Dazai Osamu X You - Tumblr Posts

ᡣ𐭩 AND WHEN I'M BACK IN YOKOHAMA

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: with the team sent to escort you back to the port mafia headquarters obliterated, you're on your own in a war-torn yokohama. or, well, you are until mori sends out the infamous double black to retrieve you... you almost wish he would've let you suffer out there alone.

wordcount: 10k; sfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, mentions of mafia business

AUTHOR'S NOTES: at last, we get the first meeting between pm!reader & double black. keep your eye out for two other cameos in this fic ;) i can't remember if dazai and chuuya got their moniker before or during the dragon's head conflict and i dont feel like going to go figure it out so for the sake of my sanity, their little duo started rising in infamy just before the conflict broke out.

“Oh, this is the worst,” you complain quietly, arms wrapped around your waist as you look up and down the abandoned street.

The city looks nothing short of apocalyptic with dead bodies littering the ground and buildings caved in. You can’t help but want to blow up at Mori for calling you back to Yokohama with all of this happening. The “elite squad” he had sent to ensure you arrived at the Port Mafia base safely had been all but decimated by an ability user with a penchant for arson—you only survived by the skin of your teeth, running as fast as you could down vaguely familiar alleys until you finally lost him. 

You pull out your phone, trying to see if you can call Mori but only fall further into despair when you find that you have no cell service and your phone is nearly dead.

Tucking your phone back in your pocket, you let out a shaky breath as you begin to make your way down the street again, trying to figure out where exactly you are so you can get to the base as soon as possible. It’s only a matter of time before that pyromaniac finds you and your ability isn’t exactly built for self-defense or combat—you’re not sure if you can get yours activated before you’re roasted to death by the man.

You swallow thickly, anxiety beginning to spread through you as you make your way through rubble down the street. What happened? It’s all too reminiscent of that day eight years ago when Mori found you, the death and destruction as far as the eye could see—it drags up emotions you’ve long since repressed and now is not the time for it.

You’d been unable to get answers out of Mori’s men before the ability user attacked your convoy, but it seems as if the city has become a warzone—but over what? How hasn’t it reached the news outlets yet? And who are the combatants? Obviously, the Port Mafia is one of them, and you can guess that Mori called you back to Yokohama because the war isn’t falling in their favor, but who the hell is strong enough to compete with the Port Mafia, and why? 

You sigh, kicking absently at a small rock as you continue down the street. 

You should have been briefed. You don’t know why you weren’t briefed before being called back to the city. Frustrated, you turn down a somewhat familiar alley and lean against the wall, resting your head back against the bricks. You need to figure out what’s going on, but more importantly, you need to figure out where the hell you are so you can get back into safe territory.

You peek your head out to peer around the road—not a soul in sight in the streets, but… your gaze flickers up to the buildings, sliding from window to window until you catch sight of a figure peeking from between the blinds down to where you’re standing in the alleyway. Instantly, they let the blinds fall shut and throw themselves back indoors, but it’s too late—you’ve already spotted them.

You let out a breath of relief, looking both ways to make sure the fire manipulator hasn’t caught up to you yet before darting across the street to the building. It’s an apartment complex—the door leading into it has been half knocked off its hinges, so it’s easy to push it open and step inside.

The whole hallway has been ravaged, doors on the lower floors kicked in to reveal trashed rooms. You have to be careful not to step on glass as you make your way to the stairwell, Third floor, fifth window from the right. Most of the doors on the third floor aren’t quite as done in as the ones on the first, but only one has light peeking out from the crack.

You exhale, letting your eyes slide shut briefly before you raise your fist to knock on the door. “Excuse me! Would you mind answering a few questions? … I just arrived in the area, got caught in the crossfire of some battle, I would really appreciate the help, if you can spare any.” You’re careful to keep your voice light, gentle, and you’re even more careful to make sure your expression is smooth and unassuming when you hear the lock click open.

“You picked a god-awful time to come to Yokohama, child.” You hear an older woman speaking on the other side of the door; she doesn’t open it yet, but now that it’s cracked, you think your ability will work quickly to make her at ease. “Not one of ‘em Strain decoys, are you?” 

The fact that you have no idea what she means by that is infuriating, a reminder that Mori didn’t even bother to warn you about anything before dragging you back here, but you don’t let your frustration seep onto your face.

Strain… Strain… That Australian organization? What the hell are they doing in Yokohama? Why have you been kept so in the dark?

“No ma’am, unfortunately, I don’t even know what you mean by that,” you admit, and when you hear the woman let out a heavy sigh, you know that you’ve won, sending up a silent prayer of thanks as she opens the door to let you in. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

The woman only grumbles, but her eyes are gentle and her wrinkled face is soft as she ushers you into the room, shutting the door behind you and locking it. She’s not alone in the apartment, you notice—there’s a teen boy around your age lingering in the hallway, blonde hair cut short and glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose as he studies you with a frown. 

“What are you doing out here on your own, girl?” the elderly woman asks as she wobbles after you into the main room of the apartment, ushering you to sit down. “Doppo, go get the poor girl some water. Stop acting like a lump, boy.”

The boy looks disgruntled but nods, scampering off into the kitchen as the woman turns her attention back toward you. “Well? Don’t you know? Yokohama’s no place for tourists lately. Where are your parents?”

Your smile falters, mind racing as you try to pick your words carefully. “My father is the one who told me to come back to the city. I was… not made aware of the circumstances I would be arriving in.”

“Men,” the elderly woman spits out, looking up as the boy, Doppo, returns with two glasses of water, handing one to you and one to the woman. “Take notes, boy, you better not end up like one of those useless wastes of air or I’ll put you down myself, understand?” 

“Yes, granny,” the boy replies, and though he still looks distinctly aggrieved, you can’t help but feel amused by the fact that he immediately pulls out a notebook to take notes.

“Would you mind telling me what exactly… happened to the city?” you ask after a moment, taking a sip of the cool water and trying to make yourself a bit more comfortable on the sofa. “I haven’t seen anything on the news about this.”

The woman scoffs, waving her hand. “Of course not, big whigs think that they can keep it all on the low and get it under control before the incident makes it across seas,” she says roughly. “Gang wars broke out after some bastard with a lot of money died. Came in from all over to try to get their hands on the money. Whole city’s being torn apart.”

Interesting, you think to yourself, mind racing as you put together the few puzzle pieces you’ve been given. How many factions are already here? Who are they? Why did Mori call you back here if it’s already escalated this much? Your ability might be key in intel gathering and negotiations, but you’d be useless in combat.

“Our ward is under the control of some organization called the Strain,” the boy tells you. “They’ve been targeting civilians. They-”

Doppo grimaces and looks away, an angry expression crossing his face and you watch as the elderly woman reaches out to squeeze his forearm before looking back over to you. “Boy’s mother was killed by them the night the conflict broke out. I’ve been looking after him since.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say quietly, but he only averts his gaze from you, looking down at the ground. 

Strain. You were right. You’ve heard a lot of them. They originated in the Australian underground, but they spread rapidly throughout the world—footholds in every major country, stakes in every major world event. Brutal and ambitious, you suppose you’re not surprised they came here if there’s as much money up for grabs as the woman assumes. 

“What ward are you trying to get to, girl?” the woman asks you. “It’s not safe out there on your own. There are no rules or laws anymore, whole city is anarchic. You go out there on your own and you’ll be picked off by Strain.”

“I need to get to my father,” you tell her as you shake your head. The Port Mafia must be in an especially precarious position if Mori is bringing you back after the conflict has escalated this much—your heart rate spikes as worst-case scenarios start to fly through your head, wondering if they’ve been backed into a corner, forced into a position where their only option is negotiations for surrender. Logically, you know Mori would never let that happen, but it doesn’t quell the rising fear. “He’s in Naka-ku.”

You just need to know what ward you’re in and-

“You’re in Kanagawa-ku right now, you’ll never make it through it and Nishi-ku—and Naka-ku is the heart of the conflict,” the woman says as she clicks her tongue. “Stay here. You’ll be safer.”

“I need to get to my father,” you repeat again, “but thank you, really, for the offer and concern… and for helping me figure out what’s going on. I appreciate it.”

You rise to your feet to leave, and instantly, the boy is on his feet, nearly knocking over the woman’s cup of water and promptly getting whacked with a rag in response. The boy winces but takes a few steps toward you, undeterred. 

“You can’t go out there,” he says, green eyes pleading for you to listen. “Just stay. Once everything’s calmed down, we can help you find your father.”

“I can’t stay,” you say quietly, wondering if Doppo’s desperation for you to stay is a result of your ability messing with his head or if he really does just have that big of a heart. You think as a thank you for their help, that you’ll ensure that Yokohama will become Strain’s grave.

