#Dazai being the only one who knows that that's his coat and before it was Mori's coat and that that coat is like ten years old

[chuulyssa]

──── fuck it i love you !

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, smut, 18+

somnophilia, light (?) choking kink, loadss of praise, dazai is a little shit, and also very horny

final rating . . . r, MDNI (minors do not interact), strictly 18+

duration . . . 8k words

director❜s notice . . . yes, yes, i did combine 4 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.

---

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as Dazai lay curled behind you, spooning you close. One of his hands was on the headboard, another on your waist. His face was buried in your hair. Despite the peaceful scene, a different kind of tension thrummed through his body.

He could feel himself poking your ass from behind. It was aching now, still, he tried to ignore the persistent hardness. He tried focusing on the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft rhythm of your breathing, the way your breasts heaved up and down—

Fuck.

What was he doing? You looked so innocent lying in his arms, a huge contrast to the thoughts of you circling his mind. But as much as he wanted to be a gentleman, Dazai’s baser instincts won out.

Oh, god.

Slowly, carefully, he slid a hand beneath your top, fingertips grazing the smooth skin of your stomach. He nearly moaned. You twitched a little in your sleep at the ticklish feeling, but eventually calmed back to sleep.

Your slight stir only seemed to encourage Dazai further, his fingers trailing higher to cup one of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. He squeezed it gently, thumb brushing over the hardened nipple. Leaning in closer, he nuzzled the back of your neck, inhaling deeply. Your scent filled his senses, making his cock twitch with need.

With a low groan, Dazai shifted position, pressing himself more firmly against your ass as he ground his erection against you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful when you sleep,” he whispered huskily, breath hot against your ear, even though you wouldn’t hear him. His other hand slid down to palm your thigh, fingers creeping ever closer to the hem of your shorts.

With a stealthy move, Dazai slipped his hand beneath the waistband of your shorts, fingers brushing against the delicate skin of your inner thigh. He stroked upward, teasingly close to your most intimate area without actually touching it yet.

“Wonder how many times I can make you cum before you wake up, hm?” he murmured.

His hips rocked against yours, the rigid length of his cock sliding between your legs as he sought friction. Dazai's free hand found its way to your breast again, giving it a firm squeeze. He pulled your bra off gently before rolling the nipple between his fingers, tugging lightly until you let out a soft whimper in your sleep.

Emboldened by your response, Dazai slipped a finger to tease your slick folds. He circled your clit with the pad of his finger, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm against him.

“Oh, would you look at that? So wet for me already,” he purred, feeling your arousal coating his digit. He pushed deeper, sinking a finger into your heat as he began to pump in and out slowly. His other hand released your breast to grip your hip, holding you steady as he worked you open with his skilled fingers.

Dazai leaned in to nibble at your earlobe, sucking it gently between his teeth.

“Wanna fuck you awake, baby.”

Dazai added a second finger to your entrance, scissoring them to stretch you wider as he picked up the pace. His thumb joined in, rubbing relentless circles around your sensitive clit.

“So tight and perfect,” he groaned into your shoulder. He leaned up to watch your face for signs of pleasure even as you remained lost in slumber. His fingers grew more insistent, chasing your impending orgasm.

“Come on, babe, let go for me,” Dazai coaxed, nipping at your neck and shoulder.

Just as he sensed you teetering on the brink, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and aching. Dazai pulled his own boxers off before sliding your shorts off, stretching your panties to the side just enough to make it work. He positioned himself at your entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your slick opening.

Using two fingers to open you gently, he pushed in soft and slowly. You moaned, eyes fluttering open. Dazai kissed your shoulder. His other hand came to your face to cover your sight as he shushed you back to sleep.

“Shh, baby, not yet,” he cooed soothingly. “Let me take care of you, yes?”

Dazai held his position, cock throbbing against your entrance as he waited for you to drift back to sleep. Once your breathing evened out again, he gave a slow, deliberate thrust.

You felt incredible. He gasped, savoring the sensation of being buried deep within your warmth. Dazai paused for a moment, relishing it, before starting to move.

Dazai set a languid pace. Your slick walls gripped him as he slid in and out. He placed a hand on your hip, guiding you to meet his thrusts as he picked up speed gradually.

“So responsive, even in your sleep.” 

He turned your head  around and leaned down to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Dazai’s free hand roamed your body, tracing the curves of your waist and ribs before settling on your breast once more. He continued rutting inside you faster now.

“Mine, mine, mine, mine,” he declared, punctuating each word with a particularly deep thrust.

“‘samu—” you moaned, half asleep but still feeling the way his cock humped in and out of you.

Dazai felt a surge of pride and desire. He loved knowing he could evoke such reactions from you, even when you were barely conscious.

“Mmm, yeah, that’s it,” he encouraged, picking up the pace even more as he thrust into you with renewed vigor. “Let me hear those sweet noises, darling.”

Dazai captured your mouth in another searing kiss, swallowing your whimpers of pleasure. He broke away only to trail open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down the column of your throat, tasting the salt of your skin.

“Ooh, you wanna come?” he murmured, holding your throat gently, and you nodded, eyes still closed. “Do it, do it, come on.”

You spasmed, eyebrows knitting together, face contorting from the pleasure. Your toe curled against his leg, and you tried moving away, or towards him, or anywhere else. You whined louder, coming undone on his cock.

“Fuck, gonna come too—” he groaned, holding you tightly to keep himself grounded.

“‘samu— pull out,” you babbled, and he put his hand on your mouth next. 

“What’s that, honey? Didn’t quite— fuck — catch that—”

“‘samu—” you huffed.

“Hush, it’s okay,” he whimpered in your ear, and you felt all the air get knocked out of you. He held your hips tightly, cock still inside you, before coming in. You felt his stickiness coat your cunt, and your head began to spin. A few seconds later, you felt his cock soften inside you, and he pulled out away from you to lie on his back.

“I told you to fucking pull out, you idiot,” you muttered, turning to him and putting your head on his chest.

“Love you too.”

. . . credit rolls

[cvntydazai]

bad arguments

how these bsd characters are after a bad argument

pairing; dazai osamu x fem!reader, chuuya nakahara x fem!reader, ryunosuke akutagawa x fem! reader

word count; 916

content warning; unedited, angst, fluff, arguing, miscommunication

a/n; just something random i wrote while taking a break from my dazai fic!

DAZAI OSAMU:

arguing with dazai was exhausting, this man would rather die a painful death than admit he was in the wrong about anything, it was usually why your fights got more out of hand than they ever needed to be. you hated how he tried to deflect from a situation instead of just owning up to his mistakes.

one particularly heated argument had you so riled up you had to leave your apartment, no longer wanting to look your lover in the eye until he was ready to apologize. he didn’t even spare you a glance as you left, a smug expression on his face.

you make your return to your apartment many hours later, it was now nighttime and much too late to be out, especially alone. the first thing your eye catches when you walk through the door is dazai’s fluffy head of hair resting on the couch. you huff, putting your coat up before walking over to the couch.

“are you ready to apol-“ you stop mid-sentence when you realize dazai’s asleep.

he looked uncomfortable, heavy eyebags and his head resting at an awkward angle on the arm rest. you couldn’t help it, a soft coo leaves your lips and it wakes him instantly. those honey eyes were everything but smug this time around.

“my flower, you’re back.” he mumbles, large hands reaching up to caress your face.

“i am..” you say, he smiles.

you continue to stare into his gaze for just a little longer, the silence draping over the two of you like a warm blanket. he knows that what you’re truly waiting for is his apology, he was more than happy to give it to you.

“i’m sorry, for everything. forgive me?” he says at last in his usual supple tone.

of course you forgave him, you always would.

CHUUYA NAKAHARA:

fights with chuuya usually didn’t last long, you two actually pride yourself on your communication when it comes to your relationship. he would never try to hurt you intentionally, you’re the most important person to him and he makes sure you never forget it.

but this one fight had you both out of control. you don’t remember who started it but no one was willing to end it, anything that came out of either of your mouths was only more fuel for the fire. if you were being honest with yourself, it terrified you. it wasn’t chuuya and his capabilities that had you so scared, you knew he would never bring any harm your way, it was the reality that this fight could be the ending to your relationship.

you didn’t want it to end like this, it couldn’t end like this. he was all you had and you would never forgive yourself if this was how it ends. so caught up in your own frightened mind, you didn’t even notice that chuuya quieted down and was staring into your eyes.

“ey, why are you crying?” he didn’t mean for the question to come out as harsh as it did, he was just so taken aback.

when you didn’t reply he really started to worry, his mind no longer focused on whatever you two were bickering about.

“come on doll, please don’t cry. i’m sorry.” his voice only made more salty tears spill from your eyes, in your opinion you didn’t deserve such tenderness.

he wrapped his arms around your frame, his hand on the back of your head and his face buried in your hair. he let you sob your heart out, even if it made his own heart ache. when you finally calmed down you were ready to speak.

“am i still the most important person in the world to you?” he smiled.

“of course you are.”

RYONUSUKE AKUTAGAWA:

you knew your boyfriend wasn’t good at communicating, a part of you had accepted that wholeheartedly. he made his efforts because of how deeply he cared for you and you felt that was enough most of the time. your arguments were mostly about his carelessness when it came to his own personal safety, his nonchalant attitude to your concerns irritated you down to your core.

“if you’re going to act stupid and put yourself in avoidable danger then i’m leaving, i can’t take this.” you misspoke, his eyes widened.

what you truly meant was that you were leaving for a moment to calm down, not leaving him entirely. you could only stare in shock at what nonsense you just spewed from your mouth, guilt weighed down your body, preventing you from taking even one step towards him. it took seeing the fear in his eyes to finally break you free from your mind.

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean it like that i swear.” you tried to mend, now wanting nothing more than to put this whole argument behind you.

he let you pull him into a hug, you held his waist tightly to you. when you felt his hand holding the back of your head you breathed a sigh of relief.

“i know you didn’t mean it that way, but it scared me.” you nodded, understanding.

you mumbled a few more apologies and once you both had calmed down you were able to talk about some of your frustrations. it was mostly you talking and him listening, but it felt good knowing he was listening with such care. he promised to be more careful for you, and you promised to watch your wording when you’re upset.

[welivetodream]

People thinking Atsushi is just a cute lil soft boy are so WRONG.

Atsushi is one of the best executed C-PTSD protagonists who are not just "kind" because they are the MC.

Atsushi is sassy, he is mean and says things like they are, even to his own mentor Dazai, he is not afraid of saying bad things. He doesn't hold back on his words. And he can be quite quick when it comes to using sass ("are you a landmower?" "Why are you dressed like a half-finished mummy, Dazai-san" "Akutagawa, fancy a cup of tea?" "That's why Dazai-san left you")

He's not just nice. He thinks he should be nice and kind because that's what someone like him should be like. Atsushi has such a low self esteem that he NEEDS to show kindness to everyone because he thinks just like he got a second chance at life, everyone else deserves it too.

That's why he saved Kyouka and Lucy, he recognised that want for bettering themselves in them. He wanted them to get a second chance like he did. Because to him, people are not good or bad, but they have the ability to change no matter how far they have gone.

This is why Atsushi is the only one who can recognise and understand Dazai's true personality. Whenever Dazai says something self depreciating Atsushi ALWAYS corrects him. In Dead Apple when Dazai is visiting Oda's grave, Atsushi understands whoever this person was, they were very dear to Dazai. At the end of Dead Apple when Dazai says he thinks he's not a good person, Atsushi tells him he has never thought of Dazai not being a good person. Atsushi knows Dazai was in the Port Mafia, but he STILL confirms he sees Dazai as a good person regardless of his past. Because Atsushi believes in second chances, and HE gave the second chance to Dazai that Oda must have wanted Dazai to get, even if the ADA accepted Dazai, no one has ever reassured him being a good person before. (Also in BSD wan, when Dazai says "I want to go out beautifully" during the fireworks scene, in the end-credits Atsushi sits near the river the entire day because he was sad that Dazai was suicidal. And in BSD mayoi, Dazai makes a snowman of Atsushi along with Oda, Ango and Chuuya, showing how much he adored Atsushi)

It's the same with Akutagawa; Atsushi doesn't understand why Akutagawa hates him and he's mean to Akutagawa at times but it never crossed a line. Akutagawa had done so many bad things to Atsushi but at the end they still worked together. Because Dazai understood the only person who will make Akutagawa use his powers to "protect" instead of "attack" is Atsushi. During the ending fight in S3, Akutagawa makes an armour for Atsushi as they combine their powers. And in the end credit scene of S5, we see Akutagawa protecting Atsushi AGAIN. This time Akutagawa isn't wearing the same coat Dazai gave him and for the first time shows true loyalty to Atsushi. ("Just the two of us?" "Do we need more?" *SCREAMS*)

Atsushi's relationship with the headmaster of the orphanage shows how much the trauma affected him as a child. When he can't forgive the headmaster at his death, he hates himself for not being able to give a second chance. And that's when Dazai steps in and tells him, "we cry when our father dies" something Atsushi really needs to hear and he finally cries.

