Bsd Comfort - Tumblr Posts

My saving grace during the perilous time that ao3 is down

Crutches

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: implied self harm (not explicitly described,) mentions of low body weight/implied eating disorder, suicidal thoughts, general dazai angst warning

pairing: soukoku

word count: 4.2k

masterlists

Chuuya hears a knock on his apartment door and immediately he knows who it is, and immediately he knows that he’ll inevitably open the door. Still, he replies harshly, “Go home, shitty Dazai!”

It’s the middle of the night–well beyond midnight– and the only reason Chuuya is awake is because he’s leaving for a week-long mission out of the country and he needs to wrap up some paperwork before leaving Yokohama. If it weren’t for that mission, Chuuya would have been in bed hours ago–like Dazai should be now. 

It wasn’t like this was particularly unusual. Maybe once a week, or once in a few weeks Chuuya would get a knock at his door at three or four in the morning. Everyone else that knew Chuuya knew better than to dare to even attempt to wake him so late, so every time that left only one person who could be at the door. Dazai. 

A few moments pass in silence, and that’s when Chuuya’s stomach starts to turn. Normally, if Chuuya didn’t come to the door instantly, Dazai continued knocking. Silence rarely ever followed that initial knock, and when it did, Chuuya knew that it meant something was wrong. 

As soon as the realization comes to mind, Chuuya is on his feet and headed towards the door, silently praying that Dazai is still there when he opens it. When he does, at first Chuuya thinks that his prayers were ignored and that he’d have to go out and find his ex-partner, an ordeal that wouldn't be the first time, but one that Chuuya never wanted to repeat. Then, when he sticks his head out a little farther into the hallway, he sees the back of a beige coat, and he feels like he can breathe again. 

“Osamu, get back here,” Dazai halts in place in the hallway, although he doesn’t turn around just yet. “I know you heard me, get back here and come inside.”

Chuuya knows this story all too well, and he knows just as well that he can’t let Dazai leave, even if that’s what he pretends to want. 

“Thought you just told me to go home, Chibi,” Dazai replies with his back still turned to Chuuya, his voice low and sullen, just barely audible. 

Chuuya sighs, rubbing his tired eyes, “Shut up, you know I don’t want that, now get in here.”

Dazai’s shoulders visibly drop as he turns around to face Chuuya, who can’t help but notice how… bad he looks right now. There are almost always bags under Dazai’s eyes, always a slight slouch to his posture, but right now they seemed about a hundred times worse than usual. 

“I didn’t think dogs were supposed to give orders to their masters.” 

Chuuya has to bite back a response, he feels it just on the tip of his tongue–but he lets it die there. He knows Dazai too well to do that; he knows that he is just trying to test Chuuya and get under his skin so that he’ll get turned away. Too bad Chuuya’s a smart dog and can’t be tricked so easily.

“Whatever, Dazai,” Chuuya says as Dazai steps into his apartment at last.

Chuuya closes the door behind them and feels another gust of air enter his lungs. He never realized just how tense he got when he had to coax Dazai into letting him take care of him until after the hardest part was over. 

Dazai stood a few feet beyond the entrance like a ghost who didn’t know where he was. Despite being in Chuuya’s apartment countless times, he felt so uncomfortable whenever he arrived like this. Like a shell of himself that didn’t deserve to be taken care of the way that he knew Chuuya would insist upon. He wanted to push Chuuya away and never let him see the ugliest parts of him, and yet he’d brought himself here regardless because there was nowhere else he could go. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” Chuuya asks, clearing the various papers and old food containers in order to make a spot at his table for Dazai.

Dazai still looks dazed and faintly confused as he takes the seat. 

“Um. I don’t really remember…” Chuuya doesn’t wait for the rest of his response before opening his fridge and seeing what he could whip up for Dazai, ignoring him when he protests, “You don’t have to make anything. ‘m not hungry.”

“If you don’t want me to make you anything, tell me when and what you ate last. And if it’s been more than twelve hours, I don’t really care what you say. You need to eat.” 

Firm yet caring; Chuuya had learned long ago that those were the best ways of taking care of Dazai in times like these. If he wasn’t strict, Dazai would only get worse and Chuuya would feel guilty for allowing it. Caring didn’t even require a second thought, although Chuuya often had different ways of showing it than anybody else other than Dazai would be used to. 

