He wonders if he can stay in this moment with you forever. Just a little too much to drink, just a little closer, just a little more touch of vulnerability. This feeling is foreign and Dazai doesn’t know if he can risk this before you will inevitablely be snatched away from him—he doesn’t know if he can risk loving you out loud.
So for now, you’re both sixteen years old and tangled up in a world of violence while your hearts reach out to one another. His bandaged fingers slip between the knots in your hair while your face hides away in the crevasse of his neck and your eyes flutter close for the blessing of twilight.
Dazai is sure, these violent delights have violent ends. Nothing will last forever. His hands are stained forever with the bloodshed under moonlight, yet, he still reaches out to intertwine limbs with yours on a shitty sofa. A small smile creeps upon his cracked lips. Dazai reaches up towards his own face for the first time this evening and pushes the bandages wrapped around his face to the side. Let him admire you closer with his whole heart for a night.
Racing down the dark hallway, your footsteps barely made a sound after years of training in stealth and deception. Only the moon seemed to acknowledge your presence, casting your shadow on the wall every time you passed a window. Contrasting the stillness of the night, your mind raced with questions and confusion.
ılıılı making out with p.m dazai osamu gone wrong
request by: anon (the og request asked for 15-16-year old dazai and reader, but putting ages seems weird especially since they're young, so i just made it port mafia dazai if that makes sense)
dazai, freshly recruited into the port mafia at fourteen, already had a reputation for being dangerous, brilliant... and a massive pain. you, somehow, had the misfortune (or luck?) of catching his interest. maybe it was your wit. maybe it was your style. maybe it was the snake bite piercings he claimed "made you look like you'd bite."
things had escalated - slowly at first. banter turned into flirtation. missions turned into long walks. and eventually (like three years later), behind the secrecy of one of the mafia's quieter corridors, you’d started kissing. like two dumb teenagers in the middle of a literal crime syndicate.
it started off fine. hands on collars. biting smiles. dazai making some offhand joke about how "your lips taste like rebellion." you rolled your eyes, but you didn’t stop him.
the problem came when he tilted his head, just wrong enough for your snake bite piercing to catch on his braces. yes. braces. even the mafia didn’t save you from teenage dental work.
at first, it was just a weird pull. you both paused. blinked. and then- “...are we stuck?” “don’t move-” “i knew your piercings would kill me eventually.”
you tried to back away. he tried to laugh it off. it only made it worse. “great. just great. this is how we die. tangled up like star-crossed idiots-”
in desperation, you sent a message for help. you should’ve gone for anyone else. anyone. but no. somehow, mori ougai, the boss himself, walked in with medical gloves on, like this was a surgical emergency.
the silence in that room could have killed you. “really, dazai-kun?” mori’s voice was delighted, in that creepy, unhinged way of his. “braces and piercings. fascinating.” you, red as a tomato: “please just untangle us.”
it took a full ten minutes, some pliers, and one extremely awkward silence to get free. when it was over, you and dazai both practically launched yourselves to opposite sides of the room, embarrassed beyond saving.
later that night, dazai passed you a note. it read: let’s try again sometime. without the metalwork. p.s. you still looked cute stuck to me.
☆ Mori "acts of service"s his way into a relationship
☆ Morinozuka "Mori" Takashi x reader, 6.2k words
☆ fluff, getting together, cw for mentioned classism, y/n used for reader
Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you attempted to drag your soaked form out of the fountain, the cruel giggles of the girls that pushed you in still ringing in your ears even as their yellow skirts disappear from your line of sight. Just your luck, the second week of school and you'd already been identified as a viable bullying victim. Biting your lip to keep the tears at bay, you hauled your bookbag out of the water before stepping out yourself, more worried about keeping its contents intact than the fact that you looked (and felt) half-drowned.
Sinking to your knees on the cobblestone, you cautiously opened up the bag before breathing a sigh of relief. None of your textbooks looked damaged, your notebooks were only a little damp at the edges, and your wallet was still secured inside. You silently sent a thank you up to the universe for giving your past self the idea to splurge on a waterproof bag before the new school year. While you may have had rainy days in mind when you bought it, it apparently being bully-proof was a very welcome bonus. You were already here on scholarship, there was no way you could afford to regularly replace your things. Especially since it looked like you already had a target on your back for the crime of daring to sully Ouran's prestigious halls with your commoner self. Stupid rich brats…
A long shadow fell over you. You cursed under your breath and braced yourself for more abuse, clutching your bookbag to your chest as you lifted your head defiantly. But instead of the mocking visage of a count's daughter or a mogul's son, your gaze met cool grey eyes and an impassive expression. You blinked up at the newcomer, cataloging him from the tips of his spiky black hair to his immaculately polished shoes. He was big, for a lack of a better descriptor. Handsome too, in a cold and stoic sort of way. Though there wasn't so much as a wrinkle in his uniform, he had the glow of someone who had just finished a rigorous round of exercising, the sun glinting off the leftover droplets in his hair from his post-workout shower. The sudden sound of his voice jolted you out of your scrutinizing train of thought.
"Are you alright?" he asked, cocking his head slightly as he looked down at you. His voice rumbled out of his chest and washed over you, the timbre deep and commanding. As though triggered by his question, you quickly became hyperaware of the way the spring wind hit your wet clothing, forcing a series of shivers out of you. Your hair was plastered to your forehead and steadily dripping down your back, and you were certain you were kneeling in your own personal puddle of fountain water. The realization of the sorry sight you presented, especially in comparison to his perfectly kept appearance, had you holding your bag tighter and looking away from him, half-heartedly praying the ground would open up and swallow you whole.
"Do I look alright?" you ground out, teeth gritted as you pointedly kept your gaze trained away from him. Hopefully he'd get offended and buzz off so you could finally get some space to put your pride back together and start walking home.
Unfortunately, you so rarely get what you wish for.
The tall boy let out a soft "hm" before dropping into a squat, putting the two of you on the same level. The duffel bag that was slung over his shoulder hit the ground with a smack and you internally cringed at the casual carelessness rich people seemed to be prone to. He reached out to touch you before apparently thinking better of it, shifting instead to put himself back into your line of sight. A very petty part of you was tempted to turn your head away from him again, but all things considered he was the nicest person you'd met at this school so far, regardless of how low that bar was.
"That was a silly question. I apologize." That damn voice again. It had a soothing quality that, if anything, annoyed you further. Not only was he born into wealth you probably couldn't even fathom, but he had to look and sound like a dream too? The universe was infinite in its unfairness.
You turned your attention back to him only to notice he was digging around in his bag, his face set in concentration as he searched for…whatever it was he was looking for. You heard the sound of wood knocking on wood as he rummaged through his things (what on earth did he have in there?) Before you could voice any coherent thought or opinion about his actions, fluffy white material filled your vision.
"I know it's not much, but I swear it's clean, and you should dry off as best you can. It wouldn't do for you to fall ill and have to miss school at the beginning of the term." It took all your willpower not to gape and stare at his display of generosity. It was a trick, or a prank, or something. It had to be. No one that went to this school looked like they even knew the meaning of the word compassion. But as a hard gust of wind cut clean through your clothing and chilled you to the bone, you figured you might as well take your chances.
You set aside your bookbag and gently, as if it was a dangerous explosive rigged to blow any moment, you took the towel from his hands. It was soft, softer than you thought a towel had any right to be, and felt heavenly in your hands as you turned it over. A flash of gold caught your eye, and you brought the towel closer to your face to inspect it. On one corner, the letters "MT" were immaculately embroidered in gleaming thread.
"MT?" you repeated aloud, your eyes flicking up to his. "Are those your initials?"
The boy nodded. "Yes. My name is Morinozuka Takashi. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
You huffed, caught somewhere between ebbing irritation and creeping amusement. "Well you're certainly the first person to feel that way, at least among your peers." You lifted the towel to your hair, deciding to do something about the small river carving a valley down your back. Mori moved from a squat to a sit, clearly thinking nothing of the possibility that the ground might dirty his uniform. He waited patiently as you methodically dried off, the relief of going from dripping to just damp clearly evident on your face. Once you were done you made eye contact with him, a grateful smile gracing your features.
"Thank you, Morinozuka. I'll wash this and return it to you as soon as I can, I promise." The look in your eyes was earnest, but he waved a hand at you as if to dispel the notion.
"You can call me Mori. Also don't bother yourself. You can keep that one, I've got plenty."
"What? No, I couldn't possibly-"
"I insist."
"Well I insist on paying you back somehow. I don't like owing people, and it's obvious you've done me a pretty big solid here. So, say what you want and if it's within my power and my budget I'll make it happen."
Mori cracked a smile at that, small but genuine, and you realized with a mix of delight and horror that the expression only made him more handsome. "Well, I'll have to take some time to think of something I want that you can provide, but to start I'd like to know your name as well."
You nodded, figuring it was only proper that the two of you be actually introduced. "It's Y/N."
He cocked his head again. "And that's your given name?"
"Yes."
"What's your family name?"
"Does it matter? It's not attached to any titles."
"Of course it matters. Not being wealthy doesn't make you undeserving of respect."
It's stupid, really. The sentence was objectively true, baby's first lesson in class consciousness. It was the barest of minimums. But after two weeks of being surrounded by droves of people who genuinely believed that the circumstances of their births made them deserving of special treatment and gave them permission to trample over the less fortunate for their amusement, it didn't feel like a given. It was grounding to hear this boy, dressed in clothes that probably cost more than both your parents would make in a month, easily and freely admit that he wasn't more important than you because of his last name. Reminded you that a whole world existed beyond Ouran's gilded walls, and when the year was up and you'd served your time the real world would be ready to rescue you from this cherry blossom fever dream.
"Alright then. It's L/N." The smile you gave him was soft, and it only grew as you heard him repeat after you, the syllables of your name rolling around his mouth.
"So you're the new third year transfer everyone is talking about?" he asked, his eyes glimmering with interest. "The whole class is still buzzing with the news of this year's scholarship winners." You tried not to grimace at the thought of the entire third year class talking about you behind your back, but you must not have been very successful if the way Mori's expression turned sympathetic was anything to go by.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sure it's been a difficult adjustment for you."
"Difficult is putting it mildly." You blew out a shaky breath, trying to focus on the way the late afternoon sun filtered through the jet black strands of Mori's hair and not on your own complicated feelings about your enrollment. "When we got the results of our end of year exams from my second year, I was second overall. The person that beat me had also nailed the Ouran scholarship, which was fine by me, really. But then it came out that they had cheated on the exams and their scores were nullified, making me top of the class. I'm still not entirely sure why I inherited their scholarship as well as their rank. Maybe the board of directors was feeling particularly philanthropic that day, who knows. What matters is me and my folks realized there's no better shining star on a resume than a diploma from this place, so we got our paperwork in order and I was shipped here. I feel like I should be grateful that such an incredible windfall came my way, but now I'm in a school where I can't even afford the uniform and I feel like a fish in the desert."
Mori nodded as you concluded your mini-speech. "I won't say I understand where you're coming from, because it would do your feelings a disservice for me to pretend our backgrounds are similar. But I do know that you earned your position here, and you shouldn't let anyone tell you otherwise." Mori lifted himself from the ground at last, slinging his duffel bag back over his shoulders before offering a hand to help you up as well. You hesitated for a moment, but the sincerity in his gaze banished any of your lingering doubt. You placed the gifted towel in your bag before slipping it on and ran a quick hand over your clothes, trying to return to as presentable a state as possible. Then you reached up and took his hand.
Your palm was smaller than his, and the warmth of him began to leech into you almost immediately. You stifled a soft yelp as he hauled you up with shocking ease, bringing you to a standing position with very little work on your part. Almost desperate to keep what was left of your dignity intact, you moved to extract your hand, but he held you firm. The quizzical look you shot him was countered by another one of his small smiles.
"L/N, I believe I've changed my mind. I would like to cash in that favor now." Your eyes widened slightly at his admission, but you gestured at him to continue. "I want you to call me Takashi."
You couldn't fight back the laugh that burst out of you then. A single clear sound that echoed through the courtyard before you slapped a hand over your mouth, though your eyes still crinkled with mirth. Mori waited patiently for your outburst to die down, the smile never leaving his face.
"Really?" you managed to say at last. "That's all you want?"
A nod. "That's all."
Your smile then was the largest yet, pure and unrestrained. "Okay. I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. From this day forward, you're Takashi and I'm Y/N."
"You'd let me use your given name as well?"
"Why not? It might be presumptious of me, but I think we're friendly enough, no?"
Something unreadable flashed in his eyes before they returned to a neutral state. "Yes, I'd say we are."
Mori walked with you to the gate of the school, even going so far as to offer to call a driver to take you home, but you insisted that you'd encroached on his kindness enough for one day. You walked home that day with a warm feeling in your chest that had nothing to do with the setting sun.
Whoever your guardian angel was, that son of a bitch was a real slacker.
You gazed forlornly through the library window at the downpour outside, which had already been raging for hours and showed no signs of letting up soon. The forecast for the day had been clear, sunny skies, so like any sane person you'd left your umbrella at home. Well, as luck (or lack thereof) would have it, the weatherman was a good for nothing liar, and the weather had taken a sharp turn right before classes let out for the day. Most of the student population had simply hurried to their limos and sped off to spend the rest of the rainy day in their heated homes, but your only mode of transportation to and from school happened to be your own two legs. It wasn't even as though you lived far away, but the 20 minute walk looked deeply unappealing as the rain fell in thick, gray sheets.
You had hoped to wait it out by getting some extra studying in, but nearly two hours later you were out of homework and the storm still raged on. Groaning, you slammed your books shut and started packing your things, resigned to putting on your big girl pants and trying not to eat shit as you sprinted home.
Preoccupied with your own misery as you left the library, you rounded a corner and walked face first into a solid wall. You barely managed to avoid being knocked on your ass, stumbling back a couple of steps and cursing as you rubbed at your nose. You looked up to shoot a petty glare at the offending object only to realize what you'd mistaken for a part of the building was actually a human being, and a very specific one at that.
Mori was standing before you, looking down at you with a mixture of confusion and concern. He had his familiar duffel bag over one shoulder, and a large umbrella in his left hand. You immediately felt butterflies (and a touch of envy) erupt in your stomach, even as mortification began to creep up your spine.
Unfortunately for your blooming crush newfound friendship, the fact that you'd caught Mori alone that afternoon was nothing short of a miracle. During school hours him and his cousin were attached at the hip, not to mention his dedicated gaggle of fangirls that wouldn't dream of letting you anywhere near him. The Host Club (which you'd been shocked to discover he was a member of) kept his afternoons full as well. The most you had managed to squeeze from him in 3 weeks were a few smiles and nods before and after class, so having his full attention again was a delightfully overwhelming sensation. You scrambled to straighten out your clothes and hair and make yourself look like you hadn't just been moping about in the library for hours.
"Takashi! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!" You said, trying to inject some cheer into your voice as you apologized. Mori shook his head and took a step closer to you.
"Please, the fault is mine. I should have been more aware. I must admit though, it's good to see you again Y/N."
Ohhh he was trying to kill you. He was on a mission to make you spontaneously combust. You let out a nervous chuckle and looked away, praying he wouldn't pick up on how out of sorts you felt. "We see each other in class every day, don't we?"
"Yes, but we haven't had a chance to truly speak with each other. I've found myself missing your presence."
A 20 minute interaction 3 weeks ago and he was missing you? Maybe your guardian angel needed a raise after all. Not trusting yourself to respond without saying something crazy, you turned your attention instead to the rain still battering the school's windows, a frown returning to your features as you were reminded of your predicament. Following your gaze, Mori's eyes darted to the window, then back to you.
"Are you planning on walking home in such heavy rain?" Mori asked, his brows furrowed slightly. You heaved a sigh.
"I don't exactly have a wealth of choices. Of all days not to bring my umbrella…"
Mori seemed to make up his mind then, and held out his umbrella to you. But before he could open his mouth to verbally offer it, you beat him to the punch.
"No. Absolutely not. I refuse to let you inconvenience yourself for me a second time. Keep your umbrella."
