Kunikida's voice cuts through the sleepy haze like a blade, sharp and impatient. His arms are crossed so tightly over his chest that the fabric of his vest strains at the shoulders. Behind him, the agency hums with its usual morning chaos — Ranpo is already three candy wrappers deep into a bag, Atsushi looks up from his conversation with Kyouka with a sympathetic wince, and Tanizaki's eyes flick toward the door as if calculating the best escape route should Kunikida truly explode.

Dazai, ever unbothered, stretches his arms above his head with an exaggerated yawn that does absolutely nothing to help Y/n's case.

The nickname is quiet, intimate, and entirely too soft for the middle of the office. A few heads turn. Ranpo pauses mid-chew, his green eyes briefly narrowing with know-it-all amusement before returning to his candy. Kunikida looks two seconds away from snapping his pen in half.

Dazai shifts subtly, placing himself just a little closer to Y/n's side, one hand hovering near the small of her back — not quite touching, but close enough that anyone paying attention might notice the protective angle of his body.