my interests change sporadically, so there's no telling what I may write for in the moment // my current obsession is bsd so we'll see where that takes me
favs: attack on titan, my hero academia, jujutsu kaisen, demon slayer, bungo stray dogs, sword art online, deadman wonderland, vampire knight, seven deadly sins, snow white with the red hair, chainsaw man, yona of the dawn, spy x family
occasionally posts/reblogs not sfw and dark content - I try to make sure all material is properly tagged // dark fics under #restricted fics and #sinful fic recs // other tags are #starstrucked (suggestive) and #sweets and treats (spicy)
⭐ New Releases
Paper Cranes (Dazai x Reader)
Catch Me When I Fall (Chuuya x Reader)
Kerosene and Butterflies Ch. 2 (Dabi x Reader) // DARK FIC, READ THE WARNINGS
Puppy Love Pt. III (Chuuya x Reader)
Puppy Love Pt. II (Chuuya x Reader)
Puppy Love (Chuuya x Reader)
Sweet Dreams (Petra x Reader)
Decisions (Chuuya x Reader)
⭐ The Reference Desk - rules // requests // common tags
fandom: my hero academia
Goodness gracious, formal wear is my weakness. So I thought about my beloved Hawks in it, and I started salivating. I think this is my first official fic centered around Hawks, and not a little drabble or blurb, so please be gentle! I hope I did our pretty bird boy justice. I hope you enjoy, my dears!
warnings: public sex, formal wear + glove kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, Keigo's wings go a little awry when he's all worked up, panty stealing, finger sucking, brief aftercare || words: 3.1k
If there’s one positive about this mandatory hero gala tonight, it’s the fact you get to spend hours upon hours admiring the extensive selection of outfits, from pristine pressed suits to gorgeous flowing gowns. Everywhere you look is a sea of color; deep reds, blooming golds, striking silvers, and rich blues.
You’ve always been a sucker for anything fancy, prestigious events be damned. Staring at all the freshly ironed suits, blending from stark white to enchanting black. Practically drooling over each dress, whether they bear lace, ripples, or sparkles. All of it catches your eye, has you sipping at your glass of wine far more often than you would under normal circumstances. You can’t help it; there’s just something about seeing so many people together like this, all dressed in their absolute finest, that sends shivers down your spine and your heart fluttering in your chest.
Keigo knows about your little obsession—fascination, you always have to correct him—and he intends to exploit it in every way he can. Tonight is no exception; he smirks when he catches you ogling at him from the side, glass practically trembling in your grasp, nearly splashing the liquid all over the front of your dress.
And goodness gracious, does he look beautiful tonight.
He’s chosen a simple three-piece suit with a red shirt underneath and stark black gloves, but it’s enough to have you squirming in your assigned spot in the room. Hair swept back, golden eyes sharp as they roam around the room, finally settling on you. Lips curling into a smirk as you grab a fistful of napkins from the buffet table behind you, praying to whatever god may be listening above that you don’t make a fool out of yourself tonight.
Your presence is all but required as an active member of the commission. Not as a hero of course, but working a bland desk job well into the late hours of the night. Being a hero isn’t exactly something you aspired to be, even when you were younger, but working for the commission isn’t all flowers and unicorns, either. But if there’s one positive your job has granted you, it’s being given the chance to forge a friendship with the winged hero Hawks.
Even if he’s been staring at you nonstop for the last five minutes or so.
Just ignore him, he’ll go away eventually. Don’t encourage him.
You turn back to the table, swiping a piece of candy from the tray in the center and popping it in your mouth. Savoring the sweet taste before sipping at your wine—and nearly choking on it when Keigo suddenly appears right next to you.
“Careful there, birdie. Don’t want you ruining that pretty dress. I gotta say, were you planning on matching up with me tonight? Or is it just a coincidence?”
Your face grows warm beneath his teasing expression. No, you were most definitely not thinking about the color of your dress when you chose it for tonight. Definitely not thinking about the beautiful shade of his wings, nor the soft feathers that mirror the lace stitched around the hem. And absolutely not pressing a kiss to the little feather necklace sitting in your nightstand back home before leaving for the gala.
“Coincidence,” you manage to get out through another mouthful of wine. Damn it, anymore of this and you’re going home drunk off your ass. “You look…handsome, Hawks.”
He gives a light scoff at his hero name; the two of you are all too aware of the precautions you have to take in public. No kissing, no holding each other, no personal names when unwanted ears are listening in. You don’t doubt there’s someone with a hearing quirk eavesdropping on all conversations going on within this room right now, waiting to be released to the morning paper tomorrow. And as much as you’ve grown to admire Keigo over the past few years or so, the last thing you want is to give him any unnecessary negative attention from the media.
No telling what they’ll do to you if they find out you’re warming his bed every night. Rip you apart like the savages they are.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he says with a wink, and you swear you feel your knees buckle. “Red looks good on you. That one’s gotta be my favorite one I’ve seen you in so far.”
His favorite? He can’t be serious…
You swallow hard and hide your face behind your wine glass. But he’s quick to swipe it out of your grasp with a clump of feathers; curling his gloved fingers around the stem to lift it up to his mouth. Your heart leaps in your throat as you watch him take a small sip, in the same spot your mouth was on.
The exact same spot—is he trying to kill you tonight?! Does he even know what kind of effect he has on you, especially when he’s dressed so…dashingly?!
Apparently he does, by the way he smirks at you over the rim of the glass. Licking his lips afterward, his golden eyes almost glittering beneath the light of the chandeliers above.
“What’s wrong, little birdie? You look nervous.”
He cocks his head to the side, taking a step towards you; and you let out a yelp when your backside knocks into the buffet table. It would be just like you to end up in a fucking splattered cake because of him.
Stupid sexy hero in his stupid sexy suit!
“I’m not,” you choke out, glancing over his shoulder to avoid his eyes. Thankfully no one’s looking in your direction, witnessing the winged hero practically cornering you against the snack table. “I…I don’t…” Your cheeks are on fire, blood singing in your veins as he keeps his eyes fixed on you. “…You just look good tonight, okay?”
“Aww, birdie, you’re too sweet!” He leans in close, nose brushing your own as he rests your wine glass on the table behind you. “I tried my best just for you, after all!”
Of course you did, you feathered fuck.
“How nice… I’m sure you have a hundred admirers in this room alone, with that suit of yours.”
“Nah, not really. Barely notice ‘em! The only one I can see is you.”
Charming. You give him a smile and start to move away, but then he’s reaching for your wrist and holding it gently between his fingers. Leaning in close, making you shiver when his lips brush against the shell of your ear.
“Boring party so far…wanna step outside for a bit?”
A thousand no’s are on your lips, but you can’t seem to say them out loud. Your mind is spiraling, heart pounding against your ribcage, echoing in your ears.
