#reverie headcanons

[ajaxcentral]

law who peels oranges for sweets and nat

law who finds himself cutting fruit and plating them for sweets after they've had a long day

law who takes sweets shoes off after a long night out (cue sweets sacking him on the shoulder because they can do it themselves)

law who loves sweets to the moon and back

[aureatchi]

⋆ ✦ ˚｡⋆ THIS SUMMER NIGHT WE FIND SCATTERED DREAMS, I ONCE AGAIN RUN IN THE STARLIGHT ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, sigma.

— what it’s like to stargaze with them. (& more)

a/n. sadly, i have yet to see the aurora borealis and in general, seldom get to see the stars. (light pollution my no.1 enemy !!) but a girl can dream :) (& distract herself from the latest bsd chapters..)

info. fem!reader. fluff. soft everyone lol. some of them are nerds & ramble abt stars. :) + a little poetic. mentions of greek mythology. kissing. buildup to actual topic. profanities in chuuya’s & he may or may not use sskk to help. bsd manga/ability spoilers in fyodor’s.

DAZAI : so in this instance, i’d be perseus, and you’d be andromeda. — he listens to everything you have to say.

Your palm in his, the brunette’s pretty fingers wrapped around yours. He softly massaged your hand as you began telling him, your starstruck lover a story under the show of constellations. It had formed into a little routine since the first time you stargazed with him as a date.

“There was this princess,” you started. “Princess Andromeda. She was a very beautiful woma-”

“You’re more beautiful, though,” Dazai interrupted. You didn’t even get in two complete sentences without his commentary. You sat a bit awestruck while he delivered a kiss to your hand.

“Continue, bella,” big brown eyes teased you.

You hastily recovered. “…She was beautiful. And her mother—Queen Cassiopeia—who was very prideful, decided to brag to Poseidon, the Greek god of the seas, that she was prettier than his daughters.”

“I mean, that’s understandable. I brag about you all the time! Why shouldn’t the pretty girl be shown off?”

“Shut up,” you chuckled, reminiscing over the times the detective had shown you off. Whenever you decided to visit the Armed Detective Agency’s office with Dazai, Kunikida would never hear the end of it. When you two went out to eat, he would flatter your name away. “This gorgeous girl would like to order…” “May I please get a table for the angelic lady and I?”

He never failed to fluster you.

“Anyway, Poseidon got angry and decided to send a sea monster to destroy their kingdom. The only way the monster could be pacified was if it could devour Andromeda.”

“A damsel in distress,” Dazai nodded and then dramatically pretended like he was the helpless princess on the ocean. He completely pulled over the blanket the two of you were sharing, using it as a cape—“Someone save me! I’m going to be eaten by a sea monster!”

“‘Samu! I’m cold!”

“Ah, sorry. Perhaps you are the princess, and you need saving from this icy night!” He rewrapped the blanket over your shoulder.

“Stop interrupting me; I’m trying to tell you something!” It was nowhere near icy, but your lover proved his dramaticism even further when a tuft of brown hair grazed your shoulder. He had rested his head on you.

“Oka-ay—sorry, continue!”

“Meanwhile, Perseus—I told you last time, the man who killed Medusa—found Andromeda while flying over with his horse, Pegasus. He immediately fell in love with her, so he slayed the sea monster and rescued her from the rock she was chained to.”

“What a hero,” Dazai said. “So they lived happily ever after?”

“Not yet. Perseus asked Andromeda’s father for permission to marry her but discovered she was already set to marry someone else. And the man she was engaged to got angry that Perseus wanted to marry her.”

“Of course,” he sighed, which puzzled you a bit, but you’d return to his comment later. “I’m rooting for Perseus, though.”

“Well, good for you because the two fought, and Perseus won by showing the other guy Medusa’s head.”

Dazai chuckled. “Nice move! He turned his enemy into his trophy. Imagine if we did that to all our enemies!”

“I think then we’d have a whole army of statues,” you laughed. “But now, he and Andromeda married, and they were able to live happily ever after.

“The gods placed them in the sky so their story would be remembered eternally.” Finished with your recount, you gazed up at the stars.

“The North Star,” you pointed, and when you saw the brunette’s bronze eyes squint, trying to see what you were talking about, you moved closer until you were halfway on his lap.

You took his palm in yours and guided it to a single star.

“That one. All the characters’ constellations I mentioned in the story revolve around that star. Perseus with his sword, Andromeda flying on Pegasus...”

“Huh? That’s the North Star? Isn’t it supposed to be the brightest in the sky or something?” It didn’t stand out from the rest as much as he thought.

You giggled. “That’s a myth, ‘samu. It’s funny you didn’t know that.”

He shrugged. “I never really had time to appreciate and learn about something so peaceful like nature until now.” He turned to you.

“Until you.”

You weren’t sure how, but it was almost as if the moonlight had carved out his pretty face. Ethereal, you had called the moon, and it reflected in your lover’s features. His eyes took in the charm of the millions of lights in the night and synthesized the feeling to bring it back to you.

“If I were one of the gods, I would’ve created a whole galaxy reflecting your soul.”

In the midst of terror and chaos, the detective’s eyes revolved around humans and their violence rather than around the sun and the planets. Eyes and soul—how else could he focus on anything else when that’s all life showed him?

“Because I see the constellations in you—Andromeda, Pegasus, Carina, Orion…” it had been a few months, and throughout you had shown and told him all the stories behind the stars in the sky.

“And now I can stop to smell the flowers, love. I can watch the Ursa Minor, even if I still find it hard to sleep.” You were the bridge to his bronze gaze and iron marrow—you showed him that you were human, but that a heart could really exist without violence or malice.

I see a reason why the nebulas are placed as they are, even if stories are just stories. I see a reason I’m here. With you.

He sealed the thought with a kiss to your lips, under the celestial moon and the heavens’ watch.

You always wondered why Dazai paid such close attention whenever you started rambling—initially, you didn’t think he’d care that much about tales of space. But you understood him a bit better now, his complex heart. You held onto him a bit tighter to him as you kissed him back.

…

“Oh yeah. What did you mean when you said ‘of course,’ when I started talking about Perseus having to fight over another guy for Andromeda?”

And Dazai was his lighthearted self once again.

“We’re definitely Andromeda and Perseus in another universe,” Dazai winked. “You’ve always deserved to be treated like a princess! I would totally save you from a sea monster. And I’d be an equestrian if I could too—even better, a flying one!”

“Sure…”

“C’mon, bella, you see me at those horse-racing events all the time! Anyway, most important of all, I had to fight for you. Such a tough world when every other man is also at your feet.” He crossed his arms. “Having Medusa’s head would’ve made things so much easier! I really would’ve had a whole army of stone statues if I did.”

“No, you really didn’t need it at all,” you replied, laughing at Dazai, who was now pouting.

“Osamu the demigod: slayer of monsters or not, I only have eyes for you.” You kissed him on the cheek.

“Unlike Andromeda, I wouldn’t let two men fight over me and marry the one who wins.

“I would just choose you right away.”

CHUUYA : babydoll, you’re worth more than all those stars combined. — he only gives you the best.

“Ah, that’s unfortunate. Thank you for informing me, though,” you said before hanging up the phone.

You didn’t sue them on the line, albeit irritated. Tonight, you were supposed to have a date with Chuuya at one of the fancy restaurants he somehow discovered more of in the city when you thought you finally visited them all, but your reservations were cancelled last minute.

