels higher than usual.
“Finally,” she huffed. “I was starting to think you’d gone completely off the grid. Are you still at that detective place?”
“Yeah, the Armed Detective Agency. I’ve been there for a while now, remember?”
“Hmm.” a pause. you could hear her lighting a cigarette. “They paying you properly?”
“It’s fine.”
“Fine,” she echoed, like it was a disease. “You always say that. Fine isn’t good enough, sweetheart. You’ve got a brain. Use it.”
“I am using it.”
“Well, good. Then maybe you can send some money this week. Your brother’s tuition’s due.”
Your heart pinched. She always said your brother when she wanted something. Never his name.
“I just paid for your new phone.”
“So? You make more than me. And you don’t even have kids, or a husband, or rent that’s worth the walls you’re stuck in.”
You closed your eyes, rubbed your temple. “Mom—”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
The question came fast, a feather that could turn into a brick if you answered wrong.
“Um.”
“Because I saw on the news,” she continued, breezing on like she hadn’t just left you spinning, “that that port mafia guy with the hat is hot now. Are you into that sort of thing?”
“What? No. Absolutely not.”
“Well, he’s rich. Dangerous, sure, but sometimes that’s the price of stability.”
“I’m not dating a mafia executive, mom.”
“Then who are you dating?” she pressed, syrupy now. “Come on, you’ve got to be seeing someone. You were always so pretty in a quiet way. Mysterious. Men love that.”
And you panicked. You could’ve said no. You could’ve ended the call. But the word tumbled out before you could stop it:
“I’m… seeing someone from work.”
Silence. Then a delighted gasp. “Finally. And?”
“And… it’s new,” you mumbled, eyes darting to the hallway like someone might catch you in the lie. “So. not really a big deal.”
“Is he rich?”
You paused. “…What?”
“Rich. Does he have money? Benefits? A good apartment?”
“I don’t— I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Sweetheart, ask. How else are you supposed to secure your future? God, do I have to coach you through everything?”
You winced. “he’s… stable.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“He’s…” your brain scrambled. “He’s clever. Funny. Good at his job.”
“That’s lovely, dear, but you can’t eat charm.”
You almost laughed, and she sighed dramatically. “Fine. at least tell me he comes from a decent family. Does he dress well? Tall?”
“He wears bandages.”
“…Excuse me?”
“Uh— he’s tall.”
“Hmm.”
Another long drag of her cigarette. The sound made your chest tight. Like being twelve again, watching her get ready in the mirror, listening to her tell you how to hold your face just right so you wouldn’t end up alone.
“Just don’t waste your prime years,” she said. “You’re not twenty forever. No one wants a tired woman with opinions.”
You bit the inside of your cheek.
“You’re right,” you said softly. “I’ll ask.”
“Good girl.”
The call ended. You set the phone down like it weighed a thousand pounds. Your tea had gone cold. The light from the window had shifted. Your inbox had filled with new requests while you weren’t looking.
You pressed a hand to your chest and breathed. It wasn’t real. You had no boyfriend. But for a moment, you’d almost made yourself believe it could be. Dazai flashed in your mind, all lazy smiles and unreadable eyes. The way he watched you sometimes.
“God,” you whispered. “I’m insane.”
“Talking to yourself now?” came a voice from the doorway. You jolted. Yosano leaned against the frame, arms crossed, amused. “Bad call?” she asked.
You hesitated. “…My mother,” you admitted.
Her expression softened. “Want to go out tonight? Drinks on me.”
---
It took you all day to work up to it.
You didn’t even have a plan, really. No strategy, no elegant phrasing. And that wasn’t like you at all. You were usually composed, clear-headed in conversation, good at making your words count. That was what they hired you for, right? Communication and persuasion.
But this? What the hell was this?
You walked into Dazai’s shared office after pacing the hallway twice and pretending to look for a misplaced file. He was sitting at his desk, chair tipped dangerously back on two legs, eyes half-lidded like he was halfway to sleep or pretending to be. He cracked one open when you entered.
“Well, well,” he said, voice low and warm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
You cleared your throat. “Hey. Um. Do you have a minute?”
“For you?” he smiled, letting the chair drop back onto all four legs. “Always.”
