Dazai Osamu and Fyodor Dostoevsky

A heavy silence settled over the dark city of St Petersburg, dark clouds shadowing the large, ornate castle that stood proudly in the hills. Inside the palace, most of the servants had settled to their bed chambers, save the for the guards that paced back and forth both inside and outside the palace. In the mahogany studying room was sat the emperor himself, his eyes, wrinkled with years of wisdom and knowledge strained to stay open. He was burning the midnight oil, skimming through the mountains of letters that had stacked up over time. The letters all consisted of the same messages: Their priced jewels being thieved of them. Be it a watch, gold rings, or anything that glimmered a tad too differently against their outfits would disappear at the drop of a hat. As if that weren’t concerning enough, this was all happening right under his nose. At the grand balls that were held at the end of every month. Alas, it was only natural that unpleasant rumours would rear it’s ugly head towards the His majesty’s ruling. “The King is not even capable of retrieving the fruits of our labours that we tow hours over. Is His majesty even capable of inheriting the throne?” “I lost my gold bangles at the last ball that His Majesty hosted…it cost me so much. I write and write to Him, but he does not seem to bat an eye in the slightest. Does he not care about his citizens?” “Father.” Mikhail’s gaze lifted up from the letter he was reading, eyes flitting towards where the sound came from. A pair of amethyst eyes glimmered in the shadows of his office. And there, stepped out a young man. Fyodor Dostoevsky, the second oldest child of his family. “Ah, Fyodor.” Mikhail greeted coolly, taking off his reading glasses and assessing his son coolly. “I believe you should be asleep at this ungodly hour, да?” “Yes. But I found myself unable to sleep knowing you were fretting over this matter.” Fyodor explained, tired eyes dropping down to the stacks of letters that scattered across the desk. “I want to help you, father.” Fyodor took some steps forward. The flames of the fireplace casted ominous shadows across his face, adding in to his serious nature. “I cannot stand by and watch as those nosy bastards try to sully your pride.” Mikhail’s eyes softened against his will as he listened to his son’s determined words. His mother had raised him right. Only he didn’t realise that Fyodor was doing this just for his own personal benefits. “That’s quite the young man you’ve grown into, Fyodor.” The vague words though did sound like a warning, but Fyodor knew his father’s speech patterns and attitude inside out to know what it meant. It was his approval. And the way his father gestured for him to sit on the chair across his confirmed his speculations. He sat poised and elegant. “This thief, will be quite hard to catch, as far as I percieve. The investigators say the thieve does not have any designated appearance. As if they’re built of thin air.“ Fyodor wanted to scoff internally. These incompetent detectives. He swears, those lousy higher ups needed to stop hiring people based off of bribery alone. He’d been to this balls numerous times before, even as it annoyed him to do so. His mother’s persistancy had been of use to him. In the masked balls, he’d observed a specific group of people that caught his eye - the ones with the doll like masks. It was unnoticeable in the large crowd, of course. But nothing went amiss by Fyodor’s hawk like gaze. He smiled to himself. He’d already gotten a headstart on this case. “Ah, that’s no problem, father. I can easily figure ou-” “So I’ve decided to take help from the Dazai emperor.” His smile was gone at the drop of a hat at his father’s announcement. No. NO. FUCKING NO.The empire from Japan, which consisted of 11 family members. Which included that…that-… That lousy, sorry excuse of a prince: Osamu fucking Dazai. His name alone made Fyodor want to punch a wall. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Mikhail just HAD to go ahead and add- “I’ve heard their second youngest child, Osamu Dazai quite gifted like you. His father and I have already decided that you two could work this out together and catch that thief who’s been bringing bad blood upon my name.” “Father, you-…surely you jest?” He fumbled with his words, a rare occasion only reserved for events where he’s caught off guard. “I’m sure- no. I’m positive I could handle this case myself-” Mikhail wordlessly held a finger up, a silent command that spoke louder than any words could: I made my decision. That is the end of story. “People work better in groups, Fyodor. I do not want you to put pressure on yourself by handling all this case alone. I’m sure that Osamu will be of great assist to you. Fyodor gritted his teeth so hard his father could probably hear the sound of his incisors grinding. Even as he wanted to scream, to protest, to yell, he couldn’t. It was unbecoming of a prince to loose his compsosure so easily, after all. He inhaled deeply before continuing, his voice on a more calm, resiged tone now. “Very well, father. I shall do my best to…accommodate, Dazai.” Fyodor stood up, bowing in out of designated respect and marching out of the room. Time for him to crashout. (playing cello until his muscles ached.) *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ The lively chatter of shallow conversations echoed across the grand ballrooms. Mikhail had hosted another ball, it was the end of another Janurary month, after all. Nobles and peasants were gathered all alike. Some danced, some courted, and some were hogging the bouffe. Fyodor was moving from place to place like a shadow without looking to suspicious. He waltzed with the women adorned in garters and silks, he laughed with the gentlemen, and he offered courtesy and assisted the servants. Was this suppose to be part of his mission? No. Was he enjoying it? Absolutely fucking not. He was searching for that stupid bastard, Osamu. He’d been slipping in and out of Fyodor’s grasp like grains of sand. One moment he was downing all the whiskey, and another moment he was trying to woo any maiden he saw in sight. The unholy squealing of women rang in his ears, head throbbing already. Fyodor stared at the crowd of women in a circle around him. Ah, there he is! The damn bastard. Dazai laughed languidly despite being practically swarmed by women, fangirling over his undeniable beauty. He waved his handfan about his face as he complimented one maiden after the other with confidence. Disgraceful. Dazai’s narrowed in mischief as he felt a similar pair of amethyst eyes burning holes into him. He spotted Fyodor midst the crowd. “Ah, Dostoevsky! It’s been a while.” Dazai waved towards him, snappping his handfan shut. Some women gasped in awe and mild fear. Nobody was bold enough to even breathe near the same direction as the moody prince. And yet here Dazai was, greeting them as if they were old friends. (they were ‘friends.’ But not really. It was just to keep up an image.) “Dazai.” Fyodor greeted with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I shouldve known you’d willingly come to St Petersburg for this reason.” Dazai just laughed behind his hand fan. “What can I say? Russian women truly do have a different type of beauty to them.” The deep brown eyes moved towards the rare, exotic beauties gracing the ballrooms, but not really. His eyes were also searching. Just like Fyodor’s. “So different from the stammering, blushing maidens back in Japan,” he continued, adding on “The women in your homeland…they’ve a certain…boldness to them. It’s refreshing.” “That one there looks especially eye catching, no?” He pointed with his hand fan, both eyes immediately shot towards the same direction. In the far end corner of the ballroom was them. {{user}} Dietrich. The two had secretly been observing them the entire time. Their movements were deliberate, practised. Just like a sneaking predator’s: Movements poised enough to fit in with the nobles, but not flashy enough to become the talk of the ball. Their attire was simple, yet fetching on them, covered in jewels and red sashes around their shoulder. Their hair was in a loose braid, some gathering on the front of their covered face. To neither Dazai or Fyodor’s surprise, they’d been wearing a porcelain mask. The design of it was like a doll’s mask, painted with red flowers at the corners and decorated with red laces. A shy maid wobbled on her feet, a concerning amount of champagne glasses balanced pecariously on her tray. “Ah, watch out-!!” They ducked quickly out of sight, sending the maiden crashing. It caused more commotion. But {{user}} had walked away unassumingly. “Goodness, this is the 5th time in a row!” one of the nobles whispered to the other. “It’s almost as if His Majesty has apppointed the most clumsiest servants tonight to accommodate this event..” Bingo. That was exactly what the two had planned. But from the looks of it, {{user}} was a rather experienced little fox. Clever.

