CONTAINS: mentions of a fictitious car crash, the occasional threat of death, gender neutral reader
While some may disagree, nothing is as painful as boredom.
Now more than ever you believed this, seated in the back corner of your classroom, cheek resting in the palm of your left hand. You didn’t even want to take this class; World Music has nothing to do with your major. However, it fulfilled some stupid university credit that everyone needs in order to graduate. Glancing down towards your empty notebook, you grabbed a pen with your free hand.
big drum = big sound
You scrawled the four words down before lazily looking back up at your professor. He had spent the last 20 minutes explaining the difference between the same two drums, and you weren’t excited to listen to the rest of his lecture… So, you didn’t. Your focus shifted from the tall, orange-haired man in the front of your class to the bickering just outside it, head tilting slightly to the side. The walls in the basement of your university’s Fine Arts building were thin, so even though your seat was situated at the other end of the classroom’s closed door, the pattering of footsteps still made its way through. Along with that, you could hear the tick of the clock that was hung up above the teacher’s desk at the front reading 1:27 pm—you still had 23 minutes left of this horribly boring class. What that also meant is that any student walking through the halls must be from a class that was let out exceedingly early.
Only two pairs of footsteps echoed outside the classroom, a pair of bickering voices accompanying them. If a class got out early, surely there would be more—both in terms of footsteps and voices. Maybe two students were arriving to a class early? This far in the semester, it was safe to say this would be a common occurrence if true, however, you had never heard anyone pass by at this time before today. These two weren’t students arriving early to a class, or leaving early from another. Two people wouldn’t be arriving 30 minutes late, at that point they’d skip the class. You put the tip of your pen between your teeth as you thought.
Maybe the pair had been getting out late? The basement of the fine arts building does house just about all of the campus’ art classes, maybe they had a project coming up and decided to stay and work late. No, all of the art classrooms are situated to the left of the basement, these two were coming from the right. Perhaps they were lost kids, visiting colleges for the following year? Maybe professors, bickering over lazy students and assignments they had yet to grade. Or maybe, piggybacking on your earlier idea, the two had come early to work on a project outside of class…
“Are you still with us?” You realized Mr. Patrick had stopped banging his drums when he called out your name. Oops, you zoned out. Your coworkers always warn you that you tend to zero in on one thing and need to work on being more aware of your surroundings. A small smile pulls at your face. Maybe you should drop out of school: you’re learning more from your current part-time job than your stupid World Music class.
“Yes, sorry. Just listening to the difference in the drums.” I’m listening to the muffled conversation happening in the halls, you thought to yourself. The pen you were chewing on a moment earlier was placed next to your notebook.
Your teacher hummed in response. “Is that so? Then maybe you can explain the difference for the rest of your classmates.” Maybe you can explain the need for this class— you held your tongue, choosing to clear your throat instead of being gifted a lecture from your professor.
“I’m willing to try,” your voice was lighthearted and playful as the hand that was holding your head up dropped to cover your suspicious lack of notes. “While both drums are marketed the same and share the same size, the one on the left has a richer, deeper sound when played,” You almost let an embarrassed smile slip as you improvised your explanation. “I would guess that there was a miscalculation during its production, and the left drum is likely a tiny bit bigger than the right, creating said deeper sound.” By the end of your explanation, your cheeks were slightly tinted. While you had coasted through school by bullshitting answers, you truly had no idea if you could get away with this one. Damn those two outside of the class, this wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t been here.
The longer the teacher didn’t respond, the worse your red cheeks got—and your cruel professor remained silent for what felt like a while after your little speech (which, in reality, had only been a few seconds).
“So you had been listening, glad to hear it. Yes, the difference is…” as Mr. Patrick went back to explaining the drums, you let out a sigh of relief, head dropping ever so slightly as your eyes closed. The confidence you had just shown as you gave your answer was an act, one you weren’t sure you could’ve kept up if he had urged you to continue. You couldn’t afford to zone out again: you had to let the strangers outside go.
With newfound determination, you grasped your pen once more and looked back up to your ginger music professor. Paying attention isn’t that hard, you can do this.
At least, that’s what you hoped, until the same strangers that had helped soothe your boredom for a moment stopped just outside the door to your classroom. You clicked your tongue in disdain—it felt as though they were tempting you, telling you you’re so close, just think a little harder! Those assholes—no way would you do that again. You had a feeling Mr. Patrick wouldn’t be as kind if you were caught zoning out for a second time. Besides, it hadn’t even been five minutes. Whoever was bickering outside your classroom could choke for all you cared, as long as they stopped distracting you.
“Fine, then let’s just ask!” was the first full sentence you could make out from the pair before the cheap wooden door on the back left corner of your small white classroom swung open.
