#i also am oddly. like. not distrustful bc like i am not one of those ppl who like. dont believe in medicine or whatever?? but like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

straymackerel · 4 years

Note

idk if your requests are open but if they’re not then feel free to ignore this. 😅 id like to request an imagine with dazai having a long, deep conversation with his new co-worker who happens to be a former member of the port mafia but she left for obvious reasons and only fukuzawa knows for now but ofc dazai being dazai, he’s sharp af so he decided to talk to her bc one, he understands her and second he developed feelings for her shortly after she joined ada. thanks in advance! 🥰

➽─{done! they were actually closed, but this was such a fun request i made it 2k long (✿´ ꒳ ` )}─❥

You often wonder if it was something you said.

Ever since you joined the Armed Detective Agency, all of your new coworkers have been nothing short of friendly and accommodating. All of them––except for the bandaged mystery who can’t quite take his eyes off of you.

At first you thought it was just your imagination. When he answered your questions dismissively, you thought maybe he didn’t have a way with words. When he bailed on group trips to Café Uzumaki––but only when you were going too––you brushed it off as a coincidence. And when you first ‘caught’ him fixated on you, looking you square in the face from his own desk, you hoped he was actually looking at something above your head or next to you.

After all, in the Port Mafia, you always felt as if you were being watched, precisely because you were being watched. Your every move was silently documented, your behavior acutely observed within a larger culture of distrust and suspicion. You wondered if maybe you carried that instinctive unease with you to your new day job. (The only proper day job you’ve ever held.)

But there was no need for deft maneuvers to realize that this intimidating brunette was, indeed, staring you down in silence. He has no intention of hiding it; he’s openly tracking your movements, peering into your essence. And the most unnerving part of all: he’s smirking half of the time. If you didn’t know any better, you would confront him the first chance you got; but your situation is precarious, delicate. You have no business drawing attention to yourself, a former member of the Port Mafia. Sure, the President is already aware of your circumstances, but the Mafia has engrained the virtues of secrecy into you. You hope to keep your past on the down low.

Besides, there’s something off about this brown-haired detective. Something you realized at the beginning of your employment, way before he started staring into your soul. Something you hope you’re wrong about.

So you wait it out, anxiously. Drained by the presence of your colleagues, you find yourself in Café Uzumaki alone one slow-moving afternoon. The paperwork was piling up, the tension in the air almost tangible as Dazai declined yet another offer to do actual field-work with the others in favor of keeping tabs on you (unbeknownst to anyone else). You’d left the office at your earliest convenience, hoping to relax in the corner with your favorite beverage.

It is all you can do to keep from spewing the profane as he invites himself to your table, waltzing in without a care in the world.

You’re trapped.

Ordering himself a double shot espresso, your coworker ignores your apparent apprehension as he gets comfy in his booth seat. Downing his drink while you’ve barely touched yours, he glances behind him to check out the waitstaff. No words are exchanged until the baristas are out of earshot.

“Well, you certainly seem to have a vested interest in me,” you say in the most nonchalant manner manageable––nervous because of his constant surveillance, but also because he’s quite handsome for a borderline stalker.

“You can drop the tight-lipped smile,” Dazai replies, eyes darkened.

You lower your voice, hackles raised. “How much do you know?”

“I suppose it’s all speculation, but my hunches are rarely wrong. You chose to work at a detective agency after all.” Though he’s avoided your question, the look on his face tells you everything you need to know. Eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth upturned, he most definitely has your former occupation pegged.

“What gave it away?” is the only thing you can think to say.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Perhaps it will aid me in playing detective,” you quip. He chuckles dryly.

“Oh, where to start. That concealed weapon you carry––it’s not issued by the Agency. Though its outline is comparable to our standard Beretta 92FS Inox sidearm, there are some subtle differences, even when it’s tucked away and wrapped in cloth.” You raise your eyebrows, surprised that anyone would notice.