Dazai didn’t answer again, withdrawing himself to pick at the bandages around his wrists. Chuuya noticed that they were wrapped looser than usual, a sign that made his heart sink as he pulled out soup that he’d made earlier in the week; it’s not like Dazai would complain about leftovers, and Chuuya just needed him to eat something.

The apartment fell silent as Chuuya reheated the soup over the stove. He could tell that Dazai was trapped in his head–he always stared at the line between bandage and skin when he was thinking negatively. It made Chuuya’s heart ache to see Dazai like this, but he did take a bit of reprieve in knowing that at least he would be safe for tonight under his care. Of course, that also made the reminder that Chuuya would be gone tomorrow all the more painful, since he wouldn’t be able to continue taking care of Dazai if he really needed it–Chuuya prayed for the second time that night, hoping that Dazai would be okay without him for a week. 

Dazai hardly raised his head when Chuuya placed a bowl of soup in front of him, and the only reason Chuuya even knew that he’d recognized his presence was the barely perceptible flinch at the sound of the bowl hitting the table. 

“Eat,” Chuuya instructed, blowing off and sipping some from his own bowl. He wasn’t hungry and he’d already eaten earlier in the evening, but he knew that if he was to have any luck getting Dazai to eat, he had to eat with him. 

“I told you I’m not hungry. Such a disobedient dog,” Dazai remarks, although the glare he directed at the soup betrayed his fear and disgust at even attempting to eat.

Chuuya wanted to roll his eyes, but instead he continued looking pointedly at Dazai from across the table. “And I told you that I don’t care. You need to eat, even just a little bit. Please?”

“Well since you decided to use your manners…”

“Shut up, jackass. Just a few bites.”

Dazai let out a sigh that sounded like the entire weight of the world was crushing his lungs, but he picked up the spoon, albeit hesitantly and still visibly disgusted. 

They sat for a total of about a half an hour at the table–Chuuya watching Dazai carefully and Dazai staring down the soup as if it had committed crimes against him. He did, however, manage to stomach down four spoonfuls before pushing the bowl away. It wasn’t as much as Chuuya had hoped for, but he was thankful that at least Dazai had managed to get something in his stomach.

If he thought it would get an answer or be helpful, Chuuya would have asked what was wrong; but he knew this Dazai, and knew that even if there was something tangibly wrong, he wouldn’t disclose it to anyone for anything. There never was any one thing that was wrong when Dazai was like this, it was simply the weight of the world crushing on his chest and his heart a little too much, the demons of his unfortunate past, present, and future haunting him, reminding him that he could never become somebody worth something. Chuuya wanted to suckerpunch every single one of those evil voices that tormented Dazai, that made his life more miserable than anybody deserved to live. He wanted to make everything okay, and it hurt every inch of his being that there simply was nothing that could be done.

Instead of waiting for the demons to materialize so that he could punch their lights out, Chuuya stands from the table and takes his bowl away, stopping by Dazai and asking if he’d like him to do the same with his. All he gets in response is a weak grunt and Dazai pushing his bowl at him, which he assumes is an affirmative answer. As Chuuya walks to set the dishes in the sink, he hears a thud, and looks up to see Dazai with his head on the table, arms wrapped around himself firmly. 

“You’re gonna give yourself a concussion slamming your head around like that,” Chuuya says, a mix of concern and reprimand in his voice as he quickly steps back over to the table. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

Dazai only turns his head on the table, as if it’s too heavy to lift. “Chuuya…” is all he says, groaning the word so quietly and yet with so much pain laced in his voice that Chuuya instantly feels a shock of panic jolt through him. 

Chuuya kneels down next to Dazai’s chair so that the latter doesn’t have to strain his eyes to look at him. “Osamu, look at me. You’re alright, okay? I’m–” he wants to say that he’s not going anywhere, but that’s only true for three, maybe four more hours. “You’re okay.”

“It just,” Dazai takes in a shaky breath, “it hurts so bad and I don’t want it. I don’t want to hurt all the time. I can’t do this.”

“You can, you can do this. You’re stronger than all of that bullshit, Osamu,” Chuuya says, only acutely aware that he’s pleading more than anything. 

It takes a minute for Dazai to gain the strength to say anything, and when he finally does it’s so quiet, so weak that Chuuya can barely hear as he whispers, “I don’t want to be strong. I can’t be strong forever. I want it all to go away.”

Chuuya reaches a hand up to brush the hair out of Dazai’s eyes, which have been staring blindly at the wall for the entirety of the conversation. Chuuya could see, could feel the emptiness from Dazai’s dark irises as if they were black holes sucking everything else in to make up for the nothingness inside. 

