#osamu’s one is finally done !!

[entwnii]

today is 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔’s day off and — as expected of your stubbornly hardworking husband — he’s busy in the kitchen, trying out new onigiri flavors instead of resting.

you, on the other hand, are sitting at the dining table, painting the watercolor coloring book you bought on the market a few weeks ago. your eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as you paint some hibiscus flowers in bright orange and hot pink colors.

unfortunately, after only half an hour of painting, you grown bored, pushing the watercolor set and coloring book away. you look up, glancing at the silhouette of your husband, cooking in the kitchen, which makes a subtle pout appear on your plump lips.

you had been excited all week for this day, hoping to spend even more time with osamu — even if it meant spending the whole day in bed, relaxing in each other’s embrace. but no, the brown-haired man just decided to spend the whole day trying new onigiri flavors with raw salmon, much to your dismay.

you were always so eager to try osamu’s new recipes only now you can’t eat those while being four months pregnant and your husband knows that, which is why he banned you from the kitchen.

you stand up from your chair, balancing yourself with a hand on the dining table before making your way over to the kitchen.

when you step in your apartment’s kitchen, the first thing you notice is the familiar smell of the koshihikari, the rice osamu uses for his onigiris.

osamu is standing there, dressed in a large, black shirt along with a pair of grey sweatpants. the shirt draped around his body is an old one, the color is fading away and the fabric extends under the brown-haired man’s collarbone, flashing you a great view of his upper-chest.

he doesn’t notice you entering the kitchen until he feels a hand wrap around the biceps of his left hand. he doesn’t even turn his head towards you, busy finishing the last touches on his new onigiri, a small smile on his face.

“‘n. . . done !” he announces, dragging the ‘and’ a bit longer than necessary.

he finally turns to you, opening one of his arms to you. you immediately snuggle to his side, both arms wrapping around his torso, your head resting on his upper-chest while one of his arms wraps around your waist.

“looks good, heh ?” your husband asks you, looking down at you, a proud expression on his face. softly, he lifts his hand, pushing a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, one that got out of your low ponytail, before pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“you’re mean.” you complain, letting out a humf as you pout your plump lips, glaring at him. “you know i can’t eat those and you’re nagging me !”

osamu laughs at your accusation, shaking his head from side to side before holding his free hand up in surrender. “yeah i know, ‘m sorry.”

he places a chaste kiss on your lips as an apology, to which you immediately kiss him back, the frown on your face disappears, replaced by a soft smile.

osamu is the first to part away from the kiss, pressing his lips against your temple before turning to the plate of onigiri in front of him.

much to your dismay, he moves his body away from yours, grabbing the small plate and putting it in the fridge.

while your husband cleans up the space he used on the countertop, your eyes find a small bowl of leftover koshihikari rice.

“you’re not gonna use it, are you ?” you ask the brown-haired man as you point to the small bowl in front of you.

osamu looks away from what he’s doing, noticing the rice bowl you’re pointing at. “nah.” he shrugs his shoulders.

as if on cue, an idea comes to your mind, a new pregnancy craving, a very strange pregnancy craving.

you turn on your heels, making your way towards the fridge as you hum a soft tune. you open the fridge’s door, bending over, your eyes searching for something as you rest a hand on your pregnant belly.

your eyes shine as you finally find what you were looking for. you close the fridge’s door behind you, holding a pot of yogurt in one hand.

osamu watches with furrowed eyebrows as you make your way back to your original spot, watching as you peel the yogurt’s lid open. “the hell are ya doin’ ?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“creamy rice.” you happily answer him, grabbing a large spoon in one of the kitchen’s drawers.

“‘n what is that ?” osamu asks you again, even more confused than before, visibly not trusting you with whatever you plan on doing.

“it’s a craving i just came up with !” you announce as you pour a bit of the liquid-ish yogurt in the rice with the spoon. “rice, yogurt, peanut butter, jam and granola !”

as soon as you present the ingredients to him, osamu makes the most disgusted face you’ve ever seen.

“that’s not a craving, ts’ a crime.” he declares, which makes you roll your eyes. “so y’er tellin’ me that y’er gonna eat that ?”

“that’s what your son wants.” you tell him as you roll your eyes. “you don’t have a say in that.”

“don’t ya dare tell me y’er stomach hurt after that.” osamu warns you, still not quite trusting you.

you shoot him a glare, making him raise his hands, before turning back to your concoction. you mix both the rice and the plain yogurt together, creating a creamy, chewy texture by doing so.

osamu moves closer to you, just in case you need his help, leaning against the kitchen island, watching with furrowed brows as you cook your craving.

he watches as you grab the pot of peanut butter on one of the kitchen’s upper shelves, getting on tip toes to reach it, determined not to ask for your husband’s help. unfortunately, you try to twist the pot’s lid open, only for it to stay closed, making you groan in annoyance.

osamu moves beside you, taking the peanut butter pot with one of his hands, it you’re still holding it firmly in both your hands.

“i can do it myself.” you affirm, looking up at your husband than at his hand, silently telling him to let you handle it.

“i know, but lemme do it for ya.” osamu insists, taking the peanut butter away from you while your grip on it loosens.

he effortlessly snaps the lid open, a cocky grin on his face as he shoots you a glance. he grabs the large spoon sitting in the kitchen countertop, taking a spoonful of the peanut butter before pouring it into the small bowl.

your husband then grabs the raspberry jam pot, opening it with one hand before pouring a good amount in the bowl. he does the same with the granola, spreading it a bit everywhere on top of your concoction.

“there ya go.” osamu hands you the bowl and spoon, still not convinced by your strange craving.

you thank him, planting a sweet peck on his cheek before turning to the bowl in front of you. you dig your spoon inside of the mixture, taking a spoonful of everything and shoving the spoon into your mouth.

a pleased sigh escaped your lips as you munch on your craving, closing your eyes and savoring the different flavors of the concoction.

“better than i imagined.” you admit as you point the spoon towards osamu who looks at you with a dumbfounded expression.

“yeah nah, i can’t do this.” he says, scratching the back of his neck as he watches you enjoy your meal.

osamu steps out of the kitchen, shaking his head from side to side, still surprised by the way you actually liked it, which makes you laugh.

[cocktailjjrs]

I'm scared for Chuuya...

Here's my morbid thought of the day....

I'm scared Chuuya isn't going to make it till the end of the series.

Before you jump at me, hear me out

He's the strongest Ability user in Yokohama, right?

But till now we've only seen him actually fight a few unnatural guys

Rimbaud - a French spy

Verlaine & Guivre - Artificial human and his singularity

His own clone (made of bones)

Shibusawa (during Dragon head)

Dazai

Lovecraft - someone who could turn into a monster without it being an ability

A freaking Ability Dragon (dead apple)

Like, do you see... All these people, none of them being something a normal ability user could win with...

Logically speaking, if there was ever a threat to Yokohama, he is supposed to be at the forefront of all the fights that come and deal with them without any problem.

But the problem arises with a small fact, he is not the MC!

He's been kept out of all the major fights without reason, we all make fun of it too.

But here on, things are going to get messy. Since the last couple of chapter we saw we need all hands on deck, every single one... So, he is going to be involved in fights... But if he will survive them or not is a complete different question...

Narrative wise, once Shin soukoku get's established, we won't exactly be needing Soukoku... even for biggest of threats

Dazai is instrumental to the plot too, we need someone to pull the strings... even if Dazai want's to die, death doesn't seem interested in him

Everyone ADA also has unique abilities, they will be fine.... (finger-crossed to bring back kunikida, kenji, tanizaki...)

Other's might just survive for the virtue of not being a prominent figure...

But out everyone, Chuuya is in the perfect spot -

A Strong ability user leads an attack in the final battle Bringing down enemy forces either by facing them head on or destroying them from inside out Get killed in process Let other's do the rest of the job

Plus put in the angle of succeeders stepping up to surpass their predecessors... put in revenge in mix too...

Because let's face it, even if Asagiri doesn't kill unless it's kids, he can make exception in the final battle where once dead you stay dead!

And with the current trend...

Yeah, I'm actually scared...

[pepper-steam-milkshake]

pov: you’re in hiding for four years so you can get a new job

(click for better quality; close-ups under the read-more)

[noosayog]

[3:47 pm] ft miya osamu

wc: 700

--

When you slam open Atsumu’s bedroom door and plop yourself onto the carpet next to him, he barely looks up from his phone. 

“Ever heard of knocking?”

You lay belly down on the floor and scream into the worn fuzz of the carpet. 

“Gross. You know our bare, unwashed feet walk on this floor right?” 

He offers you a pillow and you take it, squishing it between the floor and your face. Atsumu waits for your breath to run out. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Atsumuuuuu…” you bemoan. “I’m going through a crisis.” 

He says nothing, continuing to scroll on his phone but you can tell you’ve garnered some of his interest. 

“I have a secret. Like one that I can’t tell anyone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s so shameful. I’ve been keeping it to myself for, like, ever.”

“Yeah, I bet I couldn’t guess what it is.” The sarcasm is completely lost on you. 

“Yeah. You’d make fun of me. It’d be material for you to tease me for a lifetime,” you pause, take a deep breath. “I-

“-have a big fat crush on my brother?” 

You gape. “What?” 

He looks up from his phone. He blink at you, like you’re any simpleton. “You,” he says slowly, punctuating each word, ”have a big, fat, embarrassing, crutching, debilitating crush on my brother.” 

“I didn’t even realize you knew so many big words-”

“What?” 

The two of you freeze up. 

“‘Samu!” Atsumu exclaims. “Thought you weren’t gonna be back until later tonight.”

“I wasn’t.”

He gives no other explanation. You stay still, hoping that if you don’t move or breathe, he won’t notice you. The silence stretches.

“Ohhh.. kay. Well, I better go. You kids-”

You jolt awake at that, in disbelief that Atsumu would flee alone after what he’s done.

“I’ll go with!” You turn and run, making monumental efforts to avoid a dark eyes trained on you. 

You’re about to squeeze past when a hand slams against the doorframe, arm now blocking off your exit. Osamu stares hard at you while your gaze stays glued to the exit beyond, though it’s more like you’re staring at his bicep which is now stationed at your eye level. 

“I’m just gonna go…” you hear Atsumu mumble, ducking under Osamu’s arm barrier, stealing your escape route. 

“Jackass-” you mumble.

“Hey.” 

The low voice comes from right above your head.

“Osamu,” you greet, still staring at his arm. “I gotta go. I have plans-”

A finger comes up to lift your jaw. It’s careful, but still forceful. When your eyes finally meet his, the one finger turns into two which grip your chin in place. 

“Was what Atsumu said true?” 

It takes a lot for you to hold back a stutter. “Sounds like you heard him loud and clear to me,” you say, ready to slap his hand away. 

“I did.”

“Then why are you still asking-” 

“If it’s true,” he leans down, talking slowly. It makes you start to hyperventilate. You need a paper bag or something. “I don’t wanna hear it from my stupid brother.” 

His eyes are mesmerizing, captivating. Not even the many, many years of knowing him dulls the effect of his straightforward gaze on you. You think you hear someone concede, “it’s true.” 

“What’s true?” he whispers. He’s so close you feel his words ghost your mouth.

Autopilot talks. “That I have a big fat crush on you.” 

He eats up the next millimeter of space. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.

Suddenly, his neck is caged inside of your arms and you’re licking up his familiar minty breath and surely this all isn’t your doing because your brain is still catching up. 

His smile widens against your lips and you can feel the smugness radiate off him. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted, then.” 

That clears the fog. You shove his shoulders away and try to ignore the fact that he doesn’t go very far.

“Why?” you demand. 

He kisses you again. “‘Cause my brother’s got a big mouth.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. Osamu takes it as an invitation to slot his face better against yours. 

His kiss almost makes you forget your train of thought, but that’s okay because he answers your question anyway. 

“And he probably would’ve blabbed that I have a big fat crush on you too.”

[mysterystarz]

haikyuu boys asking for a kiss

ft: atsumu miya, osamu miya, oikawa tooru, iwaizumi hajime

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ ATSUMU MIYA

atsumu is snuggled up to you on the couch while you frantically type away at your laptop. on the tv in front of you are all the highlights of the recent volleyball tournament — a far cry from the pages and pages of information that you kept adding to.

your classes had finals this week, and in the midst of putting all the final touches on your papers, you’d barely had time to give your boyfriend any of the affectionate love you always treated him to (and it was showing).

atsumu wrapped his arm tighter around yours, brown eyes fluttering up from beneath his lashes to meet yours.

“angelllll” he whined, gently pushing your laptop to the nearby cushion, “give me a kiss. ya’ haven’t given me anythin’ in so long.”

“just a minute,” you sigh, gently running your finger across his cheek. “can i at least put the last sentence on this paper.”

he pouts huffily, and so enamored by your boyfriend, you lean in to press your lips to his. they were soft and comforting in the way that they always were and you felt better instantly.

atsumu smiles cheekily after you pull away.

“another one please.”

“tsumu!”

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹OSAMU MIYA

osamu was teaching you how to bake after you’d admitted that you needed a lot more practice using an oven before you’d ever feel comfortable cooking in front of others.

luckily, he was there, your apron clad knight in shining armor (a chefs hat) to cheesily teach you the ropes of one of his favorite pasttimes.

“okay, now what?” you asked, hands dusted in flour as you looked to the bowl in front of you. you’d done a great job getting the ingredients into the bowl, but some of the batter had splattered slightly onto the countertop while mixing.

osamu smirks smugly, casing you in against the countertop and leaning in just inches from your face.

“look at that. yer givin’ me such a mess to clean up.” he smiles and you think you might just melt from how warm the look in his eyes is. “this requires a price.”

you gulped nervously, all too cognizant of how close he was. “anything.”

“give me a kiss,” he whispers, and your lips are on his almost instantly. he pulls you close and you taste the faintest dusting of sugar on his lips. you pull him even closer, until you hear a thud.

“what was that?” you asked, pulling away.

osamu laughs, pointing to your feet. “the flour! ya’ knocked it over klutz. guess i must be that good of a kisser.”

“shut up,” you grin.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ OIKAWA TOORU

oikawa tooru is on his way to a sports banquet and you’re his date. he stands nervously at your doorstep, looking dapper in a tux that he took days deciding on. he’s picked a tie that compliments the rosiness of his skin, and taps his foot nervously.

you open the door to greet him with a wide smile, and oikawa thinks that his heart is about to jump out of his chest. you look perfect. the outfit you chose complimented your features perfectly, and for a moment, oikawa is so stunned that he can’t even speak.

“tooru,” you beam at him with your widest smile, and he thinks he’s going to become a puddle on the floor. he enters your place, hands nervously shaking around the index cards he’s prepared for todays speech and the fact that he was lucky enough to score you as his date.

“are you nervous?” you ask, catching the shakiness of his hands. however handsome and composed he seemed on the outside, you could always tell when he needed some reassurance.

“a bit,” he confessed. “i have to be the best speech giver for people to pay attention. i’m just not sure if i can.”

you stride over to him, adjusting his tie a bit and patting his cheek affectionately. “you’re magnetic tooru. you’ll be just fine.”

he looks at you earnestly, brown eyes filled with fondness. “can i kiss the jitters out?”

you nod with a laugh and press your lips to his, enveloped in his passionate embrace. his lips keep finding yours over and over, and he pulls away to gasp for air.

“feel better?” you asked, lips a tad swollen from his kiss.

“i could use another one,” he smirks.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ IWAIZUMI HAJIME

iwaizumi hajime had invited you out on an impromptu picnic. the weather at your university had just gotten so much better, and in the spirit of enjoying nature, he’d invited you outside (promising you could bounce any questions off of him if you needed to study).

you found yourself under a beautiful tree, filled with flowers that were soft to the touch. hajime filled a basket with all your favorite snacks and drinks.

it was the perfect excursion, and with the sun warming the air around you and the brisk breeze, you could almost say that it was the perfect day.

iwaizumi pulls you into his side, and the two of you look out into the field together. his arm is wrapped around your waist and you can feel the warmth of him seeping through your shirt.

“this is nice,” you sigh contently, feeding iwaizumi a strawberry. he smiles genuinely, and you think your heart will burst.

“you know what would make this better? a kiss.” he jokes cheekily, only to have you nodding eagerly to press your lips to his.

it’s sweet and juicy from that strawberry, and you can feel his happiness radiate through the way he holds you close. when you pull away, he’s grinning like you strung the stars.

too enamored by the handsome boy in front of you, you lean in to kiss him again.

[6okuto]

WEDDING MOMENTS

gn!reader | kuroo, bokuto, akaashi, hinata, atsumu, osamu, ushijima

hello everyone i'm back 🫶 these are more reception moments than wedding but y'know. give me a break man...

KUROO leans in and whispers in your ear as you dance, “is it bad i want to go home and just lie in bed with you now?” “why are you whispering as if someone can hear you?” you snicker back. tetsurou shoots you a cheeky smile. “so it looks like i’m saying something romantic.” you hit his shoulder, and he only laughs before pulling you into a tight hug. you wait for him to let go before replying. “idiot. but no, it isn’t. my back and feet hurt.” he hums, and you can feel his fingers tapping your back. “do you think it’s possible for newly weds to sneak out of their own wedding reception?”

BOKUTO is walking down the aisle again as everyone disperses to talk or get ready for the reception. you walk up to him, curiosity piqued as he bends down. “what are you doing?” “huh?” he drops a few petals that he was clutching. “crap—hi, baby. i’m just, uh, picking up some of the flowers to take with us. i saw someone do it online, and i thought we could press them or put them somewhere,” he explains softly, as if a little embarrassed. your heart flutters at the thought, and you smile before reaching down yourself. “we better get some flowers, then. and a ziploc bag or something.”

AKAASHI relaxes and rests his head against yours while you watch your guests mingling and dancing. you reach for his hand and intertwine fingers. “you okay?” he nods in response and presses a chaste kiss to your jaw. “yeah, i can finally calm down and not worry about something terrible happening.” “mm, something terrible could still happen.” “love of my life, can you please give your husband a break?” keiji blows air against your skin, eliciting a laugh from you. his tone is light, and you can feel him smiling even while you apologize.