“The way you move soundlessly and seamlessly,” he continues, not bothering to pause. “It’s obviously second nature. You hardly make a sound if you can help it. And then there’s your understanding of the underworld, even though you try to hide it. You obviously know much more than you let on; your knowledge is too convenient. You claim to know just the perfect tidbit or two for a case, having overheard a street vendor or a barkeep, but the expression on your face is all too telling of a certain sense of pride. Such a seemingly mild-mannered sweetheart as yourself. Did you know that when you flinch at violence, you always react a hair slower than everyone else, as if you’re simply following suit? Also––”

“Okay, OK, I get it,” you say, defeated. “So that’s the reason why you’re leering at me every day? To add to this never-ending list of yours?”

“Well...” Dazai’s voice trails off. His features relax for the briefest moment, more alarming than reassuring to you. And then that nagging thought resurfaces. That is, the very first thing that came to mind when you were first introduced to him. Again: something you hope you’re wrong about.

“You’re quite suspicious yourself,” you interject. “Let alone your little stalker habit... you have the same name as him.” The corners of his eyes crease.

“That’s an odd way of putting it,” he says with a hint of mirth in his voice, and not a smidgen of denial. Fuck.

Logic dictates that you should be scared shitless right now, sitting across from one of the most dangerous men in Mafia history. Logic dictates that you should’ve used more covert methods of uncovering his past. Straightening up, you tell yourself not to think about it.

“Well, I was under the impression that Dazai Osamu was only a legend and nothing more. I mean, a teenage orphan prodigy who threw their life as a Mafia exec away, only to disappear forever? Sounds like bullshit,” you state with as much cool-headedness as you can muster.

“I take that personally!” he gasps, twisting his arms every which way in mock offense, as if to shield himself from your harsh commentary.

“You didn’t consider changing your name?”

“Not even once.” He winks, to which your heart may or may not skip a beat. Are you scared, or oddly enamored?

You push your cup along your side of the table. “How come you turned tail too? You had the status to do literally anything you wanted.” He brushes it off.

“What is this, my interview? The last time I checked, you were the one on trial,” he says, waving his hand like he’s batting your assertion out of the air.

“I’m on trial?” you ask, the cup coming to a stop. “Do the others have suspicions as well?”

“Oh no, nothing in particular to go on. Though Ranpo most definitely has you figured out,” he says, to which you startle. “...but he couldn’t care less, so don’t worry.” You unintentionally sigh relief as he continues: “My colleagues have this peculiar way of testing their new recruits. We call it an ‘entrance exam.’ And before you ask, I’m not responsible for administering yours, but I might be able to push you in the right direction.”

“Any hints?”

He shakes his head, “Not really. No general tips or tricks. I need some more information,” he says, leaning in a bit. “So tell me about yourself. Why leave the Mafia for the ADA?”

You press your lips together, realizing he’s asking you the very same question he himself dodged moments ago. “I needed a change of atmosphere. And scenery. I wasn’t quite taken up with the constant death threats and daily bloodshed.”

“Oh, death threats? And bloodshed? I don’t suppose you were on the receiving end?” Dazai asks, one eyebrow cocked.

You laugh a restrained laugh, nodding. “I wasn’t. But those kinds of tactics... they aren’t in my nature. Everything about that job was suffocating, and I just couldn’t do it anymore.” Dazai looks at you thoughtfully.

“It’s interesting, though. You carry your past line of work in all of your mannerisms. Any chance you were born into it?”

You nod again, “Not my choice.”

“What a coincidence.” He flashes a toothy smile, silence thickening the air. You scramble to break it, eager to talk about something else.

“...So? Any advice for my test?”

“I’d be a little more forthcoming if only you’d tell me the full truth,” Dazai responds, and your face falls.

“What do you mean?” Your strained voice comes out meeker than you’d like, and it’s Dazai’s turn to sigh. He leans back into his booth seat, as if a little distance might solve your unease.

