Namor Taking Ramondas Wig After Sending Her To Bikini Bottom

Namor taking Ramonda’s wig after sending her to bikini bottom

Ngl this is like my favorite pic of him

damsel in distress

IN WHICH: desperate times call for desperate measures.

PAIRING: zuko x reader

INSPIRED BY: moment’s silence (common tongue) — hozier

WARNING: suggestive themes, making out ;)

NOTES: i got distracted while writing the next part of stars. i hope you all enjoy!

you could feel someone following you.

you had been taught to be aware of your surroundings and follow your gut— your grandfather, a retired fire nation general, had taught you well. he had raised you as his own ever since your parents died in battle, and taught you the truth about the fire nation from the very start. he was a careless old man, one who didn’t fear being caught by the firelord or being killed; he claimed that he was old enough.

his advice was simple; follow your gut, and be aware.

he expected you to accomplish great things. you were trained to be prince zuko’s personal body guard, and while he was proud of that alone, the fact that you had chosen to go off with zuko during his banishment was what he was truly proud of.

“you and iroh will be the only voices of reason on that ship,” your grandpa had explained as he packed multiple tea bags into your bag (when you weren’t looking, of course). he watched you fondly, observing the way you were sharpening your sword. you looked so much like your parents.

“be aware, y/n. a big storm is brewing.”

on the ship, your job soon blossomed into an advisor and body guard. you became iroh’s pai sho partner and looked up to him as a role model. you had joined the old man in trying to explain to zuko that his honor wasn’t worth it, but at the same time, you helped zuko train. you were a nonbender, but that only meant that you were strong in combat— especially hand-to-hand.

fast forward a few months, you were sure that your grandfather would be glad to hear that you were living a somewhat normal life in ba sing se alongside iroh and zuko. setting up a tea shop under new names was certainly a spontaneous decision, but you weren’t complaining at all. to you, it felt like a vacation; you could finally let out a breath you had held in for years. a small prt of you missed the adrenaline that came along with fighting, but you knew that this life was the life you all deserved.

you all deserved peace.

but as you walked down the dark alleyway of ba sing se, your hands holding a woven basket that you used to hold your belongings, you knew that your peace was disrupted. something was wrong. someone was watching.

you kept up a cool front, but listened to the little sounds around you. you could hear the faint swoosh of air coming from someone, and the small puffs of breath being taken by someone who wasn’t you.

you heard them land quietly behind you. you could tell they were experienced— you almost didn’t hear them. almost. you heard their feet come closer, each step making you slow your walk.

you turned around abruptly, basket still in your right hand as you shoved them up against the nearby wall. your right arm went up to their throat, eyes glaring into the blue mask the other person wore. if looks could kill, the stranger would certainly burst into flames.

your arm was hard against their neck, almost cutting off their air supply. you were both breathing heavily, chests heaving against each other before your free hand went up to pull the mask up.

your eyes met familiar amber ones, your scowl faltering at the sight of the fire prince. your arm fell from his neck, a scoff leaving your lips as you pushed yourself off of him. the warmth he radiated was gone, now replaced by the cold night air. “you were following me?” you asked, already knowing the answer as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“you were gone longer than usual!” zuko protested, thankful for the darkness around him as his face burned red. he huffed grumpily, copying your actions and crossing his arms. “you told uncle that you’d be back before 12! you were late!”

“i wasn’t late!” you argued, foot tapping against the cobblestone. “but because of this stupid stunt, i might be!” your angry look faltered at the soft sound of gruff talking, your head turning towards the sound while zuko only groaned.

“don’t be mad at me because i got worried!” zuko fired back, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he paced. “spirits, it’s so hard to be good,” he grumbled under his breath before he stopped his pacing, pointing an accusatory finger towards you.

“i’m not some damsel in distress, zuko.” you replied, eyes still staring into the darkness. you could feel people coming.

zuko was blind to your strange behavior, instead choosing to tell you off further. “i know you aren’t! you’ve kicked my ass more than i could count. anyway— know how dangerous it is to be out so late especially when we—“

you suddenly moved closer to him, shoving him up against the wall once again. zuko’s words died in his throat as he looked down at you, but your mind was elsewhere. you were looking down the dark alley, your brows furrowed.

“i’m not done,” zuko forced out, making you shush him harshly. your legs were practically tangled together, and your arm was up against his body, practically trapping him under your body. his body was against the wall behind him, and zuko didn’t move as you narrowed your eyes. that’s when he heard it: deep voices.

“kiss me,” you stated, not even looking at him. you dropped your basket on the ground.

“what? you can’t be serious,” zuko hissed, his body temperature rising. but that didn’t seem to bother you as you looked back at him.

“do you trust me?” you asked sternly, making him nod before you came forward.

your hands reached to his neck, your touch gentle as you brought him down to meet your lips. his eyes fluttered shut, the voices from before disappearing into the background and being replaced by you. his senses were flooded by you. you tasted like sugar cane and smelled like moon flowers. you were intoxicating, and zuko found one of his hands going up to hold your neck, his thumb gently caressing the skin under his fingertips.

he tasted like tea and smelled like jasmines. the mere taste of him made you crave more, and your leg was instinctively placed between his legs.

you pulled away from him briefly, breathing slightly labored. your eyes met his, and you came in the middle again, lips slotting over each other. you slipped your tongue into his mouth, reveling in the low moan he gave out. your fingers ran through his hair, making his blue mask drop onto the ground as the kiss became more passionate. you tugged at the black strands, listening to him groan deeply.

you pressed him harder against the wall, yet zuko didn’t care as he bit down on your bottom lip and pulled, making you let out a whine that he wanted to hear more of. the voices were nearer now, and he could hear them jog down their alleyway.

his lips trailed down to your neck, making you close your eyes tighter and tilt your head to the side to give him more room. zuko opened his eyes briefly to see who the voices belonged to.

dai li. three of them came to a sudden stop at the sight of you both, and one immediately got your attention.

“hey! what’re you two doing here?” he yelled, ignoring the exasperated looks of the others as his voice echoed in the alley.

zuko opened his mouth to answer, but you beat him to it. you looked back at them, feigning indifference as you cocked a brow. “what do you think?” you responded, the corner of your lips curling up into a confident smirk. you glanced back at him, giving him a small wink.

zuko died right then and there.

