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tayaminaka · 4 years

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'S/O dies while giving birth to their daughter' with Kunikida Doppo, Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Nakahara and Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Kunikida Doppo

His dream of a perfect family was gone...along with you. He tried to pull himself together but as he saw your lifeless, cold body, tears started to streamed down his face. He fell on his knees, lowered his head so that his forehead was laying in the sheets. took your hand and held it as long as he cried into the sheets

Now he's on his own. He would try to stay with his daughter as long as possible but he knows that work won’t wait. He would mostly hire a nanny but if Naomi really insist he would let her babysit his daughter

In his free time he would mostly go for a walk with your daughter. He would go to the most beautiful places and try to tell your daughter something about the places, even if she doesn’t understand anything yet

It was only 6 a.m. when your daughter woke up. Laying in her cradle she reached up her hands everytime he passed by, a sign that she wants to be picked up. After he had done everything he wanted to do, he went to her cradle and finally picked her up, receiving a happy sound from her. He knew that she didn’t want to sleep so he decided to make a little morning walk with her.

„This is the Yamashita Park, here i met your mother the first time. This park was built...”

He stopped as he saw your daughter trying to reach down to some flowers. He got on his knees with your daughter in his arms, so that she could reach the flowers. With her fingers she lightly touched the flower, looking really excited. He smiled, after all she was just a little kid. These were your favorite flowers, he remembered. You would always stopped by them to simply look at them. Oh how your daughter reminds him of you right now. He looked at his watch, it was time to going home. With a slowly becoming heavy heart he stood up...

„...Let’s go Home. You didn’t even eat breakfast, it’s bad for your growing body.” he said trying to brush off the heavy feeling in his chest. Oh how he wished that you would be with him now.

If she gets older and ask him about her mother he would first say that she’s at a better place now but when she’s old enough he would tell her the full truth. They both would casually sit in the living room and he would tell her some stories about you two.

If she’s old enough he would also go to the cemetery with her. When she was little he went alone to your grave but now even if his heart becomes heavy by the thought of you, your daughter still deserves to visit you. Even if you aren’t alive anymore.

Dazai Osamu

As he heard about your dead, a strong feeling of emptiness grow in his chest. Time stood still for him. He didn’t hear the doctor, he didn’t hear the noises around him, he didn’t hear anything anymore. He was thrown back to reality as he felt Kunikida‘s hand on his shoulder,reminding him that his daughter needs him.

He would sit right beside you,place your already cold hand on his cheek, a small tear would fall down from his eye and he would ask only one question ‘What should I do?’ over and over again only to be greeted by a pitiful silence

After your dead he would stop with his suicide attempts. Of course he wanted to do suicide but the thought of your daughter stopped him everytime. He didn’t want that your daughter becomes an orphan, is all alone or even worse, ends up in the port mafia

At night he would let her sleep in his bed. He would look at her peaceful sleeping face, pet her head a little and pull her closer to his body. Oh how much she reminds him of you.

„Look...the Sunset...”

It was evening, the sun was slowly settling but it was still pleasantly warm. He was standing at the balcony with your daughter in his arms. A few minutes ago your daughter was peacefully playing in the living room with some plushies. Dazai was sitting right next to her on the floor while holding another plushy in his hand to play with her but as he looked out of the window, he saw the beautiful sunset. The idea of showing your daughter something new spread through his mind, so he quickly grabbed your daughter and went to the balcony. Looking at the peaceful sunset made his heart ache. Of course he was happy that his daughter was with him, of course he liked the sunset...but it felt like...something is missing...

„I wish...you would be here with me...”

A sad smile was on his face as he looked into the sky,...you were gone and nothing would bring you back. Your daughter yawned a little, she became sleepy. With that he was thrown back into reality. As he looked at her cute sleepy face he chuckled...

„Well...lets get you ready to sleep, shall we?”

With that he looked the last time at the sky and went back in with your daughter in his arms.

Even if she gets older she would still be his little sunshine in his darkness. Maybe because of her, he would finally find his meaning in life.

