i think that the major misinterpretation that people have with taco is that she didn't get attached to mic because of her sad face in the end wanted to show regret because "she hurted her friend". like. no, she wasn't sad because she regretted what she did. she was sad because she's alone again, but she knows very well at the end that she had it coming. the reason as to why taco was so desperate of wanting mic to tell her that she did gain something is because. she SAW pickle in mic, but of course their situation is very different. "Oh but Taco couldn't have done what she did to Mic to Pickle, Mic was fully aware" but she did do that. Mic herself says it. That is pretty much what II is telling you. Taco isn't a good friend, and is not exactly a good person either. Mic was aware that Taco was/is a bad person, but Mic's nature makes her believe in whoever acknowledges her. Taco made Mic feel like she needed her, just the way she made Pickle feel back in s1.
she didn't really change thanks to mic. her faces of "regret" aren't her actually lamenting all of the stuff she did to microphone, but rather just her realizing that she proved what everyone said about her as a result. i will give it to that she might've tried to change, but not because of mic. she wanted to win the prize so she could prove others wrong on her being a loser and a coward, by being a loser and a coward. if anything, mic made her realize that she hasn't changed. she pretty much just ruined everything for everyone who saw her as a friend, and for herself.
taco's whole arc is constantly just downgraded to questionable takes and listen. i do agree that she is heavily flawed as a character. she is morally gray, but ii doesn't portray her as a good person with good intentions, nor she should be really be treated as if she was. neither she had those good intentions with mic at all, i mean, their "friendship" pretty much started because of taco wanting the prize money, taking a part of microphone's prize if she made mic won, you know, an offer. she would get the prize and mic would get recognition. but everyone seems to forget that probably, the main reason as to why she's doing all of this, is because she does regret how she acted on s1. she doesn't exactly regret doing all of that to microphone, and even if she does, it's for the wrong reasons. (that's because she did the exact same thing to you know, pickle, her once best friend, the only person she truly ever cared about)
people do tend to forget that taco keeps sending letters to pickle, and that's often just used for pickle angst and making it his only character trait, but. it's not that. it's the fact that taco keeps on writing those letters, despite fully knowing that she did hurt pickle because of her actions. taco's biggest flaw is that she can't accept that she has ruined everything and wants so desperately to be back on pickle's life because she ended up caring about him deeply as a person. as a friend. but she was never there at all, either.
taco can't seem to understand that she has hurted people badly. sure, she seemed like a "friend" to microphone, and you can argue whatever you want but a fact is that taco IS smart, and she knew that the only way to possibly keep mic by her side is pretending to want to be better, you know, the same way she pretended to be just a odd fella so pickle and her could remain together and have an advance at the game. she played with both of them. because both pickle and mic believed in her but were just used by her for the game.
however, taco does seem to regret the way everything went during-post s1. you can see how she yearns for another chance and is saddened about not getting it, but that's not only for comedic purposes, but that's because the writing is telling you that she won't get a second chance. at least not here.
what i want people to understand is that, yes, taco is a complex character, however trying to sugarcoat what she did is pretty much missing the point of her writing as a whole. she isn't a good person neither was she a good friend. she hasn't grown because she was never able to let go of something that she thinks that she can fix with some words and a prize. she thinks that she can still fix her friendship with pickle, she thinks that she can clear her name (even if she was the one who tainted it), but she only ended up proving knife right. she proved everyone right. she hasn't changed. a morally gray character is that. they're not exactly fully bad or fully good, but it's taco's actions that speak a lot. words are cheap, and taco's title is "The Liar", and that says a lot, because she kept on lying to microphone and to pickle on both of their games. she won't heal unless she lets go.
and i want to be clear here: i do think that taco can go through redemption. i do think that taco can become a better person, but not in the way people portray her to do so. because it just pretty much goes against what her arc has settled in for us, and the other arcs that were involved in hers as well.
taco's arc is meant to be somewhat a parallel with nickel's in a way. hell, even with knife's arc if anything. she treats knife as a simple bully, but when she saw that he became smarter and way more emotionally aware than what she had expected, she felt attacked by that, because he was stable. he became a better person and he was rubbing that on her, and it made her feelings of anger way worse regarding him, but it is true. knife is pretty much everything that taco wants to be, but here's the thing that made them so different:
knife stayed. taco didn't stay.
knife is accepted by everyone in the hotel because meanwhile he hasn't explicitly said that he had a change of heart, he has shown it through actions and a big difference too is that he was there for pickle, even if they weren't close in s1, and taco is on the woods because deep down she is aware that she can't go back. not if she doesn't have something to offer as an direct apology, but here's the problem. whether or not she got the prize, she still wouldn't get forgiven by anyone due to what she said that day.
