tinkerleaf

[tinkerleaf]

Bad Habits

a/n: yall i pick my skin on the daily im so sick of it genre: general? comedy? idk tw: blood w/c: short m.list: here

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

you had been picking at the skin of your nails for a long time, so this hadn't been anything new to dazai.

you did it all the time, everywhere you went.

others didn't really notice it, but it drove him up the wall.

sometimes, he could even hear it from his desk, which wasn't far from yours. you know, the little clicking sound from your fingertips

he'd cringe

simply telling you to stop would be futile.

you would just continue doing it but quieter

which would be fine if you weren't already bleeding

he used to grab your hand if you were in reach, or throw something at you if you weren't.

his last straw was finding a tiny bit of blood on one of your papers (which has actually happened to me before it's kinda gross)

he knew what to do

After a frustrated sigh, Dazai stood from his desk and pulled you from yours.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm putting an end to this right now." He was dead serious.

He pulls you to Yosano's office, where you discover his terrifying plan. "No wait-" He sits you down in a chair before taking a bottle of isopropyl alcohol out of the cabinet. "Absolutely not!" You moved to leave the room, but his glare sent you back to your seat. You threw your hands up defensively. "Okay...okay."

He pours the alcohol on a cloth before completely covering the wounds on your hands in it, shooting pain all through your fingertips. You open your mouth and let out a silent scream.

When the pain finally went away, you gave him a nasty look, which didn't faze him a bit. "Are you done?"

"Maybe. Are you?"

"...Yeah." you said with a pitiful face.

after that incident, he would threaten you with hand sanitizer every time you picked at your skin.

and not the bath and body works 99% glitter stuff either

the purel type stuff

which was enough to frighten you

it took a while, but it eventually made you stop

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[tinkerleaf]

help i like ur writing so much your drabble was so good <3

Thank you sweet pea!!! Mwah mwah! <33

[tinkerleaf]

We Can't be Friends

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

a/n: been feeling emotional over chuuya lately so i finally have some motivation. yum yum genre: a little angsty, but there's a sprinkle of fluff w/c: 930 ish warnings: language pairing: chuuya/reader mainly platonic but feelings are complex m.list: here

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It is four in the morning when you stir awake. After a twist here, and a turn there, you finally lay flat on your back against the soft mattress. It was definitely one of those nights where your body dangled a whisper of sleep in your face without ever letting you catch it. 

With a defeated sigh, you decide to get up and let out a big stretch before putting your clothes on for the office. Cold feet march to the kitchen where you stare at the coffee pot, silently cursing yourself for not cleaning it like you said you would. Instead, you open the cabinet to your jar of instant espresso, making yourself a latte with the last little bits of grounds at the bottom. 

You place your now empty cup into the sink and grab your coat. You don’t walk far, it's still dark after all. Along the edge of the river was a perfect place to feed the ducks in the afternoon. For obvious reasons, you weren't there for the ducks. 

You seat yourself on the short concrete wall by the water just listening to the flowing sounds below. Letting out a deep breath, you bring your knees to your chest, holding yourself. 

Just before shutting your eyes, you hear a familiar set of footsteps behind you. As you whip your head around to find an old friend within arms length of you.

“You here to push me in?” You ask with a quirked brow.

The man in question ignores you, sitting next to you, leaning against his arms. He leaves just enough space to keep you from getting too close. 

“I didn’t know you still came here.”

“That makes two of us.” His voice is quiet.

You lay your head against your knees, your gaze on him never faltering. Tension between you and Chuuya never seemed to subside since your getaway from the Port Mafia. To him, leaving without closure was betrayal, and he held onto that feeling for a long time. 

“Quit staring.” His eyes are dark as they focus on the water in front of him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re guilty.” Silence falls back on you like a weighted blanket. 

A couple minutes pass. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply. In his mind, he’s back at his apartment all those years ago. The note he found on the desk nearly makes him sick. He sits on the floor against the closed door in dead, palpable silence. Was that all you were leaving him? Not a verbal goodbye? Not even a hug? That’s it? 

Every time he sees you it just reminds him that he failed to keep another friend. And that haunts him. 

You didn’t want to tiptoe around the subject any longer. “I had to leave while I could, Chuuya. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did.”

You swallowed hard, “I didn’t have a choice-”

“Oh come on.” He's progressively getting agitated. “I don’t give a fuck about why you ran.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “You could have at least talked to me. We could have figured something out.”