“go home,” the dai li soldier stated sternly, making you let out a deep sigh. you were a good actor.

“c’mon lee,” you pulled away from zuko, grabbing your basket and his mask, hiding it from the dai li as you tucked it into your basket. you took zuko’s hand in yours, your act breaking for a second when he intertwined your fingers. “let’s have more fun at home,” you said, reverting back to your lie as you gave the dai li an innocent smile. with that, you ran off with zuko, letting out a loud laugh when you reached the entrance of the jasmine dragon.

“holy shit!” you let out, unable to hold back your laughs as you looked up at the sky. “i can’t believe we got away with it!” you looked at zuko, face flushing when you felt his warm hand tangled with yours. he was looking at you intently, amber eyes gleaming with something you’ve never seen before.

you leaned forward, gently planting your lips onto his for a quick peck. you opened up the door to the jasmine dragon, sending him a suggestive look that he read immediately. as the door shut behind you both, your basket dropped to the ground as this time zuko pushed you against the wall, lips meeting yours once again.

┈┈ 𑁍༅ཾ༚ ┈┈

NOTES: the sub jumped out of zuko real fast in this one. lmal this was so self indulgent, but once again, thank you for reading and sorry for any typos!

TAGSLIST: @beifongsss

the ghost of you

osamu dazai x f!reader

wc: 6.9k

summary: atsushi suspects something is off about dazai. he meets you, and suddenly, everything falls into place.

contents: ghosts!!, lot of angst my fav genre, dazai as his own warning, atsushi and reader povs, gothic (?) romance bc that was its originial intention, soft dazai, also everyone is a little older than in canon for timeline purposes

authors note: i most definitely wrote this for halloween, but it wasn't finished until now. so i switched some things around to make it part of my holiday event. also this is my first time writing for bsd so i hope it's ok :)

Atsushi found him in the cemetery, staring at a grave with a name that he didn’t recognize. The air was crisp; Christmas was just around the corner and the new year loomed in the distance. Dead leaves puddled around the other man, creating a perfect beige halo on the ground.

The sight was so serene—Atsushi hated that he would be the one to disturb it.

“Dazai?” He approached cautiously, never quite sure how to anticipate his reactions. His boots made an overly conspicuous sound, making Atsushi cringe.

Dazai was silent, still staring at the grave in front of him. The mud from the previous night’s rainfall mucked up his trousers, heavy brown spots seeping through the cloth.

“Kunikida told me to come get you. The President wants to have a meeting.”

He’d been sent to fetch Dazai, as usual, to bring him back to work. A hilarious notion, considering that Dazai never listened to anyone, especially not Atsushi.

He shifted—the leaves broke under him, crumbling into a hundred little pieces.

Atsushi watched as Dazai swallowed thickly, his eyes holding more sadness than usual. Dazai was no stranger to sorrow. That was easy for anyone to surmise. Today, though, there was something off. He was acting differently than usual; a bad different, and one that Atsushi wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge.

“Dazai?”

Atsushi considered asking what was wrong, but he bit his tongue. Dazai would just give him a cryptic answer anyways, revealing not a scrap of the secrets he kept so close to his chest.

“Remind him what day it is.” Dazai finally spoke, his voice coming out so hoarse that Atsushi almost wondered if it was his imagination. He’d never heard a sound like that leave Dazai’s lips before. “I won’t be in today.”

“But—” Atsushi began, though he quickly stopped when Dazai turned to fully face him.

His features were so hollowed out and lifeless. There was something horrible in the way that his shoulders seemed to slump, leaning over the grave like he wanted to bury himself in it too. His hands had fallen in the mud haphazardly, creating patterns in the soil.

“Sure.” Atsushi put his hands in his pockets. “I’ll let him know.”

He watched for a few fleeting moments as Dazai turned back to the grave, pressing his palms to the dirt tenderly. He was in his own world and Atsushi, truly, didn’t know if he’d heard him at all.

Without another word, Atsushi turned, heading back towards the Armed Detective Agency. He only hoped that Dazai’s message would make sense to Fukuzawa; he certainly didn’t want to get chewed out by Kunikida for not delivering upon his request.

You traced the soft edges of the book as you came to the close of yet another chapter.

Already, you were near the end, even though you’d only started it a few days ago. Your large stack of to-be-read novels was quickly dwindling; you kept forgetting to ask Dazai to pick you up some new ones.

For a few more minutes, you tried to read, but the words failed to ingrain into your mind. You’d been distracted all day, and it was difficult to focus on anything but old memories.

With a sigh, you resigned yourself to a break when the door opened and closed downstairs.

Finally, he was home.

You smiled to yourself, closing the book with a ribbon.

His footsteps were quiet up the stairs, but you could still sense them, just as always. The melody of his movements was soothing, familiar enough to always relax you.

You waited, though it was only a few moments before the door unlatched, the wooden frame creaking on its hinges.

Dazai seemed tired on the other side of the threshold, his coat already slung off in his journey to the second floor. His dark hair was a mess, falling in tangled strands all over his face, even darker circles forming under his eyes.

Fleetingly, he met your gentle gaze, and something in the brown irises changed after that. The troubled look in them faded faintly, softening as he took in the sight of you lounging in the worn leather reading chair, a book resting on your lap,

“You’re home early,” you said, tossing the book aside to greet him.

He was upon you in an instant, arms pulling you into his chest as he buried his face in your hair. The warmth from his body seeped through to your very soul, shrouded by a layer of cold skin that had frozen in the brisk winter.

He didn’t reply to your question. He was unmoving in your embrace, a grim statue, and you were skeptical of his silence.

Without alarm, you pulled back to peer into his eyes, hoping to find the answer you sought. “Osamu?”

He kept his face glued to the top of your head, gingerly pressing kisses there.

“You didn’t leave work early again, did you?”

“Of course, I did.” It was then that he pulled back, revealing the contrasting redness in the whites of his eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen Dazai cry, but he was close to tears now. The lines forming in his skin were deeper than you remembered—he was aging without you, it seemed. “I couldn’t leave you here by yourself today.”

You sighed—you should’ve known this would happen. The date was marked on the calendar with black smudges, crossed out in an emotion-fueled rage. You’d known it was coming for a while now, and you were stupid to expect that he would carry on as normal.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“Well, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t?” He forced a smile. A scapegoat—this was much more for him than it was for you.

