texas-bitch-yee
war cry of a yeehaw
BSD~The owl House~ demon slayer~ MLB~ and sadly sometimes hetalia sneaks out of the closet that I shoved that demon deep into
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All those ppl doubted him saying he never changed but I never doubted him
dazai being worried about sigma is something that can actually be so personal
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SHARING IS (NOT) CARING: PROFESSOR!DAZAI
✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: he has to teach your class for the day, but there's no way either of you will be able to focus with you sitting in the front row.
contents: fem!reader. college AU. professor x student. not proofread and written in under five minutes. i forgot how to write dazai, whoops. i'll probably write more in this AU later on bc i think it has potential. -1K words.
professor!dazai is well aware that he shouldn't be romantically involved with a student, but justifies it to himself by reasoning that you're not in his class, so it should be okay. even though your university's policy allows teacher-student relationships if they aren't in the same field, he still tries to keep it mostly a secret—after all, he wouldn't want to risk anything on your part.
but one day, your professor's absent, and luckily (or not), dazai's the only one available to step in for the day. imagine his surprise when he realizes that the class he hesitantly agreed to sub for today was your class, and as luck would have it, you sit in the front row.
"alright, class, i don't really know what you're supposed to be doing, but—"
"there should be an outline on the desk, sir," the girl next to you pipes up, smiling bashfully at dazai. he pauses and nods at her gratefully, doing his best to not make eye contact with you as he skims over the outline. you're equally as unsure as he is, because you never expected to be in this situation: with your boyfriend as your actual professor, even if it was just for a day.
"oh, great, i have to give a lecture," dazai grumbles, holding the papers in the same hand that's also holding a cup of steaming hot coffee. he sighs, eyes professionally surveying the room before finally settling on you. "would you mind giving me a quick summary of whatever you're supposed to be learning today?" he asks, hiding his little smile behind the cup of coffee he presses to his lips.
you nod, but right before you open your mouth, the girl next to you speaks up again. "i can do it, professor," she offers, beaming at dazai as if she's the personification of joy and happiness. and it's almost comical, the way dazai barely spares her a glance before returning his attention to you.
so you give him a brief summary of what your actual professor had said your class would be covering today, and dazai nods along, eyes focused intently on the outline in his hand. when you finish speaking, he stays quiet for another second before shrugging and sitting down at the teacher's desk. "i'll just find a video on it, 'cause i don't know enough to teach the subject. and honestly, i don't want to, either."
as expected.
twenty minutes go by with some youtuber's monotone voice droning on in the background, but instead of studiously taking notes (like you should be doing), you find yourself staring at dazai instead. his eyes are fixed on his phone, and it's a mystery to everyone in the room as to what he's doing. it's only when you pick up your own phone to check the time do you see a bunch of missed messages from him:
osamu: this class is so boring
osamu: how do u sit through this every. day.
osamu: i'm already falling asleep wtf
osamu: babe answer me :(
osamu: do you hate me :( if not answer me :(
you bite your lip in a futile effort to hide the smile that's threatening to grow on your lips, which would be suspicious, considering that there's practically nothing to smile about in this dull lecture hall.
you: shut up i'm trying to focus
dazai shoots you a subtle grin from his spot up front and replies quickly enough to make you wonder if all this time, he's just been staring at your name on his phone.
osamu: ik you're not paying attention
osamu: play me in 8 ball
you: no
"you in the front," dazai calls from his desk, clearly directing his voice towards you. he raises an eyebrow coyly, and continues, "shouldn't you be taking notes?"
the girl next to you snickers, not seeming to catch the look you give her. dazai clears his throat and looks at you pointedly, obviously trying not to show his amusement.
"okay," you mutter, shooting dazai a vicious death glare. he winks back at you, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"what was that?" he asks in response, pretending not to have heard you. it's embarrassingly obvious that he's just messing with you, and you wonder why you ever agreed to date this man in the first place—of course he'd pull something like this the one day he gets to have authority over you.
"yes, professor," you say with a witheringly forced smile. dazai's smile turns uncertain as he dips his head in reply and instantly picks up his phone.
osamu: i'm sorry pls don't make me sleep on the couch
you: i won't :)
you: you'll be out on the porch tonight :)
osamu: wait no
osamu: i love u
osamu: pls don't do this to me ilysm
"hey," the girl next to you whispers, drawing your attention away from your phone and to her uncomfortably close voice. "isn't professor dazai hot?"
she's not a quiet whisperer, and something about dazai's forcibly calm expression makes you certain that he can hear every word. "i guess," you answer noncommittally. hopefully, your tone doesn't betray how close you are to clawing out your eyes.
"do you think he's single?"
"no. and even if he was, i doubt you'd be his type," you reply with a sickeningly sweet smile. dazai coughs into his arm, obviously trying to hide the laugh he had just choked out. the girl's eye twitches, and you hold your smile until she rolls her eyes and looks away.
osamu: ur so funny i'll kms
you: ur still sleeping on the porch.
osamu: babe :(
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Thank you so much! This is so cuteee💕
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇-𝐔𝐏!*˚ .♡⋆ˊˎ -
𓆩♡𓆪 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄!
❝Hello can I do the valentines event please?
Fandom: BSD
Me: I’m a straight girl, I’m goth but I listen to all music aswell there is no song genre I won’t give a chance. I love fashion too 75% of the time I’m dressed in dark outfits with red lipstick but the other 25% is me looking like I time traveled or got attacked by a girly hello kitty monster. I do get stopped a lot in public bc of how I dress so I’d need someone with patience for that. I obviously love scary things and I’m not easily scared by movies or paranormal things. My hobbies are sewing and reading
What I look for in a partner: someone who is brave. I seem to have a thing for extraverts bc I guess opposites do attract. Someone who will make me cry from laughter. Someone who is like my best friend and I can feel 100% comfortable telling them anything. Is ok with cuddles bc I’m a touchy person. I love confidence in partners.
Thank you💕💕❞ @texas-bitch-yee
ੈ♡˳ 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄!
♡ the first thing that Nikolai notices about you is your fashion sense! You're not afraid to break social norms to dress how you like and neither do you feel the need to stick to just the one style and you rotate between unconventional fashion tastes. He likes that you're not someone who feels the need to conform to the world around them.
♡ he also likes that you're not squeamish or easily frightened and enjoy things like scary movies and the paranormal. He finds this interesting about you and, like how he feels about your fashion sense, likes how you don't shy away from these things and openly enjoy them.
♡ he's very happy that you're a touchy person because he s too! He might actually be quite quick to initiate these things too because that's just how he is with all the people he meets: he likes to be close, put his arm around you, give a lock of your hair a playful little tug, etc.