Atsushi reassures Dazai all the time and Dazai snaps Atsushi out of his self depreciation all the time. Their solidarity throughout the story, shows why that day when Dazai chose Atsushi for the ADA; he recognised not Atsushi's powerful ability but his true ability in choosing to believe in people when no one else can.

[fanon-canon-idfk]

Beast Dazai Who is Aware of the “Man Behind the Smile” Universe

Mafia boss Dazai waking up in a room he doesn’t recognize

He wakes up in these average, mundane sheets. Nothing like the rich silk draped over his own mattress.

He sits up, head pounding, still in his clothing from the night prior. Minus his coat; draped over the chair in the corner of the room.

Speaking of the room, it most certainly wasn’t his.

His thoughts were racing by now. Was he kidnapped? By whom? When? Where was his gun? How would he get out?

He quietly got up from the bed, quickly moving to his jacket. He slid his hand into the pocket, eye still on the door.

In his hand he felt the familiar metal of his gun, relief rushing over him- but not before being drowned out by more confusion.

Why would his captor leave him his gun? By the weight of it alone he knew the chamber was still full. Where was this captor? Why would they put him in their bed?

Just then, Dazai could hear footsteps growing closer. He pulled his gun out of his jacket pocket, aiming it to the door as he held it strongly in both hands.

The door began to gently creak open, the light from the hall bleeding in.

Once the door was fully open and a silhouette was clear, Dazai made a warning shot right next to his captor’s head.

“Hands up. Where I can see them.” He ordered, glaring daggers into the silhouette in the doorframe.

“I’ll need to put this down first.” The silhouette spoke, gesturing to a tray they held in their hands.

Dazai looked down as the tray came into vision. Food. A wholesome breakfast only seen in movies.

Dazai’s brows furrowed. He was even more confused now.

The silhouette then stepped into the room, revealing it to be a familiar face.

You were just another subordinate. A body guard of his in fact. What the hell was he doing in your bed?

He didn’t put down his weapon, not yet at least. He needed to know your intentions first. He was the leader of the Port Mafia after all, many wanted him dead.

“You must not remember last night.” You started, setting the tray of food down on the bed. You held both your hands up peacefully as you approached him.

“Clearly not.” He chuckled, a fake smirk on his face.

“I accompanied you to that bar you like. The small one.” You began explaining, doing your best not to talking with your hands.

“You seemed troubled. You drank nearly a whole bottle before the bartender cut you off.” You softly chuckled at the memory.

“I attempted to drive you home, but frankly I don’t know your address. You wouldn’t tell me so..” I gestured to the whole bedroom. “Here we are.”

The room was quiet for a moment, he was clearly thinking whether or not he should believe you.

“Don’t worry, you had the bed to yourself. I was on my couch.” I finished, leaving him to process my words.

After a few moments, he finally lowered his gun, mindlessly tossing it onto the chair with his coat.

He rummaged through the pockets of his coat again, pulling out his phone. “There.” He said as your own phone buzzed in your pocket.

A text showed on your screen, an address sent by the man in front of you.

“You can drive me home now.” He stated as he slipped his coat on, preparing to leave.

He walked past you, stealing a piece of toast from the plate you made him as he walked out of the room.

You sighed, following after him.

The story you told was technically correct.

Well, if you’re not counting the details that were left out..

Here’s how it really went:

You accompanied your boss to what he labeled as his “favorite bar.”

The night was quiet, he didn’t care much to speak with you as he drank. He only slipped a few words to the bartender, clearly more familiar with the man.

He didn’t utter a word to you until he was fairly drunk, telling you to sitting down. You followed suit.

He spent the night drunkenly chuckling as he told stories to nobody in particular, yourself simply listening.

The more drinks he had the more he slumped over. He was still clearly guarded, no matter how drunk. But he was noticeably leaning on you.

As the night got darker, more and more people left, leaving you and your boss to be the only customers.

He kept drinking until he was cut off, uncharacteristically pouty once he was.

His head was pressed against your chest, yourself sitting stiffly, unsure of how to handle your boss’s behavior.

He began murmuring insane things and a name you couldn’t quite make out. He kept speaking of different worlds?

Your boss was surely strange but you’d never heard a man talk about different universes and worlds when drunk.

He was also oddly clinging onto you. Your boss was never someone to be vulnerable with anyone especially not a mere employee like you. So why was he acting like you were close.

He began muttering things about you in another world. He talked like you were his friend- no, more than that- he talked like you were more than friends. He held onto you that way too.

You decided enough was enough, thanked the bartender for serving your boss, and started guiding Dazai out of the building.

You kept trying to ask him where he lived- since no average employees have it -but he refused. He kept telling you to “take him to your place” and “take care of him.” The man kept telling you to get him water and even bathe him!

What had gotten into your boss’s head?

But unfortunately since you didn’t have his address, you did have to bring him to your home.

You walked him to your bedroom (him trying to drag you to take care of him with what little strength he has left) and finally got him to lay down (after getting him his demanded glass of water) which led to where you were in present time.

As you closed the car door behind your now cold and quiet boss you knew your decision was best. You were right to keep that night’s happenings to yourself.

As you drive your boss home you wonder to yourself:

What got into him last night?

[eriace]

a familiar clue ; ranpo edogawa

oneshot & fluff ↪ in which ranpo reunites with his childhood friend, now a forensic pathologist, and realizes she’s been the only mystery he never wanted to solve too fast. ↷ ranpo edogawa ; bungou stray dogs

↳ an order of caramel macchiato from @sailorstar9 in the comeback cafe event !

FOR SOMEONE WHO solved crimes before breakfast, Edogawa Ranpo didn’t often find himself caught off guard.

That is, until the doors of the Armed Detective Agency opened to reveal the new liaison from the police department—a forensic pathologist, they’d said. Quiet, precise, analytical.

But what Ranpo saw was you.

You, with the same h/c hair he remembered tugging in elementary school, and the same e/c)eyes that used to narrow at him whenever he bragged about being the “greatest mind in the room.”

You blinked. Slowly.

He grinned, wide and obnoxious.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the girl who tried to outsmart me in fifth grade science class.”

You rolled your eyes but your lips twitched. “That’s rich coming from the boy who once used a magnifying glass to cheat on a test.”

“It was deductive reasoning, thank you very much.”

“It was blatant cheating, Ranpo.”

You were different now—lab coat draped over your shoulders, voice calmer, more measured. But you still had that sharpness in your gaze, like you could read people down to the bone. The years hadn’t dulled you.

The team welcomed you, of course. Yosano was the first to strike up casual conversation, Dazai hovered teasingly with suggestive remarks about “reunited childhood sweethearts,” and Kunikida promptly handed you paperwork.

Ranpo watched it all with a lollipop between his teeth and something oddly warm in his chest.

Later, when you sat across from him at a case board, your eyes scanned the evidence spread across the table with quiet intent. Your fingers tapped in a rhythm he remembered—one you used when thinking hard.

Ranpo leaned in, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “You really became a forensic pathologist, huh?”

You shrugged. “Someone had to balance out your chaos with some logic.”

He smirked. “You still think you’re more logical than me?”

“I know I am.” You paused, then looked at him. “But you’re still Ranpo. The same annoying genius I grew up with.”

He grinned. “Annoying, huh? You always did love saying that.”

“I still mean it.” But the smile you gave him was gentle.

That evening, the case wrapped up early. As you gathered your notes, Ranpo stopped you near the elevator.

“Hey.” His voice was quieter now, a rare drop in volume. “It’s nice… having you here again.”

You tilted your head. “You mean at the agency?”

“I mean near me.”

Your breath hitched. A beat passed. Then:

“I missed you too, Ranpo.”

He beamed.

“Took you long enough to admit it.”

© eriace ;; don’t repost my works.

[getonite]

PLAYING : HOTLINE ! — DAZAI TUNES IN!

𝗧hinking about Dazai, your childhood friend and the one who shows his vulnerability only to you. Years after you've gone and left the Port Mafia and your terrible past behind, he knocks on your door. He looks downright terrible. His bloodied hands are trembling as he grips onto the fabric of Odasaku's coat, he's trembling, and on the verge of tears.

"Dazai, how'd you—" he practically leaps, his bandaged arms wrap around your neck, squeezing harshly, though you wonder how he found you... Ango.

There's not a word spoken between you two, but you know exactly what he needs. You pull him inside, carefully closing the door. "How about we clean you up first, okay?" You whisper. He stinks. His eyelids are puffy and there's red underlining his eyelashes. His hair is due for a wash with split ends, and he's pale. You guess he hasn't taken too much care of himself since you left. He silently nods, leaning his full bodyweight into you.

You bring him to your bathroom, carefully peeling the layers of clothing from him. The first to come off is the black coat he's regularly worn since he joined the Port Mafia.

His knees are to his chest as he speaks for the first time. "Mori-san's coat, burn it. I don't need it," he whispers in a raspy voice as if he's been screaming. You hum in acknowledgement as you set the dirty thing on the bathroom tile. Your hands carefully help him undress before starting to undo his bandages. "Years later and you still can't change your bandages like I told you to," he hears you whisper with a small smile. The bloodied and worn bandages fall to the floor as he hears the sound of streaming water come from the bathtub inches from him.

Once he's in the bath, you carefully rinse his body with warm water, lathering his new and old scars with soap carefully. There's a hint of guilt in your heart as you hear him wince, though this is probably for the best.

The pads of your fingers massage his scalp as you wash his hair, just like you did when the two of you were kids. You carefully trim his wet hair and brush it before getting him out of the tub, helping him dry off. You were likely the only person he could truly trust to see him so...bare and vulnerable. You couldn't exactly tell if the silence was tense or comforting, regardless you continued with is predictable mute moment. He always got like that when there was something wrong, you sigh.

"How about, I get you something to eat? I made some bento boxes, you can eat one and then brush your teeth, is that okay?" You speak softly and re-bandage his tender skin.

You smile softly at him when be finally nods. "Okay," you whisper and attempt to finish quickly before his mind changes.

As his hair dries it becomes its usual fluffy self, you'd assume hair matches personality; however, Dazai's eyes were close to dead. He only seemed to relax, feel different, when you touched him so gently. You quickly clean up and head to make him food. "You don't have to eat all of it y'know...just some, okay?" You whisper, setting the box in front of him.

He can tell your eyes are studying him as he eats, wondering what your Dazai from years ago has turned into. You look at him proudly when he finishes half of it before pushing it away. "Thank you," you whisper.

Handing him a toothbrush, you let him brush his teeth and fix the mess that is your bedroom, knowing he'll ask to sleep. And surely, 5 minutes later he stumbles to your doorway. "Can I...Can I stay?" You look him up and down, smiling softly. Compared to the terrible look he had when he first appeared at your door, he looks better. No longer like a man seconds from being a corpse.

"'Course," You smile, pulling back the covers, "C'mere."

He walks to the bed, crawling onto the soft sheets carefully. His brown eyes look at you expectingly, watching you get under the covers with him. He moves his body next to yours, putting his face into your neck without a word. "Ready to talk?" You whisper. His hoarse voice whispers a 'No.'

The calming effect your fingers have as they glide along him and his hair makes him feel like he's home. "Okay, just sleep. I'll be right here, I'm not leaving."

Dazai again, speaks no words, but his legs entertangle with yours. He remembers just why he came here. He missed you. Even if Odasaku is gone, he has you to make sure he doesn't go over the deep end. He'll save people, he'll grant Odasaku's last wish. But first, he wants to rest. Right next to his home.

"I promise, sleep." The man listens, squeezing onto you as if to test that this is real before drifting off.

For the first time in days...he's at peace.

A/N: dazai srsly needs a hug, 'n ill b the one 2 give it 2 him if no one else will! we need more fluffy fics of taking care of dazai, rather than dazai taking care of us. nyway, if u haven't signed up 4 the new tag list u totally should! there's new options n better format.