“I didn’t think you’d understand.”

He looks at you, with disbelief on his face, “You didn’t even let me try.”

You didn’t tell anyone you were going until you did. Like you were never even there to begin with. At least, that was what Chuuya forced himself to believe in order to manage his emotions. Mori said he was a better fighter without you, which made him even angrier. And the cycle continued until your name became a forbidden language in his presence. He had to let your story die.

He was right, you nodded. “I know. I’m still sorry.”

“And I still don’t forgive you.”

Ow. “That’s fair.”

Those icky feelings were beginning to bubble up to the surface and he knew he had to calm down. “You were my best friend, you know that?”

“I do.” You smile at him, “You’ll always be my best friend, Chuuya.”

He shook his head, “We’re on different sides now. We can’t be friends.”

“You don’t think so?”

Your eyes meet, “I don’t think so, doll.” He mentally cringes at your old pet name. Old habits die hard, unfortunately.

“I still love you. I never stopped.”

He freezes. Those words etch their way into his mind to slowly sink. It’s not romantic, and he knows that. But he needed to hear it. 

You don’t expect him to say it back, though he used to. You hope it'll soothe any of the burns you had made. However, that doesn’t imply you mean it any less. You love your friends, new and old. You love people with your whole heart. Even when they’re taken away for good.

He gnaws at the skin of his lip. He refuses to say anything else. If he does, everything will spill. And he just isn’t ready for that yet.

You flinch when your alarm goes off for work. You can't believe you had spent an hour and a half out there. You slide the alarm off on your phone and put it back in your coat pocket. 

“Work?”

You nod.

You open yourself back up to move off of the wall.  “Bye, Chu. I’ll see you around, okay?”

He nods.

Before you walk away, he grabs your wrist and slips his hand into yours. He isn’t facing you, but he doesn’t need to. He lightly squeezes your hand before taking his back, his own little way of saying, “I love you too.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[tinkerleaf]

Gnawing at My Enclosure

a/n: I don't wanna hear it synopsis: heavy make out session with dazai w/c: 1.0k m.list: here

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

So picture this. You are at Dazai’s apartment. You both are on his couch. You’ve been at his place tons of times-you’ve known him for a long time. There is no denying the chemistry you both have and other people see it too. You usually try not to think about it, but damn. He just looks really hot right now. He’s wearing his work shirt without the vest, an extra button unbuttoned. His coat is hanging off his kitchen table. Every now and then, he runs a hand through his hair, and you’re just dying. He’s manspreading as he talks and for some reason, you like it.

You’ve felt like this ton of times and figured your little infatuation would go away the longer you were friends with him. What were you thinking?

He turns over to look at you. And you don’t think you can hide the blush on your face. He raises a brow, “You alright, sweetheart?” He calls you that sometimes, and it infuriates you. The first time he used it, he was just being a tease. He saw how red your face went, and it just stuck. Now it’s just something he uses when you’re alone.

He can see how flustered you are, and you don’t even try to answer. Your eyes do not leave his because if you look away, he wins. He knows he has you in the palm of his hand at this point. He knows he can move you. He does it all the time.

Running his hand through his hair again, he rests the same arm on the back cushion of the couch. “You know, it’s rude to stare.” You still don’t respond to him. If you do, he’ll win. He’ll hear how stirred up you are by the falter of your voice. However, you turn towards him, mimicking his pose. His eyes are unwavering, and it feels like needles are piercing through you. You don’t know if you’re gonna win anymore.

You’re both at opposite ends of the couch, but it feels like he can reach right through you. He stands up, without removing eye contact I will add, and removes his belt, setting it aside.

You’re appalled. Disgusted at how quick that turns you on. He sees that he barely cracked that hard exterior you tried so hard to keep. He thinks it’s so cute when you try to battle with him like this.

When he sits back down, he’s closer. You are now panicking. He loves it. His arrogance pisses you off. “Are you gonna blink, or…” You curse yourself when you waver at the end.

He grins, which is even hotter, and you’re so mad. The tension is killing you.

You have had enough of this man. With a frustrated sigh, you yank him by the head and smash his lips onto yours. He’s quick to respond, giving you what you deliver. His energy doesn’t disappoint. He grabs your waist and lowers you down to the arm of the couch. He’s now on top of you, his right leg between the both of yours. His other foot is steady on the floor, keeping him balanced. His tongue slips through your mouth while you pull onto his shirt.

