𝕨𝕣𝕒𝕡 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 ִֶָ࣪☾.
O. Dazai -`♡´-
Murmurs and whispers started the moment you walked out of the front entrance together, some of them reaching the usually indifferent ears of his partner. However, he couldn’t help leaning in a little closer when there were talks of the person on Dazai’s phone screen being the exact one he spoke to earlier that presented themself as a new secretary. He didn’t make the poor thing join just so he wouldn’t be bogged down with paperwork, did he? He shook his head while he strolled through the hall, passing different small huddles of gossiping adults acting like high schoolers, heading toward the meeting room where his boss and other executives sat, already working on a cover story for his lousy partner.
day 13 of fluffuary prompt challenge: confession~
♡
synopsis: friendship bloomed between you and the gentle stalker you finally bumped into at the convenience store, intrigued by his beautifully poetic turn of phrase and love of coffee, catching him off guard in a place where there were no shadows to hide in. dazai is surprised, pleasantly so, that you are so willing to invade not only on his space but his life, helping yourself to his apartment, clothes, TV, couch, bed... all in a sorry attempt to catch his attention enough to make a move. alas, this lonely port mafia executive would sooner die than risk touching you, unsure if he could really control himself otherwise, already worried letting you in on his little secret of his occupation merely a shove closer out the door for you. however, this supposed "monster" you heard devious rumors about is just a broken-hearted man seeking company, and maybe to be loved in return.
introduction: love finds itself in funny situations, dear. you can't help where it decides to plant and grow out its roots. it sticks around, trying to help you see the good in people, even those that don't see it in themselves.
this is another shortened, copy/paste x reader version where you made friends with the gentle monster everyone steers clear of, and the more time spent with him resulted in heavy feelings you just can't ignore any longer.
contents: ~3.8k words; sfw; fluff; gn!reader; older!pm executive dazai au (24/25); confession; friends to lovers; some headcanons thrown in; dazai calls reader "darling"; kinda soft dazai
i clearly did not proof read this enough, but it is edited now.
𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
Dazai sighs heavily, making his way to the entrance of the main building, his jacket floating behind him with each step. He stayed up too late the night before with you after you had a nightmare, unwilling to allow yourself back to sleep. You had crawled out of his bed, sniffling and shuffling to his side in the living room after he had just gotten himself to crash. You poked him awake, his groggy state unable to comprehend why you would be crying – he hadn’t seen that before.
“Osa?” You squeaked, hiccupping between breaths from trying to hold back your tears. “Osa, are you alive?” You poked him again, a little more force behind it, and he nodded once with a low hum, pushing himself up and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.
“Yeah, I’m alive,” his voice was gravelly with the minute amount of sleep he had. “What is it?”
“Nightmare,” you whimpered, voice pitched and full of tears. The blanket was clutched tight to your body, doing little to offer comfort and support, shaking underneath, your cheeks were stained and wet with old and new tears. “Bad one.” You whispered, voice catching in your throat when you hiccupped again. He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck before getting to his feet.
“C’mon,” he mumbled, draping his arm around your shoulders to guide you back to his room, stopping to smooth out the sheets, tucking them back securely on the corners, readjusting the pillows and fluffing them up before gesturing for you to climb back in. You paused, a flash of the nightmare playing in your head, before looking up at him, as if to silently tell him you didn’t want to. “Need me to check under the bed and in the closet?” He chuckled quietly, knowing the joke was tasteless, but he was hoping it was enough to pull a laugh out of you. You shrunk down in the quilt, glassy eyes wide with fear, shaking your head as you held the material closer to your body. He sighed inwardly, nodding again – mostly to himself – before climbing on the mattress, sinking down into his soft sheet and overly comfortable pillows, hair splayed out around his head, both eyes staring at you with heavy lids. His arm outstretched, palm up, and he waited.
“Not tired,” you attempted a protest.