You can’t. What if someone sees you? What if you’re gone for too long and someone notices? What if someone thinks you’re together? What if this backfires on both of you? What if the commission fires you after tonight for not acting professional enough? For getting too close to their precious golden boy?
He smiles, stretching his hand out to you, and suddenly you can’t remember what you were so nervous about in the first place.
“…Okay.”
His fingers feel so good laced together with your own. His red wings spread out, guarding you from any unwanted attention. He waves to any other guests that glance his way, insisting that he needs some fresh air, maybe even a quick flight to stretch his wings and then he’ll be back. He’s always been easy-going and confident with himself in the spotlight, able to sway the crowd and have them swooning over him, hanging onto every word that falls from his mouth.
All too soon you find yourselves out in the hallway, where a handful of heroes and commission workers are gathered. Luckily none of them pay you any mind as Keigo leads you further down the hall. Far away from any prying eyes.
Suddenly he yanks you to the side, not a soul in sight on either end of the hallway. Tugging you into a random room and slamming the door shut behind you. A warm glow fills the room as he pulls on the little chain of the lamp above your heads. The two of you are panting, face-to-face with each other, tucked away in a fucking supply closet of all places.
His lips find yours almost instantly; you can’t help but moan into his mouth, painted nails digging into his soft blond hair. He wraps his arms around your waist, his wings around your body, peppering soft kisses down the length of your jaw, your neck, and finally at your collarbone. Your back hits the wall behind you; somewhere in the room you can hear a few items clanging onto the floor.
“Door’s locked,” he mumbles against your skin, “just be quiet.”
“I’m not the one who has to be quiet,” you remind him, but your smile fades as he starts to suck on the juncture of your neck. “Y-you’re the louder one, you know…”
His lips are heavenly, teeth nipping at your skin, his fingers toying with the hem of your dress. Instinctively you wrap a leg around his waist, moaning as he begins to grind his hips into yours.
You don’t have much time, locks be damned. Sooner or later, someone will notice your absence and start looking. You can only imagine what tomorrow’s headlines would read upon a reporter discovering the two of you huddled up in a janitor’s closet.
Still, you savor the sight of him in his fancy little suit, before pushing his jacket off his shoulders and burying your face against the collar of his dark red shirt. Leaving a few love bites of your own as he rests his gloved hands along your curves. Holding you in place, biting back a moan every time you hit a sensitive spot.
“Keigo,” you whisper in his ear, “I want you to fuck me.”
He allows himself a little smirk, before ripping off one of his gloves with his teeth. “Say no more, pretty birdie.”
His lips are hot against your own, his fingers sliding down the length of your body, right against the small slit of your dress. Your whines are music to his ears as he pushes your panties to the side.
“Aww, already wet, aren’t you? You weren’t thinking about me out there, were you? Having all kinds of dirty thoughts in front of all those people?”
He talks big, but if the tightness in his pants is anything to go by…
Your breath hitches at the first brush of his fingers against your slick. The collar of his shirt is rumpled, the first few buttons of his vest undone. Your dress is barely clinging to your chest at this point, both sleeves tugged down to expose your collarbone and the tops of your breasts.
“Hm? I’m waiting, birdie.” You whine when Keigo slips a finger in, curling it slightly but refusing to move any more than that. “What were you thinking about out there, that got you all hot and bothered?”
He knows the answer, he always has—but he still needs to hear it from your mouth. You swallow hard and force your eyes open, nearly fainting when you see those gorgeous golden eyes staring right back at you.
“I-I…” You clear your throat, the words slipping from your mind as he adds a second finger. “…Was thinking about you, Keigo…”
“Oh were you, now? I’m flattered.” He gives you a cheeky smile before rewarding you with a gentle thrust of his fingers. Your eyes screwed shut, you begin to writhe against the wall, bucking your hips into his hand. “Details, birdie. I need details—I don’t think you were enamored by my good looks alone.”
“N-no… It was—ah, fuck—y-your outfit…”
He leans in so close you can taste his breath, feel his nose brush against the apple of your cheek. “And what about my outfit, huh?”
“’S just… You look good, Kei—always look so good all dressed up…”
“Yeah I know, you got a thing for me in suits, huh?”
There’s no arguing with him as he begins to move his fingers back and forth. Curling them into you, whispering filthy words in your ear, savoring the way you whine for him to go faster. His pants are unbearably tight; he’d reach down to free himself but that means he’d have to let go of your leg, still planted firmly around his waist.
“Always drooling over me whenever I get one of those modeling jobs… You like it when I get all dressed up, huh? Chose this one just for you, birdie—knew how much you love anything fancy. Bet you like these gloves too, huh?”
He reaches his gloved hand up to brush your face, slipping his middle and ring fingers past your lips with a moan. His cock is straining against his pants as he watches you suck on his fingers, eyes dazed and hair strewn about, a thin line of drool trickling from your mouth.
Fuck it. He needs you right here, right now.
He makes quick work of your panties, nearly tearing them in half as he slides them down your legs and pins you against the wall. Bunching the skirt of your beautiful red dress up and around your waist, giving him a full view of your soaked pussy. He wants nothing more than to take his time and taste you, but any moment the two of you can be found. Gotta make this short and sweet for now; save the rest for later at home.
Your fingers fumble with his belt, leaving it loose in the loopholes of his pants, tugging down the zipper and freeing his aching cock. You swirl your thumb around the leaking tip, smearing the bit of precum that’s gathered at the slit. Leaning in to kiss his jaw, whispering for him to fuck you now.
The two of you whine into each other’s mouths as he slides himself in. Your nails dig into his back, legs wound tight around his hips. His wings flutter slightly, each feather trembling with ecstasy. Matching the beat of his heart, so loud he wonders if you can hear it.
“Keigo,” you grind your hips as best you can, eager for any kind of friction, “please…”
He braces himself against the wall, large wings twitching uncontrollably as he sets a brutal pace. Slamming himself into you as hard as he can, pressing you into the wall with every thrust of his hips. You’re nearly sobbing now, tears leaking from your pretty eyes, lips parted with nonstop chants, moans, pleas of his name.
First name, not hero name. Keigo, not Hawks. It’s always been Keigo with you, hasn’t it?
He smiles into your shoulder, suddenly glad he ever shared that part of himself with you.
“K-Keigo, I—”
“Shh, gotta be quiet, birdie.” He presses his palm to your lips, meeting your teary eyes with a smirk. “Don’t want anyone to find us, do you?”
You shake your head no, but the eager squeeze of your pussy nearly has his eyes rolling into the back of his skull.
