#domestic ranpoe

[carrotkicks]

thinking abt the "dazai and chuuya elope and join the ada together" au again..

#my no.1 favorite thing is skk but they're actually in a relationship and they make eachother better and whatnot hmmm #like ... imagine the two whole years of them being like. domestic roomies/boyfriends/???-whatever they are #say what you want but daz and chu would probably have a very healthy relationship they'd put in ALLL the effort. #if they actually eloped together they'd be like. a completely different FLAVOR do you get it. #also don't ask where chuuya's hat and dazai's bandages went okay. they ran away. this is MY self gratification au. #also also also. warm colors chuuya cool colors dazai. you understand right? #bsd #bungo stray dogs #ada skk au #dazai #chuuya #skk #soukoku #ranpo #kunikida #<- them too

[silvfyre-writings]

Break your arm? I'll take care of you (BSD Fanfic)

Hiiiiii, I bring a fic of broken bones and soft fluff for Ranpo's b'day.

Don't have all that much to say really, other than enjoy!!! And that this was a collaboration with Saapphirx and that they have some art for this fic :D

So enjoy! And leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed!!!

[14:09]

O. Dazai: There’s been an accident. Ranpo’s in the hospital.

That was the text that Edgar received, and the one that he had nearly missed because he’d been so lost in his writing that he hadn’t heard his phone buzz at first; it was only because Karl nudged the device towards him that he realized he hadn’t imagined the sound and reached over to look at it, and his heart dropped right into his stomach as he read. He read the message once, twice, five times, before he realized that he needed to actually respond. He needed to know if Ranpo was alright—he needed to know how hurt he was to know whether or not he should either start panicking or start planning a funeral.

[14:12]

E. Poe: What happened?

It only took a few minutes for the response to come through.

[14:15]

O. Dazai: The case we were working on went wrong, the guy we were after got a hold of Ranpo and he got hurt.

E. Poe: How hurt?

E. Poe: Dazai? How hurt??

Before Edgar could interrogate Dazai more as to Ranpo’s condition, the man texted him an address; the hospital that they must’ve been at, and Edgar was quick to get ready, replacing his sleepwear with clothes faster than he had ever dressed himself before—it was nothing fancy, just a hoodie and some worn sweatpants, because now was not the time to get dressed up. He had to get to the hospital, and to Ranpo, and see his partner. His heart pounded in his chest as his mind conjured up all kinds of scenarios of what he would find when he got there.

Ranpo beaten black and blue… Ranpo on life support… or worse.

Ranpo dead.

Edgar shook that idea from his head and tried to think positively. Because if Ranpo were dead, then Dazai would’ve called or come to speak to him himself rather than send a text. And if not Dazai, then one of Ranpo’s other co-workers would’ve come. And if Dazai was texting instead of calling, then that meant that Ranpo was just injured; he wasn’t close to death, nor would he be on life support, he would just be injured. It was just a matter of how injured that had Edgar so stressed because Ranpo and injuries were as commonplace as him catching a summer cold.

In other words, it happened a lot.

He still remembered the last time he’d been summoned to the hospital because Ranpo had been injured whilst working; because his love was being stupid, playing some sort of game with his coworkers where they couldn’t touch the floor that had resulted in him slipping and cracking his head open on a desk. And the time before that had been because Ranpo had tripped down the stairs chasing a criminal, somehow managing to apprehend the criminal, but also spraining his ankle. And then there was the Caffeine Incident, the time he and Dazai had both gotten their hands stuck in a pipe—to this day, Edgar still didn’t know the whole story—and not to mention when Ranpo had gotten himself locked in a closet for the long weekend and hadn’t been found until his co-workers returned the following Tuesday; an incident that continued to haunt Edgar to this day, because he hadn’t been in town when it had happened.

So yes, he was worried, very, very worried, but he actively tried to stop worrying as he dashed out the door, making sure that Karl had plenty of water and food just in case he didn’t make it back that night. There was no point in worrying until he knew for certain what Ranpo’s condition was because worrying would only lead to him panicking and that wasn’t going to help anyone—that much was certain. If only because it had happened before.

Because there was nothing like getting to the hospital to see how your partner was doing, only to have a panic attack upon arrival and needing to be walked through breathing exercises by said partner’s co-workers.

Good times.

So rather than take the trains, which would’ve taken longer and most definitely caused Edgar to panic, he elected to take a taxi instead; faster, and he could stare at his phone whilst the driver did his job, staring at the screen and desperately hoping for any kind of update. But Dazai was as cryptic as he was weird, so Edgar didn’t hold much hope in receiving an update from him. Again, something he’d gotten to over the years of dating Ranpo and having to deal with his and Dazai’s very strange friendship.

Bzzt, bzzt.

Edgar’s eyes flew down to his phone the moment it vibrated in his hands, and if he’d been standing, he would’ve collapsed from utter relief because there it was, the update he’d been praying for.

[14:29]

Y. Fukuzawa: As Dazai most certainly neglected to inform you; Ranpo is in stable condition. He’s currently in surgery, but he is stable. I will meet you outside and brief you when you arrive.

Immediately, Edgar promised to send Ranpo’s boss a gift basket of some sort for knowing exactly what his employees were like and taking the liberty to update Edgar himself instead of leaving him to worry endlessly. Stable… he’s stable at least, that’s good. Surgery, not so good, but stable means he’ll be fine. Edgar relaxed into the leather seat of the taxi, letting out all his stress in one, singular breath as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, just relieved that Ranpo wasn’t dying. He focused on that one word; stable, that one, singular word, and repeated it to himself, quietly under his breath at first, before letting his voice fade and just letting the word repeat over and over in his mind.

He continued to repeat it for the rest of the trip.

Fukuzawa Yukichi was a terrifying and intimidating man, one that Edgar only spoke to whenever he came over for his monthly dinner with Ranpo, and even then they only ever exchanged a few polite sentences with each other, although he had gotten better over the years—in fact, he’d managed to hold an entire conversation with Fukuzawa last time, something that he was pretty proud of. But whilst Edgar was normally scared of Ranpo’s boss, this time he was a welcome sight, and the moment that Edgar noticed Fukuzawa standing outside, he made a beeline towards the man, words already forming on his lips.

“Fukuzawa—” Edgar barely started to speak before Fukuzawa raised his hand.

“I have not received an update since the one I gave you just before.” Fukuzawa said before he turned on his heel, and after placing a hand on Edgar’s back, guided him towards the entrance.

“What happened?” Edgar asked as they passed the doors, shivering as the cool air and sterile smells washed over him. He hated hospitals.

“The suspect that Dazai and Ranpo were after took off, and they chased him.” Fukuzawa began to explain. “They split up to try and corner him, only the suspect was expecting them to do that, and attacked Ranpo when the opportunity arose. Ranpo fought back, and the two of them fell down a flight of stairs as a result.”

Edgar sucked in a breath as he listened. He always knew Ranpo’s job was dangerous, had heard far too many stories of near misses to believe otherwise. There’d been far too many times where Ranpo had come home from work with a haunted look in his eyes because whatever criminal he’d been chasing at the time had died, or one of his co-workers had been killed in the line of duty. But seldom had Ranpo been at the end of those events, and that was what was stressing Edgar out. Because Ranpo, while fit and more than capable of holding his own if needed, was so small and scrawny compared to his co-workers, and most criminals liked to try and take advantage of that.

They always failed, because Ranpo wasn’t stupid and loved using his size to his advantage, much to the chagrin of his co-workers—Ranpo had received so many lectures from Fukuzawa about self-preservation that even Edgar knew them all by heart at this point.

“How—how hurt is he?” Edgar asked weakly, just barely managing to get the words out. His hands were starting to shake as his mind conjured up several kinds of injuries, almost forgetting that Ranpo was stable as panic threatened to overwhelm him.

Fukuzawa’s hand moved from Edgar’s back to his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “A broken arm, that’s all. It’s a bad break—hence the surgery—so he’ll be off work for a while—”

“But it’s just a broken arm?” Edgar said before realizing that he’d interrupted Fukuzawa. “Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you!”

There was another squeeze to his shoulder before the hand fell away. “It’s okay. I understand that you are worried about Ranpo. Rest assured; it is just a broken arm. We just have to be patient and wait.”

Edgar could’ve collapsed with relief right then and there, but he forced himself to keep walking, following behind Fukuzawa as the man led him towards the waiting room. Immediately he spotted Dazai, sitting on one of the chairs with his head on his hands as he glared at the wall. One leg was bouncing up and down, no doubt from the stress of what had happened. If there was one thing Dazai took pride in, it was his ability to predict another person’s actions; it was what made him a good detective in the first place, and Edgar knew he was just beating himself up over what had happened to Ranpo, running over the hundreds of other plans he could’ve used to prevent his work partner from being injured in the first place.

Slowly he walked over and took a seat in the empty chair next to Dazai. He didn’t say anything, but Dazai’s leg stopped moving anyway, and his eyes slid over towards him.

It didn’t take long for Dazai to break the silence. “He got the guy.”

“P—pardon?”

Dazai turned to look at him. “Ranpo; he got the guy. Took a steel bat to the arm, and just held on as they went down the stairs together. By the time I got there, Ranpo was slapping handcuffs onto him with only one arm.”

Oh my god. Edgar buried his face into his hands, because it was just like Ranpo to focus on arresting a criminal instead of himself. “Fukuzawa said it was a bad break…”

“Oh yeah.” Dazai nodded. “The worst break I’ve seen and that’s saying something. But you’ll see what I mean when he comes out of surgery.”

“Or you could just tell me…?” Really, Edgar was starting to grow tired of Dazai’s cryptic answers. He just wanted to know the severity of Ranpo’s injuries, was that really too much to ask?

Dazai threw him a teasing grin. “Now where’s the fun in that, Poe? Just trust me when I say you’ll be shocked.”

And shocked Edgar was.

It took a few hours for a doctor to come out and speak with them, telling them that the surgery had been a success and that Ranpo was being moved to a room where he would stay a few days for observation before being allowed to go home, but that he was allowed to have visitors so long as they were quiet. And really, that was all it took for Edgar to stand and ask—he was pretty sure it was more of a demand than an ask—the doctor to take him to Ranpo. The doctor gave him an odd look before just nodding and soon enough, he was sitting in Ranpo’s room in a chair placed beside his partner’s bedside, just watching as his chest rose and fell, reassuring himself that Ranpo was alive and would wake up from the anaesthesia soon.

Edgar scooted the chair closer to the bed and reached out to grab Ranpo’s uninjured hand, running his thumb over the back of it—taking care to avoid the IV of course—as he rested his head on the covers and just continued to watch Ranpo silently. His eyes looked over the bruising that marred Ranpo’s face, no doubt from his fall down the stairs, and there was a large graze underneath his eye. Edgar was almost certain that there were more grazes and bruises scattered about Ranpo’s body, but they were simply hidden by the gown the other was wearing. Either way, he knew he would be hearing about how painful and annoying they were for days to come.

But that wasn’t what Edgar was focusing on.

No, what he was focusing on was Ranpo’s arm, the one he wasn’t holding; the limb in question was resting on Ranpo’s stomach with a pillow underneath it for support, and said limb was swathed in more bandages than Edgar had ever seen in his life. The bandages covered the entire limb—even a couple of Ranpo’s fingers were bandaged—and disappeared beneath the gown, which was more than enough for Edgar to understand the severity of the injury; as if the fact that Ranpo had just had surgery to fix the damage wasn’t already enough of a tell.

“I did tell you, you’d be shocked.” Dazai’s voice right in his ear caused him to jolt and turn to glare at him. The man cackled as he slunk around to the foot of the bed and leant against the railing. “The doctor’s just updating Fukuzawa so that he can fill out the incident report, and then he’ll be by to update you.”

Edgar sighed and nodded, returning his head to the bed and silence fell upon the room. But despite the silence, Dazai’s presence was loud, the guilt that the other man was feeling, was drowning the room and creating a suffocating atmosphere. And that combined with Edgar’s residing anxiety, was bound to end in disaster; and since Dazai didn’t seem inclined to say anything anytime soon, that meant it was up to Edgar to fix it. At least temporarily. He sat back in his seat, allowing his hand to fall away from Ranpo’s as he fixed Dazai with a look. “Ranpo does not blame you, Dazai.”

A scoff. “How can you possibly know that?”

“I don’t.” Edgar said. “But you and I both know what Ranpo is like, and that he has never said the words I blame you, when he gets hurt in the line of duty. What makes you think this time is any different?”

“Because this time he needed surgery.”

Edgar shrugged. “Your work is dangerous; surgery was bound to happen sooner or later. Did you blame Ranpo when you needed surgery after being shot last year?”

There was a very long silence as Dazai bowed his head, no doubt remembering the incident that Edgar was talking about, and eventually shook his head. “I did not.”

“Then stop blaming yourself until Ranpo tells you he does.”

Twelve weeks of recovery… that’s going to make Ranpo miserable. Edgar thought as he ran the doctor’s words through his mind again. It was just him in the room with Ranpo now, Fukuzawa and Dazai needing to go back to the office to fill out the appropriate paperwork—although both had promised to come back tomorrow to visit and see how Ranpo was doing. And since Ranpo was still unconscious, Edgar had all the time in the world to just sit and think about what the doctor had told him. Apparently, according to the doctor—and the x-ray’s he’d been shown—Ranpo’s wrist and hand had taken the brunt of the attack, several of the bones snapping upon being struck.

Edgar was ever so grateful that Ranpo had gotten his arm up in time to block the bat from hitting him in the head because he couldn’t even begin to imagine that injury…

But it wasn’t the bat that had wound up doing most of the damage, but the fall that had followed afterwards. Because falling down a massive amount of stairs while holding onto another person with an already broken wrist did nothing but make the injury even worse. So what could’ve been just a broken wrist that needed a cast for a few weeks, turned into a completely broken arm that needed surgery to fix the bones because they had shifted out of place. And a minor concussion; they couldn’t forget the concussion. Edgar let out a sigh, just knowing that the next twelve weeks were going to be a very challenging time; with Ranpo’s arm the way it was, there was no way that his partner was going to be able to do anything himself, which meant that Edgar was going to have to step up and take care of things, which meant that he’d need to take time off from his own work, which meant a loss of income—

“Nngh…”

—and while Edgar had more than enough money to cover all their bills until Ranpo could return to work, and was more than happy to do as such, he knew that doing so would do nothing but make Ranpo upset. Because while Edgar had been born into money, Ranpo had not, and hated accepting any kind of financial aid, preferring to starve and suffer than accept help. Over the years that they’d known each other, it’d gotten better, but Ranpo still insisted on paying his own way more often than not, and he knew that not being able to work was going to hurt him. Still, Edgar would do his absolute best to make Ranpo’s recovery—

“Edgar, you’re thinking too loud again…” Edgar froze as a finger poked his forehead, and he looked up to see Ranpo, barely conscious, but still conscious and blinking slowly at him.

A smile quickly grew on Edgar’s face as he stood and sat on the edge of the bed so that Ranpo didn’t have to crane his head to look down at him. “I think I’m thinking just the right amount, actually.”

Ranpo hummed, looking around the room as he took in his surroundings. His eyes flitted from Edgar to the machine monitoring his vitals, then back to Edgar, before finally falling to his injured arm. Edgar watched quietly as Ranpo gave an experimental wiggle of his fingers and winced as only his pinkie twitched. “Ow…”

“Maybe don’t do that, dear, you just had surgery.” Edgar said, reaching over to carefully rest a hand on the bandages, drawing Ranpo’s attention back to him. “I’ll go get the doctor—”

“No, I’m going to go to sleep. I’m tired.” Ranpo interrupted Edgar before he could even finish his sentence, and shuffled to get more comfortable in the bed before closing his eyes.

I should’ve expected that. Edgar sighed and moved his hand until he could hold Ranpo’s uninjured one, and gave it a gentle squeeze until those green eyes flicked open again and focused on him. “Ranpo, let me get the doctor first. She needs to talk to you, and the faster that happens, the faster you can get some sleep.”

“Ugh, fine. Go get the stupid doctor then.”

“Please don’t call the doctor stupid. She did just put you back together.” Edgar stood and leaned over to gently press his lips to Ranpo’s forehead, feeling even more of his stress leaving as Ranpo smiled at the gesture. “I’ll be back soon, alright?”

