keyboard dog

anonymous asked:

a scenario with chuuya please where his s/o was a spy for another organization but fell in love with him and abondoned the mission halfway. he finds out and his s/o tries desperately to get him to believe them. could u make it angsty but fluffy at the end? thanks! (they/them pronouns)

a few things: 1. is this fluff and is this angst i don’t even know, 2. this got out of hand it’s only a couple hundred short of 2000 words, and 3. this really got out of hand i’m so sorry i don’t know what to think about it



The first time you met Nakahara Chuuya, you had just placed his order of coffee in front of him, complete with your impersonal and polite smile, the very same you offer to every customer you serve at the small coffeeshop. You were new to the job, intent on doing your best - for you had learned that the greatest cover comes with a good reputation, if you had to have one at all - but you had not expected the lingering of his stare as he took the cup from your grasp.

You knew what that look meant, and it sank in heavily as you snatched your hand back the second his fingers brushed yours.

It meant that he was remembering and memorizing you and your features, and it could easily spell doom for your mission.

Later that day, when your heart rate slowed and you pushed the incident behind you, you reassured yourself that everything would be fine, that you would be able to complete your job without difficulty. Perhaps it meant he would be easier to talk to, and the information you wanted would be easier to obtain, never mind that your ability made it possible to achieve without any such contact.

You only wanted to ensure that you were only being paranoid.

It was nothing - it had to be nothing.

And it was nothing, for a long time.




The first time you spoke to Chuuya, you had been a mess of flustered words and paper napkins as you hurriedly tried to clean up the accident. It hadn’t been your fault, at least not entirely, because the girl you worked with - who had been teasing you nonstop about Chuuya’s apparent, more regular visits, and the eye contact that lasted a bit too long to be polite - had bumped into you just as you were setting his coffee down.

It wasn’t an accident, and you knew it, but whatever helped a civilian like her sleep at night, free from the knowledge that dangerous people like Chuuya and you prowl the streets.

“I’m sorry!” you gasped out, apologizing for what had to be the fifteenth time; this is not how you wanted your meeting to go, and for an agent like you followed plans could be the one thing that kept you alive.

As Chuuya straightened, after glancing down at the coffee stain forming on the sleeves of his coat, he rested his hand on the pile of napkins you had brought, fingers covering yours and sending alarm bells off in your mind.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

Only two weeks into the mission, and you knew one thing for certain.

You were royally fucked.




The first time you used your ability on Chuuya, it had been a month after the incident and your boss was grilling you for results. Like your ability - Tempest in a Teacup, as you referred to it - wasn’t incredibly specific down to the very second somebody took a sip of a drink you made. But you needed some information to keep your organization happy.

A happy organization meant a less troublesome life for you.

Shoving away the towel in your hands under the counter, you excused yourself to make a run to the bathroom.

The door whispered shut behind you, fingers wrapping around the sink after you hastily locked yourself in. [H/c] hair fell over your face and you let out a quiet hiss. You hated it, hated using your ability this way, to invade the minds of others, especially his -

See you tomorrow, he had said, a sideways grin sent your way. If anything, the two of you had struck up a strange friendship of sorts. Or perhaps it was only strange to you, because you knew all too well what you were going to take from him.

A bitter laugh slipped past your lips as you withdrew from Chuuya’s mind.

What am I thinking? This isn’t anything different from all my other jobs.

But it was.

It was so much more than those.




The first time you ran into Chuuya outside of your cover job was a quiet evening along the bridge, where you passed often on your way to your apartment. You were hardly surprised, for during each weekly intrusion of his mind this bridge came up, almost as if he knew.

You could believe that. The Port Mafia, you had learned, are incredibly careful with their relationships with outsiders, especially those who appear as civilians.

After this job, you might have to leave Yokohama for some time.

“[Name]!”His voice caught your attention, first name easily rolling off of his tongue with the familiarity of someone you have shared numerous mornings with simply chatting.

You turned, eyes flying open as it registered that Chuuya was here. “Chuuya! Don’t you have work?”

He laughed, such a simple sound that made your pulse quicken, just a bit. “It ended early, fortunately. I could ask the same of you. When did your shift end today?”

“Twenty minutes ago,” you admitted, shifting so he could stand next to you on the sidewalk. “Do you have anything planned, for your early day?”

Chuuya tilted his head, a curious light shining in his eyes. “Well, I didn’t. At least, not until now.”




The first time you went on a date with Nakahara Chuuya, it was positively ridiculous. Not in the sense that it came out of nowhere - no, because you realized that he  was the only person who could make your heart race this way with a single brush of his fingers against yours - but in the sense that this is a terrible idea, [Surname] [Name], what are you thinking?

But it was Chuuya next to you that night, and his words to you made all of your worries fade away.

“I hope this wasn’t too sudden for you,” he said quietly, steps echoing through the hall leading to your apartment. Chuuya was never anything but composed, in all the time that you had known him, this being the closest you had seen.

You didn’t really know why, and you were certain that you did not want to know.

A smile flitted across your features as you let go of his hand, spinning on one foot to face him. “Well, I accepted, didn’t I?”

The corners of his lips curl up into a smile of his own, and the butterflies in your stomach flutter their wings and swirl about.

“I’m glad you did,” he answered, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. His close proximity made you tense, and you feel both relieved and disappointed when he pulled away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Your fingers rested on the doorknob as nod. “See you, Chuuya. It was … amazing.”

This was only to gain his trust, you insisted.




Your first kiss was one part spontaneous, three parts heart-stopping, and all parts a memory you would never forget. The feeling that rose up inside you when his lips met yours, you couldn’t describe at all with words - they failed you then, and they fail you still - but Chuuya didn’t mind.