“Oh, of course you do,” he almost laughs right then and there, still rutting into you like an animal in heat. “Bet you’d like that, huh? Someone to walk in and see you all spread out for me, so fucking wet and needy…”
He’s close, he can feel it; can never shut up when he gets like this. But your needs come first and foremost, no matter what. So he holds you up with one arm, sliding his gloved hand down to your bare clit. Drawing tight circles around the bud with his fingers, eager to bring you to your peak.
You twist and shudder in his hold, nails and heels digging into him, face scrunched up in pleasure. “Keigo—fuck, ‘m coming—”
“’S okay, pretty birdie—you can come, come for me, please—”
You reach your high first, clamping down like a vice around his cock, trembling in his arms as pure bliss courses through your veins. You’re so fucking beautiful, more than he could possibly put into words—and the sight of you losing yourself on his cock has him coming on the spot, groaning into your neck and pushing you up against the wall.
Neither of you move at first, too preoccupied with holding each other as tightly as you can. But then the sweat and mess below get to him, and he’s sliding out of you with a pitiful moan of your name. His wings are quivering, but he forces his feathers to move to clean up the place a little bit. Rearranging the nearby shelf, picking up anything that might’ve fallen in the midst of your lovemaking. Snatching up your discarded panties and discreetly slipping them into his back pocket.
“I expect those back by the time we get back out there.” But there’s no bite to your words, nothing but a lazy, satisfied smile on your face as he lowers you onto your shaky legs. Letting you lean on his chest before straightening up your dress. “Don’t wanna go back out there wearing nothing at all.”
But he shakes his head, allowing you to slip his jacket back over his shoulders. “Nah, I can grab a fresh pair from your place. It’s not too far away, I don’t mind!”
“Then if that’s the case, just fly me home right now!”
“Birdie, you know I would,” he says almost sadly, brushing a few stray pieces of hair from your face, “but rules are rules. I don’t want either of us to get in trouble.”
“Even more than we already are,” you mumble, and he giggles before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.
“Maybe so. Now wait here, I’ll be back in two minutes flat. Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone, alright?”
You roll your eyes and nod your head, and he kisses your forehead before opening the door as slowly as he can. Glancing at both ends of the hallway before slipping out, sending a sly wink your way.
“See you in a bit, birdie.”
And then he’s off, leaving only a gust of wind in his wake, and maybe one or two stray feathers with you to keep you safe. You watch him go, still dazed and drunk on love, leaning against the wall with heated cheeks. Leaving you to admire just how damn pretty he still looks in that suit of his.
fandom: attack on titan
Hark! What's this? Star is back from the dead? (Not quite.) But I rise up for Kinktober, because deep down I am a horny little monster. This fic for sweet lil Moblit has been on the backburner for about a few months now, and I never got around to posting it. So I figured, why not kick Kinktober 2024 off with a bang? (Pun intended.) I hope you guys enjoy making Moblit blush! :)
warnings: oral sex (m. receiving), praise kink, slight dirty talk, pet names, very slight dom/sub undertones || words: 1.5k
Your boyfriend has the cutest blush you’ve ever seen.
Not too faint, but not too pronounced, either. A pretty splash of pink against his soft pale cheeks. Sometimes, when he’s particularly embarrassed, the tips of his ears will burn a bright red. You can’t help it—whenever you see him like this, you smile dreamily and press a kiss to his cheek, no matter if you’re alone or in the middle of a meeting with the Commander. Of course, that only riles him up even more.
Soft, precious, easily flustered—and he’s all yours.
Making him blush is one of your favorite pastimes. Over the few months you’ve been together, you’ve tried different methods of embarrassing him. There are two methods in particular that you consider the most reliable:
The first is complimenting his art skills, and taking a peek at his artwork, whether he’s working on sketches for Hanji or simply free drawing in his spare time. He always hunches over in his seat whenever you draw attention to it, partially hiding his work with the palm of his hand. His fingers tremble against the pages, his skin is stained with charcoal, and his cheeks are a bright pink color.
The second is pressing him into the mattress of your bed, with your lips against his earlobe, whispering soft words of praise as he writhes beneath your body.
Right now, you find yourself toying with the second method, after a long day of work. Finally, you have Moblit all to yourself—far away from Hanji, Erwin, Levi, and the others—and fuck, if you’re not going to make the best of it...
He groans softly against your neck, cheeks flushed with a rosy shade as you dip your fingers below the hem of his sweatpants. The two of you had changed out of your uniforms and opted for more comfortable clothes to sleep in—but as usual, that just makes it easier to undress him and make him whimper.
Your name leaves his lips in a hushed whisper, and a pool of heat begins to swirl in the pit of your stomach. The loose fabric of his shirt is warm against your bare chest—you were the first to undress, just to tease him a little bit more. He’s a nervous wreck as your breasts push up against him, stumbling over his words, turning his head every which way to avoid your burning eyes.
“So beautiful,” he shivers when you press your lips to his ear, fingers working down the length of his shirt, as your other hand wraps around the band of his sweatpants. You tug at it gently, savoring the sharp gasp that ripples through his chest, the same one that has him twisting his head from side to side.
You smile and reach out a hand, brushing the backs of your fingers across his pretty pink cheek.
“What’s wrong, huh? I thought you’d be used to this now, babe.”
“...I am,” he finally chokes out, although the frantic dart of his gaze tells you otherwise. “Just...go slow...”
“I am, silly. I’m going as slow as I can.”
He’s so fucking cute when he gets all flustered like this.
It’s hard not to laugh; Moblit just brings out that side of you. The side that makes you want to freeze time and drink in every little second he gives you. Every kiss, every touch, every mumbled word against your heated skin—it all makes your blood sing in your veins, your cheeks warming with a blush of your own. His nervousness always seems to rub off on you, but you’re better at masking it than he is.
Besides, one of you has to take the reins in the bedroom, right?
His breath hitches in his throat when you pull his waistband over his hips, down his legs and dropping them to the floor. Settling yourself in between his thighs as he throws an arm over his face. A futile attempt to hide his burning cheeks from your gaze.
“C’mon, pretty boy.” He lets out a groan when your fingertips trail over the hem of his shirt, catching the skin of his abdomen with your nails. “Don’t leave me in the dark like this. What do you want from me, huh? I can’t make you feel good if you don’t tell me what you want.”
His lips part, but only a pitiful moan slips out. You sigh and lean further up his body, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Moblit,” you try again, and this time he peeks at you from between his fingers, “Let me take care of you... Please?”
He swallows so hard you can see the bob of his throat, a sight that sends a thousand sinful thoughts right to your brain. A thin sheen of sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead. You hold his gaze, kissing each one of his fingers, as he finally nods his head.
“...Alright. I...I want you to make me feel good...”
Your lips stretch into a smile before planting a kiss on the apple of his cheek. “That’s all you had to say, pretty boy.”
His wish is your command, his soft voice sending a thrill down your spine.
