#Osamu Miya x Reader

[neiptune]

a simple complication

cw: 1.6k wc, female reader, miscommunication my beloved, you have no idea how to confess your feelings to the one miya twin who doesn't remember what happened at suna's party

You’ve never once felt uncomfortable in a Miya household but, as you stand frozen by the doorstep, you realize that just might be about to change.

As you take a deep breath, relentless inner monologue giving its best shot at calming you down, Osamu suddenly swings the door open and you find yourself taking a wobbly step back, surprised. One garbage bag in hand, he looks equally startled.

“Hey”, he smiles after a moment, “what are ya doing?”.

You can barely look him in the eye, which only confuses him more.

“Nothing. I mean, I wanted to see you. Was hoping we could talk?”.

“Uh, sure. Come in, I’ll be right back”.

You quickly do as you’re told, take your shoes off by the door and gingerly shuffle to the couch before your brain decides you may in fact be too much of a coward to initiate the conversation at all.

The apartment seems empty, which indicates that Atsumu is either sleeping or simply not home. You try to remember how many drinks he had the previous evening, at Suna’s halloween party, but the entire night is still such a blur. Except from one specific detail that still makes heat crawl from your throat up to the roots of your hair.

God, how could you be so stupid? It’d be easy to blame it all on the stupid drinks Rintaro kept bringing you, liquid courage, a dumb wink sent your way as he casually suggested it was time you stopped being a pussy. No, it wasn’t entirely his fault, although you should’ve guessed nothing good would come out of a halloween party thrown in the middle of January.

You were in a pretty low effort costume, clown makeup, black dress. You’re all adults now, which made you think no one would actually commit to the bit as much as they did back in high school or during college, but were soon enough proved wrong as soon as you saw Aran and Rintaro respectively in a Daphne and Velma costume. They looked ridiculous and spectacular at the same time.

The twins were the only ones proving your theory, they both arrived to the party in casual clothes and not one bit of makeup on. A shame, the opportunity to see them wear mascara or eyeliner is rare but when they do men and women are affected all the same. You clearly remember once catching Rintaro himself staring at Osamu for a little too long.

“What’s up? Are ya hungry? Brought back some leftovers from the shop, we can have lunch if ‘Tsumu didn’t gobble those down”, his voice makes you jump and your friend stops by the couch, brows suddenly furrowed. “Or not. Are you okay?”.

“Yes!”, you should be relieved, honestly, he’s acting normal. Which means that maybe you didn’t ruin anything. Are you about to? Perhaps coming was a mistake-

“What did you want to talk about?”, Osamu has always been way too good at sensing other people’s emotions, he quickly forgets the lunch proposal and sits next to you instead, close enough for your legs to be pressed against each other. You feel like you may be about to combust.

You’ve known him almost all your life, high school feels like a century ago. The Miyas came as a package deal back then, one couldn’t exist without the other, but as time passed and adulthood shaped their lives in different ways, most people thought each finally got to exist as his own person. Those people were wrong: at least to you, they always held their own individuality. It’s what made them special. It’s what made you fall in love with Samu when he was still a hotheaded teenager, parts of that immature youth still flashing through his grown up demeanor, especially when he’s put in a room with his brother.

“I just wanted to tell you I really value our friendship. You know that, right?”, it feels like you might be about to cry, the way your voice is wavering. He cocks his head.

“Why are ya being so formal?”, Osamu offers a warm chuckle.

“You know that, right?”, you insist.

“I do”, his features soften, “not sure what I’d do without you, honestly”.

You only realize you’re tormenting your fingers when he covers your nervous hands with his own, warm and solid and so much bigger. Once more, it reminds you of the previous night and suddenly you’re worried you might truly cry. The twins don’t do well with tears, every single time they’ve seen you cry throughout the years, they always comically panicked as they awkwardly tried to offer some comfort. It never worked. You wish Kita was here to save the day, just like he always did back then.

“Samu, I’m sorry”, you murmur.

“For what? Now you’re worrying me”, he squeezes your hands in his and you look up from your lap to meet his perturbed gaze.

Like a slap in the face, it hits you. He doesn’t remember. Now, this is a scenario you didn’t prepare yourself to face.

Osamu gently bumps his forehead against yours and you almost throw up on the spot.

“Hey? Care to let me in that pretty little head of yours?”.

“You don’t remember?”, you don’t mean for it to come out in such an accusing pitch but it’s inevitable.

“Don’t remember what?”.

Incredulous, you stare back at him. The front door opens once more and this time you both jump. You’re too shocked to pay attention to Atsumu entering the living room, back from a run and dripping with sweat. Samu’s hands on yours can only remind you of how it felt having them briefly take your face in them as he clumsily tried to kiss you back, or maybe push you away, who can tell? You were too drunk and clearly he was too. You basically jumped his bones in Suna’s hallway, thank god no one walked by to witness the way you ran away right after. You wish you were drunk enough to forget that too.

“Hi”, Atsumu says and you’re too absorbed by the vortex of your mortifying thoughts to notice how he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu”, you say back distractedly, gaze kept on Samu’s coffee table.

“Go take a shower, you’re dripping on my counter”, Osamu barks as his brother casually opens the fridge to take out a protein shake.

“What’s for lunch?”, Atsumu ignores the order and flashes him a grin instead.

“My elbow in yer ribs if ya don’t go take a shower right now”.

“Jeez, fine. I’ll leave you both to it”.

