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a history worthy of secrets osamu miya x gn!reader (slight fluff) synopsis: detective x robin hood word count: 1.3k warnings: guns, thievery
your foot nudges an already cracked door, heart beating in your ears. every light in the house is out, the real estate agent liking turning them off from her last showing. you hold out your 9mm, finger lightly running along the trigger. you've held the weapon more than enough times for it to feel familiar, but on this very evening, it feels so foreign.
the way the heavy metal sits between your palms leaves a bitter and cold sensation. spots of nervous sweat pool against the piston's grip. your breath hitches momentarily as you peer into the living room. your grip tightens against the weapon until you see that no one is inhabiting the room.
instead, the room is as if it were never touched. the lampshade without a speck of dirt or disruptions. the couch cushions are still full of fluff and vigor, probably still smelling of a furniture store. your gaze immediately move to the kitchen, hands still up, finger still resting against the trigger.
your shoes move slowly through the carpeted living room, little creaks following swiftly afterwards. the rooms remain dark after the last showing of the day, your eyes still attempting to fully adjust to the lack of light. even with the corners of the room dark and shadowed, it's easy to tell that the room is devoid of anyone. you lick your top lip, a soft sigh leaving your lips, gun lowering.
"shit-"
you turn around immediately, holding the gun up again, eyes searching anything in your vicinity. once you stand there for a second, you start walking towards the living room. right by the door sits the stairs to the second floor, the only other part of the building the person could be in.
goosebumps raise along your arms, your fingers feeling more sensitive against the grip of the gun. the stairs creak ever so slightly, heart beating quicker with every step. you reach the top of the stairs and stand with your back at the corner. with a couple deep, gentle breaths, you hold out your gun, stepping into the upstairs hallway.
everything appears settled, calm. however, very quietly, you can hear someone moving something around in a nearby room. you take a few steps towards the nearby room, finger barely pulling on the trigger.
"hyōgo police department, drop what you're holding and raise your hands!" despite your heartbeat throbbing in your throat, the sentence comes out as clear and confident.
the figure instantly drops bags of money from their hands, bills falling from the bags as it collides with the floor. their broad shoulders raise ever so slightly, the air tense and thick. you swallow down whatever anxiety runs through your veins, "turn around and raise your hands!"
what you didn't expect to see was a sly fox that you knew so long ago. osamu miya, turns around, a satchel-like bag sitting on his hip. it's open, filled with what you would expect to be more money. the last time you had seen him was nearly a decade ago, the two of you breaking up and going your separate ways.
you never would've seen the volleyball player/cook as a thief. his soft hands, the way he would laugh so openly with you, it never seemed like he could lead this way in life. "get on your knees and put your hands behind your head," your voice is a little more quiet, unsure of itself.
when his eyes meet yours, you can tell that there's a sense of recognition in his. he knows it's you, he'll always know it's you. "y/n- what, you're a cop now?"
"detective, i'm a detective now. so what, you're a thief now? always thought you would've been a chef," you stand there waiting until he brings his hands up to his head, his eyes not straying from yours.
he scoffs, shaking his head, "i should've known, you've always been a stickler for rules. and, i am a chef, and i will continue to be a chef if you let me out of this window right now. with the money i have in my pack."
your eyes immediately narrow, let him go? never in your time with the department had you knowingly let a criminal go from a crime scene. even if he is someone you knew from your childhood, even if you fell in love with that certain someone. even when his brown eyes stay stuck on yours.
"let you go? you know i can't do that..."
"who do you think is the person donating all that money? some billionaire?"
"oh, so i'm just supposed to believe some guy i knew in school?"
"some guy? you wound me, y/n," his eyes roll, gaze returning back to yours, "you don't believe me? fine, i can tell you that the first donation came inside a- a green linen bag. a small rope used to tie it closed? ring any bells?"
your eyebrows furrow as osamu kneels behind the end of the barrel of your gun. despite his serious lack of respect for authority, you can tell that he respects you. he always has respected you. "how do you- you're joking," you cock your head to the side, a frown lining your lips.
"you know me to be much of a joker? actually don't answer that, trust me. this money is going to who needs it, you need to let me leave with it."
a lump forms in your throat. on one hand, you want to see where he may go with this, who he could help. yet you can see a sort of glint in his eye that seems to follow any criminal you come across. he enjoys the thrill of it all and that could send him out this house with the money and never return.
osamu bites his lip, breathing heavily. he looks up at you with doe-like eyes until finally saying what he thinks may change your mind, "i'll leave two bags here, there's supposed to be two million yen in each of these bags, view it as a sign of good faith. then watch, the food bank next to inarizaki high will gain a substantial gift."
"how am i meant to trust you, osamu?"
"by knowing that the agent is committing fraud, i'm just sharing the wealth, y/n. i will even contact you tomorrow, i promise, i'll explain everything," osamu's eyes frequently twitch as he tries to follow yours, his lips straight.
you lower the gun until it's pointed at the floor, your brain thinking of every possibility in which this could screw you over. however, a part of you knows that despite your differences, he wouldn't screw you over. he knew how hard it was to gain your trust and how quickly it could crumble.
"okay... leave before i change my mind-"
"y/n! you up there?" your partner's voice echoes through the building, your eyes widening as you look at osamu and back at the bedroom door.
when you look back, the window is open, osamu halfway through it already. he has a few bags in one gloved-hand while the other is holding the window. his gaze meets yours as he looks over at you, a smile on his face. if you had known any better, you would know that a smile like his could stop you from anything.
you bite your lip and walk backwards towards the door, watching as he mouths a quick 'thank you'. "dai! i'm up here, nothing but a few bags of money were left behind," at the bottom of the stairs stands your partner, gun lowering as he spots you coming around the corner.
"well let's call forensics out here and see if they can get anything," he shoves his 9mm into his holster and grabs his radio to call a squad car out.
when you look back at the room, the bags sit in solitude. the window is shut and it appears as though nothing is disturbed in osamu's actions. you take in a deep breath and hope that wherever osamu was running to wouldn't leave you in the dust.