“I am, though,” he murmured, opening his hand more to you. “You can just lay here with me while I sleep.” He knew you wanted to go back to sleep, visibly fighting against it while you stood there in your stubbornness, body lightly swaying in its spot. “It’d make me feel better.” He added, a last ditch effort to trick you into laying back down so he could move on to the next phase of his plan to get you lulled back to sleep.
You argued with him about going back to bed for almost an hour before he had to take matters into his own hands and literally pulled you into him. He wrapped his whole body around yours, arms tight around your torso, legs clamped around your own, and even then, you kept fighting with him about sleeping. He stopped talking, not entertaining your squabbling any further, cheek pressed to your head and holding you – still enclosed in the quilt – in place, opting to let you whine and cry it all out while he stared ahead, listening to your audible distress. He knew if he argued in return, you’d keep going, and neither of you would get a wink of sleep, so forcing you into a position of warmth and comfort was his only choice, acting as a weight to ease the anxiousness you were exuding, and eventually got you to quiet down enough to hum a soft tune in your ear.
You didn’t text him until shortly after noon, letting him know you had just woken up for the day, and he was mildly jealous since he had to still show up to the mafia base despite trying to call out. Should have known I wouldn’t get away with that.
Dazai’s steps slow when he reaches the main lobby, someone familiar standing near the front desk, speaking to his colleague. His eyebrow comes down, halting in his path, a few feet away from them as he stares at the back of a recognizable head of hair then the blue and brown irises of his partner peeking at him over the person’s shoulder.
“There you are,” his gloved hand waves him over. “Got someone here sayin’ they were lookin’ for you.” When you peek over your shoulder, he notices your eyes immediately, your smile big as you catch his amber, turning your body fully to face him. A finger comes up to your lips, shooting him a small wink before stepping closer.
“Hi, Mr. Dazai,” you greet. “Where do you need me for my first day?” Dazai stares, eye wider than he means it to be, dead giveaway that he was not prepared in the slightest to see you here, dressed head to toe in all-black business attire and pretending to be a new hire. “I hope you haven’t forgotten my name, I know how busy you are, though. So it is possible to have slipped your mind.” You maintain a professional yet airy tone, offering your hand out to him.
“Didn’t know we were lookin’ for new recruits,” his partner grumbles, fist on his hip as he stands beside you.
“Mr. Nakahara, that’s kind of you to think so highly of me already, but I’m simply being taken in for paperwork,” you smile at him before going back to Dazai, cocking your head. “Right?”
“Right,” Dazai clears his throat, standing up straighter and taking your hand in a semi-awkward handshake. “Can never have too many secretaries to help keep what we have under wraps.” He glances down at “Mr. Nakahara”, his impression slowly fading into a sneer before dismissing him completely, turning on his heel to beckon you to follow him. “Come along, rookie.” You wave to the other executive, leaving him confused as you trot up to Dazai’s side, falling into step with him as he leads you to the elevator – telling anyone near to ‘beat it’. Not without their fiending eyes lingering on the familiar face of Dazai’s wallpaper standing in the flesh beside him in the mafia building.
After stepping in, only the two of you, his arms come up to fold over his chest and voice drops. “What are you doing here?” His gaze remains ahead, your distorted reflection in the metal doors showing that you’ve turned your head to look up at him. “I told you that I didn’t want you coming out here. It’s dangerous.”
“I just wanted to see you,” you attempt, brushing some hair back from your eyes. “I felt bad for keeping you up all night, so I thought we could get lunch together.”
“So, you came here pretending to be a new hire?” He deadpans. “Instead of just asking me to meet you somewhere?” You chew on your lip thoughtfully, realizing maybe this wasn’t your brightest idea.