The old woman makes another disparaging comment about ungrateful fathers before nodding at you. “Good luck, girl, be careful out there.”

You make it approximately seven blocks before the ability user that you thought you lost catches up to you. You think that if you die here, you’re going to spend the entire rest of Mori’s life terrorizing him as a ghost. You grimace as a wave of flames sweeps above you, you can feel the heat against the top of your head from where you’re using an abandoned car to shield you from the man, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he gets to you.

Shit, you sigh, eyes flitting around the street trying to figure out if there’s anywhere you can dart to, but the only other rubble you could hide behind is a tipped-over dumpster in an alley twenty yards away—you’ll never make it that far without something to shield you from the flames. 

You blame Mori. Again. He should’ve warned you about what you’re walking into, and he should’ve sent more than just a group of second-rate losers to pick you up from the station knowing how bad the city is. Now, you’re going to get roasted alive by some psychotic pyromaniac when you should be back in Kyoto dealing with the more pleasant parts of business—wining and dining elites to strike deals and expand the Mafia’s influence throughout all of the societal spheres of Japan.

You grimace as you steady your gun in front of you, using the broken side-view mirror of the car you’re hiding behind to try to figure out where the ability user is because if you can get one good shot off you’d at least have enough time to make a break for it. You just need to focus—the Colonel didn’t put you through all of that firearms training just for you to choke up when you actually need to use it.

Your gaze tracks the man as soon as he comes within view of the mirror. You breathe in and out steadily—once, twice, three times. He’s fumbling with a walkie-talkie, distracted, and you don’t hesitate before taking the given chance. You twist into a kneeling position to face where he’s standing, raising both arms as you aim the gun in his direction; he catches your movement from the corner of his eye, expression shifting into one of anger, but you fire off three bullets before he can retaliate.

Or so you thought.

Your lips part in shock as the man whips a fireball in your direction before he hits the ground—even if you do evade it in time, it’s stronger than the rest he’s been throwing at you, it’ll blow right through the car you’re using as a barrier.

“Shit,” you breathe out, trying to take a step back but your ankle catches on a stray piece of rubble. You hit the ground hard, pain shooting up your leg and as you brace yourself for the flames, you squeeze your eyes shut.

But the agony of burning to death never comes.

Your eyes fly back open when you see someone standing between you and the fireball, the flames fizzling out and dying before they can touch him. They disappear, unable to get past him to you, and your eyes widen in shock. Who on earth… He looks over his shoulder at you, dark-hair flopping in his visible eye—he’s pretty, you think absently, even if a quarter of his face is covered in bandages. You blame your thoughts on the fact that you’re still a bit stunned and confused. 

Then he opens his mouth.

“You must be the precious cargo,” he grins. “We’re here to rescue you.”

“Cargo?” You gape, offended. “Did you just call me cargo?”

“Precious cargo,” he corrects, eye turning up in amusement before he focuses his attention back to the ability user who had attacked you. “Go handle that, pipsqueak. Make yourself useful for once.”

“Shut your damn mouth, bastard,” another male voice spits from behind you, voice riddled with irritation and anger. 

You look behind you to see another boy around your age with orange hair and mismatched eyes. He’s dressed more casually than the dark-haired boy, who’s wearing a black suit and tie beneath his long coat. He barely spares you a look as he steps forward, and you watch as his entire body glows red before he flies forward so fast that your eyes can’t even keep up with him. 

The gravity manipulator. You’ve heard of him through Kouyou—not much, but enough to know he’s probably the strongest ability users to exist in the eastern hemisphere. Does that mean…

The dark-haired boy turns his attention to you, smile widening as he leans over you. He looks unbearably amused at your predicament, and you find yourself growing more and more incensed by the second. 

“Dazai Osamu,” he greets. “You got a name, precious cargo?” 

Oh.

You recognize the name instantly, eyes narrowing, and as if he can sense your sudden change in demeanor, his smile starts to fall. Dazai Osamu. The Demon Prodigy. The Port Mafia’s Black Wraith. Mori brought him in two years ago, if the rumors you’ve heard hold any truth to them—after he sent you away to Kyoto with Kitada Usurai, one of the previous boss’s executives. 

You always wondered if the reason Mori never brought you back had something to do with his new protege—whether it was because he didn’t need you in Yokohama anymore now that he had “the Demon Prodigy” to be his heir or it was because he just didn’t want the two of you interacting. You never really minded; you like being in Kyoto and you like not having to be at the heart of every gang conflict that takes place in Yokohama but you can’t help the bitterness that rises now that your eyes have settled on the boy that took your place.

Before you can answer him, Dazai abruptly goes careening over to the left, hitting the ground hard. The orange-haired boy is standing where he once was, leg extended, and you realize that he must’ve kicked him away. 

“Stay there and die, won’t you?” he snaps, and you glance behind him, trying to figure out if he had already taken care of the ability user that had been hunting you down. Your lips part when you see him crumpled in a pile of rubble, unmoving. “Nakahara Chuuya. You can call me Chuuya. You hurt?” 

He extends his hand to you, and you take it gratefully, giving him your name and letting him help you to your feet. You stumble a bit, your left ankle buckling under your weight, and Chuuya wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. 

How embarrassing, you think, thanking him quietly before easing his arm away, standing on your own even with the pain in your ankle, not wanting to come across as weak. You make your way over to where the ability user is crumpled on the ground, kneeling in the rubble next to him. You lift your fingers to his neck to see if he’s still hanging on, but there’s no pulse.

You click your tongue, having been hoping you’d be able to take him back to the base for questioning, but instead, you let your fingers drift to the symbol embroidered on his jacket and then to the two bars embroidered onto his bicep.

Strain. 

The old lady and her grandson hadn’t been lying.

“You recognize the symbol?” Chuuya asks, wandering over to stand next to where you’re kneeling on the ground.

You frown instantly. “You don’t?” you ask dubiously, eyes narrowing again as Chuuya bristles at your comment.

“The conflict only just started a few days ago,” he says defensively. “We don’t have intel on all of the organizations that have showed up in the city. There are dozens of them. We’ve been more focused on trying to keep the civilians out of the crossfires at this point.”

A mighty fine job they’ve been doing at that, you think sarcastically, mind drawing back to the boy and old woman that helped you earlier and all of the destroyed buildings. You keep the thought to yourself, not too keen on antagonizing one of the people sent to get you out of this hellhole. 

“That’s why he brought me back here then,” you mutter more to yourself than anyone else, rolling your eyes as you grab the ability user’s walkie-talkie and rise to your feet. “He’s a member of Strain—one of their lower-ranked ability users, if the lines on his coat are accurate. From what I’ve gathered, they control Kanagawa-ku and Nishi-ku. We should get out of the open before their stronger ability users show up.”

“I can take them,” Chuuya says confidently, looking unperturbed by your comment.

“I’m sure you can,” you say dryly, “but how skilled are you at using nonlethal force against strong opponents?”

Chuuya only squints at you, which is as much of an answer as you need.

“If we want actual, useful intel, we’ll have to capture one of their higher-ranked ability users alive. I can get the information out of them, I just need the opportunity to use my ability.” You rise back to your feet, gaze shifting around the street to try to figure out where you should hide out for the night. “Plus, night is falling, and rumor has it, Strain has an ability user that’s particularly adept with umbrakinetic abilities and I would rather not run into him. I am already tired and wounded, and I don’t know how your gravity would interact with an element unaffected by gravitational forces so we can’t rely on your brute force.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have attitude?” Chuuya scowls, disgruntled by your blunt commentary, and you roll your eyes.

“No, actually,” you say, giving him a thin smile. “In fact, I’ve been told I’m quite pleasant. I’m just in a bad mood because I didn’t realize Mori would be having me return to a warzone when he called me back to Yokohama. I would’ve appreciated a bit of a head’s up.”

Your gaze drifts back to Dazai as you speak, curious, but the boy is already looking at you, a frown on his lips and visible eye sharp. As soon as he notices that you caught him staring, his face smoothes out and he cocks his head to the side, questioning, eye too black and too empty.

Your gaze slides away from him onto what seems like another residential building behind him.

“We’ll stay there for the night.”

You wake up with a pain in your back and a headache. The fact that your ankle doesn’t hurt as badly is only a minimal consolation as you push yourself into a sitting position and rub your forehead, disoriented and confused, trying to remember where you are and why you’re sleeping on a rickety bed.

Your gaze catches sight of a head of orange hair lying in the opposite direction of you, pillow at the foot of the bed and curled close to the edge of the mattress as if trying to stay as far away as possible from you.

