i'm on my period and want egg rolls terribly, so you are in the same boat. make your boyfriend(s) dazai, chuuya, atsushi, and akutagawa figure it out, fem!reader.
⭐︎
𝒪. Dazai -`♡´-
pet name: my darling/my darling girl
"Hey, I'm home!" Dazai calls out, a sigh following while he rubs the back of his neck. He's exhausted, a long day at the agency where he actually had to rush through his paperwork before the deadline tomorrow, which kept him away longer than he wanted, leaving you alone for a couple hours too long.
You sit on the couch, curled up under a blanket that you have completely cocooned yourself in, the TV playing but you aren't paying much attention to it, and you sniffle. You quickly wipe your nonsense tears with the blanket, hearing his footsteps get closer, and you don't want him to see you have been crying. You bring the material tighter around your head, hugging it tight, and ball yourself up more on the cushion.
"Hey," you greet, keeping your voice as level and even as possible.
"I didn't mean to stay so late, I just had piles of papers-" He stops when he gets to the couch, seeing your mildly red and glassy eyes, his brows downturning. He glances over his shoulder at the television, only to see your favorite sitcom running - nothing happening that would cause tears. You rush to wipe more at your face with the already damp blanket, peeking up at him when he faces you once more, concern evident. "Oh no, you're made at me." He immediately spits out, dropping down to his knees to be eye-level with you. You shake your head, fervently, another small sniffle causing his concerned gaze to drop to the tip of your pink nose. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I'll never stay late like that again-"
"No, 'Samu, you-you did nothing wrong," you get out in barely a whisper. He lets out a small breath from relief, shoulders relaxing, but you're still a visible mess that you're doing a lousy job of hiding from him.
"Then what's got my darling girl crying?" He asks, his voice caring and sweet and worried, fingers brushing some hair from your face that stuck itself to your tear-stained cheeks. You blink at him once, lower lip suddenly trembling, before dropping your stare and bursting into a nearly childish sob. His entire body freezes, going rigid, hands frantically trying to see where he is allowed to touch you, hushing you softly, and playing back the entire month to see what all he could have done wrong - he doesn't care you said he didn't do anything, he is fairly certain he messed something up. "Hey, hey, no, don't cry, it's okay." He soothes, rubbing your back while you continue weeping into your hands. "What's wrong?" He sounds helpless, considering nothing indicated in your messages and brief phone call earlier in the day that you were upset. You are a big crier as is, but usually he knows what exactly caused it so he can fix it immediately. He never knows what to do if it's random outbursts like this.
"I-I..." You attempt, hiccupping a bit, him waiting with slight impatience, before letting out a wail he has never heard from you before. "I just want some friggin' egg rolls, and we don't have any!" The room is still, aside from your relentless crying, and it's his turn to blink at you in silence. He pauses, collecting his thoughts, and finally assess the condition you're in: a ball in the same spot he left you when he placed a kiss on your forehead as a goodbye, then took off to work. His hand resting on your body feels the slight tremble, and it clicks in his brain what's wrong.
"Oh, I see," he bites back a small smile, knowing now really isn't the time to laugh at your misery. "You have some big feelings, don't you?" You nod again, trying to wipe away the ceaseless mess of tears from your eyes again, but it's only smearing them more on your skin. "And the only cure is egg rolls?" He asks, a hint of rhetoric behind his words. You nod again with a weak 'mhm', looking up at him with big, wounded eyes.
"I looked everywhere," you sniff, and he has to prevent himself from saying 'no, you didn't'. He smiles, warm and a bit mischievous, propping his cheek on his fist. "I made so many! How are we out already?!" Because you ate them all, he breathes out a small chuckle, lightly shaking his head at your adorable theatrics.
"I'm sorry, I must have been a little greedy and didn't save any for you," his lips press carefully to your temple, brushing back the blanket and more of your hair. "Tell me everything you want, I'll go pick it up. I'm sure somewhere is still open just for you."
"Can I get as many as I want?" You bat your wet lashes, hugging the material more around your body, and he gently pokes your nose.
"Of course, my darling. As many as it takes to cure you."
𝒞. Nakahara 𐚁
pet name: my love, sweet girl
"Chuuya," you quietly whine, shuffling into his office, where he is working on some last-minute paperwork for a meeting tomorrow. He lifts his gaze long enough from the sheets to acknowledge you, but his pen didn't stop moving as his cheek is propped on his fist.
"What is it, my love?" Chuuya asks softly, the only light in the room coming from the far corner of the lamp he flipped on a few hours ago when the sun was setting. You had been doing what you could not to bother him, knowing he has work piling up he had been ignoring, but you are now at your limit.
"Chuuya, I'm hungry," you pout some, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Did you forget to eat again?" He is still writing along the papers, but he is making sure to keep his attention on your conversation. "I thought I reminded you to order whatever you'd like earlier?" Maybe I forgot again. He pinches the bridge of his nose, silently scolding himself for not keeping better track of time.
"I did," you shift your weight in your spot, dropping your arms to behind your back, fingers messing with the hem of the shirt you grabbed from his drawer. "I'm still hungry, though, and I didn't get what I wanted." He stops briefly, ink pooling around his pen, then twists his wrist to check the time, the watch face reading after midnight.
"Do you think what you're looking for is here in the kitchen?" He finally sets his work to the side, pushing his chair out to stand and stretch his limbs.
"I checked," you mutter. You stand there quietly for a moment, hearing his slippered feet shuffle along the floor to meet you, and you don't want to meet his gaze. He waits, patiently, his arms across his chest now while he stares at you, remaining silent so you can let him know what it is you're needing. However, you don't say anything else, just messing with your hair or moving your feet.
"Talk to me, sweet girl. I can't help if you don't tell me," he encourages, attempting to coax some words from you. He watches you closely, your cheeks puffing some, your bottom lip poking out, and your lash line rims with tears threatening to spill out of nowhere. His brow arches, stepping closer, leaning down to try getting a closer look and catch your eye. "What is it?" You inhale, holding it, darting your teary gaze in his direction before veering off elsewhere.
"Would you..." You begin, feeling childish, and pressing the heel of your hand into your eye. "Wanna go to the convenience store." You mumble. "Want snacks. And... And egg rolls." You admit finally, letting out a long exhale as you mentally tell yourself to get it together.
"Okay," he draws the word out, nodding slowly and standing back straight up. "What kind of snacks?" He tests the waters, remembering the time, the fact you're still hungry this late, and you're now having a mini mental breakdown in front of him over it.
"All of 'em," you mutter. "And ten egg rolls. And ice cream. And cheese sticks." You continue rattling off all the different things you could eat right now, him listening intently, and nodded along to each request, the ten egg rolls specifically catching him off guard, especially since you just said the other day the ones from the convenience store are 'utter garbage'. I get it now.
"Alright, my love, go get your shoes on then. We can take my bike," he says, walking past you to the bedroom in search of comfier clothes to change into. Your brows come down at that, staring at the back of his head like he's insane.
"But the convenience store is in walking distance," you retort, following after him.
"I'm not making you walk when you're feeling like this," is all he says when handing you one of his hoodies after pulling one on himself. You blink at him in surprise, but he just ignores you as he walks toward the door. "C'mon, before you lose your appetite."
𝒜. Nakajima ⁰८ᩥაᩥ⁰
pet name: apple (like "apple of my eye")
"What is it?" Atsushi whispers, eyes darting from your face to your very full plate of food you originally said you wanted. You two have been sitting at the mall food court table for roughly ten minutes now, most of his food gone when yours is completely untouched. You eye your plate, knowing it's about to be a waste, and tears immediately spring forth, making you even more embarrassed. He notices this, his brows coming together, and carefully reaching his hand out to trace a finger along your knuckles. "Somethin' wrong, apple?" He asks again, leaning on the surface so he can keep his voice down.
"Uhm..." Your fingers twitch forward, other hand subtly applying pressure to your abdomen since it's hidden underneath the table from prying eyes. "I-I came wildly unprepared. And... And this all looks really gross." You murmur, dragging your line of sight to meet his, concern prominent.
"Is it not what you wanted?" He immediately thinks it's his fault, that he didn't pay attention to what you asked for, that he hadn't heard you correctly. "Do I need to get you something else?" You blink away the tears, realizing he completely skipped over your "unprepared" comment. You stare at him, trying to think if there is anything you want to eat, when you shift some in your seat, the embarrassment getting worse.
"I wanna go home," you suddenly tell him. His features drop, already internally kicking himself for ruining this day. He took note of your behavior earlier in the week, how you were more irritable than normal, getting upset over small things, not wanting him to touch you - not even for a hug. He thought taking you out for some fresh air and being around other people would help, but now you're about to cry in the middle of the food court and asking to go home.
"I-I'm sorry, I should have suggested a day in instead," he mutters, his hand beginning to withdraw, but your fingers reach out enough to trap them together.
"No, I was having fun, but I just don't feel good," you explain, which isn't necessarily a lie, but if he hasn't caught on yet, you're not going to explain it to him in public. "I-I wanna still see you. Just... Maybe while laying down." You suggest. He nods once, analyzing you to see what ails you, your face a bit pale, and your grimace is evident. Unprepared for what, exactly? He thinks to himself, head moving around to see the line from the restaurant he got your food from is gone.