Ranpo let out a hum, and Edgar reluctantly drew away so that he hunt down the doctor that was in charge of taking care of his partner. Thankfully, that didn’t take all that long to do and soon he was back by Ranpo’s bedside listening as the doctor spoke to him about his arm and the care that would have to go into making sure it healed properly. A lot was the answer; Edgar listened as the doctor explained that Ranpo was more than welcome to go home to recover, but that he would have to come back to the hospital to remove his stitches and get the bandages exchanged for a cast in which his arm would remain until the twelve weeks had passed.

Unless there was a complication or problem, in which case, he was to return to the hospital immediately, but Edgar was praying there wouldn’t be. He didn’t think his heart would be able to cope with any more stress.

But ultimately, the doctor made sure that they both understood that Ranpo was not to use his arm under any circumstance, no matter how much he wanted to.

Ranpo huffed the moment the doctor left the two of them alone, an unhappy look on his face, one that Edgar recognized easily because he’d seen it on his partner’s face many times over the years. It was a look of despair born from the knowledge that for a short time, Ranpo wouldn’t be able to live as he normally would, that he wouldn’t be able to do what he loved, and that he’d be stuck at home for such a long time. And it was a look that Edgar always hated seeing, so whenever it appeared, he always tried to do what he could to ease the pain.

He slowly rose from the chair and crawled onto the bed, and, whilst being mindful of Ranpo’s arm, stretched out beside his love so that their shoulders were touching, and their legs pressed together. He felt Ranpo begin to relax beside him. “I’ll be there to help you, you know that.”

“I know.” Ranpo’s head dropped to rest against his shoulder as he sighed, good hand fisting the blankets beneath it. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

“You help me all the time.” Edgar said with a shrug. “When I overwork myself, when my mental health crashes, when I’m stressing over a deadline, you’re always there. So what kind of partner would I be if I wasn’t there for you when you needed help?”

“A terrible one.” Even though he couldn’t see Ranpo’s face, Edgar could hear the smile in it. “Thanks Edgar, and… sorry if I worried you.”

Edgar smiled, and rested his own head on top of Ranpo’s. “It’s fine, dear, I’ve come to accept that you’ll be worrying me until the day we die.”

“Some people would say that’s a bad thing to say.”

“And you?”

Ranpo snorted. “I think it’s a very you thing to say.”

Five weeks into dealing with Ranpo having the use of just one arm, Edgar liked to think he had a handle on things and that everything was going well. In the beginning, it’d been hard, because Ranpo had insisted on trying to do everything himself and did not hesitate to snap at Edgar whenever he tried to help. And honestly, his partner had done very well at first, taking things slow so he could actually get them done. It wasn’t until Ranpo had tried to shower on his own in that first week that he’d realized help wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Edgar’s heart still skipped an entire year whenever he remembered the thud and the wail that had followed when Ranpo had slipped over in the shower and whacked his arm against the tiles. Somehow, by some sort of miracle, Ranpo had avoided injuring himself even further, but that hadn’t stopped Edgar from being filled with so much stress as he’d called Fukuzawa to ask for a ride to the hospital—he was the only person that Edgar knew of with a car, and Ranpo had been in so much pain that there were tears—and he was forever grateful when the man showed up not even ten minutes later to help.

And with some x-rays—that showed no new damage—and painkillers—that left his partner drowsy—Ranpo was sent home with a warning to be more careful.

After that incident though, Edgar quickly became Ranpo’s personal butler, not that he was complaining of course. He would rather cater to Ranpo’s every whim if it meant not seeing tears in the other’s eyes.

Every morning, he would drag himself out of bed and down the stairs to wake Ranpo who’d taken to sleeping on the couch, claiming that he slept better when he didn’t have to worry about rolling onto his arm in his sleep. Edgar shared the sentiment, but he missed having Ranpo in his arms while he slept; he slept better when he knew Ranpo was beside him, but he would take the other’s comfort over his own right now. After waking Ranpo, came breakfast—always something simple because Edgar wasn’t the biggest fan of cooking, even if he was good at it—and then came the task of getting Ranpo dressed, but only if his partner deemed it a non-pyjama day. Most of the time, Ranpo was content to laze about in the clothes he slept in, which Edgar couldn’t fault him for, because it took a lot of effort to get Ranpo’s injured arm through the sleeves of the shirts he usually wore.

But anyway, after battling with clothes—because it truly was a battle—it was time for Edgar to do some work; his partner had insisted that even though he was unable to work, Edgar didn’t need to stop working because of that. Of course, Edgar protested against that idea, because what if Ranpo needed him and he wasn’t there to help? Trouble always seemed to find Ranpo no matter where he was and no matter what he was doing; literally, Ranpo could be watching a movie and he’d still find some way to hurt himself. It was a skill that terrified Edgar, and one that Ranpo vehemently denied the existence of. But eventually, after a few more arguments, Edgar had compromised by saying that he’d only work half-days, giving him the rest of the day to spend with Ranpo, and Ranpo hadn’t complained—he’d even seemed happy with the idea.

And once Edgar was finished with work, it was time for dinner which was, once again, a simple affair, and then he and Ranpo simply spent time together until one or both of them passed out. Most of the time they would watch whatever show that Ranpo had started that day—being unable to do anything resulted in a lot of free time—or they would read books at the opposite ends of the couch, just sitting in silence whilst Karl curled up on one of their laps or the couch itself. And it was there that Edgar would remain, just waiting until Ranpo would fall asleep in which he would get up and make sure his partner was comfortable, often covering him with a blanket before dragging himself to bed. Sometimes he was joined by Karl, but most of the time he wasn’t; the raccoon choosing to keep Ranpo company while he was injured instead.

And that’d been their routine for five weeks now.

Only another seven to go.

“Edgar, my wonderful writing man, it’s almost lunch time, which means you need to stop sleeping.” Edgar let out a groan as Ranpo’s voice assaulted his ears, and rolled over with the intention of getting some more sleep. He’d stayed up a little too long writing last night, having been hit with a burst of inspiration, so he was rather tired. So instead of getting up, he rolled over and dragged his blanket over his head—the wrong choice to make apparently. “No, Edgar, you can sleep more later. Get up! I’m hungry!”

The blanket that Edgar had wrapped around himself was pulled away harshly, and he let out an undignified yelp as he chased after it, eyes flying open to see Ranpo standing beside the bed, looking satisfied with himself. A quick glance to the clock showed that it was just past one, meaning neither he nor Ranpo had eaten yet, and more importantly; he had missed work. Shit! I should’ve set an alarm.. “I’m sorry, dear, I’ll get you something to eat now.”

Ranpo fixed him with a look as he scrambled to get out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets as they tangled around his legs. He was freed from his struggles when Ranpo stepped on the edge of the blanket and it feel to the ground in a heap that Edgar stepped out of. “You were up late writing again.”

It wasn’t a question or a statement; it was a simple fact, and despite that, Ranpo voicing it still made him flush in embarrassment. “I was… I was about to go to bed when I got hit with some inspiration and I didn’t want to forget. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. You don’t get enough sleep anyway.” Ranpo interrupted, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You left your phone downstairs so I woke up when your boss called to ask where you were.”

“O-Oh… did you, um, answer?” Edgar froze in front of the closet door, hand on the handle as he looked over his shoulder towards Ranpo.

Ranpo scoffed. “Of course not. I don’t answer the phone—” that was a fact that Edgar knew all too well, “—but I did send him a text to say you were sick.”

Edgar sighed. “Please tell me you just said I had a cold and not that I was not dying. I’m still getting sent ‘get well’ cards from the first time you did that.”

“Yes, I said it was a cold, don’t worry.” Ranpo said, coming to lean against Edgar’s side and looked up at him, snickering. “Besides, you have to admit that was funny.”

“For you, maybe. For my co-workers, not so much.” Edgar opened the closet door and rifled through the various clothes hanging up, trying to find one of Ranpo’s shirts, which would be much easier to find if Ranpo didn’t just hang his clothes on the first hanger he found. “Are you going to take a shower today?”

“Only if you take one with me.”

Edgar rolled his eyes, having expected that answer. “As if I’d let you shower on your own until that cast comes off.”

“That was one time, Edgar. One time!”

“And one time too many. It was terrifying to see you on the floor like that.” Edgar finally found a shirt and pulled it out to show Ranpo. It was one of his own shirts actually that he’d even forgotten he owned, but it was big and would probably be much easier to get Ranpo into—and out of—than one of his own. Ranpo studied the shirt for a moment before he nodded his approval, and Edgar returned his attention to the closet. “I’ll meet you in the bathroom. Please be careful if you try to undress yourself.”

“You need to stop stressing so much, Edgar, otherwise you’ll go gray.” Ranpo called over his shoulder as he made his way into the bathroom, leaving Edgar alone on the room, not that he would be alone for too long since he would be joining Ranpo momentarily anyway.

He rolled his eyes fondly at the words, quickly pulling out some clothes for himself before he followed Ranpo into the bathroom, snorting when he stumbled upon Ranpo in the middle of a wrestling match with his shirt. “Do you need a hand?”

“No!” Came Ranpo’s response as his head disappeared into the shirt. Edgar watched in an amused silence as Ranpo squirmed about before his head suddenly reemerged and he pulled his shirt off the rest of the way, tossing it into the corner of the room. “See? I got it.”

“Okay great, and what about your pants?” Edgar asked, stepping further into the room to place the clothes on the counter top. He crouched in front of the cabinet and searched through it, looking for the roll of plastic wrap he’d put in there so that they didn’t have to trek to the kitchen every time Ranpo wanted a shower. Where is it—ah! There it is. Edgar grabbed the wrap and stood, turning back towards Ranpo.

“I got them covered too. Just watch.” And watch Edgar did, as Ranpo hooked his two working fingers into the waist of his pants and shimmied them off, along with his underwear, before he threw Edgar a massive grin as he tossed them over to where his shirt lay. “See? After five weeks, I’m not a total invalid.”

Edgar merely rolled his eyes, and held out the plastic wrap, waiting for Ranpo to hold his arm up before he began to wrap it until there was no chance of water getting through. As such was their routine every time Ranpo had to take a shower—which wasn’t too often because it was simply easier to fill the bathtub and get clean that way, but there was just something about showers that soothed his partner, so if Ranpo said it was shower time, it was shower time, and nothing could change his mind.

Once Ranpo’s arm was wrapped, Edgar ruffled Ranpo’s hair affectionately. “You’re doing very well, dear.”

Ranpo’s cheeks began to burn, and he ducked away from Edgar’s hand to slip into the shower. “Of course, I am! I’m a genius after all; there’s nothing I can’t do!”

“Well, there are the trains—”

“Edgar, please shut up.”

Edgar very much liked showering with Ranpo, even before Ranpo had broken his arm and needed someone to be in the room—or in the shower because who was Poe to turn down showering with his partner? —with him to make sure he didn’t slip and fall. There was no explanation for it really; just there was something about awkwardly standing under the showerhead together, sharing the water, and washing each other’s hair and bodies that was calming and just… loving. Every time that he and Ranpo showered together, it was just… nice. And this time was no different; Edgar made sure that he kept his touch gentle as he ran his hands through Ranpo’s hair, washing it free of the shampoo he’d just washed it with, smiling at the pleased noises that the other was letting out as his head rested against Edgar’s chest, eyes closed to avoid getting shampoo in his eyes. “Don’t fall asleep there, my love.”

“’m not sleeping… it just feels good, that’s all.” Ranpo murmured, lifting his head off of Edgar’s chest just enough for his eyes to be seen, if only to try and prove that he hadn’t just been dozing. Edgar wasn’t stupid though, he knew Ranpo far too well to be fooled by that, and he wasn’t going to say anything because it made him feel happy that Ranpo trusted him enough to keep him upright when he was tired.

He hummed and guided Ranpo’s head out of the shower spray so that he could scrub some conditioner into his hair. “I’m almost done, so you’ll be able to take a nap if you’re tired.”

Ranpo’s face scrunched up. “I’m tired of sleeping all the time. I want to do something else.”

“Well, you have been stayed inside for five weeks, so we could go outside for a bit?”

“No thanks.” Ranpo said even though he looked like he was truly considering taking him up on the offer. “Knowing my luck, I’d fall down the stairs and break my neck—hey, I know! We can play a game together!”

Wait, what? Edgar’s hands stopped moving, experiencing mental whiplash from the sudden change in topic.“I’m sorry?”

“Ugh, you heard me. I want to play a game.” Ranpo repeated, slower this time, tilting his head back to look up at Edgar. “I haven’t played any of my games since I broke my arm, and I want to.”

Edgar had to stop and think over what Ranpo said for a moment, tilting Ranpo’s head back just enough so that he could rinse out the conditioner, running his fingers through his partners hair to make sure that he got all of it out. “Okay… but how exactly do you expect to play if you can’t hold a controller?”

“You know, for someone so smart, that’s a really dumb question. You’re going to hold the controller for me, obviously.”

A sound idea, if only for one problem. “Uh… Ranpo, you do know that I’ve never played a video game in my life, right?”

“It’s not that hard, Edgar. You just have to listen to what I tell you, and you are very good at that.”

Somehow, Edgar doubted it was as simple as that, but like usual, there was no point in trying to argue with Ranpo whenever his mind was set on something; in this case, videogames. He sighed and reached over to turn the shower off. Something told him he was going to regret his decision, yet he still opened his mouth to agree. “Alright, we can give it a try. But please, don’t yell if I don’t understand. I learn quick, but not that quick.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Ranpo stepped out of the shower and stood, patiently waiting until Edgar grabbed the towels, draping one around his shoulders, and using the other to dry Ranpo’s hair. Ranpo grunted and continued, “can we hurry it up? I want to play!”

“Patience, my dear.” Edgar said, letting the towel drop to rest around Ranpo’s shoulders while he lifted his own to start drying his own hair. “We still need to get you dressed.”

Ranpo huffed, but nodded. Edgar was glad when Ranpo fell silent since that meant he could focus on what he was doing and not get distracted, and therefore, be done faster. He was quick to dress himself, pulling on one of his turtlenecks because the days were starting to get cold, and then some paw-patterned shorts that Ranpo had gifted him a birthday ago. The entire time, he could feel his partners eyes watching him impatiently, and he did his best to ignore it as he used his fingers to comb his hair back and tie it up a little, letting half of it fall against the back of his neck. If Ranpo was going to coerce him into playing a game, he wanted to be able to see what he was doing.

Once he was dressed, it was time to tackle the battle that was getting Ranpo into clothes, which wasn’t as difficult as it sounded, but was still only possible with two people. It would’ve been different if Ranpo had been able to use his fingers, but the cast on his arm only allowed him the use of two of them, and Ranpo was impatient, so it was easier to just have Edgar help him in the first place. First came the shirt, shoving Ranpo’s broken arm through the sleeve before pulling it over his head. Next came the pants, in which Edgar simply crouched so that Ranpo could use him for balance as he lifted one leg through the hole and then the other.

And that was that. “All done.” Edgar said as he stood and left the bathroom, Ranpo trailing behind him. “What game—”

“We’re not done yet!” Ranpo interrupted, making a beeline for the closet, searching through it until he emerged with two pairs of socks. “It’s cold! I don’t want cold feet, and neither do you!”

With a roll of his eyes, Edgar complied with the unspoken demand, helping Ranpo into the socks first, making sure that the pants were tucked into them just the way that Ranpo liked them, and then pulled the other pair over his own feet. He didn’t care much for socks, not in the way that Ranpo did, but the socks that the other had pulled out were the ones that had been handmade for them by one of Ranpo’s co-workers for Christmas a couple of years ago, and whenever Ranpo wanted to wear his own pair, Edgar was expected to wear them too. So he did, even if the weather wasn’t quite cold enough for woollen socks.

For the same reason that he was about to play a videogame for the first time in his life.

Love.

In hindsight, Edgar should’ve known that Ranpo wouldn’t hold up to his promise of not yelling, but he also should’ve known better to expect Ranpo not to in the first place. How many times had he had to listen to Ranpo yell at the characters in his games for being stupid and failing to survive? Too many times, far too many. After the first yell, in which Edgar had jumped and nearly thrown the console in his hands, he should’ve called it quits then. But he didn’t, because he was an idiot in love, and despite the occasional yells, there was so much life in Ranpo’s eyes, life that he hadn’t even realized was missing in the first place.

