#osamu immediately punches him

[osamusbigtits]

the twins as toddlers getting into a fight because atsumu said vegetables taste bad and it made osamu unreasonably angry

[aureatchi]

“I GET LOST INSIDE ALL THE STARS IN YOUR EYES, IT’S A GALAXY.” ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, nikolai, sigma

— how do the bsd men kiss you? (& other things.)

a/n. rev writes this knowing well she’s awkward w physical touch ‘n has never kissed a guy. hdjshsh.

info. fem!reader. fluff !! + a bit sugg. established relationships. kissing, making out. mentions of bsd s5ep11 spoilers for dazai. pinch of angst if you squint.

DAZAI loves to listen to you ramble. he loves listening to you pour out your mind’s lively ideas to him out loud, whether it’d be something super philosophical that could match even his intellect, or something insignificant like the tv show you were watching last night before you fell asleep, waiting for him to come home. he is fascinated by anything and everything you say—so much, he wants to shroud the part of your body that speaks with love.

Which, of course, applied when Dazai finally returned to you from Meursault, after what had seemed like himself or you trying to cross the infinite sea of time.

You ran towards Dazai, his face clear and unhidden from the full moon’s light. He stood there with the biggest smile on his face, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck and envelope his taller figure in your embrace, but oh, he shouldn’t assume and expect loving gestures so quickly.

Instead, he was met with a fist to his chest, a punch with quite some power packed into it. Not enough to actually hurt him, of course, but Dazai would react dramatically either way.

“O-Ow! Bella!? What was that for?”

He looked down at you, catching an emotion as intense as fire in your eyes as you met his concerned, honey-dipped ones back, realizing you were being serious. Your fist was still connected to his upper body, and he stole a quick glance to observe your state—good, she’s been taking care of herself; she hasn’t skipped her meals—before meeting your face once again.

You let him bathe in a few moments of anxious silence before you finally started shouting.

“You didn’t even warn me!”

“I had no idea where you were!”

“Do you know how scared I felt?!”

Dazai continued to stand in place, not backing away when you continued to throw feeble punches at his torso with every frustration you cried out, when tears started to fall from your eyes, and when you stopped boxing him to surrender into his chest but not holding your tongue just yet.

“You’re so stupid and insane for this one, Osamu. Prison?! And you couldn’t even get a telephone to…yknow? Call me? Talk to me? I hate y—”

“Shh.”

Dazai had cupped your face, and before you could speak anymore, he sealed his lips over yours. Immediately, you kissed him back, abandoning all anger toward him by his action.

His eyes were half-lidded as he admired how yours looked in the silver moonlight. Up close, you were encompassed in his signature smell of green tea and a hint of mint, tempting you to keep him close to you even more.

“I…missed you so much, ‘samu” you said in between kisses.

“I’ve missed you even more.” You were lifted off of your feet, legs wrapped around his waist, as Dazai continued to press his mouth onto yours. He meant what he said—he savored the feeling of your warmth on him and the taste of your lips once again after not having it for so long. And robbing you of the same bliss along with it.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll make everything up to you, love,” he whispered as your hands found their way to sift through his soft, brunette hair. “I’ll kiss you as many times as you wish.”

“I’m sure you will even when I don’t wish,” you replied as you both pulled away for air, chuckling. “You’re not sly—we both know you kiss me to shut me up.”

“And I don’t see a problem with it?” he asked, his usual smug smile returning to his face before he gently peppered your forehead next.

“No. No, I don’t either.”

CHUUYA loves to spoil you. the top mafia executive spoils you with gifts, jewelry, accessories, breakfast…lunch…dinner, you name it. he also loves to spoil you with affection. after long days at work, he is always relieved to come home to the one good and comforting person in the world.

“Welcome home, Chuuya!” you greeted as you heard the front door open, the ginger-haired entering the house.

“Whatever you’re making smells delicious, doll,” he responded in a delightful tone, probably the first time he spoke so pleasantly all day.

You smiled. “I just finished making dinner.”

He walked toward you in the kitchen, pulling you into a hug.

“What’s up?” you replied, giggling at embrace as you wrapped your arms around him in return.

“Just missed you, that’s all,” Chuuya replied. “ You’re heaven-sent, yknow.”

You felt touched by his words. “I missed you too, Chuu,” you replied. “And I’m glad you feel that way. You deserve the best, and that’s what I’m trying to be.”

“Doll, you are the best. And you deserve the best,” he responded.

“Like this.” He gently lifted the custom necklace clasped around you. It was his present for one of your anniversaries, brought from some foreign country.

“But you deserve even more than material things.” He moved hair out of your face as he looked into your eyes.

He then moved closer to your face until his lips brushed over yours, and you could feel the warmth of his face.

“Something like this,” he said and then kissed you.

Luxurious as he was, his cologne smelled the same, completely engulfing you in his world. Chuuya showed you just how much you deserved by trailing his hands down to your waist, soothingly adoring every part. Meanwhile, his cerulean eyes gazed into yours, recording how pretty you looked to save in his mind.

“You’re so beautiful, doll.”

He felt you smile against his lips. “And you’re so handsome.” You broke away and then took the hat off of Chuuya’s head.

“You’re like…the person who can pull off the fedora the best.” You placed the hat on your head, his scent even more prominent on that accessory.

“You say that, yet I think I have competition now. Y’look cute with it on too.” Chuuya smiled, approving you with his signature hat.

You placed a kiss on his cheek. “Let’s eat now before the food gets cold.”

RANPO was very high-maintenance. you had to buy him snacks, you had to give him hugs, you had to do anything in the best wishes of the world’s greatest detective or else…he’d whine. and once he started complaining, he would not back down until you gave in. yet, however childish he was, you found him cute and didn’t love ranpo any less for his call of your affection.

“Ranpo! What do you need?”

Your boyfriend had run into the bathroom where you were trying to do your makeup, currently putting lipstick on your face.

“ ‘m really hungry,” he said, obnoxiously staring at you apply the red shade to your lips.

“Hungry? Oh, the snacks are in the pantry. I thought you’d already seen them?”

“No! I don’t want them!”

“Huh?” You paused and immediately turned toward him in utter disbelief that he had just declined his favorite food.

“Are you okay, Ranpo?”

“No!” He was unanticipatedly so loud that you flinched, accidentally running the lipstick off your mouth.

“…You’re not looking for snacks?”

“No!”

“Then what do you want?!”

“You!”

There was an awkward silence, and you noticed Ranpo’s face had gone entirely the shade of your lip as he stood, pouting.

It was apparent he was embarrassed for what he just blurted out. You almost wanted to laugh.

“You could’ve just asked me!” you replied with a chuckle in your voice. “Come here.”

Ranpo trodded toward you, still visibly frustrated.

“What do you want?” you asked.

“Well, first of all, you didn’t kiss me before I left for work this morning!”

You sighed, amused that he was whining so much because of that. And how he would never directly admit what he wanted from you—always making you have to solve puzzles and guess riddles to figure him out.

But it was also incredibly endearing how Ranpo took all your affections toward him to heart, no matter how big or small they were.

“Awh, I’m sorry I missed that,” you replied. “I’ll make that up to you.”

You kissed Ranpo’s cheek, stamping a red signature on the spot. You moved to his other cheek, and then his forehead, and then everywhere in between until he was covered in your smooches.

“Look!” you turned Ranpo toward the mirror for him to see what art you’ve created on him.

“You’re forgetting one place,” he said, turning his face to look at all angles.

“Really? Where?” you asked. He surely didn’t need anymore—his whole face showed proof you touched him everywhere with your lips.

“Here stupid, duuuuh,” he responded, kissing you on the lips. He moved your back to the edge of the sink counter, and then lifted you up to sit on it.

“Hungry, are you?” you giggled as he teased you with his tongue. “I avoided that spot on purpose, stupid.”

“Who are you calling stupid, stupid?” He ran his thumb over the stain your lipstick messed up on. You could feel him smirk.

“You, stupid! It was your fault after all. And look at your face!”

“Sweetheart, if you’re calling me stupid, you are too. One, you’re just stupid, and two, you’re stupid for being with me!”

You pulled back, laughing. “If I must be stupid to be with you, then I guess I’m stupid.”

“There’s a solution! If you call me smart, it’ll make you smart.”

“Fine, Ranpo. You’re the smartest person I know in this world.”

NIKOLAI loves surprising you. he finds your sudden reactions nothing short of adorable. which is why he caught you off-guard so much, so that he could see the cute responses you made, duh? widened eyes, mini jumps, and yelps were a few things he oddly took delight in.

Which is why the jester loves to surprise you with a kiss whenever he greets you. Though, whenever he does, you receive no warning. And you never know whether he wants to give you a simple peck on the lips or a full-on makeout session. It was expected to always be unexpected.

You were walking down the hallway to your room with a basket of clean laundry when you suddenly heard the all-too-familiar cheery, charismatic voice.

“Dove being productive, hm?” he chirped.

You scanned the entire room with your eyes, but you couldn’t see Nikolai anywhere, even though there was nowhere to hide.

“Kolya?”

“Hehe…I think it’s time for a quiz time!! Where am I?

“Am I here?” You heard a swift movement to the right of you, but as you turned, nothing was there.

“Orrr, here?” Now, you felt something brush your left side, but once again, when you turned to look, you were greeted only by Casper.

“How about here?” His voice was suddenly quieter but closer, more intimate.

You felt his frame against your back.

“Kolya!” you jolted in reflex, dropping the laundry basket—not expecting Nikolai to appear right behind you—but then, he surprised you even more by turning your face to the side and crashing his lips into yours.

He was so tall that he could easily lean over you to kiss you from behind your back.

You made a muffled squeal, and in the next moment, Nikolai had you against the wall with your hands above your head.

He stared at you as if nothing else in the world mattered because he already knew the reaction he would get out of you. You felt so shy and vulnerable under his complete gaze, but Nikolai was also mean—he didn’t allow you to move an inch to save face.

He wanted to enjoy the full show.

“H-hey! You can at least blink…” you blurted out when he finally let your face go, though he immediately grabbed you again seconds after.

“Hm? What’d you say, dove?” he asked, kissing you again. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips were so soft and tasted like candy—how could he not be greedy for more?

“You’re so cute, baby!” he exclaimed when he finally pulled back. You were panting—Nikolai showed no mercy when he wanted you to himself.

But you still smiled in return when he gently bopped you on the nose with his mouth, a stark contrast to what he just did.

“Ah, did I get carried away?” He only then noticed you out of breath. “Sorry, I just missed you so much!”

“It’s alright,” you replied, hugging him, the scent of strawberry cake lingering on his body. “Though, whatever happened to a hi; hello?”

“You’ll never get anything boring from me, dove,” Nikolai giggled. “That’s one thing I’m certain of.”

SIGMA treats you like the most precious thing in the world, a princess. you need your shoes tied? oh, he’s on the floor with the laces. you need to go somewhere? he’s driving you there. you want to visit the sky casino? he would rig all the games so that you’d win every time. sigma is sweet and polite—he would always make sure you are fine with something before going ahead with it.

“How about here? I think this is a nice spot.”

“Okay! Let’s set our stuff here then.”

You and Sigma set down everything you brought for your evening picnic on the hills. The spot he had pointed out was directly in front of the sun setting behind the mountains, its golden glow bathing the earth in the day’s final hour of light.

Once all the food was organized on the blanket, you took out a couple of ribbons from your pocket.

“Do you want me to help you?” Sigma asked as you tried to figure out where to put them in your already-styled hair without a mirror. He noticed your struggle.

“Oh! Sure,” you replied with a shy smile, and immediately after, he was behind you, taking the braids in your hair and tying the ribbons onto those.

“Thank you,” you replied when he was done, and when Sigma stepped back, he smiled in admiration.

“Of course.” He took your hand as you both sat beside each other.

“It’s so pretty here.” You turned to face the mountains, the sun halfway below the horizon. “You were right; this is the perfect spot!”

You looked back at Sigma, but it seemed like he paid no attention to the view at all. His eyes were only on you.

“…Sigma?”

“Y-you look really pretty,” he said, eyes not leaving once you made eye contact with him.

“…Can I kiss you?”

Immediately, you felt your heart melt because your lover was so innocent and lovely. You had been together for months, yet he was still asking for permission to kiss you.

“Of course, Sigma! We’re literally dating, you can kiss me whenever you want.”

“O-okay!” You giggled at his smitten reaction.

You closed your eyes and puckered your lips in a dramatic act of preparation.

It seemed you had been mistaken, though. Because, he had kissed you on the forehead.

“O-Ohh—oops, I thought you meant-”

But then, Sigma’s lips were over yours. His hand that wasn’t holding yours gently guided your face towards his. His touches were all tender, expressing how much he adored you.

You wrapped your own free hand around his neck, pulling him closer. You opened your eyes slightly to take a peek, seeing his own were fluttered closed under such pretty eyelashes, and his expression content, basking in your comfort.

It was as if you and him finally breaking away was the moon’s cue to rise. The sun had set entirely by the time you were done, shades of warm-toned colored clouds left as a trail.

“That was sneaky of you, Sigma,” you laughed, cheeks warm and your head a bit hazy from how everything in the setting was so dreamy. “You tricked me by going for my forehead first.”

“I wasn’t going to kiss you straight-up like that! It was intimidating, you just waiting!”

You laughed some more, seeing his own cheeks tint a light shade of pink. “Come on, let’s eat.”

if u rb this post, i heard that ur fav will kiss u tn! reblogs are cherished; they support me as a creator. <3

© aureatchi 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal.

[cottonlemonade]

hiii i’d like a medium fruit punch lemonade with pomegranate seeds for osamu <3

Mystery Flavor

word count: 779 | avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Osamu x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a bit of spice

warnings: mdni

request: fluffy-spicy, midnight hang out with pining friend Osamu

“Haaaa, this is just what I needed.“, you sighed and stretched. Your shoes made a faint splat sound on the still wet asphalt as you and Osamu headed down the street.

The red and green stripes of the convenience store shone friendly up ahead in the night.

“So what did you do that didn’t work?” As much as Osamu hated you dating other men, the growing number of failed first dates did help him learn what you were looking for in a relationship.

“Oh who knows.”, you breathed out, “Maybe it was because he was glued to his phone the whole time or that he didn’t seem interested in any kind of conversation topic I came up with.”

“In his defense, ya do talk about pretty weird stuff sometimes.”, he said, doing a little jump over a shallow puddle - you wanted to copy him, but didn’t quite stick the landing as elegantly and he had to catch you. Osamu met your eyes and was about to say something when you continued walking with the implicitness of a girl entirely oblivious to her best friend's true feelings.

“Thanks. Where was I?”

“Yer lacking conversational skills.”

“Hey now!”, you protested and playfully poked his shoulder, “You loooove my hypotheticals.”

“Yeah yeah…”, he muttered. His hand was still tingly from touching the free skin between your washed out crop top and sweatshorts. He felt like a creep for wishing he could have squeezed your pillowy waist.