That’s right. You’re back in Yokohama. Mori called you back to help with this conflict. Sent the gravity manipulator and the Demon Prodigy after you to make sure you got back to the base. Your eyes linger on Nakahara Chuuya for a moment, watching the way his chest rises and falls, soft puffs of air escaping his lips—he’s fast asleep, dead to the world. So, you let your gaze drift across the room; it’s dark, no lights on in fear of drawing unwanted attention from Strain scouts if they see any sign of life in one of the abandoned buildings. You can only hardly catch sight of Dazai Osamu sitting near a cracked open window, one knee tucked to his chest while the other hangs loosely at his side as he looks outside and smokes a cigarette.

There’s an indecipherable expression on his face—a heavy look in his eyes and a downturn curve to his lips. You watch him curiously for a moment. 

You’ve heard a lot about Dazai Osamu’s feats while stationed in Kyoto: ruthless, terrifyingly intelligent, willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done. It took only a year of him being a member of the Mafia for him to be given control of Mori’s personal covert ops unit, and he’s been producing staggering results since. He’s the one who takes charge of eliminating organizations that you deem unworthy of associating with the Mafia but too problematic to keep around, the one who’s been opening up new distribution and trade channels for you to make use of in negotiations and acquisitions.

You suppose you’ve been working closely with him for a while now, even if the two of you have never interacted until now.

Still, the rumors that have spread about the boy are nothing to scoff at. The head of the Mafia’s interrogation unit—they say no one lasts more than five minutes in the same room with him before cracking. You’ve heard through the grapevine that the lower-ranked mafiosos are more terrified of him than any of the executives—see him as heartless and calculating, willing to sacrifice any one of them if it means furthering the Mafia’s interests. He only views people as tools, there’s no room in his black heart for meaningful relationships. No one trusts him and the longer he works for the Mafia, the darker and more unfathomable he becomes, even in the eyes of others entrenched in the dark—people keep far out of reach of him unless they have a death wish.

You study him carefully from where you’re sitting; he still hangs his jacket over his shoulders, like some sort of barrier from the rest of the world. His expression now is a far cry from the smile that had been on his face when you first saw him; his eye black and eerily still as he stares out the window, void of the gleam that had been in it before he noticed your reaction to his name.

You slide out of bed as quietly as you can, making your way over to where he’s sitting—he doesn’t even notice your approach until he catches sight of your reflection in the window, but even then, he doesn’t turn to look at you, only tracking you through the glass until you come to sit on the windowsill across from him. You tilt your head to the side as you observe him, pulling your knees to your chest.

“You shouldn’t sit at the window,” you finally say. “Someone could spot you.”

His eye is so black right now; you almost feel uncomfortable beneath his stare but you only raise your eyebrows. His gaze pointedly trails down to where you’d joined him and the corner of your lip quirks up.

“Fair enough,” you say and then hold your hand out, silently requesting for him to pass the cigarette over to you. Dazai stares at your hand for a moment and just when you’re about to draw your hand back, he finally reaches out to let you take it from him. Your fingers brush his as you take it between your index and middle fingers, the contact causing a spark to run up your forearm. You lift the cigarette to your lips and take a long drag, tilting your head back against the wall before you tell him, “You should go get some rest. I’ll take watch the next few hours.”

“Not tired,” he replies after a few seconds of silence. His voice is just as cold as the expression on his face, no hint of the playfulness from earlier in the day.

You hum, trying to decide what to say because he’s clearly unhappy and you have a feeling it has to do with how you reacted to hearing his name earlier, so you decide to be upfront, not in the mood for word games. 

“I think you’re unhappy with me because of how I reacted to hearing your name,” you say, laying out the issue. His gaze snaps up to you, sharp and narrowed, lips parting to deny the allegation but you don’t let him. “I was only surprised. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I have a bad opinion of you.”

“No?” Dazai asks, a sardonic lilt to his voice, goading more than anything else but you don’t fall for the trap. 

With your legs brushing, you can’t feel the familiar warmth of your ability circling through you and emanating around you, everything feels cold and empty instead, as if a part of you was sucked into a vacuum in space—the rumors must be true about him being a nullifier. You’ve never had to interact with people without your ability as a fail safe, it’s constantly active despite trying to learn how to turn it off. It’s useful though, it ensures that even if you mess up, the people around you are comfortable enough and amiable enough to not notice. They trust you without you even needing to do anything, adore you just because of the pleasant feelings your ability induces in them.

This is… different. 

And you don’t think in a bad way. You’ve always wondered what it would be like to interact with people without your ability interfering, it’s why you tried so hard to figure out if you could turn it off. And… it's nice talking to someone who’s not automatically endeared to you by your ability, who you can have normal conversation with without having to wonder if they’re only talking to you because you’re messing with their minds. Even nicer than you used to imagine.

“No,” you confirm. “I’m curious about you.”

The corners of Dazai’s lips turn down even more, brows furrowing at the comment. “Why?”

“You’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“A monster,” you say the word absently, watching as Dazai goes rigid at it, staring you down. “A demon. It’s what everyone calls you, at least.” 

“... and what makes you think I’m not one?” he finally asks, jaw tight.

Your lips curl into an easy smile again. “If you were a monster, you wouldn’t have been so bothered by the idea of me not liking you. The desire to be liked is an exceedingly human trait.”

Even under the dim moonlight, you can see the way Dazai’s cheeks burn a rosy color at your words. He suddenly looks years younger as he fumbles for words, gaze averting from you back to the window, but his reflection betrays him. 

“I was not bothered by the idea of you not liking me,” he protests, defensiveness creeping into his tone as he snatches his cigarette right back from your hand as if to make a point, giving you a glare from the corner of his eye. “I was not.”

“You were also very clearly put off by the fact that I had no issue with Chuuya,” you note, biting back a laugh at the squeak-like protest that slips from his lips and the mortified expression that follows. “Jealousy, another exceedingly human trait.”

“I was not jealous,” he cries out, a bit too loud because from where he’s sleeping on the bed, Chuuya grumbles out a ‘shut the fuck up’ in his sleep. “I was not jealous.”

“It’s okay if you were,” you say, instead of indulging in his denial. “I’m not judging you.”

“I wasn’t,” Dazai hisses, more insistent now. “I don’t care if you like me or not.”

“Well, I do like you,” you tell him—honest, you’re having fun teasing him.

“You don’t even know me,” Dazai scoffs, cheeks still pink as he pointedly turns his face away from you. “You can’t like me.”

“I want to know you,” you say, tilting your head to the side as you observe him. You like observing things—it’s the easiest way of gathering information. You keep quiet, you don’t draw more attention to yourself than necessary. It’s how you’ve been able to thrive alone in Kyoto even with so many vultures circling you. “I don’t know many other people my age… none, really.”

Something strange crosses Dazai’s expression. Longing but hesitant. Wistful but reluctant, like he should know better but just can’t help himself from wanting. You’re good at reading people, you pride yourself on it; it’s another reason why you’ve been able to succeed in Kyoto alone. Dazai is difficult—he covers half of his face and he’s quick to school the other half when he slips up, but you’re observant. It’s what you’re best at. 

You wonder, maybe, if Dazai has his own vultures. You think he must, he’s young—like you—and it’s probably why he uses his reputation as a shield and wears his long black coat like armor in the same way you use honeyed words and wear a saccharine smile. So, the thought must be scary to him as much as it must be appealing—the desire to have someone see him put against the fear of actually being seen as he is. 

You know it better than anyone.

“Well, you can’t have Chuuya. Chuuya is my dog,” Dazai says firmly, raising his chin. “He follows my orders.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Your dog?” you ask dryly.

“My dog,” Dazai confirms, seemingly quite proud of himself. “I won a bet, and now Chuuya is my dog for life.”

“Must have been quite the bet,” you drawl, watching as Dazai brightens a bit at the topic.

“We had a contest to see who could figure out the culprit of one of our missions faster. I won, of course, because Chuuya is slow and dumb like a slug. A slug. Chuuya is a slug,” Dazai cackles, dark eye shining as his lips curl up into a wide smile, clapping his hands together. “I’m much better than Chuuya, you see. He’s a brute. He’s never had to learn to be smart or cunning because of his ability, so he just punches things around until he gets what he wants. Plus, he’s small—and if that’s not bad enough, he is more arrogant than his tiny body can hold. That’s why he’s my dog. He can’t do anything without his master’s orders.”

Dazai is not subtle in dragging Chuuya down to boast about himself, puffing out his chest like some prideful bird and lifting his chin as he speaks. You think that if Chuuya was awake to hear this, Dazai would find himself tossed right out of the window to fall two stories to the ground, but the other boy is asleep, blissfully unaware of Dazai’s rampage of insults. 