This was definitely distracting you.
Glancing over from your place in the back right corner, you finally got to see the people that caused you to anxiously ramble in front of your whole class even if you’d done so correctly and confidently, the assholes you’d end yourself.
Holy shit.
Your eyes widened when you noticed who had burst into your classroom: a bandaged brunet and a bespectacled blond, two of your coworkers. You wondered if you had ever looked away so quickly before this moment. It suddenly made sense, why the bickering seemed so familiar and why you couldn’t pinpoint the reason for the pair’s appearance. They weren’t supposed to be here, and you made sure to scratch a quick fuck you into your notebook so you’d remember this later. After all, if you forgot, how could you make sure to complain to your boss?
“May I help you?” Mr. Patrick was careful to put down the two drums he had been cradling very delicately as he addressed the two men that had barged in.
Feeling embarrassed, you placed your hand flat against your cheek, turning your head down and hoping your face was hidden. You can’t believe these two would pull such a stunt as this, especially the blond. Wasn’t he a teacher at one point? Shouldn’t he know not to interrupt a class?
“We’re sorry to-“ before the aforementioned blond could properly explain the situation, his brunet partner started talking over him.
“I believe you can help us, you see, we’re looking for a student that goes here,” he punctuated the sentence with your full name. Seeing as the teacher had recently said your name to humiliate ask you a question, every student in the class turned to the back right corner, directly to where you sat—or, rather, where you slouched, as you had curled your body in on itself in an attempt to hide.
“Is that so? May I ask why?” You silently cheered, hoping Mr. Patrick would scare these two morons away so you wouldn’t have to deal with all of your peers’ eyes directed towards the safe back corner you resided in.
But of course, nothing was that simple. The tall brunet you had come to occasionally appreciate at work started tearing up, ready to give the performance of a lifetime.
“It’s hard to vocalize,” he started by stuttering. “You see, we came to tell them that their dear sister has…” the man paused briefly as you peaked through your fingers with an amused smile, ready to see how this would play out. “Their sister got into a car crash,” and he burst into tears. Quite the actor, but it’s a good thing you are, too.
You didn’t really have a choice but to play along. What were you supposed to say? ‘No, he’s lying; Please resume your boring ass lecture?’ So, you contorted your face to make it seem like you were about to cry (fake crying was something you had yet to master) and pulled your hands down your face. “She what?” Spinning from your spot, you looked directly at the two.
“We need you to come with us, so we may escort you to the hospital where she is being held.” The blond did not look comfortable with the brunet’s show, and simply walked out of the classroom as he continued.
You’re the worst, you wanted to say. Instead, you stood up, packed your nearly empty notes into your backpack, and followed your blond coworker into the hall.
“You see, sir, they need to visit their sister. If you can excuse their absence this once…”
“Of course, I won’t take any points off; This is an emergency.” You rolled your eyes as you overheard your teacher’s voice. You were supposed to save me, Mr. Patrick.
The tall brunet slipped into a hallway and immediately his eyes dried, a cocky smirk appearing on his face.
“I hope you get into a car accident,” you whisper, swinging a backpack strap over your shoulder as you start following the blond, who now stood at the end of the hallway. He stood impatiently, as was indicated by the tapping of his foot and him checking his watch repeatedly.
“Not the first time I’ve gotten that.”
“I find that extremely easy to believe.”
The two annoyances in the hall were none other than Kunikida Doppo and Dazai Osamu: employees at your part-time job.
AKA: the only people that could make you miss the torturous boredom.
HOW ARE U POOKS!?! are u doing well :3??
teehee hiiii cheetozai! im doing my best - finals r beating my ass rn!!!!! but im doin well :) howve you been 😁😁
that pic of wan dazai is one of my favorite dazai drawings ever. hes so silly hes so little i just want to eat him gnaw on him chomp chomp chomp crunch crunch crunch
dazai is alive you just dont get it
i like to think dazai would be like the textbook definition of cheesy in a relationship. ik it’s a popular hc people have for him to be noncommittal and not a good partner but i honestly think he wouldn’t be as bad at being a partner as some people think (but i do respect the hc’s and the angst is always well written) i just personally think he’s super whipped for his s/o and obsessed to the point everyone else is who now??
HEUIHFSH SAME pathetically smitten dazai is my FAVORITEEE uurrggg .... he’s so pathetic loser........ this is why i love dazai he’s so versatile :) i need him pathetic crying over me and i need him unable to say he loves me at all oooouh ..,
His feet nudged yours under the desks once again. You looked up at him with a curious glance, waiting to see why he needed your attention, but no such answer came. Dazai merely continued to gaze at you, lovesick written all over his face as it started turning red. They're looking at me! ran through his head, almost forgetting that he had nudged you in the first place.
