#Kunikida fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

milky-aeons · 8 months ago

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— 'TIL DEATH DO US PART

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.

warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k

ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.

Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"

: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.

: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.

: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;

"You — are absolutely breath-taking."

: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.

"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."

: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .

"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"

Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.

"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.

And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.

ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎

: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.

: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!

: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.

: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding — your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."

: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.

: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.

"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."

: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . . .

"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.

Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.

But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;

"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"

Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.

"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.

He grunted. "Same... thing."

ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.

: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!

Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?

: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.

: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.

: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .

"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.

"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"

"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.

And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.

"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."

Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."

ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.

: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.

: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.

: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;

"There you are, my wife."

: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.

: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.

: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .

"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."

"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."

Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.

He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.

"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."

ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.

: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.

"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.

: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;

"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."

: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.

: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

"Fyodor?"

"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.

"Why did you ask to marry me?"

Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.

Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."

requested by the lovely [ @cocodrilofeliz! ]

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wistfullywaiting2 · 7 months ago

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The biggest misconception in the bsd fandom ever to me is people constantly portraying Atsushi as someone who trauma dumps excessively when he canonically barely talks about it at all.

The entire point is that Atsushi does not talk about his trauma he’s just constantly thinking about/reliving it. He can’t escape the memories of his past so he tries not to acknowledge them.

He only mentions it when asked, either directly or when someone asks him to explain himself.

Atsushi doesn’t even give a cohesive explanation for what he saw while under Dogra Magra, he just apologizes to Haruno and Naomi.

If Lucy hadn’t had her whole “you’ve never suffered the way I have” spiel then I doubt even the audience would’ve gotten to find out about his scars

If Akutagawa never asked him how it felt for the orphanage headmaster to die Atsushi would have never told him that he’s been hallucinating.

In the omake where Kyoka asks him why his hair is like that it’s clear he wouldn’t have told her that unless she had asked.

In 55 minutes Atsushi very briefly mentions sleeping on a dirty floor somewhere to Kunikida because he was trying to explain and justify his behavior.

And the thing is that there are scenes that implies that the other characters see Atsushi behaving strangely and are visibly confused because they do not understand what’s wrong with him.

Remember, we as an audience get to see things about characters that the main cast doesn’t. Just because we see into Atsushi’s mind doesn’t mean the other characters know what’s going on in there.

Also little footnote here that I think this is a reference to the moon over the mountain but I digress

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manias-wordcount · 1 month ago

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About Sex and Sharing (Osamu Dazai, Doppo Kunikida)

Kinktober 2024 Day Four: Exhibitionism

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You’re no stranger to men taking you home. In fact, you’ve come to understand that you must have something about you that entices all men who see you drinking alone at a bar with a pretty dress on. Even the ones you haven’t been eyeing all night.

So it was no surprise when one of your favorites- a man named Dazai- slid into the stool right next to yours on a day when you would usually see each other and asked if he could bring you back to his place for the night. Though it was a surprise when he asked if it was alright if he brought a friend. Someone he thought would just love to meet you. But you’re all for a good time. And you’re all for a pleasant surprise.

So you let Dazai buy you a drink before you took his hand and followed him back to his apartment. Because what you thought you were walking into was just a run-of-the-mill threesome with someone old and someone new. Because you thought you were going to spend the night with someone who has already shown you plenty of good times and someone who hasn’t yet gotten the chance. But what you got?

It was so much better than that.

“Just like that Kunikida. Just like that.” Dazai’s murmurs are right by your ear. His breath tickles your skin and you can’t help but gasp as you feel it rush over the shell of your ear. Immediately, the brunette is quick to let out a near-silent chuckle and press his lips against your neck in all the right spots while murmuring something else- something all too heated- into your skin. Despite all this, you know he isn’t talking to you. In fact, he hasn’t been talking to you much during this scene. His attention has been on the little friend he brought you to. “Look at her face. See how much she enjoys it?”

His attention has been on instructing the little friend he brought on how exactly the guy should fuck you while he watches.

“Y-yeah…” The other man’s voice trembles under the weight of the pleasure you’re both experiencing, but there’s a husky, roughness about that would probably have you falling in love with him if you were more of a sentimental girl. There’s something just unbearably attractive about looking up and meeting the green eyes of some stranger who seems to want to do everything in his power to make you both feel good. “She feels amazing.”

When you first saw him- when you first saw his friend, Kunikida, after stepping behind Dazai and into his apartment, the man seemed intense based on the steeliness of his eyes and the way he never failed to find something to bicker about with his partner. But also timid and inexperienced due to the fact he had to listen to almost everything Dazai said when it came to getting you off. Though most of all, he was cute. He was beyond cute even. He’s tall and well-groomed. Has a great body that looks fantastic in professional wear (and even greater the second all that professional wear comes off). Though he’s not the type of guy you would usually approach. And judging by the way he kept apologizing for being too rough with you here and there when he really wasn’t, you have a feeling that he’s not the type of guy who would have approached you either.

But Dazai said he managed to tempt the guy after a few long talks and a couple of sneaky photos of you Dazai once took at the bar you both tended to meet at. And though in hindsight, you have to acknowledge how weird that feels. Having pictures of you spread around between a regular hook-up and his hook-up. But you don’t think you can ever forget just how good he’s making you feel right now.

Just so fucking good.

You recall kicking off your heels by the entrance somewhere once you got there. You remember leaving your bra on the floor by the bedroom door too. And think you saw your panties being tucked into Dazai’s back pocket, “for safe keeping,” as he called it. But Kunikida insisted that you keep your dress on. He said that with a quiet, almost apologetic voice and with hands to continue to shake and shake and shake until you took them into your own and guided them into cupping your chest through the fabric.

But that was earlier. That was back when Kunikida seemed nearly terrified to touch you out of the fear that he would come to find out that you just aren’t real. Right now? You’re curled up on your side while lying on the edge of Dazai’s bed, and it rocks and creaks and groans under the weight of your activities almost knowingly. Your dress is nearly halfway off your body, hanging off quite lewdly. The straps that were once holding it up and keeping your dress from exposing your chest to the street of Yokohama were pooling around your shoulders, dipping down and exposing the little love bites you just barely managed to convince Kunikida to give you. And the bottom half was bunched around your waist, showing up the size and shape of your backside while also giving the blonde man easy access to your pussy.

Though perhaps most importantly, you have your legs bent and your thighs pressed together in an attempt to ensure that you, Dazai, and his friend Kunikida could all indulge. For you, it’s one of your favorite positions. For Kunikida, this position allows you to tighten your muscles more easily and allows you to make sure you can feel as tight as possible around him. And for Dazai- well, you just know he likes the view.

But it’s not like you need to set up the perfect view for Dazai. It’s not like he hasn’t seen or fucked you like this. And it’s not like you really had to squeeze around Kunikida to make it feel like it’s going to be a tight stretch. You realized that the second you kneeled in front of the guy to give him his first blowjob. You realized that the second you kneeled in front of the guy and came face to face with a cock you had absolutely no idea how he was ever able to hide that thing in pants.

Now, Kunikida has you hanging off the edge of the bed while he fucks you side saddle under Dazai’s careful instructions. The blonde’s hands grip your hips and pumps his cock inside of you at a tempo Dazai sets. And your soft and breathy moans fall in time with every single thrust that hits deep inside of you. Which, for once, you feel almost embarrassed about how easily some strange man has gasping for air. Because when has a virgin ever made you feel this good before? When has a virgin been able to angle his hips so perfectly and thrust his cock so deeply that you’re left drooling and babbling to the both of them about how you never want this to end.

Never.

“Fuck, she looks like she’s taking your cock so well,” Dazai speaks up again, and you could practically hear his own arousal soaking every word he speaks. “Keep it up, Kunikida. You’ll have her cumming in no time like this.”

At the thought of being given another orgasm- especially on some pretty, blonde stranger’s dick- is all too exciting. Though your mind can’t help but wander to Dazai and his role in all of this. At the moment, he’s hovering over you on the bed- making sure to keep a close eye on everything that’s happening. Every once in a while, he’ll tell Kunikida to change the pace or the intensity. To go harder and faster. Slower and more intentional. Just to keep you guessing. Just to keep you on your toes. Just to keep you crazy. And as you try to turn your head towards Dazai, you’re just able to make out the tent forming in his pants. His erection strains against the fabric. A dick you’ve sucked plenty of times before and would really like to suck again right now.

But earlier in the night he made a promise to both you and Kunikida. A promise that he was only going to watch tonight. A promise that anytime he was going to touch you tonight, it’d be for Kunikida’s sake and for your pleasure and for those reasons alone. And apparently, the normally tricky man wanted to hold true to his promise that he was only here to observe tonight. Because he was quick to grab at the hand you hand that was trying to reach for the zipper of his slacks with his own bandaged ones before moving to pin them to the bed.

The position he had you in was awkward, but the heated and devious look he gave you as he peered into your half-lidded eyes with a lustful stare of his own was enough to make you feel proud. If he was a weaker man, his resolve would have crumbled. Almost instantly. Who doesn’t want a pretty girl to wrap their lips around a man’s neglected and lonely cock. Especially when that very same man is selflessly directing the scene where his very own co-worker goes and fucks the brains out of his favorite hook-up in front of him. You’re sure if you’d asked nicely enough and smiled sweetly enough, you’d be getting your way with him in no time.

Only except, he didn’t exactly let you get your way. Not even close.

“Naughty, naughty~” He lightly teased above you, a charmed smirk on his face. You tried to give him one back as a giggle passed through your lips. And judging by the way his smile only widened, he seemed to be enjoying you almost as much as his partner was. But all too suddenly, he turned his attention away from you and barked an order at Kunikida. A second later, you were no longer smiling. You were too busy gasping and squealing and crying out now that Kunikida was slamming himself inside of you, pressing up against your g-spot nearly every single time while Dazai cooed at you tauntingly. “You like it, sweetheart? You like Kunikida’s dick inside your pussy?”

“Mhm…” You find yourself responding almost instantly between your whiny moans, Kunikida’s low groans, and the sound of skin slapping against skin as Kunikida fucks you nice and fast and hard and deep. Right now, Dazai looks more than pleased at the fact that you were so quickly reduced down to nothing but a drooling little mess. But he’s at least kind enough to press tiny little kisses against your neck and cheeks and more in an attempt to encourage you to use your words for him when telling him how you feel. Just how he likes it. “I- I like it…I really like it, Dazai.”

