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manicandobsessive · 1 month ago

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I’ll be watching you | L.H.

Summary: You and Logan broke up two months ago. Yet, he can’t find it in himself to move on.

Warnings: Fem!reader, slightly toxic!logan, pet names, alludes to reader being shorter than Logan, (Lo can’t regulate his emotions but we love him nonetheless)

It’d been 2 months since Logan ended things with you. And in those two months, he’d felt nothing but resentment towards himself. He got in the way of another good thing for the sake of his own sanity and your safety. Or at least that’s what he was telling himself. Did he regret it every second of every hour? Absolutely. You were the best damn thing to happen to him in years. Decades even. You were his world, and in all honesty, still are.

Just because he broke it off didn’t mean he wasn’t going to leave you alone, however. Because Logan is simply- Logan. And what’s his is his. He was reluctant to let go of any part of you, despite the better part of him telling himself to get over it and be an adult.

He never was a good listener.

Logan breaking up with you was an end all be all to say the least. Sure, you’d loved before. And yeah you’d had your fair share of experiences with relationships. But Logan, he was different. Never before had you seen yourself with someone for the rest of your life so clearly. He was it for you. He made you wonder if the other times you’d thought you were in love was really that or just basic infatuation.

Loving Logan didn’t come without its struggles, though. He pushed you away when he got scared, even if he refused to admit it. He left without a word and wouldn’t return for hours, only to come back to you smelling like a dive bar and holding flowers. He was possessive, and still is. You’ve noticed, and it only stings more. He’d never been controlling, he let you live your own life as he lived his. But, he loved to make sure everyone knew who you belonged to. That there would never be a question if you were available or not.

And god help anyone who dared to try despite that.

In the same respect, you never once questioned his love for you. His loyalty was unwavering, and he never so much as looked in another woman’s direction. He knew you, inside and out. From your favorite song to the reasons you were hesitant to love again. He could gauge your mood the minute you opened your eyes in the morning. He did anything and everything he could to make you smile, even if it made him feel like an idiot. And in some ways, he was a damn lovesick fool. Everyone around you knew it as well. With the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and how he couldn’t go a minute without touching you in some way. Needless to say- not only your friends, but the entire mansion was shocked to see he’d ended things.

You felt him all around you. He never truly left. His scent still lingered in your room, just as yours did to his own. His clothes were hung in your closet, things you’d claimed that he’d never dare to take back. Dead flowers from the last time he’d given you them still stood in the corner of your room, unable to be looked at without a pang of hurt ringing through your entire body. He kept all the things you’d given him, pictures, notes, books, music. He still carried a part of you with him daily, whether it be the song he was listening to or the note from you he’d reread a million times over. He was baffled by the way you loved him, and he kicked himself over and over again for ruining that.

He hung around often, walking past your classroom or the common area where you sat talking with Ororo and Jean. The smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. It hasn’t since that day two months ago. Logan and you both knew. Neither of you had felt real emotion since then, it was like color was drained from the world. All because of his stupidity.

He watched you interact with Kurt, a kind- soft gaze you always seemed to give people. Even in your worst moments. His knuckles turned white at the scene. You were bantering back and forth over some book you found Kurt had also enjoyed. Logan longed for the days where he was on the receiving end of your limitless tangents. He would sit and listen to you talk for days and not bat an eye. And the fact that someone else now was getting that treatment- it didn’t sit right with him. So, the minute you stood and waved your goodbye to Kurt. He shifted behind the doorway, out of your line of vision. And the moment you stepped within reach, a hand clasped around your wrist. A familiar touch that sent a jolt of emotion through you. The most you’d felt in a while.

You simply stopped in place, taking a deep breath through your nose. You shifted to face him- Logan. The man you hadn’t spoken to since the day he decided to leave. The man you’d been avoiding so much as breathing towards since then.

“The fuck was that?” He snapped. His tone was that of a growl and it made a shiver run down your body. You knew what he was feeling. You’d heard him like this a handful of times.

“Huh? Talkin’ to him like he’s your boyfriend or somethin’?”

You’d had enough of his shit. How dare he break your heart and then pretend like you belong to him.

“And so fucking what if he is, Logan?”

He stepped closer, now towering over you. Yet, you weren’t scared nor were you intimidated. You never would be, not of him. Because even in the midst of heartache, you knew he’d never hurt you. Not like that.

He bent at the waist, his face inches from your own. Everything from his scent to his warmth engulfed you wholly. It made your breath hitch.