ੈ♡˳ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄?
♡ Nikolai takes you to a theme park! He's a thrill-seeker but knows he really ought to tone it down for the sake of this being a date and so a park full of roller coaster rides felt like an appropriate choice. And he's not only patient but very happy when people stop you in public to compliment you! He's the one that's got you out with a date, after all, and people are admiring you!
♡ he uses his ability to cheat any fair game and win whichever prize you want. He doesn't want to see you go without whatever you'd like, even if he has to cut a few corners and break a few tiny rules to do so. He believes rules are only made to be broken anyway.
♡ Nikolai is the sort who can open up very quickly to someone who understands him so this might be a first date for Valentine's day but with the way he acts around you, anyone would think the two of you have been in a relationship for a long time. He's got more than enough confidence and extroversion for the both of you and just loves the day of being in your company!
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Ah! My first opportunity to write about Nikolai! I hope you liked taking part in my Valentine's event!
missed the match-up event? try ships instead!
☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not:
∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ comms. ∘ taglist ∘ follow/reblog
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ᡣ𐭩 IN PAPER RINGS AND PICTURE FRAMES!
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: dazai has never been a true believer of murphy’s law, not until today at least. he swears the world is out to get him, all he wanted was to give you a nice valentine’s day... and maybe something a little extra special. (wordcount: 6.7k; sfw; very brief mentions of dazai's attempts, fem!reader)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: valentine's day fic for my sweetest boy
“What do you mean I can’t have the day off?” Dazai cries out, staring down at his phone in abject horror. A pillow is flung at his head and Dazai sputters out an apology to you before lifting his phone back to his ear, making a point to lower his voice as he says, “Kunikida-kun, it’s Valentine’s Day. Not even you can be this heartless.”
“Dazai!” Kunikida says, voice stern and sharp, and Dazai knows that the man is serious because he’s not spitting out insults about Dazai’s laziness and lack of drive to do anything but lounge around and avoid work. “Trust me. It brings me no joy to make you come in today—not for your sake, but for her’s. But we have to finish up the final preparations for Tanizaki and Atsushi’s upcoming mission before they leave for Kyoto tomorrow morning. Get to the office now.”
“Kunikida-kun,” Dazai complains, feeling a bit more panicked, “but I-”
“Maybe if you had actually done your work the past few days, I could’ve covered for you,” Kunikida spits out angrily. “But we have double the workload to finish by tonight because you’ve been slacking off the past week. Anyway, you shouldn’t be calling the day of asking for a day off. Be to the office asap.”
Kunikida doesn’t even wait for Dazai’s response, hanging up the phone and leaving Dazai standing in your apartment staring at his phone with parted lips and wide eyes, unable to comprehend what just happened. A noise escapes his lips, something caught between a scoff and a whimper, and Dazai thinks he might cry. He feels like a wounded puppy as he turns his attention over to where you’re still curled up in bed, eyes barely cracked open as you watch him with furrowed brows.
“Bella…” he pouts, making his way over to you so he can sit next to you on the bed. “They’re making me go into the office.”
You only roll toward him, eyes heavy with sleep, barely able to hold them open, and Dazai’s chest feels tight and warm with a lovely feeling that he’s only ever experienced with you. He reaches out to cup your cheek, fingertips grazing your skin—your lashes flutter as your eyes droop back shut, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feeling of someone seeking out his touch, trusting his hands as if they aren’t rotted and blood-stained.
“Then go,” you say with a yawn, leaning into his touch and pulling the dark comforter back up around your shoulders from where it had slipped down your body.
Dazai pushes his lip out even more. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I wanted to spend the day with you. You took off today too.”
“It’s okay,” you tell him and Dazai wants to tell you that it is decidedly not okay but he can’t tell you that because you’ll ask why and he can’t tell you without ruining everything. “I’m tired anyway. Someone decided to keep me up half the night.”
Dazai can hardly even muster the vulgar smile and dirty joke that should have come to him with ease, and evidently, that’s proof enough to you that something must be seriously wrong because you crack your eyes back open and peer up at him, concern slowly eclipsing the tiredness. Another thing he’ll never be used to: having someone genuinely worry over him even over the smallest things.
“What’s wrong?” you ask him softly, yawning again as you reach up to run your fingers through his hair. The comforter slides down from around your shoulders again, revealing the smooth skin of your bare shoulders and collarbone, and Dazai wishes for nothing more than to slip beneath the sheets with you, wrap his arms around you and bury his face into your chest.
Instead, he lets himself lean into your touch for a moment, eyes falling shut as he basks in the feeling of your fingers carding through his dark locks, nails gently scraping his scalp. He thinks he could stay in this moment forever, but alas, the serenity is utterly shattered when his phone starts buzzing again.
Dazai lets out a heavy exhale, dark eyes dragging from you to where his phone is laying on the bed next to him, seeing Atsushi’s name flash on the screen—surely having been told by Kunikida to follow up and make sure that Dazai is actually going to show up at the office.
“I just wanted to spend the day with you,” he says, a bit of a white lie, but he can’t tell you the real reason why he’s so disappointed. “He’s had it out for me ever since we got together. He’s jealous. This is his way of getting one over me.”
You smile lightly at him, pulling his face down a bit so that you can press your lips against his. Dazai sighs into your mouth, eyes sliding shut again as he kisses you, hand coming up again to cup your cheek as his lips move against yours. The kiss is slow and intimate, but far too short for his liking. You pull your lips away from his and Dazai gives you a wounded look when he tries to chase your lips only for you to dodge with a giggle.
“Go, Osamu,” you tell him and Dazai lets out a groan, letting his head drop to your chest. You toy with his hair and Dazai wants to tell you that doing that is only going to make him want to stay even more but he also doesn’t want you to stop so he decides against it. “The faster you get there and get your work done, the quicker you can come home.”
Home. Another word he might never get used to, his chest feels warm and fluttery as he tilts his head to the side so he can peer up at you. “Or I can just not go in at all and deal with Kunikida’s righteous fury tomorrow.”
“No,” you say firmly, tugging at his ear and making him yelp. “Go, Osamu. Don’t be ridiculous. Let me sleep.”
Dazai sighs, rising to his feet and letting you curl back beneath the covers. He wants to tell you that it’s not that simple and that he has a whole plan and he needs to follow it strictly otherwise he’s scared that everything will go wrong, but there’s no way of explaining that to you without having to tell you why which would ruin everything. Lamenting to himself, he shrugs his coat onto his shoulders and leans down to press his lips between your brows as you start to doze off again, brushing your hair behind your ear and letting his eyes linger on your face, skin glowing gently beneath the early morning sun.