"Wait here, I'll get a box," he instructs, quickly getting to his feet and rushing over. You sigh heavily once you know he's out of earshot, your hand coming up press to your forehead. It obviously isn't an embarrassing thing to talk about, and you're - kind of - confident he understands this happens regularly, but you two haven't been dating terribly long and aren't sure how to act around him. Usually, you'd just be a hopeless heap in your bed crying and squeezing a pillow, but he insisted on taking you out and, honestly, it's so hard to say no to such a cutie like him.
When he comes back, he doesn't say a word as he takes it upon himself to start cleaning up, shoveling everything into the styrofoam, and your can't help eyeing the small bag on the table. Your brows come together, pointing at it. "Atsushi, what's that?" He hums, glancing up at you then at the bag, closing the box then carefully sliding the small bag toward you.
"It's an egg roll," he shrugs. "I felt awkward just asking for a box, so I ordered something small." He watches your intense stare, gesturing to it. "Think you're hungry enough to take a bite and try it?" You delicately take it and pull the roll out, fresh, and smells amazing. The ill feeling you had disappears enough for you to take a small bite, and as you chew, more nonsensical tears come forward that just completely burst from the dam.
"It's really good," you try to say with the most convincing positivity you can muster, but he is staring at you in gobsmacked horror, not knowing in the slightest what to do. Did she burn her mouth?! Why is she still eating it?!
"Wh-Why are you crying, apple?" He reaches out to wipe your tears away with the heel of his hand. "You don't have to eat it if you don't like it."
"N-No, I do like it!" You sniff, taking another bite and feel extra pitiful. "It's exactly what I wanted!" You say with your mouth full, trying to shield it with the back of your hand. "I want a hundred more of these, and I need to get a pad!" You hiccup, no longer caring how best to hold yourself together, overwhelmed by there being something your body will allow you to eat. He stands stock-still when you say that, a few wandering eyes darting in your guys' direction that he has to ignore, and he just closes his eyes with a hefty sigh of relief.
"Alright, I'll escort you to the bathroom then get you a hundred more while I wait," he helps you to your feet, staying close behind you as he guides you away, softly hushing you and comforting you that everything is okay, and: "You could have just said so, you know. I'm exceptionally good at taking care of others." He kisses your hand, holding onto your half-eaten egg roll, and rushes back to the restaurant asking how fast they can make a hundred more for you.
ℛ. Akutagawa 𓄧
pet name: sweetheart
Akutagawa stares at you, expression blank, mind a little too calm for the situation. He hasn't ever seen you like this before, you not one to cry, even if the occasion calls for it. However, you're sitting on a bench with him waiting for the train, quietly sniffling, and a couple small tears slide down your cheeks that you don't bother wiping away.
"Is something... bothering you, sweetheart?" He finally asks, speaking slowly. You side-eye him, clearing your throat then dropping your line of sight to your shoes.
"You'll make fun of me."
"Most likely," he responds with a nod, but his voice is softer than it was before. "However, I don't exactly want to continue dealing with this if there is a fix." Could you be a little more sympathetic? You huff, shoulders slumping, and more tears slip from your blurry eyes. His brow raises at that reaction, the thought that maybe he did something wrong passing his mind - only briefly, since you would have said something by now.
"I..." You start, hesitating as you sneak another glance in his direction, him waiting to find out what the issue is with his hands shoved in his pockets. "I uhm..." You clear your throat again then carefully wipe under your eye. "I have been wanting egg rolls all week, and... You said we would go get some before going home, but uhm..." You gesture to the station, the group of people also waiting to get on one, and his indifferent gaze takes in the setting. His head slowly turns back toward you, cocking it some, then sighs. Egg rolls? Really?
"Your favorite place is a block away from home, sweetheart," he reminds, working hard not to roll his eyes alongside the comment, trying to be considerate of your clearly fragile condition. "I figured you'd want the best ones instead of just going somewhere else." You sit there for a moment, your mind consumed of only thoughts of egg rolls dancing around your head, that you had completely forgotten about your favorite restaurant with what you deemed to the have "the world's greatest egg rolls" is on the way back to your shared home. You blink a few times before sinking down in your spot from embarrassment.
"Oh," is all that can come out of you.
"It isn't like you to cry, especially over something so silly as food," he remarks, removing his hand from his pocket and placing his arm closer to you. "Are you positive nothing else is bothering you? Do I need to kill someone?" You shake your head immediately, avoiding looking in his direction.
"Just... I'm in a lot of pain, Ryuu," you murmur. His gray irises glide sideways, eyeing you up and down, when he makes the connection after seeing your legs shift around. He doesn't say anything else, or acknowledge your discomfort, his hand snaking down your thigh and gently squeezes.
"We aren't too far away. You can rest when we return," he comforts the best way we can, feeling your arms link around his, and setting your head on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry for thinking you broke your promise," you mutter, sniffling again at not trusting your boyfriend with a simple task. "I guess I'm more emotional than usual."
"No apologies needed. Do you want ice cream as well?"
"Iced coffee," you correct. He thinks to himself, where the closest coffee shop is on the same route, and bites back a loud sigh at the realization there isn't. It's in the opposite direction. Because of course it would be.
"So be it."
a/n: i got my egg rolls.
masterlist | requests: closed
dividers from puppizai and bhavihelps here on tumblr
A/N: This is my writing exercise of sorts to kinda figure out characterization and how I want to go about writing these characters so please bare with me,, also my knowledge on hanakotoba is very limited to only internet searches fuels by a minor hyperfixation from when I was in high school so if the meanings are not correct please forgive
Dazai Osamu:
Favorite to give: n/a; favorite to recieve: lilies
It’s a bit on the nose, but I think he enjoys typical funerary flowers as a gift, plus he enjoys the fragrance and there is a certain femininity to lilies that fits him, if that makes sense - he’d be quite humored if someone got this for him, and if its someone in a relationship with he’d put it in a vase and probably say something about the irony of keeping flowers for the dead alive
As for giving flowers, he would do so without a specific occassion, especially if he’s in the courting phase or doesn’t know the person very well and the flowers themselves aren’t intentional, most likely whatever’s cheapest or funerary flowers as part of his approach for a double suicide
If someone gave him flowers he 100% would accept, but if it’s not from someone he cares about he throws them out or gives them away to another woman - if a friend got him flowers he may make a flippant comment of how he’s excited to court a woman with it
If it is from someone he cares about, he puts the vase on his desk, he does enjoy them but he’s lazy so those flowers will stay there in that water until someone throws them away, he does not care if they lie there dead
He might have some knowledge of hanakotoba but it isn’t that important to him from a giving aspect, unless there’s an angle to his gift giving,, he might be interested in the symbolism from hanakotoba as an insight to human’s nature of ascribing arbitrary meaning to inanimate objects
When its someone he deeply cares for, it would really depend on the relationship type if he’s getting them flowers and the type - he may try to fluster you with them if you two are hooking up but beyond that it’s not really his preferred type of gift giving unless specified (if you ask him to get you flowers, he’ll tease you about it but will definitely get a bouquet tailored to you)
Nakajima Atsuhi:
Favorite to give: rurikarakusa; favorite to receive: (really any) daffodils
Has absolutely no concept of meanings to flowers besides overt cultural meanings (ex. Red roses = romance, lotus flower = reincarnation, etc)
He prefers softer colors like pastel pinks/blues, white, or yellow in the flowers,, he also likes inflorescence flowers (like lily of the valley, baby’s breath, etc), he likes the little flowers and thinks they’re really cute,, in a similar fashion he likes daffodils, he finds the tubular shape charming
Similar to Akutagawa, he knows that giving flowers are the sign of romantic interest so if he’s into someone and asks them out he is bringing them flowers, he’d probably get a classic bouquet for them with roses and baby breath
The type of person to get flowers on a whim for someone he’s in a relationship with (if he’s got the change), most of the time it’s a single flower instead of a bouquet (he’ll show up with it and be like “I saw this and thought of you :D”)
He is floored if anyone got him flowers, it doesn’t matter who,, blushes profusely and will ask why, is incredibly touched no matter the reason (it was a special occasion or just because)
If you’re friends and you get him flowers for whatever reason, he will reciprocate and be like I did not know friends could do this,,
If you’re in a relationship and get him flowers, he also will reciprocate but he will be so incredibly smitten
he’s really not used to receiving gifts or anything without strings attached so it is very special to him to get anything and to be thought of in that way
Yosano Akiko:
Favorite to give: orchids; favorite to receive: marigolds
Steer clear of giving her classic funerary flowers or spider lilies, I think they’d be more bittersweet to her and stand more as a reminder to being an “Angel of Death”, I don’t think that she would fully spiral or anything from receiving flowers, but I do think that it may make her reflect a little bit on the harder aspects of her childhood
That being said, I think she would like to give orchids, especially because it gives her an excuse to continuously check in on you (especially if you’re not in a formal relationship yet),, there’s a certain elegance and classiness of orchids that I think she likes to emulate so she likes to give them
Will except flowers depending on the relationship with the person, strangers - no, patients - maybe, friends - yes but she might tease depending on their general demeanor, relationship - yes and she will be very soft after receiving them
Not really much of a bouquet person, prefers to give a living plant (ie: homework), will tease you if it dies
She likes marigold, particularly the more colorful ones, if you give her them, she will keep them in a vase in her office since that’s where she spends most of her time anyway
Akutagawa Ryuunoske:
Favorite to give: carnations (red, pink); favorite to receive: Azaleas
Depends on the type of relationship you guys have for the frequency he gets them - if he feels like its serious he will do it for every big occasion
His understanding of romance is very limited, getting flowers is very saturated in romance media that he feels like it is a necessity
When he gets into a relationship he feels invested in, he will research flowers and their meanings and becomes quite familiar with hanakotoba (he also may expect you to have some knowledge in the meanings of the flowers if you give them to him), is quite meticulous about getting a bouquet - every time he gets one it is thoughtful and deliberate
He likes deep red or white flowers in general, especially in a bouquet next to each other, the contrast is nice to him, however sometimes it reminds him of funerals so he’d hesitate to give white flowers - he doesn’t want to invite any of that energy under any circumstance regardless of how superstitious he is
His favorite might be red spider lilies, but since their connotated with death and goodbyes, he might be adverse to receive them but he likes the look of them and feels a connection to them for their meaning
He’d only accept a bouquet from a lover or a dear friend, but would be very confused if a friend got him a bouquet and awkward about it, if anyone else got him flowers he straight up would not accept
He likes azaleas (probably doesn’t care for the purple or pinks too much, though) based mainly on their hanakotoba meaning, meaning “take care of yourself for me” (according to hanakotoba.com) or patience (according to other sites),, having someone say to him that they care so deeply for him that they want him to stay well is incredibly meaningful to him and if you get them for him, he will be very surprised and very touched
If you give him flowers when your in a relationship, he’ll put them in an ornate vase but it probably won’t be on his desk or too close to him since the pollen can be an irritant to his fits
he WILL be distraught when they die, he sees them as an extension and reminder of you so he will be very mopey when they die so get him another flower/bouquet STAT
Nakahara Chuuya:
Favorite to give: red roses; favorite to receive: red roses, red poppies, or wood lilies
I think that he generally likes the deeper red colors in flowers,, I think he likes poppies/ wood lilies for the black seeds in the red - it fits his aesthetic for the most part and he’s not subtle about the colors he likes
He would also like chocolate cosmos, the rich red and chocolatey fragrance feels very elegant in the way he likes to emulate
Regardless of whether he accepts them or not, whenever he’s offered flowers it’s a major ego boast - won’t accept flowers from strangers and may get pissy about it,, if his friends get him flowers on special occasions he will accept and be grateful, if it’s for a random reason he will be puzzled but hesitantly accept (they will not make vase status)
If Dazai gets him flowers, he’s throwing them on the ground and stomping on them in front of him, and cussing him out
If someone he’s hooking up with gets him flowers, he is relentless in teasing them and he’ll be very cocky about it,, if it’s someone he’s dating, he will put the flowers in a special vase that stays on his desk and takes meticulous care of them
He’s a romantic in my mind so, in a relationship, he will get flowers on every special occasion and they will be a full bouquet that scream “expensive”, he’s over the moon if you tuck one behind your ear
boyfriend!atsushi who doesn't know how to accept gentle touch.