“Anyways, he was also just kind of rude and… looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Remind me to never introduce ya to Suna.”, Osamu chuckled.

“Is he the hot guy on your old school team?”

“No, that was me.” He was kind of offended at how hard you laughed about that.

When the doors of the convenience store opened with a soft whirring noise he swerved to the chip aisle with you right behind him. Once two bags were chucked into the little basket in his hands, you went on to the ramen section and much to Osamu’s dismay you were still talking about Suna.

“I bet, at the very least, he would’ve kissed me goodnight.”

“So even if the date is a bust ya would wanna make out with the guy?”, he asked, turning up the judging tone of disgust in his voice that for some reason went completely unnoticed by you as you continued.

“Well, no. But I want him to want to, you know?”

Osamu raised his brow, then walked over to the drink section and looked through the display for your favorite.

“Oh hey, this looks fun. Wanna give it a try?”, you asked next to him and pointed at a wall of identical to-go cups in a fridge. A promotion of the store offered a mystery flavored iced tea for a lot less money than your usual and you were nothing if not a sucker for a good bargain.

Grabbing your favorite drink anyway, Osamu joined you and chose a cup near the top, while you opted for one near the bottom.

After paying you came to a halt in front of the shop, too impatient to see what kind of flavor you got. You both pushed the straws into your cups, toasted and took the first sip.

“Peach and lemongrass.”, Osamu said almost immediately, “Yers?”

“Hm… not sure.”, you said, taking another thoughtful sip, “Maybe passionfruit? Or… hm… mango? And something else. I’m not sure. You wanna try?”

Osamu considered the straw you offered to him for a moment. Without thinking he reached past the cup. Closing the gap between you, he gently held your chin with thumb and index and leaned down to brush his lips against yours. You gasped in surprise and after a first experimental push, he got bolder and swiped his tongue into your mouth. The flavor of the ice tea was refreshing and exotic, mixing with his own. His head began to spin and he wrapped his arm around you to stay grounded as he continued to kiss you. Your soft tummy pressed against him. He was about to lose his mind, heat rose in his cheeks and stomach. You tugged at his hair and his thoughts turned off like a power cut on a TV that was previously just static. You sighed into the kiss and leaned forward for more when he broke from you. Guiltily, you bit your plumped lips, your hand resting on his chest, panting slightly.

“Guava and mint.”, he determined and let you go. He walked a few steps homewards and when he didn’t hear you following, turned around. You were still standing there, frozen.

“Ya comin’ or what?”

a/n: thank you so much for the request! I love cozy late night scenarios - I hope you enjoyed! 🌟

[haikyu-mp4]

Friend of a friend

word count; 2535 – gn!reader, suggestive at the end, manga spoilers

Back in high school, you went to Inarizaki and chose to be a manager for the volleyball club in your second and third years. It was incredibly fun and you might have cried when they won nationals in their last spring tournament before your class graduated.

Even after graduating and going your different ways, you stayed friends with Suna and the twins, as well as some of the other players. Unfortunately, you spoke much less frequently with the others.

Being friends with those three means gossip sessions, which is why you were lying on your bed with your computer open on a video call with the guys, updating each other on the latest gossip.

“How’s the new team, Rin?” Osamu asked, making Atsumu squint with a cocky smirk as he probably immediately started comparing it to his team. Suna shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s cool. That Komori guy is nice, I never really talked to him in high school,” he said, mentioning him because Atsumu had told you guys all about the players in the All-Japan group back in your second year. And of course, everyone knew about the best high school libero of the monster generation. You let out the tiniest gasp, covering your mouth when the twins started cackling while Suna looked confused. “What?”

“We never told you?” Osamu asked Suna in particular while you were making wild gestures for him to shut up. “Y/n has had the biggest crush on Komori since our second year at Inarizaki.”

Oh, the horror. Suna’s face lit up in a way it rarely did, suddenly armed with precious information to be used against you. “Are you serious?”

“It was a high school crush, get over it!” you yelled as if the blush on your cheeks was not giving you away.

“You were practically drooling.” Atsumu accused you and if you could punch him through the screen, you would.

“Miya, I swear to god-” but Atsumu knew you couldn’t reach him, so he smirked and kept that big mouth talking.

“When we were at nationals that year, the two of us went off to go watch Itachiyama.” he started, but you interrupted him.

“Because Tsumu wanted to stare at Sakusa,” you mumbled, already giving up on making him withhold any information.

“I was scoping out the competition! Anyways, one look at Komori was all it took before I was punched way too hard in my shoulder and forced to give up any information I had,” he explained, making it as dramatic as he could for Atsumu-purposes and clutching his upper arm as if he could still feel it.

“Reeeally?” Suna cooed. “From what I can tell, he’s single.”

Osamu had his mic off as he was in the kitchen making food, leaving you to the two worst ones. “This is why ‘Samu is my favourite,” you mumbled. He gave the camera a thumbs up and a wink, still leaving you to your own defences.

“Is he the one getting you a date with your lifelong crush?” Suna asked rhetorically, phone whipped out in the corner of his screen making your face go pale.

“No, but neither are you!” you yelled, hoping it was somewhat threatening, but it sounded more desperate. “And who said lifelong? I hate you.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” he finally said, but the way he was side-eyeing the screen while Atsumu smirked told you this was not over yet.

Fortunately, weeks went by without you hearing anything else about any supposed date. Komori did come up in conversation now and then, which you appreciated when it wasn’t just so they could tease you. You could feel the crush blossoming again every time Suna told you about their adventures in volleyball and it felt somewhat nostalgic.

Should you give in and ask Suna for his number?

This is what you were wondering as you walked through the city, barely dodging bikes that tried to run over you while you daydreamed. The better option is probably giving in, but you preferred admiring him from far (far) away rather than facing the possible rejection. You pushed the door to the cafe where you’re meeting Suna, before huffing as you realised it said pull. Good start to the day for sure. When you finally got inside, you were muttering under your breath as your friend’s laughter rang in your ears.

“Shut up!” you barked at him before sitting down. He already ordered two hot chocolates when you said you were on your way.

“What’s got you so scatterbrained?” he asked, leaning his arms on the table.

You glared at him over your hands, which you were leaning on. “How to secretly perform a lobotomy on my enemy while he’s sleeping,” you answered, but your ears still burned red knowing what was actually on your mind.

“So you weren’t thinking about a certain teammate of mine?” Suna asked, wiggling his eyebrows. However, he looked genuinely surprised when you just leaned back down on your hands, not denying it. “Wait, you were?”

“Why am I friends with you?” you whine, finally sitting up to sip your hot chocolate in hopes that it would fix all your problems.

Suna smirked, hearing the bell ring over the door of the cafe. “I can think of a few reasons,” he said quickly before lifting his hand in greeting, making you whip your head in the direction of the entrance. To your horror, there stood none other than Komori Motoya. “Motoya!”

The libero smiled kindly, making your heart skip a beat as he walked over to you two. “Sunarin! What’s up?” he asked.

“Just catching up with this lovely person,” he said, throwing you a devilish grin. Komori turned to you, bowing lightly to greet you as well.

“Right, Suna told me about you. Komori Motoya.”

“Hi,” you said, feeling shy as you told him your name as well. As if you didn’t already know his name. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to think too much about how you said finally. “And you.” With that, Komori smiled and excused himself to order his coffee. This gave you some time to soundlessly curse at Suna, until you had to plaster a smile back on your face when he came back over, sitting down for a moment while waiting for his name to be called. “You were friends from high school, right?”

“Yes.” You glanced at Suna for help, words stuck in your throat. “I was a manager for the volleyball team.”

Komori made a sound of realisation like he finally put two and two together. “I thought I knew your face from somewhere!” he said, memories flooding back of the game in their last year of high school where they faced off against Inarizaki. “The pretty manager who got scolded by the referee for being too loud.”

You laughed at the memory, looking at Suna to see if he remembered as well and somehow managing to overlook that he called you pretty. “That’s the one,” Suna said, confirming that he did.

“You beat us in the semifinal,” Komori added. “Rin said you saw another one of our games at nationals once.”

“Not just once,” you chuckled before realising what you said and shutting up immediately. Both of the boys chuckled as well, one to ease your embarrassment and one to embarrass you more.

“Komori!” the barista yelled, relieving you at the perfect time. The man stood up and got his drink before coming back over but not sitting down. “I’ve got to go, but let’s meet again sometime, yeah?” he asked, directing the last half at you more than his teammate.

“Yeah,” you agreed, putting as much effort as you could into giving him your best smile. He bowed quickly before turning on his heel and leaving with a final goodbye.

Your eyes went straight to your friend, squinting. The second the cafe door closed, he burst out laughing, trying to not be loud and disturb others. “Not just once!” he mocked, making you bury your face in your hands. “You’re so hopeless at this.”

Let’s just say Suna told the twins how that went over your next video call, so now you’re watching them laugh at you as well, begging any existing god for it to stop and to just bury you already. After a few minutes, the laughing and teasing cooled off. “Well, now it’s my turn to step in,” Atsumu announced, and once again they got to watch the colour drain from your face.

“Step in? There will be no stepping in.” you stuttered.

“This Friday, I’m hosting a private party,” he said like a rich man from some movie. “And let’s just say you’ll enjoy the guest list, y/n.”

You bury your face into your mattress, pressing a pillow over your head. “Please, anyone. End my misery!”

But who are you to deny a good party? It’s just for fun, nothing interesting.

Nothing interesting at all- the thought drifted off into nothing as you watched Sakusa and Komori walk through the door. You chuckled to yourself at how Sakusa seemed to already turn around and try to escape when he saw there were more people there. From the corner of the room, where you previously chatted with Atsumu before he had to answer the door, you watched them. While calmly sipping your drink and leaning against the wall, you observed how sweet Komori acted, turning Sakusa back around and urging him to stay.

However, you should never let your guard down when you’re friends with a Miya. Next thing you knew, all the previously mentioned guys were looking where Atsumu pointed; right at you. In a fight or flight moment, your eyes widened and you escaped into the crowd before Komori could even see you properly. What a classy reaction!

The party went on and you danced with a couple of people you knew from here and there. It was a decent party, you had to admit Miya was good at hosting. Lucky you also crossed paths with a smirking Suna at the edge of the living room turned dance floor. “You truly are the image of grace,” he teased, and you glared in betrayal.

“Thank you,” you answered instead of arguing, moving along with the beat. Suna still seemed smug, and you felt a sense of deja vu when he lifted his hand and yelled ‘Motoya!’ over the loud music. “Have I told you that you’re the worst?” you asked in your sweetest voice before using some liquid courage to turn around to your undeniable crush with a drawn-out ‘heeey’.

“Hey, I was hoping I’d find you,” he responded, a hand caressing your upper arm because some people were pushing. “Where did Suna go?” he asked, glancing up once or twice before settling his gaze on you.

“I asked him to call on you, actually,” you lied, choosing fight instead of flight for once. After all, you had downed a cup or two of mixed alcohol since earlier.

“Really?” Komori smiled and you naturally copied it, albeit a bit more dazed. “Why?” he started moving with you to the music, his hand stroking down your arm and finding its place on your waist.

You didn’t answer him with anything more than a flirty smile and sheepish shrug, stepping closer to him and getting lost in the music while you dared to. If Suna was so insistent on him perceiving you, you didn’t want to seem like some loser with a childish crush.

Eventually, the song changed and you looked down into your now empty cup with a small pout. You left it on the closest surface and turned to Komori. “Should we go somewhere quieter?” you asked, pointing towards the stairs. When he agreed, you loosely grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs, looking around for a moment before realising the only good options were the bedroom or the balcony. “Bedroom or balcony?” you asked without thinking much about what it might seem like.

Did he look nervous? Komori was fiddling with his empty plastic cup and didn’t meet your eyes, biting his lip as he looked at the door to the bedroom. “Don’t you think it would be occupied?”

You shrugged and walked over to the door, pulling on the handle and swinging the door open only to find an empty albeit a bit messy room. Turning back to him, you knew your cheeks were burning. It’s just from the alcohol… “Coast is clear.” Komori followed you inside before closing the door behind you, hesitating for a moment before deciding not to lock it. What if that scared you off? What if he misunderstood? The two of you ended up facing each other in the middle of the floor, both thinking too much to make the first move. You weren’t sure if you pulled him upstairs for anything specific, you honestly just wanted to talk to him more now that you had the chance. And guts.

Komori accidentally dropped the empty cup he had been fiddling with and winced, seemingly spurring into action from that little movement alone. “You’re gorgeous.”

You looked at him wide eyed before the words just fell out of your mouth. “I have a huge crush on you.”

A breathy chuckle left his lips and it brushed over your face because he was so close, yet he was seemingly moving even closer by the second. “Sunarin told me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a second, cursing your best friend in your mind until you feel Komori’s hands land on your hips more confidently. “I hate him,” you informed him in a whisper. The little space between you felt like it wouldn’t fit anything louder.

“I don’t,” he answered with a small grin before he kissed you, making your arms automatically loop around his neck to pull him closer. You kissed him back with the lust of every wandering thought you had of him the last few years, and he kissed you back with the passion of someone who wasn’t used to being the crush with a cousin like Kiyoomi. When the back of your legs hit the bed, you lay back and pulled him with you, feeling one of his hands slide under your shirt, which you had no intention of stopping.

Suna wasn’t sure if he was happy or not with the sounds coming from Atsumu’s bedroom when he went looking for you. He was glad his plan worked out but he did not need the mental image that came with you moaning his teammate’s name. Is it possible to rinse your brain? Also, Atsumu would act so mad about you doing whatever in his bed before you ‘snuck’ out of the party hand in hand with Komori.

And Osamu would hear all about it in the morning when you came to get food wearing an EJP Raijin sweatshirt. He’d tell you having you there on your derailed walk of shame was bad for business, but still let you sit there and babble about how great Komori was, both in bed and after.

At least you were happy, and that made them happy too.

masterlist

[getonite]

YOU KNOW I LOOK TOO GOOD TO NOT BE HIDEOUS!

( synop. the voice inside of dazai's head swallows him whole ) contains. 1.8k+ wc — gn!reader ; dazai angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers ( hinted ), dazai gets a hug, alcoholism, drunk!dazai, pre-ada but post-pm, mention of vomit, dazai has a panic attack + cries, implied sh scars. ( the author is back on their torturing dazai bit ; this song literally belongs to him, okay. kinda pt2 to my prev dazai fic. )

"Dazai . . . "

"Dazai."

"OSAMU!"

Dazai twitches, awakened by the familiar sound of a yelling voice. "Huh?" his voice slurs as he sits up slowly, his body clearly in pain. You sniff, groaning the thick smell of alcohol stuck in his clothes. "Don't yell, hangover . . . " he grumbles. "Or maybe I'm still drunk."

"Get up," you say firmly, looking down at his slumped body resting against the wall.

He must've been downing drinks last night, though, at least not to the point where he couldn't figure his way home. Though, it seems he couldn't get into the house as his keys are resting in his hand and he's sitting onto the concrete next to the door.

