#osamu miya angst
Note
angst, you say?
Like, I am sorry to inform you, but when you and Osamu break up, he can no longer see or make or think about your favorite foods.
Your favorite Onigiri? Not on the menu anymore.
It’s a bizarre recipe too. One he made for you by accident, one you insisted on trying while he was testing new flavor combinations. It was a pain to make, hard to replicate, but for you, he’d do anything, absolutely anything to make you smile.
Now that you’re gone, he saves himself to consistent heartache in making it, taking it off the menu in hopes to combat the sight of you, pleading him to make it, jutting your lip out and clasping your fingers together while he looks you up and down in amusement. Now that you’re gone, he saves himself the trouble of tears stinging his eyes of the memories swirling in his head of you, sitting on the counter as he makes it at home, sneaking bites of rice from him when he’s turned around, only to act like you never did it.
It was on the menu for years. Only one person ordered it consistently. You.
So it’s completely normal why he bites his thumb nail as this damn seven year old, seemingly fresh out of a dance recital comes in, hands and chin hooked on the counter as her mother orders food, asking about her favorite onigiri no longer being served.
“Sorry, Miss, we haven’t had that on the menu in months-“
“But you’ve gotta make it!” She pouts. “I always get it after my dance recitals! It’s my favorite…”
“Yumei, don’t be rude!” Her mother scolds.
Osamu takes a deep breath in and rolls his shoulders, smiling softly at the young girl.
“Maybe I can whip one up. Just for you.” He leans slightly over the register, “but don’t tell anyone, okay?”
She gasps excitedly and bounces on the balls of her feet, squeaking out a “thanks, mister!” as her mother pays.
It kills him as he puts the order into the system for the cooks to make. It kills him as the cooks look at him like he’s got five heads, “we uh… we don’t know how to make this, Miya.”
“That’s alright,” he chokes, swallowing thickly. “Just watch the register.
“I’ll take care of it.”
#osamu goes above and beyond even his own comfort for his customers 💔#osamu miya#osamu miya angst#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya x gn!reader#osamu miya x reader angst#osamu miya imagine#osamu miya haikyuu#miya osamu#miya osamu angst#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x reader angst#miya osamu x gn!reader#miya osamu imagine#miya osamu haikyuu#haikyuu#haikyuu angst#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x reader angst#haikyuu x gn!reader#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyuu x yn#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n
916 notes
·
View notes
Text
Then & Now. ♡
——— ♡ ———
Pairing: Osamu Miya x Reader
Genre: Fluff! Angst if you squint? Maybe? High school sweethearts who reunite as adults. ♡
——— ♡ ———
Growing up, the idea of a first love was embedded into your mind with theatric-like imagery. A dramatic, beautiful first kiss. Loud, screaming arguments over unwarranted jealousy. Passionate, intense declarations of love for the entire world to hear. A love that felt so real it physically hurt. A love that, when it came to it’s inevitable demise, would stick to you for the rest of your life, leaving you wondering “what if…?”.
That’s what you thought, anyway, until you’d experienced it first-hand.
Your relationship with Osamu was nothing like that. In fact, it was almost too easy. A fast forming friendship in your first year blossoming into a romantic relationship as high school seniors. You two just… clicked.
When the two of you made things official, it wasn’t the grand proposal you’d hoped for. Instead, it was Osamu waking up next to you with a sleepy smile and incoming hangover asking you the classic “what are we?”. You simply smiled back, knowing damn well the night before that the liquid courage had run through both of you to the point of confessing your true feelings and realizing they were mutual.
Osamu was comfortable. He was carefree, but not recklessly. He paid attention in school and had priorities, but didn’t let small things bother him. “Don’t worry about it” he’d say, pulling you against him with an arm around your waist. “I’ll take care of it.” “It’s no big deal.” “It’s fine.” “Just leave it to me.”
Dependable, reliable Osamu who always seemed to fix any major or minor inconvenience in your life with a simple solution and saving you from yourself for the zillionth time.
Despite the positives of your relationship, even you couldn’t dodge the cliché “we’re going to different colleges, so let’s break up” trope. You talked it over, mutually deciding it’d be too stressful to continue your relationship when you were going to school 6 hours away. You spent your last few days together as if everything was normal, and then you just… left.
“Too bad.” His gaze dropped to the floor, a bittersweet smile crossing his lips. “We coulda had a real nice life together.”
You nodded and laced your fingers in his.
“It was nice while it lasted, though.” Osamu sighed, looking down at you. Your eyes met his, only for a moment, before you fully embraced him and soaked in every ounce of him. Muffled, barely audible words came from your lips as you pushed your face into his chest.
“It was nice while it lasted.”
But it didn’t hurt like you’d expected it to. You didn’t want it to. Your relationship with Osamu was wonderful. He was perfect for you, and the two of you shared so many incredible memories. You smiled when you thought back to one of your silly inside jokes. Felt warm when you saw anything that reminded you of him.
While you started casually dating other people in your second year of college, Osamu didn’t do the same. He was busy opening a restaurant and supporting his brother, information that you’d collected from his few and far between Facebook updates. Other than that, you hadn’t really spoken since the day you’d left.
The years flew by, and just like you’d promised your family, you moved back home the day after your college graduation.
Various relatives cooed over you, commenting on how different you looked, how proud they were of you, hurling questions at you the moment you stepped inside that you instantly regretted returning after such an eventful week.
“Where are you going? You just got home!” You mom called as she watched you lace up your shoes from the other room.
“Out. I’ll be back soon.”
That stressful evening is how you’d ended up at a dodgy, dimly lit bar two streets down that had always piqued your interest as a teenager. You and Osamu had promised to go there together when you were younger, both of you making up silly theories about what lied beyond the doors.
You chuckled into your drink as you remembered the conversations and compared them to reality.
“I wonder if it’s some kinky strip club.” Osamu smirked, “Ya know, like with ropes and handcuffs and stuff?”
“Do those exist? Strip clubs just for stuff like that?” You squeezed his hand and jumped up on to the sidewalk.
“I dunno. Anything’s possible. Better than your theory.” He teased. “An illegal animal sanctuary? Where’d ya even come up with that one?”
“Hear me out! I bet there’s some old man who has like, 17 tigers, an alligator, and a polar bear. Nowhere to keep them.” You stopped at the crosswalk, grabbing his cheeks so he looked straight at you. His eyes were wide with amusement and a massive grin was plastered across his face. “Picture it, ‘Samu. Really think. Can you see it? He probably lives there and just takes care of his exotic animals in secret.”
“Right.” He snorted, “And how do you explain the customers?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever actually seen anyone enter or leave that building?”
“Well, I-“ He stopped, pausing to think for a moment. “Ya know what? No. I haven’t.”
You tugged him into the crosswalk when the light changed and marched away proudly. “Exactly. Point proven. It’s a front.”
The two of you spent the rest of your walk home from school that day laughing and debating what kinds of animals the theoretical old man was hiding in the fake bar.
Osamu’s laugh was something you’d heard many times, but never gotten tired of. His laugh was infectious; deep and loud and right from his chest. A laugh that would cause anyone to smile just from being around it.
A laugh that you recognized the moment you heard it.
You spun around on the bar stool, drink still in hand, in complete disbelief as the man who you were just thinking about was practically summoned in front of you. What a coincidence - you made a mental note to call your old roommate and tell her that her manifestation theories might not be bogus after all.
“Ain’t that somethin’,” Osamu whistled, taking off his hat to reveal his natural hair colour and giving you a playful nudge. “Didn’t know I’d run into ya here.”
“You didn’t?” You smiled.
“Had no clue.”
You pulled out your phone, showing him your most recent social media post. It was a photo of your drink, the location tagged with a passive caption about returning home.
“You didn’t see this?” You snorted when he shook his head no.
“Osamu Miya liked your post. Explain that.” You pointed directly at your most recent notification, showing that Osamu had definitely seen it 20 minutes prior.
“Hackers. Gotta be.” You felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you indulged in his sarcastic banter. “‘Cuz it’s clearly a coincidence that I just happened to show up to the same shitty bar on a certain Tuesday night.”
“You’re such a fuck.” You laughed, “Be serious.”
“Obviously I knew.” He rolled his eyes playfully and waved down a waitress. “Just wasn’t sure if you were gonna talk to me.”
“Why wouldn’t I talk to you?” You took a sip of your drink and watched him as he ordered his own. The way he carried himself was different. Subtle, but different. Confident and unapologetically himself.
He shrugged. “Just didn’t think you wanted to. I never heard from ya after you left.”
You blinked at him. “I kinda thought that’s what you wanted. That’s why I never reached out.”
“Why would I want that?” He thanked the waitress and took a sip of his drink the moment she handed it to him.
“I dunno. I just assumed since you didn’t say anything to me after I left.”
“So you’re tellin’ me we didn’t talk because we both thought the other didn’t want to?” Osamu’s question wasn’t really even directed to you, if anything, he was talking out loud to himself.
You were the first to crack up. “I guess so.”
“Hah.” He chuckled, “How stupid is that?”
“…Pretty stupid.”
He shook his head, smiling and silently cursing himself for allowing a little breakup and a few hours distance ruin the best relationship with someone he’d ever had, dating or not.
“Well, whatever. We’re here now. Wanna hang out?”
You almost choked on your drink. You weren’t expecting to see Osamu at all, let alone expecting to be hanging out with him on your first day back after four years of radio silence.
But you didn’t even think twice.
“Of course I do.”
The two of you picked up where you left off and it was as if you’d never even gone away. The connection was instant.
“You dyed your hair brown.” You smiled, reaching up and ruffling it in between your fingers. “It looks good.”
“I’d be worried if it didn’t.” He smiled wide but got lost in your gaze for a few seconds, studying your expression carefully. He took a careful look at you while sipping his drink. “You look good. Every bit of ya.”
“Thanks, ‘Samu.” You felt your cheeks get warm and turned away. A feeling you hadn’t experienced since high school.
“Wanna go for a walk?”
Before you could answer, Osamu set some cash on the bar and grabbed your hand. Again, it was familiar, but felt different. Stronger. Bigger. His hand completely engulfed yours and you wondered if he knew how tight he was holding you.
The two of you walked down the road for a few minutes, silently, soaking in the past two hours spent catching up with each other.
He stopped in front of a building a few blocks down, nodding up at it so you’d take a look. You knew instantly where you were.
“I still can’t believe you actually did it.” You looked back and forth from his proud stance to the large sign above the door reading “Onigiri Miya”.
“Let me show ya inside.”
He took you around the back, unlocking the door and flicking on the lights as he came in. The light was warm and the restaurant was inviting. Warm, inviting, comfortable… everything Osamu had always been.
“It’s so cozy in here.” You ran your hand across the clean countertop. As you paced through the kitchen, you walked around the barrier separating the staff area from the main dining room. “Reminds me of your Mom’s house in here.”
“In a good way, right?” He followed closely behind, not wanting to interrupt your first impression too much.
“Of course.” You turned around, beaming a smile at him. “I always loved coming over. You know that.”
He nodded. “Guess I’ll have to have ya over again sometime. I’m sure Ma would love to see you.”
“I’d love to see her, too.” You picked up and put down all of the little trinkets and decorations Osamu had laid out in his restaurant. A small MSBY mascot bobble head, various culinary contest awards, cute little stickers with the restaurant logo, and a stuffed alligator eating a mini onigiri.
“Hm.” You hummed, picking up the alligator. “Now all you’re missing is 17 tigers and a polar bear.”
Osamu blinked at you.
“Sorry.” You laughed awkwardly, “You must not remember. It’s nothing-“
“That’s the exact reason I have that.” He smiled, walking over and taking the alligator from you. “I had it handmade. Even named it after ya.”
“Shut up.”
“M’serious.” Osamu’s confident demeanour almost disappeared as he appeared bashful for just a moment. A small moment, but you still saw it.
Osamu ended up pouring you a drink while you continued to talk. He leaned over the counter as you sat at the bar opposite of him, your faces only a few inches apart.
“I still can’t believe you remembered that.” You said quietly before taking a sip.
“Of course I remembered it. I couldn’t forget the silly shit you say even if I wanted to.” He teased, “Plus, I had to walk by that place every day after you left. Made me think of ya every time.”
“Silly shit, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one who thought it was a strip club.”
Osamu blinked at you. “That’s much more believable than being an old man’s exotic animal sanctuary.”
“Okay, okay, fine!” You didn’t realize how stupid the conversation was until he said it like that. The two of you broke into a fit of laughter just like you used to.
You looked at Osamu, the top of his cheeks squishing just under his eyes, loud, deep laughs filling the room and suddenly you’d never felt such an overwhelming feeling of… home.
Osamu looked back at you. His ash-coloured eyes studied your expression.
“Hey, do ya need a job?”
You hadn’t been home long, so you’d barely even thought of that. You had planned to take things a day at a time and try to find a career with your education, but your degree was hard to find employment with right away. Opportunities and internships were there, but there was no way you’d be getting an actual, paying job right away.
“…Yes?”
“Wanna work here?” He leaned in closer, “I don’t go around offerin’ just anyone a job at my high class establishment, ya know.”
“Something with the way you said that makes me feel like this is a joke.” You smirked.
“I’m just foolin’ around. I do need someone though. Wanna try it, at least? Tomorrow for dinner? I’ll show ya what it’s all about.”
You agreed. If anything, you wanted to see how Osamu ran his restaurant.
——— ♡ ———
The next evening, you entered through the back door just like he’d told you to.
“Osamu?” You called, immediately met with a response to come in the kitchen.
“Sorry, darlin’, couldn’t meet ya at the door. Doing prep for tonight.” He gestured down to the cutting board in front of him, “Wanna try?”
You quickly put down your things and washed your hands. When you took the knife from Osamu’s hand, he hesitated for a moment before giving it to you.
“It’s sharp.”
“I know.”
“You gotta be careful. It’s a real chef’s knife.”
“I know.”
“Go for it, then.”
You held your breath before getting to work, chopping up the onions quickly and stopping when you felt a hand on top of yours. Osamu was directly behind you, towering over you and pressing his chest into your back.
“‘Samu-“
“You’re gonna slice your hand off if ya keep cutting like that.” He muttered. You could feel the vibration of his low voice and were suddenly hyper-aware of the current situation.
“What’s wrong with my technique?” You huffed.
“You don’t have any technique.” Osamu snorted, “Don’t ya remember when I taught ya like… a million years ago?”
“I do remember you teaching me.” You leaned back into him, “I also remember you never letting me prepare or cook any food ever again after that day. So I could never practice my new skill.”
Osamu hummed in amusement. “Not even in college?”
You spun around, Osamu set the knife down safely on the table but caged you in with his arms. He looked down at you with a smirk. “Hm?”
“I’ll have you know, I didn’t cook a single time in college.” You declared. “You’d know that if you’d talked to me.”
Osamu sighed, hanging his head down on your shoulder. “We’ve already gone over this.”
“I know, I know. I’m just teasing you.”
He lifted his head back up, only a few inches from your face. You felt like the breath was taken directly out of your lungs when all you could think about was kissing him. You wanted to reach out and touch his muscular arms just for him to get greedy and grab you wherever he wanted.
“Miya-san?”
You froze, both of you wide eyed in surprise at the sound of a much younger voice. A young man, most likely freshly graduated from high school, stood beside the two of you as you remained in the compromising position.
Osamu pulled back, and both of you stood up straight.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt-“
“It’s okay, ya didn’t interrupt.”
He did, you thought, but you were silently thankful for that. Every ounce of self control that remained was about to fly out the window had you stayed like that for even a few seconds more.
His small group of employees started to file in and prepare the restaurant further for dinner. You retreated to Osamu’s office and laid down on the couch.
Osamu would have a couch in his office.
You listened as Osamu instructed his team. Taught the younger staff how to tune their skills, taking the time to show them with nothing but patience and positivity. The same comforting presence he always had.
You missed that.
You missed him.
“Hey.” Osamu walked into his office and shut the door behind him. “Finished prep, sorry it got a bit crazy. Didn’t realize we were so close to workin’ hours, thought we would’ve had more time before everyone else got in.”
“It’s fine.” You shook your head, “No need to apologize. It’s really cool seeing you in your element.”
“Ya think?” He couldn’t hide his grin. He stood in front of you, leaning back slightly with his hands on his desk behind him. “I like workin’ here.”
“Well, that’s good. I’d hope so.”
Osamu agreed with a chuckle and sat down next to you.
“Can I tell ya somethin’?”
He sat with his arm around back of the couch, which was technically around you, now. You looked up at him and nodded silently.
“I, uh-“ He shook his head, it was clear he was trying to say something but it was difficult. “I really missed ya.”
“I missed you too-“
“No, like…” He sighed, “I really… really missed ya. I tried goin’ on dates with other women. Didn’t get along with any of ‘em. I always compared ‘em to you. I waited for you to finish school, to see if you’d come back home, and you did. It felt like a sign or somethin’. So when I saw you at the bar last night,” He paused, “Totally, completely coincidentally, I may add.”
His serious tone turned lighter as you smiled at his words.
“I just had to talk to ya. And now that I did, it feels like when we were kids, ya know? Just the way that I always wanted you around. Wanted to spend time with ya, hell, you have no idea how badly I just wanted to kiss ya when we were in the kitchen earlier-“
“‘Samu.”
“I don’t even know why I let our breakup happen in the first place. Usually I would’ve just said we could work through it. But I guess I wanted ya to grow on your own, too. To not have me encourage ya every step of the way. Not that I don’t like to do that, but I wanted to show ya that you don’t need me either. That you’re incredible and strong all on your own.”
“Osamu.”
“But then I realized I didn’t have to do that. We didn’t have to break up for us to grow into who we are on our own. By then it was too late, though. But you just looked so happy. I never wanted to mess with that. So I didn’t bother ya, and now that I’m lookin’ at ya as an adult I’m just so fuckin’ proud of ya, of all of your accomplishments and the way you carry yourself. You’re just-“
“Osamu.”
“Yeah?”
You reached up and wiped a single tear drop falling down his cheek.
“You’re crying.”
“Oh, shit.” He turned away, wiping his eyes quickly and looking back at you. “I’m sorry. Man, I just started pourin’ my heart out to ya and couldn’t stop.”
“It’s okay.” You leaned in, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You felt him let out a heavy exhale as he pulled you on top of his lap and right against him.
“I missed ya.” He sighed, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “So much. Fuck.”
You tried to respond but you were choked up. You hadn’t realized you were crying, either.
He lifted his head up and looked directly at you. Osamu’s smile was kind, his expression vulnerable and it warmed your heart just looking at him.
“I missed you, too.” You said quietly.
“Really?”
“Yes, really!” You pulled back, planting the palms of your hands on his chest. “You have no idea how much I missed you, ‘Samu. Every day I waited for you to call me. But I thought you didn’t want to. So I finally accepted it and tried to move on. But like you said, I couldn’t actually do that. Nobody compares to you.”
Osamu hummed in agreement, resting his hands comfortably on your hips.
“It’s nice to hear ya say that.”
“Speaking of that,” You smirked, “Did I hear you say you wanted to kiss me in the kitchen?”
“Oh, yeah, you did.” He blinked up at you, absolutely no hesitation in his response. “I wanted to real bad.”
Your last strand of self control snapped the moment you heard those words. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his and instinctively tangling your fingers in his hair.
His voice rumbled low in his throat as he wrapped an arm around your lower back, pulling you against him as tight as possible while he stood up.
“Osamu!” You giggled, wrapping your legs around him. “Don’t-“
“I won’t drop ya, baby.” He assured you, pressing his lips back to yours. The sweet name of endearment made your heart melt and all you could think about in that moment was him. “Not now, not ever. Never again. You’re stuck with me.”