To the two of you, the relationship that had grown between you was one full of abrupt twists, like the birthday surprise you gave him the month before and the sudden day off that led to a day at his place talking about nothing in particular, and you had agreed to take it as it came.

You pulled away first, to draw in a shuddering breath, still stubbornly holding yourself up. “A little warning, maybe?”
Chuuya chuckled, a low sound that sent chills down your spine. “Then where’s the fun in that?”

You stood by your original conclusion.

Royally fucked, indeed.




The realization first hit you when you received a call from your boss, Chuuya lying on your couch half-asleep after a long day at work.

“You’re running out of time,” had been the ominous message. “Be sure that you have all the information.”

Months ago you would not have hesitated to turn over your long hours of careful planning and organized collections. In fact, you might have even found some sense of pride in it.

But that had been before you met Nakahara Chuuya.

To think that someone like him, a man whose hands were covered in the blood of his victims and helped run one of the most ruthless criminal organizations in Yokohama, would have been able to do this to you - make you second-guess yourself, not because of his words but because he had stolen your heart even though you had sworn to make sure it never happened.

Yet it clearly had.

And he had given your his heart as well, trusting you with a weapon someone like you should not be allowed to wield, one you were certain that you didn’t want to hold in the circumstances you had surrounded yourself with -

We’ll take whatever the world throws at us.

But what if we can’ overcome it together? What if it will tear us apart?

Then we hold on.

You could only hope.




The first time you betrayed Nakahara Chuuya, you demanded your heart back but he refused to return it, so you tried to break his instead.

What did you say?” His eyes are wide, like he didn’t want to believe it - and he didn’t, but he also didn’t want to believe you, didn’t want to let go -

“I was sent by your enemy,” you repeated, pulling at his grip to let you free, but refusing to meet his gaze. “But … but I can’t do it anymore, I gave up the job this morning.”

“What do you mean?” Chuuya sounded furious, and there was no way that you would look up to face it. Instead, you turned away, for a moment wishing that things could have been different, wishing you had broken it to him with a little more tact.

“I’m leaving,” you whispered. “It won’t be safe for me here, and it’s better that way.”

The only word you were certain he understood was enemy, because he stumbled back, grip vanishing from your arm and a shadow falling over his face.

“An enemy,” he said slowly, the words sinking in.

You nodded. “But I’m done. It’s over, I couldn’t do it - ”

“An enemy,” Chuuya said again, eyes narrowing, He was getting ready, to call on his ability to crush you, and you would stand no chance, no chance to stop it at all -

And suddenly, you are in his arms, face buried in the crook of his neck, the familiar warmth around you, and nothing makes sense.

“If you say it’s over, then it is.”

It’s not like the world could tear us apart, in the first place. 

anonymous asked:

scenario of drunk!chuuya confessing for his long time crush! aaand she happens to love him back

ah school’s started up again, so the requests have been really hard to get to. this one just started to form lol bc drunk chuuya, yes.


If [Surname] [Name]’s sighs could be ranked on a scale from one to a hundred, with the highest being how frustrated she is, the one that has just slipped past her lips certainly can count as off the charts. She absolutely despises her work getting interrupted, and it has happened.

Again.

And by none other than Nakahara Chuuya - correction, by a distraught Tachihara, who has once again found himself in a bigger mess than he had anticipated and doing a job he had not signed up for, calling to frantically get her over to pick Chuuya up.

“It has to be you,” he had blurted, giving her no time to protest, “don’t ask, just come!”

[Name] isn’t the type to flat-out refuse such a desperate request, especially when she has a good idea of the situation. A drunk Chuuya is not to be made light of, for there are hardly any limits on the words that may spew out of his mouth.

The quicker he gets back to his place, the better.

She knows all too well, having witnessed quite a few of these incidents.

Which is why [Name] finds herself half-carrying Chuuya through the door of his apartment and locking it using skillful maneuvering and one hand, with the ease of one who has done the same thing too many times before.

“You’ve really got to find better times for this,” she mutters, unsure if he has heard her or not. The whole time, from when she wrenched him away from the fancy drink in his grip, to now, he has been uncharacteristically quiet. In all the years that the two have known each other, she can say with certainty that the only time he has been this silent is when he is sleeping

Speaking of sleeping -

[Name] shakes her head and drops him unceremoniously onto the nearby couch.

She’ll make sure he has some water and food to eat once he wakes up, to help him get over the hangover, she decides. It wouldn’t be long before he falls asleep, his eyelids already looking heavy.

“Where did he leave the onions?” she asks, to no one in particular, opening his fridge to look around. She is quiet, careful not to make enough noise to jar him out of his daze. “I should probably search for everything else, the pots are always so nicely organized - ”

“[Name].”

Startled, she whips around and nearly falls over, his voice ringing out unexpectedly. There is a pause, and she realizes he is probably not really talking to her; he most likely does not even register her presence at this point, so close to the edge of consciousness.

For a long moment, he says nothing, simply lying there, and she lets out a slow exhale to calm her racing heartbeat.

It’s not like he would have anything important to say, at this point he would only be talking nonsense.

[Name] is about to return to the fridge when his next words to sink in.

“I like you. Like a crush, except for a really long time - but those aren’t crushes anymore, are they? You told me before, that at this point it means I’ve fallen in love. I want to tell you, but I don’t know what you’ll say - ”

Chuuya’s voice trails off, but not early enough for her to miss it. When she checks, he has fallen asleep, and she presses her lips together.