“I was curious about where you worked,” you barely get out, never seeing him act this way around you – intensely stand-offish, not happy to see you like he usually is, and you can tell his jaw is tense. “Osamu, are you mad at me?” You didn’t mean for your voice to come out more pitched than normal, incredulous even at the prospect, that you thought of him so much today that you risked sneaking your way into the mafia base to see him, and he is mad about it. He side-eyes you, tapping a finger on his arm, a heavy sigh that turns into a low growl coming out before snapping his eye forward again, tongue poking out of his cheek.
“No,” he finally admits, another sigh billowing out when the elevator doors open, guiding you out and down the hall. His long strides are subconsciously pumping faster, in an effort to get you out of sight, but you are having difficulty keeping up, awkwardly scurrying up to his side as your thighs burn from trying to match his pace. “I just wish you had texted me so I could sneak you in better. I don’t want anyone asking questions, and it’ll definitely be suspicious now that there’s a ‘new recruit’ that vanished after their first day.” He trails off with irritation in his tone, narrowing his eyes as he glances down at you. You look up at him with big eyes, subtly battering your lashes to distract him from your minor blunder.
“You said you can’t have visitors,” you argue, skipping a bit in your steps as he quickly pushes you into his office, hurrying to close the door.
“I lied!” He huffs, locking it behind him as he stalks off to his desk, leaning against it as his face twists to clear annoyance: nose scrunched up and brow downturned, arms folded again. You return his expression, stomping your foot.
“Osamu Dazai, how dare you lie to me!”
“Don’t piss me off,” he scoffs. “You’re the one here in the Port Mafia building pretending to be a new hire because… What, exactly?” Your mouth opens, getting ready to give some sort of snarky remark, but the words get caught in your throat, staring at him with your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water and eyes like a deer in headlights. Arguing is not a new concept for you, something you are good at and enjoy, but there are a lot of things you are holding back from saying that are preventing you from speaking at all. Plus, you aren’t a very good liar.
“Just…” You shrug, averting your line of sight to the polished marble flooring, silently noting how impressive his office is. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking, and I wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction from you.” You admit, voice lowering to just above a whisper. “I uhm… I’m sorry.” His eye washes over your demeanor, head slightly hung, vision elsewhere, shoulders visibly tense from where he stands, and he can tell something is bothering you. Your sunny disposition and excitement to be there has immediately dissipated, all because of him; now, you’re upset in the middle of his office for some reason, something only he can deduce is his fault.
“It’s strange to see you in different clothes, especially ones that belong to you,” he murmurs, forcing himself to get over it and be more gentle, dropping his arms down to lean on the edge of his desk. You peek over at him, hand messing with the hem of your black button-up you had stuffed in the back of your closet, feet shifting in place. “I am happy to see you. You know I always am.” He assures, it dawning on him that he never actually said a proper hello or so much as smiled at you. He truly is in distress having you in dangerous territory, the fear of word getting to the boss and how to explain it all away.
“I should have said something–”
“We can get lunch then sit on the roof, if you want,” he unintentionally interrupts.
“But aren’t you busy? I know how demanding this all is.”
“I was heading out for time away when you showed up, actually,” it’s a lie, but with good intentions. “You look nice, it’d be a waste of your master plan.” Leave it to Dazai to find a way to not only hurt your feelings but mend them back together in one fell swoop, his inability to withhold speaking his thoughts just to ease the blow with flowery compliments that make you forget what bothered you in the first place.
“You really wanna hang out with me right now?” You ask, reasonably unsure given his original distaste at your presence.
“I’d love nothing more,” he pushes himself up, walking to your side with his hands shoved back in his pockets, leading you back out of his office, and walking down the hall at a more leisure pace so you aren’t jogging to keep up.
Murmurs and whispers started the moment you walked out of the front entrance together, some of them reaching the usually indifferent ears of his partner. However, he couldn’t help leaning in a little closer when there were talks of the person on Dazai’s phone screen being the exact one he spoke to earlier that presented themself as a new secretary. He didn’t make the poor thing join just so he wouldn’t be bogged down with paperwork, did he? He shook his head while he strolled through the hall, passing different small huddles of gossiping adults acting like high schoolers, heading toward the meeting room where his boss and other executives sat, already working on a cover story for his lousy partner.