———
AN: Thanks so much for reading! I didn’t proofread this more than once, so please excuse any mistakes. I wrote this two years ago and forgot how much I loved it. God, timeskip Osamu is such a husband. ♡
#haikyuu x reader#miya osamu fluff#osamu miya angst#osamu scenarios#osamu#miya#miya osamu x you#osamu x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu drabble#miya osamu x reader#timeskip osamu#haikyuu time skip#onigiri miya#osamu fluff
318 notes
·
View notes
Text
⋆｡˚ ੈ✩‧₊ jealous osamu miya headcanons.
jealous osamu doesn't even realize he's jealous at first. he isn't easy to drive to feeling strong emotions really, it's the result of a gradual build-up of pent up feelings and frustrations. but when he does get jealous, he doesn't even realize he's feeling this way; and it confuses him so much.
jealous osamu is a little more irritated than usual osamu. he isn't one to snap at others without a proper reason, he's usually really chill and composed, though when he's all riled up and jealous, he involuntarily acts a little more sarcastic and snappy, but not at you—just at the person who makes you smile more than he does or the person you're giving all your attention to.
jealous osamu is a little more out of it when he's practicing. knowing you're out there giving some other guy all your attention, some other guy who, frankly, doesn't hold a candle to how handsome or sweet he is, doesn't know you as well as he does, nor would ever be able to care for you in the intensity that does... it hurts him, and he doesn't think for one second he's the better option, he just can't help but worry that, if this guy really likes you... would they be able to love you the way he does, too?
jealous osamu always gets brought back to reality when he takes a volleyball to the face, gets yelled at by atsumu to do better, and gets told by kita that he needs to sit this one out.
jealous osamu insists he's fine, he's just been... thinking of stuff. "oh, like what, lemme guess, it's your next snack, isn't it?" oh, fuck off, atsumu. osamu glares at his twin's provocation and gets in position, trying to ignore his brother's snide, unsolicited comments about his very uncharacteristic mood today.
jealous osamu doesn't waste a single minute and leaves the court the minute they're dismissed, he doesn't wanna stay any longer than he has to—can he help it if all practice, he's been reminded of you and how you used to be there at the sidelines, cheering for him the loudest over the smallest things he'd do?
jealous osamu can't help but miss when you'd always tag along with him to get some after school snacks, even when all you two do is have one-sided conversations, where he just listens to you ramble on and on about your day, and he just listens to you because... your voice is that lovely, and he's always concerned about you in his own way. he loves hearing you talk about your day, your thoughts, your dreams, your ideas; your everything. and he misses those talks when he now walks to the convenience store after school, alone.
jealous osamu doesn't want to hurt you, so as a precautionary measure, he separates from you for a little bit to cool his head and just think about it, or not think about it, so he feels better. but all this distance between you two is... killing him, he wants you here with him, he wants to hear you speak to him, talk to him about your day, tell him about all the good and the bad, all the exciting and the boring things; he just wants to be with you.
jealous osamu can't help but pick out your favorite foods, even the foods and drinks he used to think were overrated are suddenly ones he craves. he always said that the kind of food someone eats tells you a lot about them, and the food you're craving... well, it must mean it tells you a lot about what you're missing right now, no? or rather, who you're missing.
jealous osamu really wished he didn't like you, because you make it so hard for him not to want being with you and being the only guy in your life that you really wanna spend your time with. he isn't selfish, he wants you to enjoy your life and be with the people you want to be with, and he supports everything you wanna do if it gives you happiness—but he can't help but want to be more than just your friend, and that kills him every time because... he's scared to lose you forever if he admits it.
#osamu miya#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya x y/n#osamu miya fanfiction#osamu miya imagines#miya osamu#miya twins#inarizaki x reader#osamu miya angst#miya twins x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu angst#haikyuu x gender neutral reader
294 notes
·
View notes
Text
six years passed | osamu miya
pairing: osamu miya x reader
warning: angst, hurt/no comfort, me failing at doing the miya accent, osamu being lovesick heartbroken pathetic all at the same time, reader is in the wrong 100%, idk please be nice i worked really hard on this, potential for part 2 but who knows with me
wc: 4.6k
sometimes, osamu would check your old social media profiles to see if you had been active. you never were.
it had been six years exactly since you ran away without saying goodbye to anyone. osamu had shown up to your house the next morning, the morning after their birthday, only for your parents to tell him that you weren’t there. they hadn’t heard from you. no one had. they didn’t seem to care much, though that didn’t surprise him. and it seemed like everyone else got over your disappearance quickly. after two weeks he noticed they’d stopped comments on your posts, ‘tsumu said he stopped texting you. after a month they stopped saying your name, and after two it felt like life had officially moved on without you. for everyone except osamu.
“are ya comin’ out with us today?” his twin asked, peaking his head in osamu’s room, “everyone’s ‘round. wanna go out fer drinks or somethin’.” atsumu knew that ‘samu would decline the offer. this day had been hard on all of them, they all missed you. but over the years the ache had lessened and they had stopped getting caught up in it. not osamu, though.
“can’t ya tell ‘m busy?” osamu groaned, moving his face out of his pillow. he forgot that everyone would be in tokyo tonight. it’d be the first time in awhile that they’d be able to make it to tokyo to celebrate the twins’ birthday. he’d feel guilty if he missed it, but did they really have to schedule it for today? certainly ‘tsumu had remembered what day it was. “don’ really think i’d be muchuva good time.”
“‘samu,” atsumu sighed, walking further into his brother’s room, “i know s’hard for ya, but don’ ya think it’s ‘bout time ya stop sulkin’ over it?” he sat at the edge of ‘samu’s bed, not wanting to invade his space too much. “i mean, i know they meant a lot t’ya ‘nd all, but s’been years. y/n wouldn’t want ya to still be so stuck.”
osamu wanted to scoff at his brother, but he knew ‘tsumu meant well. afterall, it was a little pathetic for him to be sulking in his room over someone at the age of twenty-four. it was easy for ‘tsumu to say all of those things. even though it felt unfair to hold over his brother’s head, you two had only been friends. osamu had been dating you. for a long time, at that. two and a half years together before you ran away, not counting the years of friendship before that. doing the math in his head quickly, it had been close to five years that you had known each other.
osamu hated the idea of you being gone for longer than he had known you.
“dunno. gimme a few hours, ‘nd i’ll get back to ya,” osamu tried to dismiss his brother, which thankfully worked. he enjoyed living with his brother, ‘tsumu was away a lot of the time anyway for volleyball games or whatever so he got to spend most of his time alone. but on the other hand it meant that on days like today, when all osamu wanted to do was rot in his bed, ‘tsumu made that harder. they always had each other’s best interest in mind, and sometimes that was infuriating.
osamu laid in his bed for another hour before he decided that going out with his friends would be the best. he missed them, the five of them never had time to get together anymore. he was pretty sure the last time they had all been together would’ve been when kita introduced them to his girlfriend (also when they announced their pregnancy). the baby had definitely been born by now and osamu still hadn’t met him. that wasn’t entirely his fault though, whenever he’d go to the kita’s farm for more fresh rice (osamu refused to get anything else for onigiri miya, he trusted kita with his life and restaurant) mrs. kita would be out with their son, or osamu had been in too much of a rush to meet the little one. and don’t begin bring up suna’s girlfriend- osamu was pretty sure suna would never let him live down the fact that they hadn’t met yet.
osamu somehow just realize how horrible he had been to his friend’s and their families.
with a sigh, osamu found himself standing in front of the mirror hanging off the back of his bathroom door. he frowned at the sight of himself, hair a wreck wearing the same onigiri miya shirt from his previous day’s work. he hadn’t realized that he looked just as bad as he felt until just now (probably because this was the first time he had really gotten out of bed for the day).
it took him twenty minutes in the shower to feel like he had gotten the previous day’s work ick off his body; and an additional five minutes of standing under the showerhead as the water got colder to convince himself going out was a good idea. he hadn’t officially told ‘tsumu yet, so it wasn’t too late to back out. he didn’t want to be around a bunch of people who’d be enjoying themselves, laughing like today wasn’t a bad day for all of them. for him.
“‘samu have ya decided- oh, ya showered!” atsumu had a wide smile on his face, one that made osamu realize immediately that he wouldn’t be able to tell his brother no. “so yer comin’ out with us?” asumu studied his brother’s face closely, watching as his expression went from ‘no, ya moron’ to ‘fine, i guess’.
“yes.”
“awesome!” atsumu cheered, immediately pulling out his phone to text their little group chat they’d had since high school (that osamu had muted since almost the day it started- suna sent way too many memes back in the day). “we’ll leave ‘ere soon, that okay?” it didn’t really matter what ‘samu would say back, atsumu knew if he left it to his brother they’d never leave. “i’ll be knockin’ in fifteen.”
— – - – — – - – —
he didn’t know it at the time, but osamu would soon learn the universe works in mysterious ways.
he didn’t regret going out with the other’s, not by any means. getting to know kita’s fiancée and suna’s girlfriend had been an amazing time, they meshed into the group very well. he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done this sooner (don’t let him lie, he absolutely could believe it). but it didn’t take long for his mind to wander, thinking he could hear your voice in the crowded bar.
even though he knew that your voice had probably changed over the last six years, he figured it hadn’t changed that much. and he knew that he’d be able to pick your laugh out of a stadium full of people (he did often during highschool volleyball games). he kept looking around the bar trying to find out, thinking he had been casual enough with it that the other’s wouldn’t notice.
but atsumu did, of course. because of course atsumu would, he sense a shift in ‘samu from the other side of the house. he watched with a nervous face as ‘samu looked around the room, a hurt-puppy type expression on his face. he sighed, realizing now that maybe he shouldn’t have had ‘samu come out with them. even if they were celebrating their birthday, and it wouldn’t be the same without him, it was a hard day for him. if he were being honest, atsumu requested they do it on this day intentionally. they all had a hard time today, even if everyone else had gotten over it more than ‘samu had. they all found themselves mourning the loss of their friend, and being together to do so would be better than the five of them doing it alone.
atsumu nudged kita, who was sat next to him. silently signaling the older man to get ‘samu’s attention. “osamu,” kita grabbed his younger friend’s attention, “how’s onigiri miya been doin’? are ya due fer more rice soon?”
“oh,” osamu let out a little nervous laugh, running his hand though his hair, “meant to get to ya about that soon, but didn’t want to talk business while we were out,” he smiled at them, “i’ll probably order double the amount that i did last time. the more i buy the bigger discount, right?”
kita smiled, a chuckled escaping his lips. “sure, i guess i can manage that fer ya,” he gave osamu a nod before changing the topic to something that osamu didn’t have to put his full attention into.
suna’s girlfriend started chatting to kita and his fiance about wedding things, aran, ‘tsumu, and suna all chatting about recent volleyball things. he knew they weren’t doing it intentionally, but osamu felt very alone. a feeling he had never felt while sitting in the group of his brother and best friends, he hated it.
osamu had been ready to leave, standing to excuse himself from the table and say goodnight to his friends. but something told him to look to his left, a weird little twinge in his stomach, the same feeling he’d got when he told ‘tsumu he wasn’t going to pursue volleyball. dread, guilt, hope. he almost had to do a double take, but god you were unmistakable. sitting at the table with a friend at the other side of the bar.
“‘samu, the hell ‘re ya- oh my god,” atsumu looked in the direction that ‘samu had been, his eyes falling straight to you as well. “well i’ll be damned..” he wasn’t sure what to do. on one hand, he wanted to go up to you. he wanted to ask you how you’d been, where you’d been. but, even with their sharp stares, you hadn’t noticed them, though he almost wished you had. you probably would’ve left if you saw them, and that would’ve been better for all of everyone.
by now the others noticed osamu standing completely still with an awestruck look on his face and atsumu staring in the same direction. osamu was too focused on your face to really hear what they said, but he definitely heard your name and a few profanities whispered.
“y/n, keep it casual, but there’s an entire table of hot guys staring at you,” your friend whispered, lightly shoving her head to your right. “like, really hot, holy shit.” at this point her face had turned a light shade of pink.
subtly had never been your thing; but surely if they had all been staring long enough for your very oblivious friend to notice then they wouldn’t mind if you made eye contact with at least one of them. you had it planned out in your mind already, you’d glance over your shoulder to meet eyes with one of the ‘hot’ men, wink, and then leave them (hopefully) flustered. maybe they’d argue over who you had winked at and have a little competition trying to get your number or something.
you brushed your hair over your shoulder, mentally replaying your little plan over and over in your head. eye contact, wink, look away. you were confident in yourself, excited to get a free drink or two from a guy probably far too drunk to be making financial decisions. however you did not expect to be greeted by the shocked faces of four of your high school best friends, and the heartbroken look from the boyfriend you never officially broke up with.
it felt like the wind had been knocked out of you the second you met osamu’s eyes. like you were going to throw up or pass out, maybe both. everything you had been hiding from for the last six years stood right in front of you now and you didn’t know how to react. it seemed like osamu didn’t either.
“wait, that’s miya atsumu,” your friend whispered, realizing now that she knew the blond man, “like the volleyball player..”
“jesus, i know who they are,” you finally took your eyes off of osamu to gare at your friend. it wasn’t her fault, she didn’t know. you never told her about things before you came to tokyo, you figured the less you spoke of it the easier it would be to get over. and you were right for awhile, you had somehow managed to stop thinking about the twins and everyone else every single day after a year and a half of living in tokyo. now they only occupied your mind on days like their birthdays (the twins turned 24 yesterday), and the day you left.
today.
your friend seemed to notice the tension and excused herself to the bathroom, leaving you alone under the men’s stare. you didn’t look back up, rather directed your eyes down to the drink in front of you.
neither you or osamu wanted to be the first one to move. he felt like if he got any closer to you that you’d disappear. even though everyone else could clearly see you. he heard kita and suna explaining the situation to their partners, the recounting of his memories causing a pain in his chest: they didn’t know you. had kita and suna really never spoken about you? he hated that they all made it seem like you never existed after you left.
“are ya gonna go o’er there?” atsumu whispered to ‘samu, pushing him toward you. it had been three solid minutes of silence and staring, and atsumu had gotten tired of it. he knew that if he didn’t force his brother to go over there nothing would happen, because you definitely weren’t making any kind of effort to talk to them.
osamu’s body moved with the shove, finding himself standing right in front of you. his facial expression had finally changed from shock to pain as he sat in the free chair next to you. he knew he needed to think about what he would say next, worried that if he didn’t think it through he’d say something he’d regret.
what are you doing here? where have you been?
why did you leave me?
you finally looked away from your drink and spoke up, “we should go somewhere else and talk, miya,” you watched the way he reacted to being called by his last name. you had never done that before, because the twins hated being called by their last name. but it had been too long to call him anything else.
“since when d’ya call me that?” osamu let out a dry chuckle, unamused by your use of his surname. still he followed you outside, finally finding the right words to express the way he felt. “what the fuck, l/n,” your last name tasted sour in his mouth, he hated calling you that. but still, he hissed your name.
you flinched at osamu’s harsh use of language, you weren’t sure you had ever heard him speak that way to you before. not that you didn’t deserve it, of course you deserved it after everything you’d put him through. but still, you couldn’t help but shrink into yourself. “i know. i know i have a lot of explaining to do,” you hid your face in your hands, stopping in your place. it was late, only an hour or so until the bars would start closing, so the streets were empty. really only the two of you outside. “i just, i can’t. i don’t know what to say,”
“how ‘bout ya start with an apology?” he glared, but as soon as he saw the look on your face he felt guilty. how could he not when you look at him with those eyes? still, he kept his composure. “maybe an explanation as t’where ya’ve been the last six years?”
you struggled for a second, trying to find the right words. but there weren’t any, not really. none that could heal the pain you’ve caused him over the last six years, none that could even begin to make any sense to osamu. “i’m sorry,” you looked down at your fingers, picking at your cuticles, “really, i am. i would’ve told you that i was leaving but i couldn’t.”
“couldn’t?” osamu wanted to laugh, “y/n ya knew i would’ve followed ya to the ends of the earth if ya asked me. how could ya feel like ya couldn’t tell me?”
“that’s the issue, ‘samu!” your voice grew louder and broke, the lump in your throat making it’s way up. “you had so much going for you in hyogo. i couldn’t tell you i was leaving because i’d never forgive myself if you followed. and you would’ve. and i couldn’t let you talk me out of it. i had to go.” you tried not to let your tears fall. you didn’t deserve to cry, this wasn’t your moment. this was his, you needed to let him have it. he needed this.
it took osamu a full thirty seconds to process what you had said. you were right, if you had told him you were packing up and leaving he’d try and talk you out of it. and when (not if, because he knew you were very stubborn) that didn’t work, he’d go with you. but how could he not, even at eighteen osamu was pretty sure you were the person he would marry. he couldn’t see himself with anyone else. “so yer solution was t’disappear? not even havin’ the balls t’break up with me before hand?”
his words stung, you had to remind yourself that he needed to get this out. “it made sense at the time, ‘samu! i was eighteen. i needed away, it was a last minute decision. i spent all my money to get to tokyo in the middle of the night because i was too afraid that if i didn’t do it right then i’d be stuck and stay forever,” you weren’t trying to make excuses, you hoped he know that. “and once i was in tokyo, i didn’t want you to know. you would’ve skipped school, dropped all your plans, to come and find me. i figured if i ghosted, you’d worry for awhile and then get over it. get over me.”
get over you? surely you had to be joking, right? “do ya really believe that i had gotten over ya? that just leaving would make me magically forget ‘bout ya or somethin’? yer smarter than that, y/n,” osamu rolled his eyes, “i had it planned out in my head, how it’d go if i ever saw ya again. wanted t’give ya a piece of my mind and then leave ya standin’ alone dealin’ with it by yerself. but now that ‘m here, now that we’re here, all i can think about is how bad i missed ya this whole time. how ya still look the way i ‘member ya did.” osamu felt thankful you two had stopped in a dimly lit area, so you couldn’t see the redness in his face. he wasn’t sure if it had been from anger or embarrassment, but either way he didn’t want you to see it.
he felt pathetic. how could all of his anger fade away so quickly only to be replaced with the love he had never stopped feeling toward you? “couldja at leas’ break up with me? lemme move on ‘nd all,” his voice broke, a hand running down his face. he was trying not to cry, osamu hated crying.
the crack in osamu’s voice caught your attention. until this point you hadn’t understood how upset he had really been. you expected anger, maybe hatred. but for him to cry? you wouldn’t have expected that from him. even though you knew he wasn’t one to hold onto emotions like that, he had always been more mellow than his twin. at least in the years you had known him he had been. but osamu was different now, you could see that. his face may look the same, but he kept his hair natural now and his shoulders looked wider. everything about him just seemed more mature. “let you move on? ‘samu don’t tell me you’ve been alone this whole time?”
alone wasn’t the right word, surely. osamu wouldn’t describe himself a lonely, but he did stay single. he had told ‘tsumu (and everyone else) that it was because he wanted to focus on onigiri miya and everything else going on in his life the whole time. “nah, been too focused on the shop t’date. s’all,” he refused to tell you that he hadn’t dated anyone in six years because it felt wrong. whether it be because you two had never officially broken up or because he was just so in love with you that he didn’t want to be with anyone else (was there really a difference?) he wasn’t sure.
you knew osamu was lying, as it seemed his tells hadn’t changed over the years. but even if you wanted him to tell you the truth, you knew he would only tell you when he felt ready. so you didn’t push it any further. “maybe we should get together tomorrow,” you offered the idea, knowing osamu probably had a lot he wanted to say but in the moment he couldn’t find any of his words.
osamu wanted to object, he was worried that if he agreed to meet up tomorrow then you’d just disappear again. he’d have no chance of finding you if you ran off again. “‘m not sure that’s-”
“i won’t run off again,” you shook your head, knowing what he was trying to say before he even finished. he was right to be worrisome about it, you couldn’t blame him. “here,” you pulled out your phone and sent him a text, watching as he pulled it out at the sound of a text. you didn’t really want to tell him that you’d kept his number saved in your phone all these years just in case you decided to reach out, but he needed the extra level of reassurance. “now you know i won’t just run away. i really mean it, we should meet up tomorrow and talk about this some more.”
you could see the hesitance in his face, you felt bad that this was all happening. it was your fault, after all. maybe if you hadn’t been a stupid eighteen year old, if you had stopped being selfish for just a second back then, things wouldn’t be like this now.
you honestly wondered if things would’ve stayed the same between you and osamu. would you two have stayed together? would he still be running his restaurant here in tokyo (which yes, you knew about. your friends tried to drag you there on multiple occasions but you always found your way out, somehow)? there were so many things you knew you missed out on when running away, but you didn’t think you’d miss things you never had this badly.
“meet me at the shop,” osamu offers, “i open late on mondays. be there ‘round 11?”
of course he opened late on mondays. they had always been his least favorite day of the week, and now that he was in control of his schedule it didn’t surprise you that he’d make it that way. “i’ll be there.”
— – - – — – - – —
having all night to clear his head and put his thoughts into words didn’t really help osamu at all. in fact, he could barely sleep that night. he’d be running onigiri miya off of steam and vibes alone today.
maybe starting off his day with talking things out with you hadn’t been the best idea osamu had ever had. it would set the tone for the rest of the day, so he could only hope that it went well. though he wasn’t sure how it could, the best ending for the two of you would probably be to never speak again, if he were being honest with himself.
but that’s not what osamu wanted.
even though it was stupid of him (‘tsumu wouldn’t let him hear the end of it the night before), osamu knew that he didn’t want to just call things quits and give up. he was never much of a quitter before, and he sure as hell wasn’t now. but it would be hard, he knew that. to even begin to build any amount of trust between the two of you would take ages. you’d be lucky if things got better within a year.
when you showed up to onigiri miya you could see osamu moving around inside through the windows. he seemed worked up, pacing around in his own world. you watched him jump when you knocked on the door, a wave of relief seeming to wash over him when he saw your face. it made you feel bad, he had probably been nervous all morning as to whether or not you were actually going to show.
“mornin’,” he greeted, unlocking to door to let you in and relocking it behind you. he made sure that the sign was flipped to closed and that none of the exterior lights were on yet, he didn’t want anyone to interrupt this talk between you. “how’d ya sleep?”
like shit. you wanted to tell him, but you refrained. “good morning, i slept okay. yourself?” the tension between the two of you remained thick, neither of you wanted to be the first to break it. this was your mess, therefore your job to fix it. “so did you uh, get to think about things? collect all your thoughts?”
osamu sucked in a breath. even though that was the main reason you were both here (well, main reason you were here. this is his job), he wasn’t sure if he were ready yet. though if he were being honest, he’d probably never be ready. “i’ll let ya go first,” he sat down at a table, gesturing for you to sit across from him. you obliged, figuring that it was better than standing.
