#and Fukuzawa is like 'you get better things' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aureatchi · 4 months ago

Text

ᝰ𓂃⊹ ִֶָ SHE PAINTED THE HIGH RENAISSANCE ONTO HER BLANK CANVAS. . .ft. fyodor dostoevsky & dazai osamu

৻ꪆ RIASSUNTO. fata viam invenient...you attend a ball, fated to stumble upon two demons in disguise. you don't know whether it is for better or worse that you somehow already know them, all masqueraded as angels, regardless of how laughably far off that would be.

◞ OR ROME WAS TRULY THE PROMISED LAND, and you sought the art of chaos, rivalry, and seduction.

SERIES MASTERLIST. → ii. | PLAYLIST ♫. | wc. 9.6k+

৻ꪆ a/n. it’s FINALLY HERE !! get ready because there’s A LOT. i’ve poured sm heart into this so i hope you enjoy it as much as i do :) THANK YOU TO EVERYONE who was patient + reached out telling me how excited they are for this. this series is also my entry for @kentopedia’s love through the ages historical!au collab. thank u sm for putting this together <3

৻ꪆ info. fem!reader. renaissance!au. drama & romance. cursing. some suggestive parts. love triangle. arranged engagement. slowburn. lowk touch-starved. a lot of story buildup/complex character. suicide attempt from dazai. historical inaccuracies. bad poetry. religious imagery/symbolism.

— THE MONA LISA WASN’T REAL. And Vincenzo Peruggia was not, in fact, the person who stole the piece, contributing to the boom of its fame to the general public, but was planned in a way to frame him so that the origins of the painting would be a secret gossip only a group of the most successful artists knew about.

The gendarmes were close. They were correct in assuming that another artist could’ve stolen the painting during the investigation. But they never suspected it could be the person the portrait was painted of herself—no, obviously not Francesco del Giocondo’s wife—but the original face who remained under the cover-up.

An artist’s face, who later went under the alias of “Raphael” to conceal her contentious image and entanglements from the public eye—you.

The crashing of ice-cold water on your skin amidst the summer air. The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders, and an unknown heart who vowed to drown you…

“My, miss, you’re already stirring up tons of drama, and you’ve only been here three days!”

The past couple of months had felt like a dream. It almost seemed like yesterday when you packed your things into suitcases and moved to one of the most famous centers of the art world, Florence.

Yet now, you entered through the gates of the ‘eternal city’ itself—Rome, a great privilege granted to you by the Pope himself. You almost cried when you received his invitation, commissioning you to paint the frescos in his private library. Of course, there were some strings pulled, like the person who recommended you…

“It’s all thanks to you, Ranpo,” you giggled mischievously. As the lead architect of the Vatican (but before that, your friend), he had told the Pope, “...she might as well become the best painter in all history. She may not be well known here in Rome, but say her name in Florence, and you’ll awaken the whole city. You’ll realize you’ve found a diamond among all the rubble. Trust me on this one; I’m never wrong.”

“It was nothing,” Ranpo replied with a smug smile. “His Holiness, Fukuzawa never doubts my word.” He tapped his head with his forefinger and winked. “Not only does he recognize my talent in the arts, he also acknowledges my outstanding intellect! I’d be a detective in another life.”

You chuckled before he continued. “The rest is all on you, princess. Again, you’re progressing quickly-” he pulled out a letter to summarize out loud.

“-His Holiness was so impressed that he’s giving you the rest of the rooms to paint,” Ranpo said while you stared at him with widened eyes. “He…fired everyone else who was working on them. On top of that, he invites you to a ball happening in a couple of days to make an announcement on new projects. Other than you, he’s invited only the most influential artisans to attend alongside the aristocrats.”

“No way!�� You grabbed Ranpo’s hands in excitement.

“Yes, way.” He let you spin him around on the pavement in eagerness, your long dress following along. “Though, I feel like you’re going to have to explain to him how you painted the library’s frescos so quickly.”

Your turbulence of elation calmed. “Hm, you’re right.

“I hope the question slips his mind.”

You hadn’t actually told Ranpo, but it always seemed like he would figure out everything about you anyway. There was one reason why you had become so famous in Florence. You created masterpieces in what felt like seconds—it was almost like you were granted the touch of creation itself. No one had ever seen you paint, so the mystery of how you were able to produce your portraits in mere weeks—sometimes days remained a mystery to the entire world, no matter how fast science progressed.

You called it an ability. To be able to visualize—a mental image in your head you wanted to come to life in the form of a still painting on a canvas was what you did. You conjured the concept yourself, freezing daydream into textile.

You weren’t sure why you possessed something supernatural, or perhaps there were other artists you didn’t know who could also do the same thing, but firstly, you kept it a secret—it seemed almost inhuman to hold such a power. Yet secondly, it was even more the reason to follow in your father’s footsteps.

He, too, was a painter in the courts of Urbino and would’ve liked to become a famous artist as well. Now, that dream lived on through you—you had studied and trained under his teachers and other artists until you mastered their techniques from the foundations to geometry. Your father was no longer alive, but you were sure he’d be proud of you for getting this far.

“Oh, one more thing,” Ranpo said.

“The two angels of art are going to be there.” The brunette closed his eyes and rested his arms behind his head as if he already knew the shocked expression awaiting your face. “Your inspirations. Osamu Dazai of Milan and your fiancé, Fyodor Dostoevsky of Florence.”

“Pardon me, Fyodor?”

…

A long time ago, your uncle—your now legal guardian—arranged your marriage to Fyodor Dostoevsky. However, the same would’ve happened even if your father had been in charge due to his family’s good societal position.

It was just meant to be, you guessed.

Coincidentally, Fyodor had also taken an interest in art the few times you two saw each other when you were younger, and you eventually saw him go on to become the most talented sculptor in Florence.

However, your path of similarities ran cold after that. You hadn’t seen him in years, and you weren’t even close. You were obligated to write to each other once a month, but each message almost seemed like business transactions rather than love letters. Fyodor was too aloof a person despite being well-educated and polite—though he checked off every other box (and you were sure any other woman would want him), you realized you would never be able to connect with him. He was just not interested.

You couldn’t do anything to change the engagement, but as long as there was no set wedding date to look (dread) forward to, you were content with life for now.

You didn’t necessarily like Fyodor, nor did you go to Rome to finally pursue him, but you admired him from a different standpoint.

He and Osamu Dazai were truly angels of art; even gods, if the Church was not one’s forte. Everyone across the country knew their names—patrons and civilians alike worshipped them at the feet. Even the powerful Medici family, sought by every artist to be commissioned, held close ties with both.

Clientages saved their money to have the two paint for them, upcoming artists aspired and envied their success, ladies came with their names rolling off their tongues to the horror of their husbands’ faces—they were rumored to be devilishly handsome, too. Self-portraits of the prodigies were yet to be made, but you didn’t doubt it one bit. If Dazai was anything like Fyodor, he had to be fanciable too.

They had the world and heavens as masterpieces in their hands; one could say their names traveled as far as the badlands. You arrived in Florence right after they departed for Rome, and you studied the creations left behind to figure out how they made crowds swoon and create such huge impressions on people.

And you found their pieces were indeed the pinnacle of the renascene summer. You silently made them your mentors, incorporating what was successful for them into your own works.

…

“And you’ll be there, right, Ranpo?”

“Of course, so don’t you worry your pretty head about a thing,” he tapped his head with a smile. “Though, I have some work to finish first, so I’ll leave thee to explore Rome.”

“Don’t take the wrong wagon this time,” you giggled. Ranpo was late to meet you on your first day because he kept taking the wrong passenger coach to get to you. For some reason, he was knowledgeable at everything but navigating transportation.

“I’m taking a horse this time,” Ranpo replied.

“Even worse! You better not fall off!”

There was a tailor you had been recommended to by your aunt before you departed. You decided to head to his shop first to find a dress to wear for the evening.

“Good day, my lady,” the couturier said with a kind smile. “I have multiple options of gowns for you tonight. Please do take your time selecting.”

“Gramercy,” you replied with a smile in turn. Your measurements had been sent to him a few weeks ago, so that you wouldn’t have to wait for your garments to be made.

He brought out at least four cioppas. You didn’t even care to figure out how many in total because among all the regal reds, greens, and royal blues stood out a silk, off-white dress with gold accents. Your eyes were immediately drawn in, though you couldn’t put your finger on why. It wasn’t the most showy in the bunch, but that didn’t matter to you. It was like a rare gem among common stones—though you would need a good eye to really appreciate its uniqueness.

You ran your fingertips across the fabric, closely observing its craftsmanship. You became fascinated with the opulent designs on the flowy skirt and the long sleeves. You guessed that if you didn’t take it, you’d instead dream of it for the rest of your days in regret and freeze it in one of your paintings for eternity.

“I think I’ll try this one first.”

Your first choice proved worthwhile when you tried on the gown in the separate dressing room. You exchanged the simple front-laced bodice and plain cotton attire for the new, elegant piece sewn just for you. The fabric hugged and complimented your curves in all the right places, creating the most flattering look as you turned in front of the mirror.

You imagined yourself with your hair styled and matching jewelry to accompany it—you felt like a princess. Perhaps this confidence was the only thing that would help you get through the ball this evening and perhaps your entire time here. You hadn’t been around so much aristocracy in years—though you grew up privileged, you preferred to live humbly and simply focus on your hobby (and you spared your change on those in need). You were lovely yourself, no doubt, and maybe that’s why you charmed many people of different social classes as you grew more popular.

You studied yourself through the mirror again, and it was like the polarity of your dresses reflected the fate of this new chapter of life set against the one you left behind.

The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders and an unknown heart that vowed to drown you…you suddenly felt cold. You rushed to get out of the room.

“It’s perfect on you,” the tailor said, unable to disguise his awe when you asked him for his opinion and to ensure all the sizing was correct. You nodded in curiosity when he asked, “Now, would you like to know the inspiration behind the dress?” You always looked forward to seeing how your tailors incorporated your personality and family style into their design.

“It’s a play on a singular topic,” he said.

“Angels. A dual purpose signifying both the type of art you create and how you give off an entrancing allure—they will be curious about your enigmatic yet enchanting importance. That will be your statement tonight among the darker colors.”

The earlier thought of comparing your two inspirations to angels came to mind. You decided right then—you found no need to try on any of the others.

“I’ll have this one sent for me tonight,” you said. “Thank you again.”

Rome was alive and busy with action at every corner you turned. You strolled down the streets with no set destination, admiring the liveliness of the city. There were markets and shops everywhere and merchants with all sorts of foreign goods.

You discovered a ruella at the corner of one street, and the door was widely opened. You peered in to see a group of women inside, probably discussing various intellectual topics.

You decided to go inside and socialize, having nothing better to do. As you stepped into the salon, they all turned to greet you.

“Good day, miss,” a few of them said.

“Oh, aren’t you the Florentine artist?” one of them asked. She moved to the side so you’d have a spot to sit.

I got recognized, you thought, and you couldn’t hide your smile.

“My husband was there awhile back,” she continued as you sat beside her. “He couldn’t stop talking about how enamored he was with your style and was sure you’d make it here next. Looks like he was correct!”

“I’m very flattered,” you responded, a warm tint in your cheeks.

“Did you recently arrive?” she asked. “I hope your journey here went smoothly.”

“Yes, it went alright!” you said. “The weather wasn’t too bad, and I enjoyed the views on the way. I even passed by some lakes…”

You felt it again. A shiver ran down your spine. The crashing of ice-cold water on your skin that stood perpendicular to summer’s balmy weather. The intense feeling to stay alive—to save yourself and the soul you did not know…

Your journey had gone smoothly up until you passed by one of the lakes near Rome. It had been a peaceful day, and your coach driver suggested that you look outside. You lifted the curtain and were received with one of nature’s blessings—verdant grass and plants that thrived around clear blue waters.

You could’ve painted it if you remembered the sight. You truly could have if the memory of the scene wasn’t tainted by what you saw seconds after.

