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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 10 months

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The Agency's Older Brother: or, Ranpo's Character Development

I want to talk about Ranpo and the development he goes through in the series, because for as much as Ranpo is an important member of the Agency, his story is focused on in small chunks that may not always, at first read, seem to be overly significant. In fact, Ranpo’s arc is very consistent and I’m fascinated to know where it’s building to, because he’s done a lot of growing in the series. A lot of the themes of his story are to do with responsibility and faith in others.

The Ranpo we meet at the beginning of the story is not the Ranpo we see now. The biggest change is that he’s a lot more personally involved with the struggles of the Agency members, taking it on himself to be proactive and protective, while previously he had to be pushed and bribed into helping much of the time. When did this change?

Well...

[ID: Two screenshots from a scene in Poe's introductory episode of the Bungou Stray Dogs anime. In the first screenshot, Yosano lies on the carpeted ground, an axe embedded in her chest, blood pooling around her. Ranpo is crouched beside her, supporting her shoulders with one hand and clasping her hand with the other. The second screenshot is a close up of Ranpo's distressed face. End ID.]

The thing is, it's almost easy to overlook the effect this scene had on Ranpo, because Poe’s introductory chapter/episode is such a brief one. Moreover, afterwards, Poe becomes an ally and is a bit of a silly character, so it’s easy to forget sometimes that he was a legitimate threat here - and Yosano nearly died for it. This scene was incredibly significant to Ranpo for a few notable reasons.

It’s the first time someone in the Agency was in serious trouble/died without a backup plan.

It is, unfortunately, kind of on him. (Let me be real clear here: I am not blaming Ranpo. But he probably was blaming himself and that's something to keep in mind.)

To recap: Poe pulls Ranpo into his novel out of revenge, also trapping Yosano, who went with him. Ranpo realizes that they are in a world with no abilities, and importantly, he doesn't have the glasses Fukuzawa gave him.

We know those glasses mean a lot to him. When Ranpo was at his lowest, when he was convinced the world hated him, Fukuzawa gave him those glasses and told him he had a special ability. That he had a gift that no one else did that allowed him to see the truth that no one else could. Untold Origins makes it very clear that if Fukuzawa hadn't reached out to Ranpo when he did, Ranpo may have forever been outcasted. He was a kid kept in a bubble then suddenly and rudely shoved into a world he was unprepared to cope with, where he continued to get rejected and thrown out over and over - and all this on top of the grief he felt from his parents' passing. Ranpo was bitter and terrified of people, and thought everyone was pretending to be oblivious just to hurt him. Fukuzawa saved him the only way he could, in the only way Ranpo would hear him. It's not an exaggeration to say Fukuzawa saved Ranpo's life. And, while cute, it's also telling how quickly those glasses became an intrinsic part of his identity. Only maybe twenty minutes after he first received them, he was already making little doodles of himself wearing them.

Suddenly, the glasses are gone, and Ranpo goes into a funk because he "can't activate his ability without them". Obviously, we know that isn't true, and so does Yosano. Ranpo probably, deep down, knows this too, but to admit that would be to admit the president lied to him, and to uproot the very thing that gave him the means to perceive the world in a brighter light. The reason Fukuzawa had to lie in the first place was because the truth would be to tell Ranpo that his parents lied to him, something he angrily denies could ever be the case. And now, Fukuzawa is very plainly stated to be Ranpo's adoptive father. Ranpo's parents do not lie to him. He does not want to see it - and so he doesn't. This is a recurring thing with Ranpo. For as much as he sees the truth clearly, he also chooses not to see it at times when it would be uncomfortable/go against the intuition of someone he deeply trusts and respects.

And I think it's very easy to just leave it there, and say, "Oh, Ranpo realized at the end of this chapter/episode that he didn't need the glasses, that he doesn't have an ability, and that's a key turning point" but I don't feel that's the full picture or even the focus here, especially since Ranpo still hasn't reached the point where he can properly admit it aloud, even to Yosano.

The thing is, those glasses aren't just of use to Ranpo - they have sentimental value. A heck of a lot of it, for a character who is not very sentimental. The real turning point here is that Ranpo put on Yosano's glasses in order to save her.

[ID: A screenshot of a panel from the Bungou Stray Dogs manga. Ranpo puts on a pair of glasses. His hair is blown out of his face and he wears an intense expression. End ID.]

Shortly before this, we are informed by Yosano that not only was the Agency specifically formed for Ranpo to make use of his talents, but also that it was Ranpo who invited her to join - which we later learn was a pivotal moment for her to start over after she was completely broken by her experiences in the war. And now, he is watching her bleed out because she had to take over. Because he couldn't solve it. And that, to Ranpo, is unacceptable.

But again, there's more to it. Ranpo is fundamentally a self-centered character - this is not a judgement; I actually love that about him. He's the center of the Agency, the (ostensibly) good guys of the series; a narcissistic guy with little in the way of sensitivity who wants to use his skills to help others. Not for some higher ideal, or because it's "right" necessarily, but because he's good at it, and because he's supposed to protect all the "babies" who can't solve things for themselves. I love it because it highlights a major theme of BSD, which is good as something you do rather than something you are, and also because it explains something about Ranpo himself.

See, if everyone in the world is a "baby" who needs Ranpo's assistance, then the people in the Agency are a little different. They're people hand-picked by Fukuzawa to support him, both through praise and through backup. Remember that Ranpo trusts Fukuzawa's judgement more than anything - this means that he expects the Agency members can handle themselves. So, in chapter 10, when Ranpo doesn't really care that Atsushi has been taken, citing that it's a "personal problem" and he should handle it, I really think this was some odd form of "Atsushi will be fine" and "why should I worry or do anything when I know he'll be fine". And in the past, this has been true - the Agency members always pull through. None of them, up until that point, have been in a situation that they couldn't eventually fix. Ranpo has a bubble of safety in the Agency, that basically amounts to a "villain of the week" type beat from his perspective, where troubles gets fixed up pretty quickly. All in a day's work.

But then Yosano dies in Poe's book, someone he actually had some level of responsibility for when he invited her to join his safe little circle in a world that had no place for people like them. And it's a direct result of Ranpo's refusal/inability to act.

In order to fix this, Ranpo uses Yosano's glasses. The lens he's seeing through has changed. The people in the Agency were initially "his" in that they were meant to support Ranpo, the special one "chosen" by Fukuzawa's glasses, the reason for the Agency's existence in the first place. But now the people in the Agency are "his" in that they are his to protect. He's their big brother they all look up to in a way, and as the big brother, he's got to take responsibility for their safety.

Why did this not stand out in the moment? Well, we learn something about Ranpo from Untold Origins: he's very good at pretending he's doing okay and things aren't bothering him as much as they are. He's able to hold it together up until it all comes spilling out of him during the play. Also, I do think Ranpo cares about people a good deal more than he'd have you believe. A common fanon thing about Ranpo (from what I've seen) is that he tends to forget people, which, I can see how one would come to that conclusion, but I actually think it's completely wrong. I don't think Ranpo's forgotten a single person he's accused. I don't think he's forgotten a single person he's helped.

He lied about not remembering Poe, in fact, he remembered him pretty fondly as a real challenge. He remembers the information on a person from the Special Division he was asked to look into and gave the info to Mushitarou to allow him an in. He recognizes an officer he'd helped, and it's implied he recognizes every single officer who had been present while he was working on cases in the past. Does this mean he cares about all of them? ...eh. Probably not. But it does mean that Ranpo keeps a lot of his cards close to his chest. He's disarming with his intentional childishness. And so it can be difficult for the characters and readers both to notice that events like Yosano's almost-death... actually bothered him a lot more than he let on.

Because it was his fault. Because she was his responsibility. Because he's supposed to be invincible.

And unfortunately, the story from here on out does not get any kinder to Ranpo as his safe bubble that is the Agency is repeatedly targeted in ways that are increasingly hard to repair.

Fukuzawa falls ill and nearly dies in Cannibalism arc.

A girl gets blown up and Kunikida ends up in jail because Fyodor managed to manipulate Ranpo's intel.

Mushitarou is believed to have been shot and killed trying to warn Ranpo about the Decay of Angels plan.

Taneda bleeds out from a stab wound and falls into a coma. Ranpo can do nothing but listen and cannot get him help.

The amount of times Ranpo has seen people nearly die in front of him... bro it's almost as bad as Kunikida.

Much like Kunikida having extreme faith in his lofty ideals which make him fall just that much harder when he fails to uphold them, Ranpo has practically zero self-doubt and complete and utter confidence in his abilities... so when problems arise, Ranpo is very harsh on himself. He takes the blame because he's supposed to be better than that. Because he is the one with the powerful "ability" that should never fail.

In this sense, Ranpo's position in the Agency reminds me a lot of a certain person in the Port Mafia, someone who also has a powerful skill he puts towards protecting his own, someone who also received life changing words from the boss which earned him his loyalty, and someone who would do anything to defend the only place in the world he feels secure.

I think there's definitely a reason Cannibalism arc had Ranpo and Chuuya face off, I'm just saying. Both of them ostracized and thrown out as young teens by people who should've been looking out for them. Both the instigators of that arc, proactive and desperate to protect the person they are most loyal to who changed their perspectives. They've even got the same power stance, look. :P

[ID: Two panels from the Bungou Stray Dogs manga. The first is a panel of Ranpo with the silhouette of Fyodor behind him. He is standing with his hands in his pockets, facing front with his head tilted back and to the left a little, a fierce expression on his face and his cloak billowing outwards. The second is a panel of Chuuya standing in a similar manner, arms crossed, facing front with a fierce expression as his coat billows out around him. End ID.]

Of course, there's more interesting comparisons and contrasts to be drawn between them, but I'm focusing on Ranpo in this analysis, so I think I've made my point. Chuuya is the Port Mafia's best martial artist. Ranpo is the Agency's strongest man. And that places a burden of responsibility on them that they both believe they must uphold. They're both ready and willing to do whatever it takes.

The thing is though, is that Ranpo doesn't actually have an ability. When up against someone like Chuuya, he is at a distinct disadvantage, and he knows it. "Regular people can't defeat ability users". But he's still going to come up with a way to do it anyways, and why?

[ID: A screencap from the Bungou Stray Dogs anime. The members of the Agency all stand around Ranpo, who is seated at his desk with a smile, one hand holding his cap, the other held up in a casual gesture. The image is filtered in a soft light. End ID.]

Because his friends think he's invincible.

If Ranpo wants to maintain his safe place in a world of fear, then he has to step up to defend it, and he has to get creative about it. And that's exactly what he does. Ranpo becomes steadily more active throughout the story, which is a huge change from the start, where he had to be practically bribed to help at all. I see a lot of people point out his channeling of Fyodor's tactics to secure Kunikida's release, which is definitely a dark turn for his character, but it's not the only change.

Ranpo is now choosing to place his faith in others, the first obvious instance of this being his use of Poe's novels - which was how he defeated Chuuya. Ranpo knows that he is not going to succeed against people who drastically overpower him all alone, even if he does still take things on as personal burdens. He's also far more obvious about his protectiveness, going on the rescue himself to save the Agency members, driving a car (whereas before he needed someone to take transit with him - another indication of his increased proactivity since he's now literally driving instead of being driven), and bodily shoving Atsushi out of harm's way.

It all culminates in one of my favourite Ranpo scenes where he speaks at the conference to the police, who've worked with him before, where he asks if they will think for themselves - and tells everyone gathered there that anyone can be a detective if they think for themselves and look with their own eyes (!!!). He manages to get half the police force on his side, just through his words and his logic alone! Minoura assumes he somehow knew it would all work out, because, well, it's Ranpo. Ranpo knows everything.

But...

[ID: An image from the Bungou Stray Dogs manga. Ranpo sits in the passenger seat of a car with an honest, helpless smile. End ID.]

He reveals he didn't know if his ploy would work at all. He had to trust that it would with no solid proof. He had to trust these people would use their heads and look beyond the obvious. He respects these people enough that he thinks at least some of them will make the right call.

Fourteen year old Ranpo, bitter and estranged from other people, would never. For him to have come such a long way is testament to the security that the Agency provided him with. In a way, Fukuzawa forming the Agency allowed Ranpo to "complete" his childhood in relative safety, so that when the world became hostile once again and his family destabilized, Ranpo had matured enough to meet it and defend himself and those he has a responsibility towards head on. The Agency is his family, and Ranpo cares for them enough that he puts his faith, not just in them, but in the people they put their faith in too.

[ID: A panel from the Bungou Stray Dogs manga. Ranpo is kneeling in front of Fukuchi, who is sitting backwards on his chair to face him. End ID.]

...aaaaand then Fukuchi went and ruined it. Thanks, Fukuchi.

Ranpo again chooses to put his trust in someone without proof because Fukuzawa trusts him, only for that to have gotten thrown back into his face in the worst way possible. And it's in this regard, the trust aspect, that I think we'll see Ranpo develop as the story goes on.

Will he continue to show this tentative faith in people? Or will he begin to hyper-analyze, unwilling to trust again without proof?

If this arc gets resolved decently well, I think Ranpo will have no issue brushing this off as a one-time thing. However, if what I fear might happen does and Fukuzawa doesn't make it out of this arc... Ranpo will be destabilized.

I don't know that Ranpo would go "bad" per se. He likes the other Agency members. He cares about them - that's genuine. But if Fukuzawa dies, then Ranpo may begin to take darker actions in order to keep them safe, almost overprotective and harshly logical, with little room for blind trust or risks in the name of justice or honour. It may put him at odds with Kunikida, in that Ranpo may start to develop a strong "do what's necessary" mentality, even if that may be immoral. He may regress a little into his old trust issues.

However, I really don't think Ranpo will go too far down the path of darkness, even if the worst should happen. He's a lot tougher than he seems, and he has a good support system in the Agency. I guess it remains to be seen where Ranpo's story takes him next.

Until then...

[ID: A screencap from the Bungo Stray Dogs anime. Ranpo sits in his chair in a cuter art style, having taken a bite from the pastry he has in his left hand. End ID.]

I love one good boy. :)

#ranpo's such a good character man. there's so much i couldn't cover here but he's so so good.#but anyways. ahahahahaaaa i finished it! yesssss #sorry for the. VERY. long delay on this #i'm back baby #bsd #bsd ranpo #bsd meta #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective.#storyrambles #hope i got everything. whee.

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mncxbe · 5 months

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Every girl gets her wish𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff/ official appreciation post for my fav bsd dilfs/not proofread

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂

The amber bubbles fizzed up as Dazai poured the last drop of champagne in your glass. "Don't drink yet we've still got a few minutes left until midnight" announced the brunette, earning a nod from you.

Holding the stem of the glass between your middle and ring finger, crystal bowl resting in the palm of your hand, you made your way to the back of the terrace leaning against the ivy covered brick wall. It was a pretty location the president rented for the new year's eve party; golden lights, cozy wooden tables and cushy sofas and most importantly unlimited food and drinks.

You've already had your fair share of cocktails and shots and your body felt warm, cheeks lightly flushed, mind hazy. Your gaze instinctively sought the familiar head of silvery hair and found it on the other side of the terrace. Fukuzawa was leaning against the railing talking, as per usual, to Ranpo. The longer strands of his hair fell down the black lapel of his suit, bangs framing the sharp lines of his features. Fuck, he looked so handsome in this light.

As if reading your thoughts Ranpo's head snapped in your direction, giving you a mischevious smile. He knew of your crush on your boss, of course he knew and it didn't help your situation at all. Just then, the older man turned his head to face you and you smiled weakly, waving at them. You were about to die of embarassment when you realised how much you were blushing. Fuck your low alcohol tolerance and the stupid feelings that took over you whenever you saw him.

And then you saw him walk in your direction; clearing your throat, you gave him your sweetest smile.

"Good evening, Y/N. Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked casually, leaning on the wall beside you.

"Yes, boss, very much. I love this place it's... very lovely" you babbled out, hurriendly taking a sip of your drink to drown your rapid heartbeat.

"I'm glad to hear that" he smiled, oh that rare, genuine smile that made you weak in the knees. You didn't know what else to say so you simply nodded, biting down on your glossy lip as you looked at your glass. Waiting for him to leave. But he didn't. Fukuzawa remained by your side, taking occasional sips from his own drink and checking his clock. The silence was starting to feel awkward and you damned yourself for acting so silly. 'Come on, girl, you got this just say something' was the best encouragement you could come up with. Taking in a deep breath you opened your mouth but before you got the chance to speak Fukuzawa leaned closer to you.

"You're a remarkable woman, Y/N. I hope you know that." he said softly. In the background you could already hear the thrilled voices of your colleagues doing the countdown. 10...9...8 "Would you maybe consider allowing me to..." he continued, his voice trailing off as he traced the contour of your cheery-wine coloured lips with his thumb, making your heart skip a beat.

7...6...5. You nodded eagerly, swallowing down every last shred doubt and looked up at him, meeting his warm gaze. 4...3...2. He smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer, his deep, vanilla tinged scent making your knees weak. And then he did it. When the clock struck midnight he kissed you, a soft kiss that seemed almost innocent if it hadn't been for the fierce, posessive grip he had on your hip.

When you eventually pulled away you couldn't help but smile. Leaning against one another, the two of you shared the usual Happy new years right before you gazed over Fukuzawa's shoulder, eyes landing on Ranpo who gave you a thumbs up, grinning. The blush immediately returned to your face and you hid your face in the man's shoulder, praying that no one else saw the kiss you two shared. plot twist later in the evening Ranpo spread the news.

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊

You knew that working for the Hunting Dogs was going to be quite a demanding job but you never expected to be called in for a mission on New Year's Eve. Still, at 9 in the evening the captain sent you a quick text asking to accompany him on a mission. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I can't reach the others. I expect you to be at the warehouses in 30." was all the explanations you were given before you hastly put on your uniform and left your apartment.

It was almost midnight when you were done and due to the late hour no cabs were available, leaving you with no hope of getting back home to your friends.

"What a bummer..." you mumbled under your breath, leaning against the metal railing that lined the frothy shore. The metallic smell of fireworks and cheap firecrackers filled the chilly winter air.

