~ a little something about being Dazai’s favorite little executive ~
You’re smoking outside of the agency’s building again, and though Dazai hasn't physically seen you yet, he can sense your presence just from the brand of cigarettes you smoke. He’s lazily splayed out on the agency’s couch wearing his headphones, neither object meant to be used during work hours. But this IS work, Dazai thinks to himself. He’s awaiting a prophecy that will save the world again! He’s awaiting you. You two had had a few run-ins during past missions where the ADA had no choice but to work with the enemy… It was a natural dynamic, really. He would shamelessly flirt and you would kick his ass.
It was love at first sight.
Recently, you had started making house calls out of the Port Mafia’s never ending attempt at luring Dazai back into the fold. It was something he despised, especially knowing these were orders coming directly from Mori himself. He hated knowing a precious weapon such as yourself was being used for the dirtiest of work: Cowardice. Yet he found himself forgetting how vexing your reasons for visiting were the second he would start to actually interact with you. You always came in peace, flaunting your black trenchcoat and that indescribable scent that always mingled with the tobacco that lingered wherever you went. You were just as addicting as tobacco, and thank god he wouldn't be picking up another addiction. You were enough. The second he smelled you, his eyes popped wide open, along with a smile to match. He put down the headphones and rushed to the window, where he looked down at you, oh so nonchalant. His favorite thing to do whenever you came by was to slip out and not tell a soul, he figured the agency had enough on their plate without your silly self ruining everything. He will sacrifice his dedicated time solving mysteries and diminishing crime, he shall carry the sin of having you all to himself! All he had to do was announce he was on his way to die and no one ever batted an eyelash.
“... I thought you quit.”
You hear a voice call out from the alley that runs next to the agency. He slowly makes his way to fully reveal himself, leaning against the red brick. You don’t turn yet, but you can feel the smugness that radiates from him. You sigh as you ash your cigarette.
In an instant, the voice sounds far closer and deeper than before as a bandaged hand peeks from behind you and plucks the cigarette right out of your mouth.
“I’m a fan of the silent treatment, I’ll give you that. But I also like the silent treatment with a few added bonuses. Like being properly acknowledged. I’m sure your boss taught you proper etiquette when in the presence of your superiors, no?”
You turn, facing the looming figure that disguises itself as a man of virtue. You flash him a smug grin to match his.
“You’re not an executive anymore, Dazai. And for your information, I didn’t quit. Not that you’d ever know, you don’t know me at all.”
He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you violently while he tells you how he does in fact know you, because he has a fat file on every single thing that’s ever happened in your life sitting on his bed at home. He also knows you did in fact try to quit for exactly 5 days because he bugged that lovely little trench coat of yours while you nearly choked him out during your last meeting. He especially knows you’d run and hide if he told you how he listens to everything that happens to you. Everything you say and do when you touch yourself at night. Sometimes he even times his own release with yours as he sloppily pumps himself to the sheer possibility that he’s the one who you’re so pathetically calling out to during your late night solo sessions. He finds you lonely and sad, and it’s honestly the hottest thing about you. He has you completely mapped out in his mind, he could take you apart and put you back together completely wrong if he wanted to. It would be his pleasure.
Instead, he just flashes you that exaggerated smile of his as he stubs the cigarette out on the brick wall, tossing it over his shoulder once you finally pay him some attention.
“I was hoping you’d say that. It’s more fun when you get all insecure and feel the need to show off your super cool and useless title~”
You scoff at his remark, rolling your eyes as you fold your arms across your chest. Your silence is like ammunition for him, this time his voice drops to a whisper as he leans even closer, eyes looking right through you and you swear you could feel his touch against the leather of your coat.
“... But just to remind you, I did your job once...”
He suddenly steps back, holding the gun that was just tucked into your holster a second ago, spinning it in between his fingers like it were nothing but a toy. No, the real toy was already standing right infront of him. He murmurs one last time before he disassembles the gun and tosses it aside.
“... And I did it so much better than this.”