again. her problem is not being able to let go and to accept when she has messed up badly. she has been lying to everyone but she has also been lying to herself as a whole. she can't keep on doing this because it's just hurting everyone and herself. keeping grudges and holding onto past friendships that were doomed to fall is just hurting her. she is not on the state to keep on trying, she wasn't at all ever.
taco's arc most likely will have closure on a way that fits her character, and i feel like that would be with her letting go of inanimate insanity as a whole and of what she can't fix anymore. her trying to find herself after years of lying to everyone and to herself. she's not a good person. but she can become one. only if she knows what she did was wrong and that her second chance isn't there, and never will be, and if she recognizes that meanwhile she did that damage, she can still become a better person. just not there.
pickle and mic don't owe her anything, especially pickle. taco does owe them an apology, but they won't accept that. the least she could do is to accept their wishes, understand that she needs to leave them and grow to be a better person. maybe, if she does that, she would actually heal.
she doesn't need anyone to fix her. she needs to fix herself.
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More than friends
Osamu Miya x fem! Reader
Warnings: NSFW, dry humping, alcohol
Words: ~3.7 k
About: A night drinking with Atsumu and Osamu leads to an unexpected ending~
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“C’mn, just do it.“
“Shut it, Tsumu. I’m not gonna do it.“
You silently watch Atsumu laughing even louder than before and Osamu rolling his eyes with a huff. The three of you are seated comfortably in the spacious living room of the twins, a few empty bottles of beer between you, as well as a clear bottle of strong alcohol.
“You’re not doing the dare? Not even telling y/n what it was?“
“No, I’m not. Just keep quiet for once, will ya?“
Atsumu’s smug grin doesn’t falter for a second when he downs another shot and reluctantly gets on his feet. Osamu scoffs at his childish behavior and ignores his existence completely.
“I’m gonna go to bed. Got a practice scheduled early with Bokkun tomorrow. See ya.“
Atsumu waves in your direction and smacks Osamu’s shoulder before he abruptly leaves, his shoulders slightly swaying with each drunken step that he takes before you finally hear the door to his room closing. You doubt that he will make it to practice early tomorrow, and you take a mental note to send a text to Bokuto, warning him that he shouldn’t wait for the blonde setter.
However, right now you’re painfully aware of the situation that you now find yourself in. Your hand tightens around the bottle of beer that you’re holding, your gaze now flickering between the table and Osamu, quickly taking in his appearance. His hair is messy from the way he‘s been running through it ever since you three gathered to drink, his broad shoulders almost threaten to rip the tight black dress shirt that clings to his body, and his spread legs almost invite you to sit in between them. He doesn’t look at you either, his gaze absently focusing the wall behind you, and you feel the weird atmosphere like a heavy weight on your shoulders.
You clear your throat and try to overcome this moment of awkwardness, but it doesn’t seem to work.
Talking with Atsumu is easy. He’s always rambling about something, laughing, or talking about a certain Omi-omi that seems to annoy him very much.
Talking with Osamu on the other hand… He makes you nervous. He makes you blush, he makes your heart flutter, he makes you wonder about more.
“So… what’s the big deal? Why wouldn’t you do the dare?“
He groans and his eyes focus on you again. There is something about his gaze that never fails to send a shiver down your spine. He often has sleepy and heavy-lidded eyes, but when he directly looks at you and puts all of his focus on you- that‘s when your heart always stops a beat. This man will surely be the death of yours.
“You don’t wanna know. Trust me.“
“C’mon, don’t be a party popper. It can’t be that bad if it’s Atsumu’s idea.“
“You’re wrong. It is that bad because it's Atsumu’s idea.“
His lips curl into a smile and he looks down to your empty shot glass, clearly trying to change the subject, which only intrigues you more about it. “You want another?“
“Sure. Tell me about the dare first though.“ You grin and hand him the small shot glass, and he groans again, his head falling back in playful annoyance before he takes the glass out of your hand and starts pouring the clear liquid into it and then into his own.
“I just wanna make clear that it was Atsumu’s idea. He wanted me to kiss you. Told ya, it was stupid.“
The way he doesn’t even hesitate to say it, his voice not even trembling nor is his gaze nervously flickering. He nonchalantly states this without giving it a second thought- and it feels like he just punched you.
“Oh. Okay.“ You force a laugh out of your mouth, a laugh that sounds forced and fake and cringe, even to your ears.