“This is seriously the tallest building in Yokohama?” You gawk out at the horizon while trotting around the vast space of the base roof, Dazai behind you wearing a small, entertained smile at your childlike wonder. “You guys even have a helicopter?” You point down to the landing marks, feeling very much like the kid you are acting.
“We’re a mafia, we have a lot of money, darling,” he chuckles, reaching your side and draping his suit jacket around your shivering shoulders before carefully grabbing your sleeve to pull you closer to him. “Be careful, there aren’t any railings or ledges up here.”
“I’m alright, I’m not afraid of heights,” you walk ahead a few paces, swiveling your head around while taking in the view, mesmerized at the feeling of being on top of the world right now, peeking down at other buildings with snow scattered along their rooftops, stray birds flying by that shouldn’t be here, and the occasional plane soaring through the clouds. The winter air is gentler than normal, the sky bluer than you remember, and you can’t believe it’s another chilling season that you have been friends with him, another season you have kept your feelings to yourself.
“I know you’re not, but I still don’t want you falling,” he gently lectures, his grip on your sleeve transferring to your hand as you keep trying to wander off without him. “C’mere, you wandering thing.” He mutters under his breath, having to physically pull you back toward his side, your feet carrying you too close to the edge than he’d like to see. You giggle when you look up at his mildly flustered gaze, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to force you from going anywhere else. “Having fun with stressing me out?”
“Yeah, kinda,” you grin, bouncing on your toes. “It’s not easy to fluster you like this.”
“And yet you are chock full of the best ideas today to do so,” he sighs inwardly, rubbing your arm to help warm you up when he notices your jaw chattering from the clanking of your teeth in the brittle cold in the higher altitude. “How are you feeling? You seemed incredibly distraught last night.” You huddle into his side, wishing you had remembered to nab a jacket before rushing all the way out here so you wouldn’t have needed to use his.
“I’m… better,” you force a small smile, the location suddenly hitting you that it’s similar to the nightmare you had the night before. I was so happy to see him, I had completely forgotten.
“You sure? Did you sleep okay?” He is never cruel to you, but you wouldn’t describe him as overly soft, either. His attention to you right now is a bit surprising, taken aback by his concern, his taking you out to lunch, and bringing you back to the building so you can explore more and enjoy such a stellar view.
“Yeah, I slept finally,” you clear your throat. “What about you? I-I’m pretty sure I kept you up all night.”
“No need to worry about me, I don’t sleep much as it is. Probably gonna rest when I get home, though,” his arm subconsciously brings you closer, yours having no choice but to come up and wrap around his waist. Your cheeks flare up for some strange reason, peeking up to see him taking in the horizon, his hair blowing around with each small gust of wind that comes through, your eyes softening as you admire him then curiously trailing down his neck to the bandages he is wrapped up in. Still clueless as to why he wears them or what could possibly be underneath, never having the courage to address it.
“Osamu,” you speak up, his head turning instantly to give his undivided attention, and you hesitate when that blazing amber iris is back in view, recalling how you saw both of them last night, noting a small scar down the middle of his eyebrow – otherwise, nothing wrong with his other eye at all. You couldn’t even calm yourself down enough to take in being seen by him with both eyes visible, barely noticing how bright they were in the dark room.
“What is it, darling?” Your stomach flutters at the nickname, something he only started up in the recent months out of the blue, a subtle change in your guys’ routine that you have come to adore.
“I… I have a secret to tell you,” you smile, to seem less suspicious, and the corner of his mouth tugs up.