You hesitated in the doorway, then stepped inside, closing it gently behind you.
“So,” you started, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “This is going to sound really weird. And random. And probably kind of unhinged.”
“My favorite kind of conversation,” dazai murmured.
You looked up at him. His expression was amused but open. You inhaled. “I was just wondering... how much does the agency pay?”
That got a blink out of him. “Ah?”
“Like, on average. Monthly. For agents. You don’t have to tell me your salary,” you added quickly, “I just— my mom was asking. And I guess it got me thinking. I never actually asked when I joined.”
He tilted his head. “So your mother’s the one who wants to know how much I make?”
Your ears burned. “Not— specifically you, just in general. I mean, I told her I was seeing someone here—”
You froze.
Dazai smiled, slowly. “Oh?”
You waved your hands. “Fake! I panicked! She was asking invasive questions and I just— I don’t know why I said it, I just did, and now she thinks I have a boyfriend who works here and is maybe rich, and—”
“And you came to me,” he said, resting his chin on one hand, eyes glinting. “Specifically.”
You stopped, lips parting like a rebuttal might come out. But it didn’t.
He chuckled. “Well, that’s flattering.”
“Oh my god,” you muttered, covering your face. “This is so embarrassing.”
“No, no, I'm honored.” He leaned forward. “So? Am I rich?”
You peaked between your fingers. “I don't know. are you?”
He grinned. “Depends who’s asking.”
“I just said who’s asking.”
“Ah, but are you asking? Or is this for your mother’s fantasy boyfriend spreadsheet?”
You groaned and slumped into the nearest chair. “You’re so annoying.”
“I've been told.”
There was a beat of quiet. His gaze softened. “You’ve really never looked at your salary slip?”
You shrugged. “It's automatic. I try not to think about money too much.”
“How noble.”
“Thanks.”
He studied you a moment longer. “So... are you planning to quit?”
You looked at him, surprised. “What? No.”
“Then why the sudden curiosity? Assuming you chose to listen to your mother when she told you to ask me for my salary,” he said, tilting his head again, like he was gently dissecting you. “Has the ramen finally broken your spirit?”
You snorted. “Maybe.”
“Or maybe,” he continued, standing slowly and crossing the room to you, “you’re looking for something.” He leaned against the desk beside you, arms folded, gaze flickering down your face. “Security, perhaps? Answers? Affection?” His voice dropped a notch. “Me?”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Do you ever answer questions directly?”
“Do you ever ask questions just once?”
“I asked how much you get paid.”
“You did,” he agreed, tapping his lip thoughtfully. “But that’s such a boring thing to talk about when there are far more interesting mysteries in this room.”
You sighed, fighting a smile.
“I'll tell you this much,” he said, voice soft now. “The agency doesn’t pay in riches. But it gives you something else. Something worth staying for.”
“Like what?”
His eyes met yours, suddenly serious. “A place.” You blinked. “Somewhere to be useful,” he added. “To belong. To be... seen.” Your breath caught.
He held your gaze for one more second, then straightened and stretched, all lazy elegance. “And also health insurance.”
You let out a shaky laugh. “You’re weird,” you said.
“Thank you.”
You stood, brushing off your pants. “I'm telling my mom you’re rich.”
“Ah, I knew it,” he said brightly. “You do have a crush on me.”
“No, I don't.”
“You do.”
You opened the door. “Goodbye, Dazai.”
“Tell her I drive a nice car.”
“You don’t have a car.”
“She doesn’t have to know that.”
You shut the door behind you, heartbeat way too loud for how dumb the conversation was.
---
The agency was empty except for you and dazai. It was well past working hours, but neither of you seemed to mind. You had half a case report open on your screen and he had half a cup of coffee going cold on your desk, his feet kicking up on the corner like he owned the place, like he always did.
“Working overtime again, sweetheart?” he asked, grinning, like the nickname wouldn’t make your face heat.
“Maybe I like the extra pay,” you shot back, eyes still on the screen.
“The pay? Tragic,” he sighed dramatically. “If you’re staying for that, I might need to stage an intervention.”