His words are laced with nothing but poison, and yet it leaves you wanting to hear more. The disrespect felt like a kiss, and it both revolted and excited you in embarrassing ways. You look off to the side, trying to hide the way your entire face is flushed while you fish out another cigarette to light. To have the attention of someone like Dazai was enthralling and devastating all at once. You didn’t know how long you’d have it for, and that’s what made you wish you could use what little time you got with him to bring him to his knees. It’s why you kept pestering Mori to let you keep hounding him. It wasn’t about what a great asset he would be to the Mafia, It was about how badly you wanted to be the puppet on his strings rather than the ones you were already tied to. You take a drag, and finally say something.
“You sound scared. You sound like someone who’s hiding behind a lot. Your little agency here can’t save what’s truly rotting inside of you. Can’t absolve you for shit.”
Dazai tilts his head as he digests your words, watching as the cloud of smoke engulfs you for a moment, and you reappear like his favorite apparition. He continues to stare with a blank, unreadable expression as that thought sinks in. You’re not entirely wrong. He runs a bandaged hand through his messy hair, speaking softly.
“You forgot deranged, hopeless, idiotic…”
This gets you to turn to look at him, a faint smile on your lips with a hint of sadness. It’s the first time you’ve ever smiled around him at all.
“You are a deeply selfish and cruel individual for trying to get me to sympathize with you.”
He smiles back, matching your wistful gaze.
“Isn’t that a part of my charm? You know, if you’re trying to make me hate myself, then you’re doing a wonderful job at it.”
You hum, shrugging as you watch the way your cigarette shrinks with every drag. Your tone is sarcastic, trying to be playful.
“Oh no, what ever will you do with all of this newly acquired self hatred?”
He shrugs back, mirroring your feigned nonchalance. That was the difference between you and Dazai. Yours was practiced, purely out of defense. You thought this was his way as well, before you got to really see him in action. But in truth, he was a black hole, chaotic and bountiful and ready to take everything from you at a moment's notice even if it meant nothing to him. There was a vast emptiness behind his narrowed eyes that made you feel small and fragile, you'd kill to know what he was truly thinking about right about now. That thought goes as fast as it comes when Dazai invades your personal space again, so close you can feel his breath on you as he takes your cigarette once more, but this time instead of putting it out on the wall, he opens his mouth and delicately puts it out on his tongue, not once looking away from you. You hear a quiet sizzle, but Dazai doesn’t flinch one bit. You watch in horror but as time goes on that horror turns into devotion as he lifts what’s left of it, leaving a small black circle on the center of his tongue and showcasing it for you like it were a revered performance.
You look at him like he's incoming traffic and you're the poor little deer he's about to tear to shreds. It's mesmerizing.
He lowers his face down to meet you, that strange look in his dark eyes again. He swallows the disgusting leftover ash, letting out a heavy sigh after. He speaks as if nothing ever happened.
“... I’ve got to get back to work now, precious. Geez, you’re such an enabler, making me crave a workload. I’ll see you next week? Let’s keep this up. I like a good routine!”
Dazai simply strides off and you’re left standing there, confused as to what just took place before you. Just as you’re about to turn around and leave, he walks right back up to you and whispers directly in your ear, his voice breathy and sensual.
“By the way, you should really think about quitting for real. There are nicer things to put in your mouth. Take your filthy trash with you, and tell Mori I’m not interested~”
He takes your wrist, opens up your hand and places the extinguished cigarette butt in your palm, before folding your hand closed again and placing it back to rest idly next to your torso. He boops the tip of your nose but you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him after that. His touch feels like pressing a lemon on an open wound, and you find yourself biting your lip as you are once again left alone with very conflicting feelings about this whole ordeal. What are you going to tell back at Mafia headquarters? That the man you're seriously crushing on just burned himself infront of you as an act of submission and you fucking folded? You squeeze your palm a little tighter, and take a deep breath before you finally bring yourself to move again.
You won’t hear from Dazai again until next week, but he’ll hear from you tonight from the comfort of his own home, thinking about what he could get away with the next time he has the pleasure of tormenting you. Maybe you'll even court him back.₊˚⊹♡
That same night, you throw away your pack of cigarettes.