"I can't let you walk home unprotected in this weather."
"I don't want to be your charity case, Takashi."
His lips quirked down into a small frown and he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, his grip on the umbrella tightening. After a few seconds of obvious inner turmoil, he ironed out his expression and fixed you with a piercing stare.
"At the very least, let me walk you home." It wasn't a request, if anything it was a demand. You wondered if he was capable of selfishness at all.
Just as you opened your mouth to deny him, a loud clap of thunder rang out that you swore made the building shake a little. You glanced at the window, then at his umbrella, and the protest died in your throat.
You sighed and adjusted the strap on your bookbag. "Okay. I can see there's no use trying to change your mind. Just, I don't know, don't get your hopes up about the state of my house."
Relief flashed over Mori's features. He followed you as you began making your way towards the school's entrace, perfectly matching his long stride to your pace.
"To be honest," he said, his tone contemplative, "I don't think I would care if you lived in a shack under a bridge. Nothing could make me look down on you."
You could feel a prickling heat creep up your cheeks. Was it the Host Club that taught him to drop compliments as easily as drawing breaths? He never even seemed remotely fazed by anything that came out of him mouth, no matter how flustered it made you.
The two of you stepped outside, Mori's sturdy umbrella already up and shielding you from the downpour. It took a bit of maneuvering to keep you both dry, considering the height difference and the fact you had to walk a half step ahead to lead him to your home, but soon the two of you fell into a good rhythm.
"Do you live very far?" Mori asked, eyes taking in a part of town he'd either never seen or only noted in passing as his driver sped him off to more important locations. You shook your head, chancing a look back at him.
"No, it's only about 20 minutes from the school, plus we're basically halfway anyway so we should get there soon." He nodded at your response and adjusted his hold on the umbrella, stepping a little closer to you in the process. You tried to ignore the shiver that ran through you at the proximity.
"You know, Takashi," you began, fidgeting with your bag strap to give your hands something to do. "it feels like you're always saving me from water based situations." A nervous giggle left your mouth as you glanced sideways at him. He let out a hard exhale and his mouth twitched up, but it was more than enough to send your stomach's resident butterflies into a frenzy.
"Maybe you angered a water spirit in your past life, and now I have to rescue you from its wrath." His tone was even, but the mirth in his eyes as he glanced at you was clear as day. You rewarded his efforts with a soft laugh and a smile, and your heart sped up as he mirrored your expression.
True to your word, it wasn't long until the two of you came upon your street. You pointed out which house was yours and Mori dutifully walked you to it, not dropping the umbrella until you were both safe under the shade of your covered porch. You were suddenly extremely grateful that your father had insisted on a more western look for your home.
"I really can't thank you enough for this, Takashi. It would've been miserable trying to get home on my own." Mori nodded, accepting your thanks with humble grace.
"It was nothing, truly. Like I said, I enjoy your company." The heat again. You busied yourself with fishing your keys out of your bag and unlocking the door, hoping to hide your flustered expression from his view. Once the door was open, you looked back at him.
"Aren't you going to call your driver to come get you?"
He nodded again and reached into his pocket to grab his phone. You gave him the exact address to relay to his chauffeur before moving to head inside. You were halfway over the threshold before you noticed he wasn't following and turned back to look at him. He was standing where you'd left him and staring at your retreating form, rigid as a statue.
"Takashi," you called out, trying to shake him from his weird trance. "It's cold out here. You should come in while you wait for the car to arrive."
Mori's mouth thinned, and you swore his cheeks were dusted with pink. "Is that…I mean, your parents aren't home. It wouldn't be proper."
You would've laughed if he didn't look so serious. "My folks are doctors, they're never home. Besides, it's only for a little while. You're not going to try anything, right?"
His eyes widened at your implication and the pink turned to a deeper red. "I would never!"
"Then there's no issue. Come on, I can make us some tea." You gestured for him to join you, but he simply stayed rooted where he was.
"It wouldn't be proper," he repeated, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than you. With a sigh, you closed the door and moved to stand close to him.
"If you're going to wait outside, I'll wait with you. You're on my property which makes me the host, and my mom would have my head if she found out I left a guest out in the cold."
"You don't need to."
"I want to."
For a long moment, Mori just stared at you. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, the blush on his cheeks spreading to the tips of his ears. Eventually, he seemed to resign himself to your stubbornness. He dropped his bag on the floor, shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the outer wall of your home. He turned his face away from you, content to kill time by watching the rain fall.
He looked ethereal with the glow of the streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement and onto his skin, his hair slightly damp from a few miscalculations with the umbrella. You were momentarily seized by a longing so great it was almost terrifying, crawling up from your stomach to shove aside your lungs and nestle itself next to your heart. Before your brain could catch up to the whims of your body, you had already closed the distance between you and him. His gaze snapped to yours, and the gentle heave of his chest stopped. His gray eyes looked almost black, twin singularities ready to consume you whole. Slowly, you brought your hand up to tug at his unbuttoned blazer, and before you could blink he was off the wall and on you.
His perpetually warm palms cradled your face with heartrending gentleness as he curled around you, his large frame occupying your every sense. One hand was fisted in his jacket, the other grasped at his shirt. His earthy cologne filled your nose, and his breaths sounded louder than any thunder. His eyes bored into you, pinning you, dissecting you, picking apart everything you were and had ever been. Then he glanced down at your lips and you were gone.
You couldn't say with certainty whether you initiated the kiss or he did, but in the end it was a pointless line of questioning as both parties were eager participants. His mouth slotted against yours like it was meant to be there, and your lips moved against his like they were made to do so. One of his hands slipped from your cheek to hold the back of your neck, and it only served to melt your brain further.
Just as your lips parted to deepen the kiss, the rumble of an engine startled you both out of the solitary bubble you had created. A sleek Cadillac rolled down your street, and it didn't take a genius to figure out who it belonged to. Mori let out out a disappointed huff as he disentangled from you, his features lined with reluctance as he straightened out his clothing and hefted his bag over his shoulder once more. The car rolled to a stop in front of your house and you silently cursed the driver. Was a spontaneous road blockade too much to ask for?
You turned back to the boy in front of you, wondering briefly if he would stay the night if you begged. Before your frazzled mind could put any half-baked plans into action, Mori was squeezing your shoulder, a reassuring smile on his face.
He leaned down to murmur softly in your ear. "I'll see you at school," he said before moving past you, down the porch steps and into the car. You watched the driver rev the engine and peel out of your neighborhood, your eyes glued to the vehicle until it disappeared around the corner. Groaning, you scrubbed a hand over your face as you turned to head into your own home. It was going to be a long weekend.
You had practically skipped into school Monday morning, eager to see Mori again after the weekend had dragged by. But he wouldn't meet your eye when you walked into class, and he was noticeably absent from all the places the two of you usually crossed paths. No matter what you tried you couldn't get even a shred of recognition from him, much less catch him alone. Confusion, anger, and more than a little hurt bubbled up in you at his blatant avoidance. Did you do something? Had he gotten cold feet? The uncertainty made your stomach churn and kept you up at night, mind racing with possibilities. Each conjured scenario was more heartbreaking than the last and the speculation only served to make you feel even worse.
By Friday your patience was on its last leg. You resolved to get to the bottom of this one way or another, for the sake of your peace of mind if nothing else. A part of you wanted to have faith in him, to extend him the benefit of a doubt and believe there was a totally benign reason for his odd behavior. The rest of you was rooted in reality.
One of your mother's patients had gifted her a voucher for a high end boutique that she had immediately passed on to you, insisting that a young lady should update her wardrobe at every opportunity. The district the shop was located in was far outside your usual stomping ground (and usual budget) but the weather was good and your Saturday afternoon was free, so you reasoned you might as well embrace the distraction.
As if your frustration had pierced the heavens and sent a message straight to the universe, you got off the bus and immediately caught sight of a familiar duffel bag and head of spiky black hair. He was dressed casually, sporting only a black tank top and athletic pants, but the height was unmistakable. He had his back was to you as he made a beeline for what you assumed was the kendo dojo you had spotted on the way here, but you'd be damned if you let this opportunity slip through your fingers.
The shopping trip long forgotten, you channeled a week's worth of irritation into your legs and ran him down, all but throwing yourself in his path. As predicted, his well-trained reflexes kicked in and he skid to a stop to avoid the sudden appearance of an obstacle in his path, giving you the chance to watch his face morph from confusion to dread in real time.
The way guilt painted every inch of Mori's features, one would think he was on trial for murder. The way anger painted every inch of yours only served to lend credibility to that assumption.
"We meet again at last. Were you banking on avoiding me forever, Takashi?" Despite the sour taste his name left in your mouth, you couldn't muster any real animosity towards him. All you had to draw from was a deep well of hurt, one you hoped this conversation would get rid of, one way or another.
Mori's grip on his bag tightened and his eyes darted between you and the rest of the sidewalk, as if considering whether to just sidestep you and continue on. You would hardly be an obstacle if he was really intent on getting past you. But he remained rooted in place, his voice low and resigned as he spoke.
"It's good to see you, Y/N." The nerve of him to say that while he refused to focus on you, his dark eyes looking at everything but your form right in front of him, stoked the fires of your righteous fury.
"Oh I'm sure. Tell me, what did you win?"
Mori's face morphed back to confusion, and he finally settled his gaze upon you. "Win? What do you mean?"
"Come on, Takashi, it's not my first day on Earth and it certainly isn't my first day dealing with immature boys. It was a bet right? 'Win the heart of the transfer and win a magnificent prize!', something like that, yes? Well I want to know what the prize was!" You couldn't quite discern the emotion on his face, but it looked vaguely like horror.
"It wasn't…I wouldn't…there was no bet."
"Oh so you ditched me all on your own, then? Even fucking better." You could feel the telltale tightness in your chest and pressure in your eyes that signaled an oncoming crying fit, but you suppressed it with all your might. You wouldn't shed tears for him. At least, not in front of him.
Mori took a half step forwards, the hand not holding his bag extended slightly, like he was fighting the urge to touch you. "Y/N, it's not like that, I swear. Please let me explain."
You crossed your arms and held your ground. "I'm listening. Prove that you weren't trying to make a fool out of me."
Mori inhaled deeply before letting it out long and slow. He ran a hand through his unruly locks and you really should've received a Medal of Honor for holding yourself back as the movement caused his arms to flex sinfully.
"I…I'm sorry, first and foremost. I was selfish. I was so caught up in my own emotions that I failed to consider how my shortcomings would affect you. It pains me to have caused you pain. Please forgive me." He bowed his head to you, and the genuine hurt in his voice gave you pause. He certainly didn't sound like someone who had masterminded a plan to embarass you, but you'd withhold judgement until his reasons were revealed. You silently gestured for him to continue and he nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
"To make it simple I was…" He trailed off and took another deep breath, gearing himself up to confess what had been weighing on him. "I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of my feelings towards you. When I first saw you, sitting by that fountain, I thought you were beautiful, but it wasn't deeper than that. At least, I convinced myself it wasn't. But after our conversation, I found myself thinking of you constantly. As a host I interact with pretty girls every day, but their smiles never affected me like yours had. I treasured every interaction between us, no matter how small. And then last week, the fact that you trusted me to get you home safely, being so close to you…I was besides myself. I acted…irrationally."
"Do you regret it?" You asked, almost scared to hear the answer.
"No." His answer was quick and firm, leaving no room for doubt or second thought. Your heart fluttered in your chest. "No I don't, but I think that's what scared me so much. I'm not accustomed to wanting things. I know that sounds callous, but I'm being literal. I've never had a great deal of wishes or desires. I believed I was entirely content with what I had." His hands moved to rest on your shoulders, and you didn't move to stop him. You barely dared to breathe.
"I was wrong. Y/N, I was so wrong. I want you with everything I am. I know you have every right to be upset with me after my behavior this week, but if you give me the chance I'll make it up to you tenfold for as long as you'll have me."
You didn't think. In truth, your mind had been blank from the moment he said he wanted you. You gazed at his face, his perfect, handsome face, carved from stone and glowing in the afternoon sun, and your body moved on pure instinct. You cupped his face and pressed your lips into his.
The kiss was softer than the first, but no less sweet. Vaguely you registered his arms wrapping around you, drawing you into him. He pulled away much earlier than you would have liked, but the smile on his face soothed your disappointment.
"I assume I'm forgiven?" He asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. You snorted and lightly smacked his bicep, though made no move to exit his embrace.
"Yeah, yeah, you're off the hook. Also, have you ever considered writing romance novels?"
A sharp exhale. "You think I could?"
"You have a gift, my dear."
He chuckled and, to your dismay, extracted his form from yours. He grabbed his bag from where it had fallen (when had he dropped it? You had no clue) and glanced at the nearby dojo.
"As much as I loathe to leave you, I do have a prior engagement." You frowned, more than a little reluctant to part so soon after learning your feelings were returned. Then, a lightbulb moment.
You reached into your back pocket and dug out the voucher. You gave Mori a glowing smile and batted your eyelashes, waving the coupon like it was the winning lottery ticket.
"You could go. I won't stop you. But there will be more kendo practices in the future. I'm offering you the chance of a lifetime here."
He quirked an eyebrow. "The chance to do what, exactly?"
"The chance to take your girlfriend shopping and pick out my outfit for our first date."
You could just barely hear his sharp inhale but it had you suppressing a smirk all the same. Hook, line, and sinker.
His eyes darted back to the dojo, then to you again, and you could tell his mind was made up. You extended your hand to him and he took it without a moment's hesitation. The grin you flashed him as you began to tug him in the direction of the boutique was near blinding.
"And what exactly are we doing on this first date, dearest?" He asked, matching your pace easily. You shrugged.
"I figured we could plan it on the way."
He laughed and intertwined your fingers with his, and the warmth that bloomed in you had nothing to do with the afternoon sun.
aren’t you lovely? | closeted-trans!jax x fem!reader
a sequel to ‘if i was a worm’, can be read as a standalone
ao3.
masterlist.
pairing: closeted-trans!jax × fem!reader
divider credit: @steviebbboi
summary: “Whattya think?”
He felt her lean back in his lap, voice lifting to her regular volume, making space for him to find his reflection in the vanity behind her.
His eyes opened slowly.
“I look…” Absentmindedly, he relinquished his hold on one of her sides, gloved hands lifting to prod as the underside of his eye, watching with twisting lips and an arching brow at the slight pull at his skin served only to make the shimmering pinks of his eyelids glitter more. “Stupid.”
wc: 2.4k
Jax was almost certain that he was holding his breath.
Because he wasn’t sure how else to explain the slight burn in his lungs. Or the nervous thrum echoing through his veins. Or the feckless twitch of his fingers against the loose fabric of his lover’s blouse.
Not because of the familiar weight of the doe straddling his lap and pressing her chest to his as she leaned just a little closer, attention warped solely around the careful ministrations of her hands.
He’d gotten used to that.
They’d been closer, with fewer layers of clothing between them.
What he wasn’t used to, however, was the strange tickle of feathery brushes sweeping over his closed eyelids, leaving sparkling trails of colorful eyeshadow in their wake. Nor the wet drag of a wand of eyeliner gliding across the crease of his eye, or the careful press of faux lashes to his skin.
She hadn’t said much since she’d started. Just request that he tilt his head a certain way. Or relax his bones when she felt his hands dig a little too hard between her ribs. Or proffer narrating compliments and coos every so often.
Each one only served to light that sparking nervousness burning in his chest a little brighter.
Because she could be lying. She could be playing the long game and toying with his heart and feigning admiration for the deconstruction of his masculinity.
He knew she wasn’t.
It didn’t make his heart beat any slower.
“Whattya think?”
He felt her lean back in his lap, voice lifting to her regular volume, making space for him to find his reflection in the vanity behind her.
His eyes opened slowly.
And he couldn’t admit if the gradualism was out of habit. Or of the dawning realization that as soon as he did, as soon as his eyes slid open and he was instantly met with the sight of his own visage reflected back at him, he wouldn’t be able to erase the reality that he’d let somebody apply femininity to his face. That he’d let somebody see him donned in glitter and powders.