Stepping over to him, she slowly brushes his hair from his face and, with a faint smile, tugs gently at a few strands.

“You’re such an idiot.”

Maybe she will stay here, tonight.

And tomorrow, she will tell him.

I feel the same way.

anonymous asked:

can i get a scenario of akutagawa showing rashomon to his s/o for the first time, and they accept him?

crying because i got an akutagawa req hahaha what are you talking about i’m not biased at all

is totally biased

lol i wrote something that would fit this request pretty well in tempus prae spe, but you’ll just have to wait and see that one, it’s like twice as long and a million times more angsty because —- okay shutting up now


Akutagawa Ryunosuke worries; [Surname] [Name] has come to realize this over the course of their unlikely relationship, between the proclaimed Silent Rabid Dog of the Port Mafia and the young college student from outside Yokohama. It makes sense - after all, for both of them it is a series of firsts, neither knowing just where the path will take them.

“Where are you?” she asks now, phone held loosely to her ear and eyes flicking around to take in her surroundings. He had called her in the middle of class earlier that day, leaving only a short message - I have to show you something - with so much of the familiar worry beneath his words she wonders what it is.

“You’re almost there,” comes the reply. Akutagawa’s voice is low, and she can barely hear it over the wind.

Letting out a sigh, [Name] adjusts her grip on her phone. “Where should I be looking? Towards the water or towards the lights?”

He exhales slowly, a puff of air over the microphone, and says, “The sky.”

What?

[Name] comes to an abrupt halt, her head tilting to the side in confusion. “What - no, why the sky?”

Akutagawa does not reply for a short moment, and in the silence she glances up and freezes as a thought crosses her mind.

“Ryu,” she starts, slowly, not quite wanting to believe her conclusion. He hums in response, offering no hints, and she shakes her head once. If anything, it serves to confirm what she is going to say next.

“Spit it out, [Name],” he says.

So she does.

“You’re not … above me, are you?” she demands, an incredulous note in her voice. The more she thinks about it, the more plausible it becomes. It’s something so out there, so different, so ridiculous -

“Why don’t you look up again?” Akutagawa suggests, amusement clear through just his words.

She does, and the sight makes her take a step back in surprise. “What - what’s this?”

[Name] already knows the answer, for even before she had met Akutagawa she had heard of him, heard of the stories about the terrifying ability he wields, and even more of his numerous and bloodied achievements.

“Rashomon,” he says, lowering his own phone from his ear and letting his ability set him into the ground. Akutagawa stands there, not moving, as if waiting to gauge her reaction.

It’s -

Her gaze follows the curves of the intricate flower he had created, perhaps with a single thought, and takes in the deep red and black and energy barely contained. It stems from his coat, a separate limb of his that, she can tell, could move with deadly grace and leave behind more wreckage than anyone could hope to create alone.

The corners of her lips curl up in a smile. “It’s beautiful.”

His sigh of relief carries through the air.

anonymous asked:

Can I request a scenario with Mafia!Dazai where his s/o gets a serious head injury and suffers from amnesia when she wakes up? She doesn't remember who he is or recognize anyone from the mafia. Thank you in advance & I love your blog! Keep up the amazing work! <3

yikes amnesia;; here you go, anon!



She doesn’t remember him - his name or his face or anything about him except for the whispers around the streets, and Dazai Osamu had felt a stab of something not quite sadness or anger but rather a mixture of both when [Surname] [Name] looked at him and saw nothing. There had been no recognition, no relief, no words, only a widening of her eyes and a flinch away after he had introduced himself.

The monitor next to her only further drove in the point of her fear, like she had been returned to who she was all those years ago before the Port Mafia took her in.

Before -

“What will you do?” Mori asks now, his hands folded in front of him and stare heavy on Dazai. “The original plan has accounted for a similar situation.

It had - Dazai had been the one to put it all together. But all the planning in the world could not have predicted the possibility, for they had too little information to properly evaluate all the outcomes. He knows this, yet he could not stop thinking about the what ifs and all the other possibilities.

But he cannot change what happened, could not bring [Name]’s team back from the dead, could not will her memories - of everything, and, a selfish wish, of him.

“I know,” Dazai says shortly.

“It is unfortunate,” continues Mori, in a deceitfully conversational tone, “but perhaps we should leave it as it is and proceed by dispatching someone such as Akutagawa to do what [Surname] failed to do.”

Dazai stiffens at the mention of his student. “He is not ready.”

“And [Surname] was?” Mori’s eyebrows go up. “Akutagawa has proven to be more capable when it comes to ruthlessness.”

His eyes narrow. “I thought you wanted their leaders alive to interrogate.”

The entire mission had been to capture the leaders of an upstart organization who had been taking a little too much from the Port Mafia in order to find out just how they were doing it. That was why [Name] had been sent. Her, a girl who preferred subtlety to charging in, who liked to play tricks on her targets and stopped short of killing them for the sake of meeting them again to do it all over.

Mori’s lips turn up in a strange smile. “I don’t think it’s much of an option anymore, given [Surname]’s condition. How long did the doctors say her amnesia will last?”

“A few months at minimum,” Dazai replies. There is more to it, but he knows better than to simply tell his boss. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

A pause, then, “I suspect that you hate the thought of waiting, sitting around and doing nothing about it.”

It clicks in Dazai’s mind suddenly the moment he hears Mori’s words, and his eyes take on a dangerous glint. “I won’t be sitting around and doing nothing.”

Mori tilts his head, and even though he knows what Dazai is going to say - it is what he has been prompting at the whole time, maybe even what he has wanted to happen from the very start, and it is what Dazai wants to do - he asks, “Then what will you be doing?”