He caressed your cheek lightly, expressing every delicate emotion that he couldn’t put into words through the slight touch of his hands. The two of you had gotten better at understanding each other over the years. Neither of you had to say much to be heard.

“Besides, I just wanted to come home and be with you,” he said, a comment left under his breath, though he knew you would hear it all the same. “I’d hardly say that’s the worst crime I’ve committed.”

You frowned. “I just—” you thought over your words, but stopped, finding no reason to argue. You were hurting just as much as Dazai was. It would be pointless to pretend otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” you said, meaning it wholeheartedly. Dazai seemed surprised by your swift apology but accepted it anyway. “I’m happy you came home, really.” That was quieter, but you could feel him smile, just a fraction, into your hair.

“I’m glad to be home, love.” Dazai pulled away from you and took your cold hand, leading you to the bed that was neatly made up in the middle of the room.

There was nothing seductive in his actions. His eyes were sullen and weary, exhausted from night upon night of sleeplessness.

He flung himself across the bed, his long limbs straightening out to all corners of the mattress. He hadn’t even bothered to change his clothes and they began to wrinkle.

Dazai regarded you with sleepy eyes as you slid onto the bed beside him, making your way into his embrace. He traced your features softly with the tips of his fingers, as if you weren’t really there at all.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, pulling you close to him. Your fingers dangled together against the sheets, his white bandages catching. “And all mine.”

“Always a charmer.” You kissed the tip of his nose before snuggling into him, tucking your head under his chin.

He was quiet for a while, before you felt him fall into fitful sleep. Never fully into a dream, but never away from a nightmare either. You brushed your hands through his hair, the strands tangling between your fingers.

You wished he had the luxury of peace in his sleep. Even that seemed to evade him.

Atsushi returned to the Armed Detective Agency defeated as he rubbed his eyes with exhaustion. Kunikida was already standing by the door, arms crossed as he eyed Atsushi with contempt.

“Well?” he asked, practically stamping his feet.

Atsushi sank back, shuffling. “He said to remind you of what day it was,” he said helplessly, still having no idea what Dazai’s message meant.

Kunikida blinked.

He checked his notebook, then his watch, as if he’d forgotten what day it was.

A silly thing to Atsushi. He was certain that Kunikida had never forgotten a thing in his life.

“Oh,” the blond man said, his face losing all of its color before recovering swiftly. “We’ll proceed without him then. Come, Atsushi.”

Kunikida turned, still leaving Atsushi in the dark about the entire situation. And the younger man sputtered in confusion, never knowing Kunikida to be accepting of Dazai missing work.  

“Did you get groceries today?”

Dazai walked towards the kitchen, and you followed him, gliding down the stairs with ease.

It had been a nice nap; the first one you’d had in a while. You could still feel his arms around you, and it set a flame to your very heart.

“It looks to be that way,” he teased, nodding towards the empty paper bags on the counter. “Did you need anything?”

“No, I didn’t, smartass.” You began to sift through what was new in the pantry. He hadn’t bought much—just a few essentials, but it was enough to fix something up. You’d been getting onto him about not taking care of his health lately. “I was just going to make dinner for you.”

Dazai’s head shot up, and he instantly returned to your side. There was some sort of horror in his expression, like it was a crime for you to whip up an easy meal for him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But—”

“Come on,” he said, stealing the pans from you. “I’ll make my own dinner.”

You pouted, though you let him stop you anyways. “You always do it, though. Can’t I just do something for you for once?”

“What do you mean, darling? You always do things for me.” Dazai stared at you, unrelenting, though you held your ground.

For a moment, he stayed serious. Then, he softened. A slight quirk of the lips as he smiled. “Alright, fine.” He pressed a kiss between your eyebrows. “But I’m going to help you.”

You considered arguing, but it would be in vain. His mind was made up. At least you could do something that would occupy your thoughts.

Dazai picked items from the pantry, assembling some sort of a recipe. It wasn’t much, but it would likely be enough. Dazai had been eating less recently, to your sorrow. He seemed to forget more than he remembered.

You took the knife, slicing the meat and vegetables as he prepared everything else. The two of you worked in ease, skirting around each other without even realizing when the other was in the way. It was seamless—you understood one another with just a look.

“Is everyone at the agency doing alright?” you asked, desperate to break up the silence. The sound of the knife against the cutting board was painful enough.

“They’re all doing well,” Dazai said, pausing for a moment. He turned to face you, but your back was to him, stiff as a board. “They miss you. Very much.”

“I miss them too.” You could feel tears in your eyes, though you refused them. There was no room for you to cry; that’s what you told yourself, at least. “Did Atsushi take my desk?” you continued to monotonously chop the vegetables. “That’s the new guy, right?”

“Yeah, that’s him.” You heard a few swift footsteps before Dazai was hugging you from behind, desperately holding onto you. He bowed his head into the back of your neck. “I’ve asked them to leave your desk as it was. No one really touches it.”

You put the knife down, stilling. “Osamu—”

“Don’t say anything.”

“You should let someone else have it.”

“I won’t. You’re here, aren’t you?” He could feel you begin to shake, your whole body buzzing from something inside.

You took a shaky breath. “I’m not here. Not really.” You set down the knife, grasping his hand tightly instead. Sometimes, you weren’t sure how Dazai could even stand to touch your icy skin. “I’ll never be back to that desk.”

He didn’t respond.

“Osamu, I just wish you would try to—”

“Stop,” he said, releasing you. “I already know what you’re going to say.”

He pulled back, and the warmth left you once again. You were locked into an ice box.

“No matter how many times you ask, I won’t do it.”

You opened your lips but were unable to get the argument out. There was a knock at your door after that, ceasing the conversation. It was so rare that you had visitors—you hadn’t really gotten any in the past year.

It was odd that someone would be visiting you at this hour.

Atsushi waited anxiously on the other side, shivering in the icy cold. He stared at the outside of the brick building, trying to make a connection between this place and his co-worker.

It didn’t seem like the type of place that Dazai would reside in. It resembled something from a Victorian novel: beautiful only to the imagination, but not a safe place to inhabit.

He waited a few moments, trying to calm his racing nerves.

There was shuffling on the other side, but no answer. Atsushi began to worry he had the wrong house. Dazai had only told a couple people where he’d lived, and it took some very intense persuasion to even weasel that information out of them.