“Hey, princess,” the handsome ginger said when you phoned him next. You could sense a smile through his words on the other end.

“What’s up?”

“Weird-ass restaurant cancelled our plans,” you said. “Not even a refund.”

Chuuya quickly picked up on the disappointment in your voice, and he knew it wasn’t because he didn’t get his money back. Money was nothing—he was a Port Mafia executive. Stacks of bills piled into his hands every day, and he quietly flexed on it through his collection of wine in the cellar, his clothes, and gifts to you.

What he wasn’t wealthy in was time. It had been almost a month since Chuuya had any free time—the boss had been overworking him amidst never-ending Yokohama mayhem. His large penthouse actually proved to be a disadvantage when you were the only one staying in it. It was too empty; it was too quiet for a home, there was an awkward gap in the bed you slept in.

“It’s okay, baby,” came Chuuya’s voice reassuringly. “Don’t worry ‘bout some shitty-ass restaurant.

“Meet me home at the rooftop at the time we originally planned.”

“…Alright,” you replied, unsure of what he was going to do, but you were grateful anyway that you’d get to spend time with him.

“And get ready too, like we originally planned,” he added, and this time, you could imagine the smugness in his smile. “See ya soon.”

…

The bell chimed as the elevator approached the top of Chuuya’s apartment, signaling that you reached the rooftop.

“Chuu?” you called out as the doors opened. He was nowhere to be found—instead a pathway of candles and a trail of rose petals leading to the other side.

Your heels clicked on the ground as you slowly followed the course. It was dark towards the back of the rooftop, but the front overlooked the entire city of Yokohama.

Another quiet flex.

“Hey, beautiful.” You noticed him before the lively city behind him, before the romantic scene he had set up—the path of petals expanded into scattering around the table Chuuya was sitting at. He was dressed up too—looking as attractive as ever.

“The Nakahara Restaurant,” you hummed, taking a seat in front of him. “Not bad.”

Chuuya smirked. “Not bad? We get Michelin stars, baby. Trust me.”

You giggled. “I don’t know about that, Chuu. You’ll have to prove it to me.” It was like you had turned the tables on him. Usually, he only deemed a restaurant good if you were pleased with the food.

“Alright.” Now, you were going to rate his. You could tell he was going to enjoy this.

“You hungry?”

You nodded.

With a snap of Chuuya’s fingers, you immediately heard footsteps scurrying toward the two of you.

Two young men, one with raven hair until silver tips and the other with an entirely silver head—you realized they were waiters from who knows where—approached you with a dish.

“Appetizers by Executive Nakahara,” the first one said.

“Wait—did you cook everything too?”

“Duuh, you take this for a fraud or something?” Chuuya failed to hide the pride on his face.

…

The appetizer, entrée, and dessert proved delicious, and you were forced to eat your previous words.

He was talented in just about everything.

Chuuya kicked the two ‘waiters’ out of his house after dessert was served, leaving the two of you finally alone. The candlelight amid the dark sky enveloped your figures in an intimate glow.

“I would’ve been fine with even just takeout,” you laughed after taking a sip out of your wine glass.

He smiled. “As if. It’s a special night, doll, we finally have time to see each other again.”

“Exactly! Seeing you is what matters most,” you said.

“Anyway, thank you, Chuu. I appreciate this so much. And I guess you’re right—you earn a Michelin Star from me.”

Chuuya looked towards the city below you and back. “Didn’t doubt it one bit. But that’s not the only stars we’re getting tonight.”

You looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get shocked.”

Your lover snapped again—you picked up a slight difference in it this time compared to the previous times he signaled—and suddenly, Yokohama went dark.

You didn’t know how, but the city’s electricity had completely cut off at the mafia executive’s command.

“Chuu—?”

“You’re not looking the right way.”

You had been staring at the pitch-black buildings below in fazed awe, but it seemed to have switched places with the skies as now, small scattered lights began to fade in when you looked up, your eyes adjusting to the dark.

“Chuu!” You stood up in excitement. “We can see stars! In Yokohama!”

The ginger chuckled before pulling out a folded comforter from under the table. “Here, it’s better this way. Now this is what the wine was really for.”

…

Chuuya had fixed the comforter on the rooftop and pulled out a few pillows so that you were able to lie down and watch above more comfortably.

“I did this a lot when I stayed in Paris for a bit,” he said, explaining how he got the idea. “But the lights stayed on 24/7 there, too, so I had to use a telescope.”

You looked at him thoughtfully. “We could’ve done that too. You really startled everyone just for this.”

As if on cue, you suddenly heard someone shout in the distance, going “Hey! Who the hell turned off all the lights?!” You and Chuuya both snorted.

“Just for you,” he corrected. “I think this is better anyway. They can handle one night without power. And I made sure the hospitals and other important establishments stayed untouched.”

It was crazy how much power the man had. “Not entirely evil then,” you said.

“Yeah, plus I was also really aiming at that restaurant that tried ruining our plans,” Chuuya smirked.

You looked back at the stars and then Chuuya again, who hadn’t taken his cerulean eyes off your face.

You lay together to gaze at the stars. But instead of those, he was looking at you.

You couldn’t stop the flurry of coyness you got. He looked absolutely stunning under the heavens—it was almost unfair. It would be if you weren’t the one who got to see him in such a state. He looked mesmerized—mesmerized with you?

“Hey, you’re going to miss it if you keep staring at me,” you said.

“I’m seeing you and those galaxies for the first time in a while,” Chuuya replied. “I think I’d rather watch you.”

He kissed you while you were still smiling, causing him to grin, too. You felt light and safe around him and the blankets, and he felt the same. All aggression and stress ceased from his head, healed by you and the moonlight.

“Y’can name stars after people too, right?” he asked when you pulled back. “I swear, I’m going to make the next scientist who discovers one name it after you. It’d be way better than those random shitty names they give nowadays.”

FYODOR : i have the cosmos mapped out, likewise your soul. — you alone, he adores.

There was not a word said as you got into the passenger seat of the car that Fyodor was driving. He had left a note earlier that day—Zolotse, you’re coming with me on a mission tonight. Prepare what you need and bring the sleeping bags, and you had done so with little hesitation.

The sun had already gone down, but you were used to this. Initially, you had thought his job the opposite of himself—the demon was called to bizarre places sporadically and had to adapt to their settings in a short amount of time. You only realized after being with him for a while that he planned these things beforehand, and he planned them long ago.

The job was made for him—his little game of fate and chess.

He drove for around four hours straight. In that time, you had put on your favorite music, and talked with him about the usual—your latest philosophical obsession, anything interesting about his latest endeavors—you hadn’t realized you had gotten so far away from civilization.

Fyodor must’ve become nocturnal from all the time he’d spent in the dark, because it was pitch-black in all directions when he finally parked the car and you stepped out.

And only then you finally asked him. “Fedya, where are we?”

He didn’t respond, instead going to the back of the car and opening the trunk, handing you your sleeping bag and a flashlight.

You flipped the switch on, trying to scan the surroundings for any hint of where this journey took you.

“Darling, you’re quite naïve,” Fyodor said as you looked down at rocks and twigs below your shoes. “I’m concerned about how easily you agreed to let someone drive you hours out into the wilderness.”

“I’d do it only for you,” you replied, giggling. “I trust you.” Alas, he had answered your question, though you still didn’t know what he was here for.

“Follow me. We have a bit of hiking to do.”

