#sigh....yeah | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forever-rogue · 2 years

Text

The Painting

AN | There is absolutely no reason for this except I saw some vague prompt somewhere about two individuals meeting in a museum while looking at a portrait of people who exactly like them. I couldn’t get the idea or the Thief out of my head so here we are! Part soulmate au, part sugary sweet fluff, but all softness! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | The Thief x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | PP Characters, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taking the chance and moving to Italy to finish your studies had been both the easiest and hardest decision of your life. The opportunity to live in the birthplace of the renaissance seemed like a dream; but having to leave behind all of your friends and family had been rough. But in the end, as you traveled throughout Europe and had the opportunity to see some of the most beautiful sights in the world, you’d decided that it was worth it. Nothing could compare to the experiences you were having, the art you were able to see and study in real life instead of through books and pictures.

You loved getting to walk through hallowed halls filled with both beautiful artwork and centuries of history. There seemed to be a new place to explore every weekend and you often let yourself go wherever the day took you. But there was one feeling you could never quite seem to shake. The feeling that something was missing…like a piece of you wasn't quite there. And no matter how many adventures or wonderful things you got to do, that hole in your heart never seemed to be filled. But that was a matter for a different day.

This particular afternoon found you wandering through the halls of the Uffizi Gallery. You’d been here many times before, spending hours walking around and taking it all in, working on your own sketches from all the inspiration around you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was quiet today, the mid-spring rain seeming to keep most people inside or occupied elsewhere, which left you as one of the few stragglers inside. Your sketchpad was clutched tightly against your chest as you made your way upstairs to one of your favorite spots. It was in the back of the gallery and often quiet. The bench in front of your favorite painting was empty so you quietly slid into it, setting your things down before giving the painting a cursory once over. It was only then that you noticed that the painting that normally hung there was gone. The replacement was one you’d never seen before, not online or in books or texts.

Your breath caught in your throat in a flurry of excitement as you stood up to examine it. At first glance it appeared to be in the vain of Botticelli or Caravaggio, but it had a certain distinct quality to it that you couldn’t quite place. There wasn’t a signature to be found, nor had there been any announcement about any new artwork. How very curious.

You got as close to it as possible without setting off any of the alarms, taking in the brushwork and color choices in an attempt to see if you could discover the artist. It was some time before you stepped back to take in the composition and subject. The portrait was of a man, shielding and protecting a woman from something off canvas. You wondered what it could have been, what could have prompted the artist to want to capture this particular moment. The man in the painting was handsome; you could see that he was the essence of beauty with dark curls that framed his face and a strong jaw and nose. There was something unique about him, but at the same time you felt like you had seen him before; like you knew him despite the fact that whoever the inspiration was had likely been dead for centuries.

It was the woman that you noticed only after a thorough study of the gallant man clearly portrayed as a hero. She was beautiful, stylized with a light glow behind her as she gazed upon the man with a serene expression. It wasn’t until you really took a close look that you realized…she looked a lot like you. Or perhaps you looked like her. She had extremely similar if not the same features as you from your nose to your eyes and lips, the same hair only differently styled. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were looking at a portrait of yourself. One that had been created hundreds of years ago.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you hadn’t even heard anyone come up or approach, and you jumped back in surprise, almost falling over your own feet. Once you steadied yourself, your heart beating wildly, you looked at the stranger that had suddenly made their appearance, “I didn’t mean to scare you! I thought you heard me coming.”

“N-no,” your response was a nervous stammer, “I guess I was too caught up in looking at the painting.”

“I can understand why…it’s a remarkable painting,” it was only now that you took a proper look at him. You were caught off guard for the second time since he’d appeared, but this time it was by his beauty. His was handsome, in a roguish type of way, with a head full of thick dark curls, soft but deep eyes, dark but patchy facial hair flecked with grays, and a strong nose and jaw, He was impeccably dressed in a suit that must have been tailored for him; way better looking than anyone had the right to be and completely out of place in the quiet gallery. You look down at yourself and immediately felt underdressed in your simple jeans and sweater.

“Yeah,” you agreed, offering him a small smile and wondering if he could sense everything you were thinking and feeling. You reached for your bag and sketchbook, ready to make a hasty escape to try and process the sudden onslaught of emotions. How could they be this strong about a stranger? None of it made sense, “I-I should get going.”

