bunny iglesias who blows you air kisses after scoring a goal on your team.
bunny is a little shit, reader supports opposing team, second-hand embarrassment, 1.2k of straight bullshit.
Cruel.
That's the only way to describe him.
Bunny Iglesias is cruel.
The devil in disguise. Evil incarnated. A sheep in wolf's clothing.
And while you knew that already, nothing, absolutely nothing, could've ever prepared you for the cruel man he became when you chose to support your national team over his.
"You're not wearing my jersey."
That's the first thing he says upon seeing you.
No 'hi', no 'hello', no 'how are you'. Just a quiet observation said with no visible emotion. The lack of which had you squirm in place under his pointed gaze.
"Uh, yeah…" Your voice wavers as you avoid the way his dull eyes rake over your figure, staring you down like he's trying to physically undress you of the opposing team's jersey you're sporting.
"I'm supporting my country today…" You jut your lip out, hoping to quell his feelings of betrayal with your honest reasoning. "Does that… does that bother you?"
"…Well, I can't deny that I'm a little hurt." Bunny admits after another silent stare off, sighing softly when your pout came into view.
"Oh." Guilt consumes you in an instant at his confession. The sight of the six foot four athlete sulking at your lack of support responsible for the way your heart clenched with regret. "Bunny, I—"
"But you're free to support who you wish." Noticing your remorse, Bunny is quick to console your worries, bringing a large hand over your head to pet it. "I won't force my wishes on you."
"Really?!" You perk up immediately, the tension in your shoulder easing with relief from his gentle comfort.
"Yeah." He smiles so sweetly, eyes curving with something unreadable as he tucked the loose strands of your hair behind your ear. "Though if I score, can I ask that you at least cheer for me?"
"Of course, I promise!"
They're words you say absentmindedly.
Careless words that you come to quickly regret when you realise what exactly Bunny's harmless request from earlier entailed.
"SUPER GOLAZOOOO!"
"AND BUNNY IGLESIAS HAS DONE IT AGAIN! IT'S 3-0 TO SPAIN, A HAT-TRICK FROM THE YOUNG AND RISING STAR!!!"
Cheers erupt amongst the Spanish fans following Bunny's impressive goal. Cheering that you're supposed to be involved in— that you promised to take part in. Cheering that you just can't bring yourself to do no matter how hard you try.
Because how the hell are you meant to celebrate the utter humiliation your team faces at the hands of a single player?
You can't do that!
Even if you were held at gunpoint, you can't just abandon your team like that!
And thus, you're left with no choice but to break your promise to Bunny. A cold-blooded betrayal that you pray — with intertwined hands and growing anxiety — he doesn't notice.
But, alas, your effort is futile, and your invocations are unanswered. For the athlete has only one thought running across his mind right now, celebrating his goal with you.
Bunny's gaze sweeps over the stands with ease, intense eyes landing on you amidst the crowd as a look of anticipation overcame him. He stands there on the field, breathing hard and sweating from exertion as he awaited for your approval. Something that doesn't come— the lack of which dulls the hopeful glint in his eyes.
You see it almost immediately, and while the sight of his hunched shoulders has your heart contort with unease, you still can't bring yourself to applaud him.
Bunny stares at you for a while longer, perhaps hoping you'd change your mind last minute, before he lets out a self-deprecating smile when you remain unmoved. Bringing a scarred hand to the lower half of his face, his deep eyes lingered on you for one final moment as he blew you another kiss.
Sweet affection that you've yet to return. Not when there's nothing sweet behind that mocking gesture of his.
The game continues in Spain's favour. Bunny's momentum is unstoppable as he humiliates your team even further. Something you aren't aware is possible until you see the way he absolutely dominates them. Breaking through their tight defence to score another two goals that send the crowd into a fit of bewildered cheers— noise that you pay no mind to, not when your too focused on the conversation behind you.
"Every time he scores, he blows an air kiss in this direction, right?"
"Yeah! I noticed that too!"
"But to who? Nobody's returning any of them?"
Don't tell me—!
Your complexion pales as you find Bunny down below on the field, eyes already fixed onto you, expectant as they wait for you to return the celebratory kiss he blew to you not too long ago.
That he-
After five consecutive goals, it finally hits you.
Bunny has not forgotten your promise of cheering.
And because he is cruel and petty, finding twisted enjoyment in your torment, he has no plans to stop scoring until you return his kisses.
Shit!
You have no words to express your shock, you can't even form a single thought at his wickedness— evil that makes the devil saintly in comparison.
The commentator speaks again, excitement woven in his voice as he broadcasts his unhinged theories. Of this game potentially being the first double hattrick of the year, a notion that strikes you with terror.
Your worst fears manifest in the way Bunny concentres, and you quickly realise that if you don't do anything about it now, this match will go down in history for being a total annihilation!
"Excuse me!"
You weave through the crowd with ease, apologising to the few that you bump into as you make your way down the stands and closer to the barrier separating you from the players.
It doesn't take long for you to locate Bunny, he's across the field, fixed intensely on the ball that his teammate dribbles past the defending line. Any seconds now and Spain can score another goal— another goal that you were not going to allow. Not if you could help it.
Cupping the sides of your mouth, you swallow whatever pride you have left and gather air in your lungs.
"Bunny!"
It's humiliating.
"That's my Bun-Bun!"
So fucking humiliating.
But what else can you when Bunny is the cruel and unforgiving man that he is?
Your cheering, if you can even call it that given how pathetic it sounds, catches Bunny's attention in an instant. It's something he's been waiting for afterall, and it stops him dead in his tracks. The encouragement resembles a whistle, one has him perk up like an excited puppy as he rushed to find you in the crowd. An endeavour that is terribly effortless when he spots you immediately.