“Me too,” is all Chuuya manages to get out. He knows that he’s selfish to cry right now, but nothing could stop the tears from falling as he watches Dazai crumble in front of him. It’s happened before right in front of Chuuya’s eyes but somehow it never hurts any less to watch the most capable person he knows fall victim to his own mind. 

Dazai doesn’t say anything else, and Chuuya doesn’t trust his own voice to not waiver if he does, not that he could say anything to change what was happening anyways. Instead, he runs his hand slowly, carefully up and down Dazai’s back, feeling the ridges in his spine and the shallow breaths that sound painful for him to take. 

An hour or so passes with the two of them sitting in silence like this. Chuuya watches as the sharpness of Dazai’s pain melts into a constant, miserable ache. He wishes that Dazai could sleep when he was like this; not because Chuuya himself needed a break from watching over him, but because he could see so clearly how exhausted Dazai was. Years of sleep couldn’t take away Dazai’s pain, but at least when he was asleep he looked a little bit more at peace. 

Despite how long he’d known Dazai, Chuuya still would have happily sat next to him and studied every one of his features for as long as it took for Dazai to come back to himself. If that were an option, it would have been the one that Chuuya would have taken. He never wanted to push Dazai too far in times like these, scared that one push too far would send Dazai over the cliff. But sitting and praying for Dazai’s pain to go away wasn’t an option tonight–Chuuya had to leave in the morning and he needed to do something to get Dazai feeling at least a little bit more human again before he left. If he waited, God only knows how much worse Dazai would get if he were left alone to his thoughts. 

Letting out a small huff, Chuuya gets up from his position on the ground, “Let’s go. You need a bath.”

Dazai doesn’t so much as let out a petulant groan at Chuuya’s demand, which worries the executive. He didn’t expect much, but at least a sigh of disappointment that Chuuya was going to make him get up would have been a nice confirmation that Dazai was still conscious. Although, Chuuya supposed that it was better to know how difficult Dazai was going to be before attempting to help bathe him, even if the answer was that he was going to be extremely difficult. 

Chuuya bends down to slip himself under one of Dazai’s lanky arms. “Come on, Osamu. I’m not asking you to do it yourself, I’ll help you. Just work with me a little bit here.”

Surprisingly, Dazai complies. It’s begrudging and slow and not all that helpful, but he stands to his feet and allows Chuuya to drag him into his bathroom.

The scent of Chuuya’s bathroom is familiar to Dazai, a comforting feeling settling over the room even if he doesn't have the mind to acknowledge it. 

Without words, Chuuya runs water into the tub, allowing it to fill while he focuses on helping Dazai out of his clothes. Chuuya slips his coat off of him, followed by his vest, tie, shirt, and pants–working as quickly as he can while still being extremely careful; he knows that this is downright miserable to Dazai, so he tries to make the whole thing as painless as possible. 

When he gets to Dazai’s bandages, Chuuya finds himself holding his breath yet again. He’s seen the scars countless times, helped Dazai change his bandages plenty, but it always felt sensitive when it was a night like this. Where Chuuya knew that when he pulled back the white gauze he would see new, irritated cuts that Dazai hadn’t had the mind to properly take care of before leaving. Still, Chuuya remains steadfast in his resolve to take care of Dazai, never wavering once despite the constant urge to cry or maybe even scream threatening to overtake him. 

After what feels like years to both of them, Chuuya helps Dazai into the bath, which is now full of warm water that seems to diffuse a little bit of the tension that Dazai’s been holding onto. It’s not much, but Chuuya notes it as a small step, and he’s grateful for any progress that he can get. 

Carefully, almost as if Dazai were made of glass, Chuuya runs water over his head and body, movements so sure and steady that Dazai didn’t need to do anything other than sit there and allow himself to be taken care of. Chuuya shampooed and conditioned his hair with his own products–had it been just any other day, Chuuya would have griped about letting Dazai use his expensive products, but it wasn’t, so he lathered it through Dazai’s tangled hair without so much as a grimace. 

As he washed Dazai’s body, Chuuya couldn’t help but notice how frightfully thin Dazai was. It wasn’t like he was ever at a completely healthy weight, but it was unnerving how Chuuya could see every bone defined clearly beneath pale skin, and he wondered how long it truly had been since Dazai had been able to eat an entire meal. 