“Why did it capture your attention?” it was like he had reached out and taken hold of your arm to stop you. But in reality he had only asked the question as you attempted to rush past him. You turned back to him with an eyebrow raised, “this particular piece has captured your fancy. Why?”

For whatever reason, you felt compelled to walk back to him, standing to where your shoulder was almost brushing him. You could smell the light but undoubtedly expensive cologne he was wearing, and it made you want to bury your face in his neck and breathe him in. You shook your head to get yourself out of this silly daydream little fantasy, “I’ve never seen this painting before…I study art, especially medieval and renaissance art and I’ve never come across it. It’s unique - the composition, the brushwork, all of it. I was looking for the artist’s name but couldn’t find it. Whoever they were, they must have been educated or at least heavily inspired by Botticelli or someone like him.”

“It’s anonymous,” he stated simply as your eyebrows raised in surprise, “the artist was never identified and we’ll never know if they’ve done any other work. Which leaves us with only this piece."

“How did you…know that?” handsome and mysterious? He had your attention to say the least, “I haven't seen anything announced about the painting at all.”

“That’s because it used to be my personal collection,” it was a revelation that left you floored. With that knowledge, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps it was a recently created painting paired with some made up folklore and sold for money. But no…this painting was undoubtedly old and the Uffizi would never bring just any painting into their gallery, “I thought it was time to share it with the world. Even if just for now.”

“That’s…extremely generous,” you smiled at him, “how does one happen to come into possession of potentially priceless art?”

“There is always a way,” he played it off with a small smile, not completely dodging your question but also not answering it, “I’ve been waiting for the day…”

He trailed off as he studied you intently, causing you to want to squirm and want to melt into the floor. Instead, his large hands gently found your shoulders and he moved you to stand in front of him. You could feel his breath tickling your neck as you tried to keep it together. His hands delicately skimmed down your arms before he stopped at your wrists, brushing your fingers with his before they settled on your waist. A small little moan escaped your lips and you were already too far gone to realize that you were standing here with a virtual stranger where anyone could walk up.

“What do you see?” his voice was low and velvety smooth in your ear, and it was only then that you realized you’d closed your eyes. You looked the painting over, taking it all in just as you had when you’d first laid eyes on it. Your breath caught in a small gasp as you realized what he was trying to get at. You felt him push your hair to the side before he dragged his nose against your neck, stopping with his lips at your pulse point, “tell me.”

“I-it’s you,” your voice was a small whisper as you realized that it was him in the painting. Maybe it was just…someone long gone that had shared an uncanny resemblance with him. But…no. That was him; it was clear as day now, “the man in the painting is you.”

“Yes,” suddenly you wanted to feel his lips all over his body, to hear him speak the most innocent and sinful of words for just you to hear, “what else?”

“The woman…she’s…me,” you concluded softly, his hum vibrating in his chest, “I don’t understand…how?”

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” he whispered before delicately turning you around so you could face him. You flushed with warmth and tried to turn away, but instead he put his finger under chin and kept your gaze trained on him, “I thought I might never find you again.”

“What do you mean?” you leaned into his touch as his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You had questions, but at the same time, you knew that you already had all the answers you could ever need within you, “tell me.”

“I have looked far and wide for you, mi tesoro,” he leaned in, leaving very little space between your bodies. If you leaned in any further, you could kiss him; and that was currently all you wanted to do. Your whole body was practically humming with excited, nervous energy, “I thought I might not find you in this lifetime. To think I might have lost you forever…I couldn’t bear the thought.”

“How did you know I’d be here?” you allowed yourself to touch his face, ghosting your fingers along his jaw, “I…why can’t I remember everything?”

“You could say I had a feeling,” he admitted with a small smile, “and those feelings have been right in the past. I’ve been watching you, waiting for this moment until I couldn’t wait for you any longer.”

“Oh,” you looked at him with wide, innocent eyes and his heart melted, “how long have you been here? In Italy?”

“Some time,” your heart felt content, like it was suddenly at home after searching for so long. You supposed it had; like it had finally found the missing piece, "I waited until I was sure you'd remember me. At first I thought you didn't…"

"I didn't right away…but now," you cradled his face in your hands, "my heart remembers. I've missed you this whole lifetime but didn't know what was missing. It’s been like a big part of my heart was missing until now - until I felt your touch again. It just needed to see you again, amor."

