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rintarobun · 2 years

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still the same— miya osamu

tags/warnings: friends to lovers, angst, fluff, pining, reader is hopelessly in love with osamu but he doesn’t know : (

word count: 3.5k

note: this is part of @hishalo it’s always been you collab, so i hope you enjoy ! more parts will be coming soon <3

also on: ao3

summary: you’ve been in love with your best friend ever since middle school. you’ve been there for him to cheer him on in volleyball and taste his onigiri recipes, and even when he begins seeing someone, you’re still there. but you pursue a different path, moving away to chase your dreams. when you return to your hometown, you encounter osamu once again and are thrown back to high school, falling for him all over again.

If you asked someone what emotion they felt when they were with their best friend, the last emotion you’d expect them to say is sadness.

But sometimes, when you were with Osamu, laughing on his bedroom floor or wiping stray grains of rice from his cheeks, you felt overwhelmingly sad and hopeless. Not because of his company, but because of a lack of feelings on his part. To put it simply, you were very much in love with your best friend who certainly didn’t feel the same way about you, and you could never tell him that you loved him.

Miya Osamu, one-half of the terrifying Miya twins, had been your best friend since middle school. Though you couldn’t care less about Atsumu (you suspected he still resented the fact he had to share his brother with you), you instantly clicked with the gray-eyed twin. It all started in the cafeteria, when his bowl of rice flew off his lunch tray, landing pitifully on the ground and on your new shoes. Osamu promptly started yelling at his twin, going on about how it was Atsumu’s fault for constantly bumping into him, which made the rice tip over. The honey-eyed twin denied such claims, flailing his arms all over in his passionate shouts, nearly hitting you in the face. The argument lasted around a minute (all of which Suna Rintaro had caught on his phone) and didn’t end until you cleared your throat, finally catching the attention of Osamu.

“I’m so sorry for ruining your shoes— it wasn’t my fault though. It was my idiot brother’s fault,” he stuttered out, grabbing Atsumu’s head and forcing it down as they bowed in apology.

“Oi! I told ya already— it was too your fault! You were the one who bumped into me first,” Atsumu grumbled.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Really, it’s alright,” you said, awkwardly looking between the brothers.

“No, it’s not! Those shoes looked new, and ‘Tsumu here ruined them!” Osamu protested, dodging another a blow from his brother.

“Are you two going to fight to rest of lunch period?” you sighed.

“Huh?” Atsumu asked, straightening up.

“Half of the lunch break has already passed, and none of us have even sat down to eat our food,” you pointed out, only receiving twin blank stares in return.

“Here,” you split half of your meal, transferring the food onto Osamu’s empty one.

His gray eyes glanced up from the food you dumped on his plate, meeting yours in a glossy gaze of wonder. Like you were some goddess divine who just blessed him with the best gift. He continued to stare at you like that for a moment, and you shifted uncomfortably under his prolonged eye contact.

Osamu continued to stand in silence, until suddenly he blurted out a enthusiastic “thank you!” before bowing to you and scurrying off to a table with his brother.

You remained frozen and confused for a beat, before turning away.

“So weird,” you muttered under your breath, hoping you would never have to endure another awkward encounter like that.

You continued through your day, wiping your shoes clean and dismissing the image of gray eyes shining up at you, making a vow to never talk to a Miya boy ever again.

Within the week, you had failed in your attempt to block out the Miyas.

You had become Osamu’s new favorite person, much to your dismay. It turned out the way to his little heart was food, and it was wholly dedicated to you (and partially Atsumu). You had a mere week of peace before a certain twin scurried up to you during lunch.

“What’s your favorite snack?” Osamu blurted out.

“Onigiri is really tasty, I guess,” you replied softly. You began to eat, willing the pair of eyes watching you to leave.

“Oh. Onigiri’s okay. My ma makes it sometimes for Atsumu and me,” he comments, still standing by you.

You only grunted in response, too busy eating to formulate a better response.