Chuuya Nakahara

Out of anger he punched the wall beside him. It was hard for him to restrain himself from destroying everything around him.He was angry. He was angry, that the doctors didn’t save you, that his dream of a happy family shattered, that life is so fucking unfair

But after a while his anger setteled and sorrow came. He cried over your corpse as he held you in his arms. He stroke your hair, called your name desperately and hugged your tightly in hope that you would wake up and hug him back...But it never happened

Now he was alone with your daughter. The first weeks were the worst for him. Your daughter would cry the whole night, sometimes even the whole day and he would try to calm her down, give her food or change her diapers but it seemed that nothing of that worked.After two weeks he snapped...

„What do you Want?!” he shouted

He sat down on his bed and covered his eyes with his hands. He tried everything already to calm her down but nothing worked. Everytime she calmed down he put her back in her cradle but as soon as he laid down to sleep at least a little she woke up and started to cry. He looked in the mirror in front of him. Dark circles were already under his eyes, due the lack of sleep. Your daughter cried in the background,with a loud sigh he stood up to pick her up. He started to go around in the room with her in his arms and she slowly calmed down. But instead of putting her back in her cradle, he put her next to him on the bed and covered her with a blanket. A few strands of his hair were in her hand as she slept peacefully beside him.

„Good Night, Little sweetheart.” He said and a little smile appeared on his tiered face as he gave her a little kiss on her forehead

After that night your daughter slept with him constantly. At some points he would sleep on the edge of the bed while your daughter would sleep in the middle in the form of a star. Even if she gets older, when she has a nightmare she would run to Chuuya’s bedroom to sleep there

At some points he would get very sad. This sadness usually comes when something big or beautiful happens, like the first steps or words of your daughter or simply a lovely evening with your daughter at the park. Everytime a small tear would fell down his cheek but he will simply brush it off, so nobody see it.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

On the outside he remained cold, ther was no reaction or emotion but on the inside something in him ached.

He went to you, placed his hand on your cheek and brushed it a little with his thumb. He bowed down to you and placed all last kiss on your lips before he left, promising a better world for your daughter

After your dead he would work much harder on his plan to create a better world for his daughter. Because of that he would let Sigma look after his daughter (He's the most trustful and adequate from them all)

But sometimes if he has some time he would play a little with your daughter. Maybe with some (rat) plushies or other toys but as she gets older the games would start to get mature and mature. At some evenings he would play chess with her while chatting about some philosophic questions about god or the meaning of life and death.

It was already past midnight when he got home. It was quite and peaceful. He entered the room where his daughter was sleeping. He went near to the cradle your daughter were laying in. She held a little grey rat plushy in her arm while the white on was laying right over her head. He corrected her blanket and started slowly pet her head. She was so small, so weak, so defencless, oh he will make sure that nobody ever lay a hand on her. A little smile appeared on his face as his daughter frowned in her sleep and turned around...

„Sleep well,little mouse.” he chuckles „Soon the world will be a better place.”

With that word he gave her a kiss on her forehead and left to get himself ready to sleep. He’s gonna make the world much better for himself, for your daughter, for everyone.

About the existence of your daughter would only knew five people (Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, Ivan Goncharov, Alexander Pushkin and himself) because of safety reasons and the possibility that your daughter becomes a part of his plans. After all, having a trump card in his hand is nothing bad...for him,...right ?

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bsd #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #kunikida x reader #kunikida doppo x reader #dazai headcanons #kunikida headcanons #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya headcanons #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor headcanons #bungou stray dogs #anime

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yandere-romanticaa · 4 years

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In the dark of the night.

Was this fic needed? No. Am I still going to write it...? Yes! Based of a drawing of Fyodor taking the place of the Joker from the DC universe. If you guys liked this let me know, because I have another idea.👀

"This just came in, another bank robbery happened today at the Gotham City Bank! We have reasons to believe that the culprit is none other the Joker, or if we go by his civilian name, Fyodor Dostoyevsky..."

"Another attack from the terrorists happened today at 17:00 at the park..."

"They're everywhere, and the police aren't doing shit! How are we gonna-?!"