Atsushi was worried in a way that no one else was, and his desperation led them to revealing the information. He’d become a trusted member of the inner circle, but everyone at the agency was still so cryptic when it came to the manner of Dazai’s disappearance, and with Christmas nearing, Atsushi just really needed him to know that he wasn’t alone.

He knew that Dazai had his issues—ones that he would likely never understand—but there was something different about him this time. In the months that Atsushi had known him, he had never been so worried that his passing comments about suicide might actually come to fruition.

Finally, just as Atsushi was beginning to give up hope, the door cracked. A singular dark eye peeked out before widening. The door opened even further, revealing a puzzled expression on Dazai’s features.

“Atsushi,” Dazai said, surprised. “How did you find my house?”

"I asked around,” he said vaguely, trying not to throw anyone under the bus. Even though he knew Dazai would find out eventually, just as he always did. “I just wanted to see…” he trailed off, suddenly feeling imprudent. Dazai seemed fine—or, well, he seemed just as he always was. “You were acting strangely earlier.”

Dazai’s confusion increased, and then he laughed. It was the sort of laugh that was so joyful it unnerved Atsushi, leaving him unable to ease a singular worry.

“I wasn’t aware that you were so concerned for me, Atsushi.”

Atsushi flushed, embarrassed by his mocking tone. “I just thought I’d check in. You seem to be doing alright, though, so I’ll just—”

He began to back away, but Dazai was faster and pulled him back towards the door.

He glanced around, cautious, presumably wondering if anyone had followed Atsushi. When he deemed it safe, he welcomed him in, tugging him across the threshold.

“Do you want to meet someone?” he asked, slamming the door behind Atsushi.

He jumped at the noise. Despite trusting the man, Atsushi, briefly, wondered if he was about to meet his demise at the hands of Osamu Dazai. While he strongly believed that Dazai was a good man, he was also unpredictable. And right now, he was acting… very odd.

“I guess.” Atsushi felt that he didn’t really have a choice.

Dazai smiled, and began to lead him along, bringing him through the house that was almost as dreary on the inside as it was on the outside. There were so many candles—an unnecessary amount. How there hadn’t been a house fire was a mystery to everyone.

“Dazai—”

“We have a guest, my love!” Dazai shouted across the room, and it was then that Atsushi noticed the food cooking, the smell wafting through the air. It was delicious and warming, and all of the sudden, Atsushi felt much more relaxed.

Then, he processed Dazai’s words.

You peeked your head around the corner, meeting Atsushi’s eyes for the first time, and he was stunned by your very presence. Everything about you was disarming, and he nearly tripped at the sight of you.

You were otherworldly, almost. A being that was neither here nor there. He had no idea how he’d never seen you before, how no one had even mentioned you. You radiated allure and were a force on your own; a greater force with the likes of Dazai.

“Who’s this?” you asked, throwing a cloth on the counter once you’d dried your hands. Atsushi had been led into the kitchen, where the freshly baked meal was cooling.

“This is Atsushi,” Dazai introduced, and then gestured to you. “Atsushi, this is my lovely wife. I’ve been hoping you could meet her, but there really was never a good time.”

Atsushi paled and blinked. “What.” He glanced between the two of you, finding it difficult to even form words. “You… What?”

You told him your name, but that didn’t seem to help. Atsushi just stared at you, dumbfounded and clearly out of the loop.

You sighed; you truly should’ve known better.

“Osamu didn’t tell you about me, did he?” you said, frowning at Dazai and Atsushi furiously shook his head.

He was unapologetic, shrugging as he sauntered over to you.

“Don’t be mad,” he said, quietly, hoping that Atsushi wouldn’t hear. His hands briefly took your own, rubbing out the tension in your knuckles. “It’s so difficult to—”

“I’m not angry,” you said, and truthfully, you weren’t. There was no way you could’ve expected Dazai to just accept everything that had happened and move on like you weren’t living in the most unconventional way. “It just makes me sad.”

He squeezed your hand, nodding, before turning back to your guest. With a wide grin that was almost entirely fake, Dazai said, “you hungry Atsushi? We’ve got plenty to eat!”

Dinner had gone well, and Atsushi left in high spirits, already caring for you deeply. You’d won him over with your easy charms—heartbreaking, really, considering you could’ve been good friends in another life.

Later, hours after the two of you had fallen asleep, Dazai woke up, noticing that you weren’t in the space beside him as you had been. He felt around the mattress, eyes still closed until he was met with nothing but cold, empty air.

Panicked, he sat up straight, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark—was this it? The time you finally disappeared for good.

Then he heard the sniffling; silent, shaking sobs that he was, unfortunately, attuned to.

He padded over the floor, squatting beside you, careful not to alarm you with his touch. Your entire body was trembling as you curled into yourself, trying to hide your cries from him.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing,” you said, wiping your eyes furiously. It was embarrassing for anyone to see you cry, even if it was only Dazai. The one person you wholeheartedly trusted. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” He softly gripped your bicep, trying to ease you out of your tense position.

You blinked at him, wondering if you could hold the rest of your pain in, push it down to the very depths of your hollowed soul. A second passed. Another.

The tears flowed freely down your face as you sobbed, hands resting in your lap limply. Dazai stared back at you helplessly, hands hovering over you like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Did I do something?”

“No,” you said, wiping your eyes with so much force that it hurt. Over and over and over. “No, you’ve done nothing.”

“Then, what’s the matter?” His voice was softer—softer than you’d ever heard it. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“I can’t keep doing this, Osamu.”

He hesitated. There was something stricken in his dark eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t keep ruining your life.”

He grabbed your hand forcefully, squeezing it like you were a lifeline. His hair fell into his eyes as he leaned forward, searching your face desperately for answers. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” You scowled, the unhappiness creasing your features. “I’m here and you’re there. I can’t go anywhere with you, I can’t see my old friends, I can’t do anything meaningful but rot. I’m stuck in this damn house, and you leave every day worried that I won’t be here when you return.”

He said your name softly, though you rambled on.

“I’m holding you back from everything. You’ll grow old, and I won’t. You’ll want kids and I can’t give them to you.” Your voice cracked; it was difficult to even meet his disturbingly sad eyes. “You could marry someone else if you wanted. Someone that could live a life with you. I really wouldn’t care.”