He could feel her eyes on him, so open and earnest and hopeful, affixed to his shifting expression as he leaned forward and let the glow of her vanity lights illuminate his dubious visage. They caught in the newly applied powders canvassing the space above his eyes, shimmering innocently with every slight turn and tilt of his head.
Jax felt something twist inside of him, something cold and mean and burrowed deep in his nerves. Something that plucked at his heartstrings with cruel intentions, urging his hands to halt in their nervous twitching against the doe’s torso and instead push her away. To rub and claw at his face until it was rid of the glittering dust and drying eyeliner and carefully applied little lashes.
He swallowed tightly, letting his grip on her shirt curl a little tighter as his feet dragged against the ground, rolling the chair she’d pushed him into close enough to the mirror that there was no denying what was being reflected back at him.
Jax felt something else twinge inside of him, something warm and shattered and buried in the deepest crevices of his heart. She hadn’t touched his cheeks yet, or anything below his eyes, but his face was still aglow with blooming warmth and brightening shades of pink.
“I look…” Absentmindedly, he relinquished his hold on one of her sides, gloved hands lifting to prod at the underside of his eye, watching with twisting lips and an arching brow as the slight pull at his skin served only to make the shimmering pinks of his eyelids glitter more. “Stupid.”
“Don’t be rude. I haven’t done this in years,” she countered his deprecation almost immediately, swatting at his nose with the plume of her brush. “You look great.”
His pulse jumped.
He slumped back against the chair, knowing it was a losing battle to even attempt to dissuade her compliments. His knee bounced rhythmically, eyes cast to the side and arms crossing over his chest as the doe stretched back to retire the equipment she’d used on his eyes. “I’m not going out like this.”
“You don’t have to,” she assured, hands blindly patting down the flat of the vanity behind her in search of a particular set of tubes. With her free hand, she slipped her fingers behind the hem of his overalls pocket, fishing out the plastic bottle she’d stowed away for quick access should he have freaked out. Should he need to know it was there if he needed it. “That’s what makeup remover is for.”
She shook the bottle demonstrably, with every intent to flick the lid open if he asked her to.
She found herself just as surprised as the rabbit was when his hand latched onto her wrist, pushing the offending jostling liquid away from him. Almost instinctual, like a panicked resort.
Jax released his grip, hand hovering over her forearm like he’d been stung by a hot plate.
“So, how’s it feel?” She emphasized, brushing past the reflexive urge to push the liquified eraser away from his visage, smug expression tilting as she slipped the makeup remover back into his pocket.
“I- I don’t know,” he stuttered, eyes flitting between her nearing visage and anything else, hands grasping at the air, as if anticipating the physical manifestation of an apt description. He settled a repeated utterance of the word “Stupid.”
“It’s new. Everybody feels stupid the first time,” she shrugged, so causal and easy, like it wasn’t a big deal, searching hand finding the row of laid-out glassy tubes and snatching them up. Her fingertips slipped under the front of his overalls, using the lax grip to pull herself back into an upright seated position. She let out a breathy sigh, shoulders loosening as she produced the fruits of her searching with an eager grin and a twinkle in her eyes. “You wanna try lip gloss?”
“I…” He faltered, gaze darting between the assortment of colored tubes and the deer’s expectant face.
Pink, red, glittery, girly.
He could say no. He could tell her to fuck off. Without censorship too.
His knee bounced rhythmically, nervous energy bubbling beneath his skin and assimilating into his joints before he muttered out the side of his mouth, all shy and dodging; “You pick.”
She hummed at his slow acquiescence, dutifully plucking one of the more subtle colors, ensuring that there was a little bit of shimmer before she proffered a playful; “Wanna match?”
“Sure,” he murmured back at her, gaze downturned and avoidant, even as a wet pop prologued the gentle swipe of a spongy wand against his mouth. He kept his eyes fixed to the side, stubborn in his refusal to bear witness to any step in this transformation she was conducting at his behest.
It was only when the tentative weight of the applicator retreated from his lips, when she pursed her lips and encouraged him to do the same, when she murmured an airy ‘there ya go’, when she cupped his face between her two hands and turned his head until he had no choice but to find her eyes, did he let his gaze wander up.
And, as soon as wide, squared pupils met soft, round ones, he was rewarded with a gentle whisper of; “You look lovely.”
Jax’s breath hitched in the back of his throat, flustered heat igniting across his cheekbones with a renewed vigor. His ears twitched around the adulation. Because she’d said it so quietly, whispered into the inches between their mouths, meant only for him and so undeniably earnest that it made his heart squeeze and stutter.
He felt a familiar itch tickle behind his eyes, one that he blinked away with a dismissive click of his tongue, reflex goading him into an attempt at humor; “I thought we were supposed to ma-“
She swallowed his complaint with a chaste press of her lips to his, bare lips slotting over shimmering ones. It commenced in a familiar melt of mouths and an affectionately foreign transference of rouge and lacquer, in a habitual roam of hands, of fingertips tracing intimately familiar outlines and pulling warm bodies just a little closer.
Slow and belated, seconds after she’d pulled away, Jax’s eyes fluttered open. Lips tingling with the lingering feeling of her mouth on his, his gaze flitted down to the mouth he’d developed a frightening gravitation for in the months since that same mouth had uttered quiet and desperate assurances under the scarlet glow of a lonesome lamppost. Since she’d pulled him from the dregs of abstraction and back into the harsh realities of digital eternity with nothing more than whispers of irrevocable adoration and a promise to torment him with teasing words and playful barbs.
He felt it when his pupils squared and blew, when the dim lighting of her bedroom caught in an enticing twinkle across her lips, shimmering more when her mouth twisted into a crooked grin.
“There we go. Matching,” she murmured against his lips, relinquishing the careful hold her thumb and forefinger had on his chin, the edge of her thumb grazing the smallest imperfection tarnishing the skin at the corner of his mouth. “Smudges and all.”
He hummed distantly, eyes drifting from the enticing, glittering frame of her mouth to the bare skin of her cheeks. To the slight crinkles at the corners of her eyes, eyes that were occupied with watching intently as her thumb nudged at the bottom edge of his lips, fixing the gloss and perfecting the outline of his mouth.
“You missed a spot,” he blurted, softened expression smoothing into something wry and warped with playful malice.
Her brow arched and her mouth opened to question his critical assertion, unwittingly tilting her head in to Jax’s waiting palm. He sandwiched her head between his two hands, holding her captive as he hauled her face into his and peppered her face with a sticky, glittering smatter of kisses.
From the corners of her eyes to the flushed curve of her cheekbones, he dragged his mouth and bestowed a flutter of open-mouthed presses to her skin. He left behind a messy patchwork of lip gloss marks and smudging expressions of affection, lips wobbling in a losing battle against a stretching grin when he felt the doe his lap start to whine and writhe against his ceaseless painting of her skin.
“Ugh, Jax!” She exclaimed, recoiling from his incessant mouth with a sharp downturned twist of her expression, lips pulled into a pouty moue as her knuckles nudged at her cheekbones in a vain attempt to wipe away the residual stickiness coating her skin. She grunted at him, brows dipping low over narrowed eyes. “My face is sticky now.”
“I can make it stickier,” he countered, quick and teasing, brows jumping and voice lowered as his lids dipped and his grin sharpened into a coy smirk, peering up at her from beneath his newly acquired lashes.
He watched with squared pupils and an arrogant grin as her face fell and color erupted across the curve of her cheekbones behind the faded and smudged remnants of his kisses, shoulders lifting with the rumble of a devilish snicker at her expense. One that was interrupted and muffled by familiar hands overlapping over his open mouth, shoving his face away from her burning expression with an eepish condemnation of his suggestive remark; “Ew!”
The edges of his eyes crinkled as his laugh remained harbored beyond the stifling press of her palms. He tilted his head back to detach the firm touch of her hands.
And she let him, compromising the loss of contract by poking at the center of his forehead with a chastising frown and a pouty; “We were having a moment.”
“Moment’s gone,” Jax needled back at her with a dismissive bend of his wrist. He cocked his head to the side as gloved fingertips skittered along familiar curves before they settled into a reflexive squeeze over her ribs. And, with a sharpened grin and careful hands, he let his knees part, slim thighs sliding open and jostling the doe in his lap.
His hold on her torso kept her from tilting out of his lap and into a heap on the floor. But he did nothing to steady her, nothing to impede on the mean little chuckle that left him when her hands latched onto his shoulders in a desperate bid to keep herself upright. And, when she glared up at him, all wide-eyed and disgruntled, Jax could only respond with a coy tilt of his head and an impish grin, jerking his head in the direction of the space between his legs. “So, you gonna get on your knees, or what?”
She recovered from the inconsiderate overhaul of her balance as quickly as it took for her surprised expression to settle into something flat and playfully exasperated, readjusting the placement of her knees, thighs closing either side of the rabbit’s before she let her weight settle on him fully.
His expression didn’t shift at the intentional loss of space between them. Still so arrogant, and so outwardly certain, fingers furling just a little tighter in the fabric of her blouse.
But he couldn’t hide the cartoonish bloom of pink that dusted across his cheeks.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she warned, eyes narrowed and lips twitching in a losing battle against a wry smile. Her fingers curled a little tighter around his shoulders, guiding him into a backward push until his spine was aligned with the plush material of her chair’s backrest.
It was only once he had nowhere to go and nowhere to look aside from the lidded expression inching closer to his own, only when his eyes were fixed on the face backlit and haloed by the heavenly glow of her vanity lights, did she relinquish her hold on his shoulders.
Her hands ventured in differing directions.
One floated over the curve of his shoulder until her fingertips brushed the denim straps of his overalls, gliding over stitches and buttons until her fingers could slip under the upper edge of the garment. Her other hand charted the familiar terrain of his throat, until her fingers found the underside of his chin and she could tip his head back just enough so that her mouth hovered over his.
She fisted the material in her hand, just enough to halt his wordless attempt to close the space between their mouths, lips grazing over the glittering outline of the bunny’s as she murmured into his mouth with a teasing lilt of tone; “Or I’ll tell Caine you’re acting out and get him to neuter you again.”
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requests are open for jax x fem!reader oneshots, just send in an ask, and make sure it follows the rules laid out here.
ao3.
masterlist.
comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated, always
SUMMARY: there are very few things that leave dazai osamu at a loss for answers. you are one of them. more specifically, it's your relationship (is this a relationship?) with him that has him so disconcerted, and dazai is getting to his breaking point.
(wordcount: 3.6k; nsfw [kind of, very suggestive so will label nsfw], ada!reader, dazai has SEVERE trust issues & paranoia, this is set like half a year after he joined the ada, dazai also has a bad relationship with sex that is mentioned in his narration, he is terrible at communication too, accidentally hurts reader a little [nothing major])
AUTHOR'S NOTES: hiiiiiii guys <.< so i'm actually really proud of this ehehe. this is a universe that i'm tempted to expand on like wykyk, but we'll see.
Dazai hates giving up control.
Ever since he was a kid, he’s been hyper-independent. First with his family, because they were never around and he had to learn to be self-sufficient otherwise he’d die a slow, painful death. Then in the Port Mafia, he quickly learned that asking for help is a weakness and being dependent on others is a vulnerability that people would take advantage of to subvert his influence and usurp his position as an underboss. As long as he’s remembered, it was all but a death sentence to rely on any other than himself.
It wasn't until he became a member of the Agency that he finally began to allow himself to depend on others—banking on Ranpo and his mind, Kunikida and his ideals, Yosano and her tenacity. But even then, he never allowed himself to lose complete control over a situation, drawing things out in a way that would always leave him with a firm hand guiding the chess board.
Until he met you, at least.
He wasn’t sure what made you so different—he still isn’t entirely sure, it’s a thought that frequently plagues him, and because of it, he can never allow himself to be fully comfortable with you. You joined the Agency a month after him with lips that spoke pretty words and gave him even prettier smiles. You’d been kind to everyone, but Dazai likes to think you were especially kind to him. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Dazai liked the idea of it.
Well, he didn’t at first.
In fact, he was rather hostile to it. To you. The longing he felt for the casual, soft touches you laid upon the other members of the Agency felt more like a weakness than anything else. It scared him. He’d never desired anything of the sort before, he’d always been okay on his own—thrived in it, really—and now he was suddenly seeking you out at all hours of the day, and he didn’t even fully understand why. Every time he sought you out, it ended poorly with him saying something uncalled for and your expression twisting as you tried to hide your hurt.
And yet he still continued to seek you out. He made the same mistake over and over again: constantly forcing himself into your space after getting jealous watching you doll out casual affection to the other detectives, waiting for you to give him the same attention, and then lashing out in some manner when you finally did.
He supposed it didn’t help that Dazai was uncomfortable in general with people touching him, which naturally made him even more hostile because why was he longing for something that made him uncomfortable?
He also still isn’t sure how you managed to break through all of his walls—or why you even persisted when it became clear that he was at best incompetent when it comes to dealing with real emotions, and at worst, borderline malicious.
But you did. And it scared him. Scares him.
Dazai lets out a shaky breath when he feels your lips ghost against his neck, fingers twisting the sheets below him. Your hands are sliding against his sides, gentle and soothing, and a part of him wants to melt into the sheets while another part of him wants to flip the two of you around, press you back down into the mattress and rip control over the situation back from you.
As if you can sense his conflict—maybe you can, Dazai has come to realize that unlike everyone else at the Agency, who he can fool with his mask of exaggerated dramatics and clownlike behavior, that you had somehow learned how to see right through him—you pause for the sparest moment and trace your lips back up his neck to brush them against his own, soft and comforting, as if to soothe his discord.
And it works somehow. Dazai doesn’t know how you do it because he can’t even quell his own mind when it starts to spin out of control, but the brush of your lips against his is enough to ground him again.
“Everything okay?” you ask quietly, eyes searching his face for the answers that he knew his lips might not give.
“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice rough and cracking over the word.
He thinks maybe a part of it is the way you always check on him to make sure he’s doing alright. For Dazai, sex has only ever been transactional—he was young when he was first carted off to a whorehouse so he could be taught how to use his body for intel and other miscellaneous advantages. No matter how hard he tried to enjoy it, he always found it to be underwhelming at best and loathsome at worst. And he did try to enjoy it, he forced himself to seek out women in his free time to try to learn to enjoy the activity that so many other people seem to find comfort and pleasure in.
It wasn’t until you that he could.
His first time with you was earth shattering. He’s not exaggerating when he says it completely altered his perspective on intimacy. It was embarrassing, almost—he remembers giving you quick, flirty smiles, and he remembers the sly comments he whispered to you at the bar the members of the Agency were at to celebrate Yosano’s birthday.
He knew that morning that he wanted you in his bed by nightfall—partly because he thought it would get you out of his system, that maybe all he needed was a good fuck to stop acting like he was brainless whenever you were around, and partly because he was curious. He was curious to know if that genuine demeanor of yours continued behind closed doors, or if it was all just a mask you liked to put up in public.
Dazai’s hands were on you before the two of you even left for the night—they were creeping up your inner thigh, lingering on your bicep, he was resting his chin on your shoulder as he stood behind you, warding off any man that might try to approach you with cold looks you couldn’t catch. Eventually, like he planned, you asked him if he wanted to go back to your apartment, and Dazai agreed, of course, eager to get his questions answered. Eager to free himself of whatever shackles you’ve put on him.
And it all went downhill from there.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask again, frown deepening and hands stilling on his waist when you don’t find an answer you like on his face.
Dazai tries to play it off—you’re here for sex, not all of his unstable thoughts. He gives you a practiced smile and slips his hand under your shirt to rest on your lower back, pulling you firmer against him—an easy tactic, one of the first he learned to distract his partner when he slips up.
He should have known better than to think you would fall for it.
Instead of returning to the lingering line of kisses you were leaving on his neck, you sit back to study him, and Dazai feels seen. He shifts under your scrutinizing gaze, averting his eyes to the ceiling and counting the seconds that pass as he waits for you to ask that dreaded question.