…

A secret hideout? Meeting spot? Something valuable hidden here? Your mind came up with countless reasons why your lover’s current mission took place on a mountain and how he could even navigate without a map. The entire thing was strange—you hadn’t even seen him take any valuables of some kind besides a tent and his own sleeping bag.

The walk-up was a bit tedious. Thankfully, you wore the right shoes and had eaten well beforehand, but you still didn’t expect you would be partaking in exercise so late at night. It was also hard to see, the flashlights scarcely making a difference.

You came across a very steep hill; it was almost like you had to climb rather than hike up.

“Apologies for the inconvenience,” you heard Fyodor from above as he went first to ensure each step was safe. “It’ll be worth it later.”

“Ah-” You hardly had time to ponder his statement when you misstepped on a loose twig, causing you to slip. However, a hand reached to tightly grab you before you slid down.

“Careful, milaya.”

Fyodor kept your hand clasped in his throughout the rest of the trek. You finally reached a large clearing by the edge of a cliff—devoid of trees and hard bedrock.

“We’re here.”

He began setting up the tent while you looked around. There was nothing at all out of the ordinary—nothing suspicious for the demon to use. Were you really here just to camp?

“The goal: your eyes to adjust.”

Fyodor had finished and had been looking at you for some time—smiling, at the way your brows furrowed and how you were still lost with this entire night.

“What-?” you asked as he walked over to take your sleeping bag. You followed him as he set it right next to his.

“Sit next to me, lyubov,” he said, guiding you down. “I’ll tell you the secret to getting directions up here.”

He tilted his head up, and for the first time, you noticed an entire galaxy before you.

…

Drenched under the vastness of the dark skies and lights of the stars, Fyodor began to speak.

“We’ve used star navigation for thousands of years,” he said. “Fifty-eight stars and thirty-eight constellations that we’re able to use, but you only need to locate the Ursa Major to find north and Orion to find west.”

You nodded. Perhaps this is what he had come here to do—find directions to something that no GPS or technology recorded. He had probably taken you along just because he thought you’d admire the view and how you did. Fyodor was right—the walk-up was worth this view.

It was like you were in a trance. You had seen stars, but nothing like this before. The entire Milky Way galaxy was visible to your eyes, countless little suns that seemed barely out of your grasp, even though they were millions of miles away.

“Fedya, how many of them do you recognize by name?”

“By now, I have them all memorized because I’ve found it helpful. If an apocalypse surged the earth, they would still be there. If the world ended, they would still be there. The cosmos remain untouched by us—they watch humanity dance from afar. The nomads knew this the best—when we traveled, we relied on nothing but nature.”

You wondered how many body transfers it took for him to retain them all. There were so many little lights in the sky, it seemed near impossible to be able to gather even half in a mind’s jar. You guessed tens of years at the least, and even with that time, you knew only he could do it.

“You commend them too, don’t you?” you spoke, taking a risk in guessing his views.

“Elaborate for me.” You made eye contact with him, and amethyst eyes fawned over by the night almost enticed you even more than the entire view of the universe afore you.

“You appreciate them, and everything else that lays on the earth after the sun sets because they hold no flaw. They aren’t blemished by the foolishness of people.

“You can be at peace with them because they are perfect, unlike us.”

“You’re right. The perfect mankind would be as pure as the sun and the stars—untainted by something as unnatural as abilities. That’s how I see it, but why group yourself in such faults?”

“Hm?” was the only sound you were able to get out, when he grazed his fingers along your face, cupping your cheek.

“Printsessa, you are perfect.” He spoke smoothly, rich accent making his words sound like a lullaby.

“Your soul dances with the kosmos. Something so divine—you are the harmony of something as beautiful as what we see tonight.

“You are the only one who matches the heavens; my love, you surpass the heavens.”

He captured your lips in a kiss, and you only registered then that it was you two alone. It felt like you two were the only ones in the world with the witnesses to your love being the ends of the horizons, and that the universe who put on a show in the sky instead turned to watch you.

…

“Fedya…what was the mission?” you asked softly as you cuddled with him, your hands reaching for his silky hair as you lay on his chest.

You felt his smile. “You’re still so naïve, darling; you didn’t have to think so much. The mission was to bring you here. It’s been a while since we’ve gone out, has it not?”

SIGMA : i’ve never seen it before! (the aurora borealis) — he learns what love is through you.

“Sigma, baby, let’s go!”

The man had a slightly puzzled face as he let you eagerly lead him outside, past your home’s backyard—into the hills beyond. Other than the Sky Casino, it was your favorite spot, especially when you wanted some peace away from the rest of humanity and its industry.

Your lover was utterly confused why you made sure he did not fall asleep this evening. He always went to bed far earlier than you and rose while you were still lost in dream—perhaps snoring—but tonight you insisted.

And Sigma followed, even though he was at the verge of passing out from exhaustion—managing a casino was hard. He let you take his hand and direct him, even without a clue of where you were going.

Maybe that was what love was—blindly following another.

“I have a surprise.” You slightly turned your head back to look at him, and he swore he would remember this scene forever. His hand still clasped around yours, the warm glow of the back porch’s bistro lights cast upon your face, and your sweet smile—though it was dark outside, he felt that your smile lit up his world more than all the stars combined in the night sky.

The cosmos were a new thing for him. You had introduced watching the stars to him, in this special place beyond your backyard.

Immediately after his first time learning what the Big Dipper was, and that the little lights in the sky were actually much farther than they seemed, he called for a viewing deck to be created for the Sky Casino.

That way, even on nights away from you and home, he could still gaze at the same stars, and for you as well if you wanted to visit.

“Are we stargazing?” Sigma asked as you ran up one of the hills with him. He held a chuckle to himself. You didn’t bother to change out of your pajamas. You were so cute.

“It’s a little different this time,” you giggled, setting down a blanket for the two of you to sit. Before, you would bring foldable chairs, but you realized that they made it a bit difficult for you to cling onto Sigma when you wanted to cuddle with him.

“We should start to see it in just a few minutes,” you said, looking up.

“Okay…”

The stars were there as usual. Sigma had never thought that something as pretty as your heart could exist in something physical, but that was how he saw those small lights in the sky.

If only you knew that whenever you decided to talk about how beautiful the skies were at night, he wanted to say they were literally just a reflection of you.

As soon as the clock on your watch hit the next hour, you immediately grabbed Sigma’s arm in enthusiasm.

Now he was really starting to wonder what got you so jumpy.

“Hey! Do you see it?!”

Sigma caught himself so distracted by you that he was watching your face instead of where your eyes were looking at.

He blushed when you looked at him, but thankfully you remained oblivious to his embarrassment.

“The green light! Do you see it?”

Sigma looked up, and he saw what looked like sliver of green contrast the dusky sky.

“That’s natural,” you began to explain. “It works through the earth’s magnetic field colliding with the atmosphere.

“Watch how it dances.”

A show started to unfold before the two of you. Sigma watched as the small touch of light became even brighter, transforming into a ribbon. He watched as the ribbon began to travel across the sky, overtaking the darkness. He watched in awe as it was joined by another green stream, traversing the horizons together.

“Wow,” you both said in awe.

“It’s called the aurora borealis,” you spoke.

“You can see it regularly if you travel way up north, but it’s a rare event here.

“I wanted to experience it with you.”

Sigma turned to look back at you, butterflies in his tummy and a surge of warmth overflowing his heart when he met your face—cheeks glowing from the reflection of the chasma and your eyes full of adoration.