“Hey, is that a person?” you asked your driver, squinting your eyes—unblemished, untouched picture shattering in your head. The land on one side of the lake was vastly elevated, creating a cliff on that end, and a figure stood in the distance.

A moment passed.

“…Yes, my lady.”

Your eyes weren’t betraying you—there was a man dangerously close to the cliff’s ledge, and you weren’t born yesterday to not know what he was thinking of doing.

“Stop the wagon,” you said, a slip of panic in your tone. Your driver looked back at you hesitantly, but you ordered once again.

“Please stop the wagon. Don’t come after me. And don’t tell anyone about this.”

The horses carrying you came to a halt, and you rushed out of the chaise. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you at that moment—there was a random person you happened to catch making more than a terrible decision, why get involved—but you couldn’t stop now as it was like your legs were carrying you themselves. You immediately took off east towards the cliff. It would take you a few minutes until you got to the man.

What would you even tell him? Would you try to talk him out of it? Gaslight him into stepping away from the edge? Offer to paint him a custom piece for free?—“Oh, I’m actually a famous artist in the country, I can paint you whatever you wish. But I can’t really do that if you kill yourself.” You dashed past grass and rocks as you hurried up the hill.

You would definitely have to change once you got back—the bottom of your dress was already soiled, and you were sweating.

Splash!

Your face was struck in complete horror at the loud sound. You peered over the edge to see huge ripples cascading across the surface of the lake.

Oh shit!

You ran back down and then towards the shore. You thanked God that you weren’t using any heavy layers under your dress that day and prayed you weren’t going to end up killing yourself as well. You knew how to swim, but the man was far from the bank.

Am I really going to do this?

This might’ve been the most spontaneous thing I’ve done. And the worst.

You liked to think that if you saved him, you would be rewarded in some other way. A good Samaritan—you thought. It had to be worth it. You couldn’t die before your new life even began.

You submerged yourself into what felt like frozen water, your clothing suddenly feeling uncomfortable around you. Still, you wasted no time swimming toward the man who jumped in.

He was already sinking—of course, this lake has to be deep. You immediately grabbed onto his waist when you got to him, but not before you took a good look at his face. He was probably of the working class because he only wore a simple white shirt. You also noticed he was covered by an absurd amount of bandages. Soft waves of brunette hair framed the man’s profile, and he looked far more content and at peace than he should’ve been. In any other situation, you would’ve thought he was taking a pleasant nap by the way his eyes were closed, and his lips were slightly parted.

You’d never seen anyone so pretty underwater. If you hadn’t seen him as a human above land, you would’ve thought he was a mermaid or some other foreign creature.

Your thoughts and observations were interrupted when you realized you couldn’t hold your breath any longer. Trying not to panic anymore, you first tried to drag the two of you up above the water, but you weren’t strong enough to battle the weight of it against the two of you.

You would have to swim to shore and didn’t know if you had enough air to return.

Well, I need to make it work anyway, you thought. You wouldn’t let this mysterious guy you didn’t know cut off everything you wanted to pursue.

You took ahold of one of the man’s loose arms and, with determination, tried to propel yourself the way you came from, kicking your legs through the water. You were more than correct in assuming it would be complicated—the energy in your body drained quickly.

You were only halfway from where you started when you accidentally choked. But that caused you to completely seize up—water poured into your lungs like open floodgates, and you were unable to breathe. You tried to push yourself up to get air, but you were already too weak to carry even yourself.

The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders and trying to save an unknown heart that had led to you drown—you wondered if he was still alive. He would have to be resuscitated at this point, and you realized, you too. If anyone came in time to save you, that was. You shouldn’t have had ordered your driver to not follow after you. Or rushed into the lake unprepared.

Or involve yourself with this man. It was his decision to jump off the cliff…and now you had tied his own weight onto your life. Maybe it was all too heavy to carr—

“I’m happy to hear,” the woman replied, oblivious to and interrupting the encounter you were replaying in your head. “I wish you the most success here.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “You are very kind.”

“I am a bit nervous,” you whispered. “I’ll be meeting His Holiness for the first time and other artists. Do I even compare to them?”

It was evening now. You had spent the last couple of hours preparing for the ball after exploring town—you had on the classy cream-colored dress you selected earlier from the tailor, accompanied by a couple of necklaces. Your hair was put up in a complex style and fastened by a few pieces of jewelry.

Your mind utterly conflicted with your appearance, though. Your thoughts were in chaotic peril—you tried to hide the fact that you had been pacing around your room in anxiousness right up until Ranpo picked you up.

“Thou art second to none, miss,” Ranpo replied with a wink and a tight squeeze of your hand. It had only half the same effect as his bear hugs the viridescent-eyed would give you when you weren’t in public, but it was enough. “There’s no reason to be nervous. You fascinated him long ago—you might’ve even been his favorite if I wasn’t here!”

“Maybe so.” You giggled at his lighthearted smugness. “Well then, let’s get going.”

Ranpo nodded and led you through the large doors of the ballroom. Immediately, you were greeted with the celestial light from the chandeliers contrasting the dark evening sky outside.

Your eyes drifted in awe among the artigiani and aristocratici of Rome. It was almost chimerical—you hardly remembered you were still holding Ranpo’s hand. The scene looked like it came straight out of a painting.

“Appealing so far?” Ranpo asked, guiding you down the stairwell. “Can it stand against the Florentine carnivals?”

You slowly nodded, still focused on the liveliness surrounding you. “It feels divine.” It was more prestigious than any event you’d been to so far—most likely because this was held in one of the Pope’s courts itself.

“You haven’t even experienced it yet,” Ranpo laughed before leading you into the waltzing crowd. “Shall we dance?”

You and Ranpo followed the movements of the other couples. When you were sure of the pattern of the steps, your eyes wandered again to admire the setting. Everyone was dressed to the nines—although, as your tailor said, they all wore darker colors. You pretended to not notice the looks you received from strangers—however, they were not insulting. They were out of captivation and marvel.

Multiple pieces of artwork were hung around the hall, too, and you wondered if the chosen artists who created them were here now. You considered if they knew of your name too, just as you recognized theirs.

However, your heart almost stopped when you were reminded of a completely different topic. Ranpo noticed a moment of shock flash through your eyes but did not proceed to question you. (Thankfully, he knew when you would prefer him not to be nosy.)

You saw the back of a man’s head dressed in pure white—his brunette hair in slightly messy, soft waves.

There is no way.

However, you could not confirm your suspicions because he approached a lady in a beautiful, deep red gown to ask for a dance. His face and figure became completely hidden as he waltzed with her at the opposite side of the room.

“See someone you know?” you heard Ranpo ask.

Of course he didn’t need to be nosy, because he figured out everything about you anyway.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” you responded quietly, still trying to get a glimpse of him, but before you could say anything more, a guard standing next to the entrance silenced the entire crowd.

“Enter, His Holiness, Fukuzawa!”

You immediately turned around, and once more was someone dressed in white—the Pope, Yukichi Fukuzawa. You glanced at Ranpo, who gave you a nod of reassurance before politely applauding with everyone else.

“Thank you for attending this event today,” Fukuzawa started. “Our city has made much progress due to the collaboration and contribution of our artists, so I would like to take tonight to celebrate all of them. Ultimately, I want to reveal the next upcoming project.”

After a few more words, everyone applauded again, and the party resumed activity. You and Ranpo moved away from the dance, him deciding it was finally time to do the thing you were dreading.

“Look over there.” Ranpo urged his head towards two men in conversation standing a few feet away.

If the ballroom really represented the heavens, surely these two were the angels. Even without Ranpo telling you, you knew them to be Osamu Dazai and Fyodor Dostoevsky, standing side by side, white suits further proving their empyreal position.

But your eyes widened, and if you hadn’t been careful, your jaw would’ve dropped, too. Obviously, you recognized Fyodor—tall, jet-black hair—handsome and intimidating as ever, but you didn’t dwell on him for too long. Your eyes quickly scanned the room in search of a woman from earlier with dark curls, dressed in deep red, and when you found her, she was no longer dancing with the brunette dressed in white.

You looked back at the man beside Fyodor.

It’s him.

And as if hell—fate, whatever wanted to taunt you further, Osamu Dazai noticed you and Ranpo first, pausing his share of thoughts with the ravenette. You locked eyes with him, and you immediately became embarrassed.

What the hell? First, one of them is my fiancé, whom I don’t even say a word to, and then the second is…him?

Perhaps we shall meet again, were the brunette’s words to you by that lake. You truly didn’t believe him then, but it wasn’t the first time you choked on your assumptions.

In a split second, you pulled Ranpo out of sight. “Ranpo,” you pleaded. “I can’t meet them now!” Your fingers hastily ran through your hair, making sure everything was in place. “I’m not even sure what to say-”

“You’ll have to rip off the bandage sooner or later,” he said, tugging on you. “And I say the sooner, the better! I’ll introduce you to them!” You felt even more displaced at the fact that he offered to introduce you to your own fiancé. However, before you could even object (or say, “Ranpo, somehow I already fucking know both of them!”), he dragged you back—toward the two painters.

“Good evening, my lords,” Ranpo said as you approached them.

You didn’t miss how Dazai’s face lit up in a curt smile. Meanwhile, Fyodor had on a neutral expression—probably the only appearance you ever saw him wear.

“Good evening, Edogawa, the darling of His Holiness,” Fyodor said, the slightest spite in his tone. He did not glance at you at all.

“Still as cold-hearted as ever, Il Divino-Painter,” Ranpo replied with a chuckle, but it was apparent that he did not like the man.

“I am a sculptor,” Fyodor corrected, a bogus smile still plastered on his face.

“Don’t mind him,” Dazai said, patting your friend’s shoulder. “He’s just jealous you’re in charge of planning out the entire Vatican palace. And also at the fact His Holiness had to force him into a suit!” When Fyodor gave him a look, Dazai turned to you.

He had eyes of the sunset, paving the way of something between hell and earth—though in a perfect world, it should’ve been the other way around because he looked as if he had just come down from heaven. You felt your cheeks warm and an uncertain feeling in your stomach.

“Good evening, my lady,” Dazai said, knocking you out of your reverie. You blushed again as he knelt to take your hand and kiss it, bowing before you—the single minute felt longer than nox itself.

Was this the same man you met at the lake a few days ago?

He was the artist you admired all along?

“Apologies for not greeting you first,” he continued as he stood up. “I did see you earlier. How could anyone not notice the angel of Florence who creates masterpieces in days, especially when she looks like one tonight?” You became even more flustered by his sweet words.

He was familiar with my name all along.

“Ah, so you already recognize her?” Ranpo asked.

“Of course I do!” You suddenly tensed—half expecting him to reveal your previous encounter with him that you did not want anyone else to know. (If Ranpo knew, you hoped he would keep his mouth shut for your sake.) It would cause too much trouble if someone decided to spread it, and even worse if your uncle found out. He was very strict on image.

But to your relief, he did not.

“I am very fond of your style, my lady,” Dazai said, resting his hand under his chin. “Madonna del Granduca,” one of your paintings. “You capture human sentiment and emotion so well, even in the most simplistic pieces.”

Finally, you were able to respond to one of his compliments without becoming a mess. “Thank you.”

“...And sfumato, your technique,” Fyodor added. “Perhaps you like her style so much because she takes it from you.”

It was only now Fyodor finally acknowledged you.

He may just be the son of Nyx. His intentions were tucked away behind amethyst eyes, slumbering in the peaceful twilight he allowed mercy to while all else was caught up in chaotic darkness. Maybe no one else noticed that—if anyone did, Fyodor would not be as beloved as he was now—but you did. You saw through the three strands of malice that laced his following words.

“Good evening,” he said softly. He kneeled in front of you with your hand, tormenting you with eye contact.

“It’s an honor to see you again, miss. Though I must ask, was Florence not enough?

“Is grasping originality so tough?