He keeps his hands fixed on his cheeks, whimpering softly when you pull his boxers down to his thighs. Too embarrassed to look you in the eye when his cock is freed, already half-hard and flushed a pretty pink color. Your tongue traces over your lips at the sight, fingers gentle as you massage the skin of his muscular thighs.
He may not be as physically strong as Levi or Mike, but he’s still a soldier of the Survey Corps; years of training and dedication have given him a body that melds perfectly against your own, fit for both battle and the nights you steal for each other. Besides, it makes it all the more thrilling to have such a strong, powerful man crumble and whine at the faintest brush of your lips.
“So pretty,” you murmur, hot breath fanning over his aching cock, “you know that?” His whole body shudders when you press a soft kiss to the leaking tip. “So fucking pretty—and you’re all mine.”
Moblit isn’t very vocal in bed, but that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. The way his hands bury themselves in your hair tell you all you need to know. Running your hands up the length of his cock, giving him a few gentle licks with a smirk on your face. His cheeks are rich with color, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of his face.
He opens his mouth, but whatever he meant to say gets caught halfway when you lean in and slide your mouth over his cock. He slaps a hand over his mouth, whining into the meat of his palm, eyes squeezing shut when you swirl your tongue around the tip. You reach out and lace your fingers through his own, your chest growing warm when he glances down at you.
Already so tired, and you haven’t even started yet.
“P-please, I—” He lets out another moan as you take him deeper, lips tightening around his cock, and he sinks his nails into your scalp to pull you closer. “Oh fuck...”
His little noises only spur you on; already you can feel a familiar wetness pooling in between your thighs. It takes every bit of self-control in your body not to grind your hips into the mattress. It’s a tempting thought, but tonight’s not about you. At least, not yet. Right now your sole mission is making him feel good, to savor the pretty blush across his face and the sweet moans slipping from his lips.
“Good boy,” a trail of spit connects your tongue to the head of his cock, strings of precum dribbling from your lips with every word. “Such a good boy for me, Moblit. Love you, you know that?” Another kiss to his cock before bringing your mouth over it once more. “Love you so fucking much...”
“O-oh fuck—” Silver tears are streaming down his cheeks, his mouth falling open with a moan of your name. “I can’t—shit, I—”
His thighs clamp down around your head; but before he can regain his senses and pull away, you throw your hands around his thighs and pin them in place. All the while allowing him to thrust into your mouth like an animal in heat, whining and crying and practically begging for you to let him come.
Your head is swimming; drunk off the taste of his cock, the strength of his thighs around your head, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull with every thrust. And suddenly he’s shuddering against your tongue, thighs squeezing around your head as he spills himself down your throat.
You’re all too eager to lap up his release, before pulling away to press another kiss to his softening cock.
He curls into himself almost immediately, thighs trembling from the force of his orgasm, sweaty chest heaving with every breath he takes. He hides his face in his hands once more, but at least he peeks at you from between his fingers when he hears you laugh.
“Hope you’re not too exhausted after that,” you tell him, running your tongue along your lips. “Because we’re not done yet—not by a long shot, pretty boy.”
I’m recording something for class, it was going well with no slip ups, it flowed nicely, and I had to delete it because my Levi body pillow was in the frame 😭😭
I've had this fic idea in my head since Christmas, and finally finished it up when I was supposed to be doing my homework. (Help I've started grad school and I already regret everything.) Also I've never written for Dazai before, so I'm a little nervous as to how this will be received. Anyway I hope you enjoy!
warnings: fem reader, a bit of profanity because learning origami is hard damn it, Reader is a bit insecure but she tries, and Dazai is a little shit who loves attention || words: 2.1k
It’s nearly an hour after closing when he finds you, still hunched over at your desk.
The rest of the agency has gone home, the first rays of the setting sun streaming through the windows. He’d left a few minutes ago, just to kill time at the café until you’d finished your work. But it’s been nearly a half hour by now, and Dazai’s starting to get a little antsy.
He just wants to spend the rest of the day strolling through the city without a care in the world, with you at his side. So what’s taking you so long?
But you don’t seem to be doing paperwork like you were when he’d left; instead you’re focused on a piece of colorful paper in front of you. A shade of green, folded in half on both sides with a few messy creases down the surface.
You haven’t even noticed him yet, too engrossed on the little piece of paper. Folding it in half again, before tucking the sides underneath the top flap. Eyes dart back and forth between the paper and a little book sprawled open at your side; your tongue pokes out the corner of your mouth as you fold the sides of the paper to meet the crease in the center.
As quietly as he can (and he actually tries to be, Kunikida would be so impressed if he saw him now), he makes his way towards your desk. Careful not to disturb you, although you seem to be lost in your own little world. You don’t even realize his shadow’s crossing your own on the floor.
Are you…?
His suspicions are confirmed when you pull the top half of the paper back, forming a long diamond shape with the sides tucked in. The wings of a crane, albeit a little messy. And slowly but surely, he can feel the corners of his mouth pull up in a smile—you seem to be doing really well so far…
But then you tug just a bit too hard on the second flap, tearing the paper straight down the middle. You stare at the broken pieces in your hands, lips parted slightly, unable to tear your gaze from
“…Fuck it.”
You shake your head with a sigh, toss the pieces in the trash with a little more force than necessary—and nearly jump out of your skin when you see Dazai standing just a few feet away from your desk.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a smile (and noticing the way your bottom lip trembles between your teeth), “I thought you’d be done by now, no?”
“Ah…”
Your eyes dart almost nervously back to your desk, as though you’re just now realizing you haven’t been doing any actual work for the past fifteen minutes or so. Your chest heaves with a sigh, arms stretched out in front of you as you roll your shoulders.
“Sorry, just killing some time. Anyway, you wanna head out now?”
But his eyes are fixed on the little trash can beside your desk, and the multi-colored scraps of paper decorating the top. Your cheeks flush with heat as he glances back up at you, a playful smile on his lips.
“I didn’t know you had a thing for origami!”
“I…don’t.” Your throat feels unnaturally tight when you swallow. “I’ve never done it before, I thought I’d try it out, but…”
Turns out it’s actually much harder to do than it looks. Turns out that, no matter how many instructional books and videos you follow along with, you can’t seem to grasp even the most basic concepts. For the love of God, it’s folding paper into different shapes—how hard could it possibly be?
Very fucking hard, as a matter of fact.
You’re about to slap the little book closed and shove it back under the stack of paperwork on the corner of your desk (you know, what you should be working on instead), when a shadow blocks out your sun. Dazai hums to himself as his eyes skim the instructions, the little detailed pictures above the words, bold and dotted lines to mark each fold and crease.
Then he shakes his head with a laugh. “No wonder, they left out a few important steps…”
Your mouth falls open as he grabs a random chair (probably the one from Kunikida’s desk) and plops down right beside you, his elbow brushing against your own. He takes a small slip of paper from the stack in front of you—pure white this time—and gives you a smile that makes your heart leap in your throat.