Turning off the TV, the (h/c)ette frowned at the news. There was no escaping these stories, was there? They were everywhere! Every single day something had to happen and someone always got killed in the process! It was depressing really... What a sad world this was. People killing eachother on the streets, the endless crimes were just suffocating. (y/n) had no idea how she was even alive by this point but she just kept moving foward. She loved this city, she really did, but boy did it have its problems.

Getting up from the sofa, she grabbed her jacket and purse. She was feeling hungry and knowing that there was nothing in the fridge, (y/n) decided that the best thing to do was to go to the nearest grocery store and to buy some groceries. She locked her door and made her way out of the building. She walked down the dimly lit streets of Gotham city, the warm rays of the setting sun tingling her skin. She had no clue in just how much danger she was in this very moment as a pair of eyes stared at her from the distance.

"Your little mouse has left her den, boss."

"....thank you, Goncharov~"

♡♡♡

The sun had fully set when (y/n) had gotten to the store. She opened the glass door to see the cashier reading a newspaper, not really paying attention to her. She shrugged him off as she grabbed a basket and walked down the isles. The bright lighting of the store was almost too much for (y/n), but it was nice to be out of the apartament. She had been stuck inside her home for the entire day due to work related issues. Now, she could finally relax and have a nice evening.

Entering the ceral isle, she looked at the many diffirent cereal boxes, wondering which one she should take. All of them looked wounderful to her, although some were a lot more sugary then other. Before she could reach out her hand to grab a box, an odd sense of dread came over her. Something felt... wrong somehow. She felt like she was being watched, like someone was burning holes at the back of her head. She turned her head at both sides of the isle and was met with utter silence. The lights of the store lightly flickered, giving the entire situation an even more eerie feel. Her hands felt cold as she could still feel that stare, but for the life of her she just could not find out where it was coming from. Without even thinking, she quickly grabbed a couple of things and left the store in less the five minutes.

Oh, how little did she know that her life was going to change so drastically from that evening forward.

♡♡♡

Ever since that night, the constant sensation of being followed had become an all to familiar feeling to (y/n). No matter where she went she always felt watched, like this other person was sizing her up, studying her to see how she would react. Several of her co-workers had mysteriously vanished without a single trace and (y/n) worried that she was going to be the next target. All of those news reports came back to her, how the Joker and his gang kidnapped innocent people for their own gain. She was no longer the happy, bubbly girl everyone knew but now she was slowly turning in to a frightened and catious individual who never dared to step foot out of her door after dark.

It didn't help that she lived in a somewhat dangerous area of the city, and that she was alone. Her friends were always scattered and she always had to walk alone in the dark. No matter where she went, (y/n) could never seem to find peace. Her workplace, with her friends, at the mall, in her home... She felt violated, this constant feeling of being watched was far too much for her. She didn't understand why this was happening, but then again neither did the culprit.

Fyodor was never the type for love and romance. He had a dream, a dream of cleansing this world and all of the sinners within it. But somewhere along the line, someone had caught his eye. This rather odd girl who went by the name of (y/n). She fascinated him but he was also confused. Why was he feeling like this? He was a God, he was supposed to be stronger then this damn it. How was one little girl able to make him feel so weak, so human? And yet again, he wanted her all for himself. He wanted to see what makes her tick, he wanted to hear her cries for him and him only. The big bad villian of Gotham city had falled in love but Fyodor would never say that. His ego simply wouldn't allow it. Then again, that isn't really going to stop him from getting (y/n). He was slowly making her his own, day by day he was one step closer. He got rid of all of his rivals, her bills were somehow "overdue", she almost never had electricity now and was having trouble with work.

Yeah, she was going to be homeless in no time.

♡♡♡

Just like that, in a mere two months (y/n) had lost it all. Her family, friends, home, money, everything was just gone. She had no one to turn to, nowhere to run. The landlord had kicked her out of her apartment which meant that she was forced to spend the night on the streets. Tears pricked (y/n)'s eyes as she looked around. The street was dark and there were almost no people around. The cold winter wind danced across (y/n)'s frame as she shivered. The moon had risen long ago and it felt oddly comforting despite her situation, almost as though the gentle moonlight was trying to comfort her, that she was going to be safe.