Dazai turns, his steps measured and with a new purpose as he leaves. He knows what he will do now, and he doesn’t want to waste time.

“I’m going to wipe them off the face of this world.”

Whoever did this to [Name], whoever dared to take her memories and take her away from him, is going to pay.

anonymous asked:

Ohh requests are open, yaaay! Can i get a fluffy scenario with Dazai where his s/o is pregnant? It wasn't planned so she has some doubts but hesitantly tells him anyway. Keep up your great work and thanks

yayy fluff! aka how do u fluff i still don’t know, i hope this works! surprisingly kind of proud of this one.


[Surname] [Name] had made sure to check twice, and when she still could not quite believe what she was seeing she had checked at least two more times. It was completely unexpected, even now, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest ten hours later, after Dazai Osamu had returned from the Agency.

He could tell something had been off the moment he stepped into the apartment - not wrong, because even she does not know if it is something that could necessarily be wrong - and immediately pulled her into the kitchen to talk over a cup of tea.

One cup of tea.

His unrelenting stubbornness to only make one for them to share would have made her smile, under any other circumstances, but now she feels as if she is unable to find it in her to find the energy.

“What is it, [Name]?” he asks, fingers brushing lightly over hers to tug the cup from her unresisting grip.

She raises her gaze to him, uncertainly searching his expression. Dazai’s face is a daily canvas for a myriad of emotions to be painted across, yet it has never been an easy feat to read him perfectly every single time.

But today, she can tell, so easily, as if Dazai knows the worry running through her mind and wrapping around her insides until she is unable to find her voice.

Setting the cup down, he slips his hands into hers - she had not moved, save for the slow rise and fall of her chest - and wraps his fingers around hers.

Vaguely, his warmth registers in her mind.

“Take your time,” Dazai encourages. “There’s no rush.”

[Name] blinks, then nods. He may say that, but she is fully aware that the longer she delays telling him the longer the insecurities are able to flourish. So she takes in a deep breath, pondering on how to phrase it.

It takes her a moment, but Dazai is patient.

“If … if something didn’t go according to plan,” she starts, reluctance making her voice soft, “what would you do?”

His eyebrows rise at the question, Dazai tilting his head slightly in confusion. “Well, I would try to understand why, and then figure out where to go from there.”

She can’t help the small laugh - it’s just the way he says it, the matter-of-fact tone he has, like his train of thought should be clear even though nobody notices it because he is always so fast, so calm with it.

Intentionally or not, he has once again reassured her.

“Why?” Dazai’s stare is fixed on her, waiting. If anything, there is a note of anticipation hidden under his words.

“Well,” [Name] pauses, and then decides to plow on. “I’m pregnant.”

It takes a moment to sink in.

She had been certain she had been prepared for anything, any reaction of his, but the overwhelming wave of emotions that crash over her when Dazai’s lips slowly curl into a delighted smile, catches her off-guard.

“Alright,” he says, fingers tracing circles onto the backs of her hands. “What do you want to do about it?”

anonymous asked:

Hi, may I request a scenario with Chuuya in which his s/o has severe body-positivity issues and thinks that they are forever ugly and having him confront them about and just making them feel loved and secure? Sorry if this doesn't make sense!

ayy i hope this is good! (tysm anon for specifying the pronouns)

this req was written while my sister murdered things in the background ah i love you ffxv now i can listen to her swearing this is a miracle


[Surname] [Name] hates the camera with a burning passion, dodges mirrors like they shoot death rays, and barely acknowledges Nakahara Chuuya’s compliments. He never paid it much mind before, but as the weeks pass it only became worse and more apparent - Chuuya is by no means the most patient man out there, and by the time she steps through the door that night he has decided that it has gone on far too long.

He’s not entirely sure how to begin, but when she stops in her steps and raises her head the moment she senses his stare, her entire body tensing up, Chuuya realizes that there is no waiting - only doing.

“What is it?” [Name] asks, eyes widening and a million worries flashing through them in a span of three seconds.

He lets out a sigh, holding his hand out for her to take - she does, albeit with hesitance and confusion. Pulling her towards him, Chuuya wraps his arms around [Name] and brushes a hand through her hair, slightly messy from the day’s activities.

There has always been something about [Name] that draws his attention, something he cannot describe - because who can truly capture perfection into words?

If only you could allow yourself to see it.

His embrace tightens at the thought, and she inhales sharply in surprise.

Turning her head up to meet his ice-blue stare, she snaps him back to the present when she says, “Are you alright, Chuuya?”

“No,” he replies, the words slipping past his lips like water overflowing from a dam. “But if you listen to me, I will be.”

She blinks. “Did something happen?”

Without a pause, for he realizes he has to see this through, he answers, “You happened.”

[Name]’s eyebrow furrow, not quite understanding. Her stare is searching for the telltale signs that he has been drinking but finds none; Chuuya is completely sober, and if he isn’t he would have been cursing a number of people out instead.

Seeing her take a breath to speak, he interrupts before any thoughts of hers can be voiced.

“You just flew into my life, you know?” he laughs quietly, half-aware of the flush she always gets whenever he brings up the incident. “You were magnificent that day, even though nobody but you and Mori knew why you were there.”

“That’s - ” she tries to say, to deny his words, to point out a million flaws that no one notices, but he cuts her off again.

“Stop thinking of yourself so poorly. You’re beautiful the way you are - always have been and always will be.”

anonymous asked:

hi! could you write a first date scenario for oda, please?

yes i can! here you go, anon!