“I can show you the right way to do it, if you’re interested?”
You don’t have the strength to deny him, even when he uses that familiar teasing tone. You simply nod your head and grab another sheet, a light pink shade that’s easy to see any creases you’ll make.
He waits until your eyes are back on his to start your little lesson. Folding the paper vertically, horizontally, diagonally until eight little creases stare back at you. He nods when you’re finished; the silent praise sends your heart hammering in your chest.
“Now shift it like this”—he turns the paper diagonally—“and tuck the sides in like this. Like you’re making a smaller diamond shape.”
He folds the paper so elegantly, so beautifully, you almost don’t realize he’s talking to you. You swallow and follow his lead. A bit shaky with your creases, but at least now you have a diamond shape that roughly mirrors his own.
“…Looks like a frog’s legs, huh?”
That gets a laugh out of him. “Wanna learn how to make little frogs next, huh?”
“If you don’t mind teaching me,” you answer with heated cheeks.
“I’d be delighted to! But one thing at a time. If you can make a crane, you can make anything.”
If you say so. Dazai can be incredibly convincing when he wants to be. Has a habit of pumping you up over the smallest of tasks. Sometimes it’s helpful (when it comes to handing in paperwork on time), other times it’s overbearing.
“See this middle line right here?” A finger slides over the crease in the white diamond. “Fold these edges so they meet in the middle.”
Seems easy enough. Now both papers look like little kites.
“Now what?”
“Take the top corner and fold it down. On both sides.”
Wait a minute. “…Could you repeat that?”
“This corner,” he points to the top of the kite shape, “fold it over like this.” He angles it down, creasing it down to meet the line in the middle.
“But…why?”
Must be one of those extra steps he mentioned, you don’t remember anything like this in all the books or worksheets you’ve read through. But you don’t really see the point in this one. Won’t the crane still look the same if you don’t do this part?
“Here, I’ll show you.”
Dazai presses down on the newly made fold, before folding it back up to maintain that kite shape. He flips it around and glances over at you; you jump and take it as your cue to continue, following his lead with shaky hands.
“See? You got it.” He gives you a smile, and you swear you feel your heart leap in your throat.
…Stop looking at his hands.
But you can’t help it—they just look so dazzling against the paper. His fingers glide against the surface, tucking each corner perfectly, pressing along the sides with just enough pressure… He’s built up quite a bit of experience, with all the paper airplanes he’s made out of his paperwork (along with Kunikida’s and Atsushi’s).
A snicker pulls you from your daydream, and your cheeks flush with heat when you see his eyes fixed on your face.
“Don’t daydream on me now, love, we’re only halfway done!”
You clear your throat and glance back at the kite shape in your sweaty hands. “What’s next, huh?”
“Now open it up, tuck these edges in, and it looks like this.”
You follow his lead, eyes darting back and forth between your paper and his—and you have to admit, folding the edges is much easier now with that extra top crease he’s made. The kite slowly stretches into a longer diamond, with two thick flaps on top and two skinny tips on the bottom.
“Fold these in, so it’s a thinner shape.”
You fold the edges of each side into the middle, a small smile donning your features. This is further than you’ve ever gotten on your own. Maybe all you needed was a damn good teacher.
“Alright, see these little tips?” Dazai taps his finger against each one. “You’re gonna bring them up to the same height as the top one, like this. Then the next one…”
He folds each tip upwards, meeting the top flap and pressing down on the crease.
“And now you’ve got a cute little crown!”
A laugh bubbles up in your throat as he holds it above your head, even more so when you see a soft smile on his face. You don’t have the heart to brush him away, even as you focus on your own paper. It’s a little uneven and bent a weird way, but when you’re done you hold yours up and over his head as well.
“Like this, huh?”
“Perfect,” he says, and your heart skips a few beats. “Now, which one’s your favorite?”
His finger dances back and forth between the smaller tips of each crown. You pause, and then point to the one on your right side, closest to him.
“That one? Alright, take it like this…and fold it down. Now he’s got a little head.”
He shows you with his own, expertly folding the tip down to crease right down its middle, bending it to give the little paper a head. Yours is a little clunky (you’ll never understand how he moves his hands the way he does), but it still gets a smile out of him.
“And spread his wings slowly…”
Slowly, carefully, each delicate wing pressed between your fingers.
“…Ta da! Say hello to your new little crane!”
Dazai holds up his own, a perfect white bird with no corner or fold out of place. The prime example of a paper crane.
Yours is roughly the same thing, with a few beginner mistakes thrown in. A slight tear on his nose, his head hanging a bit too low, and he doesn’t stand on his own when you place him down. But he’s here, right in front of you, next to Dazai’s own crane. To be honest…
Not bad for your first try.
“…Here, take it.”
In all your years of knowing him, you can’t recall ever seeing Osamu Dazai stunned into silence. It almost makes you laugh, the way his mouth tightens into a line, his soft brown eyes unusually blown wide. It looks…kinda cute on him.
He’s still staring at you, so you take the lead and grab his hand, careful of the bandages around his wrist, and place the tattered pink crane in his palm.
“I…I wanna give it to you.” You can feel your face start to burn, but force the words out anyway, no matter how stupid they sound. “So here, take it. It’s for you.”
It’s not perfect, nowhere near it. It’s messy and crumbled in some places, and the more you look at it the more you wonder if this is a good idea after all. If he would even want something like this in the first place.
But then his hands close over the crane and hold it up to his face, inspecting each and every crease and fold. You hold your breath, nails sinking into the corner of the desk.
You’re three seconds away from snatching the thing out of his hands and taking everything back—but then he places it on the corner of his desk, propped up against a stack of paper so it won’t fall over.
“No fair if you give me yours,” he says with a smirk, “and I don’t give you anything in return!”
So he slides his own paper crane towards you, urging you to take it. It almost makes you want to cry, the soft way he looks at the pink crane on his desk, tracing his finger along the edges. You hold his own crane close to your chest, before placing it on the corner of your desk, its nose touching the pink one’s.
“…Thanks, Dazai.”
The smile he gives you sends a swarm of butterflies straight to your stomach. And when it’s time for you two to finally leave the office, with the last rays of the sunset streaming through the window, you can’t help but steal one last look at the little pair of cranes, right there on your desk, their noses brushing against each other’s.
A perfect sight to walk into tomorrow.
The thought makes you smile, as Dazai’s hand slides into your own, and the two of you close the door behind you.