The bath didn’t take long, which they were both grateful for, although Chuuya did allow Dazai to sit in the warm water for a few extra minutes when he was done. A bit of indulgence could go a long way. 

Helping Dazai out of the bath proved to be just as much of a struggle as getting him in, but Chuuya did it and managed to get him fully dressed. It was as if Chuuya could hear the dueling going on in Dazai’s head. He knew that Dazai didn’t like being cared for like this, didn’t like to be pampered or allow himself even the slightest luxury; but it was difficult to fight against comfort. Despite his brain screaming at him, telling him that he didn’t deserve Chuuya, that he didn’t deserve to be treated this well, his body was comfortable, which dampened his desire to flee. 

It was almost eerie how quiet the penthouse remained since Dazai’s arrival. For someone who was known for his boisterous, outgoing nature, he had remained more or less silent the whole evening. Chuuya knew that Dazai’s thoughts were making up for the silence and more inside his head, but until he could find a way to sneak into Dazai’s brain, all he could do was help from the outside.

Chuuya had given Dazai one of the large sweatshirts that he left over here for times like this, as well as a pair of pajama pants that Chuuya had been sure to pick up after the first time Dazai’d had to wear Chuuya’s much too short pants. Although the voices hadn’t stopped in Dazai’s head, he could admit that he felt a little bit closer to Earth now, a bit more grounded than when he’d arrived. Guilt always accompanied that comfort, but Chuuya knew that as well as Dazai did, and was quick to try dismissing the guilt.

“What do you need from me now?” He asked as they sat on Chuuya’s bed. Dazai still remained rigid and preoccupied, but Chuuya could note that it was to a lesser degree now. 

The question was less of a question and more of a plea; Chuuya needed Dazai to tell him what he needed–not wanted–needed him to do. Every time he asked, Chuuya knew that he would do whatever Dazai asked at the drop of a hat, whatever that request was. 

Dazai remained silent for a moment or two, but Chuuya could see him turning the question around in his head, examining it and wondering just how much he could allow himself to ask for. 

“Can we just… lay here, for a while?” Dazai eventually asks, voice coming out so quietly, so hoarsely that Chuuya almost doesn’t recognize it. 

Chuuya nods and sits against the headboard. He knows that Dazai’s request is really for physical contact–something to keep him tethered to reality–but he doesn’t need to ask for it outright, and with Chuuya, he doesn’t need to.

He lays his head on Chuuya’s lap tentatively, like it might burn if he lets himself rest fully, but his fear is resolved when Chuuya brings a hand to his head and runs his fingers through Dazai’s still wet hair. There’s a release of tension when Dazai finally rests his head all the way on Chuuya’s legs, one that is followed by a sigh from both of them. 

For Dazai, the sigh is letting out the breath that he always held a little too long whenever he was asked to do something for himself. For Chuuya, the breath was a lot of things–the most prominent being worry. In only a few short hours, he had to leave for a week. He never wanted to leave Dazai for that long, but especially not now, when he could feel the pain radiating from him. Chuuya knew that to leave meant to leave Dazai utterly and entirely alone–a feeling which he knew was familiar for Dazai, but one that he never truly had to experience either as long as Chuuya was around.

He needs to tell Dazai, he thinks. If he has to postpone the mission, then so be it. He would rather stay here with Dazai than come home to him potentially in a state millions of times worse than this. There would be repercussions to postponing or even canceling such a big mission, but really Chuuya couldn’t care less about any of that as Dazai’s exhausted head rested in his lap. 

Sucking in a shaky breath, Chuuya tries to speak softly and evenly so as not to betray his own emotion. “I have a mission coming up,” he starts slowly, watching for any reaction from Dazai, “and I leave in the morning. Will you be okay if I go? You know I’ll cancel if I need to, just say the word–”

“No.” The interjection comes so suddenly that Chuuya isn’t sure that it was from Dazai. His eyebrows raise in confusion, but before he can ask anything, Dazai continues in a quiet voice, “Don’t cancel. Please don’t cancel because of me, I can’t do that to you.”

Chuuya’s heart breaks at the desperation in Dazai’s response, eyes burning as he replies, “Will you be okay if I leave though? I don’t care what you want me to do, Osamu, I care about what you need from me.”

Dazai breathes for a moment before responding, “I need you to go on that mission, Chuuya. I can’t take you from that and be any better than if you leave me here alone.”

