#BUT FOR AKUTAGAWA I DO

[iztea]

farmer aku can be something so personal,

[candiedfright]

(not-so-smoothly) getting the job done

[whathorselegs]

Coping theory: Akutagawa does remember who Atsushi is, however upon seeing him crying and begging at Fyodor's feet he decided to say "Who the hell are you?" because his weretiger doesn't know when to quit and will keep fighting no matter what.

Therefor, when Atsushi inevitably joins the fight to help Akutagawa, he's going to look over at him and say "There you are, weretiger."

[damianito]

There's always a moment of epiphany where i remember i am an artist & can draw anything i want. |COMMISSIONS OPEN!!|

[sav3yee]

Just so yall know, whenever I say "oh they're just a silly little guy!!!" what I actually mean is "I'm aware of all of the atrocities they've committed, and all of the depth and nuance that they hold, and I love them for it" ok? Ok. Now let me enjoy my silly little guys they are so silly

[moomuzan]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Add Up My Love

or ( hyper- ) specific romance imagines with dazai, chuuya, ranpo, akutagawa, fyodor

You had never seen Dazai so quiet. The late evening light painted the room in shades of amber, casting a golden halo around him as he sat at his desk, pen gliding smoothly over paper. His expression was unguarded, almost vulnerable, lips moving faintly as though he were whispering the words he was writing to the empty air. There was a stillness to him, an absence of his usual dramatics, that made you pause in the doorway, hesitant to disturb the rare peace. But curiosity, that insistent pull, eventually dragged you closer. “Dazai?” you called softly.

His hand stilled mid-word, shoulders stiffening as if caught in a secret. Slowly, he turned to face you, his usual grin making an appearance, but it lacked its usual spark. “Ah, bella,” he drawled lightly, “what impeccable timing. Caught me in the middle of my dull, bureaucratic duties.” But your eyes had already fallen to the letter on the desk, its ink still glistening, the words “To my dearest, whenever you find this,” staring back at you. As your chest tightened, and realization dawned, you reached for the paper. Surprisingly, he didn’t stop you, only sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “Just leaving something behind,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “For you. In case there’s ever a day I can’t say these things myself.”

dt siyun xo

Chuuya’s boots echoed through the hallway as he entered your apartment, his gaze immediately snapping to you, barely standing on your own. As you swayed slightly, the wine still clouding your mind, his expression darkened. “You’re a mess,” he grumbled, his voice sharp but laced with something that wasn’t quite anger. Without waiting for you to respond, he was already at your side, his hand steadying your waist with surprising firmness, his other arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward the bathroom. “C’mon, you’re not going to bed like this.”

You mumbled something incoherent, but he paid it no mind, already pulling a chair out in front of the mirror and gently sitting you down. His movements were surprisingly tender as he grabbed the makeup remover. There was no hurry in his hands as he carefully pressed the cotton pad to your skin, wiping away the smeared mascara with an attention to detail that caught you off guard. His eyes, though gruff, softened as they traced your face, erasing the evidence of your night out. “Can’t believe you let yourself get this bad,” he murmured, though there was no real bite behind the words. When Chuuya moved to your hair, his fingers slid through your tangles, gentle but insistent, working through each knot with a patience that felt almost reverent. “Don’t move.” With a touch softer than you had ever expected from him, he brushed your hair with careful strokes. “I’m staying with you until you have sobered up.”

Akutagawa lingered at the edge of the room, watching you with a quiet intensity. The dim glow of the streetlights outside bathed your form in a soft halo, your chest rising and falling in a gentle, almost hypnotic rhythm. Replaced by an unfamiliar stillness as he observed the delicate vulnerability you wore in your sleep, the cold edges of his usual demeanor melted away. Every line of tension in his body seemed to ease, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of the world felt distant. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened as they traced the curve of your face, the way your hair fell carelessly around you. He found himself held captive by the simplicity of the moment, as if your presence alone grounded him.

You shifted in your sleep, muttering something barely audible, and Akutagawa froze. The sound of your voice, though muffled by sleep, stirred something deep inside him—a pull he couldn’t resist. His heart thudded a little louder, and before he could stop himself, a quiet, gruff sound slipped from his lips. “Tch, idiot,” he murmured, his tone betraying an uncharacteristic tenderness. He quickly turned away, a faint flush rising to his cheeks, his pulse quickening in a way that both startled and unsettled him. Gripping the doorframe to steady himself, as if the weight of this strange emotion might overwhelm him, he retreated into the shadows while his mind raced with feelings tangled into something more profound than he’d ever expected.