Osamu furrows his brows as he watches Atsumu disappear upstairs with his shake and an amused grin he’s unable to interpret. It dawns on him that you barely talked to each other, which is usually not what happens. You’re disgustingly close, always have been walking the line between being siblings and something else he’s never really been able to pinpoint. He remembers once asking Atsumu if he liked you and he knows his brother well enough to be sure he was being sincere when he scrunched his face and shook his head no. Not like that.

Osamu would lie if he said he never wondered whether you could like him like that. But you’ve never been as… relaxed with him. It feels like Atsumu is the brother you’re most comfortable with and all these years he’s patiently waited for the news to drop, the relationship to start. Except it never did. He still wonders if ‘Tsumu had to friendly turn you down at some point. He still wonders if you could ever like the Miya you’re clearly less relaxed with, instead.

“What did I forget?”, Osamu gently grabs your chin to make sure you look up and meet his gaze once more. Your mouth feels dry.

“We…”, no, you can’t just say that. We kissed. Incorrect. More like you jumped him in a clearly drunken state and he was too much of a gentleman to fully push you away. It’s a faint memory, his hands on your face, and you can’t recall at all if his lips moved along with yours at some point. They most likely didn’t. And now, if you tell him, you’ll ruin everything. Maybe you should just keep quiet, be a coward and bury the whole thing in a place within your chest, inaccessible to anyone but your sense of guilt.

“We what?”, for a moment, Osamu’s exceptionally gentle tone, paired with his proximity, is inebriating enough to make you want to kiss him again. Then, something odd catches your attention and you blink a few times, surprised.

“What’s this?”, you reach to slightly pinch part of his dark hair between your thumb and pointer finger, to remove what looks like a gold grain. It’s dry and barely visible on your fingertip.

He follows your gaze and lets you go, slightly pulling back with a smile.

“Ah, that. I thought I washed it all off”, Osamu casually runs a hand through his hair a few times, “it’s temporary color spray”.

“You’re gonna dye your hair again?”.

“Nah. ‘Tsumu thought it’d be hilarious if we came to the party with a costume no one would notice. I think only Shinsuke guessed it by the end of the night and even he wasn’t so sure”, he offers a handsome grin but you feel petrified.

“What costume?”.

“We went as each other! Ya couldn’t tell us apart, could ya?”.

His amused smile slowly melts away as he takes in your horrified expression, eyes growing bigger by the second.

“Are you oka-”

“Oh my god”.

[sahrii]

¡! orbiting pluto ❞

osamu miya x fem!reader

m.list

warnings! kms/kys jokes, if you haven’t clocked it yet, he’s named atsumu on her phone but he’s actually osamu,, cars 2 slander sorry guys, cussing, idk nothing else i think.

chapter 3.10 - Cars 2 !

taglist!

[taglist is open, comment or ask to be added!]

@cherrysurf @heartmaddie @kawoala @tanuki-tanuki

@brireblogs @luvfromtoni @makiglazer @jpegarchives

@sagejin @loveyislost @gumims @bunichuu

@wyrcan @angeleilee @44twentytwo @blueballslock

@nobodybutnnoorr @saturns-satellites @shoyofroyoyoyo @frootloopscos

@thecallofmedusa @hemmotivos @dearru

[st4ringlow]

REWRITTEN FICS MASTERLIST

hello everyone! i am glad to announce i have rewritten three of my old fics so far. dont worry, i have provided a link you can copy and paste so you could still view the very original (and not so good) of my writing. i am proud of these, added some tweaks here and there and makes big changes so the story could be more enjoyable. thank you for every love and support! stay tuned for future changes.

SWEET PATROL — rintarou suna x reader

originally titled as [ in the line of love: https://wordcounter.net/3g2g1j ] summary; when you encounter a certain someone during a roadblock. tags; police officer!suna, wife!reader. fluff, slice of life.

UNSPOKEN. — osamu miya x reader

originally titled as [ a star that outshines: https://wordcounter.net/1a464q ] summary: in which you have a crush on osamu, but he didnt like you back—at least that's what you thought. tags; fluff, slight angst, happy ending. reader is a typical secret admirer highschool girl

SECRET SANTA DILEMMA. — atsumu miya x reader

original story [secret santa dilemma: https://wordcounter.net/9wgpvz ] summary; you're atsumu's secret santa, and so the mission of obtaining crucial intel about him starts. tags; highschool atsumu and reader. fluff, falling in love as reader learns about atsumu, very soft atsumu.

[spectoo]

tuna mayo ! miya osamu

chapter two

wc 1419

MDNI.

15:11.

You were currently 7 hours and 11 minutes into your 8 hour shift. 

Earlier in the day, Miya Atsumu went on the MSBY Black Jackals official Instagram account (with over 7 million followers, mind you), and posted a picture of a meme of Seong Gi-hun on the account's story.

Even though it was only up for 3 minutes, a few news pages, including TMZ Japan, posted about it on their accounts, basically making fun of the whole ordeal.

MSBY’s social media supervisor, Suzuki Dai, called an emergency meeting for everybody who worked in public relations to “talk” about this situation.

Earlier, 08:29.

You, and your coworkers were all sitting in your respective chairs, with a white table in the middle. “Who even let this happen?! Do you all not understand how embarrassing this is for us, as a professional volleyball team?!?!” 

You gave one of your coworkers, Yamamoto Akane, a ‘whatthefuck’ look, but that didn’t go unnoticed by Suzuki. “Is there something funny, [L/N]?!” Returning your focus to him, you respond with a shrug, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t act dumb! I saw you give a look to Yamamoto!” He retorted. “If you want to say something, then say it now.” 