It’s the response that Chuuya expected, unfortunately, but it’s not at all the one he wanted. If Dazai was going to insist that he leaves, he would have at least liked for him to seem a little more put together when doing so. He wasn’t upset at Dazai’s state of mind or his response, but man was he pissed at the world for making it this way. 

“Fine,” he concedes after battling the idea in his head. “But you’d better call me immediately if there’s a problem. Otherwise I’m staying right here.”

Dazai turns and faces Chuuya, looking up at him with a pitiful expression, “I will.”

Chuuya doesn’t reply further, instead taking the opportunity to peel the wet hair away from Dazai’s face, caressing his cheek lightly, tenderly as he does so. He looks into Dazai’s eyes, which although have gained a bit of consciousness behind them, still appear painfully empty. Chuuya wants to stay here with Dazai forever, reminding him that he is worth it, that he can deserve good things, and that he’s not the monster that he’s convinced himself he is. There’s a vicious clawing at his chest that reminds him that he can’t stay here; it makes Chuuya feel impossibly small–weak, even. 

“I’m sorry I can’t do more for you,” he whispers, leaning his head up to avert his gaze from Dazai and avoid the tears threatening to spill. 

Chuuya doesn’t expect a response, doesn’t need one, but when he feels Dazai’s hand wrap around his wrist, he’s jolted out of his thoughts and forced to look at Dazai. 

“Don’t apologize,” Dazai says, his voice the most solid it’s been since he arrived, “you give me everything already, I know that. You give me everything that I don’t deserve and more, Chuuya. There’s nothing more that you could possibly do for me.”

Dazai’s voice is what breaks the dam that Chuuya has been building up carefully all night. Tears fall down his burning cheeks as he looks at Dazai with an untapped tenderness in his heart. It feels raw and burning, but Chuuya only clings to Dazai amongst the pain. He brings his other hand to Dazai’s face, staring at him through blurry eyes as he leans down to kiss his forehead. Chuuya hates feeling helpless, but more than anything he hates seeing Dazai helpless and not being able to fix it. He rests his head against Dazai’s as he cries, wishing that he could take it all away from Dazai, even if it meant taking it on himself. 

“I just want you to be okay,” he chokes out between soft sobs.

Dazai’s hold on Chuuya’s wrist tightens ever so slightly, prompting Chuuya to open his eyes and look at Dazai once again. He doesn't say anything, and Chuuya realizes that he doesn’t need to. There are no words to be spoken–he can’t tell Chuuya that he will be okay, because he doesn’t know himself if that’s true. He can’t tell Chuuya what he needs to hear, but he can remind him that he is here. It makes Chuuya feel pathetic, to be comforted by the man whom he was supposed to be comforting, but it sets his heart at ease nonetheless.

Nothing will ever take away Dazai’s pain, they both know that fully well. But Chuuya will stay at his side forever if that’s what Dazai needs, and Dazai will be there as well to thank Chuuya for being his crutch. Even when he doesn’t want it, Chuuya will always be there, unwavering and enduring for as long as they need, and as long as they can lean on each other, the world seems a little bit less cruel. 

side note, i'm also posting this on ao3 so idk if you like it go give me kudos or something there also. ship fic doesn't usually do so hot on tumblr but whatever i really like this so it's getting posted. i hope y'all enjoy and thank you so much for reading :)))

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ִ ࣪𖤐Teenage romance₊˚⊹ ᰔ

ᯓ★Synopsis: Being in a relationship with Dazai Osamu seemed like a huge problem to you, because his behavior often made you confused, and everything suggested that he would remain a silly guy who would remain alone for the rest of his days. But one day you had to realize that this wouldn't happen. Because he has you in his life.

ᯓ★Pairing: pm!dazai×fem!reader (both 16-18y.o);

ᯓ★Contains: fluff/comfort, hugs, kisses, hanging out together, teenage romance, nonsense, pm!reader, mention of murders, mention of criminal organizations drabble&headcanons, sfw, affection, mention suicide attempt;

| author's note: This is my first work, I hope you'll like it. Please don't judge too harshly I tried my best ૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა |

The whole situation was so strange and unexpected for you that you really didn't understand where you were and what you needed to do. When you woke up in a dimly lit room, you found yourself lying in a room that looked like an infirmary. There was practically nothing around. There were no sounds either, but they soon appeared. There was a door at the end of this room, as you assumed, there was a corridor behind it. It turned out to be true.