“Better fuckin’ hope for his sake he ain’t. You’re mine, doll. Belong to me.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling your wrist from his grasp. You walked away without another word. The way you left him there, it hurt more than he’d admit to himself. But he was keen on making it known that you weren’t to be touched by anyone else.

From that day on, you noticed him around more often than not. He sat on the couch when you were in the kitchen. He smoked outside when you hung in the living room to watch you from the window. He walked past your room, only to hear the occasional hum of a tune or turn of a book page. He was becoming a shadow, borderline stalking you. It would scare you, but you enjoyed knowing you still had his full attention. That you were on his mind as much as he was on yours. And sure- it was toxic, but it was something.

Things came to a head after a heated argument earlier in the day, a few weeks later. He’d been lurking around and you’d told him to get a life. That you would never belong to him again. And that, above all else, you didn’t love him anymore. Which was as far from the truth as you could get, but it was your last shot at being half as harsh as he could be. To break his heart like he did to yours.

You didn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning restlessly with thoughts of Logan plaguing your mind. He, too, didn’t get a wink of sleep. So after hours of listening to you rustling in your own bed, he made his way across the hall to your room. Not bothering to knock and simply opening the door softly. He shut it behind him, and from the simple way he padded over to your bed, you knew it was Logan. You stayed facing the window, your back to him.

“Baby,” He whispered into the darkness, your figure the only thing illuminated by the moonlight.

He invited himself into the warmth of your bed, knowing damn well you’d come around. As you felt the bed dip, you didn’t have it in yourself to be angry. You simply sniffled and shut your eyes. He shifted closer to you, draping an arm around your waist as naturally as he used to. He nuzzled his face into your hair inhaling the scent he loved so much. And with that, he whispered yet again.

“Baby, please.” A silent plea for forgiveness. Enough for you to flip around, face to face with him.

“Lo’” You rasped, your voice weak from not only crying but pure exhaustion. He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you into his chest. You revelled in his warmth, moving as close as humanly possible. Much to his content.

“Shh.” He hushed, his free arm now brushing through your soft hair. A tried and true method of comfort for you. “I know, I know. ‘M so sorry, darlin’.” He kissed your head and felt the salty tears from your eyes drop to his chest. It made his heart ache all the more.

“You hurt me.” You spoke out, unmoving from where you resided in his grasp. He sighed, still silent. No excuse or apology would be enough, he felt. You deserved more, but selfishly, he wanted to be the one to give it to you anyways.

“But I love you, and I can’t stop.”

His breath stopped and his movements froze. He shifted to now look at your face. Your tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes. Yet you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I love ya, baby. Always will.” He spoke, deep and rough.

“And ‘m a damn idiot for fuckin’ this up. Ruinin’ the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

It was your turn to make a move, and all you could do was allow him to kiss the tears off your face. Maybe it would be a mistake trusting him with your heart again. But when it came to Logan, love won over logic. Every damn time.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan wolverine #logan x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fic #wolverine fanfiction #manicwrites🙀

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narumi-gens · 2 years ago

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Platonic

Miya Osamu x f!Reader

summary: Osamu knows that there’s nothing going on between you and his brother. And yet, he still can’t help but be jealous.

warnings: minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, don't let the summary fool you – this is basically just 4k words of fluff, jealous!osamu, slightly insecure!osamu, married!osamu, dad!osamu, very normal relationship problems, the importance of communication, kita is always the voice of wisdom, osamu is really just a simp for you, reader and osamu are #CoupleGoals

notes: whenever I’m trying to get back into writing, stealing plots from sitcoms is always a guarantee so everything from the title to the banner to the plot is at least 80% lifted from platonic (which is such a wonderful show).

words: 4k

part of the Meet the Miyas series

Osamu is jealous. And he hates it. He hates the word. He hates the feeling. He hates what it says about him. He really hates how irrational it is.

But what he hates most is that the person that he's jealous of is his own brother (that scrub).

But maybe he's the scrub. Because it's dumb. You've been together for years. You trust him. You love him. You're committed to him. You're married to him. You’re the mother of his child. You're happy with the life that you've built together.

And he knows that Atsumu is your best friend. You were Atsumu's friend before he even met you. Atsumu is the one who introduced the two of you, who set you up — which he'll never stop taking credit for if his speech at your wedding was anything to go by. So of course you spend a significant amount of time with his twin.