"What are you doing, you moron?" Kunikida spoke angrily, annoyed Dazai was blowing off his work once more.
"Staring at my partner. They're so pretty, don't you think?" His words made you smile, which caused him to melt all over again. "See? See!? Ahh, love... Your smile could light up the whole city of Yokohama. If you weren't already mine, I'd tell you to use your powers for good. But I couldn't live with myself if you had to go away!"
Kunikida's face contorted in confusion. "Go away..? What are you blabbering on about this time?"
"Once the government learns my darling's smile can rejuvenate and revitalize people they'll put them to work!" He pouts. "I'll never get to see them again when they're out saving lives!" He throws his head back dramatically, hand draping over his heart.
While your blond coworker groaned in annoyance—mainly at himself for asking—you merely chuckled. "That's alright. I wouldn't want to be away from you for long, either."
Dazai gasped, standing up suddenly. "You mean it?! Ohhh, how you just warmed my heart!~ My lovely partner wants to stay by my side! Kunikida, trade desks with me!"
"What, no! Why?!"
"I need to sit next to my beloved! If we're apart, I can't get any work done!"
"You can't get any work done, anyway!"
Stereotypical vampire darling but they refuse to drink from humans and mostly drinks from animals like bunnies and birds lmao
cw: blood, feeding on animals and people, yandere themes, deception, drugging with blood??
thank you to domi (@.cqthqrtic) for talking to me abt human dazai w a vampire s/o!! this was inspired by the conversation we had hehe
!!! vampire darling w human dazai who's just desperate for them to feed on him. please take his blood. please...it's all he wants. he's kind of addicted to the feeling but more than that he loves the idea of having his blood in you, of you having to drink his blood to stay alive. how romantic! he's literally part of you and within you.
he's devastated when you tell him that you don't feed on people, and stares enviously at your prey instead. he just knows that he'd taste better, and if you'd just stop being so stubborn and have one try, you'd never go back.
but you were far more patient than him, and far more resolute in your decisions.
you're still sweet to him, of course, kissing him and holding him and telling him you love him—but you're firm on not feeding, and dazai aches for that final connection. he tells you that he wants it, that it wouldn't hurt (and even if it did, he'd like it) and he'd wear your marks proudly, but nothing convinces you. the moment he brings it up, you shoot him a tired look and repeat the same excuses again.
if his words weren't enough to convince you, maybe he should just give you a taste of what you're missing.
there are days, when the weather is too cold, that you drink off pre-filled bags instead. during one of your long trips away, dazai, with a lot of careful planning and shaky excecution, replaces a bag with his blood instead. it was a process done over time, since he didn't want to risk loosing too much in one go, and there were too many potential obstacles—you could differenciate human and animal blood just from scent alone, for one, or you could stop drinking once you had a single drop—but it was his beat shot.
lucky him, then, that you came home famished and too exhausted to check. by the time you had finished the bag, you were staring at him with a disturbed expression, but dazai knew it was too late.
you would never forget the taste.
y!dazai and emotional reader..,, since he’s somewhat emotionally unavailable it’s really hard for him to understand how reader is feeling but he’ll try to act sympathetic just for the sake of them</3
YESSS okay hold on lemme just .
Dazai groaned. This was the third time you’d replied to him with the same - in his opinion - lame excuse. “He can just finish the reports on his own! They aren’t even yours to complete.”
“I offered to help Kunikida and I’m sticking by it. He deserves time to relax as well, you know? What’s wrong with lending a hand?” Your words made Dazai puff out his cheeks as he thought. Well, the main issue is that it’s taking time away from him. Shouldn’t your boyfriend be your top priority, rather than your coworker? “I’m sorry, Dazai. We can have that date tomorrow, alright? I promise.”
“Okay,” Dazai replies curtly. He doesn’t mean to be terse towards you, his beautiful and wonderful partner (his words not mine), but he just couldn’t understand where you were coming from. All he does is pawn off his work onto others, and Dazai is sure the rest of the agency would do the same if given the opportunity. And yet, here you are, staying late just to finish reports that aren’t yours.
His sudden gruff attitude caused you to frown, feeling a little guilty for leaving your boyfriend alone. “Hey,” you spun around in your chair to properly face him, discarding the pen you were working with momentarily. “We can spend time together tonight, alright? I promise, if I had known you planned something for us I wouldn’t have taken this on.”
Dazai knows that; Of course Dazai knows that. But… “Doesn’t spending time with me sound more fun?” He leans in, bumping his nose onto yours to try and entice you into joining him at home.