A couple of minutes after you woke up, the door opened a crack, and a guy came in — funny shaggy hair, dark eyes, bangs on half of his face and a bandage covering one eye. He was dressed quite formally—a white shirt (although slightly frayed and wrinkled), a black tie, black trousers and shoes. He had a black jacket slung over one arm, he looked rather rumpled and seemed tired. Sitting down on the bed, you looked at the boy with bewilderment and suspicion when he finally came up to you and scratched the back of his head. Yawning lazily, he said:

«Well, hi, silly suicidal. Mori-san asked me to give you something, but I don't think you need it right now. Congratulations! Oh, though... It would probably be more accurate for me to say that I'm sorry, though...Aaaahhh, okay, never mind. I'm Osamu Dazai, don't be surprised, you survived your failed attempt and Mori-san and I dragged you here. He wants to recruit you...So you'd better come to your senses as soon as possible and come to his office. He doesn't like to wait too long... In short, you have no choice. Come on, get up! Can you walk?»

He gave you a dubious squint that made your skin crawl, and then silently walked away. He pulled out a small old chair (which you didn't notice right away), sat down on it, and crossing one leg over the other, began to read a small red book. Still in a strange trance state, you didn't even understand how he was doing everything, it was hard for you to figure out where you were sitting at all. After a couple of minutes of silence in the room, you finally came to your senses a little — you noticed that the room was not so empty, you were sitting on a fairly soft bunk, somewhere above there was a small window through which white light entered the room.

After that, you had the next challenge — to talk to this unknown. He has already introduced himself, and you instantly remembered his name. But still, he didn't mention where you were or who he was at all... So, swallowing hard, you turned your head, but then froze when you found that he was already looking at you. With a sigh, the boy put the book on his lap and looked at the ceiling, muttering

«You're probably wondering where you are and all that... Well, you're in the infirmary of Yokohama's main criminal organization, the Port Mafia. Welcome. No, don't worry, we won't kill or torture you. The boss has slightly different plans for you. But still... You know, if I were you, I'd think twice about choosing this stupid, absolutely shitty way! I'm sorry, but do you even have a brain? To what extent does one have to be a stupid girl to use such a non-working method! And yes, you don't have to ask about all the details of your "rescue." I'll just say one thing — you looked lousy. Yes, however, nothing has changed now...»

Finally, he fell silent, continuing to stare at the ceiling for a while, and then turned his gaze to you. Maybe it was time for you to introduce yourself?...

«You said your boss wants to hire me... Why does he need this?... I... I'm probably grateful for the rescue, but... What does he want?...»

Dazai just raised one eyebrow and then looked away, continuing the dialogue:

«Well, obviously he saw something useful in you for the mafia. He will definitely find a job for you, especially since our staff is very small now. Well, according to him, he just couldn't leave such a poor thing to die»

You've got your head down. The answer was obvious, and why didn't it immediately occur to you? Then you should have introduced yourself properly. You made some kind of pathetic gurgling sound, after which you quietly whispered:

«My name is... My name is Y/N...»

The young mafia turned a curious look at you and got up from his seat. Putting his hands on his hips, he said:

«Yeah, so Y/N you said... Okay. Come on, let's go. The boss should see you before lunch»

You carefully shifted on your bunk, and then lowered your feet to the floor, still sitting. But the real problem for you was getting up — no matter how much you tried to lift yourself, nothing came out. Apparently, your body is very weak, and your legs are numb. You began to have a slight panic, tears began to come to your eyes, and you began to suffocate from them. But it didn't take you a second when Osamu came up to you and gently pulled on your arms, and you were finally on your feet. Exhaling, you were about to take the first step, but the guy stopped you with the words "Where are we going?" after that, he easily picked you up in his arms. It was so unexpected that you squeaked, but he shushed you and said in a dissatisfied tone:

«Hey, I actually don't want you to break all your legs or overwork yourself... Anyway, it's not profitable for the mafia to keep you here for a few days.»

you were more than ready to object, but for some reason your inner self told you to keep quiet. Apparently, this was not the right situation for outrage.

So, after some time, you finally got out of the Mafia boss's office. Dazai seems to have understood everything in the blink of an eye from your distorted face. You were accepted, and now you could consider him a "colleague." He somehow abruptly and very unexpectedly jumped up to you and smiled broadly, said:

«Well, now you are one of us!»

This was your first meeting.

❛━━━━━━━ ••• ━━━━━━━❜

And then everything went the way you couldn't have expected, but it's not that you didn't like it. Conversely.