After a few minutes (way too long in your opinion), Osamu finally left you to enjoy your lunch in peace. You hummed in joy at the idea of breaking his weird resolve to talk to you, and munched on your udon.

Two weeks went by this time until Osamu Miya showed up at your lunch table once again.

This time, he brought a small bento, presenting it to your with a similar energy of a dog when it fetches a ball and brings it back to its owner. His eyes had a certain shine to them, like they did when you first met. You decided that he just did that whenever food was involved.

“Here! My ma finally made onigiri for ‘Tsumu and me, and I had her make some extra for you,” he said as he pushed the bento in front of you.

You stopped mid bite to glance up at the boy. He’s rocking on his heels in excitement, waiting for your reaction.

“What kind?” You asked.

“Salmon,” he replied.

“Cool, thanks,” you dismissed.

Osamu stood, waiting for you to open bento, wanting to see the smile on your face that his mother’s food always managed to put on his. But you didn’t reach for the box, and after waiting a little, he realized he probably wasn’t going to see you smile, and left.

The next day, you stood awkwardly at the table where the Miyas usually sat, next to some volleyball teammates. As they began to fill in, they glanced at you and the bento in your hand, whispering to each other, presumably about you.

You caught the words “crush” and “confession” among their murmurs, and finally one of them asked,

“Why are you holding a bento? You going to confess or something?”

You stared blankly at the boy, internally cringing at his nasally voice that hadn’t quite settled into a lower timbre, and the red blotches on his face. Why did boys have to be like this?

“No, I’m just returning this to Osamu,” you sighed.

“So… you don’t have a crush on him?” a different boy asked.

You suppressed a groan, hoping for the first time that Osamu would appear any second.

“Ew, definitely not,” you declared, “I would never have a crush on him.”

“Have a crush on who?” A familiar voice asked. As you turned around, Osamu and Atsumu walked towards your table, lunch trays in hand.

“No one,” you said quickly, shoving the bento in Osamu’s hands and promptly walking away before he could reply.

Two days later, when the light was blocked from a looming figure, you didn’t even bother to look up to see who it is. It wasn’t until the figure moved from standing to sitting did your head snap up to meet gray eyes.

“Did you like the onigiri?” Osamu asked simply.

You nodded, still dazed that he decided to sit with you instead of standing and waiting.

“Do you want me to bring you more whenever Ma makes it?” He offered you. The gleam in his eyes came back at the new mention of bringing food.

“Umm, sure,” you replied.

Osamu silently nodded, reclining in his chair and not saying anything more.

After an intense pause, you blurted out,

“Do you have a crush on me or something?”

You slapped your hand over your mouth as soon as you finished your question. The smack of the contact seemed to echo in the lunchroom, where all eyes were trained on your table after your (quite loud) outburst.

Osamu reeled back, blinking in surprise, before doing the last thing you’d expect him to do— laugh. It was a full laugh, one that came from his belly and was wholly felt in his heart. You thought it was a nice sound, if not a little too booming though. And you didn’t know why or when, but somewhere in the next few seconds, you had began to laugh along with him. Soon, the rest of the students had returned to their normal conversations, but you and Osamu continued to laugh. It started up again every time you stole a glance at him, and any progress in calming down was thrown out the window. You spend the rest of the lunch period staying like that— with Osamu, laughing and giggling over some unsaid joke that only you two seemed to understand.

Ever since that incident, Osamu became your other half— the sort of twin you never had. You no longer sat alone at lunch, as Osamu would always set his tray across yours every day. You would always scoop out your excess food on his tray, and in return, he would come bearing homemade onigiri at least once every week. Both of you discovered a shared love of food, dislike for his brother, and random things you would have never thought anyone else would enjoy. Soon, the two of you fell into a routine. You would spend your commute to and from school with Osamu (who often ditched his tardy brother), and met up again in the middle of the day for lunch. Atsumu was very vocal about his misery whenever Osamu was busy hanging out with you, but after a while you three formed a loose friendship. And by the end of your first year, you had completely broken your vow to never talk to a Miya boy.