But that couldn't be further from the truth.

Far away in the darkness lurked danger, a danger (y/n) never anticipated. Hungry violet eyes watched her shaky form walk down the street as he spoke to his men. He gave out the orders, and they would follow them to the end.

"My, my Fyo, you sure do have good taste~!"

"Quiet Kolya! If you don't shut up we'll be spotted..."

Fyodor raised his gloved hand in the air which in turn caused complete silence. That didn't stop the clown from grining from ear to ear though. His boss was plotting and it was always entertaining to see him be so serious. They all moved out, quietly following (y/n). They stuck closely together like a pack of wild mice, never letting her out of their sight. Fyodor felt excited, dare he say happy even. His little mouse was so close, she was going to be his for all of eternity. No longer would the sinners of the world taint her innocence as he would keep it all to himself. Who knows, he might just toy with that innocence he oh so adores...

After a bit of walking, (y/n) stopped in front of a dark alleyway. Honestly, could things get anymore perfect? He mirrored her footsteps like a shadow as she remained oblivious to his presence. The poor girl was tired, all she wanted was to just sleep. She hoped, begged God for all of this to be some kind of nightmare. That the Joker wasn't real, that he wasn't wreaking havoc in her beloved city, that she hadn't lost all of her friends, her home...

Fyodor was mere inches away from her now and with lightning speed, he grabbed a syringe from his pocket and pricked (y/n)'s neck with it. She gasped in horror, placing her hand on that same spot. The drug was strong, which caused (y/n) to lose her balance in mere seconds. Looking up she was met with a sight she never wanted to see. That evil grin, those twisted violet eyes... It was everything the girl wanted to avoid and yet here he was.

The devil himself had decided to take her.

Cold and short breaths escaped (y/n)'s frosty lips as she tried to fight the drugs, but whenever she tried to lift a finger it just would not move. Soon enough, shadows and whispers were all around her as she felt herself beibg carried away. Wicked giggles and horrible smiles painted her vision as her poor mind turned numb and black.

The Joker had won. He was proud to say that all that hard work and patience had been worth it. He had his little darling in his arms and for a second, everything just felt... perfect.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere au #dc au #yandere dc au #joker fyodor #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd #yandere bsd #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere fyodor dostoyevsky #yandere fyodor dostoyevsky x reader

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fyodorsuggestions · 7 years

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Latent Affections

He likes crocus flowers, they remind him of his mother. She would grow so many of them in the garden, she would spend hours and hours tending to them even when the winter finally set in. She grew crocus because they would bloom in the winter, the one spot of colour in the pristine white and they were beautiful. Incredibly beautiful.

As a child, he always wondered why the flowers would die so quickly after they finally bloomed. Why did his mother never seem to get upset, why she never hired someone to keep the flowers alive all through winter the way he knew they were famous for doing. He hadn’t realised until later why the flowers died, why they always died but then it wasn’t entirely his fault, he’d never seen a mirror before after all.

Now he knows, there’s so much he knows now. He knows about abilities and how they work, he knows how they’re developed, he knows about so many, many, many. He knows how they can get passed down through families and through genetics and through sheer dumb luck and he’s probably the only person who knows why they manifest. Strange that learning so much would answer such a simple question from his childhood.

“Why do your flowers die, mamochka?”

“The flowers die for the same reason your father died, Fyedyenka, stop asking the same questions over again.”

He thinks about those little bits and pieces his mother laid out for him, the edges of a puzzle she never solved herself. She was a strange woman, his mother, never affectionate but very protective, never there in the flesh but there as a voice guiding him through his lessons. He can count the number of times he’s seen her on one hand, the number of times he fell asleep to her soft crooning is countless.

“You remind me of my mother,” he muses as the man struggles against the earthen chair that holds him. Goncharov was a good choice, already obsessed with the idea of him to the point that manipulating him wasn’t even a challenge but not everything has to be. The man is handsome and charming and devoted to fanaticism and what good is a God without their zealots?