"It can't be helped sometimes, when duty calls we answer" said your superior in his usual condescending tone, standing by your side. He lazily procured a cigarette from a crumpled pack in the pocket of his jacket and lit it before checking the time. "Three more minutes 'till midnight. I guess you're stuck with me tonight"

You simply nodded in response, humming a disinterested mhm. Frankly, you couldn't care less who you spent new year's eve with; it was just another night of the year. But having to sit outside in the crisp December air, watching happy couples cooing at each other and sharing kisses wasn't exactly ideal. You thought of your friends; bundled up on your balcony getting ready to open the bottle of champagne you spent a quarter of your salary on and couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy.

You were too lost in thought to notice when the clock struck midnight. As if on que the sky erupted in bright neon colours; ruby red, champagne gold and shades of blue painting the blackness above. The few couples nearby began kissing, each person giving their partner a lovesick grin that made your stomach churn. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't you have that too?

"What's with that pouty face?" Fukuchi asked casually, his gaze landing on the couple seated on the bench in front of you. "Ah I see how it is. You want your midnight kiss, right?"

Before you could answer he cupped your jaw with a gloved hand making you face him as he leaned in "I believe I can help with that"

Despite how cold you were heat bloomed in your abdomen, a rosy blush tinting your cheeks. "No need sir I'm fine really~" you stammered, trying to look at anything else beside him.

"Nonsense, sweetheart. You're already stuck out here because of me. It's the least I can do." he chuckled, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. You couldn't deny how tempting the offer was. After all, you did develop a little crush on your boss during the few months you worked as a hunting dog. He seemed to be quite fond of you too, always taking you on missions with him, even going so far as to call you sweetheart when it was just the two of you so... maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Before you knew it you leaned in, hesitantly pressing your lips against his. His hand left your face and slid to the nape of your neck fingers entangling in your hair, giving it a gentle tug. Taking the hint you parted your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth and deepen the kiss. It was messy, a needy kiss that made your head fuzzy. He tasted just like you imagined: cigarettes and bourbon.

When he eventually pulled away his signature smirk was plastered on his face "How was that for a midnight kiss? Is my favourite girl satisfied?"

You couldn't help but smilen, that damned lovesick grin you so hated to see on other people. "Yea, I'm happy now". Taking a last drag from his cigarette he flicked the bud on the ground and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You instinctively leaned closer to him, your head coming to rest on his chest. Smiling down at you, Fukuchi gave your arm a loving squeeze "Happy new year, Y/N"

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader fluff #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs fukuzawa #fukuzawa x reader #bsd fukuzawa #fukuzawa fluff #bsd fukuchi #fukuchi x reader #fukuchi bsd #president fukuzawa

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helplesslypurple77 · 8 months

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Day 3-Fukuzawa/Reader w/ Lingerie and Wedding Night

Notes: btw the lingerie im describing is the Lorna Lace collection in white. It's super pretty you should google it. Haha lol, and i also realized halfway through writing this that this is technically a rich CEO au, jumping on the hype train i guess

I actually have a healthy relationship with my father, but like any good woman i have a weakness for sexy middle aged men

You had always known this would happen. It was the oldest daughter's duty to marry a man and carry on the family line. This was the fact that had been drilled into your head since you could walk. A girl could not inherit the daily company no, that duty went to the male children, no matter how dumb they were. And you had accepted it as well. It's not like you liked it or anything, in fact you thought the entire rule was old fashioned and doomed to fail, but there really wasn't much choice in the matter.

And you weren't too unhappy, you yourself didn't want to run the company, but your second sister deserved to, not your arrogant, lazy brothers. Second sister had worked hard all her life, was intelligent and beautiful and kind and deserved to inherit the company over the men. Everyone knew it, the servants whispered and gossip was prevalent around high society, but father refused, so intent on tradition that he doomed the company to fail. All you wanted in life was to live a comfortable life with a handsome man who treated you with respect, and maybe have a child or two.

So that's why you were here, a newlywed woman to a man twenty years your senior, sold off like cattle with no choice in the matter. You had never even seen your new husband. The marriage talks had happened without your input obviously and the ceremony was shot down by your father who, ‘didn't want to waste resources on a stuffy event like that.’ All you had were rumors, for your new husband did not like public appearances, and there were suspiciously few photos of him.

Yukichi Fukuzawa, the president of ADA corp, and a man of high social standing and wealth. He was forty-five, apparently a ‘highly upstanding person from a highly reputable background,’ and very wealthy. And also your new husband. You supposed you were lucky to ‘score’ such a highly sought after man, even if he was a lot older than you but you had at least hoped to marry a man closer to you in age. But if you were lucky he would leave you to your own devices and let you live your life happy, if a little lonely.

A knock sounded and second sister peaked her head in, sending you a smile. You relaxed, sinking back onto the soft silk of the bed you were sitting on, and shot her a nervous smile. She slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

Second sister Helena was tall, and with her long golden hair and blue eyes she could have easily been mistaken for a model. She looked nothing like you, and it made sense, given that you had different mothers. Father had sired each of his children with a different woman in an effort to create the perfect male heir. And because father was a man of high standing many women were lining up for the chance to have a child support check. And of course, he picked only the most attractive women. Second sister’s mother was a Swedish runway model, while yours had been a movie actress. Your brother's mothers were also varied, from models to actresses to intellectuals, all with stunning looks and the brains to match. Your father might be a douchebag but his theory held water, all the children of your family were stunning beauties, and all intelligent as well.

She came to sit next to you on the bed, and passed a small box in your direction with an apologetic smile. “I missed your twenty-fifth birthday sis, so here.” You shoot her a grateful thanks, fingering the box in your lap. It's small, maybe five inches and perfectly square, wrapped in colorful polka dot paper. You carefully slip the sides open, trying not to make a mess. Your sister giggles beside you.

“You wanna hear something funny?” You stop, raising an eyebrow in her direction. Whenever that line excites your sister's mouth, she's usually talking about one of two things. Boys, or the most horrific thing you can think of. You'll never forget the one time she preceded that one line by telling you most gleefully that her ex boyfriend had ‘accidentally’ gotten run over then lit on fire then drowned in the ocean. She glares balefully at your expression. “What…it's nothing bad. I met your new husband, and girl,” She pauses, wiggling her eyebrows excitedly. “He's such a dilf! I'm so happy for you!”

It's about now when you get the paper off the present, and see the pink box with black letters scrawled across it that say , ‘Agent Provocateur’ in a pretty curly font. You choke on your spit, and start coughing violently. Your sister pounds you on the back in good spirits. When you finally finish your coughing fit, you turn to her with a bemused smile on your face. “I dont no weather to hit you or hug you, Helena.” She smiles. “Open it.” She says, excitement all over her face. “I just know you're going to love it.”

You do as she instructs, and from within the crinkly tissue paper you pull the naughty treasure inside. You shake your head with a smile, if nothing else your sister has always had good taste. Its white, befitting of a wedding/birthday gift, and the small amount of fabric it possesses is a pretty floral lace. The bra is a half cup, with little white bows at the spot where the strap starts. The panties are lace as well, with a diamond pattern line of holes going all the way around, leaving the embarrassing parts uncovered. It even comes with white lace stockings, and a garter to hold them up. You shoot your sister an embarrassed smile. “Thank you Helena, they're absolutely beautiful.” She gives you a small side hug in response. “I know.” She says. “Now try them on.”

All complaints are useless against her, she uses everything from pleading to guilt tripping and at some point you just give up and do as she requests. And as you gaze on yourself in the mirror, you can really say you're glad you did. You look innocent, but also sexy and powerful and you think that if you were marrying the man you loved you would wear this gift. You feel kind of bad that it's going to stay sealed away in a box for your entire life. The bra hugs your breast perfectly, shoving them up a little to provide the perfect amount of cleavage, and the lace panties frame your butt perfectly. The stockings and garter just add the perfect bit of naughty to the otherwise innocent(as innocent as Lingerie can get) picture. Your sister pokes her head around the bathroom door, grinning as you shriek in embarrassment and yank on the silk robe she had left you. Is suspiciously short, only reaching mid thigh but it's better than nothing.

She shoves you into a chair, and gets started on your makeup. You sigh. “Why do I even need makeup, it's not like anybody is going to see me.” She tuts threateningly. “It's to complete the look. Now don't move.” She starts on your base, and for a while the only sound is her gentle humming, and the squirt of makeup products.

It's not until Helena moves onto the hair that she breaks the peaceful mood. “And did father not tell you? You're supposed to ‘consummate’ the marriage tonight.” You open your eyes abruptly with a shout of surprise. “What?” She shrugs. “I guess he didn't, well anyway he should be coming…” Helena checks her watch with a glance, as she skilfully braids white and pink ribbons into your hair. “In about two minutes!”

Even with your shrieks of protest you're not allowed to move until she finishes her hair, and by the time she does it's already too late. She sends you a smile as she picks up her purse and kisses you on the cheek. You glare. “Helena! You took so long i dont have time to change.” She opens the door and you receive a playful grin. “I know,” She says, and you have the dreadful feeling you’ve fallen into a trap. “That was the plan. Have fun big sister.” And with that, she’s gone, leaving you a nervous wreck done up in lingerie, a honey trap just waiting for a man to fall right in. You rush to the bathroom, throwing a glance at the large mirror. You must admit she did a good job, you look very pretty with pink eyeshadow and gold glitter and your hair done up a sexy half updo, but you don't want to look good. You don't want to look like you were waiting here to seduce him. Hopefully you can just explain yourself and the two of you can just sleep. Of what if he thought you were trying to seduce him and got all cocky. That would be humiliating. Your pride would be forever tarnished and your dreams of a quiet life ruined. All because of Helena and her terrible ideas!

Your (probably too dramatic) spiral of doom is interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. You take a deep breath, steady your heart and tie your bathrobe tight, and answer the door.

The sight that greets you when you open the door is surprising to say the least and you suddenly understand what your sister meant when she said he was ‘a dilf’, for the man in the hallway is, quite literally, the quintessential dilf. He is tall, and oh so handsome, with silver hair and piercing gray blue eyes surrounded by the slightest wrinkles. He clears his throat. “Are you Miss Name?”

You thank your sister for making you learn a poker face and send him a small, blank smile. “Yes, are you Mr. Fukuzawa?” Those sexy eyes scan your face, catching on the gold glitter in the corners of your eyes before he nods. “May I come in Miss?” You open the door wider and allow him in, your smile never wavering. You take your seats, sitting across from each other conveniently ignoring the bed on the other side of the room. In horror you realize the box from your sister is still sitting on the table, but a sigh of relief escapes your lips as you see the top of the box is flipped over, the incriminating lettering hidden from sight.

It's hard not to notice how unfairly sexy Fukuzawa looks in a suit, and it makes all these really inappropriate thoughts of sitting on that lap pour into your brain. But still, you do your best to uphold your smile as you speak. “I'm sorry Mr. Fukuzawa, my father unfortunately forgot to inform me that you would be coming tonight.” Your father most definitely did not forget, it's more than likely that he didn't tell you in fear that you would escape. You cursed your father out in your brain, all while maintaining that smile on your lips.

He nods. “It is alright. I didn't intend to consummate this wedding in the first place.” This is what you wanted, but for some reason you feel a little let down. Maybe he doesn't find you attractive? You sigh, he must be blind then. Or gay.

“I see.” is all you say. The room falls into an uncomfortable silence. It's almost comical how your mood has taken a dramatic turn. Not five minutes ago you were lamenting the fact that your husband might be interested, and now you were unhappy that he in fact, was not interested in you. A slight glare entered your eyes and with your mouth still curved into that small smile you made quite the threatening picture. Fukuzawa spoke again, probably fishing for things to say in an effort to make you more comfortable, because of corse he was kind and able to read the room, and of course he didnt want to fuck you.

“The weather is lovely today isn't it Miss Name?”

“I suppose.” You know you sound curt and unfriendly, and you know it's not fair of you, but you're really annoyed. Fukuzawa’s smile wavers a bit at your curt attitude, but he still smiles comfortingly at you. This only makes you angrier. How dare he be kind and handsome and rich, and not want to fuck you. Life is unfair.

$$$

Fukuzawa feels very uncomfortable right now. Because of course his new wife is a beautiful young thing who deserved someone more close to her age, of course she was upset with the plan that had been forced upon her. He most dearly wished he had been born ten years later, so he may woo her properly. He had read the report he was given of her. Miss Name was highly educated, of excellent parentage and absolutely gorgeous. She probably had a young and handsome boyfriend she wanted to marry.

If not for this whole ordeal she could have been with the man she loved, not a stuffy old man like him. It's really no wonder she’s upset. He sends her a small smile, hoping to sooth her probably injured feelings.

“I'm sorry you had to be involved in this mess Miss Name, I know this situation isn't ideal for both of us.” For some reason, her expression doesn't change at all. Her smile is still in place, but Fukuzawa can tell from her eyes that she’s upset. Her voice is curt when she responds.

“Thank you.” The temperature in the room drops a few degrees. He shivers involuntarily as the room falls back to silence, forcefully keeping his eyes away from her legs, covered in pure white lace, and the hint of a garter peeking out from under that small silk bathrobe. She didn't wear those for him for heaven sakes, she didn't even know he was coming tonight. He has no right to fantasize about what she’s wearing under that bathrobe, she may be his wife, but she will never desire him like that.

He clears his throat. “There's something I must tell you, I have an adopted son.” She perks up, the collar of her bathrobe falling a little, revealing a small strip of tantalizing white lace. The room feels too hot. “Really? How old is he?” The cold tone of her voice is melting away and Fukuzawa congratulates himself on the change of topic. “His name is Ranpo and he's five years old. Would you like to see a picture?” She nods, and Fukuzawa pulls out his phone, and shows her the lockscreen. She leans forward, and Fukuwawa is treated to a flash of white bows and lace as she coos at the photo. “He's so cute!”

Fukuzawa wonders if god hates him. Because of course his new wife is a pretty young thing who doesn't mind the fact that he has a son, and is whose collar is falling more and more, treating him to a divine temptation of white lace, and who will never love a boring older man like him. He wonders why the hell he's acting like a young man with these dirty thoughts, and takes a deep breath as she hands his phone back. The ice on her face has melted a bit, and she looks a bit less like she wants to flay him alive, although she still looks a bit sulky. It's much too adorable. Her lips are in a little pout, and it only succeeded in highlighting how plump and silky they look. They have a pink gloss smeared across them, and all Fukuzawa can think about is those lips wrapped around— he almost smacks himself across the face.

Ok so, Fukuzawa can admit that he is very much in lust with his new wife, it's pretty clear and he feels quite like a degenerate, he just hopes she cant tell. It's clear that she doesn't want him, heck she doesn't even seem to like him that much. And he would rather die, than ever force himself on her in any way. He clears his throat with a cough, shifting a little in his seat. “If it would make you more happy, you could have a lover, if that is what you wish.”

Any ice that had defrosted with Ranpo’s picture is immediately incinerated by her burning hot anger. She sits upright, her spine straight and her eyes burning. “Are you implying that I will cheat on you?” Fukuzawa waves his hands anxiously in denial. “No, that's not what i—” The fire abates, then returns in full force. “Wait, do you have a lover?” Fukuzawa shakes his head. ‘No! I only thought that you might have a younger boyfriend you wished to marry instead of me. After all, this decision was made without your input.” Fukuzawa is relieved to see the fire abate, replaced instead with a sweet kind of thanks.

She leans forward a little, a small sincere smile curving across her pretty lips. “I have no one. But it was very kind of you to ask.” She says, as the ties holding the bathrobe come looser and looser. “And even if I had someone, I would never ask for something like that.” Fukuzawa is horrified by the spike of hope that rises in his chest, pillaging through the walls around his heart and stabbing right in, warming his heart with a futile hope. He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts and emotions as she speaks.

“Would you like something to drink? I have some delicious green tea.” He nods, hoping the soothing aroma and taste will calm him down. She stands, and moves to the small kitchenette across from the bed, starting the tea. She speaks as she works. “So, I heard you met my sister Helena? Tall, blond…” Fukuzawa vividly remembers Helena, a tall blond woman who barged into his dinner and in no uncertain terms told him that if he mistreated her sister she would ruin his life. “Yes, she said hello to me at dinner.”

“I hope she didn't bother you, Helena is harmless, I promise.” It's clear how much love she has for her sister, it drips from every word as she chatters on, excitedly telling Fukuzawa story after story of her sister. Fukuzawa hopes dearly that one day, she will speak of him and Ranpo so fondly. His thoughts are imputent, he knows that, but it's in his best interests to not deny them. He's too old for all of this.

“Here you are, Mr. Fukuzawa.” She leans down, placing a fragrant cup of green tea on the table in front of him. “Call me Fukuzawa.” She shoots him a smile and a nod. “Call me Name.” It's small really, but it feels good. The atmosphere has become pleasant, so different from the earlier tense and icy landscape, and Fukuzawa feels relief, until of course, disaster strikes.

She trips slightly, and the glass of green tea she is carrying spills all over her chest, staining the white fabric green. Thankfully it's iced, but she still panics, probably worried about staining. And you see, the thing is, Fukuzawa knows he should turn around, he knows she’s panicking and she forgot herself for a moment, and he knows he should clear his throat or turn around or something. But he still watches in slow motion as she undoes the ties, pulling off that bathrobe and tossing it hurriedly away.

It's somehow straight out of his fantasies, and yet a curse of his nightmares. It's white, and lace and see-through and Fukuzawa feels all the blood in his body rush south. Maybe it's that the slight glimpses were teasing him the entire evening, or maybe he’s just too pent up, but he feels just like a virgin again, discovering porn for the first time. And it kind of is porn, forbidden 3d porn and he's going to die. She looks heavenly, the lace hugging her pretty boobs, the panties hiding nothing at all, and the garter and stocking combo just straight out of any man's wet dream. He feels like a creep, like a gross disgusting perverted old man and he wants her to suffocate him with that pretty pussy all wrapped up in white lace, he wants those pouty lips on his cock, he wants those legs wrapped around his waist while he pounds her into the bed—

His dick is hard, his mouth is open, and then she looks up, meeting his eyes and Fukuzawa feels fear for the first time in a while.

$$$

You know what happened, you were panicking about expensive lingerie and green tea stains and all you wanted to do was get the stain away from the actual underwear as fast as possible. But as your eyes meet Fukuzawa’s own and you take in his state, you can't really say your sorry. He looks wrecked. His eyes are hazy, his mouth open in shock, and the most telling evidence of all is the bulge in his pants. You let a small smirk overtake your face. He wanted you after all. Elation and arousal are the confusing cocktail at work in your stomach as you saunter around the kitchen table, and sit yourself directly on his inviting lap.