It takes all of his willpower to step away from you and make his way out of your apartment, the ring in his pocket weighing more heavily with every step he takes.
•••
Dazai is really trying his best not to let his frustration spoil the night. The sun has already long set. What should have been a short day at the office finishing up paperwork ended up with him working overtime because of an emergency mission on the far side of the city concerning an ability user who could mimic appearances. Everybody else is still at the office trying to finish up preparations for Tanizaki and Atsushi’s upcoming mission in Kyoto but the President had taken one look at Dazai’s abysmal expression and told him to go home and be with you.
And Dazai should appreciate that, honestly, otherwise he’d be stuck at the office until god knows when, leaving you at home alone all day and all night on the one day he was planning to spend the whole day with you, but he’s so bitter that he can’t even summon the appreciation he should feel. You’re taking it in stride, of course, telling him that it’s okay and you’re not mad even though Dazai insists that you definitely should be. He called you while on the train with Kunikida, curled up in a seat pouting as he shot his partner dirty looks and mourned his shitty luck because of course this would happen on the day he was planning to make the biggest decision of his life, and yours.
Not that he could tell you that part, obviously.
Kunikida had been rightfully guilty, apologizing to Dazai for the day taking as long as it did and continuously shooting him ashamed looks, but Dazai couldn’t even bask in the knowledge that Kunikida is actually apologizing to him for making him work because he’s so frustrated about how the day has gone compared to what he had planned.
It’s still salvageable, he reminds himself, glancing down at his phone. The reservations he placed for the restaurant aren’t for another hour and a half. He has plenty of time to walk back to your apartment and change so he can take you out for the night, and the thought of taking you out for the night makes all of the frustration he’s feeling absolutely disappear, entirely overshadowed by the giddiness tingling through his limbs and the nerves that tighten his chest.
Tonight.
He twists his hands in front of his body, eyes catching on a convenience store at the corner of the block, a wide range of chocolates and flowers on display at the main window. With only a moment’s hesitation, he speeds up his pace, flinging open the door to the convenience store and beelining right to the dwindling Valentine’s Day display, weathered down by other frantic partners who were late to get their beloved gifts.
He lets out a relieved puff of air when he sees that your favorite flowers and chocolates are still available, although he’s a bit irate because the flowers aren’t as healthy as they should be, but he supposes it’s his own fault. Of course they're not going to be in perfect shape after being on display all day—if he wanted perfect flowers, he should’ve bought and brought them to you first thing in the morning.
Which he could have done if it weren’t for Kunikida, he thinks bitterly, deciding to place all of the blame on his coworker instead.
He drops the flowers and chocolates at the cash register, where an older man is working, and Dazai pulls out his wallet, flipping through to grab a few yen and place them on the counter.
The older man lets out a bit of a chuckle as he scans the chocolates and the flowers. “You’re a bit late, aren’t you, boy?” he notes. “Can’t have a happy lady at home, I know mine is angry as a bull. Hope you have more than this to appease the girl.”
Dazai winces and then mutters, “She’s not angry, I got pulled into work. She understands.”
It sounds pathetic even to his own ears. The man finds it amusing, evidently, from how he has to smother another laugh as he gets Dazai his change.
“Mine said she was fine with it too,” he says, “but I know I’m coming home to the cold shoulder. They never say what they mean, son.”
Dazai’s mood falters again, the giddiness and nerves slipping away into something colder because he’s feared since he left this morning that you would be bitter over him having to go into work today. And he knows deep down that you’re not like that, that if you say it’s fine, it really is fine most of the time, but a part of him can’t help but wonder if you’re only saying it because you don’t want to stress him out even more, because he’d made it abundantly clear this morning that he wasn’t happy.
“There you go,” the older man passes over his change and the flowers and chocolates. “Good luck.”
Dazai can barely even bring himself to give the man a proper thank you, making his way back out of the convenience stores with the flowers and chocolates in hand. His eyes flicker down to his phone again, catching the time before he continues down the street—the pit stop had only taken a few minutes, but Dazai is doubly anxious to get back home to you now. Not just because he’s worried that you’re not quite as okay with it as you’ve made yourself out to be, but also because he misses you and just wants to get back home to you, this day has been too long and it’s been especially hellish and jarring because he woke up this morning thinking he’d get to spend the entire day with you.
He’s ready to get home to you. He’s ready to take you out to dinner. He’s ready to take you down to the gardens and he’s ready to-
God, he’s ready to propose. After all of these damn years, he’s finally ready and he will not let a shitty day at work ruin that for him. He still has the whole night, and that’s what’s important because…
He stares at his hand, where a droplet of water had splashed against his skin. A dreadful feeling arises, dark and slithering as it spreads through him. He turns his gaze up to the dark sky—dark because the sun has set, yes, but he realizes now, with a pit in his gut, that it’s also because storm clouds seem to be gathering above the city. He hadn’t even noticed them in his pitiful spiral, nor had he noticed the way the wind had picked up.
He hardly has time to react before the rain comes down. Hard. Torrential. He stands on the sidewalk, too riddled with shock and disbelief to even move for cover. He stares ahead, wondering just how much more terrible this day can get. He’s never been a believer of Murphy’s Law or any of those other dubious, paranoia-induced “laws of nature,” but he’s severely starting to question his standing on it because of all days, of course it’s today where it seems that the entire universe must be against him.
He stares at the drenched flowers he had just bought you, crumpled and ruined from the force of the rain—he can’t even bring himself to feel frustrated, if anything he’s starting to feel a bit numb with exhaustion, half-certain that there’s a god up there sabotaging him. He tosses the flowers in a nearby garbage can along with the soggy box of chocolates in his other hand, and almost robotically, he makes his way to stand under an overhang, pulling out his phone to call you.
You pick up after the first ring, you always do.
“Osamu?”
“Can you pick me up?” Dazai asks, voice hoarse and empty.
“... Of course. Where are you?”
•••
The car ride has been damningly silent and Dazai feels bad because you’ve tried to make conversation with him but he can’t bring himself to speak. You’ve given up by now though, resorting to just focusing on the road, occasionally sparing him concerned glances. His head is starting to hurt and he fears that if he says something his voice might crack, so instead he just leans his head against the passenger seat window, letting the cool glass spread through his brain and ease the pain as you intertwine your fingers with his.
“We’re never going to make the reservation,” Dazai finally decides to speak up, voice sounding cold and distant even to his own ears. He nearly flinches—he would’ve preferred it to crack than sound so frigid and aloof.
