This Is Very Self-ship Coded (and Dreamed Up Under The Assumption That He's Very Rich) But Whenever You're

this is very self-ship coded (and dreamed up under the assumption that he's very rich) but whenever you're doing some online shopping and you refuse to buy something either bc of the price or bc it's something you just can't justify in the moment, keigo will make note of it from his spot beside you and it'll be in front of your door within the week.

he loves the way your eyes shine and you hide your grin as you half-heartedly scold him for spending money on you again. both of you know he's never gonna stop, anyway, and it's not like you ever expect him to do it, so why fight him on it?

(you try to make it up to him but he refuses).

yes 😍

You send this to rintaro randomly, and you know he’s the one when he texts back “thank you 😍”

Osamu: Is 4 a lot?

Suna: Depends on the context.

Suna: 4 onigiris? No.

Suna: 4 murders? Yes.

Dazai: B-7

Atsushi: *dejected* hit. Why are we even playing? You win every time.

Akutagawa: we all told you it was hopeless jinko.

Atsushi: yeah but I thought you were exaggerating. C-6?

Dazai: miss. You should know better than to think Akutagawa exaggerates anything.

Chuuya: alright this is painful. *walks over* move weretiger.

Atsushi: good luck. I’m not sure how much better off you’ll be…

Chuuya: oh ye of little faith

Dazai: just like old times, slug?

*5 minutes later*

Chuuya: D-8.

Dazai: hit. F-1

Chuuya: hit. B-5

Dazai: hit. A-2

Chuuya: well that’s the game. Tie again.

Atsushi: *baffled* h-how????

Akutagawa: *unamused* I don’t question these things anymore

The Iris Den by Keira Santoso

Outside, the rain pours like no one’s business, the wind howling in frustration as it mingles with the tinkering drops against your roof and windows.

You, luckily, are curled happily under your blanket, scrolling through your phone with a nice cup of tea next to you, enjoying the sounds of a storm in nothing but your own company.

Until-

“Ah. You’re home,” you hum, flicking your eyes up at osamu, then back to your phone. His arms are filled with reusable bags that dangle from the bulky muscles, two large palms cradling the milk, and the fluffiness of his hair lays flat to his head. His shirt is soaked, you hear the squish of his shoes, and you hate how cute the wet-dog aesthetic is on your man.

You hear him pant softly, “it’s. Wet. Outside.”

You chuckle and shake your head, reaching for your cup of tea, “yeah baby, that’s why I’m inside.”

“You could’ve helped your strong, smart, talented, amazing boyfriend with the groceries.”

“I offered, you said you “‘got this’,” you hum, secretly glad your boyfriends chivalry knows no bounds and he’d rather get drenched in the cold rain than risk you getting drenched in the cold rain.

But he is a Miya. He’s going to whine just a little bit.

You hear him place the groceries down, “but now I’m cold. And my shoes are wet. And I was lonely.”

You click off your phone and shrug off your blanket, making your way towards him. He smiles as you approach, and when you use a warm hand to move his hair off his forehead, he nuzzles into your touch.

“Thank you for getting the groceries,” you say, leaning up to press a kiss to his cold forehead. “Go take a nice hot shower, I’ll put them away.”

“I only bought a few frozen things, so you can join me in the shower.”

You giggle, “as tempting as that is, I’d really like you to warm up.”

He smirks and, before you can process, he scoops you up in his arms and throws you over his shoulder, his freezing shirt soaking you as you writhe and scream at the playful action. “Osamu!”

“Now you’re wet too. Come shower with me, and wash my hair.”

“You bought dairy,” you manage between titters, “I have to put it away.”

“So let’s put it away together. Then we can shower.”

“You’re so clingy!”

“Oh I’ll show you clingy.”