“What's wrong?” you ask him quietly.
Dazai can evade it. He knows that he can—even if the sex is ruined, because he knows you’re not going to have sex with him if you think something is wrong, he can evade this question by refusing to answer. You never press it, although sometimes your lips curve down in a disappointed frown that makes him feel even worse than before.
But Dazai finds himself hesitating.
“I-“ he starts to say before cutting himself off abruptly, horrified by the realization that he was just about to admit to you what he was thinking. “Nothing.”
The anticipation that had sprung to your eyes when he started to speak dissipates when he blows you off, and it makes his chest tighten. He feels your thighs tense and knows you’re about to get off of him, so his hands fly to your hips to keep you in place.
“Something,” he corrects, voice just a little too raspy for comfort. “… Something.”
You settle back down on top of him, tilting your head to the side.
“Tell me?” you offer quietly, your hands drop to his arms, sliding up and down the bandages that cover his forearms slowly. Soothingly. He hates it.
“I just don’t understand this,” Dazai admits. “It’s… confusing.”
It's possibly the first time he’s ever spoken these words out loud. It’s a weakness he’s never allowed anyone to be aware of—even when Dazai has no idea what’s going on, he’s careful to put up an impenetrable facade of confidence, one that even the keenest eyes can’t see through.
And here he is, bare of masks and facades, admitting his weakness plainly to someone who could easily take advantage of it.
Oh.
“This as in…?” you prompt with a pondering frown.
Is that it?
“This,” he repeats more insistently as his mind races. “Us.”
You, he accuses silently.
You have the ability to destroy him. Dazai realizes, disconcerted, that this is what is confusing him. He's allowed himself to be weak in front of you. He's lowered all of his guards. He's let you in through his many walls of defenses. You’ve settled down in the treacherous beating thing in his chest that he’s tried to rip out too many times to count, and Dazai waits for you to take advantage of it. He waits for this to go wrong. Waits for you to prove yourself to be a Trojan Horse in the form of dazzling smiles and a beautiful face.
But you don’t, and that’s what Dazai just can’t understand. He doesn’t understand what you’re getting out of this—he knows what he’s getting out of it. He’s getting comfort, he’s able to pretend he’s capable of being loved, he gets you. But you’re not getting anything out of this, so he feels like he’s just been biding time before the other shoe drops.
“… What about us do you not understand?” You sound perplexed, and it agitates Dazai. Worse, you can tell it agitates him because immediately you run your thumb over the pulse point on his wrist to soothe him. You add quickly with a small smile, “I'm not understanding now, help me?”
It is beyond disconcerting that even though he knows it was a ploy to distract and soothe him, it works anyway. Dazai needs to do something about this.
“What do you get out of this?” Dazai decides to ask the question plainly instead of dancing around his words, partially because of the agitation and partially because he just needs an answer. Desperately. “What do you get out of what’s going on between us? I don't understand why you keep agreeing to meet me, why you initiate it sometimes. I need to know what it is you get."
Sex is transactional—it always is. Each party has to get something out of it, and if you don't know what the other is getting, then you have made a perilous mistake somewhere along the line. Dazai has known this since the beginning, but he allowed himself too long to bask blindly in the comfort of your arms and bed. He can’t keep doing this without knowing what you’re getting, It’ll come back to haunt him.
You’re still confused by his question even with the explanation, he can see it in the way the thoughts race behind your eyes as you try to piece it together.
Eventually you settle on a smile that’s almost playful as you answer with, “You?”
Dazai’s frown deepens at your words, his expression becomes a bit colder. He thinks you’re evading the question because you don’t want to answer it, and that’s dangerous. You joined the Armed Detective Agency not long after him—were you a plant sent to get close to him by one of his old enemies? By Mori? His thoughts start to spiral dangerously. These are questions he should’ve been having months ago when you first joined the Agency, not now.
“What are you really getting?” His grip on your hips tightens. “Tell me. Stop avoiding the question.”
Your expression becomes a bit more alarmed when he closes off from you, he thinks maybe his grip on your hips might be painful from your wince but he can’t afford to let go until he has his answer.
“You, Dazai,” you say again, more insistently this time. “I get you. I get to spend time with you. be with you. That’s what I get.”
“But why?” Dazai presses, raising his voice, holding you tighter. He is hurting you now, he can tell from the way you try to bat his hands away, but he couldn’t let go if he wanted to. His blood pressure is rising as he realizes how badly he might have messed up. All of Ango’s efforts—Odasaku’s last request—all down the drain because of one mistake. “Why? What information are you trying to get? Who sent you? Who are you work-“
“What?” you demand. The confusion in your eyes is almost believable—Dazai thinks you must’ve been sent by someone important if you’re this good of an actress. His thoughts track back to Mori and his mind starts to fog with fury. “Who sent me? What are you-Dazai-I want you because I care about you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The fog clears, Dazai stares at you blankly, hands loosening on your hips. He's not sure he heard you correctly, so he says: “What did you just say?”
Your expression softens a bit, and you repeat, “I care about you. I want you because I care about you.”
“No, you don’t,” Dazai says immediately. Instinctually.
“Yes, I do.” Dazai has never seen you get irritated before, but your face twists when he instantly denies your words. “I do, Dazai.”
“You don’t,” he insists. “You can’t. You don’t even know me, you don't care about me.”
He thinks he almost would have preferred that you had some ulterior motive to this. He hates the way his chest swells with hope—hope is dangerous, more dangerous than any other emotion. Fear, anger, sadness, none of it compares to the light that tries to bloom within his rotted chest. He tries to cut it off before it can spread, but it’s notoriously hard to snuff out; it clings to anything it can get a hold on even as he tries to push it away.
The idea is… more tempting than he expected. It’s concerning, that should be enough to clear his head, but it’s not. His fingers cling to your shirt desperately, he searches your face, trying to find the sparest indication that you may be lying.
He finds none.
Still, Dazai knows better. He knows this won’t last. you’ll find out who he was, all of the things he did, and then you’ll leave him. You’ll see him for what he is, and you’ll leave him. This will never last.
Nothing good ever does for him.
“But I do care about you,” you insist, and you’re cruel now, because you reach out to cup his cheek and Dazai leans into your touch. He can’t help himself from it. “I care about you deeply, Dazai.”
“You can’t,” he repeats, and to his horror, his voice wavers. “You don’t know who I am, you don’t know what I’ve done, and when you do-“
“We all have skeletons in our closet, Dazai,” you interrupt him quietly. “I don't think there’s a single ability user out there that doesn’t. I don't need to know your past to know I care about you.”
That’s not true, he wants to say, but can’t force the words out. Instead, he says hoarsely, “It would change how you see me. I'm not who you think I am. I’m-”
A monster. A demon. His blood is black—has been since the day he was born, will be until the day he dies. He is not someone who should be cared for. He's someone who should be left to rot, someone the world would be better off without. He doesn’t deserve this, not when there are so many other people in the world who are unfailingly good and do deserve it.
“It won’t,” you say again, but Dazai knows it’s not true, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know how awful he is. You don’t give him the chance to protest though. “I care about who you are today. I care about who you are tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. Not who you were months ago. The past is the past, Dazai, leave it there.”
“It's not that simple,” he rasps.
“It can be,” you say softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, “if you let it.”
“It can’t be that simple,” he disagrees. There’s an odd lilt to the voice—pleading, almost, begging you not to give him hope only to rip it away when the truth inevitably comes to light. “It can’t.”
“It can for us,” you tell him again, and Dazai finds himself believing you. Wanting to believe you. Wanting to believe things can just be that simple. That easy.
“Why?” Dazai breathes out, eyes searching your face for answers. “Why me? Why not someone…”
Someone better. Someone good. Someone deserving.
“Because you’re you,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, you lean down to ghost your lips against his and it fogs his brain with a pleasant warmth he’s only ever felt with you. “Do I need a reason more than that?”
Dazai wants to say yes, because him being him is a reason for you to not want him. He’s despicable, he’s cruel, he lashed out at you for weeks all the while forcing himself into your space because he wanted to be near you but didn’t understand why.
“I love your smile,” you say, thumb running along his bottom lip, “and I love even more when I’m the reason for it.”
“But-“
“And I love your eyes,” you continue, fingers trailing up his face to trace under his eyes. “I think they’re the prettiest shade of brown I’ve ever seen.”
“I know that’s not true,” he rasps—he knows very well that his eyes are unnerving, too black and too empty. People have been unable to look him in the eye for long even when he was a kid. “I-“
“But most of all, it’s just you,” you say softly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. “You make me happy. I like being around you. I always look forward to the time we get to spend together—missions, at work, after work. I’ll take you in whatever way I can get, Dazai.”
You don’t let him avert his gaze this time, you force him to look at you, force him to see the truth of your words reflected in the adoration on your face. No one has ever looked at him like this before, and it makes him feel bare. Seen. He’s always felt seen with you, but never like this.
“I was… mean to you.” He still tries to argue with you, lashes fluttering shut. “I was cruel for months because-“
You laugh at him. “Mean? You were like a puppy trying to snap at my hand to scare me off.”
Dazai gapes. “A puppy?” he demands, seriously offended. “Don’t compare me to a dog. I’m more like a… A…”
“A…?” you press, a pretty smile flickering at your lips.
“A panther,” he supplies confidently.
“A kitten,” you correct.
Dazai groans dramatically, flinging his head back, but he finds himself smiling. He finds his chest full of warmth, light and bubbly, and when he looks back up at you to meet your eyes, he finds the same emotion swimming on your face. He thinks again that no one has ever looked at him like this before—not with such fondness, not with adoration, not with…
No, Dazai doesn’t dare think that word.
“I care about you too,” he admits. He’s hesitant, like he’s scared to say the words out loud.
“Even with all of the skeletons hidden in my closet?” you tease, leaning down to brush your lips against his again, and then a second time, and then a third. He basks in it, eyes sliding shut as you kiss him gently—it takes a few moments for your words to register.
“They’re not worse than mine,” he replies, the pads of his fingers running up and down your thighs absently. After a couple of seconds pass, he asks, “… What skeletons do you have?”
You tilt your head to the side and say playfully, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Dazai isn’t ready for that, so he just tosses you a smile and a wink before murmuring, “How about you show me something else instead?”
You laugh at that, tossing your head back and giggling so genuinely that your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sound. His lips part to make another suggestive comment, but he finds himself breathless at the sight of you.
You’re beautiful, and Dazai can’t help but think again that he doesn’t deserve this. You.
“Deal,” you agree.
This time when you lean down to press your lips against his, Dazai’s hands are content to rest on your thighs. His fingers don’t itch to wrangle control from you, and his mind isn’t plagued with paranoia-induced thoughts.
He thinks, maybe, that he can get used to this. Used to you.
Hi, I hope everything is alright. I apologize in advance if my English is bad, it's not my first language. I saw that request (for Dazai) where the reader has a deadly touch, but what if it were the opposite? Like, the reader could revive people, I think it would be especially interesting if they had never told Dazai before.
I thought it would be funny, but feel free to deny the request🪻
dazai x reader — the touch of life
tags: sfw
a/n: hi lovely, i loved the idea, tnx for requesting! ♡
when you first got into the agency, there wasn't so many chances where you could showcase your ability—since the armed detectives usually did their job thoroughly well. so you just stuck to your paperwork—glad that the agency put people's mind at ease before the situation got dire enough that someone would be in need of your ability.
though that changed on a one particularly challenging mission that was assigned to you and none other than your charm himself—dazai. you were notified of a victim in critical condition—a crime waiting to be solved. though when you got there, the person was on his last breaths—and it had already been too late.
dazai had stood there—face grim—yet his eyes were stoic, almost deprived of any emotion—he was not new to seeing people die, considering his gloomy past. though when he glanced at you, he was expecting a face twisted with sorrow and concern—to his shock however, he was met with serious eyes and a blazing gaze—an expression that displayed a calm, collected serenity in it's certainty.
despite his internal astonishment, dazai remained silent and pondered—as to what could possibly cause you to be this level-headed; as if you hadn't seen a man just take his last breaths in front of you—you seemed unaffected, like you thought he was going to be reborn. he didn't know that was quite the whole truth. it was then that your moment to shine finally had arrived. you made your way to the harmed man—hand steady as you pressed it against his forehead.
it took only a mere second before sound of chocked gasps of breath were heard.
people around you stood surprised—momentarily motionless before the sudden gasps were heard and they were rushing to tend to the victim and his injuries; the questioning for the crime committed could be asked later, you thought.
you turned around with a satisfied smile, ready to go back—and were met with a stunned, wide-eyed dazai. you could swear you even saw sparkles in his eyes for a second—cue to him gushing over how extraordinary and incredible your ability was—why you hadn't used it before—why didn't you tell anyone about it- and so on. it was kind of endearing, actually. it wasn't often that you saw dazai genuinely intrigued by something. so you decided to cut him some slack—and told him all about your ability on your walk back to the agency, about how it worked, what limits it had, what could be the consequences if you used it too much—pinky laced with his as he listened with his full attention on you—eyes soft and gaze adorned with admiration.
after that incident, you now have to deal with a whole new wave of his teasings in the office. he jokes a lot about how apparently—"he can no longer succeed in his long-awaited suicide anymore; because you'll just revive him back", which would be false as his ability clashes with any other—but he can't use it while dead, can he?
you always laugh it off; but deep in your hearts, you both know that it's true. though all jokes aside, all the praise coming from him is true. when you're in Yokohama, you'll be met with all sorts of abilities—and most of them take lives without blinking. other ones do heal—but not many of them reincarnate. and the way you can grant people the gift (or curse) of another chance in life? of being reborn? it's almost holy to him. which is the reason as to why your ability is so special in his eyes.
you ability also puts his mind at ease—that with you, the agency doesn't have to worry—even about dying. and everytime you do your thing—confident and calm, he might not say anything; but you always catch to look on his face—pure, adoring, proud.
synopsis.: your love for dazai osamu is suffocating him more than his wish to die
pairing.: dazai osamu x gn!reader
cw.: sfw, established relationship, heavy trigger warning !! ⇢ self-harm, mentions of death and suicide, depression, suggestive themes, angst, no comfort
word count.: 1.2k
۶ৎ note.: this is somewhat self-indulgent and inspired by the song smother by daughter. i highly suggest listening to it if you wanna grasp the vibe of the fanfiction. anyway, wrote this as a healthy coping mechanism:)
in the darkness i will meet my creators
and they will all agree that i’m a suffocator
suffocator, suffocator...
his skin is growing colder by the second while yours remains oppressively warm. his eyes are unfocused and glazed over, fixed on a spot too far away for you to reach.
you begin gently tracing the white lines on his arms, your fingers grazing the scarred tissue and following them down to his wrist like a path worn thin by too many footsteps, leading nowhere at all.
instead of nothing at all, however, you find dried blood and scabs forming over deep cuts. a frown settles on your face as you touch his wrist more purposefully now.
dazai flinches at the contact of your fingertips over the fresh wounds. “did you…?” you ask quietly as he pulls his arm away, seeming almost ashamed as he avoids looking at you.
your frown only deepens, and you adjust your position on top of him, reaching out to cup one of his cheeks.
“osamu, look at me,” you murmur, caressing the delicate skin under his eye. you feel his lashes flutter ever so softly against your hand as he leans into your touch.
eventually, he dares to hold your gaze. his body stiffens at the way you’re so carefully regarding him, your gaze concerned and filled with sickening affection.
your love is pure, tender, almost desperate in a way—certain that if you just hold on tighter for the both of you—no one will fall.
and dazai is brilliant at giving you the illusion of that certainty. so you mistake the quietness in his eyes for stability. you mistake his staying beside you for a desire to live. you mistake his love for you for a craving for more of your own.
but he never truly wanted your love. and every mistake claws at you, leaving your heart raw, almost burning from a hope he never meant to give.
perhaps the sex has made him more vulnerable. or maybe it’s just your eyes pleading for an answer as to why he hurt himself. again.
either way, nothing prepared you for his next words—the bitter tinge in his tone chosen intentionally.