“i guess, is it stupid to ask if you’re mad at me?” you gave a small, pathetic little chuckle. you already knew the answer to that question. “i’m not even sure how i convinced myself that running away was a good idea. i know i told you last night that i had to do it right then or i thought i’d be stuck. i stand by that, i wouldn’t have left if i hadn’t done it right then. but you guys didn’t deserve to just be left in the dark like that. you didn’t deserve that, ‘samu. not from someone you loved,”
love. he wanted to correct you, but held back. “i wanna be mad at ya, i really do. t’be honest, y/n ya really deserve me t’be mad at ya. i jus’, i really need ya t’break up with me,” he was worried he sounded just as pathetic as he felt, asking for that. as if you disappearing hadn’t been a very clear indication of a breakup. but without the real words, osamu felt sick to his stomach any time he even thought about being with someone else. at least now he’d be able to try and move on properly.
“right,” you puffed out your cheeks. why were you so nervous? ‘breaking up’ shouldn’t be a big thing, you two had been apart all this time. so why now were you so hesitant? the thought of saying those words to osamu made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. your chest tightening as you tried to find the words. “osamu i… i think we should break up,”
comments, like, and reblogs appreciated!! <3
#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya angst#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu angst#osamu x reader#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu angst#miya osamu#osamu miya#six years passed#syp!osamu#syp!reader
297 notes
·
View notes
Text
fishes of the same pond
synopsis. a book. a boy. a shelf at the empty side of the library. and a sweet little spin of fate with romance and some pining. what could go wrong?
pairing. miya osamu x gn!reader.
genre. one-shot; fluff; angst; strangers/idiots to lovers; college au; fake-dating au.
word count. 12.5k (i know, i’m sorry)
warnings. swearing; miya dialect lmao; reader and osamu are both idiots.
author’s notes. this fic follows the japanese school year, not to be confused with an american school year! goes from april to the next year in march, with breaks in between :)
navigation. main menu, hq menu.
Your day was not going well. You overslept, the coffee shop was filled to the brim with teenagers(the barista said something about high schools taking a field trip to Tokyo), and you forgot to bring the printed copy of your essay into class for English.
(You were lucky it was your best subject.)
And now here you were, the bell ringing as you packed up your laptop and textbook in your Economics class. You sighed, the weather was surely getting hotter. Soon you'd have to put the sweater vests you liked wearing in the depths of your closet and pull out t-shirts instead. Spring break had just finished, and here you were in your second year in college. It was April, and school had just started this month.
You threw your backpack over your shoulder, brushing your hair away from your face with your hands as you walked down the stairs. You were going to head to the library now to finish up a few projects and get some reading done. It was usually fairly empty during this time of the day as classes just finished. People would start piling in here in an hour or two, so you think you'll have some free time before you can head to your part-time job.
You hang your backpack by its straps on a chair before heading to a part of the library which isn't frequently visited. Your eyes dart around the section, and then you see it. You get on your tippy-toes, your hand touching the spine of the book. The glossy cobalt finishing of it feels good against your fingers. You huff as you jump a little, not being able to pull the book from its spot.
Who made these shelves? You think angrily, They're made for athletes and brutes, not for people with average height.
You narrow your eyes, before jumping yet again. But then someone is behind you, and a larger hand is reaching for the same book you are. You turn around, confused and eyebrows furrowed. A boy with grey hair stands there, holding the book you want, as he asks, "The other one got checked out already, ya think ya can lend this to me for a bit?"
He's pretty, you ponder.
"I-um, I actually don't have much of it left to read. Only around twenty pages," you mumble, awkwardly fiddling with your fingers as you look at him. He's easy on the eyes, really. Hooded grey eyes that match his kind of disheveled grey hair, figure well-built, voice deep—
"Oh," he says, "I'll sit with ya then, you can finish up 'n I'll take it with me after. Sound good?"
You blink out of it, "U-uh yeah, sure."
Problem is, you have absolutely zero idea what he just said. He hands you the book, and you thank him before walking to your table in the corner. And he follows you. Your eyes widen when he sits on the chair in front of you. He pulls out his laptop before beginning typing, while you just sit there and watch him work. And for a second, his eyes drift from his screen to yours, "Aren't ya gonna read the book?"
(Why was he sitting here again? And why was his dialect so cute?)
You nod hesitantly, gulping on air as you pick up the book. How were you supposed to focus when a boy(who was so beautiful even the girls were probably jealous of him) sat in front of you and casually talked to you? It's not like this is your first interaction with a good-looking person, you've had plenty of them before. Hell, your best friends are some of the most attractive people you know. There was something different about this boy though, you feel like you've seen him somewhere and couldn't quite place it. You let out a shaky breath before finishing your book as hurriedly as you can.
And as you close it, he smiles at you. His flamingo pink lips curl, and he thanks you, "I'm Miya Osamu, by the way."
"[L/N] [Y/N]."
He nods, "Thanks, I'll see ya later."
You hoped not. This exchange was awkward enough already.
The next day, you run into Miya Osamu.
Quite literally. You were afraid of being late for your English lecture because the Professor had told you that he was going to let you submit the essay you had forgotten yesterday. You were rummaging through your backpack, and then you bumped into someone's broad chest. And then you fell on your bum, in the middle of the fucking corridor. You get some stares from the people passing by.
Why did today have to suck too? You mentally whine.
"Shit, 'm so sorry!" the person in front of you expresses, and helps you stand up.
(Wait a minute. That voice sounds too familiar.)
"[Y/N]?" Miya Osamu stares at you, blinking every few seconds as you pant, "Hi, Osamu."
"You have English right now too?" he asks, pointing to the door. You nod, "Wait, what do you mean 'too'?"
"I'm in this class," he says, smiling. You blink a few times, processing the information as you repeat what he just said like a parrot, "You're in this class."
"Yes," he nods, "Apparently you need English to become a business student."
He was studying business too?! You seriously wanted to slam your head into the wall. How was this boy, that you were sure you knew from somewhere, in the same classes as you and studied the same thing you did? And why was he so pretty?
The first bell rang, signaling that you had around a minute to get inside before you were officially late. You gave Osamu a tight-lipped smile as you say, "Gotta go" in a hurried yet hushed tone. He only nods, following you inside(just like how he followed you to your table yesterday). You hand the professor your five-thousand-word essay before walking to your seat in the third row. You glance back for a minute, only to find out that Osamu sits two rows behind you.
(Maybe that's why you never noticed him.)
The professor begins talking about a big project, and you zone out for most of it. And then at the end, you manage to get a crucial detail. Your ears perk up, and your eyes widen as you hear your professor say, "I forgot to mention that this project is fifteen percent of your final grade, and you will need a partner for it as well. It's not due until the end of the year because you have around five or six very long books to sample and/or write reports for, and I will be assigning those in the following week. Make sure to get someone to partner up with you once class is over."
Crap.
Why did the English class need to have partners? Your friends aren't in this class, and even if one of them is, his lecture was the first one of the day. He's probably on the other side of campus right now. Damn it, Akaashi.
The lecture drones on for around forty-five minutes before you're dismissed. You're packing up your things again, thinking about how you're going to get a partner in this class. You don't even know anyone here. Your friends are either in different colleges or in different lectures. School just started anyway, and if everyone else partners up with someone then you'll be left alone.
"[Y/N]," you hear a voice beside you. You blink profusely before shaking yourself out of your thoughts, "Wanna partner up with me?"
You look up, and Miya Osamu is standing right there. Besides your desk, tapping his foot, looking as ethereal as ever. You swear your breath hitches in your throat, and he continues, "I gotta warn ya though, 'm not really good at English. I just need this class for one year. You might have to tutor me or somethin'."
You nod, standing up with your backpack, "Alright, I guess... I guess we can be partners."
Something about Miya Osamu's presence was comforting. He seemed to understand you were scared of talking to him, so he would ask you yes or no questions and then make conversations himself. Most of these topics involved food for some reason—you didn't question it, you were talking to him in broken words now, some shyness falling away when he talked about your favorite foods. You were in the library again, skimming through a few bookshelves to find a new book. Osamu followed you there, talking to you in a hushed tone to get to know you better. The two of you were going to work together for this project after all, so why not become friends, or acquaintances while you're at it? You mentally thanked him for trying more than you, even though he seemed like the quiet type. You're putting the book in your bag after checking it out as he asks, "Why are you studying business?"
"I wanna open a restaurant someday," you say, "Or some kind of coffee shop, I don't know. Like some place to make people comforted and also pleased with the environment."
"Oh," he ponders for a moment, "I'm studying so I can open a restaurant too."
(Oh come on, how many more things were you supposed to share with this guy? First, your classes. Now, your dreams too? Ugh.)
"Really?" you murmur, "Can I ask you why?"
It's not like you don't want to know. You do, really. He's pretty, and he looks like he's been on some sports team his whole life. You don't understand why someone like him would want to do anything with opening a restaurant. His eyes are like two pools of the sea in a storm. If you could look in them, stare at them, you could probably see the little white specks resemble lightning.
"My whole life I grew up playin' volleyball. My brother loved it. It was like his whole life revolved around it too. People didn't like 'im up until high school when he started flirtin' around and colored his hair. And I guess somewhere in the middle-uv all that, I learned how to cook 'n fell in love with it. When my brother was in the gym durin' the weekends havin' no life whatsoever, I was experimentin' in the kitchen. And then I didn't wanna live in my brother's shadow anymore so I told him that, we fought 'n now 'm here. Studyin' 'cause I want my own restaurant- wait. I rambled, didn't I?" he sheepishly asks, rubbing the back of his neck. His dialect was more profound now, and it was attractive to hear him talking in it. It seems he grows more into it when he's excited or lost in thought. You smiled at him, a ghost of a giggle escaping your lips, "I guess you did."
"Sorry."
"No no, don't be," your eyes crinkle as you set the books down on the table, "It was kinda cute. I don't mind. My reason's more depressing, anyway."
"Ya don't have to tell me about it," his eyes feel gentle as they look back at yours. His stormy grey eyes are surely growing on you because you want him to keep staring at you. Sadly the split-second comes to an end as he asks, "Wait, we don't have the books for the assigned reading yet. What are we doin' here?"
"Remember when you said your English was weak?" you ask, pulling out a binder from your backpack. You open it, skipping the first few pages before you continue, "I'm good at it, maybe I can help you for a bit until we have to do the project. Because we're gonna have to split up work later and the reports need to flow together well. So, I thought I could help you, and it'll be like revising the material for me."
You genuinely don't know where this newfound confidence is coming from. Alright, maybe it wasn't newfound. You just felt at ease with Osamu. There was something about his presence that made you feel more comfortable than you have ever been. He didn't seem like the extroverted type, but he still made an effort to talk to you and keep up with the conversation even when you didn't put anything on the table.
"R-really?" he stammers, "You'd do that?"
You nod.
"I gotta warn ya though, I'm broke and I won't be able to pay ya for the lessons," he says, "Me and my brother live in a small one-room 'round three blocks away, 'n we both work to pay the rent."
"That won't be a problem," you laugh, "You don't have to pay me."
"You sound more and more unreal with every sentence that comes out of yer mouth."
"Let me get this straight, Miya Osamu is in your English class. And he's getting tutored by you for free. And you think he's hot."
"No, I was speaking in French and I said that I have a hot date tonight. What else do you think, dumbass?" you raised an eyebrow. Kuroo only shakes his head as he smirks at you, sipping from his beer. Akaashi sits next to you, shaking his head at the exchange. Until Bokuto speaks up, "Wait, the Miya Osamu?"
"You know him?" you ask, voice louder than before. Kuroo starts laughing, and honestly, everyone else does too. Kenma lets out a giggle, even though he continues playing Mario Kart on his Playstation. Akaashi shakes his head again, but this time with a small chuckle, "Come on, guys. It's not like I asked you the most obvious question in the world."
"You kinda did," Kenma's eyes crinkle, "Everyone knows the Miya twins."
Wait. The Miya twins?!
"No fucking way," you murmur, "No fucking way! I knew he sounded familiar!"
"Can you not scream in my ear, please?" Akaashi deadpans, "I'm pretty sure Kuroo and Bokuto know a lot about him anyway, they were usually the ones to talk to them the most. Bokuto is in the same program as Atsumu for volleyball coaching too."
"Oh yeah, Osamu stopped doing volleyball," Kuroo perks up, "Something about a restaurant, I don't know. But Atsumu's still one of the best setters I know."
"So tell us more about you finding him hot," Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows, "Are you gonna give us details?"
"Literally nothing happened between us," you narrow your eyes, "I'm tutoring him. That's all."
"Maybe you should ask him to cook you food. That's top tier romance right there," Kuroo ruffles your hair as he gets up to walk to the fridge. You reckon he's going there for more beer, but he pulls out a frozen pizza instead.
You huff, "Maybe I will."
You hate the fact that you run into Miya Osamu in the library during lunch break the very next day.
His eyes glimmer when they land on you, and the sandwich you had taken a bite out of mere seconds before feels as dry as the Sahara desert in your mouth as soon as you spot him.
He walks over, putting his bag on the floor next to his chair as he says, "How's yer day been so far?"
You roll your eyes at the question, "Like it always is. Crappy. The lady at the coffee shop made my drink too sweet, and then I tripped on the way to my first lecture."
He laughs—and boy is it melodic. You swear this is what heaven feels like when you enter it because no way in hell(Sorry, God.) can someone sound this beautiful while laughing. Damn you, Miya.
"Here," he hands you an onigiri. You stare at it for a second, before hesitantly taking it from him, "What about you?"
"I finished eating my lunch already. Packed an extra for my idiot brother, but he ate from his girlfriend's lunch," Osamu's face becomes sour when he mentions his brother's girlfriend, but it only lasts a split second. He then looks over at the book in front of you, "Oh, is that Shakespeare?"
You hum, "At least one of Shakespeare's plays are going to be in our report, might as well read through a few, right?"
"You're somethin' else," he shakes his head, giving you a shy smile, "Seriously, if I paid attention in English instead of writing down recipes in my journal, I'd probably be better off."
And that was the moment you took a bite out of Osamu's onigiri. You are so sure that you made a weird sound as you gulped, but he only winces as he asks, "Is it bad?"
"Are you kidding?" you furrow your eyebrows, "It's the opposite!"
"Really?" he perks up, "I've been tryin' out new ingredients, and I usually test 'em on 'Tsumu because I don't care if he gets an upset stomach."
"This should be your payment for my lessons, holy shit," you say, taking another bite. He chortles, and you only blink at him before he points at his nose. You tilt your head in confusion before he reaches his left hand to your face and picks something off the top of your nose, "You had a rice speck on yer nose."
Your face heats up and you can swear you want to die in a hole right about now. You also wish he fed you the rice speck, because that would've been oddly sexual. But before you could finish that thought, your mouth speaks on its own, "T-thanks."
"Y'know what?" Osamu says, "Done deal, 'm gonna bring ya lunch every day in the library. How 'bout that?"
"Sounds great, Miya," you say, a shy yet inviting smile taking over your lips.
A few weeks pass. Now that your professor has assigned you the said books and plays, you spend an awful lot of your time with Osamu. He brings you your lunch at the library every day, and you find everything he makes delicious. Seriously, if this boy ends up becoming a chef, his restaurant's going to be filled with the entire city. If not, the entire country.
And every woman—and man, to be honest. He's too pretty for just women to fall for him—that walks through the doors of his restaurant is probably going to ogle at him the entire time she's there. Your spine shuddered at the thought.
Not to mention, Osamu doesn't just spend his lunch-time with you. No, he also spends after-school hours with you(whenever you're free, that is) learning English and reading Shakespeare. Sometimes you study in the library, or in the coffee shop that apparently both of you visited in the mornings. The only difference was that he ordered a chai and you liked coffee more.
"Okay, okay," Osamu laughs, "Lemme read the part. 'But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhousèd free condition put into circumscription and confine for the sea’s worth. But look, what lights come yond?'. Did I say that right?"
"Good job!" you clap, "Your next pastry's on me, okay?"
"Might do my work more seriously if ya start buyin' me pastries for every time I pronounce somethin' right," he jokes. You throw him a playful glare before you say, "Okay wait, I'm gonna send you some audio files for practice so you can listen to them and multi-task, okay? It'll make it easier, so you don't have to carry around the whole script for Othello around all the time."
"Yer sayin' 'm supposed ta listen ta this crap instead of music while cookin' or runnin'?" he raises an eyebrow. You nod, "Or, save some time before sleeping and practice in front of a mirror. This is more awkward and cringy, though."
"Cookin’ and runnin’ it is!" he exclaims.
Another week passes. You're on your shift at the local bakery when Osamu walks in.
He doesn't notice you just yet, and you take the chance to swiftly attempt to walk into the kitchen. There's another person on the other side of the counter, so even if Osamu wants to place an order, they'll probably step in for you. You glance behind you, and just as you're about to turn the corner, you hear your name.
"[Y/N]?"
Shit. He saw you.
"H-hey," you mutter, turning slowly. Your lips hold a wobbly smile, and your hand raises and hangs in the air awkwardly. You walk up to the register, and a small smirk falls on the younger Miya's lips. He quirks an eyebrow at you, "So you work here, huh?"
"Place your order," you ignore his statement and grit your teeth, "What would you like to order today?"
"Never been here before, recommend me somethin'," he chuckles, "I try out random bakeries and coffee shops once in a while."
You hum, a small grin falling on your face, "Well, we did just finish freezing a fresh batch of cheesecakes. Pick one and I'll serve it for you."
"Ya got strawberry?" he smiles. You nod, clicking the option on the register, "When's your shift end?"
You ponder for a moment, thinking whether or not you want to answer the question. Who are you even kidding? Of course, you do. You check your wristwatch, "Um, ten minutes."
"'Kay so make that two slices, and bring it ta me in ten minutes. Along with yerself," he says. Your face heats up as random erotic thoughts fill your brain; Osamu and you, right here in front of everyone, and his lips nibbling on your—
"Are ya okay?"
You cough, covering your face with one hand to hide your embarrassment. He gives you a cheeky smile before seating himself in a window seat, and waves at you from his spot once he's settled. You shake your head.
God, he's going to be the death of you.
A few more people walk in, and you place their orders as Osamu watches you fondly from his seat. His face is resting on his palm, that's supported by his elbow on the table. His backpack is hanging off the chair, and he pretends to stare at his phone whenever you look back.
You could've sworn he was looking at you, though. It felt like his eyes were drilling holes through you, and you were sweating more than usual due to all the built-up nervousness. That asshole.
The alarm on your digital watch rings, and you quickly turn it off before walking inside the kitchen. A heavy sigh comes out of your lips as you remove your apron, and pick up the two plates on the table before walking outside. Osamu shifts in his seat as you approach the table and sit in front of him, "Stop smiling like that, idiot."
"Like what?" he sheepishly asks, "Is smilin’ illegal now?"
You shake your head as you tell him to eat his cheesecake, "So."
You had never really been alone with him for anything other than your stupid project. And lunch was usually spent talking about the project or practicing English together, so this felt new.
"I forgot to tell ya, I finished learnin' all the recordings," he says, taking a spoonful of cheesecake in his mouth, "Also, this is really good."
"This bakery's pretty authentic, you know. And sometimes if stuff gets left over, they let us take it home for free. There's been times when me and my roommate, Mika, had cakes for dinner and breakfast," you shrug. Osamu looks at you in awe, and you're sure that if you paused this moment he'd start drooling any time now, "Maybe I should quit my job at the garage 'n just come work here instead."
"You work with cars?" you ask. He nods, "Yep, 'n this one time we got an old one that was really screwed up. My boss said that if any one of us fixed it, we'd get to keep it."
"Did you get it?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes. Osamu smiles, looking outside the window. You follow his line of sight to find an old yellow car standing in the lot—it was really small, and it genuinely looked like some old lady from the fifties drove it. You try to stop yourself from laughing, but you fail. Osamu narrows his eyes at you, a tiny blush covering his cheeks, "Shut up."
"That car is- oh my god," you snicker, "'Samu, it looks like a ninety-year-old woman owns that car."
"Yeah, it's old but it gets me places 'n I got it for free," he justifies, grumpily taking a bite of his cheesecake as he continues, "I even got some other stuff installed in it from my salary!"
"Like what?" you ask, teasingly. He huffs, "Well, for starters, a music system! Doesn't have bluetooth, but I installed an aux. A sun-roof 'n better tires too."
"It's cute," you giggle. He scoffs, "'M startin' ta think that's more of an insult than a compliment."
You were in a hurry today.
Summer break started from tomorrow. Which meant you had three weeks off of school, extra shifts at the bakery, and homework from every class to complete. Sometimes you would try to find time to go out with your friends—Mika would kill you if you didn't spend at least a few days of break with her, and you wanted to see Osamu. Your heart felt giddier, thinking about how you'd try to go and try some coffee shops with him(he'd insisted you come along next time after he visited your bakery), or ask him to make you some food. The two of you hadn't talked about how your breaks would go, and you're pretty sure you wouldn't get to see him today. He wasn't in English, and you didn't see him during recess either.
You were growing worried. What if you don't get to see him during the holidays at all? It's not like your summer would be ruined if you didn't see him, it would just... not be how you imagined it. You had daydreamed about sitting home and having Disney marathons with Mika without having to worry about classes, going outside with Osamu and ordering things you didn't know how to pronounce(random french words had become popular on coffee shop menus these days)—mostly, you had only thought about how you'd ogle him whenever he wasn't paying attention to you. Now that you thought about it, you felt a little guilty about that.
(And kind of like a creep. Yikes.)
Classes were over for the day, and you were hurrying home. Mika had said she was going to bring her boyfriend home tonight so he could meet you. And you remembered Kuroo telling you how much he hated the Nohebi Captain for saying the exact things that tended to piss him off. You couldn't wait, mostly because now you'd have a new friend who liked to irritate Kuroo as much as you did.