"Huh? Wha—What, I'm getting- huh?"

You sigh and loop your arm underneath his, carefully pulling him inside of the house. You carefully grab the keys and set them on the rack near the door. Dazai let's out a drunken giggle as you pat him down, making sure that everything he left with is still with him.

"You are so fucking irresponsible," you hiss, tugging Oda's coat off of his lanky body. After forcing him to sit down, you walk to the kitchen to get him a much needed glass of water.

"Oh, coooome on," he hiccups, "You love me though.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, "Your lucky no one found you black out drunk like that and stole your shit. Or worse, killed you." You emphasize your woods, setting the cup ( you don't trust him with a glass ) of water in front of him. "Or have you forgotten, you just left the Port Mafia?"

Dazai sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes at your statement.

After months of hiding, you'd think he'd get it. Maybe that he'd follow suit of you. Stay low, stay quiet, and say lawful. Apparently not. He can't even stay clean.

There's a thought of wanting to punch him, maybe it'll knock some sense into him you think. Taking a deep breath, you bend down, slipping off his shoes and putting them next to the door. "Drink your water, please," you grunt," I'll run you a bath."

"Mhm~!" Dazai sings. He's been mumbling and humming tunes, kicking his feet as you attempt to clean him up.

After a couple of minutes, you walk down the hallway toward him, "Alright, c'mon!" Dazai giggles, hurriedly getting up from his seat. Though you see the scene happen in slow motion. As if he had low iron ( which he probably does ), the blood rushed down towards his feet and he immediately stumbles, hanging onto the table as he tries to gain his bearings.

"Osam—" you pause when you see his puffed cheeks. You sigh and dash for the small trashcan in the bathroom and hold it below his mouth. And a second later, you hear the gross sound of vomit.

You rub his back, waiting for him to finish before you even attempt to bring him to the bathroom. You almost gag as you bring him carefully to the bathroom and strip his clothes, unraveling his bandages as well.

A wave of both guilt and disappointment passes through you as you see him flop into the filled bathtub. He's thin. New scars have appeared a top the old and ( incorrectly ) healed ones. He's too pale, his hair is back to the state it was when he first appeared, and he reeks of the bar. Even after your efforts, it seems as if you can't get him out of this slump. "Osamu . . . "

Dazai lifts his head, silently responding to your voice. All of the mumbling, sound effects, and humming are stopped as you carefully clean his skin.

"What is going on with you?" There's a deep frown on your face as you inspect his forearm. "No matter how much I try, you only clean yourself up when I make you."

"I work, you sit in a bar, come home and plop yourself on the couch without a fucking word," you hiss. Dazai flinches, though your not sure if it's your voice, or your movements. Regardless, a sense of guilt floods you and you take a deep breath.

"What is it?" You pause and look at him, "I know you're still recovering from Oda, I understand grief. But you refuse to talk about it and then drown yourself in alcohol, no matter what I do."

There's attempt to keep your voice calm and level, though he can hear it. The underlying emotions of annoyance, worry, and disbelief.

His eyes are downcast, focused on the water covering his lower half. They're dazed, pupils dilating as they stay focused on the one spot. "Osamu?" You frown, eyes flickering to study his face. Your face falls when you hear the quiet sound of his breathing.

His chest shakes as he breathing increases, his jaw shaking in an attempt to say words.

"Oh . . . Osamu," you mumble as tears swell in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and onto the arms resting in his lap. His arm flinches at the sting of the salty tear to the cuts on them.

You carefully get into the bathtub fully clothed behind him. He feels the warmth of your skin touch his as you carefully grab onto him, holding him close with pressure on his chest from your arms. "You're alright, I promise. It's okay," you whisper. His trembling hands touch your arms.

The silent tears continue to fall, the sound of the drops hitting the water, and his ragged breathing fill the air.

"Hey," you whisper, "Can you do something for me? The bathroom is kind of bland, but can you point out 5 things you see?" Dazai gulps, your voice sounding distant despite how you're hugged to him. Nevertheless, his eyes dart around the room, he attempts to find something to grab onto to.

His jaw ticks, "The- The shampoo," he croaks. You nod with a small smile growing on your face, "Good. It's okay, try to breathe," your hand rests against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat. "Tell me some more . . . "

Dazai sniffs, chest stuttering rapidly, "Your— s-s- sweatpants." His grip tightens on your arm as more tears slide down his face. "That's it, can you give me another one?"

"The," he gulps, "Clock."

"Come on, you got it. Can you give me another one?"

His lips tremble, teeth clacking together in an uncomfortable pace. He sucks in a breath, vision fuzzy as he focuses on your voice. "Uhh, the toilet," he whimpers, glossy tears clouding his view before they spill. You nod, "Good job, one more."

Dazai squeezes his eyes shut before blinking, to search for something else. "Soap, the soap."

You help him attempt to breathe, "Good. Now breath, just feel the way my chest is moving."

For the next few minutes, you talk him through the 5-4-3-2-1 method until he's relaxed in your hold. The water has gone cold, and the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes cling to your skin. "How about . . . " you start, "I clean you up, then we judge what to do hm? You just— you need a good bath and some food."

Dazai nods silently. He's not entirely in the room. His eyes are unfocused as he feels your careful hands gliding along his skin, though everything feels muffled to him, the room beginning to blur once more before your hand slightly pulls him from his disassociate state.

You pull him from the tub, drying him off, cleaning his arms and legs, wrapping his wounds in bandages, and cutting his hair again. ( Making sure he brushes his teeth )

No matter how many times he attempts to tune in on your voice, he can't do it. Nor can he focus on anything. His hands don't feel like his hands. The table doesn't feel like it's familiar texture. The room doesn't smell right. He doesn't sink into the seat correctly. And the chopsticks send tingles through his hand. None of it feels real.

He feels your warm hand touching the back of his neck. "Breathe," you whisper, "Touch it again. Hold it and breathe, it'll feel right."

His world is fuzzy, except the static quiets when you touch him. He slowly eats, the entire time with you keeping a warm hand on him.

Dazai starts to wake up as you carry him to the bed, pulling him into your embrace. There's silence throughout the room, not a sound unleashed to part the quiet atmosphere. Well, until you speak. "Osamu . . . " you whisper, fingers dancing in his head of curls as you carefully think of what to say. "I love you."

The man's eyes widen at your soft words. "No matter which way you choose to interpret that. I do."

"Which is why I have this urge to take care of you. It's what drives to clean up your empty bottles and canned food. And it drives to wonder what can I do to help you?"

Dazai gulps, his fingers entangled in the fabric of your new shirt.

"Your two years of hiding are almost over," you whisper, "Im selfish, you've known that since we were kids. So please, just promise me something. I don't need your thoughts, your feelings, nothing. Just two words."

"Hm?" Dazai looks up at you, having a feeling as to what you'll say.

"I'll sound cringe," you roll your eyes with a faint smile on your face, "but—promise me you'll tell me when you feel like your falling again. Doesn't matter how much I have to do it, I'll pick you back up. Cut your hair, change your bandages, whatever. I just—I hate seeing you like that. You just have to tell me."

Dazai remains silent, simply laying against you.

"I sorry," he whispers. You sigh, "Don't say sorry, just promise. I said I'd protect you when we were little, I mean that, even if you are older than me ( by a year ). I just need you to promise."

"I promise," he whispers.

You smile and mess with the small hairs on the back of his neck. "Good."

A faint smile appears on Dazai's face, one you can't see of course. "Well, first order of buisness," you speak. Dazai frowns, looking up at you.

"You're banned from all bars."

"Hey!" Dazai shrieks, shooting up to look down at you.

"You throw up on me, I'll kill you," you say firmly.

"Thought you were supposed to protect me," Dazai frowns, with a teasing verse.

"I can knock some sense into you."

"Asshole."

"Mhm," you hum, pulling him back on top of you, making sure he's comfortable beneath the sheets. "Also . . . " He mumbles.

"You love me?"

A couple of months later, you walk with Dazai to the four-story building of your workplace. Before the man can even open his mouth as you walk through the door, "Do not flirt with her."

Dazai whines as you drag him upstairs and to a door that reads 'Armed Detective Agency.'

A hum leaves your lips as you walk in, lugging Dazai along by his collar. Your eyes drift to a grey-haired man in traditional Japanese clothing, a green haori draped over his kimono.

You throw Dazai forward, walking to the side of him.

"President, this is the one I was talking about."

the ending was kind of ass. i think i lost the concept a bit lol. i hope you appreciate this a little. reblogs r appreciated!!

[mermaidfanficlibrary]

That was unexpected | Play fighting headcannons with BSD characters x Gn reader

Characters: Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara

Summary: When play fighting with them becomes something more

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, established relationships

Taglist: @nightshade-clown

A/N: Thanks to @seisitive and one of her anons for this idea!! Here is the post!

DAZAI OSAMU

🍀⁀➷ You were laying on the couch when Dazai came into the room, slouching himself on the edge looking at you

🍀⁀➷ You were looking through your phone, doing whatever you were doing, and Dazai just started poking your face

🍀⁀➷ You started poking his back, putting down your phone, but it escalated insanely fast

🍀⁀➷ Dazai started softly patting your cheeks and head, imitating slapping but not hard enough to hurt you

🍀⁀➷ You started punching back, with light punches, but he pulled you on top of him

🍀⁀➷ You straddled his waist with your legs as you gently punched him

🍀⁀➷ He laughed, as your soft punches tickled him, and he was reciprocating your soft hits

🍀⁀➷ You smirked as your hits got a bit rougher, knowing he could take the punches

🍀⁀➷ Dazai seemingly noticed this change, but only smirked in response as he gripped your waist

🍀⁀➷ You blushed slightly and paused your movement, that was a big mistake

🍀⁀➷ In an instant Dazai had you under him and pinned your hands above your hand, holding your wrists

🍀⁀➷ You blushed, your eyes widening in surprise and being flustered. Dazai of course was smiling

🍀⁀➷ Dazai slowly started kissing your cheeks, not letting his grip on your hands loosen. Your blush deepened

🍀⁀➷ You desperately looked at his lips, awaiting more than just teasing, fleeting kisses on your cheek

🍀⁀➷ Of course, he noticed and started to lightly kiss your lips, teasing you slightly

🍀⁀➷ Not a second later did his kisses get deeper than they were before, becoming even more heated

🍀⁀➷ You started kissing back, your little kissing turning into a heated make out session

🍀⁀➷ It was a push and pull between the two of you, but the movement wasn't enough for Dazai to release you from his grip

🍀⁀➷ After a moment the two of you were making out, you tried flailing out of his grip, accidentally kicking him in the stomach

🍀⁀➷ He just collapsed on top of you dramatically, pretending to have died

🍀⁀➷ You just cuddled him on the floor as he recovered from your kick, apologizing profusely

CHUUYA NAKAHARA

🍀⁀➷ You were laying on the floor already, boredom gripping your brain. Chuuya was walking around, trying to find you, but accidentally tripped over you

🍀⁀➷ He smirks slightly and softly kicking your side, trying to tickle you and pulling a laugh out of your lips

🍀⁀➷ You, in response to this unneeded attack, started to hit and lightly punch his leg trying to get him to stop

🍀⁀➷ You sat up to face him and Chuuya bent down to get on your level, lightly booping your nose

🍀⁀➷ You jokingly scowled at his action, bonking his head a few times in response

🍀⁀➷ You jumped at him, trying to get Chuuya underneath you, but you failed. Your back faced the floor as Chuuya pinned you by your wrist

🍀⁀➷ You immediately blushed seeing how smug Chuuya smiled down at the state you were in because of him

🍀⁀➷ One of his hands slid from your wrist to intertwine with one of yours, which you returned happily

🍀⁀➷ Chuuya lightly kissed your forehead, trailing down to your nose at an agonizingly slow pace

🍀⁀➷ He hovered over your lips, enough room for him to see you quickly dart your gaze from his lips in a pattern

🍀⁀➷ Chuuya brought his other hand to grip your chin to keep your needy gaze on his eyes

🍀⁀➷ He slowly brought his lips to hover over yours, basking in how needy you were for his kiss

🍀⁀➷ He gave in pretty quickly however, the want of your lips growing quicker in his heart

🍀⁀➷ As slow as the kiss may have started, they slowly got quicker from both of you

🍀⁀➷ Each one becoming more sloppy has he gripped your cheek, his other hand still holding yours down

🍀⁀➷ Both of your lips danced with each other for a good while, leaving you a flustered mess

🍀⁀➷ Chuuya held you tightly as a slow and melodic body rhythm was being set as you tried to get your hand out of his grasp

🍀⁀➷ You managed to get one hand out of his grip, holding his cheek deepening the kissing session

🍀⁀➷ You were squirming too much, however, trying to get your revenge on Chuuya and accidentally bonked his head a little too hard

🍀⁀➷ You held your head in pain and Chuuya dramatically fell to the floor, reaching his hand to find yours

🍀⁀➷ You both laid on the floor in pain, but you were both laughing your asses off, not letting go of each other's hands

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[augustinewrites]

it’s the middle of summer, it’s way too hot, and it’s his one day off, but atsumu’s dragged himself into the heart of downtown osaka for this.

“let me get those for ya.”

he takes the bags of rice from your arms, hoping you notice the way his biceps flex when he grabs the second bag from kita’s truck with little effort. 

“oh, thank you. i’ll grab the door for you,” you offer, wiping your hands on your apron and pulling the back door open. 

he thanks you with a nod and a bright smile, leaving you outside to sign for the delivery. 

“hey,” he greets the manager as he passes the small back office. “where do you want these?”

osamu glances up from his laptop, pausing to do a double take. “uh, just set them down in the pantry— wait,” he’s about to go do that before his brother stops him. “so you’re just…helping? unprompted?”

“yeah? sometimes my heart’s just so big i can’t stand it.”

his twin leans back in his seat and looks at him. really looks at him, in the way that their ma would when she knew they were lying. “only when you want something.” 

the back door swings open, atsumu diverting his full attention to you once more. “i just sweet talked kita into waiving the delivery fee again this month.” 

“that’s my girl,” he grins, lifting his hand. you roll your eyes and call him cheesy under your breath, but indulge him with a crisp high-five anyway. 

his heart swells in his chest when you look up at him. and oh man, you look good. with your gorgeous eyes and even prettier—

“atsumu?” 

“yeah?” he blinks.

“i’ve got work to do…”

atsumu, not quite understanding, follows your gaze to where his hand is clutching yours. he hadn’t even realized… 

he drops your hand immediately, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “oh, right. sorry. it’s just not that often that i get to work side-by-side with someone as pretty as you.”

“wow. was that meant to be a line?” you ask.

“depends,” he shrugs, leaning just the slightest bit closer. “did it work?” 

you lean your hip against the counter, staring up at him. “what is going on with you?”

“nothing.”

“really? because you’re being very cute today.” 

“what are you talking about? i’m cute everyday,” he states like it’s a fact, tying an apron around his waist. “unrelated…have i told you how beautiful you are today?”