“Fuck,” he gasps as he releases his lips from yours until they latch onto your neck, just below your ear. He’s rough with you, and you can tell he’s needed this for a while. He’s needed you. His hand that isn’t on your waist reaches around to the back of your head, forcing you to move where he guides you. The smell of his cologne is sickening. It invades your senses and only makes you want him more.

He hears a little gasp from you when he reaches that place on your neck you love, and he keeps a mental note of it. Not without annihilating it first, of course. The bruises he leaves on your neck are going to be so visible, but you don’t even care.

He lets go of you and leans back, undoing the rest of his buttons and tossing his shirt aside. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, but it doesn’t fail to give you butterflies. What is he thinking? Because his eyes are devouring you.

He leans back down to you, one hand on your thigh while the other goes up your shirt to hold your waist. His body heat warms you, and you melt into his touch. He makes you shiver. His lips go directly back to your neck like it’s his mission to bring those noises back out of you. And of course, he succeeds.

“Can’t believe this is all it takes to make you sound like that,” he teases. It takes everything in you not to kick him. But you’re lost in the pleasure. His stupid remark only makes you whine more.

He groans into your neck, and you’re a mess. He doesn’t let up either, but he does lick a wet line from your collarbone to your ear, and you grab onto him for dear life. Your phone buzzes once, but you ignore it.

“Osamu…” You can’t help but let his name roll off your tongue when he sucks on your neck again.

His lips go right next to your ear as he toys with you. “Tell me about it, sweetheart.”

Your phone dings again, and he grabs it and turns it over, not allowing you to be distracted by anything but him.

You push back against him gently, “Wait, what if it’s important?”

“It’s not.”

“How do you know?”

His lack of response makes you roll your eyes. When your phone begins ringing, he takes it and answers it himself. “Can it wait?”

You try to reach back for it and he blocks you. “What are you doing?” You whispered.

“Bother Ranpo with it.” After going back and forth with who you assumed was Kunikida, he ended the call with a frustrated sigh.

“That murder case from last week has a new lead, and our suspect is going to be around the harbor in an hour.” He grabs his shirt and stands up. You follow suit, still in a daze. He turns to you and traces a thumb around your lips, “You’re drooling by the way.”

You still want to kick him.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

[tinkerleaf]

Monday Migraines

a/n: I have migraines every now and then that are so debilitating it pisses me off. I had one Monday, and it ruined my day. Writing this made me feel better. Keep in mind that this is how my migraines are. I know everyone is different and deals with it differently, this is just how it usually is for me. w/c: 0.7k pairing: ADA/reader genre: comfort, fluff warnings: mention of sickness/vomiting m.list: here

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

It hit you like a freight train going 738 miles per hour, carrying nothing but nails and elephants. You knew you should have taken some medicine earlier, but you figured it would get better after eating or getting some caffeine. Yet, here you are, head down on the desk. The pain is ripping through your head, and not even closing your eyes is soothing the dull ache in your skull.

In the corner of the room, Ranpo is yapping about some case he was working on last week that you can’t bring yourself to care about at the moment. Usually, you don’t mind, but right now, his voice feels like a hammer going through your head.

There’s a light tap on your desk. It makes you cringe. “Hey, you doing alright?” Atsushi quietly asks.

The noise that comes from your mouth is pitiful, and you begrudgingly raise your head. “I got a migraine…” You grab your bag from the back of your chair and dig through it, quietly whining in the process. As you look for some pain relievers, you unfortunately realize you’re all out.

“I have some ibuprofen if you need it,” Kunikida says without looking up from his computer. He opens the door to his desk diagonal to you, and hands you the bottle.

“Yeah, I gotta take something. Than-” You feel yourself gag, and you know you have to run fast before you throw up in front of the entire office. You slap a hand over your mouth and quickly jog towards the door. However, you don’t make it far before you have to grab the trashcan next to Dazai’s desk and just absolutely hurl.

Yosano quickly runs to check on you, while Dazai gently grabs your hair from behind you. He looks a little grossed out, but you can’t blame him. Kenji brings you your water bottle, which you were grateful for.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I really tried to-” Your head hurts so bad that you barely move from the floor.

“Dude, don’t apologize for being sick…” Tanizaki comments.