“i did it because i needed to feel something other than… this. something lighter,” he says, looking at you and exhaling a shaky breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.
you stop your gentle motions on his cheek, your hand twitching at his words. “what do you mean?” you ask, sounding somewhat confused even though deep down you know exactly what he means.
dazai only lets out a sigh, tilting his head away from you to gaze out the window. the moon shines through a cleft in the clouds, casting a soft glow across the floor behind you.
“i want to die,” he mutters, your name spoken in a hush at the end. you withdraw your hand slowly from his cheek, flinching as if burned by his words.
they sting. hard. and your vision blurs from the impending tears threatening to spill. dazai, of course, notices. he can practically feel your body shaking against his due to the closeness from your shared intimacy.
he can’t stand your tears, but at the same time, he couldn’t care less. his hand reaches out tentatively, hesitating before wiping away the glistening wetness.
“i don’t get it… why? why do you want to die so fucking badly?” you say, slapping away his hand and sitting up straight, the blanket slipping from your shoulders.
precious skin is exposed, something dazai indulges in almost mournfully before tearing his gaze away. he doesn’t have an answer to your question.
he could lie and tell you about oda, how his death and the crimes he’s done have warped his mind into not wanting to live anymore, because he doesn’t deserve it. it would be a logical explanation.
he could lie and tell you it’s just his depression messing with him, feeding him thoughts, that his earlier words slipped out by accident. it would soothe you, if only for a moment, paired with an apology.
neither of those options feel quite right, though, and neither does living or searching for an explanation.
these are his feelings and he has always felt this way. he has always seen no point in living. so why is he still alive?
for you, of course. well, not only for you. after all, you’re not the only person who needs him. that would make things too easy, wouldn’t it? no, dazai lives with intent and there are things he still needs to finish.
like guiding atsushi, praising akutagawa for work long done excellently, helping kyouka find a way out of the darkness surrounding her, and, last but not least, making sure you’re taken care of.
you deserve being loved the way you love him, even if he only drowns in it—your love. but then again, everything except the latter can be taken care of.
instead of him, kunikida could offer atsushi guidance. he could write akutagawa a letter, telling him he’s proud of him. and atsushi is doing a great job at being kyouka’s emotional anchor.
he might never fully understand her twisted mind like dazai does, but he’s sure she will make it through with him by her side.
if only you weren’t in the picture. but he supposes that’s his own fault, letting himself fall in love with you. your softness and warmth are so tempting, so alluring to his weary bones, and so cruelly soothing.
but how does he explain that to you? that he wants to disappear but can’t? that you’re holding him back more than anything? and that you’re only making things harder simply by existing—by loving him?
how does one tell another that their love is poison? probably not like this, never like this.
“you’re smothering me,” dazai whispers softly, unable to look at you. his tone is tinged with disgust at himself, perhaps for letting those words slip in the first place. he knows that must hurt.
your breath hitches, and you glance at him out of the corner of your eyes, your chest feeling heavy. it isn’t blame. it’s the naked truth, stripped of any kind of mercy.
because how can someone end their life when they’re loved like this? when every breath they take feels borrowed from you, never truly their own? they can’t.
so dazai stays, unbegrudgingly, unintentionally forced to keep breathing beneath the weight of your suffocation.
you say his name like it might ground him, your voice cracking and bare as your hands tremble. the heavy feeling in your chest spreads, invading every inch of your body until you are just aching—aching for him.
“i’m sorry i can’t find the will to…” he speaks, letting the implication hang in the air as his throat tightens unbearably. you quickly wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.
his eyes widen for a split second before he regards you with the look he always wears when he feels you near, something painful between gratitude and regret. guilt and affection linger, twisted so tightly they are indistinguishable.
his breath stutters against your shoulder, but you only hold him tighter as you feel hot tears against your skin.
and even as the thought crawls its way into your mind—this is what’s killing him—you don’t let go.
because loving him is all you are, so what else can you do for him other than further smother him with your endless, revolting love?
Note: Greetings BSD fandom, i present to you a hurt/comfort, situation ship with dazai fanfic! It's a little long, so i added the read more cut but I hope you have fun reading it <3 I think it's gender neutral, but since I am a girl i did have a female reader in mind? sorry about that :< I was also listening to ALOT of ethel cain writing this hehe reblogs/comments are appreciated <3
Dazai sits beside you on the roof of a tall building he introduced you to. It isn’t a quiet night; the city of Yokohama below glimmers with artificial lights, and the sounds of cars zooming across the streets can be heard clearly. The stars are barely visible, but the sky isn’t completely dark.
He’s always had a habit of tormenting his co-workers and you were no exception. However, once you had gotten used to his antics, he eventually gave up, pouting and complaining about how ‘you're no fun at all’. His unusual flirting methods, on the other hand, had gotten to you. You grew fonder of him each passing day in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger around. You wouldn’t resist his flirting, letting him go on and on with a heartfelt laugh. And when you’d do so, Dazai would dramatically put a hand over his chest and say,
“That laugh is dangerous, Belladonna. Careful, I might end up falling for you.”
He looks out at Yokohama for a moment, taking in the sight of the city below. The cool summer nightair blows through his messy, dark hair as he leans back on his arms, his sandy trench coat sprawled on the concrete. Dazai isn’t the kind of guy who’s typically silent; he always has a quip prepared for any situation. But tonight, he's eerily quiet; it’s almost unsettling.
“I like coming up here at night, Bella. It's quiet, Peaceful.” He speaks with his usual, calm smile.
You turn your head around slightly to look at him. He knows you're looking, but chooses to continue staring at the twinkling city beneath. It wasn’t the city he was looking at; it was a point in space, a memory playing that only he could see.
“Do you come here often?” you ask curiously, trying to follow his gaze.
He nods, gazing out into whatever was only visible to him
“Mhm, not only to jump off. Sometimes to think, but mostly to…how do you say? Remember.” He answers with a casual shrug.
You shift to hug your knees close to your chest, folding your arms over them and resting your head, looking in his direction.
He glances at you and then pauses for a while. Throwing his head back to take a look at the sky, he speaks again. His voice comes out quieter. A tone you’ve never heard before, even after working with him for over two years now.
“I had a friend once. He used to come up here, too.”
“Oh?” is all you manage to say. This was the first time you’ve heard Dazai talk about anything personal, especially his past which was a mystery to all the agency.The "little" detail he had spared about his past was that he used to be affiliated with the Port Mafia; no one dared to question him further after hearing that.
You sit up a little straighter, diverting all your attention to him.
He closes his eyes as a soft smile rests on his lips; a smile holding much more than memories.
“Yeah, a close friend.” He continues.
You don’t understand why he’s telling you this, but you don’t want him to stop.
“Sometimes I come up here, and I imagine I can feel his presence.” His smile fades for a brief second, eyes still shut.
A moment of heavy silence takes over as the city bustles beneath. It’s not awkward, but it’s not comfortable either. You can’t bring yourself to say anything, not when Dazai is letting you witness a part of him no one ever has. You find it odd because you aren’t used to it, but you let him go on anyways.
He opens his eyes, still gazing at the night sky and breaks the silence.
“Do you believe people stay with us, even after they’re gone?” He turns his head to meet your gaze, fixated on you, the city’s lights reflecting in his empty eyes.
His voice is soft; no playfulness, no teasing. Just genuine.
You think for a moment, absorbing his question to create a very carefully crafted answer.
"I believe people live as long as you remember them, even in the little things." You answer quietly. For some reason, you believe that was the best answer you could give him.
His eyes widen for a moment, but then he softly chuckles and shakes his head. A subtle hint of the usual demeanour Dazai carries with him flashes before you.
“You know, this is the most I've ever told anyone about anything.” He laughs, but to himself, running a hand through his hair, “It’s really weird how easily it came out, even surprised me.”
"Yeah, you never know..." Your voice trails off as you gaze up into the sky this time.
Something is bubbling up inside you, you can’t quite figure out what it is. Dazai, however, catches that sad look in your eyes.
“Hey now, don't look so sad, y/n”, he says with a dismissive laugh. His usual teasing grin returns, “I don’t like it when you look like that.”
You hear him, but you can’t ignore the sinking feeling inside your stomach.
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know how to for an instant. He hadn’t planned on telling you the things he told said, but it was too late to pull out a “just kidding!”.
For the first time, Dazai hesitates. For the first time, even he is at a loss for words.
“Can I ask you something, if it’s alright for me to?” You ask with gentleness, considering the fragility behind your approaching question.
He's quiet again. He already knows what you're going to ask, mentally questioning himself about how he let the conversation get to this point. He lets out a soft sigh, and his half-hearted smile returns.
“I have a feeling I know what the question is, but go ahead.”
There's something in his voice that isn’t pushing you away, but not quite inviting you in either. He’s letting you choose to ask or not to ask. His expression is soft but guarded, just slightly so that it goes unnoticed by you or anyone, for that matter; how it always does.
You swallow thickly before asking, “The bar you took me to the other day, is it related to that friend?”
Somehow, time stops once the words leave your mouth. The air is still, the city falls deafeningly silent. Dazai had already seen it coming, but your bluntness still catches him off guard. He looks at you, and his eyes speak for him, but his face is calm as usual.
Now, usually, he’d be able to change the course of the conversation very swiftly, almost too easily. But right now, Dazai finds himself unable to do so. Was it because of how deep a puddle he had gotten himself into? Or was it a part of him, reluctant to do so because for after a long time in years, he was feeling heard, trusting someone enough to have just a small, tiny glimpse into the darkness within him? He silently hopes none of this is a mistake because fate enjoys being very, very cruel to him.
He looks at you with something unfamiliar in his eyes, his smile softer than you have ever seen. He sits up straighter, hands in his lap, with his legs dangling over the edge of the building. He tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes again.
“Yup,” He says casually, masking it with his signature look, a softer one, “That bar was our special place. We shared drinks and pretended the world wasn’t falling apart…”
A pause with silence full of thoughts, and then his voice goes quiet, almost painful, as he finishes off
“…I go there when I miss him so much it’s tormenting.”
The words carry a weight that’s crushing you to the bone, but now you understand why he acts the way he does. The silly acts, the teasing, the flirting even; all of it just to mask up and burry the person he is deep within him, only so he knows of the secrets hes holding onto, the fears that hold him back.
You don’t know why, but you reach out to take one of his hands in yours. Nothing makes sense in the moment; it almost feels like a fever-dream because how is the Dazai sitting next to you, the same Dazai who spends his day slacking off, getting on Kunikida’s nerves for fun and shamelessly flirting with you? The cracks you see within him terrify you, but you’re aware that right now, he’s delicate; someone no one other than you has ever seen before.
Dazai doesn’t resist; it was too late to resist, anyways. He wasn’t planning on resisting though, he had been introducing you into his life very carefully and very slowly, taking you to places only he knew of. But even so, he hadn’t expected himself to be bearing before you a part of his dark, twisted soul to you so suddenly.
Instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours. His silence is calculated. Everything Dazai does or says always has meaning behind it. Even right now, as he unravels before you, his gaze is deliberate, but there’s something unbelievably raw hidden behind the depths of those brown orbs.
You don’t speak, you can't speak, and you’ve forgotten how to speak. It's hard to explain why he's choosing to trust you, to open up to you of all people, but you don’t fight against it. It makes sense when you think about it with your heart, not your head.
If Dazai chooses you, there must be something that he sees, and you will go along with it because he’s never wrong with his decisions. If he wants you to be there for him, then you will be there for him.
The city hums a bit quieter as the hour fades deeper into the night, the wind growing slightly cooler than it was before. You hesitate to move closer to him, but considering how you’re at a loss for words, you choose to show that you're here, present beside him, with your actions.
Slowly, you lean your head on his shoulder, circling your thumb over his knuckles as your eyes stay glued to your entwined hands.
You feel him tense underneath you for a split second, only for him to relax again. What he feels is foreign, but not unwelcome. The soft rising and falling of your chest, your hand warm in his colder one, the slight weight of your head on his shoulder; it feels surreal to him, but it’s right, just how he had planned it to be. Inside, he can’t believe how he’s let himself open up to you, but he’s content that it’s you he’s talking to.
"I didn’t know you were in so much pain" You speak in a whisper, loud enough for him to hear.
“It’s not always pain, Belladonna. Sometimes, it’s a weight,” Dazai corrects you with a quiet vulnerability in his calm voice, “It’s carrying someone with you every day, hoping you’re living in a way that would make them proud.”
He shifts slightly, his fingers tightening gently around yours. He’s not comfortable because he's talking a lot more than he should be, but the voice inside him is telling him, reassuring him that tonight, it’s okay for him to speak as much as he wants.
"I’m sure he’d be proud, seeing how much you've changed for his sake." Your tone is laced with softness, hoping to comfort his broken soul, but you can’t help the crack that slips into your voice as you try to hold your tears back.
You’re not sure why you feel like crying.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Nothing ever goes unnoticed by Dazai.
Your words take time to settle within him. The wind tugs at his coat, but all he can feel is your warmth against his side, your fingers laced with his, the quiet tremor in your voice as you hold back tears for him. He’s afraid not only of breaking, but taking you down with him.
“You think so?” He takes a deep breath before continuing, resting his cheek lightly against the top of your head, “I’ve spent countless nights wondering if it was enough. Quitting the Mafia, joining the Agency, saving lives instead of ending them. Sometimes, I ask myself, did I do it right? Did I honour him properly?”
Dazai exhales shakily, pressing his lips briefly to the top of your head; a silent thank you, an unspoken ‘don’t cry for me’. Then he continues,
“Maybe it is enough. And if not? Well, I guess I still have time as long as I have nights like this and someone like you beside me.”
He’s always flirted with you in unusual ways. It kept you entertained in contrast to the boring office work, and you quickly got used to his weirdness, but you never heard his voice be so genuine, so terrifyingly fragile; it shakes you to the core. You feel something for him, that’s why you can’t stop yourself from nearly crying.
"I'll stay with you, if it makes it any bearable," you speak this time, bringing your joined hand to your lips to press a soft kiss to his knuckles.
Something warm and tender, unfamiliar, unfurls inside Dazai’s chest. He doesn’t move, nor does he speak right away. He just lets the moment settle, like the starlight drifting down to earth from above the two people sitting in silence.
“You really are dangerous, Belladonna” He lets out a soft laugh, teasing but with a deeper meaning, with reverence, “You’re going to kill me by making me feel too much. That’s a dangerous way to die.”
He moves again, sliding an arm around your waist, letting you rest your head on his shoulder
better. His touch isn’t foreign to you; his flirting is always a whole package. But the way he holds you tonight is what feels foreign, as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go even for a second.
After what feels like an eternity to Dazai, he feels like he can finally breathe. And it’s funny to him that you’re the reason he can feel like breathing. All he wants is to pull you into his lap, to press a kiss to your forehead, to hold you close and whisper how beautiful you make the night sky seem, to tell youthat you make him feel like life is worth living.
But he doesn’t, he wonders if he’s allowed to go that far.
You feel like crying because the moment feels overwhelming, especially considering the person who's making you feel this way is Dazai, of all people. And it’s not even because he’s hurting you in some way, you can’t even imagine that happening. It’s because he’s the one hurting, and you're hurting because of how lonely this carefree-suicide-maniac actually is.
"I know I’ve never met him, but I’m sure if he’s watching from above, he’s really happy."
Both of you know who you’re talking about; there is no other person who can fit into this context.
Dazai sighs and slowly presses another kiss to the top of your head, letting it linger this time.
“I hope so too,” he says with emotions he’s fought back for too long, and you can feel the smile creep back onto his lips, “I really do.”
You physically can’t hold your tears back anymore, not when he sounds so honest, so genuine.
Dazai hears a soft sob slip past your lips louder than you had intended it to be. He quickly pulls away to take a look at you. He hadn’t expected you to cry, particularly not for him. His face softens, but you see the panic he’s trying to hide. He reaches out to brush away the stray hairstrands flowing with the wind, and wiping the fresh tears staining your cheeks. His touch is gentle, almost featherlike.