Not that he was saying that Ranpo had been lifeless of course, but his partner certainly hadn’t been as happy as he usually was over the past weeks, so it was nice to see that happiness return. And well, it wasn’t that bad really; Ranpo toned down the yelling after the first jump, although he was still loud by Edgar’s standards. And if he really had to admit it, gaming with Ranpo was just another bonding experience—one he probably wouldn’t engage in again once Ranpo had the use of his arms again, but he may just sit and watch Ranpo play one day.

And no, it was not because the game that Ranpo had picked was one that required him to think, not at all.

“No, don’t put him there, Edgar, he’ll die. He’s a mage, not a tank.” Ranpo whined from where he lay on the couch, stretched out with his back against Edgar’s chest, arm resting on the pillow he’d stolen from the arm chair on the other side of the room. His head thudded against Edgar’s shoulder as he threw it back with a groan.

“Then where exactly do you want me to put him?” Edgar cried, tilting his head to the side so that he could see the screen better, and looked just a little frazzled at trying to figure out what it was that Ranpo wanted him to do with the character. As much as Ranpo knew what he was doing in this game when it came to strategies and the characters, his instructions to Edgar were very much unclear, and it was just a little frustrating. “He kills everything in one shot!”

“Yes, so put him two spaces backwards out of enemy range.” Ranpo pointed to the square in question, speaking as if the solution was obvious, which as he spoke, Edgar realised it was, but still. “And then move the actual tank in front of him as protection, just in case.”

“Dedue is too far—”

“I don’t mean Dedue, I mean Felix!”

“Felix isn’t a tank!” He may have never heard of this game before, but that much he knew from the few hours they’d been playing this game already, mostly because of how many times he’d gotten Felix killed until Ranpo had taught him how to increase stats. And then he’d become their strongest character.

“So? He’ll dodge all those enemies and kill them, so therefore, he’s a tank.”

Isn’t a tank supposed to take hits, not give them? Edgar thought, but did as Ranpo asked. He was the expert here after all, but he was still going to say something about it. “I find your logic there a little flawed, dear.”

“Yeah, well, I know what I’m doing. So, unless you think you know better, do as I say.”

Edgar rolled his eyes, and fell silent, and thankfully, Ranpo did as well, only speaking up to give new instructions. And honestly… it was nice, to have Ranpo resting comfortably against his chest, to feel his heart beating and his warmth; all things that Edgar hadn’t realized he’d been missing until this moment. Because, sure, Ranpo had been home for five weeks, and would remain home for another seven, and they had been spending more time together than they usually could because of their conflicting schedules, but not like this. This was different, and Edgar wanted more of it. He wanted to hold Ranpo close until his beloved fell asleep in his arms, regardless of his injury, he wanted to help Ranpo more even though he’d already been doing more than enough. He wanted to—

“Edgar, your phone’s buzzing.”

Huh? A quick glance showed that his phone was indeed buzzing from its spot beside him. “Oh, it’s Fukuzawa.” But before he could even pick the phone up to answer it, Ranpo leaned over and swiped it up. “Ranpo!”

“What? He only calls you when he can’t get a hold of me.”

That may have been true, but that wasn’t the point. But before he could say as much, Ranpo was thumbing the screen and answering the call. Edgar sighed, and shuffled down the couch a little, putting down the console—after saving of course—and stretching out his legs so that he was laying on the couch instead of sitting, just listening as Ranpo chatted with his boss. With one hand, he wrapped an arm around Ranpo’s waist, holding Ranpo’s injured hand and thumbing over the cast—Ranpo wouldn’t feel it, but it was the gesture that mattered—and with his other, he reached up and stroked his hand through Karl’s fur; the raccoon had been sleeping peacefully on the back of the couch the entire time they’d been gaming, and let out a quiet chatter as he was petted before pulling his tail over his nose.

Then, Edgar closed his eyes and let his head fall back to rest on the arm of the couch, letting Ranpo’s voice fade into the background a little. He was rather tired from working, and making sure that Ranpo was taken care of, more than he thought he would be. Edgar closed his eyes; perhaps he’d take a quick nap, and enjoy the feeling of Ranpo’s back against his chest, warm and heavy. It’d been far too long since he’d last been able to hold his love, and it was one of the many reasons why he wished that Ranpo’s arm would heal quicker, you know, aside from the fact that Ranpo’s arm was broken—and also, itchy, and achy according to the complaints Ranpo voiced every other day.

But he also didn’t mind it, because it allowed him to dote and take care of the person that meant the most to him in his life, it allowed him to cook and clean, and make sure that Ranpo was comfortable, but most of all, it allowed him to spend time with someone he usually only saw on weekends because of their conflicting schedules. And it made him a little sad to know that once Ranpo’s arm was healed, that life would go back to the way it had been.

But just a little.

Edgar didn’t know how long he slept for, but the next thing he was aware of was a finger gently poking him in the cheek. He opened his eyes to find Ranpo staring up at him, and yawned. “Yes, my love?”

“You need to sleep more if you’re passing out on the couch when I’m chattering in your ear.” Ranpo commented as he stood, offering a hand towards Edgar. “Fukuzawa says hi and thanks as well. Apparently he thinks I’m being annoying. As if, I’m a delight to take care of.”

You just keep telling yourself that, Ranpo. Edgar’s lips twitched, and accepted the hand, using it to pull himself upright. “What did Fukuzawa want?”

Ranpo shrugged. “Just to see how I was, but also to let us know that he’ll be bringing dinner over tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s problem, right now, you need sleep.”

Edgar didn’t even try to argue as Ranpo dragged him out of the living room and upstairs, and he didn’t say anything as his partner nudged him into bed, but he did speak when Ranpo crawled in after him. “Ranpo, what are—”

“Shut up you, I’m not stupid.” Ranpo said as he forced Edgar to lay back before he curled up into his side, resting his arm across Edgar’s stomach. “You’ve been wanting to cuddle.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“No buts!” Ranpo pressed a finger against his lips to stop his words. “Just accept what’s happening and sleep. My arm will be fine and…” Ranpo’s voice turned into a whisper, “maybe I missed this too.”

Edgar simply smiled and reached down to drag the blankets over the both of them. “Well then, I can’t say no to that then now, can I?”

“Nope! Now hurry up and sleep!”

“Yes, dear.”

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #ranpoe #edogawa ranpo #edgar allan poe #hurt/comfort #fluff #domestic bliss #injury #writing #fanfic

[quartzalynlove]

Banana Pudding

Pairing: Ranpo Edogawa x Black! Fem! Reader

Summary: Ranpo tries banana pudding

A/n: how can I write soul crushing angst and tooth rotting fluff in the same day? No idea man.

~

You were preparing something special for Ranpo for when he came home from the Agency. A while ago you told him about a certain sweet you missed. It was your mother's banana pudding. Ranpo said he had never heard of anything like it, so you decided you would make it for him one day.

You weren't sure if it would be as good as your mom's, but you gave your all into making it knowing that if it was made right, Ranpo would love it.

Ranpo would be home any minute, and you were finished covering the top with vanilla wafer cookies. He was just in time because as you placed the last cookie on, Ranpo walked through the front door.

"I'm home, honey!"

He expected to find you in the family room watching TV, but you were next to it at the kitchen island with your curls tied back and your apron on.

"Hey, baby." You greeted him.

The presence of something sweet immediately had Ranpo's attention, especially since it was you who made it. He went to your side to see what you had made.

"What's this?"

You smiled. "Banana pudding."

Ranpo's face lit up and you saw that he could hardly contain his excitement, eager to try the dessert he had heard you praise in the past. A delighted laugh fell from your lips as you went to grab a spoon. Without hesitation you led a spoonful of banana pudding into Ranpo's mouth and awaited his— hopefully— delighted reaction. However the second the dessert made contact with Ranpo's tastebuds, the handle of the spoon dropped.

Ranpo's eyes opened, but he stood completely still. You watched in slight concern, thinking he was just messing with you, but then a light stream of tears fell down Ranpo's cheeks.

You panicked and couldn't help how your voice rose in pitch. Of course you messed it up. What did you miss?

"Oh no, I knew I should've called my mom; oh God, what did I do! Listen, baby, I swear it's really good I just messed somethi—"

In the middle of your anxious rambling you heard the spoon clatter on the counter, and suddenly, your body was pulled into Ranpo's. He was clutching onto you for dear life; after a while he loosed his grip and buried his face into your neck. You felt his warm breath as he exhaled, and to your surprise, his lips press softly on your neck. You stood flustered for a moment until Ranpo pulled away, holding your hands in his.

"I've had some great sweets in my day, but that might be the best I've ever had."

His smile was a mile wide, and it was contagious. You laughed from sheer relief.

"Really?"

"Honey, it lived up to your praise and then some."

Ranpo began to run the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles with a coy look.

"Would it be too much to ask for a fresh bowl everyday?"

You laughed. "Well, then you'd get sick of it."

"Never."

Ranpo pulled you close for an appreciative kiss.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs manga #bungo stray dogs ranpo #ranpo x you #ranpoe supremacy #ranpo x reader #ranpo my beloved #ranpo edogawa #ranpo fluff #ranpo fanfic #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bsd ranpo #bad ranpo x reader #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs fluff #black reader #ranpo x black reader #ranpo x y/n #domestic fluff #fluff #fanfic #black writers #my writing #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 TELLING THEM THEY'RE PRETTY!

FEATURING: dazai osamu, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol

SUMMARY: telling the bsd boys that they're pretty! (wordcount: 3.5k; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i had cute dividers but this won't show up in the tags if use them D: ! i had sooo much fun with this! i hope you guys enjoy! :D

DAZAI OSAMU

You can’t seem to drag your gaze away from him. 

As a long day of work comes to an end, you rest your head on your arms and lean on your desk. Kunikida is still tapping furiously away at his computer, Tanizaki and Naomi are whispering about something together, Ranpo is sorting through his candy, and Atsushi and Kyouka are looking through files. But your eyes are tracing over Dazai Osamu as he leans back in his chair, lazily spinning and bobbing his head to the music he’s listening to. 

The setting sun casts an ethereal glow over him, his lips idly turned up and his lashes brushing his cheeks as rests his eyes waiting for the day to end. Dazai Osamu is pretty—you’ve always acknowledged that—but there’s something about the peace of this moment, the domesticity of the office and the ambience of the lighting that has you utterly enraptured.

He looks so at ease, and Dazai Osamu is never at ease. Even when he throws up that clownlike mask of his and spends his day entertaining under the guise of joy and humor, you can always see the strain in the corner of his eyes and lips. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible really—if you were anyone else, you’d miss it, but you’re not anyone else, much to his displeasure, because you know he hates how easily you can see right through him.

After a few minutes, Dazai peeks his eyes open—and you’re almost breathless, because his eyes are like melted honey beneath the sunset, warm and gentle, glittering with amusement. You think you can stare at him forever and never tire of it.

He rolls his chair closer to you, resting his forearms on your desk so that your arms are brushing and laying his head down on them so that his face is mere inches from yours, matching your position. There's a smile on his lips, soft and teasing as he whispers, "You've been staring at me for five minutes."

"Mhm," you agree, voice just as quiet as if to not disturb the tranquility of the office. You can feel his breath light against your face from the proximity he's laying at and you can smell peppermint on his breath from the candy you’d seen him swipe from Ranpo’s desk earlier when the other man had gone to speak to Fukuzawa.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks playfully, dark eyes glimmering as he waits for your response.

You can tease him back and say yes, as you usually do and is probably what he expects—and you fully intend to do just that but the words that leave your lips are not that. 

“You just look really pretty today,” you say softly, watching as his eyes widen just a bit at your words, pink dusting his cheeks. 

His lips part to say something but no words leave them. He opens and closes them a few times and you marvel because Dazai must know that he’s pretty from all of the attention he gets from women, so you don’t understand why he’s so thrown off hearing you voice it out loud. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely speechless before now.

“So you don’t think i’m pretty every other day?” Dazai pushes his bottom lip out into an over-exaggerated pout, recovering swiftly from your words, though you expected nothing less from him. But you can’t help but note that his cheeks are still a bit pink and there’s something indecipherable in his eyes.

“Prettier than usual,” you amend and watch as the flush on his cheeks darkens and he instead resorts to completely burying his face in his arms with a frustrated groan.

“I am supposed to be the flirt, bella,” he complains, voice muffled by his arms as he hides his face from your view. He cannot hide the way his ears have gone bright red, and you have half a mind to reach out and tug at them

You lift your hand to your lips to hide the giggle that rises to your lips, scooching your chair a bit closer so you can knock your shoulder against his. 

“I’m not flirting,” you say. “Just stating a fact.”

He turns his head to the side, just enough so that he can give you a heavy side eye—you can only barely see the red hue coating his cheekbone. 

“Not mutually exclusive,” he says grumpily, and you lean down to press your lips against his now exposed forehead, smiling softly as his eyes instinctively flutter shut and his body relaxes as the touch.

Then, you receive a pencil to the side of your head. You yelp as your hand flies to where it had made contact with you, scowling at your assailant who is none other than Ranpo, smiling widely as he waves at you and then motions to Kunikida, who is red faced and staring at the two of you. You can’t tell if it’s in embarrassment or anger.

“Not during work hours,” he snaps, and you realize that he’s definitely embarrassed, so you share a short look with Dazai, who has regained that mischievous look in his eyes as he glances over at Kunikida and back at you.

Without saying a word, or giving any other sort of warning, he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s a short and chaste kiss, but his lips are soft and taste of candy, and you think you might be able to kiss them forever if you get the chance.

Now you’re the one flustered, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks as you stare at Dazai, who is evidently thoroughly pleased to not be the one uncomposed if the unscrupulous grin on his lips has anything to say about it.

He tosses you a wink before rolling his chair back over to his desk, animatedly complaining about Ranpo and Kunikida being lonely and bitter and getting in the way of Dazai’s chance at true love because of it—you only roll your eyes at his dramatics, as you usually do when Dazai goes off on tangents, but it’s with much more fondness this time. 

•••

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

You are not listening to a single word that he’s saying. 

It’s a dangerous situation to be in with Fyodor Dostoevsky, you’re sure he’s noticed by now and he will be petty enough to finish his brief about his plans and your involvement and then ask you to repeat what he said, but you just can’t focus. 

He tied his hair back, you note, still quite a bit awed by the sight. There are two locks framing his face and his bangs are falling between his eyes, but the rest of his hair, which has grown a bit long in the weeks that he’s been ardently preparing for the final stages of his plan, is pulled back into a lax bun. 

He looks so casual, and Fyodor Dostoevsky never looks casual. He’s dressed in a turtleneck and loose pants as he leans back in his chair. There’s a folder resting on his lap that he’s idly flipping through and he keeps glancing up at you occasionally, pale lips flat and violet eyes disapproving, but you just nod along to his words even though you know that he knows that you’re not paying attention. 

And you think, distantly, that you probably should be paying attention because he’s talking about your upcoming mission and what you should expect from it but you figure you’ll be fine—it’s a simple infiltration mission, nothing to worry about. And you’d much rather prefer to appreciate Fyodor’s rare repose than to listen him droll on about boring topics. 

Sometimes, you think if he just kept his mouth shut all the time, he’d be perfect. But you think you’d miss his sharp-witted comments and the lengthy debates the two of you have after a few glasses of wine.

He looks extra pretty tonight, even beyond the casual hairstyle and clothes and his uncharacteristically relaxed demeanor, and you think it’s because of the way the flames of the fireplace are casting an enchanting orange and red glow over his face. It makes the violets of his eyes burn alive in a way that they usually don’t, you’re far too used to the glacial visage they take whenever he puts his attention on someone. Every time he glances up at you, you swear that you can get lost in them.

“… And you are not listening to a word that I am saying, are you?” 

Fyodor is giving you the heaviest side eye as he finally calls you out, expression unamused. His brows are furrowed and his pale skin is taut with thinly veiled irritation.

“Of course, I am,” you dismiss, waving your hand. “Infiltration mission, detective agency, get close to the tiger boy.”