It’s never really bothered him before. If anything, he’s typically relieved that you’re so close with Atsumu. The more you occupy the setter’s time, the less time he has to annoy Osamu.

And you’re allowed to have friends and a life outside of being a wife and mother. He wants you to have fun and to be your own person outside of your relationship with him. He doesn’t expect you to go from home to work and back to repeat the cycle all over again the next day. Not that you would ever allow it.

It wasn’t easy and it took a lot of hard work, but over the years, the two of you have built a happy balance between him running the restaurant, you pursuing your own thriving career, being doting parents to a three-year-old son, and still managing to keep your marriage healthy. So this gross feeling of jealousy has no place in his life, especially where Atsumu is concerned.

But it creeps up on him slowly, needling its way into him before he even has a chance to stop it. He first feels it over something so small that it embarrasses him.

He asks you if you want to go see a new movie that’s been advertised for months. His mom and yours are always eager to babysit — sometimes eager to the point of forcing you both out of the house for what’s declared “much-needed grandparent time.”

“Oh, I promised Atsumu that I’d see it with him,” you reply with a slight tilt of your head before picking up your phone. “Let me check with him about us all going together.”

It’s a simple and obvious solution. You’ve already sent your message to Atsumu and are looking up showtimes for that weekend. But there’s a small voice in the back of Osamu’s head insisting that you should be asking him if Atsumu can come with the two of you, not the other way around. The unfamiliar thought makes him feel uncomfortable and he quickly shoves it away.

But just that small, intrusive voice is like a spark and it isn’t long before he finds himself hearing it again, fanning the pathetic, weak flame into something stronger.

One morning, he’s pulled from sleep by the blankets lifting and the mattress dipping. When he cracks open a bleary eye, he sees you doing your best to slip into bed without disturbing him. He can’t check the time on his phone without giving away that you’ve already woken him up. But from the pale grey light of early morning that’s already beginning to brighten the bedroom and the fact that Reiji isn’t already awake, Osamu guesses that it’s between five and six.

He knows that you had plans with Atsumu last night. You told him that you would probably be back late. But “back late” feels like an understatement considering the joys of parenthood usually have both of you up in about an hour whether it’s a workday or not.

When you come down a few hours later, the bags under your eyes and unkempt hair point to your inability to sleep in even after what he can only assume was an all-night rager. You pepper your son’s cheeks with exaggerated kisses that have him giggling over his breakfast as Osamu pours you a cup of what he’s sure is much-needed coffee.

“Ya got home late last night,” he comments as you take the mug that he passes you.

“Ah, yeah. Just ended up going a little harder than I meant to,” you reply and something close to embarrassment seems to cross your features. You glance at Reiji, making sure his attention is on his food before you lower to voice to a furtive whisper. “I threw up in a karaoke room and had to sleep it off at Atsumu’s.”

His immediate instinct is to laugh in your face and he has to bite his lips and quickly look away from you to keep from doing so. You weakly punch his shoulder in response before sitting down at the table.

But the amusement at your misfortune slowly starts to fade, replaced instead by that same voice, which is growing steadily more familiar. He can’t remember the last time that the two of you had a night like that together. He tries to think back on if it was before or after Reiji was born. And while you certainly don’t make vomiting in karaoke rooms a habit, it’s not at all rare for you and his brother to have a wild night out.

When the voice asks why you’re having them with Atsumu but not with him, the only thing he can focus on is the knot in the pit of his stomach and how it only seems to grow tighter.

He hears it again when he’s with Atsumu one day and he asks Osamu what he thinks about you rejecting a new job offer. The question is offhanded — he’s looking at his phone when asks it, barely even giving Osamu a fraction of his attention.

But Osamu freezes. This is the first that he’s heard about any job offer. He didn’t even know that you were interviewing somewhere else.

“What job offer?” His voice sounds thin and Atsumu seems to realize that he’s unintentionally stumbled into something much bigger because his thumb stops scrolling and there’s a line of tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there only moments ago.

“Uh, it’s nothin’ big,” he quickly tries to assure his brother as he puts down his phone and turns to face him fully. “It just happened this week. Some new place made her an offer and she turned it down.”

Osamu merely hums, his expression betraying nothing, but his twin brother knows him too well.

“Look, I’m sure she just hasn’t gotten ‘round to telling ya,” he offers and Osamu can see the slight panic in his eyes. “She had that big meeting. And she’s been lookin’ after Reiji-kun since he’s been sick, right? Things’ve probably just been too crazy fer her to even think about it.”