This seems to snap him right out of his daze, and he gestures frantically, an apology on his tongue. “I'm so sorry Name, i didn't—” You press a finger to his lips, feeling sexy and confident as you grind down slightly on the rather large bulge in his pants. He lets out a gratifying grunt, as you lean down, running your hands through his soft silver hair. Your voice is a pur when you speak. “You wanna know something?” you know you look devastatingly sexy, and it makes you feel powerful. “I really like you Fukuzawa.” His cheeks flush all cute, and his dick twitches under you. You continue. “And I want you. Do you want me?” His voice is husky, but still slightly formal when he speaks. “Yes. But are you sure you want me?”

You let out a coy little giggle, and grind down again. His little stifled noises are unfairly sexy, you can feel wetness in your panties already.

“I want you so bad hubby. Now kiss me.” With no more words he grants your request.

Fukuzawa kisses just like he looks, gentle and deep, devouring your very soul with his tongue. It makes your pussy throb desperately, and it makes you feel rushed and hot and the whole thing feels somehow even more sexy. Your hands knot in his hair, tangling the strands with your sweaty fingers as you rut together, barely covered pussy on still clothed cock, cores together. You know your whining, letting out little gasps and breaths and as he hoists you up, draping you right across the kitchen table, hands carefully pulling the crotch of your panties away from your drooling pussy. Its so dirty somehow, here you are, about to be fucked senseless by your sexy new husband, right on your kitchen table. You can't wait. He steps back, shedding his coat and tie, and unbuttoning a few of the top buttons.

He looks so sexy above you, panting as he slips a finger into your pussy, stroking your inner walls slowly. “More.” You whine out, the needy tone in your voice embarrassingly clear. Fukuzawa chuckles, adding another finger as per your request. “Do you have condoms? I'm afraid I didn't bring any.” He speeds up his fingers, playing slightly with your clit, and your head falls back. “Don't care. Maybe you can get me pregnant, hubby.” You can tell it affects him by the way his fingers retreat, swiftly replaced by his cock. You moan loudly as he bottoms out, as he hoists your legs over his shoulder, still almost fully clothed. It turns you on greatly, the contrast from your almost naked self, and his composed, still clothed person. His cock is thick, stretching your walls apart and it pulses inside you. You want him to fuck you stupid senseless.

Your hands grip the side of the table as he begins to move, his pace betraying his sense of urgency. Each thrust is deep, hard, and it moves you back on the table, before his hand on your legs pulls you back. His hair is sweat soaked, sticking to his cheeks as he fucks you, his eyes locked on your own.

“Feel good baby?” He pants, his voice a groan. “Yes, ohh so good.” Your voice is loud, and slightly husky with panted moans and breathes. You're seriously going to explode. For the first time in your life you want to thank your father, for finding you a sexy husband who could fuck you crazy. You still hated the man, but he had done some things right in his life.

He's ruining your insides, and you can feel every pulse and twitch of his dick inside you, all berriors gone. You feel unimaginably full and hot and purfect. He stops to lean down, and grips your thighs in both hands, speeding up his thrusts. Your eyes roll back as he hits that spot, over and over and over again.

“Oh Fukuzawa!” He stops his thrusts, pausing deep inside you and you pant. “Yukichi.”

“What?”

“Call me Yukichi.” Your clenches, even as your heart rate speeds up and you gasp out his name, panting it like your last breath. “Yukichi!” The last of your sentence dissolves in a moan as he resumes, all pretense gone, slamming in and out and in and out, and destroying your insides. “You sound so pretty like this, screaming my name.” His voice is rough and full of pants, and so, so sexy. Your hands leave the edge of the table and reach for your breasts, playing with your nipples harshly. You can feel your orgasm building, that familiar heat in the pit of your stomach, begging to be released.

“ ‘m cumming.” You warn, as his thrusts stutter, losing their rhythm. “Me too.” His voice is deep, and as he slams in one more time, and a hot feeling shoots inside of you, you lose it. You know you scream when you come, and at some point he drops your legs and kisses you, his dick still lodged inside of you. And as you come down from your high, and you feel his strong arms carrying you to the bed, you feel hopeful for your future with your sweet new husband, and all the good fuckings that will come with it.

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strawberrystepmom · 3 months

Text

Fukuzawa x F!Reader. CW: implied age gap (reader is in her late 20's and he is his canonical age), alcohol mention and consumption, takes place from his bedside while he's ill during the Cannibal arc. weird situationship vibes, switches between past and present tense.

WC: 2.9k | divider by cafekitsune

“What are you doing here?”

Yukichi’s voice is little more than a whisper when he speaks, the dryness of his throat marking his usual baritone with a rasp that causes you to arch a brow.

“Visiting, standing vigil, whatever makes it seem more heroic.” Making a show of licking the tip of your finger and using it to flip to the next page of the book sitting in your lap, you glance up from the page and tilt your head to the side.“Why are you so surprised to see me?”

“You shouldn’t be here. I’ll have Ranpo escort you out.”

The continued dry rasp of his voice makes you spring into action, snapping the book in your lap closed and reaching for the small carafe of water by his bedside. Pouring a glass, you slide it in his direction and look away when he moves to pick it up. The suggestion that Ranpo be the one to escort you out makes you chuckle to yourself considering he is the one who let you in to begin with, holding out his hand for the promised sweets your sister mailed from overseas. Sweeter and stickier than anything he can find here, probably melting in the palm of his hand.

Finally, you sigh and lean back in the chair as much as the cramped object will allow.

“If you want me to leave, you can just say so. I can show myself out. No escort necessary.”

You want to hear him deny you in his own words for once, anticipating the rejection that has yet to come, a breath caught in your throat. Instead you listen to the gulp of room temperature water travel down his throat, eyes fixed to the closed cover of the book in your lap.

It has been more than six months since your employment with the Armed Detective Agency ended and you’ve managed to wheedle your way into two personal visits with its President in that time. Two times you attempted, yet again, to show him you are invested in him as Yukichi Fukuzawa, the man and not merely as a former boss.

----------------------

The first was over dinner; a simple message sent with intention.

You: I made too much and always forget about my leftovers. Have you eaten yet?

What is he if not an old moth to a hopeful little flame?

Logic warned him to decline but his just shaky enough to be from low blood sugar mid-evening hands betrayed his judgment. What could it hurt to humor you a little bit? He has never been outright oblivious to your feelings although will always believe them to be misguided.

YF: You are too generous with your time and groceries. I can be there in twenty minutes.

You showed him your humble abode for the first time and fed him bites from your plate insisting you were almost too full to move. Your cat climbed into his lap and he dared to daydream for a breath it were the needy creature’s owner instead, steel blue eyes tracing your every move while nimble fingers stroked between the cats’ ears. The soft melody of your record collection set the soundtrack and you swayed gently, nursing a glass of wine between two of your fingers.

“Thank you for coming tonight.”

Whatever trance the gentle purr of your cat had him in severed the moment he heard your voice. He watched your form gently sway to the music, soft and melodic from the decade before he was even born making it far older than you.

“Can’t let good food go to waste.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you smiled at him with narrowed eyes. He has imagined you performing this exact motion often, every day even, looking over your shoulder while swaying gently to your favorite music. If he weren’t so concerned about appropriateness, he’d rise to his feet and join you, wrap his arm around your waist and sway with his chin on your shoulder.

“You think I’m a good cook?”

From your couch, he glanced over his shoulder at you and sighed softly. If he were to speak the words he wants to say, they’d almost certainly tip this over the edge he has spent so much time desperately trying to avoid, so he picks the easiest ones available:

“Yeah, you are.”

The way you smiled at him weighed on his mind for the rest of his fitful night, that grin lighting up nightmares and daydreams alike.

----------------------

“Why are you here?”

Fukuzawa rarely makes a second request for an answer, even from you, and the breath caught in your throat becomes a sharp exhale the moment he speaks. He glances in your direction and sees the anxious twitch in your fingers, how you desperately wish to fiddle with your appearance or jewelry to seem undisturbed and confident. Fukuzawa is an intelligent man by nature and he carefully watches to expose all of a person’s subtleties, even yours. So much of your behavior is a veneer to make yourself appear non threatening.

Truth be told, he’s astounded it works as well as it does although even the greatest minds have fallen prey to beautiful women with sharp wit and pretty smiles. Not that you are a predator to him in the slightest.

“Because I care about you,” you start, snapping your mouth shut to avoid saying more. Instead of fiddling with your clothing or earrings, you jiggle your foot and the book in your lap bounces with each movement. You are too vulnerable for your own good, tender hearted to the core. “I wanted to see how you’re doing for myself instead of getting the sanitized version of the story from Kunikida and the dishonest one from Dazai.”

Fukuzawa attempts to push his glass back onto the table and you reach to pluck it from his hands, fingers touching while you do. It reminds him of the second occasion he enjoyed your company before tonight, skin buzzing with the ghost of your touch instead of the dull throbbing pain of his illness. A soft gasp escapes him and he settles back against the pillow under his head, silver hair sweeping his shoulders.

“That’s fair,” he admits, fiddling with the blanket that is loosely wrapped over his body.

You giggle despite feeling entirely out of your element, insecure and young despite your nearly three decades, dabbling in adoration for a man you have no business being interested in to begin with.

“If you’d like to be alone, I can leave.”

He makes you feel as though you’re nude in front of him while he’s fully clothed, baring every crease and dimple of yourself, supine and ripe for his consumption. It’s what you want, after all. A single glance that leaves you stripped to the bones.

It’s why you cannot leave him alone.

----------------------

The second time you were fortunate enough to be graced with Fukuzawa’s presence as a friend was a tad less honest on your end.

“Hello?”

Fukuzawa knew who was on the other end before he even picked his phone up to answer the incoming call, a stirring feeling in his gut he should have perhaps taken as a warning letting him know what was coming next.

“What are you doing tonight?”

He exhaled loudly through his nose in response to your question, the closest you have ever come to drawing a real laugh from the man. He has always played off his enjoyment with tight smiles and acknowledging nods, hiding his upturned lips behind the ceramic of a choko.

“I’ll take it that means you’re free?”

The sound of a pen being tossed down onto the desk below it clanged through the speaker of your phone. You sighed the sound away, listening for further stirring on the other end. Seconds passing have conditioned you to expect a rejection when it comes to him, a gentle let down the way only he has managed to seem less like a “no thank you” and more of a “you’re so kind to ask” in the effusively polite way he has perfected.

“Tell me what I’m going to be getting myself into before I answer, please.”

You were not being asked to explain yourself, you were being told to do so. A small smile danced across your lips while smearing on berry colored lipstick in your bathroom mirror, your phone pressed against your blush dusted cheek.

“So there is this sake tasting…” A sigh from Fukuzawa interrupted your words and you sighed back, pouting at your reflection in the mirror. “Can you at least let me finish?”

He cleared his throat, leaving you to picture him sitting in his office at the Agency with a bemused smirk on his face. You’ve never seen him smile but your mind is quick to expel the effort it takes to pretend that you have. Does he have dimples? Lines that mirror those beneath his eyes that carve valleys around his mouth? You’ve always hoped you’d find out.

“Thank you.”

He hummed a response to your polite words, shifting in his own seat.

“I booked it expecting a friend would join me but something has come up and they can’t. I could go alone but I also just so happen to know a man who is very fond of sake and knows more about it than I do who would be the perfect company.”

Another hum was all he graced you with. You wrinkled your nose at your reflection and mouthed a swear word, certain your flimsy story was about to be dead on arrival. It wasn’t your best story and you knew going into this it was risky to lie to begin with but what else could you say?

“Oh Fukuzawa, I’ve been dying to drink alongside you in hopes it loosens your tongue enough to reveal your deep mutual love for me.”

No. You would have rather died than admit these words aloud where he could hear them. He has always had access to far too much of you and has granted you far too little to him.

“And this friend? Who are they?”

A giggle bubbled out of you while you closed your lipstick tube, tossing it on the counter in front of you haphazardly. Should you choose your words carefully to prolong the mystery of this friend, the same one you claim you’re drinking with when you’re really drinking alone and calling your former boss and current flame?

“They’re nobody important,” you settled on. He knew immediately you were lying, your true good hearted nature giving you away yet again. You’d never call your friends unimportant, no matter how frustrated you may have been over being stood up which seems to happen with this mysterious friend often.

“Hm. Interesting.”

You knew you’d been caught. The tone of his voice was more of a guilty verdict than any you could find in a courtroom. The warmth rushing to the front of your face, something you’d almost consider shameful if you had any shame left, convinced you to suspend any further untruths and you instead opted to rush into the next part of your offer full speed ahead.

“It starts at eight. If you aren’t busy, that is. Just say so if you are, I’m a big girl who can handle rejection.”

Yukichi smiled from his office. It dimmed as quickly as it spread across his face, drawn to life by the assertion you can handle rejection. Only someone who has ever been rejected can handle rejection. You are rarely denied what you want. Is he really going to be another hashmark keeping track of how many you’ve won over?

“Are you going to keep me out all night?”

This won him a laugh from you, a sound that warmed his bones and made his mind race at the same time.

“Depends, do you wanna be out all night? This is just a tasting but I have a bottle and you know where I live…”

Singing the last word of your sentence, you devolved into a fit of giggles over your own sillness and if he wasn’t actively debating on how appropriate his association with you is, he probably would have laughed along.

“No. That’s not necessary, I’m sure the tasting will give me all the excitement I can handle.”

The tasting only made him yearn for you more strongly, fingers brushed against one another while passing ceramic cups to lips. Discussions of clean flavor, light and neat, bright and warm, lent to the warm landscape spent at the side of a woman he cannot seem to shake no matter what happens to him.

----------------------

“I don’t want you to leave.”

The breath caught in your throat leaves you as a sharp exhale, finally.

The truth always finds its way to light, the lamp on the bedside table casting a glow over the side of Yukichi’s face. He’s more frail than you have ever dreamed of seeing him, complexion nearly translucent in its currently pale hue. Your thumb twitches, itching to rub the skin around his eyes that is etched with fine lines, to reassure him you will not be leaving his side until you’re certain he’s alright. Instead, you tuck it inside your fist to keep the urge to yourself.

“Good because I honestly don’t want to.”

You fiddle with your bag that is draped over the back of the chair, reaching for the newspaper you swiped off of the desk of the Agency after making your deal with Ranpo earlier in the day. You’d show up after everyone else went home or was otherwise occupied and he’d let you in to avoid the gawking that would come with everyone knowing that you are visiting for pleasure and not for business.

“I brought the paper if you want me to read it to you,” you offer and Fukuzawa hums, the faintest sight of a smile on his lips. The corners twitch so minutely you believe you imagined the movement but look down all the same, warm faced, grateful that your mind was correct in assessing him. Dimples and little lines are visible on each of the corners of his mouth.

“Anything interesting happening?”

Flipping the pages open, your eyes widen and you search for something interesting, muttering to yourself. Traffic conditions, weather, reports of minor crime throughout Yokohama. None of these things will improve his condition or keep him from worrying so you flip the page again, shaking your head when the stories come up empty for one you’d like to read.

“Don’t they put the horoscopes in the paper anymore?”

He chuckles and you can tell it hurts him, his chest heaving from the effort. The paper is quickly discarded, fluttering to the floor beside your chair. You lean forward and place your elbows on the side of his bed, daring to get close enough you can look over him from inches instead of feet.

“Are you okay?”

Fukuzawa stiffens and you have to further fight the urge to dote on him. Your fingers itch push his moonlight colored waves off of his face and your palm practically throbs, wishing to be pressed to his likely clammy skin. It’s in your nature to cluck at the things you care about like a worried hen.

“I have to believe that I will be.”

Nodding your agreement and punctuating it with another sigh, you lean forward and rest your chin on his bedside. The intrusion surprises him but it isn’t completely unwelcome, those eyes you love to feel upon you glancing downward and focusing on the tip of your nose, gradually climbing upward until your gazes meet.

“I’ll believe double, just for good measure.” Smiling, you press your cheek to the scratchy fabric of the blanket wrapped around his legs and half of his torso. “I’ll bring you a nicer blanket tomorrow.”

Raising a brow, he keeps his gaze fixed on you.

“Tomorrow?”

Scoffing, you nod. The question isn’t a jab although it may feel like one and you have to reason with yourself that he is merely giving you a hard time.

“Tomorrow, if you’ll have me.”

Shaking his head, he idly reaches in your direction and brushes his thumb over your cheek before placing his hand back at his side. Again, a movement so quick and discreet you believe it imaginary, yet the sensation burns across your skin. Fighting the urge to bury your face into the bed like a schoolgirl with a crush, you choose instead to face him head on and let your gaze soften.

“Next time just ask me if you can come, no need to get Ranpo involved.” You shrug and laugh. “Was it that obvious?”

Yukichi nods and permits his eyes to drift from you to the door. It was obvious from the moment he realized you were in the room who graciously allowed for you to be there, the man on the other side of the door loudly munching whatever you bribed him with.

“You aren’t as great of a liar as you think you are.”

Laughing, you shrug.

"Caught me. At least I'm a good cook and decent company instead."

Fighting the urge to reach out and touch you again, he keeps his hands at his sides and ponders the correct way to respond. His time on earth could be fleeting from this moment forward, his minutes numbered by a threat his entire team is working to figure out. He could leave his cards on the table. Tell you he feels the same and he hasn't had this much fun since he was a far younger man getting into far more trouble.

Instead, he settles back into the pillow beneath him and shifts his face to look at you. He'll save these matters of the heart until after there is no more looming danger.

"Thank you for coming."

You sit up and away from the bed, leaning back into the chair you're sitting on. He doesn't want to discuss feelings or the two of you any further and you respect that, dropping your arm over the side of the chair and fish for the newspaper you brought with you, plucking it by one of the folds and pulling it into your lap.

"Now where were we? Oh yeah, horoscopes."

Whatever you're saying fades into background noise while he shuts his eyes tightly. He has to make it through this, you're waiting for him on the other end of it.

#fukuzawa x reader #fukuzawa yukichi x reader #bsd x reader #kendall writes #fukuken

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starlightshadowsworld · 3 months

Text

Bsd except Kouyou had joined the Agency. Because she wanted to leave the Port Mafia. What if she left the darkness for the light and it didn't burn her?