SUBSCRIBERS : @avatsu @sofliesy @tamreadfanfiction

[elizais]

dazai who doesn't explicitly tell the agency about his lover

how dazai acts when he has a crush/partner outside of the agency reader doesn't work at the agency nor is given a part if that makes sense?? this is dazai not explicitly telling anyone about her but when the agency picks up on it fluff fluff fluff, dazai in love

dazai who walks into the agency day after day, sometimes much later than others but still there nonetheless. walking in and smiling to himself more, his silly little crush on his mind. his silly little crush who he would not let be a quick hookup. he genuinely couldn't shake her out of his mind.

dazai who leaves work giddy one day, excited to go on another date. after completing all his work on his own so he could talk about the case to you. he actually read all the paperwork so he could tell you everything in it! kunikida is a fool to think he actually just started being responsible.

dazai who is seen checking his phone whenever he gets a notification and smiling as he types out something. smiling to himself when he sees your simple or complex messages. despite knowing how much you value someone who cares about work, he is willing to message you all day instead.

dazai who doesn't tell the agency immediately because he doesn't want them to think you are just a fling. he definitely had a bad reputation but he was willing to change everything for you.

dazai who doesn't notice that ranpo notices all of his new mannerisms. fridays must be a date night as he chooses to dress a bit nicer, adjusts his bolo tie before leaving and doesn't just throw his coat around like he usually does. choosing that carefully hanging his coat up would be better to prevent wrinkles.

dazai who only starts telling everyone about his special lady when he is on his phone (messaging you) and is teased by ranpo across the room.

"sooo what is her name, dazai?" the master detective asked as he sat on his desk, kicking his feet. upon hearing his name, osamu was instantly snapped out of his trance. "have i not told any of you?" he smiled. the rest of the agency looked up from their work, confused.

"i thought you gave up on the waitress ages ago?" yosano asked. "i did, months ago!" dazai responded as he walked towards the coat rack that he hung his coat up on. pulling out his wallet, he took out the polaroid of the both of you.

"that's [name]!" he shown the room, kunikida didn't seem to believe him until he took the photo out of dazai's hands. "do you not believe me?" dazai asked, fake offense in his voice.

the rest of the agency began to gather around the photo, in awe of the adorable picture. they had to admit, the moment in time of the two of your heads squished together with grins plastered on both faces.

"my belladonna.." he whispered to himself. "now that i think of it, there have been less suicide attempts.." atsushi pondered. "why would i do such a thing when i have her? at first when she declined a double suicide i was disappointed as she is the most beautiful woman ever but her personality is even prettier.."

this whole new attitude was incredibly different from everything they knew about dazai but if anyone deserved happiness, he did. and if he talks about you like this, then they had to be happy for the both of you.

dazai who after that day, brings a framed photo of the both of you and places it next to his laptop. a messy collage of small photos smashed into a frame. another polaroid with you dressed up with him on halloween. (the statue of liberty and a tourist). another photo of you dressed up at a fancy restaurant. there is even one where you both have messy hair and you have pressed countless kisses to his face with red lipstick on.

dazai who will never let you be in harm's way. he made a promise to protect people and if he could let you meet the man who made him a better person, he would in a heartbeat.

dazai who goes to yosano when you get sick for advice because he will NOT take any risks even if it is just a cold.

dazai who does not wipe off lipstick stains before work, and takes pride in having faint marks on his face from you.

dazai who can't wait to let the people who take care of him meet you, the reason he carries on.

dazai who is so happy when you get along with the rest of the agency. although when you and the agency girls are hanging out he becomes the third wheel.

dazai who talks about you all the time to kunikida, claiming he was an "expert boyfriend" and is more than happy to give kunikida relationship advice.

a/n! so this won the poll!! as always, weekends are writing time for me so please excuse my lack of presence on here from time to time!

[livelaughlovesubs]

can you write about tying dazai up after he was being naughty and fingering yourself infront of him, telling him if he got off to it he would be punished <3

Sure, I can do that :>

Dom!AFAB!reader x Sub!dazai

Warning: bondage, voyeur (?), masturbation (reader), punishment

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Dazai growled on the chair, hands tied behind the lean with a sturdy rope. The same has been done to his ankles, they were bound to the legs of the furniture, with no way to escape. His brown eyes were glued to your body, the eager redness on his face reflecting the desperation in his voice.

Not a single glance was granted his way, you ignored him. Eyes clenched shut as you focused on nothing but your own pleasure, fingertips rubbing your clit just the way you loved. You were there, right in front of him, only inches away, yet you also felt to far. Due to the restrictions he couldn’t touch you, feel you or hold you, only able to watch while you pleasured yourself. The way your slick started to coat the sheets got him so on edge, he was ready to beg. How he wished it was him instead, who made your body tingle with excitement.

Soon you changed to sticking your fingers inside yourself, gently inserting one, then two of them. Feeling his gaze on you like a hungry beast. Until he learns to know his place, you won’t show him any merci though. Slowly you pressed your fingertips against the sweet spot deep within you, it was a place you’ve known pretty good. Pumping them in and out, feeling the pleasure rush through your body and stimulating your nerves. He drooled, he drooled like a dog in heat as he kept staring at your vulva. If only he could get a taste of you, he swore he’ll treat you well.

“I don’t need help from haaah.. some incompetent pervert.” You finally answered his question from before, leaving a snarky remark while slowly drowning in your own enjoyment. Having him watch and curse under his breath isn’t all that bad, the helpless and envious look on his face was truly pathetic after all. Just looking at him, at his handsome face which was filled with despair and want for you was enough to make you wet. Feeling the arousal fill your stomach, causing for another wave of bliss to wash over you.

Dazai pouted, still playing the role of the brat. Though the act was crumbling, little by little. It was simply too much for him to Handel. This hot show and display you laid out in front of him wasn’t for nothing after all. His dick throbbed in his pants, begging to be released. It created a tent in his pants and it soaked the top layers, until the fabric became significantly darker. The way you gasped and moaned made him so jealous, and of whom? Of your damn fingers. At the same time it was stimulating..? Clearly he got off to it, despite his initial frustrations.

This didn’t go unnoticed by your sharp gaze. While continuing to finger yourself as you pleased, you gave him another rule, one he had to follow no matter what. Saying those cruel words in a sweet voice, “getting off to this? You better don’t, or I’ll punish you~” followed by your snickering, which was viciously but also oh so attractive. He immediately protested, “hey! That’s no fair, how can one not be addicted to your appeal?” Sweat rolled down his forehead, a slight tremble in his voice. He was nervous. Your little boy toy dazai was nervous, and pathetically so, all because of a little threat.

“Then try your best not to finish too early.” You suggested, then bit your bottom lips, holding back an especially loud moan as your finger reached just the right spot. A hot look on your face, matching his. The brunette was so worked up already just by watching you, you haven’t even touched him yet. This was his breaking point, he couldn’t do this anymore, it was pure torture! Begging you in a sweet manner, mustering all his charm in the hopes to shake your resolve, “oh but pleeaasee~!! All I want is to serve you, my beloved, my masterrrr~!” A smile creeped onto your lips, enough to send a shiver down his spine. You grinned confidently as you said, “nice try, slut, beg some more and I might let you cum tonight.”

[cxtori]

Osamu Dazai ✮ Reckless (Angst Version)

summary: you vent your frustrations to Dazai after the crazy stunt he pulled with Fyodor

genre: angst, kiiinda comfort, cleaning his injuries, Dazai being a protective idiot

wc:835

warnings: n/a, some Dead Apple spoilers

tori’s note: I’m posting a second version of this story that will be more lighthearted/fluffy than this one. I just liked the concept and when I started writing I realized this could go two different ways. So I just wrote both lmao. Here's the fluffy version!

You were frustrated. No, that only begins to describe it. You were pissed, furious, irate. Whatever other powerful words there are to describe extreme anger, you were feeling it. 

You pour some antiseptic onto the cotton pad in your fingers, the fibrous material soaking up the liquid quickly. You raise it to Dazai’s back and press it against the deep wound resting there.

“Ahh,” Dazai hisses. “Jeez, you could be a little more careful.” You can hear the pain in his voice, but you can also hear the teasing tone underneath it. Your face scrunches in annoyance.

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you,” you huff and continue to clean his wound. 

He’d explained what had happened, how he’d been quite literally stabbed in the back with a poison coated dagger. looking at its placement, it’s a miracle the blade didn’t hit his spine. just an inch further to the right and this whole situation could have been very different.

“I can’t believe you left like that. You should have told me,” you say quietly. 

“I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have worked out like this if I did, you know that.”

And you did. But still. He disappeared so suddenly and the next thing you knew he was working with someone who planned to destroy your home? You knew Dazai would never betray you like that, not seriously. But at the same time, seeing him in that light scared you.

You finish cleaning his back and apply antibiotics and bandages, adding to the many that were already wrapped haphazardly around him. 

Once you’re done, you move to stand in front of him and begin to clean the various cuts and scrapes on his front side. You prepare another cotton pad and swipe over the wounds, none of them being severe enough to require much attention.

As you work, Dazai’s eyes are keenly focused on you. He watches as you carefully clean him up, a soft but determined look on your face, though it’s almost entirely hidden by the frustration distorting your features. 

A smile spreads across his lips and he wraps a hand around your free one. You ignore him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of falling for his flirty little tricks. 

You were both aware of the effects he had on you and, though he didn’t use it against you often, he would use it to his advantage. And right now it was in hopes of getting you to not be angry at him.

As your eyes scan over the marks scattering his body, your vision begins to blur. Before you can stop it, there are tears falling from your eyes. Are these angry tears, sad tears or relieved tears? You have no idea. Maybe it’s all of them at once.

“You idiot. Why do you have to be so careless?” You ask, your voice just above a whisper. Dazai looks at you, his smile slowly fading into a thoughtful but somber expression. He knows you aren’t expecting an answer, but he replies anyway.

“Because I care for you.” And that’s really all it boiled down to. He recklessly puts himself in dangerous situations if he knows that’s what it’ll take to protect his home and friends. To protect you. Even so, you hated his methods.

“I was so worried, Osamu,” you say quietly, afraid that your voice will crack too much if you speak normally. Despite your low tone, the pain and fear in it rings loud and clear. Dazai’s hand grips yours tighter.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to act like you’re working alone.” He doesn’t reply, only drops his gaze to where his hand is wrapped carefully around yours. 

You’d had this conversation countless times before. That he is part of a team that is more than capable of handling serious situations. That he doesn’t have to jump head first into danger to solve problems. That he has other’s to lean on. That he has you. 

But no mater how many times you said this, it never changed. And it terrifies you.

“It’s just… what if you had-”

“I didn’t, that’s what matters,” Dazai says, cutting you off. His hand leaves yours to rest on your face instead, his palm cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes over your cheek, wiping away your drying tears. 

“Please, don’t ever do that again.”

“You know I can’t make that promise.”

He was right. He will continue to keep you in the dark if he knows that’s what it takes to keep you safe, even if you both hate it. There was no point in promising that he wouldn’t. 

His hand moves from your face to the back of your neck, tangling his fingers into your hair. He brings your face closer to his, his dark brown eyes looking into yours intently.

“I love you, more than anything,” He whispers and places a kiss to your forehead. “And I only want to protect you.”

And that’s what he’ll continue to do.

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate any of my works. reblogs are appreciated

[femzai]

dazai fingering chuuya

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

“ see you in the hall like "hello, hello!" / up against the wall like "let's go, let's go!" ”

NSFW WARNING

tags ㅤᵕ̈ – fingering ofc, cooter having chuuya, spit kink >_>, me being silly lowkey

gee i wonder who requested this!? ^_^ ; (nikolai your sick and twisted and delusional but its okay i support you and your freaky endeavors!)

omgomg this time dazai is just dazai!! how surprising!??? and chuuya has a cooter becuz that man is not CIS sorry not sorry chat ♥︎ (he/him dazai, he/it chuuya btw!!)

word count — 1,164 words

“So cute.. aren’t you?”

Dazai held Chuuya’s face, looking at him intently. “You’re face is super flushed..” He muttered, head moving to kiss Chuuya’s neck. Biting and sucking at any piece of skin he can see, biting even harder whenever he hears a moan from the ginger. Moving one hand to grab Chuuya’s neck, and the other to gripped his waist.