Every excuse only digs the hole deeper. It’s not just this apparent job that you’ve been pursuing only to turn down that Atsumu knows about. It’s also your hectic work week and how you’ve been taking care of Reiji since the restaurant’s been too shorthanded for Osamu to stay home.

What’s next? Is he going to mention that you’ve also been so busy the two of you haven’t had sex in almost three weeks? From the guilty look in his twin’s eyes, Osamu would bet good money that he’s already aware.

On his way home, he tries to think about the best way to raise the subject with you and ultimately decides that there’s no good way to ask, “Hey. Why are ya tellin’ Tsumu things but not yer husband?”

(He knows that’s definitely the wrong way to phrase it, but that little voice won’t say it any other way.)

But when he enters your bedroom he finds you slouched against the headboard, fully passed out with Reiji sprawled on top of you as he clings to you even in his sleep. The light and tv are both still on. You’re obviously exhausted and stretched thin, while Osamu is looking to pick a fight. The guilt he feels is almost crippling.

It probably hasn’t even occurred to you to mention the job offer with everything else going on. Atsumu is right, which only makes him feel worse.

He comes toward the both of you and carefully tries to pick Reiji up out of your arms without waking either of you. But he’s only just managed to pry the sick toddler loose when your eyelids flutter open.

It takes you a moment to register what’s happening, still feeling the dregs of sleep, but when you do, you give him the softest smile and it makes him feel like an even bigger piece of shit.

“Did you just get home?” you whisper as you help him lift Reiji off of you. But before he can take your son too far away, you shift over and gesture for Osamu to place him in the middle of the bed. “He’ll cry if he wakes up in his room alone.”

“He doin’ any better?” Osamu quietly asks and does as you ask, gently putting him down before sitting down on your other side on the edge of the mattress.

“His fever broke a couple of hours ago, so he should be back to normal in a day or two.” The news is a visible relief to you. It’s not just the amount of effort a sick child takes, but also the worry that’s been weighing you down.

“Wish I coulda been ‘round more to help ya,” he tells you, his guilt about both doubting you and leaving you to take care of Reiji by yourself beginning to peek through.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you assure him, lifting a hand to run your fingers through his hat hair. “I know that you’re in a bind since Kimura-san quit. I’m the one with the flexible hours and schedule. I really don’t mind. We’re a team.”

He doesn’t deserve you.

“Well, the new part-timer starts next week so things’ll finally calm down,” he offers and something mischievous sparkles in your tired eyes.

“Good. Because when you can finally take some time off, we’re gonna pawn Reiji off on the grandparents. Then you’re gonna make it up to me by spending the entire night making me cum so hard I see stars,” you tell him, your tone leaving no room for argument, as if he would ever want to.

“I can do that,” he agrees with a grin.

“We haven’t fucked in weeks,” you pout and Osamu can’t hold in his laughter, only for you to slap a hand over his mouth to keep him from waking up Reiji.

Your own quiet giggles are able to momentarily drown out the small voice reminding him about the job offer that you’ve yet to tell him about.

But a few weeks later, even after having the house to yourselves for an entire weekend and spending it fucking on every surface that you could like you used to do before Reiji came along, those embarrassing feelings of jealousy are still as present as ever.

You post a series of photos of you and Atsumu at a restaurant. The first picture is of your happy, smiling faces and the matching pair of five-pound gyoza on the table, one in front of each of you. As he swipes through the series, you both look worse and worse as you try to finish your gyoza. When he gets to the final one, you’re proudly holding a certificate from the restaurant for having finished yours in an hour, while Atsumu looks like he’s on death’s doorstep.

He’s so preoccupied swiping back and forth through the photos that when the restaurant door slides open, it startles him so badly that he almost drops his phone entirely. He doesn’t know whether or not to be relieved that it’s Kita coming to drop off a new order of rice rather than a customer who didn’t read the closed sign.

On one hand, he doesn’t want to deal with a customer while he’s in the midst of indulging that voice that’s slowly becoming a companion. But on the other, dealing with Kita when he’s in a jealousy spiral is even worse.

“Is everything alright? Ya look like ya just got some bad news,” Kita observes with a small frown of concern.

As Osamu assures him that nothing’s wrong, he tries to hurriedly shove his phone into the pocket of his apron. However, it slips from his sweaty hands and skids across the floor of the restaurant where it comes face-up to a perfect stop right in front of Kita’s feet.

He picks it up and when he sees the final picture of you and Atsumu on the screen, he shakes his head in amusement.