“not since this morning,” you quip, your smile growing as you begin pulling ingredients from the pantry. “why? are you trying to butter me up for something?”

“well…” he starts, drawing a deep breath. “i was going to see if you wanted to get lunch today. on me, of course.” 

you set your knife down, turning to face him. “are you insinuating that i can be bought?”

he hesitates at that, his heart practically falling out of his asshole. “i– i mean we can split it if that makes you feel better.” 

“atsumu?”

“yeah?” 

“i was kidding, of course we can get lunch together,” you assure him, patting his arm as you step around him. “let me just finish prepping for tonight, then we can go.” 

once you’ve stepped out of the kitchen, atsumu turns to face his twin, who’s watching from the office. “just say it, ya scrub.” 

osamu doesn’t pull his punches, shaking his head slightly. “so that’s what you wanted.”

[cloudyyoimiya]

With a s/o who literally got underestimated by some then they kick their asses with Fyodor ,Chuuya and dazai?👉👈

Pls imagine them just watching 😭

this idea is so silly! i love it so much oh my lord. thank you for requesting!!

Their S/o Gets Underestimated; Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, and Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Format: Scenarios

Possible warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, catcalling, you being a badass

Osamu Dazai

Today you and Dazai were tasked with gaining vital information from the Port Mafia. Out of the two of you, you were the one that excelled in physical strength. You were smart too, yes, but not as smart as your boyfriend. He was the one that made hyper intelligent plans while you were the one that carried them out. Together the two of you made an unstoppable duo for the agency.

“It should be here,” you said as you looked at your watch. “We’re early.”

“Ah that’s good news! Now we have time to look around the perimeter just in case there’s an ambush!” He said rather childishly despite how insightful the words he spoke were.

You pressed your ear up to the entrance of the building. You then heard a faint conversation on the other side of the walls. “We can’t. They’re already here.”

Dazai loudly exhaled as he put his hands in his jacket. “Let’s go in then. I want to go home already.”

You nodded as you opened the door. The first thing you saw inside were two grunts holding sophisticated guns. They immediately looked at you and pointed their firearms at you.

“Hey! Can you maybe not point those at us?” You asked, already mildly aggravated.

One of the grunts put down his gun, but the other held his ground. “And what’re you gonna do if I don’t? Kick my feet?”

Dazai decided to step in. “We’re here for the information.”

“Well now I don’t feel like givin’ it to ya!” He pointed a finger at you. “They decided to act like they own the damn place right off the bat! They don’t even look that strong too!”

“Excuse you! I’m very strong!” You raised your voice.

Normally you don’t get mad this easily, but this grunt decided to underestimate you! You absolutely hated it when people did this to you. What was even the point of it?

“Really? ‘Cause you don’t look it!”

Your eye twitched as you turned to Dazai. “May I?”

“Go right on ahead,” he smirked.

You quickly thanked him, then started to approach the grunt. You cracked your knuckles before punching him straight in the face. You felt your knuckles start to slightly bleed, but it was worth it.

The grunt fell onto his ass with a bloody nose. He then looked up at you with fear in his eyes. “You punch like a girl.”

“Oh that’s it!”

You went to kick his side and rough him up further, but you felt a hand on your shoulder. You whipped your head around and was greeted with the sight of Dazai slightly smiling. “That’s enough.”

You sighed as you retreated behind him. Eventually Dazai got the information that the two of you needed, and on the way back you broke out into idle chitchat.

“You know, you’re very strong,” Dazai complimented.

You looked up at him with a small smile. “Ah, thank you. It means a lot coming from you.”

The two of you had eventually reached the agency’s front doors. Dazai grabbed your hand and looked at the blood that was slowly dripping down your knuckles. “We need to get you fixed up.”

You only nodded as he opened the door for you. Today was a good day.

Chuuya Nakahara

Today was Chuuya’s day off and you decided that you wanted to go out on a date with him. It didn’t take him much convincing since the last time the two of you went on a date was weeks ago. He wanted to make up for some lost time. Chuuya felt bad that he couldn’t give you all of the attention you deserved, so this was the least he could do.

You practically dragged him to the restaurant that you made reservations for. You had your arms wrapped around his right arm, making sure to have a secure grip on him.

As you were about to enter the building, you heard some whistling directed towards you. You and Chuuya looked at where the noise was coming from.

A man in his forties was smirking at you. He was wearing an expensive suit and tie, and his hair looked messily slicked back. It made you nauseous.

“What’s a darling little thing like you doing with that short ass, huh?” He asked loudly.

“Short ass?! Listen here buddy, they’re my S/o and I’m—“

“I got this.” You put a hand on your boyfriends shoulder, cutting him off. You then redirected your gaze towards the creep. “This here is my boyfriend, and we were just about to get dinner. Now please leave us alone.”

The male clicked his tongue. “Or what? Are you going to have your boyfriend beat me up since you’re so weak?”

Your grip tightened on Chuuya’s shoulder. Who did this guy think he was?! “He doesn’t need to protect me, but he may need to protect you from me.”

“What, are going to tickle me? Don’t make me laugh!” He exclaimed.

Right as the man finished saying that, you ran towards him and swiped his legs from beneath him. He lost his breath from the fall onto his back, so he desperately tried to get air back into his lungs by breathing rapidly.

You turned right back around and walked up towards Chuuya. “I think I lost my appetite,” you murmured.

You absolutely hated being disrespected like that. You knew you were strong, but sometimes people thought otherwise just based on appearances. It rubbed you the wrong way.

Chuuya smirked at the man on the ground. He knew full well that you were capable of beating him; you weren’t Chuuya’s other half for nothing. He made sure that you were able to defend yourself in case you were attacked from a rival group trying to lure him out. In fact, Chuuya had personally trained you. It was tedious, but it payed off.

“C’mon let’s go! I don’t want to be here anymore,” you said as you tugged on Chuuya’s arm. “A crowd is forming and I’m very uncomfortable.”

Your boyfriend chuckled as you dragged him away from the scene. “You were so badass, did you know that?”

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Today you two had to visit the Sky Casino. Sigma’s mental state wasn’t in the best shape, and you took it upon yourself to make sure he’s okay. Fyodor could care less, but he decided to come along anyways because there was something he needed to do. You didn’t dare question him; it’s not like he’d tell you anyways.

You two walked into the lavish entry hall hand in hand. The casino was huge, so the chances of getting lost were high.

The two of you rounded a corner and was met with the sight of a grown woman trying to steal a wallet from an unknowing guest. You immediately went in to stop her. Yes, you may be in the Decay of Angels, but you disliked it whenever people committed meaningless crimes. This woman was dressed in very expensive attire, so it’s likely that she already had a lot of wealth.

You grabbed her wrist. “Put that back.”

“Excuse me?!” She whipped her head towards you. “Who do you think you are?!”

The amount of makeup she wore made you feel nauseous. “You don’t need that money.”

“Shut your mouth!” She yelled. “You’re assaulting me!”

You frowned at her words. “You were the one robbing that man!”

“Okay and?” She gave you a smug look. “It’s not like there’s much you can do! You’re not law enforcement.”

Your grip on her wrist tightened. “I can do something, but I’m sure you won’t like it.”

“What are you going to do then, huh?” She gave you a cocky smile.

Your grip on her wrist shifted to her hand. You then applied pressure onto one of fingers. You wanted to break her hand, you really did, but it appeared that the woman was already getting cold feet.

“No! Don’t break it! Fuck okay fine, I’ll leave and give him back the wallet! Alright?!” She begged.

You shrugged your shoulders and let go of her hand. “I’ll hold you up to it then.”

The woman put the wallet back into the man’s pocket and ran away. As you saw her retreating you turned back to Fyodor. You then straightened out your outfit with a slight frown.

“I’m sorry about that, Fedya,” you spoke. “She just bothered me a lot.”

Fyodor only smirked as he wrapped one of his hands around yours. “Don’t apologize for that, my love. In fact, I do think she deserved it.”

You nodded as you started to lead him to Sigmas office. “She even doubted my skills… What a bitch.”

“If you so wish I could dispose of her later later,” he chuckled. “It wouldn’t be that hard of a task.”

You shook your head. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

“I see,” Fyodor hummed. You two were now just outside of the casino managers office. “Though, I’d like to say that you’re quite strong. I’m lucky to have you at my side.”

this was fun to write!

requests are open <3

[sakustars]

HQ!! BOYS AS TROPES

sfw; fluff; gn!reader; child/parenting(?) in sakusa’s

ft: hinata, tanaka, atsumu, sakusa, osamu

you never thought you’d survive long distance with hinata. but seeing him at the airport after so long made every sombre facetime and pillow cuddled at night worth it.

a mutual run-up to each other resulted in a large crash, engulfing each other in your arms, pressing your face into his neck pillow and attempting to stop his suitcases falling over.

distantly, you registered a couple teenagers filming, no doubt to post on social media for all the fans hinata had started gathering after being announced as an upcoming member of msby black jackals.

but you were too wrapped up in squeezing him as close as possible, though you were already pressed flush, and breathing him in, to acknowledge them.

the one-sided enemies to lovers with tanaka started with a misunderstanding. poor boy saw you talking to kiyoko about homework and instantly saw you as competition.

he would butt into conversations between you and the manager and watch you around school — to make sure you weren’t doing anything bad!

however, eventually, in one conversation he’d interrupted, you laughed a little too sweetly at something he’d said, and you were looking a little too fine walking to second period maths.

since then, he was whipped, but took a while to confess to you, much too nervous that you would hate him because of his bad behaviour when you first met. but thankfully, you returned his feelings.

childhood friends to lovers was a natural progression with atsumu. though, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment you actually fell.

maybe when you were five, carefully plastering a dinosaur bandaid over his knee after he fell off his bike. he had been looking up at you with watery eyes and a wobbly lip, with an awestruck expression that had even your tiny heart picking up.

or maybe love came with the relief when you found out that you were going to the same highschool. going to separate schools and falling out of contact was a very real fear, so learning that you would still be walking with him everyday was a huge reassurance.

but you had fallen for definite by your third year, when he finally confessed to you with an over-the-top bouquet on valentines day after escaping his fangirls, proven by your immediate acceptance and pouncing on him for a kiss.

you had never considered yourself to want to get involved with a child, but that all changed when single dad sakusa walked into swim lessons with his little boy.

you worried about coming off as unprofessional, waiting to make sure he was definitely subtly flirting back with you before you decided to make a move.

fortunately, sakusa beat you to the punch, asking you to dinner after his son earned his 20metre badge, as ‘appreciation for your hard work’

when you started dating for real, his son was ecstatic, you had been his favourite instructor, though getting him to call you your name instead of l/n-san had been a struggle at the beginning — and you definitely didn’t cry the first time he referred to you as his parent.

now it was a usual sight in the morning to see him sat on the kitchen counter as you poured his cereal, still in pyjamas, with sakusa latched onto your back like a barnacle, muttering how pretty you looked into your bedhead.

owning the flower shop across from osamu’s restaurant was a mutual benefit. you got discounted onigiri at a walking distance, and he got to stare at your pretty face through the windows separating you.

you also couldn’t deny the growing feelings you were harbouring for the man — he was handsome, and kind, and fed you.

it all happened one night when he had invited you and some others to stay late at his restaurant to watch a game his brother was playing on the tv. you had prepared a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and orange tulips as a thank you.

the night progressed and your cheeks had heated from the couple shots of saké you had indulged in. you had been sat at the front of the kitchen, watching his back flex as he chopped ingredients for the next day, and muttered a bit too loudly — “god, just go out with me already.”

of course he had heard you, and now the both of you were blushing heavily as he wrote his number down on a notepad and organised to meet for coffee the following sunday.

🪐 a/n: reblogs, likes and comments r very appreciated <3

[rishiguro]

THE SONGS HAIKYUU BOYS DANCE WITH YOU TO IN THE KITCHEN

a/n: brainrot goes brrr

warnings: mentioned alcohol consumption in the first one.

pretty woman — roy orbison

“what are you doing?” you mumbled confused as you looked at your lover, as he set his phone down on the counter. he only shushed you, gesturing for you to come closer. “come here,” he slurred, clumsily stumbling over his words. you followed his request, tripping over your feet as you practically fell into his arms giggling. before you could even look up at him, he started to swirl your bodies around the kitchen, pressing kisses all over your face. and while your feet hurt from walking around and dancing all night, your skin was sweaty and both of your breaths smelled of alcohol, this was the perfect end to your evening.

SUNA. sugawara. bokuto. nishinoya. tendou.

hopelessly devoted to you (from “grease”) — olivia newton-john

“how about giving me a hand here?” you asked with a smile on your lips, leaning back into his body. he had his arms wrapped around you, softly swaying your bodies to the sound of the music. he had his eyes closed, only replying after you nudged him a bit. “no,” he sighed, “i don’t wanna. just let me be here with you” you couldn’t help but giggle at his sleepy tone, feeling him lean more on you with every second, practically inhaling your warmth. “i love you,” he mumbled kissing your exposed neck, “so, so much” rolling your eyes you turned in his hold. “you’re a dork” with a sheepish smile he pulled you close to him, both hands resting on your waist as you started following the rhythm.

daichi. OIKAWA. tanaka. yaku. yamaguchi. hinata.

cupid‘s chokehold/breakfast in america — gym class heroes

you didn’t think this was how you would spend your sunday mornings. hair still messy after you got up, still in your pajamas with no shoes on your feet, the tiles on the floor cold against your bare skin. his hands were warm in your hips, back hunched as his face was hidden in the crook of your neck. his eyes were closed as he hummed, occasionally pressing a peck on your skin, making you shudder. you had a lovesick smile on your lips, head leaning against his. after a while he pulled himself up again, now putting his forehead against yours. “i’m so in love with you,” he mumbled, clearly still sleepy as the two of you danced across the kitchen, barely even paying attention to the music playing. and while you never imagined yourself in this situation, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

osamu. SEMI. hanamaki. tsukishima. kenma. sakusa.

just the two of us — grover washington

“i’m trying to watch the pasta here,” you muttered at your boyfriend, trying to ignore him pulling at your form. “and i don’t care,” he grinned, “come on” before you could even respond, he whisked you away from the stove, tightening his arms around your entire body and pressing you to him. he immediately started to move to the music, swaying his hips. you laughed out loud, playfully punching his chest. “don’t act like you don’t love this,” he said, “i know you do” and while you had to roll your eyes, a wide grin plastered itself on your face. “do i?” he hummed. “oh you do” the two of you continued in silence until you could hear some sizzling coming from the stove. “the pasta!”

KUROO. atsumu. matsukawa. yamamoto. futakuchi.

good old fashioned lover boy — queen

with one warm hand on your waist, the other one intertwined with yours, he twirled you through the kitchen with fast steps. the two of you danced with vigor, only concentrating on each other’s presence which ultimately led to the two of you stumbling into a kitchen counter. he immediately pulled you close to him, kissing your forehead. “i’m sorry, darling,” he mumbled, his ears turning red, “i’m afraid i was too distracted” you smiled at him, shaking your head. “don’t worry, nothing happened,” you grinned at him, enjoying how his face slightly flushed. he cleared his throat after giving you a soft kiss. “so, do you want to continue?”

ushijima. asahi. KITA. akaashi. iwaizumi. kageyama.