“Yeah, I can tell. I wish you could see what we see.” Dazai remarks almost absently. He’s leaning over you a bit more now- moving around so he can view your body at different angles. It’s so- it’s just so hot how comfortable he feels running his hands over your body while his co-worker fucks you stupid. It’s amazing how the two of them end up so in tune with each other’s thoughts and actions. It’s crazy how Kunikida just lets another man take fistfuls of your chest and ass and squeezes tight while his dick is inside of you. And it’s perhaps even more insane that Dazai is fine with just feeling you up and groping at your curves instead of letting you please him back. Almost as if this is enough for him to enjoy. Almost as if he’s truly happy taking the backseat because he enjoys watching you get fucked by someone else. Almost as if he just enjoys watching you. “Kunikida, aren’t those creamy little rings she’s leaving on your cock just so cute? Isn’t she just so wet?”

You whine at the image Dazai is painting in your head, but you know he’s not lying. You know he’s telling the truth. You’ve been able to hear yourself all night. All your moans and gasps for air, sure. But also the almost embarrassingly wet sounds your pussy has been making Kunikida stuffs himself inside of you and slides right back out just so easily. And even though you know both men (as well as others in the past) have always loved it, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed when it came to Kunikida. Because you were supposed to be a veteran in this field. You were supposed to be the fun and commanding first fuck of this man. The one who steals his virginity away from him.

Although, it seems like all you can do at the moment is let your breath be stolen away from you instead.

Though for a second, Kunikida doesn’t say anything. Not to you. Not to Dazai. Not even proclamations under his breath about just how good you feel when you’re squeezing around him and letting him stuff you nice and full. Something you’ve not only come to enjoy- you’ve found that you’ve come to miss it in the moments where it’s not there. His prolonged silence makes you curious as the only thing he fills the room with at the moment is nothing but the sound of his harsh breathing and the tell-tale sounds of skin against skin. So you turn to him. But the face you find yourself looking at isn’t the most familiar one. It’s not one that you commonly see when you’re hooking up with strangers you meet at the bar. Hell, it’s not one that you see at all really. In fact, you only saw it once before today. And even then, you swear you know exactly what it is. You know exactly what you’re looking at. And it nearly scares you- especially when you hear the next two words that come out of his mouth.

“She’s perfect.”

Because it’s the face of a man who thinks he’s in love.

“She is, isn’t she.”

And it’s the exact same face you remember Dazai had on the first time he fucked you too.

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sickiehugs · 2 months ago

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A bilingual sickie temporarily completely forgetting the language that their friends/partner/team speaks because they're so delirious. Now nobody can understand them, and they can't understand those around them. Comforting words don't work anymore, and now only soothing actions can calm them down enough to go back to sleep...

Nonsensical mumbling is now even more nonsensical now that they can only speak in their mother tongue. Nobody can ask them how they're feeling, or why they're crying, or if a symptom has gotten any better, it's all just a guessing game.

#promptiehugs #sickfic #whump #whumpblr #fever whump #sickie #sick fanfiction #sickfics #hurt/comfort #sick whump #sickfic ideas #still working on the kunikida sickfic thing its just taking a while

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diagonal-queen · 4 months ago

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The ADA as your roommates

♡ characters: Atsushi Nakajima, Dazai Osamu, Kunikida Doppo, Yosano Akiko, Jun'ichiro Tanizaki, Naomi Tanizaki, Ranpo Edogawa, Yukichi Fukuzawa

♡ synopsis: How good are the ADA at being roommates?

♡ cw: This is a post born out of medication-induced sleeplessness and months of pent up unfiltered fury directed at my shitty, shitty housemates. Some of that resentment may shine through in the headcanons. Also naughty words, NSFW themes with Dazai

note: hey y'all. i know it's not a request but it's the best i've got right now. law school and depression are kicking my ass. y'know that meme with the tiny man, and then the two buff dudes start beating the shit out of him? that's law school and depression with me. as always apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x

Atsushi:

Help he's so sweet and awkward all the time?? Always gives you a little wave or a smile and nod when you pass each other in the halls

He buys candies and chocolates and things and leave them in a bowl on the table for people to take if they want :')

When his roommates feels sad he takes the time to hang out with them and help them through whatever problem they're having

In the morning when he comes into the kitchen to make breakfast he's all yawny and has a scruffy bedhead and it's SO cute

He doesn't do it consciously, but on occasion Atsushi will fall asleep on the couch, and even more occasionally he'll transform into Byakko in his sleep. You get used to it after a while, but you can't really invite friends over unless you know Atsushi is in his room or out of the house T-T

But he really is so sweet. If you bring someone over they develop a crush on him immediately, but of course he's oblivious. After they leave he turns to you and is like 'aw your friend is nice' (they were hardcore flirting with him)

If he ever has an issue with you or the house, he gets very nervous when bringing it up because he doesn't wanna cause any conflict (you could be smashing the plates on the ground every day and he'd be like 'hey so i'm super duper sorry to bother you like i really hate to nag but-')

My mans. Is doing. His BEST

Dazai:

Screw you.

Holy shit this guy is an absolute nightmare to live with. he'll drive you crazy within the week just because of how *little* he does around the house

He doesn't clean his dishes. He doesn't buy stuff for the house. He doesn't do a DAMN thing.

Preferably, if you're gonna be living with him, you'll also wanna bring Kunikida. He has his own issues but at least then there's a balance between a chore-driven man and the embodiment of sloth, the deadly sin

He will stumble through the front door at 3am with unkempt clothes and the stink of alcohol on him. and he won't bother trying to be subtle or quiet either. Just crashes around until he pukes on the floor and falls asleep on the couch

At least he flushes (more than I can say for my housemates /gen)

He drinks in the house, and leaves bottles everywhere. The entire place is damn near bordering a safety hazard because of all the glass

Tries to cook but absolutely can't do it- he sets fires, ruins the kitchen, etc etc. It wouldn't be unreasonable for you to assume that all takeout packaging and pizza boxes you find strewn around the house belongs to him

He's fully up for a secret hookup if you're into that, though. Just give his door a knock after 11pm and you're in

Kunikida:

This guy is both a saint and a total pain in the arse

On one hand, he does his chores and he does them literally perfectly. Is there even a perfect way to wash the dishes? There is now. Kunikida is here

On the other hand you can kiss your hopes of getting out of your own chores goodbye. This man makes a schedule. a chore chart. a system. he pulls out the whole nine yards

Thanks a lot DAZAI

Anyway, he has his merits. Kunikida brings it upon himself to bring up the slack (even if he doesn't want to) because he can't stand living in a messy space, so your home is always spick and span

He organises weekly or monthly meetings to discuss home affairs (he's a real Louis Moriarty, he will also make you omelettes)

Kunikida is also kind of a walking talking alarm clock- he wakes you up in the morning if you're not up by a certain time, and also gives you a lights out time at night when he deems it bedtime

He pretends that this is just a part of routine and etiquette and whatever- in reality, he just really cares about your health and wants you to get enough sleep and keep a consistent routine

He also encourages you to go out if you're an introvert because "staying inside all the time is bad for you". Damnit Kunikida

Yosano:

Oh she's so great to live with

Every time you run into her you two always end up bitching to each other about something. She's the ultimate bitch buddy

If you get sick she takes on the role of home doctor, quarantines you in your room, and tends to you until you're well again. Or, if she doesn't like you, she just chops you up and gets it over with lmao

Yosano drinks a lot though. You eventually get used to falling asleep to the sounds of crashing, whirring chainsaws and maniacal laughter from the next room over

She takes AGES in the bathroom, so you really ought to keep a bucket on hand or something just in case. Like this woman will be in there for hours on end (RIP your water bill)

She also always takes up the phone line because she's a lil social butterfly (RIP your phone bill) but she'll also take your phone calls for you if you don't like talking on the phone so there's that

Yosano is really sweet but she always leaves her stuff laying around. Like there'll just be patient portfolios and medical tools in the living room?? Girl

Some nights she comes home with a bigass pizza in her hand and a bottle of wine in the other, and you know you're in for a GOOD time

If you ever need some spare cash she'll give it to you but if you take too long to pay her back she WILL chop you up so beware

Tanizaki:

He's a perfectly adequate roommate.

In all honesty there's barely anything to say about Tanizaki. He does his chores, respects his roommates, helps them if they need help, etc etc. He's just a real stand up guy!

Though I HC that Tanizaki gets sick pretty easily, so he can sometimes be seen wandering the house with a pale face wrapped in a blanket making sad boy noises

He gives you lifts as long as you're able to provide gas money (or McDonalds, either works as payment)

He doesn't usually accept invitations to go out drinking, but he's more than happy to grab a coffee with you if time permits it. He's just a responsible guy 😌 (if you don't have time he'll also bring you a coffee because he's just that nice)

Tanizaki always has backup stuff in case you guys run out of anything. This man basically has a bunker's worth of extra supplies for literally no reason, but hey free stuff!

He likes to make dinner for you sometimes, and you guys eat together and chat (it's something he grew used to while living with Naomi)

He's always happy to lend you his stuff if you ever run out of things (because of Naomi he even keeps backup menstrual stuff on hand, so you vagina owners are all safe)

You guys definitely do face masks and manicures together too

Naomi:

Naomi might, literally, be the roommate ever

She does her chores, she keeps quiet at night, she lets you know if she's bringing people over. Her only flaw is that she's always talking about her brother. Naomi please

She's also very vocal whenever her brother's in the house. What are they doing ffs

She bakes cupcakes and cookies and stuff each week for her roommates

She also brings around her friends sometimes for movie nights, and if you come into the living room she invites you to watch movies with her and her friends

Naomi honestly invites you to everything. Parties, gatherings, hanging out with friends- she's a true extrovert and will adopt you if you're an introvert, you have no choice sry :/

She also decorates the place really well- in all honesty she really did miss her calling as an interior designer because miss girl makes your home look CLASS

Naomi is the roommate you go to when you're preparing for a date and you need help with your outfit or nerves. She's like the ultimate wingwoman fr

She also buys incense and air freshener so your house smells nice as FUCK

Ranpo:

He's almost as bad as Dazai, aside from the fact that he can respect rules, and so (although begrudgingly and with a lot of whining) he actually does his chores

If you all live together he steals all of the candy Atsushi left out for everyone :(

Basically lives in his pyjamas. He gets home from work and immediately gets changed into his jammies

He also hogs the TV and won't let you watch Netflix until his own shows are finished :( and he also judges you for your taste in TV regardless of what it is

Ranpo never cooks for himself or you, but he LOVES when you cook for him. It makes him feel so special

You guys also get takeout all the time. You make a tradition of it and get different stuff on different days. It becomes a part of the autism routine and now you're stuck wasting your money (haha)

You also have to take him places and accompany him everywhere because he knows fuck all about taking the train. You basically live life around Ranpo's (annoying spontaneous) schedule

He uses too much soap in the shower and gets bubbles all over the bathroom, but at least he smells nice?