“I lost someone. The best friend I’ve ever had. He told me I wouldn’t find what I was looking for in the Mafia, so here I am. And I’m pretty sure you have someone like that too.” How does he know? Why is he telling you this? Your hands––they’re clammy. You turn your gaze to your lap, realizing that he’d dismantle anything but the truth. There are no options but one.

“It was... a family member.” More silence. Is your nose getting red? You hope your nose isn’t getting red.

“The Mafia threatened them?” he prods.

“They were collateral,” you say slowly. You hadn’t expected to talk about them today. You hadn’t expected any of this from a coworker who kept you at several arms’ lengths for days. Another coworker might respond “that’s horrible,” or “I’m sorry for your loss,” but not Dazai.

“Dazai, do you ever wonder if it’s our fault they got hurt?”

“No,” he replies immediately. Then he hesitates. “I mean, yes, and for a very long time, but not anymore. Evil will do evil; if not to our loved ones, then to someone else.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right.

“But does it make it any easier?” You peer at him, hopeful, and he dismisses your expectations with a quick shake of the head. “Right.” Pause.

“But you’ve come to the right place. Unlike the Mafia, this is an environment where you can heal. Sometimes the wounds reopen,” he says, “but I promise you that your feelings will go towards something productive.” You swallow, blinking back would-be teardrops. The salty marinade seeps back into you.

Then, under your breath: “Okay.” “Thank you.”

“Of course. I could talk about this all day.” The tightness in your throat dissipates, the water in your eyes no longer threatening to spill.

“So, the entrance exam? I’ve told you everything now,” you pry. He thrums his fingers, amused.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I figured pretty early on that you would be okay. You’re gonna pass just fine without my help––I only wanted to get to know my new coworker better.” His fingers stop as he gauges your response.

“Wha–?” This guy! He played you, straight to the verge of tears..! Shoulder tense, you jump to your feet.

“Sorry to deceive you. I’ll see you upstairs, then.” Jeez, the bandaged bastard’s already heading out!

“Wait!” Cheeks flushed, you’re unsure why you’re calling out to him, but it makes him stops in his tracks.

“...Yes?”

“...You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?”

“I’ll think about it.” Dazai’s coy voice is all but reassuring.

“No, seriously,” you plead, eyes wide. “I really need this. God forbid someone else prompts a retelling of my life story.” He turns to face you.

“Then let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

He steps towards you, leaning in to whisper in your ear: “Meet me in front of this building tomorrow at 10 PM. There’s a restaurant I want to take you.” You feel your mouth open, then close by itself.

This is it. This is why he can’t look away from you. If he was only observing you, he could, would do it without being so obvious. You’re sure of it now. You replay each once-menacing occurrence of eye contact from the past few days in your head, and you notice something new. Hunger? Want? Even greed? You can see it in his eyes right now. Those eyes, they threaten to dance around, maybe even travel a bit... lower.

(You jest yourself. ‘Once-menacing?’ He’s still menace, still a danger.) He turns away, heading for the door again, not waiting for a response:

“Don’t be late.”

A chill runs up your spine. It’s a mix of fear, and bitterness, and panic, but most of all...

A growing anticipation.

#Dazai Osamu #bsd fanfic #bsd fic #dazai fic #dazai imagine #bsd x reader #bsd oneshot #dazai oneshot #armed detective agency #dazai fanfiction

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cinnamondazai · 7 years

Note

what about some tooth-rotting soukoku fluff like them cuddling (hurt/comfort is good too) or possessive!dazai bc daMN AM I DOWN FOR THAT and i love ur blog and username !! (its oddly satisfying idk why)

Hey there! I finally managed to get back to writing and I am very sorry that it took me so long. But here is your requested prompt! uwu

Dazai/Chuuyanote: following after the Valentine’s convo :Dwords: 2.547

Chuuya still couldn’t really understand what his earlier meeting with his former partner meant. Or better what Dazai had tried to imply on him, before taking his leave almost immediately. But the ginger-haired finally decided to not think about this idiotic bandage-wasting-bastard anymore and continued his assigned evening round. He really had better things to do, then to deal with some kind of suicidal maniac who was teasing him about this so called Valentine’s Day. Not that Chuuya even cared about such a day in general. It was just something commercials came up with to get even more money.