the first time you cupped his face, he flinched. not because he was scared of you — but because he's not used to hands that don't hurt. he stared at you like you were something he didn't deserve. you didn't pull away. you just waited. and eventually, he leaned into your palm like a stray cat who finally realized he was safe.
boyfriend!atsushi who falls asleep on you after every mission.
he never means to. he always apologizes afterward, flustered and embarrassed. but you've noticed — he only falls asleep around you. he feels safe with you. he doesn't know how to say that, so instead he just keeps showing up, keeps falling asleep, keeps trusting you without realizing it.
boyfriend!atsushi who thinks he's too much.
he apologizes for everything — for taking up space, for needing comfort, for existing. you've lost count of how many times he's said "sorry" in one conversation. but you don't get annoyed. you just say "stop apologizing for being human" and hold his hand. he doesn't know what to do with that. he's learning.
boyfriend!atsushi who gets quiet when he's overwhelmed.
he doesn't lash out. he doesn't yell. he just goes quiet — smaller, like he's trying to disappear. you don't push him to talk. you just sit beside him. sometimes you read out loud. sometimes you just sit in silence. he always thanks you afterward, voice barely above a whisper.
boyfriend!atsushi who loves when you play with his hair.
he never asks for it. but if you run your fingers through his hair, he melts. his eyes flutter shut. his whole body relaxes. he falls asleep like that more often than he'd admit. if you stop, he unconsciously leans toward your hand, chasing the warmth.
boyfriend!atsushi who writes you clumsy love notes.
he's not good with words out loud, so he writes them down instead. short notes left on your pillow, on the counter, tucked into your bag. they're always messy, a little awkward, and full of crossed-out words. you've kept every single one. he doesn't know that. you'll tell him someday.
boyfriend!atsushi who gets jealous quietly.
he doesn't get angry — he just gets quiet. he watches you talk to someone else and shrinks into himself, like he's already losing you. you always notice. you always find him afterward and hold his hand. he doesn't say anything. he just holds on tighter.
boyfriend!atsushi who doesn't think he's worth staying for.
he tells you this sometimes — not dramatically, just quietly, like he's stating a fact. "you could do better," he says. you look at him and say, "i don't want better. i want you." he doesn't know what to say to that. he just holds you closer and tries to believe it.
boyfriend!atsushi who loves you in the quietest way possible.
he's not loud about it. he doesn't make grand gestures. but he remembers the way you take your coffee. he buys you snacks you mentioned once. he walks on the outside of the sidewalk to keep you safe. he loves you like it's the only thing he knows how to do.
boyfriend!atsushi who finally says "i love you" like it's a secret.
he says it late at night, when he thinks you're asleep. it's soft, barely a whisper, like he's afraid of how much it means. you pretend not to hear. but you hold his hand a little tighter. he feels it. he smiles — just a little — and falls asleep with his forehead pressed to yours.
boyfriend!atsushi who apologizes for taking up space in your life.
he says it quietly, like he's confessing something shameful. "i'm sorry i'm always in your way." you look at him and say, "you're not in my way. you're in my life. there's a difference." he doesn't know what to say. he just holds your hand and doesn't let go.
boyfriend!atsushi who doesn't know how to ask for what he wants.
he never says "i want to hold you" or "i want you to stay." he just hovers nearby, waiting. hoping you'll notice. you always do. you open your arms, and he's there in a second, like he was just waiting for permission to exist in your space.
boyfriend!atsushi who still expects you to leave.
he catches himself thinking it sometimes — that one day you'll wake up and realize you could do better. he doesn't tell you this. he just savors every moment with you, like it might be the last. you notice. you stay a little longer. you hold him a little tighter.
boyfriend!atsushi who lets himself be soft with you.
he doesn't realize he's doing it at first. he just knows that when he's with you, his shoulders drop. his voice gets quieter. he laughs easier. you don't tell him. you just let him be soft — because he deserves to be.
boyfriend!atsushi who finally learns that love doesn't hurt.
he used to think love was something you survived. something that left marks. but with you, it's different. you don't hurt him. you don't leave. you just stay — steady, gentle, real. and one day, he realizes: this is what it's supposed to feel like.
A/N. a special gift for my lovely @ver2xq and for anyone who wants to give him the love he deserves. hope you guys enjoyed!! cred to @ithemes for the div ₍^. .^₎⟆
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
Atsushi would transform into that half-human half-tiger form of his when he cuddles you so he can spoon you better. He would nuzzle his face against your nape, wrap his tail around you alongside his limbs and purr and chuff like a tiger. You and him would be cozily and sleepily cuddling on a bed with fluffy pillows and blankets as a silver of early morning sunshine enters through the closed curtains.
tags; these get just slightly suggestive (but its nothing too much).headcanons + some drabbles & shorts. these r longer than it should be - I got so carried away
I just woke up so if u find mistakes pls let me know :) I'm posting this before I come up with an excuse to delete it altogether
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—DAZAI
handsy - that's really the only descriptor you need.
honestly, everyone knows you're his partner with how he acts around you; hand on your thigh, waist, shoulder. having to kindly smack him on the back of his head when his hands trailed a little too far-
^ only for him to send you a pout and doe like eyes that fade when you indulge him a kiss. he has zero shame (often at the expense of receiving a sneer from kunikida who had the misfortune of witnessing sometimes. even then, he didn't stop kissing you)
favorite spot is the inside of your palms and knuckles - with a lingering yield on your pulse point. if you ever kiss those areas on him, he'll have cartoon hearts around him & everything
holding his face though? call him your pretty boy or literally anything sappy and he thinks he might just die on the spot.
on the flip side he's also… a bit of a bitch.
traces your bottom lip tauntingly with his thumb, the other is cupping your head to keep your gaze on him. he maintains keen eye contact and relishes in the way you crack while he remains steady.
his mouth is so close that when he speaks, you could feel it vibrate against your lips. but he never closes the distance, he makes you do that instead for teasing benefits :/(if you're shorter than him, it's so over)
revoke his kissing rights and he trails like a lost puppy behind you. " just one, bella?" he whines when you maneuver your head away. it's cute seeing him get all pouty - not so much when his patience runs thin and he takes matters into his own hands
-> caging you in his physique and kissing you hard. fingers calloused are rubbing against your jaw or brushing past your ear to interlock, teasing the surface of the skin as he does so. he enjoys the tremors and shivers it elicits, such reactions becoming burned in the back of his head.
you could barely make a sound with the vigor he expresses his cravings in with your bottom lip becoming captured between his canines
contrary to his theatrical displays, however, i also believe he exhibits a softened demeanor when cherishing you proper (soft dazai agenda)
the tempo of his kisses are slow yet not in accordance with his teasing. while the meandering of his hands grows greedy, when he speaks his voice is reduced to a low whisper, mumbling sweet phrases with each kiss.