She is waiting for him when he stops by her apartment, her fingers restlessly twisting the ends of her scarf in a way that tells Oda Sakunosuke that the always self-assured and confident [Surname] [Name] is nervous. He is unable to keep the amusement out of his voice as he says, “Are you ready?”

Her head snaps up, eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Yes, I am.”

The corners of his lips twitch up - her personality never fails to intrigue him, with the way she focused on anything but him and vehemently denied any feelings she might have towards him whenever Dazai gleefully took to pestering her. Of course, she could not hide the flaring of her ears red at the meeting of their gazes, nor could she hide the way her stare would never seem to be on him.

Of course, it didn’t take Odasaku long to figure it out.

It took him less time to work up the courage to ask her out, because there is no way he would let Dazai say another thing on their obviously mutual feelings for each other or hear another one of Ango’s remarks about being so blind.

Though, his logic is that the kids like her.

Not because of what his friends have said.

Absolutely not.

Well, perhaps it is because of both.

A snap of fingers in front of his face pulls him out of his thoughts, and he finds [Name] standing next to him, the apartment door shut and locked behind her. She is tucking her keys away, not looking at him.

“Are you ready?” she asks, and Odasaku can see the subtle light of mirth dancing in her eyes. “It would be a shame if you aren’t.”

“I’m ready,” he answers quickly. “Now that we’ve confirmed that we’re both ready to go - ”

Interrupting him, [Name] seems to remember something and her fingers wrap around his wrist as if she is hesitant to hold his hand despite this being a date. “There’s a new bookstore open across the street - would you be alright with checking it out?”

Odasaku blinks, wondering how she managed to figure out his plans for the night, and is met with a grin and a small shrug.

[Name] has her ways, he figures, just as she had accidentally brought Shinji’s favorite snack the first time he introduced her to the kids. It had been a coincidence that caught even her off-guard, as she stood at the door with eyes wide as the boy held his hands out for the bag.

“One condition,” he says now, and she raises her eyebrows in a question. “You’re going to hold my hand instead of dragging me around by my arm.”

Her cheeks explode a vibrant hue of red, and, ducking her head to hide her face, she exclaims, “Odasaku!”

But she slides her hand into his, albeit a little awkwardly and unused to the gesture, a warmth he will not easily forget or want to let go of.

“Let’s go, then. To the bookstore it is.”

onelovelysin  asked:

I'm sorry, I follow a lot of these... It's hard to keep track of who does what. My apologies. Am I banned from requesting it to be me instead of Dazai? ;0;

no, you’re not banned, don’t worry! 

so,,when i wrote this it was really late and my vocabulary kind of failed me :’)


“You’re ridiculous,” Nakahara Chuuya sighs, shaking his head as he finishes wrapping the gauze around [Surname] [Name]’s ankle. The girl had broken it, leaping down from her position hidden behind a wall of pipes, to take down an opponent threatening to sneak up behind Chuuya at least one floor below her. As a sniper she had never really trained for close combat, and as Chuuya’s backup on the majority of her jobs, she never focused on landing properly.

“That’s definitely what you should be saying to someone who saved your life,” she shoots back. [Name] bends over, hand never leaving her weapon - a gift, from Chuuya, and she would rather drink a cup of blood than let it get scratched unnecessarily - to examine the rough splint he had made. “Nice job.”

He rolls his eyes, feigning irritation at her. “I had it under control. You didn’t need to jump down.”

“Yes, you had it under control, except you weren’t looking in his direction and he was behind you,” [Name] responds. There is a certain amount of sarcasm in her voice, enough for him to notice but not enough for him to mention it.

This is the first time she has gotten injured with only Chuuya around to help, and surprisingly, he is taking it rather well. Last time, the guy with lemon bombs - she could not remember his name - nearly lost his head after a misplaced explosion ended up breaking her wrist and a few ribs.

Probably because the only people he could blame are already dead.

Standing, Chuuya seems to give up the argument, before it can begin, and he holds out his hand to help her up. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” [Name] replies, and she lets him pull her up, choosing to lean her weight on him in order to walk rather than limping along by herself. “Be more careful next time.”

The glare he shoots her holds no weight, Chuuya flicking her forehead. It’s a habit of his, whenever she says something he thinks is silly. “Why don’t you take your own advice and think things through for once?”

Ignoring him, she hands him the gun. “Hold this? I’m going to have to get my ankle fixed when we get back, don’t break it.”

Chuuya has passable skills when it comes to emergency medical issues and injuries, especially when they are out on a job, but, as she gives the splint another examining glance, it only goes so far.

“Yes, he agrees, “we will.”

A frown crosses her face. “What do you mean, we? You’re not coming.”

“I am,” is his firm reply, brooking no argument. “If you hadn’t tried to save me then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

He may not want her to say anything back, but as they slowly make their way towards the entrance of the building, [Name] can’t help the next remark that slips past her lips.

“If I had known you were going to be this way,” she mutters, “I should have just shot him to save myself the trouble.”

anonymous asked:

Can I get a scenario with Atsushi comforting his s/o who basically has a non-existent self-esteem and is always self-depreciating because they grew up with emotionally parents and didn't have anyone to rely upon before him? Atsushi is just a precious child with a pure heart and I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort :P

anonymous said:

Hey, I saw your post about scenarios that are missing pronouns and I think mines was missing too, so I’m so sorry about that! So, can I have that Atsushi scenario with a female s/o who had emotionally abusive parents and therefore is really self-depreciating? Thank you for your hard work!

tbh i think i focused more on the emotionally abusive parents rather than being self-deprecating, but if you squint you can find it. thanks for specifying! have a ghost hug! so happy i get to write for this boy lol

warning: implied emotional abuse


Nakajima Atsushi supposes - no, he knows - he should have noticed the signs. [Surname] [Name] has never been the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, yet all the indications had still been there, for him to notice and for him to reach out, but he had not seen them until it was almost too late.