The rain pouring down is torrential, lightning webbing across the dark sky and wind howling outside. Already, there’s been road closures, the twenty minute drive from the Agency to your apartment has taken twice as long as it usually takes and you’re still stuck in bumper to bumper traffic trying to take the long way around to the complex. The reservation is set for forty minutes from now, and it’ll take nearly as long to get to your apartment at this rate, and then Dazai still has to dry off and change from work, and then you have to drive to the restaurant which would've taken another twenty minutes without traffic.
Not that it matters anyway, the storm has already destroyed his plans for after dinner, which was the whole point of the dinner anyway, but still, he would have at least liked to bring you to a nice dinner for Valentine’s Day.
He wonders if this is all meant to be a sign, and the thought makes his chest ache because of course when he finally thinks he’s ready to take the next step in his relationship with you—one that he knows you’ve been waiting patiently for four years now but his own hangups about himself have stopped him from ever doing anything about it—this happens. And you’ve never pressured him about it, you’ve never even brought it up to him because you know the topic makes him uncomfortable, but he’s seen the way you look at all of the happily married couples who come into the cafe when you meet him there for his lunch break and he’s seen the way you sometimes glance down at your own empty finger and Dazai thinks he’s ready.
Against all odds, he thinks he’s ready—he bought you a ring, he planned out the whole proposal. Anxiety has been eating him alive all week as the days led up to this and now that the day is here, everything just goes wrong. He was going to bring you to the aquarium, because he knows you love to watch the dolphins and the penguins but that was ruined because of work. He was going to take you out to dinner at Le Normandie in Naka, because he’d seen you looking at the menu all longingly a few weeks ago, but that was ruined because of the road closures and traffic. And then he was going to bring you down into Yamashita Park, over to the flower gardens where there was supposed to be a band playing, because they always do on Valentine’s Day, and he wrote up everything, a long and flowery speech about how you’ve shown him what it’s like to really live, what it’s like to be human, but that was ruined by the storm.
All the preparations he made, all of the plans he had, all of it gone to ruin. Just like that.
And now he’s doubting how ready he actually is.
He really does wonder if this is a sign, a warning, even—higher powers telling him not to condemn you to a life with him because what sort of sane person would want a future with someone who’s spent most of his life trying to kill himself? Dazai has more issues than he’s worth and he’s still half-convinced that you don’t know what you’re getting into even though you’ve been with him for four years and have seen some of his most egregious lows. You’ve had to cut him down from the noose, fight him for the blade he held against his skin, and Dazai doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to fully free himself of the dark thoughts tearing apart his brain.
And you deserve better than a future with someone who’s fickle about living and unable to effectively combat the dark thoughts that plague his mind. This is the world’s attempt at reminding him of that before he makes a mistake.
You draw him from his spiraling thoughts as you squeeze his hand gently, lifting his hand to press your lips against his knuckles and Dazai feels even worse because why are you comforting him when he’s the one who ruined your Valentine’s Day.
“Let’s order takeout then,” you say easily, giving him a warm smile that should have made him feel more at ease but instead it only makes him feel worse because you shouldn’t have to settle for takeout on Valentine’s Day, especially when he planned such a nice day out. “I’m craving pizza. We can curl up on the couch and watch a movie instead.”
Dazai is unconvinced.
“Don’t give me that look,” you complain, but you’re still smiling and Dazai is finding it hard to keep up his sullen attitude with you looking at him like that. “There’s a new horror movie I wanted to watch, it’s available for streaming now.”
“This wasn’t how the day was supposed to go,” Dazai murmurs, finally intertwining his fingers with yours, rubbing a circle with his thumb over the back of your hand.
“Let’s make the most of it anyway,” you tell him, giving him another radiant smile, and Dazai feels a bit like a fool—he’s never listened to the warnings from higher powers before, so why the hell should he now? When you give him another reassuring squeeze as you rest your joined hands back down on the console, turning your attention back onto the road, his chests lighten and the creeping doubts start to trickle away.
He thinks that maybe, just maybe, it’ll all work out anyway.
•••
It takes less than an hour for his slim hopes to be crushed yet again.
Dazai stares at the food in front of him, too numb to even think to go chase after the delivery driver and tell him that he got the order wrong. You’re standing somewhere to the side, looking even more concerned—not because of the food, because of him, and Dazai knows that he should reassure you and tell you that everything is fine but he can’t even muster the strength to speak the words.
“It’s okay,” you tell him, reaching out to grab his hand. He doesn’t even intertwine his fingers with yours, but you’re undeterred, clutching his hand tightly, and he knows he’s being unfair to you but he just doesn’t even know what else to do. “Osamu, it’s fine, really. It’s just some food.”
“You don’t even eat any of this food,” Dazai says, voice tight and more than a bit frustrated. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take, the morning had started off so nice waking up to you fast asleep on his chest and every passing second since then has just gone further and further downhill. “Not one thing has gone right today, and they can’t even get one order done correctly. It’s not fine, I-”
Dazai’s eyes flutter shut when you reach up to cup his cheeks between your hands, squishing his face gently before leaning in to press your lips against his. He sighs against your lips, the frustration slowly starting to dissipate as you rest your forehead against his, stealing one, two, three more kisses before finally pulling back a bit to speak.
“It’s okay,” you reassure him again, and Dazai thinks he should be the one reassuring you because it’s your Valentine’s Day that has been utterly ruined but he only relaxes into your touch, soaking up all of the comfort you offer him. “I have pizza bagels in the freezer, we can throw them in the oven. Honestly, I’ve been tempted to make them all day, anyway, but I wanted to wait for you. It’s not a big deal.”
“... Yeah?” Dazai asks quietly, and you give him that soft, soothing smile that always puts his nerves at ease. He lets out another puff of air, nodding. “Okay, I’ll put them in.”
He steals another kiss from you, and then another, and the tension in his shoulders finally begins to melt when he feels you giggling against his lips, shooing him away to go put the pizza bagels in the oven.
Just as the thought crosses his mind, that maybe the night is still salvageable, he reaches for the door to your freezer and as his fingers curl around the handle, the power goes out. Thunder shakes your apartment complex, lightning webs the sky outside, and the wind outside becomes even more treacherous. And with it, the ability to use the oven to make the pizza rolls you want disappears.
You don’t say anything. Neither does he. Dazai thinks it should be comical at this point but he can find no humor in it, his throat tight and clogged with a million unwelcome emotions. He swears there must be someone up in the heavens laughing at him, finding entertainment in his misfortune and misery, and maybe he deserves it for all of the sins he’s committed in the past but he wishes that they wouldn’t drag you into this.