[thedamselzelda]

Snake Eyes and Bloody Lies

Featuring: Dazai Osamu

Summary: Shadows of the past dance in the neon glow of the Starlight Casino. As buried secrets resurface, a night of glamour spirals into a web of things unsaid and lethal encounters. In this high-stakes game, the truth becomes the most dangerous bet of all.

word count: 7.9k, fem!reader, pm!reader, sfw (mild cursing), use of other names for reader (Izanami, Bella, etc.), use of Italian (though I don't speak it/ use of good ole Google Translate so I'm sorry if I offend anyone), slightly proofread

Author Chat: Holy hell guys, I am SO sorry this took way longer to get out than I originally intended. It's also WAY longer than I had originally thought in my head, but alas what you imagine isn't written out and so on. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this part!

previous part ~ next part | DBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

The click of heels against concrete echoed through the stairwell as you and Chūya descended into the dimly lit basement. The air grew cooler with each step, carrying a faint musty scent that tickled your nose.

As you reached the bottom, Chūya let out a low whistle, followed by a chuckle. He called your name, his voice tinged with amusement. "Would ya look at that? It's a great view. I'd say it even rivals a masterpiece worth ten billion."

"Yeah," you replied with a soft laugh, raising your hands to frame the sight before you between your fingers like a photographer composing a shot. "It is a pretty sight."

While Chūya was admiring the scene for his own reasons, you couldn't help but appreciate the view of Osamu chained up, looking slightly disheveled. His usually immaculate appearance was marred by a few wrinkles in his shirt and a few strands of hair out of place. It was evident that someone had already paid him a visit, and true to form, Osamu had likely provoked them. Despite his predicament, he managed to flash you a charming smile, trying to ignore Chūya's presence. However, the fiery redhead quickly made his way over to Osamu, causing his face to contort into a look of disgust.

You remained on the last step of the stairs, leaning against the cool concrete wall. The rough surface pressed against your back through your clothes, grounding you in the moment. Just before you'd come down, Chūya had promised not to kill Osamu, acknowledging its importance to you. However, as Chūya shrugged off his jacket and tossed it back to you with a fluid motion, it suddenly became apparent that he wasn't going to let this opportunity for payback slip through his fingers.

You shifted uncomfortably, the fabric of Chūya's jacket soft against your hands as you clutched it tightly. When Chūya landed a punch on Osamu that seemed to genuinely catch him off guard, you instinctively took a step forward, concern flashing across your face. However, you froze in place when you caught Osamu's subtle cue - a slight twitch of his fingers and his eyes darting meaningfully towards you. You sighed, realizing the implications. All part of the plan, huh?

Osamu's voice echoed in your mind, a memory of his earlier instructions: You're going to have to let the slug just do what he wants. He won't hurt me too much. Not with the letter I sent. Especially… not with you there.

As the confrontation unfolded, Chūya occasionally glanced back at you, perhaps gauging your reaction. Though you couldn't make out their words over the pounding of your heart, you didn't need to hear them. Osamu had already briefed you on the gist of what would transpire.

You watched as Osamu's lips moved, no doubt delivering some cutting remark designed to provoke Chūya further. The effect was immediate - Chūya's body tensed, his hand flying to his knife. In a flash of movement that made you flinch, he slammed the blade into the wall beside Osamu's head, the sharp edge barely grazing his cheek.

As Chūya turned and began stalking towards you, his eyes blazing with a mix of satisfaction and lingering anger, you finally stepped off the last stair. Your heels clicked against the concrete floor as you moved to meet him, your posture straightening as you prepared to play your part in this dangerous game of deception.

"Have fun?" you remarked with a smirk as you approached, holding out his coat. Chūya snatched the cloth from you as he gritted his teeth in frustration, glaring at you.

Osamu interjected smoothly, "It's funny. 'Chūya driven out of the organization because of me' had a nice ring to it, too."

Chūya whirled back, shooting you an unappreciative glance. "Wait. You two! You were both playin' me! Fuckin' bitch."

You let out a huff, placing your hands on your hips as you faced him. "Now, now, Chūya. I let you beat up my boyfriend because of your weird dynamic, and this is the thanks I get?"

Osamu's low chuckle grew closer as he reached your side, his presence a comforting warmth. "Leave her be, Chūya. She only helped a little." He idly toyed with the knife in his hand, the blade catching the light. "Besides, this was a reunion long in the making for the three of us. It was only fair to have a surprise of this caliber."

Chūya whipped around, his auburn hair flying as he turned his back on you both. "I'm gonna kill you both one day, I swear."

"Oh, by the way," Osamu smirked, glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Didn't you see Chūya break the chains and let me free?"

You tapped a finger against your lips, feigning thoughtfulness. "I do think I recall seeing that, yeah. So, if you were to run away now, he'd be the one on the chopping block for it."

"WHAT?!" Chūya spun back around, his face contorted with rage. "You bastard!"

Ignoring Chūya's outburst, you dramatically leaned towards Osamu. "But couldn't you just make it look like someone from the Agency came and rescued you?"

Osamu rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, affecting a lazy demeanor. "I mean... I could... but that sounds like a lot of work."

Chūya's eyes narrowed as he looked pointedly at Osamu. "And why would I believe you, the pathological liar?"

"I don't lie in these kinds of negotiations. I think you know that." Osamu's voice was steady as he casually tossed the knife back to Chūya, who caught it with practiced ease despite his anger.

Chūya was visibly livid, his fury directed not only at Osamu but at you as well. His fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to contain his temper. "Fuckin' hell... Just what'd ya want?"

Osamu slid his hands into his pockets, his posture relaxed. "It's as I said earlier."

You crossed your arms as Chūya glanced at you, then closed his eyes in exasperation. "Why would you ask me when she knows too?"

Osamu gave you an expressive look. The two of you had your suspicions, but with every mafia member keeping their lips sealed, you lacked the definitive location of the information Osamu required.

You shrugged, your voice casual. "All I know is that Akutagawa has been leading the hunt."

Chūya let out an exasperated sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "The records should be in the comms storage room on the second floor."

"Ooooh. You were right, Osamu." The two of you exchanged a knowing nod.

"What did you even need me to say that for then?!" Chūya spun around, flinging his coat back upon his shoulders with a flourish. He let out a puff of air as he began to walk away. "Just get what you came for and get the fuck outta here, you ass. And try not to get Izanami in too much trouble."

You smirked at Osamu and let out a breathy laugh as he thanked Chūya. When Chūya was halfway up the stairs, still muttering threats, you nudged Osamu's arm.

"Oh yeah." Osamu leaned forward, calling out to Chūya with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Noooo, you're doing it wrong! Aren't you forgetting something?"

You smiled and joined in, leaning forward to shout with Osamu, "Don't you think you're forgetting something, Chuuuuuya?"

Chūya stopped, huffing out a breath as he let his head fall back slightly. Then, his knees came together as he dramatically turned to face you both. He pointed, using the worst attempt he could at a breathy feminine voice, "There will be no second chance!"

You and Osamu stood there, desperately trying not to burst out laughing.

"N-n-no... second... chance?" Chūya's temper quickly changed. "What the fuck?! You guys should be laughing!"

Your lips began to betray you as you looked at Osamu, who was also fighting the urge to laugh. Only when your eyes met did you both let loose a roar of amusement. You reached out and grasped Osamu's arm, nearly doubling over. His hand went to your waist for support as you both shook with laughter.

As you wiped a tear from your eyes, you hardly noticed Chūya storming off, his muttered curses fading into the distance. 

"Well, that wasn't at all nerve-wracking, even with that stupid excuse for a disguise. At least you got what you came here for." You stepped out into the spacious entryway of your penthouse, the soft glow of recessed lighting illuminating the modern décor. Osamu trailed behind you, his eyes roaming curiously over the sleek furnishings and artwork adorning the walls. It had been quite some time since he had crossed the threshold of your living space, and you could sense his subtle assessment of how things might have changed.

"Why is there an extra set of house shoes here?" Osamu's voice carried a hint of suspicion as he pointed towards a pair of familiar shoes in the doorway. You turned back, your gaze flicking from his outstretched finger to Chūya's worn leather loafers.

"You're smart, figure it out." Your tone was dismissive as you made your way into the expansive kitchen. The polished granite countertops gleamed under the pendant lights, a stark contrast to the layer of dust that had settled on the high-end appliances. No one had cooked here in quite some time, not even you. It was always take-out or restaurant dining, a testament to the responsibilities thrust upon you since your return from Italy.

You opened the stainless-steel refrigerator, the cool air washing over you as you grasped a bottle of your favorite Moscato. When you turned around, you caught sight of Osamu unceremoniously dropping Chūya's house shoes into the nearest trash can, a look of disgust marring his features.

"Osamu!" You snapped harshly, your voice echoing in the open-plan living area. "We've bothered him enough for the day."

"Nah," he sighed, plopping down on your plush leather couch. His nimble fingers began to paw at the files strewn across your glass coffee table, his brow furrowing as he scanned the documents. "These your casino numbers? Looks like someone's gonna be in trouble..."

You hummed noncommittally, deftly popping open the bottle of wine. No need for a glass when it was all going to get drunk anyway. You joined him on the couch, pulling your leg up underneath you, the soft leather cool against your skin.

As you settled in, your mind wandered to the real issue at hand. It wasn't the revenue of the casino that was trending downward, but rather the imports moving through its walls. A small, almost negligible number of weapons were going missing during processing. At first, you had been reluctant to dwell on it, knowing that a proper investigation would demand far more time than you were willing to allocate. However, with the inconsistencies growing, you knew it was only a matter of time before Mori would be breathing down your neck, his cold eyes demanding answers you weren't sure you could provide.

The weight of the situation settled over you like a shroud as you took a long swig from the bottle, the sweet Moscato a stark contrast to the bitter thoughts swirling in your mind.

"Yeah, I just need to figure out where it's going." You grasped a sleek remote beside you, pointing it toward the large, high-definition screen mounted on the wall. It flickered to life, illuminating the dimly lit room with a mosaic of camera feeds from various angles within the casino. Some showed the bustling gaming tables, while others revealed the shadowy back hallways where the real business was conducted.

"Wow. You must get really bored if this is what you do all day." Osamu teased, his fingers deftly flipping through the pages of reports. The rustling of paper mingled with the muted sounds from the surveillance feeds.

You plucked the documents from his hands, your tone tinged with a mix of frustration and weariness. "Well, I unfortunately don't have the luxury of calling out whenever I'm just 'not feeling it'. Also, I'm about to get really angry if you're about to say you figured it out."

He laughed, a warm sound that momentarily lightened the tension in the room. Relinquishing the papers, he immediately reached for another stack. "No, though, I wish I could make it that simple for you. Ranpo could figure it out in a split second."

You hummed thoughtfully, your eyes darting across the array of screens before you. You noted small changes needed in camera angles and observed how guests were responding to various aspects of the casino. One angle in particular caught your eye – a view over a blackjack table where a brunette man sat, his movements suggesting he was counting cards. There was something odd about him, and you began to wrack your brain, trying to place what the reason was.

As you pondered, your thoughts drifted to your recent conversation with Mori. There were only a few reasons why he would agree to allow you such autonomy. Firstly, your position as an executive was one of the highest forms of trust within the organization. Alternatively, Mori might be allowing this situation to play out for the long game. His desire for Osamu's return was no secret.

A sobering thought crossed your mind: on the minuscule chance Osamu did somehow agree to return, he would likely usurp your position as executive, becoming Mori's right hand and the Port Mafia's next leader.

You turned your head to look at Osamu, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pored over the reports. The soft glow from the nearby lamp cast shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the intensity in his eyes. In this moment, you found yourself drawn to this version of him – the one that most resembled Oda, yet with subtle differences that were uniquely Osamu.

As you watched him, you realized there were new facets to his personality that you were starting to love, though you would never stop cherishing who he was before. The thought struck you: isn't this what it means to truly love someone? Loving them unconditionally is to embrace both the old version and the new one that grows with or without you. It's accepting the evolution of a person, cherishing their core while appreciating the changes life brings.

Your mind wandered back to the possibility of Osamu returning to the Port Mafia. The idea sent a chill down your spine, not because of your potential loss of power, but because of what it would mean for him. He had made such significant progress in becoming the person that Oda had asked him to be – a better man, one who used his abilities for good rather than destruction. You couldn't bear the thought of him taking all these steps forward only to backtrack several years now.

The weight of these thoughts pressed heavily on your chest. Perhaps, if he did consider returning, you would attempt to convince him otherwise. You imagined the conversations you might have, the arguments you'd make, all in an effort to preserve the growth he had achieved. It wasn't about your position or the power dynamics within the Port Mafia; it was about protecting the man he had become, the one who was inching closer to fulfilling Oda's dying wish.

Your contemplative sigh, heavy with unspoken concerns, caught his attention. Osamu looked up from the papers, his eyes meeting yours. In that moment, you saw a flash of something – concern, curiosity, maybe even a hint of vulnerability – cross his face. It was a reminder of how far he'd come, how much more open he was now compared to his days in the Port Mafia.

Setting aside the documents, Osamu wrapped his arm around you, pulling you against his chest. The warmth of his body and the familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you, providing a momentary respite from your worries.

"What's got you all caught up in there?" he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. His voice held a note of genuine concern, a rare display of vulnerability in the usually guarded man.

As you nestled against him, your lips parted, ready to spill everything that was on your mind. However, at the last moment, you hesitated, closing your mouth before the words could escape. You shook your head slightly, earning a snug squeeze from Osamu. Your eyes drifted back to the brown-haired man on the screen, his movements suddenly capturing your full attention.

"That man isn't only counting cards, he's fucking memorizing them," you said, slightly pushing off Osamu's chest. His attention turned to the screen as well, his eyes narrowing as he observed the player's subtle movements.

"Wow, worst casino you could possibly want to do that in, too," Osamu remarked, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "He's probably trying to get your attention then."

It really did seem that way. The man's sleight of hand and intentional movements were almost too obvious. You doubted the dealer could see, but as soon as your phone began to ring with its shrill tone, you hoped your floor manager had spotted it as well.

"Izanami," you spoke curtly into the phone, your voice automatically shifting into a more authoritative tone.

You reluctantly crawled from the comfort of Osamu's arms; the loss of his warmth immediately noticeable as you walked over to the TV for a closer look.

"Just 'cause you're getting closer doesn't mean the picture will be any less fuzzy," Osamu quipped from the couch, his voice laced with playful sarcasm. You turned and stuck your tongue out at him, a moment of levity in the tense situation. He responded with a smirk and blew you a cheeky kiss, the familiar gesture bringing a brief smile to your face.

"Ma'am, table A12. We are currently watching—" your floor manager's voice crackled through the phone.