The older man who got her out (like Oda with Dazai, like Atsushi with Kyouka) getting Kouyou out but he is killed.

The search for the weilder of the golden Demon beginning and somehow the Agency find her first.

"The Golden Demon, the killer of more than 35 people. That's you isn't it?" Asks Ranpo, he expected an older cold hearted assassin.

Not a scared kid cowering behind her ability.

Reminded Ranpo of another scared kid who was waiting for him at the Agency. Who the Port Mafia still wanted to get their grubby hands on.

He holds a hand out to her.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

The President would understand right?

Lil Ranpo: dragging lil Kouyou Akiko! We have a new little sister!

Lil Kouyou: We're the same age! And I'm older than you!

Lil Ranpo: Hmm nope!

Lil Yosano: I have a sister?!

It took some time to get the story out of her.

Kouyou was practically clinging onto Ranpo who didn't seem to mind.He even let her have one of his sweets and was shocked she'd never had any.

Lil Ranpo: That is truly the worst crime imaginable.

Lil Kouyou: I also killed people.

Lil Ranpo: I stand by my previous point.

Fukuzawa tells Kouyou that she will never to kill again. That she will be under his protection, and she will be safe now. Kouyou breaks down because this can't be real.

Yosano hugs her, tells her she gets it's hard to take in but it's true. They didn't hurt me, they won't hurt you.

Kouyou wanting to save people from the darkness like her friend saved her, like Ranpo and the Agency saved her.

She's pretty good at Detective work, at first she mostly helps Ranpo to reach his cases. But as time goes on she starts to take the ones he finds boring.

As her confidence grows so does her wit and reveals a kind, fierce and stubborn personality.

The three of them are just as stubborn and reckless as each other and Fukuzawa is so glad he can't go even more grey.

Oh yeah, she fits in well.

And she and Fukuzawa (who's basically adopted her as his third child) have the same birthday so there's a double birthday party every year.

She belongs here, and she's so happy.

#kouyou ozaki #bsd kouyou #bsd ranpo #ranpo edogawa #bsd yosano #yosano akiko #bsd fukuzawa #fukuzawa yukichi #bungou stray dogs #bsd

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kentopedia · 1 year

Text

the ghost of you

osamu dazai x f!reader wc: 6.9k

summary: atsushi suspects something is off about dazai. he meets you, and suddenly, everything falls into place.

contents: ghosts!!, lot of angst my fav genre, dazai as his own warning, atsushi and reader povs, gothic (?) romance bc that was its originial intention, soft dazai, also everyone is a little older than in canon for timeline purposes

Atsushi found him in the cemetery, staring at a grave with a name that he didn’t recognize. The air was crisp; Christmas was just around the corner and the new year loomed in the distance. Dead leaves puddled around the other man, creating a perfect beige halo on the ground.

The sight was so serene—Atsushi hated that he would be the one to disturb it.

“Dazai?” He approached cautiously, never quite sure how to anticipate his reactions. His boots made an overly conspicuous sound, making Atsushi cringe.

Dazai was silent, still staring at the grave in front of him. The mud from the previous night’s rainfall mucked up his trousers, heavy brown spots seeping through the cloth.

“Kunikida told me to come get you. The President wants to have a meeting.”

He’d been sent to fetch Dazai, as usual, to bring him back to work. A hilarious notion, considering that Dazai never listened to anyone, especially not Atsushi.

He shifted—the leaves broke under him, crumbling into a hundred little pieces.

Atsushi watched as Dazai swallowed thickly, his eyes holding more sadness than usual. Dazai was no stranger to sorrow. That was easy for anyone to surmise. Today, though, there was something off. He was acting differently than usual; a bad different, and one that Atsushi wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge.

“Dazai?”

Atsushi considered asking what was wrong, but he bit his tongue. Dazai would just give him a cryptic answer anyways, revealing not a scrap of the secrets he kept so close to his chest.

“Remind him what day it is.” Dazai finally spoke, his voice coming out so hoarse that Atsushi almost wondered if it was his imagination. He’d never heard a sound like that leave Dazai’s lips before. “I won’t be in today.”

“But—” Atsushi began, though he quickly stopped when Dazai turned to fully face him.

His features were so hollowed out and lifeless. There was something horrible in the way that his shoulders seemed to slump, leaning over the grave like he wanted to bury himself in it too. His hands had fallen in the mud haphazardly, creating patterns in the soil.

“Sure.” Atsushi put his hands in his pockets. “I’ll let him know.”

He watched for a few fleeting moments as Dazai turned back to the grave, pressing his palms to the dirt tenderly. He was in his own world and Atsushi, truly, didn’t know if he’d heard him at all.

Without another word, Atsushi turned, heading back towards the Armed Detective Agency. He only hoped that Dazai’s message would make sense to Fukuzawa; he certainly didn’t want to get chewed out by Kunikida for not delivering upon his request.

You traced the soft edges of the book as you came to the close of yet another chapter.

Already, you were near the end, even though you’d only started it a few days ago. Your large stack of to-be-read novels was quickly dwindling; you kept forgetting to ask Dazai to pick you up some new ones.

For a few more minutes, you tried to read, but the words failed to ingrain into your mind. You’d been distracted all day, and it was difficult to focus on anything but old memories.

With a sigh, you resigned yourself to a break when the door opened and closed downstairs.

Finally, he was home.

You smiled to yourself, closing the book with a ribbon.

His footsteps were quiet up the stairs, but you could still sense them, just as always. The melody of his movements was soothing, familiar enough to always relax you.

You waited, though it was only a few moments before the door unlatched, the wooden frame creaking on its hinges.

Dazai seemed tired on the other side of the threshold, his coat already slung off in his journey to the second floor. His dark hair was a mess, falling in tangled strands all over his face, even darker circles forming under his eyes.

Fleetingly, he met your gentle gaze, and something in the brown irises changed after that. The troubled look in them faded faintly, softening as he took in the sight of you lounging in the worn leather reading chair, a book resting on your lap,

“You’re home early,” you said, tossing the book aside to greet him.

He was upon you in an instant, arms pulling you into his chest as he buried his face in your hair. The warmth from his body seeped through to your very soul, shrouded by a layer of cold skin that had frozen in the brisk winter.

He didn’t reply to your question. He was unmoving in your embrace, a grim statue, and you were skeptical of his silence.

Without alarm, you pulled back to peer into his eyes, hoping to find the answer you sought. “Osamu?”

He kept his face glued to the top of your head, gingerly pressing kisses there.

“You didn’t leave work early again, did you?”

“Of course, I did.” It was then that he pulled back, revealing the contrasting redness in the whites of his eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen Dazai cry, but he was close to tears now. The lines forming in his skin were deeper than you remembered—he was aging without you, it seemed. “I couldn’t leave you here by yourself today.”

You sighed—you should’ve known this would happen. The date was marked on the calendar with black smudges, crossed out in an emotion-fueled rage. You’d known it was coming for a while now, and you were stupid to expect that he would carry on as normal.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“Well, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t?” He forced a smile. A scapegoat—this was much more for him than it was for you.

He caressed your cheek lightly, expressing every delicate emotion that he couldn’t put into words through the slight touch of his hands. The two of you had gotten better at understanding each other over the years. Neither of you had to say much to be heard.

“Besides, I just wanted to come home and be with you,” he said, a comment left under his breath, though he knew you would hear it all the same. “I’d hardly say that’s the worst crime I’ve committed.”

You frowned. “I just—” you thought over your words, but stopped, finding no reason to argue. You were hurting just as much as Dazai was. It would be pointless to pretend otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” you said, meaning it wholeheartedly. Dazai seemed surprised by your swift apology but accepted it anyway. “I’m happy you came home, really.” That was quieter, but you could feel him smile, just a fraction, into your hair.

“I’m glad to be home, love.” Dazai pulled away from you and took your cold hand, leading you to the bed that was neatly made up in the middle of the room.

There was nothing seductive in his actions. His eyes were sullen and weary, exhausted from night upon night of sleeplessness.

He flung himself across the bed, his long limbs straightening out to all corners of the mattress. He hadn’t even bothered to change his clothes and they began to wrinkle.

Dazai regarded you with sleepy eyes as you slid onto the bed beside him, making your way into his embrace. He traced your features softly with the tips of his fingers, as if you weren’t really there at all.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, pulling you close to him. Your fingers dangled together against the sheets, his white bandages catching. “And all mine.”

“Always a charmer.” You kissed the tip of his nose before snuggling into him, tucking your head under his chin.

He was quiet for a while, before you felt him fall into fitful sleep. Never fully into a dream, but never away from a nightmare either. You brushed your hands through his hair, the strands tangling between your fingers.

You wished he had the luxury of peace in his sleep. Even that seemed to evade him.

Atsushi returned to the Armed Detective Agency defeated as he rubbed his eyes with exhaustion. Kunikida was already standing by the door, arms crossed as he eyed Atsushi with contempt.

“Well?” he asked, practically stamping his feet.

Atsushi sank back, shuffling. “He said to remind you of what day it was,” he said helplessly, still having no idea what Dazai’s message meant.

Kunikida blinked.

He checked his notebook, then his watch, as if he’d forgotten what day it was.

A silly thing to Atsushi. He was certain that Kunikida had never forgotten a thing in his life.

“Oh,” the blond man said, his face losing all of its color before recovering swiftly. “We’ll proceed without him then. Come, Atsushi.”

Kunikida turned, still leaving Atsushi in the dark about the entire situation. And the younger man sputtered in confusion, never knowing Kunikida to be accepting of Dazai missing work.

“Did you get groceries today?”

Dazai walked towards the kitchen, and you followed him, gliding down the stairs with ease.

It had been a nice nap; the first one you’d had in a while. You could still feel his arms around you, and it set a flame to your very heart.

“It looks to be that way,” he teased, nodding towards the empty paper bags on the counter. “Did you need anything?”

“No, I didn’t, smartass.” You began to sift through what was new in the pantry. He hadn’t bought much—just a few essentials, but it was enough to fix something up. You’d been getting onto him about not taking care of his health lately. “I was just going to make dinner for you.”

Dazai’s head shot up, and he instantly returned to your side. There was some sort of horror in his expression, like it was a crime for you to whip up an easy meal for him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But—”

“Come on,” he said, stealing the pans from you. “I’ll make my own dinner.”

You pouted, though you let him stop you anyways. “You always do it, though. Can’t I just do something for you for once?”

“What do you mean, darling? You always do things for me.” Dazai stared at you, unrelenting, though you held your ground.

For a moment, he stayed serious. Then, he softened. A slight quirk of the lips as he smiled. “Alright, fine.” He pressed a kiss between your eyebrows. “But I’m going to help you.”

You considered arguing, but it would be in vain. His mind was made up. At least you could do something that would occupy your thoughts.

Dazai picked items from the pantry, assembling some sort of a recipe. It wasn’t much, but it would likely be enough. Dazai had been eating less recently, to your sorrow. He seemed to forget more than he remembered.

You took the knife, slicing the meat and vegetables as he prepared everything else. The two of you worked in ease, skirting around each other without even realizing when the other was in the way. It was seamless—you understood one another with just a look.

“Is everyone at the agency doing alright?” you asked, desperate to break up the silence. The sound of the knife against the cutting board was painful enough.

“They’re all doing well,” Dazai said, pausing for a moment. He turned to face you, but your back was to him, stiff as a board. “They miss you. Very much.”

“I miss them too.” You could feel tears in your eyes, though you refused them. There was no room for you to cry; that’s what you told yourself, at least. “Did Atsushi take my desk?” you continued to monotonously chop the vegetables. “That’s the new guy, right?”

“Yeah, that’s him.” You heard a few swift footsteps before Dazai was hugging you from behind, desperately holding onto you. He bowed his head into the back of your neck. “I’ve asked them to leave your desk as it was. No one really touches it.”

You put the knife down, stilling. “Osamu—”

“Don’t say anything.”

“You should let someone else have it.”

“I won’t. You’re here, aren’t you?” He could feel you begin to shake, your whole body buzzing from something inside.

You took a shaky breath. “I’m not here. Not really.” You set down the knife, grasping his hand tightly instead. Sometimes, you weren’t sure how Dazai could even stand to touch your icy skin. “I’ll never be back to that desk.”

He didn’t respond.

“Osamu, I just wish you would try to—”

“Stop,” he said, releasing you. “I already know what you’re going to say.”

He pulled back, and the warmth left you once again. You were locked into an ice box.

“No matter how many times you ask, I won’t do it.”

You opened your lips but were unable to get the argument out. There was a knock at your door after that, ceasing the conversation. It was so rare that you had visitors—you hadn’t really gotten any in the past year.

It was odd that someone would be visiting you at this hour.

Atsushi waited anxiously on the other side, shivering in the icy cold. He stared at the outside of the brick building, trying to make a connection between this place and his co-worker.

It didn’t seem like the type of place that Dazai would reside in. It resembled something from a Victorian novel: beautiful only to the imagination, but not a safe place to inhabit.

He waited a few moments, trying to calm his racing nerves.

There was shuffling on the other side, but no answer. Atsushi began to worry he had the wrong house. Dazai had only told a couple people where he’d lived, and it took some very intense persuasion to even weasel that information out of them.

Atsushi was worried in a way that no one else was, and his desperation led them to revealing the information. He’d become a trusted member of the inner circle, but everyone at the agency was still so cryptic when it came to the manner of Dazai’s disappearance, and with Christmas nearing, Atsushi just really needed him to know that he wasn’t alone.

He knew that Dazai had his issues—ones that he would likely never understand—but there was something different about him this time. In the months that Atsushi had known him, he had never been so worried that his passing comments about suicide might actually come to fruition.

Finally, just as Atsushi was beginning to give up hope, the door cracked. A singular dark eye peeked out before widening. The door opened even further, revealing a puzzled expression on Dazai’s features.

“Atsushi,” Dazai said, surprised. “How did you find my house?”

"I asked around,” he said vaguely, trying not to throw anyone under the bus. Even though he knew Dazai would find out eventually, just as he always did. “I just wanted to see…” he trailed off, suddenly feeling imprudent. Dazai seemed fine—or, well, he seemed just as he always was. “You were acting strangely earlier.”

Dazai’s confusion increased, and then he laughed. It was the sort of laugh that was so joyful it unnerved Atsushi, leaving him unable to ease a singular worry.

“I wasn’t aware that you were so concerned for me, Atsushi.”

Atsushi flushed, embarrassed by his mocking tone. “I just thought I’d check in. You seem to be doing alright, though, so I’ll just—”

He began to back away, but Dazai was faster and pulled him back towards the door.

He glanced around, cautious, presumably wondering if anyone had followed Atsushi. When he deemed it safe, he welcomed him in, tugging him across the threshold.

“Do you want to meet someone?” he asked, slamming the door behind Atsushi.

He jumped at the noise. Despite trusting the man, Atsushi, briefly, wondered if he was about to meet his demise at the hands of Osamu Dazai. While he strongly believed that Dazai was a good man, he was also unpredictable. And right now, he was acting… very odd.

“I guess.” Atsushi felt that he didn’t really have a choice.

Dazai smiled, and began to lead him along, bringing him through the house that was almost as dreary on the inside as it was on the outside. There were so many candles—an unnecessary amount. How there hadn’t been a house fire was a mystery to everyone.

“Dazai—”

“We have a guest, my love!” Dazai shouted across the room, and it was then that Atsushi noticed the food cooking, the smell wafting through the air. It was delicious and warming, and all of the sudden, Atsushi felt much more relaxed.

Then, he processed Dazai’s words.

You peeked your head around the corner, meeting Atsushi’s eyes for the first time, and he was stunned by your very presence. Everything about you was disarming, and he nearly tripped at the sight of you.

You were otherworldly, almost. A being that was neither here nor there. He had no idea how he’d never seen you before, how no one had even mentioned you. You radiated allure and were a force on your own; a greater force with the likes of Dazai.

“Who’s this?” you asked, throwing a cloth on the counter once you’d dried your hands. Atsushi had been led into the kitchen, where the freshly baked meal was cooling.

“This is Atsushi,” Dazai introduced, and then gestured to you. “Atsushi, this is my lovely wife. I’ve been hoping you could meet her, but there really was never a good time.”

Atsushi paled and blinked. “What.” He glanced between the two of you, finding it difficult to even form words. “You… What?”

You told him your name, but that didn’t seem to help. Atsushi just stared at you, dumbfounded and clearly out of the loop.

You sighed; you truly should’ve known better.

“Osamu didn’t tell you about me, did he?” you said, frowning at Dazai and Atsushi furiously shook his head.

He was unapologetic, shrugging as he sauntered over to you.

“Don’t be mad,” he said, quietly, hoping that Atsushi wouldn’t hear. His hands briefly took your own, rubbing out the tension in your knuckles. “It’s so difficult to—”

“I’m not angry,” you said, and truthfully, you weren’t. There was no way you could’ve expected Dazai to just accept everything that had happened and move on like you weren’t living in the most unconventional way. “It just makes me sad.”

He squeezed your hand, nodding, before turning back to your guest. With a wide grin that was almost entirely fake, Dazai said, “you hungry Atsushi? We’ve got plenty to eat!”

Dinner had gone well, and Atsushi left in high spirits, already caring for you deeply. You’d won him over with your easy charms—heartbreaking, really, considering you could’ve been good friends in another life.

Later, hours after the two of you had fallen asleep, Dazai woke up, noticing that you weren’t in the space beside him as you had been. He felt around the mattress, eyes still closed until he was met with nothing but cold, empty air.

Panicked, he sat up straight, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark—was this it? The time you finally disappeared for good.

Then he heard the sniffling; silent, shaking sobs that he was, unfortunately, attuned to.

He padded over the floor, squatting beside you, careful not to alarm you with his touch. Your entire body was trembling as you curled into yourself, trying to hide your cries from him.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing,” you said, wiping your eyes furiously. It was embarrassing for anyone to see you cry, even if it was only Dazai. The one person you wholeheartedly trusted. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” He softly gripped your bicep, trying to ease you out of your tense position.

You blinked at him, wondering if you could hold the rest of your pain in, push it down to the very depths of your hollowed soul. A second passed. Another.