“You asshole…” He gasped out, clinging onto Dazai’s coat. His legs spread apart from Dazai’s knee being right between him, rutting against his pant leg. “Fuck–” Chuuya whimpered, thoughts getting hazy each second. To think, poor Chuuya would be against his own wall, being kissed and toyed with by someone he hates. His grinding got more and more desperate, closely reaching its little climax just by humping. “You don’t know when to wait, do you?” Dazai sighed, frowning a bit upset at Chuuya’s neediness.

He hummed, moving his legs away from between Chuuyas. Its legs were shaking, and the denial of cumming was too much for him. “You… ASSHOLE..” He groaned out, contemplating whether or not he should throw out his dignity just to cum. “Aw.. Don’t worry..” He cooed, kissing Chuuya on the cheek. His hands slowly made their way to Chuuya’s thighs, grabbing his ass a little before picking him up.

Dazai walked him to the bedroom as fast as possible, tossing it onto the bed once there. It wasn’t long until Dazai was on right on top of him, holding his hips down and kissing. Practically spit on spit, purposefully as sloppy as humanely possible. Dazai made quick work of himself, removing his coat and unbuttoning his shirt. Throwing it somewhere that will be a pain to find tomorrow, but who cares right now? He moved his knee to tease Chuuya’s cunt through its pants, smiling a little as he heard his quiet moans.

“..Like some help, Chuu? I promise I’m good.”

He replaced his knee with his hand, rubbing through the fabric tauntingly. He shifted to move behind Chuuya, pulling the ginger to sit up between his legs. On the other hand, Chuuya let it happen. Quietly moaning while leaning into his chest more, hand covering his mouth. Dazai pressed down a finger onto Chuuya’s pants, hands knowing where his clit was and circling it quickly. Kissing and whispering sweet nothings into its ear, quickening his pace. “Do you want more..?” He panted, running his hands along the seam of Chuuya’s pants.

“ ‘Course you do, right? I’ll be nice to you this time, hm?” He began to hum, moving in to kiss more around Chuuys’s neck. Meanwhile, his rough hands busied themselves and unzipped Chuuya’s pants for him. Watching Chuuya kick them off desperately, taking off his boxers too in the process.

“Just.. get this over with, cunt..” He whispered, with gloved hands reaching to hold onto the fabric of Dazai’z pants. “Calling me names, already? How cruel are you?” “Only the worst–” Chuuya gasped loudly, being cut off by the feeling of rough fingers already circling its clit. Not a word could be said from the poor redhead anymore, holding onto anything it could while his clit was overtaking his senses. Dazai moved his other hand towards him, spitting on it as much as he could, before using it to mess with Chuuya’s folds; making it slicker with his spit and his pussy juices. He pouted, kissing Chuuya’s ear, and getting off to his bitchy moans.

Lord, was Dazai’s dick was getting even more harder by the second; the sounds Chuuya’s pussy made.. he just wanted to hear more thats for sure. After a while of teasing him, he decided to finally give Chuuya what he wanted but wouldn’t admit. He circled its hole for a little, listening intently to how Chuuya whined. Then, he put two fingers in with no hesitation, going in and out as fast as possible without a warning.

“Fuck! Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck!?” The feeling of both fingers immediately in him caught him off guard, with his back arched closer to Dazai. Speaking of Dazai, his hands worked overtime. One circling the gingers clit and the other with his fingers ramming into it. It was impossible for Chuuya to not close his legs, squeezing them as tight as he could to the sensation. “tsk, Don’t close your legs!” Dazai quickly grabbed onto his thighs, holding it back to give him room to work with while fingering him.

Chuuya was pushing its hips more onto Dazai’s hand, whining. His back arched, and his hands clawing onto anything it could grab. Dazai stopped for a second, feeling Chuuya shudder at the sudden pause. “Hold on, Chuuya..” He smiled, leaning over and spitting onto his pussy.

“..You’re fucking disgusting…” “Are you complaining?” “….Of course not.”

Dazai kissed the top of Chuuya’s head before slamming his fingers back in, smiling stupidly as he snuck a third in. Continuing to keep the same pace he had earlier, if not more sloppier. “..So.. fuckin’.. stuffed…” Chuuya whined, drool leaving his mouth. “Hm? You like that Chuuya?” He laughed, at this point Dazai was stupidly hard. He’s been rutting his clothed cock against Chuuya’s back without it knowing, hiding it behind his rough finger fucking. Chuuya’s needy whines were music to Dazai’s ears, mesmerized by him entirely.

Dazai picked up the speed quickly, seeing the familiar twitch whenever Chuuya was always so close. He whispered out more and more praises mixed with insults against its ear, just to get him to cum faster. He can’t always give Chuuya just praises during sex; the whore really needs to understand its little predicament. However, Chuuya now is just a poor, stupid, whimpering mess unable to even speak. It took Chuuya a few more seconds until he started to cum, shaking and giving a final loud whine.

Dazai waited until Chuuya stopped shuddering, carefully pulling out his cum covered fingers from inside of it. Dazai stared at his fingers, feigning curiosity. He waved his fingers around for a little, until he placed all three of his fingers in front of Chuuya. “Clean them.” That was all Chuuya needed to hear before lazily opening his mouth. Allowing Dazai’s fingers to be shoved into it before he started to suck. Its vision was refocusing as he cleaned off his own cum with his mouth, making sure to keep his tongue beneath all three fingers. Dazai moved his hand once he felt satisfied with Chuuya’s work, re-examining his hand and everything.

“..So what were you saying about me being gross?”

“..Shut… up.”

Dazai sighed, frowning dramatically while moving his hands hug Chuuya. The ginger didn’t fight this, sighing himself before try and calm down. They stayed like that for a moment, being in each other's presence until Dazai broke the silence. “…How about we do some more?” Chuuya scoffed upon hearing that, moving away from Dazai before turning to face him. “…I’m going to permanently shut you the fuck up.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Chuuya!”

a/n – smut. scares me sometimes. and this is one of those times LMFAOOO

[savvy-reyes]

Your Choice, My order.

Pm!Dazai x Fem!reader

Author's note: Chapter one came out quicker than expected so I hope you'll enjoy it and sorry if it's too short, also half edited.

Summary: Dazai is intrigued with you but there is only one problem… you're not happy about it.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Blood, death, gore and mentions of suicide.

Go to Life Waster Series.

"So are you going to tell me?" Odasaku didn't have to look at Dazai to indicate what he was talking about, they both knew what he was asking.

Dazai only stared ahead, the emptiness he felt inside out somewhat ceased but it wouldn't fully go away… ever.

But truth be told, now he at least had something to keeo him intrigued enough until it either go away or simply… die and that something happened to be you.

Someone they called Time Weaver, a being able, to not see ahead into the future like Odasaku, but to manipulate time itself, go back in it or apparently slow it down, if what Chuuya told him was true.

She was a ghost to everyone, wherever she was, death followed and not a single person had seen her face before, at least not people he knew until Chuuya jumped in one day and claimed that he knew what you looked like but the slug refused to elaborate on when or why or how.

That was how he managed to corner you when he saw you at the bar which unfortunately proved that he was right, that he knew what you looked like but the idiot didn't think his actions through or how powerful you were and if it wasn't for Dazai then at least half the port mafia would've been attending his funeral right now.

Dazai was a curious being even though the abomination he was… it was human nature to be curious and he needed to know more about you, your ability, what it could and couldn't do. 

He desperately needed a distraction from the dark shadow looming over him, fucking with his mind and pushing him to a terrifying point that hadn't came in a very long time and you were that distraction whether you wanted to be it or not.

"Dazai?" It was Ango's voice that pulled him back go reality, the music from bar Lupin returning to his hearing and he turned to look at the two men looking at him and wondered if they saw into his thoughts…

Still, keeping appearances, Dazai sighed dramatically and finally answered. "She can control time." 

Odasaku looked like he was going to jump to the conclusion that you were like him but Dazai spared him the confusion after taking a swig of his drink.

"Not see into the future but she can slow time down, rewind it, shoot ropes from her body and who knows what else, she still didn't wake up yet." He clarified nonchalantly as if he didn't give a shit about the ability user or the ability itself but only a blind man wouldn't see the intrest he had in both.

Ango scoffed, his disapproval obvious "Yeah because you thought it was a good idea to have Kouyou as your plan B." 

Dazai pouted and shook his head. "I didn't know she was going to hit her that hard." 

"What do you expect from someone with the Golden Demon?" Ango barley moved an inch when Dazai hid himself behind Odasaku as if Ango was coming for his head.

Dazai tightened his hold on Odasaku's coat as he chanted. "Be gone, Devil." 

Oda only shook his head at the weird argument before an alarm went off on all their phones, indicating an attack on the port mafia.

In a blink of an eye, the childlike behaviour disappeared as they all stood up and got inside Ango's car as he drove them to the port mafia HQ while Dazai tried to contact Chuuya, his mood ruined thanks to the sudden emergency. 

When Chuuya finally answered after the fifteenth call attempt, that was how he started the conversation. "You waste of bandages! I told you we should hold her at a warehouse and not here!" 

Dazai's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas day, hearing that you were awake, wrecking havoc and probably ruining Chuuya's outfit and mood… this night was starting to get better.

"That's why an emergency was called?" Dazai asked as Oda eyed him curiously, especially with the creepy smile Dazai had on his face.

Chuuya let out a trail of curses and the sound of things breaking, glass shattering and guards groaning in pain painted a nice picture for Dazai of the situation. 

"Yeah she woke up and chose violence and half our men are with the boss and the other half is dead or dying so could you make it here quicker, you dickhead!" Chuuya yelled on the other line as shuffling was heard. 

Probably moving to a better hiding spot. Dazai thought to himself before ending the call and telling Ango to go faster while smiling like a madman.

This night was going waaaaay better than his expectations. 

A few minutes later 

When Dazai and Oda arrived at the higher floors of the building he expected wreckage and perhaps a few bodies here and there but what he didn't expect was the bloody massacre all over the place, blood covering every corner, bodies and body parts all around…

Oda looked at Dazai as if he was waiting for an explanation but how was he to explain when he himself didn't understand. 

Dazai's intrest in you was increasing by the second and he didn't even have to look for you, a body flying past both him and Oda told him all he needed to know and he rushed in that direction, his coat flying with every step until he reached his destination where Chuuya was fighting you.

The young executive took you in, the unhinged look in your eyes, the blood covering your face and clothes, ropes shooting out in every direction to get hold of Chuuya who was barley using quarter of his ability on you, holding back with all his might.

You were the very image of every emotion that Dazai ever felt, painted in one being and the stupid waste of bandages as Chuuya called him stepped closer to you, ignoring Odasaku's protests.

You body went rigid for a second and you were right in his face in a… mere parts of a second, a rope shooting its way out and wrapping around his bandaged throat, lifting him off the ground.

"No guns this time?" You questioned, voice steady and booming with authority granted by your ability. 

Chuuya was beginning to move your way, ready to knock you out clean off when Dazai's hand shot out, ordering him to stop as he gazed into your eyes and he shook his head to the best of his ability with your rope tight on his throat.

"No guns." He barley let out and you smirked at him, expression holding every evil in the world.

"Wrong move." You moved a new rope, ready to strike him with it.

"But a man near Keisuke has one." He used the ace up his sleeve even though he wished he wouldn’t have to use it this soon, it could have came in handy later.

"What?" You were taken a back, shocked with what he said and Dazai took the opportunity to use the rope you had around his neck.

He pulled it forward, pulling you with it and placed his hand on your cheek, nullifying your ability and you both stumbled to the ground and he could only watch in amusement as you didn't understand what happened. 

His chocolate brown eyes pierced into your lost ones and he almost felt bad for his next words… almost. "If you don't want Keisuke to have a bullet in his head in the next minute, you will listen." 

Dazai could swear that he had never seen someone dare glare at him with so much visible hatred the way you were doing, you eyes fiery unlike any he had seen and maybe you could compete with the way Chuuya's looked in corruption. 

Yet, you didn't attempt to move as you took in the damage you've done and the three men surrounding you, one of them who didn't kill unless necessary, one who pretended that he was the baddest soul to ever walk the earth but he was entirely different and one… who didn't have a soul, much less empathy, much less trouble with killing you if you tried anything funny.

At last the weight of the situation you were in dawned upon you as Dazai saw how your body language changed from hostile to wary as you spoke. "He doesn't have anything to do with it." 

Dazai chuckled, unable to content himself at little naive you… no man, would get himself into taking care of an ability user like yourself, without having anything to do with it but he wasn't surprised you didn't see it. 

It was obvious that you led with your heart and emotions more than logic which would cause trouble if he managed to do what he wanted, which itself would be a miracle for you.