“I need to take something but I don’t know if I can keep it down right now.”

Yosano guides you by the arm, “Here, I’ll give you something for the nausea and you can lay down in the infirmary.”

You can’t even deny her, you feel terrible. So you follow her, and she closes the door to keep the room quiet. She turns a fan on to cool you off, as well as give you a constant sound to focus on. When you lay down, you melt into the bed. She brings some extra-strength painkillers and then places an anti-nausea tab underneath your tongue to help keep it down.

After profusely thanking her, you try to fall asleep through labored breaths. She leaves the room, telling you to let her know if you need anything. Staying as still as possible, you eventually fall asleep.

After about an hour and a half, you begin to stir to the sound of Yosano and Fukuzawa quietly talking. You raise your head, feeling a lot better.

“I apologize for waking you,” his deep voice fills the room. “Has the pain subsided any?”

You nod, “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about your assignments, they’ve already been taken care of.”

This makes you feel guilty since you would have been willing to stay behind and finish everything. “I’m sorry sir. Thank you.”

“Please don’t apologize, we’re just happy you’re doing better.” He lays a hand on your shoulder. “Go ahead and go home for the day.”

“I appreciate that, but I can do more, I promise!” “Absolutely not. Just go home and take care of yourself, alright?” He smiles.

You go back into the office to retrieve your things to leave. The others are happy to see you back in order. “You here to vomit in my trashcan again?” Dazai teases, clearly able to tell you’re well enough to bully you a little.

“Classless idiot,” Kunikda mutters behind his monitor. “Why don’t you give them a break for one day?”

“I’m kidding!”

You shake your head at their bickering, a small smile forming on your face. You pick up your things and head out of the office, happy to have such a caring group of coworkers.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

[tinkerleaf]

Tape 001 - OSAMU DAZAI

a/n: I'm excited to put this out! I've never explored this concept before so I hope it comes off as good as it does in my head. This will be the first in the series. w/c: 1.4k m.lists: face files, main m.list warnings: cursing, small depiction of violence, interrogation genre: angst? but not like super sad or anything

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

-Start of Recording

The room is pitch black before a blinding light flashes the respondent. He can’t see very well, but he doesn’t need to. He is placed in a metal chair that locks him in by his wrists and ankles. He struggles but quickly realizes he can’t move.

A cough is heard before the interviewer speaks, “Mr. Osamu Dazai, is that correct?”

“Who are you?” he questions, his eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness of the light. “Where am I?”

“My apologies. I should have introduced myself. My name is Dr. Arthur Cartwright of the TimeSpace Preservation Association. The reason you are here with me in this hypothetical space is because you are a close contact to █████ ████████, an anomaly of this timeline.”

Dazai’s lips parted at the mention of her name. “What makes you think I’d tell you anything? And that’s if I knew anything.”

Dr. Cartwright presses a button on his computer, and suddenly the light in Dazai’s face gradually changes color to a deep blue. The pupils of his eyes suddenly become dilated.

“Trying to set the mood or something?”

“Sir, I want you to tell me what happened to your mother.”

Without even realizing, Dazai responds. “She died when I was born.” His mouth is agape in shock, and he struggles once more against the straps around him. “What the hell is going on?!”

The doctor jots down a few details on his clipboard, muttering to himself. “It seems that the validity scanner works correctly.” He turns back to his current captive, “Forgive me, that was simply a test.” Dazai was so confused that he couldn’t even fathom a response. His breaths become forced. “This device will allow us to avoid any inaccuracies in your answers and extract the data we need directly from your brain without any invasive procedures.”

“As if this isn’t intrusive.”

“I understand your discomfort sir, but I’ll have you know that you will not remember any of this interaction once you leave. You are located in a space in between timelines that serves no purpose. In simpler terms, your life is on ‘pause' until your return.”

To Dazai, this feels like an odd dream. He feels almost hazy, as if he’d had a drink. However, his mind has lingered around the mention of her name from the beginning. “What are you gonna do to her?”

“We have no intentions of harming her. We just have some questions for you, and we will be on our way.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair not to answer a few questions of mine first?”

The doctor pauses but concedes. “I suppose. Go ahead.”

“You mentioned earlier that she was an…’anomaly’. What did you mean by that?”

“By standards of the TPA, she is filed as such because she remains in your timeline without any major damages to its structure.”

