#fyodor dostoesvky x you

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

Frustrated For You

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Pairings: Fyodor X Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Angst Format: Short Fic Warnings: Reader sitting on Fyodor's lap, not in a suggestive way Word Count: 0.8K A/n: I'm not falling for him I'm not falling for him I'm not falling for him- Dammit; I think I've fallen for him 🚶🏻‍♀️

The light sounds of turning pages was the only thing filling the room, and was the only reason you felt this miserable at the moment. Your eyes were located on the dark-haired man sitting farther on his chair with his back facing you, thinking when was he going to stop working and pay attention to you, who had been waiting for him since… how long? You didn't exactly recall, since you always lost track of everything once you became alone with him. Nobody could understand how you loved him this deeply, to the point that you were happily willing to give up on anyone and anything just to help him fulfil his goals, not even you yourself; but you did knew something,

That he definitely didn't plan on doing the same thing.

God you felt so stupid, always waiting around for him, thinking when would he finally take a glance at you. You hated how naïve and dumb you were, clinging onto him all the time, begging him to spend some time with you for a while, and it was never enough; not because you were asking for too much, but because the only thing he did was using you to his advantage, and then leaving you behind, broken. How could you expect anything more from him? You being so pure and unsophisticated was probably the reason he got attracted to you in the first place. You deserved more than that; more than being manipulated into doing things against your will, more than sitting in a dark, empty office at 3AM, hoping that maybe your busy boyfriend would spare you a glimpse, probably out of pity or worse, by accident. You hated how desperate you were for his attention. You hated how your cheeks heated up every time you spotted his eyes on yourself. You hated how the slightest touch of him sent shivers down your spin. You hated how your body ached for him, and you hated how he never satisfied your cravings. You hated that all you could think about was how you wanted him to cage you between his arms, squeezing you as hard as he was able to as you melted from the inside. You hated this. You hated him. Unlike him who was rigorously concentrating on whatever he was reading, your expression was blank; staring at him for a long time without even blinking, like you were some type of statue. You kept telling yourself how much you loathed him, and how much you loathed yourself for being this frustrated for someone like him; but deep down, very deep down, you knew it was a lie; another lie you told yourself, just to keep your dignity from breaking any further. You knew it was nothing but some meaningless words you told yourself to maybe feel a little bit better, but it was all a lie, because you were aware of his condition. You could tell how pale his skin had became, after days of nonstop working without taking a bit of a rest, how he always had dark circles under his eyes in in the morning, and how he nearly fainted doing the tiniest bit of physical activity. Maybe he was suffering as much as you were, but he was just a pro at keeping it all to himself, thinking it's better this way for the both of you. Maybe he cared for you, more than you could ever imagine; or else there would never be a reasonable explanation for how you always woke up covered in a blanket after falling asleep waiting for him at the office. Just… how much complicated and mysterious could he be already…? You slowly got up, walking toward the man you adored with your whole life. The sound of your gentle footsteps made Fyodor raise his head a bit to see why you were attempting to distract him from work as you usually did, but he was surprised when he felt your hands on his shoulders, depending on them to make place for yourself on his lap.

"Myshka?…" You didn't answer to his call. Instead, you wrapped you arms around him like your life depended on it, inhaling his addictive scent as your tears found their way to your cheeks. His body tensed a little bit from your sudden arrival, but relaxed in advance, once he got used to the delightful warmness of your small figure curled up on his lap. Your fingertips slowly running around his skin felt so nice, making butterflies fly in his stomach. "I'm sorry, Fedya… I'm really sorry…" I'm sorry for falling this hard for you, to the point that I want our souls to become sole. It was a matter of time when you felt his right hand delicately holding your waist, slightly drawing unmeaningful patterns. His only relief was that you couldn't see how much of a blushing mess you made him to be, since your face was buried in the crook of his neck. You planted a small, but affectionate kiss on his temple, pressing yourself to his chest wishing everyday would end in something like this. If only time could stop when I buried myself into you… Your negative or maybe substantive thoughts could never matter at all; as long as you get to be stuck with a glorious mess, like him.

Reblogs are appreciated! :)

[impulsive-thottie]

All Bark, No Bite - BSD x DRRR Crossover

Izaya Orihara and Osamu Dazai share a few things in common, including their dislike for dogs.

word count: 1,763

ao3

When the sun sets and the moon rises, Ikebukuro transforms into a different city. Neon lights and street lamps replace the sunlight that illuminates the flocks of people crowding the streets. Police sirens wail in the distance while human conversations overlap in passing. Businessmen rush home after a busy day of work, university students step into restaurants to socialize over drinks, color gang members loiter outside convenience stores to plan their move for the evening—no matter the type of person, everyone has their own stories and secrets.