You almost stumbled backwards when Dazai knelt down, on the same level as you and his eyes looked haunting as he talked with so little emotion, as if he didn't even know them.

"He has everything to do with it but if you cooperate… his involvement could decrease if I say so." 

For the second time, you made the mistake of maintaining eye contact with him and he too was making mistakes right now, the mistake of letting himself deal with you directly, he could feel the invisible web of yours, luring him in and he was letting it.

"What do you want from me?" You asked, or rather demanded as you brought yourself closer to him to the point where you were breathing the same air.

He smirked, leaning in closer. "You will join the port mafia under my command and together we will learn your ability." 

He knew that if you fell in the hands of someone else, the port mafia wouldn't last much, if you were against them even if you and chuuya fought each other, it would lead to a destruction like the arahabaki one and the death of both of you.

Your voice shook with fear or rage, who knew. "And if I refuse? I could kill myself and then neither you nor anyone else can have any use of me." 

At that, Dazai had to pause everything momentarily and observe you for a minute. 

A girl who had abilities that were probably not naturally given but forced upon you, no home, no one to call family… all these would probably be enough reason to suggest that you might actually off yourself but there was one thing that changed the whole equation… Keisuke. 

The young executive had sent people all over where you usually appeared and managed to gather information. 

Tanaka Keisuke, a man who owned a market but it was actually a front to what or who he truly was, he found you around two years ago, saved you from a certain fate at that time and ever since, you became his protector and saved him at every turn… treating him like a brother you never had.

But someone like Dazai knew better than that saviour story but you were naive and someone who could be drained emotionally which Keisuke used on you perfectly but that also was why Dazai decided his answer to you question. 

With all the confidence he asked. "And leave Tanaka Keisuke all alone for the people who are after you to kill him? You wouldn't be that cruel, right?" 

The fury returned to you features. "As if you're letting me protect him? You're blackmailing me." 

"I didn't say I was a saint, Belladonna, but it's a give and take situation. You give yourself to us, and you take our protection to Tanaka. It's a win-win, don't you think?" 

He could see it behind those eyes of yours, the gears slowly turning and thinking of every possible outcome to any answer you would give.

"So what will it be, Bella? Us or Tanaka's death?" Dazai questioned.

Your gaze drifted to Chuuya, who was watching the scene unfold with a frown upon his face, not liking Dazai's plan but he could see why you turned to Chuuya, to you he probably looked like someone who might ensure his word.

Chuuya came closer, tone soft, meant to lure you to their trap. "I will be in direct control of his protection, he will be safe if you agree." 

You fell silent as your eyes were stuck on the floor but Dazai saw it, he had already won and you would be agreeing.

Step one was complete, now to the more complicated step… convincing the boss to take you in…

.

.

Taglist: @v15aexe

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[autumnleaf1111]

Sleep Deprivation. Gotta love it, right?

✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩

✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩

The stakeout had started at 10pm. It was now 2:37am—according to Dazai because he’s ‘measured the way the sky looks at each time of day’—though he couldn’t exactly tell if that meant time was moving at all or if the whole world had fallen into some sort of drowsy limbo.

The room was small, abandoned, and smelled faintly of dust and something moldy lurking in the walls. The single barred window let in a sliver of moonlight, painting pale lines across the floor. Outside, the city was quiet—too late for traffic, too early for the first workers. A perfect time for shadows.

Chuuya had stopped pretending to be alert around an hour ago.

He was lying flat on his back now, one booted foot bent at the knee, his coat shrugged halfway off his shoulders like he’d gotten halfway through giving up and never finished. At some point, he’d flopped over and rested his head on something that turned out to be Dazai’s lap—and Dazai, running on six hours of sleep from yesterday, didn’t really have the energy to argue or tease him about it.

His back was against the wall, legs crossed, and fingers—without thought, without planning—were tangled gently in Chuuya’s hair. Brushing idly through it. Not the way someone would ruffle it to annoy, but slow. Soothing.

It took about ten minutes before either of them noticed what was happening.

“…the hell are you doing?” Chuuya mumbled, voice thick with sleep. His eyes cracked open lazily, one still half-shut. There was no heat in the words, no real annoyance. Just a foggy, automatic reaction. Like the words were habit, not emotion.

Dazai blinked. His fingers paused, resting against slightly tangled strands.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice sounding unfocused.

But, He didn’t move.

Chuuya made a sound that could have been a sigh, or just the noise someone makes when they’re too tired to argue with reality. He let his eyes shut again.

“Feels nice,” he—accidentally—muttered a moment later, voice barely audible.

Dazai didn’t answer. The walls had ears, after all. Even if those walls were just made of peeling paint and shitty insulation, and the only ones listening were the two of them. Instead, he resumed what he was doing. Fingers threading slowly through Chuuya’s hair again, catching on a knot here and there, but surprisingly gentle for their relationship.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

The silence wasn’t….uncomfortable, per se. But It was weighted, but not heavy—just full. The kind of silence that only existed between people who’d fought beside each other in blood and chaos, and now sat in the eye of the storm with all their sharp edges dulled by exhaustion.

Chuuya’s breath had started to slow. Dazai could feel the faint rise and fall of his chest against his thigh.

He looked down once, curious. Chuuya’s face was relaxed in a way it never was during the day—none of that tight coil of pride in his brow, none of the fire in his eyes. He looked softer. Gentle.

Like he finally let go of all his walls and only left trust.

Sixteen-year-old partners. Assassins. Bombs waiting to go off.

But in this moment, they were just two tired boys sitting in an empty building at 2:30 in the morning, chasing the shadow of a target who hadn’t shown, too drained to remember they were supposed to hate each other.

Too drained to stop this strange, quiet kindness.

Dazai’s hand stilled again, then moved to brush a lock of hair from Chuuya’s forehead, tucking it behind his ear like he’d seen people do in movies.

That finally earned a twitch of movement from the redhead.

“You’re being weird,” Chuuya slurred, eyes still shut, lips barely moving.

“You put your head in my lap,” Dazai countered.

“You didn’t push me off.”

“Didn’t want to.”

A pause.

Then: “We’re gonna pretend none of this happened, right?”

“Mmhm.”

Chuuya nodded—or maybe just shifted sleepily—and let out a soft exhale that ghosted warm over Dazai’s leg.

Chuuya opened his eyes slightly, not looking at the other. His brows furrowed.

Dazai had stopped.

And his brain was too unfocused to stop himself from talking.

“…Don’t stop,” he added, after a moment, so quiet it might’ve been imagined.

Dazai looked down. He blinked in surprise. Not noticeable to others, but Chuuya would’ve been able to tell if he was actually looking at him.

So, Dazai continued.

The clock ticked on. Somewhere far away, a siren wailed and faded. The room held its breath. And in the stillness between midnight and morning, two enemies—two partners—forgot themselves just long enough to feel like something softer.

Something that didn’t have a name yet.

Or maybe they just didn’t want to acknowledge the name of that “something”.

✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩

At 3:04am, something shifted.

Not a sound—nothing as dramatic as a gunshot or a target appearing in the street below. Just a subtle change in the air. The kind that makes you blink twice, like the dream you were in started looking too much like real life.

Chuuya was still lying with his head in Dazai’s lap, half-asleep but not quite anymore. His breathing had evened out, but the tension in his jaw said he wasn’t as unconscious as he was pretending to be.

Dazai hadn’t stopped running his fingers through Chuuya’s hair. Somewhere between idle habit and something gentler now, slower. Familiar. It was the kind of touch you didn’t get from a partner who threw you into walls or called you short every ten seconds.

Which made it strange.

Which made it dangerous.

But neither of them moved.

“…Weird…?,” Chuuya murmured, not opening his eyes. It was more of a question than a statement.

His voice was hoarse from disuse, threaded with gravel and something quieter underneath. Not panic. Not sharp. Just hesitant.

“…Possibly…?” Dazai replied. That too was more of a question than a statement.

His voice was soft too. Flat, like all the sharp edges had filed themselves down in the weight of the hour.

They didn’t say anything else for a bit.

The room was still dim, light from the window slipping across them both like it was trying not to disturb the moment. Dazai stared at the far wall, unfocused. His legs had started to go a little numb beneath the weight of Chuuya’s head, but he didn’t shift.

That would mean changing things.

That would mean acknowledging things.

He wasn’t ready for that. Neither of them were.

“…You didn’t have to keep touching my hair, you know,” Chuuya added a few minutes later, trying for casual but sounding like he wasn’t sure if he wanted Dazai to stop or not.

Dazai blinked. “You said it felt nice.”

Chuuya didn’t respond.

Dazai kept going.

His fingers moved a little slower now, more careful—like he was thinking about it now. Like he was aware of what he was doing and still choosing to do it.

Chuuya’s brows twitched slightly, but he didn’t move. His breathing hitched just once, then settled again.

They were sixteen. They were supposed to be sharp-tongued and sarcastic, full of weapons and venom and insults hurled like grenades. That’s who Soukoku was. That’s what people feared them for.

But right now, the only thing sharp was the awareness curling between them.

Neither of them talked about how close this was. How intimate it felt. That would mean thinking too hard. That would mean one of them sitting up, pretending to shove the other away, pretending they weren’t already too far in to back out clean.

Instead, they stayed quiet. Instead, they breathed together in the hush of a room that had seen more violence than comfort, making space for a tenderness that didn’t belong.

“…Hey,” Chuuya mumbled again.

“Hm?”

“If you ever bring this up later, I’ll kick your ass.”

Dazai gave a slow, sleepy grin. “You’d have to get up first.”

A faint scoff. “Asshole.” But it was said with a tired and an unintentional smile.

And Dazai—who usually would’ve fired back with something biting or smug—only chuckled, so low and tired it barely counted.

Their silence after that was thicker. Not awkward. Just full. Full of all the things they didn’t have the language for, not yet. Not at sixteen. Not when being soft meant being vulnerable, and being vulnerable meant being dead.

Still, Dazai brushed Chuuya’s bangs from his face. Let his fingers linger at his temple a little too long. Still, Chuuya exhaled and turned just slightly into the touch.

They weren’t asleep.

They weren’t quite awake.

They weren’t quite enemies here.

And if their hands brushed later—if Dazai’s other hand rested by Chuuya’s hand— If Chuuya’s fingers curled briefly against Dazai’s wrist of said hand, grounding himself—neither of them said a word.

Or would.

Because it was 3:26am.

And the line was blurring.

And they were too damn tired to care.

✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩

The mission was a blur of gunfire, arguments, backtracking plans, and some kind of cursed box with a personality. But now it was over.

Joint missions weren’t as rare as they used to be—not since the Guild fell.

Fukuzawa and Mori tried convincing themselves the joint missions were necessary—but everyone knew there was more to it—Paperwork said “cooperation.” Reality said “Two fucking idiots with unresolved emotions.”

Dazai and Chuuya didn’t speak much during the mission. Not anything that wasn’t sharp or mission-critical, anyway. And yet, there they were. Assigned the same hotel room because “you’ve worked together before,” and “there’s only one room left,” and “figure it out” and “luckily there’s two beds so you won’t kill each other.”

The fight about it never even happened.

Because once again—they were too tired to care.

The room was nicer than the safehouses they used to squat in at sixteen. Carpeted, warm, blandly corporate. Twin beds, both untouched.

Chuuya kicked off his boots and dropped onto the nearest bed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. His coat landed somewhere near the nightstand.

Dazai leaned against the wall beside the window, one hand still wrapped in gauze from the last close call, the other resting in his coat pocket. He stared blankly at the skyline, city lights blurred by sleep deprivation and exhaustion.

“You’re gonna fall over if you stay standing like that,” Chuuya muttered into the pillow. “Don’t die dramatically in a hotel room, Dazai. It’s pathetic. And not your style.”

Usually at that—Dazai would tease him by saying something along the lines of “My style? Has the Chibi been stalking me?!” Or “Ooh~ someone’s a bit obsessed?”

But he didn’t.

He didn’t tease.

He didn’t scoff.

He didn’t even roll his eyes.

He just dropped the small bag full of random shit to help wounds on the other bed.

Chuuya got up, grabbing fresh bandages, a cloth, and a cup of water from the small bathroom sink.

He sat in front of Dazai, holding out his hand for Dazai to show him his arm.

Without a fight.

He undid the previous bandage, half bloodstained.

The red head wet the cloth and lightly pressed it against the wound Dazai got while pushing off rubble that fell on him. A piece of metal cut his upper arm.

He cleaned off the dried blood then wrapped the clean bandage around the wound.