He stares up at you for a good moment, eyes tracing the reluctance in your expression before they fall on your figure, clad in the wrong team's jersey. A distasteful sight that has his jaw clench in tandem. His irritation grows, and Bunny finds himself helpless against his possessiveness — a trait you were always at odds with.
So, like any normal man, he grabs the end of his jersey, pulling the sweat soaked garment over his head and positioning it right in your direction with intent. You blink with utter disbelief, missing the way he throws it at you with perfect aim.
"I won't force you to put it on. It's your choice."
Choice, my ass.
You had no choice in the matter at hand!
The jersey smacks you right across the face, snapping you into immediate motion. You fumble with it at first, arms going in the wrong holes in your haste as you struggle pathetically to pull it over your head. But somehow, at mercy of a miracle, you've managed to put it on.
The collar's crooked and it clings to you uncomfortably. Drenched with sweat that you have no choice but to dismiss, and as if that isn't bad enough, the shirt's on backwards. His name is displayed over your chest like a label of possession, an honest mistake that does you more good than you realise.
The referee's whistle blows in the back, and a yellow card is administered for nudity. But Bunny decides, after taking one long look at your figure engulfed in his large jersey, that it's worth it.
He tests his luck once more, repeatedly pressing his finger against his bare chest, as if conveying a message only you would understand. And to his utter delight, you, weak to his cruelty, are quick on the uptake.
Your ears grow flushed with unbearable heat, but there's no time to revel in your embarrassment, not when the pride of your national team is on line here.
So with trembling fingers, you grab the wrong front of his jersey, pulling it close to your lips as you press a chaste kiss on the fabric where his name is written in bold.
Your eyes are shut close as you send him your indirect affections, utterly humiliated with the sudden turn of events that has you squirm at the mercy of your opponent. The moment you open them, it's no better either. If anything, you come to regret your entire existence.
Bunny's amused expression enters your vision first, followed by a sickening gesture that has your stomach twist with shame. He holds both hands to his temple, extending his middle and index fingers up while the rest remained down, mimicking the appearance of bunny.
And while the sight of it is barely anything to blink at, with the way his simper grows as he curls his fingers encouragingly, you know better than turn a blind eye to it.
This is just— cruel..!
Fluster glows across your cheeks as you bring your hands over your temple to mirror the awful gesture. It travels across every sensitive nerve, weakening the strength in your knees as your heart stuttered to a flatline.
And just when you think the humiliation ritual has come to an end, laughter greets your ears at once — mirthful and completely entertained at the sight of your torment, one that could only belong to the cruel man that loved to play in your face — shattering whatever blissful delusion you've conjured up in your despair.
Bunny motions with his hands again, bringing one over his face like he'd done the previous other times, a telling movement that had your heart claw at your throat. His hand lingered above his lips longer than usual, and after a thoughtful pause spent staring you down, Bunny blows you another kiss.
Your brain short circuits, and while your pride wants to resist his love, your arm extends towards him against your will. Hand sprawling out as you made a melodramatic show of catching the air kiss.
Bunny's eyes are wide when they find yours, bright and glittering with elation as he stands there, very clearly awaiting for more. And you give him exactly that. Even if the mortification kills you, you have no choice but to humour him. Who knows what he'll do if you remain stubborn in your refusal.
You heave a shaky sigh, lifting a trembling palm to your face as you press his non-tangible kiss against your lips, finally returning the affection he craved desperately for.
His coach yells something from afar, perhaps telling him to stop messing about and play the last few minutes of the game seriously, but Bunny only waves him off with a crooked grin, too focused on the precious sight of his jersey engulfing you with his name.
"If I exert myself more than I have already…" He can hardly face the man as he comes up with another pathetic excuse, unreasonably enamoured with the way your eyes scrunched shut in fluster after blowing him a kiss of your own.
"I won't have any stamina left to celebrate with my cute cheerleader."
got this idea from dembele-kun scoring on his wife's team and blowing her a kiss, and then i couldn't even mourn france's loss against spain bc i discovered i might have a humiliation kink (only works with bunny tho if ygm) 😂😂😂✌️✌️😔
dazai osamu, chuuys nakahara, fyodor dostoyevsky x fem!reader
synopsis. the stuff which would make most people's jaws drop is just the bare minimum in your partner's eyes or, a sneak into one of the many different ways in which your partner surprises you.
word count : 3.8k words.
note. ahhhhh!! i am actually so excited for this one. i wrote this when this trend was everywhere and got inspired by seeing the bsd edits on this lol and wrote it in like two days (?) despite having a very busy schedule cause of uni (literally had 9-6 that day and 8-2 on the next day). please have mercy on me and shower this with love because i literally resorted to writing on paper to get my brain working. anyways onto the fic itself, i am sure you guys would read dazai's and chuuya's parts and have great expectation for fyodor's but then realise it's going in a very dif direction and that's because i wanted to portray these men doing what they usually don't as a 'bare miminum' for you. dazai won't spend this much on js anyone, chuuya won't be this nervous infront of anyone and fyodor won't js indulge in those silly acts for js anyone. you are special so they do it only for you. and i rlly love when writer's make chuuya use "doll" as a term of affection for his partner cause idk it js sounds so hot to me? lolll anyways! comments, reblogs and asks are always appreciated and i hope you enjoy reading this!
the dividers are from @designlikenonsense
despite appearing as harmless and laid back, DAZAI OSAMU is filled with secrets which start from the top of his head and ends at the tip of his toes and one such secret which you have been trying to uncover since a long time is: where does his income to spoil your so lavishly come from?
everytime you gave up on thinking about it and ended up asking dazai about it, he would either chuckle or wink at you and tonight is no different.
“i am seriously curious. where is your never ending money coming from?”