He casts a miserable look in your direction, unsure if you even notice because you’re already at work trying to fumble to light a few candles, and Dazai is so tired that he thinks he might die. All he had wanted was to take you on a nice day out, ending the night with dinner and a stroll through the gardens at Yamashita before finally gathering the nerve to get down on one knee in front of you, showing you the ring he’d been so nervous buying and-
And then he pauses.
Where is the ring?
The thought dawns on him so damningly that he feels physically ill, realizing that he hadn’t felt the familiar weight in his pocket earlier when walking home from the Agency, nor had he noticed it when he slipped his jacket off and laid it on one of the kitchen chairs. He rushes over to where he had left his jacket, panic spreading through him so intensely that he can hardly think straight, ignoring how you call his name, worried.
His chest tightens, blood running cold as he fumbles through the pockets of his jacket trying to figure out which one he left it in only to realize that it’s not snugged safely in any of them. Dazai thinks he might throw up, wondering if it had fallen out when he took his jacket off at the office, or if it had fallen out while he was walking to work, or when he stopped at the convenience store and pulled out his wallet, or when he was walking home. If it was the latter three, the ring is gone and he’ll probably never see it again, and he probably should take that as a sign from god to not condemn you to a life with him.
“Osamu?” you ask, voice soft and cautious as you make your way over to him, obviously sensing his distress.
Dazai wants to cry. Or maybe he wants to laugh. He can’t tell. He leans his elbows onto the counter, hiding his face in his hands, and then he decides to laugh, or maybe he’s crying, he’s not sure honestly, but his shoulders are shaking and you’re wrapping your arms around his waist. Dazai wants to melt into you and he wants to tell you just how abysmally terrible this day has been but he can’t without telling you what he had planned and that only makes him more miserable.
You coax his face out from where it’s hiding against his hands as you stroke his hair, pressing your lips to his shoulder, and then his temple, and as soon as he turns his face to you, you’re cupping his cheeks in your hands, thumbs wiping away the wetness streaming down his cheeks, and he realizes distantly that he must’ve been crying. God, when was the last time he cried before this? He doesn’t even remember.
“What’s wrong?” you ask him, keeping your voice soft as if to not startle him.
He doesn’t want to answer, so he doesn’t. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face into the crook of your neck, hiding himself from view again. As always, you take it in stride, wrapping your arms around him, one hand coming up to cup the back of his head and hold him close, lips pressing against the top of his hair. And Dazai is still so frustrated—he’s so frustrated and upset with himself and upset with the world, but as soon as he’s wrapped tight in your arms, it becomes increasingly hard to remain focused on all of the negative thoughts.
“I’m so tired,” is all he can say, voice hoarse and cracking, blunt nails digging crescents into your back as he clings to you desperately.
Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. He’s so tired. He just wanted this to be a nice day, and he wanted to finally push himself into giving himself to you entirely, because it’s what he wants. It’s what he wanted. He wanted to be yours and he wanted you to be his. Officially. But if the world really is trying to warn him against it, he’s thinking that maybe he should heed its warnings for once—for your sake, because he’s sure that anyone tied to him must be cursed.
“Let’s go lay down,” you tell him softly, carding your fingers through his hair gently. The motion is so soothing that it nearly makes his eyes droop shut, exhaustion seeping deep through his bones. “Os-”
There’s a harsh knock at your door.
Dazai’s eyes slide shut again, frustration coming back tenfold because he can’t even have a single moment with you without it going horribly wrong. You sigh as you break yourself free from him and Dazai longs to be back in your arms instantly, the weight of the day bearing down on him twice as heavily without you there to share the burden with him.
“I’ll go get the door,” you tell him, leaning up on your toes to press your lips to the corner of his. “Go lay down, I’ll join you in a second.”
“No,” Dazai says, capturing your lips in a real kiss briefly before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll get the door. You go change into your pajamas.”
“You sure?” you ask him, concern clear in your eyes as you look up at him.
Dazai only nods, pressing his lips to your forehead before ushering you off into the bedroom. You cast him one more worried look but Dazai shoos you away pointedly before making his way over to the door, frowning a bit because who the hell is showing up at your door this late? He thinks that if it’s the restaurant that sent the wrong food, then Dazai might just slam the door in the delivery man's face because the damage has already been done and Dazai is feeling petty.
But no. It’s not the delivery man standing outside your apartment with the right food this time. Rather, it’s an anxious looking Atsushi and a stressed Kunikida. Dazai’s eye twitches a bit—as if his day hadn’t been ruined enough with work, he swears to god that if they're about to bring even more to him on top of dragging him away from you all day, someone might die.
“Dazai-san,” Atsushi sounds absurdly relieved at the sight of the man but Dazai’s expression doesn’t budge, waiting for them to explain why they were interrupting his night with you. “We were just leaving work and-I wish I’d seen it sooner, I’m sorry-I would’ve come sooner but-I mean we tried to call and text but-”
Dazai has no idea what Atsushi is talking about, so he drags his eyes from the anxious boy up to Kunikida, waiting for a proper explanation. Kunikida’s lips twist when Dazai looks at him and Dazai thinks the man has no right to look at him that way after being the root cause of how awful his day.
Suddenly, Dazai catches sight of the familiar velvet box sitting in Kunikida’s hand, and he’s not sure what amalgamation of emotions rocks his body—fear, relief, apprehension—but he doesn’t like it, reaching out to snatch the box from Kunikida and cradle it to his chest, watching the two of them uneasily.
“You moron,” Kunikida snaps, careful to keep his voice low, but not low enough because horror shoots through Dazai when Kunikida continues with, “why didn’t you say you were-”
“Lower your voice,” Dazai says, panicking, casting a glance back toward where you’re still getting changed in the bedroom.
“Why didn’t you say you were proposing?” Kunikida finishes in a whisper, voice still a sharp hiss. “If you’d mentioned that I would’ve-”
Dazai feels flustered, and he does not want to answer and admit that he hadn’t thought it would make a difference. Luckily—or maybe unluckily, he concedes—he doesn’t have to answer because he hears you making your way out of the bedroom.
“Osamu?” you call curiously, “Is that Kunikida-kun and Atsushi-kun?”
Dazai’s eyes widen when he realizes that he has nowhere to hide the ring as you come around the corner from the hall. He promptly slams the door in both of his coworkers’ faces without even the sparest thank you, ignoring their surprised yelps as panic begins to spread through him, doing his best to hide his hands behind his back when he turns around to face you.
And then-
Then he hesitates.