I've had this fic idea in my head since Christmas, and finally finished it up when I was supposed to be doing my homework. (Help I've started grad school and I already regret everything.) Also I've never written for Dazai before, so I'm a little nervous as to how this will be received. Anyway I hope you enjoy!
warnings: fem reader, a bit of profanity because learning origami is hard damn it, Reader is a bit insecure but she tries, and Dazai is a little shit who loves attention || words: 2.1k
It’s nearly an hour after closing when he finds you, still hunched over at your desk.
The rest of the agency has gone home, the first rays of the setting sun streaming through the windows. He’d left a few minutes ago, just to kill time at the café until you’d finished your work. But it’s been nearly a half hour by now, and Dazai’s starting to get a little antsy.
He just wants to spend the rest of the day strolling through the city without a care in the world, with you at his side. So what’s taking you so long?
But you don’t seem to be doing paperwork like you were when he’d left; instead you’re focused on a piece of colorful paper in front of you. A shade of green, folded in half on both sides with a few messy creases down the surface.
You haven’t even noticed him yet, too engrossed on the little piece of paper. Folding it in half again, before tucking the sides underneath the top flap. Eyes dart back and forth between the paper and a little book sprawled open at your side; your tongue pokes out the corner of your mouth as you fold the sides of the paper to meet the crease in the center.
As quietly as he can (and he actually tries to be, Kunikida would be so impressed if he saw him now), he makes his way towards your desk. Careful not to disturb you, although you seem to be lost in your own little world. You don’t even realize his shadow’s crossing your own on the floor.
Are you…?
His suspicions are confirmed when you pull the top half of the paper back, forming a long diamond shape with the sides tucked in. The wings of a crane, albeit a little messy. And slowly but surely, he can feel the corners of his mouth pull up in a smile—you seem to be doing really well so far…
But then you tug just a bit too hard on the second flap, tearing the paper straight down the middle. You stare at the broken pieces in your hands, lips parted slightly, unable to tear your gaze from
“…Fuck it.”
You shake your head with a sigh, toss the pieces in the trash with a little more force than necessary—and nearly jump out of your skin when you see Dazai standing just a few feet away from your desk.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a smile (and noticing the way your bottom lip trembles between your teeth), “I thought you’d be done by now, no?”
“Ah…”
Your eyes dart almost nervously back to your desk, as though you’re just now realizing you haven’t been doing any actual work for the past fifteen minutes or so. Your chest heaves with a sigh, arms stretched out in front of you as you roll your shoulders.
“Sorry, just killing some time. Anyway, you wanna head out now?”
But his eyes are fixed on the little trash can beside your desk, and the multi-colored scraps of paper decorating the top. Your cheeks flush with heat as he glances back up at you, a playful smile on his lips.
“I didn’t know you had a thing for origami!”
“I…don’t.” Your throat feels unnaturally tight when you swallow. “I’ve never done it before, I thought I’d try it out, but…”
Turns out it’s actually much harder to do than it looks. Turns out that, no matter how many instructional books and videos you follow along with, you can’t seem to grasp even the most basic concepts. For the love of God, it’s folding paper into different shapes—how hard could it possibly be?
Very fucking hard, as a matter of fact.
You’re about to slap the little book closed and shove it back under the stack of paperwork on the corner of your desk (you know, what you should be working on instead), when a shadow blocks out your sun. Dazai hums to himself as his eyes skim the instructions, the little detailed pictures above the words, bold and dotted lines to mark each fold and crease.
Then he shakes his head with a laugh. “No wonder, they left out a few important steps…”
Your mouth falls open as he grabs a random chair (probably the one from Kunikida’s desk) and plops down right beside you, his elbow brushing against your own. He takes a small slip of paper from the stack in front of you—pure white this time—and gives you a smile that makes your heart leap in your throat.
“I can show you the right way to do it, if you’re interested?”
You don’t have the strength to deny him, even when he uses that familiar teasing tone. You simply nod your head and grab another sheet, a light pink shade that’s easy to see any creases you’ll make.
He waits until your eyes are back on his to start your little lesson. Folding the paper vertically, horizontally, diagonally until eight little creases stare back at you. He nods when you’re finished; the silent praise sends your heart hammering in your chest.
“Now shift it like this”—he turns the paper diagonally—“and tuck the sides in like this. Like you’re making a smaller diamond shape.”
He folds the paper so elegantly, so beautifully, you almost don’t realize he’s talking to you. You swallow and follow his lead. A bit shaky with your creases, but at least now you have a diamond shape that roughly mirrors his own.
“…Looks like a frog’s legs, huh?”
That gets a laugh out of him. “Wanna learn how to make little frogs next, huh?”
“If you don’t mind teaching me,” you answer with heated cheeks.
“I’d be delighted to! But one thing at a time. If you can make a crane, you can make anything.”
If you say so. Dazai can be incredibly convincing when he wants to be. Has a habit of pumping you up over the smallest of tasks. Sometimes it’s helpful (when it comes to handing in paperwork on time), other times it’s overbearing.
“See this middle line right here?” A finger slides over the crease in the white diamond. “Fold these edges so they meet in the middle.”
Seems easy enough. Now both papers look like little kites.
“Now what?”
“Take the top corner and fold it down. On both sides.”
Wait a minute. “…Could you repeat that?”
“This corner,” he points to the top of the kite shape, “fold it over like this.” He angles it down, creasing it down to meet the line in the middle.
“But…why?”
Must be one of those extra steps he mentioned, you don’t remember anything like this in all the books or worksheets you’ve read through. But you don’t really see the point in this one. Won’t the crane still look the same if you don’t do this part?
“Here, I’ll show you.”
Dazai presses down on the newly made fold, before folding it back up to maintain that kite shape. He flips it around and glances over at you; you jump and take it as your cue to continue, following his lead with shaky hands.
“See? You got it.” He gives you a smile, and you swear you feel your heart leap in your throat.
…Stop looking at his hands.
But you can’t help it—they just look so dazzling against the paper. His fingers glide against the surface, tucking each corner perfectly, pressing along the sides with just enough pressure… He’s built up quite a bit of experience, with all the paper airplanes he’s made out of his paperwork (along with Kunikida’s and Atsushi’s).
A snicker pulls you from your daydream, and your cheeks flush with heat when you see his eyes fixed on your face.
“Don’t daydream on me now, love, we’re only halfway done!”
You clear your throat and glance back at the kite shape in your sweaty hands. “What’s next, huh?”
“Now open it up, tuck these edges in, and it looks like this.”
You follow his lead, eyes darting back and forth between your paper and his—and you have to admit, folding the edges is much easier now with that extra top crease he’s made. The kite slowly stretches into a longer diamond, with two thick flaps on top and two skinny tips on the bottom.
“Fold these in, so it’s a thinner shape.”
You fold the edges of each side into the middle, a small smile donning your features. This is further than you’ve ever gotten on your own. Maybe all you needed was a damn good teacher.