He leaned in close, chin nearly touching your shoulder, as if he needed to read what was on your screen. He didn’t. You knew he didn’t. He knew he didn’t, too. You leaned slightly away, only for him to mirror you with a little smile, like you’d just proven a theory he’d had all along.
“You know, you could always marry rich,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Let some poor fool fund your late-night workaholic habits.”
“I thought that’s what you were for,” you said before you could stop yourself.
He blinked, and then laughed.
“Well, well. Someone’s growing teeth.”
The door opened.
“Y/N?!”
You froze. Dazai straightened, watching as a woman you hadn’t seen in months strode into the office like she owned it. Her heels echoed against the wood loudly. Your mother.
“What are you doing here?” Your voice cracked. You stood, too quickly, knocking your chair slightly out of place.
“I was in the area,” she said breezily. “I thought I’d check in on my darling daughter. This is your new job, huh? A bit shabby.”
She scanned the room with barely hidden disdain. Then her eyes landed on Dazai.
“Oh? and who’s this?” she said, already smirking. “Is this the boyfriend you were too shy to tell me about?”
Your soul briefly left your body. You opened your mouth to say no, to correct her, but Dazai, of course, was nothing more than your—
“That’s me,” he said smoothly, rising from his seat. He offered a hand, not expecting her to take it. “Her boyfriend. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“He’s skinny,” she said bluntly, as if he wasn’t in the room at all. “Probably not much money.”
“You wound me,” dazai replied, handing over his heart. “I do alright.”
“Doesn’t look like much of a provider,” she muttered.
“He’s not,” you hissed under your breath. “He’s not my boyfriend. Please don’t—”
“Tea,” she said suddenly. “Make me some. Or is that too much to ask for a daughter who never visits?”
“You don’t have to do that, honey,” Dazai said, grinning curling up at the corners. You shot him a glare.
“It’s fine,” you said through gritted teeth. “I’ll make it.”
You fled to the agency kitchenette, boiling water and biting the inside of your cheek. Your hands shook. You hated that she could still make you feel like you were just twelve years old.
But when you came back, she was gone. Dazai was sitting on your desk again, eating a piece of chocolate from your drawer.
“Where’d she go?” you asked.
He popped the rest of the chocolate into his mouth and shrugged.
“Muttered something about not being welcome here and left,” he said.
“You didn’t say anything to her, did you?”
“Nothing too rude.”
You narrowed your eyes. He held his hands up in mock innocence.
“Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a scout.”
“You remember!” He smiled, nudging the tea tray you’d brought in closer.
“So. You gonna let me take you out for dinner now, or what? Boyfriend duties and all.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re blushing.”
“Shut up.”
He didn’t. He just smiled.
“Want me to get you a cab?” Dazai’s voice was light, like the whole thing hadn’t happened. “I'll pay. Don’t worry about my wallet — I’ll just skip breakfast and lunch for next week.”
You blinked at him. “…You don’t have a bike or something?”
He gasped, mock-offended. “Do I look like a man with reliable transportation?”
“You don’t even look like a man who eats breakfast.”
“You wound me.”
You snorted — just a little — and nodded. “Fine. Thanks.”
He grinned, that slow-lidded fox grin that made you feel like you were standing too close to something dangerous.
In the taxi, you sat side by side. City lights smeared against the windows. You held your bag in your lap like a shield. He slouched beside you, one arm casually draped over the backseat, fingers inches from your shoulder.
Your phone buzzed. One look at the sender made your stomach drop.
Mom: He’ll break your heart. He’s just like your father. You can’t trust someone like that. Do not get attached!!
You stared at the screen. Then slowly, as if automatically, you locked your phone without an answer, tilting it away from you and into your lap. Instead, you turned to Dazai.
“So,” you said softly, “What do you usually eat for breakfast? When you’re not skipping it for charity cab rides.”
He blinked. Then he smiled, warm and real.
“Coffee and half a banana if i’m lucky,” he replied. “And you?”
“Uh. toast,” you murmured, suddenly self-conscious. “Or those sad little triangle sandwiches from the corner store.”
“Gourmet,” he teased. “We should go out sometime. I’ll find the worst breakfast place in yokohama. Really make it a miserable date.”
You laughed, surprised by how easy it came. “Deal. As long as you’re paying.”