You already knew this was going to be a long day, and this yelling just wasn’t helping anything.

“What’s your deal, Suzuki? Can you stop aiming your anger at me?” You hissed back, crossing your arms. “Everybody who’s talking about this situation isn't insulting our professionalism. If anything, it’s making our social media more popular.”

He put both of his hands on his desk. “I don’t CARE if it’s making us popular, we are still getting made fun of!” 

You raised an eyebrow, and tilted your head a little bit to the right. “You– huh?” You pause for a second. “You don’t care if it’s making us–” You cut yourself off, and leaned back in your seat. 

You knew better than to continue a conversation with stupid person.

Present time.

‘Ramen… no. Maybe yakisoba?’ You were in the middle of thought. Specifically about what to eat when your shift ends.

After the whole ordeal that happened, plus an apology, MSBY’s instagram account was up 15 thousand followers, which was very good in terms of gaining new fans. This caused you to become pretty carefree, well at least for the time being.

ding!

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as you pick up your phone and see who texted you.

You put your phone down, and wondered. ‘Am I even craving onigiri? … There’s another Atsumu?’ You visibly cringed.

15:59.

As you were walking to the employee room to clock out, you quickly texted Atsumu to tell him you’re on your way.

After swiping your badge, you headed outside and got in your car, letting out a really big sigh of relief. Today wasn’t the best day, but there’s always worse. 

After a few moments of silence, you picked your phone up, and quickly went on Atsumu’s Instagram to see what his brother looked like. 

Curiosity began to kill the cat. 

You slid through some of his posts, containing MSBY pics, sponsorships, and finally, a picture of him and his brother from 8 months ago.

As you inspected that specific picture, you began to feel kind of… weird.

The picture was clearly taken after an MSBY game, with sweaty Atsumu on the left, and his brother, wearing a matching jersey, on the right. They were both smiling, while giving each other a side hug.

They looked extremely similar, but different at the same time. You just couldn’t put your finger on it. 

You avert your eyes to your carplay screen.

16:05.

“Woops.” you muttered to yourself as you began typing in the directions to Onigiri Miya.

16:18.

You pull into the plaza where Onigiri Miya is located, and since the lunch rush was over, it wasn’t terribly crowded inside the shop. As you get closer to the store, you can see Atsumu and Hinata sitting at a table by the window, with the ginger wearing a white beanie, and the blondie wearing a brown snapback, backwards.

You park in a spot almost directly in front of the store, catching the attention of your friends. They begin to wave to you, and you can see Atsumu turn his head towards the kitchen, probably yelling something to someone.

As you exit your car and lock it, you immediately feel a sense of nervousness. Why were you feeling this? Was it due to being in a new place? Was it because you were about to meet Atsumu’s brother?

You quickly composed yourself and walked inside the door.

“Waddup, shawty?” Atsumu smiled as he got up from his chair, along with Hinata, and dapped you up.

“Hey, [L/N], how are you feeling?” Hinata gave you a side hug.

You let out a small giggle. “I told you earlier that I was fine, right? That basically means I’m also doing fine now.”

“Yeah, I know, but I felt b–” “‘SAMU! COME HERE AND MEET MY FRIEND!” Atsumu interrupted, turning his head to the kitchen once more. The small number of customers that were inside turned to your group, with weird looks.

As Atsumu grabbed both of your shoulders and dragged you to the counter, you gave Hinata an apologetic look, while he quickly dismissed it with a small wave.

“That was rude.” You pointed out to Atsumu, as he put an arm around your shoulder. He responded with a shrug. “‘SA–” 

“‘Tsumu, stop. You’re gonna scare my customers away.”

You turn your head to see a tall, broad man walking towards the both of you. He was wearing a black compression shirt with a small onigiri symbol in the corner, black joggers, a gold waist apron, and a black baseball cap.

You took one look at this man, and immediately thought: ‘Oh. My. God.’ On the outside, you looked completely normal, just watching as Osamu walked towards you. On the inside, you’re lowkey kinda not really but in a way freaking the fuck out.

“Took ya long enough, damn it.” Atsumu grumbled to his twin as you were snapped out of your thoughts.

“Did ya forget I have a business ta’ run?” Osamu counters. After a small scoff was released, he averted his eyes to meet yours.

That’s when all of Osamu’s thoughts instantly shut down. This had never happened to him before. Of course he thinks some girls are very good looking, but he thought you were one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen in his life. 

His face somewhat softens as the both of you stare at each other with that same look in your eyes.

“Man, I don’t care!” Atsumu groans. “This is one of my friends–”

“I can introduce myself, Atsumu.” You say calmly as you remove his arm from your shoulder. You can still feel the gaze of the other Miya on you.

“I’m [Y/N] [L/N], nice to meet you.” You say as you bow politely. As you look up from the bow, you see him bowing to you, while his lips curve into a very small smile.

“Miya Osamu, nice to meet ya as well.”

As you both stand up straight, you catch a glimpse of Atsumu giving you a look. He knows how you act when you meet a really cute boy — relaxed, and (in your own words) as ‘cool as a cucumber.’

You avert your eyes to the menu, as both brothers continue to keep their eyes on you. “So uh…” You nudge Atsumu with a small mischievous grin growing, “You’re still paying for me, right?”

“Yep, whatcha’ gonna get?” he says, not catching on with what you’re about to do.

‘Umeboshi, Takana, Salmon… ah-ha.’

You look back at Osamu. “Ten tuna mayo onigiri, please.”