“shh. don't worry your pretty head with such trivial matters.” he chuckles and decides not to reveal it today as well since it will take quite a long time to explain how he still remembers the routes chuuya had made himself back when he was sixteen and made in charge of handling port mafia's jewel business.
dazai remembers the routes in perfect detail and after pulling a few strings, he came to know the schedule which the mafia follows to smuggle these jewels from one place to another.
he is a member of the armed detective agency and so it's only appropriate for him to inform kunikida about these routes and trust him, he was going to . . . until he heard the rumour about a specific diamond set worth billions of yen being smuggled in one of the trucks.
dazai just needed to make a few phone calls, repeat a few old threats which he used to back in the days, express his concern about valuable information being spread and being used in the wrong way, gently reassuring said few people that none of these scenarios would become reality as long as dazai's here and —
“open it.” he gently encourages and nods towards the navy blue velvet box placed on your left palm.
slowly, you look at the box in your palm and then at dazai again to try finding something on his face which could give away or help you guess what could be inside the box but you can't find anything on his face.
seeing you hesitate, dazai lazily raises his eyebrows which makes you hurry and open the box to try to stop any retort or anything from coming out of his mouth.
the opened box reveals two diamond earrings resting on the black cushion. the earrings are half the length of your thumb and look delicate enough to be broken by a violent gust of wind. they sparkle when the lights fall on them at a certain angle, giving them an almost ethereal light blue look.
your eyes widen at this sight and your head shoots up to look at dazai yet before you can express your confusion or gratitude, he tilts his head with a playful frown and it makes you wonder if something's wrong.
“oh dear, don't they look incomplete just by themselves?” saying so, he grabs your wrist and leads you towards the bedroom, not bothering to conceal his impatience and excitement to see your reactions.
you manage to ask, “they look really expensive.”
“if you like them then all you have to do is admire how they look on you. leave worrying about the prices to me.”
“but osamu, what's the occasion?"
“i wanted to see my pretty wife sparkle in diamonds.”
“osamuuuuu!” you whine as you two stop in front of the edge of the bed where another blue box, similar to the one in your hand but in a bigger size, is.
you immediately know there's a necklace inside because of the size of the box and dazai's words but you don't get to demand answers from him first as he steps behind you and touches your elbow to urge you to open it.
carefully, you lean down and open the box, gasping softly; the necklace somehow manages to look even more delicate. it's as if it's made of solid ice. the same diamonds are glimmering on the necklace too, as if they are greeting you.
your eyes constantly switch between the necklace and earrings in your hand for half a minute and you turn to face dazai when a similar box resting on your dressing table catches your eyes. it's the same size as the box in your hand.
“go on.” dazai's soft voice makes you slowly walk towards the dressing table and pick the box up, placing the earrings in it's place instead.
you open it to find a bracelet inside, it's design is similar to the previous two jewellery items you have opened.
dazai footsteps can be heard despite how softly he walks on the carpet and you turn around to face him and your face finally heats up as you see him going down on one knee and extending a hand holding another blue velvet box.
in one smooth motion, he opens the lid of the box inside which a ring with a delicate band and a massive diamond waits for you. as lights fall on the diamond at certain places, the diamond appears in a light shade of blue.
“sir, will you please explain this situation to me?” you raise your eyebrows and tilt your head but can't suppress the smile which brightens your entire face and to dazai osamu, the diamonds pale in comparison to the happiness on your face.
“miss, what's there to explain? can't i give my wife a gift without a reason?”
“you are spoiling me, osamu.” you nearly giggle as you offer your hand to him.
dazai removes your wedding ring and slips it in his trench coat pocket before quickly slipping the diamond ring on your finger.
he presses a kiss against the back of your palm and murmur, “please, this is barely the bare minimum. wear it everyday, okay?”
“it'll get ruined that way.”
“then let it. i will change it with a better set in a few months anyway. either way, any and every sort of diamond i ever saw seems dim in comparison to you.”
despite having a scary reputation, CHUUYA NAKAHARA is really good at keeping acquaintances and his business partners happy. he has a certain charm among many others which makes them be fond of him and makes them trip over their feet trying to please him in any way they could.
you knew this but you didn't know the extent of it.
when chuuya called you last night and told you to prepare for paris, you didn't question him about anything because it's not rare for chuuya to take you on impromptu trips the moment he gets day offs. perhaps you should've questioned him when some of the members from his personal body guard squad (they aren't really there to protect him but to intimidate others and enhance his reputation as an executive) accompanied you but again, that's not too rare as well. happened at times and you weren't really new to travelling in port mafia's private jet as well.
the beautiful building in front of which the car stopped also didn't seem too unusual because with chuuya, you can never know what he's going to surprise you with next. anything is possible.
the moment you enter the main hall of this building, you see many tables covered in rich table clothes and with chairs around them as if they are waiting for people to occupy them and in the very centre is a stage, the kind on which models walk during fashion shows.
the lights of the stage and the ones above it are on as well as the screen at the centre of the stage and it looks prepared to start a show at any moment.
“c’mere.” chuuya whispers and places a hand on your hip to guide you towards the table just a few steps in front of the end of the stage and this is the only table which has two chairs and not the usual five. there's a fancy vase of fresh roses and jasmines on the table.
“ours?”
chuuya blinks as if he can't believe your question then he looks around at the seemingly empty hall and pretends to frown, “i don't see anyone else. do you, doll?”
“you could've just answered.” you grumble as you walk past him to pull your chair and sit on it — a petty move because it's always chuuya who does this for you. he once told you he liked to make sure you are sitting properly before doing so himself.