"Crap," you mumbled, checking your phone.
Your eyes crinkle as you hold back a chuckle, pushing the key into the lock of your apartment. You leave your shoes in the rack, opting for your bunny slippers as you begin to change into comfortable pajamas.
It's almost four, and there's a knock at your door. You've barely walked out of your room. You furrow your eyebrows. Mika shouldn't be here this early, you were just texting her half an hour ago.
You don't expect Miya Osamu to be standing at your door, with a thick textbook in hand as he gives you a small grin, "Hey, you forgot this at yer desk. Came ta see ya before ya left but, you were gone. Professor gave me this and told me ta give it to ya."
"'Samu," you tilt your head and say his name breathily, heart fluttering as you continue, "Thank you."
"No problem," he says. For a second there, the two of you stop. The whole world fades away somehow, and you're staring into his eyes. He's looking in yours, and the smile on his lips doesn't wipe off for even a split second. But then the moment ends.
"I-uh," he pauses, "I should go."
He turns, beginning to walk away but your voice speaks his name before you even have a chance to think, "Osamu, wait!"
He does. He stops and turns to look at you. You try to smile as you say, "Wanna stay over until after dinner? My roommate's bringing her boyfriend and extra takeout."
And you hope he says yes. You close your eyes shut, and you hope he says okay. You can hear your heartbeat fasten, and your mind running at the speed of Usain Bolt.
"Sure."
It feels like a thousand pounds have been taken off of your shoulders, you audibly let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and you open the door wide open as you let Miya Osamu in.
And that's when you realize, this is the first time he's actually inside your apartment. He has given you a ride home after work a couple of times, so that's how he knows where you live, but he's never really been inside. The nervousness in your stomach builds up again as you ask, "Wanna watch a movie?"
He gives you a toothy grin in return.
Sometime later, Mika and her boyfriend come home and the hours pass by within a blink. You didn't mind most of it, except when Mika tried to tease you about Osamu when he was grabbing something from the kitchen with Daishо̄. You slapped your hand over her mouth, face as red as a tomato then. It's a little past midnight now as Daishо̄ gets ready to leave, and you decide to walk Osamu to his car.
The city sounds muffled, almost, as the two of you giggle against each other's warmth. You say something and Osamu laughs, and it just so happens that in this moment, you don't want the crinkle of his eyes and the upturn of his lips to disappear. You say something again, he hides his face by looking the other way as he continues laughing.
It feels so perfect. So comfortable. You want this one instant to last an eternity. He looks over at you, his grey eyes inquisitive as he says, "Ya look a little sad. Somethin' wrong?"
"Um, no," you shake your head, chuckling, "Nothing's wrong."
"Yer makin' that face when ya feel sad but ya don't wanna show it," he stands against his car, "But keep yer secrets."
You smile almost bitterly, as you take a step forward and stand next to him, placing your back against his car. He looks at you, his head slightly tilted in the most innocently caring way as you lean yours against his shoulder. You feel him stiffen underneath at first, but then, he calms down. And he leans against your touch, barely whispering, "What's wrong?"
"Today was really fun," you mumble, "And I don't want it to end."
He lets out a small breath, "Oh."
"Yeah."
It feels peaceful like this, against his warmth. There’s an unsaid understanding and the night air feels like a blanket on a wintery morning, holding the two of you close. There are muted city sounds in the background, and there's slight tension in the air until he interrupts the silence.
"Y'know," he pauses, "Whenever I used to play volleyball with my brother back in high school, it felt exactly like this. ‘Twas exhilarating. We practiced every day, we went home 'n we played volleyball in the backyard at night, doin' sets 'n receives till we could barely keep our eyes open. When I told him I didn't wanna do it anymore, he got mad. I understood why—anyone would be mad if the person that's been there for their whole lives just up and leaves 'em one day. But now, he has way better people by him, people who are just as hardworkin' as him. And I couldn't be happier for him. He's where he belongs."
After a long pause, you whisper, "But I belong here, ‘Samu. I don't want better people. I want you."
You find him blushing, and maybe it's the liquid courage in your system that caused you to say what you just did. Oh God, you were so stupid. How could you say something like that? You panic, "Well, and my friends. You're my friend too. Th-That's why I said what I said."
He laughs, eyes crinkling as they reflect the moonlight back at you. You laugh too—it feels like this moment could last forever as the two of you hold onto your stomachs because of how much it hurts, holding onto the top of his car for support.
Sometime after a small conversation about a topic you can't remember anymore, he opens the door of his car. You stand there, hands fidding with the hem of your jacket as a blush overtakes your cheeks. Just as he's about to sit inside, he turns and looks back at you and says what's easily the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to you.
"Just so ya know," he pauses, "I don't want a better person either. I want you.”
Months pass.
After that night, you ended up spending most of your summer at work or with your friends. Osamu made guest appearances every now and then—you were always doing something that grounded you when you were with him, it was prosaic but somehow you loved it. Sometimes you'd catch yourself imagining something more with him. And you liked how mundane it sounded. How everything would be simple, and how you wouldn't have to fight to keep your relationship interesting because you would have some place or food to talk about. When the daydreaming reached a certain limit, you would mentally scold yourself before continuing with whatever you were doing before.
Fall passes too, but this time you spent more time with Osamu than anyone else. Even though you usually spend your autumn seasons with your friend group; cuddled up watching movies, playing video games in Kenma's apartment, or reading books with Akaashi at the library. This time, you spent your fall evenings with Osamu at the coffee shop. A cup of chai at your disposal as you and the boy you were hopelessly in love with talked about anything and nothing at the same time—wait.
It's December 22 today, and it's also six-twenty-five in the morning when you realize your crush on Miya Osamu isn't just a simple crush. He's been on your mind ever since you caught sight of him, and there's not one day that goes by where he isn't running around in your brain. It wasn't a completely sudden thought, the realization was moreso an 'oh' moment. You stopped in your tracks, you thought "oh", and then you continued getting ready for class.
You bump into him before English, and he gives you a quick smile before walking inside. He seems like he's thinking about something really deeply—he appears troubled, honestly. Like he's trying to find a solution to something but he just can't seem to think of an answer. Your eyes try to find him in the coffee shop after classes. You don't have work today because the owner of the bakery needed to go to Osaka for some business so the shop is closed until tomorrow.
(You reckon you'll be swamped until Christmas day. Ugh.)
The boy your eyes were aching to see walks inside, looking around quizzically until he spots you. He waves before walking over and placing his backpack beside him at the booth, "One more day until Winter Break, got anythin’ planned?"
"Nope, not really. I'll probably go to my parents' house on Christmas Eve to give them gifts and have dinner. They'll do the same thing as they always do, ask me about college and if I have a partner. And then I'll come back to the apartment in the morning or at night, depending on what I feel like doing."
He hums half-mindedly, and you furrow your eyebrows. He looks lost in thought, and you snap him out of his trance when you ask, "Something on your mind?"
He shakes his head before he notices the waiter coming over with two drinks. She places them on the table and leaves, and Osamu sends you a smile and mumbles "thank you" before sipping on the hot chocolate almost immediately.
"'Samu, I know you well enough to understand when something's bothering you. Come on, tell me what's wrong," you say, narrowing your eyes, "Did your brother do something stupid?"
You'd had the courtesy of meeting Miya Atsumu during summer break. You were at Osamu's apartment, helping him cook the new recipe he'd thought of. Atsumu had burst into the apartment brashly, loud as ever, as another boy followed him. You looked over at them, offering a small smile as Osamu greeted them and introduced you. You found out that the kids from Inarizaki were very much like your friends. There was a chaotic side and a quieter side. You could easily guess who took up the seats on the chaotic side. During autumn, you'd ended up introducing Bokuto to Atsumu when you bumped into the setter at the mall. You were shopping for a scarf because somehow, Bokuto wanted to dress like Akaashi more. The two apparently knew each other from their volleyball program already so they hit it off as if they’ve been friends for ages. And then somewhere along the way, your friends became friends with Osamu's friends.
"Actually yeah, he did," Osamu nods, putting his cup down as he groans, "He's had a girlfriend for about six months now. Yesterday when ma video-called us from Hyogo, Atsumu kept showin’ ‘er photos of him and his girlfriend. It was stupid of me to feel criticized, but I ended up blurting out that I had a partner too."
You choke on your drink, and when you stop coughing, you start laughing. Osamu's expression switches from a concerned one to an offended one in milliseconds, and that only makes you laugh more, "You're so stupid."
"No, my brother is stupid. I hate 'im with everything I have," he groans as he takes his head in his hands, "Why did I have to get all competitive?"
"It's kind of who you are when it comes to your brother," you giggle. Before you can continue, his phone rings. The shop is quiet today, there are only around seven or eight people here in total. And although Osamu didn't put his phone on speaker, you could still make out a few words the other person is saying. It's his mother—you pretended that you couldn't listen to what she was saying, even though you probably didn't need to.
"Ya called me earlier than ya usually do, what'd you need?" he asks, his voice is gentle and it makes you smile that he keeps in touch with his parents so often. It was an adorable trait to have. His mom says something about Christmas dinner, and he mumbles that he'll be on time this time and that he fell asleep on the train last time and ended up getting off three stations late. You chuckle at that, taking another sip as you wait for his mother's next words.
You're not entirely sure what she said, but you did hear the words "bring", "partner", and "home". You try to hide your gaze, pulling out your phone as you check the English assignment. The two of you had one last play to complete the report for, you'd already submitted every other one. You'd forgotten for a moment that Osamu was talking to his mom, and you called his name to ask him a question.
Osamu says your name back. And then, his eyes widen. He places his other hand on his mouth.
His mother's next words are clearly heard by you, "Is [Y/N] your partner? Can you please bring them home for Christmas?"
Shit, shit, shit, you widen your eyes.
"Ma, hold on-"
But she keeps talking, "Osamu, I don't wanna hear it, alright? Bring 'em home. Atsumu's bringin' his girl home, and I wanna see how yer doin' for yerself."
You wish you hadn't heard that. Osamu panics, says okay, ends the call as quickly as he can, and looks at you with the most worrisome expression you have ever seen in your entire life. You sputter, "W-what?"
"I fucked up," he says, his voice quieter than usual. It's barely a whisper.
"How?" you knew. But you still had to ask to make sure it was all real. He hides his face behind his hands, whispering again, "Oh, I fucked up."
"What did you do?"
"My ma heard me say yer name and now she thinks we're dating," he mumbles, "Wants me to bring ya home."
You blink. This was very real. You didn't think it through but it was so, so real. Your lips were slightly parted and before your brain could burst, you grabbed your mug and chugged it as if it was your last day on planet Earth.
(You shouldn’t be feeling glad though. Why were you happy? Why was your heart beating four time faster? You don’t even know if he feels the same way yet.)
The table becomes quiet for a few minutes. But then, Osamu breaks the silence, "Can I ask ya a favor?"
"Um, sure," you nod. You didn't know what he was going to ask. You were pretty sure it would be something bizarre, but you didn't want to question it until the time actually came.
"Couldja come to meet my ma? I mean, it would be a one time thing. Please?" he asks. His eyes are big, brows raised and he almost seems desperate. How were you supposed to say no to this face?
"'Samu-"
"Nah, forget it. This was stupid to even ask of someone. ‘M sorry, I should probably go-”
“‘Samu,” you smile, grabbing his hand, “It’s okay, I’ll do it.”
“Wait- fuck, seriously?” he asks. He looks at you as if you just made the impossible happen. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, looking back at you in disbelief.
You hum, "Mmhmm. Besides, it's only a one-time thing like you said. We'll manage."
"You're a lifesaver," he says breathily, "I dunno what I'd do without ya."
"You'd be embarrassed, that's what," you chuckle solemnly, "And also, you'd be bad at English."
He laughs—and God, is it melodic. You think about what it would be like if you were really his partner. Meeting his mother for Christmas sounds like something a real partner would do. If only you were confident enough to tell him how you really felt.
(You weren’t. So you’d have to stick to fake-dating instead.)
"Hey," he smiles at you. You wave back as you walk up to him. His breath fogs up as it comes out of his mouth, and you ask, "So we're gonna have lunch and dinner with your mom and then take the train back home?"
"That's the plan," he nods, "Okay, sweetheart, c'mon. Let's go."
You laugh at the nickname. Even though there's assumably a very prominent blush coating your cheeks, you decide to blame it on the cold weather if he ever asks you about it. The train station is quite empty—you're sure most people are at home spending the holiday with their families like Osamu was about to in a few hours. And you were scared of this whole fake relationship thing. What if his mother somehow found out that all of this was a front because Osamu chose to remain single, unlike his brother?
It sent chills down your spine.
Once you sat on the train, Osamu says, "Alright let's practice."
"Ugh," you groan, "Not this again."
"What are we gonna say if she asks how we met?" he raises an eyebrow at you. You roll your eyes, taking his backpack and pulling out the bento from it as you answer, "We tell her the truth but we add some spice to it. Y'know, cheesy romantic things."
"Good," he nods, "And what if she asks how we began dating?"
You take a bite out of the first onigiri, humming at the taste as you reply, "Uh... You came to the bakery where I worked and asked me out on a date instead of giving me your order?"
"Good enough," he chuckles. And then his eyes stop at your lips. You blink a few times before asking, "What's wrong?"
He doesn't say anything for a second. He just continues staring at your lips. Osamu's hand then cups your chin, his thumb swiping against your lip. He then removes his hand from there as if nothing happened and says, "You had rice on your face."
Fuck, you panic. You’re blushing. Why did he have to make your heart race like that at the most random times? Why is he so dense about it, too?
(And why can’t you ever eat an onigiri properly? Is the rice made of glue or something?)
Time passes by. The two of you arrive sooner than you'd expected. And you're standing outside Miya Osamu's childhood home in Hyogo when you suddenly feel sick to your stomach. This felt wrong and right at the same time. You wanted it to be real, but you felt like a liar. The bouquet you held in your hand felt hollow.
"You don't look too good," you hear Osamu say, "What's wrong?"
"Don't you think that maybe we shouldn't... lie to your mother?" you mumble, looking up. He nods, walking over to you. His eyes are sincere, and he gives you a small smile, "You're right. But I'd rather lie to her than disappoint her again this year."
You pause before breaking out a small laugh, "Screw you, that's kind of adorable."
"What can I say? ‘M a good son."
He then knocks on the front door and stands there with you. And just as he hears the turn of the knob, he intertwines his fingers with yours.
"’Samu?" his mother appears, hugging him tightly as soon as she sees him, "Oh, it's so good to see ya."
Her eyes land on you as she pulls away from him, and she gives you a warm smile before hugging you. You hand her the bouquet, and she hugs you again before pulling you inside. Osamu pouts, "Ya know yer my ma, right?"
"It's the first time you've brought someone home. Play nice, 'Samu."
His mother walks you inside after the two of you take your shoes off at the genkan. You sit in the living room, and his mom tells you to wait on the couch as she goes into the kitchen to fetch you something to drink. "Okay so," Osamu chuckles as he sits down next to you, "-ya can't back out now even if you wanted to. Ya haven't even talked to her properly and she loves ya more than me."
You laugh, cheeks turning a rosy pink. What his mother said struck something inside of you. Even if you weren't Osamu's partner, this was still the first time he'd brought someone home. You look away from his gaze, "Where's your brother?"
"He'll probably be here in an hour or something," Osamu checks his phone, "He's near Kyoto right now, so he'll be here just before lunch."
You hum. His mother comes back into the room holding a tray with three glasses of water and some snacks before setting them up on the coffee table. She sits down next to you, and gushes as she asks, "Now dear, tell me how the two of you met."
You share a glance with Osamu, and he gives you a small nod. You muster up the warmest grin you can, "I think it was the first week of this year. I was in the library, looking for this English book. And I'm reaching to grab it, but it's on the top shelf. 'Samu grabs it from next to me, and that's how we began talking."
"That sounds like a romance television show I've been watching recently," she squeals, "Absolutely adorable!"
You blush, "Thank you, Miya-san."
"You can consider me yer mother whenever yer comfortable, by the way. I blame ‘Samu for never bringing anyone home ta meet me. He's so picky with people, 'n he's closed off, too," she narrows her eyes at her son, who only hides by facepalming, "Again, you're supposed ta be my mother. Not [Y/N]'s."
"Oh, hush now."
Lunch passed quite smoothly. The only thing that didn't go according to plan was the fact that Atsumu had come alone. And that ticked your pretend boyfriend off more than it was supposed to.
(He kept grumbling about it under his breath. It was kind of cute, to be honest.)
You managed to get through the meal without a fight breaking out between them, except for a few snarky remarks here and there. Miya-san made sure they behaved throughout the afternoon, grabbing one of them by the ear whenever they said something remotely rude.
"Oh!" their mother exclaims, "I found somethin' when I was cleaning the other day, 'n I was saving it to show you three today."
She gets up from the kitchen table, walking over to a shelf near the corner of the room. Her eyes skim through the cookbooks there, and she picks one with a brown spine and brings it over to the table. Atsumu immediately groans when he sees the cover.
It's a family photo album.
(Your heart skips a beat, because now you really want to know what Osamu looked like as a child.)
You grin excitedly as she opens the first page. There's a photo of the twins as toddlers—wearing matching sweaters and playing with a red ball. You gush at how cute they are. When you look toward Osamu, you find him hiding his face in embarrassment. You giggle, flipping the page.
"This is when these two were six or seven, they got in an argument 'bout somethin' stupid 'n then came down for dinner. Stopped fightin' as soon as they sat down and saw that there was ramen and tuna," Mrs. Miya laughs slightly, pointing to the two boys smiling at the dinner table. A certain warmth spreads across your face as your fingers trace Osamu's face on the photo. He looks adorable, even without the signature grey hair. His eyes are closed in the photo, his smile reaching ear-to-ear as he holds his chopsticks. A small chuckle escapes your lips as his mother flips the page. They're in high school now, and it's one of their national matches where they're standing side by side. Atsumu's arm is over his brother's shoulder, and they're both smiling in victory.
"I'll mail this album to you if ya want," she says to you, "I have plenty others sitting in my room upstairs."
"That would be very nice," you give her a cordial smile.
It's around six o'clock in the evening when Osamu takes you upstairs to show you his childhood room. He opens the door, revealing a bunk bed and two desks—along with walls filled with posters of different kinds. There's a shelf with books on it on one side of the room, and the other side has a shelf filled with volleyball trophies and equipment. It smells like cheap deodorant and room freshener, and Osamu says, "Well, here it is."
"You were a Spice Girls fan?" you laugh, pointing to a poster on the wall. Osamu groans in disgust, "That's 'Tsumu's, he used ta think they were hot so he kept a poster of them in our room. Idiot never dated around in high school but he was a major simp."
You laugh. Your eyes land on a photo frame on the volleyball shelf. It's them and their father. It looks like the photo was taken after they won a game in high school, and he's hugging the two of them in joy. You beam at it, until Osamu speaks up, "That's my pops."
"I could tell," your voice is soft, barely above a whisper. He nods, "He passed away in my Senior year of high school."
Your eyes widen at the confession, "Osamu, I'm so sorry-"
"Nah," he shakes his head, "Don't worry 'bout it. 'Tsumu took it worse than me, anyway."
"That doesn't mean it hurt any less for you," you mumble, caressing his shoulder. He looks down at you, letting out a small breath as he smiles, "Thank you."
"You don't thank friends, dummy," you grin, wrapping your arms around him, "C'mere."
He hugs you back hesitantly at first, but as soon as you've completely wrapped yourself with him, he calms down. His breathing is shallow and deep at the same time and he wonders what he'd do without you. You've got his head spinning with how you speak to him. He doesn't know what hit him today.
“Y’know,” he says, pausing, “My old man taught me how ta cook fish properly. We went on a camping trip with ‘im once, and we went fishin’. I caught a big fish that day so he said he’d teach me how ta cook it on a grill. It’s one of my fondest memories of ‘im.”
“That’s touching,” you whisper against his chest, “And now you’re gonna open a restaurant and make him proud.”
“Ya think?”
“Yeah,” you say, “He would be proud of how far you’ve come. You’re kinda amazing, you know.”
He laughs, and it echoes through the room. It’s like the two of you are in your own personal bubble. The outside world doesn’t exist in here, and it gives off a bucolic feeling.
You speak up again, "You don't have to tell me anything you don't feel comfortable with. But I'm always here, okay?"
"You start sayin' things like that and maybe we don't gotta lie to my ma about us anymore," he jokes, "Shit, sorry."
"No, it was funny," you nod, even though you wish he'd meant it. Damn him for saying things like that.
"Hey guys, Ma's callin' us down for dinner- crap, did I interrupt somethin'?" Atsumu stops by the door. You get startled, flinching away from Osamu as you face the door. You shake your head no, walking towards the stairs and leaving the twins behind. You can hear their chatter behind you—it's muffled and it sounds like Atsumu apologizing to his brother but then the two argue about something. Your eyes search for their mother, and you spot her setting the table. You shuffle towards her, letting out a small sigh.
"Somethin' wrong?" she asks softly. You shake your head as you help her place the silverware next to the plates. She continues, "'Samu likes ya very much, y'know."
You raise an eyebrow at the statement, gesturing for her to continue, "He calls me every other day. And half the time, the boy only talks about you. He's head over heels for ya, by the way. Don't tell ‘im I said that."