“May I kiss you?” his umber eyes, soft but ever so expressive, searched yours as held himself back. A small, wistful little sound left your lips as you nodded, wanting to feel his lips on yours once again. You closed your eyes as he kissed you - again, finally - after so long. It was a soft, delicate thing, hardly more than what would be considered a chaste kiss rather than one between lovers. You could feel he was testing the waters to make sure you were still okay with it, with him. You pulled him back down to your lips and stole a few more kisses from him, before letting him go, “I’ve missed you so much. I don’t know what I would have done…any lifetime without you would not have been worth living.”

“And now you will not be alone,” you promised, “we have always found each other, through centuries and lives that were not easy or kind to us. I think we’ll always be together in the end. It’s…the memories are there, vague and distant, but they’re coming back to me.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to kiss you until you remember everything,” there he was. That silly, playful man that had your heart for as long as you could remember, for as long as time itself, “you get more and more beautiful all the time. It hardly seems fair that you’re stuck with me.”

“As if you don’t know you are the most handsome man," you carded a hand through his hair, careful not to mess it up, "if there's anyone that my heart has to be bound to, I'm glad it's yours."

He took a step back, his hand still holding yours as he admired you. The familiarity of the gesture reminded you of the countless times he'd done this in the past. It still managed to make you feel like he thought you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. In his eyes, you easily were.

"You've always been a flatterer."

"It's always worked," you reminded him as the corners of his mouth tugged up into a small smile, “how did you know to have them put the painting here now? That I would be here today?”

“When you have known someone through so many lifetimes, it’s not hard to anticipate what they’ll do,” he had leaned in so he was whispering in your ear, causing gooseflesh to break out all over your skin, “I know you better than you could ever know.”

“That’s very romantic of you, mi amor,” you tugged on the fine, soft lapels of his jacket to keep him close, “but I’m pretty sure I know you just as well. I might not remember everything just yet, but I know that much. Just how closely have you been watching without me noticing?”

He laughed at that, a deep hearty laugh that caused his eyes to crinkle in the corners and that one dimple to become more prominent. How you had missed that laugh; your heart felt more than full at hearing it again, “like I said, long enough. I wouldn’t have said or done anything if I wasn’t sure the timing was right.”

“One more thing,” you held up your hand and he pressed his against yours, his much larger hand dwarfing yours, “how did you find the painting? Wasn’t it…lost at some point?”

“It was…some few centuries ago,” he brought your hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss to each finger, “but like I said, I have my ways.”

“Once a thief, always a thief,” you shook your head in amusement, “but I think whatever heist brought it back to you was worthwhile.”

“That’s I stole your heart as well,” this time it was your turn to laugh, causing him to feel warm and at ease, “don’t deny it, tesoro.”

“You are a fool of a man and always have been,” you worried your bottom lip as he stared at you in what was nothing but pure adoration, “thank you for finding me. I suppose next time it’s my turn.”

“My heart will always find yours,” he promised, “in every lifetime. Will you come home?”

“I already am home,” you teased, “but for all intents and purposes, yes. Of course I will.”

He took a small step back and held out his hand to you, waiting to see if you would take it. As if there ever had been any doubt that you would. You might have enjoyed giving him a hard time, but you would always follow him, as he would follow you. You grabbed your bag and slipped your hand in his, “preciosa.”

“One more thing,” you insisted before he could walk away, “how are you going to get that painting back? I’d like to keep it with us, amor.”

“I can find a way,” he winked as you sighed playfully at him, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Always and forever.”