HINATA takes one of the polaroid cameras that you got for the guests. you watch as he poses and takes a picture of himself before handing it to you. “do you want me to take a selfie?” he nods with a grin. “yeah! and also sign it so i can put it in my wallet, or maybe the back of my phone?” his sentence ends as a question to himself. you get your phone so you can check your appearance before mimicking your now husband’s pose. “sho, i swear if mine is bad i want a redo,” you say. he sputters as he looks at his forming photo. “well that’s good because i definitely screwed mine up. i’m like half in the frame.”

ATSUMU’s knee bounces as the video of your relationship the both of you got done nears its end. you shoot him a look, but he doesn’t seem to notice, gaze fixed on the scene. that’s when you hear a familiar voice, but unfamiliar clip start to play. “it’s, fuck, what day is it? november 13, and i’m pretty sure i need t’look for an engagement ring,” your now husband says into the camera. you gape, shock evident across your face. atsumu’s voice is soft as he says your name. “i love you, really. and if you’re seeing this then i didn’t fuck this up, and you decided to marry me, and i’m probably ‘bout to have a heart attack,” he nervously laughs. you turn to atsumu next to you, whose face is flushed red. “don’t look at me, the video isn’t done yet.”

OSAMU keeps holding your hand, and if he isn’t holding it he’s probably thinking of doing so. you don’t mind, finding comfort in the way he rubs the back of it. you’re sitting together when he silently reaches for it again. “i’m pretty sure you’ve held my hand more today than this entire week.” osamu rolls his eyes but smiles. you stare as he gently takes hold of your ring and fidgets with it. “sorry, can’t stop thinkin’ about how we’re actually married now.” you stare at each other, and he rests his chin in his palm. with his other hand, he brings yours up to press gentle kisses against the ring and your skin. “just another excuse to stay close t’you.”

USHIJIMA looks over when you poke his shoulder, and quickly realizes you’re trying to feed him some cake. “say ahh,” you sing song. it’s a half-joke, and you don’t fully expect him to accept, but he leans forward and opens his mouth, hand underneath the fork to catch any crumbs. despite his serious expression and stature, you can't help but think he looks cute. “i know we picked this flavour, but does it taste good?” you ask. wakatoshi nods. “it was a good choice.” he gets a forkful for who you assume is himself. but instead he lifts it toward you. “do you want to try now?”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist

[beelinx]

haikyuu dad blurbs <3

ft. my fav haikyuu men! (tsukishima, sugawara, kenma, and osamu)

warnings: osamu’s includes the use of mother and suga’s includes mommy/daddy. note: in my heart tsuki is also a girl dad so… part two w/ more babies? and maybe more characters?

✧｡ kei tsukishima

your husband definitely had a busy schedule. between training and volleyball matches with the sendai frogs, and his museum job, it was quite rare for him to have many days truly off to spend fully with you and your son.

today, however, he was able to get time off to completely dedicate this day to you two.

“did you bring the strawberries?” he questioned you, as he held your one year old son on his lap.

“of course,” you replied, ruffling through your basket to show them to him, “i also got the strawberry shortcake you love so much.”

he gave you a grateful small smile and set your son down on the picnic blanket. he immediately started babbling and moving around. luckily, your baby hadn’t learnt how to walk yet – but sometimes his crawling everywhere felt just as bad and nerve wracking. you both made sure to keep an eye on him constantly, because with his curious attitude, who knows where he might wander off to.

“this is nice,” he said. “i’ve missed having a day off with you two.”

you grinned, “yeah, it is nice to spend the whole day together. he’s definitely missed hanging around his dad all day,” you added, seeing your baby being more clingy towards his father than usual — always finding ways to cling onto him. tsukishima definitely fell for his tricks, too, always carrying the little troublemaker around everywhere.

after a few moments of silence, tsukishima spoke up, “i asked for time off”

“huh?”

“i want to spend more time around you. missing so much of him growing up is killing me,” he said. “so, i asked for a few weeks off. we should take a vacation, somewhere nice.” he nodded to himself as he finished talking, already set on the idea.

“what about your training, though?” you asked, feeling slightly guilty. you would never want him to miss out on something important to him because of you.

“i care about you more,” he stated. “you two are more important to me than anything.”

you smiled softly and leaned close to him. he met your lips with his, delicately cupping one of your cheeks.

you broke away when you heard a little voice babbling louder than usual in the background. tsukishima looked down and gasped, quickly picking up your small child. he looked at your son with a betrayed look in your face, one you had to try your hardest not to giggle at. your husband looked as if he had just been stabbed in the back.

because what your child had just done was smash his head directly into his father’s strawberry shortcake, the one he’d been so excited to eat.

the sight of your son with cake all over his face, and your husband’s disturbed face as he looked down onto his lost desert made you finally lose your composure and break out into a fit of laughter. your baby boy soon started giggling too, as he does have a habit of always laughing alongside you.

even the kei tsukishima couldn’t resist his lips turning upwards at the sight of his adorable family. so, he gave in – right after giving you his usual attitude and rolling his eyes, of course. but he made up for it by kissing your baby’s chubby cheek and bringing him close to him for a tight hug, all while mumbling something about some cake-stealing brat and how lucky he is to be so cute.

✧｡ koshi sugawara

there was something about seeing your husband having tea parties with your little girl after a long day of work that made you want to give him another baby. opening her bedroom door and spotting him wearing a pink tutu while holding his pinky up as he takes a sip of a flower-decorated tea cup made your heart swell.

“umm,” you giggled slightly as you spoke, “am i interrupting something here?”

they both looked startled as they spotted you in the doorway, but both of their faces soon broke into excited grins.

“mommy!” your daughter squealed as she ran up to you and hugged your leg tightly. you chuckled, leaning down and scooping her in your arms.

“what are you guys up to, huh?” you asked your over-excited toddler.

“daddy agreed to play dress up with me!” she exclaimed, “now we’re having a tea party with my plushies!”

“oh, really?” you said, finally turning to take a good look at your husband, who was standing in front of you two. now, having him here, you were able to take a closer look at him – and after looking back at your daughter, you were able to come to a silly conclusion.

“you did daddy’s hair and makeup, huh?” you questioned her, trying your best to hold back your laughter.

she nodded eagerly and pointed to her face, gesturing you to look at the masterpiece she was able to create. you gasped in surprise, pretending to be amazed at her work.

“you really did that? all by yourself?” she nodded again, “oh, wow! you are even better than me!” you exclaimed, feeling proud of yourself at the cute giggles she gave in return.

now, you finally focused your attention back onto your husband.

even with a messy lipstick and an insane amount of eyeshadow on his face, and the wild ponytails on his hair, you couldn’t help but feel he still looks remarkably handsome. damn him and his pretty face.

“did you two have fun while i was gone,” you asked.

suga laughed, “well, mr. poof was sad, so we had to host this party to cheer him up.” you daughter nodded at his comment, seemingly feeling empathetic for poor mr. poof.

you feigned being upset, “awe, without me?”

he rolled his eyes, but your daughter, ever the sweetheart, apparently felt really bad for not including you. she looked up at you with her big, hazel eyes and chubby cheeks, and pouted, “i’m sorry for not waiting for you mommy.”

she laid her head on your shoulder, and hugged you as tightly as she could. your heart swelled at how adorable and considerate your daughter was. that certainly is a trait she shares with her father, who was now looking at the scene in front of him with the gentlest smile ever, and eyes that showed nothing but adoration for the little family you both built together.

suddenly, your daughter perked, looking excited as ever.

“i know!” she declared, “you should join us!”

“join you?”

she nodded exaggeratedly and moved to have you set her down, which you did. now, she was jumping around, incredibly excited at her own idea, “i can make you look more pretty! and daddy can make more tea!”

“alright,” suga chuckled and shook his head before shrugging, “well, you heard her,” he said as he walked past you, not without giving you a kiss on your lips first (an action that caused your daughter to screech “gross!”), and went on his way to make more tea. your little girl didn’t waste a second before grabbing your arm and pulling you to sit down in front of her, the bag of makeup and hair ties already on hand.

all you could do now was laugh softly and silently accept your fate.

✧｡ kenma kozume

when you have a six month old baby, waking up in the middle of the night usually means your child is up crying loudly somewhere nearby. this night, however, the only noises you heard when you awoke were the loud sounds of guns and open fire.

well, it seemed your dear husband was awake.

slightly curious over why he wouldn’t go to sleep – especially since he had a special stream planned pretty early in the day, you slowly crept your way over to his office, which mostly consisted of all his gaming setup and other needed things for his job(s).

you cautiously peaked into the room, only to find kenma sitting idly, playing one of his shooter games, with your baby napping on his lap, looking peaceful as ever.

“...kenma?” you called softly, careful as to not wake up the baby.

he turned to look at you, bewildered. he, apparently, had not expected the noises to wake you up, or at least that’s you deciphered from his surprised look.

“why are you awake?” he asked you, “i thought you said you were tired.”

you gave him a look as you raised your eyebrows, “i am tired,” he cocked his head at you, “but i was forcefully awoken by your game noises.”

kenma opened his mouth slightly in shock. somehow this man really hadn’t expected them to wake you up.

“seriously, why are you playing this late at night? and with the volume up?”

he had the decency to look apologetic as lowered the game volume, and shifted slightly to turn to look at you, while still trying his best to not rustle the baby out of his slumber. 

“he likes it,” he finally said.

“huh?”

“the baby,” he said, as he gestured towards the sleeping infant on his lap, “he started crying non-stop. i tried to get him to go back to sleep but nothing was working.”

he chuckled a little bit, as if his thoughts suddenly amused him, “he only stopped crying once he heard the game noises coming from a video i got on my feed. so i… started playing, and he calmed down instantly.”

you looked at the sleeping child in his lap, utterly shellshocked. sure, you’ve heard of babies having certain songs that keep them from crying, but video game sounds? not only that but from a shooting game?

he smiled softly at you, “i don’t know how you slept through his crying, but woke up at the game sounds. it’s kinda funny, actually…” he paused, then added, “but i am sorry for waking you up.”

kenma did seem remorseful, and after hearing his reasoning, and taking a look at your baby boy resting soundly on his father’s lap, you didn’t have it in you to be mad at him. you tiptoed slowly towards him and kissed his cheek tenderly.

“he definitely takes after you.”.

✧｡ osamu miya

onigiri miya usually had its fair share of customers all throughout the week, and osamu made sure to hire hard-working people to help him around the shop. all of his workers were treated equally and paid respectably. just recently, though, two new members joined the staff, and some might say that the honorable owner of the onigiri shop had clear favorites.

but, really, who is he not to give his little princesses special treatment?

your two twin girls had just turned five a couple of weeks ago, and all they wanted to do was come work with their dad. well, you both agreed to let them help out and ever since then they’ve been non-stop nagging you to let them go there every day.

“what do you say when a customer leaves?” osamu asked the eldest twin while holding her small hand. she had assisted him in taking a table’s order and bringing it to them, making the customers at the table chuckle at the small girl’s silly attitude.

“thank you!” she squealed out, over exaggerating the last part and making a cute pose, causing the costumer’s laugh once again.

an old man, probably around eighty, shook his head before chuckling, “ohh, she’s gonna be a star, i’ll tell you that much!”

osamu smiled, “she sure is,” he said, picking her up. these days it kept getting harder and harder to pick her and her sister up, since they seemed to be growing non-stop. it made him feel emotional sometimes, but also so incredibly grateful he’s here to watch them grow.

he bid goodbye to the customers, feeling glad the shop was now fully closed. he groaned as he sat the eldest twin down on a high chair and scanned his eyes around the shop. 

finally, he spotted her.

the youngest twin was way more relaxed than her older sister. she was too shy to help out with the customers, so instead he gave her the chore of counting ingredients (under her mother’s supervision, of course). though, once you’d left to go buy the groceries you needed for the house, the young girl had immediately bundled up in a booth near the corner, and went to sleep.

he smiled softly at the sight of her looking so calm and peaceful. there wasn’t a day when his heart wouldn’t swell at how adorable his two babies were.

in some ways, the twins resembled atsumu and osamu themselves, a thought osamu always found quite funny.

he was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of a bell ringing, usually meaning a customer had arrived. but, guessing from the sign that now read ‘closed,’ he surmised it was probably you. and it was.

your eldest daughter jumped from the chair to hug you tightly, while the youngest still remained deep in her slumber.

“hi, baby!” you greeted the little girl, crouching down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“hey, ‘samu,” you said, standing back up and patting the girl’s head lovingly. “ready to head home? i bought us dinner.”

he gave you a grateful smile, “sure, lemme just finish closin’ down some stuff and i’ll be right out.”

you nodded as you grabbed your eldest daughter’s hand, before looking back onto your sleeping baby.

“i’ll carry her back to the car,” osamu said, “don’t wanna wake ‘er up.”

you grinned softly, it was always sweet how caring osamu was to his little girls. “okay,” you replied, “but hurry up, we don’t want the food getting cold, now do we?”

he playfully rolled his eyes and chuckled softly, “yeah, sure, sweetheart.”

[whisperofwonder]

Oh, Baby | Part 2

part 1 is here - pregnant!reader

Haikyuu men as new(ish) fathers

Featuring: Miya Osamu, Kuroo Tetsurou, Kageyama Tobio, Sakusa Kiyoomi

You don't really have to read part 1, but these are set after those drabbles, and they each do call back to them in some way

MIYA OSAMU

At the jingle of the familiar bell, Osamu looks up, smile breaking across his face at the sight of you walking through the door. Your son is bundled up in his carrier, sleeping soundly after all the excitement of his six week doctor's appointment. Osamu steps around the counter to meet you, reaching to grab the carrier as he steals a quick kiss. "How'd the appointment go?" He asks as you settle into your usual stool at the counter, situating the baby carrier next to you.

"Good," You nod, looking down at the peaceful face of your sleeping son, still drinking him in after all these weeks. "Everything is going well. He's growing so fast." You look up at your husband and catch him still looking down at the baby. You wonder if your emotions are as obvious as his, drawn so clearly across his face.

"Good," He finally tears his eyes away to look at you, softness still lingering. "Are ya hungry?" He asks next - the question you've been waiting for.

"Starving," You say emphatically. With the busyness of the morning, you haven't had time to eat much. The delightful smells coming from the kitchen are only making you hungrier.

"What're ya in the mood for?"

You know immediately. You usually do. "Spicy tuna."

"Ya sure?" He quirks an eyebrow. You frown as he leans in closer across the counter, a smirk growing on his face. "I mean, it sounds so normal."

"Oh, stop it!" You huff. "It's been months!" You aren't sure if he'll ever let you forget the bizarre onigiri combinations your pregnancy cravings had produced.

"Yer lucky I love ya," He says fondly, ducking back into the kitchen before you can make any kind of retort. It isn't long before he returns, setting the plate of onigiri in front of you with a flourish.

"Thank you," You say, tilting your chin up in invitation. Osamu glances around, the few regulars in the restaurant familiar enough with the two of you, before taking you up on the invitation, kissing you a little more deeply than he might have otherwise.

"Yer welcome," He says softly as he pulls away, "Better eat it before it gets cold." You don't need any more prompting, eagerly reaching for one of the onigiri and taking a big bite. You close your eyes in delight, savoring it. Across from you, Osamu rests his forearms on the counter, content to watch in silence as you enjoy the food he'd prepared for you.

You're nearly finished when the bell above the door jingles again, and Osamu greets the customers who have just entered.

"We should get going," You murmur to him, and he nods. You pop the last bite in your mouth and gather your things while he takes the order, stopping back by your seat after dropping it off in the kitchen.

"I'll see you both when I get home," He says, brushing his fingertips against your son's soft cheek.

KUROO TETSUROU

"Go ahead," Tetsurou insists, "Go take a shower. A long shower. Or a bath, even. I've got this." He bounces your daughter in his arms, still fussing even though she's just been fed.

"But, Tetsu," You look down at her scrunched up face, the sounds of her unhappiness tugging at your heartstrings.

"She'll be fine," He says in a soothing voice - you aren't sure whether it's for your sake, or the baby's. "And you deserve it. When's the last time you've taken a shower that lasted longer than five minutes?" He asks pointedly.

"Dunno," You mumble, resting your hand on her tummy. She does seem to be settling down, just a little. "If you're sure," You say, beginning to relent.

"I'm sure," He says, in a tone you usually know better than to argue with. "I'll get her changed and all ready for bed by the time you're done," He promises.

You do as he says, taking an admittedly much-needed shower. You take your time washing your hair, even using the fancy hair mask and body scrub your friend had gifted you at the baby shower - a little something for you, she'd said with a small knowing smile. You hadn't even opened them until today.

You're surprised by how much better you really do feel, afterwards. You're warm, your hair is soft, and you smell good. Once you slip into your cozy pajamas, you're almost ready to fall asleep right then and there. You have to check on your husband and daughter, though.

They aren't in the nursery. The bedroom sounds suspiciously quiet. Slowly, you push the door open, not expecting the sight you're greeted with.

Your husband is lying on top of the covers, head tipped back against the pillows as he dozes. On his chest, your daughter is snuggled up, her pudgy cheek smushed against him, fist clutching a handful of his t-shirt. He has a hand resting protectively across her back, holding her close. For a few moments, you're frozen in the doorway, taking in the sight before you. You press your fingers to your lips as the emotions well up in your chest.

You must make some kind of sound, because Tetsurou soon stirs, turning his head to look at you. "Hey," He says blearily, "I was just resting my eyes."

You smile softly, finally making your way across the room to them now that the spell is broken. "Sure," You tease gently, not begrudging him the moments of sleep he'd managed to steal.

"How was your shower?" He asks as you curl yourself against him, cheek resting on his shoulder as you look down at your sleeping daughter.

"Good," You whisper. "Really nice. Thank you." He presses a kiss to the top of your head in response. You watch her in silence for a few moments, sleeping so contently snuggled against her daddy's chest. "You got her to sleep," You comment softly. It shouldn't come as a surprise - it's one of your favorite places to fall asleep as well.