So he didn’t care about the fact that he didn’t get any chocolate from anyone either. Okay.. maybe he got something but that was from his ane-san and that didn’t count to be honest. A short thought crossed his mind again.

If Dazai had asked him of him getting chocolate from anyone, because he was jealous?

Chuuya clicked his tongue and gritted his teeth. Well of course not. The only thing which would have been interesting for the brunette was to make fun of the smaller one like always.

One hour later the redhead finally decided to finish his round and return home. The only thing he was now craving for was a warm bath and a good glass of wine to end this day. Well at least that was what he thought would be the best. But as soon as he was turning around the key in the lock of his front door, the blue-eyed frowned in irritation. Something wasn’t right here. Chuuya was pretty sure he had locked the door this morning before leaving to work and he already assumed who was responsible for this. There was only one person who was able - and even more, dumb enough - to break into his apartment.

And the martial artist was damn right, because when he opened the door he was greeted by a certain brunette, making himself comfortable on his sofa. One leg resting on the knee of the other, slightly bouncing while he was humming some kind of stupid melody. His trenchcoat draped over the backrest of the padding. Only until Chuuya slammed the door shut behind himself almost violently that he could see Dazai jumping a bit before tilting his head backwards and looking at him.

A wide, cheerful smile rested on his stupid face, observing his ex-partner from upside down.

Chuuya got lost of his coat before standing there, arms crossed in front of his chest. Two fingers impatiently tapping against his arm while a judging spark flickered in the sapphire orbs.

“What the fuck are you doing here!?” The smaller one blurted out angrily. Wasn’t it already enough that he had seen him some time earlier and now he dared to come here all of a sudden? He really should kill him right away.

“Ah, Chuuya, you’re finally home!” Of course Dazai was dodging his question. “I’m sorry but you left the door open, so I came in and waited for you!” The detective smiled again and rolled onto his front, crossing his arms on the cushions. Even from the distance he could see how the older one narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

“I locked the door, you prick.”

Dazai shrugged his shoulders and stuck his tongue out, well of course Chuuya would notice that he just pick locked the door. As if he wouldn’t have done this in the past already too. “Either way.. tell me what you want or get your fucking ass out of my flat.” He snarled at him, moving again to take off his beloved hat and set it aside carefully on the coffee table. Just having that suicidal freak around was already enough to get him short in his temper. And Chuuya wasn’t really in the mood to keep up with Dazai’s stupid ideas today.

For a while there was only silence until Dazai sat up again, sighing and searched for something in his coat pocket. He gestured to the seat next to him, telling the other one to sit down in this way. The redhead started to move out of a habit of old days. When they were still partner and he was listening to the orders of that demon who was now sitting here with a grinning face like he was getting a giant lollipop. “Dazai, if you waste my time… really, I swear-” Chuuya started when he actually sat down on the design furniture, annoyed as hell, before he got interrupted by the dark-haired man again.

Blue eyes eyed the little package suspiciously, moving from Dazai’s delicate features to the wrapped gift and back to those brown joyfilled eyes. “What is this?” Why should he even give him something? This didn’t make any sense.

“It’s for you. Take it.” At first Dazai seemed to be happy to give it to him, but then he literally shoved it into his hands, lips pursed into a pout. Blinking at him Chuuya finally took it and started unwrapping it. Whatever it was, the younger male seemed to be very insistent about this package. Although it wasn’t the first time that he was getting a present from him. To be honest, he got a lot of gifts in the last two years around his birthday. But well… you couldn’t really call it gift. Because most of the time it was just something stupid to tease him… it was nothing new to him.

