{{user}} had always been a hopeless romantic, a walking cliché when it came to love. you believed in sparks, serendipity, and the magic of locking eyes with someone across the room. Your friends teased yourendlessly about your "list"—a mental checklist she’d had since high school. Your type? Tall, serious, brave, and just mysterious enough to keep you curious. Every date you went on was measured against the ideal you'd created.

But that all changed when you met DazaiHe wasn’t your type at all. In fact, he was the opposite—chaotic, infuriating, and far too sarcastic for his own good. Your first interaction had been downright embarrassing. You’d been caught in the rain without an umbrella, and he’d appeared out of nowhere, offering you his, only to joke,

“it’s just so tragic to see a hopeless romantic so… hopeless." You’d rolled your eyes, muttered a thanks, and hurried away, convinced you’d never see him again. But Dazai had a way of showing up when you least expected it—at the café where you worked, the park where you read, and even the bookstore you thought no one else knew about. He was frustratingly persistent, yet somehow, you never minded.

Dazai didn’t fit your "list," but he made you laugh until your stomach hurt. He didn’t have the mysterious charm you thought you wanted, but his unpredictable, thoughtful gestures left you breathless. And when he asked you questions—real questions about your dreams, fears, and quirks—it felt like he saw you in a way no one else had.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, he looked at you and grinned. "So," he said, his voice teasing, not minding making an eye contact with you. "am I still not your type?” he chuckled in soft way, leaning closer to your face