He does all the house paperwork, so silver lining and all

Fukuzawa:

He's lowkey kind of scary 😔

Like, he's a really respectful roommate who does his chores and pays mind to his living companions, but he also just like barely comes out of his room or talks to anyone.

Plus, detective daddy kinda has a massive case of RBF which really isn't helping

That being said, he will make tea for you if you feel blue, and he'll sit in your room and silently listen to you complain about your issues for hours. The PATIENCE of this man

He randomly does really sweet stuff for you without saying a word about it. Replaces broken stuff, makes you pancakes in the morning etc.

Fukuzawa tends to work late hours so he's often awake late in the night. He enjoys when you keep him company on your sleepless nights, and will give you a blanket if you end up falling asleep in his bed or on the couch

He's also super neat and never touches your stuff without asking <3

He knocks on your bedroom door and the bathroom door every single time, just in case, and he never enters unless you give him the heads up

His own door is never locked in case you need him too. Or in case there's a break-in. Good luck to that person fr

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen, @call-me-albie, @sayyestoheaven00

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delusionalwriter02 · 10 months ago

Note

hi hope youre doing well i wouldlike to request something a bit different from what i saw you did so feel free to refuse ! it'll be like a social media with Dazai yk like a instagram feed where f reader is with dazai and with little jokes ect... thank you so much!

Insta as Dazai's GF

a/n : Thank you for your request anon!! I never did this type of post but I hope you'll like it !

<3 liked by Chu_uya, Atsushiii and 78 others

Yn_theoneandonly : his wheel has broken, I can't take it anymore so i'm selling him, auctions start at €10

Chu_uya : he's not even worth them

↳ Daze_i : you're worth €3, so shut up

↳ Chu_uya : YOU SHUT UP I'M NOT THE ONE BEING SOLD BY HIS GIRL

↳ Daze_i : she's just joking am i right love ? @.Yn_theoneandonly

↳ Yn_theoneandonly : I'm not joking at all

↳ Chu_uya : @.Daze_i LOSER

<3 liked by Atsushiii, KunikiDA and 109 others.

Yn_theoneandonly : too cute to be sold actually

KunikiDA : well go tell him to WORK instead of picking up papers

�� Daze_i : But I am working honey

↳ KunikiDA : 1.Do not call me "honey", 2. You were supposed to sort your files, 3.You're not a baby so ACT LIKE A GROWN UP

↳ Daze_i : I'm sure @.Atsushiii can do it

↳ Atsushiii : Actually no i'm on a mission with Ranpo

↳ KunikiDA : SO WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON YOUR PHONE

↳ Atsushiii : Waiting for Ranpo

↳ KunikiDA : I'm done

↳ Yn_theoneandonly : stop fighting you three it was supposed to be a cute post

↳ Daze_i : Kunikida's fault

<3 liked by Ranthebestpo, KunikiDA and 90 others.

Yn_theoneandonly : He's been chatting with this cat for 10 minutes. I'm at a loss for words.

Chu_uya : He looks so dumb

↳ Daze_i : Don't talk about him like that, he's great

↳ Chu_uya : was talking about you, dumbass

↳ Daze_i : Don't hear the haters

↳ Chu_uya : I'm so so so going to kill you

↳ Yn_theoneandonly : Omg you two are impossible

↳ Daze_i : But love it's Chuuya, he's still a child it's normal for him to attack

↳ Chu_uya : A WHAT ?! Dare to leave your house, believe me I'll be waiting for you

↳ Daze_i : It's a date ?

↳ Yn_theoneandonly : We already have a date tonight so Chuuya you'll be kind to wait tomorrow, thank you

↳ : Daze_i : See ? @.Chu_uya, I got a date and not you

↳ Chu_uya : I'M GOING TO DESTROY YOU

↳ Daze_i : I'm so excited

<3 liked by Atsushiii, Ranthebestpo and 104 others.

Yn_theoneandonly : Painting with the love of your life, a different kind of happiness

Daze_i : I love you

↳ Yn_theoneandonly : I love you too

↳ Ranthebestpo : it's cheesy but you're cute

↳ Yn_theoneandonly : Shut up but thank you

↳ Yosanurgirl : Passive-aggressive is wonderful

↳ Yn_theoneandonly : I know

↳ Ranthebestpo : I was trying to be nice

↳ Yosanurgirl : Try harder apparently

↳ KunikiDA : @.Ranthebestpo I'm still waiting for your report

↳ Daze_i : Try using something called message instead of commenting

↳ KunikiDA : If you ANSWER me by message I won't need to comment.

↳ Daze_i : Fair enough

↳ Yn_theoneandonly : I'll never get a normal comment section apparently

Hey so I hope you liked it ? It's my first time writing in this "style" so tell me how to improve ! Thank you so much again for your request

See you <3

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luvfy0dor · 6 months ago

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Keep It Simple, Stupid!!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LuvFy0dors 600 Followers Event ੈ✩‧₊˚

requests accepted from; May 2nd - June 30th or prompts max out

First of all, i wanna say im so insanely thankful for 600 followers!!! It means the world to me that my writing is so well received. I've seen a bunch of people do events for follower milestones, and when I hit 500 I figured I'd use the time between 500 and 600 to finish the requests that I've been slacking on. I'd also like to apologize for that. But back to the actual event- I've seen people post prompt lists and let people pick characters to go with said prompts, so I want mine to be based on kisses!! Kisses are so sweet and intimate to me, so I've thought up a bunch of action and dialogue prompts for you guys to choose from! Next to each prompt is a number in brackets, that's the max amount of characters I can do for each one . (If someone has done this, please let me know!! I don't want anyone to think I'm copying them.)

Some rules and guidelines before we start;

♡ Up to two characters per request!

♡ I don't think it'd be a problem, but you're allowed to send up to three requests for this event - I'll put it in good faith and won't take off anon, so please try to keep it there!! I don't think it'll be an issue though.

♡ please forgive me if it takes me a while, mid-may things should be easier to write since I won't be prepping for an AP exam any longer, but if I take a hot second, that's why ^^

♡ Anyone can request!! Follower or not.

Acceptable Characters (In order of my confidence in writing for them); Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Chuuya Nakahara, Dazai Osamu, Sigma, Atsushi Nakajima, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Doppo Kunikida, Ranpo Edogawa, Tachihara

Request Details; You can mix prompts, up to two per request, but an extra prompt takes the place of the second character you're allowed per req!! If you'd like me to include certain details in the drabble, you're more than welcome to add those to your req! Depending on the prompt it might be a scenario or a drabble.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Promts

Non-Dialogue;

good morning kisses → Kunikida

good night kisses → Nikolai,

goodbye kisses

rain kisses → Nikolai,

cheek kisses

spiderman kisses → Fyodor, Sigma

pinky promise kisses

thigh kisses → Nikolai,

prolonged Kisses → Chuuya, Fyodor

new years eve kisses

wedding kisses

breathless kisses

soft and sweet kisses [2] Fyodor,

blown kisses

hand kisses → Nikolai,

neck kisses → Chuuya, Akutagawa,

peppered kisses

im sorry kisses → Nikolai, Ranpo, Chuuya, Fyodor

last kisses

first kisses → Chuuya, Sigma,

eager kisses

Otherwise;

“seal it with a kiss” - love letters from him [3]

Thank you so much again!! ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

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gay-snufkin · 3 months ago

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is somebody gonna match my freak (read the over 40k words kunidazai friends with benefits to lovers fic that took me way too long to write, then had to be divided into chapters even though it doesn't really have a plot except for kunikida and dazai being a mess but still i'm glad i finally finished it and it's nice to have a happy ending in these trying times)

#tell me you'll read this #pls #it's been rotting inside my head for too long #kunidazai #kunikida doppo #dazai osamu #bsd #bsd fanfiction #ao3 #my writing

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sickficideas · 2 months ago

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if time is a healer || atsushi sickfic w/ dazai

ao3! 6.8k + trade for @thankshermin <3 - please refer to the tags in the link for content + warnings! sicktember 2024, day 12: "you're not fine, you're throwing up/coughing up a lung"

Dazai wasn't expecting to see Akutagawa drenched in sea water, too.

“Decided to go for a swim?”

Akutagawa has never thought that Dazai's jokes were very funny, and recently, he's started to ignore them entirely. He doesn't even roll his eyes, he just stares, waiting for him to acknowledge the unconscious form that he's protectively knelt in front of.

The breeze at the Port always feels nice. Dazai often forgets to take advantage of the nice parts of Yokohama. He always ends up down here when he actually needs to do something. Right now, he doesn't actually have any time to sit around and take any sights - Atsushi is unconscious and soaking wet in front of Akutagawa, who is visibly confused by Dazai's lack of urgency.

“He passed out after he coughed out the water. And he's been unresponsive since,” Akutagawa tells him. This must have happened after he first called Dazai about twenty minutes ago. All Dazai knows is that a confrontation with their enemy landed them in the water, and Akutagawa requested Dazai come get Atsushi, who was underwater for much longer than what was safe. The unconscious bit is new. “I'm sure there's water in his lungs.”

“Hm. And you jumped after him?” Dazai observes, arms crossed over his chest as he looks over Atsushi. He's not too terribly off. His color looks okay and his expression is relaxed, at least right now, but he'll certainly take him to Yosano to get looked at.

“I'm fine. Take your subordinate home,” Akutagawa huffs as he stands up, a little unsteady on his feet.

Akutagawa's clothes and hair are still visibly damp. He's not entirely sure he can take his word for it. He's never demonstrated great swimming skills either, and he would definitely do much worse in Atsushi's situation than Atsushi himself.

Dazai kneels down and lays the back of his hand on Atsushi's cheek. His eyes twitch and flutter open, glazed over and not even remotely with him. He's warm. Dazai isn't sure, but he almost thinks he may have been running a fever before this happened.