Middle school went by in a flash— you discovered a passion for drawing and joined the art club while the twins continued to chase greatness on the volleyball court. You supported Osamu— coming to every game you could, fighting against your anxiety of crowds and loud noises to be able to cheer him on. He always made it up to you by giving double the onigiri he normally did. By his third year of middle school, Osamu had learned his mother’s recipe, always experimenting with different flavors (that you always taste-tested for him). You became an honorary Miya— his parents used to seeing you in their home, and your own parents insisted Osamu made himself at home after his fifth visit. After graduation, you all made sure to go to the same high school so you would still be together. You enrolled at Inarizaki, where the twins would play on the nationally renowned volleyball team and you would participate in the art program. Everything worked out perfectly for you— what could go wrong?

You quickly learned high school would be the start of your heartache.

Osamu Miya had been your best friend for the past three years— you had never felt discontented with him by your side. But somewhere along the summer entering your first year of high school, you began to feel an aching in your heart. You noticed it every time you hung out with Osamu, and though he hadn’t changed, it seemed you had.

“I think I have a crush on my best friend,” you confessed, flopping on your bed pitifully.

Your cousin, Yua, giggled next to you on the mattress, rolling over to face you.

“My, my, my, look who finally decided to grow up and face their feelings,” she teased.

You huffed, chucking a vabo-chan plush in her face.

“But seriously, you’re just now realizing your feelings for Osamu?” she continued, “you’ve been whining all summer about how you’re so sad he only sees you as a friend.”

“I never said any of that,” you scoffed.

“But I know that’s what you meant from all those phone calls crying over ‘his slightly crooked grin’ and how ‘he doesn’t seem to really see me anymore’,” she explained.

“Well I didn’t think those things were what a crush was! Aren’t crushes supposed to be when you giggle uncontrollably and feel butterflies every time he’s around?”

“I’ve seen the way you act around Osamu— your laugh is way more high pitched with him than with me,”

“Hey!”

“I’m just stating facts! And you can’t tell me that you don’t feel a few butterflies when you two hang out,”

You wilted under Yua’s pointed look, sighing in resignation at her statement.

“Yeah, I guess the truth has been there all along,”

“Yeah, it definitely has,”

You shoved Yua, laughing with her as you both fell back on the bed.

“Do you think this will change anything between us?”

“Depends on if you want it to change,”

You sighed, taking a minute before slowing answering,

“Sometimes I do wish we were more than just friends, but I think I would rather have him as a friend than not him at all.”

“Then, I would advise you to proceed with caution. Because it sounds like your heart might be hurt either way,”

“Osamu could never hurt me,” you insisted.

“I’m just saying, there might be a day where you have to choose whether to hold onto a past friendship or move on with a new romance,” Yua stated, “the middle is a dangerous place to stay.”

Some days, you questioned if not doing anything about your feelings was the right choice. It left you mourning a possible relationship that you didn’t have with Osamu, and fearful of losing a close friendship. Were you being selfish for not picking a side? Did you want too much from one person?

You began to feel overwhelmed from the constant longing and worrying, but the worst part was that you couldn’t share any of it with the person you normally would talk to. The boy who would lend you his shoulder to cry on, offer your favorite snack, and always make you smile was the source of all your happiness and the reason for your sorrow.

Osamu immediately noticed a shift in your dynamic once you graduated from middle school. The changes were subtle, but Osamu prided himself on being the observant twin. He noticed how you always seemed a little less comfortable when it was just you two, and how you always seemed to be hiding a secret from him. He tried to be understanding— you both were going into high school, a lot of changes were happening, and more of his time was taken up by volleyball. Was this what drifting apart looked like? It scared him so bad to think that you two wouldn’t be best friends forever, and that he wouldn’t have you to cook food for, to see you cheering in the stands at his games, and to laugh together with.

If you were moving in separate paths, he could possibly accept that, but not before trying everything he could to save your friendship.

“What’s been going on with you?” Osamu asked you one night, gently nudging your shoulder as he joined you on your favorite park bench.