“What happened during the mission?” you ask curiously, a bit interested to know what’s all been happening in Yokohama while you’ve been gone.

Dazai looks surprised as if he didn’t expect you to encourage his yapping. Then, he lights up again. “I’ll tell you all about it…”

You wonder, maybe, if the rumors of his solidarity and inability to form meaningful relationships might not have stemmed from his own volition. Rather, you think they’ve been enforced by the people around him who refuse to give him the time of day in fear of his reputation, because right now in front of you isn’t some twisted and unfathomable wraith of the Mafia.

All you see is a boy the same age as you eager to have someone new to talk to. 

He talks all night. 

From the moment you sat there with him at two or three in the morning until dawn, you don’t think he shut his mouth once. You hardly spoke more than a handful of times, content to just lean your head against the window and listen to him go on about all of the missions he’s had since joining the Mafia a year ago—most of them involved Chuuya, and he certainly made a show of explaining in each one why the mission would have failed without Dazai there to guide it along.

“See. This is why he’s my dog.”

It’s not until Chuuya finally starts stirring as the sun crosses the horizon does he finally quiet down, seemingly not keen on getting himself launched out a window if the other boy happens to hear one of the unsavory stories Dazai’s telling you.

Then again, his first words are pretty much asking for it.

“About time you woke up, slug,” Dazai says cheerfully when Chuuya groans and rolls over, clearly starting to wake up. His dark eye gleams as he waits for Chuuya’s explosive reaction to the new nickname.

“Hah?! What did you just call me, bastard?” Chuuya snaps, although he’s quite slow in pushing himself out of bed, sleepy and disoriented, gaze swiveling around to try to land on Dazai.

“Huh,” you say, more to yourself than them. “He is quite sluggish in waking up.”

“What?!” Chuuya demands, head snapping toward you. 

On the other side of the window bench, Dazai snickers, looking mighty pleased with himself. He looks a lot more his age now, the tenseness in his shoulders has dissipated in the hours he spent talking to you, the tightness in his face has smoothed out. His eye is a lot wider and a lot brighter, the corner of his lip twitching as he waits to see what Chuuya’s going to do next. He sits closer to you now too—or, not closer, really, but he’s extended his legs out a bit as the night drew on until they were all but entangled with yours.

“You’re a slug, Chuuya,” Dazai jeers. “A slug. Because you’re small and slow. Aren’t I so brilliant?”

“I’m going to toss your shitty ass out the window,” Chuuya booms, throwing himself out of bed and darting over to Dazai, who evades Chuuya’s punch by diving off of the window bench, nearly taking you right with him considering his legs were stuffed between yours. “Get back here, you asshole.”

Dazai’s out of the room in an instant and Chuuya is chasing after him, spitting out curses and threats. You sit there for a moment, blinking, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened before just deciding to shake your head and rise to your feet. You stretch, body a bit sore from sitting in the same place for hours and tired from the little amount of sleep you got last night. 

You’re ready to get back to headquarters. You want to sleep in an actual bed and you want to drag Mori for his incompetence and nearly getting you killed. You miss Elise too, even if you don’t really like what she’s become. You’re just happy to not be alone anymore—being in Kyoto was… stressful, at best, and downright agonizing, at worst. You couldn’t trust anyone, not even your ability was enough to protect you there, you had no friends, you were lonely and constantly looking over your shoulder because you had no one to watch your back—even the other members of the Mafia in Kyoto with you would’ve turned against you at any given chance if it meant they could drag themselves higher up the hierarchy. 

You yawn as you leave the room, hearing the distant sounds of Chuuya kicking Dazai’s shit in. You make your way to the front of the building you guys had camped the night out, intent on getting a breath of fresh air before waiting for them to stop fucking around but you hardly get more than half a step out of the door before you’re pushed back hard against a nearby wall.

Your eyes widen when a figure manifests in front of you, particles of shadows knitting together to form a young man who seems to be a few years older than you. You barely withhold a sigh, realizing that despite all attempts to avoid him, you still managed to stumble right into the hands of Strain’s shadow manipulator—literally.

“I didn’t expect the cargo we got intel on to be a girl,” he says coolly.  “I almost didn’t believe it when Anderson reported it to me. Though I haven’t heard from him in hours, I assume that’s your doing.”

“You know,” you say lightly, “this is the second time in less than twelve hours that I’ve been called cargo. I think I like it even less coming from you.”

Though you’ve heard a lot about the shadow manipulator, you didn’t know what he looked like before now—he’s quick and elusive, and those who do manage to catch sight of him are killed by him soon after.. He’s not much older than you, though—two years max—handsome enough, pale blonde hair and green eyes with tan, freckled skin. 

Your lips curve up into a small smile. “Are you going to kill me or are you going to stand here with your hand around my neck? … Just so you know, I’m not into that.”

You watch as—just as you expect—he frowns deeply and takes a step back. He watches you carefully, brows knit together, and you let your ability work. Invisible threads wind around his limbs, curling up his neck twisting into his ears and nose and mouth, they curl up to his brain and take root, leaving him vulnerable to however you plan to use your ability.

You still have to be careful. You have to be subtle. Your ability is useful but it has its drawbacks—the biggest being that if you’re too sudden with it, the person you’re targeting can realize that you’re messing with their head and pull themselves out of it. That would be the worst case scenario because 1) they’d realize you have an ability and 2) you’d be in trouble. 

So you resign to just tilting your head to the side as you smile—some emotions are fickle, positive ones like love and happiness, especially among people like you who don’t often feel those emotions. Negative emotions are easier in that once you send someone into a spiral of fear, paranoia or rage, it’s almost impossible for them to draw themselves out, but they’ll inevitably realize that you had done something to their head, which is not an option because your ability needs to remain a secret.

So you decide to just rely on the passive form of your ability, watching as he falls victim to it, shoulders slumping and muscles relaxing as he eyes you curiously. Your ability is non-combatant, yes, but as soon as combat is over, it comes out to play.

He’d made a fatal mistake when he chose not to snap your neck.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” you say conversationally, hands behind your back as you tilt your head to the side. “They say you’re one of the strongest ability users in the world right now.” 

“I didn’t expect you to be a kid,” he says with a frown. “You’re what? Fourteen?”

You blanche. “I’m sixteen,” you protest, forgetting to keep up appearances as you stare at him, aghast. “I do not look fourteen.”

He makes a face as if he disagrees and then shrugs. 

Your eyes bulge. “I do not,” you repeat angrily. “I’m sixteen.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, amused. “I’m not in the business of killing kids though, so I guess I have to take you in. What a bother.”

Your eye twitches. You’d rather die than be taken hostage by Strain and you don’t know where your shitty escorts are so you settle for antagonizing him as a means to stall.

“You’re a high-ranking member of Strain, how are you going to sit here and tell me you’re not in the business of killing kids?” you sneer. “Your organization has been the cause of more child deaths than any other in the world.”

His eyes turn to slits as he stares at you. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says coldly. “I put a stop to all of the rings in Australia myself.”

“And what? You think Strain is willing to just take those losses?” you say, an amused laugh bubbling in the back of your throat when anger flashes through his eyes. Your gaze flits down to the five lines embroidered on his jacket. “For an executive, you must not be kept in the loop by the rest of your comrades. The moment you dismantled the rings in Australia, they turned to strike a deal with Bunin—what do you think your branch in Russia does there? They’re helping Bunin expand his trafficking rings through the East and Strain cuts twenty percent of the profit.”

His hand snaps forward to grab your collar, yanking you toward him. “How would you even know that?” he spits, but from the conflict thinly veiled behind his eyes, you know that your words have taken root. 

You raise your eyebrows as you look up at him, a bit too close for comfort.

“How did you know I was coming back to Yokohama?” you counter instead. He lets you go immediately, withdrawing with a closed-off expression. “Come on, we’ve both been betrayed in some manner—you by your organization, me by someone within mine. I almost burned to death because of them and you… you’ve been working for an organization that’s been lying to you for years. Let’s help each other.”

“I don’t even know if what you’re saying is the truth,” he replies tightly. “I don’t-”

“Then go find out,” you say with an idle smile, “and when you realize I’m telling the truth, well… your ability is quite handy, I’m sure you’ll be able to find me again.”

He stares at you for a moment, expression indecipherable, but after a few long seconds, he disappears in the same swirl of darkness that he appeared in and you can finally relax. You let out a heavy sigh as your shoulders slump, lifting your hand to your neck, wincing at the tenderness.