You would care—the thought of him loving anyone but you made you sick to your stomach. Still, you persisted, wanting nothing but happiness for him. As close to happiness as someone like him could get.

“Don’t ever say anything like that. This is a life.”  

“Is it?” you asked, shaking your head mirthlessly. “Am I really worth all the pain that comes with me?”

“Of course you are!” Dazai exclaimed, frantically pulling you closer to him. “Do you really think I want any of that? I don’t care about kids; I don’t care about finding someone else. I don’t even care that you can’t leave the house. I just want to be around you for as long as I can. I’ll rot in here with you if that’s what it takes. I don’t ever want you to slip away.”

“Osamu, this isn’t healthy.”

“I couldn’t give less of a damn.” He said, peppering your faces with kisses. “I didn’t love you as well as I should’ve and I’m paying for it every day. Constantly reminded of all the times I fucked up, when I should’ve been appreciating every second, we had together.”

“You did your best,” you frowned, trying to still him, though your hands were shaking too. “Neither of us were in a position for a relationship. We did it anyway.”

“I should have been more careful,” Dazai said, cupping your face gently. He’d removed the bandages, and his sleeves slipped to expose his pale wrists. “I could’ve saved your life if I never would’ve asked you to marry me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, leaning into the warmth of his palms. You closed your eyes, inhaling the natural perfume of his skin. “I would never regret ever being with you. We had our ups and downs, and we got through them because we were meant for each other.”

Dazai brushed your tears away with his thumb, and you smiled, pained, as they drifted away.

“I’ve always felt loved by you, you know. You don’t have to make up for all the things you didn’t say. I would never want you to regret our relationship. That would hurt me more than anything.”

Dazai’s expression became conflicted, revealing more emotion that you knew he could really understand. “I know.” He closed his eyes. “But I was a stupid boy when I met you and I’ll die a stupid man.”

“Stop blaming yourself. Please.”

“I don’t know how not to,” he said, bowing his head into his chest. “I knew you could’ve been hurt, but I was so stupidly naïve—I could’ve saved you.”

“Osamu—”

“I could’ve done something.”

“No, you couldn’t have. I was dying. I was calling to tell you goodbye. That I loved you.” You smiled sadly. “And Merry Christmas.”

There was a long lapse of silence as he processed your words. You carded your fingers through his hair—it was getting long again.

“I don’t deserve to have another chance with you,” he finally said, sighing to himself. “But I’m so thankful that I got one.”

“So,” Atsushi said when Dazai had finally left the room, going on his extended lunch break. “Why did no one tell me that Dazai was married?”

Everyone stilled. And Atsushi, suddenly, felt very uncomfortable. It was completely silent—a pen dropping would’ve shaken the entire building.

“Who told you that?” Ranpo asked, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth. For once, even he seemed a little concerned. “Dazai?”

“He wouldn’t have, Dazai doesn’t talk about her,” Yosano said, getting a little too close to Atsushi for comfort. He cowered under her intimidating gaze, having no desire to be interrogated. “Did you go through company files or something?”

“No,” Atsushi swore, flustered from all the eyes on him. “Why would I do that?”

“How else would you have known—”

“Yosano, calm down,” Kunikida said softly, trying to decipher something in Atsushi’s behavior. “You can’t possibly think that he would do something like that.”

Yosano, at least, didn’t have any evidence to respond with. It wasn’t enough to calm Atsushi, though, with all the skeptical glances on him.

Kunikida faced Atsushi once more, delivering the response like it was just any boring lecture, as calmly as possible. “We didn’t tell you because Dazai didn’t. We wanted to respect his privacy and his wishes; it’s not our information to share.”

He made a face—Atsushi could understand privacy, but for something like this? It made no sense. “I don’t understand…”

“How did you even find out about that?” Ranpo kicked his feet up on the desk, his eyes contemplative. Atsushi felt like he was under a microscope with the way Ranpo was looking at him, determined to uncover every last secret. “Was someone gossiping because of yesterday? I wouldn’t be surprised,” he hummed, more to himself than anything.

“Probably Naomi,” Yosano added. “She thinks it’s all romantically tragic… I’d say it’s just plain tragic.”

“No, no, no.” Atsushi shook his head. “No one told me anything about her, I met her. Yesterday.”

A pause. Everyone blinked.

“What?” Kunikida seemed uncomfortable by the comment. His words came out more choked and uncertain than normal.

“Yeah,” Atsushi said, explaining as best he could. “I went to Dazai’s house yesterday because I was worried about him. No one explained what was going on, and then…” Atsushi told the rest of the story, from meeting you to sharing a meal together, and then leaving like the three of you were old friends.

It seemed to go over everyone’s head. They all stared back at him with blank eyes.

“That’s not possible. Dazai must have had someone else over.”

“What? She told me her name. They said they were married.”

“What did you take last night? I’d certainly like to try it.” Ranpo’s deadpan comment did nothing to ease Atsushi’s frustrations.

“What? Nothing!” He grasped at his white hair, feeling like he was talking to a brick well. “I told you I went to his house and met his wife, and we had dinner. Why is that such an issue?”

“Atsushi…” Kunikida exchanged a glance with Yosano. “It’s an issue because it’s not possible. She’s been dead for over a year.”

For the second time that week, a visitor came to your door, interrupting your lifeless routine. You muted the television, walking downstairs to retrieve your guest.

“Atsushi,” you said, unsurprised when the door revealed the young man. The appalled and uncertain expression on his face told you everything you need to know.

With a heavy exhale, you opened the door wider, beckoning him through it. “I take it you know, then?”

“Kunikida said that you’re dead.” Atsushi blinked; his feet planted into the concrete.

“I am.”

“You’re a ghost.”

“I am.” With a nod, you glanced around, desperately trying to get him through the door before anyone saw you. Your neighbors had never really been your friends, but last they heard, you’d passed onto another plane. “Please, come in.”

He didn’t budge. “You’re a ghost.”

You frowned. “I’m not an evil spirit, Atsushi. I’m the same as I was before, except now you know everything. Please, come in.”

“Dazai’s not here, is he?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “He’ll be home soon.” You took a heavy breath, stepping backwards into your home. “If you came here to talk, then let’s talk. If you’re going to stare at me like that, then I’ll ask you to leave.”

Atsushi blinked once more, and then made a face, finally stepping through the threshold. He paused when you shut the door, as if expecting the other shoe to drop, for you to attack him with a grotesquely transformed face.