You’re absolutely sure that kissing Osamu would be great. However, not that you would ever get the chance to try. He rolls his eyes and simply hands you the full shot glass, his hand not touching yours for even a single second, like you’d burn him through physical contact.
“Don’t think about it please.“
“Okay.“ You take the full shot glass out of his hand and down it without a second thought. He does the same with his shot, and you admire his side profile for a brief second before your gaze starts to roam through the room again.
It’s silent.
Very much silent.
Your own breathing sounds too loud in the quiet room and you nervously grab your beer once again and take a few sips, but Osamu doesn’t move. You can’t look at him though, your gaze now trained to your own hands. You feel somehow rejected, even though you didn’t say anything. Did the mere thought of him kissing you seem so absurd to him? Sure, you both never really showed that kind of interest in particular, but you thought some of your conversations resembled some kind of flirting, and the way he always looked at you never failed to send butterflies to your stomach. Seems like these feelings were completely one-sided though.
A few more moments of silents later that are barely manageable and you decide to call it a day.
“I’m gonna go too. It’s getting pretty late. See ya.“
You force a smile on your face, a smile that you hope looks neutral and not like you’re trying to get the hell out of the apartment, but you’re caught off-guard when he blinks in an irritated way.
“Already? You know you can stay as long as you want. You can sleep on the couch if ya want to.“ He nods towards the luxurious couch in the living room, the one that feels like heaven whenever you slept on it, but now you just want to escape out of the suffocating atmosphere. Every second in his presence just makes the situation more tense.
“No, it’s fine. Really.“ You abruptly get on your feet and quickly take some of the empty glasses and bottles in your hands, not wanting to leave him to clean up the whole mess you three created.
„It’s fine, y/n. I can clean up later.“ Osamu’s voice behind your back is accompanied with the sound of rustling glasses and bottles, and you know that he probably took the remaining dishes with him.
“I can’t leave you with such a mess. I’m sure Atsumu will be too hungover to help you tomorrow, so I don’t mind giving you a hand right now.“ You quickly place the last few dirty glasses in the sink and hurry towards the front door.
You’re sure that Osamu can quickly get rid of the remaining mess, so you basically run towards the front door before he can confront you about your strange behavior.
“Y/n!“
“Hmm?“ You just managed to pull on your coat and turn around- only to find Osamu right in front of you. You take a step back in surprise, but he follows you, one big stride and your back is pressed against the front door, and Osamu is towering in front of you. Your bodies are not touching, there is still some space between the two of you, yet, his sudden approaching sends even more heat to your cheeks, that have probably been burning red ever since you started to drink.
“Ya don’t have to rush.“
His dialect is thick now, his voice somewhat quiet. His eyes are focused on yours, and you forget to breathe for a second- when he looks at you as intently as he does, studying every single of your reactions, and it feels like he casts a spell on you that makes your heart beat faster. He looks so insanely handsome in the dimmed light, his disheveled hair falling into his face, the black strands healthy and smooth after he had stopped dyeing his hair a few years ago. It makes you want to touch them, to brush the hair out of his face to see his eyes better, to bury your hands into his hair, to grab his broad shoulders and press your chest against his-
“I’m not rushing. It’s just late, you know.“ You force another polite smile on your face, a smile that doesn't feel convincing at all judging from his reaction.
“Okay.“ He hesitantly nods after studying your face for another second and takes a small step back, just enough for you to be able to open the door. When you take a step towards his direction though, he suddenly grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him, with enough force to have you stumbling the single step, but his free arm quickly wraps around your hip and keeps you from falling.
You’re too shocked to say something, you probably look like a fish out of the water with your mouth wide open and your widened eyes, yet he doesn’t release you nor lets go of you. You’re painfully aware of the small distance between the two of you- or rather: the non-existent distance, and you feel your heart racing in your chest with your body pressed against his. His hand around your wrist is warm, his grip tight, yet gentle- but your brain just fails completely at understanding what’s going on.
He leans down and suddenly releases your wrist to cup your chin, tilting your face until your eyes directly meet- and that’s when you forget how to breathe. Your body feels stiff and hot while you’re being pressed against him, and you subconsciously bring your hands to his chest to create some distance between the two of you, but he doesn’t even budge the slightest bit.
“Are ya upset? That I didn’t kiss ya?”
“What- what are you talking about?” You wiggle in his grip, but he doesn’t falter for a second. He brings his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips when he’s talking again, his voice deeper this time, more attractive.
“What would you have done if I kissed ya? Tell me, y/n.” You pause with your movements, staying completely frozen and unable to move.