You doubt that will be enough. You’ve heard rumors that he’s Yakuza-born—only ended up with Strain after Mishima’s Sun and Steel went to war with their syndicate—loyalty is always core to those types, runs through their blood—but at least you’ve planted the seeds, and when he inevitably finds out you’re telling the truth, he’ll come crawling back for more information.

And hopefully some information for you in return. 

Your gaze flits to the side when you hear a crash from your left, seeing Nakahara Chuuya fly out of the building, hands glowing red and eyes wide and wild, trying to seek out a man who’s already long gone.

You roll your eyes. “He’s already gone. Thanks for the help, O’Great Protectors,” you say sarcastically. “Really, you guys are amazing at your job.”

Chuuya has the decency to look ashamed, face flushing as red as his hair as he deactivates his ability and looks away from you. “Who the hell was that?”

“Itou Asahi,” you say absently. “Strain’s shadow manipulator—one of the strongest ability users in the eastern hemisphere right now. Mori brought him up a few times wanting me to recruit him. I didn't think I’d get the chance considering we’re aligned with the Sun and Steel and he hates them, but I might have an opening.”

Your look over to Dazai, who only frowns at your words, gaze trained on you with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“You’re hurt,” he says, brows furrowed, and you realize he’s looking at your neck.

You drop your hand from where you’d been brushing your fingers against the sensitive skin, feeling distinctly too seen under Dazai’s heavy gaze. You don’t know why you feel a bit flustered, but you do and you definitely don’t like it.

“I’m fine,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we head back to headquarters now?”

Dazai frowns like he’s about to protest, but Chuuya nods before he can. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Headquarters is less than a mile away now. The streets that three of you are walking down are safe—none of the organizations have made it this far into the heart of Port Mafia territory—and yet for some reason, Dazai still feels incredibly troubled. 

He hasn’t even been able to join in on you and Chuuya’s conversation. He’s had ample opportunity to considering how much Chuuya is embarrassing himself by trying to act smart, but instead he finds himself trailing behind the two of you, an outsider, too lost in his own thoughts to even think of trying to make a snide comment.

Why is he so troubled?

Dazai isn’t sure and that troubles him too.

He’s always been very in tune with himself. His emotions, his motives, his wants and needs—they’re few and far between, yes, but Dazai has never struggled to pinpoint them at any point in his life. 

He was sad when his ability manifested and his siblings no longer wanted anything to do with him. His ability made them uncomfortable, made them feel empty because it deprived them of their own abilities. They said it was unnatural, and they said he must be unnatural too because why else would he develop such a terrible ability? Dazai couldn’t really blame them, his ability made him feel empty too—he theorizes that when it doesn’t have an ability to suck up into the black hole, it starts devouring anything else it can get its hands on, like his emotions, because he stopped feeling much at all after it manifested. 

When he was twelve, he wanted to learn how to play the piano to impress his mother, though he never got the chance to show her because she was killed soon after. He hasn’t wanted much of anything since then. 

When he was fourteen, his grandfather started pitting him, his siblings and his cousins against each other. His older brother drew the first blood against one of his cousins, and it was a bloodbath from there on out. With both of his parents dead and his siblings and cousins trying to kill one another to be named his grandfather’s heir, Dazai didn’t have much reason to live himself, and he definitely didn’t want to be killed by one of his siblings or cousins. 

So, he thought the next logical step was to die, so he tried to kill himself.

He failed, obviously, and ended up with none other than Mori. He still hasn’t found much of a reason to keep living. Chuuya is around, he supposes, and he’s entertaining enough to mess with—it’s enough to keep Dazai going for now—and you claim to want to know him, so Dazai is interested in seeing how that plays out, but that’s beyond the point. 

The point is that Dazai knows what Dazai wants. Dazai knows what Dazai needs. Dazai knows what Dazai feels. And Dazai currently cannot figure out why Dazai is troubled, so something is certainly wrong and he needs to figure out what it is. 

He hears you laugh at something that Chuuya said and barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. Nothing Chuuya says is ever that funny, so you must just be being polite, but it’s still annoying. Mostly due to the fact that Dazai can’t call it out because he doesn’t even know what was said because he wasn’t paying attention courtesy of his current dilemma.

He withholds a sigh as his gaze drops to your neck, eyes focusing in on the dark bruises lining your neck—the fingerprints of that ability user form Strain that attacked you when he and Chuuya weren’t around—and his irritation spikes yet again.

At once, a lightbulb goes off in his head.

That’s what’s troubling him. He’s found himself looking back at the marks on your neck on more than one occasion, and each time, it’s triggered his displeasure. He’s not sure why it took him so long to put it together, but now lies a new issue: why is it triggering his displeasure?

He squints as he stares at you hard, willing the answer to come to him. There must be a logical reason for it, he just needs to figure out what it is. He can see you looking at him from the corner of your eye, probably wondering why he’s staring at you so intensely, but Dazai just can’t rip his gaze away, fully intent on figuring out what his problem is right now.

Casualties are expected in this line of work. Dazai has never been one to think twice when people are hurt or killed in the line of action—he’s lost many subordinates to ensure the success of a mission and has even put his own life on the line if it meant that it bettered his chances of succeeding. So he should by no means be bothered by the prospect of you being wounded, especially considering he barely knows you.

“I want to know you.”

Dazai blinks as your words suddenly ring through his head again, startled by his own thoughts. His brows furrow even deeper because no, that can’t possibly be the reason why. He supposes it might be influencing it a bit because people who want to know him are few and far between, so the thought of meeting someone who actually gives him the time of day and almost losing them right away is unfortunate. It makes sense that it’s making him more irritable, especially when it’s something he’s curious to see play out and it’s something that could’ve been easily prevented.

Oh, he realizes, suddenly satisfied as he comes to an answer that he can quickly accept, disregarding everything else. 

That’s the issue—it was preventable. 

Dazai should’ve seen it coming and he should’ve been quick to take the necessary steps to avoid it. What he was feeling was irritability at himself, not at the fact that you got hurt. It wouldn’t make sense because Dazai doesn’t know you and even if he did know you, casualties are expected in this line of work. But you’re his assignment—his and Chuuya’s—Dazai has never failed an assignment before, much less with Chuuya, and he’d come this close because he’d recklessly let down his guard in enemy territory. 

It makes sense.

Much more than any of the other absurd explanations he’d been considering do at least.

This time when Chuuya makes a stupid comment, Dazai chimes in with some very necessary commentary, giving you a simpering smile and a wink before dancing out of the way of Chuuya’s much anticipated roundhouse.

Still, Dazai finds the troubled feeling returning again when his gaze drifts back down to the marks on your neck as he passes by the two of you with flourished spin, antagonizing Chuuya just to entertain himself with how red his face gets in embarrassment. 

But his gaze darts back up to your face quickly and he shakes off the unwelcome feeling, another quip on the tip of his tongue that abruptly dies when he sees your hand pressed to your mouth as you try to hide your amusement from Chuuya. Your eyes are turned up and your smothered giggles are just barely audible, the mid-morning sun casts an ethereal glow over your face and for a moment, Dazai is entirely stunned by the sight. He nearly trips over his own foot, and since he’s unsteady on his feet, he can’t avoid the way Chuuya predictably transitions from a roundhouse into a back kick.

He goes flying backward, all breath pushed from his lungs as takes the kick to the gut and hits the concrete hard a few feet away. He should be disgruntled, or he should at the very least retaliate with another mocking jibe, but instead, he finds his gaze fixed on you, watching as you finally burst into laughter, unable to contain it with the sight of Dazai sprawled out on the ground looking like a clown.

His heart rate spikes and Dazai’s hand flies to his chest, alarmed—becomes even more so when it doesn’t settle down. He rips his gaze from you to stare down at the ground, forcibly calming his heart and only when he’s sure that he’s got it under control, he looks back up.

Immediately, he loses control over it again, and this time it feels even more erratic, each thump resonating through his ears as you approach him, giggles quieting as you hold out your hand to help him up. 

For a horrifying second, Dazai thinks he might have a heart attack and that would be a lame way to go. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he does not have a heart attack, although that means he’s probably going to have to go to Mori when he gets back to the base—death may have been more preferable to that. 

Great, he thinks bitterly, not only has he had to deal with Chuuya for over twenty-four now, but now he’s going to have to go see Mori and figure out what the hell is wrong with him. Or you. He wonders if maybe you have an ability that’s somehow affecting him, that would be a serious issue for future missions that the two of you might be paired for. 

But it must be that—it’s the most logical explanation. 

What a mess the past day has been, but…

Dazai thinks it might’ve been worth the trouble, eyes lingering on you for a few moments longer before he takes your hand, taking note of the odd jolt that runs up his arm as soon as your fingers wrap around his hand to help him up. 

