[ SAVIOR ] // OSAMU MIYA

[ SAVIOR ] // OSAMU MIYA

warnings. female reader, mention of alcohol, creepy guy with predatory behavior, suggested drugging of a drink (not consumed though), mild timeskip spoilers, suggestive theme

note. osamu makes me feel safe and warm.

the music is loud. you can feel the bass thumping through your chest, rattling your bones and shaking your core like you were nothing more than a skeleton. the drink that had sounded halfway decent a short while ago is now bitter and gross on your tongue, and any time you look at the orange liquid your mouth waters unpleasantly; a warning you only felt when you didn’t want to ingest something anymore. you wanted to finish it, but you couldn’t seem to find the willpower to do so. you were supposed to be having a good time with who you thought were your friends, but they’d forgotten about you long before the night began, leaving you to exist in their presence without being seen at all.

not atypical; they weren’t people you’d put forth the effort to spend time with normally, but you figured a good night out was what you needed. this, however, was everything but that.

foolish is what you were for expecting things to be any different than they’ve always been.

you raise your hand when the bartender is free and when he approaches, you raise your volume to request a water, one he brings you quickly with a smile. you slide your first drink to the side and nurse your water, tuning out the noise around you.

people come up next to you, leaning their bodies on the bar and ordering this and that—a few beers, a cocktail or two, and a stray water. you didn’t pay much attention to who was coming up, merely sliding to the side if someone got a little too close to you. as your raising your water to your mouth mindlessly, you notice that some guy has taken the seat next to you and is staring in your direction.

you try not to make eye contact, shrugging it off as a mere coincidence, but when his gaze lingers on you for an uncomfortably long amount of time, you glance over at him against your better judgment. he’s an older man, gruff and messy looking, not dressed for the atmosphere at all. he motions to your drink and readjusts his cap as he says something you can’t hear. when you make a confused face, he leans in closer to you, placing his hand on the back of your seat dangerously close to your back, and asks what your drink of choice is.

you tap your glass of water with your nail and smile politely, shifting forward in your seat and crossing one leg over the other. “just water,” you say. he laughs, and for a moment you think he’ll leave you alone, but he continues to talk to you.

“have a little fun, beautiful. what do you want to drink, i’ll buy you something.”

you shake your head again, raising your hand to decline his offer. the hand on the back of your chair hasn’t moved and it's making you squeamish. “come on, i’m being generous here. shouldn’t turn down a free drink.”

“i really don’t want anything else,” you say firmly, but he’s not deterred. he orders two of the same drink, saying one for me and one for my lady, here. the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, stomach churning in disgust at the comment.

when the drink is set in front of you, you stare at the blue gradient of the drink, eyeing the citrus in the top but choosing to nurse your water again. the older man next to you begins asking you questions to get to know you, such as what your name is, what you did for a living, if you had a boyfriend, and if you were here with anyone. you give the name of your childhood friend, not daring to utter your real name, tell him you’re in sales down south but here for a couple days, and that you’re out with a couple of friends who are on the dance floor—this being the only truth of your speech.

he nods with interest, leaning forward every now and then to hear you better, but when his hand moves from the seat to your lower back, you turn your head towards the dance floor to look for your friends.

you scan the crowd of bodies hoping that you’d catch one of their eyes and be able to signal them over, but you don't have any such luck. “looking for your friends?” the old mans voice brings you back to your situation, and you turn back around swiftly.

“i thought i heard one of them call my name.” you laugh nervously, looking through the bothersome man to the other end of the bar to see if you could find some kind of way out. when no one makes eye contact with you, you look back towards the drinks, and your stomach drops.

the citrus peel that sat neatly on top of your drink was now underneath the ice, the gradient of the drink no longer present.

your drink had been messed with.

“aren’t you gonna try your drink? it’s really good, i promise.” the older man finishes his and pushes yours towards you. “loosen up a little, beautiful.”

his fingers curl against your back. you feel like you’re suffocating.

you could easily excuse yourself to the bathroom and get lost in the crowd, find your friends and tell them you need to go, but you had a feeling they wouldn’t walk you out. they’d call you a drag for wanting to leave so early, probably berate you because you knew alcohol turned them into unrecognizable people, and you’d have to leave by yourself and hope that man isn’t following you.

as you’re weighing your options, desperately trying to think of anything that could get you out of this predicament, you hear a voice to your left.