“Are you here to copy more artistic concepts to boost your own depictions of seraph?”

He delivered a deadly kiss to your hand before you could respond, and before he could see the puzzlement on your face.

“Excuse me?”

But you did not falter before him as he stood back up. He did not intimidate you.

“I’m flattered.”

For once, the slightest sign of curiosity seeped onto Fyodor’s face.

You gave him a poisonous smile of your own.

“Sfumato—the blending of colors to create smooth transitions between them,” you explained, giving a nod toward Dazai. “I’m honored that you immersed yourself so much with my painting that you could observe such a detail.”

Ranpo pretended to look around the hall as if he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening, while Dazai couldn’t keep a snort from escaping his throat.

You kept your eyes fixed on your fiancé’s violet gaze, trying to figure out whether or not you’d be dead after the night was over. Actually—he seemed like the type that could seduce someone into death. Stygian black hair framed against his pallid complexion—ethereal, no doubt, yet you would not be surprised if he turned out to be the Grim Reaper’s right-hand man. (And you were supposed to marry him!)

“I’m here because His Holiness summoned me to paint the frescos in his house. I feel that if he sensed plagiarism in my work, he would’ve not trusted me with this project.

“What about you, my lord?”

There was a pause; he was thinking.

“I am simply searching for something important,” he replied. “An inspiration, if you want to call it. I need it to complete a piece I have been working on.”

“And you’re sure you can find it here?”

“You can find anything in the promised land, solnyshka.”

The foreign word rolled off of his tongue like honey. He dressed his voice to sound like a lullaby, and you remembered why you thought of him as an angel before he decided to insult you.

What a juxtaposition.

“What did you say?”

“Did you not hear me?”

He wasn’t going to tell you what he said, nor what he meant in entirety. “Nevermind. I did. Good luck trying to find it.”

…

“May I have this next dance, my lady?”

The charming brunette extended his left hand out to you. You had become irritated with Fyodor after his apparent distaste for you—So this is how you treat me after years of not seeing each other? You thought you could at least try becoming acquainted with him to make your inevitable fate a bit easier for both of you, but it seemed like that wasn’t happening anytime soon. You left the conversation at the nearest opportunity and moved to the other side of the room, unaware that your other dilemma was following you.

“Lord Dazai?”

You noticed something new about him as he stood in front of you. Those sunset orbs also harbored a concept as far as the sun. There was something distant in them that felt like half of his mind was immersed somewhere else. You wondered where.

“I don’t like Dostoevsky at all either,” Dazai chuckled. “Even though tonight’s given me another rival on my list, I like you way more.”

“Don’t speak so soon,” you scoffed. “You’re going to hate me when I take all your customers.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, bella.” You frowned at his attempt to flirt. “And besides, many of them are very loyal to me.”

You hesitantly took Dazai’s hand as he led you to the floor, joining the circle of couples who had already lined up to dance the almaine.

“I’m still annoyed with you,” you said quietly as the two of you lightly skipped across the floor on your toes, never breaking eye contact with his tawny eyes. That same look was there—it was like he was thinking of everything and nothing all at once. “I’m only agreeing to this so I could boost my status. You just caught me off guard back there. That’s why I acted nice.”

He dramatically pretended he was offended.

“Why, tesora?” Dazai took both of your hands. You circled around each other gracefully before reversing to step in the other direction. “I saved you! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be dancing here tonight and finally knowing the name of the poor soul who jumped into the lake!”

“If it weren’t for you, I also wouldn’t have nearly drowned, idiota,” you glared.

“Keyword: nearly!”

You continued sulking at him while the dance went on, ignoring the rest of his defensive sentences and the friendly endearments he added to the end of them.

“Ow!”

Dazai had stepped on your foot during another turn.

“What was that for?” you asked, silently observing how he made sure he did not catch your dress along too, so it would not ruin.

“Hm? What do you mean?” Dazai spun you again; this time, he stepped on your other foot.

“Lor- Dazai!” You disliked how much fun he was having with this. Now, he wore a mischievous gleam in his eyes that coupled an unmistakable, playful grin.

He spun you one last time, and this time, you purposely stepped on his foot.

“Hey—why did you do that!?” he pouted.

“Thou did it first,” you replied dryly. “You’re a bad dancer, my lord. You can’t even keep up with the slow ballroom almain.”

He smirked as the number concluded, and then he brought you to the center of the floor.

You looked around to see at least half of the couples moving off, either to watch or go elsewhere.

“Let’s see if you can keep up with this one,” he chuckled lowly.

“What dance is this?” you asked.

“A galliard. The La Volta.”

Your lips slightly parted to say something, but you didn’t know what.

It made sense now why so many chose not to participate in this one. The La Volta was a bit obscene—first, the women were lifted up in springs and jumps, even though that was usually improper. It was also very fast—it would require skill to do it comfortably, especially with the long, heavy gowns you wore.

Finally, it required close contact between the couples, which was…scandalous. Like a forbidden fruit.

You had never danced it before. Nor had you planned to. You were engaged, after all.

I bet noone in this room, but Fyodor himself and Ranpo even know we’re to marry, though, you thought to yourself, even though you shouldn’t even be considering excuses. …And he probably couldn’t even care less.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Dazai said, a bit more seriously, leaving it up to your decision, but his eyes alleged something else. Like he was pleading to let you indulge.

The forbidden fruit and its serpent. Why was this man always tempting you to things that could sabotage your name? It was as if his heart vowed to drown you to doom…

“No, I’ll do it,” you decided.

…yet you had let him, again and again. The descendants of Eve never learned.

“They call you the Renaissance Man, my lord? I’ll steal your title when I show everyone I can do more than paint…and outdo you in dance.”

“Dance is a form of art, too, y’know,” Dazai smiled before he parted from you. “How about instead, you think of it like we’re creating our own special piece together.”

“Competition,” you disagreed in one word, curtsying before him as the drums cued.

“Collaboration,” he bowed.

You two rose, and a new tension was ignited in the room. Your eyes locked with his again, but this time more determined—more passionate, as you gracefully swept to the left while the brunette the opposite way. You continued that movement while also gravitating closer.

Closer, until he was finally able to lay hands on your waist.

“Look up, miss,” Dazai softly reminded you. “Too flustered that you’ve forgotten etiquette?”

You didn’t even realize your eyes chased down to where he was holding you—no man had touched anywhere near your corset before. You felt nervous; it was supposed to be so wrong, so why did his hold feel so right? As if his fingers were always supposed to be wrapped around you, the final touches to a masterpiece of intimacy.

You were falling for it—the serpent’s art of seduction. This wasn’t supposed to be a collaboration.

“What happened to your confidence?” Dazai teased, whispering in your ear; you felt his breath tickling your skin.

Your eyes drifted back to his in embarrassment, but you couldn’t give your rival the entertainment of winning against you in something you proposed. Fighting against your nerves, you wrapped one of your arms around Dazai’s broad shoulder.

“Shut up.”

He lifted you by the hips to aid as you lept and turned around him, his left thigh pushing you upward, and that same nervous excitement returned to your stomach. It was as if pools conjoining both everything and oblivion at once lay physically on you. His gaze resembled hands—he caressed your shoulders; he traced your face like he wanted to paint every angle of you.

He was gentle with his actual hold on you, too; Dazai carried you as delicately as the brush strokes he made on canvas. He carefully set you down with ease after every jump while still treating you like a porcelain doll, and there you made the mistake of wandering your eyes down to his lips, lightly parted—you realized this was the second closest time this man had come near enough to kiss you.

His body was so warm, he could pull you flush against him if he wanted to. His breath was minty, the coolness of his mouth addicting, and if Eden smelled heavenly too, he had truly just slithered down, carrying the sweet, earthly scent along with him. All your senses were overloaded by the man standing before you like alcohol; you wondered if you’d even end up home by the end of the night.

“You’re enjoying this way more than to simply boost thy status.”

In that moment, you snapped out of your haze of dopamine, and the music faded into a new routine. You also realized that an entire audience had been watching you. That was not ideal.

You scooted back right after Dazai released his hold on you, looking down in coyness. “Maybe I’m just a good actor.”

“You’re a terrible one,” he chuckled, following you out of the crowd. “You can’t even look at me to sell your lie!”

You glared at the brunette once more. “I don’t have to look at you to tell you the truth.”

“So cold-hearted,” he sighed. “Even after a dance to loosen you up. Guess I need to work harder to ask you out.”

“For what, a double suicide?” You once again recalled some other things he had said during your weird, fated meet at the lake.

“Exactly! You remember!”

“Well, sorry, that’s not happening,” you responded. “Go find some other lady to ask. I’m sure you do this all the time anyway.”

Because how did he touch you so perfectly? How did he dim out every other person in the room to make it seem like it was just you two?

He paused. “No, I don’t. You’re the first person I danced this galliard with. You realize we were even in skill, right?”

“Didn’t seem like it. And I don’t understand why you chose me.”

“You fascinate me, angel of Florence,” Dazai said. “You did save me in a way. Sure, we’re rivals. But one day, I’ll paint you myself.

“You’re too beautiful to not.”

…

“I hope you all have had a lovely night,” Fukuzawa spoke over the room. “To conclude the gathering, I would like to announce what the Vatican’s next project will be.”

Artists all around you waited in anticipation, for good reason. You and Dazai looked at each other too. You’d already experienced it for yourself—a commission from the Pope himself guaranteed immediate, enormous success (and money; your job from him was your biggest pay so far). Whatever he proposed required another artist, and it could be anyone in the room.

“The Sistine Chapel,” Fukuzawa said. “The large crack that has formed along the ceiling is to be repaired in the upcoming year.”

There were a few chatters after that. The chapel was insanely impressive—the interior of the large building was covered in stunning frescos by some of the great artists who had come before you. Even though the Pope hadn’t even said what the job was to be, anyone working on things concerning it would have to be just as good as its predecessors.

“Along with reparations, its panels shall be painted.”

There were a few gasps from the patrons. Was that even possible? How could someone even paint the ceiling without it being taken off of the roof? And it was so large, too, like a mega-sized canvas.

It was unheard of.

“I have already selected the person I would like to work on this,” Fukuzawa continued. There was silence again.

“It’s probably Dostoevsky,” Dazai said to you.

Fyodor? “Why do you think so?” you asked.

“He completely stole the spotlight with that statue of David he finished this year,” he dryly chuckled. “Well deserved, I’m afraid. You saw it too when you were in Florence, did you?”

“Yeah,” you replied. You had to acknowledge how impressive it was for yourself. It was like the man turned hard stone into pliable clay.

“But that’s sculpting, not painting.”

“Oh? Do you think you’d be a better candidate?”

He was smiling again. “No, I never said that,” you scoffed. “I was going to say maybe you’d have a chance-”

“Fyodor Dostoevsky,” Fukuzawa said.

Oh.

You paused, scanning the room to see where he was.

He was on the other side, intently making his way to the Pope.

“I request you to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.”

Fyodor stood in front of him and then bowed.

“...I offer my sincerest gramercy for this opportunity, Your Holiness,” the artist said.

There was a pause.

“…I would like to discuss the rest of what this entails in private.”

Your brows furrowed. That was almost a bit…rude. Sure, he hadn’t declined the offer, but for whatever reason, he also didn’t accept it.

“Very well,” Fukuzawa replied without a change in his tone. “I adjourn this party. Bonam noctem.”

There was a final applause for him and the city’s next project, and then everyone began filing out.

However, you and Dazai stayed in place until Ranpo suddenly tugged on your arm.

“There you are! Let’s go!”

“W-Where?” you asked as he started to drag you away.

“Goodnight!” you heard Dazai say before disappearing into the crowd. His small smile remained in your memory, and a part of you wished you could give him a proper goodbye.

“To eavesdrop, duh,” Ranpo replied as he sifted you through everyone moving the opposite way. “Don’t you also want to hear what Fyodor has to say?”