“Did he hit his head?” Dazai asks. This reaction doesn't quite match what he already knows about the situation. He shouldn't be this out.

“I don't know,” Akutagawa mumbles. He sounds nervous. “There was too much going on in the last few minutes.”

“I'm sure I taught you better than to get overwhelmed,” Dazai says, nonchalant, taking note of the tiny bit of subconscious guilt in Akutagawa's tone.

“Don't talk to me like that,” Akutagawa growls, turning his body away, towards the ocean before he coughs a few times into his hand. Dazai cringes at the way his chest rattles with each cough. He knows he generally doesn't do well breathing in the air down here at the port, between the sea air and the various port-related fumes, but rescuing another drowning person certainly didn't help. “I'm leaving. Don't let him die, I need his life to end by my hands.”

“Right, right,” Dazai says, scoping Atsushi up into his arms. Atsushi whines curling up against Dazai's chest like he's shaking some warmth. “Take care of yourself.”

Akutagawa scoffs, only briefly turning to get a look at Atsushi's unconscious form one last time before walking off, fairly quickly disappearing from Dazai's view.

“I don't need you to ruin your lungs too, so hang in there for me, Atsushi,” Dazai tells him gently, heading off to the edge of the park, where Kunikida is waiting for him to take Atsushi back to the Agency. It's not a long walk at all, but they had no idea of Atsushi's conditions and decided not to waste any time.

As Dazai approaches Kunikida's illegally parked car, half on the park's outer sidewalk, Kunikida rounds the car and opens the passenger door for Dazai to lay Atsushi on. He thinks he's going to make a comment on Atsushi's saltwater-soaked clothes getting into his cloth seats, but there's deep concern written all over his face.

“Shit,” Kunikida says, teeth grit as Dazai carefully lays him down. “He doesn't look good.”

Atsushi whines when Dazai lays the buckle across his lap. Hopefully he's not injured, but anything physical would be taken care of soon enough by his ability.

“He'll be alright. Let's just get him back,” Dazai says as he shuts the door and climbs in the backseat.

Kunikida gets them there within minutes with a shoddy parking job, telling Dazai just how worried about his coworker he is. They waste no time getting Atsushi out of the car and through the building's front doors, Kunikida going ahead to open the elevator doors.

“You with me, Atsushi?” Dazai asks him, concerned with how he's still half-unconscious, and Atsushi gives him no indication that he can hear him. He's just huffing out hot and uncomfortable breaths.

“Dammit,” Kunikida mumbles, opening the Agency's office door and then subsequently the infirmary door, where Yosano eagerly waits with her hands crossed over her chest, concerned eyes scanning over Atsushi as soon as he's in her line of sight.

“Let me get some things together for him,” Yosano says, heels clicking as she makes her way over to a cabinet. Kunikida signals Dazai over to a cot he's prepared for Atsushi, covered in a few towels.

“Go fix your parking job,” Dazai tells Kunikida after gently laying Atsushi on the cot, brushing some of his damp hair from his face.

“I can't believe the ex-Mafia is telling me to adjust my parking,” Kunikida huffs, taking his keys from his pocket. He bites his lip, looking over Atsushi, clearly hesitant to leave him.

“I'm a law-abiding citizen, mister detective,” Dazai teases, before meeting Kunikida's concerned gaze. “I'll take care of him.”

“I know you will,” Kunikida says, slowly making his way toward the infirmary door, “let me know if either of you need anything.”

“Thank you, mom,” Yosano says from where she's shifting some things around on a tray near her desk.

“Not you too,” Kunikida groans, “one Dazai is enough.”

Yosano giggles as Kunikida leaves, and she makes her way over to Atsushi's cot. She lays a tray over on the stand beside her chair, effortlessly preparing her stethoscope to examine Atsushi. Dazai doesn't need to be told, he unbuttons Atsushi's damp shirt and sits him up the best he can. Yosano gives a silent thank you before she presses the ice-cold stethoscope to Atsushi's chest, and sliding it under his shirt to listen through his back, too.

“Has he coughed up any water?” Yosano says, clicking her tongue, evidently not happy about what she's hearing.

“That's what I was told,” Dazai answers as she pulls her stethoscope away and swings it back over her neck. Dazai slowly lowers Atsushi back down. Atsushi groans quietly, a pained noise, his eyes screwing shut in tandem.

“I'll need to ultrasound his lungs. I can't remember where I put the damn thing,” Yosano says with a sigh, “it doesn't sound like he's cleared it. I'm worried about -”

“Pulmonary edema,” Dazai says just as she does, agreeing before she can even finish the thought.

“Right,” she says, “good guess.”

“Not my first rodeo, doctor,” Dazai teases. He's suffered from the same thing more than once, and she's well aware of that.

“Next time, I'll give you my license,” Yosamo teases back as she stands up, “I have some gowns we can dress him in, I really don't want him to be in those soaked clothes with the fever I suspect he's running.”

Dazai thought the same thing. He lays the back of his hand against Atsushi's cheek, still as warm as before. He remembers oral thermometers being in the drawer beside the bed. He takes one out and takes Atsushi's jaw to gently part his lips and slide the thermometer under his tongue. He whines quietly, weakly coughing before Dazai slides it back out for the reading.

“One hundred even,” Dazai says as Yosano makes it back.

“He must've already been running a temperature,” Yosano says. She lays the gowns at the edge of the bed, and Dazai starts to peel off his shirt, tie, dropping it off to the side of the cot, much more wet than he was expecting. Atsushi is vocally against all of this even half-concious, whining and whimpering, but quiets down a little as Yosano dabs at his damp skin with a fresh towel before covering him with a gown, and quickly, he's fully undressed and wearing her clinic's gowns.

Atsushi seems a little more awake now with the movement, eyes fluttering but now, evidently focused on worsening nausea. He grunts and wraps an arm around his stomach, barely managing to prop himself up before he gags and chokes up a watery mixture of salt water and bile. Dazai lays a hand between his shoulder blades and rubs circles as Atsushi coughs and sputters, only throwing up a mouthful or so more of what's in his stomach before his arms give out on him and he collapses back onto the bed.

“Looks like you swallowed quite a bit of water, huh,” Dazai says, brushing over the hair that's stuck to his face from the sweat. He's too delirious to answer, he just groans and lays a hand back over his stomach. Dazai decides to carefully lift him and move him to the neighboring cot, being that the other is now soaked with vomit and salt water-dampened towels.

Atsushi's eyes fall just again with no energy to do much else, his eyes twitching from discomfort. Dazai rubs his arm with a sigh.

“It's good that he's getting it up,” Yosano says, “but this confirms my concerns about his lungs.”

“Go find your ultrasound machine. I'll get the rest of his vitals,” Dazai tells her. She looks surprised that he's offering, but shrugs and heads off to her supply closet.

Dazai takes a sheet of note paper from the drawer and writes down Atsushi's temperature, taking note of the frequency of his respirations, rolling over the blood pressure monitor and wrapping it around Atsushi's too-warm upper arm to get a reading. All slightly concerning measurements, but nothing that would currently land him in a hospital. He takes a stethoscope off of the hook to read his heart rate too. Atsushi whines at the cold touch as Dazai slides it under his gown.

Steady. A little fast, but within normal range. He writes it down.

He jumps a little at the sound of what sounds like several books and miscellaneous other objects falling in Yosano’s office. He thinks Atsushi’s okay by himself for long enough for him to at least make sure Yosano hasn’t buried herself.

He peers into her office where she frustratingly gathers a stack of medical journal collections and sets them on the shelf with a huff. There’s several others strewn across the already-overcrowded floor. Yosano has never had incredible organization skills, but it seems to work out for her, at least.

He feels a shiver run down his spine, remembering a similar state of chaos from Mori’s medical office, before he became the Port Mafia’s boss.

“Use that height of yours to get that down for me, before the whole cabinet falls,” she groans, gesturing to the ultrasound machine tucked into a high shelf, evidently previously surrounded by books. He puts the pieces together and gathers she must have tried to get on her adjacent desk to reach it.

Unfortunately for her, Dazai very easily slides the equipment out of the shelf and sets it down on her desk. She shoots him a very annoyed, definitely jealous look before she opens it, slides open a drawer on her desk to look for a password, he’s guessing.

“Seems like you should invest in a ladder,” he teases, and she just huffs again.

“I don’t need two Kunikidas, thank you,” she groans, typing in the password to open the software. Dazai hears a pained whimper from the infirmary room, and he’s quick to head back to the cot, not wanting Atsushi alone for too long when he’s so out of it.

Atsushi whines and twists his body without much strength behind his movement, clearly uncomfortable but not conscious enough to do much about it - Dazai sees saliva drip from the corner of his mouth. He must still be nauseous, but he has a feeling Yosano won’t be able to provide him any medication for that, since they’ll want him to cough up any water in his system. The nausea will help him do that.

Dazai sits on the stool beside him and pushes his hair out of his face, which has plastered to his forehead and stuck up in all sorts of directions from the dampness.

“Dazai…?” Atsushi mumbles, his voice wobbly, eyes having so much trouble focusing on the figure in front of him. It’s becoming painfully clear that he has a head injury, his fever isn't nearly high enough right now to be causing this kind of confusion. He thinks his healing abilities will take care of that soon enough, but they’ve learned in the last that it takes him much, much longer for him to heal from anything illness-related.

“You alright there, Atsushi?” Dazai asks, observing how he’s become much more visibly nauseous, and before Dazai can move fast enough to get the trash bin under his chin, Atsushi has already propped himself up and gagged unproductively over the floor. Nothing more than the clear saliva pooling in his mouth comes up.

Dazai takes the opportunity to pick up the trash bin from behind him and hold it up to Atsushi, whose arm wobbles under the pressure of holding his head over the edge of the bed. He breathes heavy, the bag rustling with the movement.

“Throw up if you need to, alright? Coughing’s good too,” Dazai tells him, sneaking his free hand onto Atsushi’s shoulder to give him some comfort. Atsushi has a lot of anxiety around being sick, and vomiting especially - Dazai’s hoping that he’s a little too out of it to realize how sick he’s feeling, but he’s holding onto some of it, subconsciously. Dazai watches his eyes screw shut even tighter. “Don’t hold it in, Atsushi. You’ll make it worse.”

Dazai rubs his shoulder with a little sigh, thinking for a second it’s going to be a lot harder to get him to stop fighting the nausea than he realized, but just a few seconds after the thought crossed his mind, he hears the water hit the bag rather forcefully, followed by a round of several wet coughs that bring up quite a bit of saltwater as well.