"Yeah," He hums, "I think she just wanted some snuggles." He tucks the fingers of his fee hand beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing aimless shapes there. "Sounds a little bit like someone else I know," He adds with a soft chuckle.

"Well, we can't help it that you're just so snuggly," You murmur. You reach out to gently brush your fingertips against her fist. You don't want to wake her up, but you can't resist. You tilt your head up to look at him. "You help us feel safe," You add.

He shifts her on his chest, just enough that he can crane his neck far enough to kiss you. "Good," He murmurs against your lips.

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

You wake with a start. It comes back to you - Tobio had gotten up to check on your daughter when she started fussing, and you'd been waiting for him to come back to bed. You must have drifted off, but he still isn't back in his spot beside you. His pillow is cold now, and you aren't sure just how long he's been gone.

The house is quiet, but you can't shake your concern. Slipping out of bed, you pad to the nursery just a few steps away. In the warm glow of the night light, you see him sitting in the rocking chair by the crib, arms folded on the edge of it and chin rested on his arms.

"Tobio?" He jerks his head up, turning to look at you. "What are you doing?" You move beside him, taking in the sight he seems so enraptured by. Your daughter is sleeping, her small chest rising and falling with her soft breaths. Her nose scrunches, just for a moment, then relaxes again. It makes your heart twist in your chest.

"Sorry. Got distracted, I guess," He whispers, lowering his head to his arms again. "I was just thinking, her nose looks a lot like yours. Doesn't it?" He turns to look at you.

"I guess so," You murmur back.

"It's a nice nose," He says matter of factly.

"I guess so," You repeat with a quiet laugh. "Don't you want to come back to bed?"

"Soon," He nods, "Just a couple more minutes." You both fall silent then, and he slips an arm around your waist, pulling you down onto the arm of the chair. Slowly, you lean your head against his. You find yourself thinking that you could stay like this forever - pressed up against him, looking down at the perfect little person that is your daughter.

Sure, you'll be tired in the morning, but what else is new?

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

"That doesn't go in the dishwasher," You say from your spot on the couch, the one seat with a perfect view into the kitchen. You're feeding your son, and Kiyoomi is cleaning up.

"I know," He says evenly, turning and setting the bottle next to the sink with the others. "I'll wash them after the dishwasher is loaded."

"Oh," You say softly. It's been harder for you than you'll admit, accepting so much help from Kiyoomi. You'd been so confident that you could still do everything, even after the baby came, but it's proven to be much more difficult than you'd so naively anticipated.

"I'm sorry," You say with a sigh, watching as he rinses off the dinner plates before slotting them in the dishwasher. "You shouldn't have to be doing this. I could have done it, right after he's finished eating."

Kiyoomi stops, putting the mug he'd just picked up back in the sink. He crosses the kitchen, sinking down next to you on the couch. You put down the bottle, adjusting your son in your arms.

"Hey," He says quietly, dipping his chin to meet your gaze. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" You ask, tugging a wrinkle out of your son's onesie and using the action as an excuse to look down at him instead of into your husband's eyes.

"Think that you have to handle everything. We're a team, remember?" You make a sound that he could interpret as agreement if he wanted to. He sighs. "You're incredible, and I love you," He says, tilting your chin up with his fingertips so you have no choice but to look at him again. "A month ago, I watched you do the hardest thing you've ever done, and I couldn't do anything to make it easier for you. The least I can do now is wash a few dishes."

You want to smile. You want to cry. Hormones are stupid. "Kiyoomi," You say softly as his thumb swipes away a tear you hadn't realized slipped down your face.

"I'm going to keep doing my part, so you might as well accept it." He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple. "Okay?"

"Okay," You say, smile growing on your face. "Kiyoomi?" You add after a beat, when it's clear he isn't getting up quite yet, "The dishwasher isn't going to load itself, you know."

He opens his mouth, then closes it with a shake of his head, trying to disguise the smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes ma'am."

[emmyrosee]

SAKUSA ANGST??????❤️

By the time Kiyoomi gets to home, the moon is halfway past the skyline and high in space, and the bright light trickles through the blinds, carving your disappointed features while Kiyoomi jumps at the sight of you, standing firmly in the living room.

"Jeez," he snickers, putting his keys on the counter. "You scared me, baby, what're you doing up-"

"I know, Kiyoomi."

His brows furrow in confusion, but behind his dark pools, you see shame. And his eyes always gave him away. “What? What’re you talking about?”

You blink lazily, “I saw Hinata. You weren’t with him. Told me you never even texted him.” You shake your head, “if you’re going to commit adultery, make sure you have all your bases covered.”

He stays silent for a moment, letting his eyes cast down and avoiding your judgmental, hurt gaze. A hand comes up to scratch the back of his head, pick at a hangnail, jam into his pockets, anything and everything to not meet your betrayed looks.

“How long?”

“Baby, I-“

“Do not pull that manipulative shit on me,” you say exhaustedly. “Don’t start with that nonsense. I want to know how long. And I want to know who.”

He finally meets your eyes, “I made a mistake-“

“No no. New couples make mistakes,” you snap, hoping that by yelling out your frustrations you won’t cry the hot tears swelling in your waterline. “We’ve been together three years, you don’t get to make those kinds of mistakes, you don’t get to tell me not to worry about one person, then cheat on me.”

When he slowly lowers his hands, guilt struck in his gaze, you feel bile rising up your throat.

“It’s… your PR manager. Isn’t it?” You chuckle. “Your “work babe”? The one you assured me was over and done with?”

“No no, you’ve got to listen to me-“

“After I specifically begged you to tell me it wasn’t true, after you assured me nothing funny was going down, after you told me you’d gone to their house to fire them-“

He looks away. Darts his eyes again. Your hands come up to cover your mouth, “oh my god… you… went there to be with them- YOU WENT THERE TO BE WITH THEM WHILE I WAS HOME? WAILING OVER YOU?!”

He says nothing to defend himself, and you scream and jump up and out of your seat, grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him with it. He shields himself with his arms, ducking slightly from your swings, but he doesn’t say anything. Nothing to change your mind, sway your thinking or deny, deny, deny anything.

“You lied to me!” You sob, finally losing your composure. “You lied square to my face, for what! For THEM?!”

“Baby, listen-“

“DONT FUCKING CALL ME THAT, SAKUSA!” You shriek, throwing the pillow down and meeting his teary eyes with your enraged ones. “Don’t FUCKING start with me!”

He calls your name in an attempt to calm you down, extending his arms to create distance, “it was a mistake, I made mistakes.”

“And that’s a crock of shit.”

“I thought I was missing something, and I thought they could give it to me! Honest! It meant nothing, just meaningless dates and kisses to try and fill something inside that I needed, and-

“You are not helping yourself right now, Sakusa,” you pant.

“I wanted to leave them, I swear on my mother-“

“And you couldn’t manage to do that.”

“So now what?” He chokes. “So-So-So are we just done? Three years just gone?”

“Because of you.”

“I’m not going to let this happen,” he sobs, collapsing to his knees and wrapping his arms around your legs. “Please, don’t leave me. I’ll fire them. You can go with me.”

“Clearly firing them isn’t going to make a difference,” you snarl. “Since your tongues been down their throat and god knows what else.” You shake him off your legs and continue to look down at him in distain, “I’ll have the boys send for my things. I’m staying with Osamu. Do not contact me anymore.” You shake him off your legs, and he looks up at you like a kicked dog.

“No-“

“Yeah, you don’t get to say no, anymore,” you snap. “Since clearly you had a hard enough time doing it for them. I’m taking control of the situation now. You will never make a fool out of me again.”

“Please,” he begs, “I hated it, I hated all of it, I-“

“Stop lying, Kiyoomi,” you shake your head. “It’s not worth it. You’re not going to sway me.”

At that, Kiyoomi stops. His eyes blink a line of tears down, his hands rest in his lap, and his bottom lip trembles. You take a deep breath, “please let Osamu in when he comes for my belongings.”

He says nothing. He merely continues to stare up at you desperately, pleadingly, and you scoff before making your way down the hall to grab your packed bag. “Unreal,” you hiss. “You are unbelievable.”

“You don’t have to leave,” he chokes. “You can stay here, I’ll leave, I’ll go to Bokuto’s, he’ll-“

“He’ll let you in and stay with him after you have the nerve to cheat on me?” You scoff. “Bokuto is not an idiot. He’s not going to just ignore the shitty things you do because you’re his teammate.”

Kiyoomi knows that if you walk through that door, you’ll never come back. You know it’s tearing him up inside, you see it in his exhausted features and you know it in your soul.

Good.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WE WERE BORN SICK

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: that sinking feeling that's been looming over you both has finally come to fruition. truths are revealed, questions are answered, but one big one remains: is love enough for you and dazai's relationship to survive this?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy fridayyyyy, i can't believe we only have one chapter left of civzai, it's actually makin me emotional </3 this chapter was quite a doozy to write, and i hope it's equally a doozy to read HAHAH no no jkjk , i hope you enjoy. also do u guys want to add an arcane au to the dazaiverse .. ive been thinking heavily about it. comments & reblogs appreciated

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. angsty chapter. explicit depiction of suicide (past recollection of dazai), implications of past self-harm (dazai), very toxic thought processes at certain parts (dazai), past (and a bit of current) suicide ideation (dazai), manic behavior (reader).

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“I’ve been eager to meet you for quite a while. In all of the years I’ve known her, my little hime has never let something as trivial as a boy come between her and our work… I knew you must be special, but I never could’ve imagined just how special. I’m so pleasantly surprised.”

Dazai’s head throbs as he comes to his surroundings. He’s laying in an uncomfortable bed—a hospital bed, he thinks, he can smell the unfortunately familiar scent of antiseptic, but the walls aren’t the typical white he’s used to. He winces as he sits up, unable to recall where he is or what happened to him. Everything is too fuzzy, he remembers being with Fitzgerald, the car ride to the tea house, and-

And he remembers you. 

He remembers you.

He lets out a shaky breath as he recalls the way you’d pulled him into your arms, cradling him close as soon as you got him back from Fitzgerald. God, he only got to be with you for what felt like a second. It wasn’t enough time. It wasn’t nearly enough time. You sent him off, he remembers—you sent him with two of your subordinates, the weretiger and that freaky little girl, and then… 

“Shhh… Don’t speak. I want to get this done and over with.”

The gun to his back, Atsushi and Kyouka’s cries of shock, the baton to his head.

“No can do, weretiger. On orders from the boss.”

His mind tracks back to the words that had been spoken as he was teetering on the edge of consciousness, mouth going dry and eyes widening as he becomes acutely aware of the other person in the room with him. His gaze flicks up to where a vaguely familiar man sits at a desk watching him—straight chin-length black hair, inquisitive purple eyes, a long black coat, Dazai isn’t sure where he recalls this man from but he knows that they’ve met before. 

“Who…” Dazai asks, voice wavering as pain shoots through his head with every little movement. “Who are you? Have we… met before?”

His wrist hurts. His mother’s nails dig into his skin so deep that it draws blood, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. He’d just been sleeping—is he still sleeping? He isn’t sure. He’s stumbling over his own feet trying to keep up with her, he keeps asking her what’s going on but she doesn’t answer him. 

They turn a hall and his mother stops so suddenly that he slams right into her, nearly tripping over onto the ground. He doesn’t even regain his footing before his mother is pulling him back the way he came, he looks over his shoulder trying to figure out what caused his mother to panic so badly and he looks at—a man? 

Who is that? 

Why is he coming from grandfather’s room?

Is that-

Blood?

“Shuji! Shuji, don’t look back! Keep moving!”

Shuji? Who’s Shu-

“I think you know the answer to that already.” Dazai is startled out of the memory—was that a memory?—by the man’s voice. He sounds amused, and from the way that his eyes are glittering, Dazai can tell he’s finding great entertainment out of this situation. It pisses Dazai off. “Don’t you?”

“Tane-chan, you know you won’t be able to hide him forever. You’re just making this harder on yourself.”

Dazai’s breath catches. He shifts backward on the bed to press his back against the wall. Everything is wrong—the air is too cold, his bandages are itching, his head hurts, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. Who is Shuji? Why is he thinking of his mother after all of these years? And what… what was he remembering? 

Memories of his youth have always been sparse and fleeting—he can vaguely recall the faces of his siblings, the anxiety he felt around his grandfather, the loneliness—but something like this… The panic on his mothers face, the pain in his wrist, the way she was dragging him around, the fear in her voice when she screamed at Dazai—was he Shuji? But then why—to not look back, to keep moving. He would remember something like that. That would be… crazy to forget, right?

What is going on?

“You’re Mori,” Dazai breathes out, clearing his throat. He hopes he doesn’t look as disconcerted as he feels, but he thinks he must. “You’re…”

The leader of the Port Mafia. 

The closest thing you have to a father.

So, how does Dazai remember him from years ago? It doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen, maybe fourteen in that memory. What did he forget? When did he meet him? What’s going on? Dazai wants to scream, his mind is still slow from just waking up—he doesn’t even know how long he was unconscious, it couldn’t have been that long.

Mori’s smile widens as if Dazai just walked right into whatever trap that had been laid out for him, violet eyes flashing with a type of cruel amusement that makes Dazai sick to his stomach. Dazai has to circle back to remember what he just said, he needs to snap out of the daze he’s in. He needs to think. He made a mistake—Dazai made a mistake. He shouldn’t have admitted that he knew Mori. That was a mistake.

How does he fix it? 

Can he fix it?

“You do know,” Mori says, like he didn’t actually expect Dazai to admit that he knew him. Like he’s pleasantly surprised. Again. Like Dazai just made things much easier for him. Shit. “Interesting.”

He’s going to use it against Dazai. Dazai knows it. He’s going to use it against him to hurt you. He remembers everything he’s learned about your relationship with Mori—how he pit you against that other girl, Yosano, to get results from you. And he already said it. He already said that Dazai is getting between you and your work, he’ll do the same thing here. He’ll pit you against him.

He’s going to tell you that Dazai knew who Mori was, and that Dazai is someone that he’s not—who is Shuji? Why doesn’t he remember his own name? Is that really his name? How does Mori know all of this? Who is Dazai?—and Dazai needs to be able to say something. He needs to be able to explain. How does he explain this when he doesn’t even know what’s going on? Dazai needs to remember; he needs to remember now, he needed to remember yesterday, because if he’s not the one to tell you this… If he can’t explain this…

This cannot be happening—it can’t. Right when he thought everything would be okay, when he would be with you. His throat starts to clog as anxiety clouds his head and weighs on his chest, a panic attack that he can’t afford right now. He needs to think, he needs to figure out what’s going on—Mori knows something about Dazai that he doesn’t know himself, and he’s going to use it against him to drive a wedge between the two of you. He’s going to tell you, and-

Dazai’s world feels woozy. Why can’t he remember? How does he know Mori? What was happening that night with his mother? He needs to snap out of this, needs to think, but he can’t even breathe. Fear—the mind killer.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Dazai rasps, his voice is hoarse, and he feels sick, and he hates admitting that he doesn’t know what’s happening, but he needs Mori to believe it so that he doesn’t tell you something that’s not true. “I don’t know how I know you. I don’t-”

“You might believe that,” Mori says amused, “but will she?”

Dazai stares at Mori, his stomach churns violently and his vision swims as the answer becomes abundantly clear to him.

He doesn’t know. 

———

The gun in your hand weighs heavily.

You hid it in the inside of your blazer to get up to the conference room. No weapons are allowed up past the thirty-fifth floor unless you’re one of the Boss’s hand-picked personal guards—even executives are forced to disarm themselves before going up, but security is much more lax for the upper echelon. Because you’re you—the hime, second-in-command, the Boss’s daughter—the guards outside of the elevator that goes directly to the top floor wave you past the metal detectors to go on up.

A mistake.

(Who is Tsushima Shuji? It can’t be Dazai. You know Dazai. Mori must be wrong.)

The smile on your face is bland and doesn’t meet your eyes as you walk down the hall to the conference room attached to Mori’s office. You greet the guards, and they don’t notice how off your demeanor is, too starstruck over the fact that they’re being acknowledged for once. They also don’t notice the way your hand is curled around the grip of your gun in your blazer.

A mistake. 

(Mori is never wrong. Do you really know Dazai?)

When you reach the end of the hallway, you toss them one last brilliant smile. This one is a bit more genuine because you’ve realized that you’ve gotten through the top notch security of the upper levels of the Port Mafia headquarters without a hitch. That you’re one step closer to finishing this. They’re so blinded by the beauty of your smile that they don’t realize your teeth have sharpened into knives and the floral perfume you wear masks a putrid bloodlust. 

A mistake. 

(It’s always been odd, hasn’t it? The way he approached you. The way he was so insistent on pushing himself into your life. You always questioned it. There was a sinking feeling that something wasn’t as it seemed. Why didn’t you question it more?)

You keep your back turned as you slip into the room. You can feel four presences behind you—Kouyou, Piano Man, Chuuya, Ace. No Mori. No Dazai. That’s fine—you have something to take care of before they show up anyway. The conference room is soundproof; Mori designed it that way because he didn’t want the guards outside to overhear any discussion of sensitive topics. Even if he handpicked them for their loyalty, he understands that money can make the most devout man’s faith waver. Still, it’s not them rushing in that you’re worried about—it’s the people in the room with you rushing out, so you very carefully twist the nub of the lock and then reach up to fix the deadbolt. It won’t stop them, but it will slow them. You can feel their eyes on you as you make sure the door is locked, but none of them call you out for it or try to stop you.

A mistake. 

(Mori always told you that the Tsushimas were like cockroaches. If they all weren’t killed, one would eventually return to reclaim their grandfather’s empire. There’d be a power struggle between the factions loyal to the new regime and the ones that still hid in the shadows believing that the Tsushima blood belonged at the head of the organization. Everything the two of you had built would crumble to ashes.)