✿
dazai wants to blame the bottom of sake for his vermillion flushed cheeks. more alarmingly, he wanted to ignore the way his heart squeezed when you reciprocated the kiss.
" darling," he pulls away, studying your expression. your hair was tousled, a swell blooming on your bottom lip from his recurrent nibbling and ministrations. the moment wasn't perfect, but he could bask in it for a lifetime. " are you getting sleepy?"
the pretty brown eyes you met were half-lidded and blinking. his bangs traced along your forehead from where he hovered, and if you squint, perhaps you would have noticed how the pink of his cheeks deepened the tiniest bit when you laughed at the tickling sensation.
you murmur something intelligible, the words swallowed by his mouth; he shivers when the syllables reverbate against him and the hand at your hip falters slightly. when he reels back, he remains close enough for his forehead to brush yours.
" repeat that, love."
" i said," you mumble, kissing the corner of his mouth. " can we to stay like this forever?"
almost instantaneously his body shakes in anticipation, heart lurching at the sincerity; how can you be so honest to a known liar like him? he slowly nods, his body arching until your chests were touching and breath pricked at your cheek. ever greedily, he seeks out another exchange, this one careful with a lingering touch of desperation.
an "okay" became lost as he gingerly grabs your chin, angling it just the tiniest bit to deepen it. in between the withdrawals and recoil, dazai chooses to ignore the way his breath stills in the pinnacle of moment, made potent when he twines his hand with yours. he provides the appendage a firm squeeze in coordination with the stirring in his chest, your inhales and exhales becoming synchronized.
he can't lie, he's been thinking just as much.
✿
dazai also likes your hands. chances are his are bigger than yours and he finds himself comparing hand sizes with you. his eyes crinkle when your fingers are dwarfed by his.
adjoined limbs are swayed back and forth when you walk together. same applies with intertwined legs, but when he's not busy doing that, he's playing footsie beneath the table.
he needs to be with you whenever he can!! the spot across your table remains permanently empty as he makes a home of sitting as close as possible next to you instead
he can't even be embarrassed with overly sappy displays, not when he's loving it twice as much. " good morning, osamu," you once said, palms cupping his face. he doesn't know if something has ever made his heartbeat spiked as hard as that did. " can I have a kiss?"
if he didn't turn to putty from the request alone, then it was the way you circled your thumbs on his cheekbones when he brushes his lips to yours. tentatively, he curls his hands behind your waist, holding you close before you get too far.
" can i have some more?" his eyes are shimmering in mischief as ever but his skin has progressively grown warmer since you've found him.
dazai is cuddly. getting to hold you close and listen to your heartbeat? yeah, he could die happy right now
unsurprisingly, napping with him is among his favorite passing time activities.
the closest you may get to see a vulnerable side to him is if you card your fingers through his hair. admittedly, he finds it troubling how his built-up walls crumble so easily with a couple of strokes. but the only thing he can focus on now is the sensation of fingers devoid of pain carefully tend through his hair and how warm his chest feels
kisses on the forehead when you're in need of comfort ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶
✿
" i'm right here, love." when you glance up at him with red eyes and puffy cheeks he could feel his heart break right into two. even more so when your voice cracks and he tries to hide the way his face drops when it echoes in the somber ambience.
attentively, he cups your cheeks as his lips apply delicate pressure against your forehead. he sighs when he feels your trembling hands subdue and your breathing regulate; its panning against his skin rivaled any other comfort he could ever receive.
" better?" when you nod, he could feel his grin return, just a bit weaker. " today has been hard on you. get some rest."
" can you stay with me?" he already knew the answer in his head but it still makes chest swarm tremendously.
he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, lips brushing your forehead again. " of course."
he wasn't the one needing comfort and yet he still felt a deep-rooted tingle right in his chest when you hugged him closer than usual. he depised the circumstances behind it, but he couldn't deny the way it made his barren chest feel less akin to a husk when you felt so secured against him.
his hands start to comb shrough your hair, watching as the strands bend between his fingers and he ensures to provide your scalp proper attention now and again.
he wasn't sure if he'll be able to sleep, he was more concerned in making sure you did.
he blinks when you move to press your cheek against his chest, right where his heart should be. " thank you," your words were muffled against clothes, sending vibrations along his bones.
" you don't have to thank me." he places a last kiss to your forehead, the longest one of the night. his legs shift to intertwine with yours, listening keenly to the sound of your breath until it slows into an assuaging rhythm.
dazai can't recall the last time he had to take care of someone. it's made apparent as he grapples with uncertainty - almost becoming overwhelming with how powerless he felt in the situation.
though tonight, he was sure to hold you a little tighter.
✿
likewise if you kiss his scars and the skin beneath the bandages, he could feel the breath in his throat still and his heart do cartwheels. it's been so void of human touch for so long and he appreciates the care you exhibit towards something he considers to be ugly.
" all better now!" you punctuated your words with a kiss to the newly coiled cotton on his arms. dazai could do nothing but swallow hard, his "thank you" mumbled under his breath; he didn't like the pain, but it wasn't so awful when you spoiled him like this ♡
neck kisses + scattering the expanse of your throat with baby bruises you can not hide. afterwards, he traces it out with his index finger while he takes in the markings with great interest.
when it starts to fade he gladly renews them
✿
" that tickles," you murmur, voice reduced to a whisper; you couldn't trust yourself, not with dazai scattering kisses along the exposed patches of your neck. the rehearsal of which doesn't falter, even when you tug on his increasingly unruly curls.
" my apologies, 'bella," you wince as he captures a patch of your skin between his teeth. " i think i've found my favorite form of art." he has the gall to feign a tone of sympathy, lips arcuated at the growing disparity.
in addition to the nibbling, his fingers skimmed along your torso, moving in taunting lines he knew ran your sanity thin. dazai knew all the places that made you shiver, it was a piece of information that became abused with the movement of his hands in that moment.
against your rationality, you sunk into his touch, fingers twitching along his roots. it brought a simper you couldn't see but his satisfaction is made apparent when his actions grow sloppy, scattering along the expanse of your throat and meandering along your collarbone.
" you had every chance to leave," he smirks when you don't reply, content with the way your nails briefly printed on him. predictably, he gives another nibble on your skin, tugging back gently. " this might be my favorite spot."
right on the center of your unguarded throat.
" i can't hide those there."
he laughs, breath cascading skin. " that's what i want, darling." he thinks he might lose himself when you bring a particular tug in his hair, a sound akin to a grunt reverberating against your throat.
" you're being mean." dazai makes the mistake of pulling back, gracing him with your disheveled hair, reddened lips and growing streaks of red. already he finds it to be his favorite piece of jewelry.
" don't look so down," he pressed a kiss to one of the blooming blemishes, grinning as it became more pronounced. " you'll get your turn soon."
-
—CHŪYA
he takes his gloves off when he goes to touch your face. he doesn't want the sensation of skin on skin to be hamper by the piece of article.
kisses to your temples & neck are exchanges he shares on the frequent. though depending on the height difference, it may also be a gesture reserved for when you're sitting on his lap or cuddled up into him. head kisses in particular feel appropriate for anything really
as for himself, i'd say he likes to be kiss on the lips(mainly so he can distract from the growing crimson that tickles his forehead)
but it's hard with the handsome face chūya has. his growing pout tells you he's growing impatient when you favor his cheeks, but the hand gripping your sleeves are so counterproductive
" can you do it properly?" he gruffs, brows furrowing that weaken by your persistence. his skin was growing warm from the kisses you spoiled him with but it hardly compares to the proper thing on his lips, aching for the familar sensation almost painfully.
he shivers when you trail to his mouth, just shy of it and his grip tightens. " like this?"
his eyes flutter shut when you close the distance and before he could realize it, his hands began to sift through your hair. " yeah," his exhale was shaky, voice dropping to a low lilt. " don't stop that."
he sleeps with his head buried in your stomach - his nose is brushing against your abdomen with toned arms slithering around you like a form of cocoon
it reaches a peak when you brush your thumb over his scalp, and you can physically note the way the muscles in his body sink. you can't see his face, greeted instead by a cascade of reds; but his lips pull into a grin at the action
it grants you the opportunity to play with his hair. and sometimes, when he wakes up to find the claw clips and cute brooches that push his bangs aside and show off his pretty eyes, he won't be tempted to remove them right away.
✿
he wanted to roll his eyes when he saw you pull out the collection of hair clips, taunting pastels and neons gawking back at him. but he has to admit, he stopped caring the moment you started to play with his strands of hair. the locks weaved through your fingers, silky and soft stirring a form of ease that compels him to remain still. when he did move, it was only in an effort to bring himself closer, almost like snuggling(though he profusely denies it as such and regards you a scoff that doesn't compliment the rest of his actions).
had he not been treading precariously the boundaries of sleep, he may have been able to pick up on the way his heart quickened; a solace riveting up his spine and leaving in the form of a breathy sigh.
he blinks his eyes at you, nose scrunched up when you start mapping out his handsome features with your thumb. " you're getting distracted."
you acknowledge his statement with a coy grin and chūya felt his heart swell even at its simplicity. "i know." you move to press your lips to his forehead; if the smile wasn't enough to dissipate the frown on his face, that was the drug.
a flash of color peeks in the corner of his eye as you draw another clip. " i was just wondering how you would look in pigtails," you joke and chūya could feel his face twist— eye twitching at your jest.