At least he managed to catch it before Ranpo said anything too insensitive after [Name] had knocked over the potted plant by the door, before she started shaking and tears started to spill from her eyes - it all makes sense now to Atsushi, as he brushes his fingers through her hair, the two of them huddling in the bathroom with the door locked twice.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, voice soothing. At his words her arms tighten around him and she shakes her head like she doesn’t quite believe him.

And the worst part is that Atsushi knows she doesn’t, not entirely. [Name] would never be able to unless somehow the scars from her past could find a way to heal, the scars that her parents clawed into her skin until her blood caked their nails.

“It’s not,” she insists, “it won’t be. Why aren’t they mad at me? Why aren’t they saying anything?”

She inhales, shuddering, and buries her face in the crook of his neck, next words muffled and he almost misses them.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t worry you, there’s no point and I’m just bothering you and I’m more trouble than I’m worth - ”

“[Name],” Atsushi interrupts, tentative but gathering his courage. He could see her mask, weathered from years of hiding and reinforced by the confusion of pain and silence of her life growing up, and he can make out just where it has cracked so all her fears spill out with nothing to stop them.

As if she can sense his realization, she goes still.

“Listen to me,” he says, after a moment. “Whatever has happened to you in the past, it’s over now. The people here are good. They’ll accept you even if you don’t think you’re worthy of it. One little mistake isn’t going to make them change their mind about you, especially when you’re so amazing.”

They are words he wishes he could hear, words he knows she needs.

[Name] is frozen, the words sinking in, and then she lets out a broken laugh. “It’s not over. It will never be over, it was my parents - ”

He knows, even though the right words fail her, because he has his own scars from his past and his own dreams of what parents should be like.

What [Name]’s were so obviously not.

“That’s fine,” Atsushi reassures, and he pulls back to look her in the eyes, more certain than he has ever been. He is still learning - but if it is for [Name], he can do it - and so is she, to face the world, free from the shadows haunting them.

“You have me to rely on.”

anonymous asked:

A scenario of Dazai with a autistic s/o?

tbh i wasn’t sure how to go around this;; i tried my best, but i doubt it’s perfect in any way. just … next time be sure to specify the pronouns, please!



Your fingers brush lightly over the notches on your desk, other hand lazily flipping through the book that you had found upon entering the Agency. Sometimes you wonder if they deliberately choose not to give you as much work as the others because of your case, but you find that it doesn’t really make a difference.

No matter what it is, you’re happy with being able to find a stable job in order to support yourself, and even more so to be able to spend that time with Dazai Osamu.

It isn’t as big of a deal for you, being autistic, perhaps because you have learned to live with it, but Dazai makes you feel … well, not quite normal, since nothing is ever normal around the Agency, but better than normal. As if you could do anything, as if you’re perfectly capable and he knows it yet will still help you if you want to more than what is necessary.

You find it nice, to have someone willing to stick with you despite all of your shortcomings.

“[Name]!”

As if he could sense what you are thinking, Dazai bounds over and leans his weight onto the back of your chair. His chin rests on the top of your head as he examines the book in your hands.

“Do you like the book?” he asks - starting the conversation, inviting you to speak, as always.

“Yes,” you reply. Your sentences are short as usual, for you never could find the words or energy to say more. Social interaction presents a puzzle, one you prefer to avoid and don’t always understand, but you have adjusted.

Dazai’s presence makes it even easier, his ability to read people and situations constantly coming in handy in ways others may find scary but to you is anything but that.

So when you flip through another ten pages, Dazai prompts, “What do you think?”

A pause, and a short sigh. “I’ve already read it. I liked it enough the first time.”

You can hear the curiosity in his voice when he speaks again, and you shift so you can pull your knees up to your chest and the book can hang comfortably from your fingers. “Really? I would love to talk about it more, but I think Kunikida wants to say a few choice words to me right now. How about when I get back?”

He must have run off again when they were in the middle of trying to get something done, you realize.

If that is the case -

A few choice words is putting it lightly. Glancing to the side, you can see the expression Kunikida is wearing; it looks far worse than what should warrant Dazai’s reaction. But then again, it is Dazai, and you would not be surprised if he had expected it the entire time.

“Alright,” you answer cheerily, a small smile on your face. “When you get back.”

You have no idea why he wants to discuss the book - after all, it is his book, the one you have found him reading on countless occasions, to the point where you are almost certain he has the whole thing memorized.

Maybe he wants to discuss various methods of suicide.

A shake of your head, and you bring your gaze back to the cover as you listen to the slam of the door followed by the muffled shouts of Kunikida.

More likely it is the little note he had slipped in, the one that made your heart flutter a little - all over again, he never fails - and your entire world a bit better than it already is.

tempus prae spe [ 11/24 ]

[ akutagawa x fem!reader ]


{ hope } he has never understood it before, but perhaps with her hand in his, he can learn to fill the empty space in his heart.


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This pen is expensive, and I like the ink - let us enjoy the little things in life, otherwise when we blink, we’ll miss something.



The clock is ticking - time is against her, its currents threatening to sweep her away if she is not careful.

If she is too late, Dazai may have ended up murdering himself using the bridge railing, or something else twice as ridiculous and three times as gruesome. At two in the afternoon, the sky overcast and gloomy, she had received a call, urgent enough for her to drop everything and head out.

[Naaame], hurry. I’m dying!