You internally tensed, running excuses through your head that would satisfy Osamu enough to make him stop prying further. Keeping your crush from him was hard enough, you doubted you had the willpower to fabricate a whole story and lie straight to your best friend’s face.

“I don’t want to make you talk if you don’t want to, it’s just you’ve seemed so far away recently,”

You remained silent, avoiding his pained eyes. His words stabbed your heart, and you cursed yourself for causing the hurt tone in Osamu’ as voice.

“I don’t mean to seem like I’m ignoring you, ‘Samu— it’s just I’m going through something I can’t exactly talk about with you,”

Osamu nodded his head slowly, but you can tell it’s not the answer he wanted to hear. He reached into his jacket, and pulled out two salmon onigiri. He silently offered you one, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile at his antics.

“Why am I not surprised you stuffed two whole onigiri in your jacket and brought them all the way here,” you teased.

He simply smiled at you, digging into the snack.

Finally, you quietly muttered, “I just don’t want anything to change between us.”

And that was the truth, partially. Because while you really did hope your friendship would stay constant, you couldn’t deny the desire for a different love to grow between you.

“It won’t,” Osamu declared, “all we’re doing is going to high school— it won’t change anything about us or our friendship.”

With that certainty, you almost wanted to believe him.

“Promise?” you asked, lifting your pinkie in the air.

“I promise ya,” he answered, linking his finger with yours.

You knew Osamu never made promises he wouldn’t keep, now you just had to keep your end of the promise and not let affections get in the way.

The twins were immediately popular due to their position on the volleyball team, and their handsome faces and athletic builds didn’t help in warding off the group of fans that would flirt with them daily. And with news of Inarizaki making it to nationals again with the unstoppable Miya twins at the vanguard, the boys were as popular as ever. Atsumu relished in the attention, always leading them on and accepting gifts with pride. Osamu, in contrast, disliked the attention and simply accepted gifts and would politely explain that he wasn’t looking to date anyone. His refusal often just led to them trying their luck with the blonde twin, leaving their attraction to Osamu in the dust. But a few loyal fans pursued him even after being denied, and they quickly noticed your closeness to the spiker. Countless strangers would come to you, handing gifts and homemade goods to relay to your best friend, or a few would treat you rudely out of jealousy.

“Why do you always turn down confessions?” you finally asked Osamu on the way back home one night. The two of you had shared the box of nicely decorated cookies a first year shyly presented to Osamu earlier.

“I’m just not really interested in any of them,” he replied, wiping his hands on his shirt to get rid of stray crumbs.

“Is there someone else you had in mind?” you inquired.

Someone like me? Your heart whispered.

Osamu rubbed the back of his neck bashfully before admitting, “yeah, actually someone does come to mind.”

Oh.

“Yo—you like somebody?”you spluttered, astonished he yielded so easily to your questioning.

He must really like them, whoever it is, you thought mournfully.

“Yeah, I do,” he stated simply, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Do I know them?” you probed.

He shrugged his shoulders, replying, “they’re a classmate of mine that I’ve shared a lot of classes with, but I think I’m just now noticing them.”

Your heart fluttered slightly at this description.

No way he’s actually talking about me, though.

“Are you going to tell them you like them?” you posed.

“Maybe,” he hummed, “I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

His eyes finally met yours, and flickered down to your mouth. Slowly, he reached out and brushed his thumb against the corner of your lips. A small satisfied smile broke out on his face as he retracted his hand.

Your breath stuttered as your brain processed what just happened. You could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks and prayed Osamu wouldn’t notice the flushed color.

“There was a crumb on your face,” he stammered.

Were you just imagining the matching stain of pink on his cheeks?

You opened your mouth to reply, but a loud shout silenced whatever words you had to say.

“OI!”

Both of you turned around to see Atsumu barreling down the lane.

“C’mere, ya scrub! Ma won’t let me eat dinner until ya come home,” he complained.

“Shuddap, ‘Tsumu! Ya wake up the neighbors with your shouting!” Osamu scolded.