" you're pushing your luck."
" it won't be that bad, chū."
" i could leave right now." his voice was terribly unconvincing when brooches adorned his head.
" you would have left a long time ago." you grin when he doesn't refute you. " just relax."
chūya knows he's defeated when you thumb his scalp again, eyes screwing shut involuntarily. " you're enjoying this too much," he grumbles. he tilts his head to the side, granting you access to his hair, hands falling pilant against your thigh. it bewilders him how much relief washes over him as you start to pry the strands apart again.
you know he's fallen asleep when he stopped replying to your ramblings; his words going from full sentences, to sporadic words and then slurred vowels. when you peek down, he's resting comfortably on your lap, lips slightly parted and allowing light snores to fill the silence.
chūya is far too deep in his subconscious to contemplate anything, but if he could, he thinks he might just get addicted to this.
✿
a clingy drunk. in addition, the alcohol is effective at loosening his tongue, resulting in declarations of his undying love that are muffled when he goes head first into your stomach (≧▽≦)
in lieu of that, he likes to spoon you, with himself being the big spoon. he has his head in the crook of your shoulder, and you feel his inhales and exhales against your skin.
he likes your body heat, it grounds him to earth and coaxes a soft demeanor that he fails at suppressing
thoughtful when it comes to kissing in the public eye. he isn't fond of drawing that form of attention to your relationship, but he isn't opposed to stealing a couple of kisses now and then.
it's fast, it's simple and enough to satiate you and himself. and it's enough to tell onlookers that he's your bf
it that didn't give the memo, its the gloved hand on your waist that spoke to people that you were taken.
though that doesn't stop him from tugging you closer in a spur of his protective tendencies. it's a subconscious act he does when you pass a group of people or when yokohama is notably crowded. it's not merely because he's short and is worried about losing you to the sea of wayfarers(at least thats what he tells you) - rather, it roots from a concern that's only repleted when he knows you're safe
behind close doors, however, his kisses lack patience if the way he's gripping your clothes is anything to go by. and while he demonstrates a growing restlessness, he remains pensive to his own strength and withdraws to give you proper time to catch your breath.
but he knows exactly what to do intensify each one and make your brain go hazy
cupping your cheeks, tilting your head, voice speaking in a meticulous timbre that shakes your skull. you're far too consumed in the kiss to recognize when his free hand has found its way to your back, gliding along the spine before slipping beneath the hem.
his gloves are cold against your skin, mumbling a faint 'sorry' that's nearly swallowed when he brushes his lips to yours for nth time.
the limbs explore along the dips and contours, pinching your sides and smirking into the kiss when you yelp in surprise (inwardly, his heart is beating so fast, he wonders if you could hear it when his chest is pressed against yours.)
without the gloves, his hands are a hint warmer. but even warmer are his cheeks when you press kisses to it. he knits his brows together in an attempt hide how much he likes; ultimately, he betrays himself when he pulls you closer
✿
" what the fuck are you doing," he stammers as you press a kiss to his warm cheeks. despite himself, he makes no effort to move when you brush your lips on the other - even warmer than the neighboring pair.
"kissing you," you hum. "... want me to stop?"
" no." he hates how fast the words left him and he hates how you grin at that. it was just the thing to crumble his resolve - and more specifically, it's just the thing to make him go mellow, subservient to your ministrations with his heart beating erratically - even within the scrutiny of strangers and coworkers.
" give me a warning next time." he wants to frown but the expression dies when you crane your head to make contact wherever you can reach. in reponse, an arm finds purchase on your hip, shuffling you closer until you are nuzzled up to his build.
he wasn't sure what rumors would circulate if people saw him being soft - and frankly, he couldn't bring himself to quite care much about the prospect either; inwardly, he was already missing the rehearsal of your lips on his, a desire not easily quelled and he was far more occupied with fixing that.
you let out a confused hum when he suddenly taps at your cheek indignantly. " well?" a thumb hooks beneath your chin, bringing you just shy of his mouth. "are you going to finish what you started?"
✿
when he's making kissy faces with his partner, it's nobody's business.
if you have dimples, he kisses those, each one before concluding it off with your lips
chūya just likes to be in contact with you in some way really. longing to hold your hand and scribe incoherent phrases on the palm. reflected in the way his feet nudge closer to yours and how he never fails to hold your hand beneath the table. when handing you items, he reveals a form of reluctance when he detaches away.
i really want to say he does that thing where he places his fedora over his chest when he kisses your knuckles. he tries really hard to maintain eye contact, but it falters when you send him a beam that makes his chest ache from beating so fast.
and lastly, he never leaves without getting a goodbye kiss first.
✿
" you're forgetting something." chūya vexed— furrow brows bruising his otherwise neutral expression. he hasn't moved from where he stood, silhouette stilled by the partition with nothing but the perpetual tapping of his foot to remind you of his presence. it took all of your strength to push back your laughter at his childish display.
" i am?" you question with a tilt of your head. the inquiry rewarded you with a huff from the former, lip twisting into a frown. admittedly, he looked cute when grumpy, pretty dark eyes tracking you behind colored bangs.
" my kiss?" an index finger points to his neglected lips, promptly chooses to ignore the red hue that harbored along his cheeks, tickling his forehead tauntingly.
chūya tracks your movements as you stride forward, cupping his cheeks within your palms. he resists the urge to close the distance himself - as alluring as it was - he sought out satisfaction when you comply with a genlte kiss. against his own volition, a breathy and likewise dreamy sigh leaves him, just barely audible by the exchange.
his hands sneak down to rest on your waist, twitching when you press a final peck to his cheek. promptly, you decide not to comment on the way a grin was threatening to crack on his oh so serious face.
" better?"
"very."
-
—RANPO
yk in the movies where the guy picks up the girl and spins her around when they kiss? ranpo wants you to do that with him but he's the girl.
piggyback rides ! except he's the one on your back :/ " to the detective agency, y/n!" he jabs out a lithe finger, his dimple smile steady even when you meet him with a glare over your shoulder. it makes him more eager than anything, face squishing against your cheek as he loops his legs around your waist.
" don't give me that look" he exasperates, a brow quirk at your nonverbal response. " the world's greatest detective can't be in better hands."
" you can get there yourself," you sigh, averting your gaze back in front of you. it was hard to fight against him, his persistence shaping your decision the longer he clinged to you.
" thats the boring alternative. duh," he breathes, nuzzling his cheek against your hair. " you know me better than that. besides, i like it when you hold me."
likes kissing you. he will rope up any excuse to steal a kiss. he finished a piece of paperwork? he deserves a reward. finished eating a cookie? kiss the crumbs off. you have absolutely nothing else to do? well, his lips are right there, give him a smooch <3
his kisses taste sweet, the faint traces of chocolate and jams coating his lips. it won't be too far from him to make you guess the flavor of cake he had that morning, but really you think he's just trying to pull more kisses from you. cause he is
✿
" tastes sweet." ranpo shudders when the words vibrate against his lips, cheeks deepening to a rosy hue but the playful glint in his eye ceases to falter. " banana or strawberry?" you blink, a pensive look comprising your features.
a hand cups the back of your head, bringing you close enough for your lips to hover his, still glossy in faint syrup. " nope~!" his proceeding laugh was cut short as he closed the distance again, the ache to kiss you too profound. and with you seated on his lap, he utilized the given opportunity greedily.
you resist the urge to gasp when his tongue swipes along your lower lip, with it the tinge of a fleeting flavor; you recall watching him eat something sweet and sugary in the morning.
he smiles against your mouth, savoring your reactions and attempting to draw out the kiss. " that's definitely strawberry," you contemplate.
ranpo whines when you withdraw, grip tightening against your hands in a stubborn display - it was perhaps the most desperate response you've gotten from him that evening. " are you lying?" you tease with a knowing look; you don't think you've ever seen him shake his head as vigorously as he did now.
" i think," he brushes the corners of your mouth, fingers settling against your chin. "you'll just have to kiss me until you get it right."
the possibility to ponder a response was stolen from you, swelling lips already chasing your own with renewed zeal. dumbfounded, you were naive to the abandoned slice of shortcake just a couple tables away. but by the time you discover it, your little game would be long forgotten.
✿
his childish demeanor often seeps through into his portrayal of affection, fond of sweeping you off your feet at the displays(and at times quite literally too)
it varies in forms; one day he can slump against you like a koala, grip like a vice. and the next he decides to randomly squish your cheeks and bring a kiss to your puckered lips
" ranpo-?!" you sputter, disoriented from sudden and hasty movement. you recall looking over some documents, the next you were gazing into wide green orbs and a nose bumping yours. a self-satisfied look curls on his face, relishing in the way your face fumes beneath his touch.
" surprise~"
" what was that for?"