“Too tight?” He asked, glancing at the other. Dazai just shook his head.

Chuuya sighed and undid the bandage, loosening it a bit.

Dazai never told the truth about the bandages being too tight. Chuuya learned that the hard way when they were 16. Let’s just say that it ended up with Dazai barely able to move his left arm for a few days.

“Still doing that, huh…” Chuuya muttered, knowing he won’t get an answer.

He grabbed the items and put them away, tidying up the room a bit.

When he went to close the overnight bag, something caught his eye.

A book.

A familiar one.

Serafina and The Black Cloak

“You still have this…?” He hesitantly muttered, picking it up. Dazai looked over to see what he was talking about. “Huh….forgot that was in there.” Dazai muttered, telling the truth.

Now, here comes the sleep deprivation.

Some-fucking-how, they ended up in one bed.

Dazai had his back against the headboard. Book in his hand. 3 chapters passed. Chuuya’s head on Dazai’s thigh. Eyes closed. The only sound in the room being Dazai’s voice.

Sure enough, Dazai’s hand threading through Chuuya’s hair. Slow and absentminded. A rhythm older than their grudges.

“…6th time…” Chuuya murmured, eyes still shut.

“…You’re letting me,” he said.

Chuuya gave a tired scoff. “I’m tired, not stupid.”

“You’re tired enough that you forgot how much you hate me?”

“No. Just tired enough not to fight the comfort.”

Silence fell again, except now it buzzed louder. Not tension. Not danger. Just the sound of two people quietly realizing this was something that apparently never ended. That maybe it never stopped being theirs.

“Your hair’s longer now,” Dazai said, brushing a strand behind Chuuya’s ear like muscle memory. “Feels the same, though.”

Chuuya didn’t answer.

But he didn’t move away.

The clock glowed faintly on the nightstand. 3:18am. Always past three when they let the truth sneak through.

“I should probably move,” Chuuya muttered.

“Probably,” Dazai agreed.

Neither of them moved.

✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩

…It always ended with a jab, a scoff, ignoring it happened. With distance.

Not…this.

Chuuya’s breath hitched once when Dazai adjusted, sliding down the headboard until he was lying flat, legs stretched out, head tilted slightly on the pillow. His chest rose and fell, steady. Predictable. Chuuya didn’t mean to follow, didn’t plan to let his body shift so naturally into the empty space offered.

But he did.

His head found Dazai’s chest without thinking. Right over his heartbeat—slow, faint, annoyingly steady. And Dazai’s arms, like they belonged there, looped around Chuuya’s back. One curled around his waist. The other settled back into Chuuya’s hair.

The rhythm resumed. That same, slow pattern of fingers through red strands. So careful. So practiced.

Chuuya was confused.

Not panicked. Not flustered. Just…

Confused.

Because Dazai didn’t do this. Dazai didn’t hold people like this. Dazai didn’t stay.

“You remember that job in Kyoto?” Chuuya murmured, voice muffled into the cotton of Dazai’s shirt. “Back when Mori sent us to pose as a married couple to catch that arms dealer?”

Dazai gave a soft chuckle, almost entirely breath. “You mean the one where you threatened to castrate me if I held your hand again in public?”

“You deserved it.”

“You were very convincing as a husband.”

Chuuya hummed. “You wore that fucking god-awful pastel suit.”

“And you said I looked good in it.”

“I said you looked less horrible than usual.”

Another low laugh. “Semantics.”

A pause.

Dazai’s hand didn’t stop moving. If anything, it slowed further—like his body was beginning to drift into something even more vulnerable than this moment already was. His breathing had evened out too, as if just holding someone—holding Chuuya—was enough to calm whatever chaos still lingered under his skin.

“…You used to hum when you were bored,” Chuuya said suddenly, softly.

Dazai blinked at the ceiling. “Did I?”

“Yeah. Always the same song. You’d hum it when you were waiting for someone to die or when you were on lookout.”

He didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched. Full of that weird, old echo of something unspoken.

Then:

“I stopped humming after I left.”

“I noticed.”

Chuuya’s voice was so quiet, it almost didn’t make it out of him.

Dazai’s fingers paused in his hair for a moment. Just one beat. Then continued.

“You noticed more than I thought.”

“I always noticed more than you gave me credit for.”

“…I’m sorry,” Dazai murmured.

That made Chuuya go still.

Because Dazai didn’t apologize. Not like that. Not without the safety net of sarcasm or a grin.

He didn’t lift his head. Didn’t say anything right away. Just let himself stay there, breathing in Dazai’s scent—faint antiseptic, old paper, and something distinctly like rain on warm pavement.

“Why now?” Chuuya asked, barely audible. “Why are you being—like this?”

A long pause.

“I don’t know.”

Another truth.

A dangerous one.

“You always did weird shit after missions,” Chuuya muttered, trying to deflect. “Remember that time you tried to teach me how to waltz in a graveyard?”

“You stepped on my foot.”

“You dipped me into a thorn bush.”

Dazai smiled a little. “You looked so dramatic with rose petals in your hair.”

“You were a menace.”

“You stayed until the sun rose.”

Chuuya didn’t answer. Because yeah. He had.

He stayed because part of him always thought that maybe, just maybe, if he waited long enough, Dazai would stop running.

That maybe he’d turn to him, just once, and say I’m not leaving.

But he hadn’t.

Not then.

Maybe not now either.

But he was here. Arms around him. Breath warm against Chuuya’s temple. And that had to mean something, even if neither of them had the energy to figure out what.

“…Still tired?” Dazai asked, voice soft and close.

“Yeah.”

“Then sleep.”

“You’ll be gone when I wake up.”

Dazai’s arms tightened—just slightly.

“I won’t,” he said. “Not tonight.”

“…You’ve said that before.”

Dazai didn’t argue.

Because Chuuya was right.

But he also didn’t let go.

They didn’t talk after that. Not with words. But the silence that followed wasn’t avoidance—it was too full for that. It was soaked in memory. In confessions left half-said. In all the ways they didn’t know how to love each other without bleeding a little for it.

Chuuya’s hand found its way to Dazai’s shirt, fisting loosely in the fabric over his chest. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to hold.

Dazai’s thumb traced the curve of Chuuya’s jaw once. Maybe by accident. Maybe not.

…And just like that, it all quieted.

Not the city outside—sirens still screamed distantly, tires hissed in the rain slicked streets, someone yelled drunk declarations of love three floors down—but them. The hum that always buzzed between them, high-strung and volatile, settled into something soft. Almost fragile.

Dazai’s hand slowed in Chuuya’s hair. Stopped. Rested.

Chuuya’s eyes were closed again, but he wasn’t asleep. Dazai could tell. His breathing wasn’t deep enough, and his fingers still twitched faintly where they curled into Dazai’s shirt.

“…I meant it, you know,” Dazai said quietly.

Chuuya didn’t answer.

“I won’t be gone when you wake up.”

Chuuya’s breath hitched—just a little. But still didn’t speak.

“And if you ask me to stay again,” Dazai continued, voice even softer now, “I might actually do it this time.”

That got a response.

Chuuya’s head lifted, just barely. Enough to look at him. His expression was unreadable in the dim light—eyes shadowed, lips parted, hair mussed where Dazai had threaded his fingers through it.

“You’re tired,” Chuuya said, voice flat. “And sleep-deprived. You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Dazai met his gaze without flinching. “You think I don’t know the difference anymore, but I do. I know what I’m saying.”

Chuuya blinked at him. Once. Twice.

Then:

“You always say things like that when you’re scared.”

Dazai didn’t look away. “Maybe I’m tired of being scared without you.”

It wasn’t a good answer. It wasn’t enough. Not after years of almosts and half-promises and all the ways Dazai had left. But it wasn’t nothing, either.

Chuuya dropped his head back onto Dazai’s chest with a sigh.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered.

Dazai exhaled, something shaky. “I know.”

“And I hate you.”

“I know that too.”

“I’m not saying I want you to stay.”

“I’m not saying you have to.”

Silence again.

But this time, it was warmer.

Eventually, Chuuya’s fingers uncurled from Dazai’s shirt. His hand settled flat against his chest, over his heart. The beat was still steady. Still there.

“…I do remember the song,” Dazai said, eyes closing. “The one I used to hum.”

Chuuya hummed in response. “Do it again...” Voice almost fragile sounding.

So Dazai did.

Softly. Off-key. Barely audible.

And Chuuya—traitor that he was—let it happen. Let it lull him. Let the weight in his chest ease for the first time in what felt like years.

Maybe it wasn’t forgiveness. Maybe it wasn’t even trust. In all fairness, trust has never been something they doubted in their partnership. But it was something.

And it was theirs.

✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩

The clock read 4:27am when Dazai finally drifted off.

Chuuya was already halfway there.

Sleep deprivation.

It has its ways with the two.

✩☁︎✩���︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩☁︎✩

[mikayuumouse]

I really like how you talk about sskk, do you have any reviews about them?

It's super obvious that I love Sskk, and it's true, I do, I'm completely enamored by the ship and I love their relationship dynamic so much (I love Bsd for a plethora of reasons, such as the individual characters, plot, abilities, depictions of mental health, etc, not just sskk ofc, but sskk has always been something that's interested me a lot and it's my favorite ship) so I'd love to give some reviews!

I won't be able to name every reason or review on this ship lol I just have too many, but I'll try to list some of my favorites

I don't ship Akutagawa nor Atsushi with anyone else besides each other, because to me they're soulmates. I adore their symbolism of the yin and yang, Akutagawa being the yin (evil with a bit of good) and Atsushi being the yang (good with a bit of evil). I think they have a very unique duo concept while still fitting as the next generation of Double Black/Soukoku

Also I'll never get over how much they actually like and respect each other. They might bicker and argue, but they've only fought like, twice. The first time was their first meeting and they fought because they weren't personal enemies, they were organization rivals. Then the second time was Atsushi desperately trying to save Kyouka, and people seem to forget that in the beginning Atsushi didn't know his own strength. Until he became an Agency member he wasn't able to control his ability, and he couldn't even remember transforming

A *huge* thing for a view on Sskk's relationship is circumstance. In the main series of Bsd, Atsushi is told to stay away from Akutagawa because he's a Port Mafia member. He isn't told about Akutagawa's personality or who he is as a person, because why would he? He's simply the enemy (at that point in time). Basically, the whole reason they were so adverse to each other was because the only information they were given about each other was to hate each other

Akutagawa never truly hated Atsushi for who he *was*. He was told to dislike Atsushi, along with every single other Agency member. Akutagawa has said he doesn't hate Atsushi twice, once in the manga where he said "I only hated you for your good fortune," as he was jealous of Atsushi and how Dazai treated Atsushi. The second time was in the 55 Minutes light novel

I kinda rambled a lot, but all in all, Atsushi and Akutagawa have never *personally* hated each other. It's all circumstance. Look at BEAST, when Akutagawa and Atsushi meet, they meet at a cafe and have no idea who the other actually is. They get along easily and enjoy each other's company, relating to each other and talking comfortably. It just goes to show that they might clash but in the end, they go so well together and support each other

So that's my review on how they actually don't hate each other lol

I think Akutagawa does respect Atsushi, and vice versa. I think their relationship is something similar to "I wish you never came into my life, because now I can't live without you,"

It's fairly obvious that Atsushi mourned Akutagawa and replayed his death many times in his head after Akutagawa died at Fukuchi's hand. Atsushi might call Akutagawa annoying but he missed him, and even was able to quote Akutagawa's last words back at Akutagawa before dying for him. Atsushi even canonly feels safe around Akutagawa, because he trusts Akutagawa. He trusts Akutagawa won't try to (seriously) hurt him nor kill him (at least until the six months are up)

(actually, regarding that for a second, I highly doubt the promise will actually go through. Or at least they'll pretend to want to fight, and then one of them is going to fold and admit that they don't want to do the death match. They would [and did] literally both die for each other, they're not killing each other any time soon)

Anyways

Their trust runs deep, even if its unspoken. Akutagawa is basically completely vulnerable without his coat/Rashomon, yet he gives it to Atsushi because he *trusts* Atsushi to use Kokko Zessou (the Singularity of their abilities) properly