“One hundred percent,” you chuckle. An amused smile pulls at the edges of your lips as you lean back, turning once more to the extra paperwork you agreed to take on.
“Then why won’t you?” It’s not every day Dazai comes across something he can’t easily understand. With eyebrows stitched together, lips pursed into a small frown, he couldn’t figure out why you wouldn’t just join him. Kunikida wouldn’t be mad that you went home when you were supposed to; As much of a hard-ass as that man is, he understands the importance of a good work-life balance.
One of the reasons Dazai was always so drawn to you was your kindness and emotional side. At first you were merely a puzzle to him - a way to alleviate his boredom for a few weeks before something new came along. But even after all this time, he still hadn’t quite cracked the way you gravitate towards the illogical.
“I want to help out a friend, that’s all.”
Dazai thought back to his friend, one he’d have done anything to help out. Maybe he’s beginning to understand you.
“I’ll see you back at your apartment later, alright? I love you, Dazai.”
The brunet lets out a hum, indicating he heard you, before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and slipping on his coat. “See you later, then.”
THE WAY DAZAI JUST ISNT YANDERE ?? i forgot LMAOO i'm sorry anon :(
small insinuation of self harm
Dazai realizing he loves his s/o, telling them, and then wanting to tell the world ! He's very dramatic, so he repeats it religiously at the agency - a mantra that follows him everywhere :))
Until afterwards when he's alone in his apartment, heart beating out of his chest and feeling especially anxious. What's wrong with him? He didn't do anything differently today than he normally does...
He thinks hard as to what might be causing this, when the door opens and you step in. Oh, he's anxious about you.
But why? He loves you! He's quick to say it as you close and lock his door, and the feeling suddenly returns.
Oh.
He feels a sudden urge to break up with you, loosen contact, drive you away - Does he love you? He didn't want to tell anyone else (he did, he regrets it now). What happens if he falls out of love? Why did he do that? His chest just keeps squeezing, keeps constricting — feeling almost as though he was drowning in his thoughts. A moment of reprieve is granted only by the gentle placement of your hand over his heart.
"Are you alright?"
A few deep breaths and Dazai's heart rate is back in his control. Yes, he loves you, he thinks. But saying it is too scary.
Dazai just looks at you, a war tearing between his brain and his heart, unable to decide how to feel. His brain wants him to vanish: pack up and leave you forever so he doesn't have to deal with this vulnerability. His heart, however, wants to pull you closer. Never leave you, never let you out of his sight, always keep you within six feet of him to protect and love— and like you.
You pull his head onto your chest, cradling it in one hand as the other cards through his hair. "You can tell me anything, you know."
Dazai knows. But telling you he's not actually sure he loves you after his huge breakthrough what was merely the night before feels cruel.
It took a lot for him to open up and admit that, and he's not sure he can open up and admit that he regrets it. He should leave you - you deserve someone better, someone who can shout from the rooftops that you're theirs. But selfishly, he wants to hold you close and let you sooth him.
Seeing him still so torn, not moving as you hold him, causes a frown to come onto your face. All you want is for him to be happy and healthy and loved, and you'd thought you had a 66.67% success rate (you're working on the health thing). Like Dazai had moments prior, you wrack your brain for a change, and quickly land the same place he did: his love for you.
You smile softly, maybe a little sadly, and pull him closer until he's sitting on your lap. "Osamu," you press a kiss to the crown of his head.
He says nothing, just staring blankly. This is the hardest he's ever had to work to keep his heart in check, to stop the frantic beating. Is it hot in here? Should he take off his coat? Why can't he tell everyone he loves his partner? He does love them, he does.
How are you supposed to approach this? If you say you don't have to love me, he could go on the defensive. You just want him to relax. "I'd never force you to do something against your best interest."
Dazai meekly nods. Of course not. You always focus on him and his needs, emotionally and physically. You pack him lunches so he doesn't skip it at work and force him to eat dinners with you most nights. He just now notices the plastic takeout bag on the table - you must have brought that in when you first arrived. You want what's best for him, and he loves you for that! Doesn't he? Does he?
"I don't want you to force yourself into doing anything— saying anything you aren't ready for yet."
Dazai shuts his eyes tightly. Of course you figured it out. Feeling anxious, his heart beats desperately as he relinquishes control, not caring if you notice. Several soft apologies begin to fall from his lips quicker than you can stop them. The turmoil of this is eating him alive, and he hates it. Is running still an option? Does he even want to? The only thing keeping him from opening up new scars tonight is the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He's not sure if he'd leave even if you made him.
Fuck, but staying is so hard. His hands move up to tightly grip the fabric of your shirt, bunching it up between his fingers in hopes to ground himself.