“Atsumu only sent me the picture of them at the start of the challenge,” he wryly says as he slides the restaurant door shut behind him and joins Osamu at the counter. He takes a moment to swipe through the rest of the photos in your post before passing the phone back. “I’m surprised ya didn’t go with ‘em.”

“I wasn’t invited,” he mumbled, vocalizing the bitter thought that’s been taking up so much space in his mind ever since you and Atsumu originally made the plans. But as soon as the words leave his lips, he knows he’s given himself away because he can feel Kita’s heavy gaze on him.

“Did ya ask if ya could join ‘em?” is Kita’s annoyingly reasonable response. After a few moments, Osamu gives the smallest shake of his head, confirming that no, he didn’t ask if he could go with you and his brother.

“Y��know, yer wife is an amazing woman,” he finally says when it’s clear Osamu has nothing else to offer. “But fer all of her talents, she’s not a mind reader. Just talk to her.”

Osamu groans loudly at how rational Kita is being. He drops his head down to rest his forehead on the countertop, his Onigiri Miya hat flopping off in the process. While he agrees that it’s good advice, there’s still one problem.

“Kita-san…it’s embarrassing,” he protests childishly and he turns his head to the side to look up at his old team captain. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Stop spendin’ so much time with that scrub!’ I’ll sound like an idiot.”

“Just talk to her,” Kita repeats calmly and Osamu can only sigh. “Why don’t ya tell me how Reiji-kun’s been?”

For the rest of the day, Osamu finds himself trapped in an internal debate over whether or not he should take Kita’s advice. The ugly voice in his head insists that he shouldn’t have to say anything at all. If you really love him then you should already know. The more self-conscious part of him keeps warning him of how embarrassed he’ll be when he tells his wife, the mother of his child, the love of his life, that he’s jealous of how much time she spends with his brother.

But a new voice, one that sounds exactly like Kita, simply asks him if he’s tired of feeling like this. Does he really want to keep harboring this resentment? It’ll only continue to fester and grow until it explodes, hurting everyone he loves.

So that night, after he’s put Reiji to bed and the dishes are done and the laundry is folded and he has no more excuses left to procrastinate, he collapses next to you on the couch with an exaggerated sigh. You look up at him from your phone with an amused smile, only for it to slightly fall when you see how troubled he looks.

“What’s going on? Did something happen at work?” you ask, turning to give him your full attention and scooting closer to him so that you can rest a gentle hand on his thigh.

He shuts his eyes and gives himself a single moment to steel himself before finally letting out the poison that’s slowly been building inside of him for the last few months.

“I have somethin’ to tell ya and it’s gonna make it seem like I’m fifteen or somethin’,” he says and he knows that if he didn’t sound so serious then you would be making a joke about him having some sort of wet dream and ruining the sheets. Instead, you give his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

“Lately…fer the last few months…I’ve been feelin’ kinda…jealous.”

There. The words are out there in the world. You’ve heard them. He can go crawl into a hole and wait for the embarrassment to kill him.

“Jealous? Of what?”

He hates how concerned you sound. You’re not making light of his admission. You’re not confused. You’re being patient. You’re gentle. You’re so much better than him and his childish pettiness and resentment and jealousy.

“You and stupid Tsumu,” he grumbles, slouching down even further into the couch. He glances over at you from the corner of his eye and sees the look of surprise on your face. He shuts his eyes again, balling his hands into fists, and tells himself to man the fuck up.

With his nerves now steeled, he takes a deep breath, sits up straight, and turns to fully face you.

“Look, I know that ya got this weird friendship with Tsumu and that he’s yer best friend. And it’s never been a big deal before, but lately, I dunno…,” he trails off, his gaze darting down before he forces it back up to meet yours. “I’ve just been feelin’ a little…cut out.”

“Osamu,” you murmur, lifting a hand to his face but he quickly takes it between both of his so that he can hold it tight and keep himself steady.

“I love you and our family and the life we’ve built together. I wouldn’t change any of it fer anything,” he’s quick to assure you, needing you to know that you make him happier than he ever thought he could be. “But sometimes I see ya hangin’ out with Tsumu and havin’ fun and it sounds dumb but, I wish I could see more of that part of yer life.”

You softly repeat his name before you climb into his lap. You wrap an arm around his shoulders to hold him close and pull your other hand from his grasp so that you can cup his cheek with a loving touch.

