Guardian Angel |Dazai x Reader|

Pairing:Osamu Dazai x Reader

Summary: Dazai has been weirdly absent from the Agency the whole week. One night, after working late you notice that the light in his room is on. But, he doesn’t seem to be answering you.

Warnings:Mentions of Suicide. Otherwise this is purely a Fluff Fic.

Word Count: 2 011

A/N: This would have been out earlier if it weren’t for two reasons. 1) Dazai is a very complex character to write.( I sincerely hope that I have done him Justice)  2) my computer shut down before posting and nothing was saved. But otherwise Please enjoy!!

Important to note: This occurs between Season 2 and 3. In other words it’s after the Guild arc but before the Cannibalism arc. NO Season 3 Spoilers. 

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The night air is icy. A chilling breeze swept through the area and brushed across your skin as you walked home from the Agency building. Today, you worked overtime trying to piece together information from your latest case. Unfortunately you’re not as observant as Dazai or Ranpo who simply glance at a crime scene and pull out handcuffs. Speaking of Dazai, he took the day off unannounced, again. In fact, the whole week he’s been mostly absent, more than usual. Kunikida is going to blow a gasket soon.

You walk quickly towards the Agency’s dorms, enjoying the night air but wanting to get inside as soon as possible. The chill is almost unbearable and the breeze feels piercing. You simply can’t wait to curl up in a blanket with a hot cup of hot chocolate. With this idea in mind you pass by the 24/7 market and purchase two muffins for yourself. With the late night treats in hand you head home and before you know it you’re ready to climb the stairs of the dorms to get to your room. But, suddenly you pause. You take a step back and look down the row of rooms to the very thing that has caught your eye. The last room had a bit of light peeking out of the window. It belongs to Dazai.

You haven’t seen him for most of the week and seeing him up so late is somewhat surprising. Although, it’s not the fact that he’s awake but rather that he’s there at all. Dazai has been like a ghost the past week, impossible to get a hold of and almost nonexistent. Often, his disappearing act results in no one able to find him at all but he’s right over there.

You turn on your heel and head towards the door. What are you going to say? What’s the plan of action? God knows. You just want to see him. Perhaps you could just ask where he’s been the whole week? The week has been impossibly dull without him. Having Dazai at the office normally creates it’s own firework show with his firecracker personality, but he’s surprisingly dependable and you’ve missed him greatly.

You knock on the door twice. Two quick raps that feel deafening in the late night.

Silence.

Not a peak behind the door. You knock again and call out, “Dazai, it’s me.”

Nothing greets you back. 

Perhaps, if you were Kunikida you could understand why he wouldn’t want to talk to you but you genuinely feel as though you’ve become close. He’s almost always goofing around but you’ve worked a few cases with him and are awed by his intelligence and the recent intervention with the Guild unearthed a lot of his past. You feel as though you’ve finally seen how complex he truly is. Finding out that he was once part of the Port Mafia was surprising but it also explained a lot of his actions. He revealed a lot to the agency with the air of nonchalance but you knew that it probably didn’t sit comfortably with him to dig up old unpleasant memories. Back then, you’d felt as though a lot of missing puzzle pieces had finally fallen in front of you.

“So… the Port Mafia huh?” you had called out to him. You were alone at the time, both sorting through case files in the office. The words came up because you were curious, no one else had quite spoken to him about it.

“Ahhhh, I can tell you many stories if you like, but I am afraid that they are not very pleasant to the ear.”

You smile at him and shake your head. He seems to have misunderstood your intentions.

 “No, that’s not it, I’m just thinking that it makes sense in a weird way. You were never someone they just picked off the street.”, you said and turned to face him. “It’s okay Dazai, truthfully, your past doesn’t matter all that much as long as you’re here looking at a better future.”

He had said nothing, and you didn’t push for him to say anything at all either. You had simply worked in silence until the others had returned. The words were simple but you felt that it needed to be said. You cannot imagine what it must feel like to have a messy past but truly the Agency members would never hold it against him. You felt the need to reassure him.

Your relationship together had always been full of witty banter and flirty comments but after the ordeal, you felt as though he’s become more genuine and open with you. You two, like peas in a pod when working on a case, able to silently communicate and send meaningful glances at one another. Many times you thought to yourself that you would both divulge in a private romance.

 But, he always seems to draw away from you at the last second.

Now you stand in front of his door met by absolute silence and you’re feeling somewhat frantic. You look down at your purchased treats and try a different tactic.

“I have Muffins.”

I’m literally putting my food on the line you asshole, you think to yourself. Let me in, it’s freezing.

After another few minutes of silence, he still hasn’t responded. You have also come to the decision that perhaps the muffins aren’t too great a loss anyway. After all, he probably hasn’t been eating. You reach for your bag, wondering if you should attempt to break in with your lock picking kit that you carry around. A precautionary measure. Suddenly, it hits you: Dazai is always going on about suicide this and suicide that. A shiver of fear crawls through you. 

Screw it. He can get mad at you later.

You reach for the door and quickly fiddle with the lock only to find that it’s already unlocked. 

You careless bastard. You better not be dead.

You quickly wing open the door and step inside. You desperately search the room. The room is mostly dark and the only light source is a desk lamp. At the desk, he’s slouched unconscious. A pen loosely sits in his one hand that is propped up slightly, hanging awkwardly over his head. The room is freezing.

You rush forward and reach for him, he’s ice cold. Your heart sinks like a stone. And tears of panic have begun to well up. He wouldn’t do this. He couldn’t possibly.

Please Dazai, don’t leave me.