Even the darkest of secrets can be exposed under the night sky, Izaya has already figured that out. Not everyone is capable of fully hiding in the depths of Ikebukuro’s nightlife. 

“My, it is so lively tonight,” the man walking beside him, Osamu Dazai, comments. “I’m sure you never get bored living here.”

“Of course I don’t.”

He’s right. Izaya is never bored in Ikebukuro.

Dazai strides with his hands in the pockets of his beige trench coat, a beaming smile rests on his face. His eyes linger on a few women strolling past them. Izaya also walks with his hands in his pockets, carrying a slight smirk on his face while looking straight ahead.. From an outside perspective, they seem like two friends on their way to have a casual night out.

Of course, that is not the case.

First off, Izaya would not consider Dazai as a friend. Sure, Izaya sees some qualities of himself in him but he doesn’t see him as a foe either. Perhaps something in between. A rival? No, Shizu-chan already holds that honor. Oh well, maybe it doesn’t matter.

I love all humans equally.

Secondly, the reason Izaya is out with Dazai is because he is helping him gather information for a case. Or rather, Dazai needs Izaya’s help to solve a case, that’s what he prefers to think. His current goal is to track down a Russian terrorist by the name of Fyodor Dostoesvky. It’s not often Dazai turns to Izaya to request information to aid his work. Which leads Izaya to arranging a meeting at Russian Sushi, operated by Denis and Simon. Since they are former Soviet Union soldiers, Izaya figures they would have some insight on the Russian underground that would provide some leads.

“So, it’s called Russian Sushi?” Dazai ponders. “What exactly makes the sushi Russian?”

“Heh, you’ll find out.”

“Do they at least serve crab?”

“They serve many things.”

Izaya spots the restaurant up ahead, the fluorescent lights pouring out the windows. Before he could take another step forward, he stops in his tracks.

Up ahead, only a few feet away, a loose corgi gallops in circles.

Keep walking, keep walking, pretend it’s not there and hopefully it will ignore you.

His breath comes to a brief halt when his crimson eyes come into contact with its round, brown eyes. Its tongue dangles out of its mouth as its white tall swings back and forth.

It barks, the sharp note piercing right through his own being.

Not good, not good.

“You alright, Orihara?” 

Izaya glances at Dazai.

Not good!

Of all people, Dazai is not someone who Izaya wants to be caught in this predicament with.

No, it’s fine. Izaya can just play it off, he will play it. He wonders if Dazai is good with dogs. Surely, he can be of some use.

“Oh me? I was just staring at that dog over there.” Izaya flashes him a fake smile, hoping to throw him off.

“Hmm.”

“Alright, let’s keep going.”

Except, Izaya doesn’t move immediately. He’s waiting—or hoping—that Dazai will take charge.

To Izaya’s disappointment, he doesn’t. He peeks at Dazai from the corners of his eyes, his attention is directed at the golden furred dog with sharp, pointy ears. And the carefree smile on his face is wiped away.

Even after several seconds, neither dare take a single step.

“C’mon Orihara,” Dazai pouts. “We should get going. I thought you were taking the lead.”

The tension in Izaya’s shoulders tightens his muscles. “The restaurant is right up ahead.”

“Right, so let’s get moving.”

The corgi lets out another high-pitched yap, causing both men to flinch in place.

When it charges straight towards him, Izaya’s limbs stiffen.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no—

To his absolute dismay, the damn thing trots up to Izaya, paws prancing across the pavement and tail swaying side to side. His heart pounds against his ribs, as the vile creature sniffs at his feet, its nose making contact with his shoes.

Izaya has never known how to handle dogs, he has never cared to. What does this thing even want from him? How is he supposed to know what it’s thinking?

Sharply inhaling through his nose, Izaya steps to the side in an attempt to step around the canine and make his escape. Yet, the animal not only follows his steps but jumps at his leg and paws at his pants. Its bulging eyes gazing right into him.

Why him?

“Sh-Shoo.” Izaya timidly waves his hand at the corgi, not daring to touch it. 

Perhaps Dazai may be his last resort.

When Izaya turns to face him, he notices that Dazai has stepped further back. His shoulders are stiff, his amber eyes focus on the dog at Izaya’s feet. A slight smile curves on Dazai’s lips.

“What’s wrong Orihara? Afraid of dogs?”