He doesn’t notice that even with your fingers locked with his, his heart still beats out of his chest. 

“Don’t tell me you’re over here reminiscing.”

You roll your eyes before looking over your shoulder to focus your gaze on an achingly familiar face. Chuuya drops lightly to the ground behind you, using gravity to soften his fall as he approaches you.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, folding your arms over your chest as a smile curves to your lips. “I was waiting for you.”

“D’aw, did ya miss me?” he asks with a sharp smile.

You have a retort ready to fly from your lips, but instead of speaking it, you sigh and let your gaze drift across the street in Kanagawa-ku that you’re standing in. Even after all of these years, the ground and buildings are still charred where that ability user had attacked you—faded now, of course, but you can still make out the faint remnants of the attacks.

Maybe you are reminiscing, you think to yourself, a heavy feeling settling over you. If you close your eyes, you can almost picture the rubble you were hiding behind, the jolt of fear you’d felt when you realized you wouldn’t be able to dodge the next attack, and then him.

And then Dazai.

“I did,” you admit, dragging your eyes from the ground to look back at Chuuya, whose smile falters a bit before softening.

“I can’t believe Mori had you abroad for three years,” he sighs, reaching out to squeeze your wrist. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Let’s head back to headquarters and have a drink. We can put on a movie.”

“Not one of your shitty horror movies,” you laugh, knocking your shoulder into his. You lean into him a bit as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, keeping it draped around you as the two of you start to make your way back to the base.

You hesitate—and Chuuya can feel your hesitation from the way he glances down at you, concerned. He frowns and asks, “What’s up?”

You let out a puff of air and then speak up reluctantly, “Have you… heard from him? Of him?”

You hate the twinge of hope that’s audible in your voice, despite how hard you tried to rid yourself of it. You hate even more the sympathetic look that Chuuya casts you; he knows who you’re talking about instantly—of course, he does, there’s only one person it could be—his lashes lower and his arm drops back to his side. 

“I saw him,” Chuuya says after a few moments. Your eyes widen as your head snaps toward him, waiting for him to continue. “... Met him. He’s part of the Armed Detective Agency now. Got himself captured by us to try to get information to help his new protege.”

“Oh.”

Your throat feels tight. Too tight. Swollen. Your eyes sting painfully and you have to force yourself to take a deep breath. The Armed Detective Agency. New protege. You don’t know if you feel bitter or relieved. Bitter because he’s found a place somewhere without you, relieved because he’s alive and okay. 

His defection still doesn’t even feel real after four years, it’s not like you’ve been in Yokohama long enough to fully process it, but god… you could still imagine him coming up behind the two of you with a snide comment to antagonize Chuuya, eyes trained on you to watch the way you laugh at Chuuya’s reaction. The wistfulness hits you so hard that it almost knocks the air from your lungs—not for the first time since he left, you yearn, you miss him, you want him, and now that you’re finally back in Yokohama after so many years abroad, it’s all the more intense.

How unfair, you think, nails biting into your palms as you stare ahead.

“Do you think he’s replaced us?” You try to keep your voice light, but you think you fail.

Chuuya lets out a bark of laughter. “He can certainly try.”

Your lips curl up at Chuuya’s words, gaze flickering down to the ground. “Yeah, you’re right,” you agree quietly before asking, “Did he seem… okay?”

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “I’m not talking about that shithead anymore,” he tells you. “I’m sure he’ll come looking for you now that you’re back. Let’s go home now, yeah?” 

The thought of Dazai coming to look for you makes your stomach twist with anxiety; after so many years apart, you just don’t know what to expect… but you suppose you’ve never really known what to expect from him, so you’ll just handle him the same way you always have. Except maybe not as kindly.

But you don’t have to worry about that yet.  Instead, you smile and bump shoulders with Chuuya again.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

☹️🩵

KNOCK KNOCK — OSAMU DAZAI ✧

↺ synopsis: dazai comes home fro meursault

↺ details: dazai x reader. fluff. no warnings. dazai makes a sex joke.

↺ a/n: tumblr isnt letting this appear on tags 💔

six days and fourteen hours — that's how long dazai's been gone. on the fifteenth hour, he comes home.

two knocks on the door is all it takes for you to scurry over, flinging it open to your boyfriend's weary face, which lights up in elation once his eyes settle on you.

just a second later, you fall into each other — the two of you are a crumpled mess on the floor, or at least you are. 

wet, messy tears stream down your cheeks as an infinite number of you're okay's and i missed you's slip from your lips.

"i missed you too, darling," dazai murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "shouldn't you be sleeping?" he asks, untangling himself from around you and studying your face intently.

"i haven't slept much lately," you admit, wiping the seemingly endless tears with the back of your hand. maybe you're wrong, but somehow, dazai seems... healthier. he looks more at ease, even with the dark circles beneath his eyes.

"neither have i," he says dryly, hands on his knees as he stands up and offers you a hand. "it's a bit hard to sleep across from a murderous russian."

a shaky laugh slips out of your lips as you let dazai pull you up. he wraps an arm around your waist and hugs you closer to him, locking the door behind him with the other hand. 

"are you okay?" you ask, resting your head on his shoulder as he leads you to your shared bedroom. dazai smiles at your question and nods wordlessly, hand squeezing your waist reassuringly.

"i haven't seen you in a while," he says casually, tilting his head and closing the bedroom door behind him. "it's been—"

"six days and fifteen hours."

"i was gonna say 'lonely at night', but i suppose that works too." 

the corners of dazai's mouth curve upwards as he smiles and pulls you into his lap on the bed. "i missed you a lot, darling," he murmurs quietly, trailing his slender fingers through your hair.

dazai's eyes soften as he wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. he's still in his work clothes, and he groans when you point that out.

"i don't care," he mutters, kissing your neck sulkily. "they're gonna come off either way after you tell me everything that's happened since i've been gone."

you ignore the first part of his sentence and sigh, loosening up and practically melting into dazai's chest. "nothing."

"surely something happened while i was gone, darling."

"nothing notable," you deadpan.

dazai presses his lips to your neck again, threading his fingers through your hair. "everything about you is notable, love. tell me something. anything."

you exhale a soft laugh and wrap your hands around his own, running your fingers over his calloused hands. "where do i even begin..."

a/n: cries

reblogs very appreciated!

Hi! If you aren’t busy can I request Fyodor and Dazai with prompt 6? ( sfw )

also have a lovely summer and take good care of yourself whenever you can!

Fandom:Bungou Stray Dogs Pairings:Dazai X Fem!reader Genre:Fluff,Comedy,Angst Format:One Shot Warnings:a tiny bit of Nsfw content in the middle,but nothing too fancy,mentions of giving birth,mentions of women's private part,cursing,slight Angst maybe…? Word Count:778 A/n: ofc honey! tbh im a bit bruned down on Fyodor so I just went and wrote Dazai instead! hope you don't mind <3 this is not proofread,and English isn't my main language so sorry if theres any mistakes in the content below

my 100 follower Event!

During the last nine month,Dazai has learned one thing: Pregnant women are scary. "Goddammit!it hurts!" you said,while pressing your husbands hand,gazing at your doctor who was sitting in front of you, with a furious look on your face. "Its ok Mrs.Dazai.just a few more pushes and the baby will come out" the doctor said,while looking at your vagina which was getting wide open, because of the contractions you were experiencing. "what do you mean,"the baby will come out"? am I some sort of gum machine to you?" "what?no…its just how it works" "I don't care about how it works! just hurry up and get him out of me already!" you said,getting angrier,which made your face even redder than it was before. the doctor didn't say anything,but you could easily read his mind through his annoying gaze. what a loving mother. Dazai exchanged a look between you two,and got closer to you. "honey,why are you arguing with your doctor?" "shut up you horny peace of meat! what kind of dumbass would get his wife pregnant on their wedding night?" well,Dazai did,obviously. you sent daggers towards him and then closed your eyes,letting the memory of that night surround you. you,in a long,fabulous dress,with a light make up on,your hair waved down,freely dancing in the wind,were the definition of one word. breathtaking. Dazai was literally dying.being your husband was one of the best things that could've ever happen to him,but he wanted more. he was greedy.for your love,your body,your amazing scent. and of course that made him lose his mind when the ceremony ended and you two became alone. you were going insane,from the pleasure he was giving you.he didn't even let you take a break,was on top of you all the time, thrusting into you while whispering sweet things into your ear that made your heart beat even faster,just like the first time you layed eyes on each other. "taking me so well,my pretty wife.you look like a real fucking saint,making me want to become a sinner" he breeded you and breeded you and breeded you, and the results is what youre witnessing at this moment. "honey,im here for you! just hang in there a bit more and it'll be over before you know it" well,easy for him to say.nothing alive was going to come out of his holes.