You turn to make your way over to the conference table where the four of them are sitting. You haven’t decided how you want to go about this yet. You don’t know who all was aware of what Mori did, and because of that, you don’t know who needs to die. Treachery has always faced a death penalty—you don’t care if Mori ordered it, you don’t care that the Boss’s word is absolute, you have bled and breathed for the Port Mafia. You’ve sacrificed everything you’ve ever owned and wanted for the Port Mafia. You have made the Port Mafia into what it is today with your efforts abroad and at home—foreign governments, foreign criminal organizations, the Japanese government and other domestic mafias, all of them are just puppets that you pull the strings of to ensure the Port Mafia stays on top. Treachery against you will face the same penalty one would receive if they betrayed the Port Mafia, because you are the Port Mafia—Mori has made sure of that. 

Chuuya and Piano Man share a look with one another as you approach the table. Neither of them say anything—is it confusion? Is it guilt? Did they know? Were you the only one unaware of the schemes going on around you? Were you the only one loyal? The only one you could trust?

Did they know?

Did they know?

(No one could ever love you without your ability at work influencing them. You’ve known that since the very beginning, but you were so quick to forget that when you discovered Dazai’s ability. You should have had more questions, you should have been more suspicious. Mori had been right from the very beginning. You were emotionally compromised. You were weak.)

Ace opens his mouth to speak.

A mistake. 

“It was nice meeting your-”

Ace’s head hits the conference table with a hard thunk, his eyes wide and glassy, his mouth open around the words you didn’t let him finish speaking. Blood seeps from the bullet hole in his temple and pools around his head and the ground beneath his chair, staining the glass table and the white floors. 

Instead of lowering your arm, you shift it so that the gun is pressed against Piano Man’s temple next. Chuuya says your name—it’s awful, something caught between a gasp of shock and confusion, he’s never said your name like that before. Like he doesn’t know what you’re doing. Like he doesn’t understand you. Like you’re something unfamiliar. Unrecognizable. You ignore him anyway, and the pangs that come along with it, and instead, you keep your gaze trained on Piano Man’s face.

He’s not as panicked as Chuuya, but you can tell that he’s just as caught off guard from the way his lips are twisted. He watches you carefully, waiting for you to say whatever you’re going to say—if you were going to pull the trigger, you would’ve done so immediately, he knows that. He’s always been good at reading you, better than even Chuuya sometimes.

“Did you know?”

Your voice is steadier than you expect it to be. Cold almost. Distant. You don’t recognize it yourself, you suppose it’s no wonder that Chuuya’s staring at you with such a foreign expression. You watch him just as carefully as he does you. He has a tell when he lies: he squints. Not an obvious squint, just the barest hint of his eyes squeezing shut like he’s calculating exactly what he wants to say, in what tone and with what fluctuation he wants to say it.

A subtle tell, but a tell nonetheless. 

“No.”

He stares at you steadily as he says it. There’s no squint—he’s telling the truth. You don’t let out a breath of relief, but you certainly feel the weight off of your shoulders. You lower the gun, satisfied with his response, and then you walk over to where Chuuya is sitting.

You don’t raise the gun to his temple immediately. He looks up at you, you look down at him, a whole conversation is had in the silence between you, and eventually he lowers his lashes in resignation, telling you to do what needs to be done for you to feel more at ease.

He’s always put others before himself. 

You lift the gun at the same time he lifts his gaze to meet yours. He could activate the Tainted Sorrow and end this before it starts, but he doesn’t—you know in your gut that if you pulled the trigger right now, he would accept the fate you delivered. Probably would take it as a better one than he deserved—it being at your hands rather than Arahabaki. 

“Did you know?” you ask. The words taste bitter, rancid—they don’t belong there, Chuuya would never betray you, but you had to hear it from him. 

Chuuya doesn’t have many tells when he lies—he’s a good actor, much better than people give him credit for. If he wanted to lie to you, he might be able to get away with it. But he won’t lie to you, not when he’s looking you in the eye. 

“No,” he says, voice soft and raspy like he can’t believe he has to say it.

You let the gun drop to your side. It weighs heavier now—heavier than it did in the elevator, heavier than it did in the hallway leading to the room, heavier than it did when it was pressed against Piano Man’s head. You can hardly bear to keep holding it, but you’re not done yet.

Slowly, your gaze turns to Kouyou. Her expression is cold and unreadable, gaze pinned on you in the same way a lion stalks its prey through the tall grass… No, that’s not right. She stares at you with the same look in her eyes that a snake does when it’s curled in a corner, rattle shaking and hissing to try to scare off the predator that has it trapped.

“You knew,” you breathe out softly in disbelief. Your voice hardens and tightens as you repeat, “You knew!”

Before you can raise your gun—before you can pull the trigger four, five, six times, before you can riddle her body with holes because how dare she know, how dare she know and not tell you after what the previous boss did to her—the door that separates the conference room from Mori’s office opens, and your attention is drawn to the one person who caused all of this.

“Oh my,” Mori says airly, looking between you, Ace’s body, and Kouyou with an expression that is frustratingly amused. “I see you’ve been busy.”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You almost want to laugh. You think you do laugh, actually—someone does, and you think it’s you, because you feel yourself walking away, you lift your hands to your head to tug at your ears in frustration. Your vision is blurry—are you crying?

“You betrayed me,” you finally say, voice quieter than you intend, so you raise it as you repeat yourself. “You betrayed me. You. Of all people I never thought you would be the one to-”

You can’t even finish the sentence, your voice cracks over the words. It makes you feel sick, it makes you angry, it makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because how could he? To you? You don’t know why you’re so angry, why you’re so betrayed. Mori has always made it clear that his priority is the Port Mafia, but still, to do this to you. To do this to his-

To his what?

You’re not his daughter. You hate when people imply that you are, you hate being called hime, you hate being called ‘Miss Mori’, you hate when people give you respect because of your perceived relationship to him. 

He’s the only father you’ve ever known. Almost every decision you’ve made has been with the motive of making him proud of you. When he seeks out your opinion specifically during meetings, your chest becomes warm with pride.

You don’t love him. How could you? Look at what you’ve become because of him. 

Then why do you feel so betrayed? Why did you think he would be the last person to do something like this to you when you know the type of person he is? Why does your chest feel like it’s caving in? Like your heart’s been ripped right out of it? Why does this hurt as much—why does this hurt more than Dazai’s potential betrayal?

And he certainly doesn’t love you. He never would have done this if he did. 

He’s killed people for disrespecting you—he hardly ever gets his own hands dirty, but he does when it’s you and your dignity on the line. He spends hours meticulously picking out birthday presents that he knows you’ll like. He gets sad when he invites you for lunch and you don’t join him, reminiscing about the days where you clung to the back of his coat.

He touches your shoulder, and your finger twitches on the trigger of the gun. You want to lift it, press it to his temple and pull the trigger just like you did to Ace, but you can’t. Your arm feels like lead, and when his hand slides down to your bicep to force you to turn around and face him so that your back is to the rest of the executives, you dutifully follow along.

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at you, violet eyes swimming with an emotion you’ve never seen in them before. He lifts his hand to wipe away one of the tears that had spilled over your cheeks with his knuckle, and then taps your cheek twice, chiding you silently. 

Do not cry here, little hime. Not here.

“You have always been so dramatic,” Mori hums just loud enough for you to hear, but the words are fond, and the corners of his lip curl up as he looks down at you. “I would not betray you. Not ever, dear.” 

You look at Ace pointedly in response and then back to Mori, the man sighs dramatically and gives you a disappointed look. The nerve, you think bitterly, narrowing your eyes on him as you wait for his explanation.

“I told you,” Mori says. “I did this to protect you. I wanted to get ahold of the boy-”

“Because you have some mistaken belief that he’s a Tsushima,” you interrupt coolly. “How did you even manage to come up with that ridiculous theory?”

Mori’s eyes flicker with something akin to interest, but shifts quickly into pity—you can’t tell if it’s genuine or mocking, and you don’t know which would be worse. He must be mistaken, he has to be. You don’t think you can handle the implications of if he isn’t, of what it might mean for you. For Dazai. Your whole relationship with him. How much was manufactured for him to get information about the Port Mafia? So he could get a foothold in the organization? Get in contact with the remaining loyalists to his family?

“Sit,” he tells you, guiding you over to the seat at the right of the head of the table. “I’ll explain everything, but first… Shuji-kun, why don’t you come out and join us?” 

Your breath catches at Mori’s words, gaze twisting to the side over to the door that he’d come out of. You watch as the door creaks open, and the achingly familiar sight of his face finally comes into view. You’ve missed him—you’ve missed him, and you hate this. You should be back at your apartment with him, you should have him curled up in your arms, you should be listening to him complain about how long he was stuck with the Guild. 

This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be sitting at the executive roundtable with Ace’s dead body a few feet away, and Dazai entering the room, questions of his identity, of whether or not he’s been using you for information and opportunity to take back his grandfather’s legacy. 

You hoped that Dazai would enter the room angry, irritated by the kidnapping and the accusations, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen Dazai look like this before. He looks a mess, fidgeting, brown hair matted to his forehead, dark eyes wide and swirling with emotion. When he seeks you out, they’re pleading, imploring, like he already knows that whatever is about to be said is going to be bad for him. 

He looks… frazzled. Nervous. Confused. 

He looks guilty, and you know that Mori is telling the truth. 

How much of this was a lie? All of it?

Your throat feels uncomfortably tight, gaze sliding from Dazai back to Mori.

“Tell me.”

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

———

Despite his body being wracked with a strange sense of guilt, Dazai pushes open the door to enter the room where he assumes you’ll be waiting. You’re not the only one there sitting at the table—there’s five… no, four others—but Dazai can’t help the way he immediately seeks you out. He recognizes his mistake instantly. That highly unwelcome, and highly misplaced, guilt amplifies the moment his gaze meets yours and he sees how crushed you are by all of this. His face twists into something that he knows condemns himself more. and from the way you instantly look away from him, directing your full attention to Mori, he knows he has. 

Now, you won’t meet his eyes at all.

Dazai sits stiffly across from you to the left of Mori. Nakahara Chuuya is on his opposite side, glaring holes into the side of Dazai’s head, but he can’t drag his gaze from you. He’s never seen you like this before—even back at the beach house when you’d been so close to breaking down under the weight of everything on your shoulders, you’d held yourself together as best you could. 

You’re unraveling now; he can tell you’re still trying to hold yourself together, but it’s as good as trying to pick up water with your fists, your emotions spill out through the cracks carved into the walls you used to hide yourself behind. Mori hasn’t even begun talking, yet your breath is unsteady and your eyes are swimming with emotion; your fingers are still wrapped tight around the grip of your gun, and Dazai is very acutely aware of Ace’s dead body slouched over the table not even a few feet away. 

And you won’t even meet his eyes.

Maybe it’s a good thing, he realizes, because Dazai isn’t sure what you might see if you do. You clearly didn’t like what you saw the first time. He just feels so guilty, and he doesn’t even know why he feels guilty because he’s not-he didn’t do any of what Mori implied. He didn’t use you, he didn’t know who you were before meeting you, it wasn’t all some scheme to try to take over the mafia. That’s ludicrous—he’s a literature student at YNU, not some gang lord. He just-

He loved you. Loves you. No ulterior motives. No strings attached. 

“I said tell me,” you snap when Mori doesn’t immediately begin talking. “You love talking, so why are you holding back now? Tell me, or I’m leaving.”

Dazai feels a bit sick to his stomach when you say ‘I’ with no implication of taking him with you. He tries to get you to look at him again, silently pleading with you to just spare one glance in his direction, but you’re irritated now. He can see it in the way your fingers flex around the gun, knuckles whitening and finger twitching on the trigger—it’s pointed at the woman sitting next to you, who is very acutely aware of the fact from how stiff she is. 

“Do you remember the night we took over the Port Mafia, dear?” Mori asks her, voice a low hum. 

“What kind of question is that?” you answer tightly. Your lip curls up in irritation, Dazai can see you become more and more antsy and angry—he’s never seen you so out of control before. “Of course, I do.” 

“And you, Shuji-kun?” Mori turns his attention to Dazai and he wants to spit in his face—his name is Dazai—but his voice fails him when he sees the way your face twists at the sound of the unfamiliar name. He stares at Mori instead, hating how amused the man becomes at his silence. “I’ll take that as a no, allow me to refresh you.”

“Eight years ago, a coup was staged against your grandfather’s regime,” Mori says, and Dazai feels like he’s being studied under a microscope. All eyes are on him now—even yours, but now, he can’t bring himself to look at you. He doesn’t know what he’ll find, and he’s scared it’s going to be something he doesn’t like. “Your grandfather was mad, killing civilians and mafiosos indiscriminately, something had to be done, and nobody was willing to do it, so we did.”

“We had to wipe out the whole family, and any loyalists. I was fourteen when I killed someone for the first time. She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s grandaughter…”

Dazai’s gaze drags over to you. You’re staring ahead now, gaze listless and expression eerily blank like you’re slowly starting to realize what this means. Dazai hasn’t come to terms with it yet, because if even a little of what Mori is saying is true then…

“We wiped out the whole bloodline and as many loyalists as we could,” Mori continues, “or we thought we did, at least. My dear hime was who I sent to kill the heirs, I trusted in her to make it quick and painless. We didn’t realize one of the grandchildren were missing until it was too late—he wasn’t in his bedroom, apparently liked to wander around at night because he couldn’t sleep. His mother was able to swoop in and get him out of the estate before our men took over the building… Tsushima Shuji, the youngest of the previous boss’s grandsons. Does this sound familiar yet, Shuji-kun?”

He has the best view of the night sky from an alcove on the fourth floor of the estate—his grandfather’s floor. It’s where he likes to go when he can’t sleep at night, and ever since his cousins and siblings started fighting over their grandfather’s legacy, that’s been just about every night: half because of fear now that things have started escalating to violence, half because he’s not even sure why he’s still here.

His knees are tucked tight to his chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting against the cool glass as he looks up at the stars. He hears a commotion happening somewhere downstairs, but there’s always a commotion happening at the estate, so he thinks nothing of it. He submerges himself in the darkness instead, letting his mind float away as he stares up at the sky—it’s the only time he’s able to relax, escape from the shadows of his own mind.

He’s not sure how long he sits there admiring the night, time passes immeasurably when he’s lost in the stars—he’s only snapped out of it when he hears feet slamming against the ground in his direction. He stiffens, eyes wide, wondering if another one of his cousins has finally turned to bloodshed as the way to inherit their grandfather’s legacy, but instead his mother turns the corner, her smooth face contorted in a type of panic he’s never seen on her before.

“Mothe…” he starts to say, confused, but he doesn’t even get a chance to finish the word, gasping as his mother grabs his wrist and yanks him off the cushioned seat in the alcove.

“Shuji, we have to go,” she gasps, “we need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

He stumbles after his mother, struggling to keep up with her quick pace and longer legs. Her grip was painful, nails digging into the bandages around his wrists, right into the fresh wounds they covered. He grimaces in pain, breathing heavy as he follows his mother down the hall, assumingly toward the steps near his grandfather’s room. 

“What’s going on?” he asks. “What about Bunji? Akane? T-”

His mother chokes over what sounds like a sob and his eyes widen—he’s never heard his mother cry before. 

“There’s no time,” she chokes out, “we have to leave without them. We-”

They turn a hall, she skids to a stop and-

“It seems that it does… Allow me to continue then,” Mori hums, drawing Dazai out of the memory. He sounds unbearably amused, and Dazai would be angry if he wasn’t so shaken. He pulls his hands off of the table to rest them in his lap to hide the way his fingers are trembling. “Your mother was able to hide you from us for half a year, I warned her that she wouldn’t be able to for long and since she didn’t share your grandfather’s blood, promised to spare her life if she gave you up to us, but she refused. She tried to take you out of the Kanagawa Prefecture, but our men were catching up to her, and she took… drastic measures to ensure we couldn’t track you down. That I’m sure you remember.”

“Mother,” he whispered, staring up at the rope, her limp body, gaze trailing down to the kicked over chair. “Mother, I don’t… why did you…”

He takes a step closer. A step back. Another step closer. He reaches out, fingers brushing the white nightgown she’d worn the night before while getting him settled in bed, but he snatches them back instantly like he’d been burned, clutching his hand to his chest.

He’s not breathing, he realizes when his lungs start to burn. His eyes sting painfully, unable to draw his eyes away—unable to even blink—is it a nightmare? Is he hallucinating? She sways—sways like when she used to distract him when he was settling into a depressive episode by putting on music and forcing him to spin with her in the kitchen, sways like the wind chimes she keeps outside because the house doesn’t feel homely enough without him, sways-

“Shuji! Shuji, get away from there!” The voice that calls to him is familiar—Aunt Kiye? Why is she here? “God, I tried to get here earlier. Nee-san, forgive me.”

Aunt Kiye grabs his wrist, yanking him away from his mother, dragging him out of her bedroom and down the hall. His voice is hoarse as he screams, he doesn’t know what he’s screaming, if he’s even screaming anything intelligible. He doesn’t stop until he’s out of the house and she’s kneeling in front of him, shaking him out of his panic.