“So…”

“So she isn’t supposed to be there. Her timeline is number…” He flips through a few of his documents. “3142025. You are from 7925076. I’m sure you can see the issue here.”

“Does it really matter-”

“Of course it matters. When people are moved around, it destabilizes reality until it shatters. However, it hasn’t, and I’m trying to figure out why.”

Dazai stares at the stranger in front of him, his finger tapping against the cool metal. He tries to look around, but there’s nothing to look at. His ability is useless in this situation. “Then let’s get this over with.”

“Thank you for your cooperation. I’ll start simple. Who is █████ ████████?”

“She’s a member of the Armed Detective Agency.”

Scribbling is heard from the other side of the desk, “Who is she to you?”

“She’s my best friend.” His expression is blank, letting the machine mentally yank his thoughts out. “She’s also my partner at the agency.”

“How did you meet her?”

“When I was in the Port Mafia, my boss introduced me to her. He was acquainted with her father.”

The doctor pauses. “Did you ever come across her father?”

Dazai shrugs. “Here and there. Kanan wasn’t exactly important to me or my job, so we never had much interaction outside of work.”

“What was his role?”

“He was one of the five executives.”

“From my understanding, he passed away, correct?” Dazai nods.

“How?”

“He was assassinated by enemies of the of the mafia.”

His eyes narrow. “Interesting…I’ll go back to █████ ████████. What was her role in the mafia?”

“She either assisted with interrogations or trained for one of the command units, typically with Chuuya.” A look of annoyance flashes across his face.

“Chuuya Nakahara?” Dazai nods. “Why him?”

“Their abilities had similar components. While Chuuya could manipulate gravity, she was able to move things telekinetically. It made sense to put them together at the time.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Pissed.” Doctor Cartwright wonders if he has stopped breathing. He is completely still.

“Do you need a break?”

“No.” His gaze hasn’t moved from the surface of the desk since the interview began.

“Just let me know if you do.” He clears his throat. “Why would that bother you the way it did?”

He bites his lip, but it doesn't stop him from answering the question. “I didn’t want to have to share my only friend-dammit!” He was trying to fight the device.

The doctor flips through his notes. “Okay, we’re getting off topic.” He writes some things down. “Tell me more about her ability. You mentioned telekinetics.”

“Right. She’s great at picking locks with it. I’ve seen her crush someone’s windpipe when we were in a bind once, but she doesn’t really use it for that anymore…” He trails off.

“What does she usually use it for?”

“Typically, scanning for information. She’d explained it before; it’s like moving someone’s brain around to get information. Sound familiar?” His sarcastic tone doesn't faze the doctor.

“Surprisingly, yes.” More scribbles.

“It’s one of the main reasons she became an asset to the mafia, aside from her more combatative attributes.”

“Why did she leave the Port Mafia?”

“Kanan’s death really shook her up, but I couldn’t blame her for it. I had a feeling she wouldn’t last much longer afterwards.” He took a deep breath. “When it was confirmed by the boss that she was erased from the organization, I was afraid she’d hurt herself, so I kept an eye on her for a while.”

“Like…stalking her?”

The ghost of a smile formed on his face. “Not exactly. It didn’t take me long to track her down, but when I did, I was going to let her go.”

“…Right. Was that when she obtained a job at the Armed Detective Agency?”

He nodded. “About a year or so later. I joined after her a year later.”

“Why did it take you so long?”

“My reputation as the Port Mafia’s youngest executive wasn’t exactly something I could just waltz into the agency with. I went into hiding for a little while.”

“While still watching █████?”

He nods. “Not in a weird way, though.”

“I’m sure. When was the last time you saw her?”

“At work. Her desk is next to mine.”

“I guess it makes sense for your new boss to put you two together since you share a past. What was her reaction to seeing you again? After all that time, I mean.”

“She was startled at first, but she came around.”

“Came around..?”

“She gave me a really big hug, and I felt everything from the past few years just drip off of me. The Presdient called her into the office with Kunikida, and when I saw her I-I think- ” A stray tear falls down his face. “-I just felt so…fuck!”

“Let’s take a second.” Cartwright turns the light off and Dazai’s pupils go back to normal.

Dazai closes his eyes as he heaves, his stress levels exponentially high. “Is this enough for you? Is this what you wanted?”

“Hey, we’re almost done-”

“Almost? I’m getting sick of being probed.” He pushes against the restraints.