“I don’t understand why he didn’t just accept the proposal,” you said. “Anyone else would do it in a heartbeat!” You were sort of jealous; that job was given to someone so ungrateful! If you were the one who recieved it, you would’ve put your entire effort into transforming the ceilings right away.

“I don’t know how he’s so beloved,” Ranpo continued. “Not even His Holiness likes him that much; he just doesn’t show bias when choosing people to paint his architecture. Did you know Fyodor was supposed to produce his tomb?”

“What happened with that? I thought it was being worked on by a few other artists.”

“He kept clashing with His Holiness about it,” he said. “Until the plans got so messed up, Fyodor called it a ‘tragedy’ and left Rome for a while. Quite literally abandoned it.”

What an asshole! Especially in front of His Holiness!

“I don’t like him at all,” Ranpo squeezed your arm. It had become quite apparent to you that Ranpo admired Fukuzawa—not just because he was his so-called favorite or because he was the Pope, but something else. You had seen them together during the party earlier, and you were reminded of father and son. “He has a nasty ego, and I can’t figure out his intentions. I feel off every time I meet with him.”

“Intentions? For what?”

“Don’t be stupid, miss,” Ranpo said. “He told you himself, he’s here for something. It’s just so annoying! He hides it all behind those stupid, purple eyes…”

You approached the entrance to a hallway at the very back of the room, and you heard two familiar voices outside.

“...I carve marble, not paint.”

“You discredit your skill with a brush too much.”

“Your Holiness, we had very different views during the last commission you gave me,” you overheard Fyodor say. “I simply don’t want to cause another commotion with this.”

You only peeked through the large doorway to hear more clearly, but Ranpo continued walking right in as if they wouldn’t notice.

“R-Ranpo!” you whispered harshly.

Immediately, Fukuzawa and Fyodor looked at you both, and you scrambled behind Ranpo.

“I’m so sorry, Your Holiness,” you replied, accidentally locking eyes with Fyodor, who looked at you unfazed as if he had already noticed you two a mile away. You couldn’t even think of an excuse to explain what you were doing there, but then Fukuzawa resumed the conversation without a care.

“I see then,” he replied and then gave it some thought. “I felt you were the only one who was fit for the matter, but perhaps I could just hand it to-”

Fukuzawa looked at you, and Fyodor looked at him before looking at you.

“Ah, what I said was just a concern,” Fyodor interrupted to your dismay. “I’ll accept your commission on one condition.”

The three of you waited.

“On the contract, it shall be stated that noone shall view the inside of the Chapel until it is completed,” Fyodor stated. “Including yourself, Your Highness.”

He thought for another moment.

“Very well, Fyodor. It will be arranged.”

What a rat!

It had been a few weeks since that eventful ball. You had started work on painting the rooms in the Pope’s chambers—there were sketches of concepts scattered all over your desk. Coupled with your thoughts—thoughts reliving all the situations you were thrown into that night.

You hadn’t seen the two angels since then. Well…would you even call them that anymore?

Knock, knock, knock!

“Hey! Let me in!” You heard Ranpo’s voice from outside your house. You were still half-asleep, trying to make breakfast, but you immediately rushed to open the door.

“Ranpo!” You were startled. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Stop complaining. You’re going to love this.”

He stuck his hand into his pocket and then revealed a set of shiny keys.

“Sitting in my palm are the keys to the Sistine Chapel.”

“No way.” It was like the sight fully awakened you, like caffeine. “Ranpo…how?!”

“Hmph!” He shook his head. “You underestimate me so much when you quite literally depend on me!” When you laughed, he continued. “Lord Fyodor’s on a business trip until next week. Do with that info as you wish.”

“You’re a genius,” you replied with a mischievous grin as he threw you the keys.

“Of course I am! I despise him, but I’m too lazy to mess with him right now, so I’ll just leave it up to you. After all, he didn’t want to do it initially because he thought you set it up.”

“By me?” you asked, shocked. “He hates painting so much that he thought I had a hand in it? Imagine giving away the Sistine Chapel.”

He was really something else. Was dead set on declining the offer right until His Holiness debated giving it to me…

…

Ranpo sat at the dining table eating the remaining tarts left over while you finished washing the dishes in the kitchen after your meal. Your move had gone smoothly, and you were pleased with the home you created for yourself—the windows in front of the sink were opened, letting air and the sounds of nature in as you looked outside.

“His Holiness instructed me to paint over the previous works in the Palace when I first walked inside because he deemed what I could produce more important than what was already up there,” you told him with your own dash of pride. You couldn’t contain the bright smile that flashed on your face.

“Just as I suspected,” he replied, pleased.

“...But social-wise, I think I dug a hole for myself.”

“Definitely!” Ranpo said with no hesitation, popping another dessert into his mouth. He already knew what you were going to talk about. You gave him a look before sighing, realizing that he probably was right.

“A few days ago, I overheard people in the salons saying that…I have a special thing going on with Lord Dazai. It’s not true! I don’t know why he was being so friendly with me!”

You hadn’t even seen him after that night. Maybe you were a little disappointed, but you should’ve seen that coming anyway. He was known as a charmer, but he hadn’t committed to anyone. And regardless, you were to marry Fyodor one day.

Ugh, Fyodor.

“And you were friendly to him in return,” Ranpo replied. “You could’ve shrugged him off like normal rivals do. But it looked like you were completely enraptured with him.”

Enraptured?! He was completely enraptured with me! However, you couldn’t describe to Ranpo how exactly he was—how the brunette’s eyes pleaded with yours to follow him into the eventide, how he made you feel like the only person that existed in the large crowd of people…maybe Ranpo would have his point proven.

“Well, other than that, I’ve got thee settled in Rome well enough. I’ll be here for the rest of the unwise decisions you’re going to make, but from here on out is on you, princess.”

“Thanks, Ranpo,” you sarcastically replied. “Seriously? Unwise decisions? Rome is just different from everywhere I’ve been to before. I’m learning.”

“Exactly, there are arts of everything,” he said. “Thou better grasp them quick or fall behind.”

Dance.

Deceit.

Dreams.

Only a few you had discovered so far.

“You fascinate me, angel of Florence. You did save me in a way.”

You couldn’t even grasp,

Dazai.

You didn’t know how long you were out. All sense of time was lost when you gained consciousness again, and you realized you had been washed up on land.

Did God stay true to your pleas? Did an angel really come down to rescue you?

That was certainly what it seemed like in the first few seconds because you were blinded by light when you opened your eyes. You heard insects buzzing off in the distance and maybe even a bird chirping as you lay on lush grass. Perhaps you were in heaven instead, and this was your first taste of peaceful paradise.

But all was ruined when your eyes finally focused, and a face obstructed your view. (Why was he always ruining your flawless moments?) He hovered on top of you, and the first thing you became aware of was that his mouth was dangerously close to yours.

You immediately coughed—out of both shock and the need to. Lake water gushed out of your mouth, causing you to sit up without warning. The brunette was flung off of you, landing harshly on his bottom.

“Ow!”

You paid no mind to him as you coughed again. And again.

When all the water was finally out of your lungs, you looked at him in utter confusion.

“Why the puzzled look?” he asked as if he wasn’t the one who was drowning and you weren’t the one saving him (and less importantly, it hadn’t looked like he was about to kiss you).

Now he sat beside you, almost perfectly fine if it weren’t for his clothes that were soaked.

“But…you—we were drowning?” You turned to see if anyone else was in the distance because who was it that saved both of you?

“Yeah, I was drowning,” the man replied, and you now noticed the honey color of his eyes that had been shielded behind closed eyelids and pretty eyelashes earlier. “And this time, it almost worked! Until you decided to rescue me!”

“Um, what?” You asked sharply, even more bewildered at the way he tried to make your efforts sound negative.

“At first, I thought maybe thou were a lovely lady who wanted to commit double suicide with me! But I realized that wasn’t the case when you started fighting to get some air…”

“Are you crazy?” you asked, not caring whether you were speaking impolitely or not. “Double suicide? Why else would I dive into a cold lake to join a stranger? And you were aware of what was happening all along?”

“Maybe! Women have done a lot to try to get close to me.” You didn’t believe him. “And, well, yeah! Obviously, I couldn’t continue because of two things. The first was you because I couldn’t let an innocent involved be harmed along with me! I had to save you, of course.”

You became even more irritated. “You wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t pretend you were drowning! I had to use all my strength to rescue you, y’know! I could’ve died as well!”

“But you didn’t!” the brunette replied. “There was no way I was going to let someone so beautiful drown.”

You scowled at him before you stood up. “You’re ridiculous. What’s your second reason?”

“Drowning in a lake ended up becoming uncomfortable.” You wanted to punch him in the face—uncomfortable was an obvious understatement. “I didn’t like the feeling of suffocation that set in, so I just decided to give up.”

“It didn’t even look like you had any air left in you,” you muttered, facing your back towards him, remembering his placid expression earlier. “How were you conscious if you weren’t even holding your breath?”

“Party trick,” he responded, and when you dared to glance back, he wore a smug grin.

“Oh…are you leaving me then?” he asked as you started walking away, saying no more.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you scoffed, not stopping. “I’m completely soaked, and I don’t know about you, but I have important things to get to.”

You heard a chuckle from him. “Is that so?” he asked. His voice was getting farther, meaning he was no longer following you. “Where are you headed?”

“Rome.”

“I live there. Perhaps we shall meet again. And then, I could ask you—properly—if you would like to commit a double suicide with me.”

“I doubt it,” you replied, assured you were never going to see this man whose face looked kissed by Aphrodite herself again. Perhaps you would’ve found him handsome if he was in a less disheveled state.

As if you did not already.

“Why do you seem so sure? Anything can happen.” He chuckled once again.

Well, I am a painter, and you don’t look like someone who would even have an eye for art, is what you wanted to say. But you didn’t want to open more doors to curiosity and stay there even longer.

“Maybe you’re right,” you stopped. “Okay, then.

“If you think you’re going to see me again, can you promise to not kill yourself until then? Until I agree to you?”

You figured you would just give him some hope so that your efforts to save him would not be in vain. If he would actually keep your word, anyway.

When you turned around, the brunette was still standing on the shore, and he had a smile on his face.

He really did carry the setting sun in his gaze. It was still midday, but the man’s soul seemed to prefer the softer shades of light that appeared just before the cool shades of night.

And you felt his eyes tenderly cupping your face, even though you were feet away from each other. You weren’t sure if you were so lost that you were imagining things—but he looked at you as if he’d known you a hundred lifetimes, longing to touch your soul once again.

“I pinkie promise,” he said.

You thought that finally ended the conversation, but he asked one more thing.

“Your name?” he asked.

“Do you really need it?” It was unlikely, but you didn’t know if he would recognize your name. You didn’t want to risk anyone knowing about this encounter.

“I saved you,” he said. “I almost thought you were done for. You still weren’t breathing when I performed chest compressions, so I had to—”

“Okay, stop right there!” you interrupted, becoming flustered. You didn’t need to hear the rest. You imagined the stranger’s mouth on yours—trying to give you oxygen, of course, but his mouth on yours regardless.

You told him your name. “Don’t bother with yours. I’ll figure it out if we run into each other again.”

His grin was smug. “Fare thee well, mia belladonna.

“Until we meet again.”

…

“You can find anything in the promised land, solnyshka.”

ur man of choice (or both if u’d like) dances with u during the ball if u rb; reblogs are incredibly cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

WE DID ITT !! i hope this was decent, tbh i’m rly nervous HAHA ᡣ𐭩 dazai rly got most of the love here, but i promise there’s waay more to come.

