[Dazai Osamu x Reader]
The world knows you as a person with numerous masks and personalities all thanks to the immoral line of work you've decided to do... to survive.
Your survival doesn't only rely on money, it also relies on the fact that your t...
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"I'm telling you, this is definitely not a fake one."
"Then why are you giving it to me, lady?"
"Because I want your bike?"
The kid analysed you with a sceptical look thinking you were anything but sane for running around in a wedding dress and offering such a valuable item for his fabulous bike.
"Hey, this is how they used to do it before money existed. It's called: trade," you convinced the child getting somewhat bothered by the curious stares of the by-passers. However, the child seemed too suspicious to budge at your words which had you thinking that perhaps your words were too complex for his 10 years old mentality.
Therefore, you rephrased, "insurance for 2000 seconds."
Quite instantly, he took the item and shook your hand, "deal."
You sighed in relief at the fickle-minded boy and grabbed his bicycle, "thanks, kiddo."
"Make sure you run a maintenance check once a month!" the kid yelled while you cycled away.
It wasn't clear whether he was dumb or clever because 2000 seconds are approximately 30 minutes. Yet, for someone who had just traded an expensive diamond ring for a spider-man bicycle, you had no right to judge that kid.
After 20 minutes of carefree cycling, you had finally arrived at the agency's building and were currently carrying that heavy dress up to the fourth floor. Bare-foot and completely done for the day, you kept mumbling complaints on how today of all days, the lift decided to stop working, but all of that was trivial when you finally placed a manicured hand on the handle of the agency's door.
To find no one except Naomi's traumatised presence in the office from earlier that day, would be a true blissing, but you knew better than anyone that life didn't like taking on your tide.
Ranpo Edogawa had finally made an appearance in the agency ever since he took on a case 2 weeks ago, Tanizaki was also there seated on a couch with Naomi's body glued to his, Kyouka was having a peaceful conversation with Atsushi and Yosano was casually browsing a magazine.
That makes about all of them, except:
- Dazai and Kunikida weren't there, fortunately.
- Kenji wasn't there, unfortunately.
There's your luck.
Barely pleasant.
"Hey," you dismissively greeted and made your way to the president's office not giving anyone a chance to reply or comment on your appearance.
"Mission: accomplished," you announced gaining Fukuzawa's attention as well as his secretary, Haruno Kirako. "Oh, hi there, Haruno-san!"
"Uh... hi," the woman greeted bewilderment spelled on her features as she adjusted her glasses at you.
You nodded understandingly, "yup, I, too, could never imagine myself in a wedding dress."
Haruno was about to crack a smile, but was instantly hit by the reason behind this odd situation and excused herself.
As soon as the door was closed, you switched to business mode and reported monotonously, "The target's father came to Yokohama early this morning for his son's wedding and used this opportunity to conduct a meeting with his partners right before the wedding ceremony. Fortunately, it happened in the same place, so I was able to retrieve a recording of all their future plans in the Black Market."
Fukuzawa silently received the report while sipping on his tea and once you had nothing else to say, he questioned, "did they talk about their defences?"
"Yes," you affirmed. "Their eyes are set on a gang of gifted individuals, but their negotiations with them haven't been initiated, yet."
Once again, there was silence as you were too occupied with getting the recording device to hand it over, but the poor old man didn't know and looked up to find your dress high up your leg as you tried to get the device out of the strap on your thigh.
Calmly and without much of a change on his face, he closed his eyes and continued sipping on his tea.
He's going to have to subtly warn you about being too comfortable next time.
"There we go," you huffed placing your evidence on the president's desk.