#the thief #the thief x reader #the thief x you #the thief x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #sigh....yeah

255 notes · View notes

kentopedia · 7 months

Text

my girl dad dazai post but now i’m thinking abt pm boss dazai as a dad …

he knows the mafia is no place for a child, but then you get pregnant, and he realizes just how badly he does wants to be a dad (even if he thinks he’ll bad at it)

he swears to himself he’ll protect her from all the bad things in the world, but it’s not just him … she’s got everyone in the port mafia wrapped around her little finger. so dazai feels a little better, knowing he’s got a handful of the most powerful ability users looking out for her <3

and she can get away with anythinggg. there is a lot of “just don’t tell your mom” happening (from dazai & everyone else). she loves that everyone has a special ability, but chuuya’s is her favorite bc he can float anything ! and she is dazai’s child so don’t doubt she is a menace !! if chuuya won’t fly her in the air, she’ll start tearing up bc she knowssss it makes him feel bad >:)

dazai has a lot going on with the port mafia, but nothing is more important than you and his daughter. he puts everything aside for the two of you !! the most devoted husband and father

dazai stops, mid sentence, looking up at the sound of the door slamming shut, little footsteps sprinting across the room. he’s in the meeting room with the execs, discussing the foreseeable future of the mafia.

“daddy! daddy!” she shouts, running with something waving wildly in her hand. you’re two steps behind, her but she’s far too quick, too excited about her newest creation to stop. “look what i made!”

and though dazai is in the middle of an important meeting, his entire body language changes, and he’s turning towards the little girl, a big smile on his face. “what did you make today, cutie?” he asks, picking her up to pull into his lap.

“mommy showed me how to paint!” she shoves the canvas into his hand, a proud grin on her face as dazai brushes away her tangled hair. “look! it’s all of us!” she says, but her l’s still sound a little like w’s, and dazai can’t help but marvel at the fact that this sweet little girl has been raised by him.

she points to herself, a stick figure with an odd-shaped head, and nothing more than two lines of dark hair. “that’s me! and there’s you and mommy!” there’s a heart painted between your heads, and it makes dazai melt, the fact that even your daughter can see all the love you have for each other.

he wants to kiss you so badly, overwhelmed by affection for the two most important people in his life.

but then his little girl is pointing to a chaotic block of red and black, painted in splatters in the corner of the canvas. “and there’s uncle chuuya!”

dazai stares at it, blinks, then bursts into a fit of laughter that has his stomach aching. there’s a little hat on top of the mess of paint, and it sends dazai into another spiral.

“let me see that!” chuuya says, grumbling as he snatches the canvas out of dazai’s hand.

“what?” your daughter asks, frowning as she pokes her dad in the face, trying to get him to stop his laughter. “is it bad, uncle chuu?”

and chuuya, who previously had a grumpy expression, softens, not wanting to break the poor girl’s heart. “no, it’s real good,” he promises, even if he’s a bit offended by the portrayal, when she made her own family look so sweet. “it looks just like me!”

dazai chokes, but finally stops laughing to himself when you flick the back of his head.

“yay!” your daughter says, throwing her arms up high, grinning at chuuya’s praise. she’s so adorable that dazai has half a mind to squeeze her tight and never let her go. “see, mommy i told you they’d like it!”

you sigh, and take her from dazai’s arms. “you were supposed to show them after the meeting.” she’s still making grabby hands at her dad as you hold her, a pout forming while she squirms in your arms, trying to escape. “sorry, ‘samu. i know you’re busy today.”

dazai leans up, standing halfway out of his chair to kiss the frown off your face. “don’t apologize, darling.” he caresses your cheek softly, before looking back at his daughter, who just wants to be nosy and listen in to the adult conversations. “i always have time for my two favorite girls.”

you smile, softening as dazai ruffles his daughter’s hair.

“i want to stay here with you!” the little girl says, and dazai laughs, closing up her fists with his palm gently as she tries to climb onto him.

“i’ll be done in just a little bit, sweetie. then, how about we have a tea party? i’ll go get you some ice cream too! but you have to listen to your mom until then, okay?”

“i’ll listen, i promise!” she squeals in excitement, and then sobers, leaning back into your arms with a serious expression. “can you bring a special guest again? maybe akutagawa this time? he hasn’t been to a tea party yet!”

dazai’s lip twitches, but he doesn’t let the smile break free. still, the mere thought of akutagawa pouring tea for his daughter is enough to have him complying with her wishes. “sure, honey. i think i can arrange that.”

#guys idk whats going on with me #i do not have baby fever ! i do not want a child rn !#but i keep thinking of dazai being a dad and i’m like #yeah let me give him a baby right !!! now !!!!#sigh #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #dazai fluff #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆#dazai x fem reader

890 notes · View notes