+ check THIS FOR EXTRA INFO/LORE, it’s cool ;) comment on the masterlist to be added to the tagslist !! & ilu if you made it this far, thank you so so much for reading ᰔ

TERMS & DEFINITIONS:

CIOPPA - outermost layer of a dress

RUELLA - salons/social gatherings

ALMAINE - slow court dance; GALLIARD - fast court dance (in the renaissance)

TRANSLATIONS: (not all bcz they wanna be mysterious)

gramercy - “thank you”

artigiani; aristocratici - artisans; aristocrats (italian)

bonam noctem - “good night” (latin)

426 notes · View notes

freakoont · 7 months ago

Text

❝𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬❞

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨 𝐄𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 【ＳＦＷ　ａｎｄ　ＮＳＦＷｉｎｃｌｕｄｅｄ】

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

GENDER NETURAL BUT AFAB READER sorry :')

REQUESTS ARE OPEN ! check the bottom of this post for information <3

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

【ＳＦＷ】

When you first start to begin noticing signs of having a crush on him, Ranpo immediately picks up on it.

Does he actually say or do anything about it? No . . . Not for a long while.

He's not embarrassed or nervous about it, actually he uses your little crush as a advantage to tease and mess with your cute little brain !

"hey, (Y/N) can you get me some pockys? I'm about to die from hunger, y'know!"

"..I'm busy, Ranpo."

"oh, fine."

...

"oh yeah, (Y/N) I seem to recall you were staring a lot at me earlier, which is kind of odd for a friend-"

"I'll get those snacks now"

Ranpo's never had a crush or significant other, so there are some things he doesn't know what to do. but he mostly treats your relationship the same way he treated you back when you were just friends

At first, he was a little nervous about saying things like 'I love you' because he thought it sounded cringe, but after a short while he needs to hear you say it 30 times a hour with lots of kisses💋

Ranpo can be a little shit at times, but he makes up for it for his good memory and always being able to understand you better than you know yourself.

Example: Ranpo will always remember little things about you! He noticed you staring at a T-shirt in the mall once and suddenly you've got it gifted to you, "from the worlds greatest detective; to my favorite assistant"

A lot of times when you're working in ADA, Ranpo will just hop onto your lap and keep still and silent as he eat snacks.

He loves being in your presence, just being around you is enough.

He's not crazy on PDA, usually holding your hand and dragging you along with him. He'll occasionally tease and embarrass you in public though, most of the time it isn't intentional

"(Y/NNNNN) :( can we please go to that bakeshop !"

"we were just at one. Besides, you still have that cake to finish at home."

"..."

"WHAT THE- GET OFF MY BACK YOU CRAZY MAN-"

"LETS GO TO THE BAKESHOP THEN-"

Ranpo is a BIG cuddle bug! He loves being little spoon especially. Just laying on top of your chest or besides you as you caress his hair and kiss his forehead

He'll melt from your touch

He's a baby

Ranpo doesn't usually get jealous. It's a rare thing actually, he's a chill guy and just uses his deduction to know you love him 110%

He's probably gotten used to Dazai flirting with you, before you two got together, that he's unbothered by other people

TXT: "Ranpo ! Some guy is flirting with me !"

TXT: "👍"

TXT: "do you not care that someone is trying to get with me?"

TXT: "woah there. FIRST OF ALL☝️ I've already deducted that you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. You care to much. SECOND OF ALL☝️ I've also deduced that he's drunk"

TXT: "I'll go buy you some ice cream now..(⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)"

TXT: "👍"

...

TXT: "ily"

TXT: "I love you too(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡"

I feel like Ranpo isn't good with feelings and his words. When he notices that you're angry or upset, he'll kind of just be lost on what to do to cheer you up

He'll make some unhelpful comments here and there, trying to cheer you up and joke around... But then it might piss you off a little more

HE'S TRYING(⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

He's bad at reading emotions, and when he does understand he'll share his snacks and keep quiet...

His love language is: words of affirmation and physical touch

He's not one to use pet names, just usually call you by his own nickname for you and that's it. Occasionally he'll call you his 'favorite assistant' or his 'watson'

Ranpo gets a boost in his confidence whenever you praise him. You and Fukuzawa are definitely the most important people in his lives, meaning your words mean SO MUCH to him

If you're the type to like cooking and cleaning, you've won him over. He hates chores and loves just sitting around and eating snacks

If you feed him as he sits or lays on your lap he'll literally die a happy man

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

【ＮＳＦＷ】

Ranpo is a switch, but definitely leans towards a bottom more

He'll be a very loud person in bed when you're on top of him.

If you tease him and poke at his sensitive parts, Ranpo will get flustered. You will catch him blushing and trying to keep quiet, just poke at him some more

Of course, don't be mean to him though. He only likes it when you praise him for doing good, because he's very inexperienced.

Ranpo is good at giving oral, he knows how to read you and where you like to be touched the most

Whenever Ranpo has a rough day, he'll either want you to ride him to make him feel better or he'd want to eat you out

"Mmmm... You look so good riding me like that,"

"just like that, Aah~"

"Love, I'm gonna- A-Ah"

He's noisy, but you can shut him upಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

Ranpo doesn't have that strong of a sexual desire. Sex isn't the most important thing to him. it's you🫵

If you ask him enough, praise him all day, and have a little teasing at eachother, maybe your lucky enough to walk home with him pulling you into the bed(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

His favorite positions are cowgirl/reverse cowgirl, anything with you taking control

He's very lazy and will let you do most of the work

Ranpo actually doesn't have any kinks, and I know a lot of you will be like "no he'd have a praise kink☝️" but I'm sorry to say that, Ranpo would 100% find the idea of kinks disgusting

LIKE I KNOW. I can see him having a praise kink too but it just fits so well for him to find 'kinks' disgusting

He doesn't like using toys either. Well, specifically for himself

If he feels like teasing you and edging you on, expect him to be using a vibrator on you and moving it around to get you moaning, but that's it really

If you're a easily-embarrassed or awkward and shy person, he'll definitely tease and mess with you when he's taking the lead

He's definitely had you doing things with him in the office and after you're finished you'll be like, "did... Did that really just happen?🧍‍♀️"

"Ranpo, the others are gonna be back any moment, please let's just finish at home.."

"Mmm, not a chance... Now, if you're so worried about it, you better start moving faster for me, sweet one.." he spoke, his hand on your ass as he straddled you on his lap as he sucked on a lollipop, his eyes were on yours. His other hand moved up your back and caressed your body.

How did you ever get dragged into this with him? Oh wait. It's Ranpo.

Ranpo loves face sitting

He'll eat you out like a unspoken religion, digging his teeth into your inner thighs just to hear your sweet noises as he knows he's doing good

He also loves it when you leave lipstick kisses all over him

YOU'LL LITERALLY MAKE HIM ALL NERVOUS AND BLUSHING. He'll be at a loss for words and start to ignore all eye contact

༻༺━━━━⁎∗.*.∗⁎━━━━༻༺

REQUESTS - I am accepting any requests for any character for the following fandoms:

Bungo Stray Dogs, Genshin Impact, Danganronpa, Ninjago, Southpark, Obey Me, 7 Deadly Sins, Tokyo Revengers, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Death Note, Walking Dead, Demon Slayer, Assassination Classroom, Hunter X Hunter, Komi Can't Communicate, Diabolik Lovers and Doki Doki Literature Club

I will write any of the following: smut (all characters WILL be aged up), fluff, crack/joke, specific plot, angst, HC's, BL, GL

Do not expect me to write any of the following: intense gore scene, sexual themes that are disturbing to most people and anything that will get me banned for a specific and obvious reason.

I accept requests for any character from any of the fandoms I have named :)

511 notes · View notes

bitter-me · 1 year ago

Text

Coffee

Young Ranpo Edogawa | M. Reader

----------

"Your smell like coffee!"

----------

Coffee isn't Ranpo's thing.

They're bitter, sure the barista adds some milk and syrup in them but they're still bitter! Which is why he likes hot chocolate better. Unlike the bitter concoction hot chocolate is sweet and nice and warm, especially if you add marshmallows! Some may say that it's too sweet but not for Ranpo. It's just the right amount of sweetness.

And that leads to his confusion as to why his friend likes coffee.

Ranpo once saw [Name] drunk at least 5 cups to finish his school assignments. Like huh? Maybe it's a thing students have to deal with? I mean -- he's technically not a student so maybe that's why it confuses him to his wits end? Regardless the reason behind that habit Ranpo's not one to judge. After all, [Name] was the first ever person that understands him and doesn't shut him down like those adults were.

In fact, [Name] seemed rather fascinated by Ranpo's deductions and how he managed to know everything in seconds.

[Name] was the first person to do that... his first... friend...

So Ranpo's not going to judge him for something as petty as that.

The day Fukuzawa took him in, even though he won't say it out loud he was happy and grateful for it. And [Name] can't be any more happier to found out how Ranpo's life seemed to have a turn for the better. Even if Ranpo doesn't admit it [Name] had always knew about his struggles, his anxiety, his fears, everything. Which why he was beyond happy to found out about it.

Unlike Ranpo who seems to be very gifted in deductions and all.

[Name] is just an average straight A's high school student.

Ranpo has his life planned out before him, a path already build just for him, a path of being a promising detective. "The greatest detective" he'd put it. While [Name] have to find his own path.

Unknowing to all...

This set's him off the rails.

What is he supposed to do? What does he need? What does he want? People say to get a job that you like, that you enjoy. But what about money? Don't you need that to survive? But what if the job ended up being too hard and he'll not like it? What if it's boring? What if it's dull?

But then again what was the point? We all die anyways right? So what was the point in getting a stable and enjoyable job, and a happy life where we all just die in the end?

What if's and questions filled his head, day in day out.

He's not ready.... He needs more time...

But time won't wait for him.. or anyone in that manner...

Coffee is nice... It keeps your adrenaline high, give you a boost. [Name] couldn't help but enjoy it. That sudden boost of energy makes him more focus on his school work rather than his thoughts. Not to mention that they have quite a nice and pleasant smell the taste is also nice. Because of that [Name] would smell like coffee a scent Ranpo had grown to love, despite saying that coffee isn't his thing.

As time goes on, Ranpo began to be occupied with cases, while [Name] is busy with school. The two barely have time for each other as they used to. But they don't mind as it would just lead to them having a lot more to talk about once they meet again. It was nice... very nice... the warm and pleasant atmosphere...

"Hey Ranpo, since you're practically a detective now. Do you see a lot of bodies."

"Of course I do."

"So seeing one won't scare you? The scent of their blood and the sight of their dead, pale, and possibly disfigured form?"

"Of course not! What kind of detective get's scared of a corpse!"

[Name] chuckles at Ranpo's words, finding the small outburst to be entertaining in some way.

It was a rhetorical question...

It was a rhetorical question, right [Name]..?

Although he doesn't say it, Ranpo felt uneasy at the question. Why is [Name] suddenly asking about that? It felt random. Out of place. Completely out of the blue. It's common to asked that to a new detective, right? But why was it so specific? It probably didn't mean anything, right? But even so... Ranpo can't shake off the feeling that there's a hidden meaning to his friend's words... like a shadow..

As the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months and the months turn into years...

[Name]'s graduation day is growing closer and closer.

Ranpo can't be any happier for his friend, a friend he had grown to love... was finally going to graduate high school! He even requested a few days off for this special occasion! Not that he really need to as he could just walk off like usual. But still!!

As happy as he is, Ranpo can't help but have a gut feeling that something is wrong...

He can't explain it but... It's just felt wrong...

Like a dark cloud is hovering above him... dark shadow...

And....

......He's right as always....

The day before the graduation.

Ranpo received a case, which he had refused since he did requested a few days off for his friend's special occasion, but Fukuzawa insisted that he take it. Almost begging.

With no other choice, Ranpo accepts it.

But what he saw in the crime scene was one out of his nightmares.

He didn't even need to open the sheet that covered the body as his had already knew who it is.

The keychain attached to the book bag speaks for itself.

A keychain that belongs to someone dear to him... someone close... someone he had grown to love and adore... someone he was planning to spill his heart out to... someone he was hoping he could call his...

And the results of his deductions didn't help at all. It just made things worse as it revealed to him how much the victim was suffering. A pain that the victim didn't show until their last moments. A pain that Ranpo was too ignorant to notice. A pain where the victim decided that it was too much for them and wanted it to end.