“stupid questions get these type of answers.” he snaps his fingers and activates his ability to stop you in your place and walks past you to pull your chair back, “i don't understand why you insist on acting this way despite knowing i can use my ability.”
then, he snaps his fingers again for the sake of being dramatic and you feel the heaviness leaving your body and the suspicions you felt when you entered and saw the weird setting because chuuya is smiling at you and there's really nothing which can scare or put you on edge when chuuya's near, acting as if he's too high and mighty for things which might terrify you. he just might be.
“you are so dramatic, chu. seriously.” you heave an exaggerated sigh and make sure to brush your shoulder against his as you walk past him to sit down. a turn over your shoulder enables you catch the way his eyes soften at the edges as he stares at you.
“but honestly, what's the plan?” you ask once he's seated as well yet before he could respond in any way, you hear music from speakers which you can't even see in this dim lighted setting.
you naturally look towards the stage and see your name displayed on the screen and once again, you begin to feel weird.
“chuuya?” you look at him to see if he's as confused as you but he's smiling softly in a way he often does whenever you catch him staring at you while you are doing idle chores or anything at his apartment, “what's going on —”
someone calls your name but it's a voice you — hell, most of the world — recognize because of the sheer amount of times you've heard the owner of this voice giving speeches, interviews and what not.
you whip your head towards the stage again and it's really him — sauvlete, the fashion designer who is praised across countries and continents and on whom the fashion world always keeps their eyes on because he has been nicknamed to have hands of midas. any fabric he touches, he brings it to life. not only is he creative and surprisingly an easy going person but one can also feel the passion he has towards expressing ideas, sentiments and such through clothes by the way he talks about his projects.
you had mentioned him to chuuya once.
“i am sauvlete and on the request of my dear friend, chuuya nakahara, i am more than honoured to be able to create a custom dressing line for you. chuuya came up with elements to be added, accepted or rejected the dresses and was very closely involved in the entire process. i hope you can feel the love and consideration he has for you whenever you wear any of these dresses. congratulations on your engagement.” sauvlete bows and rushes back stage to probably signal the models to begin their walks yet one word he used in his speech repeats in your mind.
“engageme —” you come to a stop as soon as you turn towards chuuya because on both of your sides are the same bodyguards who had accompanied you on this trip, holding various gifts ranging from diamond necklaces to designer shoes which look almost exotic to a big bouquet of flowers and even a cake in your favourite flavour and such.
“I love you.” he mouths and then clears his throat as he looks at the mafia members, “you guys can go away now. thank you. take a day off starting from tomorrow.”
once they are seated at tables which are far from the one you two are at, chuuya grabs your hand into his gloved one and stares at your empty ring finger, “i know proposals like this aren't liked by many people since it makes them feel pressured into answering and i think maybe a quiet proposal would have been better. regardless, don't be afraid. whether you accept or reject, my feelings for you won't change at all and i would do all of this for you again so don't feel indebted or anything and be true to your feelings. i just miss you so much i wanted to do something special and things turned up this way that everything ended up happening at the same time —”
“acting humble doesn't suit you, nakahara.” you chuckle and extend your other hand to poke his forehead, “why are you acting as if me rejecting you is a possibility.”
“i didn't want you to feel pressured into answering.”
“aww, so cute — no, seriously!” you exclaim when you see the unimpressed look taking over his face, “really! you are spoiling me too much!”
“this is the bare minimum.” he tells you and before you could say it really isn't because not everyone you know cares for you the way he does, is as selfless as he is when it comes to you and puts you and your needs above his own, the models walk out one after the other.
you can't tear your eyes away from the dresses; each beautiful in it's own way and most of them have accessories or designs, patterns or decorations etc, which are a direct reference to your previous conversations with chuuya.
your eyes get teary the more you watch them and realise just how much chuuya loves you and then —
“wear this one at our engagement party, okay?”
despite being extremely secretive and busy most of the time, FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY has never turned you down whenever you expressed your desire to meet him. even if it's raining or snowing like crazy and it seems difficult to leave your house, fyodor dostoyevsky finds a way to meet you if you wish to see him.
you do not know what his job is (but you assume it has to do something with politics or business because he's always meeting people who seem way too important and are drowned in wealth) and you don't know what keeps him busy and away from your shared apartment most nights (he told you it's because his job is dangerous and he would rather keep you isolated from it and this further strengthens your belief about what field his job lies in) but you know he loves you.
he really does because why else would he not have as much as the ghost of a frown on his lips despite waiting for you in this downpour for two hours already?
you could spot the silhouettes of him and two of his bodyguards standing behind while holding an umbrella over his head but it does little to shield him from the rain which is violently clashing against the ground and breaking into smaller components which splash around in protest. the hem of his pants are in a darker shade compared to the top part of it and his shoes glisten because of how wet they are and yet, the moment he sees you hurrying towards him, he raises his hand and gestures to you to slow down.
one flick of his wrist dismisses the bodyguards who are here to guard him and you too, naturally. one of them hands over the umbrella to him before stepping inside his partner's umbrella and they walk towards one of the two cars parked at the distance just as you stand before fyodor.
“i am so sorry, they delayed everything for some reason —”
“i merely respected your wishes but i still believe you should've let me come pick you up or send someone to pick you up. how did you come here?” fyodor leans his temple against the pole of the umbrella and raises his eyebrows at you.
“well, i travelled?”
“by? which mode of transportation did you use, dear?”
despite how he appears in public, fyodor has a habit of nagging at you from time to time. you don't mind it since you know he's doing this because he cares for you and also because seeing his usually charming and handsome face painted with light disappointment and disapproval makes your heart flutter dangerously.
“i took the metro —”
“in this rain?” fyodor purses his lips in disapproval and before he can open his mouth to nag some more, you raise your hand to poke the tip of his nose which is extremely cold to the touch and indicates how long he has been waiting for you and it makes your heart clench with guilt.