“Ah, the betrayal,” he said, clutching his heart. “Using me for my zero yen net worth.”
You smiled into your lap.
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was soft. You looked out the window, watched neon signs flicker in a language only 2am could speak. Dazai didn’t say anything else, just let you be.
---
The basement cafe was warm that afternoon. The kind of humid, sleepy warmth that comes from too many machines running at once. Espresso steam hung low over the counter, fogging the narrow windows. You had come down because Ranpo had forgotten his snack tin again, and Yosano had very pointedly asked you to be the one to retrieve it. You didn’t question why. You didn’t really need to.
Besides, you’d seen Dazai slip down there earlier.
Not that you were following him, not exactly. More like — you had an idea. A hope that maybe he’d be there, that maybe he’d look up and smile when he saw you, maybe lean against the counter with that lazy charm and say something dumb like “If i’d known you were coming, I’d have ordered two.”
And you’d laugh, and maybe call him an idiot, and maybe mean it affectionately.
You liked this version of him. The version that lingered around your desk and asked you things he already knew the answers to, just to hear you speak. The version that smiled crookedly and poked fun at you for bringing extra pens, then borrowed them all. The version who once called you sweetheart in a voice so low and unexpected it rewired your brain for an entire afternoon.
Today, though, he wasn’t alone.
She was pretty. Of course she was. Tall, sleek, with a subtle perfume and cheap lipstick and even cuter boots. He leaned in close to her across the small two-seater table by the café’s far wall, her hand draped in his like it belonged there.
You froze halfway through the doorway.
The laugh she let out was bright but practiced. Dazai smiled — not the lazy smile he gave you, the one that meant I’m bored, entertain me — but a different one. It was charming and dazzling. When he spoke to her, his voice was low and flirtatious, tinged with amusement.
“You don’t have to be so harsh,” he said, thumb brushing her knuckles. “We’re practically old friends, aren’t we?”
You didn’t hear her answer. You didn’t want to.
Some part of you kept standing there, as if the longer you looked, the less real it would become. As if the moment would shift and correct itself.
But it didn’t.
He didn’t even look up.
Something bitter lodged itself in your throat. Your stomach sank, slowly, like it was learning gravity all over again. Your hand curled tighter around Ranpo’s tin.
And then you turned, walking back up the stairs like your shoes were filled with cement.
—
The ignoring started small. You didn’t say good morning. You didn’t answer when he asked what you were working on. You passed him in the hall with your eyes fixed ahead, fingers brushing your ID badge like it was a tether.
He noticed. Of course he did. Dazai was annoying like that, perceptive, in all the wrong ways.
“Cold wind today,” he muttered once, falling into step beside you. “I should've bought a coat.”
“Then bring one next time.”
He blinked, then smiled almost nervously.
“Have I done something?”
“I wouldn't know.”
And then you were gone, ducking into Yosano’s office and shutting the door behind you before he could follow. You didn’t cry. You wouldn’t give yourself permission. Not after realizing your mother might’ve been right for once.
Then, some time later, he stopped lingering.
No more hovering near your desk. No more flicked paperclips and whispered jokes. No more hot coffee on your desk with a sticky note that said ‘not poisoned (probably).’
It hurt. it shouldn’t have, but it did. More than it had any right to. And still, you kept your head up.
You worked harder. You filed everything on time, you even helped Kenji reorganize the records room. You were chipper during meetings, helpful during missions, and entirely made of steel when you passed him in the halls.
If anyone noticed the shift, they didn’t comment.
Maybe Yosano knew. Ranpo definitely did. Maybe Atsushi looked at you with too much softness some days. But no one said anything. Least of all him.
Dazai tried, in his own way. He left candy on your desk once. Not a note, not a smiley face. Just a small, strawberry-wrapped piece, the kind you’d once mentioned to him reminded you of your childhood.
You threw it out. Later, you pulled it out of the trash. Later still, you found yourself staring at it in your drawer for almost an hour.
You hated him.
Except you didn’t.
The others joked.
“You’re getting popular,” Ranpo said once, nudging you with his elbow. “Mr Heartbreak himself looks like a kicked puppy whenever you ignore him.”
“Don’t know what you mean,” you said, eyes on your work.
“Hm.”