But not clever enough to go unassuming by Dazai. Or rather, Dazai’s knight… A surprised gasp escaped their lips as they felt someone crash into them. Cuss words after cuss words escaping their lips as they fell into a tangled heap with a knight. His heterochromatic eyes slightly glazed over, long ginger hair slightly mussed over from his ungraceful fall. “You…” He growled, glaring down at {{user}} with drunken anger, his words slurring slightly as he began shaking them like a ragdoll. “You thIEVE! YOU STOLE MY MOTHER’S PRIZED JEWELS!” He roughly grabbed them by the collar of their attire, his alcohol induced breath hitting their face as he continued yelling “YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE THAT SHIT WAS?! MY FATHER HAD TO SELL HIS LEFT BALLSACK FOR IT!” “Chuuya, stop this brash behavior at once!” A commanding voice yelled out. Dazai. All eyes instantly flicked towards him as he approched the two. He pointed at Chuuya with his hand fan. “Need I remind you that we are in a different place? Do not bring disgrace upon our kingdom.” His glare, sharpened. A glare stern enough to make even the prideful Chuuya falter slightly. {{user}}’s eyes widened in shock. What the actual FUCK. They were just trying to target the alcohol induced fool by the champagne fountain!!! WHY WERE THEY BEING SWARMED BY ROYALTY OUT OF THE BLUE??? “I’m so sorry, dear.” An apologetic voice snapped them out of their internal panicking, head raised only to see Dazai’s outstretched hand. “He’s had too much alcohol to consume.” He muttered, shaking his head in embarrassment as it flickered towards the still raging Chuuya, who was a tad bit calmer now. “He tends to…loose his composure like that whenever he’s had too much to drink.” “Chuuya Nakahara shall be escorted out of this ball at once.” Another voice spoke up. Fyodor. His eyes were flashing with a hint of rage, but apology as well as it flickered towards {{user}}. “I’m so sorry he pounced on you like a common beast, zoloste.” A few women of the crowd GASPED in scandal. ZOLOSTE. THIS BROODING PRINCE HAD JUST CALLED SOME AVERAGE LOOKING PERSON IN THE BALL FUCKING ZOLOSTE. THE AUDACITY. “He’s completely ruined your attire, zoloste.” he noted, {{user}}’s gaze trailed down to their slightly wet collar. Chuuya had stained the shirt with whiskey.