“She had latent abilities, like you,” he explains, taking in the strain of the man’s muscles. The tendons of his neck are standing out stark against his skin, his biceps bulge impossibly, even the cords of muscle of his thighs are stretched taunt. He’s fighting hard to break free, to attack but Goncharov’s stone chair is far too strong and the man’s ability never included super strength. If it could truly be called an ability, far too weak and far too fickle perhaps but light manipulation would be incredible useful it could be coaxed to its full potential.

“My mamochka was cursed you see, everything she loved would die. Her parents died when she was barely an adult but they left her plenty of money,” he continues, tsking when the man starts to cry again. He’s been here for the last few hours, telling little pieces of stories and waiting to see if this one’s latent ability manifested, if he was even powerful enough for that. He doesn’t think this one will ever truly manifest.

Goncharov shattered the man’s knee caps, slowly crushed his shins, tightened the band of earth around his chest until rips creaked and cracked and broke. Every breath is rasping, gasping agony, wet too and the sound is disgusting but still nothing. The bright white lights haven’t so much as flickered in all the time he’s been here and it’s actually disappointing, he at least thought one of them would go out but no. It’s actually boring and the man stopped begging after the first finger was sliced off.

“Then she married my father, a rather wealthy man as well whom she claimed to love, I don’t remember him but I’ve seen pictures of them together. She looked very happy in all of them,” he adds biting his thumb. The man in front of him doesn’t have thumbs anymore, the man doesn’t have anything but nubs now but his fingers are piled neatly in front of him. Next to the fingers are three teeth, ones that broke when Goncharov slapped him.

He doesn’t touch them himself, it’s too much of a temptation but he’s always here, he lets Goncharov leave to get some rest and he sits with them. He sits with these latent ability users and waits to see if their most grievous sins will ever show themselves to him. Rarely do they, only once in fact and the young girl who did was used as nothing but a sacrifice and distraction. There wasn’t much use for one who could just barely hear above a regular human level and even if there was, there was no doubt other users with far better developed abilities.

“Of course he died as well but not before I came into the world. As I understand, my father was a healthy man until my birth, then he slowly started to waste away until one day he passed in his sleep,” he sighs, rubbing some of the blood on his pant leg. There was always so much blood, why? Hmm, dark pants hid the blood well at least and he had plenty of those.

“I always thought he simply caught something nasty, cancer perhaps, but I didn’t understand until I saw my mother cry over flowers the colour of his eyes every year. It wasn’t until I realised the flowers only died after she cried over them did I start to piece it all together,” he murmurs to himself. Crocus flowers were known for their enduring nature and beautiful blossoms, he never did understand why the ones in his mother’s garden would die so easily and not even from the first cold weather. He still doesn’t understand why she ever let him see her in the garden crying over the flowers or why the one window in his room overlooked the garden he was never allowed into.

Cruelty perhaps? Wistfulness? Was it his mother’s way of spending time with the son she thought was in danger and a dangerous? He doesn’t understand it and doesn’t think he ever will but he doesn’t care either.

“Mirrors helped, I have his eyes you see,” he finishes as he gets to his feet. The man’s ability still hasn’t manifested, not even after hours and hours of physical and psychological torture which is a shame but not unexpected. The man is soaked in his own sweat, sitting in his own piss and shit and blood, and there isn’t a single place that’s appealing to touch but he’d rather do this part himself.

The touches his finger to the tip of the man’s nose and watches as the body slumps, dead before the chin hits the chest. He’ll have Goncharov bury the body soon, for now he’ll spend some time thinking about his next moves and which latent he should track down and try next. There’s a whole world of possibility and a whole world of sin, so many sinners just waiting to show off their darkest and best kept secrets.

Maybe somewhere out there is another mother keeping her son locked away from the world for the good of no one. Or maybe there isn’t, more likely than not the latter. Pity.

#bungou stray dogs #fyodor dostoyevsky #Fi-Fi Fics #non-explicit torture

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