You sighed and pushed past him towards the kitchen. “Would you like some tea? It should be done by now.”

Atsushi was silent, though you could hear him following you anyways. You poured two cups and put one in front of him, though he still stared at it mistrustfully.

“It’s not poisoned,” you said, sipping your drink mindlessly. It was boiling hot, but the temperature didn’t do anything to your lifeless body. The scalding liquid went down like cold water, tasteless. “You watched me pour it straight from the pot. One for myself, as well.”

“You’re dead,” Atsushi stated, making the point known for the third time that afternoon. “Poison wouldn’t bother you.”

“Right.” The thought was dismal, and your face fell, realizing that even after a year, you still acted sometimes, like things were still normal. “I guess I didn’t think about that.”

You stirred the tea with sugar, and while you knew it wouldn’t change the flavor, you kept the same habits from when you were alive. Sometimes, the smell of food was so strong, it was enough for you to taste it. Most of the time, it was just empty nothingness.

“I’m sure you have lots of questions. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Atsushi said, finally gaining enough courage to taste the tea. He was quiet for a few minutes, testing to see if his vision began to grow fuzzy. When he deemed it safe, he went on. “I don’t understand why no one told me. I’ve always wondered about the desk frozen in time in the corner of the agency. No one told me it was because of you.”

“There’s still photos of Osamu on it, aren’t there?” You smiled, remembering when you had framed them. There was really no reason, since you saw him at the agency every day, but you liked having such permanent and wholesome proof of your relationship there for everyone to see.

“I thought he put them there himself,” Atsushi said truthfully, almost grimacing.

You laughed. “Well, that honestly does sound like something he would do.” Guiltily, you looked down, away from Atsushi’s hopeful expression. “I told him to get rid of it. I’m sure it’s just wasting space.”

“Not really. There are other empty desks there too. Besides, I don’t think anyone wants the memory of you gone. Dazai, least of all.”

You grew warm at the thought of everyone you had worked with. Maybe, if Atsushi knew, Dazai would finally be willing to tell a few other people. You so desperately wanted to see them: Yosano, Kunikida, Ranpo. If even just to say goodbye.

“Why are you here?” Atsushi said, finally breaking the silence. “Did you die here?”

“I’m surprised no one told you.” Your eyebrows raised. “It was a big deal when it happened. They hadn’t lost an agent before. I was the first.”

“You died on a mission, then?”

You nodded. “I guess I could explain from the beginning.”

Atsushi didn’t say anything, so you decided to go ahead. The least he deserved was some sort of explanation.

“Osamu and I met when we were young.”

You recalled the period between your escape from the mafia and your incorporation into the Armed Detective Agency. The time when you felt invincible, like you could do anything, and the world was powerless to stop you.

Practically kids back then, so desperate to find a home. Your marriage was swift and foolish, but you would never regret it. After that, you’d been the happiest you’d ever been.

Atsushi seemed enraptured by the tale you spun—you didn’t tell him everything, but you told him enough. Probably more than Osamu would’ve, anyway.

“Then what happened on the mission?” Atsushi said, leaning forward, more trusting of you now that he’d been sitting there for a while. It was like all of the tension had eased away, and you were two old friends, reconnecting after a long time.

“I was sent on a mission and got caught in the crossfires. I was caught off-guard, and I shouldn’t have been.” You frowned, looking past his shoulders. As much as Dazai blamed himself, at the end of the day it was you who had gotten yourself killed. “An assassin in the Port Mafia took a shot at me—someone low on the totem pole who had no idea who he was dealing with and ignored orders from his superiors.” You sighed, shaking your head. “He didn’t last much longer after that. If Dazai hadn’t taken care of him, I have no doubt Akutagawa would’ve.”

“Dazai was with you?” Atsushi said, wringing his eyebrows together. “I thought—”

“He wasn’t,” you said simply. “It was the first time we’d split up for a mission. Everything was going well, and we thought it would be fine. It’d been years—no one in the Mafia was going to come after us.” You laughed mirthlessly, shaking your head. What a foolish thought. Even Dazai’s lasting reputation wasn’t enough to save your one life.

Atsushi seemed misty-eyed, his chest aching at your experience. He was no stranger to heartbreak, either. “He still blames himself, then.”

A statement, not a question. One you couldn’t argue—Dazai told you, over and over, that it was his fault. No matter how many times you swore that it wasn’t. You were in just as deep; you should’ve known to never drop your guard.

“I don’t know how I ended up back here. The day reset, and I was back in my bed, waking up to the sunrise. For a long time, I didn’t understand. Days went by where Osamu couldn’t see me, not until—” you stopped yourself, remembering who you were speaking to.

Even though you trusted Atsushi, those moments when you were never really there and Dazai was alone were not yours to disclose. Nor did you want to—they weren’t nice to relive. “Not until the days leading up to my funeral.”

Atsushi seemed to understand. He nodded, sinking back into his chair. “Do you want to move on, then?” You blinked, and he grew embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, that’s what happens with ghosts, isn’t it? At least, in all the stories and stuff.”

“I knew what you meant.” you cut him off before he could make his way into a senseless ramble. “I just don’t know the answer. I thought I wanted to, but the thought of leaving someone behind.” You sighed. “I just don’t know if I could do it.”

Something clicked in your mind after that.

Dazai came back that evening much more cheerfully than he had left, the sullen expression gone from his features and replaced by a soft smile.

“It’s almost Christmas,” he said, coming up behind you to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Everyone at the agency is so much happier now. It never fails to amaze me that a singular date can put people in such high spirits. Everyone’s attitudes completely change leading up to the new year.”

“How lucky they must be to be excited for a fresh start.”

He rubbed your shoulders gently, noting the stiffness in your muscles with your response. You kept your eyes out the window, gazing mournfully at the falling snow.

“Most people are more fortunate than us,” he said, letting his hand fall away from you. You could hear the concern in his voice—you were so sick of putting it there. “That’s no surprise.”

A beat passed. The streetlights cast an eerie glow over the crystal grounds.

“It’s my second Christmas as a ghost,” you said, watching as a mother ran across the lawn with her young child, the two of them laughing joyously. You felt a stab of jealousy; you and Dazai had never talked about having kids, but now, you didn’t even have the choice. “How many more will there be?”