He never pushed. But Dazai did. Not with words.
With glances. With hesitations. With the way he stood in the doorway of your office sometimes, just long enough for you to notice, before pretending he’d come for something else.
With the way he waited after missions, just out of reach.
With the way his eyes searched your face like a question he didn’t know how to phrase.
The days are blurred. The pain dulled, but never disappeared.
You told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself he was always like that. He flirted. He charmed. He seduced. It meant nothing. It was a game to him, a performance, a way to get through the day.
You told yourself it was better this way. You told yourself you didn’t care. But some nights, when the office was empty and the moonlight pooled silver across your keyboard, you’d think of that smile he gave her. It was etched into your brain, in a way that made you want to crack your skull open so hard it bled.
The warmth in his voice. His hand in hers.
And you’d feel it again, that bitter weight in your chest. That slow, dragging ache that said you had hoped for more.
---
The morning was heavy, overcast — an inch‑thick cloud pressed low over Yokohama. You and Dazai stood side by side at the ADA’s entrance. Briefing had been chaotic: a bomb threat, scattered victims, a risk analysis. Something in the planning had set you on edge. Dazai sensed it, but you refused to meet his eyes.
At 7:42 a.m., you stepped inside the site alongside Dazai. You were assigned perimeter sweep — find the device, secure civilians, evacuate — while Dazai monitored exits and coordinated with field agents. You ignored him. You walked ahead, shoulders rigid. You were angry — angry at him for hurting you, at yourself for caring, and at Kunikida for pairing you two for this mission.
He caught your arm once during the walk-in. “Hey,” he said quietly. “You okay?” You jerked away and kept moving. He followed behind you gently. You pretended not to know he was there. He blinked at you.
You said, “I said I’m fine.”
He looked away and didn’t argue.
Inside, alarms buzzed. The yellow tape crinkled as civilians backed away. A device sat nestled under a fallen signboard — you could already see the blinking red light. The air smelled of overheated electronics and panic. Dazai crouched next to it, fingers hovering. You watched through the lens of your training, heart locked on the device.
You spoke quietly into your helmet mic: “Bomb is live, prime threat. Evacuate east side. Two minutes.”
You stepped forward to help him set timers, defuse circuits. He gave instructions sharply. You obeyed, begrudgingly. Then, just as you were about to unclip a wire—
BANG!
“Daz—” Kunikida’s voice from the radio cut.
Dust exploded everywhere. You staggered back, ears ringing. Dazai grabbed your arm, and dragged you toward a side exit.
“Wait! There are still people there—”
“It doesn’t matter now. Come with me—”
“No! What is wrong with you—?”
A child was crying. A man collapsed. You stopped.
“Are you crazy? You’ll die if you stay here for long!” Dazai shouted.
“Then go!” You spat. “I’ll do it by myself if I have to.”
The main structural beam cracked. You knew what it meant. You knew what was coming. He stared at the ceiling, breath hitching. You reached for his hand. He froze.
The beam cracked again, louder. Death hung in four tons of concrete.
You had one choice.
You grabbed the crying child and handed her to him. He opened his mouth. You pressed harder. “Go.”
He shook his head as another crack split the air. His voice cracked too: “No—”
You whispered, “Just go, I’ll see if the diffusion was worth it.”
Behind him, the civilians fled, trusted to safety. He looked like his world was fracturing.
You made the final decision. You locked eyes. You said, barely louder than his own quickened breathing, “I love you. Now go.”
He stared at you, mouth open, betrayal and fear. He didn’t move. So you shoved him. Wolfed half into the crowd. His hand slipped from yours. He stumbled. You saw panic in his eyes.
Behind you, a deafening rumble sounded. And your world collapsed.
You were buried in the dark. The beam pinned your leg. Dust choked your lungs. Your arms ached too deeply to move. You squeezed your eyes shut, blood warm behind your ears. Your last thought wasn’t fear, though you tasted it. It was his eyes when you said “I love you.”
A weight lifted. You felt a palm against your cheek. His fingers brushing dust out of your hair.
“Hey,” Dazai whispered. He pulled, stone and torn hands working like they were ripping pieces of earth from your world. Your breath was a broken thing and you coughed. “Y/N,” he repeated. “You passed.”