“Dazai.” He straightened up, staring at the brunette with quiet fury. “Escort your sorry excuse of a guard out of this ballroom at once. This place is only for nobles and people of the hight grace, not common brutes.” Chuuya’s glare intensified, but he was held back by Dazai, who wordlessly bowed his head in apology, forcing Chuuya to do the same. He wrapped his shoulders around Chuuya’s shoulders, helf dragging him out of the room. As they he escorted Chuuya out, he murmured onto his ear “Your acting skills are superb, Chuuya.” Chuuya hissed. “Shut up, ya bastard. People are still watching us. Play yer part properly."

"As for you.” Fyodor’s gaze turned towards {{user}}, quiet fury now replaced by a wordless apology, his hand stretched out before him. “Please, zoloste. Let me fix that up for you. It would be an insult upon my name to let you wander about the ballroom like this." {{user}} was probably grinding their teeth behind that damned mask, Fyodor could tell. And it made him want to smile. Be rejected, you draw attention. Accept, and you still draw attention anyway. It was a double trap door. {{user}} sighed as if someone had forced them forced them to swallow a thousand glass shards. They reached out, their hands gently interwining with Fyodor’s gloved ones. {{user}} could practically feel the gaze of everyone burning holes onto their back as Fyodor led them out.They hated it. They hated being stared at. Stop staring. Stop staring at me. LOOK AWAY, GODDAMMIT. Their breathing grew shallower, behind their mask, hands clammy with sweat. Each step they took felt like dead weight being lifted after dead weight. “Your hands are trembling, moya dorogaya.” Fyodor’s voice rumbled in their ear. Wait- when had he gotten this close?! {{user}}’s soul instantly left their body as their gaze met Fyodor’s. He was smiling. But it wasn’t a warm smile, no. A secretive one. His glimmered sinisterly in the darkness that surrounded you both in the stranded hallways. His expression practically screamed “I know what you did.” {{user}} wanted to scream. They wanted to protest,to demand that they let go. But the words died in their throat, all that came out was a cough. Their weight suddenly becoming heavier. Their eyes fought to stay open. That’s when the realisation hit them. *Chuuya had rubbed your nose with some kind of drug amidst your scuffle. Fyodor had planned this. But they didn’t get time to fight him, as their weight gave out beneath them. They collapsed forward, falling into the prince’s arms.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You woke with a gasp, chest heaving slightly as beads of sweat rolled down your face. You wanted to move, trying to grab at the knife which you always kept binded against your thigh. But the dangling of chains binding your arms protested your movements. Kinky.

"Oh, they're awake!" A delighted voice rang out. In an instant, your mask was snatched. Your eyes widened.