“I- I don’t know.” Your breath come shallow, you feel like there is not enough oxygen coming to your brain and leaving you in a hazy and hot state- and it’s hot, oh, so hot, the way his gaze flickers to your lips and then to your eyes again.
“Wanna find out then?”
Your fingers curl into his shirt, but you’re not pushing him away. You can barely focus when he comes even closer, so close that his lips are slightly touching yours, and you involuntarily close your eyes and lean forward, just a little bit to close the distance between the two of you.
His hand on your hip freezes for a second, now it’s his body that seems surprisingly stiff, now that you simply decided to kiss Osamu Miya- but he quickly regains composure and initiates a deeper kiss- still soft and delicate, his hand gingerly cupping your cheek and tilting your face to kiss you in a deeper angle. Your lips move against his, the addicting feeling of him kissing you so tenderly slowly creating a feeling of hunger in your body. Your heart rate goes through the roof for sure, but you don’t care. Not when he’s kissing you like that, when he is holding you like you would break if he just applied too much pressure. “Samu-“ you gasp when he pulls back to let you both breathe, his forehead resting against yours, and his hand now moving to your lower back to hold you steady.
“Y/n,” he whispers against your lips and takes a deep breath. You’re barely able to comprehend what’s going on, and you feel your body trembling in his hold, yet you still don’t move back.
Osamu Miya just kissed you, and it was great. So great that you want more kisses- more of him, that you’re growing greedy for more.
“Would you have kissed me back in front of Tsumu?”
“Can we please not talk about your twin brother now?” You huff at his words, not believing that he has the nerve to talk about that when you’re still in his arms, growing hotter every second- probably also due to the thick winter coat you’re still wearing.
“I need to take off the coat, Samu. Or leave- what do you want me to do now?”
You look directly in his eyes while you say the words, knowing fully well that your words carry a second meaning. Does he want you to stay? Did the kiss mean something to him? Or did he just want to proof something to himself?
“I’m fine with whatever you decide. You can leave, or you can stay. You can sleep on the couch, or sleep with me. I’m following your pace, y/n.”
“I-“ you’re caught off-guard at his words, barely able to realize that he let go of you and just stands there without touching you, patiently waiting for your answer.
“I want to stay.”
“Okay.” He nods with a small smile, quickly stepping closer and helping you out of the coat like a true gentleman.
“Thanks.” You smile back, excitement but also nervousness making you shiver, but Osamu is quickly by your side again after putting away your coat and takes your hand to lead you to the living room.
“Where do ya wanna sleep? I can get the couch ready in a minute if ya want to.”
“I… I want to sleep with you.” You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, and you hope that you don’t look too flustered while you’re avoiding his gaze, but he squeezes your hand reassuringly and thankfully refrains from replying with a mocking comment.
“Your pace. Tell me when yer uncomfortable. I can always go and sleep on the couch.”
His words are reassuring, and that's what you admire about him. Osamu will always care about your feelings first- that’s just the way he is.
The way to his room is short, it only takes you both a few steps, but his hand holds yours softly until you reach his room.
“Here, I got a shirt for ya.” He hands you a dark, clean shirt from his drawer and nods towards the bathroom, signaling you that you can change there.
“Thank you.”
You quickly come back with his shirt on, a quite comfortable one thankfully, and decide that you will sleep with no pants- not daring to remove them already though. Osamu is already ready to sleep, sitting shirtless on the bed with the blanket covering his lower half, that you assume is only clothed in a pair of boxers. You probably shouldn‘t stare too much, but you can‘t stop your eyes from flickering down to his broad chest and to his strong arms, but he doesn’t seem to mind you eyeing him up.
He raises a brow though and smiles after scanning your figure for a few seconds, and his gaze heats up your cheeks once again. He suddenly nods and flicks a switch next to his bed, and the room immediately darkens. You can barely see his silhouette when you finally sit on the bed after quickly removing your pants.
“I’m just gonna lay here?” You ask, now slightly regretting not being able to see his face. An agreeing hum leaves him, and you quickly slip under the covers next to Osamu. You don‘t dare to move though, your body awkwardly laying on the edge of the bed.
It’s silent for a few moments, and you internally debate whether he has already fallen asleep, or if he’s laying just as stiff as you. His breathing pattern sounds relaxed, but you can’t help but to wish that you were closer to him. Would he mind if you just slipped a little closer?
You carefully inch your body closer to his, trying to cause as few movement and sounds on the bed as possible, but when you accidentally touch his bare arm, you can hear his breath stock. His hand suddenly comes up and grabs your upper arms and before you know what’s happening, you find yourself under him.