“Enough, Shuji! We have to go, we can’t stay here, they’ll be here soon,” Aunt Kiye shouts at him, expression twisted and eyes pooling with tears that she doesn’t let spill over. “We need to go, and we-we need to change your name, change everything. I promised I would hide you, I-”

“We can’t leave her there,” he argues, voice shrill. “I don’t understand, why did she do that? What did I do? It was my fault, It was my fault, wasn’t it? It-”

Aunt Kiye doesn’t answer his question. She looks bitter, angry, hateful. “We have no time. We have to leave,” she whispers, dragging him to the car despite his protests. She continues talking, more to herself than to him, but the words make his chest cave in. “I told her not to get involved with that family. Their blood is black, cursed. Everyone knows nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

His fault, he realizes, breath becoming thin and shallow. It’s his fault, his blood, his fault that his mother-

“Yes, quite the unfortunate scene we walked into,” Mori says dismissively. “She was smart for it though, she never would’ve survived a night with our sweet hime interrogating her. You should see what she did to that despicable journalist. Of course, she wasn’t as fine-tuned with her ability back then, but that would’ve been at your mother’s expense—her first few attempts at conditioning were quite… unfortunate for her test sub-”

“Enough,” you spit out, interrupting him. Dazai wants to believe that it’s because you can see how uncomfortable he’s getting, but he’s not even sure that you care. He’s not even sure you remember he’s in the room. “Get to the point. You think he’s the Tsushima kid we missed—that doesn’t prove shit. It doesn’t mean-”

You don’t finish what you’re going to say, but you do look at him, and Dazai’s breath catches when his gaze finally meets yours again. He can’t tell what you’re thinking—the expression on your face is entirely indecipherable, something caught between being accusatory and guilty. Dazai doesn’t know if he’s going to make it out of this room alive. Even if by some miracle, you decide to believe him, there’s a good chance that Mori will order his death anyway, and he’s not sure if you’ll pick him over the Port Mafia. 

That being said, Dazai doesn’t even know if he wants to make it out of here alive. His brain is fogged with memories that he locked so deep within him that they never should’ve resurfaced—every time Mori speaks, Dazai’s recalling something new, something awful, something that proves that he’s every bit the freak people have always claimed him to be. Every bit as bad. Every bit as wrong. Not like other people. A monster whose mother killed herself because of him, a monster who's been cursed since the day he was born. 

“... blood is black, cursed… nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

More than that, he doesn’t see how the two of you are going to be able to come back from this, and that scares him more than anything. You’re the only good thing left in his life, and he doesn’t think he’ll make it without you, but he doesn’t think that after all of this things are just going to work out. You killed his siblings. His cousins. And yeah, Dazai was never close to them—they thought he was too quiet, too strange, all of the things that the other students at school whispered, his family was the first to—but… they were still his family, and if Dazai had been in his room that night, he would’ve been just as dead at your hands as the rest of them.

You killed his family. You would have killed him. The Port Mafia is the reason his mother killed herself, the reason why he walked into her bedroom and saw her hanging from a fan. The Port Mafia is the reason his aunt hated him so much that she couldn’t even bear looking at him, the reason why he was left to die in Suribachi City. 

Would you ever be able to get over the guilt of that? Would Dazai be able to accept it? You had a heavy hand in ruining his life, is it enough that you saved him years later? He doesn’t know, he’s hardly even processed it, he just knows that he has to cling to what little he has left, dig his nails in and not let go even if it makes you choke on guilt, even if it makes him sick with shame. He won’t let go. 

“So impatient,” Mori sighs. “Your aunt hid you for almost another half a year, but she wasn’t able to move out of the Yokohama area. She did well though, I’ll give her that. We had our best trying to find you, but she was very careful. It was partially our own fault that we didn’t get our hands on you back then—some loyalists to your grandfather snuck under our radar, told her when we were closing in on the two of you. She got rid of you before we got to her… but we did get to her. Kouyou-kun was the one who handled her, if I recall it got quite… messy. I can’t imagine how it must feel knowing that your mother and aunt sacrificed themselves to protect you only for you to throw it all away in an arrogant attempt to reclaim your grandfather’s legacy.”

Dazai doesn’t even zero in on the last bit of what Mori says because he’s too busy trying to wrap his head around the rest of it. Aunt Kiye didn’t… die for him. Aunt Kiye hated him. He remembers that clear enough—he remembers how she could hardly stand to look at him, he remembers the way she was always so cold and rough with him, he remembers-

“You have to go, Osamu.” Aunt Kiye is shouting at him, and he’s sitting in the passenger seat of her car. He doesn’t move, he thinks maybe if he sits still enough, she won’t see him there and won’t make him leave. “Osamu, get out of the car and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

The name is still unfamiliar—he’s not used to it, and he doesn’t know if he likes it, but Aunt Kiye insists that Tsushima Shuji is dead and that name can never be uttered again. She gets mad when he doesn’t immediately answer to it, tells him not to let his mother’s death be in vain, and that’s usually enough to get him to stop being stubborn over it.

“Osamu, go!” She grabs his bicep hard to try to get his attention, but he flinches and squirms out of her grip, still not responding to her. He can’t remember the last time he’s spoken—he thinks maybe since they left the cabin that morning. “You-”

Aunt Kiye sounds angry now, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. It’s only when he hears her unbuckle and feels her start reaching over him that he starts to panic. He reaches up to grab her bicep, trying to stop her from grabbing the handle of the door to open it, but she’s stronger than him. He’s hardly been eating lately, and he’s never been particularly strong—he was always the smallest among his siblings. 

It takes no effort for her to bat his hands away, pushing open the door and unbuckling his seatbelt. He struggles against her as she tries to push him out of the car, and she’s still speaking—shouting at him, begging him, he thinks she might be crying too, but he can’t even tell. His mind is fogged with panic and fear—he doesn’t want to be alone in Suribachi City, he doesn’t want to be alone at all. He wants to stay with Aunt Kiye even if she hates him because he doesn’t want to be alone. 

Eventually, Aunt Kiye wins the fight—even with him fighting tooth and nail, she manages to push him out of the car. He hits the ground hard, gasping when he lands poorly on his elbow. He’s stunned for a moment by the shock and pain, and Aunt Kiye takes the chance to toss out a backpack from the back seat and close the door behind him, locking it quickly. 

“No!” His voice is raspy from lack of use over the past few months. He scrambles to his feet and tries to pry the door open but can’t. Aunt Kiye won’t even look at him, she stares ahead as she switches the car into gear and he slams his hands against the window. “Aunt Kiye! Aunt Kiye, don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me here, please, I’ll be better, I’ll do better, just don’t-”

He stumbles back as she pulls the car away, falling when he trips over the backpack onto the asphalt, scraping up his hands and forearms. He’s not sure how long he sits there staring after where the car disappeared waiting for her to come back for him.

She doesn’t.

She didn’t die for him, Dazai thinks again, nails digging crescents into his palm. She didn’t die for him, she couldn’t have. Dazai won’t believe it. Aunt Kiye hated him, she abandoned him in Suribachi—none of this can be true. It can’t. His mother killed herself to be free of him, not to protect him; and Aunt Kiye abandoned him because she hated him, not to save him.

That’s the truth. It has to be. They couldn’t have died for him—for him. It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t want to remember all of this—he was better off thinking that they hated him, that they wanted to be free of him.

He can feel you looking at him now, but Dazai is back to being unable to look at you. He’s staring down at the glass table looking at his reflection, his eyes are wide and dark and far too black—he looks warped, inhuman almost. His expression is blank, none of the turmoil within him is reflected on it, and he doesn’t even understand why. He thinks it’s probably just making him seem more guilty.

“We figured she left you somewhere in Suribachi City, but we weren’t able to track you down,” Mori says flippantly. Dazai wants him to stop talking, but he has a sick feeling things are only going to get worse from here. “Not until you ended up with Oda Sakunosuke, at least, we…”

Dazai’s ears ring at his old friend’s name. Mori is still talking, but his words become a distant buzz. Everything starts coming back to him at once—his time alone in Suribachi City, the weeks he spent rationing the little food he had, getting the shit kicked out of him by some low rung gang who stole his mother’s ring from him. He remembers giving up, questioning the point of his own existence with a detached logic that left him with only one answer—there was no point to his existence, so he was as good dead as he was alive. 

He remembers seeing on a sign that it was the eve of his fifteenth birthday, and he remembers dropping himself in the bay during a storm, hoping that the tide dragged him so far beneath the surface that he’d never see the light of day again.

He remembers waking up the next morning to an unfamiliar face at his bedside, brows knit in disapproval and lips turned down, and he distinctly remembers feeling put out by a stranger looking at him that way.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Dazai couldn’t remember anything but the name Aunt Kiye had drilled into him over and over again the past few months.

“Dazai Osamu.”

“Hm. Oda Sakunosuke. You got a family, Dazai?

Odasaku brought him in. 

Odasaku saved him. 

The doctors said he’d been dead for almost three minutes when Odasaku found him washed up on the beach—said his memory might return over time, but it might not—but Dazai didn’t even care, because Odasaku brought him in. He gave him a roof over his head, food to eat, and a reason to live. He sent him to school so he could feel like a normal kid his age. He played board games with him and didn’t even care when Dazai was a sore loser and quit mid-game when he realized he wouldn’t win. He humored Dazai when he faked being sick because he didn’t want to go to school. When Dazai was going through bad depressive episodes, Odasaku would sit with him silently and write his book so Dazai never felt alone. Odasaku introduced him to Ango and they were-

They were his friends.

Family, maybe.

They were all he had, and they were all he needed. 

And then-

“We were the ones who killed him.”

Dazai’s gaze drags up from the table to focus on Mori. The man’s lips are curved into a cruel smile, his eyes are sharp, and Dazai is moving before he can stop himself. He lunges across the table, but Mori doesn’t even flinch because Nakahara Chuuya grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back down into his seat. 

“You-” Dazai spits, voice raspy and angry.

“Don’t look at me like that, we were trying to get to you,” Mori says casually as if the words don’t shatter Dazai’s entire world. “We would’ve loved to have Oda Sakunosuke amongst our ranks. His death was unfortunate. Collateral damage. He was an assassin for a long time—one of the best in the world. He was pretty much unkillable, his ability allowed him to see six seconds into the future. I never understood how our sniper managed to get him that day, but now I do. He saw you getting shot with his foresight and tried to pull you out of the way, but your ability is nullification, so when he touched you to save you, he damned himself. In those split seconds when he was pulling you to safety, he couldn’t see the future, and couldn’t see the bullets aimed for you that lodged into his chest instead.”

Dazai can’t do this anymore. He tries to push himself up to his feet but his legs are numb and uncooperative, and he can’t move his hands or arms. Mori’s lips part to continue speaking but Dazai can’t do this, he can’t hear anymore of this. He’d always known in his heart that Odasaku’s death was his fault even if he couldn’t remember much about his mother and Aunt Kiye and their desperate attempts to hide him from the Port Mafia. He’d known, but hearing it-hearing the confirmation, it’s too much for him.

Before Mori can say anything, Dazai is startled from his spiraling thoughts when you stand up so abruptly that your chair goes flying back. Your expression is haunted and you’re not looking at him again, but Dazai is glad for it, because he thinks he’s about to throw up.

“I… I need a minute. I just need a minute,” you say shakily before fleeing the room into Mori’s office so quickly that you almost trip over the chair you knocked over.

The room is silent in your wake, and after a few impossibly long moments, Mori stands to follow you into the other room. The three Port Mafia executives left in the room don’t say anything for a moment, and Dazai is just trying to breathe. He’s trying to breathe and process what Mori just said, but he’s failing miserably at it. 

It’s the woman, Kouyou, who speaks first.

“She’s going to kill me for knowing about this,” she says simply, sparing a glance down at the dead body on her opposite side. “I’ve never seen her like this before. Even when Chuuya-kun went missing for a few days, this…”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have conspired against her,” Piano Man sings, looking entirely unperturbed. “I mean honestly, after what the previous boss did to you, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic. Silly me to think you aren’t a cold-hearted bitch.”

Dazai tries to pay attention to what they’re saying, he tries to ground himself with the conversation happening so he can forget the feeling of Odasaku’s blood all over his hands, staining his clothes, smeared on his face. He tries to replace Mori’s echoing words with what they’re saying but he can’t.

“We were trying to get to you.”

“It has nothing to do with sympathy,” Kouyou snaps, but she does look ashamed. “It’s a security threat, it’s bigger than love. This boy could spell the end of everything we’ve built.”

“She won’t kill you, Ane-san,” Chuuya finally speaks up, his knuckles are tight around the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. “I’ll talk to her, I just-”

“When he touched you to save you, he damned himself.”

“Chuuya-kun, she almost killed you,” Kouyou says so dryly that the words almost don’t even register to Dazai, but when they do, they’re the only thing that effectively draws him from his spiraling thoughts. He looks at Chuuya sharply to see if what Kouyou said was true, and his eyes widen when he only grimaces and looks down. “You and Piano Man. She didn’t even hesitate before pulling the trigger on Ace. She’s unstable right now, there’s no talking to her.”

“But she didn’t,” Chuuya says tightly. “I’ll talk to her, but first…”

Chuuya looks at Dazai so suddenly that he almost wants to snap his head away and ignore him, but he can’t. The ginger studies Dazai so intensely that it makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

“Did you know?” Chuuya asks, voice low. He’s angry, Dazai can tell from the way a dark red color starts to flicker around his hands, but he’s trying to keep it together. “Tell me. Did you know who she was and use her to get closer to the Mafia for revenge? I’ll spare her the pain of having to put a bullet through your fucking head and kill you myself right now. Did you know who she was and purposely-”

“No,” Dazai interrupts, voice hoarse. “No. I didn’t-I didn’t know.”

Chuuya stares at him for a few seconds, studying him like he doesn’t know if he actually believes him, but after what feels like an eternity, he finally shakes his head and looks away, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Fuck, this is such a mess,” Chuuya breathes out, voice strained. “Fuck. She-”

Chuuya doesn’t finish his sentence because the door to Mori’s office reopens and you step back into the room, Mori at your heels. Your eyes are red, but your expression is withdrawn now, void of the tumultuous emotions that had been raging across it just a few minutes before. You settle back in your seat. Your eyes flit over Dazai like he’s not even there before focusing on Mori.

Dazai suddenly has a bad feeling.

“I’m not quite sure how you escaped us after that,” Mori continues where he left off, and Dazai is so sick of the man’s voice that he almost wants to rip his own ears off. “Probably Sakaguchi-san from the SDUP, I recall him and Oda-san being close… but that brings us to the present, doesn’t it? Four years later, you stumble into our lovely hime… Come, dear, let me tell you my running theory, and you tell me how accurate I am, yeah?”

Mori is looking at you now, eyes glittering as he waits for your response. Dazai has his own serious issues with the man, but he thinks it’s sick the way he’s enjoying your clear discomfort and increasing distress. Your jaw tightens a bit, but you nod, signaling for Mori to speak. Dazai’s nails dig into his pants as he waits for Mori to continue. Neither of you look at him, and Dazai’s lips part to speak so he can preemptively deny whatever Mori is about to accuse him of, but he can’t push a single word out. 

“Your first meeting with him wasn’t by chance. A cafe, maybe… a bar?” Mori offers, watching your face carefully for a reason. You look away at the second option, and the man’s lips curve up. “A bar, then. One you frequent, I bet. The one in Hodogaya-ku, perhaps? Your first meeting, but not Shuji-kun’s first time seeing you. Ui Koutarou—his journalism professor at YNU—wrote his first article implicating the Mori Corporation’s connection with the Port Mafia in February of this year, around a month before rising fourth year students register for classes. Shuji-kun, naturally, has been following anything related to the Port Mafia closely, so when he sees a class being offered in the fall by the same man who has been openly targeting the Port Mafia, he sees an opportunity and signs up for the class.”

No, Dazai tries to say. His lips form the word, but the sound doesn’t come from his lips. No. No, no, no, no. You look haunted suddenly, and Dazai remembers the argument he had with you during the government event in Tokyo. How cold and withdrawn you’d become. How when he confronted you next, you accused him of working with Ui Koutarou and blackmailing you for money. Mori is reigniting all of the initial fears you once had.

“Ui-san has had his sights set on you for quite a while, dear. You don’t need me to tell you that, you’re very well aware of the man’s hatred of you… When Shuji-kun started classes in the fall, Ui-san roped him into his plans, and you became his project. That wretched man had many documents on you. I had the Black Lizards raid his apartment after we captured him—most were harmless, detailing places you frequented and people seen around you, but when Shuji-kun became involved, he started using that information to manufacture meetings between you. I imagine that after you met him that first time, he started appearing around you rather regularly. Bump-ins at that cafe you like in Minami-ku, on the streets—he even started renting an apartment on property that we own after he realized the opportunity he had with Ui… he’s only been living there since the summer, you know?”

His last apartment wasn’t close enough to the school, Dazai wants to argue desperately. He’d been lucky that a cheap apartment opened up in Hodogaya-ku before the semester started—he’s been trying to get one since his first year. It has nothing to do with-

Dazai suddenly feels nauseous again, everything is spinning around him—he still hears Aunt Kiye screaming at him, he still hears the creaking of the rope his mother hung himself on, he still hears Mori’s confirming that Odasaku’s death was his fault. And now this, and you’re not looking at him again, and he’s not saying anything, why isn’t he saying anything? Why isn’t he denying this?

“He attached himself to you quickly, didn’t he?” Mori asks rhetorically. “Too quickly, I’m sure you had doubts—not even your ability makes people reliant on you as swift as he became. How long did it take for him to start prying for information? Trying to make you slip up and implicate yourself with the Mafia? Confess yourself as an ability user?”

The night of the earthquake when you showed up at his apartment, he remembers dizzily. He started pressing you on your political opinion because he remembered Ui saying that all of the criminal syndicates in Japan are going to do whatever it takes to prevent the military bill from passing. But he wasn’t… doing it to prove anything? He just wanted to know more about you, he was curious, he was finally putting the mystery that you are together. It wasn’t malicious—he just wanted to know you. That’s all it ever was, he’s only ever wanted to know you.

“When did you tell him about your ability? More about our organization? Around when the Guild started making their move in Yokohama, I’m sure. He never told you about his ability until his hand was forced. In fact, I’m willing to bet he lied and said he didn’t know he had one, but tell me, do you really think an assassin of the caliber of Oda Sakunosuke would not realize his ward had an ability that negated his own? That he wouldn’t be trained in how to use it… Most importantly, if all of this wasn’t a scheme of revenge—if he really did love you—then why did he never get rid of the flash drive that contained the proof that his journalism house published? The proof that got you thrown in prison?”

You’re crying.

Dazai’s throat swells when he sees the tears silently tracking over your cheeks. At once, he realizes that he’s never seen you cry before; he itches to reach over to you, to grab your hand or wipe away the tears. He doesn’t—partially because he doesn’t think he could move if he tried, but mostly because he knows that he’s the reason you’re crying. 