“Don’t cry, y/n, not for me.” His voice is hesitant, then he chuckles softly, tinted with subtle sadness, “Odasaku would kick my ass if he saw I made you cry”
“No, I’m not crying because of you,” you laugh through your tears, almost embarrassed at yourself, “I’m crying for you, and it seems like I can’t stop”
Dazai swears he feels his heart stop beating for a second, and it’s not because of his heart rate manipulation ability this time.
“Idiot,” He whispers, brushing his thumb against your cheek, but his voice is free of teasing, “You shouldn’t care this much, but I guess a part of me is glad that you do.”
He sighs again, shaking his head to himself as he uses the back of his bandaged hand to dry the remaining tears away, as well as your damp skin.
“You’re here, with me”, he continues, more to himself than to you, “And for the first time in a while, I feel like I’m allowed to live too.”
You look up at him, trying to read the way his eyes melt as they look at you.
“I’m not sure if I can bring you the same comfort he did,” you pause before averting your gaze as the city falls silent around you, “but I hope I can amount to some of it.”
His heart aches at your words, he already saw them coming because he could read you way too easily than you thought he did. But he still couldn’t help but feel their weight sink into him.
“Hey, now don’t say that, you’re you. Not him, just you. That’s what makes it good,” he says with his brows furrowed, placing a finger under your chin to make you look at him.
He smiles softly, taking in your wet lashes and rosy cheeks, faintly glowing under the starlight.
“And he’d love you, because you see me the same way he did. With the kindness I didn’t understand until...”
He goes quiet but you don’t need him to complete his sentence; you already know what he’s going to say. He runs his thumb lightly over your cheek. His eyes leave yours for a moment, falling to a point in space with the same silence that follows after a terrifying memory replays before you. After a shaky exhale, he meets your gaze again, drinking in your eyes like a drowning man gasping for air, like a child finding solace in the presence of comfort. He then continues again,
“He believed I could be a good person; he looked past the heartless demon I was. You did as well…I guess I do feel things too deeply for someone who pretends not to care.”
You silently witness all his carefully crafted walls from years of hurting, crumble down before you, and you listen. Not because you can’t say anything, but because you want to listen. You want him to feel heard, to feel safe around you, and you want him to have someone he can hold on to when he’s drowning in his past.
He looks beautiful, you think to yourself.
He's not the Dazai you flirt with every day, he’s not the Dazai tormenting Kunikida, he’s not even the calculated and scheming Dazai you get to see on missions.
He’s a broken man who’s been hurt too much. A man who was once a child, dragged into a darkness that blinded him. A man who had lost what little he had to hold onto.
A man who was human.
You look back at him, tracing gentle circles on the back of his hand. He doesn’t look any different than he usually does; he’s wearing the same sandy trench coat, the same worn-out bandages are wrapped around his arms and neck, and his hair is messy like it always is. But the way he looks at you, the way his expression holds something he’s clearly unfamiliar with, makes you think he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid your eyes upon.
“You know what he’d say to me right now?” Dazai's voice lowers to a whisper, leaning in to press his forehead against yours with hesitation only he can feel.
“He’d tell me I’d be an idiot to let someone like you slip away.”
You let out a shaky, quiet laugh. You let him in, welcoming his touch, even reciprocating it.
His heart flutters when he hears you laugh, a rare, genuine smile tugging at his lips, hoping he can hear that sound for the rest of his life. He does his best to relish the moment, commit to his memory every single detail about tonight, about you.
Dazai feels like he has a reason to live; because he wants to be the one who makes you laugh, the one who wipes your tears away, and maybe, just maybe, be the one who gets to know what those lips feel like against his.
And for once, if only for a moment, he’s willing to push away the memory of a man who once meant everything to him.
For once, Dazai doesn’t feel like dying.
He laughs to himself, taking in the feeling of your closeness, of your touch, of you.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Tamaki is insanely attentive and kind. He’s one of the original yearners, so he ensures you’re waited on hand and foot, even if you aren’t used to that sort of treatment. He lives to treat you well. He lives to pamper and please his princess.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 A relationship with Tamaki is more similar to a courtship. For the first few months, chaste hand and cheek kisses is all you get in the realm of physical affection. Perhaps hand holding, and arm around your shoulder when casually hanging out with friends, but in public? He is a gentleman and you are a lady.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 This is largely because of the world in which Tamaki was raised in and the strict social etiquette that was practically beaten into him. But also, because Tamaki dates to marry. He’s a lover-boy as well as a host. He wants a life full of love and meaningful connection, therefore, he takes things incredibly slow physically.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 I imagine your first ‘proper’ kiss would be at around the six month mark in your relationship. And even that is chaste and sweet. Slow, and short. Not too long. His hands respectfully and softly gripping your waist, no lower than the top of your hips. Maybe a hand cradles your jaw, thumb softly stroking the most angular part of the bone.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Tamaki’s worst fear is doing anything to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable. Truly, he is so deeply frightened at the thought of you leaving, and your time spent together being for nought. His dreams of marrying you crushed because of a mistake.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 He surprises you with small trinkets. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think Tamaki would be flashy with gifts in the dating stage. He goes for the classic, romantic gifts. Flowers, meaningful jewellery, nice dinners, gifts catered to your specific interests (such as art supplies if you draw or paint, a fancy music stand if you play an instrument, etc.)
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 He does chat about you to guests, actually. As Tamaki and his guests both have the understanding that at the end of the day, he is providing them a service and nothing more. It’s all fantasy. So, unless there is a certain scenario being played out (such as sitting on the rock with him in the beach episode), Tamaki will occasionally bring you up. However, I feel like this is probably with his most regular guests who in trusts in a way. He absolutely wouldn’t do this to a first time guest and hence immediately ruin the fantasy he is meant to provide them with.
“So, Tamaki, how’s your girlfriend? We haven’t seen her in the club room for quite sometime!”
“Oh, Y/N? Yes, she’s doing very well! Actually, just yesterday we were-“ *blah blah blah for about five minutes*
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Dates are again, not flashy, contrary to what a lot of people might think. Tamaki is a lover of old fashioned romance. The swooning and wooing of it all. He thinks flashier dates are actually quite tacky. And, we all know is love of exploring the world of ‘commoners’.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 So I think Tamaki would treat you to a perfect blend of dates from his world, and yours. Expensive dinners, privately booked rooms with a pianist he gave specific pieces to play. Picnics in lush, well tended to gardens in the Spring and Summer. And he absolutely does take you shopping sometimes, with quite a lot of insistence. Tamaki honestly hates to see you long for something as simple as a dress, but not buy it due to ‘not having enough money’. He has the money! So you will absolutely be getting it. He won’t urge you to spend more than you’re comfortable with, but he does sway you to spend just a little bit more on a few more dresses and cute skirts, because what else is his wallet for?
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 And as for the commoner dates? Carnivals! He’s utterly fascinated with them. He doesn’t particularly trust the rides, but he does admire how quickly they’re out together, and doesn’t quite understand how an entire rollercoaster is able to be moved from city to city. Fails in winning you the prize you have your eye on, but then gushes over how easily you were able to win it for him. Absolutely splurges on all of the sweets and snacks, arms full of the fatty and sugary goods, he drags you to a free picnic table to taste test them all.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 He’s also a fan of the cinema. Again, he buys quite a bit of food. And he is very confused about why commoners claim cinema food is ‘day light robbery’. To him, it’s almost disgustingly cheap. He also marvels at how shockingly comfortable the seats are, and some of them recline? He’s very pleased.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 He does get popcorn thrown at him for being too loud the first time you two go. He very quickly learnt his lesson.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Petnames are a staple of his. Princess, my love, sprinkle in some French terms of endearment in there too. Again, traditional but still so incredibly romantic.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 He does come out with very silly sounding ones at times though. Mainly if there’s ever a day you’re in costume, or if he can just conjure one up. (Again, beach episode when he called a guest his ‘mermaid princess’).
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 He’s cheesy, guys. We know this.
Hikaru Hitachiin ⋆˚꩜｡
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Hikaru is far more casual in his relationship with you than Tamaki would be. He doesn’t view it as a courtship, he’s fully comfortable with the idea of modern dating, and in fact, relishes in the break he gets from the expectations placed upon him by higher society.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 He enjoys the more casual things. Hand holding, an arm clung around your shoulder, sloppy and stolen kisses on the rare occasion you’re both left to your own devices. He’s a teenager, and so are you. He doesn’t care to keep up appearances in private. There’s no need to.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 He’s, as expected, a teasing boyfriend. Wipes icing on your nose if you’re eating a dessert. Snickers if you make a silly mistake and lightly pokes fun. Tugs on your hair or a ribbon you may wear. Squishes your cheeks together and mockingly coos before chuckling at your protests and the light swats you deliver to his arm and chest in return.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Overtime, I imagine he would learn to be more serious and vulnerable. It does take a decent bit of coaxing, but I believe he would already have let you in a little bit prior to dating. Hikaru is insecure and fears abandonment, so he wouldn’t date easily. So, before dating, you knew him better than some others did, but even then, he wasn’t a fully open book. But as I said, over time, he grew to understand that you needed more than fun and playful teasing to feel appreciated and seen within the relationship.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 His apologies and feelings are confessed via him beating around the bush. A blush on his face, mumbling, eyes looking anywhere but your face and shoulders held high and tight. But, you understand what he’s trying to say. You always do. And just how he understands he needs to be more vulnerable, you understand that it isn’t easy for him. Hikaru, he’s so incredibly thankful to have a partner who meets him half way, even if he doesn’t express it often.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 LOVES your bedroom. It’s not as big as his, the furniture is cheap, and so are the bedsheets, but not only does it deeply interest him to see a space that is only yours, he doesn’t have to deal with his house staff at your house. So, if you’re hanging out and you aren’t being taken to a nice dinner or lounging at the host club, best believe you are in your bedroom. With him taking up half your bed, rummaging through your drawers with nonchalant interest until he finds something embarrassing and makes fun of you for it.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Doesn’t really do pet names, actually. If he’s teasing, he’ll drop a ‘cutie’, but in everyday conversations it’s usually just your name or a shortened version of it.
Kaoru Hitachiin ⋆˚꩜｡
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 The more emotionally mature of the twins! Similar to Hikaru, he’s more comfortable with the idea of modern dating than Tamaki is. Kaoru is fully open to more casual displays of affection, both verbally and physically.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 It’s rare you hang out alone, he likes being around people and so do you. He doesn’t avoid hanging out with you alone per se, but he doesn’t see the need for it all the time. To Kaoru, there’s nothing he can do with you alone that he can’t do around other people. Not to mention, it’s hard for him to break out of his usual routine of constantly spending time with his brother and other hosts.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 No qualms in half-cuddling you on the plush, velvety couches of the host club, or kissing your cheek or having you kiss his when others are present. If anything, he enjoys rubbing it in people’s faces and making them go a little red (mainly Tamaki, who proceeds to lecture him about how such displays should be kept private).
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Being Kaoru’s girlfriend means, when you are alone, you see much softer side of him. He’s already the more mature and easy going one out of him and his twin brother, but in private, it only shows more. He’s much quicker to acknowledge his flaws in his attachment style and has a willingness to grow for you that can only be admired.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 He’ll often have his cheek smushed against your shoulder, one arm steeling across your chest and his other hand fiddling with your hair or the straps of your shirt. He’s a kind, sweet boy. Eager to bask in your gentle touch and softness whenever the opportunity arises.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Like his brother, he prefers to spend time in your room versus anywhere else if you’re to actually spend time alone. Although he’s a lot kore discreet about his snooping and knows when to stop. If anything, he’s actually more interested with the things you’ve left out on display. Like your makeup and jewellery. Not because he’s clueless about ‘girly’ things, but because it’s a lot different to the makeup and jewellery that the women of aristocracy wear and use. But, because he isn’t with his ‘mean’ brother, he doesn’t poke too much fun.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 Do not think that this boy won’t tease you, though. Yes, he’s more mellowed out than Hikaru, but he can still be a little shit when he wants to. A top tier rage baiter. As in he’ll tell little white lies about being a member of aristocracy and pretend to not know certain ‘commoner’ things just to see how exasperated you can get before he gets scolded. LOVES acting like he’s the most out of touch person ever, when we all know that title actually belongs to Tamaki.
But maybe OHSHC HCs with an S/O / crush who’s a foreigner (American)
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌏 the exchange student
synopsis: an american catches the eye of the host club members
notes: i hope you enjoy this!! ^^
𐙚 tamaki
tamaki wandered into school one day, super causal, usual stuff but gasp! there’s news! a new student… a foreign student has just touched down in ouran. usually, it’s some european (usually french) who is part japanese and gets sent here but, this time it was completely different - an american, no japanese blood at all, was coming! the whole class was excited to meet the american but most of all, tamaki was. obviously.
as soon as you step foot into that classroom, tamaki took the honour of showing you around ouran, helping you get to all the correct classrooms on time, letting you sit with him and the rest of the host club at lunch etc. etc. he was superrr excited to meet you & made sure to repeatedly tell you that he was a foreigner too so, he gets you. except he doesn’t really get you, you can get by in japanese but, he doesn’t speak a LICK of english so communication was… tough to say the least but, if anyone is gonna somehow speak and be just as dramatic and loud in a language he literally doesn’t know, it’s tamaki suoh. now, not only does he show you around ouran academy, he snatches this opportunity to show you ALL of japan. honestly, kyoya was just glad it wasn’t him this time - it was a good excuse for tamaki because he was ‘showing you the culture’ but bro just wanted to visit his favourite landmarks again. but somewhere along your mega trip across japan, tamaki felt different toward you, he didn’t feel like your tour guide nor your friend, your laugh made his chest warm, your smile made him smile. oh my god, he has a crush on you! for the rest of the trip he acted frantic, worried about how he was going to go about this. should he confess? how would he? he doesn’t know english! oh my god, how would his grandma feel? it’s bad enough he’s half european, but an american wife?! he’d be disowned!
you really thought that you had said something offensive in japanese by accident, and it was entirely possible given your level in the language, because tamaki was acting terribly weird! even when you returned to ouran, he seemed more distant, quiet… it scared not just you but everyone. but, one random wednesday during your lunch break, tamaki approaches you, giddily might i add. he suddenly starting speaking almost perfect english, confessing to you that during your japan trip he had fallen for you and during the time you two have been back at ouran, he had been working tirelessly to learn as much english in as little time possible because he wants to talk more freely with you. you can say with full confidence that this was the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for you. it honestly made you tear up a little! you, of course, accepted his confession excitedly. the new american student had just bagged the richest, handsomest guy in the whole damn school! best exchange school EVER (^-^)
𐙚 kyoya
kyoya is very intrigued by your american-ness, mostly intrigued by what your family do for business, of course - having an american ally will certainly be of use to kyoya! he’s eager to help you show to your classes & his english is quite impeccable but, if the host club asks… he doesn’t speak a lick of it. it’s a weird secret he keeps. he tells you of his weird secret (to gain your trust) and by the gods does it work. you do really feel like you can lean on kyoya as you settle in, i mean after all he told you a silly little secret just after mere hours of being acquainted.
as the days pass and you fall into a routine, kyoya still tags along which you don’t complain about. although you’ve noticed that this extremely intelligent boy… believes in every single stereotype surrounding americans and he really seems oblivious to it! he asks questions like “are burgers your favourite food?” “how often do you eat fast food?” “do you know where japan is on a map?” “do you and your family talk loudly with one another?” and it’s just so peculiar for someone who seems so intelligent and knowledgeable. as he reels off these stereotypes, he never fails to insult you too (which is by complete accident). it’s like he’s searched up ‘america’ and just assumed that everything he read is true. after about two weeks of showing you around and talking to you every day, he’s going off about ‘americans’ again when you stop him suddenly and ask “why are you still showing me around?” he looks stumped for once. you’re right… why is he showing you around? you know this place extremely well now, he doesn’t need your help. he looks down in confusion “i’m not sure. i suppose i should leave.” you pout a little, you didn’t expect to feel sad when he said that. you thought over it for a moment, taking a deep breath and deciding instead of having this quite frankly handsome man leave you, you suggest something else “wait— let me tell you what america is really like.” his interest clearly piqued “i assume it’s similar to what i’ve already said?” you roll your eyes “not entirely! you’re just being stereotypical! although, i do love a baja blast.” “a what? i never saw that in my research?” “oh kyoya, you have a lot to learn.” he can’t help but smirk, clearly holding back his laughter which makes your cheeks flush red. his cheeks also flush red at the sight of you!
he continues to walk you to your classes as you insist that the academy is a maze and you obviously wouldn’t want to get lost. over the coming days, you both share sentiments about your respective countries, you both become invested in learning more about each other— i mean! about your countries obviouslyyyyy and like cultureee and stufff… gulp. you certainly notice your feelings are starting to turn romantic but, you don’t dare to utter a word to kyoya about it. he’s so stoic and business-savvy, he doesn’t have time for american like you! whereas kyoya… he realises… his feelings… and that’s as far as he’ll go for now lol.