“With me?” Sigma asked.

“Of course,” you replied, pulling him up. “Look Sigma—a new color joined.”

He glanced up, seeing that a new hue had appeared, aligning itself with the green. A pinkish light had mixed itself in, creating a swirl of paints on the sky’s pallete.

It really seemed like the lights were dancing. And Sigma thought to himself—like me and her.

You seemed to have the same idea because you had taken his hands in yours and started to whirl him around. It was messy—a bit chaotic, but he let himself be dragged along for a bit until he got dizzy, because maybe love was blindly following someone.

Eventually, Sigma started laughing, and couldn’t be thrown around any longer. “Calm down, love!” He took control of the dance, guiding your steps so that it turned into a more organized waltz.

He became captivated when he twirled you around—even though you were in your pajamas, you couldn’t look any less beautiful. He had danced with you in ballrooms, in gardens, but this unrehearsed night was the most enchanting of all.

…

You two danced until your feet started to hurt and Sigma’s exhaustion finally got the best of him. Now, you lay together, watching the rest of the night’s act play out.

“Whenever I look at the nebulas, I only think of you now, you know,” you confessed. “Because even if you’re up there, and I’m down on earth, we’re still looking at the same stars together.”

“I think the same,” Sigma replied. “It’s like we’re always connected in some way.”

You nodded with a smile, but you realized Sigma wasn’t finished yet.

“Actually, it’s more than that. I can only think of you when I see those things because all beauty leads back to you. I see your kindness in the sun and your energy in these colorful lights. I see your perseverance in the moon and most importantly, how many hearts you’ve made shine in the stars.

“And whatever ends up the brightest at night is mine, because you’ve warmed my heart the most.”

Your own heart was beating fast, by how your lover had spoken so tenderly to you and by the way he had rolled over towards you so that he was so close now—his lips just shy of yours.

“Sigma,” you whispered, and then you pulled him into a kiss.

It was then he finally understood: love wasn’t about blindly following another, he followed you because you were a blessing of trust, carrying the stars of devotion on your hands.

i heard if you rb, u’ll be able to watch the stars w/ ur fav tn !! reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

this fic wouldn’t have ever seen the light, weren’t for @cheriiyaya (hi); thank u bby for encouraging me start to finish. <3 a lil prompt inspo for dazai & fyodor from her. ^_^

p.s. did i imply a past!love triangle in dazai’s scenario? yes. was i referring to the fyozai ‘til death we do art love triangle? maybe..! actually, for some rzn, i included many things here that foreshadow other fics coming soon. stay tuned :)

© AUREATCHI 2024. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner by cafekitsune.

[reverieblondie]

I really like the shy s/o headcanons you did. If I can, I’d like to request hcs of Haarlep, Gale, Halsin, & Astarion (& anyone else you might feel like adding) w/ a s/o that’s almost always cool and collected (sort of like a kuudere).

Thanks! 💜

So I am unsure If I didn't go cool enough or if I went to Kuudere for this request, but I really enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoy reading it! Last Bullet point is NSFW!

Gale

Gale isn't exactly sure how to explain why his heart stirs when he sees you, it just does. You could be reading quietly by the campfire or cutting down enemies, but he always has the same thought when he sees you: Elegance. Your stoic demeanor and how you carry yourself with such grace have been swirling in his brain since your first meeting. You could be covered in any amount of filth but you will still have that keen look in your eye and speak in such an articulated fashion that to him it sounds like poetry, though you know it's not. Posed and a cool tone always the same, Gale finds a certain comfort from being around you. It's kinda nice he's always close by. Sure, he can be a dork, but Gale feels things so deeply, a thing you wish you could relate more to. Though with Gale you find that a part of you is becoming softer, it's mainly directed towards him but it's an improvement. Gale admires you and you think he deserves to be as equally admired and you don’t mind being that person for him. It only will lead to him falling for you more. 

You and Gale were enjoying a moment together in his tent. It had become something like a ritual that at the end of the day as everyone settled into their tents Gale would read aloud a book to you or anyone else who wanted to join. Tonight, however, his tent only had one guest, you. As Gale read his eyes flicked up toward where you were sitting beside him listening intently. You two had found yourselves in the position before on other nights, but tonight was different. You were quiet and so close, in fact from how close he could smell the subtle sweetness that laces itself to your skin. Always so elegant, even now with your hair slightly disheveled from the day. Sitting so patiently for him to continue reading. Gently, Gale brushes the hair back, his fingers grazing you so delicately. Looking at the text you see his smile as he slightly leans in, you follow his lead without a second thought. Forgetting all about the story and relishing in the passionate kiss. You were both happy nobody joined you two for the story that night. 

Gale is always showing you his appreciation in any way he can. Making dinner for you and the rest of the camp. Reading to you and recommending books. Teaching you what he knows about magic, turns out he's a great teacher. You just want to be able to show your appreciation to him, you can just kiss him or go to his tent later and show him what he means to you ,but you want to work on expressing yourself. You were helping him prepare dinner for everyone, as he cooked and would look over at you he would have that same sweet smile on his face. It’s time to express yourself and dig deep. “Do you know how much you mean to me? You are wonderful, and…I’m happy to be yours.” Hours later Gale was still giddy from the sudden phrase. 

Though you try to express your love for Gale through words like he so often does, sometimes words just lack the way you truly feel for him. That's how you two often end up in this situation. Gale with a fist full of your hair bites his lip as he watches you through lidded eyes. He's cummed twice now but you're still down there sucking and licking on him, overstimulating him for more. Though he's completely flushed, you're still looking up at him with those keen eyes as cool as always. On the inside your body is a flame of want, but you know how much he loves your elegant lips wrapped around him. Don’t worry it's your turn after he gives you one more…

Haarlep

You drive them crazy…You're so calm and collected at all times, despite their teasing and taunting you never give anything away. Harrlep wants you to break, they are desperate to be the cause and are very open about telling you this. But you always keep your cool demeanor. It's become a game for them, to be the one to have your resolve tremble down to lust. You on the other hand find their want oddly amusing. Typically games like this don’t interest you but the amount of time Haarlep devotes to you, the way their hungry eyes rake over you does make something in you stir…Maybe one day you will let their game progress, but it will be on your terms, for now, they will have to be pleased with your smiles as you leave them hanging. The chase makes it all the better. 

They had grown tired of the game as they watched you ramage around the House of Hope looking for whatever artifact you needed this time on your adventure. Haarleps fiery eyes watched as you were browsing around not even turning to share a glance with them. Haarlep had tried it all, whispering filth in your ear, running their tail up and down your back, hells they even tried ignoring you back but nothing worked in making you want them. Now here you are alone with them and still nothing. Their irritation grew till they finally cracked. Grabbing your arm Haarlep spun you around to grab your chin “I don’t take kindly to be ignored.” they growled right before they brought their lips to yours and kissed you. The kiss was raw and passionate, their heated lips made you feel like you caught an instant fever. Haarlep had to hold your weight as your limbs turned to jelly. A sudden rush in your lower stomach was tempting you with depraved thoughts of more. They tasted like the finest wine you could indulge in forever if you wanted to. As they broke the kiss and looked at you expectantly for any kind of reaction; hate, want, anything to tell them you felt anything at all. Haarleps eyes widened at what they saw and their lips spread to a delighted smile. Your eyes doe like in a breathless expression with the tinting of red to your cheeks. You were blushing because of them. 