"Miya-san," you pause, "I don't think-"
"What are you two talkin' about?" Atsumu enters the room, Osamu following shortly after. He throws you a small smile, which you return. The two of you sit next to each other, the air suddenly filling up with tension.
“You feelin’ okay?” he whispers. You give him a reassuring smile in return, putting your hand over his as you nod.
Dinner goes by smoothly, and then the two of you head out after saying your goodbyes. It takes another four hours to get back to Tokyo—that you spend sleeping. When you wake up, you realize Osamu’s sleeping too.
“Osamu,” you nudge him slightly, “Wake up, we’re gonna be home any minute now.”
And now, you’re in front of your apartment building as Osamu stands before you. He smiles, the moon breaking through his hair. It’s almost midnight, which means Christmas will be over in a few minutes.
“Oh,” he exclaims, “Forgot ta give ya somethin’.”
He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small card as he begins saying, “Since we both want ta open a restaurant later on after college,” he pauses, licking his lips as he makes eye contact, “-why don’t we do it together?”
You gasp, looking at the card in his hands. There’s a small onigiri in the middle of it, and not much else, honestly. The card doesn’t even have a name on it. It’s just a small logo, and at the two bottom corners are your names.
“’Samu,” you say, as quietly as you can, “That sounds wonderful.”
“I-I didn’t get a chance ta name it somethin’ because I wanted to ask yer opinion about it,” he chuckles, “What do ya think will be the name of our restaurant?”
You smile, thinking about today. Every single moment; from the train ride to Hyogo or when he told you about the death of his father. It all felt so special—so precious to you. Your eyes become glassy as you ponder about the question for a moment before you take a small breath, “Onigiri Miya.”
“W-what?” Osamu looks baffled when you look up at him again, “You want ta name it after me?”
“Yeah,” you nod, “I do.”
He doesn’t say much after that. He only stands there for a few seconds, processing the information before he wraps his arms around you. He thanks you, but you don’t know what he’s thanking you for. He breaks the embrace, and suddenly all the air around the two of you feels emollient. He smiles widely, and you take the chance to press a small peck on his cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Osamu,” you whisper, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a gift in return.”
He laughs, “Trust me, the best gift ya could’ve given me is Onigiri Miya.”
And just then, you realize you love Miya Osamu way too much for your own good.
"You have got to be kidding me," Kuroo yells, "One day you have a silly little high school crush on Miya Osamu, the next day you're lying to his mother about being his partner? What the actual fuck were you thinking?"
You were glad you hadn't told them about Onigiri Miya yet, because almost all of them(Kenma being the only exception) were asking you questions. Even Akaashi.
"Hold on, how did this even happen?" Akaashi asks, placing a bookmark inside his book before closing it. You take a sip of your beer, "Uh, we were sitting at the coffee shop when his mom called him. She misunderstood something he said, and then one thing led to another."
"That- oh my god, you're an idiot," Kuroo exclaims, "That is not a valid answer for the question Akaashi asked."
"What do you mean?" you narrow your eyebrows. Kuroo facepalms, "Give us the details, you dummy."
"Oh," you mumble, "Honestly, there isn't much. We just went to his mom's house, then we ate lunch and dinner, we sat around and talked. And we came back."
"And you're sure nothing else happened?" Bokuto asks, his voice was annoyingly sweet. You sigh, giving in, "We're thinking about opening a restaurant together."
All four of them have their own colorful exclamations, and you're surprised that Kenma was even paying attention at all. They all range from "what the fuck were you thinking" to "wait, what".
"How did this go from a romantic comedy to a Kitchen Nightmares episode?" Kuroo's hand rests on his temple as he asks the question. He pushes his glasses up, "And have you even told him about your dumb crush on him?"
"Wait," Bokuto interrupts, "Will we get free food if you open that restaurant together?"
"Bokuto-san," Akaashi articulates, with an eyebrow raised, "Can you be any less serious?"
"In my defense, it was a serious question."
"No, it wasn't."
"Was too!"
"Guys?" Kenma mumbles. You narrow your eyes in confusion at whatever's going on.
"How are you always concerned about food? And why do you even want it for free? You're rich and you're getting drafted to the Jackals next year," Kuroo points out.
"Guys!" Kenma yells, "Shut up and come look at this."
All three of them surround Kenma and his laptop by the couch, and you stand a few feet away as you ask, "What is it?"
"The whole university thinks you're dating Miya Osamu," Akaashi groans, "Some gossip account for our uni posted a picture of the two of you outside the train station."
"What?" you furrow your brows, rushing towards the laptop as you kneel down beside the couch to look at it, "But we're not dating! All of that was a lie to convince his mom."
"Yeah but," Kuroo sighs, "This looks pretty convincing to me. It'll probably be the same for everyone else that looks at it. You might wanna call Osamu."
"No," you shake your head firmly, "I'm gonna avoid talking to him."
"That is the most stupid thing you have come up with," Kenma rolls his eyes at you, "You should probably talk to him. And you have that project due in a few weeks."
You check your phone, and there are texts from a few classmates. And then there's a few from Osamu. You huff, "I should get going. It's getting late."
You haven't seen Miya Osamu in four days.
Apparently, the person who took the photo outside the train station had been Suna Rintarō. He sent it to Atsumu, and that idiot sent it to everyone. And you being you, have been avoiding him. In the hallways, you tend to avoid his gaze. You even wake up fifteen minutes earlier in the morning so you don’t accidentally catch him at the coffee shop before class. Every time he looks like he’s going to approach you, you turn the other way. You don’t know what else you’re supposed to do, honestly. What if he finds out you really are in love with him and feels disgusted with the idea of it?
(Curse your mind for the paranoia, reallly.)
You're on your shift at the bakery when Osamu stumbles in. He looks at you with apologetic eyes, but you ignore his gaze as he walks up to the counter. You grit your teeth, swiping the screen in front of you as you ask, "Your order, please."
"I need ta talk to ya," his voice is hoarse, "Please."
You swallow with a bitter feeling, "Your order, Osamu."
"[Y/N]," he sounds out of breath, but you know he isn't. His eyes are exhausted yet hopeful, "It's important."
"I'm at work," you grit your teeth again, as if it's his fault, "I can't talk right now."
He straightens his posture then, nodding as he says, "Fine. I'll have a strawberry cheesecake slice to go, then. And an iced coffee too."
You type his order into the system, stealing a glance at him as you say, "Your order will be ready in a few minutes."
Osamu leaves as soon as you hand him his food, not even trying to meet your gaze. You feel bad, but you acquiesce to it. You might have to stop talking to him entirely. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself. It just seemed like the easiest option.
You watch his small yellow car drive away, and you feel your eyes grow glassy. You deter your stare, focusing on the next customer instead. The next day, you don't see Osamu in the seat he's usually in. When you go to the library during recess, you don't see him there either. You end up at your usual seat at the coffee shop, but he's not there.
(A bitter feeling sets in your throat but you try your best to ignore it anyway. This is what you wanted, right?)
Another four days pass. This time, even if you try to make eye contact with Miya Osamu in the hallways, he looks away. His eyes lack spirit, and he seems more tired. Usually, Osamu is just less enthusiastic than others. But now, he seems as if he hasn't been getting any sleep. Your lips straighten into a thin line as you sit in your usual booth at the café. Your phone rings out of nowhere, and you furrow your brows at the caller.
Atsumu.
You pick it up, placing the phone to your ear as you sip on the iced coffee in front of you. His voice booms on the line, "Hey, [Y/N], where are ya?"
"Um, at the coffee shop, why?" you question. He's panting, "Stay there, 'kay? 'M comin'."
"Wait, why—"
The line goes dead, and you roll your eyes. Putting the phone back down, you hazily keep sipping on your coffee.
"[Y/N]?" you watch Atsumu walk into the café. Your eyes light up, hoping Osamu would walk in after him but to no avail. He sits in front of you, "Did 'Samu speak to ya yet?"
"I- um," you pause, "No. No, he hasn't. Why?"
"I just thought he would've by now. 'M sorry for all the twitter mess," he sheepishly places his hand on the back of his neck, "'Samu told me everything. I shouldn't've sent that photo ta my friends."
"It's okay, 'Tsumu," you croak, "But um, tell Osamu I'm sorry, 'kay?"
"Why can't ya tell 'im yerself?" he raises an eyebrow, "Did ya just decide to not talk to 'im 'cause some stupid college gossip account posted a picture of you two?" Atsumu narrows his eyes, "Yer friends, aren't ya?"
"Atsumu, it's not that simple-"
"Sometimes," he lingers, "It really is."
He continues talking, "Ya know, when 'Samu found out that I was the one that sent that photo to a bunch of my friends, he, came home real angry, started yellin' at me 'n shit. I asked 'im what was wrong 'n he said that you two weren't really datin'. Then he told me about how Ma misunderstood what he said on the phone and why he brought ya home. Idiot punched me a couple times too."
"Osamu punched you?" you stare, wide-eyed, "I don't believe that."
"My stomach is bruised. It hurts like hell," The blonde grumbles in front of you, "We haven't fought like that since high school. I hit him like once 'n he started slappin' my face so we called it off."
You laugh, eyes crinkling, "Let me guess, you started screaming like a girl and said 'not the face, 'Samu!'? Isn't that what always happens?"
"Hey, I don't scream like a girl," he pouts, "But yes, that's what happened. 'Samu's been sad for days 'n that's why I called ya. I gotta sort out this mess I made for you two."
You sigh, "I-I don't know what to do."
"Leave it ta me," Atsumu gives you a mischievous grin, "I got this."
A few days pass, and your anxiety builds up more day by day. Atsumu had said he would do something to make Osamu talk to you again, but you hadn’t really received word of either of the twins after that. It was Friday now, and your lecture was finally ending.
"Okay everyone," your English professor turns off the presentation, "That's it for today's class. I need you all to score well on your finals, and remember that the end of the year project is due next week on friday. You can turn it in to me through a pen drive or mail it to me by 11:59 pm."
You get up from your chair, watching Osamu walk out without even sparing you a glance. A sigh escapes your lips as you head to the library for your lunch break.
"Hey," you hear an all too familiar voice next to the library door. You turn around, and there he is. Miya Osamu, in all his glory, with his backpack slung across his shoulder as he walks towards you, "I wanted ta talk to ya."
"Oh," you mumble hazily, "Yeah. Yeah, I wanted to talk to you too."
"'Bout the project," he said, "-we should finish it, we only got a little bit left anyway. I reckon we'll be able to finish it now, it's not like we've any other classes left to attend today."
"Sure," you shrug, "I think we only have the conclusion part left for Merchant of Venice."
So here you were, sitting at your old library table working out the conclusion page of your essay as the younger Miya twin sat in front of you and analyzed his part of the work. Your eyes kept getting distracted from your work to him, though. The way his tongue ever-so-slightly peeped out of his mouth, the way his grey eyes concentrated on his laptop screen, the way he tiredly blinked every few seconds—you tell yourself to look away before it gets too weird.
Then, you get a text. And another. They keep coming, and to the point where Osamu tilts his head and raises an eyebrow while he looks at your phone. You fumble, picking it up and checking who it was.
Atsumu.
You sigh, clicking on his contact and calling him. As soon as he picks up, you grit your teeth and whisper-yell, "Atsumu! I can't talk right now, I'm busy."
"Doin' what?" he asks in a condescending tone, "Quit what yer doin' n' come ta my dorm, I figured out how to get 'Samu ta talk to ya again."
"But-"
"Just c'mere, okay? Hold on, Sunarin's callin' I gotta go," the blond cuts the call immediately, and you scoff as you glare at his contact. Osamu eyes you before focusing on his screen again until you say, "I'm sorry, I have to go do this thing. But I'll be back soon, okay?"
"Alright," he responds in an almost nonchalant tone, but there's something about his voice that doesn't sit well with you. But you quickly pack your things and dust the uneasiness off your shoulder as you head to Atsumu's dorm room.
"Why's the door open?" You raise an eyebrow as you walk inside. Atsumu smiles at you from his spot on the bed, before standing up and holding a finger up to your face, "Hold on for a minute."
"What?"
"Just. Shush."
You narrow your eyes, following his line of vision. He's staring at the doorway, slowly walking towards it until the other Miya twin is standing right in front of the two of you.
"What are you doin' here?" Osamu asks in a condescending tone. You tilt your head, matching your manner with his, "I don't know, why are you here?"
You blink profusely, throwing him a blunt look until the two of you hear the door close with a thud. Osamu groans, tossing his backpack on the bed before banging on the closed door with his fist, "'Tsumu, ya piece-a-shit, open this door right now!"
"No," you can feel the smug look on the setter's face even through the closed door, "You two oughtta sort out yer problems or this door ain't openin'."
"Atsumu, open the door!" you yell.
"I said, door's not openin' until you figure yer shit out."
(So this was his plan. That clever asshole.)
Osamu sighs, rolling his eyes and looking back at you. You shrug, "He did say to sort out our problems. We could try that."
"Oh yeah?" Osamu looks at you with a look you don't comprehend at first, but then you quickly understand that he's agitated, "Let's start with the fact that ya ignored me as soon as ya came across the slightest inconvenience in yer life. How 'bout that?"
"I didn't ignore you!" you bite back, "I was confused! People were talking about us and I didn't like that!"
"What's so wrong about that?" he says whilst clenching his jaw. There are prominent lines between his eyebrows and he persists, "Some idiot posts somethin' on Twitter and that's all it takes for you to cut me off?"
"What about you then, huh?" you yell now, "It's not like you tried either! You knew I was scared and you stopped fighting completely!"
"I-I didn't stop, I just thought I was bein' a hindrace to you! If I had stopped, I wouldn’t’ve come to yer stupid bakery ta talk!”
"W-well, what about all the avoiding me in the halls and changing your seat in class so you won't have to look at me, then? What was that?" you ask, temper not completely dissipating just yet, "Do you even know how lonely and scared I was without you?"
"I never would've stopped bein' around you if I didn't think you hated me!" his eyes are wide and his voice begins cracking just slightly, "If you picked up even just one call, I would still be there! You could've at least replied to the texts!"
"I didn't reply to any of your stupid texts because I'm in love with you and I got scared that you didn't feel the same way!" you scream eyes shut and anger sputtering through your veins. The room becomes chillingly silent, and you can feel goosebumps on the back of your neck as you slowly open your eyes. Miya Osamu stands there, baffled and eyes widened, his chest rising and falling with each breath he takes. His grey eyes stare into your own, softening as his shoulders droop. He takes a small step toward you, tilting his head to ask if entering your space is okay. You nod in the slightest way possible, and within a blink, he stands mere inches away.
He says your name in a hushed tone, and you look down at his clothed chest in embarrassment. Your eyes become glassy, and you feel panic coursing through your body when he sighs and tilts your chin up with his thumb in the most tender way possible. Your eyes meet with his again, and you curse him for not saying anything.
(This is not how you wanted this to go. Damn it.)
"Please tell me that was all true," he murmurs, "I need ta hear ya say it again."
"Osamu, don't make me embarrass myself. Please, just," you meekly attempt to look away again, but this time he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. Tears finally emerge from your eyes as your hands reach his hair. The kiss is soft; fragile even, but you're trying to hold your own when your heart feels like a frog kicking off a pond's bank. You were trying to pay attention and calm your leaping heart down, but it wasn't working. Osamu's lips moved like magic—the way they did in movies when the guy finally kisses the girl and fireworks start setting off in the background. Only this time, the fireworks were getting set off in your heart, and you had no idea how to stop them.
He pulls away gently, your foreheads touching. You open your eyes to his voice saying, "Just makin' sure, because I love ya too."
You melt, smiling awkwardly. You're about to say something when the door opens, and Atsumu stands there with his shit-eating grin, "Okay now that yer done stinkin' up the place with yer gross lovey-dovey crap, aren't you two glad ya proved the rumors right?"
"Oh shut up, 'Tsumu."
The sounds of a quietened New Years' party are ringing in your ears as you clean up a few beer bottles and put them in the trash. The entirety of the MSBY team sits in Onigiri Miya along with your friends—their voices are a little tired and tranquil now that it's around two in the morning, the party long forgotten. Osamu walks out from the refrigerating unit, giving you a weary smile, "Hey."
"Hey," you smile. He walks toward you, closing the distance as he wraps his arms around your torso, pressing a peck on the top of your head. He sighs, "I wanna go to bed."
"I know," you laugh, "We'll walk home in a bit after everyone leaves, okay?"
He hums, "Oh, by the way, Ma called. She said the coffee powder ya gave her was amazin' and asked ya to buy 'er some more the next time we visit."
"I'm glad," you smile, pulling away from the embrace. You brush your hair away from your eyes, looking up to him and cupping his cheeks, "This last year has been quite unreal, huh?"
"By unreal if ya mean the fact that we finally moved in together, yes. That, and the JVA contract," he giggles, "I still can't believe 'Tsumu convinced them to make us the caterers for their events. Kuroo-san said Akaashi forced 'im too."
"'Samu," you whisper. He hums again, and you continue, "I love you."
He chuckles, giving you the most exhausted yet the most loving look he can possibly muster up, "I love ya more. Now come on, let's go kick 'Tsumu out so we can get some sleep."
“Oh, give him some credit. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be-”
“I know, I know. Don’t say it out loud though, ‘cause it’ll only inflate his ego.”
© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.
#miya osamu#osamu miya#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya x you#osamu miya fanfiction#miya osamu fanfiction#miya osamu angst#osamu miya angst#osamu miya fluff#miya osamu fluff#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu hurt comfort#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu longfic#haikyuu longfics
247 notes
·
View notes
Text
FROM ME TO YOU
a birthday gift to you, my loves.
a/n: there's a consistent comment i often get whenever my irl friends and i reflect on the events that transpired years back or when i tell a tale about my past to a new friend, and that isㅡi live in an ao3 life. it's quite ironic in a sense that i, for one, is a fic writer. needless to say, people hearing my stories find it entertaining. hence, here's a series/chaptered fic inspired by true events. i hope through this you'll get to know more about me. so sit back and enjoy the crazy life i live :)
note: some of the details pertaining to a character/person to this series is altered for privacy purposes but rest assured that the events remains true; although some of the endings may be adjusted to keep the flow of the story.
tags are open!
pairing: osamu miya x y/n | timeskip!osamu x y/n (y/n uses she/her pronouns)
trope: bestfriends to lovers
tags: slow burn | mutual pining | leads are oblivious to feelings | angst | hurt/comfort | domestic timeskip!osamu | friends to lovers | misunderstandings | popular x unpopular | present (anime) and timeskip! | confessions | romance
warning: none unless you're an irl and you happen to stumble upon this, look away!!
tags: @imsoluvly
-ˋˏ NAVIGATION ˎˊ- • character guide
ミ✭ ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK
ミ✭ A KEEN EYE FOR THE POPULAR KID
ミ✭ SMILE FOR SECRETS
ミ✭ TWO-FACED JOKER
ミ✭ ?
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#hq osamu#osamu miya#timeskip!osamu#osamu miya x y/n#osamu miya x reader#osamu fluff#miya osamu#osamu miya angst#osamu miya fluff#hq fanfic#hq fics#hq oneshots#hq series#hq romance#hq imagine#hq#hq x y/n#hq x reader#pea.writes
98 notes
·
View notes
Text
i’m watching the little mermaid rn and oh my god why am i seeing osamu in prince eric 😭 pls recommend some prince!osamu fics if there’s any bc i really see it
#osamu miya#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya fluff#osamu miya angst#osamu miya imagines#osamu miya x you#haikyuu imagines#pls pls pls
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
002 get him back!
✧ wc: 4k
✧ warnings/content: miya osamu x fem!reader, sfw, fake dating au, angst to fluff,
✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist
divider from @/cafekitsune
It all started when Miya Atsumu said that you would never be able to find anyone who could put up with you. And you would have taken that with a grain of salt, if Miya Atsumu wasn't your ex who also happened to be a thorough asshole.
“Well you dated me didn’t you?!”
“And we broke up, duh.” he says flippantly.
You clam up at that. You know he’s just saying things. He doesn’t mean it and he’s a complete moron. But it’s been almost a year since the break-up and not a single man has even offered to buy you a drink. Are you going to have to resort to making a Hinge profile?
–
“I don’t know why ya let him get to ya. He’s just a moron,” Osamu says.
“You have to say that, he’s your brother,” you grumble.
“True. But he is an idiot.”
You plop your face heavily into the elbow resting on the counter and blow raspberries in one big exhale.
“Don’t get yer spit all over where my customers eat.”
You grunt, turning over to watch Osamu work behind the counter.
“Do you think I’m unlovable?” you ask.
“Huh?”
“There must be a reason no one’s asked me out on a date in the past 8 months, right?”
Osamu sighs, dropping off a plate of food in front of you. “I’m not gonna answer that.” Then he turns with his back facing you to fiddle with something on the other side of the kitchen.
“Why not?”
He exhales through his nose, quiet, but you hear it.
He doesn’t get the chance to answer because the door swings open to reveal Osamu’s twin. You jolt up, fixing your posture, self-conscious about letting Atsumu think his words are getting to you.
And rightfully so because Atsumu acts like a shark that smells blood. His lips curl up into what he thinks is a smirk, but resembles much more of a snarl.
“What’s up with ya,” he asks oh-so-innocently.
You have no good response and feel your face heating up in embarrassment when Osamu swoops in.