𐙚 haruhi
haruhi obviously loves to keep to herself, no social interactions, no attention, no drama but when she hears that an exchange student from america is entering the class, her eyes lit up. she has genuinely never wanted to speak to anyone more before in her life! coincidentally, haruhi has been offered to go america for her second year of high school and she… does not know enough english and knows nothing of america itself - she doesn’t have money to travel or even for a computer to do research. so, who better to get tips from than an american themselves?
for days, haruhi tried to gather her courage to speak to you. haruhi is very socially inept as it is but, you were gorgeous too! an extra layer of scariness. due to this, it was actually you who approached haruhi first - you didn’t understand a few words that your teacher had said so, you tapped the person sitting in front of you (haruhi) and asked for help. haruhi was beaming (on the inside) when you talked to her!! she tried to answer in english but due to her being very nervous, she just kinda stumbled over her words leading you to apologise for asking cause that’s how bad it was. her english was so bad you thought she didn’t speak it. she face palmed and bluntly stated that she can speak english. after this initial miscommunication, haruhi was finally able to help you. in the weeks to come, you would run to haruhi with any language inconveniences that came your way and over that period of time, you two grew closer. obviously. haruhi told you of her possibly going to america explaining how she needed to learn more english soooo, you guys came up with a system. since you were seeing each other almost everyday, you’d take it in turns to either speak japanese or english with each other for that whole day and it worked like a goddamn charm. you were both quickly becoming fluent in each others languages!
but on the days where you wouldn’t see each other or only see each other briefly, haruhi weirdly started to miss you… started thinking about what you were doing throughout the day… and was exited to see you again… what an odd feeling. for a long time, she’ll ignore her growing yearning to be near you constantly and deem it as her being excited to have a new foreign friend but, mei (queen) sees this happening… and she slaps haruhi around the head for being such an imbecile! it’s so obvious that it’s a crush! the word crush circles around haruhis head for weeks leading her to act weird with you - she’s on and off shy with you. these days, when conversations start haruhi acts very awkward like she used to when you first met but, she gets too invested and excited speaking to you that her shyness quickly dissipates. she WILL ignore this crush for months until some stupid, spontaneous moment leads to her or you confessing your feelings.
𐙚 hikaru & kaoru
they are ready to cause freaking mischief!! they’ve never met a foreigner with zero japanese blood before but, you don’t get special treatment, if anything tease you more! your first interaction with the twins was after class, through their broken english they kindly invited you to see them at the host club after school saying they’d save you a seat & who were you to say no? maybe this was an opportunity to make friends!
but making friends with them… it was a way of wording your relationship with them i suppose…! they were like kyoya, just believing every bit of american propaganda they saw. they’d bring burgers instead of little cakes, root beer instead of tea & would ask you to do stupid stuff like point to a country on a map😭. one time you came to the host club (after hours) to see your two new friends wearing “i ❤️ nyc” from head to toe. like all american drip. unfortunately, you were also subjected to this. they had a custom of the statue of liberty costume for you. you weren’t even from new york??
anyways, after weeks & weeks of teasing and milking the hell out of every and all american stereotypes, they eventually start treating you somewhat normally. they’d still tease you like buying american snacks instead of japanese ones (which was kinda nice for you anyways tbh) or laughing at your pronunciation of some japanese words but, it finally felt like a real friendship had blossomed out of their teasing. although something had shifted.
hikaru was not one to hide his crush on you, he’d tease you all the time but if someone else got involved? oh, it was over for them. how dare they laugh at how you pronounced a word! you’re a foreigner, you’re just trying your best to learn a new langauge! they should commend you for studying so hard! he became sort of territorial over you not only because he’s an insanely jealous boy but also, him and kaoru took you under their wing! yeah, they made fun of you but it was never malicious - they were your first real friends. you’re not stupid, you saw right through hikaru and the way he acted toward you, it made you happy because you liked him too! who wouldn’t? he’d confess to you very dramatically like in the pouring rain whilst you guys bicker. he’d confess in japanese but switch to english just to say “i love you, y/n.”
kaoru was a lot more nonchalant when it came to his crush on you, lol. he would never act possessive or jealous, maybe a bit weird sometimes like if he was caught off guard by your beauty, he’ll get shy and blush. but, he never thought you would like him back, you’d probably rather a westerner. but, he was far from being right, you thought kaoru was really cute & you really liked him! but, because of his nonchalantness, you never bothered to confess as you tried to flirt but, he’d brush it off or get shy and shut it down. but one day, hikaru let the cat out the bag and he thought he had fucked it all up but, it was good! really good!!! you planned a confession fully in japanese (to impress kaoru obviously) & prepared to confess in the garden at school, surrounded by rose bushes. and obviously the host club was watching in the bushes. anyways, kaoru was left completely speechless not only by the confession but your flawless japanese! new it couple just dropped 🥹.
𐙚 honey
honey had the absolute pleasure of meeting you during your first ever host club meeting! you chose honey cause you thought he was cute and seemed approachable, all this was very… odd and exciting for an american like you. as soon as you introduce yourself as the new american exchange student, honey is so delighted you chose him as your host! he happily pours you tea and encourages you to try some of his favourite deserts. he does his whole cute act you know, business and such, but during his minor breaks of being a cutie patootie, he quizzes you about yourself & your new life in japan. he’s genuinely intrigued about you as a person, he’s curious about your american-ness like everyone else, but overall just sees you as a regular person. super cute, but regular. he’s most curious about your favourite sweets! he knows (as does everyone else) americas reputation for huge, sugar-loaded sweets and he wants to know allll about that. you decide to further his curiosity by offering to bring some in, as you had brought some from home and he is literally bouncing off the walls in excitement over this. his first time trying american candies literally made him go insane cause they were so high in sugar 😭😭. mori had never seen him have so many cavities, poor baby. anyways, this becomes a regular occurrence (with moris permission) & eventually, you two become very close friends! honey wouldn’t pursue you though, but he would just make jokes & tease you relentlessly because he knows you like him!
𐙚 mori
mori genuinely doesn’t gaf, i fear. he is intrigued to a degree because, he’s never really met an american before. but, in general he just believes you to be another human being & that’s it. he is appointed by a teacher to show you around, acting as a sort of chaperone/tour guide, which he takes very seriously. he makes sure you know the ins and outs of your new academy, which goddamn, it takes a long time to actually complete the tour. i’m talking 2 weeks worth of hanging out with this guy as you trot around the school together.
he asks you kind and curious questions about america & most of all, asks how you’re finding japan! you answered his questions about america to the best of your abilities, trying to capture your cities pros rather than cons & excitedly answered about your short-time in japan, and the whole time he would just listen with a few nods here and there to let you know he was actively listening.
yours and moris relationship blossoms authentically. you just genuinely liked being in each others presence & eventually you’d be with each other all the damn time so, why not start dating? no words are needed, no japanese nor english, you two just knew you wanted to be with one another. honestly for mori, you could’ve been from another planet, as long as you got on, he doesn’t mind where you’re from. although, he is very excited to venture to america with you soon :3.
synopsis.: being the only one who truly understands dazai practically guarantees he’s doomed to love you and vice versa ♡ og req here
pairing.: dazai osamu x gn!reader
cw.: sfw, no established relationship, fluff, confession, perhaps a more feminine reader but overall it’s gender neutral, kinda bittersweet, very introspective, reader is extremely similar to dazai
wc.: 2.1k
۶ৎ note.: i strongly urge you to go read the original request to understand what this fanfiction is about, but of course you don’t have to! i think it’s quite clear even without reading it, but just in case you want some extra clarity (see what i did there? i am so funny, i know) also, i am actually quite proud of how this turned out :) i hope you guys like it
you are used to it by now. his constant flirting, i mean. perhaps a little too used to it.
you remember the day dazai first approached you. mindlessly complimenting you. it was right after his entrance exam, when he first started working with the agency.
for some reason, you stood out to him then—and still do. of course, you were skeptical at first, like everyone else. after all, a man wrapped in bandages who seemed to have never existed before the age of twenty is… unusual, to say the least.
yet you never questioned his motives. never made him feel any less worthy, despite knowing nothing of his past. dazai appreciated that, but at the time, he couldn’t decide if you were simply naive for trusting him so easily or if you had figured him out from the start.
even today, he still has no clue how someone could ever understand him.
but you somehow do. and that unsettles him. so much that he actually has to pause when he talks to you sometimes, to keep him from spilling every dark secret or morbid thought that consumes his filthy mind.
and while he knows his charm has zero effect on you, it’s easier for him to talk to you like that—focusing on making you blush instead of giving you even the smallest chance to read him. even if he can’t help but rely on your understanding every so often. though he would never admit that.
dazai leans against your desk this afternoon with deliberate casualness, his sleeves pushed back as usual and allowing you to gaze at the bandages peeking from underneath.
sunlight filters through the tall windows of the agency, small flakes of dust visible, floating above the paperwork and half-finished reports.
you are reviewing and correcting a file, your posture relaxed but attentive, brows faintly drawn in concentration.
“you know,” he muses after a moment, voice light with idle curiosity, “most people become flustered when they realize someone is flirting with them.”
your pen keeps moving across the page, the sound deliberately drowning him out, as if he hadn’t spoken at all.
“it’s quite impressive, actually,” he adds, watching you rather than the report in your hands and letting the words hang in the air, “that you can ignore it so calmly.”
you still do not look up, but for half a second, your pen wavers. just a fraction. then it continues again, steadier than before.
“i’m simply choosing not to encourage bad habits,” you reply evenly.
dazai smiles. of course you would say something like that.
most people react to his flirting predictably. they laugh, grow flustered, sometimes encourage it without realizing they are doing so. it is easy to navigate those reactions, easy to steer them wherever he pleases.
but you simply… decline the premise. he rarely gets rejected, although he isn’t sure if you’re really rejecting him. your words and actions are just as mystifying as his own.
truthfully, it would be easier if you just mocked him outright. at least then he would nervously laugh it off and retreat behind the usual dramatic theatrics.
instead, you treat his advances like a puzzle you have already solved—interesting once, but hardly worth solving again.
you’re making it hard for him to know if you actually despise him, even though from another perspective it might look like you do.
but simple-minded people don’t know you like he does. they don’t realize how much thought you put into each word that leaves your mouth.
so he keeps trying anyway, not sure what he’s hoping for.
“bad habits? so you see my affection for you as a nuisance rather than something that could blossom into something beautiful?” dazai says, speaking in riddles and allegories once again. “where has your sense of romance gone?”
you turn another page in your report. “if it were genuine affection,” you say calmly, “you wouldn’t hide it behind a joke.”
the answer lands more precisely than you likely intended, and for a brief moment, dazai’s smile thins.
ah.
so that’s how it is.
you aren’t oblivious to his advances, and you certainly aren’t immune to them. you’re ignoring them on purpose. you’re waiting. waiting for something that dazai knows he struggles with the most: being honest about his feelings.
the realization settles somewhere beneath his ribs with a heavy weight.
of course you would want something direct. you of all people would never accept half-truths wrapped in humor or laced with innuendo. unfortunately, that was exactly the kind of thing dazai osamu specializes in.
his gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he pushes himself away from the desk with an easy stretch.
“ah well,” he says lightly, hands slipping back into his pockets. “perhaps i’ll improve my habits someday.”
you hum in vague acknowledgment, already absorbed in your work again. however, you can’t help but follow him with your gaze once he starts walking away from you. the distance feels wrong and a pang of guilt washes over you.
later, the office hums with its usual rhythm, paperwork being shuffled around, kunikida lecturing a familiar brunette, and ranpo’s candy wrappers flying around.
the floorboards creak as someone moves between the desks, and atsushi suddenly appears beside you, holding a report that he very clearly needs help with.
from near the window, where kunikida is currently pulling on dazai’s collar and berating him over something trivial once again, he can see it clearly—the soft look in your eyes at atsushi’s clumsiness and his nervous yet stupidly gentle demeanor.
he isn’t sure why you always carry this look whenever you interact with atsushi. it’s tender, warm, filled with an almost endless patience. he wonders what it would take for you to look at him like this, just once. the thought lingers longer than he’d like it to.
but then again, how could you? dazai is nothing like atsushi. he doesn't possess that same gentleness, and he certainly has no desire to pretend he does. after all, what use would your love be if it’s directed at a persona he copies instead of his true self?
what even is his true self? that’s something not even dazai himself can answer properly and neither can you. not really, at least. he fears nobody can.
from time to time he wonders if you can see through his carefully crafted façade and decode the thoughts he tries so hard to hide. he has a hunch you can, though only sometimes.
those rare moments are the closest anyone has ever come to understanding him. so he can’t help but want to keep you close, desperately hoping you might help him understand himself a little better.
and perhaps that’s absolutely, disgustingly selfish of him. and perhaps it’s not true love. he’s not sure he’s ever felt true love before, for god’s sake. but from what he knows, you seem to be giving him a feeling uncannily close to it.
so he doesn’t care if he’s selfish for craving your existence every second of the day.
once atsushi returns to his desk, you focus on your own work again. you can practically feel dazai’s gaze lingering on you.
and while you know he definitely has a soft spot for you, you don’t want to risk getting vulnerable with him, not when you don’t know how deep it truly goes.
however, it is quite amusing knowing he feels just a tiny surge of jealousy.
you know dazai isn’t jealous in the sharp, possessive sense that would cause him to intervene, but you hope it at least makes him think about his feelings for you.
because at the end of the day, you’re ready and only waiting for him to be ready too.
the night shift drapes the agency in a different atmosphere altogether. the city outside is reduced to distant traffic and a muted glow, the windows reflecting more interior than exterior now. the overhead lights are dimmed, casting the office in a warm shade of amber.
you look over only to see dazai lying on the couch, a book open in his hands. he hasn’t turned the page in several minutes. you two are the only ones left in the office.
“you’re being awfully quiet,” you say, stopping just a few steps in front of him.
eventually dazai lowers the book covering his face, but he doesn't look up immediately. “why, do you miss being blessed by my oh so delightful voice?” he muses, sitting up straight.
seeing that his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t get a reaction out of you, he exhales faintly, the breath almost sounding like a laugh. he pats the spot next to him, gesturing for you to sit down beside him.
the cushioning of the couch dips slightly once you sit down, and for a moment neither of you speak. the air feels heavier all of a sudden, the urge to fill the silence growing stronger with each second that passes.
you turn your upper body toward him, only to catch him looking at you already. the way he studies you so carefully steals your breath away, and for just a split second dazai earns the privilege of witnessing your soft gaze.
though it disappears quickly, as if you’re reserving that look for someone else. someone that’s not quite him.
“you know, they say the eyes are the window to the soul,” dazai begins, a fragile smile adorning his lips as he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“your soul is the prettiest i’ve ever seen. but i wonder—what do i have to do, so that i can always admire it instead of you only allowing me glimpses of it?” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.
you lean into his touch without meaning to, furrowing your brows in frustration at his words. they are confusing, a tangled mess hard to decipher. it’s irritating you.
but before you can say anything else, dazai lets out a knowing chuckle. he knows what you want; he just loves teasing you too much to give it to you so easily.