After defending Raphael Haarlep was free to do whatever they wanted and what did they decide to do? Join you on your adventures, though the relationship between you two was never defined exactly you knew that deep down you were theirs, your soul be damned. Haarlep was always waiting for you and though they would play it off as just for fun you saw the way their eyes would soften when you emerged to your room. Though, sometimes you felt like Haarlep was putting on a show for you at times. You want them to be comfortable and not have to perform for you. “No games Haarlep…Can I please just hold you?” When you first asked this Haarlep seemed confused by the idea of cuddling, but as they laid their head against your chest to have you then softly you wrapped your arms around them. Haarlep lays there in your arms silent, the only noises are the soft sounds of your breathing and the thrumming of your heart. This intimacy…stirs something within them…

Haarlep is always the one to take the lead in your relationship, you figured they liked the feeling of control. But after they made a teasing comment about you needing to be more aggressive with what you want, you took it to heart, and they were so happy you did. They were getting drunk off it, your moans leaving your swollen lips as they held your wrist in their warm hands. You bounce up and down on them, taking them in so deeply. You're delicious as you tighten around their cock so close to coming undone but holding back. Your eyes are watching Haarlep so intently, it's strange they rarely ever get raddled during sex but with how you are looking right now they might be the ones to come undone first this time…

Halsin

You're different compared to others he has encountered. Halsin is so used to people becoming nervous or giddy when he is around, some disdain him, many are eager to befriend him, and then there are others wanting to bed him. But you? You never give anything away to how you might feel…well that was the case till he figured you out. It was a simple praise, he thought nothing much of it as he told you how good you were. The way your cheeks glowed red as your eyes stayed to his…it was a slight crack to your shield and he wanted more, he wanted to watch you blush and be the reason for it, he wanted you to feel better and have all the praise you deserved. Halsin would praise you every day just so he could witness your flustered features. Halsin figured out how to get past your shields and despite this usually being something to mortify you, it was instead a welcomed change. It's odd feeling vulnerable to another person but Halsin is a gentle soul, he will treat you tenderly.

Halsin had invited you out on one of his typical hikes through nature as the others visited the nearby town. Halsin being a druid preferred nature to make him more relaxed and you preferred being around Halsin so it was a win-win situation. Halsins soothing voice and calm dementor always put you at ease, though today as you walk closely to his towering figure something deep within you stirs. You come to an abrupt stop and he follows looking down at you curiously. His hazel eyes took you in then smiled softly, it made your heart skip and you finally knew what was happening to you. “I think I want to kiss you.” You say bluntly. Halsin looks at you surprised then smirks, “You think, or you know?” You stare at him, not breaking your gaze, “I know I do.” Halsin opens his arms out to embrace you, “Then come here.” His voice purrs. You place your hands on his wide chest and let him take the lead. The kiss was slow and intimate and tasted like honey.

Halisn is a giver, he is always bringing you gifts like flowers, fresh ingredients, rare stones, and his favorite showering you in praise till your cool dementor falters and you blush like an idiot. You want to do something for him, give him something that you know he would enjoy. After much consideration and time, you had the perfect gift. You approached him very casually with it hidden behind your back. Halsin, not being a fool, knew something was up when you were already blushing and he hadn’t praised you yet. When you finally revealed it he felt his heart squeeze. A poorly made wooden duck, “You make it look so easy…” you say simply and he can’t help but laugh, the rest of the day he told you how to properly make a wood carving. It's now become your favorite bonding time.  

Lovers in the past have always been so ravenous when it came to intimacy with him. Scratching, Biting, just being rough in general. You, however, treat him as if he were made of glass, blushing softly, cooing, and caressing him tenderly. Halsin has seen you in a fight, you are forced to be reckoned with, but in the intimacy in his arms, you are blushing and sweet. You speak every honeyed praise that comes to your mind as he goes down on your drinking in your release. Your voice in pleasure is becoming his favorite song these days. 

Rolan

When he first laid eyes on you he immediately thought you were one the coolest people he’s ever seen. It was right after a fight, your teammates were cheering and hollering as you all came into the grove, and you walked in the background watching your ragtag group. Then your eyes met his. You didn’t wave, or smile, you just simply gave a nod towards him. Cal and Lia swear they have never seen Rolan blush so much, of course, he denied it, but on the inside his heart was racing. After that day he found himself wanting to have you think he was as impressive. Lucky for him you did find him impressive, not only because he was a talented wizard but because he was an ambitious dreamer. You admired all he did for his family and found yourself lightening up every time you got to talk to him. His rich voice always made your head fill with stars despite your cool outside. As a couple you and Rolan are almost inseparable, you're always there to be his calming present and he brings an extra spark to your life. He might think you're the cool one, but in your eyes it's him.   

Rolan had done what Cal and Lia deemed impossible, he managed to ask you out on a date finally and was successful. A sunset stroll through the city was the plan and it was going well. Rolan was putting on his best confident demeanor as you listened to him intently, your bright eyes watching him carefully. Gods, how he loved your eyes, hair, body, and lips. Rolan felt his palms getting sweaty as he kept glancing at you. Each time his eyes landed on your perfectly kissable lips. He wanted so badly to just grab you and kiss your lips, stealing a taste for him to hold onto forever. Though his stuttering and nerves were getting in the way of that, he wanted you to think he was cool and collected, a perfect match for you. He can’t just grab you and kiss you!  Tail swishing around irritatedly, he is chastising himself to get a grip on his emotions and to stop staring at you so desperately. Then feels his collar being pulled and suddenly your lips are on his. All of Rolans resolve leaves as he grabs your hips and deepens the kiss to one of desperate hunger. Backing you up to the closeted ally he wraps his tail around your leg as his tongue pushes into your mouth finally tasting you. Breaking from the kiss to catch your breath Rolan accidentally lets a whimper slip from his throat. “You…kissed me, why?” You shrug, “I figured you wanted to considering how you kept staring at my lips.” Rolan groans, “You must find me pathetic…” you touch your hand to his cheek and kiss his lips again, “No, I think you're just passionate. Makes me want to be more like you.” Rolan felt the blush creeping to his ears, it was the best date. 

Rolan worked so hard it was something you both admired about him but it also made you worried for him. He just worked so hard to provide for his family. You wish you could do something for him to help, but pulling him away from his desk is often an impossible task. He was in his study for what might have been hours now. Entering his study you saw him scribbling away, it wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he looked up. In your hands a tray of his favorite meal he had mentioned his adoptive mother making for him Cal and Lia as kids. He was a bit shocked you remembered him talking about the dish. Placing the tray down you cooed at him to take a break. And as he smelt the food he found that he was incredibly hungry. As he ate you undid his hair and scratched your nails on his scalp. Lending down you told him to join you for a bath and he of course couldn’t deny you.  

He just couldn’t help himself anymore, watching you handle everything effortlessly, always acting so cool…he needed you, now… His buckle was gently knocking against the shelf, your head leaning back against him as his breathy whines rang in your ear. Hard thrust drives his cock deeper and deeper, the tip nudging against your sweet spot. Then he brings his tail in and your cool demeanor melts away and you're a moaning crying mess. Rolan brings his hand to cover your cries…His hot breath pants in the shell of your ear, “Keep it down…The customers will hear you…” Nothing makes him feel more confident than feeling you come undone… 

Wyll

If Wyll had to pick anyone to follow blindly into a fight it would be you. You're smart and tactful, you keep a level head despite anything. Wyll sees you as the perfect definition of a leader and he would follow you to the hells if you needed it. Though if anyone asked you the same question you would answer that Wyll makes the better leader with his kind-hearted nature and determination. Despite you being quiet you find that with Wyll it doesn't matter, he can carry the conversion easily for the two of you and it wouldn’t even get awkward. You two just enjoy being around each other, you bring out the best in each other. With Wyll you are more gentle and he helps you see the world in a less harsh perspective. with him by your side you find yourself understanding and experiencing more emotions you didn't think you ever would. With you around Wyll finds fulfillment, if someone like you sees him as someone you want to be with maybe he is not as worthless as he once thought. You two are each other's perfect complement.