Fyodor looks distinctly unimpressed by your words, brows deepening—you figure you must have spoken wrongly, you probably shouldn’t have been so indifferent, and you bite back a sigh before reaching forward to press two fingers between Fyodor’s eyebrows, as if to forcibly smooth away his annoyance.

He blinks and draws back, out of reach of your arm, and then casts you an even more irritable look.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” he accuses. “This mission will be dangerous, you’ll be at risk of being exposed every moment you are in the agency and if you are exposed-“

“Your plans will be ruined,” you finish, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes. “I kno-“

“You could be killed,” Fyodor corrected, voice cold and sharp, and you look back over to him. He looks unusually intense, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the appearance that the flames of the fireplace are giving him as they flicker dangerously across his face or if it’s because he’s that displeased with you being distracted. Either way, you find your mind drifting again because wow. “Dazai Osamu is not a man to be taken lightly. When he manages to figure out who you are and what you’re doing, we will need an immediate extraction plan.”

“Careful, Fyodor,” you drawl, watching as his violet eyes narrow briefly, “almost sounds like you care.”

Fyodor’s lips twist but he doesn’t respond. You raise your eyebrows, he looks away. Your eyes shoot open.

“You have a bigger role to play,” Fyodor finally says, but he’s no longer looking at you. “You cannot be killed yet.”

“Yet,” you repeat, amused. Fyodor’s jaw tightens, he doesn’t look at you, his eyes are trained on the fireplace to the side of the two of you and you can vaguely see the flames reflecting in his eyes, burning ardently against the familiar violet.

You lean forward again, shifting off of the couch to sit on the coffee table between the two of you so you can reach him. You reach forward to brush your knuckles against his cheek—he doesn’t move away this time, but his eyes cut to the side to watch you carefully.

You don’t say anything for a moment, absently tucking one of the locks of hair framing his face behind his ear. His hair is soft, freshly washed—for once—it smells faintly of lavender and vanilla and you wonder if he stole your conditioner.

“You look very pretty tonight, Fyodor,” you say quietly, and then smile. “It’s hard to focus when you look like this.”

The expression Fyodor directs toward you is extraordinarily blank, except for the faintest specks of pink that glare compared to the pallor of his face. 

He shakes his head, looking away from you yet again. 

“… You cause me much suffering,” he murmurs, and somehow, you know that might be the closest you might get to an admission of love from Fyodor Dostoevsky.

You smile to yourself. “And you to I,” you say, voice a bit teasing, and then you add, “Now, can you tell me again what to look out for?”

The moment is ruined. Fyodor’s eye twitches and he’s giving you that unamused look again, and you think having him repeat himself might be a mistake because now you’re even more distracted, but Fyodor sighs and starts on his lecture again so you force yourself to listen.

It takes about three minutes for him to release a sigh of utter suffering when he realizes that your eyes have glazed over yet again. 

•••

NIKOLAI GOGOL

Nikolai has a wild sort of beauty about him. He’s unpredictable and dangerous, and it’s widely apparent in his frenzied laughter and chaotic behavior. His eye glitters and his teeth gleam sharply beneath the glow of the moonlight as he waves his hands around, animatedly describing to you all of the details of the things he’s been doing while you were away. 

Fyodor’s masterplan has involved Nikolai apparently taken upon an infiltration role at the ministry of defense—you think it’s a bold move for Fyodor to use Nikolai for such a tenuous mission, but he’s apparently been having the time of his life with it. Though he thinks his boss is deplorable and one of his coworkers has evidently pissed him off beyond repair, because now he’s telling you about how he’s been ‘pranking’ the man in righteous vengeance. 

You think Nikolai’s idea of pranking varies from yours, because you’re pretty sure him using his ability to break into the man’s house constitutes a crime not a prank. But you don’t have it in you to make that distinction when he’s so excitedly telling you about how every day he’s been going into his house to move around all of his stuff and hide some of his belongings to make the man squirm. He’s succeeding outstandingly in his ambition, if the videos he’s waving in front of you have anything to say about it. 

You watch as he frantically scrolls to the next video—“this one is the best,” he claims, as he has for every video thus far. You watch with an amused smile as his dark-haired coworker steps into his apartment and nearly starts crying when he realizes that all of his stuff has been moved again, scrambling for his phone to call the police, who have—according to Nikolai—apparently already told him multiple times that there’s nothing they can do about it. The video is shaking wildly, as if the person filming can barely hold the camera straight, and you’re convinced that’s exactly what it is because you can hear Nikolai’s muffled laughter coming from recording.

Nikolai naturally finds it much funnier than you do, half-way keeling over as he wheezes, his laughter shattering the peaceful night. The two of you are sitting at a park near the apartment that Fyodor had leased for you for the duration of the Yokohama operation. The moon is high in the sky, casting a bewitching glow over the lake in front of you and there’s a chill in the air—it’s a nice night all around, you think there will probably some frost dusting the grass in the morning but the cold hardly bothers you now with Nikolai pressed to your side as he laughs himself into a near-coughing fit over his harassment of his coworker. 

“Why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai suddenly complains loudly, scowling at you, but even then he keeps having to bite back residual laughter whenever he glances back down at his phone. “It’s funny.”

“It is funny,” you agree. Nikolai gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you. “It is.”

“Then why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai accuses doubtfully, and then adds, even more accusatory, “You hate me.”

You’re not sure why you aren’t laughing, honestly. Usually you’d be burying your face into his shoulder trying to smother your snickers, because even though you might not entirely agree with Nikolai’s idea of a prank, you can still find some humor in it. Because it is kind of funny. Kind of. 

But then you realize that you’re probably not laughing because you’ve been spending most of the night admiring Nikolai rather than listening to him prattle on about his escapades and watching his poorly recorded videos, so you can’t fully appreciate the humor in the videos. With his cheeks flushed from copious amounts of laughter and his eyes glowing with excitement, you think he’s very pretty tonight—Nikolai is always pretty, but the angle at which he’s sitting leaves the moon haloing behind his head, and maybe it’s just because you’ve missed him the past few weeks when you’ve been abroad dealing with a territory dispute with Tolstoy, but you think there’s something special about tonight. 

“I don’t hate you. I guess I’ve been too busy admiring you,” you finally say, a playful smile on your lips as you tilt your head to the side to look at him. “You look pretty tonight.”

Nikolai blinks, eyes wide and owlish as he processes your words. The longer he goes unresponsive, you acknowledge that a quiet Nikolai is far more unnerving than a loud and erratic Nikolai, you’d expected a more… theatrical response to your comment. A swish of his cape, him leaping to his feet with a twirl and an agreement, even just a wild laugh; instead, he looks away abruptly. He doesn’t even just look away, he physically turns his whole body away from you. 

You blink.

“Nikolai?” you ask, a bit astonished when he literally ignores you. You lean forward, trying to get a look at his face, but then he swivels around even more and your lips part in shock. “Nikolai.”

You’re only met with a face full of his soft white hair, impeccably braided, as per usual—you have half a mind to tug at it hard to try to get a response from him, but you aren’t in the mood for the lewd comment that would likely spill from his lips after. 

“Koly-“

“Poor me, poor me,” Nikolai suddenly cries loudly, “The little koshenya mocks me when all I do is try to make her laugh. Poor me, poor me.”

His hand flies to his face, melodramatic as he bemoans your alleged cruelty. You stare at him, mind trying to piece together what exactly is happening—Nikolai is always hard to predict, but you feel like this is a bit strange even for him, and that’s saying something. 

“… What?” you start to ask but Nikolai has thrown himself into a loud and theatrical tirade about how he doesn’t deserve such injustice and how he was only trying to make you laugh, and how it’s so, so cold-hearted of you to taunt him when this is the first time the two of you have seen each other in weeks. 

Nikolai is impossible to bargain with when he gets like this, so you only sigh and tilt your head up to the sky, his words flying in one ear and out the other as you wait for him to settle down on his own. 

Instead, you swear the world is against you because rather than settling down, he becomes increasingly more noisy and distressed, and his accusations become even more asinine. Now, he’s saying that you’ve always had it out for him and how you weren’t laughing at his jokes because you hate him and want to report him to the police and how he should tell Dostoy about your betrayal, or better yet, he should stuff you in his cloak and leave you there?

You side-eye Nikolai heavily as he continues on, slightly alarmed, but brush off the casual threat as just Nikolai being Nikolai. You don’t know how to shut him up, you think you might be out here all night listening to him, and now you’re the one bemoaning your fate because how did a simple compliment turn into this. 

Finally, an idea strikes. 

You brace yourself, questioning your sanity and your entire existence before you interrupt him with a loud, “Quiz time!”

Nikolai goes silent instantly, head snapping toward you, eye even wider than before. 

You think you’ve hit an all time low as you say, “Was I trying to mock you before?” Nikolai opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can. “What’s that you say? I wasn’t? Ding ding! We’ve gotta winner!” 

You think Nikolai might be having an internal crisis. He’s staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time in his life—his lips are parted, his eye void of the usual mischief dancing in it. He looks as if he wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. 

You let out a long breath as you go to speak up again, but before you can, his eye is glittering again, sharp and dangerous, and his lips are curving up into a slow smile. 

Nikolai inhales and then he takes a complete one-eighty as he bursts into loud cackles and says, “Ahahaha! I knew you loved me!” as if he wasn’t just lamenting your irrational hatred for him moments before.

Your eye twitches. He begins a second tirade, this one far more embarrassing for you than the last. 

You regret everything.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #fyodor x reader #nikolai x reader #dazai fluff #fyodor fluff #nikolai fluff #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd fluff #bungo stray dogs fluff #dazai osamu x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #dazai osamu fluff #fyodor dostoevsky fluff #nikolai gogol fluff #dazai x you #fyodor x you #nikolai x you #dazai osamu x you #fyodor dostoesvky x you #nikolai gogol x you #osamu dazai x you #osamu dazai x reader #osamu dazai fluff

[aureatchi]

⛇₊˚ʚ₊˚✧ AND I CHOSE YOU, ‘CAUSE YOU’RE ALL I NEED ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai

some winter prompts/scenarios with the bsd men…and other romantic things they spoil you with.

info. fem!reader. fluff fluff !! domestic moments. profanities from chuuya. established relationships. kissing. mentions of a fake! machete from nikolai lmao.

DAZAI says: it’s too cold to get out of bed! can’t we just stay in and cuddle?

As soon as your eyes fluttered open, you were greeted with the realization that it was far too late to wake up at this time on a weekday. You could see the sun outside your window, overlooking the blanket of snow that had fallen the night before. Panicking, you tried to turn towards your nightstand to catch a glimpse of your clock to confirm your thoughts, but a leg wrapping around your waist stopped you.

“Osamu?”

“Morning, beautiful,” Dazai’s sleepy voice replied, continuing to trap you in an embrace with his arms.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, but that only made you feel even more uneasy. You forcefully shifted out of his grasp to look at your clock—woah, you were both supposed to be at work an hour ago.

You sat up on the bed, startling Dazai. “Osamu! We’re supposed to be at work! Why didn’t the alarm go off…I haven’t played with it lately…”

Another realization. You sharply eyed Dazai with a frown, who, in contrast, had his signature mischievous smirk on his face, even through tired eyes.

“Did you turn it off?!”

“Huh?” He yawned. “Now, why would you accuse me of such a thing? I don’t see why the alarm should be turned off.”

“Exactly!” you replied. “But who else could’ve done it? A ghost?”

“Hmm.” He tapped his index finger on his chin in thought. “Oh, I know!

“How about fate?” His hand moved to cup your cheek as he answered you in a flirtatious voice. You tried not to cringe at how corny he sounded. “What if fate wanted us to miss work today so we can stay in and spend time together inste-”

“Now this is where you gave yourself away!” you cut him off, moving towards the end of the bed to stand up. “Who said we’re missing work? It’s better to be late than not show up at al-”

Dazai grabbed your arm, pulling you back in.

“Osamu!”

“Yeah, unless you’re sick! Wouldn’t want to infect everyone else with a cold, right?”

“But none of us are sick?”

“Too bad,” he whispered, pulling you back under the covers. “I already called the Agency. I told them that…” he made dramatic coughing sounds, “...you were sick, and of course, you got me sick too!”

“What?!” you were in disbelief. “You liar! You could’ve at least not put the blame on me!”

“Oh, don’t be mistaken! I said it was my fault—you just looked so adorable while sick, I just had to cuddle up with you the whole night! So naturally, I got sick too. Isn’t that believable? I’d do the same if it actually happened.”

You facepalmed. “You’re not making it past Ranpo.”

“Don’t worry about him. I’ve taken care of that too,” Dazai smiled. There was no getting around Ranpo, but it would only be a problem if he exposed the lie. So, Dazai had bought him a stockpile of snacks to keep his mouth shut.

You sighed before snuggling up against him. It looks like you weren’t going anywhere today. Not that you were complaining anymore—if your lover handled everything anyway.

“So why did you want to stay in?” you asked.

“Because I knew I’d feel cold if I got out of bed.” The brunette’s fingers started stroking through your hair as you rested your head on his chest, relaxed by both his hand and the faint thump of his heartbeat.

“That’s it?” you laughed. “You didn’t want to be cold?”

“That, and because I want to spend time with my belladonna, duuh.” Dazai turned you around so he could see your face.

“You look pretty. Just like an angel, more bonny than any other snow angel.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as his eyes studied you in admiration, flustering you. You were in awe that he could call you that when you had just woken up—you probably looked like a mess. He was the one who looked lovely—amber eyes peeking through his untidy hair and pretty eyelashes, the faint pink that surged through his cheeks when you kissed his knuckles, his bandaged chest that was revealed under his slightly unbuttoned pajamas…Dazai looked as dreamy as hearing his morning voice. And man, was it attractive, too.

He gave innocent pecks from one corner of your mouth to the other, and you reciprocated. You gently peppered each other’s faces with sleepy kisses until you rested on his torso again.

“That’s right, bella,” he cooed, rubbing your back. “We can relax today.” You wrapped your arms around him, enjoying the warmth he provided. “And if you’re hungry, we can order something from wherever you want later, yeah?”

You nodded with a smile. “Sounds perfect.”

CHUUYA says: let’s go ice skating, darling!

“C’mon, doll, it’s okay. Promise I’ll catch you if you slip!”

A local lake had frozen over, and you’d always wanted to learn how to ice skate, so Chuuya saw it as the perfect opportunity to teach you. Yet now, you stood at the edge with your skates, intimidated by the sapphire water that rested below the thin layer of ice and having nowhere to hold onto for support. Thankfully, it was just the two of you there; you would’ve felt even more nerve-wracked if others were watching.

“You’re so rude, Chu! You left me!” you whined, your voice traveling across the serene scenery. Chuuya simply laughed—he had skated a few feet off into the lake, waiting for you to follow. Yet, to you, it seemed so much farther than that.

“I’m right here!” he replied. He motioned for you in a way that reminded you of how a parent encourages a baby to take their first step. “Here, baby!” He cooed, holding his arms out. “You can do it.”

“Are you mocking me?! You’re talking to me like a little girl!”

“You are my girl though, sweetheart,” the ginger responded.

You sighed, your breath visible as it fanned out into the cold. “There has to be some sort of compensation, though, if I do fall!”

“I’ll massage whatever hurts if anything does,” he promised.

“Fair.” Chuuya’s massages were priceless.

You slowly stepped onto the ice, trying to keep balance on the blades attached to your feet. You looked up at Chuuya, panicking.

“Bend your knees.” You immediately followed, which helped you stabilize yourself.

“Now push off from one knee to the other,” Chuuya continued. Slowly, you started moving towards him, skating into his arms when you reached him.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he smirked through the embrace. “Good job. Now c’mon.”

Chuuya started leading you across the ice, helping you get used to the rhythm and being in sync with each other. Once he saw you get the hang of it, he suggested something.

“We can go really fast, yknow,” Chuuya proposed. “If you want…I think it’ll be exciting.”

“Exactly how fast?” you asked.

“I’d use my ability to enhance it,” he smiled. You knew that would speed you up tons.

“Okay,” you said after contemplating for a few seconds. “I trust you.”

Chuuya moved in front of you to hold your hands in his. “Hold on tight, baby!”