Dim lights of the room flickered as soft piano notes drifted through the air, barely audible, as if the music itself were hesitant to interrupt the silence between you. Fyodor stood before you, his presence commanding, even in the stillness. His hands hovered near your waist, their tension palpable, a silent request for you to take control. There was no impatience in his gaze, only a quiet insistence, a rare vulnerability from the man who always held everything so tightly. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into yours, waiting—no words, just a soft, unspoken command that he would follow you, if only you dared. A test? Yeah, definitely.

As you took the first step, his hand settled against your back, fingers brushing against the fabric of your clothes with surprising tenderness. The faintest tremor of control still lingered in his touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you lead with quiet confidence, as if testing the limits of his restraint. The stillness between your movements was thrilling, charged with an electricity neither of you dared to acknowledge. Steady yet barely noticeable, his breath became the only sound that mattered to you as you swayed together, the dance becoming something far more intimate, a shared language only the two of you understood. Although the tension in his body was almost imperceptible,you felt it—his willingness to surrender, if only for this moment.

The quiet morning wrapping you in a serene haze, you woke up slowly, but it was the weight of Ranpo’s arm around you that pulled you fully from sleep. Though, the moment he felt your gentle movements under his touch, he instinctively drew you closer, his form curling tighter against yours as though the intimacy was a need he couldn’t deny. Completely unaware of how tightly he was holding you, his lips buried in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and steady. He was deep in sleep, yet his grip continued to tighten, as though afraid of losing the radiating warmth of your presence. His legs were tangled with yours, and his hand rested possessively but gently on your waist, each little movement of his body a subconscious plea to stay as close as possible.

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he clung to you, his face peaceful and unaware of the vulnerability he was showing. It was a side of him you rarely saw—the brilliant, always composed detective reduced to nothing more than a boy seeking comfort in the quiet security of your arms. Even if he didn’t realize it, his soft sighs and the faint tugging at your shirt as he shifted closer made your heart swell. Before giving it much thought, you gently brushed his hair back, savoring the stillness, content to let him rest. For now, you simply stayed still, lost in the intimacy of that moment—where Ranpo, so often the one with all the answers, was nothing more than a quietly clinging soul seeking warmth.

dt dorothea

a/n: oh alright, need me a chuuya to brush my hair. can yall see the vision? it’s a physical need atp.

xoxo

[merriclo]

fucking of course akutagawa chose october to come back and be a beautiful knight. stupid fucking homosexual goth

[sskk-manifesto]

It's Shin Soukoku Starting

[osamucide]

AKUTAGAWA TEXTS ⊹

[tunamayuuu]

see you soon!!!!!!

[maroontragedy]

with every new chapter, it's getting more and more clear how significant akutagawa's appearance is going to be. how happy and relieved atsushi will be to see him. to have someone by his side after experiencing all that. after seeing his friends die so quickly one after another. he was ready to DIE, and he'll get his will to fight as soon as AKUTAGAWA shows up.

we can't get there fast enough.

[lotus-pear]

NEW MAYOI CARDDDDS MADE ME SILLY THEY CANONICALLY HAVE GIRLS NIGHT SLEEPOVERS IM SOBBING UEUEUUEUEUE

[hesbianyaoi]

these guys are so cool to me. gummy bear style. take your vitamins 👇

dont even worry about dazai he's a survivor he could get spitroasted by 2 trucks on a busy highway and somehow manage to frolic away with maybe slight injuries

[yarrayora]

thinking about my favorite bsd scene again

gooood atsushi's skill at hitting people where it hurts...

i feel like as a detective he's the type who works on his case from the angle of whydunit to find the culprit. clawing deep into the hearts of the people involved to figure out the motivation behind the crime.

[spliqi]

dazai’s grip on akutagawa’s psyche being so strong that it rewired rashomon to only manifest from the coat he gave him is insane work and needs to be talked about

[welivetodream]

"if they are enemies, let them stay enemies. They are enemies in the canon 😡"

Me: No they are lovers, hope that helps ❤️❤️