While Osamu raises his eyebrow in curiosity, Atsumu gives you one of the most disgusted looks ever. “What the HELL are ya gonna do with ten onigiri?!” He yells.

As you look back to Atsumu, you let out a sigh. “You’re right, my bad.” When you look over at Osamu again, you give him your updated order. “Fifteen tuna mayo onigiri, please.”

“FIFTEEN–” Atsumu stops himself from speaking as he begins to walk away from the register, with hands over his mouth and wide eyes. As you begin to laugh, you can hear Osamu let out a few small chuckles.

Damn, even his laugh was attractive.

authors notes !

𐙚 osamu is so sexy like literalllyyyy imagine him wearing a compression shirt , like wow . mind blown .

𐙚 reblogs are always appreciated 🫶🏼

𐙚 hope you enjoyed the chapter , reader-chan !

[morosluvbug]

osamu miya who falls in love with a picky eater

osamu miya who learns from a very young age that you’re not willing to touch most foods. he (not so) secretly watches at lunch everyday to see what parts of you lunch you end up neglecting.

osamu miya who never teases you about being picky, after all that’s what makes cooking for you more rewarding right? nailing the flavors that you love and hiding the ones that you have no taste for.

osamu miya who attempts (and succeeds) at wowing you through bringing you lunches that he knows you’ll enjoy.

osamu miya who spends the rest of lunch trying not to grin ear to ear while watching you happily eat the lunch he brought you.

osamu miya who knows it’s now his life’s mission to make sure you enjoy food as much as possible.

osamu miya who loves the way your face lights up when he finds a place with lots of options for foods you like. whether its due to dietary restrictions, allergies, or a distace for certain foods, he will make sure there’s many options for you everytime you eat out.

osamu miya who cooks for you as often as you like. if you're ever feeling unmotivated and unwilling to cook he will show up and help you.

osamu miya will reach out to your parents for childhood recipes and loved dishes you may not have told him about. he wants to have your comfort foods at the ready whenever you're craving them.

osamu miya who never fails to wow you with how well he remembers your favorite foods. craving a certain cuisine but don’t know what you want? trust me, he knows way before you do and politely suggests it.

osamu miya loves seeing your reactions to new foods you discover. he’s always so proud when you try something new, and is even happier when he watches your face light up from the flavors.

osamu miya will order for you if you need to sub out items on a dish but are to embarrassed! food is meant to be enjoyed! not picked apart to avoid certain aspects of it.

osamu miya who will do anything to make sure you’re happy, healthy, and not hungy!!

A/N: projecting so hard onto this fic i am so picky about foods!! trying to be better but i fear i am doomed for life :( osamu save me

[bokutoko]

osamu didn’t really have a favorite color.

it wasn’t until he saw you after school one chilly autumn day, your face lighting up with the question, “is that jacket new, ‘samu?”

he nodded—he didn’t think too much of it when he got it for his birthday, so he surely didn’t expect anyone else to notice. “a gift from ma.”

“i like it, it’s my favorite color,” you took in his full appearance, your eyes looking him up and down, “it suits ya.” a cackle escaped you at osamu’s flustered face, only growing louder with him grumbling, “shaddup.” osamu’s biggest tell was always his accent thickening, and you knew it.

as winter came, osamu found himself wearing that same jacket to and from school every day, ignoring atsumu’s relentless “whadda simp” comments, as a part of him hoped you’d one day be chilly enough to need his coat.

and when that day came, with his jacket hugging your figure as you nuzzled in his leftover body heat, osamu found it hard to breathe.

in that moment, he realized he’d found his new favorite color—yours.

a/n: sorry osamu if reader’s favorite color is pink😔 bro’s looking like pepto-bismol.

masterlist | navigation

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2024.

[makkir0ll]

private chef! osamu x ceo!reader.

you hired him because you had little to no time to make healthy meals, living off of microwave ramen most of the time. incredibly unhealthy so you hired a private chef. you didn't see him often, only in the morning for a couple of minutes as you ate your breakfast and occasionally he would stand across the counter preparing your lunch.

you can't deny that he's cute, brown hair and big biceps that are constricted from his black compression shirt, the way his muscles are flexed every time he moves. his cooking skills are an added plus. you thank whatever angel is watching over you to give you such a hot man who can cook your meals. but obviously, you had to keep it professional but that doesn't stop you from ogling at him and he doesn't notice either so there’s no harm. (he has noticed.)

and he's not one to complain either. he particularly likes it when you come home late. hair in a messy bun, the first couple of buttons from your work shirt unbuttoned a little bit and at certain angles he can get a peek of the lacy black bra you decided to wear that day.

but his top favorite is when you come out of the shower on those late nights, dressed in your victoria secret silk pajama set, hair wet, and cheeks red from the heat of the shower. you smile softly at him as you take a bit of the dinner he cooked that night and he always falls to his knees weak at the sight of your smile rather than the usual scowl on your face due to the annoying people you have to deal with at work.

and when you fall asleep on the couch as he cleans up the dishes he freezes, he's never seen you so peaceful. would it be breaking boundaries to carry you to your bed? no he thinks, i mean you back would hurt if you slept here all night he justifies as he slowly picks you up and places you softly on your bed.

one day he will get to do that and sleep with you in his arms. but right now he had to plan out your breakfast for tommorow.