Atsushi’s breaths start to pick up pace before he gags again, just spitting up a thin stream of water that time. He doesn’t have much control over the coughs and gags that follow, but it seems like he’s brought up all he can for right now.

“That’s good. You did good,” he tells him gently, gently guiding him to lay back against the pillows as Dazai lowers the trash bin. Atsushi groans quietly, wrapping his arms around his middle. He’s sure that Atsushi is still wildly uncomfortable.

“Did he throw up?” Yosano asks, sliding the ultrasound machine over on the opposite side of the cot on a wheeled cart.

Dazai nods. “He coughed up quite a bit of water too.”

Yosano begins the process of the ultrasound. She slides up Atsushi’s gown, which he resists to some degree, but Dazai lays a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. He’s pretty out of the loop on what’s going on, sure, but they did to do this.

The lubricant gel she has to use for the probe makes Atsushi shiver rather violently. Dazai watches the hairs on his arms stand. He imagines he’s more sensitive to the cold gel than normal because of this fever he’s running.

She finds out exactly what she needs too - there’s already inflammation in his lungs, which makes it very possible that he’s developing pneumonia. But with Atsushi, it’s impossible to tell what his ability will assist him in healing, and what he’s on his own for - so unfortunately for him, all they can really do is wait and find out.

Dazai opts to stay with Atsushi, realizing this may be a several-hour long ordeal, and he’s not sure he wants to task Yosano with dealing with this by herself, with the mountain of other things she has to do - but, really, he just doesn’t want Atsushi unattended while he’s like this.

The hours pass, slowly, quietly and without much incident. Dazai sneaks out briefly to take a book from his locker that he’s been meaning to read, but never finds himself with time to actually crack it open. Atsushi’s fast asleep for a while, and Yosano stays tucked away in her office as Atsushi sleeps to get her work done.

It’s just about an hour before the Agency closes when Yosano comes by to check Atsushi over herself, this time. She sits on a stool on the other side of the cot, pressing her stethoscope up to his chest. She pauses for a second, still listening, but reaches over to hand Dazai the thermometer, silently asking him to check Atsushi’s temperature.

He miscalculates how far it is, and just gently grasps the space right in front of her hand before he realizes that she’s holding it a bit further back than he can tell, and he slides it from her hand.

Dazai’s been blind in his right eye for several years now, but the depth perception is something he’ll never really get over, no matter how long it’s been, and especially when he’s caught off guard like this. Yosano gives him a suspicious look as she lifts her head, and she’s making Dazai nervous enough that he’s just staring back at her with an awkward smile, still holding the thermometer.

“Sorry, sorry. Terrible depth perception,” Dazai says with a nervous laugh, but he realizes too late that he's already said too much. He started to reach over to put the thermometer under Atsushi’s tongue, but Yosano interjects.

“Is it because of your right eye?” Yosano asks suddenly, tilting her head. “I've noticed you have trouble seeing out of it.”

Dazai has never said anything about that eye to her before. He thought he was pretty okay at hiding his vision problems - he's never had to address it before, but Yosano makes him so nervous that he slipped up and said something he shouldn’t have.

It’s not a problem, really, if anyone finds out. He can get by perfectly fine, it’s nothing more than an inconvenience at this point in his life, and he can certainly lie his way around what happened, just like he does with everything else.

“Has it always been that way? Or is it an old injury?”

But for some reason, he can’t open his mouth to spit out the lie he was going to tell Yosano. The moment she asks that, he feels a shiver shoot up his spine, suddenly overcome with nausea. What happened to his right eye is something he still hasn’t quite attempted to work through, mentally, and he can’t do it in front of Yosano.

Even though he knows that she knows Mori just as well as he does.

Whatever face he makes is enough to get her to ease up.

“I'm sorry,” is all she says. She lowers her head, busying herself with checking the rest of his vitals as Dazai slides the thermometer under Atsushi’s tongue, and they’re in silence again.

Dazai silently shows her the thermometer reading once it beeps without even checking it himself, because there’s a throbbing pain behind his blind eye that he can’t ignore. He’s trying not to think about it, but the more he tries to trick himself into thinking of something else, the more he feels it.

Mori’s new favorite tool, digging around his eye socket when he was just fourteen, with no anesthesia or even any mild sedating medication, under the promise that it would lead to a very quick and painless suicide. That was one of many in a series of promises by Mori to assist him in ending his life, only to leave him suffering more than he was the day before.

Yosano disappears from view. He hears her ask a question that he doesn’t understand but nods to anyway, and suddenly, the lights come off.

He holds a palm up to his eye, pressing against it in some hope that this strange phantom pain he’s feeling will disappear. He hasn’t felt this in such a long time. He thinks Chuuya would scold him for not using the opportunity to talk about things like he always says he should, he just can’t bring himself to do it.

It’s worse, for some reason, because he knows Yosano suffered under him to. It’s not comforting to know that. He doesn’t want to put images of him in her mind, because he wouldn’t want that from her, either.

He feels awfully dizzy. He’s considering lying down on the empty cot, at least until the feeling subsides, but Atsushi shifts, and Dazai realizes he’s been too distracted to notice that Atsushi is trying to get up. He’s not sure where Yosano went - it’s still dark and the orange light coming in through the windows from the sunset is starting to dim.

“Stay down, Atsushi,” Dazai tells him gently. He almost reaches a hand out to lay on his chest and make sure he doesn't get up, but he doesn't need to. Atsushi hardly has the strength to hold his head up, and he collapses back onto the pillows with a shaky sigh from the exertion.

“Where's…Akutagawa?” Atsushi murmurs all feverishly, eyes darting around the room. He doesn't seem to recognize entirely where he is.

Dazai almost wants to laugh. A few months ago that question would've been asked out of fear, but Atsushi sounds concerned, despite how terribly he's feeling himself.

“He's fine. Don't worry about him,” Dazai assures him with a half smile. Sure, he can’t confirm that, but he hopes that at this point in his life, Akutagawa would speak up and take care of himself.

The irony is lost on him, though.

“Dazai,” Atsushi breathes out, for some reason, not at all comforted by those words. He takes in a few deeper breaths, like it’s hard for him to get the air that he’s looking for. His eyes are locked on Dazai. “He…he jumped in after me. I'm just…his lungs, I'm…”

“I'll call and check on him. Worry about yourself right now,” Dazai tells him, trying to ignore how his stomach sinks with that information. He hadn't considered that. Akutagawa seemed perfectly fine when he saw him with Atsushi - soaking wet, sure, but he was conscious and communicative. Dazai doesn’t have to worry about Atsushi, most of the time, with his healing abilities and all - but Akutagawa has none of that.

Surely that’s why Atsushi is concerned, too.

He takes his phone out, and decides he’ll step over to the counter to make the call, not wanting to bother Atsushi with the static of a phone call or any voices raised above a whisper or quiet tone. His eyes follow him, but not long enough for Dazai to pull up his contacts list. Atsushi’s eyes fall shut, screwed shut tight like he’s in pain, but then relax.

“Akutagawa's that Port Mafia kid?” Yosano chimes in, scaring Dazai, not enough to make him flinch but enough to lift his head. She’s in the doorway of her office, backlit by the honey-colored light, evidently listening to his conversation with Atsushi.

“That's him,” Dazai says, leaning against the counter. “They were working together this morning.”

Yosano nods, remembering the briefing she was given before Atsushi arrived in the infirmary.

“You knew him, didn't you? Before you joined us,” she asks. Quietly.

“He was my subordinate,” Dazai answers, turning to face her just a bit more. Yosano's come into contact with him once before, he’s sure. Most of the Armed Detective Agency members were familiar enough with Akutagawa to know him by name, by the time Dazai joined.

Just as Dazai finds Akutagawa’s contact to call him, Yosano’s brow furrows and opens her mouth to say something, but Dazai turns away when the line clicks.

Akutagawa always answers a little too quickly.

“Bite the dust yet?” he says. Maybe a bit of an insensitive joke, considering Akutagawa’s condition. He’s distracted for a moment, peering out the window. The sky’s starting to look rather dark, even for the evening. The orange meets with black clouds overhead.

“What do you want?” he answers with an annoyed huff.

“Your boyfriend wanted me to make sure you're okay,” Dazai taunts, deciding that's probably a joke that Akutagawa can't ignore.

“Dazai -”

“I think he has every right to be concerned with how terrible your lungs are. And he's bordering on pneumonia over here,” Dazai tells him with an exasperated sigh. He’s sure Akutagawa doesn’t care about any of that, but Akutagawa doesn't say anything for long enough for Dazai to realize he's not sure how to react to that information.

“Is he - ” he pauses. “Surely he’ll be fine.”

Hm. Interesting.

“He'll be fine,” Dazai says. Despite Atsushi’s current condition, he certainly will be fine - those Tiger healing abilities will always pull him through. “Go see your doctor. The last thing your useless lungs need is another bout of pneumonia.”

“I don't answer to you,” Akutagawa grumbles, but a few coughs that he didn’t seem to expect betray his biting tone.

“Want me to tell Chuuya? ‘Cause you know exactly that he'll hound you to your grave about it.”

Akutagawa groans. “I’m hanging up. Your voice is giving me a headache.”

Dazai wants to make a joke in return, but Akutagawa truly does hang up the phone. Dazai’s a little more than surprised. But he’s certainly more surprised that little Akutagawa has the capacity to worry about someone other than his sister. And his enemy, no less.

He smiles to himself, but suddenly, the sharp pain in his eye returns.

“Dazai,” Yosano says with a huff, still standing in the doorway with her brow knotted together, “does that happen often?”

Dazai blinks. He’s not sure how she could possibly know that his eye is causing him any pain, so he wonders if maybe she’s asking about something else. Yosano is a detective, but she’s not a mind-reader by any means. “Calling my former subordinate? Well, unfortunately -”

“No, Dazai. Your eye,” she clarifies, her eyes fixed on that eye specifically. It does feel wet, now that he’s thinking about it. But he doesn’t think a tear has slipped out. The tips of his fingers graze over it, the motion causing a sharp pain there, but when he pulls his hand back, he sees blood.

“Oh,” Dazai says, “well…it used to. Happen often.”