“Another secret? You know I love hearing all of your secrets,” he entertains, that being the truth since he does want to know everything about you, all of your good, bad, and ugly, and even your dirtiest secrets that you’d never dare to tell another soul. His light stalking only got him so far in the beginning; being friends draws lines and boundaries that he wouldn’t dare cross of his own accord, having to be patient and wait for you to give allowance into your psyche. The ability to trespass into your bubble with a needle he is far too eager to pop – despite him letting you do whatever you so please with his personal space.
“‘Mere,” you whisper childishly, waving him to lean down and give his ear. He breathes out a small laugh, lending his ear, but being so close he can hear the hesitation and faltering in your breath. The fast-paced racing of your heart. Your hand cups it, freezing cold on his skin, and you struggle to form a coherent sentence, but he’s patient, giving you all the time in the world, until you force out the next words that makes his heart drop right out onto the pavement: “I have a crush on someone.” His chest twists into a knot, the sensation foreign, and he swallows. I have never seen them hang out with literally anyone else. Who could it even be?!
“You… You do?” He pries, but his usual confidence is dwindling. Your hand slips down to his shoulder, making him slowly turn to face you, and your nose is bitten pink from the cold, the flush across your face an almost deeper pink. You nod. “Who? I didn’t think… I mean, I’m not with you all the time, but I didn’t think you hung out with many people.”
“I don’t,” the word trails off, eyes flickering off to the side before looking back to him. Was I not obvious these past two and a half years?! Is he dense?!
“Then who would it be?” You both stare at one another in a long silence, baffled that this man you have heard being revered a literal prodigy can’t figure it out, while Dazai is internally losing his shit and wondering if he can get away with killing whoever it is that captured your heart right out from under him.
Your lips break out into a soft smile, a frigid finger coming up to carefully poke his nose, and the tips of his ears burn. “You, dummy.”
“M-Me… Me-Me?” He fumbles immensely over his tongue, the sanguine maroon stretching across his cheeks as he stares at you, the icy chill of your fingertips pressing on his heated cheek so intense. He’s so uncharacteristically flustered, he doesn’t notice in the slightest that you have been leaning in while he is working through his brain what you just told him, chapped and bitten lips feather-light to his, all the courage you could muster forcing you to linger longer than you intended to, his lips soft in comparison, like a soothe for the ache of your bad habit. His eye doesn’t close all the way, a fog of pink clouding his vision at the touch of your lips he always stared too long at while you spoke, wondering about this exact moment countless times.
Much to his dismay, you pull away too soon, face flushed about as red as he is, and biting your lip. “Don’t do that when I’m right here.” He breathes, cupping your jaw to pull you back into him, kissing your lips far more passionately than before, back to his senses, while your hands clutch at his vest, his jacket falling from your shoulders down to the ground in a soft heap. Not that you need it between how warm your cheeks are and how close his body is to yours. The soft sighs exchanged from years of pent-up emotions, the longing stares, the careful back and forth, dancing around one another with hands tied behind your backs, wondering who would set themselves free first. Your fingers slide up the back of his neck to card through his hair, letting him lean his body far into you as if he is trying to swallow you whole.
“I’m never going to get any work done if you stick around,” he murmurs in your mouth, not daring to pull away, his hold slipping to your hair and tangling his fingers through the strands. Another needy kiss graces your lips; his chest meshed with yours due to his impossible proximity.
“I-I can wait until you get home,” your voice is muffled and breathy, trying to get the words out, but he has been given permission to do what he has been dying to do for so long, ever since laying his lone amber eye on you. He barely lets you come up for air, his grip possessive now at the thought of you leaving. Your kisses grow desperate, an abrupt thought entering your brain as your teeth gnash on his. “Do-Do you like me-me too?” Your words fumble around, going from your tongue to his as he makes it difficult to speak. A grin cracks on his features, finally prying himself off of you, both panting with puffs of air visible between you two, chests heaving, and twenty fingers trembling.
“I fell for you long before I met you.”
fluffuary 2026 | masterlist | full ao3 oc vers., ch. 9 | requests: closed
dividers from rmstitanics here on tumblr
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