“Dammit…” Cartwright quickly powers everything back on. He stands up, leaning both hands on the table. “The quicker we get through this, the quicker you can forget this ever happened. Do you know who exactly killed Kanan ████████?”

“I already told you it-”

“That’s not true, though. Who told you it was an enemy attacker?”

“She did?”

“Then, who told her that?”

“How the fuck would I know that!?” Dazai was growing more frustrated than he already was. “Why does that even matter if this is about her?”

Dr. Cartwright slumps back down, realizing that Dazai wasn't going to give him the answers he needed. He reaches into his pocket for a pen. He points the end of it towards his face, “Thank you for your contributions, Mr. Dazai. You’re free to go. You’ll wake up exactly where you were extracted from. It’ll be as if nothing ever happened.”

With a flash, Osamu Dazai disappeared from the room.

-End of Recording

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[tinkerleaf]

Face Files - BSD Masterlist

So this is going to be something new for me to try-if i actually pull my shit together to do it. This series would consist of interviews between each character, which would reveal the story through their responses. Each interview starts the same but can go off on its own tangent. Some interviews will be more interesting than others based on the characters' relationships with the reader. The whole idea is that the interviewer needs information on the reader and is taking everyone (everyone that would even interact with the reader) aside to give their input. I still haven't figured out the nitty-gritty details, like who the interviewer is (which isn't necessarily important but wtv). One thing to note is that this series will have a female reader because he story is based on my personal daydream plot. The primary pairings are Dazai/reader, Chuuya/reader, and possibly Fyodor/reader. There's a whole lot of platonic everyone/reader in some cases, though. I really hope I do this because it sounds fun to write. If it does work, I'll try to do one for MtP as well.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Current Respondents: -Close Acquaintances Osamu Dazai Chuuya Nakahara -Armed Detective Agency Yukichi Fukuzawa Atsushi Nakajima Doppo Kunikida Ranpo Edogawa Akiko Yosano -Port Mafia Ougai Mori Koyo Ozaki Ryuunoske Akutagawa

-The Guild Unresponsive

-Decay of Angels Fyodor Dostoyevsky Unnown - "Sigma" -Japanese Government Ango Sakaguchi -Deceased Sakonosuke Oda Kanan████████

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[tinkerleaf]

Soft Nights

a/n: I don't know a whole lot about LaDS, but I do know that Caleb is my favorite. I've been seeing them everywhere lately, and I can't get enough of his storyline. I don't really understand it, but I like it. The only fics I ever see for him are smut fics, which is fine, but I need some cutesy stuff. Also, don't be mad, but I am not putting 'pipsqueak' anywhere in this. synopsis: you have a nightmare while caleb is staying over, and he comforts you the way he always does pairing: caleb/reader genre: fluff, comfort w/c: 0.4k warnings: none

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You awaken with heaving breaths, tears spilling down your face. Your warm bed is now cold from you thrashing the covers off yourself. Looking over at the digital clock on your nightstand, you see it is 1:27 in the morning. The rain outside is still tapping its fingers on the glass of your window in an almost calming manner.

At this point, going back to sleep is not an option. Honestly, you’re still shaken up a bit from your nightmare. You go back and forth with yourself as to whether or not you should go wake up Caleb. When you were kids, you’d always sneak into his room when you had a bad dream, so it would be okay now, right?

You tiptoe out of your room and through the hallway of your apartment, stopping at the door of the guest bedroom. When you turn the metal knob, you’re surprised to see him already awake, staring up at the ceiling.

He sits up when he sees you, a concerned expression forming across his face. “What’s wrong, love? Can’t sleep?” You’re silent as you step closer to the edge of the bed, still sniffling. He cups his large hand on your face, wiping away the tears still falling. “Are you okay?” You nod, but he obviously doesn’t believe it. However, instead of prying, he moves over on the bed, inviting you to join him. He’s known you long enough by now to understand what’s going on with you.

He wraps his strong arms around your body, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You bury your head in his neck. You never felt safer than when you were close to him like this.

“Do you need anything?” His sweet voice fills the silence after a few minutes. When you shake your head, he carefully eases the two of you down onto the mattress. The blanket is pulled over the two of you, and the pitter-patter of the rain gradually becomes louder.

You pull your head back to look up at him, his eyes staring into yours. “Why were you still awake?”