“you aren't angry?” your voice is soft as you ask and fiddle with the handle of your own umbrella. “i am really sorry to keep you waiting here for so long. you are so cold to the touch —”
“i am worried because i picture you taking the metro in this heavy rain and how uncomfortable it must've been for you, not because of anything else. i don't mind standing here for even six hours because getting to see you is always worth the wait.” he leans closer to you as he speaks and ends his words by placing his hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your skin to make sure you are actually here and aren't one of the hallucinations he sees whenever he's running on too little sleep (which happens often).
“you are too nice, i swear, fedya.” you cutely and generously praise him and fyodor chuckles. there's no bitterness building in his heart as he hears your words because however he may actually be — if you say he's nice then he must be nice and if you say there are two suns in the sky then he will make sure there are two suns in the sky.
whatever you say, fyodor will make it reality.
“come close then, dear girl.”
happily, you close your umbrella and step under his and giggle because of course you two won't fit under one umbrella, “fedya, one of us will get wet —”
you pause as he tilts the umbrella towards you to shield you from the rain while his shoulder is getting drenched in the rain. the white shirt absorbs the water and turns somewhat translucent.
“you are going to get wet!” you gasp and place your hand on top of his to grab the handle, pushing it towards him to cover him from the rain but he pushes it towards you again.
“fedya, don't be foolish. you'll get wet and sick.”
“dearest, i can tolerate that but i can't let you get sick.”
“i think the same.”
“let's not act like kids and just let me shield you —” a strong gust of wind passes by you two and the umbrella which is held by two shaky and unstable hands, flies away with it and lands at your feet.
you look up at fyodor despite the rain strongly falling down on you two and your breath gets stuck in your windpipe.
fyodor is a handsome man, there's no denying that and his always well kept and calm composure only enhances his attractiveness but now – his hair sticks to his forehead while his clothes stick to his body, rain drops trail numerous paths down his face and since most of them overlap on top of each other, they make him face glimmer in a way.
“i missed you.” you breathe out and feel like slapping yourself because these should've been your first words.
your lips tug down just a bit but fyodor who always keeps a keen eye on you especially, notices it and his heart loudly throbs and he quickly takes a step forwards, cups your cheeks with both hands and leans in to peck your forehead, “i missed you too. i do every second i am away from you.”
pulling back from you, fyodor leans to pick up the fallen umbrella and holds it over your head and blinks as you are already drenched. it makes no difference if there's an umbrella conceding you or not now.
“you look so handsome despite the rain.” you say and if you are saying it then fyodor believes he must actually look good right now.
he runs a hand through his hair to brush it backwards and reveals his forehead, hoping this makes him look more attractive in his eyes. he doesn't go out of his way to do this usually as he thinks one's attitude and the way they carry themselves speaks more than any gestures could but when it comes to you, fyodor finds himself doing things he normally wouldn't.
“do i?” his voice didn't sound this teasing in his mind as it does when he speaks.
you nod, grabbing his hand as you lead him under the shelter of the nearest building you could find but by the time you both reach it, you are drenched to the bones.
clothes and hair stick to your wet body and your fingers are beginning to get wrinkly but you barely pay them any mind.
in the small space, you and fyodor stand extremely close and this closeness increases when he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to his side.
leaning his cheek on the top of your head, he mumbles, “happy? we are both wet now.”
“it's fun to get wet sometimes.”
“not when we have a dinner scheduled.” he mumbles but realxes a bit anyway, turning his head to kiss at the top of your wet head. “do you want a car?”
“public transport ia sufficient —” you aren't sure how many times you got interrupted today and in this hour alone but once again, your voice came to an immediate halt as fyodor straightenes up, grabs your hand and pulls you into the open sky.
on seeing your bewildered expression, fyodor offers you a smug smile, “we are already late and in no state to sit and eat dinner. we are past the appointed time anyway so might as well make the most of the rain. besides, isn't it fun to get wet sometimes?”
“you cheeky man.” you shake your head, nearly squealing as he spins you around on the empty road.
there's a small smile on fyodor's face as he pretends he didn't just lie about being past the appointed time. he indirectly owns the place. they'll open up and serve him even if he comes at midnight or after it.
fyodor dostoyevsky just wants to make you happy and since money and materialistic pleasures aren't doing the job anymore, he chose this way. actually, the reason you were late and everything got ‘delayed’ is because of fyodor. he had pulled strings to make it happen because he wanted to show you how unreliable public transport is for you but then it started raining and as the first few drops collided with the ground and his umbrella, he got this idea.
dazai osamu, chuuys nakahara, fyodor dostoyevsky x fem!reader
synopsis. the stuff which would make most people's jaws drop is just the bare minimum in your partner's eyes or, a sneak into one of the many different ways in which your partner surprises you.
word count : 3.8k words.
note. ahhhhh!! i am actually so excited for this one. i wrote this when this trend was everywhere and got inspired by seeing the bsd edits on this lol and wrote it in like two days (?) despite having a very busy schedule cause of uni (literally had 9-6 that day and 8-2 on the next day). please have mercy on me and shower this with love because i literally resorted to writing on paper to get my brain working. anyways onto the fic itself, i am sure you guys would read dazai's and chuuya's parts and have great expectation for fyodor's but then realise it's going in a very dif direction and that's because i wanted to portray these men doing what they usually don't as a 'bare miminum' for you. dazai won't spend this much on js anyone, chuuya won't be this nervous infront of anyone and fyodor won't js indulge in those silly acts for js anyone. you are special so they do it only for you. and i rlly love when writer's make chuuya use "doll" as a term of affection for his partner cause idk it js sounds so hot to me? lolll anyways! comments, reblogs and asks are always appreciated and i hope you enjoy reading this!
the dividers are from @designlikenonsense
despite appearing as harmless and laid back, DAZAI OSAMU is filled with secrets which start from the top of his head and ends at the tip of his toes and one such secret which you have been trying to uncover since a long time is: where does his income to spoil your so lavishly come from?
everytime you gave up on thinking about it and ended up asking dazai about it, he would either chuckle or wink at you and tonight is no different.