“Alright, see these little tips?” Dazai taps his finger against each one. “You’re gonna bring them up to the same height as the top one, like this. Then the next one…”
He folds each tip upwards, meeting the top flap and pressing down on the crease.
“And now you’ve got a cute little crown!”
A laugh bubbles up in your throat as he holds it above your head, even more so when you see a soft smile on his face. You don’t have the heart to brush him away, even as you focus on your own paper. It’s a little uneven and bent a weird way, but when you’re done you hold yours up and over his head as well.
“Like this, huh?”
“Perfect,” he says, and your heart skips a few beats. “Now, which one’s your favorite?”
His finger dances back and forth between the smaller tips of each crown. You pause, and then point to the one on your right side, closest to him.
“That one? Alright, take it like this…and fold it down. Now he’s got a little head.”
He shows you with his own, expertly folding the tip down to crease right down its middle, bending it to give the little paper a head. Yours is a little clunky (you’ll never understand how he moves his hands the way he does), but it still gets a smile out of him.
“And spread his wings slowly…”
Slowly, carefully, each delicate wing pressed between your fingers.
“…Ta da! Say hello to your new little crane!”
Dazai holds up his own, a perfect white bird with no corner or fold out of place. The prime example of a paper crane.
Yours is roughly the same thing, with a few beginner mistakes thrown in. A slight tear on his nose, his head hanging a bit too low, and he doesn’t stand on his own when you place him down. But he’s here, right in front of you, next to Dazai’s own crane. To be honest…
Not bad for your first try.
“…Here, take it.”
In all your years of knowing him, you can’t recall ever seeing Osamu Dazai stunned into silence. It almost makes you laugh, the way his mouth tightens into a line, his soft brown eyes unusually blown wide. It looks…kinda cute on him.
He’s still staring at you, so you take the lead and grab his hand, careful of the bandages around his wrist, and place the tattered pink crane in his palm.
“I…I wanna give it to you.” You can feel your face start to burn, but force the words out anyway, no matter how stupid they sound. “So here, take it. It’s for you.”
It’s not perfect, nowhere near it. It’s messy and crumbled in some places, and the more you look at it the more you wonder if this is a good idea after all. If he would even want something like this in the first place.
But then his hands close over the crane and hold it up to his face, inspecting each and every crease and fold. You hold your breath, nails sinking into the corner of the desk.
You’re three seconds away from snatching the thing out of his hands and taking everything back—but then he places it on the corner of his desk, propped up against a stack of paper so it won’t fall over.
“No fair if you give me yours,” he says with a smirk, “and I don’t give you anything in return!”
So he slides his own paper crane towards you, urging you to take it. It almost makes you want to cry, the soft way he looks at the pink crane on his desk, tracing his finger along the edges. You hold his own crane close to your chest, before placing it on the corner of your desk, its nose touching the pink one’s.
“…Thanks, Dazai.”
The smile he gives you sends a swarm of butterflies straight to your stomach. And when it’s time for you two to finally leave the office, with the last rays of the sunset streaming through the window, you can’t help but steal one last look at the little pair of cranes, right there on your desk, their noses brushing against each other’s.
A perfect sight to walk into tomorrow.
The thought makes you smile, as Dazai’s hand slides into your own, and the two of you close the door behind you.
I've had this fic idea in my head since Christmas, and finally finished it up when I was supposed to be doing my homework. (Help I've started grad school and I already regret everything.) Also I've never written for Dazai before, so I'm a little nervous as to how this will be received. Anyway I hope you enjoy!
warnings: fem reader, a bit of profanity because learning origami is hard damn it, Reader is a bit insecure but she tries, and Dazai is a little shit who loves attention || words: 2.1k
It’s nearly an hour after closing when he finds you, still hunched over at your desk.
The rest of the agency has gone home, the first rays of the setting sun streaming through the windows. He’d left a few minutes ago, just to kill time at the café until you’d finished your work. But it’s been nearly a half hour by now, and Dazai’s starting to get a little antsy.
He just wants to spend the rest of the day strolling through the city without a care in the world, with you at his side. So what’s taking you so long?
But you don’t seem to be doing paperwork like you were when he’d left; instead you’re focused on a piece of colorful paper in front of you. A shade of green, folded in half on both sides with a few messy creases down the surface.
You haven’t even noticed him yet, too engrossed on the little piece of paper. Folding it in half again, before tucking the sides underneath the top flap. Eyes dart back and forth between the paper and a little book sprawled open at your side; your tongue pokes out the corner of your mouth as you fold the sides of the paper to meet the crease in the center.
As quietly as he can (and he actually tries to be, Kunikida would be so impressed if he saw him now), he makes his way towards your desk. Careful not to disturb you, although you seem to be lost in your own little world. You don’t even realize his shadow’s crossing your own on the floor.
Are you…?
His suspicions are confirmed when you pull the top half of the paper back, forming a long diamond shape with the sides tucked in. The wings of a crane, albeit a little messy. And slowly but surely, he can feel the corners of his mouth pull up in a smile—you seem to be doing really well so far…
But then you tug just a bit too hard on the second flap, tearing the paper straight down the middle. You stare at the broken pieces in your hands, lips parted slightly, unable to tear your gaze from
“…Fuck it.”
You shake your head with a sigh, toss the pieces in the trash with a little more force than necessary—and nearly jump out of your skin when you see Dazai standing just a few feet away from your desk.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a smile (and noticing the way your bottom lip trembles between your teeth), “I thought you’d be done by now, no?”
“Ah…”
Your eyes dart almost nervously back to your desk, as though you’re just now realizing you haven’t been doing any actual work for the past fifteen minutes or so. Your chest heaves with a sigh, arms stretched out in front of you as you roll your shoulders.
“Sorry, just killing some time. Anyway, you wanna head out now?”
But his eyes are fixed on the little trash can beside your desk, and the multi-colored scraps of paper decorating the top. Your cheeks flush with heat as he glances back up at you, a playful smile on his lips.
“I didn’t know you had a thing for origami!”
“I…don’t.” Your throat feels unnaturally tight when you swallow. “I’ve never done it before, I thought I’d try it out, but…”
Turns out it’s actually much harder to do than it looks. Turns out that, no matter how many instructional books and videos you follow along with, you can’t seem to grasp even the most basic concepts. For the love of God, it’s folding paper into different shapes—how hard could it possibly be?
Very fucking hard, as a matter of fact.
You’re about to slap the little book closed and shove it back under the stack of paperwork on the corner of your desk (you know, what you should be working on instead), when a shadow blocks out your sun. Dazai hums to himself as his eyes skim the instructions, the little detailed pictures above the words, bold and dotted lines to mark each fold and crease.