“Many more, I hope.” The conversation had come up many times in the past few days—too many times for Dazai not to be worried. “I don’t want you to leave, but you can’t stay here if it’s making you unhappy,” he said, pressing a kiss into your neck. “I’m a selfish man, but even I can’t ask you to forever exist in misery.”

“I’m not miserable,” you said, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “Not always. You make it all worthwhile.”

He smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“But it doesn’t matter anyways.” You looked down at his pale hands, his delicate and long fingers. “I can’t leave.”

“You can’t or you don’t know how?” A crease formed between his eyebrows. The strands of hair against his forehead were oily. “I figured you didn’t know how; I never thought I’d be the reason you stayed.”

You met his gaze sadly, shaking your head. “How can you say that? You’re the only reason.”

Dazai said nothing, though his expression shifted marginally. Enough for you to understand it exactly.

“I’ve thought it over so many times. I was ready to go, I felt satisfied with my life, and I didn’t mind dying, but I couldn’t leave you.”

“You should’ve.” His limbs grew stiff, and you could feel him pulling away, withdrawing until you brought him back to you. “I’m not deserving of that.”

“It doesn’t matter if you are or not. I love you, Osamu Dazai, and I don’t know what will happen to you when I’m gone for good.” You traced your thumb against his cheeks, taking in every one of his features: his gentle brown eyes that contrasted with every other sharp line he had.

Eyes that were soft only for you.

“That’s why I won’t be able to leave, not until you’re gone.”

He studied you carefully. There were long minutes of silence as he studied you, trying to make sense of all the things that couldn’t make sense. “You’re here until I die. You’re so completely certain of that?”

“I am.” You nodded, dropping your head to his shoulder. He smelled crisp; the outside had already permeated its smell into his clothes. He felt like home. “I’ve spent hours thinking about it. What could possibly hold me here besides you?”

Dazai quietly traced each knob of your back with every ounce of his love. His touch was barely there, though you felt it all the same, like a spark of heat. “Does that upset you?”

“In a way. I just think you deserve more than a pitiful ghost of a wife. It’s not fair of me to hold onto you so tightly. You shouldn’t spend your life that way.” You sighed, trying to repress the aching hole in your chest. It grew each day, opening up into a sickening chasm. “Odasaku wouldn’t be happy with either of us, would he?”

“It doesn’t matter what he’d think,” Dazai said harshly, narrowing his eyes. “I lost him just as I lost you. I’m done listening to the words of the dead. He didn’t think I’d ever be happy, and he was wrong. You think I’ll be happier without you, and you’re wrong too.”

“You don’t know that—”

He was resolute, holding you with certainty. “I’ll live and die in this very home, and then, no matter what, we’ll be together.”

“You don’t mean that,” you said, staring at him blankly, only blinking when your lids ran dry.

“You can’t leave your life in my hands like that.”

“The minute you say the word, darling, the minute you can’t bear the horrible half-existence—” he pinched your chin between your fingers lightly, forcing you to stare to the very depths of his soul. To see that every word he spoke was with complete conviction. “I’ll be gone.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips harshly, insisting that he meant every word.

You fell apart silently in his arms, put back together by his soft touch. Dazai could be a hard man to love, but he loved you just as easily. Rarely did he utter the words, but he showed you more than enough.

To the bitter end, he would be by your side, even if he had to pull you out of hell himself.

It was an unfair request to ask of you, but you accepted it simply.

Dazai Osamu would meet his end at his own hands, that was a simple fact, just as the sun rose each morning.

Though the matter of when… that was entirely up to you.

Let's tease the BSD boys!

Fandom: Bungou stray dogs

Pairings: Dazai, Fyodor, Nikolai, Ranpo, Chuuya X Fem!Reader

Genre: Crack, Humor, Fluff

Format: Drabble

Warnings: Maybe a bit ooc? That's it ig

Word Count: 1.8K

A/n: Some of them deserve it and some of them don't but what can we do <3

↳Osamu Dazai

"Osamu! I got you a present!"

Your Boyfriend looked up at you from his book, face brightening up as he saw the big red box in your hands. You were clearly struggling to hold it up, so he assumed there was something big and heavy inside. Not that he cared about that though; he was always delighted by the gesture, then the present itself.

"Awww baby! You didn't have t- What the hell?!!"

You let out an innocent chuckle, raising the small puppy you took out of the box as you took a step closer to Dazai who was staring at the poor animal with pure disgust and panic in his widened eyes.

"Oh c'mon 'Samu! Look at him! Isn't he the cutest? Look at how fluffy he is! Wanna give this little guy a hug?" "No! I want you to get this- this evil beast out of here!"

"Beast? Oh c'mon don't be like that big guy! You've always wanted a dog haven't you? Isn't that why you always refer to Chuuya as your dog?" "No? I call him that because I hate dogs and I hate him!"

The sight of Dazai actually being terrified was something so rare and oh, so satisfying. You wish you were recording this and you knew that Kunikida would thank you later on for it.

The dog took his tongue out, causing the bandaged man to let out a snort out of nausea, taking steps rearward to be as distant as he could be with his eternal enemy. What he didn't expect was feeling the wall behind him as his back stuck to it, letting him know he had nowhere else to run to.

"Osamu? Don't you wanna hug him? I went all the way to the pet store to get him for you! You're breaking my heart acting like this! If you don't hug him yourself, then I guess I'll have no choice but to throw him on you" You shrugged your shoulders, trying to hide the smug look on your face; but it was hard because of your huge evil smile.

"Y/n?" "Yes?" "If you do that I'll scream"

Well, who wouldn't want to hear the great Osamu Dazai screaming?

↳Fyodor Dostoevsky

"Dos-kun Dos-kun! Look at what I found at the store!" Nikolai smiled as he placed the small toy mouse on the floor, pointing at it with both of his hands.

"Ta da! See? It's you! Even his skin has the same color as your hair!"

"Is that so?" Fyodor stared at the toy with a blank expression, then looked back to his co-worker with his eyebrows raised. "And how much did this thing cost you?"

"Doesn't matter! Was worse every penny! Look! It can move around too!"

Nikolai bent to wind the toy up, clapping his hands together with joy as it started roving around on the floor, making annoying noises.

"Look! Dos-kun is running away! Dos-kun is speeding up! Awww Dos-kun is moving toward Y/n-"

Bam!