The tears flowed freely down your face as you sobbed, hands resting in your lap limply. Dazai stared back at you helplessly, hands hovering over you like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Did I do something?”

“No,” you said, wiping your eyes with so much force that it hurt. Over and over and over. “No, you’ve done nothing.”

“Then, what’s the matter?” His voice was softer—softer than you’d ever heard it. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“I can’t keep doing this, Osamu.”

He hesitated. There was something stricken in his dark eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t keep ruining your life.”

He grabbed your hand forcefully, squeezing it like you were a lifeline. His hair fell into his eyes as he leaned forward, searching your face desperately for answers. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” You scowled, the unhappiness creasing your features. “I’m here and you’re there. I can’t go anywhere with you, I can’t see my old friends, I can’t do anything meaningful but rot. I’m stuck in this damn house, and you leave every day worried that I won’t be here when you return.”

He said your name softly, though you rambled on.

“I’m holding you back from everything. You’ll grow old, and I won’t. You’ll want kids and I can’t give them to you.” Your voice cracked; it was difficult to even meet his disturbingly sad eyes. “You could marry someone else if you wanted. Someone that could live a life with you. I really wouldn’t care.”

You would care—the thought of him loving anyone but you made you sick to your stomach. Still, you persisted, wanting nothing but happiness for him. As close to happiness as someone like him could get.

“Don’t ever say anything like that. This is a life.”

“Is it?” you asked, shaking your head mirthlessly. “Am I really worth all the pain that comes with me?”

“Of course you are!” Dazai exclaimed, frantically pulling you closer to him. “Do you really think I want any of that? I don’t care about kids; I don’t care about finding someone else. I don’t even care that you can’t leave the house. I just want to be around you for as long as I can. I’ll rot in here with you if that’s what it takes. I don’t ever want you to slip away.”

“Osamu, this isn’t healthy.”

“I couldn’t give less of a damn.” He said, peppering your faces with kisses. “I didn’t love you as well as I should’ve and I’m paying for it every day. Constantly reminded of all the times I fucked up, when I should’ve been appreciating every second, we had together.”

“You did your best,” you frowned, trying to still him, though your hands were shaking too. “Neither of us were in a position for a relationship. We did it anyway.”

“I should have been more careful,” Dazai said, cupping your face gently. He’d removed the bandages, and his sleeves slipped to expose his pale wrists. “I could’ve saved your life if I never would’ve asked you to marry me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, leaning into the warmth of his palms. You closed your eyes, inhaling the natural perfume of his skin. “I would never regret ever being with you. We had our ups and downs, and we got through them because we were meant for each other.”

Dazai brushed your tears away with his thumb, and you smiled, pained, as they drifted away.

“I’ve always felt loved by you, you know. You don’t have to make up for all the things you didn’t say. I would never want you to regret our relationship. That would hurt me more than anything.”

Dazai’s expression became conflicted, revealing more emotion that you knew he could really understand. “I know.” He closed his eyes. “But I was a stupid boy when I met you and I’ll die a stupid man.”

“Stop blaming yourself. Please.”

“I don’t know how not to,” he said, bowing his head into his chest. “I knew you could’ve been hurt, but I was so stupidly naïve—I could’ve saved you.”

“Osamu—”

“I could’ve done something.”

“No, you couldn’t have. I was dying. I was calling to tell you goodbye. That I loved you.” You smiled sadly. “And Merry Christmas.”

There was a long lapse of silence as he processed your words. You carded your fingers through his hair—it was getting long again.

“I don’t deserve to have another chance with you,” he finally said, sighing to himself. “But I’m so thankful that I got one.”

“So,” Atsushi said when Dazai had finally left the room, going on his extended lunch break. “Why did no one tell me that Dazai was married?”

Everyone stilled. And Atsushi, suddenly, felt very uncomfortable. It was completely silent—a pen dropping would’ve shaken the entire building.

“Who told you that?” Ranpo asked, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth. For once, even he seemed a little concerned. “Dazai?”

“He wouldn’t have, Dazai doesn’t talk about her,” Yosano said, getting a little too close to Atsushi for comfort. He cowered under her intimidating gaze, having no desire to be interrogated. “Did you go through company files or something?”

“No,” Atsushi swore, flustered from all the eyes on him. “Why would I do that?”

“How else would you have known—”

“Yosano, calm down,” Kunikida said softly, trying to decipher something in Atsushi’s behavior. “You can’t possibly think that he would do something like that.”

Yosano, at least, didn’t have any evidence to respond with. It wasn’t enough to calm Atsushi, though, with all the skeptical glances on him.

Kunikida faced Atsushi once more, delivering the response like it was just any boring lecture, as calmly as possible. “We didn’t tell you because Dazai didn’t. We wanted to respect his privacy and his wishes; it’s not our information to share.”

He made a face—Atsushi could understand privacy, but for something like this? It made no sense. “I don’t understand…”

“How did you even find out about that?” Ranpo kicked his feet up on the desk, his eyes contemplative. Atsushi felt like he was under a microscope with the way Ranpo was looking at him, determined to uncover every last secret. “Was someone gossiping because of yesterday? I wouldn’t be surprised,” he hummed, more to himself than anything.

“Probably Naomi,” Yosano added. “She thinks it’s all romantically tragic… I’d say it’s just plain tragic.”

“No, no, no.” Atsushi shook his head. “No one told me anything about her, I met her. Yesterday.”

A pause. Everyone blinked.

“What?” Kunikida seemed uncomfortable by the comment. His words came out more choked and uncertain than normal.

“Yeah,” Atsushi said, explaining as best he could. “I went to Dazai’s house yesterday because I was worried about him. No one explained what was going on, and then…” Atsushi told the rest of the story, from meeting you to sharing a meal together, and then leaving like the three of you were old friends.

It seemed to go over everyone’s head. They all stared back at him with blank eyes.

“That’s not possible. Dazai must have had someone else over.”

“What? She told me her name. They said they were married.”

“What did you take last night? I’d certainly like to try it.” Ranpo’s deadpan comment did nothing to ease Atsushi’s frustrations.

“What? Nothing!” He grasped at his white hair, feeling like he was talking to a brick well. “I told you I went to his house and met his wife, and we had dinner. Why is that such an issue?”

“Atsushi…” Kunikida exchanged a glance with Yosano. “It’s an issue because it’s not possible. She’s been dead for over a year.”

For the second time that week, a visitor came to your door, interrupting your lifeless routine. You muted the television, walking downstairs to retrieve your guest.

“Atsushi,” you said, unsurprised when the door revealed the young man. The appalled and uncertain expression on his face told you everything you need to know.

With a heavy exhale, you opened the door wider, beckoning him through it. “I take it you know, then?”

“Kunikida said that you’re dead.” Atsushi blinked; his feet planted into the concrete.

��I am.”

“You’re a ghost.”

“I am.” With a nod, you glanced around, desperately trying to get him through the door before anyone saw you. Your neighbors had never really been your friends, but last they heard, you’d passed onto another plane. “Please, come in.”

He didn’t budge. “You’re a ghost.”

You frowned. “I’m not an evil spirit, Atsushi. I’m the same as I was before, except now you know everything. Please, come in.”

“Dazai’s not here, is he?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “He’ll be home soon.” You took a heavy breath, stepping backwards into your home. “If you came here to talk, then let’s talk. If you’re going to stare at me like that, then I’ll ask you to leave.”

Atsushi blinked once more, and then made a face, finally stepping through the threshold. He paused when you shut the door, as if expecting the other shoe to drop, for you to attack him with a grotesquely transformed face.

You sighed and pushed past him towards the kitchen. “Would you like some tea? It should be done by now.”

Atsushi was silent, though you could hear him following you anyways. You poured two cups and put one in front of him, though he still stared at it mistrustfully.

“It’s not poisoned,” you said, sipping your drink mindlessly. It was boiling hot, but the temperature didn’t do anything to your lifeless body. The scalding liquid went down like cold water, tasteless. “You watched me pour it straight from the pot. One for myself, as well.”

“You’re dead,” Atsushi stated, making the point known for the third time that afternoon. “Poison wouldn’t bother you.”

“Right.” The thought was dismal, and your face fell, realizing that even after a year, you still acted sometimes, like things were still normal. “I guess I didn’t think about that.”

You stirred the tea with sugar, and while you knew it wouldn’t change the flavor, you kept the same habits from when you were alive. Sometimes, the smell of food was so strong, it was enough for you to taste it. Most of the time, it was just empty nothingness.

“I’m sure you have lots of questions. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Atsushi said, finally gaining enough courage to taste the tea. He was quiet for a few minutes, testing to see if his vision began to grow fuzzy. When he deemed it safe, he went on. “I don’t understand why no one told me. I’ve always wondered about the desk frozen in time in the corner of the agency. No one told me it was because of you.”

“There’s still photos of Osamu on it, aren’t there?” You smiled, remembering when you had framed them. There was really no reason, since you saw him at the agency every day, but you liked having such permanent and wholesome proof of your relationship there for everyone to see.

“I thought he put them there himself,” Atsushi said truthfully, almost grimacing.

You laughed. “Well, that honestly does sound like something he would do.” Guiltily, you looked down, away from Atsushi’s hopeful expression. “I told him to get rid of it. I’m sure it’s just wasting space.”

“Not really. There are other empty desks there too. Besides, I don’t think anyone wants the memory of you gone. Dazai, least of all.”

You grew warm at the thought of everyone you had worked with. Maybe, if Atsushi knew, Dazai would finally be willing to tell a few other people. You so desperately wanted to see them: Yosano, Kunikida, Ranpo. If even just to say goodbye.

“Why are you here?” Atsushi said, finally breaking the silence. “Did you die here?”

“I’m surprised no one told you.” Your eyebrows raised. “It was a big deal when it happened. They hadn’t lost an agent before. I was the first.”

“You died on a mission, then?”

You nodded. “I guess I could explain from the beginning.”

Atsushi didn’t say anything, so you decided to go ahead. The least he deserved was some sort of explanation.

“Osamu and I met when we were young.”

You recalled the period between your escape from the mafia and your incorporation into the Armed Detective Agency. The time when you felt invincible, like you could do anything, and the world was powerless to stop you.

Practically kids back then, so desperate to find a home. Your marriage was swift and foolish, but you would never regret it. After that, you’d been the happiest you’d ever been.

Atsushi seemed enraptured by the tale you spun—you didn’t tell him everything, but you told him enough. Probably more than Osamu would’ve, anyway.

“Then what happened on the mission?” Atsushi said, leaning forward, more trusting of you now that he’d been sitting there for a while. It was like all of the tension had eased away, and you were two old friends, reconnecting after a long time.

“I was sent on a mission and got caught in the crossfires. I was caught off-guard, and I shouldn’t have been.” You frowned, looking past his shoulders. As much as Dazai blamed himself, at the end of the day it was you who had gotten yourself killed. “An assassin in the Port Mafia took a shot at me—someone low on the totem pole who had no idea who he was dealing with and ignored orders from his superiors.” You sighed, shaking your head. “He didn’t last much longer after that. If Dazai hadn’t taken care of him, I have no doubt Akutagawa would’ve.”

“Dazai was with you?” Atsushi said, wringing his eyebrows together. “I thought—”

“He wasn’t,” you said simply. “It was the first time we’d split up for a mission. Everything was going well, and we thought it would be fine. It’d been years—no one in the Mafia was going to come after us.” You laughed mirthlessly, shaking your head. What a foolish thought. Even Dazai’s lasting reputation wasn’t enough to save your one life.

Atsushi seemed misty-eyed, his chest aching at your experience. He was no stranger to heartbreak, either. “He still blames himself, then.”

A statement, not a question. One you couldn’t argue—Dazai told you, over and over, that it was his fault. No matter how many times you swore that it wasn’t. You were in just as deep; you should’ve known to never drop your guard.

“I don’t know how I ended up back here. The day reset, and I was back in my bed, waking up to the sunrise. For a long time, I didn’t understand. Days went by where Osamu couldn’t see me, not until—” you stopped yourself, remembering who you were speaking to.

Even though you trusted Atsushi, those moments when you were never really there and Dazai was alone were not yours to disclose. Nor did you want to—they weren’t nice to relive. “Not until the days leading up to my funeral.”

Atsushi seemed to understand. He nodded, sinking back into his chair. “Do you want to move on, then?” You blinked, and he grew embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, that’s what happens with ghosts, isn’t it? At least, in all the stories and stuff.”

“I knew what you meant.” you cut him off before he could make his way into a senseless ramble. “I just don’t know the answer. I thought I wanted to, but the thought of leaving someone behind.” You sighed. “I just don’t know if I could do it.”

Something clicked in your mind after that.

Dazai came back that evening much more cheerfully than he had left, the sullen expression gone from his features and replaced by a soft smile.

“It’s almost Christmas,” he said, coming up behind you to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Everyone at the agency is so much happier now. It never fails to amaze me that a singular date can put people in such high spirits. Everyone’s attitudes completely change leading up to the new year.”

“How lucky they must be to be excited for a fresh start.”

He rubbed your shoulders gently, noting the stiffness in your muscles with your response. You kept your eyes out the window, gazing mournfully at the falling snow.

“Most people are more fortunate than us,” he said, letting his hand fall away from you. You could hear the concern in his voice—you were so sick of putting it there. “That’s no surprise.”

A beat passed. The streetlights cast an eerie glow over the crystal grounds.

“It’s my second Christmas as a ghost,” you said, watching as a mother ran across the lawn with her young child, the two of them laughing joyously. You felt a stab of jealousy; you and Dazai had never talked about having kids, but now, you didn’t even have the choice. “How many more will there be?”

“Many more, I hope.” The conversation had come up many times in the past few days—too many times for Dazai not to be worried. “I don’t want you to leave, but you can’t stay here if it’s making you unhappy,” he said, pressing a kiss into your neck. “I’m a selfish man, but even I can’t ask you to forever exist in misery.”

“I’m not miserable,” you said, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “Not always. You make it all worthwhile.”

He smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“But it doesn’t matter anyways.” You looked down at his pale hands, his delicate and long fingers. “I can’t leave.”

“You can’t or you don’t know how?” A crease formed between his eyebrows. The strands of hair against his forehead were oily. “I figured you didn’t know how; I never thought I’d be the reason you stayed.”

You met his gaze sadly, shaking your head. “How can you say that? You’re the only reason.”

Dazai said nothing, though his expression shifted marginally. Enough for you to understand it exactly.

“I’ve thought it over so many times. I was ready to go, I felt satisfied with my life, and I didn’t mind dying, but I couldn’t leave you.”

“You should’ve.” His limbs grew stiff, and you could feel him pulling away, withdrawing until you brought him back to you. “I’m not deserving of that.”

“It doesn’t matter if you are or not. I love you, Osamu Dazai, and I don’t know what will happen to you when I’m gone for good.” You traced your thumb against his cheeks, taking in every one of his features: his gentle brown eyes that contrasted with every other sharp line he had.

Eyes that were soft only for you.

“That’s why I won’t be able to leave, not until you’re gone.”

He studied you carefully. There were long minutes of silence as he studied you, trying to make sense of all the things that couldn’t make sense. “You’re here until I die. You’re so completely certain of that?”

“I am.” You nodded, dropping your head to his shoulder. He smelled crisp; the outside had already permeated its smell into his clothes. He felt like home. “I’ve spent hours thinking about it. What could possibly hold me here besides you?”

Dazai quietly traced each knob of your back with every ounce of his love. His touch was barely there, though you felt it all the same, like a spark of heat. “Does that upset you?”

“In a way. I just think you deserve more than a pitiful ghost of a wife. It’s not fair of me to hold onto you so tightly. You shouldn’t spend your life that way.” You sighed, trying to repress the aching hole in your chest. It grew each day, opening up into a sickening chasm. “Odasaku wouldn’t be happy with either of us, would he?”

“It doesn’t matter what he’d think,” Dazai said harshly, narrowing his eyes. “I lost him just as I lost you. I’m done listening to the words of the dead. He didn’t think I’d ever be happy, and he was wrong. You think I’ll be happier without you, and you’re wrong too.”

“You don’t know that—”

He was resolute, holding you with certainty. “I’ll live and die in this very home, and then, no matter what, we’ll be together.”

“You don’t mean that,” you said, staring at him blankly, only blinking when your lids ran dry.

“You can’t leave your life in my hands like that.”

“The minute you say the word, darling, the minute you can’t bear the horrible half-existence—” he pinched your chin between your fingers lightly, forcing you to stare to the very depths of his soul. To see that every word he spoke was with complete conviction. “I’ll be gone.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips harshly, insisting that he meant every word.

You fell apart silently in his arms, put back together by his soft touch. Dazai could be a hard man to love, but he loved you just as easily. Rarely did he utter the words, but he showed you more than enough.

To the bitter end, he would be by your side, even if he had to pull you out of hell himself.

It was an unfair request to ask of you, but you accepted it simply.

Dazai Osamu would meet his end at his own hands, that was a simple fact, just as the sun rose each morning.

Though the matter of when… that was entirely up to you.

#bsd dazai #dazai x y/n #dazai x fem reader #dazai x you #dazai imagines #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd #osamu dazai #dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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angelzai · 5 months

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ADA secret santa . . . .ᐟ

wc: 1.4k

cw: crack, everyone is a menace, no reader included, probably some ooc, language, alcohol, drug mentions, suggestive gifts but nothing strictly nsfw, this is really just silliness

reid: happy christmas to those who celebrate! this was fun to write and think about i hope you guys enjoy and get a kick out of imagining this chaotic group being a dysfunctional family as much as i do

. . . .ᐟ

first things first: who gets who?

just like everything else at the agency, it’s a fucking ordeal.

dazai writes down everyone’s names to draw out of kenji’s hat, but he’s given them all nicknames, some more horrendous than others, and kunikida’s standing at the whiteboard writing down everyone’s favorite colors and t-shirt sizes when naomi pulls a name and asks, “who is ‘bawss bitch’?”

“president fukuzawa, duh,” dazai chirps.

cue face-palms and eye-rolls around the room.