Knowing the argument that was to come, you lazily bid goodbye to the twins and made your way home.

Though the street was quiet, with only the scuffing of your shoes filling the silence, your thoughts were loud as they circled.

Osamu didn’t have a crush on you. There was no way. He hadn’t changed the way he acted or did anything to raise suspicion of affection.

Not unless you counted the description of the person he liked and him being flustered to wipe stray crumbs off your face.

But plenty of people fit his description along with you, and he could have been embarrassed because you two are just friends.

Osamu Miya, your best friend whom you harbored the biggest crush on, definitely didn’t like you back.

Even though he never really interacted with other girls, exclusively made food and treats for you, and refuses to give you the name of the person he’s interested in.

And that’s not even mentioning how he lent you his jacket on cold nights, nursed you when you were ill, or seemed to remember every little detail or quirk you mentioned.

“All that worrying isn’t going to do you any good,” you could basically hear your mother’s nagging in your head.

You knew she was right, and that running through the questions of “does he?” and “what if?” did nothing for you. A definitive answer of knowing who Osamu liked, however, would.

You easily typed in a memorized number, and before the second ring you heard a familiar greeting.

“Suna, I need your help with something,”

*reblogs and comments are appreciated : )

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu x reader #osamu fanfiction #hq x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #chlo's.writings #— it’s always been you collab #thank you emily for helping me 🫶🏼

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taeyamayang · 1 year

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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.

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

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daebraeksan · 2 years

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Hanging out with Osamu, he comforts reader over unrequited crush , but also idk reader’s past in general or something I don’t know

a/n: what kind of title is that lol. I’ve given up on everything. I’m in my flop era. Anyway.

edit: a/n2: fixed some typos. i am SO SORRY yall, so embarrassing <3 anyway enjoy again

Genre: college au, hurt/comfort (kind of? More like a respectful distraction? idk), pre-relationship, new friendship,

Contents: Negativity, low self esteem*like horribly low, depression, overly critical of self for having a crush, Osamu cooks/bakes for you, suspicion/not trusting, implied past trauma, surprise appearance from some boys at the end :)

Wc: 4136

#*#*#*#*#*#*#

Normally, you keep a tight lid on your emotions. You don’t want to get out of control. You don’t want to feel too much pain. You try to regulate your intake and output. You try to be careful.

So when these unruly emotions emerge inside of you—jealousy, pain, others you don’t want to name, roiling, writhing, clawing, and snarling—you panic. The alarm bells clamor. You don’t want to know what could happen. You just want this to be over. You don’t want to feel these things.

You need somewhere to go.

Your brain is so well-worn on the pattern of disappointment and abandonment, that you almost forget to tell yourself not to make this a big deal. You’re almost confused why you are this upset. It’s the same old, same old. You never get what you want. So, when your crush asked someone else out, what’s the difference? You don't even know them that well. Why would they even like you? You got no vibes that they liked you back.

You wrack your brain for why you’re feeling this pain.

Aren’t you smarter than this? Haven’t you been through this before?

You find the treacherous thread of hope, snaking and coiling through your chest, wrapping your heart and squeezing. It felt like a hug, when suddenly, it was thorns unsheathed and sliced through your heart.

Reality.

You think you’re a level headed person.

And then something like this happens. The treacherous hope bursts inside of you, buzzing, fueling you. For how long? For how many days of insidious tormented fantasizing?

It's sad that the “thing” you thought “would be different this time”, for something so stupid, like—But you actually spoke to them. Shouldn’t that be enough? Like. You did something new. You got out of your comfort zone. You overcame something you used to be afraid of. (You are going to be afraid to repeat it again, now. Don't let anyone ever tell you that efforts are going to be rewarded. That’s not necessarily true.) You literally introduced yourself and exchanged numbers. And on top of that, you tried to converse with them.