You blinked. “Passed? Like, passed away?”
He forced out a ragged laugh. “That— that was the test.”
Your stomach lurched. You saw his face, inches away. It was covered with sweat and tears and ash.
“I didn’t know the test could actually hurt you,” you choked out. “I thought I was done for.”
“If you didn’t, you would never have said what you said, hmm?”
“Shut up,” you gasped. A new weight pressed you down. Dazai froze suddenly, panic racing back. He knelt next to you, hands trembling.
“Y/N,” he whispered. “Hold on. Please. Don’t close your eyes, okay?”
Who were you to listen to a heartbreaker?
---
You woke to the scent of antiseptic and pine.
Light slanted in through the cabin window, filtered by Yosano’s dark lace curtains. You blinked, slow, like you’d just remembered what it meant to be alive. Your limbs felt like they belonged to someone else, but your chest still rose and fell. The breath was a little ragged, but it was yours.
You shifted. A sharp ache bloomed in your ribs. But you were alive. That must have meant something.
Yosano looked up from a clipboard across the room. She was still in her uniform — blood on her sleeves and smudges on her cheek. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was real. “Don’t move too much.”
“What… happened?” Your voice rasped.
“You took a beam to the back like a damn romantic hero. We barely got to you in time. Dazai brought you out. Wouldn’t let anyone else touch you. Carried you all the way here.”
Your chest tightened.
Yosano sat down beside your bed. Her voice softened, uncharacteristically gentle. “I haven’t let him in here yet. He wanted to. But I figured… maybe you’d want space.”
You stared at the ceiling, heart warring with something you didn’t have a name for. He’d carried you?
“It’s okay,” you murmured, after a pause. “Let him in.”
She nodded, stood, and opened the door.
He stepped in like he’d been holding his breath all day. The moment his eyes found yours, they softened, something breaking in him slowly. He looked like hell. His coat was rumpled, shoes scuffed. His hair was unbrushed, as if he’d been pacing too much to bother.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Yosano rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile.
He closed the door behind him, took two steps forward, and stopped. “I thought I’d lost you.”
You swallowed. Your throat ached. “I didn’t mean what I said. When I snapped. I was just…”
He shook his head. “Don’t. You were right. You saw something and I didn’t make it better. I made it worse. I didn’t want you to go without hearing me say it—”
He moved closer, tentative now, like you were something divine and fragile. You blinked. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes.
And then he kissed you. Soft. Like a secret he’d kept for too long. Your hand found his sleeve. Clutched.
But still, that splinter of memory. That woman. Her laughter. His hand around hers.
You pulled back. Just slightly. “I saw you,” you whispered. “That day. With her. Holding her hand.”
He stilled.
Your voice trembled. “I thought — maybe my mother was right. That I was just another game to you.”
Dazai stared at you. Then — without a single word — he sank to his knees. He clasped his hands in front of him like he was praying.
“I’ll stop,” he said. “Flirting. With anyone. With everyone. I’ll stop. Please. Just let me be yours.” You stared down at him. “Let me be your husband someday. Whenever you’re ready.”
You blinked. “Marriage?”
He smiled, crooked. “Yeah. I’ve decided. You’re the one I’d give myself all up for. ”
Your laugh was thin, watery. “My mom hates you.”
His smile turned feline. “Oh, she does, does she?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Dazai.”
He shrugged. “I’ve taken care of it.”
“Taken what—”
“Nothing illegal,” he said quickly. Then added, not quite convincingly, “Probably.” You stared at him. He only grinned wider. “She won’t be bothering you anymore.”
You sank into the pillows, laughter escaping you in a broken puff. “You’re insane.”
He leaned forward, resting his head on your thigh. “Yeah. But you’re stuck with me.”
Your fingers drifted into his hair. You’d never seen him this still.
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.
This is just about Dazai having a partner that the rest of the agency didn't know about.
No one thought Dazai Osamu would ever been in a relationship, sure that sounded a little rude but for any one who knew him it made perfect since, I mean sure he was attracted but he was also annoying to most people he knew, a blatant womanizer, and had a tendency of trying to kill himself, so to say anyone's hopes of him being in a long term relationship where low so low you could say they were in hell, because who in their right mind would date that bandaged manic, that's what the Armed Detective Agency thought at least till you showed up.