Seriously, this boy gives her headaches. So much for a relatively stress-free life out of the slums, the Port Mafia is a different kind of ordeal. Though, in this case, she is more likely to get gray hairs from Dazai’s stunts than making sure nobody she would miss dies.

Sometimes, she felt like she needed a nice and warm hug from somebody - after all, according to her late brother, hugs can solve anything. But he had been merely a child then, and only a few weeks ago she had passed him in age. It is a milestone she hadn’t thought she would reach, one she had not considered.

Physical contact never had been much of an option, unless Akutagawa needed a reassuring touch on the shoulder or their fingers managing to intertwine - it hadn’t ever quite been about her.

Only here, the one who could help out just by patting her on the shoulder, is nearby.

[Name] prefers to bottle things up until it explodes.

Which is why, when she sees Dazai leaning against the railing without any apparent evidence of an attempted suicide, she considers taking the cork off and strangling him herself.

“Are you serious?” she demands, coming to an abrupt halt a couple of feet away from him. “You only called me, didn’t you?”

He shrugs, lifting his one-eyed gaze to her, a casual grin on his face. His arms are behind him, hanging loosely over the river. [Name] doesn’t understand how such a position could be comfortable - but whatever helps Dazai sleep at night.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Dazai asks in a way of reply.

Sighing, [Name] makes her way over, past an orange traffic cone lying forgotten on the side. “No. What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want anything?” He pulls a pout, but she is not looking, instead casting her stare at the sky, a troubled frown on her face. “I brought an umbrella, in case it starts to rain, so don’t worry about it.”

She blinks, snapping her eyes back to him. “Oh. Right. You’re going to make me spend the day running errands for you, aren’t you.”

Dazai has done it before, promising that he would fix her bathroom once everything was finished. He never did, [Name]’s bathroom remaining broken and threatening to flood every hour, Akutagawa having long given up trying to find out how to get it repaired.

So [Name] finds herself suspicious at his answer.

“Nope,” he says cheerfully. “I’m going to ask you to spend the day with me.”

Her eye twitches. “No, I’m not considering suicide any time soon.”

“I don’t mean suicide. It wouldn’t even be an option with you,” Dazai responds easily, shifting his weight slightly.

[Name] tenses, senses on alert for any strange movements. She is not planning a repeat of last Halloween, when he whipped out a spider - plastic, but she hadn’t realized that when she sprang back cursing so creatively Akutagawa actually was laughing when he calmed her down - or the time he -

She finds herself staring a bouquet of roses.

Excuse me what.

Her mind goes blank for a split-second, and she gapes at the flowers in front of her, caught off-guard. Then -

“What the actual fuck is this, Dazai Osamu?”

He looks far too smug when he speaks. “I’m asking you out. Why do you think I picked a day like this?”

She is red, her ears burning and cheeks tinged a color she had never expected them to be around Dazai. Anyone else, and she might have coolly rejected them and moved on - priorities always come first to her, and this had never been on the list.

“I didn’t think the sun would like being outshone.”

[Name]’s face feels as if it is on fire, but she can’t help the curl of her lips upwards. “You smooth bastard.”

Anyone else, and she would not have accepted the flowers or offer -

But she knows, and he knows, that in another time, another world, she would have chosen another had she been allowed the choice.

anonymous asked:

Atsushi with an s/o who has a habit of nonchalantly patting the top of his head or ruffling his hair at random points of the day, sometimes she even off handingly say things like good job or I love you and I'm proud of you while she does it.

deviated a little from the original ask - this one is set right after the whole thing with the guild. ruffling hair more like messing it up poor atsushi pls


She likes to make Nakajima Atsushi flustered and the way the prettiest crimson would slash across his visage and spread faster than she can blink. To achieve maximum effect her offhand comments would be timed, but only because she feels that he needs them more than anyone else in the world.

Right now, [Surname] [Name] decides, as she watches Yosano successfully outlast yet another unlucky member of the Armed Detective Agency in a drinking contest, it is the perfect time for one of them.

As discreetly as she can, to avoid catching the doctor’s attention and to dodge a terrible hangover the next day, she steps over to where Atsushi is, happily helping Kyouka get her second slice of cake. The newest member of the Agency sees her first, an amused light flashing through her eyes, and she thanks Atsushi before making a beeline towards Ranpo.

“She fits in well, doesn’t she?” [Name] says in a way of greeting, and the boy whips around in surprise. After her presence sinks in, he relaxes and the corners of his lips turn up into a smile of agreement.

“I guess there was no point in worrying about it,” he replies. “After everything that has happened - ”

Atsushi cuts himself off then, as if he had been insensitive, and images flash through her mind at the reminder - the shouts, the blood, the gun raised towards her head and the sound the Guild attacker had made before everything broke loose.

She tilts her head to the side, dismissing the thoughts easily. “What about it?”

He blinks at her. “Are you - ”

“Yes, I’m fine.” The flash of teeth she sends his way can hardly be classified as a smile, and he can see straight through it, but the subtlest shake of her head declares the topic closed. “It’s over now. What about it?”

Letting out a sigh, Atsushi pushes a lock of hair out of his face. “I forgot what I was going to say. Do you want any cake?”

[Name] laughs, and nods. “Sure. Wouldn’t want Ranpo coming back to eat the rest before I’ve gotten a chance to have any.”

“I think he just took Kyouka’s plate,” is his muttered response, like he is afraid the self-proclaimed “greatest detective” could hear him. “I stand by my original statement that she fits in well.”

But [Name] isn’t listening.

Her hand reaches over, and like so many times she ruffles his hair, her smile becoming genuine as she says, “You did well, Atsushi. I’m proud of you.”

