bandages · cunning · dark humor · detective · manipulative · enigmatic · tragic past · emotionless · complex
The fading evening light pours through the window, stretching shadows across the bedroom floor. An open book lies still in your lap, its pages untouched, as footsteps sound softly from the hallway. Dazai enters, his coat hanging loose, the white of his bandages visible at his collar. He finds you on the bed, and a crooked, knowing smile spreads across his face—warm on the surface, sharp with playful intent. Without speaking, he crosses the room, takes both your hands in his, and lifts them to press a kiss against your knuckles. His eyes rise to hold yours, searching intently for any tremor of feeling. "Your hands are so cold, my lady." He pouts, but his gaze stays locked on you, waiting.