“what i mean to say is… i love you, bella,” dazai says, his words simple and unadorned. “i love you.” a truth spoken out loud and directly for the first time ever since you've known each other.
you stare at him, searching his gaze for anything—anything that could stir a hint of uncertainty within you, but there is no mischief, no doubt. only something frighteningly sincere.
your heart begins to flutter and you exhale shakily, releasing a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. the tension in your muscles slowly fades, and your whole body suddenly feels light.
relief settles over you as you give him a warm smile. “i love you too, dazai,” you say, covering his hand that has moved to cup your cheek with your own.
“i almost thought you’d never say it,” you add in a lighthearted tone, letting out a small laugh. but dazai doesn’t laugh along with you. instead he remains silent, his smile faltering just a little.
“i thought i didn’t deserve you or your love. i still think i don’t deserve any of it. especially not when there are people who can offer you something far less complicated,” he says, his voice low but steady.
your brows draw together and you gently take his hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly. “who says i want less complicated?” you say, pausing briefly.
it’s true, dazai is a complicated person and you’re certain this isn’t going to be easy with him. but then again, you’re complicated, too. you’ve made terrible mistakes, too. you’re tainted for life, too. yet dazai still finds beauty within your tarnished being.
“no one’s perfect, dazai. myself included. if i were, my heart probably wouldn’t ache for you,” you whisper softly, leaning in to wrap your arms around him and draw him in for a hug.
“i love you. no matter how much you think you don’t deserve any of this, i think you do and nothing is going to change that. so let’s just… cherish whatever this is between us.” your lips occasionally graze the tender skin of his neck as you bury your face in it, simply relishing in his embrace.
you hear dazai swallow thickly, and he reluctantly returns the hug, resting his chin atop your head. your comforting warmth seeps through his clothes and the bandages that cling to his skin. it calms his racing mind, especially paired with your soothing scent.
“of course, you’re right,” dazai whispers, wondering how long this relationship will last. he hopes it lasts forever, until both of your grounding heartbeats grow eerily still. but that’s probably just wishful thinking. maybe. who knows?
note.: PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU CHANGE YOUR USERNAME, I WAS HELLA CONFUSED omg (｡ŏ﹏ŏ)
I saw u were taking fic requests and I always try, and ask for anime jax because I can't get enough of that annoying little $#!%
Really any of them though.
Or maybe! A human AU finally meeting up with him IRL, and Zooble has to drag him out of the house. Like he didn't want to go because he thought "they dont wunna see me", but Zooble made him go anyway.
OR meeting everyone IRL after escaping the circus? Idk. Sorry for ao many in one message 😅 Suddenly I have tons of ideas...
𝐒𝐨 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭?
pairing - 𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞!𝐉𝐚𝐱 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
material - basically just a situation fic, interactions between jax in the lightning round anime adventure! fluff, jax flirts w you, reader briefly mentioned have longer-ish hair, fem!reader, jax calls reader pretty, he’s lowkey yearning bro someone get this guy outta here, he can flirt but he can’t take getting flirted with! loser! use of (name)
-
synopsis - placed inside a 2d adventure, per request of gangle, you endure to flirtatious and bewildering obscenities jax says to you once again, this time in a small, traditional japanese classroom. thanks a lot gangle..
-
notes - what a cutesy request! i thought a little banter getting written in the midst of an adventure sounded like a wonderful thing to write!
————————————————————————
word count ~ 2.06k
“there’s nothing wrong with your suggestion” zooble attempts to relief gangle of the inner turmoil of embarrassment at jax’s previous degradation of the adventure prompt.
however this only instills more panic, for she hadn’t come out and said it was her that requested it, “HOW DID YOU KNOW THIS WAS MY SUGGESTION??!” she squeals and covers her drawing with her thin, ribbon arms.
jax groans some more and turns around in his chair to face you, who was sat behind him.
“can you BELIEVE this (name)? first she draws anime, now she drags us all into one!” he exclaims, “she must be one of those uhhh”
you quirk an eyebrow
“losers!”
“you threw pomni out of a moving truck..” you say incredulously, brows furrowing.
“oh, come ON, sweetheart don’t act like you didn’t laugh!” he leans forward in his chair. you deadpan, unamused by his antics. you then turn to pomni, who’s sat in the desk next to you, “sorry about him doing.. that.. by the way.” you say with a sympathetic look.
she waves you off while continuing to watch jax readying up to throw another quip your way. he inhales sharply and you turn and glare.
“don’t even” you warn him, attempting to waver off whatever obnoxious nonsense he had to say.
“yeesh, that’s a frosty look! you wound me!” he feigns hurt and places his 2d gloved hand on his chest. he leans forward and rests his elbow on your desk and places his head against his palm, staring at your 2d avatar.
you lean back in your chair and cross your arms. you ignore his remark and look around.
it’s so different, and so so odd. being able to just, CHANGE the style in which your animated avatar looked. you glance at jax, and down at your body. you then stare at your hands, and watch them run through the long strands of your hair.
“this is so.. bizarre.” you exclaim, “no offense, gangle.”
“HA! see! i knew you and i thought alike”, he barks out a laugh, “aint this such a ridiculous-“
“no no- not like that. the suggestion is fine it’s just” you pause, lifting a strand of hair to meet in front of your face, your other hands playing with the ends, “it’s just so weird to be 2d…”
it really was foreign to you.
if you didnt feel like you were just a bunch of show characters before, you sure did now!
you arent sure what it was like for your friends when they first arrived into the digital plane, but you remember constantly being caught in front of mirrors. trying to comprehend the drastic change in textures, colors, anatomical features that you had spent your life 'getting used to'
now, here, you had to start all over again.
and this adventure surely wasn't helping.
your brows furrow as you let go of your hair and sigh. throwing your head back.
jax continues to stare. you feel it.
you always do.
the way his eyes linger on you a second to long to be.. purposeful.
it was hard not to notice, not to feel the heat of his stare, not to feel a spiral of something in your chest when you catch his eyes darting away when you meet his persistent stare.
you sigh and get up from your desk, “i’m gonna.. wander” you exit out the classroom through the sliding door and enter into the hallway.
your school heels click lightly against the hallway floor, you look around the corridor and out the windows that overlook the courtyard. you stop in front of one, gazing out against the grassy fields and shrubs from two stories below.
caine really went all out for this map...
you run your hand against the smooth glass window, and lean against the protruding pillar next to it.
"this is so weird.." you mutter under your breath, catching sight of your now 2d reflection in the avatar.
it not like it isnt.. cool, its just not exactly what youve acclimated to
i mean, hey, it took you a while to adjust to becoming a cartoon character surrounded by other cartoon characters.
its no surprise you're a little shell-shocked!
as your mind wanders off, you hardly notice the sound of the classroom you just came out of about 5 doors down slide open.
you only noticed due to the grumble coming out of the door.
you didnt need to turn to find out who it was, you could tell.
"i cant believe you left me to deal with those losers! what a betrayal" he cries out.
"you couldnt go three minutes without me, huh?" teasingly, you look toward him with a small, almost indiscernable smirk.
"yeah yeah," he saunters over to your side, "dont let it get to your head"
"well its too late for that"
he playfully glares at you, before resting his elbow flat on your shoulder and leaning against you as if you're some arm rest.
"excuse you" you say dubiously. you quirk an eyebrow as you look up at him
god, hes already staring right down at you.
he leans down slightly, face closer to yours. "hm? go on."
"im all ears"
your eyes blow wide open, as you feel heat crawl up your neck.
you turn back to the scenary in front of you, "yuck." is all you said.
he hums, clearly satified with his quip.
now, you have no idea where the surge of confidence came from, but whatever possesed you in the moment gave you the bright idea to follow through, not allowing him to 'win'.
of course, you accepted the high likeliness of regretting your actions later.
you look back up at him, him promptly turning to gaze at you as well
"you know.." you reach up and take a hold of his school uniform tie and bring him down to your eye level, staring daggers through his eyes.
he lets out a startled noise, something he clearly didnt mean to let out. "WH-" "someone ought to teach you when the right time is to shut up"
hes practically vibrating, heat immitting off of his body as he looks at you,
completely, and utterly bewildered.
he breathes out, he continues to stare at you, askance, "what- what the h@!# are you doing." he mutters under his breath.
you let go promptly and step away from infront of him.
he tumbles slightly over his feet and looks back at you, an incredulous look on his face.
you cross your arms, look him up and down, and walk down the hallway with an amused huff.
he watches you for a second before scrambling by your side, "uhh wha- what- what was that?" you look over your shoulder to him, playing a confused expression on your face as you continue on walking. "hm? what was what?" you feign innocence.
he groans and runs his hands over his face, "you're god-awful."
"you followed me out here" you quip
"just thought you'd appreciate my company!"
"how humble"
"oh come on, dont act like you dont like it." he insists
"acting?"
"real funny, sweetheart"
"ya know for someone who gets flustered so easily when they get flirted with, you sure flirt a lot."
"you call this flirting, small fry?"
"i'd say so."
"its unnatural coming from you. it catches me off guard, i dont get 'flustered'."
"cant help but feel as though that the dictionary definition of being flustered."
"dont school me, sweetheart."
"hey, if you wanna dish it out, you gotta be able to lick it up" you smirk at him, "bunny."
he flushes,
"f!@#k off."
you roll your eyes at him.
you guys continue walking for a moment in silence, until he bumps into you. "so, speaking of, what do you think about being in school again?" he inquires
with a shrug of your shoulder, "i mean, its alright. im more bewildered at the change of dimensions."
"oh yeah?" he quirks an eyebrow
"i feel like i look.. odd." you respond, "ya know, as an anime character with this odd avatar."
he looks at you, and you can only assume he spoke quicker than his mind could catch up;
"i think you look pretty"
you stop in your tracks and stare at him, bewildered. when your eyes meet his face he looks almost as shocked as you, "p-pretty stupid looking! ha! gotcha!" he retorts. although the attempt was obvious and very feeble.
"pretty?" you push.
his face droops, and a red hue dusts his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
"yeah yeah whatever. god forbid i speak my mind." he avoids your gaze as he walks forward, seemingly embarressed from his unwarrented thoughts escaping him.
you walk a step behind him.
"i think.."
you pause
"i think you're.. not too bad looking yourself"
he tenses his shoulders, cheeks redder than before.
"wh- yeah well i knew that." he straightens up and then smirks, "arent you lucky to have such a handsome devil as myself as your friend."
"sure, jax"
he chuckles, and you regain your place beside him.
"i meant it, ya know"
you look at him and raise an eyebrow.
"you.. you're pretty. i guess."
your eyes widen, "woah, i didn't know you were capable of saying sappy stuff like that."
however, instead of the expected eyeroll and glare, he just lets out a small laugh.
"i meant it too."
you nearly miss the small smile on his lips.
"i bet you were pretty. in the real world, ya know"
you flush, shoulders tensing, "jeez.. way to lay it on thick"
he returns his infamous smirk, "look whos flustered now!"
his face adornes a victorious grin, "if you wanna dish it out, you gotta be able to lick it up."
of course he'd use your own words against you.
"real funny"
"thanks, sweetcheeks."
you let out a bark of laughter at the ridiculous name.
he stops in his tracks.
he stares.
you feel the same heat as you stop and stare back.
"god."
he starts,
"you make this impossible"
you were about to question him, but before any words could make it out of your mouth, he started towards you in long strides, until he was practically flush against you, chest to chest.
you look up at the tall rabbit. "jax?"
the next thing you know, hes on you.
his lips to your lips, his hand to your cheek, and his other hand pulling you impossibly closer by the waist.
he guides you with insane attentiveness for someone who's engrossed in a makeout session to the nearest pillar, pressing his body against yours.
you breathe against his lips, somewhere close adjacent to a gasp, he groans and moves his hand up into your hair, tangling his gloved fingers into the strands.
hes desperate, and unraveling right before your eyes.
and god, were you happy to cater to it.
you trailed your hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down, closer and deeper into the kiss. he groans again.
you smile against his mouth.
he lets go and stares directly at you.
"f!@#, man."
"do you know how long ive been-"
you cut him off by placing your lips on his again, pulling him into another kiss.
this one is less desperate (and less on the borderline of lustful..)
its passionate and uncharacteristically romantic.
sweet kisses exchanged between the two of you. jax disconnects his lips and peppers small pecks along your face, moving down to kiss your neck.
it wasn't sensual or an innuendo. it was rather sweet. like he this was the only way he could pour out the utter feeling of desire hes had for you for ages.
you laugh at his tickling kisses, and he collapses his head against the side of your neck, trapping you on your sides with his hands.
you lightly grab his face and lift it to meet your eyes. you then place a small, sweet kiss to his lips, while giving him an impossibly bright smile.
SUMMARY: You knew Jax before the circus and you were very close. But after something happened between Ribbit and him, a rift formed between you as well. A rift that grows wider each day, one that he does not want repaired, especially after she abstracted.
PAIRING: Jax × gn!reader
CONTENT: Angst, all the angst, nothing but angst, you've been warned
NOTES: Short drabble. This does NOT I repeat DOES NOT include any spoilers for the last episode! I did see it yesterday and wow! But I will wait until it's on YouTube before posting fics with ep 9 plot! I dont normally write angst but this is how I'm coping 😭😭😭
It hurt, it hurt everytime you tried to fix things, because he would remind you of things you never wanted to be reminded of. You don't know what happened to him- one day he was joyful and your best friend, the next it was like you never knew him. The four of you were as close as can be, but one-by-one, that changed. Now you mainly hung out with Kaufmo after...not wanting to even be near the rabbit.
He didn't seem to mind one bit.
"You know- you really should stop trying to be friends with me again, that ship sailed a long time ago and it's not docking anytime soon" the voice you knew all too well startled you as you were sitting in the café alone, not wanting to deal with anyone right now. Turning back, you see your once closest friend staring at you with his fake ass smile and hand on his hip, taunting you. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself as you thought of a response, him standing there, waiting.
"Oh really now? You still refused to tell me what happened and I respected you. But now it spiraled and it's like I don't even know you anymore. All we had was each other, and now...this? This is how you treat me? After knowing you for so many years and helping you whenever and wherever I could? You're pathetic" scoffing, you returned to your hot chocolate that was not satisfying in the slightest, rubbing your finger around the lip. You knew you should give up, should have given up a long time ago, yet, you didn't. You refused from the plain principle of it. But you knew him. You...you loved him. In what way? Undetermined. But you knew your love for him exceeded even this digital hellscape and you tried your hardest to not let it consume you.
"Yeah, and? Kinger had Queenie and we know how that turned out" you slammed your hands on the counter and stood up, offended for Kinger despite him not even being here. Enraged, you quickly turned around and marched right up to the smirking bastard, knowing he's saying these things just to make you hate him. But you never could. Never.
"Don't you dare! I can't believe you just said that! What happened between us? We were best friends..." your anger quickly turned to sadness, a tear making its way down your cheek that you wiped away. You missed your other half, the things you both went through together before coming here must mean nothing to him now, despite it meaning everything to you.
"And? What does that matter? You were always so...sensitive, about that. Come on! We can still be best friends! Have some fun! These people are nobodies so what does it matter? I'm just being honest anyways" The fact that he was being so nonchalant and careless was a stab to your heart, he was never like this. You missed the joyful laughs not caused by hurting other people, the laughs that'd make you smile and laugh with him.
"Some fun? My version of fun doesn't involve insulting and physically assaulting other people, it was never your version of fun either. If you're asking me to join you in your little 'games'- well I refuse. And its not honesty, its simply called being an a-hole. Now leave me alone, that was the whole point of me coming up here" scoffing, you turned around to go back to your seat, expecting him to grab your wrist and apologize, but that never happens. You sit down without issue and in complete silence. After a short bit, you turn around and see that he's gone. Exhaling a breath you didnt know you were holding, you rub your face and sigh, soul ripping apart even more than it already had been.
Yet you still wanted him, wanted to be by his side, you never wanted to let go.