"Why..?"

The next day... Ranpo graduated from a school he didn't even attend...

He did it in someone's stead.

Ranpo doesn't like coffee.

No....

He hates it.

#top male reader #seme male reader #x male reader #bsd x reader #bsd x male reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo edogawa #ranpo x reader #ranpo x male reader #bungou stray dogs x male reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs

998 notes · View notes

riripuppychan · 2 months ago

Text

big brother atsushi heacanons

some silly things my nasty brain thought up while getting ready for the day <3

sfw!!

big brother atsushi who is super protective of his younger sister because of the orphanage

he's so protective he doesn't want you to be in a relationship...

even you aren't bi or pan or anything, he gets super upset when you pay attention to anyone other than him regardless of their gender

the only people he lets hang out with you is dazai, kunikida, kenji, and kyouka because he doesn't perceive them as threats (also because kyouka literally lives with y'all?)

ranpo notices this and always drags you on missions with him so he can annoy atsushi

also because you're his YOUNGER sister, he broke you out of the orphanage because he refuses to leave you in there

you have to tell atsushi not to spend his entire paycheck on you because he loves buying you gifts and snacks and everything.

and when you think he finally is getting better about it, he doesn't even buy you gifts for a while, turns out he was just saving up to buy you something big...

in this version he still thinks naomi and tanizaki are strange but only because they do it in public, he's way more private about it (but he's the same way about non-sibling couples, he thinks they're cute and all but why are y'all eating each others face in public??)

in private he is all over you, spoiling you with kisses and practically clinging onto you

he lets you ride on him happily (he gets upset when ranpo does it..)

nsfw!!

when I said he lets your ride on him happily, I meant in more ways then one

he is very gentle with you though

he doesn't want to hurt his precious little sister, right?

he whimpers your name or "sis" during sex

after care god, he treats you very kindly and spoils you more than he already does

at some point he had to beg fukuzawa for your guys own dorm away from kyouka

and when fukuzawa finally agreed literally every night it was non stop fucking

did you guys know white tigers (at least the ones in captivity) are usually the result of inbreeding?

whenever it clicks to him that inbreeding is actually terrible for the possible children he might accidentally put in you, he starts to use protection

for about a week

he asks to stop using condoms because he likes how it feels without

yeah you might as well just stock up on Plan B or something...

for a tiger, he fucks like a rabbit

#atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #bsd #bungou stray dogs #atsushi x reader #atsushi nakajima x reader #tw:incest #tw.incest #tw incest #tw: incest #problematic #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

162 notes · View notes

yuugen-benni · 9 months ago

Text

''What was the best thing someone ever said to you ?''

gn!writing

'You're amazing.' ''That was the line, it seems so simple, right?…Y/n said that to me several times when we were stupid kids in love. They were afraid to say 'I love you' so, instead, saying 'You're amazing' was actually a way of saying 'I'm surprised at how much I love you'….How did I know it was that ? You cannot hide love, it is almost impossible, unfortunately. Our whole being say it for us.'' - Josuke Higashikata, Bruno Bucciarati, Oda Sakunosuke, Bram Stoker

'I knew you would come back.' ''At first I was like 'Am I so predictable? or do they just know me really well?', and then I realized it was a stupid statement; of course I would come back, I have no doubts, no reason to run away and I hope I never will…[Raise an eyebrow] If my insecurities went away after these thoughts ? Oh, Does it really matter? I'm fine....a lot better'' - Abbacchio, Rohan Kishibe, Jouno Saigiku, Ayatsuji Yukito,

''Why is this even on the questionnaire? [Sighs]… Someone once said 'You should smile more, you really make me feel carefree when you do', honestly if they had just said the first sentence I wouldn't feel a thing but they added their own feelings and it was not just a ''kindness'' you do to a random person...Who was the person ? I'm sure there's no such question on the paper'' - Jotaro, Pannacota Fugo, Fukuzawa Yukichi, Lucy Montgomery

''You are recording? Oh, Okay...Y/n one day told me I looked like a character from a fantasy movie! It was oddly endearing, but I didn't question them, although I can assume they see something they admire in me…What exactly? That's a question for them'' - Young!Joseph, Noriaki Kakyoin, Giorno Giovanna, Atsushi Nakajima, Nikolai Gogol

'You're beautiful' "Yeah, yeah, I get it. People always say stuff like this, but you feel me ? It's the little things that can totally brighten someone's day and It seriously made my day! And, not gonna lie, I know I'm good looking, but hey, a little reminder never hurts, right ?" - Guido Mista, Jean P. Polnareff, Edogawa Ranpo, Osamu Dazai

''I remember one night when Y/n called me, out of the blue, saying they wanted me to wish them a 'good night' because my voice was 'the peace they could find to sleep in'. They seemed sad, tired, so I didn't refuse the request…and also why would I refuse ? They are sweet people...What ? If I cried ?...[Looks away with an embarrassed sigh] shut up...'' - Avdol, Koichi Hirose, Jonathan Joestar, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Chuuya Nakahara, Tetchou Suehiro

398 notes · View notes

teddybeartoji · 3 months ago

Text

this going to be a proper wordvomit but i've been thinking about a fucked up little dazai thing,, like what if you two were at the port mafia together when you were younger? orphaned and molded into a perfect little killing machine alongside with him and chuuya.

oh, but what's your ability? well, it's awfully similar to yosano's but it's.. more selfish. while she can also save and heal others, you can't. your ability only works on yourself - you're unkillable. even the smallest cuts fade on your skin, the remainders of everything you've gone through disappearing within hours. you still feel it though. the pain.

you just never fucking die.

tied up, tortured. beaten. cut. shot at. broken bones and bruises. you've seen them all, you've felt them all. but it shouldn't matter.

it shouldn't. this is who you are, right?

you've seen people die hundreds of times, wishing it were you instead. what is the point of this ability if you can never actually do anything useful with it? you're one of the best sharpshots at the port mafia and you know you're way around just about every melee weapon there is but you're still no real competition to the people with real powers. you're just another tool, another soldier. just a shell of a person, sent out mission after mission, no matter whether the fractured bones have already healed or not.

anger builds. shame builds.

something murky.

and it only gets worse after dazai leaves. he understood. he didn't ever say it, but he did. and now he's gone. he's left you behind; there's nobody to lick your wounds or to match your tone and darkness.

and then word gets around that there's someone with an ability similar to yours but better. more useful. and you just... lose it.

mori has no hold on you. he sees it in your eyes, so he doesn't stop you from leaving. you don't say goodbye to chuuya, only leaving him a fancy bottle of wine as a thank you for always having your back. and a note. something along the lines of seeking out your other half.

he's the only one who can do it.

you dream of him wrapping his bandaged hands around your neck and squeezing until you can feel tears dropping onto your face, until your vision blurs, until you can't breathe. until you can't come back anymore. of course, he wouldn't want to do it. he's killed more than anybody could count but with you, it's different. he's finally found something to live for and you haven't. he offers for you to come to the ada with him, he assures you that fukuzawa would listen to him but it doesn't matter.

you're smiling and he isn't. it isn't funny anymore. the gun pointed at kunikida isn't funny anymore. dazai won't do it unless you force him; you know it's going to be hard but you accept it as your one last mission. you will draw your one final breath at the hands of the man who's always been there for you. your friend. your partner.

the only one who should understand.

should.

but maybe he's not who you thought he was. maybe he truly has changed. maybe he really is a better man now. it doesn't matter. you'll break him one last time and let him live his new life. it's only fair.

#suuuper super random but idk it was just swimming around in my head for the entire day so i had to let it out #i'm not saying he'd actually do it #but idk i love this concept ok #i love when characters fucking hate their powers #they hate this one thing that's built into them #what makes them useful #like they'd just rather be dead than to use their fucking ability #but in this case you can't even escape it #you can't do it #ouuuuuuuuuuuughhh #dazai #mickey is daydreaming #dazai x reader #dazai drabble #tw sui implied #tw sui talk

193 notes · View notes

kunikinnie · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii! How are you? Hope you are well! I was searching through Fukuzawa X reader's tag and I saw your headcanons for "accidently hurting their SO" and it was soooo cute!! Are your requests open, by any chance? If they are, is there any chance you could write headcanons with the same prompt, but with Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa and Atsushi? If they are not, just know that you are a great writer and I just loved your work!!

a/n: HELLO I'M ALIVE! sorry these SO LONG but here they are :) some of them might be ooc but ahkdjsf also if you're curious i was reading Spinning Gears while writing Aku's so ye

warnings: profanity, mentions of violence, blood, very angsty for some, probably ooc

accidentally hurting their s/o during an argument

featuring: Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Atsushi x GN!Reader

Dazai Osamu

There was something uncertain that stirred something deep within him - something he couldn't bring himself to face.

It could've been anything: the staleness of the air, the lingering aftertaste of the shitty coffee he had that morning, an intrusive thought he left uncontrolled, the sadness of the setting sun...

Not knowing the source bothered him. It bothered him so much that although words were flying exasperatedly throughout the room, he had regressed into his own mind.

It was the wrong move. He had underestimated how powerful the darkness was, and as it continued to grow like a whirlpool, he was swallowed into an ocean of abandoned thoughts.

He hadn't felt like this in years. Memories and voices from those times reverberated so strongly that nothing from the current moment could touch him. He didn't even have any idea what was happening.

Yet just a single phrase had managed to penetrate, and as soon as it hit it had triggered something despicable.

It was the silence that followed that snapped him out of it, not the stinging sensation at the back of his hand.

You slowly slumped down the wall and onto the floor. Not for a single moment did your stunned expression or blank eyes waver - in your silent tears flowed the last drops of your energy.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. Why were you apologizing? It was he who had done wrong, so why-

"Y/N..." he weakly called out, only to be met with another apology.

"Y/N, I'm sorry..."

He fell down to his knees before tightly embracing your whole body. He apologized once more, yet you didn't even stir. Another attempt amounted to nothing. Desperate to feel something from you, his grasp on you tightened further.

"Y/N, I love you-"

How many times had he said that? Countless times at this point, countless. Each and every one was as genuine as it could get - he hoped you knew that - yet none of them seemed to reach the same level of sincerity and regret to those declarations of those moments.

For all the eloquent speech this man had cultivated over the years, there he was, repeating the same three words over and over again - each iteration once more getting twice as desperate - until finally your hand grasped his shirt.

He could still feel your tears flowing freely, but at least you relaxed somewhat, letting him relax somewhat as well.

"I love you too," you weakly replied. "I love you so much... idiot..."

No words were exchanged after that; perhaps none were needed, or rather none existed that could fill in that need. The whole night he never let you go - not even once - as you two reconciled in each other's presence in silence.

Nakahara Chuuya

It's no secret that Chuuya's temper was more volatile than his favorite wine. Depite that, however, he doesn't let his emotions get the better him. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made it this far in the mafia hierarchy.

Today was different. The stressful events of the week left him with hardly any room to breathe, and an argument at home was the last thing he needed.

"Can't you handle that shit yourself, Y/N?!"

He knew that you knew that there were times, such as now, when he should not be approached. So why were you here, being more insistent than ever?

The tone of your voice was already rubbing off of him, and you just had to-

"Fucking hell-"

Without thinking, he kicked the chair beside him. The poor thing managed to take most of his anger, but a piece of debris had unfortunately broken off and flew, hitting you squarely on the face.

It was in such unbelievably perfect timing that Chuuya thought at first his mind had come this stupid situation until he heard your scoff clearly.

"What the-"

Before you could process what had happened, he ran to you and grabbed you into a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N."

You just stood there, still confused. Your forehead stung a bit, but it was nothing compared to the warmth you were enveloped in all of the sudden. You had expected a raging anger and frustration from Chuuya but it just... disappeared.

"Shit- I really didn't mean to, Y/N. I'm sorry-"

Were you relieved to hear that from him? Sure, a bit. But what about the fury that was all-consuming just a while ago? What were you to do with that?