"hes almost here!push!" you gripped the mattress under you while starting to curse your husband that made you go through all this shit.you were still young,too young to get stuck with a baby and give up on your job,and your dreams. "I hate you Osamu!im going to ask Chuuya to murder you if I make it out of here alive!" Dazai nervously laughed and put his hand on your shoulder. "ok baby.come out of here alive and you can do whatever you want" "ugh! its…all your falt! oh my god its coming out of me!" the doctor carefully placed his hands under your baby boys body. "one last push ma'am and its over!" "aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh my goddddddd I swear to god Osamu im going to cut your dick off when I get out of here!" you were going blind.it felt weird,it felt painfull,it felt unfair, and all these negative feelings ended when you heard your son cry. he was here,in your doctors arms,crying as he was meeting this unfamiliar place for the first time,gasping at the strange feeling of breathing the air for the first time he was experiencing. he was red,a few drops of blood in his belly, he looked beautiful. and you were the one who gave birth to this beautiful angel. "Osamu…look at him!" you whispered,unaware of your eyes that were raining heavily while looking at your son. you were a mom now. Dazai smiled at the sight in front of him.he was a dad now,and things were about to change because of the arrival of this little angel to your life.he wanted to get better for you two, he will get better for you two. he placed a kiss on your forehead,getting a hold of your hand that was shaking from the experience you went through a few minutes ago. you didn't realize it,but you became a bit weak. "I know baby…I know.thank you for doing this,now get some rest, Im sure he doesn't want his mommy to become sick,right?"

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Stay with me...?

Happy Dazai day :)

A small fluffy drabble for my favorite boy's bday :)))

Dazai X Fem!reader

Smut under the cut

Word Count:0.2K

The sensation of his cold fingertips on your soft skin, the shivers he was sending down your spin everytime he locked eyes with you;

It was different. It felt different.

He didn't want to let go this time. He wasn't doing this out of manipulation or scheme; or else there weren't any logical explanation for how tight his fingers were imprisoning yours.

Maybe you felt the same way. Maybe you were also drowning yourself in the aura of his deep chocolate eyes, without making any attempt to rescue yourself. Maybe it was the reason why were wrapped around his waist so tightly.

Maybe you also didn't want to let go.

Hi thrusts were as fast as before. Not because he wanted to get it over with, but to fulfil his desire for you, to make you his. It was crazy how thirsty he was for you, how his name sounded so perfect coming from your mouth, how desperately you were holding him.

To him you were delicate, unrealistic, and extremely shandy. Like a small fairy who came down on earth, just for him.

It was unbelievable how bad he wanted to protect you.

Yeah...maybe he could make an exception this time, and stay the night, only to cage you in his arms, more.

You would understand that, right...?

My blog is really underrated so it would mean a lot if you reblog :)

Love Like Cherry Blossoms

—Series Masterlist

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairings: Dazai x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Smut, Fantasy, Humor, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Cussing, NSFW content, Etc.

Summary: Y/n is a normal citizen with a normal life. Everything in her life goes as planned; work, home, eat, sleep and back to work; but things suddenly change when she switches bodies with a member of the ADA, by accident.

Status: Ongoing

One ⇝ Two ⇝ Three

All rights reserved © 2022 AshTheMadWriter. Please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works on any platform.

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Dazai: Wakes Y/n up*

Y/n, rubbing her eyes, half sleep: What? What is it, Osamu?

Dazai, smiling brightly: Oh nothing! Just wanted to tell you that Kunikida wanted to wake you up earlier, but I didnt let him! See what a great boyfriend I am? Now you can go back to sleep again.

Y/n:

Y/n: Punches him in the face*

You cannot tell me that Dazai wouldn't do that🚶🏻‍♀️

Are you gonna kiss me or not?

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing: Fem!Dazai X Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Format: Fic

Warnings: Explicit smut, Porn with a plot, Sub!Dazai, Dom!Reader, Rough lesbian sex, Passionate sex, Praising, Scissoring, Dirty talk, 69 position, Squirting, MDNI

Word Count: 3K

A/n: Here's a thank you gift to you guys for helping me reach 1.1K ;)

"So? How do I look?" The slim woman in front of you gyrated with snobbery, smiling sweetly as she gave you a better look of herself. Her long legs were manifested elegantly, feet covered with a pair of black high heels, exhibiting her smooth buttery skin. The short black dress embraced her breasts loosely, leaving the curves of it peeping from the corner. How did she look? Stunning, breath taking, gorgeous, heart breakingly attractive. You could say all that, any of that; but instead, you smothered all the compliments your had on your mind, sufficing with a simple answer hoping your eyes could speak up for you, so that maybe she could see the clouds of admiration or maybe obsession in them.

"Good. You look good"

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, sighing as she approached you with coherent steps. She still had her playful smile on, and it looked as tempting as ever. Her face was gorgeous. She was gorgeous.

"Help me take it off?"

Sure, as long as your fingers can "accidentally" make contact with her skin.

Your fingers trailed against her skin as you pulled the zipper down, revealing her smooth skin. You didn't rush things; in fact, you were taking it so long that you made Dazai smile as she watched you in the mirror. She loved how frustrated you became every time she got close to you, and since she was a huge fan of teasing, she never missed an opportunity to mess with your mind.

Clearing your throat, you took a few steps and tried to fight the urge to kiss the back of her neck. "You're done"

"Aww thanks y/n! You're a life savor! Now I can go to my date tomorrow night with the fabulous dress you lent me!"

"Yeah... You're welcome. It's nothing"

She ginned and ran her fingers through her silky brown hair.

"By the way... Can I ask you for another favor? If it's not too much?"

That look on her face... You knew it was not going to be a pleasant favor; but how could you say no to her? To that flawless face of hers?

"Yeah! Sure!"

"You're not even going to ask what it is? Haha. You like me that much y/n-Chan?"

Instead of answering her, you just looked into her hazel eyes and smiled softly. That was the only thing you could do.

"Ok then! I'm staying the night here!"

Oops.

***

The current position would definitely teach you a lesson.

You pressed your eyelids on each other, caging your breath in your lungs. Dazai was lying beside you on your bed, wearing nothing but a lacy pair of lingerie which she claimed she was gonna wear tomorrow night on her date. Apparently she was too lazy to walk to her apartment, so she wanted to stay the night here, with you, in your room, next to you, semi naked.

If only a thunder could strike you right through your heart at the moment.

"Ahhhh your bed is so comfy y/n!" She yawned while stretching her arms. "I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I'm just used to sleeping in my underwear, I can't go to sleep if I have more clothes on. I can sleep on the couch if you want me too!" "No it's fine. I'm fine"

Yeah, I'll probably have a heart attack in a few seconds, but other than that I'm totally fine.

"Ok then! Goodnight y/n!" "Good night Dazai"

And finally, silence filled the room.

For the next few minutes, nothing happened. Just you being drowned in your clouded mind and her being... quiet. It was actually weird how quiet she was. You knew she had a hard time going to sleep at nights. Was she so tired that she fell sleep immediately?

A small poke on your back proved you wrong.

"Y/n..." Her voice was husky, whiney, adorable. And her face and those sparkling eyes of hers...

"I can't sleep"

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Hug me"

She sounded sincere, but that didn't keep your eyes from getting wider.

"What?"

"Uh... I'm cold... So cold... Can't sleep like this... Pretty please?"

No. The correct answer to her question was no. You should have thrown her out a while go. No, you shouldn't have agreed to help her out for her upcoming date in the first place; but you made it this far, a few more steps wouldn't hurt any more than that, would they?

At least you can do something for your own sake, for once.

Dazai sank in your embrace once you opened your arms for her. She laid her head on your boobs, sighing peacefully as a calm smile found its way to her face. She didn't bother to break eye contact though, and nor did you. The only change made between you was your hand slowly caressing her cheeks.

Both drowning in each other's gaze, you let out a heavy breath and she leaned toward your hand more, drunken by the delightful sensation of it; and your hand was too kind to refuse her, even though it landed on the wrong spot this time.

You were too immersed in her intoxicating charm that you forgot about everything. How wrong it was for her to be here, how wrong it was for you to be dangerously close to her like this; but your mind was too numb too care now. All you could see was how her eyes shone under the streetlights coming through the window, and how soft and pastel her lips appeared under the touch of your fingertips.

Oh god. I think I'm gonna faint.

Maybe Dazai did sensed this, because the second this thought slipped through your mind, you felt her warm hand landing on your cheek. She started gently rubbing the soft flesh, heating it up more as if her hands were not warm enough to do the job.

Fucking liar. You're not cold.