He placed a kiss on your forehead. “I was just thinking and lost track of time. That's all.” He had been doing a lot of that lately.

He pulled you closer to him, his hand holding the back of your head. The soothing sound of his breathing slowly lulled you to a peaceful sleep.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

[tinkerleaf]

Not-So-Fond Memories

synopsis: sometimes your old memories from the mafia come back for you. w/c: 0.6k genre: fluff, comfort, reverse comfort, angst? pairing: dazai/reader warnings: mention of firearms, dazai

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You find Osamu on the roof of the Agency’s building, sitting on the edge. You had been looking everywhere for him after he disappeared. “What are you doing up here? It’s freez-”

“Go back inside.” His tone is unusually cold, and you wonder if you’ve upset him somehow. Another gust of wind pushes through you, but you refuse to obey him without making sure he’s alright. You sit next to him without saying anything. “You never listen to me, do you?”

“What’s up?” you ask. His silence makes you feel worse, so you carefully continue. “Osamu?”

“I said go back inside. I’ll be down in a little bit.” 

You sigh. His version of ‘little bit’ never means that. You’re usually lucky if it’s an hour. “Will you at least tell me if you’re okay? I won’t press any further if that’s what you want, but-”

“Do you feel safe with me?”

You are slightly taken back by his question, as if it's completely absurd. “What?”

“Forget it.” His eyes close.

“No, wait!” You turn your body towards him, confused. However, you don't want to scare him off. “Why? Where is this coming from?”

“Just answer the question.” His eyes are dull, and it only worries you more.

“...I feel safe with you.” You're honest with him. He hadn’t looked at you once since you’ve been up there. He only nods, but you can see the storm brewing in his head. To test the waters, you lean your head against his shoulder. You two were close friends, closer than friends should be, but the action makes him stiffen. 

After an agonizingly long few minutes, he speaks again, “Why did you flinch away from me?”

It takes you a minute to realize what he’s talking about, but you remember. Earlier in the office, Atsushi brought in some evidence regarding a missing person’s case. One of the pieces included a box filled with firearms, which made you a little apprehensive. 

You didn’t have he worst memories of the Mafia compared to the others, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t leave a lasting impression on your mental health. Your current job required you to be armed with something, so you had to get over it at some point. However, when you saw Osamu lift the weapon out of the velvet box, you internally panicked. When he turned to look at you, you jumped backward unintentionally. You left the room but failed to notice him watch you leave with a concerned expression. 

“I didn’t mean to, Osamu.”

“But you did.”

You pull your knees close to your body. “Not because I’m afraid of you.” For the first time, he looks at you from the corner of his eye, allowing you to continue. “Guns still make me a little nervous.” You don't have to go too far into detail for him to understand what you mean. “It had nothing to do with you, I promise.” He nods, easing up on his closed-off demeanor. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, as if releasing the tension from his body. “Do you wanna go back downstairs or stay up here for a little while?”

“Did you bring your coat?” He asks. You shook your head. “Let’s go back down then.”

For the rest of the day, Osamu had you contributing to the case by writing up some important documents that needed to be sent in before the day was over. The idea was to keep you out of the conference room, away from the firearms. The last thing he wanted was to stress you out more, so you worked with Kunikida in the office.

Osamu would rather live than have you fear him like everyone else. 

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

[tinkerleaf]

Not a Bother

a/n: I'm gonna be so real with you guys, this is kinda ass. I haven't written anything in forever, so my writing is apparently reflecting that. I did try to motivate myself to put something out, so I'm hoping this will get me to continue and improve a bit. genre: fluff, angst if you squint warnings: cursing, mentions of possible stalker, protective dazai, etc. w/c: 750ish synopsis: fyodor might have sent a stalker after you, and you try to hide it from dazai to keep him from stressing too much

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The heat of the mug in front of you warms your hand as you sit across from Osamu at the cafe. The conversation dulls as he continues to drone on about his last mission until he notices your lack of attention on him.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You nodded, which was mostly true, but he couldn’t help but stare right through you. It felt like he was scanning you, looking for something that he knew you wouldn’t tell him.

The buzz of your phone rips you from your thoughts. You knew what it could be and refrained from looking at the message. You had been receiving cryptic texts and voicemails for a couple of days now, and you were beginning to grow paranoid. Any other time, you’d tell Osamu immediately, but ever since Fyodor came into the picture, he’s become increasingly stressed. He doesn’t always show it, but you’ve known him long enough to see right through his calm exterior. You don’t want to push something else on him to worry about, especially not for your sake.