“Are ya gonna sit down or just block my door? ‘Cause I got people that actually pay to eat here.”
Atsumu starts yelling something at Osamu but simmers down into the seat next to you and mumbles something to himself, no doubt some choice words for his brother. It gives you momentary reprieve from Atsumu’s provocation which is the last thing you need right now with your self-esteem in the dumps.
The break is temporary though, because like a true creature with short-term memory and a propensity for being a prick, Atsumu circles back to the topic when he’s done eating.
“So, found a guy to take you out?”
“What makes you think I’d answer that question,” you bite back. Weak, but it’s all you have.
“Hah,” he scoffs. “I knew it. Ya can’t find anyone.”
You feel the irritation boiling like a witch’s cauldron inside of you, brewing a mix of resentment, mortification, and the tiniest streak of competitiveness. Atsumu not shutting up for the rest of the night is the final ingredient that makes your red hot concoction boil over. It goes a bit like this:
“Tell me if ya want me to set ya up with someone from the team. Might be the only chance ya get at this rate,” he teases.
“No thanks,” you hiss. “I’ll have you know that I’m dating Osamu, widely known as the better Miya.” You point smugly at Osamu whose back is currently to you both.
“What!” Atsumu yells. “Osamu? And you?”
With Osamu’s back to you, you can’t see his face, but all your fingers and toes are crossed that he’ll play along so that you don’t burn up in a gas of complete humiliation.
When Osamu turns around, his eyes go to you first. They search yours for something – what, you don’t know. He apparently finds it because he blinks away and tells his brother to mind his own business, neither denying nor validating your claim.
It might as well be confirmation though, because Atsumu squawks in indignation, sputtering his disbelief. Osamu continues to bicker with his brother, keeping him occupied enough to not realize that he was slowly being backed out of the restaurant.
When Osamu slams the door on Atsumu and twists the lock in a dramaticized show of finality, Atsumu finally gives up, yelling a muffled “I’ll be back.” through the windows. You could laugh at the duo if Osamu didn’t turn around and fix you with a look, similar to that of a responsible older brother scolding a child.
“Now yer turn. What was that about?”
“Osamu! You heard the way he was talking to me. I just can’t stand it!”
“Have ya thought this through? How’s this supposed to end, huh? We break up and Atsumu goes back to making fun of ya?”
You open your mouth to beg, because it’s always worked with Osamu. He always gives in. But he’s not done, apparently.
“‘Least ya could’ve done is ask me out, not use me to get through yer petty grudge with ‘Tsumu.”
That shuts you up. When you look at Osamu, he’s not looking at you. His eyes are downcast, distracting himself by wiping up the counter. It’s so brief that you convince yourself that you imagined the hurt in his voice.
“‘Samu…”
“Forget it. I’ll do it, but ya better have it thought out because I’m not helping ya anymore than this.”
It should be a win and any other time, you would wrap him up in a bear hug and shower him with thanks, but the defeated way Osamu concedes makes you solemnly finish your meal. It feels unfitting to say thank you.
–
Your first stint as Osamu’s girlfriend comes in the form of a friend’s dinner party. Since the night you forced Osamu to be your boyfriend, you have been back at Onigiri Miya to hang out, but have painfully tiptoed around the topic. The thought has occurred to you that you and Osamu should agree upon a backstory, but you haven’t had the courage to breach the topic after the way Osamu reacted.
He had just nodded when you asked him to attend this dinner party with you. And with that, he had dutifully picked you up at your apartment, perfectly on time. You had expected a stone-faced Osamu all night, but he had surprised you with a sweet smile, one that you’re used to being on the receiving end of. But it somehow feels different tonight. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s supposed to be smiling at you as your lover tonight. It was easy, the way he had held out his arm for you, no awkwardness in sight.
At dinner, Osamu makes no move to let go of your hand, going as far as to intertwine your fingers under the table. When any one asks how the two of you began dating, he squeezes to tell you he’ll handle this. You’re grateful and you feel undeservingly spoiled as you watch him. He looks around the room, drifts his gaze back to you where his lips flicker upwards for the tiniest second, then looks back at the crowd to flash a mysterious, close-lipped smile. You can barely hear the dinner table go wild with jeers and Atsumu squawking as you gawk at Osamu’s act.
And it goes on.
As you eat, he keeps your fingers clasped between his, laid on his lap. Atsumu gives you two the stink-eye, questioning why Osamu was eating with his left hand. You’re pretty sure your eyes are bulging out of your head at this point, because Osamu flushes. Osamu is blushing as he reluctantly lets go of your hand, making a show out of placing your hand back on your own lap and mumbling a heavily-accented apology at no one in particular.
–
When dinner finally ends, the party migrates to the living room. Osamu doesn’t need to ask, perfectly picking your favorite after-dinner drink of choice as he chooses a beer for himself. He has once again claimed your hand in his. His grip is tight and when you try to slip your hand out to get some space, he holds tighter.
You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Osamu, my hands are sweaty.”
He leans down to hear you better, but stands back up when he registers your comment. He ignores you, only squeezing twice, as if telling you to behave for him. Your head spins; you’ve never dated like this before.
Being with Atsumu was like living in a comically unrealistic sit-com, like you were constantly finding yourself in situations and having conversations that belong in a Tom and Jerry episode. He argued with you about everything, had an ego, and a temper. A particularly memorable moment was when he was still courting you, trying to convince you to date him by saying, “I’m six foot two.”
“Dude, nice try,” you had said.
But somehow, right now, with Osamu standing by your side and towering over you, you think that if this younger twin used that line on you right now, you’d fold in half for him. As if you wouldn’t with all the sweet nothings he’s lavished on you in this one night.
He only lets you get away when you embarrassingly whisper to him that you need a bathroom break.
“I’ll walk with ya.”
“No!” you exclaim. You lower your voice when he stares at you. “It’s okay, ‘Samu. I’ll be right back, okay?”
He backs off and you finally get away from his orbit.
Finally alone, you barely pull yourself together. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, slapping your cheeks lightly to pry the strange daze from your eyes. You can’t get carried away here. Osamu is doing you a favor, one he isn’t fond of. You can’t get used to Osamu treating you like this. It’s borrowed time.
You splash water onto your face, waiting until the chill seeps into your cheeks that have been painfully hot since Osamu picked you up tonight.
As you exit the bathroom, Atsumu is there waiting for you in the hallway.
“I’m onto ya,” he starts.
You scoff, immediately putting your facade back on. It’s easy with Atsumu. “Oh please, Atsumu. You’re just jealous.”
It doesn't phase Atsumu the way you hope. “Such a weak comeback. Sounds like something you’d say to disguise the fact that yer playin’ my brother.”
Your brother is the one playing me.
“Whatever, Atsumu,” you say, walking away, taking Osamu’s advice to not let Atsumu get to you.
“I bet ya forced my brother to pretend to be yer boyfriend. I know my brother and I know you. Just admit it.” He smirks. “It’s okay that no one wants to date ya. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”
The fact that even Atsumu, even all of his stupidity, sees right through you makes you feel hot. You’re grateful that you’ve already turned away from him because you could not take much more damage tonight. Nothing would end you in a worse way than Atsumu seeing that he could make you cry.
Or maybe it’s the fact that Atsumu doesn’t, for one second, believe that someone like his brother could fall for someone like you. Maybe no one does. Maybe everyone here just thinks that you’re making this up and they’re playing along to help you save face.
It takes everything in you to keep your steps and breathing even as you take the walk back to Osamu to compose yourself.
It’s useless apparently because Osamu seems right through you. He immediately offers to take you to the balcony, explaining to everyone that you need some fresh air to cut through the alcohol you’ve had.
His silent understanding makes it worse because it makes it clear that you’re an open book. The act you put on is completely pointless because no one believes you anyway.
Osamu guides you to the balcony and shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone.
He joins you at the railing, draping his jacket over you. You know he knows that you want to avoid looking into his eyes, just as much as he knows you want to avoid having this conversation altogether. He sighs.
“Why do ya let him get to you like that?”
You look back at him, eyes widening at the tone he rarely takes with you. His eyes are fixed forward, arms still dutifully wrapped around you, ever the dedicated boyfriend. But as his gaze flickers to you momentarily, you catch the weight of his question in his eyes.
“Who?” you mumble.
But Osamu’s not in the mood. He stays silent, letting the question hang in the air.
“I don’t know… I just…”
“Are ya still in love with my brother?”
“No,” you answer honestly.
Osamu raises his brows.
“No, but I’ve known him for so long now.” You feel the need to explain. “He just gets under my skin. You of all people should understand – he’s your brother! You guys fight all day long.”
“He’s my brother. We shared a womb. We were born to fight.” Osamu sighs. “You, though... Why can’t ya just let it go?”
“I don’t know! I just…” you trail off.
He continues to stare at you, not even knowing the effect he has on you. His earnest gaze pulls the truth out from under your skin.
“I wanna get him back,” you admit.
Osamu’s eyes go dark at that statement. His expression shutters.
“Not like that!” you quickly amend. “Not like I want to get back with him, I mean like, his face just pisses me off!”
“Huh?”
“I just wanna punch him in the face but I don’t think anything would give me more satisfaction than proving him wrong you know. And honestly, Osamu, you-”
“Ya think that I’m the perfect person to piss him off for ya. ‘Cause I’m his brother and there’s no one else who would get under his skin more than if I replaced him.”
You hear the disappointment heavy in his intonation.
“Osamu…”
“Am I wrong?”
He’s not wrong, but you feel an urge to tell him how he made you tingle at dinner. It was in the way he catered to your whims, covered for you, and held your hand in secret. It was in the way he, as your not-boyfriend, made you feel loved and desired much more so than any other boyfriend you’ve ever had before.
But when you look at his side profile, face now turned away from you and hidden by the shadows of the night, it doesn’t feel right to say any of that. Even in your mind, it sounds like an excuse. Because the bottom line is that he’s right. Your original intentions had been to use Osamu. And the fact that you might have developed a slight crush on him in the process doesn’t make you feel any less shitty and certainly doesn’t make Osamu feel any less used.
His question goes unanswered.
–
The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. Actually, it goes by too uneventfully because Osamu doesn’t call or text once. Not that you’ve made an effort, but after how that last conversation with Osamu ended, you can’t find the courage to face Osamu.
It doesn’t make you miss him any less.
You can’t recall if you used to miss Osamu like this, think about him and wish he’d reach out even if it’s only been a couple of days since you’ve last met. You only know that right now, you wish he’d make the first move because you can’t muster up the nerve to see him, even if it’s all you wanted. It also makes you realize that Osamu has been spoiling you long before that night and long before he agreed to be your fake boyfriend. The reason you never had to miss him is because he is always the one who makes the effort to call, text, bring you lunch, pick you up from work, drive you around.
The realization only made you feel worse about yourself.
And after days of mulling over realization after realization, each making you guiltier and guiltier, you made your decision.
That’s how you end up running to Osamu’s apartment, late on a Thursday evening. Without pausing to compose yourself, afraid you’ll lose your momentum, you knock.
The door swings open to reveal a very tired-looking, very handsome Osamu. He has his cap off, but his hair is unruly, as if his fingers have just recently run through it. His eyes are slightly bloodshot and his t-shirt is wrinkled. The urge to rub your thumb over his eyelids and smooth your other hand over this shirt is a sudden one you shove down because Osamu’s opening his mouth.
“Hey, what’cha doing here so late?”
There’s a momentary disappointment that strikes your gut. He asks you so normally, as if he isn’t plagued with thoughts of avoiding you. As if the couple of days that have gone by without any interaction between the two of you isn’t even a thought that occupies headspace.
“Uh,” you stutter.
“Actually,” he sighs and glances behind him. “Now’s not a good time. Can ya-”
“I don’t care about Atsumu,” you cut him off. It sounds like he’s preparing a rejection. Or he just doesn’t want to talk. Neither of which are favorable outcomes, so you barrel through to say what you need to say.
“I don’t care about what he thinks. Not anymore and definitely not that night. I was actually thinking about you the entire time and Atsumu, well, he’s just-”
“Just wait a minute, okay-”
“He just gets under my nerves because of the shit he says and I know he’s just saying stuff to rile me up and I’m a hothead, okay? He gets me because we’re like the same person sometimes, but I’m not doing this to get back at him anymore. It’s actually your fault because-”
“I knew it!” a voice yells from behind Osamu.
You crane your neck to see around Osamu and curse Osamu’s big frame for taking up the entire doorway and blocking your view of the apartment because there is the older twin, grinning widely and walking up to where you’re both standing.
You instantly feel the panic rise in your system.
“Atsumu,” Osamu begins in a warning tone.
Ignoring his brother, Atsumu continues on. “I knew it. I knew the two of ya couldn’t be dating just like that.”
Your nervous system goes into overdrive. Even you know how this looks.
You barged into Osamu’s place randomly at night and picked the time when Atsumu coincidentally is here as well.
Your wide eyes meet Osamu, willing him to believe that you didn’t come to make a scene for Atsumu’s viewing. You didn’t come to confess that you might have a crush on him with this exact timing so that Atsumu would fall for the act.
When Osamu refuses to meet your eyes, it brings your attention back to Atsumu, who continues to gloat about his victory.
Your face burns in mortification as you take slow steps away from the twins, making room for your getaway. As Atsumu gets closer and Osamu continues to avoid your gaze, your courage wanes and the last bit of pride you’re holding onto propels you to turn away instead of retorting as you always do.
“Aww, really let my words get to ya, didn’t ya? I knew all along-”
Before you can start running, Osamu grabs your arm and pulls you into the apartment, the other arm shoving Atsumu out.
“Hey, ‘Samu!”
“Shut the fuck up, ‘Tsumu. Now that my girlfriend’s here to spend the night, get out.” Osamu shuts the door in his face.
Atsumu’s protests fall on deaf ears, the sound of Osamu referring to you as his girlfriend echoing in your mind. He had taken your side, chosen to take the course of action that would embarrass you to least despite not having confirmed what your intentions were. The thought fills you with hope.
He pulls you further into the apartment, sitting you on the barstool. After situating you on the chair, he makes to step out of your personal space, but you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. Your eyes start to sting in frustration that Osamu could somehow believe that this was all just another incident you had orchestrated to get back at his brother. This has all gotten so hopelessly messy.
“Osamu,” you sniffle into his neck. “I didn’t come over here and say all that because I knew Atsumu was listening. I just-” missed you.
He rubs soothing circles into your back, gently enough to make you want to cry more because you don’t deserve this but want it so badly.
“You just…?” he prompts.
The words won’t come out and your tears soak into his shirt. You want to tell him so badly that you’re not crying to garner his sympathy; you’re crying because you’re so angry with yourself.
Osamu patiently strokes your back, letting you cry before quietly telling you, “Oh, baby. How long do ya think we’ve known each other? I know yer not the type to set up this whole complicated scenario just to show up my stupid brother. I believe ya.”
His other arm is now holding your head to his neck, fingers running lightly across your scalp. “So can ya finish what you were about to say for me?”
His words and his actions do what they always do to you. They fill you with so much hope that there’s no room to mistaken his intentions. They fill you with the courage to tell him.
“Missed you,” you whisper.
Finally, both of his arms wrap around your back to push you tight into his chest. He squeezes, gentle enough to keep you safe but firm enough to tell you he wants you there. It pulls the confession out of you.
“And I like you so much, Osamu.”
He chuckles lightly into your ear. You can feel the vibrations echo in his chest. When you squeeze back, he trails his arms down to your legs to guide them around his waist. He carries you with ease to the couch and sits you down to cry in his lap.
You don’t know how long the two of you sit like that for, but when you finally calm down, you keep your arms wrapped around him and quietly ask, “why did you do all this for someone like me?”
He stops stroking your hair.
“What, ya don’t like it?”
You pull away to protest, already too comfortable with him spoiling you again, only to find the corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk.
He’s teasing, you realize.
You smack his face weakly and wind your arms back around him.
You snuggle back into his neck but he’s the one who pulls you back this time.
“Hey, seriously though,” he says. “Is this okay?”
You nod shyly.
“I need to hear it, sweetheart.”
“I want it.”
“Alright. C’mere then.”
You oblige.
“Can I tell ya a secret?” he murmurs into your neck.
You nod.
“There isn’t a man out there who’d do all that for someone he doesn’t love, ya know that?”
It makes you flustered, but much of what Osamu does does that to you. His tenderness makes you want to try harder to meet him in the middle.
“Can I do something?” you ask, taking a leap. Your face is incredibly hot and your heart is beating embarrassingly loudly against his. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
It’s easy when he responds, “You can do anything ya want to me.”
You intend for it to be an innocent peck, your form of an apology. But he holds the back of your neck, the other arm wrapped almost all the way around your torso and doesn’t let go until you’re panting against his open mouth.
He’s nonchalant when he shrugs.
“You can do anything ya want but I’ll be doing the same from now on.”
#noos writes#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu angst#hq fluff#hq angst#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x reader#hq x y/n#hq x you#hq x reader#miya osamu#osamu miya#miya osamu x you#miya osamu x y/n#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu fluff#miya osamu angst#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya x you#osamu miya x y/n#osamu miya fluff#osamu miya angst#osamu x you#osamu x reader#osamu x y/n#osamu angst#osamu fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Fighting for them w/ Hinata, Atsumu, Osamu
Hinata, Miya Twins x Reader (Seperate)// Warnings: Bodily harm and fighting // Word Count: 1000+
Synopsis: In which they are flirted with, and you just can't take it anymore. (DO NOT DO THIS)
Osamu:
This girl had been coming into the shop daily for the past month to stare at Osamu. She always got the same order: an iced matcha tea with a strawberry ice cream mochi. It was just a cutesy order, too. You scoff just as the words leave her mouth.
It's not like it was a bestseller that most people ordered. You must admit you were a tad irrational; some may say it was petty. But she was gawking at YOUR man. It was unforgivable.
You couldn't help but scoff every time she came into the store and ordered in her stupid cute voice, batting her eyelashes, leaning over the counter ever so slightly to make sure he would get a peek at her cleavage. She did the same thing today but went too far this time. She gripped his biceps and gushed over how strong he must be. Those were YOUR BICEPS that only you had the right to feel up and gush over. How dare she!
You had enough. You stomped up to the counter and shoved her out of the way, knocking her to the ground. She looked up at you with wide eyes, almost on the verge of tears. "Back off, my boyfriend," was the only thing you needed to say before she hurried away. "And don't forget your drink!" you yell after her as you grab the order from the counter and cuck it out the door, barely missing her.
"Ya been talkin to Tsumu too much." You look back to Osamu to see him laughing. "Crazy does look hot on you, baby, but you probably shouldn't do that again. I need these people to come back. Yer gonna kill ma livelihood." He came around the counter and planted a kiss on your forehead.
"I'm not crazy! And how come you never said anything to her? " you playfully punch his chest.
"Cuz, I barely notice em. Yer only one for me." you snuggle closer into his chest.
"Okay?"
"Okay."
Atsumu:
"C'mon, babe, talk ta me. I tried to tell 'er off, I swear!" It was after a game, and Atsumu was driving the two of you home, albeit unwillingly on your part. He had to beg you to get in the car, and you were set on taking a taxi. Leading to at least 30 minutes of quiet arguing in the parking garage. You felt a bit guilty making such a fuss, knowing how tired he must be from his game. But it was all the more reason to let you take a taxi like you wanted!
This was probably already bubbling before tonight. About two weeks ago, the Jackles had hired a couple of assistant managers. There was one in particular that gave you pause. You knew her; everyone on the team knew her. Not personally, of course. She was notorious for her affair with a captain of another team down in Okinawa. The scandal was in every magazine across Japan for weeks. It was a shitshow. The captain had to leave the team, and his wife left him, not that he didn't deserve that. And she was forced to step away as well. But it seemed that it didn't damage her professional reputation too much as the Jackles so quickly hired her.
After the game, you saw her throw herself onto Atsumu and gush about how amazing he was. She had his hands all over him.
If you had taken two seconds to process things, you would have seen that he was uncomfortable.
It was outside the locker room, so there was no press, but you were there, and before you knew it, you grabbed onto her hair, pulling her away. She didn't miss a beat, grabbing onto your hair as well. You two wrestled to the ground, scratching each other up before Atsumu finally got you off her. She yelled something about you being "A crazy bitch" before walking off.
Now you were sitting in the car, scratched up with a sore scalp, giving your boyfriend the silent treatment. "Baby, I swear, I was gonna tell 'er off, but ya didn't give me a chance." You stayed quiet, still not looking at him. "Fine, how 'bout I get yer favorite food and give ya all the cuddles ya want." You look at him, arms still crossed on your chest, and grumble, "And we watch a movie.". He smiled a bit and chuckled. "Okay, anythin' ya want. You kinda scare me now, babe."
Hinata:
Shoyo was too pure for his own good. He doesn't even realize the bartender is flirting with him. She was playing right into it, too! She opened by asking about his nice tan, which was all your dear boyfriend needed to start going on and on about Brazil and beach volleyball. In his excitement, he couldn't see how her eyes roamed his dress shirt, which couldn't quite contain his newly built Brazilian body.
But you noticed.
Honestly, after a few drinks, you didn't care if he noticed; you just wanted it to stop. You stomp over from the dance floor to the bar. Pull the bartender in by her ear and pour the drink she had served Hinata down her shirt. This quickly earns you a punch, and before you know it, the two of you grabbed a fistful of each other hair and began screaming obscenities at each other. It took Hinata a minute to process what was happening, and as soon as he did, it took all his strength to pull you two away from each other. After that, you two quickly ran off before the girl returned with the security. You make it outside and lean in an alley while trying to catch your breath when Hinata pipes up, still out of breath.