You say nothing, allowing Dazai time to collect himself. Minutes pass, the food you brought likely cold now as Dazai just breathes in your embrace. A small growl from your stomach pulls him from his head finally, a small smile on his face as he looks up, seeing an embarrassed blush decorating your cheeks.
"Sorry, sorry!" Suddenly you're burying your head in Dazai's chest, seeking solace from your embarrassment. You trust him, love him enough to let him comfort you, just as he does you. A groan comes out of your mouth as your hands cover your face.
Dazai chuckles, pulling your head up before gently removing the hands covering your face. Your shoulders fall as Dazai's smile makes you relax. Whatever's bothering him won't go away over night, but you'll always be there to help.
"Come on, let's go eat," Dazai says, voice much calmer than it is when he's loudly boasting about his s/o at the agency. You don't mind. You like this version of Dazai all the same.
He loves you, he's sure of it. He just needs some time to properly accept it before yelling it from the rooftops - and you're more than happy to give him that time.
okay but..... pathetic yearning beast!stalkerzai... he's so quiet abt his obsession with u making up any excuse to have u around for subordinate purposes and when ur not around him he makes sure he can still keep tabs on u AHHH hes so sad and so smitten
"pathetic" i dont need to hear any more. im on board.
The continuous knocking on your apartment door leaves you anxious, quickly pulling on a comfy sweatshirt before answering the door. A breeze flies into the room, causing you to shiver, before you make eye contact with,
"Why aren't you at work today?" Dazai crosses his arms, an angry expression on his face. Though, the pout he wears causes it to be less intimidating than he'd normally be.
You glance into your apartment briefly, still feeling chilly while exposed to the outside air. "Um... I don't work?"
"You always work."
"Right. Which is why I have today off." Awkwardly, you itch your arm. "Am I… needed, Boss?"
Dazai sighs before walking into your apartment (with no invitation) and closes your own door behind him. "You're freezing."
"I'm slightly chilled," you shrug, brushing off the notion. Any other subordinate wouldn't dare correct the boss of the Port Mafia, but he'd always been more lenient with you - supposedly because you ‘aren’t as dumb’ as the rest. "But that's what the hoodie is for."
Without another word, Dazai plops down onto your couch, making a show of looking around your apartment. It’s tiny - the whole thing barely the size of his office at HQ — and Dazai wonders if you’d rather move in with him. For more space, of course. And he guesses you’d be saving on rent that way, too.
“How do you know where I live?” You ask curiously. Sure, it’s probably somewhere in your files, but your boss never seemed like the type to care.
Shrugging, he murmurs, “It’s my job.”
You want to make this visit quick, but kicking out your boss didn’t seem like a smart idea. “Are you thirsty? Would you like a cup of tea?..”
Yes, Dazai wants to try your tea. Just because you’re his subordinate, and he needs to make sure it’s up to par. What if he needs you to serve tea to some associates in the future? “I’d love one.”
Biting back a sigh, you fill your kettle before placing it on the stove, watching as your old gas stove flickers on. Silence hangs between you two - you had no intention of carrying the conversation when he just barged in uninvited.
Dazai seems to have a similar idea, sitting laxly on your couch and waiting for his tea. You pour one cup, uninterested in making one yourself, before placing it on the coffee table in front of him. “Sugar? Milk?”
“This is fine, thanks.” He takes a sip. Heavenly, he’s sure. Well, all tea tastes the same, but something about it coming from your hands… delectable. It’s as though he can taste the love you must pour into every cup.
Mouth shut, you take a seat on the chair across from him. “May I ask, sir, why are you here? Am I needed?” The question is posed once again as you hope for a quick resolution. Kicking out your boss is wrong, but hopefully he’ll read between the lines and show himself out - the same way he showed himself in.
A long sip of tea permeates the otherwise silent room. He’s doing this on purpose, you’re sure of it.
“…I was worried,” he mumbles into the mug, sound muffled and quiet.
“Sorry?”
“You should be,” he replies, uninterested in repeating himself. “I needed you today, only to find out you vanished into thin air.”
“I didn’t run, if that’s what you’re implying,” your eyes narrow. You would not be mistaken for a traitor.
“No, no,” he grins. You were at your most entertaining when you became combative. Dazai much prefers you like this rather than subservient. “You took today off.”
Correcting the boss of the Port Mafia was risky, but, “You gave me today off. A month ago, after that mission, you told me to pick a day to relax.”
That’s… true. It was a strenuous mission, and while Dazai made sure to keep you out of the fray, he thought a gift like that would make you feel touched and indebted to him. Annoyingly, he’d nearly forgotten, since Dazai had planned on reneging at the last minute to trap you with him. For your work ethtic, of course.