“i am seriously curious. where is your never ending money coming from?”
“shh. don't worry your pretty head with such trivial matters.” he chuckles and decides not to reveal it today as well since it will take quite a long time to explain how he still remembers the routes chuuya had made himself back when he was sixteen and made in charge of handling port mafia's jewel business.
dazai remembers the routes in perfect detail and after pulling a few strings, he came to know the schedule which the mafia follows to smuggle these jewels from one place to another.
he is a member of the armed detective agency and so it's only appropriate for him to inform kunikida about these routes and trust him, he was going to . . . until he heard the rumour about a specific diamond set worth billions of yen being smuggled in one of the trucks.
dazai just needed to make a few phone calls, repeat a few old threats which he used to back in the days, express his concern about valuable information being spread and being used in the wrong way, gently reassuring said few people that none of these scenarios would become reality as long as dazai's here and —
“open it.” he gently encourages and nods towards the navy blue velvet box placed on your left palm.
slowly, you look at the box in your palm and then at dazai again to try finding something on his face which could give away or help you guess what could be inside the box but you can't find anything on his face.
seeing you hesitate, dazai lazily raises his eyebrows which makes you hurry and open the box to try to stop any retort or anything from coming out of his mouth.
the opened box reveals two diamond earrings resting on the black cushion. the earrings are half the length of your thumb and look delicate enough to be broken by a violent gust of wind. they sparkle when the lights fall on them at a certain angle, giving them an almost ethereal light blue look.
your eyes widen at this sight and your head shoots up to look at dazai yet before you can express your confusion or gratitude, he tilts his head with a playful frown and it makes you wonder if something's wrong.
“oh dear, don't they look incomplete just by themselves?” saying so, he grabs your wrist and leads you towards the bedroom, not bothering to conceal his impatience and excitement to see your reactions.
you manage to ask, “they look really expensive.”
“if you like them then all you have to do is admire how they look on you. leave worrying about the prices to me.”
“but osamu, what's the occasion?"
“i wanted to see my pretty wife sparkle in diamonds.”
“osamuuuuu!” you whine as you two stop in front of the edge of the bed where another blue box, similar to the one in your hand but in a bigger size, is.
you immediately know there's a necklace inside because of the size of the box and dazai's words but you don't get to demand answers from him first as he steps behind you and touches your elbow to urge you to open it.
carefully, you lean down and open the box, gasping softly; the necklace somehow manages to look even more delicate. it's as if it's made of solid ice. the same diamonds are glimmering on the necklace too, as if they are greeting you.
your eyes constantly switch between the necklace and earrings in your hand for half a minute and you turn to face dazai when a similar box resting on your dressing table catches your eyes. it's the same size as the box in your hand.
“go on.” dazai's soft voice makes you slowly walk towards the dressing table and pick the box up, placing the earrings in it's place instead.
you open it to find a bracelet inside, it's design is similar to the previous two jewellery items you have opened.
dazai footsteps can be heard despite how softly he walks on the carpet and you turn around to face him and your face finally heats up as you see him going down on one knee and extending a hand holding another blue velvet box.
in one smooth motion, he opens the lid of the box inside which a ring with a delicate band and a massive diamond waits for you. as lights fall on the diamond at certain places, the diamond appears in a light shade of blue.
“sir, will you please explain this situation to me?” you raise your eyebrows and tilt your head but can't suppress the smile which brightens your entire face and to dazai osamu, the diamonds pale in comparison to the happiness on your face.
“miss, what's there to explain? can't i give my wife a gift without a reason?”
“you are spoiling me, osamu.” you nearly giggle as you offer your hand to him.
dazai removes your wedding ring and slips it in his trench coat pocket before quickly slipping the diamond ring on your finger.
he presses a kiss against the back of your palm and murmur, “please, this is barely the bare minimum. wear it everyday, okay?”
“it'll get ruined that way.”
“then let it. i will change it with a better set in a few months anyway. either way, any and every sort of diamond i ever saw seems dim in comparison to you.”
despite having a scary reputation, CHUUYA NAKAHARA is really good at keeping acquaintances and his business partners happy. he has a certain charm among many others which makes them be fond of him and makes them trip over their feet trying to please him in any way they could.
you knew this but you didn't know the extent of it.
when chuuya called you last night and told you to prepare for paris, you didn't question him about anything because it's not rare for chuuya to take you on impromptu trips the moment he gets day offs. perhaps you should've questioned him when some of the members from his personal body guard squad (they aren't really there to protect him but to intimidate others and enhance his reputation as an executive) accompanied you but again, that's not too rare as well. happened at times and you weren't really new to travelling in port mafia's private jet as well.
the beautiful building in front of which the car stopped also didn't seem too unusual because with chuuya, you can never know what he's going to surprise you with next. anything is possible.
the moment you enter the main hall of this building, you see many tables covered in rich table clothes and with chairs around them as if they are waiting for people to occupy them and in the very centre is a stage, the kind on which models walk during fashion shows.
the lights of the stage and the ones above it are on as well as the screen at the centre of the stage and it looks prepared to start a show at any moment.
“c’mere.” chuuya whispers and places a hand on your hip to guide you towards the table just a few steps in front of the end of the stage and this is the only table which has two chairs and not the usual five. there's a fancy vase of fresh roses and jasmines on the table.