"Wow, Y/N, when did you get so strong? You have to teach me how to fight like that." He looked at you in awe; honestly, you couldn't help but laugh. You had to admit that you were a tad embarrassed by your outburst. How could you ever let your jealousy get the better of you? He was perfect and absolutely adored you, even in this situation,
A/n: Hi, yes, hello. I just wanted to pop in to say…THIS IS FICTION. Please don't do this in real life!
#haikyuu#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu fluff#haikyu x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu angst#osamu scenarios#haikyuu osamu#osamu headcanons#osamu x reader#miya osamu#atsumu headcanons#msby atsumu#atsumu x reader#miya atsumu#atsumu miya#hinata x reader#hinata headcanons#hinata shouyou#hinata shoyo x reader
566 notes
·
View notes
Text
not strong enough — miya osamu
notes: based off of “not strong enough” by boygenius <3
tags: reverse comfort, cheating implications (no actual cheating), self-deprecation + jealousy (osamu), super heartfelt tho
osamu hadn’t been home lately.
the kitchen was devoid of heart and soul. gone was the warmth that seeped into the apartment at his presence, or the comfort that his voice provided as it wafted through the halls. you didn’t see nor feel him anymore, save for the few glimpses of him getting ready before the sun could even greet your windowsill.
miya osamu was disappearing from your life, and you could do nothing but prepare for it.
you instantly feared the worst — that he was planning to leave you, or that he was seeking solace in another, or anything else that involved him separating himself from the life he built in your shared home. and so, delusion after delusion fed into one another, thus leading to an overwhelming bubble of anxiety that infected every inch of your bones.
when you had finally seen him — not just witnessed his shadow in the darkness of a lonesome bedroom — he appeared as if he had just barely dragged himself home. his skin hung heavy under his eyes, his hair was oily and tousled, his hands seemingly obtained an impossible amount of callouses and burns and scratches. you did not say a word, fearful for his response. instead, you held him in your arms in the doorway as he collapsed to the floor, the buckle of his knees bringing you down with him.
you could hear the remnants of an apology muttered into your shirt (his shirt, truthfully).
“what was that, ‘samu?” you whispered, your voice barely reaching his ears.
he turned his head to look to the side with his cheek still firm on your shoulder. “don’t ya ever wish things were different?”
his voice was hoarse; it was littered with exhaustion and pain and misery that you could not begin to understand. his question nestled itself deep into your lungs. you weren’t entirely sure what he was asking.
“a life where you’re living comfortably … and you’re free to do whatever your want …” he began to trail off, his features lined with sleepiness. “didn’t ya ever want that?”
you began to rub circles around his back, which was damp from the sweat that accumulated beneath his work uniform. you were waiting patiently for him to say it — to tell you to go pursue greater things to conceal his desire to rid himself of you, or that he didn’t deserve you because he had committed an act of betrayal. but instead, he continued, “‘tsumu’s doing great things … ‘n he’s rich ‘n happy ‘n famous and so much more. but what about me? what have i done?”
his words dissipated gradually. the cracks in his voice exposed him quite easily, not to mention the teardrops staining your skin. “you’ve done more than enough for me, ‘samu. i’m sorry i didn’t make you feel that way.” your boyfriend only gripped onto your harder, as if he were scared you would melt away if he didn’t.
“i jus’ wanna make you happy. i’m not sure if my job can even do that,” he muttered. “i’m trying to work harder at the shop, but i’m scared it isn’t enough.”
if it were situationally acceptable, you would have heaved a heavy sigh of relief. but it was not — so instead, you began to hold him impossibly tighter. “you don’t need to work so hard for me to love n’ appreciate you. everything about you is enough to make me happy,” you spoke softly to him. “as long as you’re by my side, i’m happy.”
miya osamu, despite his intricacies, was a delicate man at heart. that night, as you held him at the front door, the porcelain shell concealing his truest soul had shattered.
#haikyuu#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu fanfic#haikyuu!! fanfics#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu smut#haikyuu osamu#osamu haikyuu#osamu miya#miya osamu#osamu x reader#osamu fluff#osamu angst#osamu smut#haikyuu atsumu#atsumu haikyuu#atsumu miya
445 notes
·
View notes
Note
you asked for angst and I hate angst but imma give you some bc I love you.
It is widely accepted that the Miya twins dad is not in the picture. Mama Miya is a single mom and is worshipped by her twin boys. They always prioritize taking care of her bc "she's got no one else but us". Which is great, its one of the reason why you feel in love with your man. But it becomes a hindrance when he starts missing out on things important to you. Esp when their mom didn't even need them there at that moment.
Could work for either Osamu or Atsumu.
I hate my brain.
LIT RALLY HAD A PIECE SIMILAR TO THIS IN THE WORKS BUT I GOT TOO SCARED TO POST IT ABDBEJSBEEI SO THIS IS NOW MY OUTLET 😯🫶🏻
—-
The moon is high in the sky when Osamu finally comes home, your hands buried in the sink as you wash dishes that have been sitting there far too long.
You’d asked osamu to do it, but he hasn’t even been home to look at them. A phone call from his mother took him straight from work to her house almost two hours away, leaving you to your own thoughts and feelings.
You adored Ms. Miya. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was your feeling of neglect brewing in your chest, with each time he leaves you with no regard for your needs.
“Hey Angel,” he hums as he finally crosses over the threshold, toeing off his shoes and tossing his keys on the hook. He says nothing when you merely grunt back, but he does make his way over for a kiss.
You return his kiss, despite your own desires to not, you just wanted to be close to him again, feel his hands cradling your body and relight the love in your soul.
“How was your night?”
“Quiet,” you sigh. “Just… cleaning up from dinner.”
“Shit, you made dinner?” At that moment, his stomach growls, “I was so busy at Ma’s I didn’t get the chance to eat. Do we have leftovers?”
You nod sadly, “yeah. Help yourself.”
“…everything okay?”
“Peachy.”
He clears his throat and picks up a plate from the strainer, “are you sure…? these used to have a design on them.”
You scrub harder.
“Talk to me, baby. I don’t like us keeping secrets from each other.”
“We don’t have secrets. If you can’t use your cognitive thinking skills as to why the person you’re going to marry is mad at you, that’s not my problem.”
“Is this about today?” He asks, voice dropping in defeat.
“Usually is.”
“Baby, you know I-“
The plate snaps under the force of your scrubbing, but you don’t focus on that, though osamu’s brows shoot up.
“Your mother needs you, your mother comes first, your mother asked you, your mother this, your mother that, I KNOW, OSAMU!” You bark, wet fists balled angrily and teeth gritted sharply. “I know the damn drill!”
He takes a step back and raises his hands in surrender, but his brows are furrowed in worry, “hey… it’s okay-“
“It’s not okay!” You yell. Your hands come up to grip your chest, “what about when I need you? Hmm? Where’s my turn to be selfish and need you-“
“My mother is not selfish,” he growls. His brows furrow, “you damn know that.”
You roll your eyes, “no, she’s not. But I want to be. I want to be the big important thing in your life for once, I want to be the thing you run to; I want to be the one you drop everything for.”
“You are, but she needed me today, atsumu couldn’t make it-“
“Yeah, what was the big emergency today, huh? Problem with the internet? Phone bill? Fridge cleaning?”
He doesn’t say anything; merely scratches the back of his head, looking at you with tired eyes as if you’d done this dance far too many times. Which you had- but that’s not your fault.
“Tell you what,” you begin, using your wet hand to grab the engagement ring from the edge of the sink and grab his hand to put it in, “when you can give me more than 4 hours out of the day, you can propose to me again.”
He grips your hand sharply, and for a moment it snaps you back to reality for what you were saying, how venomous and toxic your words were, and your jaw slacks softly, “I… didn’t mean that-“
“We are not going to be this couple,” he snarls. “We are not going to weaponize our engagement when we get into fights. Understand?”
“It just came out-“
“Then keep it in. Do not question my love for you in such a meaningless fight. Do not give me the ring that I decided to give you back, sheerly because you’re mad at me. We’re not going to be a couple that threatens our love from each other. You know better than that.”
The room is silent, the only noise coming from the creaks of the house and osamu doesn’t let go of your hand. His eyes are firm but they shine with betrayal, and his Adams Apple bobs as he swallows thickly.
You sniffle under his intense gaze, “all I wanted was for you to come home,” you whimper. “I got a promotion at work. I cooked dinner, I bought a cake, I-I-I just wanted you to show up.” Your bottom lip wobbles as he simply nods at your words, encouraging you to speak up more if you need to. “I hate sharing you all the time. I want to be selfish and have you come home to me, and not have to wonder about when or if you’re going to come home because of how far away she lives.” He lets go of your hand to wipe a stream of tears that dribble from your eye.
“I just miss you, ‘samu…”
He takes a deep inhale in before pulling you in for a hug, cradling you close and letting you cry in his chest. “Thank you, for being honest,” he says softly, kissing your head. “It must be frustrating to have to share my attention, especially when you have something important to tell me.” He lets you cry it out for a few minutes, before squeezing you closer, “but you have to communicate with me. You have to tell me if you’re feeling neglected. I can’t be here if I don’t know, baby.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m sure you wanted to surprise me today, and I’m sorry that fell through.”
You nod in his chest, relishing in the smell of rice and cologne, mewling and squeezing him tighter.
“How about we take tomorrow off?” He hums, pulling back to cradle your cheek in his big hand. “We can celebrate your promotion, and be together, yeah?”
“W-What about the shop?” You whimper. “That’s more important-“
“No.” He pulls back and looks down firmly. “Don’t finish that sentence. The shop will be plenty fine for one day.” He smiles softly, “after all. Need to celebrate my baby’s big break.”
You give him a watery laugh before inching to be closer to him again, more than anything just glad to be in his vicinity after so long.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you whispered.
“Hmm… what was that?” He asks, cheekily.
Brat.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you repeat, this time with some giggles.
“One more time?”
“Osamu!”
He snickers and places a kiss on top of your head, “I’m so sorry I was busy with Ma all day. I didn’t think it would take that long.”
“What did she need?”
“Eh, she needed her oil changed and god knows atsumu’s not going to do that.”
You laugh against his chest and nod, “he’d never risk messing up his hair like that.”
“Never.”
#osamu miya#osamu miya angst#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya x gn!reader#osamu miya x reader angst#osamu miya imagine#osamu miya haikyuu#miya osamu#miya osamu angst#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x reader angst#miya osamu x gn!reader#miya osamu imagine#miya osamu haikyuu#haikyuu#haikyuu angst#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x reader angst#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyuu x gn!reader#haikyuu x yn#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n#hurt to comfort#hurt/comfort
407 notes
·
View notes
Text
he doesn't mean to make you sad, you know that. it's just that, when atsumu's upset it becomes everyone's problem—yours especially.
you don't know how it starts. atsumu had been bouncing off the walls just a moment ago, drunk off of booze and the afterglow of victory. you don't know which one of his teammates had invited her to the after-party, just that right now, you can't help but hate them.
it's just for a second, but you catch it. the way his eyes immediately dim, how his hand falters around yours. you don't want to jump to conclusions, but it's obvious—atsumu's in love with her. painfully so.
he drops your hand as if burnt and turns away, letting himself be carried off into another conversation. atsumu laughs loud enough to be heard over the music, a deafening house mix that thuds through your chest like a second heartbeat. anyone else might not spare him a second glance, but you know that when atsumu laughs that loud there's something he's trying to hide. then, as if remembering that you're still there, atsumu turns over his shoulder. you answer before he can ask the question.
"no no, go ahead. go have fun!"
atsumu tilts his head, though you know he's only asking to be polite. "are you sure?"
you smile. "no worries."
it's a bold-faced lie, but atsumu's never been that good at paying attention. he returns your smile with an excited nod, letting himself be led away by the shoulders. "don't go anywhere!" he shouts, though you know later on he'll forget to come find you. that's the way it always is. always has been.
you nurse your drink against your chest—water, you don't have the stomach tonight—and try to look on the bright side, if there is one. atsumu had been the one to invite you, hadn't he? and though you're still "just friends", he'd held your hand earlier, so that has to count for something, right?
it's useless. you down your water in one go, figuring that if you treat it like alcohol it might work like it is. it doesn't, and now you're alone at this party with an empty cup and an even emptier hand.
you sigh and snake your way out of the kitchen, making your way up the stairs to the first door that opens. the upstairs is off-limits, but you hope that whoever owns this room is drunk enough to be forgiving. you don't even bother to turn on the lights, and instead flop backwards onto the bed. you feel the music downstairs rather than hearing it, a steady thump-thump-thump that shakes through you from head to toe.
you close your eyes, trying very hard not to think about atsumu and the girl he's still in love with downstairs. it's not your place to be bothered, that you know, but something in your chest still aches at the thought. you've loved atsumu since before he met her, after all. it's a shame he hasn't noticed. or maybe he's not noticing on purpose, which is considerably worse.
"woe is me," you say to no one, your voice biting with sarcasm. you're not shocked at how things are turning out, moreso that you thought it'd turn out any differently. with a sigh, you close your eyes. atsumu will find you eventually. and if he doesn't, then someone else will. you'd rather be cursed at for trespassing than anywhere downstairs, faking a smile as you wait for atsumu like a well-trained dog. at least here you can lick your wounds in private.
you don't know how much time has passed when you feel something press into your side, warm and solid. arms wrap around you: one slung over your waist, the other snaking its way under your head. you turn in confusion, seeing nothing in the dark.
whoever's holding you down reeks heavily of liquor, and their arm feels like a dead weight around you. when you try to pull it off they hold onto you tighter, mumbling something incoherent under their breath. "um, hey," you say loudly, voice hoarse with sleep. "get off of me."
the person beside you stirs, and the bed dips slightly as they prop themselves up. they mumble your name under their breath, and in the dark you can make out the vague outline of a face.
with a start, you realize you recognize that voice. "...osamu?"
he lies back down, bringing you along with him. "h-hey," you start to protest, but osamu's grip grows stronger in response.
"don't leave," he mumbles, as you try to sit up.
"but—"
"m'head hurts. shhh." osamu shushes you, curling up against your side. his hair tickles the side of your reddening cheek.
"hey, osamu." you try to move out from under his arm again, to no avail. "you're really drunk."
"and?" he counters, pulling you closer, almost possessively. "just pretend for a little while."
that catches you off guard. "pretend?"
"it's dark, so it's easier," osamu refuses to elaborate. "c'mon. it's my birthday."
"osamu, your birthday's in october."
"is it?" there's an uncharacteristic cheekiness to osamu's voice, one that makes you turn your head towards him in surprise. you can't see him, but you can tell from the warmth that his face is only inches away. "well it's somebody's birthday, somewhere."
something touches your cheek—osamu's hand? no, his face. somewhere near his chin, guessing by the stubble that scratches your skin. "just do me a favor and pretend i'm him," osamu says, and in that moment he sounds scarily sober.
"wh-what?" you can't help the way your mouth hangs open at the request, your stomach feeling like it's about to drop out of you.
"you heard me," osamu mumbles, back to being drunk again. "pretend i'm him. you know what i mean."
"you—what—that's not—"
"am i wrong?" osamu presses, raising his voice like he's imitating his brother. it works. osamu's fingers trace across your face, reading the shock on your face like braille. you turn your head and press your nose to his neck—no cologne, only the soft smell of skin. it can't be atsumu, but for a moment, you're fooled.
osamu tilts his head and sighs, slow and sweet. and when his lips brush your forehead, it's like everything you've ever dreamed. "i'm right," he breathes, nestling his head against your shoulder. it's not a question anymore, but a fact. "i'm right," he sing-songs, still painfully drunk.
"osamu—"
a hand covers your mouth, warm and firm. softer than atsumu's, and just a bit bigger. "don't say my name like that," he whispers, his voice hot against the shell of your ear, "say it the way you say his."
you swallow an audible gulp. "osa—osamu?" you try again.
osamu shakes his head. needy hands pull you in by the waist. you feel osamu's lips kiss up the side of your neck. "not like that," he murmurs.
"o-osa...mu..." you're breathless and dizzy. you feel osamu's smile against the underside of your jaw.
"better," he grins, and this time, his lips find yours.
it ends before you can even react. osamu pulls away with a shaky exhale, as if he's slowly waking from a dream. his eyes shine back at you in the dark, wide and unblinking.
he opens his mouth to speak. "i—"
"you're drunk," you say immediately, and push him away by the chest.
osamu doesn't let you. he brings his hands over yours and keeps them there, and under the thin cotton of his shirt you feel his heart beating rabbit-fast. "so? i'll still want you when i'm sober."
his words choke your own out of your throat. "osamu...i can't—"
"so don't. don't do anything. just stay the night." there's a desperation in his words that makes your stomach flip. osamu holds onto you like he's afraid to let go. "please."
it's late, and you're tired. atsumu's in love with someone that isn't you, but osamu's arms are warm enough to make you forget. you think to yourself: is it selfish if he's willing? are you cruel for wanting to pretend?
you wrap your arms around his neck and osamu relaxes, melting into you the same way butter does on toast. he's soft, comforting. familiar, but not the same. osamu's lips brush on your neck again and the impact shudders through your spine like electricity. he takes his hands and rubs them over your arms, thinking that you're cold. you don't want to tell him that in reality you're burning up, feeling hot everywhere he touches.
"thank you," osamu murmurs into your hair.
"for what?"
"stayin'."
and when osamu kisses you a second time, you don't have the heart to push him away.
#spwrites#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#osamu x reader#osamu x you#drabble#light angst#unrequited#x reader#i have lots of thoughts about miya osamu#he is very gorgeous to me
480 notes
·
View notes
Text
flower shop girl. miya osamu x fem!reader
+ tags & warnings; not proofread
+ a/n; i wrote this at 2am last night as the idea came to me as i tried to sleep so keep that in mind </3
“Just go give him some flowers Y/N it doesn’t have to be in a romantic way, just a nice neighbourly worker gesture!” Your coworker, Emi suggested.
“I’m pretty sure Osamu-san would take it the wrong way, Emi…”
“But Osamu-san brings us onigiri all the time! So it’s not weird unless you make it weird, Y/N.”
You couldn’t deny your feelings towards Osamu have grown since you started working at the florist. It started with you going to get some lunch and wanting to try “Onigiri Miya” which was located across the road from your work. All your coworkers could only ever speak positively about Osamu’s onigiri. And after trying it you could not blame him. The onigiri was a masterpiece, it was a perfect triangular delight that fit perfectly in the palm of your hand. The outer layer was crafted from expertly seasoned sticky rice. The rice was perfect, not too dry nor too mushy. When the nori seaweed wrapping peeled back a symphony of flavours unfold. It felt as if Osamu had crafted a masterpiece with something as simple as Onigiri.
However, it wasn’t just the onigiri that stirred something within you; it was Osamu Miya himself. Osamu was fine. More than fine to be honest, he himself was like a Greek god. His physique from his volleyball days had slightly decreased since quitting and pursuing the store, but he was still in beautiful shape. The black Onigiri Miya shirt hugged his body just right. His hair was always slightly messy when he came over to the florists from the Onigiri Miya hat. Not only was he hot, he was funny. Everytime you would see him he would crack some jokes that never failed to put a smile on your face. Not only that despite his more dead-pan face, Osamu was great with his customers. He knew them like the back of his hands, he cared, was passionate and he was funny. God, the true triple threat.
“Plus if Osamu finds it cute, maybe your little crush will go further~.” Emi teased.
You gave her a nasty side-eye in return to her snarky comment. “Okay fine, I’ll bring some flowers to Osamu-san after my shift, if that will make you shut it.” Emi’s face lit up at the comment, “BUT. There is a catch. I get to tell Osamu-san it is a gift from the store for all the onigiri he gives us. Deal?”
“Fine, deal.”
“So… Emi… What flowers do I give Osamu-san?” You say awkwardly.
“Well I would recommend tulips - pink tulips in particular if you don’t want it to be romantic. They convey good wishes, yet non-romantic love and affection. Or maybe some daffodils! To celebrate new beginnings and goo-” Emi rambled.
“Y’know what Emi? I think I’ll just make a bouquet myself…” you mumble as you walk off.
You loved Emi but god she could get on your nerves.
You begin taking your time putting together a bouquet for Osamu. Nothing romantic, but also beautiful enough to put the wrong idea in Osamu’s head. It wasn’t supposed to be romantic, just a nice gesture. Despite your admiration for Osamu, you barely knew the guy. He could have a girlfriend or even worse a wife. And you were no home-wrecker. You had finally decided on a bouquet with pinks and whites, with pink carnations, white roses and baby's breath flowers. It was simple, effective and didn't give Osamu the wrong idea, perfect.
“Emi-chan I’m clocking out now~” You call out to your coworker.
“Don’t forget your bouquet, Y/N-san! I’m sure Osamu is going to fall head over heels for you and you two will have like the cutest romance story ever! And I Can say I planned it ALL and I better be a bridesmaid and-”
“Yup, okay Emi.” You say giving her a weak smile and a wave as you walk out.
You crossed the road and walked into Onigiri Miya, the bell jingling as the door opened. Osamu raised his head to greet the customer who entered.
“Welcome! Ho- Oh, it’s one of the flower shop girls. What can I do for ya?” He smiled.