After a time of getting to know one another and being each other's closest confidants, Wyll knew it was time to take the relationship in a more serious direction. Wyll Imagined your first kiss would be underneath a canopy of stars. Alone so he could share all his feelings for you that he hoped you would reciprocate. Everything changed though when you took that arrow to your shoulder, mere inches away from your heart. Shadowheart had patched you up and now Wyll was here devotedly at your side listening to you chastise yourself for being careless and already planning a counterattack on the enemy camp. Reaching out carefully Wyll grabbed your hand to bring your attention to his gentle face. “Today I thought I would have lost you. In our adventures, I know there will be times when one of us will get hurt, maybe even killed. Please let me show you the depths of my affection before I am ever able to.” “How will-” “May I kiss you?” surprised you and gave a nod, with your permission Wyll gently dipped down to your still body and kissed your lips softly. His lips were as soft as you imagined they would be. 

Wyll from the moment you meet him you always think of him as the most self-sacrificing and selfless person you have ever met. He would give the shirt off his back for a stranger if need be. But after watching him long enough you noticed how he carried heavy loads and pushed himself so thin, and when he thought no one was looking he would wince and rub his neck. He needs to be shown how to treat himself better. In his tent he was resting his sore muscles when you walked in, a bottle of fine-smelling oil in your hand. “What-” but you are quick to cut him off “You have been neglecting yourself, let me rub this into your skin. Halsin says it's good for healing, now shirt off.” his cheeks warm, that same matter-of-fact nature he adores. The rest of the night was spent gently massaging all the knots and aching pain from his muscles…and talks of your futures after this adventure. the plan? You two staying together…

Your skin was so hot against his lips, every sweet whisper from his lips made your once stone-like body shake. The party's leader, always so composed, until underneath him… “You look perfect, here…and here…” As Wyll mumbles his praises he kisses every one of your scars tenderly, worshiping you in a way you didn't know you needed. Words die in your throat as he goes lower and lower till his lips are wrapping around your sex and you feel his tongue licking against you sloppy…Is this what it's like being worshiped by another? 

Astarion

When first meeting Astarion he was not so impressed by your cool and collected demeanor. Everyone at the camp had their quirks and then there was you, like a perfect impenetrable wall. Of course, He thought you had something to hide and was determined to get to the bottom of it. First getting through your walls was a challenge, he tried flirting and intimidation tactics but found that they didn’t make you stir in the slightest. (when in fact you know you would go to your tent after those conversions holding your hand to your chest like your heart was going to explode, but he didn’t need to know that.) It wasn’t until he stopped his facade and was more honest that you started to open up as well. Over time as he found out who you were and you found out more about him the two of you became fiercely protective of one another. Definitely a stranger to friends to lovers situation. In fact, on your first date you didn’t even realize it was a date till he told you. You were odd and not always easy to understand but for the first time in a long time he wanted to have real intimacy with someone and you wanted to let down your protective walls. 

You had gotten to him today with your bluntness, of course, he played the whole thing off like he didn’t care but inside he did and it was eating away at him not knowing why. It's late, the time of night that no creatures stir, well only one kind of creature does…his kind. You're asleep on your bedroll by the fire as per usual. You always sleep next to its warmth, Astarion figures that's what you crave like most creatures, warmth; something his cold body could never provide to you. Astarion shakes the thought, why would he even think of holding you? He doesn't even like you. Your damned aloofness pisses him off to no end. But as he is about to leave your slumbering side, you reach out and touch him. Your heated skin warms his icicle-like fingers, he half expected you to wake and recoil, but you didn’t you seemed to be eased by it. Your plump lips parted slightly as you dream. Slowly leaning down he keeps his crimson eyes on your face, completely unaware of the danger you are in. This is where he bites your neck and drains you of your blood like the monster he is. But instead, he brings his cold lips to your warm ones and kisses you. After a moment he comes back to his senses and pulls away. As he looks down at you now there is just the slightest curl of a smile to your lips. Sweet dreams he supposes.  

Astarion, usually so charismatic and open to say anything he wanted, had seemed to be rather reserved lately. Now you are usually one to never notice these changes in people but when it comes to Astarion you couldn’t help but notice those subtle shifts. It was late, but you knew he would be up, you went into the tent he had been reading and immediately started to put on his cocky dementor when he saw you but you just ignored it and sat next to him. “So why do I get the pleasure of such a late night visit darling?” looking through his short stack of books you pick one that seems the most interesting to you, open it then speak, “You have seemed off, so this is me being here for you. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, and I will leave if you would like.” you turn to look into his eyes “but spending time with you always makes me feel better so I am trying to do that for you.” Astarion seemed shocked but the confession for a moment before he gave you that rare soft smile. The night was spent in silence with you reading and he laid his head in your lap. Your warmth was exactly what he needed, but he wasn't ready to confess that yet.    

“Bite me…” Astarion looks down at you, your neck exposed and flushed, the slightest sheen of sweat causing you to glisten in the candlelight. He feels his gums itch above his fangs…he wants to feed from you…but would you think him a monster after? Insecurities and anxieties swirl in his mind. You two had just started getting intimate with one another…would this turn out to be too much for you, for him…Then a soft touch to his pale skin brings him back, “Star…Only if you're comfortable, but know I trust you. I just…I want to give you everything I can.” Your words are so calm, so confident in him, he loves it, feeling so safe with you. Leaning down slowly he Kisses your neck before sinking his teeth in. Your body tenses for a moment before you're lulling into the saccharine of pleasure. Breaking away he licks your running blood from your neck as he looks down at you. Please know…that he loves you, endlessly.

[wolfofcelestia]

"Zayne is boring"

Anyway, here is, in no particular order,

An incomplete list of kinks Zayne gave me (or made even worse in me):

1. Temperature play (including bondage and Tools made of ice, ice cold touches)

2. Breath play

3. Owner/pet

4. Possessiveness

5. Hands, Fingers (in mouth and other places 🙂)

6. Master/slave

7. Corruption / Sexual awakening / addiction (both ways)

8. Marking

9. SCENT (including pheromone play, alpha/omega)

10. Biting

11. Unbreakable Devotion

12. Suit + black gloves

13. Voice (including dirty talk, vocalizations, and anything to do with his voice)

14. Edging

15. Military uniforms

16. Getting that pure white coat dirty

17. Sex in his office (I am permanently mentally here)

18. Tamer/brat

19. Discipline

20. Him giving instructions/orders for Things in his usual clinical way (including praise, encouragement, talking you through it)

21. Medical play (I will not officially acknowledge this)

22. Filthy love letters

23. Pool

24. Rings

[sereh624]

me when i want towrite headcanons for other audio roleplay characters but the creators are very much active on tumblr and its embarrassing cause what if they see it and want to skin me cause its personal opinion and not canon and its innacurate and i have to log off tumblr forever

ive already written headcanons for redacted audio characters because . erik hasnt graced the fandom eith his online presence since the ancient t8mes. So i dint have to worry about it but like everyone else is online

"Ew why is this little girl writing this about MY characters" - totally real and accurate reaction

@vividmilk ykw please im in misery

[poedays]

Gael’s listener had his name tattooed on their shoulder (by Gael himself) and got it laser removed a year after they broke up.