“Of course not, I’m just not a dog person, that’s all,” Izaya scoffs. “What about you? You don’t seem too excited about it either.”

Dazai shrugs. “I’m also not a dog person. But if you ask me, you seem very tense.”

The corgi barks once more—Izaya’s eyes twitch as he holds back from revealing any sign of fear on his face. Dazai narrows his eyes at the dog.

“Well, I don’t want it anywhere near me.”

“Neither do I. It sounds like you’re trying ask for my help.”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he does.

“And what if I did?”

“No way, I’d rather not deal with that thing,” Dazai shakes his head. “You’re an information broker, right? Shouldn’t you know something on how to deal with dogs?”

“Psh. Dogs aren’t my specialty,” Izaya retorts. “And aren’t you a detective? Maybe you can figure out a way to get out of this.”

A brief pause of silence between them, Dazai’s lips curl into a slight smirk.

Izaya senses that he won’t like what’s about to come next.

“Well,” Dazai rubs his finger on his chin. “Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll consider it.”

No way. If he accepts Dazai’s help like this, Izaya will never hear the end of it. 

“Seriously?”

“I could abandon you here and leave you all night with it.” A sadistic smile spreads on Dazai’s face. “If you say ‘please help me, Dazai’, I’ll come to your rescue.”

“I refuse to say any of that.”

“Suit yourself.” Dazai turns away from Izaya and continues his way down the sidewalk towards Russian Sushi.

In turn, the corgi diverts its attention to Dazai as it scampers towards him, finally granting mercy to Izaya. 

Dazai pauses as he hears the canine approach from behind. It softly yaps at him, rubbing its gold fur against his slacks and sniffing his coat.

How the tables have turned.

“Well, well Dazai,” Izaya snickers. “It appears you’re the one in need of help now. Like I’d give it to you.”

“Heh.” Dazai peers his head over his shoulder, shooting a glare at him. “Bold of you to assume I need your help.”

His hand slips into one of his inside coat pockets and pulls out a bag of dog treats before turning around to face the dog, the culprit of their current distress. Seriously? Those fucking treats have been here the entire time and he waits til now to utilize them? Wait, why does he even carry around dog treats in the first place?

Maybe it’s better that Izaya doesn’t know.

“You want these?” Dazai shakes the bag, smirking at the animal. The corgi’s ears perk up to the sound of kibbles dancing in the plastic. He opens the bag, the dog raises its noise in the air, tongue slipping out and salivating at the smell. 

“Observe.”

Izaya watches as Dazai pulls out a few treats and rests them in his palm, holding it out to the dog. He allows it to sniff his hand from a distance, not ever allowing physical contact. The dog sits at Dazai’s feet, drooling at the sight of its snack. Izaya’s eyes widen as Dazai tosses the treats into his own mouth, proudly crunching on the bits and swallowing it all. 

The corgi stares blankly at Dazai, eyes drooping with disappointment as its tail ceases wagging.

Izaya’s mouth hangs open for a moment, he burrows his eyebrows at Dazai.

Why must he witness that?

“Ha!” Dazai glares at the dog. “That’s what you get for challenging me.”

“Ugh.” Izaya brings a palm to his face. “Don’t tell me that was your idea of helping me.”

“What if it was?”

“You’re joking, right?” Izaya narrows his eyes. “You could’ve thrown some treats in one direction and we could’ve gotten away sooner. What does eating them in front of the damn thing even accomplish?”

“Well,” Dazai shrugs. “Someone has to show it who the superior being really is.”

“Well, it’s still here.” Izaya points at the corgi, still sitting at Dazai’s feet.

“Hmm.” Dazai diverts his attention back at the dog, which gazes back at him. Once more, Dazai grabs a few treats and presents them to the corgi before shoving the handful in his mouth. The dog whimpers as Dazai stares it down, chewing on the treats. Slowly, the corgi backs away, retreating for the night.

“See? My strategies never fail.”

Izaya can’t decide what’s more unsettling: the fact that Dazai ate dog treats to get them out of this fiasco or the fact that it fucking worked.

They don’t exchange a word with one another as they continue their way to Russian Sushi. When they finally settle in, they seat themselves at the bar top and Dazai orders sake for the both of them. At least he can come up with one sane idea this evening. 

“I don’t like dogs,” Dazai says, holding up his sake glass. “I think they’re harder to deal with than people.”

“I agree with you on that,” Izaya sighs. “I just can’t predict their actions as I can with humans.”

Perhaps they have more in common than they both realize.