“naomi, draw again. the whole point is that no one else kn-“

“thanks, ranpo, we know the point.” yosano reaches into the hat for herself. “who is . . . ‘tightass’?”

everyone glances to kunikida, who freezes and turns slowly, threateningly, toward the bandaged menace.

dazai tries so hard to contain his laugh, but ends up snorting unceremoniously.

so, commence kunikida choking him out and demanding he write down everyone’s proper goddamn names so they all know what the hell is going on. atsushi’s on it, copying everyone’s legal, government-registered first and last name down onto one sticky note each, and the drawing restarts.

names are distributed. instructions follow. yosano lovingly requests the biggest bottle of tequila the budget will allow.

the office party will start on christmas eve at 6pm.

. . .

naomi’s forcing junichiro into the ugliest, most uncomfortable-looking matching sweater anyone in the office has ever seen in all of their days (it’s got glitter-hot glue balls and messily sown-in sequins all over it. it’s hard to tell if it depicts something festive or if it’s the cover of lil wayne’s 1999 studio album tha block is hot).

yosano has cracked into the bottle of wine she’s kept stashed under her desk all day and is drinking straight from it.

ranpo’s encouraging her to chug while he makes a sizable dent in the huge tray of cookies provided by fukuzawa.

atsushi’s on the verge of tears because he’s never celebrated christmas with anyone who cares about him before, and kenji’s doing a mediocre job at consoling him.

dazai has brought eggnog and announces to everyone, at the exact moment that kunikida finishes off his third glass, that it’s spiked.

kyoka’s dragging haruno toward the group, where she places a reindeer antler-headband atop the older girl’s head. kyoka smiles so purely at her. it puts the fear of god into poor haruno.

it is 6:08pm.

once junichiro’s in his sweater and thoroughly suffering and atsushi’s stopped hiccuping, fukuzawa summons everyone around the tiny office tree for secret santa.

and here’s who got who.

. . .

president fukuzawa has drawn ranpo’s name for the third year in a row. he always goes with some sort of snack, but this year he found these on etsy and couldn’t resist.

the boss lets out a chuckle. everyone is jazzed. atsushi covers kyoka’s eyes. ranpo sticks his tongue out at fukuzawa (but cracks into the bag immediately).

. . .

ranpo drew yosano.

yosano lets out an unhinged laugh and puts it on. ranpo, mouth full of gummy dicks, lovingly retrieves a bottle of tequila from hiding. already half a bottle of wine and two glasses of eggnog in, yosano throws her arms around the great detective for a siblingly hug. atsushi is covering kyoka’s eyes again. he wonders if he’ll have to do this for every present.

. . .

yosano got kunikida.

“sorry, I couldn’t find an actual prescription.” kunikida’s lips are pursed in disappointment, not out of lack of appreciation but for shame in her joke. everyone knows it holds weight. dazai is on his ass laughing. kunikida remarks how he’s been needing a back pillow for his desk chair anyway. atsushi has his head in his hands.

. . .

kunikida got junichiro.

dazai and ranpo are nodding solemnly. no one is laughing because it’s true other than naomi who insists kunikida really does have a sense of humor. wow!

. . .

junichiro drew dazai’s name.

“awww!” dazai croons, holding it to his chest before going to place it on his desk next to his nameplate. “tanizaki, I’m so glad you think so.” again, everyone knows it’s true and laughs because of it this time.

. . .

dazai got fukuzawa.

it’s extra funny to dazai at this point because the boss is such a cat guy and also he and yosano have already snuck off cousins-at-thanksgiving style outside to smoke whatever (all while he’s on his way to being plastered. yosano’s the resident alcoholic, yes, but no one can ever truly contain dazai’s festive substance use). fukuzawa laughs - it has to be an effect of the alcohol on him too, everyone thinks, because no way would the stoic man ever crack a smile at such a gift let alone actually use this fucking mousepad. dazai tells him he’ll cry if he doesn’t see it on his desk next week.

. . .

a break proceeds because kunikida swears something got fucked up in the drawing process now that half of them have looped around. yosano, dazai, and ranpo are doing tequila shots. haruno explains to kunikida that it’s fine - someone had to go first - and they should just pick someone to start the second round of gifts. kunikida’s scribbling in his notebook trying to figure out what they screwed up. kenji insists that they’re already playing the game, there’s no point in trying to rewrite it now as long as everyone has a gift! kunikida looks visibly intoxicated like he’s about to pop a vein in his forehead, so kenji just laughs nervously and takes the reins. he tells kyoka to go next.

. . .

kyoka drew haruno.

it’s in a pretty purple bag, christmas spirit somewhat lost upon the child. atsushi almost starts crying again (dazai’s been slipping him eggnog). kyoka’s already assembled and glued the flower together. haruno smiles appreciatively. it will go on the front desk.

. . .

haruno got naomi.

no one expects this from haruno but it’s a huge hit, especially juxtaposed with junichiro’s gift from kunikida. it’s a book cover over a blank notebook and the only thing she apologizes for is that it doesn’t say “sibling.” naomi is red in the face and forcing a laugh. dazai and yosano are a second away from hoisting the girl up on their shoulders like she just made a winning touchdown. atsushi’s head is in his hands again.

. . .

naomi got atsushi.

it’s him if he was a single-celled organism, kenji remarks. atsushi is wholeheartedly pleased with this gift and gives naomi an extremely awkward hug. he holds onto it like a lifeline for the rest of the night.

. . .

atsushi pulled kenji’s name.

he wasn’t sure how seriously to take the gift, but he thought these were fitting. kenji beams and jumps up and down and hugs atsushi so tight the older boy starts to go blue in the face.

. . .

and finally, kenji drew kyoka.

kyoka wants the spiderman one. kenji obliges.

. . .

new and old traditions alike arise; yosano and ranpo each gift each other $20. fukuzawa has given both of them the $20. it's a ritual they refuse to let die. dazai tries to get kunikida to do a shot out of his mouth which leads to shouting and beating. atsushi sits both of them down on the couch and forces them to drink water and be nice to each other. naomi, haruno, and junichiro pick out a christmas movie to project onto the wall as background noise; they settle on a cheesy musical hallmark movie suspiciously similar to the one they put on last year. kyoka and kenji join ranpo in raiding the dessert table. yosano is singing! she is trying to get everyone to sing with her. dazai is the only one who joins. he is wearing the i ♥️ cock(tails) hat. they start with silent night and end with skeeyee by sexyy red.

before long, drunken detectives fall into their chairs and couches with blankets and plates of sweets to get comfy for home alone 2. dazai wants a whole couch to himself but that's unfair, so he settles for stretching his gangly ass legs across kunikida and tanizaki. kyoka and kenji curl up on the floor in a pile of blankets; the girl looks on the verge of sleep. naomi and haruno squeeze into a chair; yosano finds herself flat on the ground, nearly finished bottle of wine in hand; ranpo's feet are kicked up on the nearest desk and he sits in his chair near fukuzawa, who overlooks his employees with tired satisfaction. atsushi glances around at his his colleagues, and for as unhinged as they are, he feels lucky to have a group of people so welcoming to call his friends. all is peaceful and happy, except for ranpo's incessant burping and yosano's eventual snoring. it's fine.

merry fucking christmas.

#armed detective agency #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bsd dazai #bsd yosano #bsd fukuzawa #bsd ranpo #bsd kyouka #bsd kunikida #bsd kenji #bsd atsushi #bsd naomi #bsd junichiro #bsd haruno #bsd christmas #angelzai original.ᐟ

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sirhyst · 1 year

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Edogawa Ranpo (BSD) x brother!male!reader (ft. Atsushi) drabble

Note: I made this male reader cause it’s kind of a comfort vent but you can change ‘son’ to ‘child’ or ‘daughter’ or whatever fits you 👍

————————————————————————-

You, Ranpo and Atsushi sat near the presidents office during your break. The office was quiet aside from your light chatter and giggles. You were sharing stories of the many adventures you both had gone on with Fukuzawa, who had grown to feel responsible for you both.

“You guys are lucky to have the boss as your dad,” Atsushi said with a sigh. Ranpo smiled, but his face fell when he looked at you, who looked almost defeated.

“He’s nice, but Purin is more his son than I’ll ever be,” you tried to laugh off your comment, but even Atsushi could see some sadness in your eyes. You parted your lips to speak, when you felt a hand hit the back of your head.

You whipped your head around to look at Ranpo who was standing up beside you, looking less than impressed.

“It’s not about who’s more his child,” he said, a little louder than you would’ve liked.

“You are just as much his son as I am! And you’re my brother whether you like it or not,” he let out an exasperated sigh. You’ve known Ranpo long enough to know that that sigh meant he wished you thought higher of yourself, without him saying anything. Atsushi sat there shocked at Ranpo’s outburst, but smiled at the detective trying to comfort the person he’d grown to love as a brother. He stayed quiet not wanting to interrupt the moment. Ranpo reclaimed his spot beside you. You couldn’t help the small smile that made its way onto your face as the detective huffed.

“That means a lot coming from you, I always felt like I was below you,” you rubbed the back of your neck.

“I’m the world’s greatest detective, of course you’re below me,” Ranpo responded kicking your leg. You felt your eyebrow twitch in irritation at his remark, but chose to remain silent.

“But you’re still my brother, even if we’re not related,” it was rare for Ranpo to have a tender tone in his voice, but you knew when he was being serious.

It seemed Ranpo quickly got tired of being the caring older brother roll and kicked you in the leg again. You wanted to kick him back but laughed at his antics.

————————————————————————My favourite photos of purin 🥹

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inamagicalhallucination · 10 months

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did i already share it? well ill share it again ig

dazai after oda's death wandering around yokohama, a mess becuz someone so precious to him died, unable to understand the very human feelings he's feeling, perhaps feeling something so strongly for someone for the first time (at least whilst being aware that he is)

its night time now and he's crumpled up in some alley way not knowing what to do or how to process anything when someone calls out to him

he ignores it

they come near him

he reaches for his gun, angry at being approached by who ever the fuck-

"are you okay?" the voice asks, and dazai's so caught off guard even tho he shouldnt be - there r only two ppl after all - ppl who dont care and ppl who ask if ur okay to pretend that they do

oda was always an exception

he thinks he says fine and that should be the end of it and it is becuz the voice leaves and dazai tries to go back to breathing

except it comes back a while later with the familiar rustle of plastic bags and suddenly someone's in front of him, not touching, but close enough dazai cant ignore him, his hand tightens on his gun

"you look like you havent eaten" and in front of him, in a plastic bag, riceballs, water, and napkins

he stares

"you're well dressed" the voice says "so you probably have somewhere to go to" he doesnt "but you look hurt, covered in blood. if it was one of my students i would want someone to help them"

when dazai looks up the person in front of him doesn't look older than him

he's got long blond hair tied up, glasses, dressed in a black button up, a tan coat, and a stern look on his face

"i dont" dazai says even though he doesnt know why he's telling this strange man anything - but its true he has no where to go (chuuya's? but something stopped him before he could; ango's? that... if ango had been here... maybe oda wouldn't have-)

"dont what" dazai doesn't reply but the man seems to understand - his face falters for a second

"youngins these days, they never plan out anything. why would you spend money on expensive looking clothes and not rent out a place? my first priority was an apartment! i bought non necessary clothes after" the man scolds gesturing to his coat, dazai wants to reach for his gun again "whatever, you can stay with me for the night - i have a spare couch! this is a one time thing though! you better rent out a hotel room tomorrow!"

dazai stares at him in surprise, at his offer, his contradictory tone, voice, and words or simply the fact that someone can show such... kindness - dazai isnt sure

he doesn't remember agreeing - but he must have

must have agreed and followed the man back to his apartment, must have cleaned up the blood (odaodaoda) in his bathroom, must have eaten his food, drank his water and fallen asleep on his couch because thats where he is in the morning

its still dark out when dazai wakes up in an unfamiliar place and remembers the man

he has a feeling that the man will scold him for not immediately finding a place but let him stay for longer, but he cant stand to be here any longer

he needs to leave

go far far away from oda, the mafia, this man who showed him kindness for no reason as if oda was still here watching, making sure - he needs to go

there's only a brief hesitation when he sees the man's coat, so familiar to the one oda wears, hanging by the door, easy to grab and leave

he doesn't feel guilt when he takes it with him

he thinks of the man a few times here and there in the two years he spends wandering, waiting

he meets him again eventually, walking into the ada office with a fake backstory - he's there with the person he was told was the boss

when he looks over his eyes linger on the coat, a touch of something but not recognition

this is fine with dazai who puts on his best happy mask

"hey there! i'm here for a job interview! my name's dazai"

"Ah yes. My name is Fukuzawa, I am the president of the Agency. This is one of my employees, your future coworker if it all works out, Kunikida"

#yall ever think about where dazai's coat came from #this isnt like a theory btw its just a funky little thing i thought up of #also do you guys think about how kunikida complained about taking in atsushi and feeding him but STILL paid for like 30 bowls of atsushi's #favorite food for no real reason - like he could've said no - what couldve atsushi done - he couldve only bought him a bowl or too but nope #he let him eat as much as he wanted all the while complaining he's so funny #kunikida: dazai you cant bring in orphans like this ... but now that you have i will ensure that he is fed and happy #same energy w/ 18 yrs old dazai #yeah #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #pm dazai #dazai #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #kunikida hcs #kunikida fluff #kunikida headcanons #bsd kunikida #bungou stray dogs kunikida #kunikida doppo #kunikidazai #kunikizai

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starglow-xx · 2 years

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𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

(𝘯.) 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵

the nakajima atsushi collection of “the love of an older brother” series

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ synopsis: he’s had a terrible childhood, and is in no condition to take care of himself much less a newborn, but he’ll do everything it takes to make sure you’ll have the childhood he’s never had

having a baby sister pt. 2 !!

(platonic!) older brother! nakajima atsushi x baby sister! reader

characters: fukuzawa yukichi, edogawa ranpo, yosano akiko, kunikida doppo & dazai osamu | type of work: head canons | pt. 1 | pt. 2 |

a/n : oops i have no excuses

parental guardians time ✧˖*°࿐

atsushi was absolutely done with these people

why the heck did they think that bringing him (who’s obviously the guardian of a month old little girl) to a bombing hostage situation was a good idea

honestly

can’t a guy get a break?

we don’t talk abt it but he started to cry too

but then the bomb didn’t go off?? (ಠ_ಠ)

so he was just there on the ground in an awkward position going “h u h” in his head

note that he was still crying and so were you, but not as loud as a few moments ago

when he realized that the bomb wasn’t going to go off, he practically leaped off the bomb and snatched you from dazai’s arms shushing you shakily, trying to calm you and himself down

after you had done so, you cozied back up into your blanket like nothing ever happened

oh the life of a month old baby, how relaxing you must have it

it took a good minute or two to understand what the fuck was happening

the job that dazai-san recommended = job at armed detective agency

the test involved = the ada’s entrance exam

he passed the exam = job at armed detective agency

yeah no he felt like he was gonna pass out (ಠ_ಠ)

fast forwarding to happier times, let’s say that life at the agency was...eventful to say the very least, but luckily there are some very…competent adults to help atsushi out

fukuzawa yukichi ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

#1 cat grandpa

pls you’re now added onto his list of weaknesses

everyone knows it

ranpo’s not a happy camper

...

but he likes you too so you get a free pass ig

one of the best at getting you to settle down only second to atsushi

he’s very calm on the outside, but on the inside at times he’s freakin out a little bit

bc yes he has his crazy stupid lunatic children but a kid this young?

this smol?

yeah no it’s first time too give him a break

so yeah a little awkward at times but he means well and he’s getting the hang of it

atsushi trust scale a solid 12/10

definitely trustworthy to leave you in his care

bonus points bc he knows he won’t get a migraine

edogawa ranpo ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

...

questionable but he’s ranpo-san so he’s reliable to a degree

in life and death situations and supposed to be impossible cases that need solving?

oh yeah def trusts

but ranpo-san with a...baby?

atsushi is skeptical

but like i said, he likes you so the reliableness factor increases

but actually unbeknownst to atsushi and some other agency members, he does knows the dos and don’ts of what to do when taking care of a baby

he just likes the reactions he gets when doing something he isn’t supposed to

“ah (y/n)! my soon to be protege! lemme take you on a murder case with me!”

“RANPO-SAN SHE’S A BABY???”

“WAIT GET BACK HERE WITH HER STROLLER—”

and actually his favorite victim isn’t your older brother but kunikida

freaking him out is one of the highlights of his day tbh

now he really understands the kick dazai gets whenever he does it

one time he tried to give you a lollipop but kunikida who wasn’t even in the room burst out of the president’s office and started screaming abt danger and choking hazards

atsushi trust scale 7/10

not bad with all the obvious/technical stuff but he gives him heart attacks on purpose so yeah

bonus!

kunikida trust scale 2/10

bad but can’t be worse than dazai

yosano akiko ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

she scares atsushi but said scary lady is the closest thing to a maternal figure you’re gonna get

for atsushi, yosano has more of a scary big sister vibe but since you’re nearly two decades younger than him, he’s sure that when you get older you’ll probably see her like a mother

if you’re not with atsushi then you’re in her office

usually napping tbh

bc yk, you’re a baby so there isn’t much you can do at the moment

she talks to you while working and just doing other mundane tasks in her office

one time atsushi and tanizaki overheard and all tanizaki could do was pat atsushi on the back in sympathy

“...and this is a scalpel! it comes in handy for a lot of these operations, though i prefer other things like chainsaws and the like”

*cue giggles*

*cue atsushi fainting*

you don’t really have much hair yet but she’s been eyeing some cute butterfly clips to match the one in her hair for when you can wear them

atsushi trust scale 8/10

also pretty good at taking care of you but loses points trying to teach you about chainsaws

kunikida doppo ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

...

hmm

where to start

he’s competent but he’s awkward

will give yosano-sensei a run for her money as your maternal figure bc boy is the mother henning bad

“DAZAI! don’t you get another step closer!”

“but kunikida-kun! i need to get my headphones!”

“i can’t have you infecting her with your...you!”

“kunikida-kun she’s in atsushi-kun’s arms like 10 feet away!”

“and you’re about to be 10 feet too close!”

but like i said

he’s awkward

“here kunikida-kun! hold (n/n)-chan for a minute would you? yay! bye!”

“wAIT DAZAI YOU—...”

“...hm? what’s wrong kunikida-kun? you look awfully stiff there.”

“...”

“...kunikida-kun?~ gasp! are you...nervous? (¬‿¬ )“

“dazai if i could yell at you right now i would but for the sake of everything holy and otherwise, i can’t believe im saying this but get the baby out of my arms and take her right. now.”