Also in Wan!, which is to some extent canon btw it's confirmed to just be an alternate chibi universe, Atsushi stalked Akutagawa for a bit to see if he truly wasn't killing anything and then proceeded to comically see Akutagawa not even kill a mosquito. So after he sees that Akutagawa is true to his word he buys some pork buns for Akutagawa and gives them to him as a gift. Akutagawa splits open the bag with Rashomon and takes the food and I just found it really sweet that Akutagawa took the food that Atsushi bought for him. I know it's just Wan! and it's all silly, but idk it warms my heart that he didn't just throw out the food that Atsushi got for him 😭 (btw this is Wan! episode 4/chapter 66) (and even if I'm wrong about Wan!'s canonical credibility, this is still one of my favorite sskk moments and I don't really take it that seriously lol)

Also, Akutagawa has stated that his reason to live is to get Dazai's validation, to have Dazai admit that he is indeed strong and worthy (in BEAST his reason for living was to find Gin). Akutagawa even says he doesn't fear death, but he fears dying before proving himself to Dazai. The thing is, I think Atsushi could become his new reason to live (I know how cheesy this sounds 🙏). Atsushi 100% recognizes Akutagawa as strong and capable, and I just really think that protecting Atsushi and fighting alongside him could be Akutagawa's new reason to live (or at least, *a* reason)

Also another point of how much Akutagawa trusts Atsushi (whether or not he wants to admit it) is that he told Atsushi about his lung condition. Akutagawa is obsessed with power because of how Dazai trained (abused) him. He wants and needs status and to be feared, Atsushi even calls him out for "killing just to look powerful". Why would he keep his lung condition a secret? Because sickness is *weakness.* He despises being seen as weak or defenseless, but with Atsushi? He knows Atsushi won't ever think he's weak. So he tells Atsushi (and inadvertently Fukuchi) about his lung disease, trusting Atsushi with the information

Okay so these are (some) of my reviews on their canon relationship and why I think they're so perfect for each other, and ofc I had more reasons and opinions about sskk (I swear I'm normal about them 😭), it's practically an endless list

Also I love every single depiction I've seen of domestic/no abilities au sskk. I know their relationship isn't necessarily soft, but it could be. The look Atsushi gave Akutagawa before turning into bubbles was very soft.

As a romantic couple, they would be wonderful for each other. They're literally the perfect balance, and I think it would be a healthy and loving relationship just with some (weightless) arguing. That's just their personalities lol

And I think no matter what universe they're in, they're still going to be connected to each other. In BEAST when Atsushi enters the cafe, Akutagawa takes immediate note of him although he looks comparatively normal. Akutagawa senses his strength and notices him. I think even if in a world where they've never met, if Atsushi walked past Akutagawa one day,Akutagawa would turn around to look at him, and vice versa. They're very intertwined and I adore that part of their relationship

Oh, and I'm not saying it's odd or specifically special that Atsushi cares about Akutagawa, after all he's kind and cares about many people like Kyouka, Dazai, Kunikida, Ranpo, etc. But Atsushi has *extreme* trust issues so the fact that he trusts Akutagawa along with caring about him really shows how different their relationship is. Also it goes to show that Atsushi doesn't view the world as black and white, and doesn't only like the "good guys" and hates the "bad guys". Atsushi cares about Akutagawa despite all of Akutagawa's sins and debatable flaws, because he *likes* Akutagawa. And Akutagawa caring about anyone ever is pretty unusual lol. Atsushi, Gin, and his friends from the slums who died might be the only people he actually gives a damn about (he hates Dazai)

Also I do think they have the potential to become canon, it's unlikely due to a bunch of different reasons (such as Bsd isn't a romance manga/anime), but if it did become canon, it would just make a lot of sense. Seeing them navigate their relationship together while also dealing with Fyodor, Amenogozen, The Book, etc and their own internal struggles would be extremely interesting. I just know Asagiri would write it wonderfully

Dear Lord I talk about them too much 😭 anyways thank you sm for asking this and I hope you like my reviews<333

[iovetecchou]

That Funny Feeling ⧸ Dazai Osamu

༞ Contains...! !TW! this fic contains heavy topics such as: suicide, depression, anxiety, and self-deprecating thoughts. hurt/comfort type beat, hugging, gentle touches, hand holding, swearing, suggestive implications but NOTHING actually happened! kunikida is just silly, dazai really is a sweetheart in this ):

༞ GN Reader.

༞ 2,494 words.

a/n: if you have struggled with your own mental health past or present, just know that you are not alone. i love you and am so proud of you for still being here and pushing through each day, no matter how difficult that can be. never be afraid to rely on someone close to you when things become too much to bear, you are worthy of living and deserve to be loved.

Some people just aren't cut out for life. We are all dealt a hand, some cards interchangeable. But for the most part, they mold us; and make us who we are. They map out the rest of our lives. So what are you supposed to do when all the cards you've been handed don't play in your favor?

Even the interchangeable cards; you discard them only to pick up more rotten ones. Your judgment is poor, and your decision-making only gets you stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

You envy the people who were gifted better cards. People who were not condemned from the start. Those are the people who make something out of their lives, the ones who are deserving of taking up space.

You know this sounds self-deprecating, and yeah, it is. But to you, it's also logic. You think that's why you dislike Dazai Osamu.

When he talks so freely about death, his desire for a perfect suicide. It makes your stomach turn, not for obvious reasons, but for selfish ones. He plays off his pain as a joke so no one thinks twice about it when he asks a pretty stranger to "commit a double suicide" with him.

You try so hard to conceal your suicidal thoughts, hiding your depression behind a pretty mask. Showing up to work each day with a smile on your face and a "can do!" attitude. 

You and Dazai really are the same in that aspect, masking your pain so it's less noticeable to others around you. 

Your abdomen twists into knots when he talks so freely about suicide because it causes your mind to wander and your mask to slip. Dazai always seems to pick up on that slight change in you when it happens, too. His chestnut eyes bore holes into your profile from where he sits beside you. You can feel his eyes on you as you try to smile brighter, putting on a chipper face as Kenji updates you on how the cows on his farm are doing.

You hate it. It feels like he's reading your mind; retaining all your deepest darkest secrets. Does your face really give you away so easily? No... It can't be that. You've been working at the Detective Agency for a long while now, and since then, no one else has ever assumed something was wrong with you. 

If they only knew how pitiful your life really was. As much as you love all your colleagues at the Agency, you hate working. Waking up is exhausting, and you dread the repetitive daily routines you're forced to accomplish. On your off days, you sit at home alone- by choice. Interacting with others is draining, and when you're urged to participate in social activities, the anticipation and anxiety eat away at you until the day finally comes. 

Much like today, the day you've been letting eat away at you since the mention of a work party was brought to your attention. You practiced different smiles and laughs in the mirror, shaking your head and trying again when your "act" seemed too unnatural. You probably changed your outfit ten times before ultimately deciding on the same old thing you usually wore. 

Your hands were coated in perspiration as you balled your fingers, making a fist. You took in a shaky breath as you brought yourself to finally knock on Chief Fukuzawa's door. He welcomed you with a tight-lipped smile and a nod of his head, stepping aside to let you through. Immediately, you felt his eyes on you. Dazai watched your little performance as you greeted everyone, and when it was finally his turn to watch your act up close and personal- you froze. 

His eyes were too intimidating. You felt exposed in front of him. It irked you that he had such an effect on you. Why was it so easy to pretend with everyone else but him?

"Aww, where's my greeting?" Dazai smirked devilishly at you, raising his eyebrows slightly as he leaned in close. All-encompassing, invading your personal space. 

You remained quiet. You were on the outside looking in, screaming to yourself to say something- anything. Your gaze shifted to the floor as your hands came up to bunch up the hem of your shirt, rolling it between your fingers; an attempt to self-soothe. 

"I..."

"Oi! Stop teasing them, Dazai," Yosano shouted from the kitchen, plum-colored eyes still fixated on the fizzy concoction she began making for herself.

The sound of Yosano's strong voice ripped you from your stupor. Your head shot up, only to notice Dazai was still gazing at you- studying you. 

"I would do no such thing! I'm hurt that you think so low of me, Yosano!" Dazai's intense gaze finally eased up on you as he whipped his head around to face Yosano. The tall brunette man clutched a hand over his heart in feigned affliction. 

You took that as your opening to slip away, excusing yourself to the restroom. You hardly noticed the way Dazai's attention was drawn back to you at the sound of your hurried footsteps. "Hey- wait up!" 

You quickly pulled the bathroom door shut behind you. You could hardly look at yourself in the mirror, too ashamed of yourself for freezing up back there. The cool tile floor welcomed you as you sunk, curling into yourself. You hugged your knees as they drew closely into your chest. You could feel your rapid heartbeat in your throat, anxiety rising by the second.

"You know, I wouldn't be sitting on the floor if I were you. Let's get you up." Nothing registered until you felt firm hands grasp your biceps. A strong force drawing you up to rely upon your shaky legs. 

"Why- what are you..?" Your sentence fell off. You weren't entirely sure what you were trying to ask. Your mind was too convoluted with disappointment; shame for yourself. 

"The door was unlocked so I figured I'd let myself in! You weren't looking too hot out there, and I wanted to check up on you." Dazai's warm hands still cradled your biceps, untrusting the support your trembling legs half-heartedly gave you in your current state. 

"I'm fine," You chuckled out of nervousness before continuing, "I'll be out in a minute, so you can just go." You could tell by how Dazai looked at you that he didn't buy your lie, not even for a second. 

He let out a deep sigh, large palms moving up to your shoulders before he blurted out, "Stop, just- just stop. You're not fooling me, so quit it with the peachy-keen act. Why do you insist on hiding behind a facade?"

"Why do you?!" You shouted back. You brought your hands up to swat his hands off your shoulders. The shift between distress and rage made your legs feel more grounded. 

Dazai gaped at you for a moment. He genuinely looked taken aback before his face shifted into a tepid expression. He let his arms settle against his sides, his demeanor appearing more taut than usual.

"This isn't about me. Stop deflecting." His voice was eerily calm, making you feel unsettled. Seeing a more serious side to Dazai was far and few between for you. 

"But it is! I hate you... I hate you so much. You- you..." Your vision began to blur as tears spilled past your lashline and down your sullen cheeks. How embarrassing, you thought. Crying in front of the man that made your stomach turn. 

Dazai brought his hand up to your cheek, brushing away the onslaught of tears with the pad of his thumb. "I believe that hatred is displaced. You just don't want to acknowledge that."

Your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as you drew your hand to grasp his wrist. You tugged with all your might to pull him from your cheek, but no give. Dazai stubbornly kept his large palm on your face. The warmth from his hand seared your skin. It was neither comforting nor unpleasant. Just... unfamiliar.

"You're wrong, I hate you-"

"No, you hate that you see yourself in me."

Your hand fell from his wrist. He was right, and deep down, you knew that. But you refused to admit it. It was shameful. You liked to hate Dazai because it took attention away from the real problem at hand, yourself. 

Dazai let out a sigh as he continued to wipe away your tears. "Tell me to stop if you hate it, but I'm going to hug you now." Before you could process, Dazai embraced you. His hand that was caressing your face only moments ago now cradled your neck. His other arm wrapped around your frame, enveloping you.

"I understand your pain well... I can see myself in you too. But I don't despise you, you know. I actually... worry for you. You try so hard to pretend that everything is fine. It must be exhausting."

It felt like your heart was being squeezed, as if your ribcage was collapsing in on itself. His words shot right through you, as did the guilt. You had been so unfair toward Dazai up until now. Using your displaced disdain for him as a distraction because you were too much of a coward to hold yourself accountable.

It ached so much to come to terms with. Your arms felt heavy as you pulled them up to wrap around Dazai's lanky frame. You quietly sobbed into his chest, grasping your hands into the back of his shirt desperately; as a small child would cling to their mother. 

Dazai hummed softly into your hair, welcoming the silence with open arms; as he did you. You were sure all your colleagues were wondering why Dazai and yourself had been in the restroom for so long, but you hardly cared at this very moment. 

For the first time, in a long time, you felt seen. Like you didn't need to hide when Dazai was in your presence... because even if you did- he would know. Being vulnerable felt similar to what you imagined walking a tightrope hung across two tall skyscrapers entailed. So, to say you were apprehensive about this was an understatement. 

However, in the same breath, it felt freeing. It took a little bit of weight off your shoulders to share your burdens with another person. But never in a million years did you think the person who brought you solace would end up being Dazai Osamu. 

"I'm sorry, Dazai- I'm so fucking sorry. I-"

"It's okay. Believe me, I treated people a lot worse than this from my own displaced hatred," Dazai interrupted. Caressing your hair softly, hyperaware of the wet feeling seeping through his shirt and smearing over his skin from your tears before he continued, 

"Just... just promise me you'll talk to me if it ever becomes too unbearable to handle on your own. I know how it sounds coming from me, I'm a hypocrite- huh? But trust me when I tell you… you are deserving of this thing we call living. Even if you can't see it yourself, I can... and I will remind you of that fact until I'm blue in the face if I have to." 