You gripped onto the executive as he activated his ability. And with one push, after making sure you knew it was coming, you two zoomed across the lake, wind breezing past you. You screamed—in surprise, fear, and exhilaration, as Chuuya steered you both, even more talented doing it backwards.

“Damn, you’re flying, doll!” he exclaimed and loosened his grip on one of your arms. Chuuya spun you around on the ice as he slowed the both of you down, bringing you to a complete stop with a kiss.

“Already like a pro,” he praised. “You learned so fast. And what’d I say? I promised I wouldn’t let you fall.”

You chuckled, feeling warmth heat up your frost-nipped cheeks as Chuuya cupped your face with his fingers. “I still want a massage, though. Pleeease?”

He smirked. “Fuck, I could never refuse since you asked so nicely. And I guess you deserve something for doing so well on skates. Of course.”

“Yay!” You cheered as you skated in a circle around Chuuya before connecting his lips with yours once again.

“This was incredibly fun, Chu.”

FYODOR asks: is the fireplace not enough? you need me to warm you up, too?

“It’s cold.”

You and Fyodor were in a cabin high up in the mountains, the epicenter of planning his next mission. Fyodor often traveled, and you always accompanied him, despite his warnings of how boring those journeys would be because his attention would be mainly focused on his paperwork and mapping out the areas by the temporary headquarters.

You always reassured him you were completely fine with it. You understood his job and were used to him not having his attention on you all the time. You were content reading through his collection of novels with his cursive annotations scribbled throughout the pages to pass the time while he sat devising schemes.

Though right now, you were starting to shiver, even below the three layers of your sweater. The heat radiating from the candle on the desk you sat reading at wasn’t enough—you were still cold.

“Put your coat on,” Fyodor replied from another table. He had let you have the true desk by the bookshelf with the comfy chair to lounge in while he took the dining table.

“It’s too bulky. It’ll be uncomfortable,” you said, gliding your hand over a page.

You heard a sigh. “Must you always choose comfort over practicality?”

“Of course, when I have the privilege,” you chuckled. “Can I light the fireplace?”

Fyodor looked up from his work. “Yes, I’ll help you.”

“Are you sure? You seem busy. I can do it myself.”

“No worries, as long as you don’t distract me with anything else.”

You gave him a knowing smirk. “I’m not sure if I can guarantee that,” you replied as you headed for the wooden logs in the back. Fyodor followed you, helping you carry a few over to the fireplace.

You ensured all the air vents were open as he threw the wood in, starting the fire with a lighter. Fyodor sat in the single armchair right in front of it, checking to see if it was stable from afar.

“How’s this?” he asked, watching you on the floor, getting close to feel the flames. “Warming up?”

“Yes,” you responded, turning towards him.

“Good. You can sit here while I return to-“ he was both cut off in speech and from getting up when you lowered yourself onto his lap. “Milaya…“

“I warned you I couldn’t guarantee it,” you whispered, straddling him. You weren’t forceful—each move was as graceful as a ballerina’s glide, and it was probably because, despite his words, Fyodor differed to fight back.

“Stay for a little, please,” you softly pleaded, trapping the ravenette even more by wrapping your arms around his neck. “Can you take a short break?”

“You’re asking me as if you’re giving me a choice,” Fyodor chuckled, still seeing you give him no room to leave. “Fine. I’ll indulge in your wants this once.”

“It’s more of indulging in my needs,” you corrected him, looking into violet eyes. You then picked up the book you had been reading earlier to continue.

“Enjoying it so far?” he asked, moving the hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ears.

“Yeah. But I’m not going to lie, I think I like your annotations more than the actual book.”

“How flattering.” Fyodor smiled. “I enjoyed reading it a lot, too, though. That’s why I wrote so much.” You flipped open to the page you left off on when you suddenly had an idea.

“What if you read to me?” you asked with a giggle.

His face showed rare, genuine surprise for a moment. “Hm? It’s not like this is some bedtime story…

“I’m not against it, though.”

And so, he started reading to you. You sang in victory in your head because though you would never admit it to him—Fyodor had too much ego for you to heighten it even more—you loved his voice. His accent laced the words of the plot that resumed as he spoke from page to page.

You couldn’t think of anything more perfect. Hearing the satisfying tone of his tongue accompanied by the ambiance of the fireplace and the flipping of pages…you could stay nuzzled up against him like this forever.

“I thought you said you were enjoying it,” Fyodor paused after some time, noticing your eyelids drooping and head limp against his shoulder. “Yet you’re falling asleep.”

“I am,” you said, your words slurring. “I’m just really comfy like this. It feels cozy…makes me sleepy…”

You tucked your face into his neck. Fyodor gently closed the book before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Well, it can’t be helped…” he whispered. “Sweet dreams, dorogaya.”

NIKOLAI says: let’s build a snowman!

“Why are you putting the carrots for eyes?” You shook your head in disappointment as you watched Nikolai create his ‘snowman.’ It hardly looked like one, honestly. The only thing normal about it was the base—which you had helped him with. Three spheres of snow stacked upon each other to make the snowman’s body. The rest…was very Nikolai.

He had put the carrots as the eyes. And the snowman had three orange, pointy eyes. As for the mouth, he sculpted a smile out of clay, which was fine, but of course, he made it in a way that looked very ominous. Then, the jester had decorated it with a bunch of colorful pom-poms. The whole thing was very random, but you knew something like this was coming.

“And finally!” Nikolai pulled out a fake plastic machete.

“Kolya, what the heck?! Now, we really can’t leave this here! What if some kid stumbles upon it and takes the knife?”

“It’s fake, baby, don’t worry!” He replied, running his finger along the sharp end.

“Well, yeah, but still! I don’t think anyone’s parents would appreciate that!”

Nikolai sighed before a portal appeared, swallowing his entire snowman and the machete inside.

“You play too safe sometimes, love.”

“Where did you transport that to?!”

“The Sky Casino,” he giggled. “I’m sure Sigma will find the new decoration lovely!” You immediately felt pity towards the poor man—you imagined him having to clean up a puddle of melted snow and other objects in the casino.

You just stood for a moment before Nikolai spoke again.

“Okay, I’ll actually make something you like,” he said. “Could you help me with the base?”

You didn’t know what he was going to do next, but you helped him anyway after making him promise he wasn’t going to pull out anymore weapons, real or fake. You stacked the snow on top of each other and waited to see what he was going to do next.

Nikolai transported two buttons that reminded you of your eye color to place on the snowman’s face as its eyes. He then used two sticks to create a cute smile. Then, he pulled out a hat and scarf that looked like the exact ones you were wearing…

“Wait, huh?” You glanced down at your attire and then at the articles, you saw Nikolai dressing the snowman in. “Where did you even get that?”

“The place where you got yours, duh!” he responded. You tried to push away the thought in your head that he most likely stole it. But now, you understood what he was doing. So, while he finished replicating you, you started a snowman right next to his.

“Kolya, can you please let me borrow your top hat? And a green and a gray button?”

His face grew elated. “Sweet dove! You’re doing what I’m doing!” He summoned what you had asked for. “Here you go!”

In the end, Nikolai had created a snowman of you, and you had built a snowman of him. It made your heart warm at how sweet it was.

“Yours looks so cute!” you exclaimed, looking at the one of yourself. You then teased him. “Honestly, I’m surprised you were capable of this.”

“No snowman will ever be as cute as you,” he responded with a wink. “And what can I say? I’m full of surprises.” He then threw himself onto you.

“And you made me! My heart could burst right now…look at us together!” You felt everything happen at once after that—one moment, Nikolai was spinning you in the air, absolutely thrilled, and the next, his lips sealed yours in a passionate kiss.

“Quiz time,” Nikolai whispered on your mouth.

“What must’ve I done to deserve the best girl in the world?”

rbs are cherished; they are your christmas gift to me <3

tags : @kissesmellow21

© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + heart lights divider by benkeibear.

#₊ ⊹˚✉︎𑁤 with love; reverie #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x y/n #nikolai x reader #nikolai x you #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd fyodor #bsd nikolai #bsd fluff #bsd drabbles #bsd scenarios #bsd imagines #bsd headcanons #dazai fluff #chuuya fluff #fyodor fluff #nikolai fluff #aureatchi

[kentopedia]

nightly rituals

ft. dazai, chuuya, sigma, ranpo, fyodor

summary — little things you do together before going to sleep

contents — very sweet, domestic moments !! sfw.

notes — another subpar short piece from me while i finish up some wips. i wrote this kind of quickly so pls forgive any errors !! :(

₊˚⊹♡ DAZAI + reading

“osamu.” you glanced up at him from under his book, drawing his name out as you rested your head on his lap.

until that point, you’d been scrolling through your phone, hoping he'd be annoyed by the lack of your attention. instead, dazai picked up the book you'd been reading together, and started from where you left off.

your ridiculous ploy for his affection had turned on you, and now, you were the one that was desperate to hear his voice.

dazai looked down at you, his eyes playful as he smiled. “what?”

you stared back at him, disgruntled by the fact that he’d so quickly figured out your silly little game and made it his own. "nothing."

dazai twisted a piece of your hair on his finger, patient, and shrugged, returning to the novel, looking far too interested in the pages.

you groaned, poking him in the stomach. “you’re just going to read ahead without me?”

“you didn’t seem to mind when you were on your phone instead.” he frowned, though most of his disappointment was feigned, and amusement lingered at the edges of his expression.

“you were in the shower!" you scoffed.

dazai laughed, and shifted the book to his other hand, and leaned over to kiss you softly. “i'm not anymore.”

though you usually indulged him in his antics, you were tired, and just wanted to close out the night with another chapter of the story you'd been so invested in. it was much better when it came straight from his lips.

“i can see that.” you rolled your eyes, frowning. “are you going to read to me now, osamu?”

dazai brightened, proud of himself for finally getting you to admit what you wanted. "well, you could've asked a little nicer, but since i love you..."

he flipped to the previous page, the one you'd both been at the night before, and you realized he hadn't even been reading at all.

you huffed out a laugh, burying your head further into his thighs, but dazai didn't start reading. he remained staring at you with a pointed expression.

"what's the matter now?"

"you didn't say it back." dazai's lips drew down theatrically.

you sighed, and pulled at the collar of his shirt, stretching your waist to kiss him, lazily, missing his lips by a mile. "you already know i love you too, osamu. that's the only reason you get away with annoying me all the time."

dazai, finally satisfied, let you fall back against him, and began reading the next chapter to you.

though you'd wanted to stay awake for a while longer, the minute he began, you were already dozing off, so warm in his arms.

“your voice is so nice,” you said sleepily, closing your eyes as he read. “like a lullaby.”

dazai laughed quietly, but he softened, smiling as he read. he held the book in one hand, and massaged your scalp with the other, delicate fingers threading through your hair until you fell asleep.

₊˚⊹♡ CHUUYA + skincare

“let me do it this time, chuuya," you said, staring him down with the sweet eyes of yours that you knew he could never resist.

chuuya could have easily stolen the tub of moisturizer away from you, but he let you hold it far out of his reach, his smile soft. “but i like doing it.”

“yeah, well, you do it every night. i want a turn.”

chuuya said nothing for a moment, his gaze sharp. then, he relented and sighed. “fine.” he leaned against the counter, resting his weight on it. “think you can ask me for whatever you want, and i'll just give it you, huh?”

you laughed, smiling as you unscrewed the lid. “i think we both know the answer to that.”

though you were only teasing him, chuuya softened, kissing your forehead. he placed his hands on your hips, drawing you closer and closer.

“you’re right,” he said, his eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks as you slathered the moisturizer over his smooth skin. “i can’t say no to you, baby.”

you shook your head, amused, and massaged his cheeks lightly. chuuya relaxed into your touch, the tightness in his jaw alleviating.

"don't fall asleep," you teased, running your thumb over his full bottom lip.

"'m not," he said, letting out a small breath. but his eyes were glazed when he opened them again, far too tender for such a powerful man. "your hands just feel so soft."

"i can't carry you to bed," you warned. "you'll have to sleep on the cold counter."

"you wouldn't let me stay here all night long." he slid his hands over your hips, down your back, grinning. "you hate sleeping in that bed without me."

₊˚⊹♡ SIGMA + making tea

“do you want honey in it, love?”

you hummed a yes, squeezing your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter from behind. his hair was soft against your cheek as you rested your head on his back.

sigma poured the water, letting the tea steep.

you leaned your weight on him, yawning. “how was your day?”

he craned his neck to see you, but didn’t move otherwise, letting you get comfortable as you waited for the tea to finish. “it was alright.” he laced his free hand with yours, shifting. “a little stressful. better, now that i get to see you.”

you smiled, kissing a notch in his spine, too lazy to move any further. “why'd you leave before i could say goodbye this morning?”

though you didn't really mind, sigma seemed genuinely apologetic, and squeezed your hand. “sorry. i had to be in early today. did you see my note?”

you smiled, and nodded, listening to the rhythmic beat of his blood pumping, the very sign that he was just as human as the rest of you.

"i did. it was sweet." with a sigh, you straightened your back to look at him completely. for the first time since you’d gotten home, you realized how tired he was, how drained he’d been this entire week. you ran your fingers through his hair gently, your voice like a purr. “you need to get some rest. i've barely seen you this week.”

“i have work to do.” he frowned. “they need me there.”

“i know." you watched as sigma took out the tea bags, throwing them into the trash. “i need you too, though.”

sigma paused, momentarily, as he stirred the honey in, before shaking his thoughts and blinking back at you. “i didn’t realize—”

you stopped him before he could spiral into another apology, the tension in his brow obvious. "i'm not upset." when the small tangles had been brushed out, you began braiding a small section of his hair, the strands silky in your palm. “just promise me you’ll take care of yourself too.”

sigma stared from over his shoulder for a moment more before acquiescing. he handed a steaming mug to you, turning around to surprise you with a gentle kiss. "okay," he said against your lips, the touch so tender. "i promise."

₊˚⊹♡ RANPO + video games

“you’re so bad at this.” ranpo threw another handful of candy into his mouth, watching your avatar on the screen as you continued to fail.

frowning, you pressed another button vigorously, not quite sure if it was the right one to achieve your goal.

of course, nothing seemed to happen, and instead, you’re barraged by the enemy, your health going down to a level that seemed almost irrecoverable.

you leaned back into ranpo’s chest, pinching your eyebrows together. “i don’t play this as much as you do.” you said from where sat between his thighs, still trying to figure out how to win his favorite game. “cut me some slack.”

ranpo laughed, his breath tickling the lobe of your ear as he leaned forward. he slid your thumb to a different button, brushing your skin lightly. “try that, sweets.”

it seemed to be the obvious solution, and you made a face at him, momentarily distracted. "your genius never fails to amaze me."

though, when you glanced back at the screen, you’ were back to where you started, all your progress lost. “ranpo,” you said, his name coming out on the edge of a whine. “what happened?”

he took the controller from you, not even giving you a moment to try again. quickly, he moved towards the next checkpoint, knowing exactly where to go, a seasoned professional. “you got killed. too busy staring at me.”

you sighed, reaching for the controller, but he held it out of your reach, grinning at you mockingly.

“let me try again, ranpo!”

“i’ll get you to the next part. you’ve tried this three times already.”

it wasn’t as fun watching as it was playing, but you sighed, and let him take over. as he went through the remaining quests, you rested your head back onto his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

ranpo made it through the rest of that level in mere minutes.

“here, it should be easier now.” though when he went to hand the game over to you, you’d fallen asleep in his lap, your breathing even and light.

₊˚⊹♡ FYODOR + playing the cello

“you play so beautifully.”

fyodor opened his eyes, watching you from under dark lashes. though his hands didn’t stop moving, the beginnings of a smile formed on his lips.

“i wish i could play an instrument,” you continued mindlessly, stretched over the couch. your head rested on the throw pillows, side aching from how long you'd been laying there, listening to the cello.

fyodor was across the room, relaxed completely in the chair he always played in. beside him, he was surrounded by evidence of his hobby. sheet music, scribbled and messy, rested on the table, stained with coffee rings. candle light flickered through the room.

he hesitated, the bow softly coming to a stop across the strings. “i can teach you.” fyodor's pause was brief, and he began playing once more, slower this time, like a serenade. a piece of hair fell over his face, between his eyebrows, distracting you.

you shivered, mind filled with thoughts of him standing behind you, directing your hands towards the right movements, whispering instructions in your ears.

but you shook your head, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “maybe,” you said, your smile wistful. “but i won’t be as good as you. i’d rather listen.”

