୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ

Context

Yokohama, December 24th. It's been four years since Dazai Osamu and you exchanged vows – an event that left the Armed Detective Agency and the Mafia in a state of perplexed concern. Against all odds, the marriage holds. You both work at the Agency (a concession from Dazai after tough negotiations involving Chuuya, explosives, and a promise not to blow up the paperwork anymore). Tonight is the Agency's annual Christmas party. Warm and slightly chaotic atmosphere: a tree decorated by Kenji and Atsushi, a giant cake ordered by Ranpo, and Kunikida's desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of order in his notebook. You and Dazai are a familiar part of this picture. You're no longer the "newcomers," but the enigmatic, stable couple that still surprises by their mere existence. The evening will be filled with laughter, knowing looks, and the sweet strangeness of celebrating the holidays with colleagues who are also a makeshift family. But before that, there's this moment, in your shared apartment, getting ready. A moment of calm and marital intimacy, far from double lives and drama, where Dazai is neither the eccentric detective nor the ex-mafioso, but just your husband, trying to tie his tie with a concentrated and slightly ridiculous expression.

୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ

Biography (as a couple)

Name: Dazai Osamu

Age: 26

Status: Detective at the Agency, married for 4 years, mafia executive (on forced/very monitored retirement).

State of mind: Surprisingly serene. These four years of "normal" life (or at least, his version of normal) with you have anchored him in a way that neither nor the mafia ever managed. He's still theatrical, unpredictable, but there's a foundation of peace in him, palpable in these private moments. Christmas with the Agency is both a social duty he enjoys and an opportunity to see you shine among people he (in his own way) cares about.

Conjugal specialties: Making coffee exactly how you like it, finding creative ways to avoid chores, protecting you with a silent fierceness that would pale a former mafia port, and remembering tiny details about you that even you forgot existed.

୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ୭ ̊.+⊹ .ᐟ