"Grab him and take him before he takes anymore of my patron's or the casino's money," you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for argument.

"Miss, this is his sixth visit in the past week. He's sat at the same table and asks every visit when you will make an appearance."

Your head jerked back slightly in confusion, brow furrowing as you processed this new information. You muttered a curse to yourself, then spoke to your manager once more, your voice low and controlled. "Place him in a holding room then. I'll be down in thirty."

You huffed as you closed your phone, frustration evident in your voice. "So much for a quiet night in."

Noticing the smirk remaining on Osamu's face, you raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, silently demanding an explanation.

"What about a night with you and I together ever says 'quiet'?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You puffed out a breath, trying to refrain from laughing. Heat crawled up your face, a mix of amusement and exasperation coloring your cheeks. Turning away to hide your reaction, you walked into your room. "Well, it doesn't matter now. I have to head to the casino."

No reply called back to you as you headed into your spacious closet, but you could sense Osamu's presence not far behind. You could feel his eyes on you as you meticulously looked through your clothes.

"I guess you'll have to go back to your dorm," you said, a note of reluctance in your voice. "I can't just leave you here."

After a moment, you looked back at him, taking in his relaxed posture as he leaned against the frame of the closet door, hands tucked into his slack pockets. His expression remained unchanged, a hint of expectation in his eyes, as if silently telling you what you should do without saying it aloud.

"Or," you found yourself saying, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you placed your hands on your hips in mock defeat. "You could come with."

His mood instantly shifted, excitement painting itself across his features. His eyes lit up, a rare genuine smile breaking through. "Yes! I think that's an even better idea."

You laughed, the sound light and playful in the quiet of the closet. "Though..." you trailed off, a mischievous glint in your eye.

He cocked his head to the side, eyes widening with curiosity. The gesture was oddly endearing, reminding you of a puppy presented with an unexpected promise of a treat.

"What you're wearing isn't really the dress code," you explained, your gaze sweeping over his usual, casual attire.

He raised an eyebrow, surprise evident in his voice. "Your casino has a dress code?"

You turned back to your wardrobe, fingers brushing over luxurious fabrics before grasping a sleek black halter dress. You laid it carefully over your bent arm, the silky material catching the light. "Yes. I have a dress code at my casino. If you make the guests dress nice, then they will have the mindset that they are in a high-class establishment. Which the Starlight is."

Osamu tsked playfully, a hint of admiration in his tone. "Playing mind games on your guests isn't really nice, Bella."

You shrugged, a playful grin playing on your lips. "I've done worse."

With a sense of purpose, you headed deeper into the closet, your fingers brushing past designer labels until they found a hidden clothes bag tucked away in the back. You paused, your hand resting on the zipper as a wave of emotions washed over you. Taking a deep breath, you turned back to Osamu.

"Oda and I had planned on giving this to you when I came back, but well..." your voice trailed off, the unspoken history hanging between you.

You held the bag out to him, and he took it with a mixture of curiosity and reverence. His fingers deftly unzipped the bag, revealing a stunning navy-blue suit, complete with a crisp black button-up and a rich maroon tie. The quality of the garment was evident even at a glance.

"It was his," you murmured, your voice soft with memory. "We had the tailor customize it to your last measurements, give or take your projected growth." You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat. "He really wanted to see you wear it, too."

His eyes softened looking at the suit. “Well, I guess it’s good your casino has a required dress code.”

Osamu's fingers deftly traced along the lapel of the navy-blue suit, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles as they continued downward. He straightened the maroon tie, the silk cool against his calloused fingertips, as he gazed at his reflection in the full-length mirror. The suit fit him perfectly, as if it had been tailored just yesterday rather than years ago.

He wondered to himself if Oda had wanted to gift it to him because of his selected color palette; Osamu had always favored blacks and darker colors, whereas Oda had leaned towards lighter tones. Regardless of the reason, as he looked back at himself, a sense of unease settled in his stomach. The man staring back at him looked like he had never left the Port Mafia - polished, dangerous, and ready for whatever the night might bring.

"Is it too much? The suit?" you ask, your voice carrying a hint of vulnerability rarely heard.

He turned to see you, and his breath hitched. You were dressed effortlessly in the black halter dress, its fabric flowing like liquid shadow around your form. Twin slits rose daringly up to your hips, revealing tantalizing glimpses of skin with each movement. His keen eyes didn't miss the revolver strapped to your thigh, the lethal accessory that somehow only added to your allure.

The sight of you was almost too painful, too reminiscent of years ago during successful missions long gone. You looked like a vision from the past, yet undeniably present and real.

"No," he said, trying to convince himself as much as you. "It's really nice. You two did really good."

He watched as a small, bittersweet smile graced your lips. You walked towards him with a grace that spoke of years of training and natural poise. Your hands rose to rest upon his chest, the warmth of your touch seeping through the fabric of his suit. He heard you sigh, noticing the sadness wavering in your eyes.

Osamu reached up, his fingers brushing away stray hairs from your face with a tenderness that belied his usually aloof demeanor. His touch drifted down, gently raising your chin so your eyes met his.

"Hey, don't look so sad," he murmured, his voice soft. "You're about to take me to your fabulous, upscale casino."

Your laugh rang out, a melody that Osamu hoped would never cease to exist. It was a sound that grounded him, reminding him of why he had chosen this path away from the darkness of his past.

He leaned down towards your parted lips, gently grazing his upon yours in a feather-light touch. When you attempted to deepen the kiss, he slyly moved back, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Osamu, don't tease," you breathed out, your voice a mixture of frustration and desire.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. "I can't make you work for it?" he quipped, his tone laced with affection and mischief.

Before you could reply, he ultimately relented, meeting your lips in a kiss that spoke volumes. The warmth of your body pressed against his, the softness of your lips, the faint scent of your perfume - all of it overwhelmed his senses. If he didn't have pressing matters to attend to, he could stay here for hours; just holding you and relinquishing all responsibilities of life was all he wished he could do with you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this moment of tender passion.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, his thumb gently pressing against your blood-red stained bottom lip. The contrast of his pale skin against the vibrant color was striking, a visual representation of the delicate balance between tenderness and danger that defined your relationship.

In a hushed voice, you smirked, your eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. "What am I to do with you?"

He gave a light laugh but refrained from replying, letting your imagination decide upon that. The possibilities hung in the air between you, electric and enticing.

He watched you turn away, your movements fluid and graceful as you retreated to the closet. You returned moments later with the maroon silk scarf, the fabric shimmering under the soft lighting of the room. You approached him again, reaching around to drape the scarf over his shoulders. The brush of your fingers against his neck sent a shiver down his spine.

"I believe the look is now complete," you murmured, turning him to face the mirror once more.

Osamu could see himself more clearly now, or rather, the image of what could have been had he remained faithful to the mafia. The man in the mirror was polished, dangerous, and undeniably attractive. Yet, there was something in his eyes - a softness, perhaps - that hadn't been there in his Port Mafia days.

You remind me of someone.

"You look very handsome, Mr. Detective," you said, your voice warm with admiration and a hint of playfulness. The warmth of your hands snaked up his waist underneath the suit jacket to rest upon his chest, squeezing him in a comforting hug. Your touch grounded him, pulling him back from the edge of his darker thoughts.

Your affection completely made up for the fact that he was doubting the whole thing; seeing himself as a reflection of someone he was trying his hardest to leave behind. The cognitive dissonance was palpable - how could he completely move on when you were so intricately entangled with everything he was, both past and present?

As he stood there, your arms around him and your reflection beside his in the mirror, Osamu felt a complex mix of emotions. Gratitude for your unwavering support, love for the woman who had stood by him through his darkest times, and a lingering uncertainty about the future. But with you by his side, he felt ready to face whatever the night might bring, walking the fine line between his past and his present with you as his anchor.

"Let me just grab my coat, then we can go," you said, your voice carrying a hint of excitement for the evening ahead.

Osamu felt the gentle graze of your hand along his arm as you walked away, the brief touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. He watched as you picked up your phone, your movements precise and deliberate. You punched a button, and he observed with curiosity as you allowed it to ring four times before ending the call. The significance wasn't lost on him - four, the number of death. He let his head fall into a slight shake as a smile formed upon his face. You and your dedication to death, even in the smallest of gestures.

You disappeared for the final time into the depths of your expansive closet. When you emerged, Osamu gave you one final look-over. You were now adorned in an off-the-shoulder, snow-white trench coat that contrasted beautifully with the black dress underneath. The coat seemed to glow softly in the dim light of the room, accentuating your figure and lending you an almost ethereal quality.

Osamu extended his hand to you, an invitation and a promise rolled into one. He loved every bit of this version of you. You reached for him, your hand fitting perfectly into his.

“To the Starlight!” He excitedly said, tossing his free hand into the air with a point.

“So, I can figure out what the fuck this guy wants.” You mutter, as if remembering the true reason for this outing.

The bright exterior lights of the Starlight Casino glimmered in Osamu's eyes, their golden glow reflecting off the polished surfaces of the building. While this wasn't his first time at this specific establishment, it was his first time entering its doors with you on his arm.

As the two of you stepped inside, Osamu's senses were overwhelmed by the opulent interior. Rich red carpeting stretched out before them, its plush fibers muffling his footsteps. Golden accents adorned the tables, catching the light and adding a shimmer of wealth to every surface. His eyes roamed over the meticulous details that you and Chūya had spent months planning.

"So, short stack helped you decorate this place?" he muttered in an annoyed tone as he paused in the entryway. A hint of jealousy colored his voice, wishing he could have been part of this process with you. "It looks so different than during the Rogue Roulette."

You gave a satisfied hum, your eyes sparkling with pride as you waved to patrons calling out your name. "That was the goal," you replied, your voice carrying a note of accomplishment.

Osamu soon realized the adoration you had accrued; visitors approached the two of you, singing nothing but praises of the Starlight. He observed with a mixture of pride and fascination as you handled each interaction with grace and poise. Your responses to each guest were eloquent, thanking them for their kind words and encouraging them to notify you of any needs they might have during their stay. The sincerity in your voice was palpable, and Osamu couldn't help but think that you were perfect for this role in every sense of the word.

With your hand firmly grasped in his, you guided him through the crowd, navigating the sea of patrons with ease. As you reached the bar in the center of the building, Osamu's attention was caught by your seamless slip into Italian.

"Nico, mio amico!" you called out, leaning across the polished bar top.

A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes approached, a generous smile spreading across his face as you spoke sweetly to him. "Pour my guest a glass of The Singleton whiskey, and I'll have my usual. Grazie!"

As Nico rushed to fulfill your order, Osamu gently pulled on your arm, turning you to face him. He caged you against the bar, his proximity to you sending a subtle thrill through him. "You find him in Italy, I'm assuming?" he asked, curiosity lacing his tone.

"Nico is a good friend," you explained, your eyes meeting his. "I stole him from one of the finest restaurants in Italy. The one, in fact, I wanted to take you to when you visited. I, instead, took Chūya with me."

Osamu rolled his eyes dramatically at the thought, a hint of playful jealousy in his voice. "So, you took Chūya on a date? Then stole their bartender as compensation for the disaster that must have been?"

"It honestly wasn't that bad," you replied with a light laugh. "He made a fool of himself when he ordered, though."

Osamu watched as your eyes darted around for a moment, sensing there might be more to the story than you were letting on. Before he could press further, Nico returned, neatly placing the drinks upon the polished countertop. Osamu took note of his refined movements. Every action was precise, a testament to the man's experience and your keen eye for talent.

Osamu raised the crystal tumbler of whiskey to the man, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. "Grazie, buon signore," he said, his Italian rough but clear.

Nico's eyebrows rose in surprise, a look of intrigue crossing his face. He glanced between you and Osamu, a knowing smile forming. "You capture his heart on your travels too, signora?" he asked, his tone warm and slightly teasing.

You smiled at Nico's joke, raising the straw of your own drink to your lips. After taking a sip, you replied, "Many of my workers, such as yourself, come from there. However, my guest has always called Yokohama home." Your eyes met Osamu's, giving you a small smile as he fondly remembered each moment he had shared with you until your departure. “Treat him well should he ever visit?"

Nico gave a slight bow, warmth evident in his voice as he responded, "Certo, mia signora."

As Nico turned away to continue serving the gathering guests, Osamu's eyes followed him, curiosity piqued. He wondered about the circumstances that brought this skilled bartender from one of Italy's finest restaurants to your casino in Yokohama. Was it merely an employment agreement, or had you wielded your considerable influence to ensure his presence here?

Osamu found himself both observer and participant in your world. The crowd around you continued to grow, patrons eager for your attention. He noticed how you kept a firm grip on his hand, a subtle but clear message to those who might try to get too close. Amidst the cacophony of voices, Osamu's keen ears picked up on the undercurrents - men muttering vulgar comments about you, women eyeing you with barely concealed jealousy. Yet through it all, you maintained your composure, navigating the social minefield with the skill of a seasoned professional.

"Madam Izanami!" A hearty, booming voice rang out from a nearby table, cutting through the ambient noise of the casino.

"Prime Minister!" Osamu saw a large, genuine smile form upon your face as you tugged him along toward the Craps tables. The excitement in your voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the controlled poise you'd maintained thus far.

As you approached, Osamu took in the sight of the Italian Prime Minister - a portly man with a jovial face and expensive suit that barely contained his girth. His beefy arms were outstretched, fanning over you as you waved him off with practiced grace.

"My dear, you look as radiant as ever!" the Prime Minister exclaimed, his voice carrying a hint of an Italian accent.

"Hush, you flatter me too much," you replied, your tone warm and familiar.

Your hand attempted to leave Osamu's, but he refrained from letting go. A surge of protectiveness washed over him. It was too risky. He couldn't fathom why you would abstain from touching others yet be so quick to touch a diplomat. Touching him would risk the Port Mafia's standing with other governments, something Osamu was far too aware of.

You gave a small glimpse back to him, tapping your thumb against his hand. The gesture was subtle but clear - a request for trust.

I can't, Osamu thought to himself. Not only as a detective within the agency but as someone who wanted to protect you from anything and everything.

You tapped again as you carried out the conversation with the man, blowing on his die at his request. The Prime Minister's eyes lit up with excitement, his boisterous laugh echoing around them.

With a roar of excitement from the Prime Minister, you tapped four times, and Osamu, understanding the significance, reluctantly relinquished his right to hold you. Your hand gently rested upon the Italian Prime Minister's back, his hand snaking around your waist, thankfully, at a respectable height.

Osamu watched on, his face a mask of polite interest as the two of you discussed something, the Prime Minister's tone similar to an old friend who hadn't seen you in quite some time. He caught snippets of Italian mixed with English, the easy familiarity between you and the politician both intriguing and slightly unsettling.

The older man's gaze slipped back to Osamu, eyeing him suspiciously. His jovial demeanor shifted, taking on a more protective air. "Are you treating my girl with the utmost respect?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of warning.