He wants to assure you that none of this is true. He had nothing to do with the Guild—they kidnapped him for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know about his ability, he didn’t even know Odasaku was an assassin. And he was just… careless with the flash drive, and he shouldn’t have been, but there was always so much going on, and he was so new to having someone in his life that really loved him that he was quick to bask in it and forget everything else.

He doesn’t assure you of anything, instead he watches as Mori reaches out to do what Dazai wants to do. He brushes away your tears and turns your face to look at him, a disgustingly sympathetic look on his face.

“I know you were eager to believe that someone could love you without your ability at work influencing them, dear,” Mori murmurs, “but people like us will never find a love that pure. There will always be other factors at work sullying it—wealth, revenge, threats. You understand now what this was, don’t you?”

No, Dazai wants to scream at you. He does love you, this wasn’t some ridiculous revenge plot for family he hardly remembered until this meeting, that-

“I do.”

Dazai finally is able to make a noise when those two words leave your lips. It’s weak—something caught between a wheeze and a whimper that sounds too loud in the silent room. He feels eyes on him—Chuuya and Kouyou’s in particular. Not yours. You stare down at the table.

“Ogai-dono,” Kouyou clears her throat. “If I may… perhaps we could… send the boy away. Abroad. Ensure he never comes back to Japan so we don’t have to risk him coming back and disrupting things.”

“We could give him a seat at the table,” Chuuya interrupts, ignoring the wide-eyed look both Kouyou and Piano Man give him because of the radical idea. “We’re down an executive anyway. We tell people who he is, that he supports the new regime. It’s what you wanted to begin with, right, boss? You wanted one of the grandchildren to legitimize the passing of power. We could make it work.”

“It’s too risky.” Mori isn’t the one to speak, Piano Man is, but he doesn’t look happy to do it. “Maybe back then it could’ve worked, but the Port Mafia killed his friends and family, and hunted him down. Too much has happened, he’s an unpredictable variable that we can’t risk. We can’t trust that he’ll just accept it all, that he won’t work behind the scenes to take us down. Giving him any leverage in the organization is the last thing we should do, but what Kouyou-”

“Leave him alive and we risk everything we’ve built falling apart—a civil war igniting, Yokohama being caught in the crossfires and all of our foreign enemies crawling into the city to reap the benefits of our fall. It’s one life or hundreds—thousands, even,” Mori interrupts, voice cool. He turns his gaze onto you. “I trust you know what has to be done, dear.”

Your expression is resolved, a heavy emotion in your eyes that tells him your answer before you even speak. “Yeah, I know.”

You stand up, and Dazai knows that it’s over. When you look down at him, it’s with a type of apathy that makes his stomach twist—he’d rather hate than nothing. His lips part to speak but he pauses when you shake your head slightly, so subtly that he almost doesn’t even notice it.

“Get up,” you say flatly, and then glance at Chuuya. “Chuuya, will you…?” 

“Yeah,” Chuuya replies without you even needing to finish the question. His voice is hoarse, he looks more than a little disturbed. “Yeah. Of course.”

Chuuya rises to his feet and then grabs Dazai’s bicep to pull him up to his feet too. Dazai doesn’t even have the heart to give him a dirty look in response, following along as he leads him out of the conference room and into the hallway. 

For a split second, Dazai really believes that maybe you’re just trying to fool Mori, you made him think you were taking Dazai to have him killed so that you can get him out of here safely, but even once you��re out of the conference room without Mori’s eyes carefully watching you, you don’t look at him.

“Get one of the clean up crews up here,” you tell one of the guards waiting in the hall instead as you frown at your phone, typing out a quick text to someone. You pointedly ignore how alarmed they are by the offhand comment to click on the button to the elevator.

When you look back at the two of them, it’s not to look at Dazai—it’s to look at Chuuya. The two of you are having a conversation, Dazai can tell that much, and he thinks that maybe he should be putting in the effort to figure out what’s going on, what you have planned, but he’s just… tired. He’s not even sure if he cares what happens to him anymore, and he figures the worst case scenario is that he dies at your hands, and of all of the ways he could go, he thinks that would be the most preferable, because at least you would be the last thing he saw.

He doesn’t try to speak again until the three of you are in the elevator and the doors have closed. 

“I-”

“Stop.”

Dazai is startled by the sharpness in your voice. He looks at you, but you’re still not looking at him, your lips are curved down as you stare at your phone, typing furiously. He glances up into the left corner of the elevator, noticing the cameras—maybe that’s why, he thinks a bit unsurely, deciding to stay quiet until out of the building. 

When the elevator doors open, it’s Chuuya that urges him to keep walking by nudging his shoulder. You don’t touch him, don’t look at him. There’s nobody in the main entrance of the building, which Dazai thinks is a bit odd, but he bites back any comments he might have when he sees a black car waiting outside the building.

The doors to the building open at your approach, and Dazai inhales the crisp, fresh air greedily, not even having realized how stifled he’d felt in that room with Mori, you, and the other Port Mafia executives. He thinks maybe that you’ll sit in the backseat with him and he’ll finally be able to talk to you, but you don’t. You open the door to the passenger seat and sit there without even sparing him a glance.

Dazai’s throat starts to swell again, stopping in his tracks as he stares at where you disappeared behind the car door. Chuuya pushes him forward, not letting him linger for long—he opens the door to the backseat and pretty much manhandles Dazai into the car before taking a seat next to him.

He recognizes the person at the wheel—Albatross, your friend. He’s driven you and Dazai around before, every time Dazai gets in the car with him, he makes a sharp comment aimed to embarrass you in some manner. This time, he doesn’t even look at Dazai through the rearview mirror. He just puts the car in gear and starts driving.

A pit starts to form in Dazai’s stomach. Dazai tries to initiate conversation with you again now that you’re outside of the Port Mafia headquarters within closed quarters, nails scraping against his pants as he decides what he wants to say.

“I d-”

“Stop.”

When you cut him off now, Dazai’s stomach flips. He stares at the side of your face, trying to understand why you won’t even listen to him. You can’t actually believe what Mori was saying, you can’t. You were faking him out, tricking him into thinking you fell for it—you had to be, you have to be. You can’t possibly believe him. 

“You won’t… even hear me out?” Dazai asks you quietly.

“There’s nothing left to say.”

Oh, Dazai thinks to himself, withdrawing. He stares at you for a moment before turning away stiffly, expression tight and strained as he stares out the window, watching the buildings pass by as they get closer and closer to the ports. 

You believe it, he realizes dully. You believe that it was all just a scheme. You believe that everything was manufactured, that he used you for some fantastical revenge plan, that he never loved you. You believe it.

But it doesn’t make sense, he thinks desperately. He doesn’t understand how you’re not seeing through it, and if you are, why aren’t you at least giving him some hint? He should try to say something again—he knows that, but he finds himself unable to. He’s a smooth-talker, quick on his feet, but never when it comes to you—since the day he met you, he’s been fumbling over words awkwardly, but now it’s costing him everything. He finds ash in his mouth preventing him from salvaging anything he might’ve had with you.

Dig your nails in and cling, he reminds himself, but his nails have become rounded out and blunted from how long he was scratching at his pants and skin while remembering all those memories he locked away. He tries to dig his nails in and cling, but his voice fails him and his nails can’t even find purchase on your skin, you slip out of his hands as easily as an eel.

He’s going to lose you. He might’ve lost you already.

Dazai thinks that’s worse than the realization that he really might be about to die.

The car comes to a stop much quicker than Dazai had hoped, and he stiffens when you waste no time before getting out of the car. He makes no move to join you outside, and Chuuya sighs next to him.

“Get out,” Chuuya says flatly. When Dazai doesn’t budge again, Chuuya snaps, “Get out of the car-”

“-and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

Dazai draws his knees to his chest, breath becoming a bit labored as his aunt’s voice echoes in his ears. He doesn’t even realize that Chuuya has gotten out of the car until Dazai’s car door is pried open. For a split second, he confuses the executive with his aunt as he’s yanked out of the car—he’s fourteen again and being abandoned by the only person he has left, and he can just barely bite back the “don’t leave me here!” that almost spills from his lips as his knees hit the ground hard.

Dazai is instantly hit with a thick scent that makes him gag. It’s noxious, almost entirely unbearable, clogs his throat to the point he almost struggles to breathe—a blend of rot, acrid chemicals, and something he doesn’t recognize, but it’s sickeningly sweet. As he pushes himself to his feet, he notices you pass your gun over to Chuuya, but in that moment, Dazai is more concerned with figuring out where he is, and when he does, his stomach drops.

The dumping grounds by ports stretch endlessly under the heavy, overcast sky. Mounds of trash rose like grotesque hills patched with scraps of torn plastic and suspicious lumps that Dazai doesn’t have to get close to know what they are. The ground is uneven and treacherous—a mix of sticky mud and sharp shards of discarded glass and plastic, and pools of murky water shimmering with oil slicks. 

It’s disgusting, and Dazai has a feeling it might be his final resting place. 

He trails over to the side of the road and his gaze tracks down to the ground directly below him. It’s not a far drop, hardly a foot or two, and certainly less gross than some of the other parts of the area, but that’s a low bar to meet. He tears his eyes away from the scenery around him to look back at you, lips parted to speak but he doesn’t say anything.

You’re leaning against the front of the car, watching him with an expression that Dazai can’t describe. Sad, maybe, resigned. Chuuya is back in the car, from what Dazai can tell, he's still fiddling with your gun—he wonders if this is his way of letting the two of you say goodbye in private.

“I do love you,” Dazai says. His voice cracks over the words. “No ulterior motives. No schemes. I just loved you. Love you.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, eyes drawing from him somewhere over to the side like you’re looking for something, but after a moment, you look back at him, your face a little softer than it was before.

“I know,” you tell him quietly. “I know, Osamu.”

Dazai’s lips part to say something back—he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, because confusion fogs his mind. If you know, then why-

Why are you doing this?

He doesn’t get the chance to ask. The car door opens and Chuuya steps back out, he passes your gun back to you and Dazai sees you subtly slide something into his hand too, but he can’t tell what it is. You sigh as you look down at the gun before looking back up at him again, he holds his breath as you make your way closer to him.

His lashes flutter shut, expecting to feel the cool barrel of the gun against his forehead, but his breath hitches when he instead feels the familiar warmth of your hand cradling his cheek. Your fingertips are flaked with Ace’s dried blood, but Dazai still leans into your touch, eyes sliding back open to look at you.

Up close, your expression is twisted with regret and… is that fear? Dazai can’t tell, he doesn’t care, he’s more preoccupied with memorizing the image of you before he runs out of time to.

“Forgive me,” you whisper so faintly that Dazai almost doesn’t hear you.

“I do,” he replies just as softly.

Your face crumbles as you look away. You take a step away from him, and your hand drops down from his face. Dazai instantly mourns the loss. You let out a heavy, shaky breath, sparing one last look down at the gun in your hand, one to Chuuya who stands half a step behind you, and then you look at Dazai again.

“Forgive me,” you say again, this time as you lift the gun—your voice is raspy, breath uneven.

Your fingers tremble so violently that the whole gun is unsteady, but Dazai doesn’t even care to look at it, gaze focused on your face instead. 

“I do,” Dazai repeats.

You pull the trigger. 

[aventoru]

in an attempt to spice up your instagram feed, you decided to try out something you had never done before : an at-home photoshoot. and after hours of scrolling through social media for inspiration, you finally came across a post that caught your eye. it was a perfectly curated picture of a person posing with kiss marks on the exposed parts of their body.

but there was one very obvious problem. you couldn’t place these kiss marks yourself. but you know who can? your always-willing boyfriend, who happens to walk by at that moment and seemingly occupied with his phone in hand. it must be your destiny.

“hey, babe,” you call out.

“hm?”

“can you uhh…kiss me for a—”

“yes.”

“but i didn’t get to fini—”

“doesn’t matter, i heard enough.”

not even 5 minutes later, you find yourself sitting down on the bed to apply red on his lips. after finally getting to explain your vision to him, he seems even more excited to kiss you, evident by the mischievous glint in his eyes. “all done,” you pull away as he presses his lips together, smoothing out the buttery gloss for an even finish before puckering his lips dramatically in your face.

you laugh at his antics before letting him shift you both into a more comfortable position so he can start kissing various parts of your skin. your heartbeat accelerates he starts with your face, smooching your cheeks gently before moving down to your neck.

all the while, you sit there in jittery anticipation with an undeniable flush on your face. the soft music in the background does nothing to calm your nerves. after all, this was different from any of his previous kisses. this time, he was leaving a piece of his love on you, using your lipstick. even though this was just for some photos, it felt so strangely intimate, and you were loving every single second of it.

he places a kiss on your collarbones, and you move to stand up, thinking he’s finally done. but to your pleasant surprise, he pulls you back down, flush against him. his affections get the best of him as he goes further south, leaving kisses on your arms and even going as far as to kiss any other exposed parts of your back and torso. he finally stops after placing one last kiss on your fingers as he pulls back to admire his hard work.

and when you start taking pictures, he’s there watching and assisting you, to the point where he becomes more passionate than you are. and of course, he doesn’t miss the chance to get in frame with you, holding you tightly with that smug smile on his face to let everyone know that you’re his.

when you finally post those gorgeous photos, you gain traction and undoubtedly go viral. and he thinks you and your beautiful self deserve nothing less.

HAIKYU : OIKAWA, ATSUMU, suna, osamu, kuroo, nishinoya, timeskip!hinata, yaku, timeskip!lev, iwaiuzmi, bokuto, terushima, tendou

JJK : gojo, toji, geto, ITADORI, TODO, inumaki (speaking in his code ofc), hakari, choso

BLUE LOCK : kaiser, chigiri, reo, BACHIRA, chris prince, lavinho, yukimiya, otoya, karasu, aiku (help not the red flags), sendou, SHIDOU

+ your favs!

masterlist

[sorcerersandskillusers]

I want to talk about one of the most terrifying and interesting bsd characters who almost no fan remembers.

This character nearly tore down the ADA without ever getting involved herself, yet the entire fandom has ignored her because of her terrible anime adaptation.

Who am I talking about?

Nobuko Sasaki

If you haven't read Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam, then you probably don't even know who this character is, in the anime she is watered down to the lovesick girlfriend of an actual villain, and you probably dismissed her immediately. But in the light novel, we get to see how dangerous and cunning she really is, to the point she nearly gets the better of Dazai and almost causes the ADA to be shut down. (Fukuzawa says he would have closed the agency if they hadn't caught her)

In terms of intelligence I'd put her on the same level as Mori, just slightly below the super human genius characters i.e. Dazai, Fyodor and Ranpo

The Azure Apostle

For those who don't remember, Sasaki was the Azure Apostle, a mysterious figure who challenged the agency with several horrifying cases, which would all lead to mass casualties if the agency failed to stop them. These were; uncovering an underground organ smuggling operation (which the agency failed to stop and which massively hurt their reputation) stopping a bombing of Yokohama port which could have killed hundreds of people, and preventing a commercial aeroplane from crashing into the city (this was not included in the anime)

Each of the people, who committed these crimes, had no Idea they were being manipulated and thought it was their own idea the whole time. There was no evidence that anyone else had been involved at all, and the agency had no way to connect her to any of the crimes. And she even makes the genius move of framing Dazai, the mysterious new member with suspicious knowledge of the underworld and a hidden past, as the true culprit.

In fact, she only made one mistake, challenging Dazai. If Dazai had been basically anyone else, they would have been cornered and arrested, but since Dazai's mind works on a level even master strategists can't imagine, he was able to turn the tables on her.

But even after Dazai sees through her plans, the ADA still has to act exactly the way she wants them too and stop the plane crash. Even when they know they're being manipulated, they still have to do exactly what she wanted.

Finally, after Dazai and Kunikida confront her and get her to admit to being behind all those crimes, even then they are powerless to stop her.

Even after being involved with so many massive crimes, Sasaki herself hadn't done anything illegal, so within the law the ADA is completely powerless to stop her.

They can't arrest her, and if they try then the agency will be put in even more danger as will many innocent lives. She has completely trapped the ADA, and even Dazai in a choice to follow the law and let her go or take justice into their own hands and prove they will stoop as low as she did.

In the end, there she has them in a perfect deadlock, let her continue her mission, or kill her themselves. Both are bad outcomes for the ADA.

In the end, Dazai has her killed by using a third party (Rokuzo) to shoot her, so the agency can't be blamed for her murder, though this ends her plans it deeply scars Kunikida and shakes his resolve in his ideals.

The trauma from this event still haunts Kunikida to this day, we see that when he is affected by Q's curse, Sasaki is who he sees.

So thats the Azure Apostle, a terrifying master mind who nearly brought down the Armed Detective Agency, but now lets look at the other side of this character.

Nobuko Sasaki Herself

We know several things about Sasaki as a character and her history from the light novel. That she was a brilliant criminal psychologist and was internationally recognised despite being so young

,that she was the ex-lover of the Azure King and the real mastermind behind his plans, and that she had very little motivation of her own.

That's not meant to be an insult to the character, she says herself that she never really had much direction in life, even with her incredible intelligence she never really had anything she wanted to achieve.

But the Azure King was the opposite, he had powerful drive and strong ideals, he wanted to punish criminals who couldn't be touched by the law and when he failed to change the law as a bureaucrat, she offered him an alternative.

A very important thing here is that neither of them were manipulating or forcing the other into this path, as far as we see they genuinely loved each other, each providing something the other couldn't, Sasaki her mind and the Azure King his drive.

When the Azure king died, Sasaki had no path of her own to follow, so she simply kept following his, even though she doesn't seem to have really cared about his cause.

All of this creates a very unique character, you can't say she was driven by revenge, because she wasn't really driven at all. It's more like she was running on momentum, she had chosen a path to follow and could not stop even though there was nothing pushing her down it any more.

She's a perfect antithesis of Kunikida and was the best possible villain a light novel about him could have had.