Then he shakes his head with a laugh. “No wonder, they left out a few important steps…”
Your mouth falls open as he grabs a random chair (probably the one from Kunikida’s desk) and plops down right beside you, his elbow brushing against your own. He takes a small slip of paper from the stack in front of you—pure white this time—and gives you a smile that makes your heart leap in your throat.
“I can show you the right way to do it, if you’re interested?”
You don’t have the strength to deny him, even when he uses that familiar teasing tone. You simply nod your head and grab another sheet, a light pink shade that’s easy to see any creases you’ll make.
He waits until your eyes are back on his to start your little lesson. Folding the paper vertically, horizontally, diagonally until eight little creases stare back at you. He nods when you’re finished; the silent praise sends your heart hammering in your chest.
“Now shift it like this”—he turns the paper diagonally—“and tuck the sides in like this. Like you’re making a smaller diamond shape.”
He folds the paper so elegantly, so beautifully, you almost don’t realize he’s talking to you. You swallow and follow his lead. A bit shaky with your creases, but at least now you have a diamond shape that roughly mirrors his own.
“…Looks like a frog’s legs, huh?”
That gets a laugh out of him. “Wanna learn how to make little frogs next, huh?”
“If you don’t mind teaching me,” you answer with heated cheeks.
“I’d be delighted to! But one thing at a time. If you can make a crane, you can make anything.”
If you say so. Dazai can be incredibly convincing when he wants to be. Has a habit of pumping you up over the smallest of tasks. Sometimes it’s helpful (when it comes to handing in paperwork on time), other times it’s overbearing.
“See this middle line right here?” A finger slides over the crease in the white diamond. “Fold these edges so they meet in the middle.”
Seems easy enough. Now both papers look like little kites.
“Now what?”
“Take the top corner and fold it down. On both sides.”
Wait a minute. “…Could you repeat that?”
“This corner,” he points to the top of the kite shape, “fold it over like this.” He angles it down, creasing it down to meet the line in the middle.
“But…why?”
Must be one of those extra steps he mentioned, you don’t remember anything like this in all the books or worksheets you’ve read through. But you don’t really see the point in this one. Won’t the crane still look the same if you don’t do this part?
“Here, I’ll show you.”
Dazai presses down on the newly made fold, before folding it back up to maintain that kite shape. He flips it around and glances over at you; you jump and take it as your cue to continue, following his lead with shaky hands.
“See? You got it.” He gives you a smile, and you swear you feel your heart leap in your throat.
…Stop looking at his hands.
But you can’t help it—they just look so dazzling against the paper. His fingers glide against the surface, tucking each corner perfectly, pressing along the sides with just enough pressure… He’s built up quite a bit of experience, with all the paper airplanes he’s made out of his paperwork (along with Kunikida’s and Atsushi’s).
A snicker pulls you from your daydream, and your cheeks flush with heat when you see his eyes fixed on your face.
“Don’t daydream on me now, love, we’re only halfway done!”
You clear your throat and glance back at the kite shape in your sweaty hands. “What’s next, huh?”
“Now open it up, tuck these edges in, and it looks like this.”
You follow his lead, eyes darting back and forth between your paper and his—and you have to admit, folding the edges is much easier now with that extra top crease he’s made. The kite slowly stretches into a longer diamond, with two thick flaps on top and two skinny tips on the bottom.
“Fold these in, so it’s a thinner shape.”
You fold the edges of each side into the middle, a small smile donning your features. This is further than you’ve ever gotten on your own. Maybe all you needed was a damn good teacher.
“Alright, see these little tips?” Dazai taps his finger against each one. “You’re gonna bring them up to the same height as the top one, like this. Then the next one…”
He folds each tip upwards, meeting the top flap and pressing down on the crease.
“And now you’ve got a cute little crown!”
A laugh bubbles up in your throat as he holds it above your head, even more so when you see a soft smile on his face. You don’t have the heart to brush him away, even as you focus on your own paper. It’s a little uneven and bent a weird way, but when you’re done you hold yours up and over his head as well.
“Like this, huh?”
“Perfect,” he says, and your heart skips a few beats. “Now, which one’s your favorite?”
His finger dances back and forth between the smaller tips of each crown. You pause, and then point to the one on your right side, closest to him.
“That one? Alright, take it like this…and fold it down. Now he’s got a little head.”
He shows you with his own, expertly folding the tip down to crease right down its middle, bending it to give the little paper a head. Yours is a little clunky (you’ll never understand how he moves his hands the way he does), but it still gets a smile out of him.
“And spread his wings slowly…”
Slowly, carefully, each delicate wing pressed between your fingers.
“…Ta da! Say hello to your new little crane!”
Dazai holds up his own, a perfect white bird with no corner or fold out of place. The prime example of a paper crane.
Yours is roughly the same thing, with a few beginner mistakes thrown in. A slight tear on his nose, his head hanging a bit too low, and he doesn’t stand on his own when you place him down. But he’s here, right in front of you, next to Dazai’s own crane. To be honest…
Not bad for your first try.
“…Here, take it.”
In all your years of knowing him, you can’t recall ever seeing Osamu Dazai stunned into silence. It almost makes you laugh, the way his mouth tightens into a line, his soft brown eyes unusually blown wide. It looks…kinda cute on him.
He’s still staring at you, so you take the lead and grab his hand, careful of the bandages around his wrist, and place the tattered pink crane in his palm.
“I…I wanna give it to you.” You can feel your face start to burn, but force the words out anyway, no matter how stupid they sound. “So here, take it. It’s for you.”
It’s not perfect, nowhere near it. It’s messy and crumbled in some places, and the more you look at it the more you wonder if this is a good idea after all. If he would even want something like this in the first place.
But then his hands close over the crane and hold it up to his face, inspecting each and every crease and fold. You hold your breath, nails sinking into the corner of the desk.
You’re three seconds away from snatching the thing out of his hands and taking everything back—but then he places it on the corner of his desk, propped up against a stack of paper so it won’t fall over.
“No fair if you give me yours,” he says with a smirk, “and I don’t give you anything in return!”
So he slides his own paper crane towards you, urging you to take it. It almost makes you want to cry, the soft way he looks at the pink crane on his desk, tracing his finger along the edges. You hold his own crane close to your chest, before placing it on the corner of your desk, its nose touching the pink one’s.
“…Thanks, Dazai.”
The smile he gives you sends a swarm of butterflies straight to your stomach. And when it’s time for you two to finally leave the office, with the last rays of the sunset streaming through the window, you can’t help but steal one last look at the little pair of cranes, right there on your desk, their noses brushing against each other’s.
A perfect sight to walk into tomorrow.
The thought makes you smile, as Dazai’s hand slides into your own, and the two of you close the door behind you.
I reblogged her late last year and my 2024 has been very satisfying work-wise and (secure enough to not stress out) money-wise so far. Money Snake is wise and good.
Star’s Library @starstruckkittensweets - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