Osamu straightened, his smile breaking through to hide his internal thoughts. "Of course, I wouldn't dream of besmirching cara mia," he replied smoothly, his Italian pronunciation perfect.

The Prime Minister raised his eyebrow, clearly impressed but not entirely convinced. "One wrong move and it won't be only the Port Mafia you will have to worry about, boy," he warned, his tone leaving no doubt about the seriousness of his threat.

Osamu felt the corner of his lips twitch at the threat. You had very obviously made friends in high places, a fact that both impressed and concerned him.

"Oh, Amedeo. Stop that," you chided gently, tapping the Prime Minister's chest lightly as you moved away, rejoining Osamu's side and grasping his hand once more. The warmth of your touch was a welcome comfort. "Try not to take all of my casino's money tonight. However, I hope you are successful at the least. Have a safe flight home and tell the missus I say hello."

"Of course, mia ragazza," Amedeo replied warmly, waving the two of you off as his attention returned to the Craps table.

You turned on your heels, leading Osamu further into the depths of the casino. The liveliness of the halls began to die down once you opened a door to the back corridors, the sounds of the casino floor muffling behind you.

"So," Osamu's curiosity finally piqued at the absence of eavesdroppers. "What did you do to him?"

You smiled back solemnly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. "With all my time in Italy, you seriously think I would attempt to kill him?"

"With all things considered?" Osamu pressed, his tone a mixture of curiosity and concern.

You stop as you gave a breathy laugh, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. "He has cancer," you revealed, your voice softening. "Though, possibly to your surprise, I didn’t cause it."

Osamu paused before issuing a reaction, waiting for your explanation.

“He visits the casino, every so often. With my education, thanks to Dr. Stevenson, I think about molecular structures, down to the cellular functions. With the Prime Minister, I can’t cure him. However, I can provide him with more time.”

Osamu stood stunned with disbelief as the two of you continued down the corridor. “So, Italy was beneficial after all. Never would’ve though Mori would do something in your favor.”

You laugh, “I know. Doesn’t he realize he’s signed his death certificate with that?”

Along the long stretch of the cemented walls, a man stood at attention awaiting you.

“Miss.” He bowed with precise motion. “He’s asked for you once more after we detained him.”

“Has he said anything of interest otherwise?” You shrug the coat from your arms, the revolver catching Osamu’s eyes once more. Osamu reaches to grasp the coat from you before you had a chance to hand it off to your manager. His stomach flipping lightly at the soft look in your eyes, before they harden once more toward the door.

“No ma’am. He’s been silent otherwise.”

Osamu watched as you nodded decisively, grasping the door handle and entering the room. He followed close behind, noting the manager's quizzical look as he closed the door.

Moving into the dimly lit corner, Osamu positioned himself facing the man handcuffed to the table. Despite being a detective with the Agency, he felt compelled to remain a silent observer. This was your casino, Port Mafia territory. He refrained from speaking out against the man's wrongdoings, partly because he knew the impending show would be something to behold, even if it contradicted Oda's dying wish. Osamu convinced himself that Oda would understand, because it was you he was with.

He watched intently as you circled the table, your movements graceful yet predatory. The air crackled with tension as you waited for the man to either speak up confidently or beg for mercy. Surprisingly, neither occurred.

"Tell me," the man finally broke the silence, his gaze fixed on his chained wrists. His thick Russian accent caught you off guard as he continued, "Are you the bitch who owns this establishment?"

"And if I am?" You tilted your head, your voice dripping with honeyed venom. "What makes you think you can enter my casino and make a fool of the Port Mafia's Izanami?"

The man's response was a smirk that gradually evolved into raucous laughter.

Irritation flashed across your face. In one fluid motion, you grasped the metal seat and yanked it out from under him. The man crashed to the floor, his laughter abruptly silenced. Osamu could now clearly see the scar running down the corner of his mouth, his brown eyes darting about wildly.

"Where's your laughter now?" you hissed. "I'm the bitch that will end your life. Now, why are you here? Why have you come to meet your end?"

"I came because I was ordered to," the man replied, his voice steady despite his prone position. "I have a message for you."

As the man attempted to reach into his breast pocket, Osamu stepped forward. With practiced ease, he slipped his hand into the man's pocket, retrieving a sealed letter. He showed you the wax seal, pretending not to notice the faint outline of a rat.

Your eyes widened momentarily before narrowing sharply. "Who sent you?!" you demanded, grasping the man's shirt roughly.

Osamu retreated, letter in hand, his mind racing. He recognized the emblem, but your reaction raised questions about your connection to it.

You were now in full contact with the man, yet the expected anaphylactic shock hadn't set in. "Who sent you?!" you repeated, fear evident in your eyes.

The man's lips moved; his words inaudible to Osamu but clearly heard by you. A smile curled your lips as you began to squeeze the man's neck.

Your voice, sweet yet deadly, broke the silence. "No man could ever build a perfect world such as this one."

Blood began to spill from the man's eyes and nose, a gruesome sight that didn't deter you.

"Do svidaniya, yego tsvetok," the man choked out his final words, his blood spattering your face. Yet you didn't release your grip, continuing to squeeze as if fearing his resurrection.

Osamu sensed your fear beneath the facade of madness. "Bella, he's gone," he said softly.

You blinked, looking up as if suddenly remembering his presence. Glancing back at the lifeless man, you murmured, "Oh, I suppose he is." Your hands released their grip, and the body hit the floor with a dull thud, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

Osamu watched intently as you approached, your heels clicking sharply against the concrete floor. Each step echoed in the silent room, amplifying the tension. Despite the blood staining your face and clothes, he found himself captivated. This darker side of you stirred something within him - a mixture of admiration and nostalgia for the days when you both walked in the shadows of the Port Mafia.

"Can I have the note?" you asked, extending your hand towards him.

Osamu raised his eyebrows, feigning forgetfulness about the paper. A part of him wanted to keep it, to examine it away from your watchful eyes and unravel the mystery of why he was sending you letters. The weight of the paper felt significant in his pocket, a secret he was reluctant to relinquish.

"'Samu, give me the paper." Your words carried an unexpected edge that caught him off guard.

Reluctantly, he retrieved the folded sheet from within his suit. He hovered it above your outstretched hand for a moment, then pulled back as you reached for it. A small act of defiance, born from his growing curiosity and concern.

"Before I do," he said, his voice low and probing, "what did he say to you?"

He watched as your eyes flashed with annoyance, the blood on your face accentuating the intensity of your gaze. "Nothing of major importance," you replied, but Osamu knew better.

As you attempted to grasp the paper once more, he deftly moved it out of your reach. A playful smirk tugged at his lips, masking his growing unease. "You had quite the reaction for it to be nothing."

He observed you huff, poking your tongue into your cheek - a telltale sign he recognized as you formulating a lie. Deciding against listening to whatever half-baked story you might concoct, Osamu sighed and handed you the slip.

"I trust you will tell me when you're ready," he said, resignation coloring his voice at the unexpected turn of events. "I know who it's from, though. So please, don't allow him to manipulate you." The words felt heavy on his tongue, laden with concern and a hint of jealousy.

Your expression softened slightly as you took the paper, and Osamu felt a glimmer of hope. "Amore mio, that man could never do such a thing. I promise, when I have a full understanding of what's going on, I will tell you."

As you turned away to unfold the slip of paper, Osamu stepped closer, unable to resist. He peered over your shoulder, his breath hitching as he took in the contents: a simple drawing of a whale and a cryptic note that read, "So it begins, moy tsvetok."

“He brings word to you. He will build the perfect world for you.”

previous part ~ next part | DBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

We are getting into things now, and I have more to come I promise. I have like reader's whole thing semi-thought out up to the most recent events anime/manga wise. Like, if y'all enjoyed this, just wait until I get Beast out. ugh I love writing way too much. Anyone relate?

Song Inspo: Villian— K/DA

Anyways! Hope you enjoyed this part, if you did and feel compelled, give her a little like and repost?

Thank you to everyone who gives this a little read, and until the next installment <3 ~DamzelZelda

[misrepresentedmorallygrey]

PROPAGANDA

John

This fella is Fascinating. just trust me on this he deserves to be here

He tried so hard to do the right thing, he feels bad and says things would be better if he was never born. He thinks he should've just stayed acting like a monster and continued to act threatening.

(LONG PROPAGANDA INCOMING)

John. Milgram. Here's a short description of the fortunes and misfortunes of the guy. It gets worse before it gets better (probably).

While MILGRAM is a prison that judges a bunch of sympathetic killers, it doesn't consider him to be one – it didn't even exactly know he existed until too little too late, when it got its grabby hands on the brain of prisoner 009, who claimed to not know anything about any murder he'd have committed. Then, footage from his brain was extracted, as MILGRAM does, into a music video, and… that was MeMe. Ninth prisoner, Kayano Mikoto, was revealed to have DID, and what obviously who do you think actually Killed Someone?

Enter John. Well. Mikoto is half deeply unaware half subconsciously scared of his existence, so the MV painted him in a rather. Deeply disturbing way, bathing in bloody baths and all that (not a blood bath though! easy mistake). Adding to that him showing up in the first Voice Drama for five seconds to punch the "protagonist" and yell for a bit, and the result wasn't. Assuring. The fandom proceeded to treat him like a cardboard cutout and variously dunk on MILGRAM for having a cliché "evil" character w/ DID despite the overall well handling of complex characters.

Two years time skip: second season ending. We get to prisoner 009 again. The protagonist Finally gets to chat with John: and voila, he's admitting to the crime, he's apparently "killed a bunch of people because they annoyed him", which means, as he's saying, Mikoto has nothing to do with the crime at all! And he, as per the judging system, should be forgiven, right! Well, he's so full of shit. The music video immediately reveals how protective he feels of Mikoto (and well, he definitely doesn't rebuke That one), that the events of murder were somehow tied in to Mikoto's job at a black company, his continuous overworking and him being mentally on the brink of breaking; that any committed violence was For The Sake of Mikoto and that John feels deeply horrible for messing up his life in any way. By making himself into the image of a "monster" he's trying to make Mikoto look good in comparison and be forgiven and all. He also mentioned if Mikoto is voted innocent he's gonna try to go dormant since he's The Issue, right, and the audience/protagonist hates him, Right, and Mikoto Also Hates him, Right?

I'm underselling the sheer devotion of this guy tbh.

Yeah, the fandom results were kinda mixed on that one. Lots of people immediately started to love him dearly and kinda forgot any people were maimed or killed with baseball bats; lots also got sold on him "messing up Mikoto's life" and actually voted Mikoto innocent Specifically because of John's promise to eventually "disappear". There's more of the babygirlifying kind in the English side of the fandom that I've seen, to be fair. And that's around where we are!

Dazai Osamu

He did bad things in the Mafia. He's trying to get better. He abused people but he also saved other people. Fans portraying him as an unforgivable abuser are WRONG. He perpetuated an abused cycle on Akutagawa thinking he was right to do that, because of trauma, before he could leave. But he left. He's still treating Akutagawa wrong because he's trying to be a better person but doesn't realize that it will not erase what he did and that he can't just ignore the past. Fans portraying him as a pure angel who didn't know what he was doing because he was sad are WRONG TOO. He abused Akutagawa. He was traumatized but it doesn't give him the right to traumatize innocent people. He's trying to be a better person but he can't keep ignoring Akutagawa. He needs to apologize. And even that won't erase what he did. Dazai is a complex character in a complex situation. He left the abuse cycle and tries to be a good person but did unforgivable things while he was still in this cycle and refuses to aknowledge them. He's not a monster but he's not innocent either.

Dazai used to be a mafia executive until his best friend (a former assassin who remained in the mafia but refused to kill) died. As the friend was dying he told him "I know you don't care about whether you're a good or bad person, so if it doesn't matter to you, be on the side that saves people." Despite that, I've seen countless people insisting that Dazai is a good person/trying his best to be a good person when he really only changed sides by joining a detective agency, while still continuing to do the same things he did while in the mafia (including but not limited to: harassing his coworkers for fun, manipulating people, killing people instead of just trying to incapacitate them, and even torturing an innocent man in one of the side stories). That being said, he's not evil either. Even when he does cruel things, it's not for the sake of being cruel (even when he harasses his coworkers he still has limits), it's just a means to an end. I think most of the confusion comes from a scene where he's talking to a young girl, another former mafia member, who asks if he thinks people can change and he assures her they can, but what the anime left out was that he was thinking about his former assassin friend during that discussion, not himself. The entire series is themed around gray morality, to the point where it's even reflected in the main protagonist and antagonist's designs (mainly white with a bit of black, and mainly black with a bit of white), so I feel like insisting that he's a good person now completely misses the point of the story.

[afyrian]

no. 2 - halo’d sights masterlist

    "are you another counselor here?" 

  "uh- yeah. yeah, i am," atsumu raises an eyebrow, waiting for the woman in front of him to introduce herself, her face somewhat familiar to him, "this is my first year as a counselor, l/n y/n."

  atsumu's eyes widen, mind running wild as every memory of you pops into his head. the way you'd show up at every event he would be at, always lighting up the room with your presence. and it all ends with him awkwardly making every situation worse, "right, yeah, we had cabins near each other, didn't we? sorry, i don't remember much of my time here. but it was great to see you again."

  he gives a quick shrug of his shoulders, pursing his lips upon watching your eyes narrow. he doesn't quite know why he said what he said, especially because pretending like he doesn't know you won't help anything. however, finally facing the odd relationship the two of you had together, was not on his summer bucket list. 

  finding the mess hall was on his summer bucket list though. the path to the mess hall is mostly the same as when he was younger. his feet move quicker than his mind does, remembering every broken spot that hasn't be fixed yet. the memorable trees that he could touch as he passed them, dropping nuts and leaves as they do.

  everything feels so nostalgic, the banners and signs welcoming newcomers and those have been before. yet now, he's the one walking into the mess hall with a smile on his face, ready to bring his own cabin to victory. especially when he can see so many familiar faces of campers who have grown to enjoy this camp just like he has.

  "'samu? i didn't see your car," atsumu walks up to his twin, setting his bag down by one of the picnic tables. 

  osamu crosses his arms in front of his chest, a smile on his face, "aran and i came together since you weren't ready yet. plus i had to make sure the kitchen was set up and all the food was in for today and tomorrow."

  atsumu nods, drumming his fingers against the table as he remembers the conversation they had prior. of course osamu would work in the kitchen of the camp. his culinary skills could finally improve the one downfall of lockheart camp. their food is the only thing atsumu didn't miss (besides his attitude towards a certain individual). 

  "yeah, so you are going to be making fatty tuna right-"

  before osamu could answer the insider information that atsumu craved, the door to the mess hall opens. a stream of light is blocked by someone entering with the room. everyone looks up from where they're sitting and standing, just looking over to see who was left to join them. atsumu should've seen it coming, but seeing you enter the room nearly knocked him off his feet.

  the way the light created a sort of halo effect around you only reminded him of every time you entered the room at fifteen. as soon as you were recognizable by other the counselors, a couple of your friends immediately make their way to you. atsumu could recognize a few of them from your camp days. one being your rambunctious friend who threatened atsumu more than once.