A man who brings his ideals into reality with his own hands against a woman who uses others to enforce ideals that were never hers to begin with.

Anyway, I made this because Sasaki is criminally underrated in this fandom, If you haven't read "Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam" I highly recommend it, I've only put a tiny fraction of the amazing story here.

[mrs-kodzuken]

embers of love ⟢ atsumu m.

warnings: forgetful!tsumu, girlfriend!reader, arguments, mentions of best friend!osamu and bestfriend!suna, kissing-ass tsum tsum, fixing a relationship, mentions of proposing, cussing, angst to fluff to smut at the end (unprotected sex, creampie, rough but loving)

It's been two weeks since you've last had an actual, meaningful conversation or interaction with Atsumu. Being his girlfriend of six years, you had expected that he would always be attentive to his career more than you. Honestly, his career was very important to him, and you could see in some aspects if he slacked just a smidge with giving love. Some.

But this, this was ridiculous for him to be doing. You waited impatiently for Atsumu Miya to return home. The house you guys put a down payment for when things got rather serious, and you both realized that it is way better coming home to a home instead of an apartment.

You've known 'Tsumu since you guys were second years and then you both fell in love. Who knew that such young, sweet, innocent love would get you to where you are today?

You heard keys jangling into the keyhole of the front door and you remained in your spot on the couch you both went shopping for forever ago. The blonde man walked in, set his keys down on the tray, took off his shoes and started walking towards the bedroom.

It was as if he didn't realize you were even there. He probably didn't, the exhaustion radiating off of him in waves. It made you feel bad for what you were about to bring up, but it needed to be talked about before you cracked and brought hell to him.

"Atsumu," Your voice spoke out into the room, he stopped in his tracks. "We need to talk." You firmly demanded of the professional volleyball player.

He sighed, "Y/n, can we jus’ do this 'nother time? I'm fuckin' tired." His aggravated tone tore through you, fueling your anger even more.

Your face hardened as he tried to continue walking and ignore you.

"Miya, give me one reason why I should stay with your ass right now." You finally said the words you were so scared to say weeks back. However, you're done now, there's no going back for what you just said.

"’Scuse me?" He whipped around so fast, demanding to know where this suddenly came from. Not only had you referred to him as his last name but, you had spoken about leaving him? Were you out of your mind?

"You heard me. I'm tired of this shit." Your fists balled up, standing from your seat on the couch. You finally had his attention, and you weren't going to let it go now.

"What shit? Me goin’ ta work every single day ta provide a life fer us that ya wanted?" He retorted, crossing his arms obviously not wanting to have this conversation.

"Oh wow! You're so big and strong for going to work every day! I do the same fucking shit too, you ass. That's not what this is about. This is about how I haven't properly talked to you in two weeks and then before that it was almost a month!"

"Atsumu, I am your girlfriend. We've been together for six fucking years! Don't you think I'd want to see you, talk with you, love you?" You sounded exasperated with having to explain yourself as if he didn't see what had been going on through tired eyes.

"Ya know how important my volleyball career is 'ta me. 'S not my fault ya can't handle bein' by yerself." He scoffed, his words like ice to you.

You could've sworn your eye just twitched in anger.

"Why is this going over your head you blonde asshole. I'm saying that if you still want me here, want me to have my part in this relationship, then you also have to have yours." You seethed at him, entirely over his recent behavior because you didn't deserve it.

"I do, yer just so fuckin' needy. Dont'cha think that I should get a fuckin' break from havin' to do unnecessary shit when I hav'ta work late 'nd get up early?" His voice was beyond tired and ready to climb in bed and sleep. It was loud, bouncing off the walls and bouncing right into your ears.

Oh, he wanted to get loud.

"So, I'm needy now? Wanting the bare fucking minimum from a man who can't even see past his own actions to realize that he's about to be single is needy?" You scoffed at him, "I didn't realize that actually wanting you to be caring like how you were in high school was deemed unnecessary." You shouted, pushing past him to the bedroom, done with this conversation.

You had a bag packed already; it wasn't everything you owned because you didn't expect that you would actually get into a predicament like this. Perhaps staying one night over at a friend's place, not this.

You couldn't stand the tears that gathered in your eyes as you gripped your bag and tried to rush out of there. This has to be the worst argument yet.

"Now where tha' hell you think yer goin'?" He tried blocking your way, obviously still pissed and wanting to continue even if it didn't get anywhere. A habit that he possessed since high school that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get him to let go of it.

"Leaving." You didn't spare him a glance as you put on your shoes and grabbed a coat.

"Hah, don't fuck tha' first man ya see." He ridiculed, not caring that you were leaving because of him in the first place.

"Fuck you, Miya!" It sounded wobbly and raw, but you said it. You slammed the door shut and with it your heartbreak of the man you desperately loved and wanted to love you.

With a dial of your phone, you called someone who'd always let you crash at his place.

"Hello?" Suna's voice answered over the phone.

"Rin, can I please stay over tonight?" Your voice cracking, you knew you had to pull yourself together because this was the first time you've left like this and called Suna like this before.

"You're always welcomed here, you know that. What's wrong?" He asked, shuffling on the other side of the phone made you pause for a bit.

"'Tsumu and I had a bad argument." You didn't really want to get into it all over the phone, but it was almost a ten-minute walk to get to Suna's from your house.

Rin cursed under his breath and let out some other obscenities about Atsumu before speaking on the line, "You can stay here as long as you want, so don't worry. Have you talked to 'Samu yet?"

"No, no. Your house is closer and it, you know, it just happened and stuff so." You swallowed thickly, trying not to cry again over the hurtful words Atsumu is capable of.

"Okay, well, I'll be here and put the kettle on too. Want me to stay on the phone?"

"No, it's okay, Sunarin. Bye." You ended the phone call, using the last bit of time that you had to walk to his house to collect yourself.

You were sure that 'Tsumu didn't give two shits where you were right now, those hurtful words he said coming to the front of your mind. It was horrible to think that with a small conversation the behavior could have been fixed from him. It's not the first time either.

Fighting with Atsumu was pointless half of the time. He liked to be hurtful; he liked when it would get so bad too because he could say it was the heat of the moment instead of taking accountability. That really was a deciding factor if you did go the route of breaking things off with him.

God, that physically hurt your heart to the extreme.

Finally, you were at a safe haven for now. You didn't bother knocking on Rin's door, knowing he left it unlocked for you. You could feel the warmth of his house and it held a familiar smell too, like a home away from home.

"Rin?" You called, taking off your shoes and setting the barely packed bag at the entrance of the home.

"In here, Y/n." Rin spoke from the kitchen, nonetheless probably had the kettle on and tea ready for you.

Before even getting two steps into the room, you were engulfed in a tight hug. Rin was never one to really give hugs, only in special situations like this one for example.

"Wanna talk about it over your favorite tea that your best friend made for you because he cares?" Rin asked into your hair, trying to gauge your emotional state right now.

"Yeah, yeah. That's fine." You replied, not trying to let the new line of tears fall.

Within twenty minutes you were done explaining how long you've felt neglected by 'Tsumu and you hated using that word too. After thirty minutes you were trying to get Rin to not call Osamu, which would just make things worse for you.

"'Samu, you need to talk some sense into your shitty twin." Were the only words spoken by Rin before you tried grabbing the phone from him. That's when you got a facetime call from Osamu.

"Ugh, now look at what you've done. You made him facetime us." You rolled your reddish eyes at Suna who just put his hands up in defense.

"What happened, Y/n?" Osamu's face showed up on the phone screen, concerned tracing over his features most likely due to your appearance, you thought.

You sighed, "It's just 'Tsumu. We had a bad argument." You didn't really want to go into it in depth like you did with Suna only because looking at 'Samu was like staring Atsumu in the eyes.

"How bad? Need me ta' talk some sense inta' him fer ya?" The phone screen started blurring a bit as you watched Osamu start getting up and shuffling around.

"No!" You cleared your throat from embarrassment. "I mean, no 'Samu, that won't be necessary, okay? He just said some mean words and I did too so it's not like I'm all innocent either." You eluded eye contact to phone 'Samu until Rin shouted from behind you.

"Yeah, but he told her not to fuck any man she sees when she left, 'Samu." Rin's irritated voice spoke right after your own.

"Oh, that sonofa--don't worry, Y/n. I gotcha." And with that, the facetime call hung up. You stared at the black screen, not sure of what to do now either.

You groaned, "Rin, I don't want to think anymore tonight." You slumped on the expensive couch that he had. It had such a luxurious and soft velvet feeling, which could definitely be able to easily put you to sleep.

"Need me to get the drinks?" He asked, gesturing at the kitchen. Rin had his own bar in his house for some reason. It never failed to amaze you on all the hobbies he was able to pick up, and for this one it was bartending at his house.

"I'm good. I'm just going to shower and sleep, if that's fine. I don't want to deal with Miya's' shit anymore." And that made you pause. Did you really not want to deal with him anymore or was it his behavior?

Quite frankly you didn't know but you'd rather get black out drunk than think about it.

"Okay, well you know where everything is so. I'll be around if you need me. I'm here for you." Sunarin glanced back at you once more before leaving and it brought back memories of when you both were in high school too.

Suna was always there for you. Always knew how to crack you up and comfort you when you were sad. He's always been the best, especially when he welcomed you into the Miya twin's antics too.

While you were getting ready to sleep your sorrows away, Atsumu was ten minutes away wondering when you were going to come home. He's too proud to send you a text first of course, especially after those malicious words to you that he never thought he'd say to you.

He sat on the couch with his phone in his hand, his hair a mess after running his fingers through it to keep him calm. He was hesitant to text or call you to ask if you were coming home or going to leave him. That thought made his heart drop into his ass. So, he was about to dial the next best thing, his twin.

That's when he got a call himself from none other than his own twin. The blonde cursed under his breath, knowing you probably talked to 'Samu first.

"Hey, 'Samu."

"Don't 'Hey, 'Samu' me. I heard what ya said to Y/n. Now what tha fuck were ya thinkin' talkin' to a woman like that?" Osamu's voice came out in such an irritated, almost angry tone that it took aback Atsumu.

"She's tha one who talked 'bout leavin' me! 'Samu, is she at yer place? S’gettin' late, and she hasn't come back yet." He couldn't help but to run another hand into his already messed up hair.

"'Tsumu, get yer shit together or she's gonna fuckin' leave yer ass. And quite frankly? I don't blame 'er. Ya were bein' a real piece of dickwad shit ya'know?" 'Samu scoffed on the other side of the phone as Atsumu tried to beg once again of where you were at.

"'Samu, I know that okay?" He got up and paced around the living room. "I just, God, I don't know how ta' get her ta' forgive me when I was bein' like that."

"'M not goin' to give you all tha answers but ya need to make it up to her and actually be sincere about it. Now stop messin' around, you already bought a ring, dumbass. Ya watch yerself too, there's plenty of guys who know how to treat a woman right."

Before Atsumu could say anything or question what his brother meant by that, he heard the familiar beeping of the phone call ending.

"What tha fuck?" 'Tsumu thought aloud, even though there was no one home to hear him.

Before Atsumu could even let his brain process, his body was up and moving around. Soon, he realized he was making a little get-away for the two of you guys. It was like he woke up from a hazy dream he was sleeping in and needed to take control before he lost someone that he never thought he'd lose.

Soon enough, a get-away was planned for the two of you and Atsumu had made sure enough to spoil the hell out of you by leaving a lot of detailed instructions too.

He paid for a suite hotel room, ordered your favorite bouquet of flowers to surprise you in the bathroom, arranged a spa day for the two of you and a manicure and pedicure especially for you, champagne, and dinner reservations every night.

He also rented your favorite movies, shitty snack foods that you love, and he hates, rose petals in the room for when you both arrive and fake candles because he didn't want to accidentally burn down the room.

He only hoped that you wouldn't leave him the next time he saw you. Atsumu prayed to anything and everything that he would get another chance and be able to apologize to you before you could even say anything.

After collecting everything he needs and packing a bag for you and him, he was on his way to Suna's, determined to come to you and apologize the right way.

Atsumu knew you like the back of his hand, if you weren't with 'Samu then you were with Suna. The more he starts to think about how much he's missed you and hasn't really seen or talked with you in a while, it hurts. He could see why you wanted to dump his ass.

He had to make it right; he thought after he quickly parked and got out of the car. His skin chilled not only because of the weather but knowing you probably walked through this upset after he said words he wishes he could take back now.

Banging on the door, he didn't waste any time calling for you, "Sunarin! Open up, I know Y/n's in there!" He shouted, not caring that it was well late into the night either.

After a few moments of dogs barking and a couple front porch lights turning on due to his loudness, the door finally opened. Instead of Suna, like Atsumu originally thought, it was you instead.

The harsh knocking woke you up first since you had been sleeping on the couch and it's not like you could ignore it either. 'Tsumu was very adamant about things like this.

You opened the door quickly to cease his pounding on it and was met with familiar eyes that seemed to long for you.

"What do you want?" You cut to the chase, not wanting to hear the familiar sweet-talk he would always use to get out of you being frustrated with him.

"I'm-I'm here ta apologize ta ya Y/n." Atsumu's heart was pounding at the sight of you. Now he always thought you were beyond gorgeous but right now with your hair a mess and red, tired eyes he couldn't help but to feel terrible because he was the cause of this. Of your pain.

"Don't want to hear." You said, shutting the door, planning to ignore his advance of receiving your forgiveness. That is, until his foot was blocking the doorway.

"Please, please Y/n. Jus' let me apologize fer hurtin' ya. Please." He begged, wearing down at your already weary state. You were supposed to be pissed at him for the shit he's caused you, granted you have thought about ending things but now you're not so sure.

"Fine," You stated, leaving the door cracked to where you could shut it if needed be.

"Thank ya," He took a deep breath in before continuing. "I realized after ya left that I was bein' petty about our argument, and even before then too. I haven't been tha best boyfriend lately 'nd you deserve better from me. I'm goin’ ta be better fer ya startin' right now."

The emotion in his eyes as he started became thicker and so did the tightness in your throat. This was all you wanted, a promise that he would be better for you, so you didn't have to beg him to love you like you needed.

You didn't say anything, "I'm sorry fer spoutin' some shit like I did before ya left. I was jus' so mad and exhausted which isn't an excuse, I know." He ran a hand through his hair like earlier.

"I jus' hope ya can forgive me fer bein' so stupid. I realized that I could actually lose ya, yaknow? And that—it really scared me." He finished, hope and nervousness filling his eyes as he waited for a response, a movement, anything from you.

You took a sharp intake of air, "I was going to leave you, you know. I was tired of your shit and being treated like shit from you. I won't hesitate anymore the next time something like this happens, I'll just leave." You glared at the man who has your heart. You didn't want to forgive him but something so small, so tiny had told you to.

Atsumu looked so relieved as he blew out a sigh. "Thank ya, hon. Really. Thank ya so much." He reached through the door opening and hugged a bit of you that he could get.

Seeing your rugged state and blotchy eyes was something he never wanted to see again, especially if he was the cause of it.

"Can ya come with me?" He asked, in hopes of you saying yes. Since you had already stated that you weren't leaving him, his other part of treating you well was still needed to do.

You glanced backwards to make sure you both haven't woken up Suna and then nodded. You presumed that continuing what else that was supposed to happen would be best at your house instead of Suna's.

As you gathered your bag and folded the blanket on the couch, you sent Rin a quick text that you were headed home and would update him.

Getting into the warm car made you fight back the urge to fall asleep, knowing that you would be home within less than five minutes. However, that didn't stop the nulling of the ride from easing you to rest again.

Atsumu was thankful that you had fallen asleep in the car. The hotel was a few towns over, and he didn't really want to explain to you why he was taking a different route. Not to mention that it was the middle of the night too.

He was becoming tired after the hour and a half drive, but he fought to stay awake to check into the hotel and surprise you.

"Honey, hon, wake up." He nudged your shoulder, trying to wake you up gently.

"Hm? Are we home?" You asked, peeling your eyes open, except you weren't in your driveway. You were at a hotel; it was a very tall and large building at that too.

"Atsumu, why are we at a hotel?" You suspiciously asked, an eyebrow raised hoping that he didn't think he was getting lucky just because you forgave his behavior.

"Its'a surprise, come on honey. The valets are goin' to park our car fer us." He said, smiling and gathered a suitcase that you didn't even realize was in the backseat.

You followed along with your brows furrowed and confusion written all over your face. After checking in and getting the room key, Atsumu handed it to you, "I'll carry yer backpack too, ya can get the door, hon."

You assumed he was trying to be sweet and kiss ass since he hurt you but at the same time you felt bad because you had yet to apologize for your hurtful words to him as well.

The carpet of the floors was gentle as you walked down the long hallway and finally reached your room. Number 528 on the gold plate of the door.

You swiped the room key card, and the click was heard as you pushed open the ungodly heavy door. Immediately, you gasped.

The room was absolutely beautiful, red rose petals were scattered throughout the room, and fake candles lit up around the room as well. The lavender scent cascaded through it too, your eyes began to water, you couldn't believe that this was all for you.

"'Tsumu, did you do all of this?" You asked, breathlessly, your voice in your throat hitched as you turned towards him.

"Yes, I did. M’sorry fer hurting ya, hon, I promise. I'll be better fer ya from now on. I swear." You closed the distance between you and him as he let go of the door and it shut.

"I'm sorry too. I also said some hurtful words that I promise I didn't mean. I was just angry and wanted to be treated better by you." You sincerely said, happy now that apologies were out of the way, and he had gone out of his way to plan something like this for you.

"What about practice tomorrow?" You pulled back from the hug you had engulfed him in.

"I took some days offa work fer ya." He smirked his usual, "I gotta make sure ya feel loved yaknow?" Atsumu picked you up and carried you to the bed.

The white bedsheets were a stark contrast from the red rose petals you started playing with. 'Tsumu un-did the covers for you and tucked you in not before shutting the lights and getting in himself.

"I'm sorry this all happened so late, we should sleep in." He murmured from behind you. His warmth radiates like a heater to put you to sleep.