BUT

he’s only awkward if it’s a surprise like the scenario i played out right now

usually though, he’s pretty composed

unless you’re crying

but that’s a different scenario that’ll we’ll get into next time

dreads when ranpo is in the vicinity bc AGH

yeah that’s the best i can describe it

knows he causes chaos on purpose but he can’t ignore it bc what if he’s being serious

atsushi trust scale 9/10

very good but can afford to be a little more relaxed

babies can smell fear

dazai osamu ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

i started laughing when i typed his name if that means anything

besides your brother, he’s your favorite and it absolutely kills kunikida

he cannot for the life of him comprehend how that happened

sobs about it every now and then

“how could we have let this happen?!?”

“ne ne kunikida-kun!~ sounds like you’re just jealoUSACK—”

has “staring contests” with you

by staring contests i mean he just stares at you in your car seat carrier thingy while you shake a rattle

he’s curious okay!

all babies do is eat, poop, cry, play, sleep repeat AND other people pamper you and cater you to your whim

basically his dream life!

also uses you to torture kunikida bc as i said

he’s your favorite (¬‿¬ )

“DAZAI GIVE ME BACK MY WALLET”

“ah ah ah kunikida-kun! you can’t get me if i’m holding (n/n)-chan! what if she gets hurt due to your violent tendencies?! GASP you’re gonna risk that?!”

but like there are times where he’s had enough of you, bc there are times he wants “me time” yk?

BECAUSE

just recently you’ve started crying when you get passed to someone who isn’t him or atsushi

“okay (n/n)-chan! time to go kunikida-kun so your favorite—”

“don’t push it dazai!”

“—can rest his arms!”

this is when he’d pass you on to the blonde and he and said blonde would walk away literally three steps in the opposite direction before freezing

because you’d start blubbering and fussing and without exchanging words kunikida would pass you back to dazai where you a) start to giggle b) settle down and go back to being quiet or c) fall back asleep

tbh tho, he’s kinda impressed

not even he can trigger that face of despair from kunikida

but he fears the day (if it ever comes) when you start crying when you’re given back to atsushi

atsushi trust scale a solid…

5/10

yeah it can go either way

bonus!

kunikida trust scale -2/10

has his reasons but also very petty

realistically, probably around 1-3 depending on the day

pt. 3 w/ the “kids” of the agency next time ⸜( ˙˘˙)⸝

and as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate on here or any other sites!

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aarcanechaoss · 29 days

Text

Loaded

Masterlist

Ichiyo would have bet all the money in her pocket that the man before her had been an Alpha… no he was just a wolf.

Warnings: smut, age gap, swearing, Higuchi x DILF

Notes: here’s your Fukuzawa and Higuchi fic idk why but this came to mind first. Only term used is Alpha not beta, omega etc. I aint getting into that hole

Tagging: @daffodilsinspring

Ichiyo I didn’t like to presume another Wolf’s rank, especially when they were older than her.

She didn’t like to presume because people often thought she was low ranked, thought she was just this weak thing Alpha’s would walk all over.

It wasn’t like the humans didn’t do that, wasn’t like those who didn’t have something beneath their skin didn’t think of her as less.

Though it amused her, Mori never once questioned her skills… though that might be because she bit him when she was younger- in her defence he had just sliced open her grandfather's throat- but he had never downplayed her abilities, never once questioned her role in the organisation he'd overtaken.

So why everyone else deemed her unimportant? Who fucking knows.

She shook her head, thoughts no longer clouding her mind as she wandered through the small bar, following a scent like the dog she was.

It was a nice smell- something woodsy, hinted with cinnamon.

It was always a treat to find another wolf- they weren’t extinct or anything but for the most part it was a clan-based power, something so far beneath the skin that having an ability on top of it made it easier to hide some days.

She was stronger, faster, could hear, taste and smell better.

But of course, only Mori knew that she had an ability and Mori was the only Wolf in the port mafia she’d ever snapped at- ever shown her hand too. Sometimes she thinks she should do the same to Hirotsu, another wolf who thought she was below him… though he was much older compared to her.

The downside to being a wolf was heats. A feeling that was hard to ignore and regardless of her feelings towards a mortal man and since she wasn't taken and he'd never... aided her (why would he? Akutagawa doesn't know what she is) she found solace in finding people who would forget about her later- it made it easier.

Ichiyo paused beside a table, head tilting as she took in the man who had been calmly sipping his sake. Metallic blue eyes l locked on her just as her rich brown had.

Of all the scents to follow. Of all the scents to ignite that pool of heat in her belly.

How on earth did she find herself with him- he had to be an Alpha as well and two Alpha’s in heat were bad news.

“President.” She said, blinking owlishly at him, his scent spiked the second she said his title.

This was a bad idea. She needed to turn around and leave the bar, leave the man to his drinking… they were the only wolves here after all.

“Higuchi- correct?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing here?”

Could he not smell it? Did he not notice how enticing he was at current- hell even the normal human women in the corner were drooling over him.

“Wanted a drink… caught a scent instead.”

His nose twitched, eyes widening slightly like it had just hit him.

She was breathing slowly, keeping calm and collected as she spoke to Yukichi Fukuzawa.

“Ah.”

Really white wolf? Just ah.

“I should go.”

“Have a drink.” The words were out his mouth before he had thought them by the look on his face.

She cocked her head to the side.

“Two alphas aren’t a good combination.” She sniffed, ready to accept defeat. If he fought her he’d win- human or wolf.

The look on his face told her he had no idea what she meant. Of course, she didn’t look like she could lead a pack (she did but that was a different story) but that just made people underestimate her which she supposed was a good thing.

“I’m not an alpha.” He said quietly. “But I wouldn’t mind a drinking companion.”

She blinked. Seriously?

She slowly moved into the chair across from him.

“You aren’t?”

“You are?” He laughed.

“Yes. Let me guess you don’t believe it?”

“My line of work didn’t have me around other wolves very often. I can't say I’ve spoken to a pack leader that wasn’t my own before.” He admitted. "Even then- I'm no longer in a pack so I do not have need of an Alpha."

A cup appeared before her suddenly, sake already present.

“So when Mori called you a lone wolf… he meant it?” Fukuzawa nods.

"He wasn't always a wolf-" The president began.

“I’m the one that bit him.” The admission was out before she thought more if it. Fukuzawa hummed, if he was surprised he didn’t show it. “He’d just killed my grandfather and I was an angry brat with fuck all control... whoops.”

She found his laugh did something to her- a fluttery feeling in her chest.

"That would be why he never told me how he turned then."

"No one wants to admit defeat by thirteen-year-old girl." She shrugged, bringing the beverage to her lips.

"Your grandfather... was he...?" She already knew what the question was and she'll admit surprise not even Hirotsu has figured it out.

"The old boss?" He nods. "Yes. Mori was going to keep me in the mafia no matter what- a big fuck you to the old man."

"Now he really can't get rid of you." Fukuzawa laughed again.

"Nope... means I can give him orders though... if you ever need some blackmail on him."

"I'll remember that." And he would, she could scent no lies in that regard.

"Good sake." She said after a beat of silence.

"Yes." They didn't know what to do now, a lull of awkward tension settled. "I come here often for it."

She should have left beforehand, being so close when he smelt so good and they were both in heat was going to be a disaster.

How was he so calm... was it because he was older? Did they get easier when you neared middle age? Was it like menopause did it just fucking stop?

Downing the last of her drink she stood, hand digging through her bag for some yen to give the older man.

"I should go- thanks for the drink." She nodded, passing him the money she had found.

His eyes seemed to darken just that little bit as he raised his hand to push hers away.

"No need, it's on me."

His hand was still touching hers.

She should pull away first, but his scent was getting stronger and no doubt hers was too.

~~*~~

She really should have left the second she'd found out who's scent she had followed. Ichiyo really needs to learn that sometimes running away is a good thing.

But who was she to complain when the older man's mouth was on hers, when their clothes were nowhere in sight- strewn across his dining room floor.

Who was she to complain when she had a sword master's body pressed against her own, lifting her up with such ease that she practically moaned into his mouth.

Next thing Ichiyo knows she's on a bed, his bed, with no intention of leaving it any time soon. She heaved, watching him with wide dilated eyes. She was surrounded by his scent and while she would prefer to leave hers on the men she slept with she couldn't deny how nice his was... how similar it was to her own- earthy and warm.

She rolled them, the president of the Armed Detective Agency now beneath her- his head hitting the pillows with a soft thud. His eyes were just as dilated as her own.

"You want control?" He questioned, quiet enough to not ruin the mood- how could it? His voice was practically liquid sex right now.

"I want pleasure." She replied, rolling her hips against his own- she was soaked and he wasn't even inside her yet. At least he was hard she supposed, she could feel just how much he wanted her right now with each little movement.

"That I can give."

"This isn't a good idea is it?" She asked, leaning forward, her nails dragging down his toned stomach towards his cock. He hissed as her hand wrapped around him- shit he was big, not that it mattered in the long run, good dick was good dick.

"No, it isn't." His hands rest on her thighs, nails digging into her skin.

"So long as no one finds out I suppose." She sucked in a breath as she settled back, a deliciously painful stretch following until she was fully seated. She moaned.

He let her choose the pace, a sentiment she appreciated but she knew she'd grow bored of if this ever happened again (she shook that thought away faster than it came). Her hands were flat on his stomach, fingers digging into the firm line of abs he'd had hidden beneath his usual Yukata as she lifted her hips and dropped down until she was flush against him. His fingers dug into the fat of her thighs, nails biting her skin and leaving moon shaped marks in their wake.

She'd be bruised for sure.

She felt him raise his knees behind her, giving her some leverage and somehow going so much deeper. Ichiyo swore as he bucked upwards and growled. Brown eyes stared down at blue as she pushed herself back against his thighs, one hand moving towards her clit while the other grasped her breast.

Well, if the male hadn't been turned on before (which he absolutely had been) he certainly was now as his scent permeated the air and she's sure hers had surged right back as a wave of pleasure overcame her. One orgasm down.

The next thing Ichiyo knows she's on her back again, the larger man towering over her, forcing her legs to wrap around his waist as he began thrusting- just that bit faster than she had been.

He growled, mouth trailing over her jaw, her neck, her chest- tongue darting to swirl around her nipple before doing the same to the other.

She snarled back as her nails dug into his skin, no not dug, clawed. She could feel the marks she was leaving behind as his hips moved against hers.

She wouldn't admit it out loud, but this was the best heat yet. Who knew she just needed to get into the ADA President's pants for a good fuck.

His lips met hers again with urgency, muffling both of their moans- just in case anyone heard them, questioned them.

Ichiyo raised a hand, tangling it in his silver hair as another hard thrust sent her spiralling. Fuck every movement was driving her insane, maybe it was the sake, maybe she was just delirious from her heat but... she had no idea how long they'd been at it.

Fukuzawa pulled away just as another orgasm was approaching and smirked. Stupid middle-age-man stopping her mid-

He flipped her, chest pressing into the soft cotton sheets where his smell overwhelmed her senses- in the best way. Her hands grabbed at his sheets, nails most likely cutting through the fabric as he enters her once more.

"Fuck." She whined as his thrust had her face pressing into his pillow.

His hands were on her waist, her hip, pulling her back against him with every thrust and maybe it was just her imagination, but she could have sworn he was going deeper.

He was leaning over her now, one hand still gripping her hip, the other holding his weight right beside her head though his forehead was now resting between her shoulder blades.

One sharp roll of hips after the other and she could feel herself tumbling, growling at the older man above her, taking her quite literally like a bitch in heat. She growled at the feeling of teeth along her back.

"No teeth President." Her teeth clacked together in warning- he grunted in return as another hard thrust pressed her into the pillows.

"Sorry." He huffed out against her skin.

She whimpered, that well of heat and pressure in her lower belly was returning again and going by the less rhythmic thrusts of the sword master he was close too.

"Good-fuck." She groaned out as white began to speckle her vision, her body falling limp in the man's hold as he pulled away- his release spilling across her lower back.

She heaved out a breath as her body melted into the bed- Fukuzawa now having padded towards his bathroom to get a washcloth to clean them both up with. He returned in no time to clean her up (how nice of him) before returning with the washcloth to the bathroom once more.

With a huff she sat up, eyeing the room for her clothes before remembering that they were practically thrown about his home.

"Do you need anything?" Fukuzawa questioned as he pulled on a robe.

"To find my clothes." She barked out a laugh and stood slowly (legs wobbling just that bit but she wouldn't say that aloud).

"Wait here."

So she did.

Not even five minutes later and she was dressed and ready to sneak her way out of the ADA dormitory- or whatever the complex was.

"Goodbye." She said nodding to the man- leaving a hook up was always the most awkward part. At least he nodded back, some recognition that this was irregular for them both.

And so Ichiyo left the home, footsteps feather light as she snuck out of the ADA's complex hoping to whatever god that no one noticed her- it was one am hopefully no one did.

How unfortunate it was that she didn't see the vibrant green eyes scrutinizing her from above.

#bsd smut #bungou stray dogs smut #ichiyo higuchi smut #yukichi fukuzawa smut

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mncxbe · 10 months

Note

Please Ignore this if you aren't taking requests rn, but I had an Idea, Like how would Fukuzawa, Oda, etc react if you would accidentally call them Dad? If you want you can add other characters by accidentally calling them brother or sister :3 (omg imagine Yosano)

Omg yes that's so good. Sorry it took so long to write this piece I'm currently a bit busy at work but I finally managed. I hope you like it♡

4:05

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝑶𝒅𝒂, 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐, 𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂

he is so so surprised when you accidently call him "dad"

oh boy he tries to keep it cool to keep up appearances, but as soon as he's alone he smiles so much

he's so happy that you see him like that

will remember your words for longer than you expected

A wave of fear washed over you when Dazai informed you that the president has just summoned you in his office. It wasn't like you did anything bad, yet you couldn't help but wonder why he wanted to see you.

"Mr. President?" you asked in a hushed voice as you stepped into his office with your head bowed. "You wanted to see me."

"Ah, Y/N, yes. Please take a seat" said the silver haired man as he motioned you towards a cushioned pillow on the ground. "Would you like some tea?"

You mumbled a small 'mhm' before sitting on the mat. "So why did you want to see me, sir? Did I do something?"

Your tried to hide your anxiety but the tone of your voice betrayed you. Fukuzawa lifted his gaze from the tea he was pouring, his ocean eyes narrowing at you.

"Why would you assume you did something wrong?" he inquired.

"Well..." you stuttered "You don't usually ask me to come to your office so I figured that I messed something up."

A heavy silence fell between the two of you; you could even hear your own racing heartbeat. But then Fukuzawa's lips curled into a gentle smile.

"Oh, Y/N. I just wanted to congratulate you for doing such a great job. Your work is invaluable to our organization and I wanted to personally thank you for your contribution."

The relief you felt upon hearing his praise could hardly be put into words; your lips stretched into a gleeful smile as you bowed your head.

"Thank you sir. I'm honoured to be a member of this agency and I really cannot express how happy I am that my hard work pays off, dad. I promise I won't disappoint you and-"

The look of surprise on Fukuzawa's face made you stop in dead in your tracks. What was wrong? You asked yourself as you went over your speech in your mind. And then you realized that you had just called him dad.

"Oh God I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think when I said that"

Fukuzawa's expression softened as he handed you your cup of tea; steam curling on its surface like grape vines.

"Don't worry about it" he said reassuringly "I don't mind it."

The two of you quietly sipped your sweet tea before he let you return to work. After you shut the door, Fukuzawa finally allowed himself to externalize the sheer amount of happiness he felt. There was nothing he loved more than being able to take care of the Agency's members, and the fact that you considered him a father figure was proof that he was doing a good job.

𝑶𝒅𝒂

he smiles so gently♡

if you get embarassed he pets your head and reassures you that it's alright

Oda's really proud of himself; from then on he always brings you curry at work

It was only eight months ago that the Port Mafia decided to recruit you as an assistant. Your job was pretty basic: compling reports for different missions and sorting paperwork but you loved it since it allowed you to meet almost all higher ups in the organization.

This is how you ended up getting acquainted with Oda. Although he was around seven years older than you, he was surprisingly high spirited and young at heart and unlike other members of the Mafia he was always kind to you. Oda would often swing by the dusty underground room that acted as your office and ask how you day was, bringing you snacks and tea.

After a few months his visits became something natural and at times, when you were absorbed in your work, you didn't fully acknowledge his presence.

"Hi, Y/N. How's your day going?" asked the brunette as he shut the wooden door, causing a cloud of dust to rise from the floor.

"Jesus" he coughed "You really need to clean this place one day"

"Yea, I know. I just cannot find a damn broom in this entire building. Oh and I'm good thanks for asking. What about you?" you replied, typing away on your laptop. The keys on the computer board clicked faintly as you quickly ran your digits over them.

Your comment made Oda chuckle lightly "Well, my day's fine too. I'm gonna go on a mission later but I wanted to bring you lunch first" he said as he placed a cardboard box on your desk.

"Oh, thanks dad" you babbled out, still not taking your eyes off of the glowing screen.

It was only when the man let out a hoarse laughter that you actually snapped out of your trance.

"Did you just call me dad?" he asked in a playful voice, causing your face to heat up.

"Uh... Did I? I guess I did" you said in attempt to play it off. "Do you mind it?"

"Of course not, Y/N. It's really nice to know that you see me as a father figure."

For a few seconds your gaze held his and you could see the joy sparkling in his eyes; he was giddy, like a kid in a candy store.

The wholesome moment was however abruptly interrupted by a blink; you had just received another e mail from your boss, asking you to go over some old documents from the archive.

"Uuh this work just never ends!" you cried out, throwing your hands in the air in a desperate gesture.

Oda only chuckled at your outburst, his smile widening. "Well then I'll leave you to it, but don't forget to eat something too"

"I won't. Thanks Oda and good luck on the mission"

The man lazily waved at you before stepping out of the room, a gentle smile making its way to his lips. She called me dad. He kept chanting those words to himself throughout the whole day, his heart swelling with unbounded pride and joy.