“ours?”
chuuya blinks as if he can't believe your question then he looks around at the seemingly empty hall and pretends to frown, “i don't see anyone else. do you, doll?”
“you could've just answered.” you grumble as you walk past him to pull your chair and sit on it — a petty move because it's always chuuya who does this for you. he once told you he liked to make sure you are sitting properly before doing so himself.
“stupid questions get these type of answers.” he snaps his fingers and activates his ability to stop you in your place and walks past you to pull your chair back, “i don't understand why you insist on acting this way despite knowing i can use my ability.”
then, he snaps his fingers again for the sake of being dramatic and you feel the heaviness leaving your body and the suspicions you felt when you entered and saw the weird setting because chuuya is smiling at you and there's really nothing which can scare or put you on edge when chuuya's near, acting as if he's too high and mighty for things which might terrify you. he just might be.
“you are so dramatic, chu. seriously.” you heave an exaggerated sigh and make sure to brush your shoulder against his as you walk past him to sit down. a turn over your shoulder enables you catch the way his eyes soften at the edges as he stares at you.
“but honestly, what's the plan?” you ask once he's seated as well yet before he could respond in any way, you hear music from speakers which you can't even see in this dim lighted setting.
you naturally look towards the stage and see your name displayed on the screen and once again, you begin to feel weird.
“chuuya?” you look at him to see if he's as confused as you but he's smiling softly in a way he often does whenever you catch him staring at you while you are doing idle chores or anything at his apartment, “what's going on —”
someone calls your name but it's a voice you — hell, most of the world — recognize because of the sheer amount of times you've heard the owner of this voice giving speeches, interviews and what not.
you whip your head towards the stage again and it's really him — sauvlete, the fashion designer who is praised across countries and continents and on whom the fashion world always keeps their eyes on because he has been nicknamed to have hands of midas. any fabric he touches, he brings it to life. not only is he creative and surprisingly an easy going person but one can also feel the passion he has towards expressing ideas, sentiments and such through clothes by the way he talks about his projects.
you had mentioned him to chuuya once.
“i am sauvlete and on the request of my dear friend, chuuya nakahara, i am more than honoured to be able to create a custom dressing line for you. chuuya came up with elements to be added, accepted or rejected the dresses and was very closely involved in the entire process. i hope you can feel the love and consideration he has for you whenever you wear any of these dresses. congratulations on your engagement.” sauvlete bows and rushes back stage to probably signal the models to begin their walks yet one word he used in his speech repeats in your mind.
“engageme —” you come to a stop as soon as you turn towards chuuya because on both of your sides are the same bodyguards who had accompanied you on this trip, holding various gifts ranging from diamond necklaces to designer shoes which look almost exotic to a big bouquet of flowers and even a cake in your favourite flavour and such.
“I love you.” he mouths and then clears his throat as he looks at the mafia members, “you guys can go away now. thank you. take a day off starting from tomorrow.”
once they are seated at tables which are far from the one you two are at, chuuya grabs your hand into his gloved one and stares at your empty ring finger, “i know proposals like this aren't liked by many people since it makes them feel pressured into answering and i think maybe a quiet proposal would have been better. regardless, don't be afraid. whether you accept or reject, my feelings for you won't change at all and i would do all of this for you again so don't feel indebted or anything and be true to your feelings. i just miss you so much i wanted to do something special and things turned up this way that everything ended up happening at the same time —”
“acting humble doesn't suit you, nakahara.” you chuckle and extend your other hand to poke his forehead, “why are you acting as if me rejecting you is a possibility.”
“i didn't want you to feel pressured into answering.”
“aww, so cute — no, seriously!” you exclaim when you see the unimpressed look taking over his face, “really! you are spoiling me too much!”
“this is the bare minimum.” he tells you and before you could say it really isn't because not everyone you know cares for you the way he does, is as selfless as he is when it comes to you and puts you and your needs above his own, the models walk out one after the other.
you can't tear your eyes away from the dresses; each beautiful in it's own way and most of them have accessories or designs, patterns or decorations etc, which are a direct reference to your previous conversations with chuuya.
your eyes get teary the more you watch them and realise just how much chuuya loves you and then —
“wear this one at our engagement party, okay?”
despite being extremely secretive and busy most of the time, FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY has never turned you down whenever you expressed your desire to meet him. even if it's raining or snowing like crazy and it seems difficult to leave your house, fyodor dostoyevsky finds a way to meet you if you wish to see him.
you do not know what his job is (but you assume it has to do something with politics or business because he's always meeting people who seem way too important and are drowned in wealth) and you don't know what keeps him busy and away from your shared apartment most nights (he told you it's because his job is dangerous and he would rather keep you isolated from it and this further strengthens your belief about what field his job lies in) but you know he loves you.
he really does because why else would he not have as much as the ghost of a frown on his lips despite waiting for you in this downpour for two hours already?
you could spot the silhouettes of him and two of his bodyguards standing behind while holding an umbrella over his head but it does little to shield him from the rain which is violently clashing against the ground and breaking into smaller components which splash around in protest. the hem of his pants are in a darker shade compared to the top part of it and his shoes glisten because of how wet they are and yet, the moment he sees you hurrying towards him, he raises his hand and gestures to you to slow down.
one flick of his wrist dismisses the bodyguards who are here to guard him and you too, naturally. one of them hands over the umbrella to him before stepping inside his partner's umbrella and they walk towards one of the two cars parked at the distance just as you stand before fyodor.
“i am so sorry, they delayed everything for some reason —”
“i merely respected your wishes but i still believe you should've let me come pick you up or send someone to pick you up. how did you come here?” fyodor leans his temple against the pole of the umbrella and raises his eyebrows at you.
“well, i travelled?”