“alright.” he let out a short laugh, blinking his eyes shut again to return his attention to the piece. he came to the last few measures, approaching the conclusion. “is there any piece you’d like to hear?” fyodor said, his voice softer than usual, almost like he didn’t want to disturb his own playing.

you thought back on everything you’d heard him play before. he’d told you the names, but it was hard to remember. so many of them sounded the same, titled by numbers and words you didn't understand.

it didn't matter, though. you thought everything he played sounded beautiful. often, he was even better than any recordings you’d ever heard.

“something that makes you think of me,” you said in a hushed whisper, placing your chin on your arms to see him better. "if that's alright."

fyodor, then, smiled more fully, his eyes full of an affection that eclipsed his otherwise gloomy features. “there are many things that make me think of you,” he said, slowing once more to transition into a richer, smoother melody. one that would, inevitably, put you into a deep, peaceful sleep. “but, perhaps this one fits the moment best.”

i haven't written for fyodor, sigma or ranpo before, so i hope this is okay !! im trying to get over my fear of making sure every single action & dialogue is perfectly in character :,)

#bsd x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #bsd x you #bsd x gender neutral reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #osamu dazai x you #sigma x reader #sigma x you #ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #ranpo x you #fyodor x y/n #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #chuuya x you #sigma x y/n #sigma bsd #dazai osamu x reader #chuuya x gn reader #ranpo bsd #bsd x y/n #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #rylie writes ₊˚🎧

[jackiepackiee]

not really specific but in your opinion, what are chuuya and ranpo's types?~

𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓅𝑜’𝓈 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒

𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒

Ranpo

Someone THE OPPOSITE OF HIM. Ranpo needs someone who is emotionally smart. He’s a genius at crime and human behavior, so a partner who can live the city life and understand to sympathize with others is a must. He is aware of his fault at empathy, so a partner to help him learn is a great influence. He’s a bit selfish with snacks, so if they hate sweets it’s okay! More for him. Another must is a good relationship with Fukuzawa. He needs his father figures approval of a lover. It would also be great for him to be with someone with a calmer energy. He is a lot, so he would like a partner who can tell him when to cool it down. In a more domestic style, he likes the type who enjoys staying in. Cuddles in bed, dinner at a table, the sappy stuff he likes.

A few bonus qualities!

Baker / sweets maker

Has a cat!

Likes to nap often

Calm

Motivated (he’s lazy)

Chuuya

Someone JUST AS LOYAL!! I would say Chuuya is a lover, and he isn’t concerned with looks. He has been surrounded by the chance to have the most attractive men and woman with his money and power, but he doesn’t prefer the socialite type. He wants someone that’s like home. Warm and cozy, a comfortable presence to be around. I don’t mean especially motherly or nurturing, but more a sense of self and maturity that has an understanding and sympathy. Someone who MUST be able to deal with the danger of his life without being too afraid. Also, someone that can have fun. Chuuya is a child at heart, and needs someone to have fun with. Watching silly romance movies, trying recipes online just to end up with flour all over his face. He wants a partner to laugh with.

A few bonus qualities!

Likes/has a dogs

Occasional wine enjoyer

Has self defense training (makes him reassured for his partners safety)

Has a good reading voice since he enjoys being read novels while in his office doing boring work

Willing to wear matching outfits (stylist, not like twin by same color palettes and style)

#bsd x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd fanfic #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya x you #ranpo edogawa x reader #ranpo x reader #ranpo edogawa #bsd ranpo #bungou stray dogs ranpo #ranpoe fic

[16-animated-rats-in-a-trenchcoat]

Telling the BSD boys that you think they’re amazing

Tags: Domestic fluff, Pre-established relationship, x reader

ft: Dazai, Atsuhsi, Chuuya, Ranpo

note: i've never written anything x reader before so i'd love any and all feedback! Thanks! i hope you enjoy :)

Dazai:

“I think you’re really amazing, you know that?” 

At first he laughs and says “I know! Aren’t I just the best in the whole wide world! Peasants tremble because of my greatness!” Instead of laughing you lightly grab his hand and stare at him for a few seconds. In a seriously, quiet, yet loving voice you say “I’m serious, Osamu, I think you’re amazing. I really value you not for your strength or intelligence or humour but because you’re you. I’m so thankful that you’re part of my life” 

He kind of short circuits for a moment. Once his brain recalibrates he pulls you in close and hugs you “I’m thankful to have you too. I love you.”. 

Atsushi:

The two of you are walking to your shared apartment when “I think you’re really amazing Atsushi.”.

He stops in his tracks for a moment then he gives you the biggest toothy smile “Thanks! I think you’re pretty amazing too!” It’s one of those rare rare moments where he doesn’t even question his self-worth, not for a second. When you think of the little moments, this is exactly what comes to mind. A soft, quiet moment of bliss. You give him a peck on the cheek and you continue your journey home together. 

Chuuya: 

“I think you’re amazing Chu”

Caught off guard he looks up from making dinner “Huh?” 

“I think you’re really amazing. You’re smart, kind, caring, funny,” You make your way into the kitchen and steal the wooden spoon off him and take over stirring the pot “I admire your ability to always trust in your intuition and how in tune you are with your surrounds. And damn you look really good in a hat.” You both giggle. He smiles softly and wraps his hands around your waist and you both sway you continue to stir the pot. “I could say the same about you. I mean, You’re incredibly intelligent and you always seem to know whenever something is wrong with me, even if we aren’t in the same building. It’s like you have this sixth sense. You’re so kind and you always see the best in people…

And you look really good in my hat.” 

Ranpo:

“Hey, Ranpo, I think you’re really amazing” You place a book mark between the pages of your new fantasy novel 

Without looking up from his video game he responds “Of course I am!! I AM the world's greatest detective aren’t I?!” you let out a laugh 

“You are but that isn’t what I meant. I meant that you’re amazing because you’re you. I couldn’t care less about your detective abilities. They’re awesome! Don’t get me wrong! But you’re amazing without your ability too! You’re funny and kind and you look out for others, even if you think we’re all a little stupid-“ 

“More than a little” he interrupts mid pokey stick

“Shut up I’m giving a speech here! point is, you’re amazing in your own right and I love you.” 

A soft smile creeps onto his face “I love you too” he says as he passes you the pokey box, offering you a stick. 

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd ranpo #bsd chūya #bsd chuuya #bsd atsushi #bsd anime #ranpo x reader #dazai x reader #atsushi x reader #chuuya x reader #chuya x reader

[lovedazai]

DOMESTIC MOMENTS

ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, fyodor, tecchou

DAZAI ー dazai loves to sleep. specifically, he loves to sleep next to you. the hum of your voice and your gentle touch is far sweeter to wake up to than the sound of his alarm, and he selfishly basks in your attention for as long as possible. “osamu〜” you trace down the bridge of his nose, booping it. “it’s time to get up.” your lips brush his forehead, then his nose. he forces back his smile as he waits for you to reach his lips, furrowing his brows when it never comes. he blinks open his eyes to be met with your smile. “i knew you were awake.” his pout stays even after you finally give him a proper kiss. “that was mean. you always see through me, don’t you?” he dramatically sighs as he drapes himself over you, tangling your legs together. he’s not letting you go so soon; if it were up to him, he would laze around with you for the rest of his life (and after that, too).

CHUUYA ー the cheap takeout containers looked out of place in chuuya’s luxury apartment, but the situation felt so normal he almost didn’t know how to act. later that night, he would return to the depths of yokohama as a port mafia executive, but eating dinner with you, he was just chuuya, the person. your mouth is full of gyoza, cheeks puffed and sauce smeared against your lips. you offer him a piece when you catch him staring, holding out your chopsticks for him. “say ahh〜” he tries to frown but your grin is contagious, and he takes a bite just to not give in to it. he daps your mouth with a napkin as he chews, pinching your cheek. you thank him with another smile, stealing a pepper from his meal. he never thought he'd be able to relate to the civilian couples he saw, cherishing something as simple as eating dinner, but he thinks maybe they're onto something.

RANPO ー you’re still snuggled in bed when ranpo returns to the bedroom and places a plate of pancakes in front of you, decorated with pieces of fruit and dollops of whipped cream. “ta-da!” he makes himself comfy next to you as you start to eat, swallowing down butterflies at the thought of your praise. he usually wasn’t one to bother with cooking, but he wouldn’t be the self-proclaimed world’s greatest boyfriend if he didn’t. “these are so good! you’re the best, ranpo!” he grins. “aren’t i? my turn!” he opens his mouth, waiting for you to feed him a bite. you share the treat until only one strawberry remains on the plate. “you can have it,” you offer. “you worked so hard to make breakfast, after all.” it’s a tempting offer, and normally he wouldn’t hesitate, but this is you. he stabs it with the fork, handing it over. you eat it with a smile, kissing him in thanks; your lips taste like strawberry juice, and it’s even better than the real thing.

FYODOR ー fyodor gets up before you every morning. he straightens the sheets on his side of the bed and tucks you further into yours, leaving you with a kiss on your head. today, he patiently watches you sleep; the warmth of you snuggled against him rivals his morning cup of tea and he decides to stay, just for a little longer. he admires the way your hair knots on his fingers as he soothes the strands, and smiles at how you subconsciously arch further into his chest when his cold hands grazes the skin of your back. he almost feels bad when his doting finally wakes you up. “good morning, my dear.” his chapped lips press a kiss to your cheek. he’s half way out of bed when your arm is tugging him back down. “don’t leave.” he raises an eyebrow at you. there’s lines of code to be written, plans to make sure get followed through, but they weren’t looking up at him with irresistibly rosy cheeks and batting eyelashes the way you were. “fine,” he sighs, like he couldn’t use some more rest, too. “only for a little longer.”

TECCHOU ー getting out of bed without waking up tecchou wasn’t easy, and you smile after successfully doing so. you start your skincare routine quietly. it’s when you’re rinsing the cleanser off your face, dapping it dry with a towel, that you finally notice tecchou standing in the doorway. if the cold water didn’t wake you up, that certainly did. he was cuter than usual, with sleepy eyes and especially messy hair, but he still startles you. “you left.” he says simply. he watches you finish your routine through your reflections in the mirror as he starts to brush his teeth, asking questions about what you’re using. “i didn't think you’d be interested in skincare.” you’re surprised at how serious he looks when he shakes his head. “it’s important to know your partner’s routines,” he wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your head as you put on moisturizer. “and i like watching you. you’re pretty.”

p.s.! thank u sm to kat + hana for the help <3 !!

BSD MASTERLIST

#ʚ 💌 ɞ with love mai #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #ranpo x reader #fyodor x reader #tecchou x reader #bsd imagines #bsd x you #bsd scenarios #bsd headcanons #bsd fluff #dazai osamu x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #edogawa ranpo x reader #dazai imagines #dazai fluff #fyodor fluff #chuuya fluff

[himimosa]

oh no, mutt!

"Don't look at me with those eyes. Your face might work on that short snail called Chuuya, but it won't work on me, nope. We both know you are disguised as a poor puppy, but you are nothing more than a stray dog in the end-"

"Dazai, what are you doing?"

He raised his head to you. He was sitting at the entrance door of Ada. When you got closer, you noticed the little fluff ball near his legs...

"Is that.. is that a puppy?"

"Not you too Y/N! This little mutt possessed everyone in the Ada! Brats are feeding it every day, Yosano-sensei treated it and Kunikida took him to the vet for vaccines! Hell, even the most cat person in this city, the president loves this little creature!"

You ignored him and crouched down to the ground, right next to Dazai "Hi there... Oh my god, aren't you the cutest?..." You slowly held your hand to see its reaction. The little pup seemed domestic, it started to rub its little head towards your hand. When you get permission, you started to scratch his head gently. You felt that like your heart was melting..

"Yuck!... I can't believe how you betrayed me out of all people Y/N..." Dazai sighed dramatically and headed for the stairs. Then he made a sudden turn: "If that mutt gets used to this place because of you, it will be either me or it that will have to leave the Ada!"

The pup stayed in the end, and of course Dazai too...

The little one was able to manage to capture everyone's heart. Nobody was afraid or disgusted (except Dazai) when it headed for the stairs and started to hang around in the office. It kinda became a mascot of the office... Naomi offered to name it "Pochi" and said it was the name of another cute pet from an anime. When "Pochi" was approved, it was now officially Ada's pet.

Pochi was so smart and loveable. (According to Ranpo, he was smarter than an average person) He knew the times when he could play with Ada members as he knew the times when things get serious. At times like this, he would sit quietly without bothering anyone (Kunikida has said Pochi was more mature than Dazai at these times) Sometimes he was accompanying the person on field search with their task too... Younger ones like Atsushi, Kyoka, Kenji, and Tanizaki siblings were mostly responsible for taking care of him, but no one would mind feeding him or having a walk with him. Except for one person...

"You should give Pochi a chance," you said on a lunch break. "He is one of us now, and I am sure Pochi wants to get along with you too..."

Dazai looked at you with both horror and disgust "Y/N-chan... Could you not talk about the mutt like it is an actual person?... I swear everyone is acting like they got bewitched by it..."

You didn't stop: "If you try to talk with him even once, you will see he is something else... Pochi listens to us like he actually understands"

"Nonsense..." Dazai scoffed "I would prefer to send a voicemail to Chuuya if I ever want a dog's listening to me..."

It was a usual night for Yokohama. Everyone had left the office after they were done with their tasks. You refilled Pochi's water and food pots for the night, he was staying in the office at nights. When you were about to leave the office you suddenly realized Dazai was still at his desk..

You blinked a few times. If Kunikida saw this, he would probably shed happy tears... It was not a usual sight to see Dazai's still working.

"Dazai I am leaving the office now... Are you coming too, or should I leave the office to you for locking the doors before leaving?"

"Ah, it's okay Y/N-chan... I will probably stay in here tonight, so you can go ahead, don't worry..."

You hesitated for a moment "Are you sure?.."

Dazai smiled "Yeap, good night, see you tomorrow..."

You were still not sure about leaving him alone... His smile seemed so fake just now, and you had a feeling like Dazai was not okay at that moment. But thinking that he was trying to send you, prevented you from doing anything. You didn't want to cross your boundaries. He probably needed some alone time...

"Okay then.. see you later, good night~"

When you left, Dazai sighed. And he brought out some sake bottles from his closet before heading to the roof...

The roof was so calm and peaceful in these hours... You could see the bright lights from all around the city. There were hundreds of lights and buildings, the most majestic one's Dazai's ex-workplace... This city was ugly yet beautiful at the same time... You could watch the people hurrying somewhere from the roof, you could hear faint conversations and laughter, you could observe their lives... When he found somewhere to sit comfortably, he filled a glass, then he looked at the stars before raising his glass "To you, my friend..."

Today was his death anniversary. Dazai was used to the pain that comes after the lost one, but for some reason, this year was harder than before. He was missing his best friend more than ever now...

He drank and drank until the point he started feeling a little light-headed. He was reaching out for the 3rd bottle when he noticed Pochi had been watching him quietly from the door...

"Is it you mutt? What do you want?... Doesn't matter, because I won't get up to give it anyways..." He tried to open the bottle, but his hands were trembling.

"Damn it..." he murmured. He tried a few more times but when it started to hurt his fingers, he gave up in frustration. Once he raised his head, he realized Pochi was still watching him, only closer this time...

"Listen dog... I am not in a good mood. I was trying to prepare for having a monolog with my dead best friend... If you excuse me, I don't want any listeners beside me..."

Pochi looked at him. At that moment, Dazai realized the dog was different than usual. Usually, the dog had this cheerful, loud attitude, it would look like it was smiling and move its tail fastly (too much to his disliking, he was thinking it was annoying) But now it was listening to him with ears dropped, the tail's not moving... And its eyes were like... it understood him...

"... Do you really understand what I am saying?" he asked, then he continued "..As if... It wouldn't be possible for a shrimp-sized brain like yours would be able to understand the complexity of human emotions.. Hell even I don't understand why I am feeling this-" he stopped for a second because his voice was trembling. "-these feelings... I just don't understand and..."