" just wanted a kiss." he evades the hand on your cheek in favor of curling your bangs around his finger. " i'll come back for more."
he's shameless, unafraid and bold. perhaps not to a similar depth as dazai, but ranpo yields an unpredictability that easily leaves you mellowing in his ministrations
blows raspberries on your cheeks and palms just to coax a laugh from you. it's a reaction he can't help but mimic too and implores you with a "my turn!" while tapping his cheek expectantly.
has probably nibbled on your cheeks at some point too…. :/
likes to hold your hand, slipping it into space randomly and nonchalantly. he sticky like that; appearing from thin air and finding your hand trapped with his.
even better if you sit on his lap or vice versa
when you sleep, he lays on top of you because he doesn't want you to leave him alone. plus! it provides him the perfect advantage to pepper his lips on your collarbone or other patches of expose skin
goodnight kisses (and nap kisses) are a must and he turns greatly fussy when denied such "necessities" as he puts it
✿
" i'm only going to get a glass of water," you reassure him, sweeping his messy bangs aside to press a kiss to his forehead. the crease between his brows goes slack, but his grip remains fixed; it was late, and the last thing ranpo wanted was for you to leave your spot on the futon. " i promise."
his eyes surveyed your face for an inexplicable answer and the fidgeting of his fingers against your forearms tells you he's hesitant.
a silence shrouds the dorm before he speaks again, voice weakened and resigned - it almost made you want to stay in bed with him, enveloped by the unspoken words and his endless aura of affection. " okay." you trace your finger over his cheek, pallid and smooth beneath the pad - the gesture was persuasive enough for his grip to grow lax. he didn't let you get too far yet however, an outstretched pinky waiting before you. he bestows you a broaden grin when you accept it, pressing a kiss to the tip of the adjoin digits.
he doesn't leave your side even as you fix yourself a glass of water, your shared blanket haphazardly draping his shoulders and trailing behind him. he lingers by your arm even as the facet runs, interrupting his thoughts with tired green blinking in impatience. and he watches you through his bangs as you replenish your thirst, already looping your arm and guiding you back to your futon.
not a second after your head meets the pillow, ranpo wraps himself around you, dawning a smile now that you're back with him. he didn't care if his elbow was probed at an odd angle, he just wanted to be as close to you as possible.
" you can't fall asleep yet!" he whines, pulling on the sleeves of your shirt languidly. " it's only fair if you give me a kiss."
" i gave you one earlier."
his gaze shifted to a mixture of displeasure and yearning, small hands pulling eagerly on the fabrics of your clothes. his pleading green eyes made it hard to resist his demands, obscuring into a candid vulnerability you seemingly wielded over him.
" but," ranpo leans close enough for his nose to brush yours, messy fringe framing his sleepy face. his hands flex around your palms, nails scuff on the contours, voice going so low you almost didn't hear him. " i can't fall asleep without it."
✿
pinches your cheeks when in vie for your attention. in any case, he isn't against stomping his foot and whining as a last resort :<
his pout dissipates when you grant him with a collection of kisses or allow him to sit on your lap, fiddling with the ends of your hair or scribbling random phrases on your thigh that he makes you guess
i wouldn't put it against him to randomly jump into your arms or back. the questioning glances he receives hardly impedes him, instead murmuring an "i miss you," into your shoulder. he quivers in your arms when you comb your fingers through his hair, eyes squeezed shut in an air of bliss.
when it comes to deep embraces, he nestles against you akin to a cat, hands pawing wherever he can reach with greedy intent. and that cloak of his can easily encompass the pair of you, performing as a makeshift den of sorts. it feels like your enclosed own little world with him pressing kisses along your face like a butterfly
ranpo is attentive, all too familiar with your habits including the ones you don't cognitively account for. he notes the way you fidget with your fingers, and increasingly it came to be with his fingers you grew fidgety with. if you have a habit of tugging your sleeve, it's not your sleeve you're tugging on anymore but his instead.
he comes to recognize these patterns and responds in kind either with a squeeze to your clasped hand or tapping against your skin in a form of code.
has love hearts in his eyes when you offer to feed him. if he's feeling kind, he'll reciprocate the gesture, though, often at the expense of getting something he wants.
napkins are overrated, kissing off the crumbs or using his thumb are so much more favorable alternatives to him
" say ah~"
you cocked a brow as sugar became smeared on your lip - hardly helped by the titter coming from him. ranpo's persistence was tenacious and the myriad of his treats proved to be bottomless. you weren't sure how many treats you've been fed at that point but it's evident the former found enjoyment from the coddling as evidence of his dimpled smile.
ranpo offers you another confection, a velvety cookie glazed in congealed frosting. when you indulgently take a bite, the filling melts in your mouth and the taste of vanilla floods your taste buds.
" it's good right?" he gives you a smile as he observes your face, brightening when you react positively. " i got them just for you. i knew they were your favorite."
he suddenly pauses, eyes fixating toward your direction. he pays little heed to the look you send him, not when his gaze centers south; that should have been your first sign to up and leave - you want to blame his bribery of treats for your reason to stay.
" you got crumbs all over your face," he said, eyes squinting. while his tone was gentle with a trace of mirth, the way his eyelashes batted innocently at you alluded otherwise. ranpo always held a resurgent glimmer in his eyes, one that he couldn't blink away easily.
he hastily stops you before you could grab a napkin to dapple it away, residing to instead run his thumb along the corners of your mouth. the deliberate proximity catches you off guard and given how his lips shift into a faint smirk; that was exactly the reaction he was hoping to coax.
" much better," he leans back but not without pressing a peck to your nose first.
he plucks out another cookie - and much to your surprise doesn't eat it down right away. more accurately, he crudely cracks it half, revealing an abundance of sugary filling hidden within the confines. without a hint of hesitation, he dips a finger into the cream frosting and messily swatches it against his mouth.
his dimpled smile doesn't leave him for a second even as he slots in front of you directly. his pink cheeks and light stutter chipped away at his facade but his green eyes and lips pulled into a firm beam remained confident.
you almost detested the way it was infectious otherwise you would have rolled your eyes.
ranpo reached out to cup your cheeks, waiting. " it's only fair you do it back, okay?"
-
—ATSUSHI
he holds a lot of hesitation when it comes to enacting anything physical and it shows.
modest, never performing any actions without your explicit consent. even so he exercises slow movement and allows you the opportunity to withdraw if you so desire.
he follows you around a lot though, seeking comfort from being your presence
it shows in the way he inches himself closer to you when you're in the general vicinity. in the way he glances at you for confirmation before lacing fingers. in the way he scoots his chair to close just so his thigh is just slightly nudging yours.
he questions how you're able to be so composed even with something as minimal as brushing clothed skin because inwardly he's going abrack and he can't focus on anything else
" atsushi are you listening to what i'm saying?" your voice broke him from his stupor, head perking up
in the following moment he could do nothing more than let out a nervous laugh, eyes fluttering in companion of scarlet cheeks. " ye- i… erm.. can you repeat that please?"
actually him -> (〃´𓎟`〃)
his favorite physical attributes about you are your hands, i think! they're so strong, and it fits into his perfectly <3 he can spend an hour just tracing the lines along your palm and appreciating the details
as such he's a hand holder as well. he shyly links his pinky with yours before gradually lacing the rest of the digits. when he looks at the joined limbs, it's like a shot of comfort runs right through him.
✿
you often catch him peering at you in the corner of his eyes, mosaic of yellows and purples squinting in intrigue. presently, his hands go clammy, fidgeting against his pants at a random manner; it was a common gesture of his, one that didn't go by unnoticed by you.
" something wrong?" he eases up a bit at the sound of your sincere tone.
" no, not at all," he gives off a nervous laugh, hand scratching the back of his neck. too far into his nerves, he failed to to recognize how the area became chafed. " i was just wondering," he paused, lips shaped into a bashful smile. " can i… hold your hand?"
atsushi didn’t have a mirror on him but he doesn't doubt that his face can put tomatoes to shame.
fortunately, the stiffened muscles on his back go slack at the giggle you release, a nervous chuckle pouring from himself. the erratic beat of his heart meanwhile, resumed its ricochet against his sternum, blood pounding on the lobe of his ear.
"you don't have to be so hesitant about holding my hand, 'sushi." you accentuated the statement by dipping your palm to take his.
it's evident he takes your words to heart, as next time he wordlessly hooks his index finger with yours before properly weaving the rest of the appendage. it was like a perfect puzzle, he reckoned and he gave his head the faintest tilt to gaze at it.
without realizing it, he rolls his thumb over the knuckles, savoring the exchange and the sensation of your fingertips on his. you haven't even spoken a word and already, his heart fills immensely full.
and if you pay attention, you may even catch him grinning at the presumably courageous gesture he mustered himself to do. his clammy palms tell you he's nervous, but it's hard to resist him when he's genuinely trying so hard.
✿
when he does garner the confidence however, he holds his hand out for everything; helping you out of the car(princess treatment w him tbh!), guiding you to bed when you're really sleepy, or when he just needs to be in some form of contact with you. he may even take it a step and pepper some kisses on the knuckles or rub the joints
moving his hand along your back when you're having a bad day of sorts. he may even resort to drawing shapes or random designs with the back of his nail as he listens to all your troubles
whenever your face scrunches up he kisses the pinched muscle until it goes loose again.
" there's that smile." he pushes aside his diffidence for your sake, cupping your cheeks before pressing kisses along your cheeks.
for himself, he finds a sort of reprieve by lying down on your lap. the moment his head makes contact with your thighs is like instant relaxation for him.
and all he can pay attention to afterwards is the sensation tickling his ribs and the way you mindfully took his roots within your fingers.
he seeks stability in such actions; his deep exhale occupying your dorm and meandering with the dust particles that float around him. he doesn't even realize how he's nuzzling closer into your body, eyes squeezing shut when you favor his scalp for a few seconds.
if he could purr, he would
kissing the tips of your fingers and hugging you from behind ♡
its the best form of affection he could ask for when he comes home groggy and sore from work
✿
" i'm home." exhaustion claws at his voice, movements stiff and sluggish as he strips of his tie and other accessories. his eyes surveyed the area, searching until…
a pop of familiar hues sweep into his vision. it revitalizes just enough energy to sustain a pair of open eyes, belied to the fatigue housed prior.