Your silent rumination only unsettled him more. If he clueless as to what you were thinking, he would be just as lost as with what to do.

"Let's go over it again, okay? I'm not going to get mad this time."

More than the chair, it was his words that he flung at you that upset him the most now that he was sober from his emotions.

"I swear I won't get mad. So talk to me. Please. Y/N-"

He was vigorously but gently shaking your shoulder all the while, hoping to get something from you.

And he finally did - but a loud laugh was not what he expected.

"This is so stupid."

It was his turn to be confused. Yes, it was stupid - stupid of him to have done any of that - but he had no idea what you meant by that.

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in his neck. "I mean - a flying piece of broken chair? Really?"

"I'm sorry, Y/N-"

"I'm also sorry," you finally said calmly. "I knew you've been stressed recently, but I-"

"It's still my fault. It ain't your fault."

"No. It's mine."

"The heck are you saying?"

You stared at him again, pouting this time yet barely able to contain your laughter.

"Tsk. We are not going to fight over this," he answered playfully.

As quickly as the tension built so did it dissipate - a feature of most of your quarrels that the two of you were grateful to have.

You embraced him tightly once more. "I'm so lucky to have you, Chuuya."

Although you couldn't see his face, you could feel his smile spread. "Same here."

"I love you, Chuuya."

He loosened his grip on you before kissing you on the forehead. "I love you too."

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

You both knew this would happen eventually. Yet that didn't make things any easier when it did.

The rage had blinded him instantly; he didn't even realize it happen. Within a split second there was a reddish-black flash and a small familiar gasp.

The scent of blood triggered such a vivid vision for him. You had fallen to the floor soundlessly, and there you were lying lifelessly. It was a vision he'd seen many times before - in lucid moments, in delirium, oftentimes in his sleep.

It couldn't be real this time... could it? By instinct, he covered his right eye with his hand. There he still saw the same bloody scene, while on the left eye he saw that there was nothing in front of him: no pool of blood and no motionless corpse. But as what always happened when he tried to disillusion himself, a headache then formed.

Only letting himself relax a bit, Akutagawa began to slowly look for you. He was sure there was blood spilled - although his eyes failed him, his nose never did. The same goes for all his other senses, it seemed, and so he let those four lead them to you.

He landed in front of a mahogany door. The sobbing and shuffling were unmistakable to him despite the thickness of the wood muffling the sounds significantly. He carefully approached and knocked on it lightly before calling out your name.

"Y/N...?"

The whimpering did not stop in the slightest, shaking him further. What if you weren't actually there and his hearing became unreliable as well?

"Y/N, please answer. I need to know you're there..."

His eyes saw fresh blood ooze out of the gap between the door and the floor. No. There was nothing there; his nose and fingers confirmed it. Shit. His delusions were getting worse even if both of his eyes were closed.

"Y/N, please... forgive me-"

There was no way you could, he thought. You shouldn't, you wouldn't, and if it was true that he had hurt you let alone kill you, then he wouldn't forgive himself either.

The gentle creak of the door jolted him despite how soft and slow you opened the door. He was met by a disheveled and tear-stricken you, blood slowly dripping down from your left arm. So many words flashed by in his vision but the only one that came out of his lips was your name.

"Y/N..."

His hand slowly reached for you - although where it aimed to touch it had no idea - as he waited for any sign from you to stop. You seemed fine with it, and his fingers ended up softly landing on the wound. It was just a graze, fortunately, however the bleeding was still continuous.

He unleashed Rashoumon to wrap and put pressure on the wound. "We should get you to a hospital," he said in a low and gentle voice.

You two wordlessly walked to the nearest clinic, almost wordlessly had your wound treated, and just as silently went back home. The entire time his still persistent headache throbbed along with the worries of what exactly it was you were thinking then. How could you still be okay with this? Or were you already planning to leave him then and there? If that was the best for you, then he had no choice than to accept it.

"Ryuu..." It was so affectionate that he thought he was delusional again. "How's your headache?"

His eyes widened at your words. How did you notice that? "It's not so terrible," he replied weakly. Really, it should be him asking how you were.

"That's good."

Before you entered your own room, he pulled on your other arm (gently) to explain himself. His delusions have been getting worse, that's why his instincts targeted you in his anger. That's what happened, wasn't it? But making such excuses was for weak men, and weak as he may be he couldn't bring himself to waste your sanity any further. He decided to apologize, but he ended up staring intensely into your eyes the entire time.

"It's alright. It's really alright."

"It isn't," he quickly asserted. "And it won't happen again."

Your smile, although weak from that night's endeavors, seemed genuine enough to him. It truly must have been real with the way it somehow subsided his headache. Still, it wasn't enough to wipe away the guilt.

And so he had decided to sleep on the couch: a preemptive measure and act of penance. But it wasn't like he could actually sleep after what happened. Most likely he would've spent the entire night reflecting on the incident and on ways to make it up to you.

"What are you doing?" There was a mix of curiosity, confusion, and amusement in your voice. "I've been waiting for you."

Without waiting for him to reply, you pulled on his arm and dragged him to bed. Your arms then wrapped themselves tightly on his waist.

"...isn't it dangerous? I might hurt you again." He was referring to his dreams affecting his physical sleeping, but his mind had pinned a larger meaning to it.

"You might," you answered nonchalantly. "But knowing you, it would never be intentional."

The gentle weight of your head on his chest had always soothed him. "You trust me too much."

"I do. It's because I love you too much, you know?"

You heard a small scoff, but even if you couldn't see his face you knew it accompanied a small smile.

"I don't know how rough you're having it right now, but please know that my love for you is real... just as I know your love for me is real."

Oh, if only you knew how much those words mattered to him- no. It would be too much.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered as he embraced you tighter.

"I love you too." You then snuggled deeper into his chest. "Good night, Ryuu. Sweet dreams."

Nakajima Atsushi

Atsushi was always afraid that he'd hurt you some way or the other, and so he was always extremely careful with anything that involved you. Even in arguments he did his best to collect himself (not that he got THAT angry anyway - most of the time he just becomes sad) and not break down in front of you spontaneously.

That's why he wasn't sure why he got so worked up this time. Perhaps everything has just been overwhelming recently and you getting angry at him was simply the final straw. Was he truly such a failure at everything to everyone?!

He was grasping a glass of milk to drink and calm himself when the frustration rushed through his blood. His grip tightened and shattered the glass, spilling liquid, shards, and blood everywhere.

Of course, you somehow quickly remained level-headed and tried to attend to his injury.

"Wait let me see your-"

As soon as your hand grazed his, he swatted it away with great force. Leave me alone, it screamed, and you heard the message loud and clear. Too clear, perhaps, since you took a few steps back to counter the impact.

Your silent and intense stare was what brought him out of it. Just the idea of hitting you, let alone that powerfully, was just so unimaginable to him that he began to break down.

It must've been the tiger's uncontrollable strength again - it's always been that. Whenever he loses control himself it's that wild beast that takes over, causing Atsushi to commit acts of savergy.

But there was no ability at that moment. There was no tiger. There was nothing to blame it on, except himself. By instinct, he retreated to himself and fell to the floor, staring at nothing in particular.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, I didn't know what I was thinking-"

His stammering and shivering were so intense - it was unlike anything you've seen before. Apology after apology came, but did the complete opposite of relieving you.

You slowly approached him, wondering if you should try and touch him again. Usually your gentle shoulder rubs were enough to calm him down.

"Atsushi...?"

More than being hurt once again, you were more afraid that he'd regressed into that place again.

You tried to snap him out of it slowly: gently talking to him, reassuring him, trying to convince him that you weren't going anywhere despite what happened and will happen.

And by some miracle it worked. His tear-stricken eyes met yours, and the softness in them finally returned.

"Are you okay?" You asked once more.

"Y-yeah, I'm fi- No, wait. Are you okay?"

His hand instinctively shot up to check your hand and arm, but it stopped right before it grazed your skin. What the heck was thinking, trying to grab you right after that?

"Oh, don't worry too much. I'm fine. There's no wound and it probably won't bruise."

Atsushi wanted to breathe easily after hearing you say that but there was more to the question that needed answering. Thankfully, you caught on quickly.

"I swear, I'm fine." You smiled at him again and gently pat his head. "You've apologized enough. So let's just clean up this mess, okay?"

Before you could even attempt to stand up, he practically grabbed you and squeezed your whole being as he buried his head in your neck.

"Thank you, Y/N." He whispered before hugging you even tighter. "I love you so, so much. I promise I'll do better next time."

You returned the gesture. Awgh. How much your heart swelled despite what happened. "I love you too, Atsushi."

Taglist: @stygianoir, @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @thatdazaikin, @dazaee, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @kunikida-simp

#bsd #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #akutagawa ryuunosuke #nakajima atsushi #wtf did different writers write for these four HAAHAH so inconsistent hori shiet #hope it's fine tho pls don't notice #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #akutagawa x reader #atsushi x reader

871 notes · View notes

osamucide · 2 months ago

Text

BSD COFFEE ORDERS! ⊹

inspired by this post by @alyszuha! I thought it was so silly and as a former barista it sparked my imagination lol. very little context for these

DAZAI is a sweet coffee drinker. I think he secretly wishes he could be a black coffee fan but he can hardly get it down without four plus pumps of butter pecan syrup and an absurd amount of sugar. probably an iced latte regular. oat milk.

ATSUSHI doesn’t mind black coffee but everything tastes good when you grew up in poverty. he prefers it iced with yummy sweet cream cold foam on top, though.

KUNIKIDA is a plain black light roast truther. doesn’t care if it tastes like shit. he’d spike it with coke and gasoline if it meant it’d help him get through dealing with Dazai everyday.

RANPO would do ungodly things for a caramel frappe. extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle, please.

YOSANO is another black coffee drinker, but I think she’s a little picky about it. loves a good medium roast.

KYOUKA, I think, has residual paranoia from Kouyou telling her coffee would stunt her growth like Chuuya so she’s a tea drinker. sweet green tea, hot or iced, is her go to.

KENJI loves matcha! it’s so earthy and reminds him of home. hot or iced, maybe with some strawberry flavoring.

FUKUZAWA is the reason Ranpo fiends for caramel fraps. he probably gets it with an absurd amount of caffeine, though. I’m talking like, six shots of espresso.

TANIZAKI regularly rotates between vanilla lattes, chai teas, and green teas.

NAOMI gets whatever Tanizaki’s getting.

CHUUYA drinks hot salted caramel lattes pretty much exclusively.

AKUTAGAWA drinks a plain, scalding hot Americano because he thinks it makes him look hard. in reality, he thinks they’re kinda gross so he dumps assloads of sugar in them.

TACHIHARA loves a good chai latte, especially if it’s extra spicy, ya know? something about spicy chai. prefers it hot.

GIN strawberry Italian soda drinker is real to me.

HIGUCHI got put onto to strawberry Italian sodas by Gin. I think, after a while though, she starts to try out different flavors and comes to prefer peach.

MORI doesn’t go to cafes. he has a Keurig in his office and has Hirotsu buy him those huge boxes of donut shoppe/breakfast roast by the tens. stacks them up stupidly. straight black. no less than five cups a day.

ODA seems like he’d be a redeye drinker. silky espresso + a nice medium roast? he loves it.

ANGO drinks a cappuccino, probably with only the finest espresso, too.

POE is a cold brew drinker. I think he probably plays around with flavors and splashes of different types of cream; he really likes a vanilla and caramel cold brew with a splash of whole milk.

FYODOR drinks Raf coffee! it’s a Russian classic from the 90s (the origins are neat and I actually think they’re pretty yummy)

NIKOLAI absolutely drinks tuxedo mochas. wants them disgustingly sweet. all that sugar and caffeine is probably why he’s bouncing off the damn walls all the time.

SIGMA probably drank Raf coffee and mochas for a while because of his colleagues. when he starts branching out on his own, though, he discovers he really likes fruity lattes. blueberry, strawberry, or blackberry flavoring is at the top of his list.