But... Were you really not satisfied with how things turned out in the end?

A small peck on your thumb pulled you out of your thoughts, making you face her stare pointing at you. Her smile was gone and the look in her eyes was... thirsty. She looked as frustrated as you were, and it did made you feel good.

"Y/n..."

She leaned her forehead on yours, breathing heavily as she pressed her body on you.

"Y/n...?" "Yeah...?" "Why are you hesitating?..."

Why are you hesitating to drown me in infatuation?

"I... What about your date tomorrow?" "There's no date tomorrow, silly"

"What?"

You're voice gets a bit louder, but not enough to express your stun.

"What do you mean there's no date?" "I was just trying to make you jealous, that's all"

You would have pulled her hair if she didn't look that pretty.

"Are you kidding me?" "I'm not! I don't have a boyfriend! That was just an excuse to see you tonight"

Her giggles were music to your ears, but it was still upsetting how she played you all this time. Although you couldn't really be mad, when Dazai actually confessed that she was trying to catch your attention.

"You... You're unbelievable..."

"I'll take that as a compliment" She smirked and caressed your cheek once more. "So... Are you gonna kiss me or not?"

Before falling for her, you had always known that Dazai, was a real fucking menace. She was just a whore, sleeping around with every guy she had a chance with, only to leave them alone in bed the next morning. You were the only person who didn't give in to her, and that was just because of her stupid manipulation. You were sick of her games.

She's a big fat red flag. You should push her away and choke her to death; and maybe you will, if she doesn't behave well.

Dazai expected your first kiss to be quick. She expected you to shy away from her and let her be in charge, so she was surprised when you suddenly rolled and got on top of her, silencing her gasp by slamming your lips on hers.

The kiss was passionate, hungry, and somewhat rough. You were devouring every inch of her lips you could reach, hands roaming around her body, tracing over the lace of her panties. Dazai parted from you to catch her breath, but she had you thirst over her for too long, and you still hadn't got enough of her taste, so you caught her lips again, biting the bottom one and enjoying the sound of her delightful moans.

When you finally pulled away, she panted for breath as she looked into your eyes. She never thought you would be this good at kissing.

"Get on top of me" "...Ok"

She hadn't seen this side of you before, but she couldn't deny how much she liked it.

After both of you getting undressed naked, she slowly got on top of your head, sinking down carefully until she felt your warm breath tickling her crotch; but as you were about to have a taste from her, she started pulling your panties down while bending on your body, planting a kiss on your inner thigh.

So she's playing this game now huh.

Guess I'll have a chance to show off my skills.

She started making out with your cunt, almost making you moan immediately; but you took your time, slowly kissing her clit to her entrance. You could feel her body tense up and lean closer to your mouth, but you still didn't give in, sufficing with kissing her clit, only a bit longer this time. You heard her hissing and dipping her tongue inside of you to earn at least a whimper, but you turned out to be a tough nut to crack.

Still, you couldn't lie about how good she actually was at licking pussy; But she still had a long way to reach you.

Dazai gave up on receiving anything from you and focused on making you feel good, so she was stunned when your tongue suddenly embraced her bud, sucking on the soft flesh hardly.

Blood rushed through her cheeks as she whined loudly, pushing herself more into your mouth, greedy for more. You closed your eyes and started exploring her vagina with your muscle, delighted by the enormous amount of arousal covering her.

"Fuck you taste good, no wonder men can't get enough of you"

Dazai wanted to respond to you, perhaps with a flirty comeback, but she was too busy choking on her breath to do so.

You gripped her hips while sucking on her clit again, removing your tongue from it to slip it inside of her. Your fingers started rubbing on her clit, not too fast to make her come immediately, but enough to earn louder moans from her. She was trying, so hard, to lick you off to; but she just couldn't keep a steady rhythm.

"Fuck y/n! Y-you never told me how goo-ah!"

Something was inside her again, though it was not as warm and flexible as your tongue, it was longer and could reach a sensitive sweet spot. Your tongue was still on her, just a bit higher, sucking on her clit again.

Dazai was feeling dizzy. She could feel blood rushing through his veins and her heart racing, slamming itself to her thorax. She had never felt like this before- never this close, never this intimate, never this weak. She was absorbing all the warmth radiating from your body. She could feel her cervix drawing closer and closer, and it was way too different from all the experiences she'd had so far.

"Y/n..." She mumbled.

"Y/n!" She moaned.

"Y/n fu- a-ah- fuck!" She screamed, holding your legs tightly, releasing her cum on your face. The sloppy sounds of her arousal dispersing out of her entrance drove her crazy. She couldn't hold back anymore. Tears painted her cheeks as she cried out for breath, feeling overwhelmed by her explosive orgasm. Meanwhile you kept your mouth open, chuckling as you let her arousal land on your tongue, proud of yourself with the satisfying outcome.

When she was finally done, she didn't stop shivering. She stayed down there for a few seconds, then got off you, turning around so she could see your face which had turned red from how she was suffocating you with her pussy.

"Are... Are you ok?..."

Dazai looked... vulnerable.

Her eyes were glassy, her face was red-from both embarrassment and her release-, she looked surprised, worried, everything at the same time.

She looked extraordinarily beautiful.

And she was here, with you, on the verge of breaking apart.

She was finally yours.

You pulled her down and kissed her for the one hundredth time that night, emptying your mind with all the nights you both spent on different beds but in each other's dreams, and filling it up with her blood, her cum, her tears, her. Arms wrapped around each other, you rolled on the bed, tongues battling for dominance. Tears didn't stop falling from her eyes, even though she had them closed shot. Her tears were hot, like her body, her passion, her every gesture. You kissed her eyes and she cried. You kissed her cheeks and she whimpered. You kissed her chest, right on her heart and she gripped your hair, pulling you back up again. You kissed her on the lips and she kissed you back just as hungrily as you did, making up for all the times she had you becoming frustrated over the gap between you.

She was so close, you could feel her breaking apart in your arms and her tears never stopped falling, but she didn't want to let go. She has never ever wanted to stay so damn much in her entire life.

Maybe this was the pleasuring end she was hoping to achieve through her attempts of suicide, and there she was, finding it here, with you.

"I need to- to make you come too- please, y/n"

"Shhh…. It's ok honey. It's ok"

Placing one last kiss on her wet eyelashes, you exhaled largely as you adjusted yourself on her, positioning your womanhood on hers.

She wrapped her arms around your neck, kissing you gently this time, almost as gentle as the way you rubbed yourself on her.

"Oh!"

"It feels nice..."

"Don't stop please"

"I will never stop" You kissed her forehead affectionately.

Pushing up into each other, you both moaned softly as your clits made close contact again. She smiled at the sight of the string of your cum attached to each other due to your crotches rubbing on each other.

"Huh! That's so fucking hot..." "I know, right, love?"

"Call me that again" She didn't sound cheerful as she was a few hours ago, she sounded needy, but still adorable enough for you to give in.

"I love you so much, pretty girl. I'm sure you already know that"

"Oh god" She dug her nails in your back. "More, tell me more"

"I love you so fucking much Osamu. So much that I can't sleep at nights because my mind always comes up against a stumbling block; and that block is always you. I love you so much that I applied at your job, only to be able to see you everyday. I love- you- so much- that- fuck-"

Wet, hot pussies slamming on each other, you lost control of your words, tightening your grip on her as you speeded up. She pushes up into you, to feel your clit rub on hers. You let lust overcome you, giving in to the euphoria gifted by her body. You both whined and ground on each other, helping your orgasm clear its way out. She threw her head back and moaned louder than before, shivering as she desperately kept rubbing herself on you.

It. Just. Felt. Too. Good.

"Oh fuck. I'm gonna-"

"Me too-"

"Come for me. Come for me pretty girl. Let me- Ah- Hear that pretty voice of yours again"

You felt closer each time you slammed your juicy pussy on hers, and you still couldn't get enough"

"Harder! Harder! Fuck!" She cries out again, body quivering as her orgasm also drew closer.

Close, closer, almost there, and finally.

When she was about to scream again, you crushed her lips with yours, moaning as loud as her, but in her mouth. Your mixed groan sounded so hot, but the hotter thing was your cum decorating each other's pussy. The kiss lasted for almost a minute, before you crashed next to her, gasping for breath.

"You can still lend my dress" You said between your pants.

"I told you idiot, there's no date"

"There's a date" You tilted your head toward her and smiled. "A date with me"

Dazai giggled as she kissed your cheek. "So you're finally asking me out?"

"I am. If I keep dragging my feet others will steal you away from me before I can even realize. Wear that dress for me Love, and maybe we'll end up here at my house, in the middle of the night, again"

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