You’re on the verge of tears when you gently place a hand on the lone bandaged wrist lying on the table and find a very steady pulse, but his hands are still bitterly cold. You swallow down the lump in your throat and realize that he’s simply asleep and simply very cold. You attempt to calm yourself. He’s alive. You take a look at his desk and notice the dozens of sheets of paper, each one covered in his messy handwriting. You pick up one that he isn’t lying on and attempt to decipher it. While most words are hard to make out, you pick out a few key words and notice that it has to do with the Port Mafia. You skim through a different page and are surprised to find a Russian name.

Fyodor Dostoevsky. 

Sleeping in the cold is bad, it will give you nightmares, you think and walk further into his dorm to the cupboard with extra blankets and supplies that’s standard for every living space. You grab a thick blanket and walk back to him. As quietly as you can, you remove the pencil from his hand and place the blanket over his shoulders.

Suddenly, ice cold fingers shoot forward and curl around your wrist as Dazai’s eyes fly open. The atmosphere shifts immediately. Alarm bells ring in your head. Tension floods the room and blazing foggy eyes land on you.  A chill runs down your spine that has nothing to do with the weather. You immediately crouch down to make yourself less threatening as his grip tightens.

“It’s me! It’s me!” you whisper-shouted. The walls are thin in this place and you don’t want to draw attention by shouting but a pained whimper manages to slip out of your mouth. His grip is deadly.

His eyes clear up and he immediately releases your hand. He looks at you sitting on the floor at his side rubbing your wrist with an annoyed expression and then glances at the blanket that had slipped off his shoulders slightly. A look of surprise briefly washes over his face before he reverts back to a seemingly neutral expression.

“What are you doing here?” he asks but lacks the usual tone of mischief that generally accompanies anything he says. As though he’s forgotten to place his invisible mask back onto his face. “Not that I am upset, it is always a pleasure to see you. Although I didn’t expect to find you sneaking around my room.”

His sly expression slowly returns to his face but his eyes still appear to be hazy.
Honestly, he looks rather sexy right now especially with his tousled hair.

“I brought food. Also you weren’t at the Agency today,” you say. “And your door was unlocked, I’ll have you know, that’s very dangerous. A killer could easily sneak in here”

You brush off the awkward atmosphere as smoothly as you can because even you are aware that it’s a bit weird to break into his room at 11 ‘o’ clock at night with food.

He shrugs with an amused smile brushing over his features.

You let out an awkward cough before gesturing to all the papers strewn across his desk.

“What is all this? I’ve never seen you do any actual office work before”, you joke.

“Oh this? It’s nothing. Just wondering where my next suicide attempt should be. Lots of research this time, all I need now is a beautiful fair maiden” He throws you a playful glance towards the end. But, the tone of playful bachelor is ruined by the slur of sleep.

Liar

Dazai has always been receptive to emotions and expressions and you are very much an open book to him. He knows fair and well that you think he’s lying but says nothing more on the subject. You are also a book that can take a hint and so you say nothing on the matter. Seeing how tired he is you decide that it’s probably best to leave. He gets little sleep as it is, judging by the dark circles under his eyes.

“You should sleep, I’ll go now but I brought two muffins. Which one do you want? Chocolate or Blue-”, you stop suddenly and look down at the slender fingers latched around your wrist.

“You don’t have to leave,” he says.

Your heart trips over his words and slams against your chest. His words are sweet like honey. Your breath gets caught in your throat as he gently tugs you towards his desk. Messy hair coupled with his intensely dark eyes following you, has you feeling all kinds of things.

What are you saying to me with such an expression

“Come here.”

He moves the papers to the side and gestures for you to sit on it. You hop onto the desk without much issue.

“I’ve missed you this week,” he smiles mischievously. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t miss me so much if you actually came to work.”

He chuckles slightly at this and you smile. This position feels weirdly intimate, with him so close sitting on the chair while you’re on the desk. The room is somewhat dark and his face is half discarded in the shadows. But his rich brown eyes are bright in the dark. The atmosphere may almost be mistaken as romantic but you quickly push that thought aside. You clear your throat slightly and look away from him terrified that his eyes will swallow you whole. You reach for the bag of food. “Dazai, do you want Chocolate or-”

The feeling of two cold arms wrapping around your waist cuts you off. Surprised, you glance back at him to find that he’s much closer than before. He rests his head in your lap. He nuzzles your thigh. Your face flushes red.

“Y/N, you are right, I am much too tired ,” he mumbles and almost as an afterthought he adds, “ and cold. Just stay here for a little bit longer.” His head sits heavy and unmoving in your lap, turned to the side, facing away from the light of the desk lamp. His eyelids flutter shut and the blanket seems to fall even further down his shoulders.

“Wake me up in 30 minutes.”

He says nothing else and appears to drift off into a deep sleep. You reach for the blanket as slowly as you can without disturbing him you readjust it to cover him completely with only his head sticking out as he rests peacefully in your lap.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Your hand reaches for his head and ever so softly, it brushes against the tips of his hair. You become more bold, confident that he is sleeping based on his shallow, even breaths. Lightly, you begin to sift through his hair, playing with the strands and caressing his head. You allow the soft strands of his hair to slip through your fingers with each stroke. His hair is smooth to the touch and has a pleasant feel. As you continue gently caressing his head, you look around again at the sheets of paper. Each one is covered in messy handwriting and arrows linking seemingly random bits of information.

You’ve been playing detective with Dazai for a long enough time to know that he’s planning something and suddenly the boy in your arms feels even more precious to you. Because in this moment you understand that a storm is brewing on the horizon and he’s possibly the only one who can smell the scent of rain on the wind. He is carrying a burden alone. He is placing the safety of the Agency above his own and your heart warms towards him.

You look down at the exhausted man.

He was once the Devil’s prodigy but now he is the Agency’s Guardian Angel.

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Tags: @jinxqsu