As I was taking down my braids I began to wonder how different BSD characters would react after seeing your natural hair. Can I ask for headcanons about that? IDC what characters as long as Dazai is there.
(Unrelated but kinda related but it makes me think of how there are so many things that are just commonplace in my culture that I wouldn't think twice about. But those who aren't of said culture who would find the things I do as new and intriguing. Humanity is very fascinating. Sorry for getting philosophical. I just like to think a lot)
Deadass the different culture things is always so fun. Like I explain things about my own curly hair to my white friends all the time, and when they tell me what is and isn't acceptable in their culture with their straight hair? It's interesting.
Anyway! Here we goooooo~~
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Hair and Coffee
Dazai flipped over in his futon, half expecting to flop onto another human being, only to feel cold blankets. He groaned and continued rolling until he was on the tatami mat instead of the futon. After almost six months of sleeping with another person, his futon felt strangely big when he was alone.
"Belladonna?"
"Kitchen, Dummy."
With some effort he stumbled to his feet, and went out to the kitchen. The coffee maker gurgled, but Dazai couldn't smell the tell tale dark roast that he kept on hand. Instead, he smelled something fruity and creamy. His thoughts immediately jumped to you, as he swore you always smelled like a sorbet stand.
"Down here."
Lo and behold there you were on the kitchen floor.
You were surrounded by different bottles that were slick with the left overs from your hands. Half your hair was clipped out of your face, while the rest was in your hands while you ran a wide tooth comb through it.
It wasn't often that Dazai got to see your hair outside of twists. You said it was a protective style, especially against the salt of the ocean that constantly beat against Yokohama.
How interesting.
Dazai leaned against the counter with a raised eyebrow. "Comfy?"
"Yes, actually." You tilted your head up to look at him. "Coffee's gonna be ready soon. Could you pour me some too?"
"I could."
"Dazai c'mon, please?"
"Well if you beg that nicely."
He moved around the counter, and knelt down to your level. You raised an eyebrow, and he could feel discomfort radiating off you. Even your work on your hair had stopped, and yet you gripped the comb so tight he could he the plastic creak.
He shook his head before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, that discomfort seemed to have melted a bit.
Good.
He stood up and went to grab the coffee mugs. "Sugar?"
"You know it."
Shower Me in Love
Chuuya twisted the water on, before holding his hand under the cascading water. When it no longer singed his hands, he began to strip out of his clothes.
"Shower's on!"
"Coming!"
By the time he heard you walk into the bathroom, Chuuya had already stripped and was standing under the showers spray. Suds went down the drain while he rinsed out his hair.
"Took you long enough. Was about to get in the bath."
"Sorry! I had to take down my hair."
You finally stepped into the shower beside him, and he was surprised to find your hair had become a puff of tight, black curls. Chuuya knew your hair naturally curled like that, but he rarely saw it outside your braids.
He grinned as you reached out for your hair product. "Wash day for you too?"
"Yes and it's the worst! My deep conditioner didn't ship, but I'm tired of having dirty hair. Knew I should have just gotten the other one."
"They couldn't express ship?"
"I mean yeah, but-"
"If it's expensive charge it to my card." Chuuya said. "Your hair's too pretty to fuck it up on shitty products."
Your eyes widened a bit, before you bumped him with your hip. "Hush!"
He allowed himself to sway from your "violence" as he snickered at your bashful expression. "So fucking pretty."
A New Side
Atsushi hurried up the steps two at a time, humming along to the song that had been playing at the supermarket. When he finally got to your door number, he straightened up a bit, and knocked on the door.
"It's open, Atsushi!"
He opened the door, and toed out off his shoes. "I'm back, Darling! They didn't have olive oil, but they did have the coconut oil."
He went to your living room, and found you in the same spot that you were in half an hour ago. Your legs were under you, bottles of colorful creams were on the coffee table, and you had a comb in hand.
Now, however, your many bantu knots had been taken down in exchange for the puffs of tight curls that you were combing.
You looked up from the show you were watching on your phone with a smile. "Thanks! Can you set it on the table for me? I'll need it in a bit."
He did as instructed, his gaze never quite leaving your hair. He had learned a lot about you in the past two months. He knew you needed caffeine in the morning, and that you hated washing dishes, amd that he should get you flowers if you cried after an argument between you both. However, this ritual was new to him.
As he watched your hair do things his couldn’t, he was once more reminded how different the two of you were.
"Does it hurt?"
"Hm?"
He gestured to his own hair. "When you pull on it like that, does it hurt?"
"It can if you're not careful."
He watched you continue the movement. Careful, calculated pull of the comb through thick curls. Every so often you would stop, and add one of the creams or coconut oil to your hair, before running the comb through your hair once more.
After almost an hour of that, you paused and rolled your wrists til they popped.
Atsushi reached out, and gently took your hand. You tilted your head, but he didn't answer as he brought your wrist to his lips. You sighed and leaned your head back, eyes shut and a smile on your face.
"You're so sweet, Stripes."
Atsushi kept his lips over your pulse. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my entire life. Thank you for showing me another side of you."
You smiled and kissed his temple. "Thank you for accepting me for me."
Fin