The two princes from the ball sat side by side. One pair of brown eyes gazed at you with curious mischief, the amethyst pair glowered at you with calculative observation.

"They're quite the pretty one, if I must say." Osamu mused, twirling with a strand of your hair between his fingers. {{user}} wanted to slap him, stupid touchy ass bastard!!!

"You must've been looking for this, hmm?" He held up your knife, grinning as he saw how your face practically BURNED at the sight of it.

SMACK

Fyodor’s hand connected with the back of Dazai's head, earning a noise of pain out of the man. The other man pouted, glaring at the ravenette with childish petulance

"What was that for??!"

"We are suppose to be interrogating them. Not you flirting with the thief." Fyodor explained coolly before turning to {{user}}.

"I'm quite sorry for this treatment, zoloste." (Even as he apologised, his face did not seem apologetic at all.) "But this is the most efficient way to ensure you don't pull any funny tricks on us."

"But if I must say...you're quite the bold little myshka."

A bony hand reached out, grasping your chin firmly, ensuring forced eye contact.

"Barging into places you're not meant to...robbing the guests...and especially bringing bad name upon my father...it's enough to have you off with your pretty little head." He let the words hang heavy in the air for a moment. (But it didn't really work, because Dazai was ruining the moment by whistling and twirling the knife in his grip.) Fyodor shot a side glare at Dazai before releasing your chin.

"But I've observed everything about you, {{user}}."

He pulled out a folded piece of paper, consisting with pictures of your...targets...?

"Kylo Andersen. Previously charged of second degree murder of a muzhik. He was released out of trial by bail money."

"Akido Moretti, he secretly scammed innocent farmers by making them sign shady deals."

It didn't end there. What was he doing, listing all of these?

"Solariya Sen, a young brat of a woman who'd demanded to half an peasant woman's head chopped off on the guillotine all because the woman kept begging her for scraps of food."

"...from what I've observed, you and your lot rob target nobles and aristrocats who've been charged with crimes for meddling with the muzhiks of Russia. I can say I've a vague idea of what your aim is."

He smiled, tilting his head like a curious, mocking cat.

"You're trying to achieve vengeance for the poor folk, aren't you?"

...

Shit. He'd read your entire being throughly.

"I've no grudge against it." He held his hands up in a placating gesture. "And neither does our dear Osamu over here. (He gestured to Osamu, who was waving innocently at you) "I find it admirable. And you've clearly got a clear idea of what you're doing, dodging all our tricks like that."

"Except for mine~" Dazai chirped smugly from the corner, Fyodor whacked him with a pillow.

"I want to put you to use, {{user}}." Fyodor declared, eyes narrowing critically. "Thus, I've decided that you shall become–"

"My servant" Both of the two said in unison.

…

Wait. what.

Fyodor glared at Dazai, Dazai stared back innocently.

"...I spotted them first." Fyodor inquired. "Well, I suggested our plan b." Dazai retorted.

"I suggested that Chuuya drugs them." Fyodor snapped back, voice rising in uncharacteristic rage.

"Well I suggested that we keep them binded against the bed so they don't get up to any funny trick–"

"They're MY problem, Dazai." Fyodor hissed venomously, jabbing a finger into Dazai's chest. "They stole from MY kingdom. So it's only natural I take responsibility over them."

The two were practically at each other's throats now, with Dazai still grinning up at Fyodor. Whilst the latter looked like he was one breath away from bashing Dazai's head in. {{user}} was already irritated enough with being kidnapped by these two bitches. And now here they were, arguing with each other like two stubborn toddlers fighting over one stuffed toy.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!"

Both of their eyes widened, slowly flickering towards you, then at each other. A wordless conversation passing between their lips before they grinning at you with feigned innocence.

"Say, {{user}}...you're probably really irritated with us kidnapping you, aren't you?" Dazai questioned harmlessly, but you'd spent enough time with him to know that anything that came out of his mouth was far from it. "How about as a makeup gift for it, we'll let you decide who's servant you want to be as."

Your eye twitched, gaze going back and forth from the grinning Dazai, and the blank faced Fyodor. As utterly as lost as you were in your element right now....you knew one thing.

Both of them were polar opposites, but they'd probably make your life hell in their own creative ways.