You pulled back from Dazai's chest as you sniffled, eyes scanning his stoic face. He smiled at you softly, rubbing up and down the sides of your arms in a comforting way. "There you are. I was beginning to think you cried your face off!" You chuckled at his dumb quip, letting your fingers untangle from the cloth adorning Dazai's back.

"Well, this is embarrassing... and I'm sure at this point all the others think were up to no good in here." It was Dazai's turn to laugh as his hands drifted lower, grasping yours softly. Your fingers intertwined as a lopsided grin painted your face.

"So let 'em! Who cares? The only thing that matters is that your heart is beating and you're here. Still standing in front of me." Your smile dropped slightly, the urge to cry bubbling back up, making your throat tighten.

"Dazai," You tightly squeezed his hands within your grasp. Scared that if you loosened your grip for even a second, this moment would be gone before you could say everything you needed to. "I'm really glad you're still here, too."

Dazai closed his eyes for a moment, his smile wavering. "There's so much pain in the world... sometimes it's hard not to notice it. I couldn't shut it out every time I felt your distress. That's why I kept a close eye on you all this time. I'm not just some creep with a staring problem,"

You both laughed at that sentiment before he continued, "I know with each day those painful thoughts are waiting for you. But it's not only that, there's also possibilities. Possibilities you can only discover as long as you're alive."

Your hands still clutched his with great force. His words caused you to cry once more as Dazai's eyes softened. He quietly cooed at you, whispering "don't cry," so gently, it was almost inaudible.  

"Dazai... I hope you know the same can be said for you, and your life," You paused, trying to swallow that lump in your throat before you continued. "I... want to help you- help you live. I know it doesn't mean much coming from me, but as long as you're still here I will do whatever I can to help you. I swear it."

Your tear-filled eyes bored into his chestnut ones. Desperately hoping your words got through to him. Dazai inhaled a shaky breath, eyebrows raising slightly. His lips curved into a tight-lipped smile before he let out a small chuckle. "You're really something else, you know that? Not even ten minutes ago you were shouting about how much you hate me. Now we're best buds... how cute!"

You knew he was deflecting, you guessed being vulnerable was just as daunting to him as it was for you. Before you could say anything more, the door flung open. Both Dazai and yourself whipped your heads in the direction of Kunikida shouting. 

"Dazai! Just what do you think you're doing- wait a damn minute! What did you do to Y/N to make them cry?! Get away from them this instant you damn pervert!"

Kunikida gripped Dazai by the collar, dragging him out of the restroom. When your hands untangled from his, you felt uneasy. There was so much more you wanted to say, but it would just have to wait... for now. 

You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself at the sound of Dazai shouting for you to help prove his innocence from presumably the living room. For the first time since you stepped into the bathroom, you looked at yourself. Taking in your disheveled state.

Ah, there it is again. That funny feeling. 

don't accuse me of making this a self-insert, i will cry!

[dancing-dawn]

i'm feeling evil. list top 5 good things dazai did XD

Oh god, those are gonna sound so unhinged, I swear I'm normal, don't put me on the pire. I may not have the best grasp on Dazai's character (as I'm heaaavily biased with very conflicting emotions) so this mayyyy be a bit subjective, but gonna try my best to be logical!

1. Make Atsushi cry for the death of his “father.” I know this scene has been heavily discussed and criticized but it's so so obvious he meant it metaphorically here. Dazai cares for Atsushi, that's a no brainer - both as a mentor and sooomething of a friend let's say. He wanted Atsushi to get some closure since faith didn't have it easy on him - to come so close as to witness the “redemption” of his abuser, literal seconds before his untimely end. If the Headmaster's death was justified and if it absolved him of his sin is a matter of philosophy and doesn't matter much here. What's important is the effect his death had on Atsushi. The lack of answers. The conflicting emotions. The unfairness of being left on the brink of what may have been a total change of perspective and major shift in his worldview, only for it it be taken away from him in an instant, before he could even process it.

Also I really like this scene in the meta sense. Because we've been teased with the character of the Headmaster since the very beginning and it's somewhat of a cruel joke to kill him off the moment we realize they may actually be something good in him. I like it so so much. It's heartbreaking but it's life. It's realistic. It wasn't sugar-coated in any way. Call it fate, call it coincidence - it happened, and now Atsushi needs to deal being left with all those ‘what if-s’ [i can start analysing the watch scene in Beast too but I'll make myself cry no joke]

And so Dazai was the only one who could give Atsushi what he needed in this moment. He needed to cry. He needed to mourn, to feel, to let out every single emotion that's been crawling at the edges of his heart since the very beginning. Of course the Headmaster was not a good ‘father,’ hell, he was no father at all. But that doesn't mean Atsushi can or should cope with his death with zero emotion or even god forbid celebrate it. I cannot imagine Atsushi being truly happy for the death of any person he knew, be it the most cruel abusive bastard or his most feared enemy. It's a matter of emotional connection - which is something that once it's been established, it's no longer in your control or your power to cut it completely without leaving a trace. So, Atsushi needed to cry. And even if Dazai orchestrated the whole reveal and its outcome - it was still in Atsushi's best interest, because this was going to happen one way or another, so might as well get over the pain and tears and trauma once and for all, you know (... but it was,  in fact,,, not once and for all… until what we barely just witnessed in chapter 123)

2. Cradle Oda in his arms as he was dying. I kinda wanted to make a joke out of this because it was the second thing that popped into my head, but I soon realized that I'm completely serious with myself. This is also my all time favourite Dazai scene (did i mention im also a passionate odazai enjoyer okay shhhh). This is, unsurprisingly, the major turning point for his character. It's his spiritual ascent, if you will. We see him at his most vulnerable here, he's a broken kid who just lost the dearest person to him and that made him realize he's willing to change his whole life to respect the dying wishes of his friend. It’s a very beautiful touching moment and I believe Dazai’s first ever act of “virtue.”

3. Be a good partner to Kunikida (when he’s not annoying him to death). I enjoy their dynamic a lot and I appreciate Dazai for holding off on the goofy and moronic-y when things get serious. 

4. Learn from his (to put it mildly) mistakes with Akutagawa and actually be a pretty decent mentor to Atsushi. Yea I don’t think I even need to explain this one, that’s just bright as day.   

ok and lastly for legal purposes this is a joke but:

5. Jump off that roof in Beast xD

[vii0so]

[BSD 119] Theory/Analysis

"Other Half"

I think this ties into the 'opposites/complements'. Fyodor realised Dazai had Chuya and now he's about to realise Atsushi has Akutagawa (Light & Shadow). He is looking for his 'other half' quite literally - the sole being that will complement his existence.

Basically 2 halves that complete each other. Like a jigsaw puzzle (except it's only 2 puzzle pieces that only fit each other).

Fyodor's comment "even Dazai was not fit to be my other half" could be interpreted as this: 2 puzzle pieces that seem almost identical and look like they would fit, but when you try to connect them you realise there are small differences to the shape.

Meaning, the pieces - no matter what - are not meant for each other. In this example one piece has it's perfect match - the only puzzle piece that will ever be his other half: Dazai has Chuuya.

That leaves Fyodor searching...again (seriously, this guy has lived over 2k years and he is still at square 1). So for now I'd like to assume that Fyodor's realisation that Dazai couldn't be his other half happened during the prison arc. Fyodor had been 'testing' Dazai to see if he was fit for the 'other half' role.

Also, in the end (just before Fyodor's "death") where Dazai reveals that he's alive and that Chuuya was never a vampire, Fyodor's shock seems more on point if you think of it as the reaction of realising Dazai's other half was Chuuya this entire time.

Next part will be about Atsushi in Fyodor's endeavour for his 'other half' and how it involves Akutagawa:

"So, why can Atsushi NOT be Fyodor's other half?"

Glad you (nobody) asked!

...First I'll go on small rant on why it's impossible for our lovely 'bookmark' to be the 2k+ old rat's other half.

Enjoy my constantly changing mind's thoughts :)

█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

What's needed to be the 'other half' of anyone?

Synergy

This is the closest and most(?) accurate word to describe the 'other half' business.

In short, 'synergy' is the interaction of two 'anything' that produce a greater effect together rather than apart.

Think how Akutagawa and Atsushi work better and are stronger when fighting together/ complementing what the other needs (Atsushi using Akutagawa's coat/combining abilities is an excellent example of this) rather than when fighting alone.

"So, their abilities being compatible is all they need to be the 'other half'?"

...Well no

Synergy isn't just about abilities, it's about effect.

Imagine you have a fire...ok good, now think of something that would make the flame rage higher - destroy more...do you have it, good

I have no idea what you thought of and it doesn't matter (maybe this whole thing wasn't a good example...). Well I thought of gasoline. You know the "don't add fuel to fire" saying?...ok.

Now think of Dazai and Chuuya for a moment (shouldn't I be talking about Aku n Sushi???)

Hypothetical scenario:

Chuya starts a fire (small, like a campfire or smth).

Then Dazai comes along and pours gasoline where the fire is.

Well...it's interesting right? (you're getting sidetracked!) oh.

Basically that's 'effect' (cause and effect - gasoline and raging fire)

So synergy = effect(a) + effect(b) = cause = effect(c)

(I really hope this makes sense to you who somehow found this)

effect(a) = first half (FH)

effect(b) = other half (OH)

cause = e(a) + e(b)

effect(c) = FH + OH = Best performance, Godly power, and more.

We continue ;-;

I wanted to sidetrack and explain soukoku's synergy/other half bs but I need to get back to our (often forgotten) protagonist and his edgy bf...So off we go!

Ok, finally back on track! ...(did you forget where we left off?)

Here! "So, why can Atsushi NOT be Fyodor's other half?"

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2. Fyodor's obsession with the 'bookmark'/Atsushi's ability.

I could be done by just saying: "abusive relationship" but I won't...I'm too far in to stop now.

Let's start by seeing everything right with 'other halves':

Synergy: When they are alone, they are a pebble, but when they're together, they are a dual piloted mecha that in theory can kill a god...In short, they work best when together.

Ability compatibility/harmonisation

Essentially soulmates (the literal tied-together-by- the-soul type): will only ever have this synergy with their other half. Meaning the full potential of their power will never be understood/unlocked unless done with their other half.

Literal other half: basically all I've said above. Their puzzle piece only fits with their other half.

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⋘ Ｒｅｓｔａｒｔｉｎｇ．．． ⋙

Ok...let's get back to the main Question:

"Why can Atsushi NOT be Fyodor's other half?"

I'll get straight to the point:

There is no synergy

They are not destined/fated

They don't help each other

Fyodor only wants to use him as the bookmark

Fyodor is aware that Atsushi is not his other half (he called Atsushi his "remaining option") but is still forcing it upon him.

You can't force someone to be your other half. It's a soulmate thing.

Fyodor is looking for godly power, not a companion/partner (not meant romantically).

Fyodor won't be able to do what he wants anyway because there is no synergy in play here. (maybe he'll use the 'page' to force it, but it probably won't work. He could also try getting Aku to kill him and then steal his body, but I still don't think it'll work)

And the last and most important point is:

Atsushi has Akutagawa

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Akutagawa is Atsushi's other half. Therefore no matter what Fyodor does, he will never be able to fit Atsushi's puzzle piece.

I considered writing down why Aku is Sushi's other half based on their abilities, but maybe it'll be in a seperate post. For now here are the main points:

Darkness and Light

Yin and Yang motif

Like, I'm sure most people are aware, these two might as well be the definition of this motif.

"Yin and yang can be thought of as complementary and at the same time opposing forces that interact to form a dynamic system in which the whole is greater than the assembled parts and the parts are important for cohesion of the whole." Georges Ohsawa. (1976). The unique principle : the philosophy of macrobiotics. George Ohsawa Macrobiotic Foundation.

Just realised this is the same as the synergy I was talking about earlier...Oh well, I guess it all ties together in the end! :D

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Here is the TLDR:

Fyodor is looking for some form of ultimate power, so he needs a 'other half'.

Dazai has Chuuya so Fyodor chose to instead pursue a literal God-like being - The Bookmark: Atsushi.

Atsushi's other half is Akutagawa, so Fyodor can't have him anyway.

Yin and Yang is an important motif in this whole other half business.