“Oh Osamu-san! I have a gift for you from m- us over at the flower shop because your always so nice to us and bring us onigiri and stuff and we just wanted to say thank you and-”
He cuts you off from your awkward mess of a speech, “Thanks flower shop girl.” He said walking over to you, grabbing the flowers from your hand. “And don’t ya worry yer pretty little head about it, sweetheart.” He examined the bouquet in front of him, looking at the array of flowers. “It’s beautiful…?”
“L/N Y/N.”
“It’s beautiful, L/N-san. What flowers did ya use?” Osamu asks out of curiosity.
“Oh well I used white roses which you can obviously see, and some baby’s breath. The pink touch is some pink carnations, my personal favourite flower! They also express gratitude and stuff… so it’s cool I guess…”
“Well I am super grateful for the gift, L/N.” Osamu smiled.
“Oh uhm… You’re welcome! I have to get going now, Osamu-san!” You say waving as you speed walk to the door. Osamu just waves in confusion in response to your awkward actions.
“God Y/N, why are you so awkward?” You silently cuss yourself out as you walk away.
Days have passed since your very awkward flower delivery to Osamu. The interaction still haunts your mind like a bad dream, that’s what you wished it was. As you care for the flowers towards the back of the door, a familiar figure walks in. Osamu Miya. Just your luck, you gave him an awkward smile before continuing your work. Osamub slowly walks over to your coworker, Maki.
“How can I help you Miya-san?” Maki asks.
“Just wondering if you have any bouquets of pink carnations?” Osamu says, looking around the store, attempting to find some.
“Oh we just got some in before, they are a popular choice at the moment. Y/N sells them quite well, they are her favourite after all.” Maki smiles.
“Well Y/N has some good taste then, they are also a personal favourite of mine.”
“Really! I would not expect that from you Miya! You give off like jasmine vibes.” Maki laughs.
“I only recently found out what carnations are, a very pretty girl said they were her favourite and they just remind me of ‘er.”
A red blush swipes over your face at Osamu’s comment. Were you , the pretty girl? Surely not. Carnations are a common favourite flower and Osamu must know lots of pretty girls, I mean just take a look at him.
Osamu continues his chat with Maki, checking out for his bouquet of flowers. “Thanks so much Miya-san!”
However, Osamu doesn’t leave the store, his steps bring him towards you. He holds the bouquet out towards you, “here flower shop girl. Heard ya like ‘em.”
“Oh really?” You sarcastically respond.
“Yeah, a friend told me.” He jokes back, “a friend also told me I should ask you out on a date, pretty girl. So whatdya say?”
“I’d love to, Osamu.” You smile shyly.
“Tomorrow night at 7pm. Are you free?”
“For you? I guess I could make some time…”
©slut4msby.
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#hq x reader#haikyuu smut#lea's stories :3#slut4msby#osamu#osamu x reader#miya osamu#osamu miya#miya twins#onigiri miya#osamu miya x reader#osamu fluff#haikyuu angst#miya osamu fic#miya osamu x reader
698 notes
·
View notes
Text
osamu miya.
"what do you think is the right way to ask someone out?" osamu's sudden question draws out your attention from your english assignment.
you take a moment to think, and while he thinks you're sorting out the most appropriate answers to his question, you're lost looking the answer to just one question that's plaguing your mind : should you tell him, or not?
"uh, who is it for?" you settle with the conclusion that he's asking that question out of curiosity. after all, you both are at an age where romance gradually becomes an integral parts of almost everyone's life.
out of all the years that you've known osamu— which is for around seven years for now— there has been only one time when you've seen him pursuing someone, and that was your best friend in middle school; and like the good friend you were, you helped the two of them confess to each other. you would walk to school and back, watching them holding hands, make plans without you because they were dating and it was understandable. you didn't mind, not at all, for you weren't in love with him at that point.
looking back now, you wonder if things would've turned out different if you hadn't helped your friend, or if you had realised your feelings a bit earlier. back then, you found it amusing to watch two people in love act like idiots, not knowing it'd all come back to you with a much larger impact.
"someone i like," he replies in his classic monotonous voice, as if he couldn't care less about not telling you who he has a crush on. it's exactly how it was back in middle school. had it not been for your friend, you wouldn't have known she was the one osamu had been planning to ask out all along. "goes to the same university as us, might even be in your biochem class,"
and your mind traces over the image of every single person in your class, crossing out the names that don't seem to fit osamu's taste in romantic partners. it's not the first time you're doing this. in fact, you've gotten used to figuring out whether he would be interested in someone just by looking at them. it's something you've learnt as you got better at hiding your feelings.
you've known him long enough to know who he might date yet still, couldn't bring yourself to believe that you could possibly have a chance with him.
"well, i can't tell you if i don't know the person," something about you makes osamu believe that you're a cupid. you're good at reading people, welcoming, albeit not so good at reaching out to strangers, but you are likeable, more than likeable, actually.
he has seen you set people up, including himself, and excluding yourself. the reason why you're not interested in pursuing someone anymore is beyond his comprehension. you have your fair share of knowledge about relationships, have dated a couple of guys before giving up altogether. it's not like your relationships didn't work, but it always seemed as if you were better off without them.
even while dating, it looks like your eyes are looking for someone else while being in someone's arms.
he sighs, putting down his phone. "just tell me what you like, people aren't much different after all,"
"uh, well, i hate public confessions and people who confess through calls and texts," which stands true for most the people out there. public confessions are more of a show off and confessing through texts is just, not enough. "also, i like to stay at home or be at some cafe so like, arcades, amusement parks and places like those aren't up to my liking either,"
you notice the smile on his face, along with the dreamy eyes and make him look prettier than he already is. frankly, the idea of osamu doing everything you like to ask someone else out hurts more than it should. you're probably not the only persons with those likes and dislikes. you know you should be happy for him and the person he likes because in the end, osamu is everything you, or anyone, could ask for.
"what about flowers? lilacs?" he asks, getting back to his phone.
"what are you doing, congratulating someone on their graduation?" his lips instantly curve into a frown, and you know in his head, he's snickering about how he is not the best when it comes to picking flowers, and that you shouldn't make fun of him for this. "i'd say tulips, they're a better gifts for first dates and confessions,"
one day, back in first year of university, osamu asked you why you don't seek relationships anymore. thinking about it now, you never gave him an absolute answer.
on some days, the answer would be academics, other days, it would be sadness looming over your shoulders after watching your ex with someone else. sometimes, you would excuse it by saying it's a waste of time and when asked when you're drunk, you'd say it's because you already have someone in mind, someone who can't be yours, no matter how much you try.
on some days, you wonder if osamu ever thinks about all the answers, or excuses, you gave to his question. there are times when the worlds makes compels you to believe that osamu likes you back, but then you realise that if he did, he wouldn't have asked out others all this time. you did drop hints regarding your feelings for him, and he failed to catch on for he for too busy looking at everyone except you.
"i wonder why you don't date anymore," the question arises again, flooding all the memories back into your head.
"i did have someone i liked, but he likes someone else," and you realise you can't lie to him anymore. "so, i gave up," osamu finds it amusing how you say those words with a smile, and he finds it despairing knowing that now, you've simply learnt to live with pain while pretending to be okay.
he shoots you a comforting smile, "i hope that wouldn't be the case for me,"
"me too," and you smile back.
he gets off your bed, picking up his jacket while offering soft apologies for the state your bed is in because of him. sometimes, you feel like there should be a warning for everyone who dates him : caution, this man doesn't know how to keep the bed clean. there are nights when you go to sleep thinking about how you're probably the only one who can keep up with this habit of his, and then wake up realising that it wasn't a problem to anyone it now so, it wouldn't be in future either.
it's like oscillating between the possibility and impossibility of him and you, caressing your little heart with false hope.
"ah, what should i say while confessing?" he shoots another question, making you snicker in annoyance.
"c'mon 'samu, you're not asking someone out for the first time,"
"just tell me,"
and you allow yourself to get lost in thoughts again. for a brief second, you consider telling him to not confess. the reason? your feelings, but again, you and him aren't meant to be together in the first place. it's just like how the saying goes— cupids must not fall in love— and you did the forbidden, knowing it would hurt you ten folds more every time you tie his threads with someone that's not you.
"i don't know, just give the flowers and ask if they'd like to go out with you or something," he chimes a faint thank you before leaving your room, and then your apartment. this time, you don't walk up to the door to see him off, neither do you wish him good luck, and surprisingly, osamu doesn't seem to notice your minute absence either.
it's fine, you tell yourself, one of you has to start getting accustomed to the other's absence. while the process has already begun for you, you hope osamu gets used to it as well. you need him to stop reaching you out for relationship advices because you don't know how long you can compose yourself before shattering once again. you try to distract yourself with essays due next month or even further, reading chapters that haven't been taught in class, reading research papers; just anything that can keep your mind off osamu.
you don't want to think about him, or what he's doing. maybe, he's buying the flowers, making preparations or calling his crush and asking them to meet him at their favourite place. even better if his crush confessed while he has been preparing a proposal of his own, it would be cinematic. you don't want to think about him at all, but the more you try, the deeper he engraves inside your mind.
the evening rolls by with you still sitting at your study desk with a bunch of papers lying around a not one complete work. there are rain splatters on your windows and you hope the off-season showers haven't ruined his confession. you can't wish for the other person to like him back, so you just wish for his happiness; whatever makes him happy, even if it means pushing him away.
and when you manage to drag yourself to the kitchen to grab something to eat and make yourself feel better, the sound of your doorbell hits your ears. the rain hits harder, you muster up the energy to walk up to the door.
there's osamu standing with a love sick smile and slightly wet hair, along with rain splatters on his shirt, and the bouquet of tulips in his hand. "will you go out with me?"
#♡ hues'.#♡ handmade.#this is not angst trust me#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#osamu x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu fic#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu headcanons#osamu fluff#osamu headcanons#osamu drabbles#osamu fic#osamu angst#haikyuu angst#miya osamu#haikyuu osamu
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii, do you have any fic recommendations for osamu? I'm currently reading that fake dating fic with atsumu and suna and it's SOOOO good, I would've never found it if it weren't for you 🙏
hihi! i'm so glad to hear that you're enjoying it! it's one of my favorites fr! but i gotchu for osamu ;)
Osamu Recs
Comfort Food by bloomgloomy [ao3]
synopsis: as the msby black jackel's promotions manager, you're hands were full. really, you had no interest in looking for a relationship. but atsumu had other ideas...
short series on some of your crazy adventures with the msby black jackels! feat. matchmaker atsumu and others.
Love at First Bite by secondhand_trash [ao3]
synopsis: you stumbled into onigiri miya on the worst night of your life. yet somehow you just kept coming back.
angst to fluff oneshot. pure osamu wholesomeness!
untitled drabble by @kitashousewife
synopsis: you practically live at the miya household.
adorable drabble that i keep daydreaming about.
babysitting: untitled oneshot by @saigethearies
synopsis: you think it would be a good idea to leave your infant with atsumu for the weekend. osamu strongly disagrees.
mostly just humor! fair warning - there isn't a lot of osamu content. the majority follows atsumu and baby miya!
i'm lovesick, and i'm a fool. by @akimind
synopsis: osamu was never really good with words, but for you he sure does try.
angst to fluff oneshot! you and osamu fight and he gives you a peace offering the only way he knows how...with food.
audacious by @kaiijo
synopsis: you're a traitor and osamu will accept your apology, but he still has to test your loyalty.
silly lil oneshot! osamu is a food nerd let's be real.
flirting with the owner by @kiyosamu
synopsis: you decide to visit your favorite restaurant on your lunch break.
cute oneshot with a flirty osamu and a grossed out atsumu.
osamu feeds you when you don't eat by @luvindrr
synopsis: you've never really had much of an appetite. osamu is not going to let that slide.
fluff oneshot...uhh headcannon that osamu loves shrek anyone?
gym crush: untitled drabble by @kitashousewife
synopsis: it's getting really hard to concentrate on your set when you know he's watching behind you.
lighthearted oneshot! i would die if i went to the same gym as osamu.
Order's Up! by iluveggs [ao3]
synopsis: you felt bad enough that you were coming into the onigiri shop so late with a large order...but wait, was he flirting with you??
adorable fluffy oneshot, osamu is the cutest dork.
and they were roomates reblogged by @hotgirlkags
synopsis: osamu tried to warn you that you don't do well with horror movies. psh as if!
cheesy but cute oneshot with osamu as your roomate!
#osamu stole my heart#i aimed for 10 but got 11 lol#miya osamu#fic rec#haikyuu#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#hq#hq fluff#hq x reader#osamu x reader#osamu x you#osamu x y/n#osamu miya#osamu fluff#ghost rec
237 notes
·
View notes
Text
NAVIGATION
ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK
the cheap exhaust fan in your apartment is indeed falsely advertised, although you had foreseen this happen. a less than two thousand yen worth of device plus free installation is suspicious from the get-go but it's damn worth it for a newly employed healthcare professional living on a salary worth ten percent more than the minimum wage. you don't have to luxury yet to invest on expensive items but you still hoped the machine could perform at least a decent work.
the residue of smoke and moisture from the grilled salmon remains within the humble space of your living room. the smell lingers on the surfaces of the furniture and even on your cotton oversized shirt; a reek hard to remove. you made a mental note to purchase an air purifier on the next month's salary check.
well, at least for positivity's sake, you had a great dinner cooked and served by your personal chef, more like your bestfriend whom you abusively treat as your personal chef (to be fair, he volunteers to cook for you every time he hangs out at your place).
as soon as you finish rinsing off the cloud of soap on the last ceramic dish, you wipe your hands on the towel hanged on a magnetic hook on the refrigerator. your eyes dart to the sofa in the living room. it's empty, left without a trace of a dark haired boy.
your barefeet quietly padded on the wooden floor as your hunch leads you to a room. you can't blame a full time business owner, chef, and your part time life adviser to find the entire week exhausting. afterall, he requested a date night with you so he could unwind.
your head peeks at the doorway of the bedroom and instantly see your bestfriend, osamu miya, lying on his stomach and staring intently at the screen of his phone. he holds the gadget at an eye level as his brows furrow at each movement of his thumb.
"lying down when your stomach's full is bad." he jolts in surprise when he sees you standing next to him. he must have not noticed you coming in as he had his full attention at the bright light in front of him.
as if by instinct, your eyes shift at the screen of his phone. he defensively turns it away from you but your quick eyes were able to catch on an application hued in mustard yellow designed with three horizontal parallel lines.
"is that a dating app?" you plop your body next to him, lying side by side. not giving him a spare second to explain, you immediately snatch the phone from his grasp. "samu, since when?!"
"i used it before but anymore. i'm about to delete it." he didn't try to take back the phone but instead he gives his full trust on you as leans his body towards you, inching the distance between the two of you as he watches you open the application.
"thought you're never the type to use a dating app? what happened to "organic dating is still the best."?" you say using hs own words as you examine the interface of an unfamiliar application.
you share a similar standpoint with him when it comes to dating. when dating apps hit the trends, you were never swayed by it, never tempted to try because you have always believed in meeting a potential lover outside the confines of technology and osamu agrees. to him, the best way to find one's other half is to know them 'the organic way' hence, the quote and quote.
"it was a phase." he responses rather quietly.
"how come i never knew about it?" you find it odd that you've known him for almost a decade and been with him every week since college graduation but never had the idea of his so-called phase.
"it's pointless. give me back my phone, i'll uninstall it." your quick reflex dodges osamu's attempt to steal his phone from you.
"no! i'm not yet done exploring!" you protest.
"there's nothing in there that you'll find interesting!" osamu once again tries to take the phone from you but fails when you twisted your body away from him. losing balance, you fall helplessly on your back with his phone above your face.
"this alone is interesting." you click on an icon shaped in a sillouhette of a man. this action leads you to his profile.
a young osamu wearing a plain black baseball cap that he often sports back in uni stares back at you. his cheeks are tinted in soft red as he flashes a half smile. his arms are crossed in front of him therefore accentuating his broad shoulders. the plain white brick walls behind him heightens the glow on his face. his eyes, however, were dull.
"a college photo, really?" you mock him as you flash him the photo. you inquire, "when was this anyway?"
"third year."
"so, i was in second year."
"hm-hmp." he nods, watching you scan his profile.
"who took this?" you ask as you look closely at the image you have not seen before.
you scroll down to read the details about him typed below the interests section. volleyball and food are his top interests. sounds like him, you thought. a fun fact about him is that he has a twin. his astrology sign and mbti are also indicated below but what caught your eyes is the text inside the description box.
"looking for something casual."
osamu is not the type to date just for the sake of pleasure or the thrill. as far as you know, he takes every relationship to heart. you even tease him about being secretly sentimental. you jested that his reputation does not live up to his reality.
"suna took the photo and installed the app. all on that same night." he mirrors you, lying on his back as he looks at the phone.
"you look tipsy. were you drinking?" you point at his redded cheeks. he smiles softly, admiring your attention to details.
"yeah, we were."
"and you didn't invite me?! suna was there!" you dramatically gasp at him, forming your mouth into an 'o'. your reaction earns an airy chuckle.
"you were busy."
"i'm never too busy to hangout with you and drink."
"but you were." the smile on his face fades as he meets with your eyes, neck turned to the side so you are face-to-face with him.
"with academics? pft, second year was terrible. i can still remember the stress and agony i went through day by day. it was a hellhole. i'm sure i needed a break. i'm offended that you didn't invite me four years ago."
"no, not with school..." there was a brief pause, but it was long enough to build tension. he gazes at you intently before continuing. "...but with someone else." his words leave a thick air in the room. there's a subtle hint in his tone that you couldn't brush off and for some reasons you're tongue tied, unable to spurt out a comment about the particular ex he is referring to.
when silence took longer than it should, osamu takes the initiative to break the ice.
"give it back." he says, shifting his eyes to the device but does no effort to retrieve it.
"no." you turn your attention back to the gadget before clicking on the home menu. a picture of a woman around your age appears. "let's do a final swipe before you delete it." you prop back on your elbows.
unknotting the tightness in your stomach and reducing the sudden awkwardness from the previous conversation, you begin to read the details of the said woman in a rather playful tone.
"aries, twenty four, loves to workout, occassionally smokes and drinks, and does not want children." you highlight the last statement before giving him a look. you arch a brow at him. "you want children. not a match. left!"
osamu laughs, spreading a hand out. "alright, that's a swipe. my phone, please."
"final swipes. come on, don't spoil the fun." you say, rolling your eyes at him. he allows you to use his account, watching you swipe left after left in a quick manner without even reading the details of the suggested matches.
"you're not even paying attention!" osamu blurts out between laughs.
"not my type, not for you."
"how can you know they're not your type when you don't spare a second looking at them?!"
"i know at a first glance." you pull a serious yet playful face. you purse your lips like a detective about to crack a case and osamu finds it hard to stifle a laugh. "look, here." you turn the screen slightly towards him so he could see the woman's face.
"she will definitely ghost you." swipe left.
"guaranteed, she has ten other men talking to her." swipe left.
"she has her friends backing her up so talking to her may equate to talking her group of friends." swipe left.
"how do you even know that?!" at this point, osamu crashes his head on the mattress, laughing his head off. "you're judgemental."
"i know and i'm not proud of it." you continue to swipe left.
then, a photo of a woman with loops of hair falling graciously above her shoulder appears. she wears a light make up, a glossy tint bring fore to her plump lips. to say the least, she's beautiful. she has the aura of a woman who naturally has men lining up for him. you even find yourself attracted to her but an underlying envy simmers inside you. you bite onto your mollars and though you're apprehensive to know the truth, you dived in head first.
"is she your type?" you ask. osamu raises his head to peer at the screen of his phone. his eyes widen, taking interest at the woman in the dating app.
it takes it all in you not to turn the phone away from him but the unwavering look on his face lets you know the he is captivated by her. you should have not asked, a whisper hushes at the back of your head.
osamu finally averts his eyes away from the screen to look at you. he swallows. "no."
liar.
you bitterly huff, turning to look at the photo. "then what's your type?"
osamu leaves your question unanswered and as stillness dragged on, you take this as a cue to look at him. you are instantly met with a pair of hooded eyes. a deep hue of blue and gray adorns his orbs as he gently holds yours with fondness.
his eyes dart down on your face, your chin probably, you aren't sure where he's focused at and rested there for a moment before dithering back to meet with your eyes.
even with a decade long of friendship there are still boundaries where one should not cross. never once he touched you without your consent, never has he asked private questions that will make you feel unease. he was careful, always. respecting your boundaries as you do the same for him. but tonight he takes a leap, crossing lines he shouldn't but wished should have years ago. tossing the risks of ruining ten years of friendship for something more.
his lips smack against your mouth, answering your question with an action rather words. as you feel the touch of his sensitive skin against your mouth, a realization pops in your headㅡa thought that frightens you.
you can never go back to just being friends.
continue reading
masterlist | hq.list
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#miya osamu#osamu x y/n#osamu fluff#osamu angst#osamu x reader#hq osamu#hq romance#osamu fanfiction#hq fanfiction#hq fanfic#hq oneshots#hq x reader#osamu miya angst#hq fluff#hq angst#friends to lovers#pea.writes
76 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
mikayuumika
together, forever
soryualeksi
Copic-Addicted Renegade
winstonlawcenter4
winstonlawcenter
rebelatnight
Something Something, Generational Trauma
haruka16nsn
NISHINO Haruka