A pout graces his lips, unhappy at your disappearance from his side. And that he had no rebuttal to it. “Well, I still need you. I made dinner reservations for two accidentally, and the restaurant is rather strict. You need to come with. The meal will be comped, of course."
“Sir, I don’t— “
“Don’t want your job?” His eyes narrow, pout vanishing immediately. You had to go along with it. “I’m sure you don’t mean that, over something as silly as a nice dinner.”
“...Of course, sir.” You tug on the strings of your hoodie, wanting to emphasize that you aren't exactly dressed for something 'nice.' "What time am I expected?"
Dazai has to stop himself from swooning. How adorable. Well, it’s not you that’s adorable, of course. It’s the juxtaposition of such n oversized hoodie on you that he finds adorable, not you yourself. Definitely. “We can leave now, actually. Get changed, please. I wouldn't say there's a dress code, but it's not a 'hoodie' establishment."
Rather than lashing out at him for the snide comment, you choose to bite your tongue and head into your bedroom.
Exhausted was too light a word to describe how you felt. Donned in a 'nice' outfit that was rather uncomfortable, you stood outside in the cold air and harsh breeze as Dazai suggested to the host to let him in. This bastard didn't have reservations for one, much less two.
After the manager is called over and recognizes Dazai, you're quickly ushered in beside him. Dazai pulls out a seat at a secluded table in the back, gesturing for you to sit. "Come."
Without a second thought, you sit in the very seat he'd pulled out, stifling a yawn as he pushes you in. You’re Dazai's best employee - he must keep you close at all times. Which is why he takes advantage of your position as his subordinate to orders you waste your day off in a fancy restaurant across from him. If you want time off of work, you’ll have to spend it with him - just so he can keep an eye on you, of course.
i like your fluff writings vv much deerie u dont get it..
-🌷
omggg thank you sm 🌷!!!!! i will continue to work hard 🫡
You're oblivious and Jinshi's an idiot | The Apothecary Diaries | Jinshi x reader
cw - gn but you're in the rear palace and maidservant is used a few times in reference to you and your job, brief mention of nail picking
You calmly sit beside the purple haired eunuch, feeling a little anxious at placing yourself in such a position. Sitting beside someone of higher rank is criminal, so nonchalantly taking up the same space as they are. Anxiously tapping your fingers against your thighs, hands resting politely in your lap and head turned down, you await his next words.
"You won't turn to me?" He seems slightly teasing, but you're too nervous to check.
Jinshi rests his elbow on top of the no doubt expensive wooden table, chin pillowed by his palm and keeping his head up. His second arm moves forward, hand lifting close to you. With careful movements, Jinshi's pointer finger brushes back a strand of loose hair, finger pad trailing down your jaw until it stops on your chin.
Still, you say nothing, body still and turned down. His pointer finger curls as it slides below your chin, pulling you to the side to look at him. An amused smile is on his lips - he was definitely teasing a moment ago - and a glimmer of affection softens his eyes. "You agreed to dinner, did you not?" He leans toward you ever so slightly, a barely imperceptible change.
"Yes, Master Jinshi," you reply obediently. Perhaps Maomao was busy with lady-in-waiting duties, you had originally thought, assuming that you were called in as a poison taster.
The lean toward you is much more apparent this time, Jinshi letting out a sigh just before doing it. He's a mere few inches from your shoulder, hand dropping from your face to grip the edge of your chair closest to him. "Then I don't understand why you seem so reserved. You're usually much more open and energetic with me."
Your lips part, about to reply with the first thought on your mind, before quickly closing your mouth. One, two, three seconds pass as you think of how to traverse the situation you've found yourself in.
"My apologies, sir,” you choose to reply, “I shouldn't have behaved so inappropriately before.” Each word is chosen with intention as you reply steadily. Is that why you've been called here? For your lax behavior around the rear palace manager?
Yes, you weren't great at maintaining a professional facade while with Jinshi. He could be childish and annoying, that's true, but more than anything you just enjoyed playing with his self-assured and flirtatious persona whenever possible. Light teasing tended to leave him speechless and you adored watching the gears turn in his brain. With certainty, you can say you’re the only maidservant to ever give back the same energy he put out.
Jinshi pulls back, staring at you with a frown as he sits properly in his seat. "That's not what you were going to say."
"No," you agree.
The frown turns to a more pronounced pout, bottom lip jutting out and eyes narrowing. He's acting childish again, something that usually makes you smile (knowing you’ve successfully pushed his buttons) but only serves to make you more nervous as you anxiously pinch the fabric of your attire between your fingers. It's a nervous habit you picked up after trying to stop yourself from picking at your fingernails, each of which are low and choppy even if you've been quite a few months free of the practice.