You had to go through many situations and complete many missions together. He also introduced you to other members of the Port Mafia. You were received very cordially, and, frankly, it warmed your heart.

Osamu kept saying how unprepared you were to work in this organization, and that you shouldn't have been here at all, but he supposedly couldn't contradict Mori (Of course, he was a brazen liar— he was the one who begged so desperately to keep you in the mafia for his own good). In short, you got along, you became even more than just colleagues.

One of the situations that you remember the most was how you fooled around and played cards together. It was funny, even though you never managed to win. But you always laughed maliciously when the intense struggle between Odasaku and Dazai continued without your participation. You knew that Oda would always have a way to beat the youngster, so you weren't surprised by Sakunosuke's next victory.

Basically, you've always been a witness to the endless quarrels and swearing between Dazai and Nakahara. It all got to such an extent that you started to get a headache from their shouts of indignation (it's good if they used only speech, and did not get into a frenzied fight). In the end, you just got up and left, but both boys, catching themselves in time, immediately fell silent and quickly followed you, simultaneously apologizing for their antics (in fact, while you were silent, they continued to whisper insults). You didn't have much choice, you were a kind-hearted person, so you just couldn't get mad at them.

But even though they "hated" each other, they were ready to unite at any moment just for the sake of your safety. You were a valuable person to them, not only in terms of being a mafia member — everyone knew perfectly well that one day you would have to make a choice.

But you were like friends with Chuuya — it seems that even on his part there was no initiative to enter into a romantic relationship. You spent no less time together than with Dazai (which made him, by the way, jealous, but of course he would never admit it). So at some point Osamu realized that it was time to throw away the final card. Many of your memories from the mafia are quite clouded — it is clear that the job was not easy, and there was not much light and fun there. But you will always remember the moments spent with a bandaged mafia member.

Your belated winter walks, when it's already starting to get dark outside, and many teenagers your age are already running home, worried that something might happen to them or their parents will scold them. But of course you weren't like that, because you are a fearless mafia that can walk around whenever and wherever you want.

Although many called him a "Demon-Prodigy" you could only agree with one part of that nickname — he was indeed a prodigy, but a demon perhaps only in appearance. He kept in himself those weakened, smoldering particles of warmth and love that he allowed to warm his heart only with you and Odasaku.

And you, like no one else, saw it and appreciated it. Perhaps you didn't even realize it yourself, but at some point your heart literally began to ache from the accumulated warm feelings for him. You endured this mental anguish because you were sure that he didn't need it, or he would reject you.

But fortunately, none of this happened.

You remember how you went for a walk in the snowfall, and you caught snowflakes in your mouth, and he called you stupid, but you didn't care. You called him stupid when he threw a nice snowball at you with all his might... You remember when the skin on your cheeks and hands was already starting to pinch and tighten from the cold, and you were laughing while you were fighting, and he always throw you to the deflection, and you landed in a giant snowdrift. All your clothes were soaked from the snow, and Dazai only stopped laughing when he saw you desperately trying to keep warm, shivering from the cold. Then it finally dawned on him, and you quickly went to the mafia building or to his "home". He wasn't particularly proud of his house, which was just a shipping container. So basically he took you to the mafia building, but if you insisted, he could agree to spend some time with you at his house.

In winter, Osamu was a real simpleton — he almost never wore a hat, scarf, or mittens. It could be bitterly cold outside, but he still went out without any warm clothes. His warm wardrobe for the winter was everything he wore in all other seasons, and the only thing that was added was a warm black coat that Odasaku gave him. You were always cursing why he was walking around with uncovered head and not dressed properly, but he waved you off and ignored your requests to wear a hat/scarf.

But still, one day, when you, having excellent knitting skills, knitted him cute warm mittens, he grunted with displeasure and took them without saying a word. However, during your next walk, you noticed that he was wearing them.

Right after that, you started knitting him a scarf, and after a couple of weeks it was ready. You also packed it as a small present, but as usual, Osamu did not appreciate your efforts with the decoration; but he wore the scarf all the time (not without your reminders ofc).

You wanted to go to the rink together to try yourself at it, but unfortunately, by the time you remembered your intentions, all the rinks were already closed, so you had to postpone this entertainment for the next year.