“I don’t mean to stop on your toes. But I’d prefer if you let me have a look at it,” Yosano says, but she doesn’t move from her spot in the doorway. Dazai squints trying to look at her, the bright light proving to be far too much for his sensitive eye at the moment. He’s nauseous at the idea of another doctor proding around at his eye.

Dazai wants to tell her no. He wants to say it’s fine, he’s been dealing with chronic paina nd random bouts of bleeding there for years, it’s just slowed down a lot since joining the Agency. He’s not worried about it.

But he thinks that she’s concerned because she knew Mori just as well as he did.

“If you have to,” he says as casually as he can muster, smiling awkwardly to break the tension. “But no needles or anything.”

“I don’t need needles to examine your eye. Go sit down in my office chair and I’ll find my ophthalmoscope,” she says, heading for some drawers on the opposite side of him.

Dazai awkwardly shifts around beside trudging into her office, sitting down in a chair that probably needs replacing. At least that way he doesn’t feel like he’s in a sterile doctor’s office. He’s just in Yosano’s work office. Her desk is littered with piles of unfinished paperwork, little trinkets and broken tools she’s working on fixing.

She walks in, adjusting the head of the opthalmoscope before looking at Dazai. She turns back to take some gauze from the counter and reaches to carefully dab at Dazai’s eye, to wipe off some of the blood.

“Is it painful?” Yosano asks.

Dazai was hoping she wouldn’t ask, but at this point, there’s no reason to lie to her. “Very.”

She peers through the opthalmascope after reaching back to turn off the office light. He knows the drill, he just stares forward, tries not to move, and at this point, he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t throw up. Yosano is nothing like Mori, but at the same time, she’s exactly like him.

“Hey,” she says, lowering the scope and looking at him with a very concerned gaze. “Breathe, okay? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just looking.”

Dazai didn’t realize he was being that see-through just now.

He doesn’t say anything, he just does what she’s asked - breathes, something he forgot to do moments ago. He takes in a long, deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. He has to force himself to breathe out each time, or else he just ends up holding his breath and feeling worse.

It’s over, soon enough.

“You really can’t see from that eye,” she says, like she’s surprised to be able to confirm her theory, lowering the scope. “I’m not sure why it’s bleeding though. It might be a good idea for you to have it checked by an eye doctor.”

He smiles back awkwardly, with absolutely zero intention of following through on that. Yosano turns back to switch the lights back on, but all of it at once it too much. He shrinks away, his eyes forcing themselves shut, just the one throbbing through an intense stabbing pain.

Yosano shuts the light off as soon as she seems to register that his reaction is out of pain, and she disappears for a moment before coming back with something in her hand. The light coming off helped the pain subside rather quickly.

“Are you completely blind there? Or can you still see shapes, register lights?” Yosano asks.

“The second part,” Dazai answers, and Yosano presents him with a medical eyepatch.

“Put this on for a while. That way the light isn’t too much, and it might be a good idea to keep it covered while it’s bleeding like that,” Yosano suggests, and Dazai takes it. He’s certainly no stranger to these. The idea of putting it on isn’t something he;s thrilled about, but she’s right. It might help for a while.

So he puts it on.

He thanks her, quietly, before he wanders back to Atsushi’s cot, where the latter is thankfully fast asleep, but not looking much better.

Kunikida pokes his head in to ask how Atsushi’s holding up, to pass on the message to his very concerned colleagues. Dazai assures him that Atsushi will he just fine, he just needs someone to stay with him while he’s not feeling well, because he can’t handle it alone. Kunikida says that Kyoka offered to sit with him in place of Dazai, but Dazai insists that Kyoka getting sleep is more important.

The sun eventually sets completely as their coworkers file out of the building, leaving it eerily quiet. Yosano turns on the radio to fill the silence, just calming instrumental in her office, and she stays there, not coming out aside from peeking at Atsushi. The silence is long gone as wind starts to pick up around the building, whistling through the screened windows. He’s sure there’s a storm coming.

Eventually, Atsushi’s eyes flutter open.

Dazai doesn’t bother him with conversation right out of his sleep. He’s sure he’s confused and frazzled with that fever he’s been running, one that has Yosano concerned that he isn’t healing himself like they had hoped. She said she would give him until midnight before she would decide if he needed to be hospitalized.

Dazai hopes that’s not the outcome. Atsushi would handle that just as well as Dazai would.

“Dazai,” Atsushi murmurs feverishly with a pained groan, an arms over his middle, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, “I don't feel good.”

“I know, Atsushi,” Dazai tells him, reaching forward and patting his hair. “Wish we could make it go by faster for you.”

He's met with vague memories of himself being fever-riddled in the shipping container he used to call home, through the aftermath of some hurricaine that had not treated Yokohama kindly. He's sure he had pneumonia then too, but he was so sick he can hardly remember being treated after. He just remembers then fifteen-year-old Akutagawa showing up with Chuuya in tow, finding him drenched in sweat and coughing so much that it was making him vomit. He’s not sure how either of them ever found out he was so sick.

He remembers asking them to leave him. He felt so awful that he would have rather his body completed the process of killing him, which he was so certain would have been the outcome had no one found him. He begged both of them, over and over, to make it stop. To end it faster.

“I wish I could make it be over faster,” Chuuya has mumbled at some point. Then, Dazai had assumed Chuuya was making a remark to assist him with suicide, but he realizes now that Chuuya just wanted his suffering to end. He wanted him to feel better.

He’s not sure why Chuuya would have ever wanted that for him, but he feels that way about Atsushi. Atsushi at least deserves to feel better.

Dazai hears the thunder start to roll overhead, confirming his suspicions of a storm. Thankfully it’s not nearly as loud in the Armed Detective Agency’s building as it would be in their dorms, but they can still hear the thunder very well.

“I wanna go home…” Atsushi murmurs quietly, laying on his side, defeated with a quiet huff. He shifts uncomfortably, shivers.

“You can't yet, Atsushi. You've gotta stay here for a little longer,” Dazai tells him kindly, brushing his hair out of his glassy, fevered eyes. “We can’t let you go anywhere in this storm, anyway.”

He shivers at the sound of the thunder, curling up like a scared dog. Dazai half smiles, taking the end of the sheet and bringing it up to cover his shoulders, so he’s a little more secure.

“I didn't ever realize that you were scared of thunder,” Dazai says with a fond smile.

“I'm not scared,” Atsushi murmurs with a harsh shiver, “I just…I just don't like it…”

Dazai almost laughs. He’s heard those exact words from Akutagawa, years ago. He understands their negative associations. Akutagawa’s past living on the streets never gave him a good memory with a storm, and he’s sure Atsushi’s in the same boat, where he was trapped in the orphanage for most of the time, all by himself.

“You’re safe in here,” Dazai assures him, his tone that of a teacher trying to comfort a kindergarten student, making a little more teasing than he intended, but he hopes Atsushi knows that he means it. Dazai’s still trying to learn that too, but they are safe here, in the Agency.

Atsushi barely makes it over the side of the cot to vomit.

Dazai rubs his shoulder gently, telling him it’s fine and not to worry. It’s still just water, of course, there’s nothing else in his system. Yosano peeks out at the sound of the commotion, and gets to work with setting up IV fluids for him.

Atsushi breathes heavy over the side of the cot for a few minutes, visibly nauseous but without much energy to do anything other than gag miserably. Dazai doesn’t take his hand off of him. He must feel terrible right now, being so visibly sick isn’t something he shows willingly a lot of the time. Dazai tucks the longer pieces of his hair out of his face when he gags and coughs, bringing up nothing more than spit and water.

“Any better?” Dazai asks when Atsushi trunks himself onto his back, to which the latter shakes his head, closing his eyes. He looks terrible. Dazai reaches forward to adjust his hair, it’s stuck to his forehead in all sorts of directions.

“I wanna go home,” he says again through a quiet burp, visibly distressed, “’m fine…”

“You’re not fine, Atsushi. You’re still throwing up,” Dazai tells him, rubbing his shoulder. “Just let us take care of you for a little while longer.”

Yosano takes Atsushi’s hand and starts to place an IV as gently and quickly as she can. Dazai busies himself with distracting Atsushi, who is already starting to drift back into a sleep, unbothered what Yosano is doing for the most part - Dazai is more bothered than Atsushi is, up until the needle part is over. Dazai holds Atsushi’s free hand.

Yosano is gentle in the way that she finishes up the job, with adjusting everything, placing the tape. Her hands are quick and efficient, but not oblivious to the feelings of the person that she works on. Very unlike Mori, who never cared much if he was hurting a patient more than he should have been. That’s comforting, at least.

“Mori used to talk about you,” Dazai says.

She looks up. Dazai always has a hard time telling what she's thinking. She must have learned that from Mori, because Dazai has heard it’s very difficult to tell what he’s thinking, too.

“Never by name, but…I put the pieces together,” he says, rubbing circles into Atsushi’s hand with his thumb, thinking maybe it’s more soothing for him than it is for sleeping Atsushi. “The way you wrap bandages, give injections…��

“I've thought the same of the way you do things,” she says quietly. “I'm sorry you had to suffer with him for so long.”

“I'm here now,” Dazai shrugs. He has to be nonchalant about it, any other way makes him feel like he’s losing his mind, but he’s grateful to be here now. “And so are you.”

Yosano smiles back at him.

…

The next morning, Dazai feels himself wake up with the morning light spilling in through the windows. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he has his book in his lap, and he’s on the cot beside Atsushi.

And Atsushi’s still there, looking like he’s starting to wake up, too.

Dazai stretches his limbs out, surprised by the feeling that he’s gotten a fairly good rest. And Atsushi is still here - that means he’s improving, at least, and Yosano decided he didn’t need to be hospitalized. He moves to the chair where he was before beside Atsushi. His eyes are blinking open, slowly, carefully.

Dazai reaches forward to lay the back of his hand on Atsushi’s cheek, and he’s still feeling a little warm, but not nearly as hot as before. That’s good. He probably just needs a few more hours of rest and he’ll be good as new.

Atsushi groans, eyes screwing shut for a moment, wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Everything okay?” Dazai asks him.

“Nauseous,” Atsushi murmurs quietly.

“Hmm. The antibiotics,” Dazai says with a nod. He says Yosano adding quite a bit to his IV, and he’s sure it’s helped his condition, but the side effects are never fun to deal with. “I’m sure Yosano can add something for your nausea if you’re still feeling sick.”

“Did you ever call Akutagawa?”

