Bad Kind of Butterflies ♧ DazaiXReaderXDOA

3. Reminiscence

Roaring cheers erupt around you as the favoured player of the round wins and collects his payment, a congratulating smile on your face as you pass him his credits before cleaning up after them all. A sigh of frustrated boredom escapes you when no one is looking, your face betraying you and revealing just how much it took in you to keep up this front for the people of the casino all day.

It's usually more interesting than this despite it being repetitive in the first place...

Taking in a deep breath and pushing away the boredom deep in your mind, you take one of the new game chips and really take a good look at it for the first time since Nikolai handed it over to you. Playing with it in your hand, in all honesty, you didn't find much of a difference in it from the original ones other than maybe the weight, but you knew better than to underestimate any small changes made by the decay of angels. Especially, assuming most of the instructions came from the demon himself.

Fyodor Dostoevsky.

He's the real reason I'm still here...

Since you'd met Sigma, you knew there was more to this casino than meets the eye, and after being welcomed and thrown into the very heart of it, you'd fallen in love with the aspect of giving something your all amongst the chaos of the people. Everyone was here for a reason, and often their hearts gave it all away...but on a rare occasion, there was someone that surprised you.

Fyodor was one of those people. The day you ran into Sigma looking for you three years ago in the hotel halls, you were brought to one of the larger rooms of the Sky Casino, and in there you were invited to play a game. It was odd at first glance, playing cards in a hotel room when there was a whole floor dedicated to the delight of the gambling, but as soon as you started to play, you understood why you were there in the first place.

You were being tested, and by the end of that day, although you hadn't won a single game but one out of pure chance, you reacted exactly the way Fyodor expected you to, and he made that clear. He could read you, but he acknowledged you could read them too. He saw your struggle to live, and never had you felt so seen as you did then.

Then, the room started to seemingly boil and you felt hot, uncomfortable, except it was only you feeling this way. You were nervous, and the world seemed to spin in front of you. It happened often when your senses were on overload, and you felt trapped. Everything seemed to get louder, and with no control you stood up, leaning over the table you had been seated at towards Dostoevsky and held his zealous gaze.

That's when you spoke words only he could ever repeat to you, and that's when the mouse trap set for you snapped, throwing you into a world much deeper and darker than the one you superficially knew.

Suddenly you were underwater, and living under any circumstances turned into surviving and serving higher goals...pushing yourself to the surface for air as you simultaneously followed the current.

Myshka, they called you, because ever since that day you were inevitably theirs. Their little mouse who was foolish enough to fall into their hands, and now someone they protected as long as it served their own ideals they are chasing.

Somehow, these game chips are going to help them achieve it all.

I'm not important enough to know what though...

No matter, I must follow Sigma's advice.

Out of all, he is the only one I can imagine calling a friend.

"Miss?"

Pulling you out of your thoughts, another young woman in uniform waves you back into the present, and you nod apologetically.

"Sorry, I'll be going now"

"No, actually, someone has requested you specifically"

"Oh? Who is it?" You look around, expecting to see the clown around again, or maybe Sigma after the run in from earlier.

"Apparently there's something wrong with a...slots machine?"

What? I'm not some mechanic or anything...

Thanking the woman politely, you walk towards the machines, lights flashing all around you, the sounds of the coins and the different machines mixing in with the constant heartbeats of the players.

Everything feels like a maze when you're in the centre of it all.

"Over here!"

Holding back a groan, you walk over to the person, their face hidden by shadows.

"Listen, I don't mean to disappoint you, sir, but-"

"What, I'm really so forgettable?" The man interrupts you, standing up with his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to the side.

You squint and try to make out his face, wracking your brain for the small memory of who it was standing in front of you.

"Um...of course not, you're..."

I meet people all the time! How does he expect me to-

When the young man leans in, brown eyes glowing, it immediately clicks in.

"Dazai!" You gasp, unable to understand how he had known you'd be here, and how he was so sure you'd remember at all.

Although you could see his smile under his faux preoccupied expression, his next words still got an eye roll from you:

"[f/n], you had me worried there. Even though it was one day, I could never forget you"

"So what, you came to see if after three years I know how to fix a slots machine?"

I can't believe the nerve of this guy, pulling me out of work for such idiotic reasons.

"Ah, no. That was a lie"

"Of course it was. So why are you and I here? Because if you wanted to say hello, you could have participated in a game with me as dealer. Then at least I'd get payed properly"

You didn't mean to sound so snappy, but you felt the need to be guarded around Dazai because from your last encounter, all you were sure of was that Dazai was more than what he seemed, and you weren't sure if it was dangerous to the casino.

"You hurt me, [f/n]! But, I guess I might as well tell you why I'm here, since apparently you've figured out it's not for leisure gambling. I'm with the Armed Detective Agency, but I'm here out of my own intuition. I think this place is more than everyone pretends it to be. Since I'm on the side of justice now...well, call it curiosity" Dazai says with a light shrug at the end, and it frustrates you how he acts as if his words have no weight to them.

Side of justice now? What does that even mean?

Seeing as you don't respond, Dazai takes it as a sign he can keep talking, taking your hand gently in his and leaning in, wording everything with a certain charm that begged your heart to simply melt, even if what he said was the opposite of that.

"You wouldn't have any helpful information on the casino would you? Anything odd that a beauty like you wouldn't miss?"

My loyalty is to the casino first, so called justice later.

"No, I wouldn't know a thing. I simply make my living here" you manage to vocalize without a stutter, keeping your answer steady in your mouth, controlling your own beating heart.

Dazai doesn't let go, but you pull away from him softly anyways, deciding it was better if you didn't give him more of a reason to keep pressing you on the matter.

You don't turn around as you leave him behind, because you're scared that if you do, he'll see right through your lies.

I have a feeling he's not leaving any time soon...

"[f/n]? Who was that?"