@cottonlemonade bc it’s infesting my brain

[bonniepop]

another night where you fight, another night of silence. another night where miya osamu sleeps with his back to you.

the realization that there is not much more you can do to save your relationship clutches at your chest with an iron grip.

the gravity of it makes you whimper. pressing your lips together, you shakily push yourself up to sit blinking back tears while blindly stepping around for your slippers, willing yourself not to sob—not here, not where he can hear. your toes touch the fluff of them, and you hurry to slip them on. you need to get out of here.

as quiet as possible, you leave your boyfriend in your shared bedroom.

you stumble to the couch and kick off your shoes, blindly searching until your fingers catch the lampshade switch. you yank it to provide some light, rattling as it flings back into place.

you pull your knees to your chest and press your forehead against your kneecaps. a numb part of your brain thinks oh, so this is where this was, when you think of the misery that quieted itself, replaced with a numbness that overtook you during the fight you had with him earlier.

the numbness that made your limbs feel like ice when he clicked off the phone call without even hearing you out.

you wanted to tell him so much, but in the face of his blank gaze and dismissive demeanor, you shut off. you have more fight in you, you know that. but tonight you just couldn’t. couldn’t listen to him tell you that he needed more from you—more support, more time, more patience.

you’ve given him that, right? your brain runs with thoughts you can't keep up with. you gave him yourself. you have, for months, for years. you did what you could. you’ve withstood lonely anniversaries, forgotten birthdays, broken promises. you’ve done everything you could. you gave what you could. you gave everything you could.

i want you to come home, you wanted to tell him eatlier tonight. come home. you’re never home. i know you’re busy at work and you’re doing what you love but please, ‘samu. please. 

love me, too.

your body wracks with a sob, the hurt fresh, as if the words that you never got to say wounded your insides instead. you wanted to tell him that, you wanted to beg for it, beg for his time, beg for his attention, beg for him to love you back. but time and time again he just turns and says he’s tired, he doesn't want to hear it, and the moment is gone, and now the fear of knowing that leaving things unsaid will destroy you, will destroy him. will destroy both of you.

you huddle closer into yourself and sob, a sharp sound in your ears making your head pound.

“babe?” you hear through the ringing in your ears, and suddenly warm hands are on your arms. “babe, what’s wrong?” his voice is calm against your turmoil. “are you having a panic attack?”

“’samu, i’m—” you shudder and he leaves for a moment, flitting to the kitchen to grab you some water. 

“drink, please,” he tells you, gently unfurling you to sit. you comply with shaky limbs, taking the water he’d given you in your delicate grip. a few sips are enough to calm you down, but the fear is still there.

he gingerly takes the glass and sets it aside. he kneels in front of you, taking your hands and soothingly rubbing his thumbs against your skin. his fingers are hot, almost like a furnace, but when you realize that he's not, he's fine, your hands are freezing, you resist the urge to pull away as he warms your palm.

when he looks up to smile at you, you see the exhaustion on his face, and, instantly, you hate yourself for it. for this.

"i'm sorry," you blurt out, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

his hand leaves yours and cups your cheek. "for what, baby?"

“i love you so much, osamu,” you tell him without thinking, voice thick and wet and miserable. you press the palm of the hand he let go of against his cheek, hiccuping when he closes his eyes to lean into your touch. 

“i love you, too,” he says, ready to apologize for the fight, but it's not about that.

not anymore.

you pull away. the confusion and hurt on his face is making everything worse.

“i love you so much,” you tell him, desperately wishing that he could understand. “but i—” you sob, “but, osamu, i can’t anymore.”

osamu presses his lips together, saying nothing. you hear him sniffle, and his fingers come forward to brush at the tears on your cheeks and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“i love you so much,” you confess. “i would do anything for you. and i have, i have for years. i’ve tried my best, but osamu, i’m so tired,” you sob. your voice feels like its giving out but the desperation makes the words claw themselves out of your mouth. “i’m so tired, i'm so tired and i'm so lonely, and—and—and i love you so much, but i have nothing left to give.”

you pull your hands away to hunch over and cry into your palms unable to face him. messily, you wipe at your face and push your hair back. you give him the most apologetic smile you can muster, but you're unable to see his face through your tears. “i’m so sorry i can’t give you more, osamu.”

you hear him sniffle and when you wipe your tears away with the backs of your hands, his eyes are glassy. then he closes his eyes.

the pain that washes over his face is absolutely unbearable. the furrow of his brow and the wrinkle of his chin, the lines by his scowl that you know is him trying his best to keep it together.

when he opens his eyes to look at you, his eyes are no longer glassy. your heart breaks for the pain he refuses to show. “what’s next?”

your smile is sad and wet with tears. “i think you know.” you brush his hair back and cradle his face with your hands. “let’s… let’s do this in the morning, okay?”

he nods, looking away. he licks his lips and shakes his head, and he turns to face you with a furrowed brow and a little more composure despite his watery gaze. but it doesn’t take long before his face crumples and he rushes to hide his face against your legs. his quiet sobs are pained and miserable, his chest shaking as he cries. 

you press your face against his hair and cry with him.

—

the morning greets you kindly, the soft sunlight bathing your room in a sweet glow. it’s early, but you can’t keep sleeping. there’s a lot to pack.

your eyes feel hot and swollen, and bones feel heavy beneath your skin, weighing you down from getting up from the bed. still, you fight. you push yourself up to sit and notice that you’re alone. unsurprising, really; osamu has been leaving earlier and coming home later. onigiri miya needs care, needs nurturing, so it’ll blossom and grow. you need to stop begrudging him for it.

you finish your morning ablutions in the bathroom and head out to the kitchen, but when you open your bedroom door, the smell of food hits your nose like a smack to the face. your stomach twists when you see a familiar broad back—osamu didn’t leave—and your fingers turn cold.

the door slides shut behind you and he turns. “good mornin’,” he says quietly, shutting off the stove.