Dazai’s surprised to hear him ask for a follow-up, when he’s clearly still not feeling well. He’s still out of it, too, he’s just saying what’s on his mind.

“I did. What he does is his own choice, though,” Dazai says with a half-smile. “He’s never listened to me.”

Not that I ever gave him good examples to follow.

“I wish…wish he’d ask for help,” Atsushi murmurs, fighting his own exhaustion as he stares at the ceiling and tries desperately to keep himself awake. “He doesn’t have to…to do everything alone…”

“You’re right. He doesn’t,” Dazai tells him. Advice Dazai could surely use himself. “Go back to sleep, Atsushi. You’ve got some more resting to do before you’re back to yourself.”

Atsushi doesn’t need to be told twice. Even if he wants to stay awake, his eyes betray him, and he starts to fall asleep again.

Dazai supposes he has some lessons to learn after all.

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ducks-on-jupiter · 2 months ago

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Tw sh & alcohol mentions

I need more fics where kunikida is imperfect. More fics where he's stressed, or hurts himself, or drinks, or does other things other people, especially unwell people, do. He isn't mentally well. He's stressed and overworked and I need more fics where he gets to be imperfect.

#tw sh implied #tw alcohol #bsd kunikida #bsd fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #space duck posts

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milky-aeons · 8 months ago

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— FLY AWAY WITH ME

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and ranpo edogawa; what their honeymoon would be like.

warnings: marriage, female reader, wife reader, sexual content for dazai, kunikida and chuuya, mentions of death, bondage, swearing, mentions of vomiting, alcohol intake, mdni, w.c 4.2k

𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

To honeymoon after one's wedding was not as practiced in Japan as it was the western world — however, Dazai, of course, jumped at any opportunity to slack off from work. A week away from the city with his newly married wife sounded right up the agent's alley.

And when Dazai Osamu was given an inch, he always strove to take a mile.

"Kunikida-kun is going to kill you when we get back, Dazai." You scolded your husband sitting at your side. But when you turned to him, attempting to pin him down with a look, you just couldn't help the sides of your lips curling into a smile. "Like — actually kill you, this time."

Dazai rolled his head, humming a musical sound. "To have my life ended under the cold, bony hands of an Idealist. How could you even speak those words, my love?"

"Only you would find a way to convince the President that a week away in Okinawa would be good for two of his agents. Paid all inclusively, too. What did you call it?" You quirked an eyebrow. "Sand resistance and underwater training?"

The briny sea air teased at his loose shirt and wild, unkempt curls, making him look like a divinity — a mythical creature of the ocean. Both of you sat side by side on the coast's cool sands; sipping from a bottle of sake, watching the sunset bleed the sky into twilight. After spending the day full of adventurous activities; wandering nature trails, stopping for a late-afternoon lunch under the canopy of marine trees, only to take each other by the hand and venture through the Churaumi aquarium's glass blue halls — you both had been content to cuddle up and watch the stars, that evening. Listening to the lull of the sea, talking about everything and nothing at all.

Dazai cocked his head in that funny little way he always did. "Is that not what we're doing?"

"Of course," You agreed, and then leaned over to poke the tip of his nose. His surprised little blink almost had your heart melting into a puddle. "And tomorrow, I expect you up bright and early, because we have an extra strenuous day of whale watching to attend."

Dazai leaned in, as if you were both sharing a secret, and touched his warm forehead against yours. It made your pulse flutter; the shade of his eyes, so complex when he was this close. They softened into something a lot more sultry. "Hmm? Whale watching? I was under the impression our schedule was already taken up tomorrow, though."

"Oh?" You smiled, your breath mingling. "Do divulge me, Osamu."

That was when he went for you. Pouncing with the agility of a leopard, a beast, until he had pulled you against his lean body and you were both rolling around in the sand — shrieking and chuckling.

"I am to accompany my beautiful princess bride on a mission that could mean life or death! World dominion or forever peace! The very nature of things hangs in the balance and I have the key to it, right in my very hands!"

"Osamu—you're—!" You chortled. "Stop! You'll get sand in my ears!"

He brought your rolling bodies to a halt with you laying flush against him. There was mirth dancing in his eyes, his face — looking at you like he was a teenager in love for the very first time. He pouted playfully.

"You don't want to hear my master plan to save the world?"

"You just don't want to go whale watching."

"Hmm~" He purred, and you felt those long fingers begin to trail up your thighs — so sensitive, almost completely bare to him underneath the cotton beach skirt you wore. They drew languid, mind-numbing circles that traced a picture of fire from your thighs, the small back, your thighs again. You found yourself arching back instinctively into them.

Dazai craned his neck up then — just so he could trail his lips against the shell of your ear and whisper, "Because I am much more inclined to hear someone else moan for me all day, instead."

The last of his words were accompanied with his palms coming down on your ass, squeezing possessively — the shock of it lurching you forward a little. You gasped, and he revelled in it. You could see it in the way his tawny eyes darkened into a promising mahogany. Whenever Dazai looked at you like that, it eddied any and all coherent thoughts from your mind. Just like the first time you met him, the second, the millionth, you'd never tire from marvelling in your husband's beauty. Both on his gorgeous face and inside his well-protected soul.

You just had to peel back each and every layer he had learned to build up until you coaxed it out. But you would wait — for him, you would wait a lifetime.

Chuckling a heady sound, you leaned down, ghosting your lips over his parted ones. When he shifted up to try and connect your mouths together — you were mean. You pulled just out of his reach, grinning a wicked, vixen-like smile.

"All day?" You challenged. "But—oh—!"

A yelp tore from your throat when Dazai startled you by surging foreword and rolling until you were beneath him; trapped underneath his long, caging arms. His bangs tickled your face when he pitched forward to arrest you in his intense stare. Holding so much weight, so much promise, that it sent a thousand sparks of pleasure racing from the crown of your head right to the tips of your toes.

"Every day, my beautiful wife."

You didn't think either of you could wait until then.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 . . .

After the rather formal affair that was you and Kunikida Doppo's wedding; a honeymoon was far removed from your mind. So you were surprised, when your new husband approached you one morning, two long-distance train tickets held firmly in his grip. The ledgers are already taken care of, he had assured you when protests rose on your tongue, you needn't worry. There is enough staff to cover our absence.

There was something — something fiercely intense in his eyes when he had said those words, too. Of course, your husband Kunikida Doppo was a fierce man by nature; it was one of the many things you had learned to love about him. But then, you had been unable to place the heat in his eyes, the way his body strained towards you — as if holding some monstrous part of himself back.

You had been unable to place it — that was, until now.

His naked body stalked around the foot of the bed — soft, buttery light throwing all of his defined muscles into focus. The curtains of this private suite were decorated with cotton and cashmere, letting as much natural light into the room as possible while still offering you two some privacy. In fact, one of the drapes from your bathroom window were missing — but that was because it had been wound tightly around your wrists, pinning you to the headboard.

"One hundred and forty-five." Kunikida spoke suddenly.

Through your lust addled mind, you tried to parse his words. Your brows came down over confused eyes. "W-What?"

He stopped, snapping his Ideal book closed in one hand. And when he turned towards you — God, your tongue pasted to the roof of your mouth. He was marvellous. He was breath-taking — his blond hair let loose around his shoulders, the length of him standing stiff and erect for you to see.

"One hundred and forty-five," He repeated. The mattress dipped when he leaned one knee against it, then the other. "That is the amount of days which have passed since I had the first indecent thought about you."

He might as well already be touching you — the way those words instructed a shiver to race down your bare skin. Kunikida pitched forward so he was on all fours now — and with savouring slowness, he began to crawl towards you.

"O-Oh?" Was the only coherent thing you could get out. Your eyes darted all over him, you tried to rub your thighs together to garner some type of friction since he was so adamant to tease you. Kunikida's quick-silver eyes noticed the movement, however, and reached a large hand out. He flattened it on the bare skin of your thigh; a silent command for you to be still.

Frustrated, you levelled a heated glare at him, huffing, "This is no way to treat your new wife."

"Believe me," Kunikida's tone was controlled — always controlled, but you delighted in the fact that his lips twitched into a smile. "I have every intention of treating my wife very well, indeed."

Your breasts strained taut when he came to settle himself just over you and leaned up — bracketing your hips with those strong thighs. Ever since he had gotten your clothes off; Kunikida Doppo could not stop himself from just looking at you. An extremely controlling part of him was overcome with the mind-consuming urge to lock you up and keep you all for himself. But he knew he could not do that. So here he would revel, every moment he could, in you flushed and bare beneath him. Begging him with your eyes to touch you, to relieve that ache only he had caused.

Shit, Kunikida Doppo thought when he looked down at you, he'd pay only the finest artist to paint you like this. But then he'd have to rip their damn hand off.

He reached a hand out to trail it against your twitching tummy muscles. The hand which brandished that newly crafted gold band.

"It was exactly 11:48am, Tuesday the 7th," Kunikida murmured in a deep, throaty voice. His eyes glazed over as he trailed his fingers all over you — from your naval to your breastbone to letting them dance across the planes of your face. "When you walked into the main office with a large stack of reports a certain someone has been slackin' on. You bent over — in that tight little skirt you always wear," He inhaled, dragging your bottom lip gently with his thumb. "And I was overcome."

"O-Overcome?" You echoed. If he kept this up, you were very certain your new husband would make your heart burst out of your chest. You burned, you needed him like your air, like the blood roaring in your ears.

Kunikida leaned in close enough until he was all you could see. He dropped his voice, and the words rumbled out of his chest.

"Overcome with the need to bend you against the table and fuck you, right then and there."

A small whimper climbed up your throat. Like a butterfly, caught and pinned against a board, you fluttered restlessly beneath him. Kunikida placed the softest kisses against your skin; but you could feel the tension that tremored underneath his marble skin. He was taking his time. He was adamant to keep you here for as long as possible just to savour you, over and over again.

And you were more than willing to oblige.

"And now," You whispered, hot and needy, against him. "You have me right where you want me, Kunikida."

Your husband groaned and began to roll his hips against you — absolutely unable to help himself when you said those words. Gasping, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you were barely lucid enough to hear him growl out the words;

"And you'll always have me at your mercy, darling."

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 . . .

You and Atsushi had decided to get married under the gentle blossoms of springtime, but it had always been your dream to escape on a winter's honeymoon. Of course, when you broached the topic with him a couple of weeks before the ceremony, Atsushi took some time to gradually warm to the idea. He had never been out of the country, after all, and the thought of boarding a metal tube that soared thousands of feet in the air definitely did not appeal to his feline side.