" welcome home, 'sushi." you greet with a smile he couldn't help but mimic even as the muscles in his body disagreed with it.
your mouth moves to mumble something else, but the words become intelligible to his ears. he was more far more concerned in slumping into the crevice of your shoulder, head falling into familiar position.
" miss you," he murmurs, rubbing his cheek against you, affectionate as ever. his hands wander down to your waist, finding the hemline. perhaps his growing daze subdued his rationality, for his hands slipped beneath, pinky faintly hitting skin.
" let's go." you gently tugged on his arm, intending to guide him to your futon; you only managed a couple steps before his grip went firm. almost uncharacteristically. when you turn your head, your met with a pair of fluttering lashes gazing at you - droopy but in its reflection was an intangible touch of fondness.
" this is fine," he brushes his lips to your cheek. the gesture was sloppy but enough to rekindle a grin on your face. " just want you here."
his finger sprawled against your stomach, heart hastening when you leaned back into him. he took the opportunity to douse himself in your comfort, relishing when you brush your fingers past his ear and scratch along his head.
he feels himself sink more when your nail caught a certain spot, just lateral to his head.
if it weren't for your voice breaking the silence, he would have surely fallen asleep at that moment.
" i'm right here," you murmur. " go ahead and rest." he wasn't sure how those words could weigh heavily on him as it did and also provide him the lull to drift off to sleep. but it didn't matter. the real thing is so much better than he can ever imagine.
✿
when you cuddle together, he prefers to settle with his hand or head where your heart should be. the thumping is so reassuring, especially when his insecurities pipe up. he needs to know you're still there :(
on the days he can't sleep, he finds himself playing with your fingers: gently flexing the joints and counting the knuckles
he's docile at anything routley intimate; fuming a pair of uncomfortably hot cheeks and legs reduced to jelly. his words often come in the form of stutters and slurred syllables, the slightest of touches jolting him.
his actual kisses though are gentle and considerate, favoring areas such as your hands and cheeks.
in contrast, the drawn-out gestures are hesitant at first. when it came to the first kiss, he had to swallow down his nervousness.
" did i do okay?" he inquires, eyeing your countenance. he feels a crash of relief when a grin curves on your lips and in turn he flashes you a dazzling amiable smile.
"good." he nods at that, removing the space again with the intentions of lengthening it and making it better than the last. good was fine, but he wants perfect when it came to you
when atsushi gets a taste of what physical affection can be like; pecks at his face, squeezing your hand and spooning you close - he's hooked. and he wants more, becoming akin to an insatiable pit. and it's profound.
he yearns for more kisses and lingering embraces that set his nerves aflame. he yearns to be closer to you until it was just impossible.
it also spurs a part of him(and in consequence of his ability as well) a yearning to leave some markings along your skin. he tries to be considerate in where he places it, but he himself is awful at hiding his own blemishes.
✿
a shaky expression drops on his face, the faint pink on his cheeks deepening to a cherry blush. he wasn't familiar to having your lips press beneath his chin, outlining the thrum of his throat - you could feel it's cadence whenever he sharply exhales, in pair of his palpitating heart.
even within his daze, atsushi remained cautious to not sink his nails into your shoulders. in comparison, he fails to suppress his shudder when your lips brush against a particular spot, air knocked from his chest.
when you glance up at him, his face contorts into a form of raw desperation, tugging onto your clothes until you were just shy of his mouth. meekly, he tries to not linger his gaze on your lips as you spoke; " is this fine?"
it's like you're teasing him, puffy magenta lips gawking at him and he wants nothing more than to kiss you again.
" it is." from the corner of his eye he could make out the faint reds that probed from his clothes hemline, dotting along his collarbone like swatches of paint. he doesn't think he'll ever grow use to it, filling him with an exhilaration he reasons can't be replicated elsewhere.
" i like it actually." his eyes squeezed shut in an effort to steady the eruption of red on his cheeks but it did little to quell his racing heart when you cupped his face, pressing a kiss to his mouth.
" i'm glad, you look handsome like this."
his smile reaches his eyes. "you look pretty too." his nails dug into his palms in an effort of restraint as he returns the gesture in kind.
-
I was originally hoping to include fyodor but this was so long already. w/ him (& unfinished) it would be 8k words. I rlly want to do version for sigma and akutagawa too. ty boxing fyodor anon 4 enabling my behavior TwT
these have so much room for improvement but I've fiddled around with it sm (๑′°︿°๑). if this doesn't leave the drafts now, it never will. I'll fix mistakes laterrr
ılıılı enemies to lovers with atsushi nakajima
request by: anon
at first, atsushi doesn’t trust you. you’re too sharp-tongued, too confident, too willing to blur lines he refuses to cross. even if you're technically on the same side, your past affiliations - or your ability to go too far in the name of justice - make his skin crawl.
and yet… he sees you risk your life. again and again. not for glory, but for the innocent. it shakes something loose in him. “you don’t act like a good person,” he admits one day, “but you do good things. why?” there’s no accusation in his voice, only raw curiosity.
the first real moment of closeness is after a mission gone wrong. you’re injured. bleeding. he’s panicking. his beast beneath the moonlight pulses at the edges of his vision - but not out of rage. out of fear of losing you. and when you sarcastically mutter, “didn’t know you cared, weretiger,” he snaps back, “i do. that’s the problem.”
he’s awkward about feelings. he doesn’t flirt, he doesn’t tease, he deflects. but his care is relentless: bandaging your wounds, arguing when you try to fight injured, watching your back with a protective ferocity he doesn't quite understand himself. he doesn’t say “i like you,” but you feel it when he shields you with his own body.
he tries to deny the attraction. to atsushi, falling for someone like you - someone who challenges him, who used to fight against him - feels wrong. “people like me… don’t get to have people like you,” he whispers once, believing the same lies the orphanage beat into him.
but you crack his shell. slowly. patiently. you praise his resolve, his strength, and his kindness - but you also call him out when he devalues himself. “stop apologizing for breathing, atsushi. you’re allowed to want things. even me.” and the look in his eyes when you say it? pure devastation. and awe.
the first kiss happens when one of you almost dies. predictably. he’s trembling, blood on his hands, and when you pull him into you and press your lips to his, it’s not passionate - it’s relief. his eyes go wide. his breath catches. and then he melts into it like he’s been waiting his entire life for this one small mercy.
dazai teases him mercilessly. “atsushi-kun~ falling for someone morally grey? how deliciously tragic.” he blushes. yells. denies it. you don’t say anything - just sling your arm around his shoulder and smirk. he glares at you, but never pulls away.
he’s protective in a way that doesn’t smother. he trusts you. respects you. but if someone draws a weapon near you, his tiger form lashes out first - instinct before thought. you’re his moral opposite in many ways, but that only makes his loyalty to you stronger. you’ve seen the worst in each other - and chosen to stay anyway.
you’re the first person to ever make him feel like he’s not a monster. not a burden. not a weapon. just a man, worthy of love. and atsushi? he doesn’t fall easily. but when he does, he falls completely. his hands tremble the first time he whispers, “i love you.” but his eyes? unshakably certain.
Synopsis: This is an Atsushi x Reader drabble that will focus on insecurities with stretch marks. I’ve tried to make this as gender-neutral as possible, but I do understand if it’s not something everyone has experienced. This writing has a ~2.3k word count.
Warnings: Not really any. Self doubts, insecurities, but it's all pure fluff.
Overall, I hope you enjoy!
Masterlist
Lately, you had noticed that Atsushi had picked up a new habit. The touchy kind, to be exact. Frankly, you weren’t too sure what had brought it on to begin with, but, every time, you grew more and more curious.
It usually would start up during the night, when you had both settled in bed to wind down. You would usually be wrapped up snugly in plush covers and soft pajamas, like a caterpillar to a cocoon. Messing around on your phone, you found yourself not really paying attention to the young man behind you--who busied himself with his own fidgeting .
That night was no different.
Aside from the small fan whirring in the corner, it was otherwise quiet in the dim room. The only lights consisted of the one on your side of the bed--whose warm light provided a cozy atmosphere--and the gentle slice of moonlight peeking through the curtains. Shifting slightly, as you scrolled mindlessly on your device, you barely noticed your shirt riding up to bunch the fabric along your waist. And, as if the starting flag had been dropped, the touches immediately started.
A light ghosting of fingers--and soothing, careful traces--moved along your hip and steadily worked its way closer to your back. Gentle fingers drawing a pattern it seemed only he could see.
Was that soft humming you were hearing?
Now, growing used to this from the past few nights, you’d have normally shrugged it off, believing it to be a sort of grounding technique for his busy mind. Truthfully, maybe it was, but you were too curious for your own good about this.
As his touch jumped slightly to trace along your back, you took that as your chance. Whipping around suddenly, he was caught off-guard by your movement, eyes wide with surprise. Glancing down, you noticed his hand was hovering in the air--stilled in their tracks from where they had been studying your skin.
“Find something interesting back there, Atsushi? You’ve been obsessing over something for days now, and I’m getting a little concerned.” Your voice held a playful lilt, clearly trying to seem teasing. But, the underlying message of confusion shone through the invisible lines:
Just what had you found to mess with now, you curious kitty?