“by? which mode of transportation did you use, dear?”
despite how he appears in public, fyodor has a habit of nagging at you from time to time. you don't mind it since you know he's doing this because he cares for you and also because seeing his usually charming and handsome face painted with light disappointment and disapproval makes your heart flutter dangerously.
“i took the metro —”
“in this rain?” fyodor purses his lips in disapproval and before he can open his mouth to nag some more, you raise your hand to poke the tip of his nose which is extremely cold to the touch and indicates how long he has been waiting for you and it makes your heart clench with guilt.
“you aren't angry?” your voice is soft as you ask and fiddle with the handle of your own umbrella. “i am really sorry to keep you waiting here for so long. you are so cold to the touch —”
“i am worried because i picture you taking the metro in this heavy rain and how uncomfortable it must've been for you, not because of anything else. i don't mind standing here for even six hours because getting to see you is always worth the wait.” he leans closer to you as he speaks and ends his words by placing his hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your skin to make sure you are actually here and aren't one of the hallucinations he sees whenever he's running on too little sleep (which happens often).
“you are too nice, i swear, fedya.” you cutely and generously praise him and fyodor chuckles. there's no bitterness building in his heart as he hears your words because however he may actually be — if you say he's nice then he must be nice and if you say there are two suns in the sky then he will make sure there are two suns in the sky.
whatever you say, fyodor will make it reality.
“come close then, dear girl.”
happily, you close your umbrella and step under his and giggle because of course you two won't fit under one umbrella, “fedya, one of us will get wet —”
you pause as he tilts the umbrella towards you to shield you from the rain while his shoulder is getting drenched in the rain. the white shirt absorbs the water and turns somewhat translucent.
“you are going to get wet!” you gasp and place your hand on top of his to grab the handle, pushing it towards him to cover him from the rain but he pushes it towards you again.
“fedya, don't be foolish. you'll get wet and sick.”
“dearest, i can tolerate that but i can't let you get sick.”
“i think the same.”
“let's not act like kids and just let me shield you —” a strong gust of wind passes by you two and the umbrella which is held by two shaky and unstable hands, flies away with it and lands at your feet.
you look up at fyodor despite the rain strongly falling down on you two and your breath gets stuck in your windpipe.
fyodor is a handsome man, there's no denying that and his always well kept and calm composure only enhances his attractiveness but now – his hair sticks to his forehead while his clothes stick to his body, rain drops trail numerous paths down his face and since most of them overlap on top of each other, they make him face glimmer in a way.
“i missed you.” you breathe out and feel like slapping yourself because these should've been your first words.
your lips tug down just a bit but fyodor who always keeps a keen eye on you especially, notices it and his heart loudly throbs and he quickly takes a step forwards, cups your cheeks with both hands and leans in to peck your forehead, “i missed you too. i do every second i am away from you.”
pulling back from you, fyodor leans to pick up the fallen umbrella and holds it over your head and blinks as you are already drenched. it makes no difference if there's an umbrella conceding you or not now.
“you look so handsome despite the rain.” you say and if you are saying it then fyodor believes he must actually look good right now.
he runs a hand through his hair to brush it backwards and reveals his forehead, hoping this makes him look more attractive in his eyes. he doesn't go out of his way to do this usually as he thinks one's attitude and the way they carry themselves speaks more than any gestures could but when it comes to you, fyodor finds himself doing things he normally wouldn't.
“do i?” his voice didn't sound this teasing in his mind as it does when he speaks.
you nod, grabbing his hand as you lead him under the shelter of the nearest building you could find but by the time you both reach it, you are drenched to the bones.
clothes and hair stick to your wet body and your fingers are beginning to get wrinkly but you barely pay them any mind.
in the small space, you and fyodor stand extremely close and this closeness increases when he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to his side.
leaning his cheek on the top of your head, he mumbles, “happy? we are both wet now.”
“it's fun to get wet sometimes.”
“not when we have a dinner scheduled.” he mumbles but realxes a bit anyway, turning his head to kiss at the top of your wet head. “do you want a car?”
“public transport ia sufficient —” you aren't sure how many times you got interrupted today and in this hour alone but once again, your voice came to an immediate halt as fyodor straightenes up, grabs your hand and pulls you into the open sky.
on seeing your bewildered expression, fyodor offers you a smug smile, “we are already late and in no state to sit and eat dinner. we are past the appointed time anyway so might as well make the most of the rain. besides, isn't it fun to get wet sometimes?”
“you cheeky man.” you shake your head, nearly squealing as he spins you around on the empty road.
there's a small smile on fyodor's face as he pretends he didn't just lie about being past the appointed time. he indirectly owns the place. they'll open up and serve him even if he comes at midnight or after it.
fyodor dostoyevsky just wants to make you happy and since money and materialistic pleasures aren't doing the job anymore, he chose this way. actually, the reason you were late and everything got ‘delayed’ is because of fyodor. he had pulled strings to make it happen because he wanted to show you how unreliable public transport is for you but then it started raining and as the first few drops collided with the ground and his umbrella, he got this idea.
I led him to the back room, which I used as my study.
“I’m afraid it’s in a bit of a mess," I said.
“It doesn’t matter,” he answered tolerantly. “Scholars’ rooms are always like pigsties. I used to know quite a few of you bookworms in my Tokyo days.”
Dazai Osamu, “Courtesy Call” in Modern Japanese Stories: An Anthology
The reason…is not because I disdain or hate them. I don’t have the right to do that. But I do always regret being betrayed and abandoned by them. I trust and with all of my heart respect them, but they incomprehensibly put their guard up against me and deal with me in an attitude of strained and nervous laughter - as if they were touching something filthy.
New activity to pass time is going to bllk fanfic polls which asks if they should include teddy this or that and choosing the option which includes him js for the love of the game.