When you first arrived at the ADA they thought you must be there to hire them for a job, even when you asked for Dazai by name they still thought it was job related because in their mind there was no way someone as nice and polite as you actually knew Dazai they just simply couldn't believe it.
I stood in front of Dazai coworkers trying to explain to them that I wasn't here to hire them for a job I was here to see Dazai. The blonde man in front of me who I could recognize as Kunikida before he even told me his name just by how much Dazai had told me about him.
"I really am just looking for Dazai"
Kunikida nodded saying. "I understand but he's currently out," I heard him muttered under his breath 'probably slacking somewhere' before continuing "but will be happy to help with whatever you need our members are very capable"
Before I could start explaining that I wasn't here for a job the door of the agency busted open a voice I recognized very well sang out from the door. "I'm back I know I know you all missed me so much!" He looked around the room expecting Kunikida to yell at him like usual but instead he's eyes landed on me, I could practically feel the joy coming out of that man when he spotted me a huge smile broke out across his face as he quickly made he's way over to me, he hugged me so tight I thought he was going to crush my bones. "Oh Belladonna! What have I done for such a beauty to grant me with their present, I could have died a happy man the moment I saw you, I know a wonderful bridge how about we go make that a reality right now" Dazai's rant was cut off by Kunikida roughly pulling him off me.
"Dazai you can't just grab random people!"
Dazai pouted at his coworkers as I chuckled light, Dazai gaped really put on the dramatics for this. "I am not grabbing a 'random stranger' I'm grabbing the love of my life my darling Belladonna" I smiled saying. "It's fine really Osamu isn't bothering me"
Kunikida looked at me like I was crazy as Dazai quickly wrapped his arms back around me. "I mean I wouldn't have started dating Osamu if his affection bothered me" The was a resounding shock from everyone in the room well except for Ranpo of course, Kunikida spoke. "You're dating Dazai?"
I nodded saying. "Yes" He looked skeptical. "By choice?" Dazai gasped right next to my ear. "Kunikida what's that supposed to mean I'm a catch" "Yeah maybe when we're literally catching you out of the river"
He pouted as his head rested against my shoulder. "Tell him I'm a good lover Belladonna" I smiled looking at Kunikida "Osamu is a great lover"
It was clear Kunikida couldn't believe what he was hearing the concept of Dazai having a lover didn't even seem possible to Kunikida but now here that reality was right in front of him. Dazai clearly seemed to be enjoying Kunikida's shook.
"Well if you'll be excusing us my shifts over and me and my Belladonna have a date"
Dazai pulled me out of the Armed Detective Agency's office as he happily talked about all the things he wanted to do on our date.
When the door shut Kunikida just stood there he really could not believe what he just heard, from behind him he heard Yosano say to ranpo "I should have known better then to have a bet with you" Ranpo spoke not seeming shocked at all at the turn of events "I told you he was dating someone I expect my sweets as promised" Yosano sighed even she wasn't expecting Dazai to be dating someone, to say the whole Armed Detective Agency was left in shock that day would be an understatement.
summary: you’re 4 months pregnant, tired, and cold, aaanndddd the baby is heavy. Sweet husband Dazai suggests a warm bath together!
tags/warnings: fluff, pregnancy, married couple, teasing, sweeeet
wc: 450
a/n: my very first fic!!! YAYYYYYYYY i finally have something i deem worth sharing hehe. enjoy! Thanks for reading in advance!
“I’m emotional and pregnant, leave me alone” you stomp your way over to the stove, aggressively stirring the liquid in the small pot.
“And cold” you add, tone defeated, sighing quietly to yourself.
Dazai chuckles, the amused lilt to his melodic tone carrying from behind you. Heat from his chest radiates against your back, his hands snaking loosely around you. “And that’s why I won’t be leaving you alone, sweet thing”
His large, warm, and gentle hands rest gently over your growing belly from behind, the motion pressing his chest flush against your smaller frame. You feel all of his warmth seeping into your skin through your thin top.
But it’s not enough, still not enough. Theres frost in your bones waiting to be melted down, especially your feet.