"It's... so it doesn't stop off, somewhere?" He had asked you with those adorable wide eyes. "What if I need to pee?"

His country naivety was all too amusing to you — a warm grin brightened your face, and to stifle the chuckle, you buried into his silver hair, instead.

"There are toilets on the plane. And refreshments, and seats." You replied to him. "Besides, there'd be nowhere for us to stop off. We'd have to cross over the ocean, after all."

"T-The ocean?!"

The Harbin Ice and Snow festival held its open ceremony a few months after you and Atsushi's marriage, but once you got there, you knew it had been well worth the wait. The city was crafted with ice structures and snowy castles, illuminated by floodlights that coloured them all different shades. Both bundled in layers, you and your husband walked side-by-side through them, warming the other's hand. Atsushi bought you a delicious hot chocolate to share, and never missed the chance to kiss the cream off of your face.

"I have no idea how you're not wearing gloves," You said to him one evening as you strolled around the resort. From here, the blanketed mountains stood stark against the night sky, littered with evergreen trees. Each step you took crunched the snow beneath you.

"Ah," Atsushi piqued. He then lifted his hands to show them to you, and when you inspected them closer; you noticed that he had coated them in a thick layer of tiger fur. "Ta-dah!"

The funny sight caught you so off guard that you doubled over giggling. "What a convenient talent. I wish I could do that when I get cold!"

"You know I would if I could," He said, the warm sincerity of it coming to hug around you like your very own blanket. "But there's something that I can do."

"Oh?" You leaned up to regard your new husband — only to realise that he was no longer by your side. Instead, he had taken a few strides ahead, leaning forward onto all fours in that familiar position he took before an ability activation. Whoosh, the snow whipped up to bite your cheeks, the entire landscape was drowned out in the supernatural blue light as he shifted from man to beast.

The bands of light exploded to leave him in their remnants — only bigger, furrier, and so much more deadly. Not an ounce of fear touched your body, however — because even though standing in his place was a monstrous weretiger that prowled towards you; those were still Atsushi's eyes. The tender bump he gave you with his head still belonged to the person who had Atsushi's soul — your Atsushi.

You carded your fingers lovingly through his coat. "Hello, there." You murmured, taking his big head in your hands and scratching behind his ears. "What brings you here, Mr. Weretiger?"

Atsushi's honey-gold eyes held yours for a moment. Then, he made a swishing movement with his head — an indication for you to follow. You knitted your eyebrows, initially confused at what he wanted when he couldn't use human speech — but when he lay down in the snow and made his back easier for you to reach, you suddenly realised.

"Oh, okay." You hummed, manoeuvring to the side of his massive body and hiking your leg up. Shifting, you found a comfortable sitting position on his back. But not before you cuddled into his soft fur a little. "You are so warm, no wonder you don't need gloves."

His great big lungs reverberated when he spoke something you couldn't understand. Atsushi padded the snow — an indication that he was going to move, letting you know to hold on tight — before straightening up to his full height.

Then, he was running.

Galloping through the snow scape like you weighed absolutely nothing at all — the wind ripping through your hair, smattering your cheeks in little flecks of snowflakes. You gripped on tight to his coat, feeling the wild rush of adrenaline spike in your blood. His great big paws ate up the distance with agility, with grace. As easy and breathing for him in this form. You held on tight to your husband's body when he hopped from rock to rock, from tree to tree, taking you through your very own winter wonderland on a night you'd never forget.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

After the unholy shitshow — as your husband eloquently puts it — that was your wedding reception, it was safe to assume that Chuuya Nakahara was adamant to get out of the country in order to spend a few days alone with you. Somewhere extremely far away. And what better place was there, than the classy city of romance and wine?

He had been cunning in the preparations, refusing to reveal anything until it was the evening you scheduled to fly out on one of the Port Mafia's private air jets. Sure; the plane had been in regular use to smuggle large shipments of drugs across the Japanese border, but Chuuya had gone to touching lengths in order to make it special for you.

The inside was completely cleaned out and lavished with first-class opulence. When you stood in the hanger, suitcase in tow, you couldn't believe how beautiful he had made it look. And when he handed you a flute of fizzing champagne before boarding, he pulled you in by the waist; kissed you on the cheek, and said, are ya ready to see the real Eiffel Tower, sweetheart?

The sheer beauty of Paris was all you needed to make up for the long-haul flight over. Each building towered above you; beige stonework, panelled windows, the smell of fresh baked goods and coffee in the air. Chuuya walked with his hand on your back through the winding cobblestone walkways. He did not complain once when you spent hours busying around the shopping district La Vallée, gushing at all the quaint boutiques and bakeries. He bought as many pastries as your heart so desired. And on your last night, he told you to wear your finest dress, and took you on a boat ride around the city.

"This mustn't have been good for your bank account," You pouted, leaning over the side of the boat to admire the glossy river water. "Even for you."

Chuuya popped a piece of steak into his mouth. One eyebrow quirked. "I thought I told ya never to worry about money when you're with me, doll. Even more so now that you're my wife."

My wife, you closed your eyes, savouring the sound of it wearing his voice like the meal in front of you. It still sounded so foreign — a little out of place, when you had just gotten used to being to as the General's fiancée. When you opened your eyes, you allowed yourself a few seconds to marvel at the man who worked to make all your desires come true — and not because he had to, but because he wanted to, he loved to.

Chuuya's blue eyes twinkled underneath the fairy lights that hung from the boat's canopy. "What?"

You beckoned to all the other empty seats around you. "How did you manage to rent an entire boat for just the two of us, though?"

At that, your husband's lips lifted into a wide, vulpine smile. The type that made delicious heat lick down your spine.

"Do ya object to being on this big boat all alone with me, sweetheart?"

The heat cascading down your spine spread its fingers — until it was all over you, reaching the tips of your cheeks, the skin of your chest left exposed by the open dress. You swallowed, not breaking the eye contact, and placed your fork down with very precise movements.

You purposefully flicked your hair behind your shoulder — exposing your collarbone, the long column of your neck.

"Quite the contrary, my beautiful husband. In fact, I think the rocking could make riding you senseless feel extra good, if that was even possible."

There was a heartbeat where Chuuya didn't move. And then, the table was knocked to one side, there was a harsh clatter of metal and plates and his chair scraping against the deck when he surged for you.

You shrieked in delight when you felt his hands on your hips — hoisting you swiftly from the terrace chair and into his arms. Guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, you were held securely against him, looping your arms around his neck as he made quick work of the ships decking and down the stairs into your private bedroom.

When you both resurfaced onto the deck for some fresh air, you were blissfully unaware that the sun had risen and it had already become morning — but the crewmates definitely were.

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 (𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃) 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐏𝐎 . . .

When your newly-wed husband Ranpo Edogawa pitched the idea of a honeymoon in Tokyo; initially, you were quite sceptical. Tokyo was a city packed with people and, God forbid; a very advanced transport system. Whatever could your particular partner want in the bustling capital of your country?

Roller-coaster rides and donuts and mickey mouse ears, apparently.

He was such a child at heart, you thought fondly as you watched him flutter around the food stalls at Tokyo's Disneyland Resort, pointing at all the colourful sweets he wanted to try. You suppose Ranpo never really had the opportunity to have a childhood; being hunted for his mind and hopping from job to job just to survive before he met the President. And you cherished that part of him. Your heart grew twice its size when he returned to you, a chest-full of of packaged goods and two sticks of candyfloss.

"According to my Deductions," Your husband boasted, thrusting the candy floss out to you. "Poo's Honey Hunt is the next attraction which will have the least amount of waiting time."

You took your candyfloss carefully from him. "Of course. Although do you think it's a good idea to go riding when you have a stomach full of sweets, Ranpo?"

He leaned back and guffawed. "Pwah! Nothing is impossible for the World's Greatest Detective!"

It turned out that spinning in a plastic honey pot one too many times was a little too much for the World's Greatest Detective, after all. You rubbed soothing circles against your husband's back and held his cape out of the way as he upheaved into a colourful trashcan the moment he stepped off of the ride. You hushed anything he tried to say, instead guiding him to sit with you by the riverside — watching the fairy tale boats float on by until the nausea subsided.

A bottle of water and a handful of pastries later; Ranpo Edogawa was right back on his feet again, dragging you by the hand to the next attraction with excited, skipping steps.

And when the sun dipped low behind the bright pink castle that was a landmark to the grounds and the sky darkened into twilight, your forever partner guided you across a beautiful bridge closed off to the public for the rest of the evening. Of course, you scolded him with each step, telling him that this would get you both in a world of trouble. Only for him to turn around and wink, assuring, the stewards only patrol this area of the park every quarter of an hour. We have at least twenty minutes until anybody will be near this area again.

"Ranpo, darling, I love you," You said to him, stepping over the foliage and onto the bridge painted with bright gold — mimicking those found in story books. "But if we get fined for this, I am taking away all of your sweet stash for at least a month."

He twirled around to face you when you came to a stop in the centre of the bridge; his hands folded behind his back. His tongue stuck out. "Boo. You wouldn't be able to figure out the code."

"You doubt the mind of a wife who is angry." You cooed, but were completely unable to help the smile that tickled your lips. You were like two schoolkids; sneaking around in a no-trespass area trying not to get caught. Although you didn't understand the entire reason as to why you were stalking around a closed area of the park late at night.

You decided to question him, tilting your head. "Remind me, why is it that we're slinking around Tinkerbell's Garden and running the risk of getting caught, again?"

Your question was left hanging when Ranpo decided to keep his lips shut. Instead, he lifted three fingers up in the air. You watched with knitted brows as he brought down one — leaving two left. Then, brought down the other. And just as he let the final finger close into his fist, there was a shrill whistle, a tail of sparks flying through the night—

BOOM!

The most brilliant firework exploded in the sky.

You gasped, turning to look above the canopy that hid you both. Boom, there was another — a brilliant explosion of red and yellow. Boom, boom, two at the same time. You were arrested in place, marvelling at the light show that sent a thousand sparkles reflecting in your eyes.

Warmth. Skin. Ranpo's hand coming to intertwine with yours. His soft lips ghosting your temple, whispering the words so sweet;

"They're almost just as beautiful as you, my wonderful wife."

ღ . . . the bsd men ON THEIR WEDDING DAY

requested by wonderful [ nonnie! ]

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