You didn't say anything about the half hard thing poking you in the back as you drifted off to sleep. Neither did 'Tsumu as he shifted his hips away from your ass to make you understand that he didn't expect sex from you.

"S'okay 'Tsumu." You mumbled before drifting to sleep with him holding you. He was glad you both made up, but he was more so excited to treat you well over these next few days.

After four days of gifts, love, and sweet-talking from Atsumu, you were getting needy, and you both knew it. It had started with him treating you to dinner every single night, breakfast in bed, kisses and random hip grabs throughout the days and even a spa day too.

It was like falling in love all over again from high school. This was the love you craved from your boyfriend. And naturally, it made you want to give him something special. Atsumu hadn't even been the slightest bit sexual with you since this little get-away had started, and that makes you feel all the wilder.

That's how you got yourself in the predicament now. You both were back into the hotel, getting changed for bed. You specifically wore your sexiest pajamas just for his eyes. He told you that tonight was a movie and snack night instead of fancy dining. You were all for it and enjoyed every second of being with him.

However, halfway through the movie, you couldn't help but to shift a lot more. Not really paying attention to the movie but to how you could tell you were having an effect on Atsumu.

You could see it as his jaw clenched and his eyes were fixated on the movie instead of how you were purposefully rubbing your ass on him with the excuse that you're just getting settled.

The dam broke for him and you when you didn't stop grinding on him but instead was using him to get yourself off and a moan slipped out. Suddenly the TV was shut off and you opened your lidded eyes to look over at your boyfriend.

"Y/n. What...?" Atsumu choked out, understandably trying to hold off on the need to make love to you.

"I'm sorry, 'Tsumu. I just want you so bad," You mewled, happy with the work you meticulously planned.

"Ya do? God, fuck, I've been waitin' fer ya ta say somethin'." Atsumu groaned out, as you gave him consent to whatever was about to happen between the two of you.

His strong hands flipped you around to your back and you gasped, forgetting that being a volleyball planner and hitting the gym a lot can cause him to manhandle you.

It's definitely been a while since you both have had sex.

He stuck a hand in your pajama shorts, realizing that you hadn't even put on any underwear either and groaned with need. His cock was painstakingly hard by now from your earlier ministrations.

"Fuck, yer so hot. So needy fer not wearin' any panties too." He chuckled with need.

Soon, you were positioned into a mating press, your legs folded against your naked chest. Above you, Atsumu was roughly giving you the pleasure you needed because with every thrust he gave, his trimmed pubic hair would rub your clit.

You couldn't help the moans that he tore out of you, missing the way he hurts you so bad by going a bit too hard.

"Uhg, fuck, I can't-" You moan to Atsumu, his eyes directly focused on the way his cock disappears inside of your pussy and the white ring you've formed on him.

God, he loved you.

"Yes, ya can. Yer not cummin' yet," He groaned as you squeezed him more when he started rubbing your clit in circles, which made your hips buck and head thrown back.

"Fuck, fuck, ah-" Atsumu's hips stuttered, the pleasure becoming too much and was on the brink of finishing inside your fertile cunt.

When your orgasm crashed onto you, your body shook, and legs tried to flail under his grasp. The tightness eventually stopped ‘Tsumu's thrusts as his hips bucked into yours as he came. You both tried to catch your breath but before Atsumu could stop his mouth he said, "Marry me." breathlessly to you.

Your head snapped out of the fog it was trapped in, and you widen your eyes, "What?" You finally out, your surprise of what he said taking over the moment.

"Marry me, Y/n. I love ya." Atsumu said, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead, his cock still inside of you, and the sweat from your bodies becoming much too hot.

"This isn't tha romantic moment I had planned, but m’serious 'bout marryin' ya." He firmly stated his hands on your hips as he gently pulled out of you to delicately pull you close to him.

"Uh, yes!" You laughed into his chest, what a dork.

You weren't expecting him to propose, especially when he got out of bed and reached into his black dress pants pocket and pulled out a fucking ring.

A huge ring at that.

Now your mouth was agape, you hadn't expected him to have actually bought the ring already. You teared up when he asked if you wanted to put it on, to which you nodded.

It fit like a glove; you were touched.

"I love you so much 'Tsumu, so much."

a/n: i hope you guys liked this! it was almost 5k words lol, i hope tsum tsum wasn't too ooc <3

[luvfy0dor]

“Forgetting Something? ♡⁠˖” BSD Men x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma

Warnings; I feel bad for writing this out, hardly proofread, kinda rushed, maybe ooc

Description; how do they react to you ignoring their 'i love you's?

A/n; hi chat. If I keep flopping I am going to sell my soul. Like, reblog, and comment on this I pray and plead and beg. I've been havin a rough time guys pls.

Osamu Dazai ★

"I'll be back soon, I love you." He said, grabbing his jacket. Instead of the usual response, all he got from you was silence. He raised a brow and cleared his throat while buttoning up his coat. "I said I'll be back soon, I love you." He says, this time emphasizing his words. You hummed, your nose still buried in the book that your boyfriend had so kindly borrowed from Kunikida to give to you. His mouth hung open slightly and he straightened his posture. "Do you want anything while I'm out?" Dazai asked, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he stalled. "Ehhh, not really. Thank you, though.'" You turned a page, kicking your feet back and forth slowly while you read. "Alright, back in a bit, I love you." He twisted the door handle and waited for you to reply, only to once again hear silence. He sighed in annoyance and walked back over to you, leaving the door agape. "I said I love you, say it back!" He takes the book out of your hands, tossing it to the side without letting you mark your place. "Hey-! I was reading that!" You say with a grin. He tsks and shakes his head playfully, leaning over you and essentially pinning you to the couch to kiss you. "Just say it back." He murmurs against your lips in between brief pecks to your face. "F-fine! I love you!" You finally get out while giggling. "Good, you had me thinking you had fallen out of love with me! Now I'm leaving for real, even though you made me not want to. I love you." He says before kissing your lips quickly and backing up to the door. "I love you too, Osa."

Chuuya Nakahara ★

"I'm headin' out, 'kay babe?" Chuuya quietly said, his voice just above a whisper in the dark bedroom. It was about 5:30 am, and you were still curled up under the blankets, grateful that you didn't have to leave until 7. "Mmmm.." you hummed and lifted your arm from under the blanket to give him a quick hug and kiss before he left. He cupped your cheek and ran his thumb acrossed your skin before he pulled away. "I love you." He says, standing back up. Instead of responding like usual, you just pulled your blanket back up to your shoulders. He stared down at you with his hands on his hips, waiting. "...are you done gettin' comfy yet?" He asks, helping you move the blanket around and essentially tucking you in. "Yeah, thanks Chuu." You murmur before you yawn and close your eyes. He continues to stand there before sighing and grabbing his jacket off the hook on the door. "Alright, see ya when I get home I guess." Slight annoyance was evident in his voice before you peeked open your eyes again. "Mkay, I love you too, have a good day at work." Chuuyas frown almost turned upside down immediately as he came to an abrupt stop. "Jeez, don't take so long to say that next time. Had me worried." You giggled, still curled up. "I will, I promise." And with that, Chuuya was off to work with a small grin plastered on his face and your simple 'i love you too' lingering in his heart longer than usual this morning.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

Fyodor had recently returned from his adventures in Europe, and even after a week passed, you still couldn't help but be overtly affectionate. You were almost sure that 'i love you' and 'i missed you' were your top phrases in the passed week. But what if you just didn't say it? You decided to indulge in your curiosity one evening while the two of you were in bed. He sat, propped up against his pillow, watching some documentary on the TV. You were cuddled up to his side and his arm was draped over your shoulders. Every now and again, he'd glance down at your nearly-asleep form, rubbing his hand on your shoulder and down your back. "Goodnight, moya lyubov, I love you.'" He leaned down to kiss your forehead, smiling as you open your eyes. He waited to hear you say it back, only to watch you close your eyes again. He felt a bit confused, raising an eyebrow. "Have you gotten everything out of your system and won't tell me you love me anymore?" He asks, retracting his arm from its place around you to his lap. "No, Fedya, m'sorry, I love you too. I just wanted to see what you'd do." You say, grabbing his arm and putting it around you yourself. He sighed. "what a stupid thing to to." He mumbles, continuing to hold you, but returning his attention to the documentary. "I love you, Fyodor, I promise." You mumble, kissing his side through his shirt. "Mhm, I love you too." You smiled contently and felt yourself slip off into a dreamy sleep, happy to know that he cared whether or not you say 'i love you' back.

Nikolai Gogol ★

Nikolai, like Fyodor, had ALSO just returned from his trip to Europe, except he was equally as all over you as you were him, not to say Fyodor isn't affectionate. Nikolai would cling to you every chance he got, always peppering your face with kisses and fiddling around with your fingers. "Ah, I'm still so happy to be home, y/n. I missed you so much while I was away! Not that I never knew before, but it really made me realize how much I love you." He says with a smile, sitting on your lap and hugging you, his cheek pressed against your shoulder. "Did it?" Your finger tips ghost over his back, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they go. "Yeah. I love you a lot." He says. A thought crossed your mind, what would he do if you didn't say you loved him back? Well, I guess we've gotta find out. "Mmmhm!" You hum, resting your head on top of his. "Did you hear me right?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, picking up his head to look at you. "Yeah, you said you love me." You say, looking back and forth between his eyes and lips. "So say it back." He says. You sigh and rub his hip. "If you insist, I love you too, Nikolai. I'm sorry." He grins and kisses your cheek. "That wasn't that hard, now was it?" You run your fingers through his long hair. "No, not at all." He sighs. "Don't let it happen again, or else I'll see to it that it's the laat time." He huffs, returning to his spot resting against your shoulder. You patted his back, slightly amused by his words- he clearly cared. "Alright, Kolya, I'm sorry."

Sigma ★

You almost knew what Sigmas reaction would be before you stopped yourself from responding to his 'I love you'. You had fixed some tea for him and were bringing it into his office, holding the cup and saucer steadily as the sounds of your footsteps echoed in the hall. You knocked on the door and entered once you heard his muffled voice through the thick wood. "I brought you tea." You say with a smile, approaching his desk and handing it to him, which he took appreciatively. "Thank you, y/n, I appreciate it." He gave you a smile. "I'd like to finish what I'm doing by this evening so we can have some time together, or else I'd keep you here to talk for a bit, so I'll just have to see you later. I love you." He said, already redirecting his attention to the papers in front of him. "Okay, that's fine." You turned to leave and as you got about half way to the door, his head shot up. "Are you upset?" He asks, his brows knitted together. "No, why?" You ask, turning to look at him over your shoulder. "You didn't say it back." He says, putting his pen down and starting to stand up, but you put your hands out to stop him. "Oh, no, I'm sorry- I don't know why I didn't, I love you too. I'll see you later, alright?" You blew him a kiss and exited his office, leaving him a bit confused but at least a little reassured. He sat back down at his office as you closed the door behind you, and you felt a bit guilty, but in the end, you were too busy being excited for your guy's time together that night.

A/n: I DIDNT FINISH THIS UNTIL 10 MINUTES AFTER POSTING TIME BUT UH I MADE A STRAW PAGE LINK IN DIRECTORY YAYAYAYYA

[noosayog]

haikyuu boys and their number one princess <3

ft. iwaizumi, suna, and osamu

--

Iwaizumi 

“Are you still mad?” 

You fold your arms over your chest harder, cross your legs tighter, and crane your neck further, only letting out a loud and dramatic exhale in answer to his question. 

Iwaizumi says nothing else, but takes one hand off the steering wheel to offer it up to you. 

When you leave his hand hanging, his fingers wiggle towards you in a “come here” motion. You put a closed fist into his hand. 

Your boyfriend says nothing but at the next red light, he pries your fist open and twines his fingers through yours. Then, he uses his other hand to force your now spread fingers tightly closed around his. 

“There,” you hear him huff quietly to himself. 

You’re really no longer mad, just feeling a bit petty but he doesn’t need to know that. 

Suna

You can’t believe him. The nerve of his diva ass to leave the house after the argument he picked. It takes a hot shower, a face mask, and a good nap to just get your frustration under control and that’s when your phone finally rings. 

“What?” you answer brutishly. Eye for an eye. 

Rintaro’s quiet on the other line. 

“Well, are you gonna say anything?” 

He sighs and you’re this close to hanging out and taking another shower. “I bought the toilet paper.” 

“Oh, great. Want me to compliment you? Thank you for doing the bare minimum-” 

“You know…” he cuts you off. “It was your turn to buy the toilet paper.” 

“No, it wasn’t. You always have the first and third weeks of the month today’s…” you trail off once you glance at the calendar. 

He sighs again. “Anyway, I’m coming home soon. Bye, babe.” 

He hangs up before you can respond. 

Okay, so what if he was right and you were wrong. Why would he hang up on you like that? He’s such a petty jackass-

Your phone lights up with a text. 

Do you want your coffee or are you still feeling like a bitch?

Osamu 

Osamu’s already laying in bed, scrolling on his phone, when you finish brushing your teeth. With every intention to show him how mad at him you still are, you plop angrily onto your side of the shared mattress and curl up with your back to him. You give him one pointed glare before turning back over, flipping the covers over yourself so aggressively, it pulls them right off of Osamu. 

Your boyfriend says nothing, bless his soul, before sliding towards you and putting an arm over you in an attempt to spoon. You throw his arm off, inching even further away. 

You hear him exhale one deep and painful breath before he yanks your phone out of your hand and manhandles you so that you’re laying in the middle of the bed on your back. 

“What’s your- oof” 

He rests his entire body on top of you, forcing your limbs to starfish out to accommodate his weight. Then, he continues to scroll on his phone with you under him. 

“Get off!” 

“Not ‘til you get rid of that attitude.”

You shove at his stomach but he doesn’t budge, happy to crush you to sleep. 

It takes monumental effort to bite back a smile when he asks you, “all done?”

“No,” you say petulantly. 

“Good. I can do this all night.”

[yayll]

~ a little something about Dazai slowly moving you in without you knowing ~

"Osamu, can I borrow a comb or something? I can't seem to find my hairbrush..."

You call out as you rummage through your duffle bag you brought to spend the weekend at his place. you do this as much as you can, it's lovely to spend time with the one you love... And also because he loses all sanity and rationality if he goes a few days without seeing you. You've been there before, and it's a nightmare for both you and anyone interacting with him. Poor baby!

He perks up, staring at you from across the room, chin resting on his palm and his eyes half-lidded. He's thinking about the day he hid that from you, along with a few other garments. He calls back, sounding scattered.

"Mm? Oh, you can borrow anything you want! Mine's behind the bathroom mirror."

"Okay!"

You open the mirror, and the shelf has not only your hairbrush, but one of your hair clips too. You tilt your head, calling back out.

"Nevermind! Found some of my stuff. Guess I left them here last time, heh."

He jumps at your new finding, quietly cursing himself for not hiding that before you came over. Dazai sighs deeply and immediately hops off the stool, beelining it to you. He clears his throat, playing dumb like the demon he is.

"Well, I think you should still use mine. Please, yours looks all old and yucky. If you keep using it all of your hair will fall out and you'll be bald and hate yourself for the rest of your life and nobody will want you! Except for me, of course~"

"... Um, I don't think so?"

"Well I do! Now, come on, let's get these silky locks in check."

He spins you around and immediately starts combing out your hair, humming a little tune to himself as he does so. He makes a mental note to hide the shirt and pajama shorts he kept last weekend too, that's for when he's alone at night. He also needs to make sure you willingly start leaving things, otherwise you'll freak if you're missing half your stuff. He's so gentle with you and having the time of his life, lightly dusting his fingers against the nape of your neck. He stifles a giggle behind that little smirk plastered on his face when you squirm a bit. He'll make sure you do it plenty of more times before you leave later. Maybe you'll finally beg like he's been wanting you to!

"There. All done."

He presses a soft kiss at the top of your head and you flash him a sweet smile. He could honestly pass out right there. And if he fell down, he'd be at your feet, and then he could be at your knees. Oh! And then you'd fuss over him and never leave his sight. And then... So so so cute...

You get a thoughtful look on your face, and turn to face him fully, popping his delusional little bubble.

"... Come to think of it, I feel like I always lose stuff at your place. You'll gather it for me if you find it, Osamu?"

At the mention of his name, he feels his entire body heat up. He blinks twice and tilts his head innocently. God, you look breathtaking when you're confused. He'll have to take a photo sometime for his album. You love posing for those, and he loves looking at you.

"Sure, but why don't you just... Leave things here from now on? You're here alllll the time, might as well just keep stuff here for safe keeping. I'll be the noble keeper of your things!"

You raise a brow, huffing into a laugh.

"Yeah? Is that what you want to be?"

His voice then becomes softer, needier, and dead serious. He stares right into your beautiful eyes, drowning himself in them. He mutters.

"For you, I'll be anything you want me to be. Afterall, I'm nothing more than a boy made of clay~"

You blush at that. Really hard. Amazing! he thinks. He reaches for your soft face that feels hot to the touch, cupping it inbetween his bandaged hands as he delicately rubs circles on your temples with the pad of his thumb. You wish you could look anywhere else right now because you're falling apart under him and he knows it.

"When you move in, you can do anything you want with the place. Especially with me."

"... Shouldn't we talk more about this another time?"

"Mmm no, not really."

He replies, his Hazelnut eyes go a little darker as he looks down at you.

"Hm, I think we should, cause you're too fast for me. You're like a Hare." You giggle as you say that, eyes twinkling.

"I like bunnies. I like you..."

He mumbles, going straight for your lips before you can say anything else.

Needless to say, you didn't get very far into the discussion after that. He wouldn't let that happen. And that's okay! He can adapt! He thinks he IS being a little pushy and a little too fast for your taste. He's sooo sorry, he'll take it slower next time. In between the sloppy kisses and the very indecent ways he uses his hands to toy with you, he desperately whispers in your ear one last time before he devours you fully.

"... We're staying together forever and ever, yeah?"

"Mmphhhmm..."