He felt tears were about to come but he bit his lips hard. He hated crying, and he had never cried for Odasaku since the day he died...

Pochi slowly moved towards him. Dazai didn't try to push him away for the first time. He watched as Pochi slowly approached. Pochi stopped near to his knees, didn't come closer. Instead, he put his little head on top of Dazai's knee. And just stood there...

Dazai couldn't remember how much he cried and talked about his dead friend with a dog that night... But when he woke up in the morning and saw Pochi sleeping in his lap peacefully, he didn't dare to remove him.

He didn't want to think about you guys reaction once you found out. Instead, he took his phone out and sent a picture with the caption: "Pipsqueak, look at him carefully and learn how to act as a good boy :p"

Notes:

I have never had a dog, but I had a cat. She was my baby, my little angel... And she used to do this thing like Pochi, she would knew it whenever I was too depressed, and sit with me until I feel better... This was mostly for her memory, reast in peace my angel ♡

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd scenarios #bungou stray dog drabbles #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd fluff #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd x you #dazai osamu #dazai fluff #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x yn #dazai scenarios #dazai angst #nakahara chuuya #kunikida doppo #ranpo edogawa #armed detective agency

[silvfyre-writings]

Drunk, but I still love you (BSD Fanfic)

This was supposed to a sickfic, but alas, the plot bunnies said no and told me to write this instead. I had fun writing this short little piece, so I hope you all enjoy it.

It's fun to write funny little fics like this, I wanna write more!

ENJOY!!!

Being awoken the middle of the night to incessantly loud knocking really pissed Genichiro off.

Being dragged out of his warm bed on a cold night to open the door to one Edogawa Ranpo further pissed him off.

Being thrown up on by said Edogawa Ranpo really had him questioning if he could commit murder and get away with it.

But he doesn’t, and he takes a moment to study the man in front of him in order to determine the next course of action—which ideally would be putting Ranpo into a taxi and sending him back home where he was no doubt, supposed to be—and his eyes rove over Ranpo’s form, studying the red flush that’s spread across Ranpo’s face, the familiar smell of alcohol on his breath that Genichiro can smell from where he is standing, and the way that Ranpo is clinging to the doorframe… all point to Ranpo being very, very drunk.

“Genichiro, it’s cold, let me in!” Ranpo slurred out before stumbling into his apartment, tripping over his own feet and only avoiding the following faceplant because Genichiro doesn’t want to add blood to the mess that his floor has become. Ranpo clings to his shirt, and looks up at him, the widest grin that Genichiro has ever seen on his face.

It throws him for a loop for only a couple of seconds before he gets his wits about him, and he leans over to close the door, trapping Ranpo in the apartment. “Why are you even here, you brat?”

“I came to see you, of course!” Ranpo shifts closer, chin pressed firmly against Genichiro’s chest with arms winding around his waist. “I missed you!”

“You are drunk.”

“Yep!”

Genichiro sighs and crosses his arms. “You aren’t going to leave, are you?”

Ranpo’s grin widens. “Nope!”

Resigning himself to losing the rest of his night to deal with… whatever this situation he’s found himself in is, Genichiro steps away with the intention of at least changing his clothes, since they were covered in drunken vomit, and it was not comfortable in the slightest. Not that Ranpo makes it easy, clinging to Genichiro and whining whenever he tries to pry the younger off of him. Normally, he wouldn’t hesitate to manhandle Ranpo into leaving him alone long enough to actually get shit done, but normally in those situations, Ranpo is sober.

Ranpo when he’s as drunk as he is, is far different to the one that Genichiro normally deals with, so he has to be a little careful, lest he actually hurt Ranpo.

Somehow, he manages to get to his bedroom whilst Ranpo clings to his front, and somehow he manages to undress himself—truly a feat when Ranpo used the one moment he bent down to scale him like a tree and latch on even harder, nuzzling against his cheek like a cat. It’s grossly affectionate, and Genichiro wishes he had a camera to take a picture so that he can show Ranpo once he’s sober; he can already picture the expression the younger will make, perhaps annoyed, or embarrassed, but either way, it will bring him joy.

“I hope you know that you are the biggest brat I’ve ever known.” Genichiro voices, walking out of his room and towards the bathroom. “Just how much did you even drink?”

“Lots!” Ranpo says, throwing one arm up into the air in drunken excitement and waving it around without a single care. “We were cele—celebrating uh, uh… Yosano’s birthday! Yes, we were celebrating!”

That you certainly were, Genichiro thinks, even though he knows full well that it was Ranpo’s best friend’s birthday last month, but there’s no point in even bringing that up, not when the chance of Ranpo even remembering this conversation is very low. Instead, he changes the subject. “As much as I love you clinging to me—” he absolutely did not, “—you stink of alcohol and vomit, so you need to let go and take a shower—”

“Nooo, I don’t want to.” Ranpo cuts Genichiro off, his voice rising in pitch, and the arms around Genichiro’s neck threaten to cut off his air.

“I don’t care, you’re having one.”

His words are met with bitching and moaning, but Genichiro ignores every complaint that comes, prying Ranpo from his being—finally—and dumping him into the shower and underneath the cold spray. Ranpo yelps in response, and tries to scurry away from it, but Genichiro grabs onto one arm and holds it firmly, preventing him from escaping. “Stop fussing, brat!”

“It’s cold!” Ranpo looks up at him with a pout.

Genichiro huffs and sticks his hand under the spray; already the water is warming. “Yeah, and it’ll warm up in a second, so stop your whining. And scoot over, you aren’t the only one to need a shower.”

Immediately, Ranpo’s pout vanishes, and is replaced with a wide-eyed look that absolutely does not suit him. He doesn’t say anything, but he does as Genichiro asks and moves over so he can get into the shower as well. He also chooses to remain on the ground as well, meaning that Genichiro has to kneel so that he can pry Ranpo’s clothes from his body, which apparently indicates somehow that it’s okay for Ranpo to break the silence—it’s very much not—and he starts to chatter away at everything he’d done the last few hours.

Genichiro does his part in listening half-heartedly to Ranpo as he talks, focusing more on cleaning the two of them off and getting them out of the shower and into a bed since he was so rudely dragged from it to begin with. Besides, Ranpo’s drunken ramblings don’t make a whole lot of sense to begin with, and it’s hard to figure out just what exactly he’s on about when he switches topics so fast. At first, it starts off with what Ranpo believed to have happened—a celebration for Yosano’s birthday—but then it starts to derail into absolute chaos involving what Genichiro deciphers to involve a strip club and another of Ranpo’s friends climbing the pole and subsequently falling from it.

And as he’s forcing Ranpo into one of his shirts, the story falls apart completely, with Ranpo repeating himself, and forgetting what he’s saying halfway through. It’s as he’s about to hear the strip club story for the fourth time that Genichiro intervenes, slapping a hand across Ranpo’s mouth. “Quiet you drunken idiot. Tell me this in the morning if you even remember.”

“Okay!” Ranpo says, unperturbed. He then dashes from the bathroom, colliding with the door frame and tripping before he disappears from view entirely.

Not that Genichiro doesn’t know where he’s going of course.

He takes a moment to run his hands through his hair before he heads back to his room, and sure enough, there’s Ranpo, already curled up underneath the blankets. Genichiro merely raises an eyebrow, more than used to having his bed invaded by the younger man, and he crawls into the bed, throwing an arm over Ranpo’s waist and dragging him close.

Ranpo lets out a content hum and rolls over so he can press his face into Genichiro’s chest. There’s a moment of silence, and then Ranpo quietly slurs. “Love you…”

“Tell me that when you aren’t drunk.” Genichiro responds, smoothing his hand through Ranpo’s hair, already drifting back to sleep himself, and completely ignoring that the sun is starting to rise.

“Okay… I will…” Ranpo promises, voice fading as sleep claims him.

Genichiro snorts, knowing that Ranpo won’t follow through because he won’t remember ever making such a promise when he wakes up in the afternoon, but that doesn’t bother him in the slightest. There’s never been a need for words with them.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #genran #edogawa ranpo #fukuchi ouchi #fluff #domestic fluff #drunk shenanigans #writing #fanfic

[inamagicalhallucination]

wrote this quickly in class os it may not make sense fajkfj but i had the thought and needed to share:

Dazai hadn’t really meant to do it. He hadn’t meant for it to escalate this way. 

He didn’t know why he did it. 

Things had been tense recently. Abstractilly Dazai knew it was not anyone’s fault but his own. He didn’t know why. Everything had been going so well and suddenly Dazai couldn’t breathe. Being near Kunikida made his stomach churn. 

They hadn’t had a real fight in months. THey went to work together and came back together. Dazai had his own apartment but most of his things (as few as they were) had moved into Kunikida’s. When Kunikida bought new things for his apartment he asked Dazai’s opinion. Dazai himself could buy things and place them on the bookshelf or the coffee table and Kunikida wouldn’t mind. They woke up together. Had breakfast together. Kunikida knew how he liked his coffee (he didn’t) and he knew how Kunikida liked his. If Kunikida stayed back at work, Dazai usually came to his apartment anyway to wait. It was all very domestic. It was all so very nice. 

Dazai had clung to that nice-ness of domesticity with all his might. Anytime his thoughts turned dark he was able to redirect them. And if he couldn’t he’d find his way to Kunikida and take in the gentleness he looked at him with and focus on the now, the present. 

There hadn’t been a trigger – not really. He’d just walked into the office one day, a little after Kunikida who had an early meeting and let him sleep in. He’d looked at the wooden desks, at Atsushi humming to himself as he typed, at Ranpo munching on his candy, at Junichiro and Naomi setting up, at Kyouka and Kenji conversing and suddenly he felt as if he could not fit in his skin. When Kunikida came into the office, he’d been too frenzied from the bad meeting to do more than nod at Dazai. 

And then suddenly Dazai had to get out, he had to leave. He didn’t though, not wanting the unneeded attention it would draw. Instead he scratched at his arms and tried to focus on his work.

He left before Kunikida. He stopped in front of Kunikida’s apartment. THen he walked past it on his own.

He didn’t know why.

Kunikida called him when he got home and Dazai told him he’d just missed his own futon, his own space. There had been a heavy silence and Dazai knew that Kunikida could see through it, but Kunikida didn’t comment. 

Dazai appreciated the space for all of an hour before his thoughts spiraled further.

How often could he do this? How often could he leave Kunikida and expect him to stay unbothered – to welcome him back with open arms?

Gradually Kunikida’s worry would turn into a heavy sort of irritation that would fade into tired anger. Gradually, Kunikida would not acknowledge him coming back with more than a glance. WOuld take out the minutes he’d saved into his schedule wherever he could for Dazai to focus on his work. Gradually, Dazai would wear him down.

And when that thought hit, it wouldn’t leave. He smiled and laughed as normally as he could, but he knew Kunikida noticed the distance that had come in between them. Dazai only came over when Kunikida asked, only stayed when Kunikida said to and even then tried his best to leave. He thought it was logical at the time. TO create the distance himself before he could ruin Kunikida, before he could take everything Kunikida had and keep asking for more, more, more.

He ignored and dodged all of Kunikida’s attempts to talk.

It had gone on for a week.

Being near Kunikida made his stomach churn with anxiety, waiting for him to look at him with nothing but a vague disinterest. Kunikida continued to try and pull him towards him and Dazai continued to pull away.

Today, though, he’d come into Kunikida’s apartment. He hadn’t meant to. But he felt terribly lonely and bitter and he wanted to be selfish for a bit more. He knew he was the worst, taking more of Kunikida and then wrenching away again, but he could not stop himself. Could not humanize himself.

So he’d walked in. The apartment looked different. It was vague, barely noticeable - probably why Dazai hadn’t noticed in his view visits. But it was different. A few things weren’t in their place, a few things were lopsided. Kunikida did not make mistakes like that. And Dazai knew that this was because of him. He was what was bothering Kunikida. He’d probably led Kunikida to think that Kunikida was the one who did something wrong. 

He couldn’t breathe. In his attempt to fix this, he’d made it worse – there was no justifying it to himself anymore, he made everything worse. Kunikdai had been nothing but loving, but kind, but gentle, in a wya Dazia didn’t deserve, but he had gone and fucked it all up. Why hadn’t he led Kunikida to the realization that Dazai was taking too much? Why did he ruin everything?

His gaze ended on the picture on the side table next to the couch. It was a picture of them. It was moved slightly to the left and Dazai could picture Kunikida picking it up and putting it back. Picking it up and trying to think of why Dazai was pulling away – what he had done. OR perhaps he was looking at his past foolish self who thought someone likeDaza was worth loving.

Dazai hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t even realized he had until the sudden rush of self disgust had wavered at the sound of the frame breaking where he’d thrown it. He’d started at it. Then he grabbed another photograph, and another, and before he knew it he was throwing everything he could get his hands on, an uncontrollable rage, a deep deep sense of misery. He heard someone screaming and it took him a while to realize it was him.

When he could breathe again, when he dug his nails into his skin and watched them bleed and could finally breathe, he looked around at the destroyed living room – at Kunikida’s living room. Dazai felt helpless. He reached shaky hands to the first photograph he’d broken, cutting his hands on the glass as he tried to put the broken pieces of glass together again, as he tried to fix it. But the pieces were too split and he could do nothing. He clutched at his shirt, at his arms, at his hair and pulled and pulled and sobbed and screamed again but none of the pictures would fix themselves up. He didn’t know how long he sat there. Kunikida hadn’t come back yet.

He wished he could peel off his skin. He wished he could scrub off the dirt but no matter how much he could scratch at his skin, he’d still feel dirty.

Eventually he stood up and dragged himself to the bathroom. He filled up the bathtub, and sat in the water. HE closed his eyes – he could see Kunikida’s face when he came in. He didn’t move. Time slipped him.

//

A door opened. It closed after a long time. Or maybe it closed after a second. Or maybe it didn’t close or open at all and Dazai had imagined it – he had thought Kunikida had come home a few times, but he hadn’t. 

He heard soft steps but nothing more and he sighed thinking it was another trick his brian was playing. He was sure it wasn’t kunikida until the bathroom door opened and Kunikida stood there. Dazai gazed at him. He couldn't tell what he was thinking – he could always tell.

Kunikida stared at him. Dazai looked away, shame filling every inch of his body. 

“Come on,” Kunikida said, voice too quiet and too loud and nothing like Kunikida, “let’s get you out of there.” 

When Dazai blinked again, Kunikida was draining the water from the tub. He was sitting on the edge, leaning against Kunikida’s arm. Kunikida ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the wet locks and said something as he walked out. Dazai stood there, letting Kunikida take off his clothes and pat a towel onto him and then dress him in sweats and a sweatshirt. Then, Kunikida pulled him out of the bathroom. He tried to look at the living room, but found that he couldn’t. Anytime he turned, Kunikida was there or was pulling his gaze away.

Then they were in Kunikida’s bedroom. Dazai was sitting on the bed, Kunikida was kneeling behind him, drying his hair with a towel.

“Do you want to order tonight?” Kunikida asked. Dazai shrugged. 

“‘m sorry” he mumbled after a long pause, looking at Kunikida through the mirror, but dropping his gaze.

“Okay,” Kunikida replied. He pulled Dazai back and let Dazai rest against his chest. “You’re okay.”

He wasn’t. Kunikida knew it too. He let himself melt against him, anyway.

#kunikidazai

[akutasoda]

another day, another life

bsd ver

synopsis - general dating hc

includes - atsushi, dazai, kunikida, yosano, ranpo

warnings - gn!reader, potential ooc, some angst(atsushi,dazai), tiny bit of swearing(dazai,ranpo), alcohol mention(yosano(not in bad light))wc -

atsushi nakajima ★↷

↪ okay first things first, most likely has never been in a relationship so would be really nervous, but thats okay everyone feels like that

↪ green flag. thats it. a walking green flag.