“I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel that way,” you tell him. “You’re always gonna come first. I don’t ever want you to feel excluded or like I’m trying to keep the different pieces of my life compartmentalized.”

Just hearing your apology and acknowledgment of the irrational jealousy that’s been plaguing him soothes his insecurities and embarrassment.

“I want ya to be able to go do things on yer own and do things with Tsumu without feelin’ like ya gotta bring me along every time. But ya just look like yer havin’ fun when yer gettin’ up to stupid things together and I guess, I just wanna have fun with ya too,” he shrugs. Despite how true it is, he hates how cheesy he sounds. But from the way that you’re looking at him with so much affection, you clearly find it touching.

“I love having fun with you, Osamu,” you smile back at him and his cheeks start to feel warm. “I’d love to do more stupid things with you.”

“Even if that stupid thing is spendin’ 20,000 yen at an arcade to beat a bunch of teens for the high score?” he asks and it comes out shyer than he intended. “Or buyin’ out every flavor of chips and every type of snack from the konbini just to rank ‘em?”

“Even then,” you nod with a grin. “Even if it’s needing to make a cab pull over to throw up after a night of drinking.”

“I thought it was the karaoke room?” he frowns in confusion.

“It was the karaoke room for me. The cab was Atsumu,” you tell him with a laugh and he snorts in response.

But then, since this is a time for honesty, he decides to bring up the question that’s been weighing heavily on his mind for the last few weeks.

“Why didn’t ya tell me about the job offer?” he gently asks, the question curious rather than accusatory.

“Job offer?” The line of your mouth twists down and your eyebrows knit together as you try to understand what he’s referring to.

“Tsumu said ya turned down a job offer. It was around when Reiji was sick,” he explains and his tone turns slightly hesitant. “Did ya feel like ya couldn’t tell me?”

Your eyes spark with recognition before you roll them in annoyance.

“Atsumu’s an idiot. He never listens,” you begin to rant and he’s not too proud to admit that hearing your irritation directed towards his twin extinguishes the last remaining embers of his jealousy. “It wasn’t a job offer. A recruiter reached out about a job opening for a position that involves more work for less pay. I didn’t even reply.”

He feels an odd mixture of relief, guilt, and frustration. He’s relieved that this was just some misunderstanding, but he feels just as guilty for jumping to the worst conclusion and thinking that you were something big from him. The frustration will be dealt with when he next sees his twin and gives him an earful and delivers a slap to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry fer not just askin’ ya ‘bout it sooner,” he says and you just give him a look of understanding.

“You and me, we’re only human. There are just gonna be times when I forget to tell you something or just don’t think to bother with it. But I’ll always do my best to make sure you know when there’s something going on. We’re a team, remember?” You run your fingers caringly through his hair with a soft smile and he leans eagerly into your touch.

“We’re a team,” he repeats quietly, finding the words comforting. He then gives you a slightly embarrassed look. “Hey, don’t tell Tsumu, okay? He’ll just call me a scrub.”

You place a reassuring kiss on his lips before nodding.

“Don’t worry. You’re a scrub, but you’re my scrub and I love you.” He can’t help but laugh as he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close. “But, you wanna do something crazy, huh?”

When he looks up at you, it’s to find a hint of wildness creeping into your expression. It’s the same wildness he used to see when you first started dating — before you both became adults and spouses and parents with real responsibilities.

The next day, Atsumu stops by the restaurant in the late afternoon during a lull. His appearance is unannounced, meaning that Osamu hasn’t had a chance to prepare himself for what he knows is to come. It’s as bad as he imagined because as soon as the setter walks in, he freezes, his expression going slack in shock at the sight of Osamu.

Or more correctly, at the sight of Osamu’s hair, which has been amateurishly dyed to be the same shade of grey that he used to wear in high school.

“Don’t even start,” he warns but doing so is pointless because Atsumu immediately bursts into laughter, finding it so funny that he has to clutch his stomach as he bends over.

“Who’s idea was this?” he manages to ask in between his gasps for air and his cackles. “Ya look so stupid!”

Osamu just stares at him blankly, not bringing up the fact that Atsumu is the one who’s been wearing the exact same hairstyle since they were sixteen, and isn’t that even more pathetic?

Because for all of the mocking that he receives, he knows it was worth it for the time he spent joking and laughing with you into the late hours of the night in your tiny bathroom as you did your best to dye his hair without burning his scalp.

#first thing I've written in months 🙀#miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #miya osamu fluff #osamu fluff #platonic #mel writes

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