You literally did so much. You wish you could be proud of that, stopping while you’re ahead. Usually, you like your crushes from a distance. Sometimes it's agony, sometimes it’s something fun to do, to occupy your time from life. You need a distraction from your problems, and thinking about a crush is fun. And then there’s always the inevitable downfall of when it stops being fun. You start to remember that no one would ever like you back. You aren’t attractive. You are weird. You are socially awkward, can’t keep up a conversation, you have nothing interesting to say. Nothing that people would want to hear. And you don’t know that many people with your common interests, anyway. There’s no way you can improve. You’re too scared to practice talking to people, so you’re never going to get better. You can’t rely on looks to draw people in. You think you are a great friend once people get to know you, but it’s the initial barrier that sucks. You can’t overcome the stress of talking to people in order for anyone to be able to get to know you in the first place.

And that’s what happened this time, too. You were right! It didn’t matter that this time, you were “ready” to try. Why? What good did it get you? You were willing to put yourself out there. You were tired of being alone, and tired of not believing in yourself.

And now, what?

You wished you could say you weren’t so arrogant to think things would work out for yourself. But you let yourself get fooled. You really thought for a second that something would work out for you! Pathetic.

You don’t exactly want to be in your room anymore and you don’t exactly want to be seen by anyone.

But it’s Thursday evening, so that means the weekend has already started, so that means everyone with friends is already out doing things. You should be safe to take a break from your depression hole and make a new temporary depression hole in the study room.

You grab your backpack and blanket and honestly debate wearing a fluffy robe over your clothes. But maybe that’s overkill. You stick your feet into fluffy slippers and triple check that you have your room key and head out to have a depressing time doing homework.

He was out of your league in every way.

What were you thinking?

You get through your pre-homework tumblr scroll and then finish re-reading the assignment. You’ve barely started on it when you hear the door swing open.

You freeze.

If the room is occupied, people would just leave.

Or they might ask if they can share. You hadn't expected this to occur. You genuinely thought everyone would already be out partying by now. Who the heck goes to college to do homework? Only people with no friends.

You think it will be fine if they take the other table and you just ignore them and stay here. What’s the rush? What’s the issue?

If you really need to leave, you can leave. Who cares? You’re too sad to do homework anyway. This is honestly overkill for the emotional state you’re in.

Everything is too much.

You take a deep breath and keep looking down. You really don’t want to acknowledge whoever came in first.

They probably won’t acknowledge you either, because no one does. You’re practically invisible.

And then you hear your name.

Tension shoots up your spine.

You don’t even want to look up.

But you have to, because it’s Osamu, and he’s really been nothing but nice to you since you met him.

Shockingly.

For someone who definitely has a girlfriend, or at least has no shortage of people to date or hook up with, he sure has a lot of kindness to go around.

Him having time to be nice to you is weird.

It doesn’t make sense.

“Hey,” you say. You blink at him. He’s looking particularly cozy in a cream cable knit sweater, sweatpants, and slippers.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says.

You smile humorously and shrug.

“What are you up to?”

“Homework,” you say, boringly.

“Ah,” he says. “Have a busy night ahead of you?”

“If I can manage. But probably not. I feel like I’ll give up soon and just go back to my room.”

“Oh. So you might be free this evening?” Osamu asks.

You look at him in confusion. “I guess I’m free basically every evening,” is a horrible way to out yourself as a loser. Not that Osamu wouldn't already know that. “What are you up to?” you ask him, eyeing him critically that he has entered the study room with no study materials.

“Oh,” he says, taking a quick look around as if he lost his excuse somewhere in the room. He looks back at you and grins. “I was on my way back to my room, and I saw you in here, so I wanted to say hi.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you say, trying not to actually take his actions to heart. Why would you want literally another repeat of what happened thirty minutes ago—believing that just simply talking to a boy meant you had “a chance” with him—to be special and valued, liked, admired, thought to be pretty? No. “What are you up to this evening?” you ask, not because you actually want to know—it’s different knowing in a vague sense that everyone has friends that they can hang out with and you don’t, you really don’t need details and specifics, but also you’re nothing if not full of boring small talk.