“hey, sorry that took so long. had to get someone to clean up some guy's mess in the bathroom.”

a guy about your age with dark hair and half-lidded eyes smiles, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “see you’ve made a friend. interested in getting to know my girlfriend?”

the older man's hand leaves your back, returning to his body. “a-ah, yeah,” the man vaulters, standing from his seat and lifting his cap to fix his hair. “i mean, she looked like someone i knew, i was just curious.”

“that so?” your savior hums, staring down your creep with hard eyes. the older man puts his cap back on and scurries away, not bothering to utter an apology or anything. when he’s out of sight, the dark-haired male pushes the blue drink away from you. “wouldn’t drink that. he put something in it.” he confirms your suspicions and you nod.

“i thought so.” you turn your body mostly towards him, uncrossing your legs to stand but he holds up his hand to stop you from doing so. “thank you for doing that for me.” you say sincerely, hoping he can hear how relieved you are.

“you looked like you needed some help.” he hails the bartender over, orders two glasses of water, and leans on his forearm next to you. “i’m not saying you look like a damsel in distress or anything, i’m sure ya know how to handle yourself very well. i could see the wheels turning in yer head.” his accent slips out but quickly corrects itself when he gives thanks for the waters.

“thank you,” you say, laughing lightly. “is my thinking face that obvious?”

“maybe a little.” he raises the glass to his mouth. “but i’ve been watching you from over there since that guy came over.” you look towards the other end of the bar to see a seat you noted was previously filled is now empty. “where are your friends?”

“dance floor. but i don’t think they would’ve helped.”

“why not?”

you shrug. “something tells me people who talk over you and don’t pay any attention to you wont come to the rescuer. probably blame me for ruining their night.”

“they don’t sound like good friends.”

“they’re not. i don't even know why i’m here.”

he hums, looking back towards the crowd of people dancing. “‘m not sure why either.”

the two of you fall into silence, but its not uncomfortable. your eyes trail over his body while he’s looking away, the cuffs of his sleeve grip his biceps to accentuate his muscles. his shoulders were wide, his chest was thick, and his presence was calming. you felt safer with him than you’ve felt the entire night despite him being so close that you could smell his cologne—an earthy, musky scent that was practically intoxicating to you.

your legs press together.

“miya,” he says suddenly, eyeing your reaction. you blink a couple times, wondering where you’ve heard the name before. it clicks after a moment, and youre sure your face lights up with the realization.

“miya, like onigiri miya?” he cracks a smile at your answer. “yeah, exactly that. i own that shop.”

you gasp, one of your hands moving to grab his forearm. “really? i’ve been wanting to stop in there for a while! i pass it on my way home from work. it’s always so busy.”

“oh, always. keeps me on my toes, though.” “i bet.” “you should stop by next time. i’d love to see a familiar face.”

you smile, tilting your head up at an angle that you knew you looked best at. “i’m familiar now?” “i’d like you to be.” you lick your lips, the smile on your face growing tight with excitement.

“very smooth. i suppose i can grace your shop with my presence sometime.” he cocks an eyebrow, and you hold yourself back from swooning right there on the spot.

“sometime? that’s not very specific.” he checks his watch. “how about now?” he turns his wrists towards you to show the time (or maybe to show off his watch, you couldn’t be sure), but its a quarter to eleven and you have time to kill.

“okay. i’ll take you up on that offer.” you stand from your seat slowly, rolling your body into him without really touching him but just enough to entice and show interest. “i hope it’s as good as everyone says it is if i’m going to be treated by the master chef himself.”

he rests his hand on your back firmly. you can feel the warmth radiating through his palm, calming your nerves and exciting them all at once. “i’ll make sure it's the best you’ve ever had.” the vagueness of the subject gives you the impression there’s a hidden meaning behind his words.

“i’m looking forward to it.” you whisper in his ear, taking several steps forward and reaching your hand back towards him. he takes it gently, and you entwine your fingers so you wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. with one hand in yours and the other on your hip, he guides you towards the entrance and into the cool night air, quiet and buzzing with possibilities. when you give your name, he leans in close and tells you to say it again. without questioning it, you say your name again, and he repeats after you, letting it linger on his tongue.

“pretty name. i’ll make sure to remember it.” it wasn’t until later that night when you realize just how pretty your name sounded when it spilled out from his lips.

reblogs are greatly appreciated <3