TETCHOU would drink what I would call a mocha for lack of a better term, I guess? but he more or less just gets chocolate syrup dumped directly into black coffee.

JOUNO pumpkin spice latte enjoyer is canon Asagiri told me so. I don’t think he’s too picky about coffee, though (unless it’s Tetchou’s ghastly combination).

#reid speaks.ᐟ #with love—reid #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs headcanons

116 notes · View notes

animeyanderelover · 1 month ago

Text

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, clinginess, delusional behavior, stalking, manipulation, violence, sadism, murder, f! reader

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78

S/o is like Kocho Shinobu

Fukuzawa Yukichi

⚪An easygoing smile, a cheerful demeanor, a charming friendliness. Upon first glance you do not seem to fit in at all with the rest of the Detective Agency, all of them in their own rights a bunch of excentric people with unusual quirks and habits. It is this environment filled with people who aren't normal though that interferes with your abilities to successfully fool the members. Fukuzawa is only one of many who suspects you to hide something beneath that bright facade yet he has vouched for you, putting his trust in your abilities to protect Yokohama and its citizens. You spend a lot of time around the usually composed man, you adore teasing him and making fun of his inevitable stiffness and awkwardness as soon as you start teasing him, always causing his stoic walls to crumble as embarrassment paints his cheek a slight pink. He isn't the only one getting teased though, he often catches you doing the same with people like Atsushi as you always pick on him, your remarks almost sadistic which often leads Fukuzawa to interfere and reprimand you for your words, reminding you to be more mindful with the words you choose as you may hurt others feelings.

⚪There is so much hatred underneath that smile and Fukuzawa knows that yet he finds himself unable to help you, a fact that bothers him deeply. You're unable to live a free life, your desire for revenge having stolen your wings to fly wherever your heart desires as you dedicate your energy into defeating whoever has taken away everything from you. He can't even remember how often the both of you have engaged into conflict over this deeply-rotted anger of yours, your sweet smile contradicting his oppressing seriousness. He doesn't wish for you to pump your body full of poison, doesn't wish for you to go down a path of hatred and anger that would lead you nowhere yet you dismiss his warnings and worries as your mind has already been made up. You're ruining yourself all in the name of vengeance and Fukuzawa is unable to let you go through with your plans. Tension rises as there is a sudden security you find yourself surrounded by, the walls slowly narrowing around you as you realise Fukuzawa's attempts to restrict you. A flicker of your frustration briefly flickers across your eyes as you visit him in his office. Now it seems the greater will is going to decide the winner.

Yosano Akiko

🦋Yosano and you make one terrific duo when you join as you have a lot in common. Your abilities having connections to butterflies as well as the shared sadism and the expertise in medicine. Both of you work very closely together most of the time yet there is an unspoken distance between the two of you, one that drives Yosano slowly crazy the further her feelings for you grow. She senses something simmering beneath your surface, a suffocating wrath that scares her slightly yet more than anything she wishes to understand you better. Her feelings for you are undeniable and you with your keen intellect have picked up on it by now yet never do you give her a comment about it, choosing to further torment her as if her feelings do not matter to you in the greater scheme of things. Time and time again she has found you all by yourself in your laboratory, surrounded by toxin that you painstakingly create and coat your katana with to later paralyse or even kill your enemies by scratching and stabbing them with the tip of your weapon. She's seen your speed and your agility yet she deeply worries about you, afraid that one day your hatred will lead you down the wrong path.

🦋It is when she figures out that you have pumped your own body full of poison that Yosano finally breaks down, her heart breaking as she realises just how consumed you are with a hatred she still fails to understand. She begs you to stop with your madness, her heart throbbing painfully in her chest as you give her a carefree smile and wave her worries off, telling her that you'll be fine. You've been planning and scheming for years for your revenge and if worst comes to worst she can simply use her own abilities to heal you if something should happen to her. You couldn't have broken her more than with those words as she realises that all along you never cared for her as much as she cared for you, your desire for revenge always having taken priority as you worked with her so closely due to her own increased knowledge with the human body. What even is she to you? She's precious, Yosano is a good friend of yours. Words you mean truthfully yet the truth sometimes hurts more than a lie as Yosano realises that even if you consider the entire Agency as your family you only joined because you would get your best shot at getting revenge by working for them. Well, she won't let you.

Dazai Osamu

🤎Poisonous words laced in honey, an empty chest hidden behind a breathtaking smile and a bleeding heart rotting with hatred covered by a charming and cheerful facade. You are truly as graceful and beautiful as the abilities you possess yet Dazai is still aware of the venom that has filled your entire body. You are gorgeous yet deeply broken but hide your bruised heart behind a carefree and bright mask and the realisatio of how similar the two of you are almost makes Dazai want to laugh out loud. He shouldn't be as smitten with you as he is for he already knows that you can't fix him nor is he convinced that he could help you yet still he is unable to avert his eyes from you, feeling as if you have bewitched him already. Every smile you give him, every insincere compliment of yours and even the jabbing words you speak when you tease him only fill him more and more with an addicting sensation that threatens to overwhelm him. You know of his feelings for you yet you brush them off as they do not matter to you, you only silently watch as he willingly pumps himself fuller and fuller with the venom you provide him with, festering the obsession within him until there is no antidote that could cure him.

🤎You are a minx. You are a witch. You have ruined him and only stood there silently whilst watching it all. And here he thought he was the secretive sadist between the two of you. Dazai is torn apart between elation and pitch black bitterness for what you have turned him into as he knows that your heart could never belong to him, dedicated to the dead for which you intent to sacrifice your own life for to achieve your revenge. Both of you are broken souls, neither one of you could ever be normal for the scars both of you received run far too deep. Yet there is something undeniably magnificent he finds in that. It's a fatal attraction, a lethal obsession he knows will only hurt him further yet with that pain always comes such a sweet sensation that only leaves him craving for more. An addiction wouldn't be appealing after all if it wouldn't be as beautiful as whatever it is the two of you have. Your presence is his poison and his medicine all in one, pain and sweetness blurring together until his heart threatens to burst as he greedily clings to every shred of your heart that you reveal to him. You complicate him and in return he will ruin you even more, drag you down with him until neither of you survive without the other.

Nakahara Chuuya

🟠In hindsight he should have headed Mori's warning when you were initially assigned to be his partner for an upcoming mission to take down a pesky organisation who had been mingling with the business of the Port Mafia. He should have followed Mori's words when the boss warned him to always remain careful around you for you were much more than you may look like upon first glance. Admittedly, there has always been something about you that has slightly unnerved Chuuya yet at the same time it also intrigued him, drew him closer. Your expertise in poison and pharmaceutics has proven to be terrifyingly effective to torture hostages for information and your use of poison in fights as well as your agility, speed and your own gift have been a great asset in this mission. You entrance him, lure him closer as if you were a spider in disguise of an innocent butterfly yet he doesn't realise that he is slowly getting pumped full of poison until he finds himself caught in your web. You take his breath away yet his heart is aching, aching for he knows that your heart is unobtainable to him. You're possessed by something else that he doesn't know of and Chuuya is desperate to find out what it is.

🟠An entire building left in shambles, the bones in your leg shattered all whilst Chuuya is pinning you down, his body littered with scratches and wounds as he can feel the poison already numbing his body and dulling his senses yet it is the sheer amount of adrenaline and desperation still keeping him conscious. The fight that ensues after he finds out the truth shatters his confidence and reveals the ugly obsession you've been feeding him with. You only tagged along because you wanted to kill the boss of the organisation for it was him who took your family away from him and for the sake of revenge you have pumped your body full of literal poison, spent years of your life planning and scheming for this day. It is your resolve to give up your own life to take the person you hate most down with you but it is Chuuya's own obsession that stops you and the clash of different wills that leads to the fight between the two of you. For the first time he sees your true emotions swirling in your eyes as you glare at him despite the broken bones you received from him. Everything is over before it even began yet Chuuya chants over and over again that he will fix this somehow even as he loses consciousness.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

🍎Fyodor is the demon you intend to slay for it is him who remains responsible for the death of your loved ones. Years you dedicate tirelessly researching and even staining your own hands in blood yet all the lives you take seem insignicant in the face of your wrath as you destroy yourself and hunt down those who work for the devil. It is this sheer dedication that alarms Fyodor eventually of your presence as the news that someone seems to hunt after him and slay all his pawns stir a fascination within him even though he is already scheming how to kill you. You have captured his twisted interest as he himself decides to indulge you in your little hunt as he joins the game as both of you start wrestling to figure out who is the true hunter and who the true prey in this dangerous game between the two of you. The dedication you have shown over the years to kill him almost flutters him and as if to reward you he dedicates more of his own time into figuring you out and it is through gathering intel on you and observing you cautiously that he finds himself growing attracted. Both of you were given weak bodies yet both of you found ways around it to still take down those who stand in your way.

🍎A little demon you are, daring to fill him with your poison as an obsession festers within his heart and you, witch that you are, hold the only cure. You are a sinner but you are a beautiful sinner, one that Fyodor intends to keep to himself. Your wings are stained in blood yet he intends to cleanse you of your sins until you are a beautiful, white butterlfy. His beautiful butterfly, forever encased within his own grasp without a way out. He will gladly face your burning wrath and step into the flames of your hatred for he desires his own revenge against you. Look at him, at the woeful state you have reduced him to and receive divine punishment from him. You have already stung him enough and now it is time for you to receive his own poison as well and suffer for the sins that you have committed. He truly sees the temptation of the devil within you as you are as gorgeous as you are deadly yet Fyodor sees himself as a man of faith who will not falter to the alluringly sweet addictions offered to him. Not now at least. Not until he has trapped you within his own web and pumped you full of his own venom. Do not fret for you will be a beautiful butterfly unable to flap its wings as soon as he is done with you.

Nikolai Gogol

🕊️There is a twisted sense of companionship once the two of you meet for the first time as the clown senses the brooding emotions bubbling beneath that cheerful surface, reminiscent of his own silly acts he likes to put on. You've been denied a normal life as your hatred was too strong for you to break free, there are chains holding you back as much as they are holding him back. My, emotions truly are nothing more than a meaning to deny the two of you to stretch your wings out and soar through the air. It is through this strange connection that the two of you manage to work together as Nikolai's ability is quite useful for you and your own gift entertains him enough to want to stick around. He cackles when he figures out that you have pumped yourself full of poison, have essentially made yourself into a biological weapon all to ensure to murder those who have taken your family away from you. How wonderful it is, having someone he can suffer with. Such desperation suits you. If only you'd be as dedicated to him as you are to the person you plan to murder. Your venom has already entered his system yet Nikolai remains unaware of it as of now though the twinges of jealousy are already there.

🕊️The poison starts taking effect the moment he finds out that you have managed to kill the person you have been chasing for years, now alive and free from the chains of hatred that used to tie you down. Only then does he feel the slimy sensation of despair pumping through his blood vessels as he realises that you are a free butterfly whilst he is still the caged dove. He thought the two of you were feathers of the same wing, he thought you were supposed to stay chained down with him yet you dare to obtain your freedom whilst leaving him behind? How lonely, how infuriating it all is as he realises that you have chained him down even further whilst he hasn't done the same to you. Oh, how cruel you are. Enjoy your little freedom for as long as it lasts for now it is Nikolai craving to tie you down using the same methods that have already once kept you from living a normal life. He is going to track down the people you cherish, he is going to murder them in front of your eyes and he is going to shackle you in heavy chains once more that will forever connect the two of you. He is going to rip your mask off of your face and he is going to bask in that pure look of despair and hatred you will give him.

#yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere fukuzawa #yandere fukuzawa yukichi #yandere yosano #yandere yosano akiko #yandere dazai #yandere dazai osamu #yandere chuuya #yandere nakahara chuuya #yandere fyodor #yandere fyodor dostoevsky #yandere nikolai #yandere nikolai gogol #yandere x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader

117 notes · View notes