  “atsumu? dude? you’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost, everything good?” osamu punches his brother’s shoulder, looking around the room to see if any of their sane friends were around. 

  he turns around to look at osamu, lips pursed. “you could kind of say that,” it’s hard for atsumu to keep his eyes off of you as he says so, heart beating wildly.

  “cryptic much?” 

  atsumu looks over at his brother, eyebrow raised and lips formed into a frown. of course he hadn’t actually seen a ghost. however, seeing you, talking to you, was probably as similar to that as he would ever experience. before he can say something to clear up his comment, the owner of the camp finally garners everyone’s attention.

  “hello everyone! thank you so much for meeting us here today for camp lockheart. now, as you all are aware, you’re in charge of different cabins and those cabins are differed by age. events like the talent show and the dance are for all ages, but otherwise nearly everything else is dissected by age,” the owner, mr. kurosu, stands on a nearby podium, a smile on his face. 

  he’s always been welcoming to every person working or staying there. especially when so many of them come back every year and graduate to counselors many years later, “most of you know that though… so how about you get to your cabins, get stuff unpacked, and meet back here to introduce the ones in which you’ll be teaching.”

  as soon as he finishes talking, everyone is grabbing their bags and getting ready to leave. before atsumu can even throw his backpack on his back, he can feel someone staring into his soul. when he looks up to see who could possibly be burning a hole into the side of his head, he sees that same annoying friend of yours. 

  his eyes are narrowed as he stares at atsumu, arms crossed over his chest. atsumu quickly looks back at osamu, pursing his lips, “so you ready to go then? i wanna check out this cabin, see if it looks any better.”

taglist: @lemurzsquad a/n: finally back to writing!!

[student-in-nightraven]

Heyyyy . Sorry for disturbing you but can I have catblock with dazai Osamu, yukito ayatsuji, kunikida doppo ( seperatly) . Have a good day / night.

Helloo sorry for the late reply but the request is finally done, also sorry if yukito is ooc, it's been year's since I last watched bsd so I don't remember what he's like

Catblocked

Bsd characters x gn reader

Genre: fluff, crack

Dazai Osamu

To be honest when does he NOT get catblocked? This guy is jumping on you 24/7 and the damn cat has had enough, dazai was once again flirting with you, caging you between him and the counter, one of his hands went up to your chin, he was smiling "Sweetheart I just can't keep my eyes or lips off you" he smirks and was about to pepper your face with kisses when your cat fucking KO'd him, the cat jumped on his head trying to scratch his face, dazai yelped flopping his arms around, you were trying your best to not laugh and get the cat off him, you finally gripped the cat and pulled it back dazai was panting trying to breathe after nearly dying from a cat (ironic) sadly he noticed how you were trying not to laugh and took immediate offense "*loud gasp* YOU YOU'RE LAUGHING? THE CAT NEARLY KILLED ME!? I THOUGHT WE HAD A PLAN TO GO OUT TOGETHER. YOU REALLY HAVE THE HEART TO LAUGH AT YOUR PARTNER WHO EXPERIENCED NEAR DEATH?!" he dramatically falls to his knees sobbing punching the floor(jokingly ofc) "I'm sorry Osamu-"NOH NO SORRY IS GONNA FIX THIS" he said while pointing to his face "THIS BEAUTY." you let out a small chuckle letting the cat go outside, then went to grab a first aid kit and tried to struggle to get dazai to stop flopping around like a fish "Osamu stop moving those scars are dangerous it needs tending" he finally gave in arms crossed pouting waiting for you to finish "there all better now, do you want a kiss as an apology?" He gives you the nasty eye💀 "No! You've lost the kiss privileges." He got up dramatically and stomped outside his cape flying adding a dramatic effect, you shook your head "such a drama queen.." "i HEARD THAT"

Yukito ayatsuju

You and yukito were reading books in peace, he felt comfortable and decided to give you a sweet kiss on the cheek when all of a sudden your cat swiped at his chin, he hissed and immediately leaned back "What the-" he looked down and saw your cat that was laying peacefully asleep was now hissing at him claws out and fur standing on its edges "ugh the damn cat" "oh I'm so sorry let me get you a first aid kit", he grabbed your wrist before you could leave "it's fine I got it you stay" he was grumpy the whole day after.

Kunikida doppo

The fact that he even let you keep a cat is just, wow-

It was kinda rare for kunikida to be affectionate with you, today was one of the rare days, he felt oddly calm since he managed to avoid dazai the whole day, when he saw you a soft smile formed on his face as he got closer to you smiling "hello my dear" "hi kunikida" you smiled back at him, he kissed your forehead and before he could kiss your lips he felt intense pain at his ankle, he screamed which you're sure you're gonna be deaf soon because of; he looked down at what caused the pain to see your cat hanging on his hem of pants from biting him he scoffed and grabbed the cat by it's scurf putting it down on the floor and he looked back at you with a disappointed look, a deadpan stare, you looked down trying to stifle your laugh "I'm sorry kunikida" "*sigh* it's fine, just... make sure your cat doesn't do this again, it's very dangerous." He turned and started to walk away leaving you with your cat and you looked down at it "he was about to kiss me why'd you do that"?! "meow"

The end

Hope you enjoyed♡

[sirhamburrger]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐧-𝐢𝐧

𝐦𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐜𝐞 [𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

word count: 1135 || the prologue || next

as soon as the last patrons leave, mori storms over to you, grabbing the hem of your shirt. 

“tell me,” he says, his voice dangerously calm. “tell me what he said to you.”

“mori, i-” you avert your eyes, fixing your eyes on a scratch on the lacquered wooden floor. you try not to let the tears fall. just thinking about it makes you want to punch something. “i don't want to talk about it right now.”

“but if he-”

“the music was good tonight,” keiji quietly interrupts the double bassist's indignant sputtering, shutting the lid on the piano gingerly. much more gingerly than how you yank the cable out of the amp and shove it into the front pouch of your guitar case. “our music was good tonight. nothing he said tonight can take anything away from that.” 

mori releases you reluctantly, and you laugh bitterly as you pack up the rest of the equipment. the residual anger has given way to utter humiliation. your legs swing back and forth as you sit on the edge of the stage. 

rin places a warm, comforting hand on your shoulder as you pick idly at your chipped fingernails, and for a moment, you think he might actually say something wholesome or encouraging for once. 

“he’s a total douchebag.”

in all honesty, you should’ve expected that.

“a stuck-up, traditionalist snob with a stick up his ass,” you add tiredly, and he laughs. 

it’s seemingly lighthearted talk, but you can’t stop thinking about what he said to you earlier tonight. the words seem to echo endlessly in your head. you clench your fists, imagining his infuriatingly sardonic grin and the smug glint in his eyes he doesn't even try to conceal behind his glasses - those stupid, horn-rimmed glasses. it's a wonder he even has friends in the stupid orchestra.

"i'll kick him out if he gives you any trouble again," osamu reassures you abashedly as the band walks out the front door, promising that you'll have more gig opportunities in the weeks to come. you feel bad; after all, it's not his fault you didn't have the best time tonight. at least you know his patrons liked the music.

your friends, the two vice-captains of the hockey team, wait outside the entrance for you, although most of the team has already left. bokuto's eyes light up when he spots keiji, and immediately he begins to compliment the band's performance tonight. mori and rin start up a conversation with sakusa about something you can't really find yourself to care about.

the steadily growing buzz has your heartbeat thumping in your ears much too loudly. it seems that vodka shots between songs was not a very good idea. before you know it, you’ve slumped sideways onto someone - rin? bokuto? you’re not entirely sure.

someone tall, much taller than you, and he smells good, like sandalwood and jasmine. he feels warm against you in the cold night air. very pleasantly warm.

“would you mind getting off of me?” a sharp voice cuts in. 

you start, backing away and staring at him from through your eyelashes, and as he slowly comes into focus you scowl - it's him. 

it's kei tsukishima.

keiji takes a step forward beside you, as if to confront him, but you stop him in his tracks. you stare right into tsukishima's yellow eyes. they're more of a deep, rich gold, but all you want to do right now is to gouge them out.

“what are you doing here?” you bite out.

“i was just heading out from the toilet,” he retorts coldly, “so don't go thinking i'm following you or whatever. i've got better things to do.”

you swear to all you hold dear, it's taking every ounce of self-control not to sock him in the face right this moment. the tension is unpleasantly palpable now. keiji inhales sharply, gunmetal eyes trained on the taller man. 

“you-”

“nice seeing you, tsukki,” bokuto says uneasily, stepping in front of his best friend. he looks between keiji with your clenched jaw and balled fists, and tsukishima with his condescending smirk. “i think we’ll be leaving now, though. see you around.”

he grabs you both by the arm gently, leading you back to the rest of the group. keiji and mori are positively fuming, and rin… has his phone out, filming. “what?” he says innocently, surreptitiously tucking it back into the pocket of his jeans. “thought one of you might fistfight him or something.”

too tired to even be angry, you huff out a defeated breath, and he pulls you into him as your little group slowly moves off. none of you says anything much for the rest of the short walk, the mood considerably dampened by the unexpected run-in. 

at the car park, you all pile into sakusa's large honda. somehow, you end up squashed between keiji and bokuto in the backseat. you let yourself sink into the plush upholstery, closing your eyes. soft music plays over the speakers, but you're not really listening to it.

want me to throw a coin or two into that guitar case of yours? 

this isn’t even real music. 

you’re not even a real musician.

and you think that maybe he’s right. 

you've always been insecure about one thing; that you don't know a single thing about real music. the lines on any musical score seem to overlap for you, and the notes jump freely and randomly between them. you can barely even tell a minim from a crotchet.

and it's not like you haven't tried. for the longest time, you've tried to study music theory on your own. it always ends with the same outcome; you fail, quickly become demoralized, decide that playing by pure intuition is easier, and give up. you've sort of come to terms with the fact that playing by intuition isn't a bad thing. 

but somehow, tsukishima's words seem to have opened up the insecure, anxious side of you you've tried so hard to suppress for the past few years.

you've tried to stop thinking about yourself as useless, but you feel out of place in the band as it is. mori with his diploma in cello, keiji with his years and years of music education, and rin - well, rin is rin. 

you feel like a fraud. you feel stupid for letting tsukishima get to you, and upset that he's stating the truth.

all is almost forgotten as keiji plays with your hair, talking quietly with mori, but all is decidedly not forgiven. your eyelids start to grow heavier and heavier, and you can't really hear what they're talking about. you don't think you want to.

as you drift off in the backseat, you make a single, silent promise to yourself. you’re going to get kei tsukishima back for this.

[table of contents] [m.list]

author's notes:

oh wow

i was rewatching season four because i couldn't stop thinking about atsumu

and then i decided to write a fic about tsukki.

i don't know if anyone can really relate to this because i've based it off my own music learning experience

i never really bothered to learn music as a young child and only started to love it in middle school. the way my country's education system works made it very hard for me to pick it up midway, so i've gotten by on my own somehow. maybe i'll learn music proper when i'm older and retired

i just. really love the word 'douchebag'

likes, comments, follows and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) don't hesitate to correct any factual discrepancies or ask questions about this fic!

© sirhamburrger 2024

[athenatalks]

A New Discovery (Dark Era Soukoku-Romantic-)

Osamu Dazai is a secretive man. That much everyone knows, you can tell by the way he holds himself. The dark look in his red-brown eyes, screaming danger and mystery to any on-lookers. Though it's also equally as well known that Chuuya Nakahara is the one who knows arguably the most, though he'd deny it if asked.

-Chuuya’s POV-

This mission is fucking stupid. And it's not because the Boss forced me to dress as a woman, no. I'm well used to that now and it hardly bothers me anymore. This mission is stupid because the fuckin Mackerel got drunk off his flat ass, and now I'm stuck with lugging him back to my penthouse that he has just decided to live at.

I'm fuming as I walk through the dark back alleys, Dazai conked out over my shoulder. It is the easiest way to carry him while I'm stuck in this hideous dress, like who thought chartreuse would look good on me? Whatever, I'm getting myself worked up again.

I sigh and take deep breaths as I walk through the lobby confidently and go into the empty elevator. The damn lanky bastard is still passed out, I tap my heeled foot against the marbled floor of the silent elevator. Finally, it opens to my floor and I march to my door, grabbing my key from my purse and pushing open the door with my hip, locking it back, and going directly to the Mackerel’s room.

Keeping the lights off I toss Dazai on his bed, when he's this drunk he is painfully hard to wake up despite him being an insomniac. I sit on the bed beside him and work on getting his tie off him. I know he'll probably complain about it choking him while he was sleeping so I might as well save myself the headache. Once the tie is off I toss it to the corner where Dazai piles his dirty clothes. I notice a black dot on his neck that I'd never seen before.

I figure a tick or some shit had landed on him so I try to brush it away but it’s not coming off. I grab my phone out and turn on the flashlight. I can finally get a better look at it and it's a mole. Didn’t know Dazai had one, I poke it, and Dazai squirms, his one visible eye fluttering open, his stupidly long lashes framing his eyes, he turns his head to look at me and a hint of shock appears on his face before it is quickly masked. He smirks and wiggles his eyebrows

“Oh my~Is the chibiko trying to get handsy with me, a poor drunk boy?” I immediately roll my eyes when his stupid mouth opens

“Fuck off Mackerel, I thought I saw something on your neck. I never knew you had a mole.” I mutter, being too tired for his shit. All Dazai does is sit up and his smirk widens

“Why, I’m not obligated to tell Chuuya everything about myself, am I?” Of course he’s going to tease me over this.

“Obviously not shit-face.” I huff out, standing up and heading to the door when I hear a noise. I turn back around and see Dazai out of bed, grinning like the mad-man he is.

“How mean of you Chu-ya. Leaving a poor beautiful maiden like myself to sleep in this cold, dark room. Alone.” He fake sniffles and I throw a punch, he easily doges it, sidestepping to the right.

“Knock that shit off, you ain't no damsel in distress. And you always sleep alone, what’s changed your mind huh?” This night just won’t end will it? I just want to sleep for Arahabaki’s sake. Dazai looks a bit taken aback by my adamance he is no maiden. That’s when it clicks.

“You having ‘nother one of your dysmorphia episodes ain’t you?” He blinks and I know I’ve gotten it right.

“Ughh I hate when my dog actually uses his tiny brain.” He whines like a toddler.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” I sigh, am I actually going to do this? I probably won’t sleep, I mean what sane guy lets his sorta-best friend who he’s made out with a few times, sleep in his bed? I walk out of Dazai’s room and across the hall to my room, looking back over my shoulder I see him staring at me with those fishy red-brown eyes, reminding me of the color our sink gets stained after one of his attempts.

“What are you just standing there for? I might as well let you sleep in my room, knowing you, if I don’t let you then you will complain and bitch the rest of the week.” He grins and darts over messing up my hair

“Good doggie! Letting your master sleep in your bed like a good boy!” He taunts