The excuse on his lips about last minute mission briefing or Dazai having to sign off on a time-sensitive report dies when his eyes fall upon where you’re standing, dressed in your fuzzy pajamas with your arms wrapped around your waist and a confused expression painted on your face. The only lighting in the room is the few dim candles that you set up once the power went out, and the soft ambience casts an ethereal glow over your face. He thinks, not for the first time, that you might be heavenly, an angel sent to guide him on the path of good because how could he ever allow himself to fall back into his old, tainted habits without tarnishing you as well, and tarnishing you is simply unacceptable.
All of the doubts that have risen throughout the day wash away as he looks at you, and he wonders, briefly, how he could’ve ever had any doubts? Dazai, for all of his insecurity and fears of commitment, wants to spend the rest of his life with you. He does. He knows it so thoroughly that he can feel it in his bones; he doesn’t want anyone else, he doesn’t want to be alone, he wants you. He wants to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night, he wants to lounge around on the weekends because you’re both too lazy to get out of bed and do something productive, he wants to be there for your lows when you’re so overwhelmed with work that you can hardly think straight much less properly take care of yourself and god, against all odds, he wants you there for his too, when he feels like he’s being consumed by his own thoughts, spiraling down a dark and never-ending train that might not be as dark and never-ending with you there as a light to guide him out of it.
“Marry me,” he says, breathless, voice laced with desperation.
You stare at him, eyes wide. He stares back, frozen, unsure of what to do because this was not how this was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be extravagant, romantic, like you deserve, not some half-assed spur of the moment proposal. The words hang heavily in the air between the two of you, but he forces himself to push forward, too far in deep to back out now.
He fumbles as he tries to shift the velvet box into one hand to bring it in front of him and show you. He drops it. Of course he does. Everything else has gone wrong today so why not this too? But still, he pushes forward, kneeling down to scoop up the ring box and prop himself up on one knee in front of you, throat swollen and tight as he opens up the box to show you the ring inside of it. He’s holding it backwards. Of course he is. So he fixes it promptly, swiveling it around with trembling fingers, waiting anxiously for you to respond. Or even just react.
You haven’t budged from where you’re standing a few feet away.
What if you say no? God, the thought hadn’t even crossed his head but now his heart starts to sink from his chest down to his feet because you’re not moving and you’re not saying anything and he doesn’t know if you’re just processing his words or if you’re trying to figure out the best way to reject him.
He starts to fumble out words. “This was not how this was supposed to happen,” he admits, speaking so quickly that he can barely understand himself. “It was supposed to be a nice day, we were gonna go to the aquarium to see the dolphins and penguins, dinner at Le Normandie and then go down to the gardens at the park, and there was supposed to be a band and flowers and I had a whole speech ready and it definitely was not supposed to be like this but everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong, but I want to marry you and I don’t want to wait anymore, and I’m sorry that this is a shitty proposal, you deserve better than this. And I’m probably making it worse, I should have just waited for another day, but-”
But please say yes, he wants to say, but he can’t force the words out; he can only stare at you, expression more open and vulnerable than he thinks he’s been in his entire life. And he realizes, a bit horrified, that you could ruin him right now—he’s laid his heart out on a platter and it’ll only take one swift motion for you to crush it in hand and he thinks he’s terrified but-
All of the air is ripped from his lungs with a harsh oof. In an instant, his back is to the floor and you’re on top of him and Dazai is staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes, trying to figure out what exactly happened.
“You’re so stupid, Osamu,” you cry out and to Dazai’s horror, he realizes that you’re crying, hands propped up on his chest to brace yourself up, tears pooling in your eyes and streaming over your cheeks and dripping onto his own face. “Is this what you’ve been so upset about all day? I don’t need any of that, all I need is you.”
Oh. Dazai can’t breathe, and it’s not because you’re on top of him it’s because your words are processing and he’s realizing that-are you saying that-
“Of course, I’ll marry you, you idiot.”
He lets out a sharp exhale, a puff of air that he does not have in his lungs, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling—elation, relief, exhilaration, all of the above—but he does know that he’s never felt anything like it before and he doesn’t want it to go away. Ever. Dazai swears he sees a flash of a camera from the window, and he swears doubly that he hears Yosano let out a hoot of a cheer and Kunikida hushing her, dragging her away, but he can’t even bring himself to care.
Yeah, Dazai thinks to himself, eyes sliding shut as he rests his head back against the floor, the first genuine smile of the day tugging to the edge of his lips as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, clutching at his shirt, sniffling and hiccuping over each breath. He wraps an arm around your waist, using his free hand to slip the ring out of the box and slide it onto your finger. You cry harder. He kisses the top of your head, wondering how he could ever have any doubts or hesitations.
He could definitely spend the rest of his life like this.
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nothing but the most sweeping romantic gestures this valentine's day
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This line has me wondering if dazai has bangs because his forehead is all fucked up bc of this 😭
‘We used to pull that trick all the time’ I hate them
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“Drunken Stupors”
- In which your drunk and Dazai holds you together.
It’s two am and you’re at Dazai’s doorstep.
It’s two am, and Dazai’s staring at you with that same calm smile, revealing both everything and nothing, a collective mystery in which you couldn’t even begin to fathom.
“Y/N” He said, and God his voice was like syrup, the same honeyed tone in which you use to melt over.
His hair was messy, much too messy for a man so carefully concealed, you hold back your undying urge to thread your finger through it, to selfishly force him back into the reclusive “fine” act in which you claim to hate.
“Dazai?” You whisper, staring.
You’re drunk he realises and he raises a seemingly mocking eyebrow, leaving you seething underneath the facade of your own terribly presented wellness.
He grins, it lights up his face and you fall breathless over just how happy he looks, the shadows and hollowed cheeks of the past faded in the genuine bliss of his smile. A genuine bliss trained into the crevices of his face, fake and unrelenting.
You’re sure you look horrible right now, a pathetic, swaying, drunken mess reminiscent of someone who can’t handle their drink nor their emotions.
You had left the bar at least an hour ago, and in your stumbling haze, had decided to go to the house of the man you had drank yourself silly over.
Your hands feel clammy, the sick, burning sensation of bile rises up your throat. And you’re forcing it back down again, cringing, squeezing your eyes closed for a brief, nauseous moment.
It’s snowing, the ground glows in irredentist reflection, it breathes a crisp, almost heavenly exhale onto your face as it joins you in peeking through his door. Cold crusades onto the apples of your cheeks and rests delicately on the expanse of your knuckles. Soothing you, numbing you.
You should sober up soon.
“You ok?” He’s looking down on you, you hate how insignificant you feel to him in this moment.
A mere smudge on the front of his grandiose intentions.
“M’fine.” It comes out slurred.
You don’t know what to say and your tone reflects that, it’s bitter and awkward and you can’t breathe when he looks at you like this.