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐

sweet baby, he already knew that you saw him as a brother, but actually calling him that makes him smile so much

he pinches your cheeks till they're red, good luck getting rid of him now

as someone who never actually had a family until he met Fukuzawa, having someone else see him as an older brother is such an honour

from then on, Ranpo shares more of his sweets with you

You've been working at the Detective Agency for a couple of months now and Ranpo was your mentor. He had found you one day at a crime scene, hovering over the body with an inquisitive look on your face.

"Sirs, it may look like this man committed suicide but based on the angle the blade was tilted at I can rule it a homicide. There's no way he could've held the knife like that" you announced confidently as one of the police officers dragged you away from the corpse.

You were hectically swinging your arms and legs in attempt to free yourself. "I'm telling you, it wasn't suicide. You're jumping to conclusions."

"Shut up, brat" spat the vexed policeman as he showed you past the yellow tape that restricted the perimeter. "You better not cross the line again unless you wanna end up in jail. This is your last warning" he said before walking away from you.

You huffed in annoyance, turning on your heels when you suddenly bumped into the young detective.

"You're quite observant, young lady" he said in his usual jovial voice. "Tell me, how old are you?"

"Seventeen..." you mumbled, your eyes narrowing at him "And who are you?"

The young man chuckled as a wide smile made its way to his lips. "I'm Ranpo Edogawa, the world greatest detective. And you, miss, are in great luck. I want to rectruit you as my apprentice."

From then on you accompanied Ranpo to crime scenes and solved countless cases together, the friendship between you growing stronger by the day.

One Monday evening as you returned to the office from a crime site, you enthusiastically pulled Ranpo in for a hug.

"Thanks, nii-chan. This was my biggest case so far and I couldn't have solved it without you." you beamed.

For a brief moment the detective was awestruck; he was accustomed to your sudden affections, but it was the first time you've ever called him big bro.

As if sensing his bewilderment you quickly pulled away from him, a deep shade of pink tinting your cheeks as you fumbled for words.

"I'm sorry Ranpo I don't know why I said that."

The detective regained his composure, flashing you his signature smirk "Hey, hey don't worry, Y/N" he said gently as he caressed the crown of your head. "You can always count on your big bro. Let's go get some sweets now, ok? My treat."

You nodded eagerly and began walking towards the closest convenience store; Ranpo stood behind, his emerald eyes following your movements. A warm feeling, which was most likely a blend of love and pride, bloomed in his chest as he watched you open the glassy door of the shop.

"You coming?" you yelled at him in attempt to cover the sound of the incoming traffic and he quickly followed you. The door closed behind him with a thud as you entered the shop.

𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐

she blushes so much but she's so happy

much like Ranpo she's deeply moved when she hears your words

expect her to take you on more shopping sprees

"Keep up, Y/N. We still have a few more shops to check out" said the woman with a wide grin on her face as she entered yet another store.

It was the beginning of summer and almost all boutiques had clothes on sale, which meant that your colleague ought to take you on one of her infamous shopping sprees. Since you only started your job only a few months ago, you couldn't afford most of the ellegant garments displayed in the shop windows, so you simply resolved to carrying around Yosano's bags.

"Naa girly wait for me" you whined as you struggled to balance the shiny box Yosano just handed you.

The woman, seemingly ignoring your complaints, walked to a nearby mannequin and scanned the dress it was wearing with narrowed eyes.

"Tell me, Y/N. Do you like this?" she asked in a contemplative voice.

You considered the dress for a moment before speaking; it was truly gorgeous, a black piece adorned with intricate purple and pink patters which looked like curls of smoke.

"It's very beautiful, Akiko. You'd look great in it."

Your friend sighed, her head dropping to the side as her violet eyes met yours "That wasn't the question, Y/N. I asked if you like it."

You were taken aback by her blunt words but quickly nodded, earning a smile from the woman.

"Good. Then try it on" she said, taking a clothes hanger from a nearby rack.

You didn't bother to hide your excitement as you rushed to the changing rooms and slipped into the dress; and it fit you like a glove, perfectly hugging all your curves. With excitement burning in your eyes, you stepped out of the dressing room.

"Soo what do you think?" you asked your friend, performing a twirl.

"Oyy you look so hot girl" she cheered "Wear this to the next event we go to and you'll sweep everyone off their feet."

"I highly doubt that" you giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Plus I can't afford it anyway"

"Nonsense! I'm buying it for you" announced the woman with a proud smile on her face.

"But I can't accept it, Aki. It's way too-"

Yosano cut you short with a swift motion of her hand "Then consider it a birthday gift. You're turning 20 next month right?"

An ecstatic smile made it's way to your lips as you hugged her. "Thanks, nee chan" you whispered, your arms snaking around her neck.

Upon hearing your words Yosano's face turned a light shade of pink but she wasted no time to slip her hands around your torso, pulling you closer to her. Happiness bubbled up inside her when she felt you giggle agaist her shoulder.

"Anytime, Y/N" she smiled back

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd headcanons #ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo edogawa #yosano akiko #bsd yosano #yosano x reader #oda bsd #oda x reader #bungou stray dogs fukuzawa #fukuzawa x reader #bsd fukuzawa #bungou stray dogs ranpo

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kunikinnie · 2 years

Note

Your request are open so I hope you don't mind <3. Shsjdjdj I just love Yukichi so much. May I ask for hcs of him being on an age gap relationship? (Like 25 years old reader.) Like he's being insecure that you needed to be with someone's younger or that he's too old for you— with fluff in the end please 🥺💮

a/n: oh yes I absolutely don't mind! I hope these are okay :) I know a few 10+ year age gap couples so I'll try to base these off those if you don't mind ehe

being in a relationship with a large age gap

featuring: Fukuzawa x GN!Reader

He's happy and grateful that you two are romantically involved, but there are fears in the back of his head that he does his best to suppress.

First is public opinion. Many frown upon this type of relationship and he's afraid that it would ruin both of your (but especially yours) reputations, which is why only a select few are aware of it. He's fortunate that all of those who know support you two fully but it's hard to know how others might react.

Keeping the relationship a secret is not exactly difficult as he thought it would be. Given his occupation and position, most of his subordinates and acquaintances respect his silence on the matter. They all just assume it's for his partner's safety.

That doesn't mean it's not inconvenient at times, though. Sometimes he's wary whenever you go out or are alone together - he's not sure if it's alright to show even the slightest of physical affection. You'll be walking together and his mind is in turmoil over whether he should hold your hand or not.

Another is other parties romantically interested in you. Your age and of course your personality is attractive to many, and most of those are those in the same age group as yours. The possibility of there being someone more attuned to your tastes and preferences (as well as the culture of your age) is high. What if you realize you enjoy their company more than his?

This is his greatest fear. Aside from his age, his tight schedule as president leaves him with little time and energy to spend with you than he would like. The thought of someone else consoling you, doing things that he should be doing, and ultimately replacing him worries him constantly.

This is why he checks on you often. Texting you, sending you flowers and other small gifts, and verbally asking you how you're doing are his preferred ways of showing he cares. You can expect more expensive presents whenever he's busy and/or a little anxious over that new guy you've been talking with recently.

Okay enough angst HAHA some fluff!

The nicest thing about you being so young is your energy. Somehow you can talk thrice as long as he could, while he listens (although not always attentively - this guy's got stuff on his mind too). The things you share and the frequent change of pace is a welcome breath of fresh air. It makes him feel young, too.

Advice-giving was always his strong suit - or at least that's the role the people around him assigned him to - so you don't have to look far for guidance even for the most mundane things.

What he just doesn't understand no matter how hard he tries is your sense of humor. Pop culture, memes, you name it. Well, to be fair he's not the type to understand the humor of his own generation way back then anyway, but if you want someone to stare at you confused and concerned then you've got your guy.

Here's a funny thing about your relationship: both of you are so worried for each other that you both secretly take care of the other too much. For example: he'll do some chores for you when you're out because he believes that the older one should take of the younger one; this is because they have more experience and should help those less-experienced.

On the flip side, you do the exact same thing because in your head, you should be taking care of him since he's older and needs to rest more. Not to mention his current position as a leader. It ends up that chores get done twice without the other knowing, until one day you caught him doing "your" chores.

Favorite activity is relaxing or sleeping together. Whether or not you're both exhausted, he thinks it's the best way for you two to bond while being able to recharge. These are also the times when he doesn't have to think of anything and just enjoy your presence.

At the end of the day, as long as you choose to be with him and are mature enough to understand the world he lives in, then there your relationship will pretty be much like any other.

#didn't realize how long this was wow #bsd #fukuzawa yukichi #fukuzawa x reader #fukuzawa x you #fukuzawa x y/n

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noose-lion · 2 years

Text

We Got Him

Fandom: bsd

Pairing(s): none, platonic Dazai & Ada

Fukuzawa watches Dazai out of the corner of his eye. The young man doesn't seem to notice, which in and of itself means something is wrong. Dazai should have noticed the scrutiny the minute the president's attention focused on him.

They had just climbed back in the taxi, finished with an interrogation disguised as a business meeting with the Agency's current target. Said target, a corrupt business owner, had been tricking the elderly and poor out of their homes, such cases are ones Fukuzawa and Dazai often take care of. The two of them proved to be an excellent team when it came to subtle intimidation and pseudo hospitality.

Everything had gone smoothly. Dazai acted and talked as usual, pulling every bit of info they needed from the target. But Fukuzawa wasn't dumb, after so many years working with Dazai he can sense something is wrong.

And while Dazai usually cuts back on his usual dramatics when working with the president, the detective is far too subdued for normal. Especially now that they're returning to the Agency. He's slumped against the back of the seat, forehead to the window, and hasn't said a word the whole ride back. Fukuzawa would assume the other had fallen asleep if Dazai wasn't so tense, so artificially still.

"Are you okay Dazai?"

Asking such a direct question is a risky bet for Fukuzawa, especially when he's after the truth. If Dazai wants, he can easily wiggle his way out of answering any unwanted questions. The director asks anyway.

Dazai shifts, straightening from his slouch. He turns to stare at Fukuzawa with blank eyes, giving a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Of course, President."

Fukuzawa doesn't believe him.

"Okay. Please tell me, if that changes."

He receives a stiff nod and Dazai is slumping back to the window.

This is a version of his subordinate Fukuzawa hasn't seen in awhile, a version that was always more evident in Dazai's early years with the Ada. Something is very, very wrong.

This is only confirmed further when they get to the Agency building.

Dazai opens the door for him as he always does. It's something his detective had done for him ever since he joined the agency more than two years ago. As Fukuzawa passes through Dazai dips his head in a quick nod, the president smiles.

"Thank you Dazai."

"Of course Boss."

Fukuzawa's stomach drops. Dazai never calls him boss.

He turns to look at Dazai, the younger face is blank, eyes hollow. He looks like he used to, when he first joined and various different things would make him go quiet and distant.

What had sent him into this?

Worriedly, Fukuzawa watches as Dazai walks away without another word. He's stiff, gait uneven and jolting, his hip crashes into the corner of a desk as he walks by. The president watches just long enough to make sure Dazai makes it to the couch.

Most of the staff is out at lunch but Ranpo is watching them from his own desk, green eyes open with a knowing gleam. Fukuzawa nods to him meaningfully as he strides by, headed towards the infirmary.

Yosano may need to be on stand by.

—--------------------

Ranpo knows he's frowning. He also knows that Dazai knows it. The other is pretending to ignore him, has been ever since Fukuzawa walked out. It would piss off Ranpo if he wasn't so aware of how afraid Dazai was.

Something has the younger defensive. Has him reverting to old masks. Has him mixing the past with the future, old faces with the new.

Dazai wasn't all there.

Ranpo watches as Dazai sits unnaturally straight at his desk pretending to work. His face look blank? but Ranpo knows the tiny signs that Dazai isn't alright. And with the way he's listing to his right, the older pretty much knows what's wrong.

"Dazai," when the other looks up, belated as it is, Ranpo continues. "When did you get that slash down your side."

The corner of Dazai's mouth ticks down in a frown.

"Don't even, it's not like I'm wrong." Ranpo barks out before the other can try to deny it.

Dazai face loses a bit of the blankness, a harsh glare creeping unto his face. "I'm sure I have no clue what you mean, Ranpo-san."

"And I'm sure you do."

Dazai's face is deadly, eyes glinting coldly with a energy Ranpo rarely sees. "Drop it."

Now that, was the face of the Demon Prodigy.

Ranpo grins. "You won't be able to hide that from Yosano for very long. And you know Atsushi will notice the minute he gets back.

All the detective gets back is a dangerous look and a disgruntled growl.

Dazai never did try as hard to mask that angry, hostile side from Ranpo. It's not like it would make any difference.

—--------------------

When Atsushi walks back into the Agency, there's a notable difference in the atmosphere. Something is wrong, and whatever it is tugs at Atsushi's awareness.

Upon seeing the way Ranpo sits stiff at his desk, open eyes trained on a working Dazai. Atsushi feels a value sense of relief that Kyouka had gone off with Kenji and Kunikida. It's quickly overshadowed by the worry he feels for the current situation.

If Dazai is willing doing his work on lunch break, Atsushi knows something is wrong.

He's considering backing right out of the office, to wait on the others, when he catches a familiar coppery scent.

Blood. Atsushi is frozen. Who- Dazai.

Ranpo must know Atsushi's figured it out, for he waves him over.

"Ranpo-san, what's wrong?" Atsushi asks in a whisper.

"The idiot is hurt, but is trying to pretend he isn't."

The two of them blatantly turn and stare right at the topic of their conversation, he pretends to ignore them.

"It would be better if he goes to the infirmary on his own." Ranpo says this with a meaningful look, green eyes a glow.

Atsushi sighs, dragging his hand down his face. "Yeah. Yes, your right. I'll try."

As he approaches the desk, Dazai finally stops pretending he's not there and looks up at him. "Hello, little tiger."

He's lacking. I usually can't see through the smiles.

Atsushi frowns. "I can smell the blood."

Dazai's face freezes on the tiny grin he'd been wearing, before it drops away as his face seems to lose color.

"Did short-stack send you over to nag too?" The voice is sharp in a way that Atsushi never hears from his psuedo mentor.

His eyebrow raises. "No. I can quite literally smell the blood seeping through your clothes."

"You know nothing, Atsushi. Nothing." Dazai's face and tone scream irritation. But Atsushi can smell the underlying fear and anxiety that resides behind the strong scent of blood.

Dazai jumps up with a small grunt, eyes wild as he pushes past the younger and stalks toward the break room where he sometimes hides to take naps.

Atsushi follows, watching as the detective flops over on to the couch and curls into the arm. He cracks the door behind them, hoping to make Dazai feel less exposed.

"I know your hurt. Hurt bad enough that your bleeding and in pain."

Atsushi shoots a look at Ranpo through the door, only to find that the genius had slipped away. With a put out sigh, he turns back to find Dazai looking up at him as if he's figured out some big secret.

"Oh," Dazai practically coos, "can you not take care of anything by yourself?"

Atsushi gapes, a growl in chest, taken back by Dazai's sudden vileness.

Okay, ow. That stings.

He's never been the other's verbal target like this. Oddly enough, he can't quite take the words and behavior to heart, not when Dazai is acting so wounded, so cornered. It reminds Atsushi of Akutagawa. Of how the mafioso acted after that one prolonged mission they had together. How after living in close quarters for a week, even sharing a bed, the other had turned on him with such rabid ferocity when Atsushi tried to continue the familiarity after the mission.

So now, looking down at Dazai who is pressed into the corner of the couch, glaring up at him with fear-hate filled eyes, he can only feel sad.

Dazai stiffens suddenly, his face going forcibly blank. He pulls himself from the couch with a jerk, movements stiff and disconnected like a puppet on strings. He looms over Atsushi, using every centimeter of height he has on the other to his advantage. "Your so desperate to help others that your making up problems to 'fix.' Are you that much of a failure that you have to do nothing but force your way into other people's business?"

Atsushi steels himself, doing his best to ignore the way his stomach drops in favor of coming up with a response. "Maybe your the failure. So afraid to show the tiniest bit of vulnerability that you hide."

The handle of the break room door rattles and Dazai flails back, eyes going wide again as they lock on to it. He scrambles back, mindlessly retreating until his knees hit the edge of the couch and he flops gracelessly onto it.

Fukuzawa opens the door, and Dazai trys to stand again but Atsushi jumps forward and knocks him back. Dazai's eyes are huge, pupils mere pinpricks. He's breathing harshly, pressed against the cushions, and Atsushi can smell how nervous he is.

"Dazai," Fukuzawa asks, "will you please go to the infirmary?"

Atsushi can feel the way Dazai trembles under his hand as he stares up at the President. He still answers. "Is that what you require Boss?"

Fukuzawa looks sad as he nods. "Yes, that's what I require."

"Okay." Dazai fights to stand from the couch, Atsushi lets him hands hovering as if to catch him.

Dazai strides out of the break room like nothing has ever been wrong ever, he passes Fukuzawa, who steps to the side, and continues on. Atsushi trades a look with the president and the two of them follow. Dazai walks straight for the infirmary, his false confidence lasting only till he gets to the hallway connecting the infirmary to the main office area. He falters in the middle of the hall, staring at Ranpo who's leaned against the wall to the side of the infirmary's double doors. Ranpo's face is oddly serious. "Now come on, Dazai. Your not afraid of Yosano are you?"

Dazai face twists, like he's confused. "Yosano? No, no. Of course not."

Atsushi sucks in a breath. Fukuzawa's hand drops down to rest on his shoulder. Atsushi breathes out.

"I," Dazai stops, thinking. "I'm sorry. I was, am, confused? I think? I thought I was- that I was somewhere else."

Ranpo pushes away from the wall with a soft smile. "That's okay. You know now where you are now, don't you?"

"Yes. I'm in the Ada. I need to go to the-" Dazai's brow furrows, a shakey hand going to his side. "To the infirmary. I'm hurt?"

"Exactly!" The older detective grabs Dazai's arm gently, leading him into the infirmary. "You'll be fixed up and out in no time."

"With Yosano-sensei?"

"Yes of course."

"Okay." Dazai nods, a reassurance mostly to himself.

Fukuzawa pulls Atsushi away when the others enter through the infirmary's double doors. As they head back to the main room, the president grabs his shoulder in a gentle-strong hold. "He'll be okay."

"Yeah." Atsushi smiles. "Because we got him."

Fukuzawa let's go with a tiny smile of his own. "Yes. Because we got him."

Now. If only we could get the idiot himself to get that.

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