“good morning,” you say, walking to your kitchenette. when you see the spread on the table, you gape despite yourself. “osamu. what is—what.”

he flushes, sliding a delicious looking steak unto a plate and setting it alongside the other plates—nearly every single plate you own, you note—and your dining table is bursting with food. “cooked breakfast.”

“for how many people?” you ask, incredulous. “i tried t'remember everythin’ you liked,” he said with a sniff, and your heart crinkles at the edges, because that means something.

“thank you,” you whisper, and you quietly take a seat while sets aside the dishware he used. 

when he finishes, he turns to look at you, leaning on the counter. it takes him a while. “when you leave,” he says, “i’m going to try again.”

you stare at him, confused. you say nothing and wait for him to continue.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he says, and he rubs his face in frustration. “but i know i’ve—i know i fucked up. i love you, and i never should’ve hurt you.” he inhales through his nose. “but i did, and i can’t change that.

“but i’m not giving up on you. not on us. you—” he clears his throat, and the dark circles beneath his eyes makes your heart feel tight. “i’ll… if i have to start all over again, i’ll do it,” he whispers, walking closer and taking your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “i’ll win you back.”

“osamu,” you whisper, and his face crumples again.

“i love you too much to let you go,” he says, voice breaking as he fights back tears. “and i know that makes me a jerk. but i’m… i love you, so much—so fucking much, and i hate myself for not making you feel that. for hurting you.”

he gets on his knees and tears are streaming down your face. “leave me if you have to,” he says brokenly.

“if you need space, i’ll understand. but please,” he begs. “please don’t give up on me.” 

he does the unthinkable. he curls over and bows, back curved and forehead pressed against the backs of his hands, pressed against the floor.

the horror that overtakes you is beyond words. 

you drop to the floor to pull him upright, not letting him do this. he won’t do this to himself, you won’t let him. not for anyone, not for you. you pull his face against yours and kiss him as hard as you can, crying as you do.

you won't let him do this.

later, you sit on the couch, arms around osamu’s middle as you lie on his chest. the idea that this could be the last time you held him like this made you want to burst into tears again.

“i’ll make it up to you,” he promises, pushing your hair out of your face, gently guiding your chin up. “please, just… give me another chance.”

you look up at him, and your eyes meet.

—

“hey!” atsumu greets warmly as soon as you enter the restaurant, spreading his arms wide to engulf you in a hug. “it’s so good t’see you!“

“hi, ‘tsumu,” you greet, returning the hug. 

he motions for you to sit as he picks up the menu. “know what you want?”

you nod, not even bothering to pick up the menu. “how are you? how’s training?”

“’m good! training’s good. teammates are pretty good, too.”

"yeah? like who?"

atsumu makes a show of looking at the menu. "oh, i don't you know them."

you roll your eyes at his obvious ploy to get you to start talking. “fine. ask me.”

atsumu instantly leans in, conspiratorially covering his mouth with the menu and whispering, “how are you two? it’s been over a month now, right?”

“oi.” you twist your head to smile up at the newcomer. “stop bothering them, ‘tsumu.”

atsumu glares at his twin. “i’m the one who invited ‘em to lunch!”

osamu rolls his eyes and lays down a platter of onigiri in front of you. he snatches the menu and smacks his brother’s wandering hands with it before they get to close. “these are not for you.”

“but that’s a lot!" atsumu whines. "can’t i have any?”

“no,” osamu says resolutely, then turns to you and gives you the softest smile he can muster, pinning the menu by his side and arm.

"i haven't even ordered yet!" atsumu complains.

osamu ignores him. “let me know what you think.”

“okay,” you say with a smile. 

“and let me know if you need to take out anything,” he continues, “i’ll wrap it up for you.” he leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple. “enjoy.”

“thank you, ‘samu,” you tell him before he turns to leave. 

he smiles back at you and heads back behind the bar.

atsumu has evidently forgotten about ordering, because his eyes shuttle back and forth between you two before nodding considerably. “so i take it things are going well?”

“yeah,” you admit, picking up an onigiri. “going really well, actually.”

“you’ve been…” atsumu searches for the word, “is it still called ‘dating’? you broke up. but… entertaining each other…?”

“don’t hurt yourself,” you joke. “but yeah. let’s call it dating. and it’s going well, thanks for asking.” you take a bite of the onigiri.

“does he still have a chance?” atsumu asks, genuine curiosity on his face.

you chew thoughtfully as you look back at osamu, who’s smiling at a customer. you remember that bright morning, when he helped you pack, helped you move into your friend’s apartment. when he cooked all that food, and you found it neatly packed away in a thermal bag that had a handwritten note, reminding you to eat well.

you remember the next day, when he showed up at your friend’s door, holding flowers and inviting you out to get some ice cream. you remember his messages, his calls, his check ins on you, littered across the days, asking you how you are or if you’re eating or if you need any food.

you could call him if you needed any help, if you needed anything at all.

but reality sets in when you think of how one phone call could be a mistake, it stops you from searching his name each time you pick up the phone.

in your mind, you see his bent form, his begging, his tears. you remember his smiles and his hugs and his ‘see you later’s, his gradually growing list of unbroken promises. you remember the effort, the time he’s putting into you, putting aside for you. you remember how hard he tries for you.

it's like everything is new again.

his eyes catch yours and he gives you a small wave, and you wave back, your stomach fluttering.

it's not new, you think. it's better.

you swallow your food. it's delicious.