His ears a red, more vibrant than she has ever seen before.

anonymous asked:

Would you be kind enough to write a scenario with Koyou and a female s/o on a date to a cherry blossom festival?

ayyy a request for the ladies hahaha i love kouyou please so here you go! while writing this i had one of those moments where i forgot how to speak english/proper smooth sentence structure so it might be a little off


Ozaki Kouyou’s shadow is enough to send [Surname] [Name]’s cousin scrambling behind the table and ducking behind the decorations the girl is putting onto the booth in preparation for the cherry blossom festival. Focused intently on her work, [Name] doesn’t notice Kouyou’s presence until she is practically standing right next to her, and it doesn’t register why her cousin is trying to hide until Kouyou speaks.

“Those are nicely done. Did you make them yourself?”

Her voice is smooth, as always, unruffled even with the terrified stare of [Name]’s cousin on her - the first time the two had crossed paths Kouyou had chosen to give the boy nightmares rather than to be polite, though in her defense she claimed to be teaching him to stop being so confrontational with his cousin’s dates.

[Name], in all honesty, couldn’t bring herself to argue.

“Yep,” she replies now, stifling her surprise. Her hands are steady as she hooks the last string around the metal and steps back to admire her work. “I’ve been working on them for months. Do you want any taiyaki?”

(“[Name]!” her cousin blurts, shocked and appalled that she is offering to freely give away her aunt’s hard work, even though the woman most likely has no problem with it. After all, the last time Kouyou visited their restaurant she ended up getting a free meal.)

“Are they the same ones from last week?” Kouyou asks. She, strangely enough, is without her usual entourage of bodyguards, but [Name] supposes she is capable of protecting herself without a problem.

“The one and only,” [Name] lets out a sigh, tugging her hair out of the ponytail it had been in. “You’re early today.”

“Well,” Kouyou says, her head tilting and hair ornaments clinking as she moved, “I couldn’t bear to be late, not when we have a date planned.”

She doesn’t miss the flare of red that abruptly spreads across [Name]’s visage (nor does she miss the young cousin gagging in the background - boys that age, really, ought to learn to become better), and a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. Kouyou has realized that [Name] is easily flustered, seizing all opportunities to take advantage of it.

“I’ll be a short moment,” is the hurried response, tossed over [Name]’s shoulder as she steps to the back of the booth to grab her things and put away her apron. “Little cousin, tell your mother I’ll be out for a bit.”

He gapes, as if not sure if he should take offense in being called little - after all, he is seven, that is not little - or if he should complain that [Name] is skipping out of her work.

And Kouyou’s final response only makes it a bit worse.

“Lad, I’ll be taking your cousin. She won’t be back until tomorrow.”

anonymous asked:

Hi! if possible a scenario with fem so and fukuzawa. when theyve both been away for some time cause of a serious situation and when they finally see each other,they just want to be near one another. thank you :)

slightly deviated from the original ask, sorry anon! i wrote this at about … one in the morning whoops


“What time is it there?”

[Surname] [Name]’s voice is as soothing as always, and it calms Fukuzawa Yukichi when he picks up the phone to listen to her message. She has taken to leaving one for him every day, after the two had realized that the distance between them had become too great for their waking hours to overlap conveniently enough to call each other regularly, and he does the same.

“I hope you’re not working too hard. You know you have to take a rest from time to time, you’re not invincible.”

His steps are slow as he maneuvers around his apartment, fixing himself a cup of tea and setting a handful of cat treats outside the window, but his attention remains on the open phone lying on the kitchen table.

Fukuzawa lets out a sigh, listening to the static breaking apart [Name]’s words, and wishes, for the umpteenth time, that she could be here with him.

“The weather here is good, if you were wondering. No more cats, because my boss is allergic, the project we worked so hard on to complete last minute failed its first trial so we’re back to the drawing board, the stove exploded a few hours ago  - the list goes on.”

He knows it is wishful thinking, hoping that they could again spend their days as they had years before her job took her across the ocean and out of his reach. They had been young, foolish, and carefree, unthinking of the direction their paths would take them.

But neither could have predicted just where they would end up.

[Name] had left to pursue a career her family chose for her, and he had found a place that suited him better than he could have ever thought it would.

“I still miss you.”

Fukuzawa pauses, the cup of tea halfway through its descent to the table.

“I wish we could have planned things out a little better.”

The corners of his lips twitch, and he nods silently in agreement to a person who is no longer beside him.

“I hope things are going well for you at the Agency … it’s been so long since I’ve been able to visit. I hope you’ve been well.”

Her tone changes - a subtle shift, but he notices it nonetheless. There is little [Name] can hide, and they both know it. There is an underlying excitement in her words, and Fukuzawa sets the cup down with a soft clink.

“You can tell, can’t you. I’ve got something to share.”

Quietly, he straightens, gaze searching the phone for answers he will not find.

[Name] laughs, as if she can sense his stare, and with a familiarity only she could have she says, “You’ll have to wait to find out. I’ll see you later, Yukichi.”

There is a click, the message abruptly ending.

He stares, her final words sinking in - what she had said, it rings in his mind, how different it was from every other message she has left him -

The next day, he finds that everything he remembers about [Surname] [Name] is the same, and that he has never felt more content than he does with her fingers intertwined with his.

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Play Him off Keyboard DOG *ORIGINAL* (por kurama2005)

Vaya tarde!!! Keyboard pug. Espectacular, casi más que el keyboard cat original. Estoy que no me lo creo. OMgdgljadsjgañkljdañgjdlasjla