“I’m cold. And tired. And this baby is still small yet so heavy and my feet are freezing and I don’t feel like eating anything and--” You stop your little ramble, sighing as your stirring in the pot turns more frantic, milk droplets splashing over the stove.
“And now there’s a stove to clean as well. Great”
Dazai hums lightly, pressing his face into your hair, the smell of your hair products like pollen to a needy bee. It makes the sight of spilled milk 3% less annoying.
“My poor, sweet wife” he coos, hand over your belly rubbing small circles over the slight bump. “My cold, tired, pretty, poor wife” pressing a kiss to the back of your head – his nose in your hair – he pulls away just enough to carefully spin you around.
Hes always gentle with you; patient and oh so sweet. But you've noticed how much more cautious and gentler hes been acting after you broke the news of your pregnancy to your husband.
His warm, slender fingers glide up over your arms, slow and deliberate, eyes glued to yours like sticky honey.
“Sounds like my wife is in need of a long, hot shower with her husband, mhm?” Your face squishes with his palms gently pressing into the hollows of your cheeks, puckering your lips for you before he presses a quick kiss. Soft, very soft. So soft it makes you want to nod along to anything he says.
Not that you weren’t desperate for some warm water down your body, to melt the frost multiplying in your bones.
The husband part is just the sweetest bonus. The perfect cherry on top.
And with that, Dazai guides you to the shower, a hand on your sore lower back. “I’ll make my adorable, cold wife a hot cocoa after” he beams, happy to be of any help.
“You better take responsibility. It’s your fault the baby is big at just 4 months” with one foot into the bathroom, you look over your shoulder, sensing a small glare his way. He only chuckles at that, not disagreeing. Not when his towering height is your evidence.
“You’re right. This entire baby is my fault actually” he nods, smiling to himself as he ushers you inside, peeling your clothes off for you.
ılıılı reuniting with dazai osamu after a mission gone wrong
request by: anon
he knew something felt off before the mission even started. dazai doesn’t trust intel blindly, no matter how official it looks - and the tension in his shoulders as you descended into the underground base wasn’t just paranoia. it was instinct. but he let you go ahead. that’s what still kills him.
the second the explosion goes off, he doesn't scream - he acts. you pushed him out of the blast, and the cave-in split the two of you apart. everyone expected him to wait for a tactical team, but dazai? he’s digging through rubble with his bare hands like a man possessed. all calm, all charm - gone.
the silence you leave behind terrifies him more than he admits. he’s lived with death for years, but the idea of your body buried in stone while he’s still breathing? it gnaws at the part of him that pretends he doesn't care. the one that secretly hoped loving you might fix something.
when he finds you, injured but alive, his relief is violent. not loud. not dramatic. just a single, ragged breath and a hand that shakes as he brushes hair from your face. you barely open your eyes, and he’s already scanning for injuries like he's afraid touching you too hard will break you further.
he’s uncharacteristically quiet as he helps you out. no jokes. no half-flirting. just focused care - an arm around your waist, voice low and steady as he murmurs reassurances. his grip on you is too tight, like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll disappear again.
if you try to downplay your injuries, he snaps. not cruelly - but sharp. "don’t do that," he says. "don’t pretend almost dying for me isn’t a big deal." you see the crack in him then. not anger - guilt. because he knows what you gave up in that moment, and he hates himself for it.
when you're finally in a safe place, he stays beside your hospital bed like it’s penance. he lounges like he always does, coat draped, feet up - but he never leaves. not for food. not for sleep. and when you wake in the middle of the night, you’ll find his hand still loosely holding yours.
he pretends to be annoyed when you tease him about being worried. “oh please, i only stayed because the cafeteria pudding is better here.” but the way he watches your every move, tracks your breathing, and leans in when you whisper his name says otherwise.
he doesn’t say “i love you” - he says “you scared the hell out of me.” and that’s how dazai speaks love: sideways, painfully honest. his hands tremble when he cups your cheek. his smile is thin. but his eyes - for once - don’t run from yours.
later, when you’re healing, he asks you quietly not to do it again. not because he doesn’t understand why you did it - but because the thought of losing you before he could deserve you terrifies him more than dying ever did.
