Forbidden Sin [Osamu Dazai x Reader]

IV: Memories

     Dazai had been sitting on the floor of the same empty office, hands folded beneath his chin, eyes closed.
    He contemplated his situation for what felt like over an hour or two, rummaging through his head of everything.
  The smallest movement, every flicker of her eyes, each word that left her mouth. It replayed in his mind like a broken record; over and over and over again.
  He couldn't get (Y/N) out of his head, trying to figure out what her motives were. Based off what he figured last night, her Uncle ran the Casino, and she played a part in its design and development.
  She was also the most dangerous female assassin in the country. Yokohamas underground railways* were painted with the blood of her victims. She's been leaving her mark before Dazai even earned his nickname from the public.

  Dazai snickered to himself. Longer than him. What a hilarious thing, that she'd been in the criminal world longer than Dazai, and these two were at odds.
  Granted, the government has dirt on the Port Mafia, but the Mafia pays heavily to keep it under wraps. So the Port Mafia was basically providing her paycheck.
  She should be grateful for this; this rivalry that benefited both parties. Of course, there were things that still made the organizations stay on their opposing sides, but it was still a two way path.
  Dazai thought back to two nights ago at the casino, remembering his interaction with (Y/N). She was perceptive, sharp, confident, and definitely a good match for Dazai.

"I was going to remember this as a Date with a Demon..." Her voice echoed in his ears, letting her vindication bring an evil smile to his lips. He didn't really need her to do that, but he was almost glad she did.
It sounded good from her; while any other woman would simply not say anything and let Dazai do most of the talking, (Y/N) was very much proud to take control of the conversation.
It almost relieved Dazai for him to not suck on the one way conversations, letting someone else be in his shoes; well, not quite but close enough.

(Y/N)—She was a dangerous woman to anyone else, and yet Dazai had felt an odd comfort with her. Maybe it was the fact she wasn't scared of him. Maybe it was because she could hold a good conversation. Maybe it was the way she held herself throughout the entire night.
Who knew what it was, but Dazai loved this unknown instinct. It had been two nights since he met (Y/N) personally, and not just when she was on duty.
Sure, he'd come across her several times before, but he had never seen her beneath the mask. She was also always concealed in the shadows, and Dazai was just barely able to make out her silhouette.
She was very resourceful, always thinking with her heat and acting it all out as her heart. A woman so devious, so cunning, it was almost like she was Dazai's type.

Most people would bore Dazai, their personalities never really captivating to him. But with (Y/N), he never knew what to expect with her.
For all he knows she could already be plotting the ways she can kill him; she probably was, and he wouldn't be surprised by that.
But the thrill of the unknown that came with being around (Y/N) that night was exotic, and Dazai wanted to experience the notion again.

Oh but just how was he going to get to his spider again? His spider...where could she be? Who knows. Maybe instead of looking for Red Spider, Dazai should look for (Y/N). The files in the room over ought to have something on her.
Dazai sighed, standing up from his spot on the floor, a few joints creaking like a door as he did so. Dazai groaned as he rubbed his sore butt, raising his arms above his head and stretching out his muscles.
He was never going to sit on a cold floor again; this was too much pain for his liking. Suffering just followed him everywhere he went, and he was just over it.

  Dazai sauntered over to the door, pushing it open lazily and trudging through the halls, walking five feet in front of him and leaning on the next wooden door.
   His hand reached out to the door knob, twisting it with a click and nudged the hunk of wood open.
  He walked in, not caring to look at the other person in the room, who was shocked to his core. That shock soon turned to confusion as Dazai ignored him.

"Oi, mackerel, what's your problem today?" Chuuya prodded, letting the drawer slam shut with a loud snap.
Dazia breathed out an annoyed sigh, closing his eyes before turning to face Chuuya. "Everything, and you're not helping it, slug."
Chuuya scrutinized his face at the nickname, clearly still not appreciating the things Dazai called him.

"Fine, be an asshole to everyone then." Chuuya said briskly before walking past his colleague and out the door.
Dazai rolled his eye, clearly not wanting to pester the short ginger anymore. He had to focus—there has to be something for (Y/N) and he was going to see what it was.

_________________________

*Underground railway— reference to Harriet Tubman and the African Americans she helped escape slavery from the south; It is used as another word for "criminal world" in this story.