“yeah,” you say softly, “he does.”

[riddlesrose]

osamu miya who believes you’re close to him because you’re interested in his twin. it takes a while for him to fully accept that you don’t want atsumu, you want him. it really set it when you start bringing him the snack he pointed out in your lunch, setting it in front of him while you basically ignored a whining atsumu.

post graduation osamu who was so sad when atsumu was mad at him for quitting volleyball, he comes to you with his troubles, hoping you can help. you let him spew all of his feelings uninterrupted while pressed together on your bed. you wipe a stray tear from his eye and pull him impossibly closer for a hug.

college osamu who calls you almost every night, complaining about the work load he’s been given, or the fact that he wants to come back. when he does it’s the holidays and he celebrates with you first, then his family, and yes you’re there too. (his mother is a huge fan of you, she loooves you like her own:((( )

onigiri miya owner osamu who brings home extra food from his shop because he knows you love it. he totally didn’t make extra before closing. nope. you come to onigiri miya most days to visit him, despite living together. something about him and his uniform does something to your mind.

osamu miya who’s loved you since highschool <33

masterlist

[dearru]

has anyone ever considered timeskip!osamu with a stress baker significant other…im sure someone has…but im considering it heavily rn. | mlist

“whatcha makin’ hon?” osamu’s voice drifts into the kitchen as he walks in. his hair’s slightly disheveled and his boxers hang lowly from his hips. coming up behind you, he wraps his arms around your waist and peeks to catch a glimpse of your work.

“nothing, ‘samu,” you mumble, focused on incorporating the dry ingredients into the wet instead of the feeling of your boyfriend’s sturdy chest pushing into your back.

“smells good,” he murmurs sleepily, pressing his lips to your neck, breathing in your scent, “ya need help?”

you shake your head, continuing to stir, “go back to bed, sorry to wake you.”

he purses his lips together, squeezing you a bit tighter, “let me keep ya company. i know yer bakin’ cause yer stressed.”

you mix a little harder, “not true.”

he hums, amused, “cmon, ya only pull out the bakin’ soda at this hour when times ‘re tough.”

it sounds like he’s making fun of you, but his soft tone gives his concern away. his hands rub comforting circles against your sides, and the feeling disarms you for a moment, allowing for him to abruptly grab the whisk from your hand.

you squeak, immediately lunging for the utensil— but osamu’s faster, “give it back!”

“we don’t have to talk ‘bout it right now, but ya gotta let me help ya with this at least,” he murmurs, grabbing the bowl and starting to stir for you, “i’ll finish this part up if ya wanna start makin’ some frostin’.”

he stirs with a practiced expertise, and you feel a surge of affection as you watch him. you smile softly, stress long forgotten, “love you.”

eyes glimmering, he glances at you, “love ya too.”

—a/n: osamu brain dump even tho i fw his brother more

[miiyas]

osamu turns his body to face you in the dark room of your shared bed, a frown etched on his face as he wraps his beefy arms around your waist.

“‘yer stomachs growlin’.” he states, breathing in the scent of your lotion that lingered gently on your skin from after a warm shower. you hum tiredly as your thumbs doom scroll across your phone, the lights highlighting your face gently. from your lack of response, your husband sighs and sits up on the bed, tossing the covers away from his side, grabbing your attention away from your phone.

“‘samu ? where’re you going ?” you put your phone away from your face slightly, eyes wide and confused at the sudden action. you see osamus shadow tap the lamp on from beside the bed and run a hand through his bedhead, feet shuffling out of the bedroom without another word to you.

“‘samu ? dude, what are you doing ?” with the sudden ‘dude-zoning,’ you can hear his voice call from … the kitchen ..?

“are ya feelin’ somethin’ light or heavy ?” he calls, causing your brows to furrow in confusion as you slip out of bed, placing your phone down on the mattress. you tiptoe to the kitchen, seeing osamu having his head popped in the fridge. you couldn’t help but stifle out a laughter, the sight of your husband in nothing but a simple shirt and boxers tickled your tired, hazy mind.

“what in the world are you doing, ‘samu ?”

“yer stomach was growlin’ since we got into bed.” he mumbles, picking up a carton of eggs and counting how many was left before placing them down again. “you feelin’ pancakes ? i can make the meanest pancakes, y’know.”

you sigh out a chuckle before moving over to the small dinning table, bringing your legs up to your chest to keep a bit of warmth in your body from after leaving the bed. “i know, ‘samu. i’ll have whatever’s easier.”

“alright, pancakes then.”

osamu pulls out the carton of eggs again and a stick of butter, pushing them on the kitchens island before closing the fridge to find more ingredients. you eye your husband roam around, your eyes fluttering as you drift in and out of consciousness as a soft, content smile lies gently on your lips.

it’s okay, though. because you know that osamu will wake you up when your stack of pancakes are hot and ready. he’ll give you a big kiss on your forehead before sitting beside you, resting his elbow on the table as his head props up with the support of his big hand, a lovesick smile drowning out any sleepiness in him.

[act-nat-ural]

Currently thinking about Osamu who despite being extremely athletic for most of his life, is slowly not working out as much in his recent years. Between planning your wedding, opening Miya Onigiri, and welcoming your first child, he hasn’t had the time nor energy. All this combined he's slowly growing softer around the edges, and man does it drive you crazy.