"What had you wanted to say?" He implores. It's cute, honestly - watching Jinshi stare at you so pleadingly as he tries to keep his voice steady. You glance around, wondering where Gaoshun has been this whole time.
"I want for nothing, Master," you reply uncharacteristically of yourself, the words sounding rehearsed even though you hadn't been expecting this exchange at all.
Join me for dinner, he'd ordered curtly. No other information, merely requesting your presence for the night before leaving. He'd seemed to be in a rush, slightly flustered as he disappeared - likely late for some work he was most assuredly pushing off at the time. You barely finished nodding before he fled the parlor you'd met him in.
"What if I ordered you to tell me?"
"Will you?"
Of course not, Jinshi wants to say, the thought manifesting as a solemn sigh as he looks away. His eyes focus on the large wooden doors ahead, hands tugging at the ends of his hair as he tries to understand where he went wrong. There was no bad blood between you two he had believed - no arguments or chastising or even the slightest criticism or critique.
“Do you even have to ask?" He ends up murmuring lowly. The purple haired man blinks slowly a few times before hearing you sigh to his right. Creaks fill the room as you undoubtedly reposition yourself on the chair he'd pulled over for you to sit in, the sound followed by you clearing your throat.
"What was it you had said? I'm normally more open with you? I was merely going to point out that I'm not normally sitting or standing so closely,” you decide to answer. "I'm never right beside you like this. Our current position only serves to remind me of my rank and where I stand in comparison. I have no right to be here; It's not right for me to be at the same side of the table as you. To be called here for business and then disrespect— "
"Business?" Jinshi cuts you off, eyebrows furrowing as he turns to you with a sincere frown. "Is that why you think I called you here?"
Nervousness shoots up your spine and crawls around your skin as you suddenly feel ruffled. Being made to look a fool isn't something you're unacquainted with being a maidservant, but for some reason, being doled out the same treatment by Jinshi specifically left you feeling embarrassed and flustered. You try to wrack your brain for not only a proper response, but a smart or witty one - yet nothing comes to mind. Without thinking, your fingers come together as you begin picking at the edges of your fingernails. Your sharp tongue has turned limp, feeling heavy in your mouth as you struggle to reply.
It seemed like all Jinshi could do now was frown, the slight flicker of his lips further down causing your breath to hitch. "I'm sorry. It seems I hadn't made my intentions clear," Jinshi pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling annoyed with himself more than anything.
Your sandbag tongue pushes your jaw down, mouth parting as you're about to tell him it's fine - even though you still aren't sure what's happening. Before you can, Jinshi continues: "How would you suggest I ask for someone's hand? I had thought my courting was obvious prior, but now I'm not so sure..."
Courting? In what world had the beautiful eunuch, heartthrob of the rear palace, been courting anyone let alone you? Dozens of admirers, even ones sworn to the emperor, had been clawing each other left and right for a sprinkle of his attention. You'd been able to cozy up to his side as a friend and useful asset inside the rear palace walls, but you never expressed the same adoration and devotion that other palace residents have.
At risk of sounding a little self-centered, you just need to clarify, "You don't mean my hand, surely..?"
Jinshi looks appalled, mouth agape and eyes wide. "Have I been that inconspicuous with my courting? I could've sworn the whole inner court could tell!" He lets out a groan, face falling onto the table in front of him. A loud bang sounds as his forehead lands on the wood harshly.
Have you been that obtuse? Combing through your mind, you recall each time you'd seen Jinshi while out and about, trying to discern if he'd honestly been too discreet or if you'd just managed to write it off. And... nothing comes to mind. Gaoshun had shown more interest in you than Jinshi had, the former always checking up on you and making sure you were alright. His presence held that of a father figure.
Speaking of, where had he run off to? It's rare for you to be completely alone with Jinshi, today marking the first of this occasion. And based on how this is turning out, likely the last as well.
Jinshi flops his head to the side, gazing up at you from the table. "Gaoshun said you took to the gifts I had him deliver," he says childishly, voice soft through his pursed lips as he pouts. "I tried not to express favoritism, as I know you don't enjoy attention from the other maidservants and the court ladies with their needless prying, so I had him drop off small snacks in my stead."
A glimmer shines in your eyes as it finally clicks together. Gaoshun had always been so discreet passing you small snacks every few days. You honestly hadn't thought too much of it outside of thanking him gently, having assumed the older man merely feared for your health on hotter days. It's likely he mentioned at some point that they're from Jinshi and you had simply missed it. Or maybe you were expected to just know..?
Jinshi grumbles, a low hum sounding more like a whine than a groan, before he sits upright in his chair once again. "So, do you not like me?" He asks timidly.