“Probably hanging out with the boys,” Osamu says. “You want to come?”

You blink at him. Social anxiety and fear of abandonment keep you frozen. Why even try to make friends if you’re just not going to be enough, and they are just going to be disappointed in you and not want to invite you ever again? You don't want a pity invite.

“Aw, thanks,” you say. “I can’t impose, though.”

“It’s not an imposition, I’m inviting you! Or we could hang out. Just us,” he says.

You really wonder if he and his girlfriend are so mature and chill that they are okay with this. Seems pretty unusual for someone seemingly as normal as him and potentially (though you really shouldn't assume) cishet as him.

“Oh,” you say

“I don’t want to impose,” Osamu says.

You can’t tell if he’s making fun of you.

“You’d have more fun with your friends. I don't want to interrupt your plans.”

“They’d be fine without me for one night,” Osamu says hopefully.

You send a wobbly smile his way. Why is he fighting you on this? You’re giving him every out. Are you his new charity case or something? He’s extended far more than the courtesy kindness you would have needed to receive. Basic human decency and respect, check. What is he still doing here? “They might not be,” you say, in a dull, but faux-warning tone. “They need you.”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a second, almost in confusion, and then smirks at you. “You're funny.”

It’s your turn to look at him thoughtfully, critically, appraisingly, and try to figure out his game plan. What the fuck is he doing? You are funny, it’s true, but sometimes people can say something true on accident, without realizing it. You're funny, but you haven’t said anything funny tonight, to him. So you don’t know why he would say that. What could he possibly mean by that? He’s probably saying that you’re awkward and stupid and why are you still talking to him? Ugh.

“I don’t think I’ll be much fun to hang out with tonight,” you say, deciding that being pathetic and honest might get you the result you need—to be left alone. You don’t want him to see you that way, but you’re panicking and you need an out. “I’m not in the best mood.”

“Oh,” he says, faltering for the first time in the conversation.

You feel like a sick horrible person for feeling a sense of accomplishment and pride at that—and success. You’ve successfully alienated him enough to where he probably will never want to talk to you again! Because you’re too much of a burden, your emotions are a burden and inconvenient, you’re stupid, you’re not normal, you’re too difficult to have around. Yeah.

All of that.

“I. I am so sorry if I was overstepping and bothering you,” he says.

You shake your head. “You had no way of knowing. Don’t worry about it. Good night.”

He looks at you with some kind of urgency in his eyes. “Oh. Okay. Good night. I—Well. If you ever wanted to talk about something like this one day, I might not look it, but I’m actually a pretty good listener.”

Actually, in his little cable knit sweater, he looks more like a goodie two shoes good listener than he ever has looked. Normally he looks like a rascal and a trouble maker and his mischievous face can hardly hide his intentions.

You tell yourself to shut up. You tell yourself to stop getting carried away. It’s not his fault that he’s unfairly cute and attractive. And you wish you could say it’s not your fault that you’re attracted to him.

But you should know better.

“Oh,” you say. “I couldn't possibly—it’s stupid. And embarrassing.”

“Your emotions aren’t stupid and emabrassing!” he exclaims.

You sigh. Actually, the urge to overshare is really strong. But you have to remain calm. You can’t dump all your issues on this practically-stranger.

“I know we’re not that close, but we’ll never get close if we don't talk about some serious stuff eventually,” he says.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I don't’ think that’s how it exactly works.”

Osamu cocks his head. “Isn’t it?”

You don’t answer.

He nods with finality. “I really don’t want to push the issue,” he says. “I do want to hang out with you. But I understand if it’s a no, and maybe I can ask you a different time. But. Could I tempt you with a sweet treat and then we could talk about it?”

You blush, thinking of him feeding you your favorite dessert.

No! No. Stop it. STOP THIS!

“Or,” he says. “I’ll just make it for you. We don’t even have to hang out today. But I'll drop it off at your room later. As a treat. To cheer you up.”

“No, no, it’s okay—”

“Okay, I’m going to leave you alone now,” he says. “Have a good night. I will be by later with your snack.”