Sorry guys I’m drowning in Gael thoughts and had to unleash one of them. 🫡

I love these guys already.

(Also Mr Sparkles over here better make a reappearance, Altair please)

[reveluving]

i can only see you ; ken x reader

warnings: fluffy fluff (ken just loves your hugs & kisses!)

a/n: WHERE THE SIMU!KEN FICS AT DAYUM (ok but you can actually read this as Ryan!Ken too!)

» fancy reading something new? check out my full m.list!

Ken loves your hugs. Like, if hugs were illegal, he'd probably face 32 years in prison for just how much he adores embracing you, and he'd do it again, no regrets, no questions asked.

He especially loves it if you're just passing by while doing your own thing, only to wrap your arms around him while he's sitting down. He'd rest his head on your tummy or chest, looking up at you as though you hung the moon.

The moment only gets sweeter if it's a rainy day; just the sounds of rain pitter-patter against the windows and the neon lights of the busy road coming through it. Not that he'd ever decline your affection on any other days, but the gloomy showers that he's not exactly used to since coming to the real world only makes your presence, let alone hugs and kisses so much more meaningful.

The best part is getting to hear you giggle whenever he nuzzles your tummy. He won't let go, not even if you try to take a step back—imagine a comical imagery with his ass remaining seated while he stretches his body because letting you go is not an option.

You'd cradle his jaw, stroking the apple of his cheeks with your thumbs before giving him a kiss the tip of his nose, then one on his left cheek, then another on the right, another one on his forehead. Ending each peck with a loud smooch!

Just kisses after kisses, not leaving a single part of his handsome face untouched.

By the time you're done, he has this dreamy look on his face. Blinking slowly with a stupid smile on his face. The embodiment of kicking his feet in the air, like that one GIF.

"What was that for?" He'd asked, huffing a little laugh like a man who had a drop too much.

"Nothing," You'd shrug, grinning, "Just felt like kissing you."

Bonus if you have lipstick on! Doesn't matter what the colour is or if they're sheer, creamy or glossy. Ooh, he just wears them like a medal!

Expect to be paid the same way, but in a more romantic way possible. He'd dip you, sway with you to a soft/city-pop or lofi-ish song, or kiss along your arms before locking his lips with yours.

Being hugged and kissed by you is one thing, but being called 'handsome' as his default petname is just the most delicious buttercream icing on the cake! Like, he could just he vibing and suddenly, you'd come up behind him to peck on his temple before asking, "What're you doing, handsome?"

And he'd melt. Oh my God, he'll just sag in your hold, and once you pull away, he'll chase after your lips with his own readily puckered up.

Impressing you everyday is the key to life, or so he says. Doesn't matter if it's a backflip, serenading, perfecting a recipe of yours or even just surviving the day, he'd do it all, because he has you by his side. Your cuddles and/or kisses of appreciation is the best kind of payment of them all.

And no matter how much confidence he exudes, he can only hope his love is just as meaningful to you as yours does him.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

P.S. In need of some Simu!Ken thoughts PLS DON'T LET MY INBOX GO DRY SEND SOFT THOTS. I REPEAT. WE NEED MORE OF MR KEN LIU 🗣🔊🔊❗

[almost-correct-quotes]

assigning reverie audios characters video games but it's extremely catered to my taste

casey: easy answer, but stardew valley or slime rancher. i think he'd like that sort of cozy game you can just fall into and play casually. he's also definitely a switch gamer, not pc; i can see him having a cozy day with a couple blankets, a cup of tea, and a handheld video game console.

cyril: i do not see cyril as a gamer by any means, but if he was, i think he'd like the witcher series. he'd make fun of it for its fantasy-typical portrayal of elves, but he'd definitely like the lore and style in general.

roman: i think he'd like the portal games (and they have the same aesthetic as him). also, i think he'd play the stanley parable and get way too invested in the lore.

dion: dance dance revolution. next.

kane: i think if you showed him the controls to powerwash simulator and came back 4 hours later he would still be enthralled.

gage: minecraft, but moreso hypixel-style high-octane minigames than the actual singleplayer experience.

[v3x-y0urs3lf]

Alright, Because Cyril is my favourite character I’ve been binging through his playlist and have made new headcanons and/or want to accentuate what’s been implied/canon. (Also I want another try to make my last headcanons more accurate. I fear I mis-characterised him.)

I think a good one to start off with is that Cyril low-key admits to reading a bit of everything.. as in everything. In my head, the first thing I thought was dark romance, smut and I want to say he’s looked at some fan-fiction of some sort.

During his ninth audio he apparently has to ‘tidy’ some things. I severely doubt it’s actually dirty because.. It’s Cyril. I can imagine some dishes in the sink or an empty bottle or two lying around due to overworking but compared to like, Rival/Dove’s(who’s name I only recently discovered.) ‘Overflowing trash bin’ in audio 3 then it’s pretty good. (That’s my headcanon.)

I really want to say that it’s something considered ‘normal’ to the average person like ‘Unique’ types of literature or even just some dirty clothes in the corner of the room. Or hell, even just a bin full of used tissues from ‘allergies’ that he’s embarrassed about because he has a reputation to uphold.

Going back to the ninth audio, I noticed he mentioned an institute apartment and I got a bit of an unlikely but not impossible idea for that. I don’t think Faustin or Reuben are necessarily abusive to Cyril or anyone, I just don’t think Cyril enjoyed living under their roof and so he instead rented a room in the institute apartment. I don’t think it’s completely impossible that Cyril just felt like moving out and into an apartment near his work, if anything it does sound like something he’d do.. I just think it’s a little too plain of an idea and no character can be completely happy. I can’t help but also want to mention that Cyril apparently refers to Reuben enough as ‘Reuben’ that Dove/Rival has been able to read and understand when somethings happened between them. Again, not strange that Cyril doesn’t call him ‘Papa’ or anything alike, Especially in the workplace. It just happens enough that Dove/Rival notice when somethings happened between them.

Also, For the longest time I didn't realise Faustin, Reuben and Cyril were all related (Until I found the post of everyone's last names.) and somewhere in Audio 3 Cyril almost slips up and calls Faustin 'Father' which - no comment, Just thought it was really cute and really neat.

[asmrrpaddict]

Reverie Audios: The Catalyst headcanons

SPOILERS for No Man is an Island!!!!

💍One reason why Neo stopped Gage from going to Law is because they know Law is planning to propose and wants to give them space.

💥After Dove saw the vision and Cyril wasn’t moving fast enough, they spun Cyril away from the explosion and pushed him down to the ground with them on top to shield him.

🐕Honey kept nudging Casey with their head trying to convey they could understand him and try to keep him calm.

🧛‍♀️Sweets was feeling claustrophobic and surrounded by too many people (too much blood)before the explosion and after, they lost control.

OR

🧛‍♀️They had the effects of being feral beginning to build, but didn’t know what it was so they were jittery.

Maybe both combined in some way??

There is so much going on with this audio, I have no clues about most of it!! I couldn’t come up with a single HC for a lot of it including what was happening with Gage and Neo, Dove’s other vision that kind of sounded like a heart monitor beeping in a hospital, and the whispering at the end. Answers will come in time. Reverie is really good at giving us the information we need when we need it.

[ajaxcentral]

sweets (a tour of law and sweets camera roll)

many scenic photos from hikes (law took a picture on the hike where he and sweets met and you can see them off to the side)

so many photos of nat (so many)

a picture of sweets holding a drawing that nat made of them next to their face with the worlds largest smile

nat on laws shoulders, both of them mid laughter

law and nat sat at the piano, their backs facing the camera (followed by a video of law playing for nat)

sweets and nat sat at the piano, same as law but they both seem to be fooling off (also followed by a video of the both of them playing random keys)

sweets asleep with their head on laws chest

company group photo! (ft desmond deadpanning)

one too many candids of law working on his latest project (ft sweets drooling over his hands and arms)

law in a full cowboy costume not impressed (he only wore it if sweets promised not send photos of him to anyone they haven't broken that promise... yet)

[aureatchi]

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)

© AUREATCHI 2024. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + animated line divider by cafekitsune. header + series dividers mine; DO NOT SAVE.

[reverieblondie]

Not a fic/drabble request, but could I please ask for a quick rundown on your thoughts for how Raphael would react to realizing that one of his warlocks is an ex of his little mouse? Would anything about his reaction change depending on the nature of the break-up? Would it matter how competent or loyal of an agent for Raphael the warlock is? Would the cambion's reaction change depending on what stage he is at with his little mouse (like Interested but not yet courting vs. Courting)? Etc.

You want to know my thoughts??? 👀💖

So, I think the Raphael in the game would for sure keep his eye on the warlock not because he particularly cares if they where bad to his little mouse but what information they could get and use from the Warlock to better manipulate Tav. BUT! I think your wanting to know about the Raphael I hc and write about.

I think that Raphael would size them up, I have a feeling that Raphael has never given this warlock much attention but when it gets back to him that his little mouse was once with this warlock Raphael is curious. Raphael plays it cool however inviting the warlock to his home offering him some wine to loosing him up before asking his question about Tav and their relationship. Nothing overt though, like Raphael will watch as the Warlock chugs down the dark wine, watching has he rambles and chats Raphael gently leading him through the conversation to Tav, “Your from the Baldurs Gate? Never realized that before, I rather enjoy that city. I have a new client from there…goes by Tav…oh? You know her? Well what information can your spare…” the warlock would of course fall into this trap and ramble on and on even kinda gloating that they dated.

Now I am imagining that this warlock starts sharing intimate details in their drunken ramble, and that causes Raphael’s hands to clench, his knuckles turning white as he talks about her…his mouse… what this Warlock laughs off Raphael would treasure… this flea, touched her, kissed her and is now talking about her so loosely. That’s when Raphael smiles standing before he roughly takes the goblet from the Warlock, the Warlock is confused and some what scared of what their patron is doing/thinking, did he mess up? Anger him? Though on the inside Raphael is seething he keeps his composure and tells the warlock thank you for the chat but their is matters to attend too. And he will be receiving a new task from him very soon…

I don’t think it matters if this warlock is the best or the worst if he’s an ex of Tavs and Raphael knows it the warlock will go from Raphael not paying him much mind to Raphael wanting to converse with him more, but the flip side of that is the warlock is now receiving harder, more uncomfortable missions to complete. The warlock will think that it’s because Raphael thinks they are capable, but in actuality it’s just Raphael’s way to torture them but still getting what he wants. If they die they die if they don’t at least he’s getting what he wants.

Then let’s say Raphael starts sleeping with or courting his Mouse? That warlock is gone, never to be heard from or spoken about again. Raphael isn’t going to risk Tav feeling unease about their presence in what will soon be her home. But…their is also a part of me that loves a bit of a dark Raphael that would want to torture the warlock further…

Raphael would call the Warlock in and as he approaches his master’s office he will see Raphael completely ravishing Tavs body. Her voice moaning in ecstasy as her nude body is sweating and arching off Raphael’s desk. Raphael’s cock buried in her, rolling his hips so deep in and out of her squelching cunt. Raphael’s tongue licking on her breast and neck before biting hard to make her scream and her cunt clench on him harder. The warlock is frozen at the sight and that’s when Raphael’s glowing eyes will flick over to him and he would start fucking her harder making her call out Raphaels name, babbling about how much she loves him and how full she feels with him buried so deep. As the warlock runs off in embarrassment, and fear. Raphael will laugh…everyone knows that if they interrupt Raphael during his business the payment is your life…

Hope this makes sense!! Sorry for any typos! Or run on sentences! 💕✨

[wolfofcelestia]

Zayne/MC: Tamer and brat

He acts like he's tired of her nonsense but he can never hide that slight smile from her whenever she disobeys him

Foreseer/MC: Master and slave

He looks at her with such cold eyes but he can't deny he gets a thrill out of seeing her struggle to breathe then beg at his feet for more

Dawnbreaker/MC: Loyal knight and his Queen

He would do anything for her - kill for her, give his body up to her, tear down the walls of space and time for her - as long as he can make her happy, as long as she allows him to be by her side

[sereh624]

Do you take NSFW suggestions for your redacted audio headcanons? You haven't written it on your blog but I'm pretty sure you're a minor; does that mean you aren't taking NSFW requests? If not please clarify on your posts because I have some requests in mind, thanks.

i'm sorry, i don't!! i actually did list that i was a minor in my introduction post but i don't know if i listed my boundaries in there when it comes to writing. to answer your question, i haven't and probably won't be writing nsfw any time soon! i'm fourteen and writing smut for the potential adults in my fandom to see isn't really something i'm interested in doing, sorry!! i can't stop people from sending in these asks but i'm not really sure how to make it clear i don't want any more people to be asking me about writing NSFW or sharing their unsolicited headcanons in my inbox, because this does happen more often than i get regular requests 😭😭

thank you for asking before sending me anything, i do appreciate that and ill try to make it clearer on my stuff that i don't write smut/NSFW!!

im sorry to put you on blast like this, anon, but i kind of just need to use you as an example

[poedays]

Angsty Headcanons for Dove because @jaetists wanted them:

- Do you think they’ve ever seen themselves say something during an argument and feel disgusted by what they said? But then the argument comes, and they speak, and afterwards they know that they should’ve known better. They knew what they were going to say, but fate happened and they couldn’t stop it.

- Do you think they’ve seen the death or injury of someone they didn’t know? Seen something catastrophic with no way of knowing who, what, where or when it happens? Do you think they stay awake at night wondering ‘did that person survive the car crash?’, ‘did they get help after getting hurt?’, ‘why was I shown this if I can’t do anything to help?’.

- Imagine as a kid Dove has a vision of Cyril (perhaps even he was their first vision). Then once they meet him it was like a dream come true, no matter the jabs, the attitude, the rivalling relationship, to Dove Cyril was everything they’d ever wanted. As some would say, Cyril was fated for them.

- > Dove would never tell him this, perhaps they’d slip it into their vows, but they’d never want to put that sort of pressure on him.

- When the train went off the rails Dove covered Cyril, both forcing him to duck and trying to protect him. When they woke up in the containment unit they noticed Cyril had a dark bruise on his side and he wouldn’t admit it, but Dove knows it’s from where he hit the train seat when they pushed him down. They want to kiss it and apologised but Cyril insists it’s nothing.