Your phone buzzes again, and you flip it over, beginning to grow annoyed. His eyes don’t leave your face.

“Looking for something?” you inquire in annoyance, taking another sip of your coffee.

His eyes narrow when another message hits your phone. He doesn’t fail to notice you purse your lips. “Someone’s popular~.”

You sigh. “It’s probably Kunikida looking for the case files from this morning.” Another buzz. You’re silently praying it isn’t who you think it is.

“Then why don’t you answer it?”

“…I don’t want to-”

“Why not?” His gaze pierced into you. You hated how calm he was when he interrogated you. It gently reminded you of how he obtained information in the Mafia.

“I don’t answer work-related messages on break.”

“Then I guess you won’t mind me reminding him of that, right?” He fishes through his coat pocket.

You pale. “Wait, don’t-”

Another buzz. His arm shoots for your phone. You try to grab it, but you fail to reach it before he does. You don’t even try to take it back because you know you won’t succeed.

As he searches through your texts, he sees the strange number that’s been harassing you the past few days. He skims through a string of threatening words as his expression becomes more and more serious. “Who the hell is this?”

You shook your head. “Not a clue.”

He scrolls to the top to find timestamps. “You've been getting these for three days? And you just didn’t even bother to talk to me about it? Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?”

“Because I can handle my own prob-”

“Fuck off! If that were the case, this would have been handled by now!” He somewhat raised his voice, and you were happy to be the only ones in the cafe at the moment. “I swear if this is more of Fyodor’s bullshit I’m gonna lose my mind.” He scoots over to get out of the booth, your phone sinking into his pocket. “Get up.”

“What are we doing?”

“Going upstairs to see if Ranpo can trace this number down.” He looks back at you. “You’re coming with. I’m not letting you out of my sight until this guy is dead.”

You follow him through the doors and back up the stairs to the hallway just before getting to the office. Before stepping closer to the agency’s doors, you tug him by the sleeve, catching his attention.

“Wait.”

“Hm?” He quirks a brow.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

His shoulders release a bit of their tension at your words, “I know.”

“You don’t know why, though.” You sigh. “I just don’t want to bother you with stuff like this when we have plenty more to worry about right now.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not a burden to me-”

“But you’re beyond stressed out. I don’t want to do that to you.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, as if he's thinking about what you said. As if maybe the sweet tone of your voice is what has Fyodor so interested in you. Or maybe the kind look in your eyes. If he had the chance, he’d lock you away in a heartbeat just to keep the rat and his men away from you.

“I mean what I said. You’ve never been a burden to me. Ever.”

And with that, he opened the office door, ready to handle anything that put you in harm’s way.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

[tinkerleaf]

I know some of yall have seen that human nutcracker drawing from that Barbie Nutcracker movie. I don't care how long it's been since I've seen the movie. I will either FIND a fic about him, or I will MAKE ONE MYSWLF

[tinkerleaf]

WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE BSD MANGA

[tinkerleaf]

Chapter 118 spoilers!

me, on the second to last page: Okay, so that's probably Akutagawa's shoes. It's probably him. That's the only thing that would make sense.

me, on the next page: W H A T

---

I'm convulsing in my bed right now. WHAT MORE COULD HE POSSIBLY WANT?!?!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN SAVE????? DONT TRUST THAT MAN ATSUSHI GET OUT OF THERE.

I have WHIPLASH from the amount of plot twists this stupid storyline has.

[tinkerleaf]

I FJNALLY HAVE INTERNET AGAIN‼️‼️

[tinkerleaf]

I want to write a Moriarty the Patriot fic where reader gets into a plane crash and wakes up 200 years into the past. Now they have to navigate their new circumstances with some new charming yet secretive acquaintances.

The idea is THERE. Why. Can't. I. Get. Myself. To. Write it.

aaaaaAAAAAAHhhhhHHHHHHHH

Would yall wanna read something like that? It'd be pretty slow updates, but I'd try.

[tinkerleaf]

Yall have no idea how much I love fanfics where the original media is a time piece and the reader is from our time.

I also have a place in my heart for fics where the reader goes INTO the media and they're like " I know something you don't" and everything goes crazy

[tinkerleaf]

drew my fav rat