“Samu-“ you gasp, but your gasp gets interrupted when you feel his lips against yours. Not in the same way as before- there is nothing soft about it. It’s hungry and needy, his tongue flicking against your lip to urge you to open your mouth for him- which you gladly do with a low moan.
It just feels right. To lay in Osamu’s arms, to have his lips on yours, to feel his bodyweight on top of you- it all feels so intimate and good-
“I like ya. A lot.” He suddenly rasps between your kisses, his voice now thick and clouded with lust, and he kisses you again, deeper with more fever. You deepen the kiss as response, your hands slipping under his shirt and roam to his wide shoulders, feeling his bare skin, feeling how the muscles tense under your touch. You slightly scratch him with your nails- not enough to hurt him, but enough to leave a mark.
“Fuck, yer drivin’ me crazy.” He pulls back and groans against your neck at the sensation of your nails against his back, his hips suddenly bucking into yours, and you arch your back at the feeling of his hardened cock against your clothed pussy.
“Shit, Samu- do that again-“ you gasp, your head thrown back, and you moan his name again when he grinds against you a little harder, the friction sending a wave of pleasure through your body. Your legs wrap around his body, spreading you even more for him, and you’re pretty sure that he will be able to feel how wet you are for him even through both of your underwear, yet it only spurs him on further and he props himself up on his elbows and thrusts his hips in a slow rhythm.
“Feels really good, Samu,” you let one of your hands wander to his chest, feeling his muscles tense with every thrust he’s doing, feeling his heartbeat that is just as fast as yours.
“Imagine how good it would feel without clothes. When I- fuck- when I fuck you as hard and long as you want. Make ya nice and wet for me, make ya cum on my tongue, my fingers- and then- thenI would fuck ya with my cock.” You feel your cunt pulsing with every single of his words- fuck- why is Osamu Miya so good at dirty talk? Who would have thought that the ever so calm and collected Osamu would have such a dirty mouth?
“Please, Samu- want to feel you, want you to fuck me.” You whine, desperately rubbing yourself against him, and you hear him curse, you feel him throb in his boxers, but he just goes harder- not faster but harder, as if he wants to force the orgasm out of you by sheer friction against your sensitive clit.
“C’mon, y/n. Be a good girl and show me what ya look like when yer cummin’. Want ya to cum for me now, pretty girl-“ his lips are attached to your neck now, greedily sucking and biting the skin, leaving a few marks for sure- but you don’t care. Not when he’s got you so close to cumming, not when you feel like you could burst any second.
And you do.
A few more thrusts later, and you feel yourself cumming, the friction against your clothed clit enough to send you to heaven, and you grab his shoulders while you scream his name. Your body arches up, your muscles deliciously tensing and contracting, the heat now almost consuming you. So much that you barely realize that he kept on groaning your name and whispers of praises, of how pretty you look when you cum for him, how you’re such a good girl for him, how he wants you to keep cumming just for him- and you do.
You don’t know how much time has passed, when you suddenly realize that he’s cumming too- that his body tenses and he suddenly grabs your shoulders with his body weight almost crushing you, but you don’t mind it. You feel his cock twitching against your core, and a wet sensation and you swear he makes the hottest sounds you have ever heard when he’s groaning your name and moans against your skin.
Both of your chests are heaving heavily, and you barely realize that he rolls to his side and presses you against his chest to avoid crushing you completely. Not that you would have minded that. You wrap your shaky legs around him and push him closer, not caring about the fact that you’re both covered in sweat. His hands rest on your back, his right one rubbing circles on your back and softly caresses your skin under the shirt you’re still wearing, and you contently hum against his chest.
He easily manages to make you feel comfortable and worshiped, to show his affection to you with his little gestures.
“Ya wanna eat somethin’? I have your favorite onigiri in the fridge. Or do ya wanna take a shower? Or a bath?” His chest vibrates against your cheek while he’s talking, and you feel your heart swell with affection at his caring words.
“I’m too worn out for anything. How about breakfast in bed tomorrow and then a bath together?”
He presses a kiss to your temple, and you can basically feel his smile when he answers. “Sounds like a good plan. We also need to talk about “us“ when we get up.”
Your breath stocks for a second at his words, a sudden panic suddenly growing in your chest.
“So… that means there is a “us“ now?”
“I came in my underwear from dry humping ya. In case ya can’t tell, that makes us more than just friends.” You can’t see his face but you know that he’s rolling his eyes while he reassuringly rubs your back and still refuses to let you go.
“More than friends, hum?” You muse, while he keeps on rubbing circles on your back, and you know that he won't let you go tonight- or ever.
“Sounds good.”
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