You were relaxing, reading a book on your shared bed when he walks in after having showered. Towel wrapped around his waist, his figure on display. He was still wet, water droplets slowly creeping down his chest. His belly was starting to poke out a little, and you loved it. He was very broad, still some muscle left, and combined with the chub he was looking quite tempting.

You start squealing and hide your face in the pillow, kicking your legs. He laughs and walks over, still getting the floor wet. “The hells up with ya?” You giggle and peek from behind the pillow. 

“You’re way too hot. I can’t handle it.” As soon as you say that you burst into giggles again, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise, a slight smirk on his face. 

“Ya think so? I noticed I’ve put on some weight and was thinking of hittin’ the gym-” 

“No! Please! I love it!” He hums and leans over you, nearly pressing against you.

“Well, if you insist.”

note: gnawing on the bars of my enclosure…..

[kitashousewife]

“my back hurts,” osamu bends back, wincing with his eyes closed. it’s a saturday, post dinner rush, and he’s taking a break outside.

“maybe if you wore better shoes, you wouldn’t be bothered so much.”

your voice sounds distant through the phone speakers. his black high-tops kicks a pebble out of the way. very broken in, stained, and even a little ripped. he takes his hat off to rub his head before responding.

“but they match and look nice,”

“you can find nice, matching shoes with some support.”

osamu snorts. “those always look ugly,”

you laugh on the other line, and he grins. you groan, and hold the phone up closer to your lips.

“you’re a dork. we can look online later tonight, okay?”

“fine,” he sighs. he can hear the employees in the shop speaking louder, and he takes that as his queue to go back inside. “ya on yer way? yer favorite is the special tonight,”

he can feel you smile. “it’s the special every night. and yes, i’m only a couple blocks away.”

he pushes the back door open, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear as he puts his apron on again. he finishes the call and heads straight to the seating area to set your table up with the plastic reserved sign. like he does every saturday night.

he might even join you this time. just to rest his back, like he does every saturday.

[cxvii666]

no-context boyfriend txts w/ ten

FEATURING!

YUJI ITADORI, DENKI KAMINARI, HANTA SERO, hitoshi shinsou, eren yeager, ryuunoske tanaka, KEIGO TAKAMI, takuma ino, connie springer, hajime iwaizumi, issei matsukawa, (i could see) yuuta okkotsu, osamu miya, tetsurou kuroo, satori tendou, yuu nishinoya, koushi sugawara, satoru gojo, also suguru geto (he gives closet weirdo), jean kirstein, yuuji terushima, togata mirio + ur faves ofc x

[st4ringlow]

miya osamu x reader drabble

osamu hates it when someone else is in the kitchen with him.

he personally thinks its a hassle and slows down the work when there are more than one person in the kitchen. whenever someone offers help, he immediately declines, insisting that he can do it on his own. one time he got super grumpy because atsumu is too stubborn to leave him alone in the kitchen and fucking up the chopped vegetables. thats why he prefers to cook alone.

you, however, he doesnt mind. not that he lets you help him though, but he needs to feel your presence in the kitchen, " 's moral support," he said. he lets you yap while hes cooking, and will give comments and reactions to your conversation. 'oh d'you know about that old lady two houses across?' , 'i think im actually good at cooking, 'm just lazy,' , 'can we go to the ramen diner some time? heard it was good,' , ''m getting fat if you keep feeding me with your cookings,' . you may be quite the conversationalist, but osamu enjoys listening to you.

miya osamu may not enjoy others in his kitchen space, but for you, he would make an exception. even if you poorly chop the ingredients or botch the sautéing by overheating, he'll let it slide.

[suhkusa]

BOTH AIN’T SH!T - A HAIKYUU SMAU

PAIRING. Osamu Miya x f!Reader, Atsumu Miya x f!Reader

CW. college au!, angst, fluff, OOC, suggestive/mature humor, the twins aren’t very good people, lowkey y/n isn’t either, language, some written content, a lot of fighting and arguments, childhood friends-to-lovers, love triangle in a sense

STATUS. COMPLETE

SUMMARY. The Miya twins had an infamous reputation around campus— one being known for sleeping around while the other plays hard to get. But what happens when they both decide they want to settle down with none other than you, their childhood friend.

INTRO.

1. BESTEST FRIEND

2. WHORE ENDEAVORS

3. PRESUMED DEAD

4. PEACE AND LOVE

5. LOOK AT ME

6. STICK TOGETHER

7. SLUTTY OOMFS

8. DROWN TO DISTRACT [📝]

9. CAUGHT A STRAY

10. A CERTAIN MIYA

11. GO TWINS!!!!

12. END OF SUBJECT

13. PASSION PROJECT

14. FRAGILE

15. THE TRUCE

16. STUDIOUS AHH

17. U WANT HIM SO BAD

18. WHAT NOW

19. NERVES [📝]

20. MAYBE IT WAS

21. ALL OFFENSE [📝]

22. ONE CHANCE

23. FOR THE PLOT

24. YOU’RE DEAD

25. EPIPHANY [📝]

OSAMU’S ROUTE.

1. REACH OUT

2. TIME [📝]

3. NOSTALGIC

4. HOME SWEET HOME [📝]

5. MY LOVE

END.

ATSUMU’S ROUTE.

1. JUMPED THE GUN

2. SPEAKS VOLUMES [📝]

3. THEULTIMATEFREAK

4.BEUTIFIL

END.

• both routes continue after ch. 25

• will be updated everyday at 2-5 PM PST

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.