It’s not cruel, nor was it fond.
He looked at you as a stranger, as if he doesn’t know how much you truly care for him.
You wobble, and he’s moving forward, placing his hands on your shoulders, forcing stability upon your shaking frame.
Dazai wasn’t an uncertain man, nor was he hesitant, in this moment however, a downright uncomfortable expression ripples across the pools of his eyes, and you curse yourself for always drawing out his exceptions.
You didn’t want to make him uneasy in his own home, you just wanted him to let you in.
The back of his hand lifts to your face, and you almost flinch.
He tuts at you, tapping the back of his pointer finger on your cheek. “You’re cold.”
You try swat his hand away, but his hold remains, burning your cheek, knuckles indenting your skin.
You sniff, “M’not that cold.”
He’s staring at you again, holding you upright but not trying to close the distance between the pair of you. You wonder if he was going to withdraw his grasp and slam his door in your face.
And if you were to be so incredibly honest with yourself; you wouldn’t blame him if he did.
“I jus’ need a moment.” You allow you head to rest on the back of his hand, closing your eyes in the weightlessness of your reliant balance.
And Dazai blinks, his eyes darting around your face, absorbing the details of your misery, shown to him by the crux of your furrowed brow.
“A moment hm?” His hand moves, flipping so his palm his holds your cheek, his bandages remind you of your pillows and you melt into his hold.
It’s intimate, a bosom that impeaches your drunken state and your letting him hold your head as you hum softly.
“Don’t go falling asleep.” He warns with a sigh, his voice delicately cautious, accepting the fate of your drunken visit at last.
You nod but say nothing.
He watches you as you breathe.
“I wish…” You pause, keeping your eyes hidden, “Wish you would stop being so..”
“So?..”
You can’t think like this.
Can’t create thoughts when the man you long for is holding you at an arms distance, refusing to move you closer to him, forcing you further and further away- as if the thought of loving you was nothing but foolish distraction.
The conflict in his eyes battles with the silence of your unfinished stint, surrendering itself to the unrelenting beat of his heart that drums in concealed curiosity.
Because Dazai, despite his every action acting in contention to the basic fundamentals of man, is human.
And humans are, fundamentally, thralls to hope.
“Y/N.” His voice startles you, forcing your eyes to open, focusing on the beauty of his stagnant face.
The snow crunches beneath you as you move closer to his hand, the alcohol in your body morphing your perception and making you bold.
So bracingly bold.
“So hard to love.” You finally whisper, looking at him as best you can despite the blurring of your vision.
And he pauses, his mouth parted, and eyes widening ever so slightly.
He’s smiling at you now.
It’s mocking, it’s not real, it never is with you, you want to die.
“So hard to love?” Theres a cruel tilt of humour in his voice “Well Y/N, I’m flattered-”
“Stop that.”
You face scrunches up, and you step back, out of his hold, feeling raw embarrassment crawl up your slightly hunched back, flushing your face.
You bite your lip, a hollow feeling bloomed in your chest, flowering into an emotion akin to dread, a metallic warmth bursting across your taste buds.
Tears cut your vision, glazing your eyes with a painful reflection of your turmoils.
You sniff, and raise a hand to wipe them.
Your stupid, and your drunk and you’re hopelessly in love with Osamu Dazai.
Osamu Dazai, who’s now leaning against the frame of his door, his head tilted, the smile dropping as he regards you.
“M’sorry.” You say, your voice breaks, “Not thinking properly s’all”
“Ah.” He nods, pushing himself properly to his feet, walking towards you. “Well it is one of your biggest flaws.”
Snow crunches beneath the pressure of his steps, sounding out the pattern of his movement.
You blink and his thumb is pulling the bloody lip from under your teeth, wiping away the traces of your own bodily harm. It stings under his touch.
His terrible bandaged touch.
“Coming to a man’s house when you’re so incapacitated..You’re almost asking for trouble.” His eyes shine, and you wonder what that means.
“You’re too good of a man to harm me Dazai.” You whisper, a tear falls from your eye and onto his hand.
“Too good?”
You’re too trusting, far too willing to open your heart to those around you, so much that it blinds your judgement and clouds your heart with a romanticised acumen of humans.
You know nothing about him he concludes.
Know nothing about how your blood on his thumb sends him into a nostalgic frenzy of being sixteen years old, desperately searching for a meaning.
Dazai presses down on your lip harder, you wince.
“What a stupid girl you are.” He breathes.
And your eyes droop, unable to bear the burden of his gaze.
His hand leaves your face and rises to the back of your head, and you feel yourself being pushed forward, a tired yelp escapes the cracks on your lips as you fall.
And Dazai keeps his face neutral as he embraces you.
Your arms circle him, cling to him, holding back the grotesque sob burning the back of your throat for the sake of persuing the silence of his actions.
Is trustfulness a sin?
It’s a question for the heavens, prayers whispered under baited breath as he holds you to his chest, one arm resting around your middle, the other to the back of your head, unmoving as your body limply lies against him.
Tired thoughts evoke a moment of genuine brevity and he lets himself merge into you.
Your drunk he concedes.
Anything he does in this moment will not matter, for by the time you awaken, hung over and ashamed, he will still have the upper hand, he will have the upper hand because he is not the one whimpering in the arms of another, willing themselves not to cry.
You will still be as awkward and as shy as you were before this conversation and things will return to how they were yesterday.
Everything will be as it was, and Dazai is sure of it. In face of his own trepidations, Dazai knows more.
His mind whirls, whips thoughts around like a storm, and you’re sure feel him tighten his arms.
You can barely hold yourself upright, exhaustion seeping out of your body and you close your eyes. Lifting your head upwards, revealing your face to Dazai.
He looks down, looks at your concealed eyes which open at the feeling of his lips pressing against the cold skin of your forehead.
He doesn’t let you look at him, pushing your head towards his shoulder again and you almost protest.
“Shh.” He lets out, sensing your perplexity.
And you do.
You say nothing.
feel free to leave a request <3
masterlist here <3
A/N : everytime i write for dazai i always make the ending bittersweet like i cannot stop doing it- anyway i have so so so much coursework due for tmrw and i physically cannot finish it today because i’m working till 10 :( this sucks. anyway i love you and thank you for reading !!!!!
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save a horse
#my aesthetic#gothic cowboy#happy more ppl are jumping on bc this is how I look living life#being from texas sucks politically#but I’d the most amazing thing animal nature and cowboy wise#also ghost wise. so many hauntings in my area
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Same. A tiny bit of stress but nothing keeping me from focusing on daily life task. And when I opened it to read the little stress I had disintegrated and turned to peace. If anything I’m more nervous about what will be announced Oct 10th. I’ve been stressing hoping it’s a movie announcement and not an update announcement for the game they’re making.