This time, however, when Chuuya finished to tear off the paper he seemed to be taken aback.

“You… really got me chocolate?” He finally managed to put this sentence together and looked at the box. The ginger already expected the worst but not this… Dazai even remembered his favourite flavor. A short wave of maybe something like joy, something he didn’t feel in months regarding the stupid human being next to him, washed over him but faded away as soon as it came. “Wait… is this poisoned? If I am going to lie in a corner somewhere because of this and vomiting everything I had this morning, I’m fucking going to kill you.” Chuuya hissed and shot him a warning glare.

Dazai maybe felt a stitch from the assumption but he couldn’t be upset about it either. It seemed to be more likely that he would do something to make the other suffer again.

“Oh that’s really mean, Chuuya~. As if I would try to poison you.” He chirped but Chuuya didn’t seem to be very convinced by raising an eyebrow, so Dazai finally let his hands sink down again. “No it’s not poisoned, who do you think I am, midget?” Now it was the former mafia executive’s turn to be slightly hurt about the amount of distrust. Well Dazai couldn’t blame him for that but still. He really tried to make up for it.

“Alright, I believe you.” The smaller one finally said before turning around to him a bit more. “But only for today, you hear me, idiot?”

“Yeah yeah…”

Chuuya sighed and put the box on the table. Something still felt somehow off at the moment and maybe it was because of their former short conversation on the streets.

“Now, what do you really want? Don’t tell me you just bumped into me outside, got sappy and went off to buy me some chocolate.” Even more on Valentine’s Day, but he didn’t say that out loud. Usually Dazai wasn’t doing something out of pure generosity. He only did something if he was getting something in return.

“Oh yes, you could say that it was like this.” Of course it wasn’t like this and Dazai only tried to cover it up, but that wasn’t fooling Chuuya in any way. Even after years of being separated he knew him better as any other would. But before he could even answer on this statement, the brunette already wrapped his fingers around his wrist and pulled him onto his lap with a swift yank. Chuuya almost yelped in surprise as he struggled to keep his balance, his hands getting a hold of the broad shoulders.

Although Chuuya tried to not focus too much on it, but the warmth and enjoyable feeling started to creep into his body and bones, caused by the arms circled around his waist. Holding him close. His complete being craving for this wonderful feeling of being close to someone he loved, like a sponge absorbing all the water.

His already broken soul clinging onto every bit of it like it could heal his state of mind, like it would be able to repair all those dainty flaws in the already almost shattering glass.

He knew he should better not. That Dazai was maybe there for some time and then he would leave him again in the next possible moment. Leaving him alone with piecing together the shards of what has been himself a long time ago.

For a long while the redhead only stared into those chocolate brown orbs, losing himself faster in them like he would want it himself. Finally he got released from the spell when Dazai leaned in close to his ear. “But I’m also happy that Chuuya didn’t get any gifts for Valentine’s Day.” he whispered and Chuuya couldn’t do anything against the shudder which was running down his spine by the sudden changing tone into something darker.

“Hah?! What do you mean?” he finally got out after finding his composure again. The brunette turned his face, so his nose was slightly nuzzling into his cheek and jawline before his lips pressed a feathery kiss on his neck, chuckling to himself.

“Because I would have had to make sure the one who gave you it has no interest in you.”

“And what about it?! It’s not like you care about me anyway, shithead!” This was enough to make Chuuya lose it again, so he started to add pressure onto his hands to shove his former partner away. But it was useless.

“I do care about you. You belong to me after all.” Dazai didn’t make any move to get away, to be honest he even closed his arms more tightly around the slender frame. Pressing him more against his own body even if Chuuya started to struggle.