↪ although he does have his moments of feeling down but given his past thats understandable and definitely would appreciate having someone to stand by his side and help him through his tough times

↪ i can definitely see him being a bit overprotective but not too overbearing as he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. and that definitely comes from a place of being so happy to be in that relationship that he doesn't want anything to ruin your guy's special moments or if he's slightly jealous

↪ not big into pda but i think he would still want to hold your hand if youre okay with that or atleast be nearer to you out and about

↪i dont know why but i can really see one of his favourite things to do with you is having a home cooking kinda date. like even if you haven't decided to live together yet, just one of you going to the others place and making dinner together and having that quality time

↪just small or big domestic acts would make his heart soar

↪just overall would be really wholesome and sweet

osamu dazai ★↷

↪little shit (affectionate)

↪ how you happened to get with him, yeah i dont know

↪i feel like if you knew about his past relationships and his kind of womanizer traits he, personally, would feel as if he would have alot to prove to you.

↪just tries to prove that he wants to be more committed and your not another one of his victims to his charm

↪could write an essay on all his red flags but deep down i believe he truly is trying to change for the better

↪clingy and overdramatic but thats not surprising. if he ever lets you see that more reppressed and more honest side of his feelings would secretly love you taking care of him, being there for him and just overall being supportive

↪ wouldn't see him doing dates per say but would occasionally surprise you with a date or gifts and really indulges you

doppo kunikida ★↷

↪again no clue how you would get with him but thats a win in my books

↪ probably would either create you a schedule that aligns with his or creates a shared one but wouldn't push it onto you to do

↪but would dote on you and always make sure your doing your best and would be really supportive if your not, although he may be awkward in certain situations

↪has some beige flags but i wouldn't say has major red flags

↪ probably gets really embarrassed if you guys are affectionate in public, so not a big fan of pda but he tries although he prefers to be more affectionate with you in private

akiko yosano ★↷

↪queen

↪ definitely a really chill relationship as she would value honesty and commitment in my opion, not that thats not important but to her it would be really important

↪shopping dates. specifically wine. but its that casual fun outings that she really appreciates, just the two of you strolling along the high streets going to whatever shops peak either of your intrests and sitting in cafes. i think quality time is one of her love languages

↪i wouldn't say shes really into pda but if youre okay with it or you like it she wouldn't mind

↪shes mostly green flags i think, like for a relationship definitely

↪would probably be really clingy if she got jealous or drunk but again not too overbearing

ranpo edogawa ★↷

↪little shit (affectionate part2)

↪hes like a gremlin, wherever you two are he will be clung onto in some form (if hes not distracted by something else), like im talking hanging off your arm, arms wrapped around your waist or just simple hand holding(dragging)

↪after a while of dating him you probaly would up with sweets and stuff in any pockets on clothes you have(like how atsushi carries that ramune bottle around)

↪again kinda see you and him doing like cooking dates but more baking cakes and sweet pastries, and more you do the work, he watches

↪other than that i think he would live dragging you to cafes or bakery's just to try new sweets and stuff or just lazy cuddles

↪ would say hes got mainly green flags but some red flags could stem from his ego and stubbornness but he tries his best

#bungo stray dogs #x gender neutral reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #atsushi x reader #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #bsd kunikida #kunikida x reader #bsd yosano #yosano x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader

[ech0schamber]

okay i kinda forgot to come back wkdjs. hmm, let’s go a little domestic this time. how about grocery shopping with texchou, dazai, and ranpo (and or any characters you want to add)? how would they act there?

i just want to say i can see ranpo telling you to push him around as he sits in the cart after he grabs what he wants 💀💀

why is this the only gif that i can find of him??

if i dont get his character correct, my bad. im still figuring out some of these characters :']

☆he actually had to time to go grocery shopping with you! congrats, this man works too much

☆i feel like he would be the most normal about it between the three

☆please ban him from cooking for the both of you. and don't let him go grocery shopping by himself

☆follows you around like a lost puppy, but probably does get lost at some point

☆he was probably looking at some weird shit he could put together for his liking and didn't realize you walked off

☆he'd probably try sneaking some monstrosity food into your cart, so maybe keep an eye on him

☆he seems like a menace, so small chance he might cause a scene if you don't let him get his monstrosity

☆FUCKING MENACE TO ALL OF MAN KIND

☆unless you put one of those baby backpacks with a lease on it, he will not stay by you at all.

☆he will immediately walk off either 1) grab as much crab as he can or 2) find some monstrosity to try

☆honestly, leave his ass at home. you will only come back with maybe half the stuff you wanted to get because you were constantly having to make sure he doesn't run off

☆oh? you're not going to let him get that much crab? mans will throw a tantrum. (he has canonically thrown temper tantrums to get what he wanted.)

☆BUT

☆you go grocery shopping while he's eepy? his staying glued to your side. honestly, he's probably hugging you from behind while you drag him through the store

☆he'll complain to hell and back, but at least you get the groceries you need

☆honestly, you're right

☆the second you grab a shopping cart, he is throwing himself into it. refuses to get out until you're done shopping

☆i hope you have the patient of a saint bc oh boy

☆will loudly complain about what you are getting, but not because he doesn't like the food/ingredients you get. he just wants attention.

☆will grab random things of candy off of shelves. put them back. he needs to eat some healthy food, and he has plenty of candy hidden around your apartment

☆not as much as a menace, surprisingly. won't actively try to cause a scene, but the people around you can definitely hear him complain the whole time

☆if he's an eepy guy tho? he's koala-ing you. you will have to walk around with a grown man clinging to the front of you like a toddler.

☆no matter what, you're gonna get stared at, hope you don't have social anxiety!

-------

you can tell who i love the most out of this group lmao

and again, sorry if tecchou isn't in character, my autistic ass has a hard time understanding characters sometimes

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #ranpo x reader #tecchou x reader

[kaeyx]

Ranpo nsfw hcs *bats my pretty eyelashes from the corner of ur wall*

Pillow princess supreme. To me. He looooooves not having to do any of the work. You riding him or sucking him off is his favourite, he gets to look at you and play with your hair or your chest. I'd also say he's a big fan of cockwarming in theory, but he's a little too impatient to actually go through with it. He starts fidgeting, he gets distracted, and he wants to get off now. No waiting, now.

Very whiny and pouty if he has to get something, he's cute and he knows it. Never above cuddling up to you and batting his pretty eyes when he asks for something, like if he can eat whipped cream off your tits. He'll put sprinkles on them too.

Sex would be a casual thing most of the time? Like hear me out with Chuuya there's always this element of romance, Dazai goes quick and overwhelming and intense, but Ranpo? He's got one hand in your cunt while he watches TV, he'd pull you off his dick to give you a taste of this new sweet he's trying. Ranpo will pull your shirt up and fiddle with your tits not because he wants something more but because he just feels like it. You're his stim toy, and he's yours. He's just as likely to bite your knuckles like a teething dog as he is to use your breasts as stress balls. Not to say he doesn't make you feel wanted, more like he never makes you feel pressured. He's fine with enjoying himself, laughing, getting distracted midway because one of you forgot to load the washing machine. Silly, domestic sex the whole way.

#ranpo.bsd #I've also never thought about this guy like that huh #ranpo smut #ranpo x reader #he's very chill to me. unless he wants attention then he's a gremlin

[diagonal-queen]

Hihi! May I req an emergency req? With male!reader accidentally dropping/pushing a plate or glass and breaking it. Reader rushing to clean the mess up even with his bare hands and out of concern, the character yells at them to be careful or smth and reader flinches? How would they react? (And if ur fine with it, reader having SEVERE daddy issues and domestic violence so that's why they act like that) pls don't make reader those crybaby types but someone similar to dazai but less uhm, dazai? Like dazai but when he seems human if u yk what I mean) and reader being a teen (14-17)

Format: Anything u want!

Characters: Kunikida, Fukuzawa, Chuuya, Poe and Ranpo (separate) (omg if u could, then ranpoe together being father figures I just love the ship it's my comfort ship😭💖💖)

Platonic pls :)) (chuuya being an older brother figure, Fukuzawa and kunikida being father figures)

I FEEL LIKE ITS TOO SPECIFIC SO FEEL FREE TO NARROW IT DOWN 😭😭. Make sure to take care of urself and have a wonderful day <33

-🩵

okay so. i'm really REALLY sorry T-T but i do not write male readers so i am gonna go gn with this (again i am sorry ily <3)

When Reader flinches after they yell

♡ characters: Doppo Kunikida, Fukuzawa Yukichi, Chuuya Nakahara, Edgar Allan Poe, Ranpo Edogawa (bonus Ranpoe together!), teenage!gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: Reader breaks a piece of flatware and when they go to clean it, they're yelled at and flinch. How do the characters react to this?

♡ cw: Reader suffers from domestic abuse-related trauma and has daddy issues, yelling, trauma response (specifically a kind of silent/blunt affect type reaction), swearing, mentions of reader's hands being cut (unintentionally by flatware shards), father and older brother figure dynamics, lmk if I missed anything

note: I hope you're doing alright 💙 Anon, and I hope that these make you feel better :') come to me for hugs if you need them. I also hate yelling and have daddy issues so like, I feel you my dude. AND RANPOE IS MY COMFORT SHIP TOO omggg they're the best DM me and let's rant about them. Apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Kunikida:

Let's say you're a mentee of his at the agency. Kunikida obviously only has good intentions and would hate for you to get hurt (Yosano...*shiver*), so he kinda freaks out a little when he sees you about to grab ceramic shards with your bare hands

Caught up in his alarm, he yells at you not to touch the shards and then goes to get a broom (or one of those little dustpan things) to clean up the mess

He comes back and sees your expression, and is honestly a little confused at first. You did manage to stay out of harm's way so he doesn't understand what's got you so distressed (he's so smart but also so very dumb)

You sit there while he quickly cleans the mess but when he notices that your eyes have kind of glazed over and you seem to be somewhere else, he gets a little worried and asks if you're alright

You tell him that you got frightened when he yelled because it reminded you of something and he has a moment of '...shit'

Kunikida puts down his dustpan/broom, puts a hand on your shoulder and gently explains that he wasn't mad at you but that he was just worried about you. He'd rather you made a mess unharmed than cleaned up the mess but gotten hurt

Don't be fooled by his calm demeanour, he actually feels really bad and will probably beat himself up for making such a mistake

He does end up cleaning it for you and asks you to please take care of yourself and be careful

Fukuzawa:

He has an odd tendency of being very intense with his kids out of the blue and then immediately feeling bad for it which is exactly what happens with you

You were probably bringing him tea or something when you accidentally dropped the tray and the cup shattered. He probably barely even reacted at all to it honestly, mostly just because he doesn't care THAT much about a cup. He has more

But then you apologise and kneel down to get them and this man might be tough but he is a softie at heart and panics when his kids are in harm's way (you're basically his kid let's be real)

So he yells, and it's basically that one scene in the theatre from Untold Origins all over again, except unlike Ranpo he knows that you don't really shake such things off so easily due to your past. So he's still concerned just for different reasons

He knows that as a father figure in your life he's supposed to protect you and that he had good intentions but it still affected you negatively in a way, and he's like. Really really sad about that fact (but he doesn't show it awh)

He apologises for yelling and asks you not to try and clean up ceramic shards with your bare hands because infections and y'know your hands are a pretty important part of your body

Fukuzawa is still firm as he speaks but he's also very gentle and nice about the whole thing and sits with you until you feel better

If you thank him for looking out for you, he'll be thinking about that for like the next week :'((((

Chuuya:

Chuuya yells like, a lot, but he often makes a conscious effort not to do so around you because he knows that you don't like it. Being a habit though, it sometimes comes out unintentionally

So say you're bringing him something to eat while he's working or something and while you're approaching him you drop and shatter the plate.

He's like 'Oh let me get that' and was gonna grab the shards with his ability (he doesn't have an issue with doing it himself cus it's lowkey quicker), but then he sees that you're about to collect them barehanded and yells at you to stop

When he sees you flinch he immediately starts backtracking like 'Wait, no- that's not what I meant' and comes to kneel beside you and pat you on the head (or back, whichever)

He quickly composes himself and apologises, saying that he was just worried about you, not angry about the plate or you wanting to clean it.

He tells you that he's gotten cuts on his palms before and they 'hurt like a motherfucker' so he didn't want you to get hurt too (and he's kinda being jokey about it because he's nice like that)

He just exudes comfort energy, so your panic moment doesn't really last that long. He's honestly very chill about the whole thing because he knows that you're not gonna make the same mistake

Even if you did though he'd help bandage your cuts without hesitation

Poe:

Poe is the opposite of Chuuya- he just DOESN'T yell at all. That's why it caught you as offguard as it did

When you dropped the plate he was a little scared because of the loud noise, but was relieved to see that you hadn't gotten hurt.

He really doesn't care much about a broken dish, because he can buy a billion more with ease. He just cares that you were about to hurt your hand (I'm quite sure you can possibly injure nerves by cutting your palm, and as a murder mystery writer Poe would absolutely be aware of this)

So he yells in an attempt to get you to quickly stop when you kneel down to clean it, and when he sees your face he feels awful

Poe hates yelling too, so he is extremely apologetic about the whole thing. He feels really bad because he knows that you find a lot of comfort with him and he's scared he's just ruined your trust in him to keep you safe

You tell him that you know he wasn't trying to be mean or malicious but he still feels really bad about it (lowkey you end up comforting HIM ngl)

He decides to clean up the mess himself (and lets you cuddle Karl while he does because he's basically an emotional support animal)

Will literally do anything to get you to trust him once more because he feels such an unnecessary amount of guilt (you have to really hammer it into him that you DO still trust him- he doesn't entirely believe you (projecting sorry lol))

Ranpo:

Ranpo is the Super Highschool Level Older Brother Figure. And as such he is appropriately concerned when he sees that you're about to try and handle a broken plate with bare hands

I'm absolutely certain that several times in the past Ranpo's dropped his fair share of dishes and gotten cuts from trying to pick them up too fast and he doesn't want that happening to you

So he yells to you not to touch them. When he sees your reaction to this, for a split second he panics but he actually handles it surprisingly well for a (2)6 year old

He comes over and sits down beside you. Then he explains to you that he doesn't want you to get hurt unnecessarily (especially somewhere like your hands) because he cares about you, so he panicked for a second and that's why he yelled.

(to everyone's surprise /j) he does apologise to you for it and give you a hug to help ground you and comfort you (he also gives you a little squeeze cus he feels bad aw)

If you ask him if he's mad about the broken dish he immediately goes back to normal and is like 'Pfft not at all. It's a plate Y/N' and tells you not to worry about it

He does make you feel better about the broken plate, but this is Ranpo we're talking about. You think he's gonna clean it up, or even help you clean it? No, that job unfortunately still falls entirely on you (damnit Ranpo)

Except this time you take cautionary measures before you do so. And Ranpo's happy to see it :)

Ranpoe:

Right, so these two are just little children in the bodies of men in their late twenties. However they are still very much in touch with their dad sides especially when it comes to you

So you're carrying a plate for some reason (maybe they're busy solving mysteries and eating snacks idk) but you drop it and it breaks. Poe's a millionaire and Ranpo is Ranpo so they don't care that they have one less plate

Then you hurriedly apologise to them and bend down to grab the plate and they both overreact and yell at you to stop (for the same reasons written above in their seperate scenarios)

Once they see you flinch they both have different reactions. Poe rushes over to see if you're alright but Ranpo is more wanting to give you a second to breathe and process

And that's literally what happens. Poe (and Karl) rushes over to check on you and Ranpo waits a minute before he joins him.

Ranpo comes to comfort you while Poe gets rid of the broken plate, then when he comes back he helps Ranpo explain why they both yelled earlier. He lets Ranpo do most of the talking though

They both express that they're just glad you didn't get hurt. And that you're allowed to make mistakes! Just don't do anything that will get yourself hurt

Will let you help them with their work/watch them work if you want to (usually that stuff's confidential but hey it's not like people are gonna question Ranpo and Poe now is it)

anon i will be your parental figure and we can straight up just forcefully shatter plates together (with safety glasses on though!!!) to let off steam

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #fanfic #fanfiction #bsd fanfiction #bsd fanfic #bungo stray dogs fanfiction #bungou stray dogs fanfiction #not x reader #platonic #bsd platonic #headcanons #bsd headcanons #bsd kunikida #kunikida doppo #kunikida #bsd fukuzawa #fukuzawa #fukuzawa yukichi #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya #bsd poe #edgar allan poe #edgar allan poe bsd #poe #ranpo edogawa #bsd ranpo #ranpo