This has to be the most relaxed I’ve ever been for a chapter release
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Ughhhh I love this light novel so much. I’m so upset about what happened to it bc of bones. So many good moments taken out or ruined 😭 probably my favorite light novel tbh. I’ll never get over how they changed it. I literally did a school project over it.
Life changing, that’s what these lines were
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*opens door and runs in fear of the powerful skateboarding chicken*
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I Drank Dry the River Lethe
Osamu Dazai x gn! Reader
wc: 1.2k
Warnings: none
Dazai is in love with you, he has no idea. He just knows that you make him feel…weird.
Dazai doesn’t know what’s happening to him, as far as he’s aware, you don’t have a special ability. But, that has to be the only explanation for how his heartbeat quickens whenever you walk into the room, how his breath is stolen every time you smile. How every accidental touch makes him yearn for more, like a siren song he can’t get out of his head, even if he were to jump overboard.
You were always so kind to him, a far cry from Kunikida who you claim to be best friends with. But it’s Dazai who you always hand a cup of coffee to, Dazai who you always save a pastry for. He can’t bear it, your kindness. Like he doesn’t deserve it. He’s sure you know, and yet….you still smile at him. Your smile is so bright it could rival the sun, and Dazai wouldn’t mind burning in its ultraviolet rays.
He’s staring at you now, as you sit on the corner of where Atsushi is sitting, talking animatedly at him, gesturing so wildly with your hands you nearly hit yourself in the face. You laugh, embarrassed. It’s like music to his ears, he wants to record the sound and play it on repeat over his headphones so he never forgets it, so it's ingrained into his brain.
“Dazai,” you say, “want anything from the shop?”
He blinks, taken out of his thoughts by the lilt of your voice. “What?”
You're next to him now, the scent of your body spray nearly intoxicating to him. He wants to press his nose to your throat and drink it in.
“The shop, I’m going to pick up lunch from there. Do you want anything?”
He stands, stretches and yawns. “I’ll just come with you.”
You roll your eyes, but smile still. “Well, don’t make it sound like such a chore, I could’ve offered to get you nothing.”
Dramatically he leans against your shoulder, hand over his forehead, feigning a sorrowful swoon. “And starve me to death? How cruel, even for you.”
You laugh, Dazai loves making you laugh. He craves it, almost, wants to keep doing it.
“You’re so dramatic, but alright, come along.”
He’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked, but for now, the shop down the street would do.
You say hello to a bunch of people as you pass by, almost all of them complete strangers. You even hum as you walk. He’s so content watching you, that he almost runs into a lamppost.
You pull him away just in time and frown. “It’s not good to have your head stuck in the clouds all the time. What if you got hit by a car?! Dr. Yosano wouldn’t have been able to heal you!”
“Awe, you’re worried about little old me?”
You let him go. “You know what, actually? Next time you daydream I’m letting you hit the pole, and I hope you get the ugliest bump on the middle of your forehead. And when you beg and plead with me for an ice pack, I am going to say I told you so.”
You let the silence linger for one moment. “And then I’ll get you the ice pack.”
He laughs, absolutely enamored with you. “I knew you enjoyed my company.”
“Of course, that’s why I get gray hairs trying to keep you around. Now, come on. I’m starving and I want to grab a good onigiri before they’re all gone!”
You grab his hand and pull you along and oh. He thinks this is the first time you’ve touched him on purpose, the feeling of your hand so impossibly warm in his he doesn’t know what to think or feel. He wants to pull you into him, wrap you up in his arms and never let go. He could die in your arms and nothing else would ever be more perfect.
Dazai knows what he feels when he looks at you now, the shortness of breath, the skipping heart. It is no spell, no special ability.
He is in love with you, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, a nail to a magnet.
Suddenly, all he wants to do is tell you, the need clawing his way to the top of his throat, being stopped only by sheer will. He will not tell you this in a shitty convenience store, where anyone could overhear. No, he won’t do that. Dazai has some semblance of romance after all, even if Kunikida thinks the opposite.
“What do you want?” You ask, observing the onigiri with a seriousness that otherwise would’ve made him chuckle, had his very being not been shaken to the core.
His eyes land on the first bento he sees and he grabs it. “This is perfect.”
You raise a brow. “Are you okay? Did you actually hit your head and I didn’t see?”
Dazai rolls his eyes. “I’m just really in the mood for….salmon.”
He absolutely was not in the mood for salmon, but you shrugged and continued perusing for the items the rest of the ADA had asked for. He even managed to regain some state of being long enough to help you carry the bag back to the agency.
You grin brightly as you enter the office. “Lunch! And I can say with one hundred percent certainty that nothing got crushed. Except for Dazai, almost.”
“I’m telling you, I could’ve avoided any oncoming traffic.”
You roll your eyes, but smile at him in exasperation. “Okay, okay. You’re tough as nails.”
Dazai shoves the whole piece of salmon in his mouth to prevent the feelings from spilling out. He nearly chokes.
You hand him a glass of water, eyes crinkled in the corner from amusement.
***
It’s just you two in the office at the end of the day. The atmosphere is almost stifling now that he has the perfect chance to confess.
It’s funny, how easily he was able to proposition other people that he thought were perfect candidates for his dream. But now that it was you, someone he knows, that he cares for….he almost can’t get the words out. Everyone he’s ever propositioned pales in comparison to you, you have wholly ruined him; there’s no one on earth like you.
You’re nervous as you turn to him. “I know why you're acting weird.”
“You do?” Shit.
“You found out about my feelings for you. I knew I was too obvious.”
Dazai blinks. “Huh?”
Realization that he didn’t know dawns on you and you rush to leave, but he grabs your arm and pulls you into a desperate kiss, like if he didn’t kiss you in that moment he would explode.
Your lips against his are a religious feeling, something to worship. He wonders if he could get amnesia so he couldn’t experience them for the first time over and over again. Wonders if, perhaps, he’s already dead and this is his eternal heaven.
Knows he’s alive once you pull away and laugh, eyes shining in disbelief and joy. He kisses you again. You smile into it.
Dazai spends a lot of time doing that until he’s certain he’ll never get tired of it.
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can we talk about the fact that it was teruko who killed fukuchi. and she cried and she gave fukuzawa the sword and "you killed him. do you understand?". my dearest girl. i can't believe girls saved bsd.
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Chuuya consciously shooting Dazai right the moment his speech got emotional is just such a Soukoku thing. These damn lovable idiots...
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