“You are not owning me, you fucking hear me! Get the fuck away, Daza- ah!” His body jolted when teeth sank down into his neck a bit more painfully like it would be needed. Well he didn’t have seen the bite coming. The dull aching faded away slowly, replaced by a wet and warm feeling as Dazai ran his tongue over the bruised flesh.

The gloved fingers curled more into fabric of the dark vest, shifting uncomfortably on the lap of the taller one, but at least he managed to keep a little whine behind his shut mouth. His lips pressed into a thin line when Dazai finally pulled back.

“I do not own you and to be honest I do not even wish to do so, you know.” Dazai sighed in a resigned way, making Chuuya again knitting his brows angrily. God, he fucking sounded so gloatingly but he decided to wait for what was more to come out of that fucking mouth of the stupid suicidal freak. “But you’re still my partner, right? And your partner should be the only one to give you a present on Valentine’s Day, am I right?”

Chuuya raised an eyebrow. That doesn’t made any sense either.

Shaking his head he tried to relax a bit more and the tight embrace around his waist started to get loose a bit more.

“So only from your partner right? And what about all those gifts you got from all those womens? You probably got a lot of it this time too.” Not that Chuuya really cared about that either, nope. Of course he wasn’t interested in Dazai and being so popular with the ladies. Not at all.

“Yeah. I threw them away.” It was not a really surprising answer but the disregard in his voice was just somehow not right.

“Why do you always do this? You even did that when you were still in the Mafia.” The blue-eyed male didn’t understand. He always saw the former mafia executive throwing all the gifts into the trash on this day. Saying that it was just some stupid tradition and that he didn’t care about it at all. It always made his heart clench, because secretely he had sneaked a gift into his office too. Of course he didn’t say at all that it was from him.

Dazai would only have used that possibility to tease him again.

“Because like I said… you should only get something from your partner.”

“You threw everything away.”

“Nope. I kept yours.”

Chuuya opened his mouth to retort something again, but those words caught him somehow of guard. A light tint of color spreading around his nose.

“Wha- … uh wait, I didn’t get any-” He started but couldn’t finish his sentence either because Dazai already made him shut up when one of his long fingers pressed against his lips to shush him. Chuuya was really tempted to bite him. Just because he could.

“I knew one of them was from you. I always did. And I kept every single one.” Again the cheerful smile appeared on the brunette’s face, totally satisfied with being able to surprise the other man. Like he always did despite from disappointing him too again and again. “I always told you I threw all away, because I liked to tease you.”

Chuuya tried to bite him for real, but wasn’t fast enough before Dazai removed his finger again.

“Tch, you fucking piece of shit.” The younger one didn’t comment on this insult either because Dazai already knew that the martial artist would never have admitted that he actually really got him something.

“Ohw… come on, Chuuya. Don’t start sulking now, hrm?”

“I’m not sulking! Shut the fuck up!” Chuuya then exclaimed and tried to punch the brown-eyed one into the shoulder, but Dazai got a hold of his wrist and pulled him in, so the ginger one almost fell against his chest.

“Make me.” The whispering voice sounded so tempting, smooth and so much more alluring as any drop of wine could ever be. “I still didn’t get a gift from you today.” A smug smile was dancing on those delicate lips of the detective when he leaned back against the backrest of the sofa, his arms releasing him from his embrace before his hands rested on those slender hips.

“Heh, as if you could expect one, bastard. The only thing you do deserve, is to get punished for making fun of me all those years.” With that Chuuya placed his hands on the backrest behind Dazai, straightening his posture a bit more from sitting on his lap. So the brunette had to lean his head back to look up to him, humming in satisfaction when he could feel the warm breath of his ex-partner brushing against his own lips.

“Ah, do I, mhm? Then.. it’s finally a Happy Valentine’s Day for you, aibou.”

#bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukoku #soukoku-writes #mywriting #valentine's day #fluff #possessive dazai #request #answered #unf #pls don't hurt me #this is pretty much trash #a bit late for valentine's day but ehhhhh

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