When spring came, everything always changed somehow: the mood improved, the work went easier, and everyone began to live a little better. This wonderful time of the year was something enlivening. Everyone knows that it is in spring that you can catch a wonderful natural phenomenon — cherry blossoms. The second name is hanami. You really loved these few short days when you could catch this sight. And Dazai, knowing this, finally decided to hint at inviting you to go with him one day (of course, he consulted with Oda and Hirotsu before). He's very lucky that you didn't hesitate to agree.

The preparation for the traditional holiday took place slowly, you managed to do all your business and buy all the necessary attributes. On the day of the celebration, you were wearing a very beautiful kimono in delicate, light shades, and Dazai made do with a simple dark haori. Don't have to mention that he was fooling around for almost half of your walk, but at some points he was unusually serious. You were a little confused by his sudden mood swings, but given his nature, you weren't too surprised. This youngster was unpredictable.

Admiring sakura went great, although Osamu managed to piss you off a couple of times. You saw his face when his dark eyes were staring into the distance, looking at the delicate pink, mixed with white petals slowly flying down — it was a look of anxiety and peace at the same time. And yet, a slight smile touched his lips.

Time passed, your relationship was at a stable level, but still your heart felt the insufficiency that the lack of love gave you. You tried to overcome these feelings with all your might, but nothing came out; it got to the point that one day you had a dream with him; but it was very touching and gentle — a spacious field, waving grass, a cool breeze and a scorching sun, and in the middle of it you, and only you two. More than half of the summer has already passed; Work has not stopped, of course, there are no summer holidays or vacations in the mafia. But sometimes you and Mr. Bandaged Mummy managed to get out of the hectic world of blood and murder.

It was very hot, and you couldn't stand the heat, so you tried to stay in places where the temperature was more or less stable or slightly cool. You always have taken ice cream from the same stall: Dazai has always chosen some strange and tasteless ones, but of course this is only in your opinion. You took your favorite flavor, and often offered him a taste, but he always refused. Boring jerk.

And one day it happened.

His birthday has just passed; it was only a couple of days later, when his 2-day absence from work became suspicious, and you found out that he had made another attempt on his holiday. It was like it cut into your heart — it was so painful to realize it. You tried to contact him somehow, called him, but he seemed to have forgotten about the existence of his phone. You knew it wouldn't be the best idea to show up on his doorstep, so you just had to wait him to show up himself.

And you remember that day by heart: when the bell rang at your door, then a small knock in confirmation. You immediately went to the door and opened it... Osamu was behind. You saw him like this for the first time — with a slight smirk on his lips, an apologetic expression on his face and ...a bouquet of white lilies... You didn't know why, but in that quiet moment when you saw him, you caught your breath and almost burst into tears.

All the emotions mixed into one huge lump that came to your throat, and you, knowing perfectly well why he was here, carefully, timidly took a step forward and hugged him, burying your face in his shoulder. One of his hands was holding a bouquet, so he lightly hugged you with his other hand. After a couple of moments, you heard him whisper:

«Well, don't whine... I can't stand it, you know»

Those words made you smile, and you pulled back a little. Without further ado, he handed you a beautiful, elegant and delicate bouquet of lilies, after which he added:

«Well, I hope you've at least guessed that this is an occasion....»

«Sure... You wanted to apologize, didn't you?»

«And you're smart today, mouse»

You smiled at his comment; he always called you that in a teasing manner, but now it sounded more affectionate. You understood everything at once — white lilies, such a beautiful flower, which means apologies and kindness of intentions. It was his way of earning your forgiveness for what he tried to do to himself.

You spent the evening together; Lilies flaunted in a pretty vase, you watched some kind of movie. It's been dark outside for a long time, but it seems that both of you had no plans to let each other go. And yet, you both felt the tension in the silence that you allowed to hang.

You've been waiting for this. And he knew that there would be no better moment.

«Y/N.»

«Yes?»

«Forgive me»

«For what?»

«For what I'm about to do-»

As soon as he uttered the last sentence, you felt his hands on your shoulders, and he left a light, almost weightless kiss on your lips. It was so funny and embarrassing for you at the same time. Osamu looked at you for a while before hugging you to him and burying his face in your hair.

«You're all I need. You're all I can ask for.»

He muttered softly. After a couple of minutes of hugging, you finally did what you wanted — interrupted his speech and pulled him into a real kiss... But don't think he gave up on you so easily. No way. He's going to take matters into his own hands anyway...

But that day was what divided your life into before and after.

In a good way.

|P.S I think I wrote too much (( I have such a writing style, I hope you liked the headcannons mixed with drabbles. Thanks for reading! I hope I will release some more works. 𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ |