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atom-writings · 7 months

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decay of angels celebrating halloween with their s/o

0.9k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: vulgar language, other than that, none!

a/n: wanted to do a seasonal one and I got a req for Halloween with nikolai but I couldn't understand it. dear anon what were u trying to say. pls

Fyodor

- Fyodor is not a fan of Halloween. It's rare for him to celebrate anything, much less a heathenous one like Halloween.

“Being so excited about ghouls... it seems the masses are finally showing their true faces.”

- He'll join you in whatever you want to do, but he would never help you hand out candy. However, he doesn't mind relaxing with you on the couch if you only have to run to the door a couple of times.

- (Plus, then he'd get to steal some of the candy. He hates it, but he does have quite a sweet tooth.)

- As for costumes, there's no way he'd dress up as anything silly. Every year, he just wears one of his fancy outfits and goes as a “catholic.” Which, like, yes... but he's just dressing a little different than normal.

- He will not do couples costumes. Ever.

- Although, he does appreciate the cover that Halloween can provide for him. He's found that law enforcement are often much more lenient on that day, and he always manages to take advantage of that somehow.

- Other than that, he doesn't care for Halloween at all. He doesn't like scary movies, he hates the gaudy decorations, and most importantly he hates having fun.

- He would completely abandon you on Halloween if he wasn't so paranoid about something happening if he did.

“Those hooligans outside... their faces are covered in cheap masks. If they were to do something to you, you could not even identify them afterwards!”

“But-”

“No, you aren't leaving. That's final.”

- Especially if you wear anything even a little more revealing than usual. Then he's glued to your side all night. For more reasons than just protection...

- Basically, Fyodor is a little hater. Go hang out with Nikolai instead.

Nikolai

- To Nikolai, every day of the year is Halloween. So, when the time comes around that it's Halloween for everyone else too, he's over the moon.

- Don't expect him to come along to a party or something like that, though. He's very firm in his plans every year.

- First, he decorates homes with tons of creepy shit. No, he doesn't decorate his own home. He goes along random streets flinging dead bodies (fake and real!) into people's yards along with covering front doors in cobwebs.

- Then, he sets up an (illegal) haunted house in a nearby abandoned warehouse. People come from miles away to participate, and only a few died in the process (:

”Ah, Y/N! Guess how we got more props for next year tonight!“

- Lastly, at night, he wanders around either 1. vandalizing anyone who didn't decorate or 2. scratching at people's bedroom windows and whistling like a ghost.

- You are always welcome to join him on his Halloween tirade but don't expect him to slow down for you. He's a busy delinquent!

- As for costumes, he always goes all out. Every year he gets a new one. A couple of years he's even been on stilts!

- But a few notable ones were: Black shadow creature with glowing red eyes, spiderlegged mask man, “Spike Boy“ (That one was really bad...) and Fyodor if he got love as a child! (That one was also really bad, but just for him.)

- He'd be totally willing to do a couple's costume though! Though, with one stipulation; that if you dress slutty, he has to too.

- On Halloween, he would really like to spend more time with you. Maybe one year you two will spend the night just peacefully giving out candy. But until then, he is way too much of a lunatic that night to act like anything close to a boyfriend.

(Actually… maybe you shouldn’t hang out with Nikolai on Halloween after all…)

Sigma

- Sigma definitely isn't the biggest Halloween fan, but he doesn't mind it. It's a fun excuse to make some kids happy, even if he does hate the more scary stuff.

- Usually, he isn't too easily scared, but it's different around Halloween. When he has to worry about people acting crazy and going out of their way to hurt or scare everyone... it puts him on edge. When he's that stressed out, anything scares him.

”Why do people have to go all out every year? Isn't this holiday supposed to be about kids?“

”It's about fun!“

”What's fun about crimes?!“

- So, because of that, he prefers staying at home all night. Going to parties or events makes him worry about teenagers vandalizing his place (like from a movie) so, he isn't heading out all night. And because he loves you, he'll make you stay home too.

- The most decorating he'll do for Halloween is a couple of pumpkins, maybe a sign or two. But that's it unless you want to do more.

- He does really love couple's costumes though. Every year, he tries to come up with something cute and easy for the two of you to do.

- Other than that, all his costumes are pretty basic. He doesn't care about looking creepy, he just wants to be comfortable. For a couple of years, his only costume was a big animal onesie.

- One of his favourite things about Halloween is the sweets! He absolutely adores handing out candy. Plus, sometimes, he'll bake some fall sweets for the two of you.

- He's one of those people who REALLY like pumpkin spice, so he loves the excuse to put it in EVERYTHING.

- But he basically only likes the holiday because it forces you two to hang out and relax.

- That is, when you're far away from Nikolai. He's scared of that man normally; but on Halloween? Makes him shiver.

#bsd tag #bsd fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #bsd x reader #bsd nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd sigma x reader #sigma x reader #sigma x you #fyodor x y/n #nikolai x reader

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chaos-of-the-abyss · 1 year

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Listen. LISTEN. “A life in which you have someone to say goodbye to is a good life. If your farewell to that person is very painful, there is nothing more to say.” The fact that it’s Dazai of all people saying this strikes me. Dazai is someone characterized by the fact that he does not see the value in living life. He does not find anything in the world to be worth living for. He’s tried to commit suicide time and time again because, to him, life simply offers nothing substantial enough to justify the experience of living it.

And yet. By saying those words, he implicitly tells Oda that his life was a good one. Not just passable, not just alright, not just tolerable, but good. His life was a good one because Oda is the person that he has to say goodbye to, because saying goodbye to Oda like this is very painful to him. Even though, in this universe, Oda hates him, even though Oda considers him an enemy, even though Oda says he has no right to call him ‘Odasaku’ - Dazai still says his life was a good one, simply because Oda existed in it.

#dazai osamu #beast au #bsd beast #odazai #oda sakunosuke #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs rambling #bungou stray dogs beast #bsd tag #dazai x oda #they're going to be my death #found dehydrated at 4am from too many tears #bsd #asagiri kafka

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crimson0lake · 30 days

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About "the storm"

I was just thinking after the last chapters and saw a tiktok saying 'Verlaine once said that he will come back when storm is coming' which lead me to thinking, what is exactly "the storm" would be like.

Now my theory comes here, during the beast manga where beast Dazai was talking about his other alternative versions, their appearance kinda looks like a storm, a Hurricane even, which is mostly happens during storms.

Now, what if "the storm" is that when someone tries to use the book to mix the other universes/ something goes wrong and other universes starts to collide with each other, causing a big "storm"? And as Verlaine also has an gravity ability, rather more trained and professional one than Chuuya's, that he simply overshadowed that he will appear when "the Strom" came and help Chuuya to control his ability, like his corruption self to the point of stopping "the storm"

But we know that Asagari won't like happy endings and as the series will soon end after "the storm" probably half of the cast just d!es during or after "the storm". And probably Chuuya cause of using his corruption too much?

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rimokas-blog · 7 months

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POV: You are Waiter.

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aroace-poly-show · 5 months

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bsd question that will make me look like an idiot but no one addresses: why are they all writers?????

it’s okay if your an idiot then so am i cause idk either

#asks #the characters themselves aren’t writers if that’s what your asking though #they’re just based off the authors/their works #i think poe’s a writer but aside from him i don’t think the others write #bsd tag #soil tag ☆

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lotomber · 6 months

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Hello! This is my taglist if you want to be added then please leave a comment or you can also send in an ask but please mention if you want to be added in sfw or nsfw posts for bungo stray dogs fandom. Thank you!!!

Tags: @mberxo, @xxcandlelightxx

#bungou stray dogs #bsd tag #taglist

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sameteeth · 3 months

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one of the things im excited to see for bsd is the culmination of kyōka and atsushi's storyline. kyōka's conversation with dazai when she flies the plane into Moby Dick always stood out to me. dazai challenges kyōka's suicidal attitude

he wants her to want to live. he wants her to realize that her past, while a part of her, does not define her. and kyōka rises to the challenge and is able to join the detective agency, because she believes she can be a good person, and do the right thing in that moment. atsushi struggles with a similar issue, but his is a little more convoluted. instead of condemning himself for past mistakes or immoral actions, he is stuck trying to dig himself out of a hole with "good actions".

even tho his headmaster died, atsushi still feels the worthlessness instilled in him by his abuser. he wants to claw his way to being a good person, but i dont think he can! this kind of moving goalpost mentality, where atsushi's worth is defined by his usefulness to other people, will just end up with him destroying himself for the sake of others. he doesn't think he has inherent worth, which is where i think he and kyōka's storylines are heading.

i also think kyōka and kōyō's mirroring pasts support this - kōyō is who kyōka would become if not for dazai's intervention. kōyō tried to escape the mafia, and failed.

her punishment was extreme enough that she gave up entirely on escaping and being a good person.... but kyōka fights hard enough, and dazai gives kyōka a chance to leave safely. kōyō lets her go. and even then ! dazai is only positioned to give kyōka a chance to escape because he, too, left the mafia. and he only left the mafia because of oda. and oda, a man who was an assassin and who chose to become a better person, laid the framework for dazai's exit be recognizing the humanity within dazai, and looking to help him. he knew dazai (his 18 year old drinking partner) was not doing well in the mafia. and so despite his bloodsoaked past, oda helped him.

bsd is definitely a manga with something to fucking say man. the idea that a persons worth is inherent and actions dont condemn you to worthlessness/define you as a person is incredibly compelling

#im a sucker for stories about nothing mattering but doing it anyways. yeah the love was there. it didnt change anything but it was there etc #idk i think kyōka is a really interesting character and her relationship with kōyō is certainly not Good but its definitely. something #i think theres also a generational thing going into it - the older mafia execs and fukuzawa and fukuchi are phasing out. they need to move #aside to let the newer generations step in and change what they couldnt and cause more chaos #see emphasis on kunikida as the next in line for president (im not up to date w the manga but theres smthn abt moris successor right)#anyways. obligatory this is my blog these r my thoughts dont kill me pls #canis speaks #bsd tag #i dont rlly want to show up in the main tag... dont look at me

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chuunai · 2 months

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Dazai kisses you with the reverence of a worshipper. He’s eternally grateful that such a filthy, lowly demon such as himself received the affections of such an angel. His morning and nighty rituals begin and end with the same event—kisses all over your holy body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. They’re chaste and fleeting in the beginning, afraid to defile and corrupt you. But oh, he craves to hear the delicacies of your gentle hums and moans when he gets too messy later on and leaves a pretty mark. He knows mere mortals shouldn’t get too close to goddesses, but he can’t help but follow icarus’s steps and hope to touch the sun, you.

Chuuya kisses you like a man drunk in love. Your lips replace the bottle he used to seek comfort so often from, and the taste of red wine could never hold a candle to the taste of you. And not unlike the glasses full of alcohol, he finds himself asking for just one more kiss. They’re bold and clear to the point that he has given himself to you. He’ll proudly kiss the ground you walk on with the same energy he kisses you. He’s lost so many people in his life, and the one thing he wants is to keep you and your kisses all to himself. The finest wine deserves a knowledgeable man who won’t break the bottle.

Fyodor kisses you with the delicate touch of an artist. Every imprint of his lips on your skin is carefully arranged in an ethereal collage of devotion and intimacy. There’s no overdoing it or under-doing it, it’s the perfect amount. His words are always coated in sugary lies and webbed subsidiary secrets, and he opts to express his love through affectionate gestures such as a mere kiss. Being a man of God, naturally he strays away from anything too provocative and heated. Except sometimes in the dead of night, he thinks of Eve and the apple. He shouldn’t have you, no, but he can’t resist forever.

Sigma kisses you like he’ll lose you. The three years he has known this world has only taught him pain, anguish and anxiety. He’s so inexperienced, and he’s afraid that inexperience will frustrate you to the point of leaving him. There’s a bit of everything in a kiss with him, some tongue (he read about it online on a WikiHow article of how to kiss), the shaky hand on your cheek and hip and so much idolization. You lead most of the kisses by proxy, and he lets you. It’s okay if you use him like a toy. He’ll gladly be used as long as you don’t leave.

Nikolai kisses you with all the wild passion he can muster. The lipstick he wears smears across your skin, painting your Cupid’s bow red. Mutters of ‘pretty thing’ and ‘fucking delicious’ leave him with each deepening kiss. It’s a pity he’s thought about setting you free from this world during such a moment. Your heart bleeding around the knife, wails and whimpers of pain muffled by his lips while he guides you through the end of life. The last remnant of the chains holding him down would be gone if your kisses weren’t so hammering onto his soul. Every peck and smooch only solidifies his connection to you and this universe.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @briars-castle, @little-miss-chaoss, @sinfulthoughtsposts @starrs20

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abysslll · 10 months

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hirotsu telling 15y.o chuuya that hes “far too young to find out what his organs look like” is a lot funnier when you consider that a year later he literally watched his clone dissolve

#bsd stormbringer #bsd tag

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feeblescholarmyass · 5 months

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I Hope Winter Feels Like a Heated Blanket and a Kiss on the Forehead (Alternatively: Seasonal Depression)

inspired by this post by @/cowgirlrising

tags: Dazai x Reader, Dazai has seasonal depression, depression symptoms, 2nd pov, reader comforts Dazai

a/n: I did way to much research to understand how electric fireplaces work for a 900 word fic, worked through burnout for that one sweet anon who asked for more Dazai x reader content. here you go, and thank you for appreciating my work!

He knew winter only as bleak, cold, and empty. On winter days, the loneliness stings a little more, the hunger aches a little more, and the heart longs a little more. It longs for the past, it longs for a future that is impossible. It longs for people long gone, it longs for a source of comfort amidst the blizzard of time that breaths against the neck of its victims. It longs for a hand to pull him out of the snowdrift. It longs for warmth.

He knew how to ignore the ache well. Loneliness was no stranger. Hunger was a constant companion. The heart had no place to feel ever more acutely just because the days were shorter and the nights were colder.

There was no cure for what ailed him. Even the temporary fixes started losing their edge after time. Everything always returned to cold. It was the cycle of life, really. We are all born to die. He had accepted that long ago.

Winter stained everything gray-blue; the color seeped into everything that it touched. Every sense in his body dulled to that same drabby color. Nothing tasted strong enough, nothing looked bright enough, nothing sounded loud enough. Nothing could warm the ice that coated his bones. Even the winter sakura blossoms didn't smell as strong as they should.

He sat miserably one your floor, fully aware that he *should* move and grab something to keep him warm, but he simply couldn't manage to get up. The effort it would take seemed insurmountable to him. So he continued being miserable and cold and empty. There was no point in warmth.

The sound of the door opening registered long after it reached his ears. He almost sat up to make sure it was you (it always was, but he liked to be sure), but didn't have the energy.

He was numb. Too numb to jump up and wrap his arms around you enthusiastically, like he normally would. His bones were frozen in place and his heart was covered in frost, slowing his heartbeat to almost non-existent.

He heard when you called out his name, but he couldn't muster a response. A small, awful part of him hoped you would turn around and leave him to die of the cold. That way he wouldn't have to worry about the way he knew your touch would burn. The pitiful look you would give him would sear him from the inside out, and that sounded more painful than hypothermia to his frigid mind.

Your voice calling out his name echoed in his mind. It sounded the same as someone whispering in a vast cave. Though quiet, the vibrations bounced against each and every crevice of his mind, both full and empty at the same time.

“Osamu,” You called out. Ah, my name. It's my name being called, he realized after a moment. They are looking for me.

He thought about rising, but even the thought of the effort it would take to sit up and smile at you drained all that was left in his body.

Oh, just leave me to wither and die, he begged in his mind. I'm ready to freeze over.

He closed his eyes, unwilling to see the inevitable pity he despised fill your eyes. The thought of being pitied made him wish the ice would spread faster.

“It's freezing in here,” you commented. He listened to your footsteps move from the door to the fireplace in front of him. He heard the click of the gas starting, and then the thrum of heat as the sparks caught fire.

He heard you stand and pause, finally seeing him. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Don't look at me, don't look at me, don't look at me.

The fire hurt. His fingers and toes burned from the sudden rise in temperature. His cheeks stung and goosebumps covered his skin. What was worse, he just knew you were looking at him with that sad expression he hated so much. Someone as stunning as you should never be sad, it was unbecoming of such loveliness.

The couch cushions shifted behind his head. You gently pulled him into your lap, allowing him to rest his cheek against your thighs. Normally he would have been ecstatic, but now he felt more embarrassed. You knew, and it was humiliating. He shouldn't be acting so pathetic, especially not in front of his dear partner.

Oh, but the feeling of you pulling your fingers through his hair and gently combing out the knots, massaging his scalp gently was so nice. This is why he loved you; you always knew exactly what he needed.

“How about I make something nice for dinner and we can watch movies together tonight? Keep your mind distracted and body warm. Does that sound nice?” You asked. Just the thought made him want to sob. Yes, that sounded amazing.

He nodded, pressing his face into your skin, feeling his control seep back into his body. Winter’s icy tendrils were losing their grip on him. They never really lost their grip, but he had more wiggle room again. He had the space to feel almost himself again when he was with you.

“I love you,” he whispered. You smiled down at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, too. Now how about we get up and you help me start peeling the potatoes?”

reblogs and/or comments are much appreciated!

by @feeblescholarmyass on tumblr

#dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu bsd #osamu dazai bsd #dazai x reader #seasonal depression #winter depression #x reader #bsd tag

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atom-writings · 9 months

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"For beggary a man is not chased out of human society with a stick, he is swept out with a broom, so as to make it as humiliating as possible."

2.6k words ~ yandere fyodor x reader (sequel to this)

tw: torture scene (not incredibly graphic?) general yandere tws, false imprisonment, infantilization, swearing, unhealthy relationships.

Act normal. That was it, all you had to was act normal. For one dinner, you would have to once again act the perfect little victim. He was smart, he was dangerous, you knew that, but he had not yet been given the key to your head. No, your secret would be safe as long as you just acted like you normally would.

Enter the ballroom. Look him in the eyes, you can't seem like you're avoiding him. Accept the restraints. Look between him and the food nervously, just like always. Wait for him to make some off-hand comment. Bring the water to your lips, drink it just as you would have on any other day. Don't say too much. Don't be quiet.

It should have been your easiest performance yet, you assumed. Though, in reality, very little of this was a performance was it? No, your submission, your trembling fear, the snakes that wound up your legs when he even acknowledged your presence, that was all genuine. As much as you tried to deny it, you had yet to lie to the man. The same man who did nothing but steal and slaughter. Either way, it should have been easy.

That thought left your mind the moment you stepped foot into the makeshift dining room once again. In retrospect, it was silly, wasn't it? With a glance, the man could make you feel like you were being endlessly drowned by thorns, twisting through your muscles, endlessly contracting and expanding within you. It made your knees weak as you walked closer. It made you want to fall to the floor, but... that would be quite unusual behaviour.

The moment the doors banged shut, echoing throughout the massive hall, Fyodor fixed his gaze on you intently. Even from across the length of a massive dining table, you couldn't help but flinch back, closing your eyes to silence the holes his irises seared into yours.

He didn't hesitate like he usually did. He didn't take even a second to allow you to adjust to his overpowering presence, no, not at all.

”My dear.“ Despite how soft his voice was, it echoed throughout the ballroom like he was screaming.

A few, horribly tense, horribly uncomfortable, moments passed. Yet he refused to speak, and he began to look at you like he hadn't before. The way he focused on you, was now not like one would look at an ordinary notebook or other object, but more like how one would look at a disobedient child. Strangely, you didn't flinch.

“My dear.” He repeated, his tone more firm.

You drew in a sharp breath, the only other sound being the quiet rattling of your restraints as you shook.

”Yes?“

”Before we truly begin the next phase of this relationship,“ He leaned forward, interlocking his fingers and resting his chin on them, ”I would like for you to fully understand one thing.“

You pause, ”Which is?“

”I would like for this relationship to be consensual,“

It took a moment for the words to register in your mind, ”This relationship?“

“Yes, whatever we may become, I would like for you to enjoy my presence just as I do yours.” He sighs.

That took even longer to register. Why in the world would he have any reason to care about what you thought now? Sure, it was a nice sentiment- but if he had wanted a normal relationship, kidnapping was not the first step.

But really, was it kidnapping? He didn't force you into the car. He didn't force you to follow him out of the cafe. He didn't force you to grow accustomed to his surveillance. You hadn't asked for any of this... but it's not like you hadn't been... in the slightest, most minuscule way complacent in it. He was to blame... but so you were you... right?

You had barely even attempted escape-

“Something you would like to say, my love?” He shocked you out of your thoughts once again. He had impeccable timing with that.

“N-No, not really... but if you wanted something like most people have... why did you start us off like this? Why didn't you try doing something normal with me?”

For that, he seemingly had no response, only sighing. Slowly, he poured his glass full of blood-red wine, swirled it around between his fingers, and took a sip. Then, like he had suddenly remembered you were sitting in front of him, he spoke.

“There are some questions I do not believe you need answers to right now.”

“Wha-”

He cut you off sharply, “You do not need to worry so much.”

He began to look at you, his head cocked lazily to the side as if he was waiting for a response. Yet, you could tell he wasn't waiting for one. Another word from you when he didn't want it would only get cut off once more.

“I am willing to give you plenty of time to process this arrangement, my love. In my personal opinion, I have already given you enough. But in your fragile mental state, I'm sure you will need much more. Am I correct?”

Fragile mental state- Who does he think caused that mental state? God, talking to him felt like being caught in an endless whirlpool, every second of air only replaced by another period of your head being pushed underwater.

But you can't say that. Maybe someday- but not tonight. Tonight... you have to act normal.

”You're correct.”

He made a small condescending 'hm' in response, taking another sip of his wine.

”Then I am sure that together... we will be alright.“

”I just have one more question, Fyodor,“ You sputtered out, not realizing what you were saying until the words had left your mouth.

Seemingly, he noticed your surprise at your actions, slightly raising one eyebrow.

”Speak.“

”If you wanted a consensual relationship, why can't you let me go?“

In an instant, all the air was sucked out of the room. As he leaned forward only slightly, it felt as if he instantly became larger, a towering, destructive, strong monster of a man-

”You are not to leave this home.“

”Why?“ You demanded, instantly wincing at your audacity, on the ONE NIGHT you were supposed to play it cool-

”Because I say so.“ He insisted, his voice eerily calm for the conviction that was dripping from his words.

”I'm not a child-“

”You're not a child. Yet, you still cannot be trusted in the outside world.” He scoffed.

“If-”

“What, you think I brought you here for only my own pleasure? No. Your life, when you ran it, was nothing but a disaster wasn't it?”

Where does this man get off-

”That is why you are here. You don't deserve that life, at least, that is what I believe. If you had continued living your way, I'm sure you would have been found dead in some gutter a week ago.“

“Wh- Why do you think that?!”

“Because I am privy to information you are not, my dear. ”

Your vision turned red, muscles tensing like a cat about to pounce, jaw set to unhinge and swallow him whole.

“Then... then tell me that information,” You said softly through clenched teeth forcing a smile.

“And risk your safety once again? No, no-”

“If I'm safe here, why is it a-”

“Do not interrupt me.” He said forcefully, his voice even but deadly as he gripped his wine glass with clawed fingers.

“I-“

”You cannot be happy being safe? You must tempt fate? Yet, you say you are not a child...“ He scoffs before continuing, ”You are not to leave here, not until I say you can. I owe that to your poor, disparaging parents, don't I? To keep their child alive? Of course, I do.“

All you could do was sit back in your chair, not daring to break his harsh gaze, watching and waiting as he rambled on. He scolded you like a father. He had done that since you arrived. Every opinion shared was met with a snide remark, a veiled insult, or simply silence. Yet, he says he wanted a consensual relationship.

Hypocrite. He's nothing but a stupid fucking hypocrite.

“I'm doing this for you, my love. This is all to keep you safe. Do you understand?”

You nodded. In a split second, he had made everything clear as day. You understood. Soon, he'd understand too.

That's what you promised yourself that night. The hours spent silently sitting against the wall, watching in wait for the light under the door to finally turn to black. That was it. One single light, one single reflection under the door, and you could run. You could run without restraints, the endless hallways becoming your poppy field, hair blowing in the wind like a horse breaking the new frontier.

One single light. One single light and this would all be over-

Click.

In a moment that made your heart beat like a drum, the light turned to black. A second later, the footsteps of the man guarding your room began to fade into the darkness as well.

You shot out of bed, your hands shaking as your animalistic ferocity took over. Turn off the lights. Act normal. Grab your notebook. Act normal. Take out the wire. Act so normal. Run up to the door. Act so normal he wouldn't suspect a thing.

Twist the wire into the door handle, and keep twisting, endlessly filling the murky whirlpool, until that wonderful sound- oh that wonderful sound! That relieving, assuaging, palliating sound rings out in the room, filling the void, filling the endless pit in your stomach once and for all.

Click.

You flung the door open, nearly slamming it into the wall, running to the wall in front of you. As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you could barely make out the outline of a sign. It was simple, bearing only three arrows.

Number one, directly to the right, reading... well... something... like… “nnot“?

Number two, to the left, reading something that looked like... ”banhi three-an“?

The third one, to the far left, which read... English! Beneath the Russian, it was ENGLISH! Clearly marked, Elevator to the downstairs lobby.

You didn't dare to take more than a second to read, instantly spinning to your right and taking off. Faster than you thought you could run, faster than you'd ever run in your whole life, faster than your feet could keep up, faster, faster, FASTER!

Faster than the wind, the stars, the moon, the sky; faster than you could handle, tripping over your own feet over and over again, drifting and hitting the walls, only to keep going. Where your slippers had fallen, you had no idea, but they were only slowing you down. Your bare feet padded against the vintage carpet, a rhythmic thumping whose volume was only beaten out by the beating of your heart.

The elevator. You could see it.

It was coming closer, but not fast enough. FASTER! You screamed in your own ears, RUN! RUN BEFORE THEY MAKE THIS THE LAST TIME!

The doors were opening for you, slowly, like the gates to heaven, the warm light embracing you, wrapping you in hope, because now- unlike then, back in that room, you had fr-

The doors were opening.

You instantly slid, burning the back of your legs as you tried to turn the other way desperately. No, maybe they didn't see you, maybe they didn't see you.

You spun around, only to be face to face with Fyodor's enforcers.

You spun around. There was Fyodor, stepping out of the elevator. Time moved in slow motion as he raised his hand to flip the light switch. One light, illuminating the 6 of you. One single light.

”Did I not just tell you were never to leave this place, little mouse?“ He chided. You could hear the grin through his teeth, even as you cowered and covered your eyes from him. You couldn't help it. He made your knees weak, like always. But this time... you couldn't hold back your draw to the floor.

”Cat got your tongue?“ He continued.

”No...“ You mumbled weakly.

”Then what has it, my love?“

He stepped forward, the sounds of his boots quiet compared to those of his men. The heat of his body covered yours as he leaned over your crumpled form.

As more and more time passed without your response, he simply sighed.

“Whatever the case may be, it doesn't matter.”

You shook, your teeth chattering against your skull, gripping the carpet up off the ground just to keep yourself upright.

“Vy mozhete vzyath ikh, gospoda.”

Gospoda, what he always called his men. Where were they going to leave to? For what, for him to do what? To kill you finally? So he can be honest with you? What, what, what?

You waited for the sound of the enforcer's footsteps to fade away, yet they only grew louder. Louder and louder until they met you.

In a flash, your hair was being pulled from your head. You kicked. You screamed. But that didn't slow them even a bit.

No, they never stopped. No matter how much you screamed and wailed like a banshee, the harsh hands tightening around your arms didn't stop.

Even as you begged for mercy in the seconds between your head being forced underwater, they didn't stop.

Even as your lungs burned. Your knees felt like fire. Your throat was scratched from screams, the scorching rust mixing with the acid of bile threatening to force its way out of your mouth.

All you had heard for what must have been... hours, was the sound of water hitting the dingy bathroom tiles, the foreign chatter of the enforcers, and your cries.

As a child, you had scraped your knee. Fallen out of a tree. Broke your arm on a bike. As an adult, you had broken your knee. Hit your head. Cut your hand. Experienced a head-splitting migraine.

Nothing hurt like this.

Nothing hurt like how the men's hands contorted you against the bathtub. Plunging you back down into the water for minutes at a time, barely allowing you a breath before pressing your burning face back into the tub.

They laughed at you. They laughed as your dinner forced it's way out of your stomach. You felt like laughing when that didn't stop their thrusts. Because it didn't matter what was in that tub... not to them.

No, you were stuck in this whirlpool for good. There was no pulling yourself out of this water.

it was difficult to tell how much time had passed when you came back to. Maybe days, maybe hours. What's the point in counting? It wouldn't matter.

All that matters is that Fyodor was standing in front of you. Your eyes turned limply back to the tile, trying in vain to ignore the vines wrapping around your stomach once again. Even if you hadn't, it wasn't like he could make you anymore sick than you'd been. Your body felt as if it couldn't put down food for weeks from how forcibly it'd been emptied.

“Those bad men are gone, my love,” He says softly, his voice sounding distant and faded.

The bad men were gone. You were alone... alone and cold without arms tearing you in every which direction.

“I'll take care of you now. Don't you worry,”

He kneeled in front of you, the sound almost inaudible to your waterlogged ears. Gently, as if he were petting a wild animal, he wiped off your face with a warm washcloth.

It was soft. Relaxing, almost. But... but a reality in which you could be comforted right now was far from your own.

“That was truly horrible, wasn’t it, dearest?”

“Let’s make sure we don’t have to repeat it.”

#bsd tag #bsd x reader #bsd fyodor x reader #yandere fyodor dostoevsky #yandere fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader

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