A big hammer landed on the toy mouse, causing it to break apart, pieces scattering on the floor in front of your feet. Both men gasped at your sudden arrival, taken aback by what you just did.

"Wha-" "Oh I'm sorry! Was it yours Nikolai?" You smiled with fake shame as you placed a hand on your mouth. "Oops! Sorry! It's just that... I hate rats! I loath them so much! I can't stand any form of them, not even the artificial ones! I-"

Wizzzzz!

Bam! Bam!

You chuckled while pressing the hammer in your hand, making a gesture to look like a pro. "That should be enough to devastate it. Anyway~ Sorry for that Nikolai. I'll pay you its price though! Just send me the number!"

The men watched you walking away with widened eyes, and one of them put his hand on the other one's shoulder. "Dos-kun?" "...Yes?" "You should sleep with your eyes open at night"

↳Nikolai Gogol

"Kolya~? Where are you~?"

Nikolai's heart was filled with happiness when he heard your voice coming from behind. He turned around and opened his arms to greet you by giving you a tight hug, but immediately withdrew because it was dangerous, due to the scissor you were holding in your hand.

"Dove...? What is that thing doing in your hand?"

"Oh, this?" The innocent smile on your face was hard not to fall for, but somehow it made him feel terror instead of adoration. "I'm going to cut your hair for you! I just saw a video on youtube about haircuts, and one of them looked very nice in the end. I wish I could do it on my own hair, but I cant do it properly even with a mirror, and you have the nicest hair, So here I am!" You winked at him while moving the scissor in the air. "C'mon Kolya! Let's go to the bath room! Promise I'll be gentle~ Promise I'll make you look good in the end~ So, let me cut that pretty hair of yours!"

"Like... How long?" His expression had changed from cheerful to reserved, with hints of fear in his eyes; and this made you feel like you were on cloud nine, since you were the one who always got teased by him. "I'll cut it short baby, very short! Like any other guy's hair style these days! And I wanna keep your beautiful braid too! Maybe we can even sell it! I heard they pay well for fluffy long hair and make wigs out of them!"

"Is that so?" "Yes. That is it"

Nikolai smiled, took one last look at your hand holding the scissor, and then ran for his life.

"Hey- Nikolai where are you going! Come back! I wanna cut your hair!" "Get away from me you crazy woman! I won't ever let you touch my precious hair again!"

Of course he was, since he couldn't get a day without you running your fingers through his hair, but you didn't need to know that for now.

↳Ranpo Adogawa

You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend enjoying himself, tasting the tray full of macaroons you made for him. It made your heart drop at how he closed his eyes every time he took a bite from the pastry, licking his lips afterwards as he stuffed his hand with another one. You hadn't even tasted them, brought them to him to brighten his mood which was ruined due to not having any interesting cases to solve today. You knew he had a sweet tooth, and you knew just the perfect way to cheer him up.

"Do you like them?" You placed a hand under your chin and watched him picking another one, leaving just one last heart shaped macaroon on the tray.

"Mhm! They taste really good! Almost as good as the one I bought from the bakery last week!" "I'm glad you like them then"

He smiled endearingly back at you, which made you feel butterflies in your stomach. You were overwhelmed with how cute he looked at the moment, and how proud he was at his talented girlfriend. Maybe it was the reason why you became stupid enough to think you can have the last macaroon, as you reached to grab it.

Smash!

Suddenly both of you froze, him looking at his hand, and you looking at your hand which was decorated with his fingerprints, with your eyes widened.

He... just slapped your hand away?

After all you've done for him? Really? So he can't even give up on one stupid macaroon either?

Ungrateful little shit.

Looking around while sulking, you're eyes was suddenly met with the perfect person, and the perfect idea popped into your head.

"Fukuzawa-san! Please come here for a bit!"

Ranpo immediately saw through your evil plan and tried to snatch the macaroon from the tray, but it was too late; Fukuzawa was walking toward you, with his eyes fixated on the pastry.

Ranpo felt like he wanted to die.

"I made these macaroons and Ranpo enjoyed them so much! He was so impressed with my cooking skills that he suggested I should bring some to you! As you can see, he couldn't hold himself back from eating them, so there's just one left. But he really wants you to enjoy it as well because you were having a really busy schedule these days!"

Fukuzawa observed the macaroon before looking at the detective. "Is that true Ranpo?"

Well, how could he say no? When he looked so delighted by the lie fact that he cared about him?

"Yes... I... Yes..."

"Well then, I won't turn your offer down."

When he put the macaroon in his mouth, you could clearly see Ranpo's hands shaking. You watched the president going to his office after thanking you, and chuckled evilly.

"Yeah, that's what you get for treasuring sweets more than m- Oh my god Ranpo are you actually crying?"

Well he was going to, until you make him dozens of macaroons to make up for your evil doings.

↳Chuuya Nakahara

You stood in front of your boyfriend as you proudly presented the little wine bottles filled with roses. He knew that he was supposed to praise you, call you a genius with so much passion about art and shit, but he just couldn't. All he could care about was how the bottles were not carrying wine instead of those stupid flowers.

"Babe...?" "Yes honey?" "They look... really nice... but-" "I know right? We can put them in the balcony! I'm sure it would look amazing!" "Right... but... What happened to the wine?"

"What?" You looked at him pretending to be dumbfounded, feeling a teeny tiny bit guilty from how you were messing with him. The wine was all in a barrel hidden in the closet, and you could cheer him up by showing it to him afterwards; so why not have a little fun now?

"The wine, babe" He was trying hard, Really hard to keep his cool; and it was hard, Really hard. "The bottles were filled with wine before I head off to work. They- They were really old- they were expensive- They were- I- Where is the wine Y/n?"

"Oh the wine you mean? Well I had to empty the bottles to be able to use them, so..." "You threw them away?" He cut you off as he prayed to god the answer won't be yes, but...

"Yes baby. I threw them away to fill them with red roses. Intelligent, right?"

Yes. You were very intelligent, since you found the perfect way to give the strongest ability user a heart attack.

"I- You- What the- Why- I need a dri- No, I need a smoke" He gripped his cheek as he tried not to snap out, going to the bloody balcony as he left you with the satisfaction of being able to successfully prank him.

Reblogs are wildly appreciated! :)))

so pretty

the moon in paintings. x