"No," you reply easily. His face falls at this, causing you to backtrack. "I-I mean no I do not not like you. I'm- I'm saying I like you!.. I mean, we're friends, right?"
He pouts childishly, turning away from you with a hmph! "You know that's not what I mean!" The purple haired man's arms are crossed and nose stuck up, body language as dramatic as can be.
Of course you know what he means, yet you can't help but feel unsure anyway. There's no way the Jinshi likes you - a simple laundry attendant who picks on him sometimes. Many girls throw themselves at his feet, so why would he settle for you?
"I think I'm just a little confused," you carefully pick your words. Besides, he's your employer; Is it wise for you to encourage his delusions? There's no way the two of you could have an actual relationship. "You seem to be implying you like me, and I'm unsure if that's your intention." Once more, you shift anxiously in your seat.
The eunuch groans loudly, clearly frustrated with your incessant dismissal of his feelings. "That is my intention, yes. You're welcome to say you don't feel the same, if that's how you feel. However, I'd still like the chance to court you and try to change your mind, if you're comfortable with it."
Flustered and overwhelmed, you shake your head. "Is this appropriate? Can someone in your position court a person so drastically beneath them? What if I fall out of line, wouldn't you still have to correct me?"
A smile tugs at Jinshi's lips for a mere moment before he turns away. "I'm not courting you as the manager of the rear palace. I'd like to court you as a friend, someone you've spent time with absent of titles. I'm not your immediate superior, anyway - those directly above you can issue orders as they see fit, though you've never been the type to step out of line. And, we both know you have only a few months left on your contract. I'm hoping to pin you down before you leave the palace and another man gets to you first."
Now it's your turn to pout, your own lips pursed and eyes narrow as you stare at him. "You enjoy making things difficult," you start. “I can't believe you're doing all this to me. On top of that, you of all people know I do enjoy testing these metaphorical lines,” the last sentence punctuated with a huff.
It's true; that's how Jinshi grew to enjoy your presence. During his time knowing you, you had never been afraid to give back the same energy you received, playing along with Jinshi regardless of positions. However, you've always had a keen sense for what is or isn't allowed around whom - knowing to act like the perfect maidservant around the eunuchs directly responsible for your field of servitude, but understanding even without much prior knowledge that Jinshi is the type to let you get away with a little more.
"Then let's test this one. Let's see if we can push the 'metaphorical line' of our relationship, from professional to romantic," Jinshi's eyes glimmer with hope, a confident grin on his face at what he deemed a perfect segue.
After an annoyed grumble full of incoherent words under your breath, you turn to him with an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I'll allow you to court me - or continue to, rather - during these few months. And once I've fulfilled my contract and am able to return home, we can discuss the idea of potentially changing the status of our relationship."
As you spoke, Jinshi couldn't stop himself from bouncing ever so slightly up and down on his seat, excited beyond all measure. His hand reaches out to you and you flinch, pulling back before he can.
"And only then, Master Jinshi," you add.
He can't even find it in him to be sad, too excited that you've promised him a chance. “Yes, perfect, it’s a deal. Easiest deal I've made in my life. Could I get it in writing?" He begins to ramble on, allowing you to zone out and watch for a moment.
In an attempt to shut him up, you hold out your hand and place it over his mouth. Jinshi has never portrayed himself as someone who detests his own voice, but this was more than you'd ever heard from the man. With a gentle grip, he peels your hand from his mouth via your wrist, holding it tenderly for a moment before placing the tiniest kiss to the skin. Feeling flushed and mind short circuiting, you find yourself frozen in your seat once again. Did he just..?
The large wooden doors suddenly open, Gaoshun finally appearing. He's standing behind Suiren, the two both holding trays containing food. You can barely think, lips parting as you try to come up with a response. Right, you need to—
With Jinshi's hold on your hand, you can't quite hide your face with your sleeves as is custom, instead forced to sit awkwardly with your head bowed as he holds your palm near his face. Does this man know no shame? Your one sleeve is nervously covering the bottom half of your face, hoping for a shred of decency, while Jinshi casually chats with the two as though nothing had happened, is happening. Of course, Suiren and Gaoshun know better than to ask why.
Without a word from you, the two slip out of the office once again, leaving you alone with Jinshi. Your head finally lifts up, noticing the dish in front of the two of you as Jinshi gently drops your hand.
"Like it? Gaoshun had mentioned you'd been particularly happy when he dropped this off to you. I figured that must make it your favorite."
And he's right. You stare down at your favorite meal; The last time you'd gotten a taste was when Gaoshun had secretly passed you a few bites what was now a few weeks ago.
With a small smile, you turn to look at Jinshi. "It is. Thank you."