Searching his expression, you watched as he withdrew his hand with a speed like even he didn't realize what he was doing, as if he had been in some trance. Maybe he was, by the way his pupils shrank from where they had been blown in concentration. As if it had become such a force of habit that his mind was essentially shut off temporarily, like some kind of trance.
“W-Well, I….um…” You could audibly hear as he gulped nervously, picking nervously at the cuticles of his nails. A nervous habit of his that you had been helping him curb. Noticing your gaze, he quickly busied his hands by wringing the top sheet between them instead.
His attention became split between your questioning gaze and the (suddenly) interesting wall behind you. Stumbling over his explanation, he began to fidget more and more, squeezing and tugging at the fabric of the sheet. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to be questioned about this. So then…what wasn’t he telling you?
Was this another one of his dissociative episodes? It wasn’t unusual for him to find a way to keep his mind from sinking too far through fidgeting. Maybe, you had just been the closest, and most effective, way to keep himself down to Earth.
After some agonizingly long minutes of silence, it seemed he had finally gathered the elusive words he was searching for. Turning his gaze back to you, his dilated, dual colored eyes stared back at you. The bright magenta mixing with sunny yellow--a dusk sky that you could find anytime. His expression wasn’t that different from that of a kid who had been caught with their hand in the forbidden cookie jar.
Guilty and incredibly embarrassed.
His voice was soft when he finally muttered, “I noticed these marks on your skin, and they…well…,” Looking down, the mutter turned to a soft whisper, “..They reminded me of my tiger stripes, i-in a way.”
As he spoke, his eyes drifted from yours and settled on the still exposed skin of your hip. Then, they quickly turned to the wall behind you. A light dusting of pink settled along his cheeks, rising steadily to the tips of his ears and spreading down his neck. Embarrassment was written clearly along his face, as if he felt unsure about his own words--or, suddenly unsure about such a comparison.
“I mean – they don’t have to if you don’t want them to. Sorry, I know that sounds weird…or stupid.” Sucking a sharp breath between his teeth, he cut off his rambling. Teetering dangerously between embarrassed and trying not to make a fool of himself, he kept his gaze downward.
He wasn’t really succeeding in that last one, but you wouldn’t tell him that.
Instead, you found yourself mumbling, dumbfounded, “My Stretch Marks?”
That’s what he had found so fascinating these past nights? Drawn, curiously, to the discolored stripes along your skin, like a bee to honey? Those simple blemishes had drawn that much attention from him? Huh…
Wait a minute…did he just say they reminded him of his tiger stripes?
You found yourself completely stunned. All that came from your mouth was a soft, “Atsushi…I…”
But, looking at him, what could you honestly tell him? You couldn’t spill that you hated seeing those marks every time you looked in the mirror. Those little stripes of skin made you want to cover them for the rest of your life--to never have to gaze at them again. For that, you would have given just about anything. They were nothing to the strength his real stripes resembled, not even close .
No, you couldn’t possibly tell him that, but you couldn’t exactly hide it either. Not as his head tilted slightly, eyes too calculating for their own good. That cat’s eye slit focused intently on your expression, as if he could peer into your very mind--and and all thoughts unhidden. He always had that quiet observation to him, you noticed. A 6th sense, When he could just sense that he had said something that maybe he shouldn’t. Tiger senses or not, he was hauntingly intuitive.
So, with a heavy sigh, you understood that you wouldn’t be able to hide it for long. Sooner or later, the truth would come out.
“It’s not stupid to say that, Atsushi. It’s….really sweet, and I know you mean well, but…,” You couldn't help but gnaw on your bottom lip. “They’re not that incredible. They’re really just marks--a natural part of the body--and not something special.” You tried to sound nonchalant, like you didn’t really worry about the fact they were a part of you--even though you refused to really accept that.
A touch along your hip brought your attention to his hand. Your eyes slowly trailed up gentle fingers, along pale skin, and up to the focused gaze of the young man in front of you. You always got a glimpse of that dead-set expression just before he went on big missions, when the gravity of a situation overpowered his more anxious, soft-spoken nature. When he had something bigger to focus on than his nervous habits and thoughts.
Apparently, you were his mission now.
As he quietly searched your expression, the very colors of his eyes almost seemed to shift--like another part of him had been pulled to the surface. His fingers continued to trace over your skin, your breath hitching in the process. Noticeably, they followed over those marks with a quiet reverence, as though he wanted to commit the feeling and softness to his memory--so that he could still feel it against his skin, even if you weren’t there.
When he spoke, his voice was calm. Like a settled pond surface, where even the smallest flower petal could cause great ripples. He seemed so calm that it briefly stilled your own raging storm of thoughts.
“Natural or not, they’re still a part of you . That’s all I need to know to know they’re incredible.” Smiling that soft--boyish--smile, his head tilted slightly. Light gray locks shifted across his face, bunching slightly on the pillow where they lay. Yet, his gaze still held to you. Those shimmering, dual-colored irises soft as they took in your features. “You’re so strong…and kind…and you care so much, even if it means putting yourself last. Sometimes, I wonder if I deserve this, deserve you .”
Shaking his head before he can send himself down a downward spiral, his hands slowly reach for yours. Calloused skin slides against your smooth palm, fingers slotting--almost puzzle perfect--between your own. Squeezing gently, he continued on, “And because you’re strong, that just means that these marks show your strength. Because they’re all a part of you. So, they can’t not be incredible to begin with.”
Staring back at him, eyes wide, you couldn’t conjure up a response. Your brain loaded and jammed, like a printer that had run out of ink mid print. Honestly, what could you even say to that? While it hadn’t single handedly soothed those thoughts (never to return), it did make you stop and think about them in a new light.
It was a bit silly, the way he had compared the two. The marks didn’t come from strength, just from living. From growing up, from growing stronger, from just growing. And yet, wasn’t that a strength in itself? To be able to live and experience these mark, to be able to live enough to learn how to appreciate them?
Wasn’t that, in itself, a strength?
It didn’t compare at all to the stripes his tiger carried. His black stripes and marks were the most synonymous with strength, with the pure power anyone would think of from a tiger. They were truly symbolic, an exceptional show of the strength and sinew of his ability -- something that simple stretch marks could never compare to.
But then again, who said they needed to compare to one another? Strength comes in many ways, after all, and, while yours may not be the same to his, it was a power nonetheless. A quiet, under-appreciated power that he had seemed to notice.
Then again, if anyone knew the strength to continue living, despite what their past may have done, it was Atsushi.
As the war raged in your mind, you looked up at him. His eyes--oh, his eyes--held a beautiful combination of gentle assurance and confidence in his words. Rarely was it a face you saw, but you knew what it meant. How could you not?
He wouldn’t have said it if he hadn't really meant it.
And maybe that’s all you really even needed. You may not love the marks yourself, but you could love them through him . Through his words, his actions, his love , you could learn to see yourself through him. Yeah, that would be enough.
Sighing as you ducked your head slightly, shoulders scrunched, you questioned softly, “You’re too good at this…”
His brows furrowed, that confident expression sinking into one of confusion. Oh it was amusing how quickly he could be caught off guard.
“Good at what?” The words pitched into a questioning tone, his head tilting slightly. What were you talking about?
Lifting your head, you glanced over his confused expression.
Did he really not know?
You couldn’t help yourself from laughing slightly, a hand flying, from your joined hands, to your mouth, unable to stop the giggles that escaped you. Meanwhile, as Atsushi watched you devolve into a fit of giggles, his face grew warm. Had he said something wrong? Did he say something stupid without knowing it? Damn it , he knew he should’ve worded it better.
Leaning in to ask what exactly what you were laughing at, his eyes widened as you lifted your head, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He was about to panic and ask what he had said wrong, only for you to laugh and wipe your eyes. Oh, those weren’t sad tears.
Maybe he wasn’t that concerned about his words after all.
Shakily catching your breath, and clearing your throat, you smiled at him.
“S-Sorry, sorry , I’m really not laughing at you . I’m just…,” A light, barely contained, chuckle leaves your lips before you shake your head. “I don’t know how you don’t realize how well you see right through me. Somehow, you always know what I’m thinking. You always know what to say. It’s as scary as it is assuring, knowing how well you can call me out.”
Leveling him with a soft look of your own, you slotted your free hand back in with his. Squeezing gently, you mumbled out, “I’ve never been confident in my stretch marks, Atsushi. My stripes , as you so eloquently put it, have always been a bane to me. An annoyance I’ve tried so hard to hide in the mirror because they felt ugly. They felt like a mark on something I wanted so badly to be perfect.”
“But…” Leaning in slowly, your noses just barely brushing, you heard his breath hitch. His eyes widened--a surprised expression looking into your calmer one. A flush settled over his face at the sudden proximity, yet he listened as you continued, not daring to move away. “Maybe, just maybe, I can try and look at it from your way. Though, I don’t think I can ever compare to your stripes.”
Taking in your words, he stilled for a moment. Then, his expression melted into a gentle admiration, eyes practically shimmering with love. It was enough for you to want to dive in and drown in it, a warm feeling enveloping you as your gazes met.
“You don’t need to compare.” Leaning in closer to close the gap, he let out a soft exhale as his forehead met yours. Eyes fluttering closed, white lashes settling against his upper cheek, he hummed. Though, you swore it was more of a purr as he finished on a gentle breath..
“Because your tiger stripes are strong, just like mine.”