#dazai x louisa
— Dazai/Louisa ♡ affectionate
for@bsd-rarepair-valentines-week day six.
warning: sex, manipulation, unhappy ending (i’m sorry louisa)
“You’re amazing,” he says enthusiastically. Bows over her hand to her enormous bewilderment, because usually men who are tall and effortlessly charming don’t think much of her. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to kill yourself with me?”
Ah, she thinks. A weirdo. She has more experience with that lot. “No thank you,” she says politely. “Can I help you in some other way?”
Planning how to protect his city brings her up against his formidable intellect. She’s still cleverer than him, which he admits freely and genuinely. It’s hard to stand against that kind of praise, when she’s always wanted it. Always wanted to be seen and desired the way he looks at her.
That he guides her into bed is not…unpredicted. Neither is it unwelcome. His hands are light and he’s worshipful in a way that thrills her all the way down to her core.
He doesn’t seek his own pleasure from her body, only wrings her out until she’s dry and panting, and then kisses the top of her head and pets her sides until she sleeps.
There’s coffee in the morning, hot and bitter how she likes it. They talk about their plans. She feels clear-headed and capable now, and the way he looks at her hasn’t changed. His eyes are bright and affectionate like he’d want to listen to her talk until the end of the world, if he could. Beguiling, even.
It’s a week of planning, and sex, and food he feeds her. He allows her to touch him precisely once, staying perfectly still as she unwraps the bandages around his neck.
The scars don’t catch her off-guard. She’s got a bloody good imagination, after all. It does explain why he’s disinclined towards letting her touch him too much. And he’s so good at touching her that she decides to be selfish, doesn’t protest.
A week, and another and then he’s gone. He takes her plans and everything she’s made and is already away by the time she wakes up, a covered mug of coffee and a quick note the only evidence that he was ever here. He takes her plans, and everything she’d told him about its weak spots, and finds ways to use it against her that she burns to think of. The shame of it, the hideous ache of being used and discarded, even used kindly, his gentle hands and smooth voice. She hates herself for it.