He scuttles away before you can protest.

You look down at your homework.

You suppose you might as well work until he’s done with his kitchen excursion.

#*#*#*#

True to your word, you for the most part, diligently get ahead on your assignments. Osamu swings by the study room again, this time with treats in tow.

“Oh, wow, you really are still here,” he says.

You nod.

“I checked your room first,” he said. “Maybe I should grab your number? So it will be easier next time.”

You’re unfairly excited and then subsequently embarrassed about how little it takes for you to be over the moon.

Getting someone’s number.

An attractive person’s number.

But it’s platonic. 99% likely.

So.

Whatever.

Shut up.

He sets the treats down in front of you and sits across from you. He hands you his phone and you put your number in.

“Great!” he said, texting you immediately.

It’s a good thing that you would never want to give this man a fake number. Who would?

He looks at you in alarm. “Oh. Sorry. I just sat down like I own the place. I said I would drop the treats off and leave you alone.”

You sigh inwardly. “It’s fine. You went through all the trouble of making these, so why don't we share them?”

“They’re for you,” he says.

“And since they’re mine, I’m allowed to offer to share them with whoever I want.”

He smiles and acquiesces.

You small talk with him about baking and his friends and classes.

He rests his cheek on his palm, elbow propped on the table. “I wasn’t joking you know,” he said. “About being a good listener.”

“That’s kind of you,” you say.

“You’re kind of a closed book, aren’t you.”

“No,” you say. (You are.)

“You can’t just lie. I’m telling you what I’ve observed.”

“What, am I gaslighting you,” you joke.

“And gatekeeping and girlbossing,” he says.

You pump your fist in the air mildly.

“What if I told you something first?” he says.

“Why do you want to know something so badly?” you say. “And no, don’t rope me into a negotiation I didn’t agree to.”

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. You're really on your guard though, aren’t you?”

You shrug.

“I would like to earn your trust at the pace you are comfortable with,” he says. “I would like to get to know you more.”

You really want to ask why, but that’s such a pathetic question. Normal people with normal self esteem just take at face value that sometimes, others are going to be interested in getting to know them. But you? How could you ever delude yourself into thinking that? Especially about Osamu. You’ve never been worth anyone’s time or interest.

You look down at the treats, and something stirs in your heart.

You have to admit that food is one of your love languages.

And maybe you do need to practice trusting people more.

You don't know what’s the point, since all you've been is hurt before. But .

Living in isolation isn’t good, either.

You laugh at yourself. “It’s just about some guy.”

Osamu twitches and you look at him closer to see what happened, but there was no trace of the reaction on his face anymore. “Oh. You. Someone you were seeing?”

You grin wryly. “Not even. I’m much too pathetic for that. No, I just. Had a crush on him, I guess. But he started dating someone else.”

“Ooh,” Osamu winces in sympathy. “That’s never fun.”

You shrug. “It always happens to me.”

“Not always,” he says.

You glare at him. “I’m telling you, always,” you say. “You don’t know me.”

Osamu raises his hands. “I’m sorry. I just—I should have believed you, for sure. That’s my bad. But. I just thought maybe you were exaggerating.”

You shake your head. “My face is in the dictionary under unrequited, and stuff, blah blah blah.”

“That could mean guys like you and you never like them back,” Osamu says.

You snort.

“What.” he asks.

“Nothing, that’s funny,” you say.

“I didn’t mean that as a joke,” he says.

You press your lips together thinly.

“So yeah, I don’t know. Whatever. That’s why I was feeling down. Not a big deal,” you say.

“It is a big deal, if you say it is,” he says. “Do you want to talk about it more?”

You shrug. “It’s sad and pathetic.”

“Why do you say that?” he says. “I don't think you’re pathetic.”

“That’s because you don’t know me.”

“I would never think that,” he says.

You shake your head, wanting to drop the situation. You don’t know how to explain to him that you know better than him. But he has to come to his own conclusions after all. And he for sure will.

“Can I…?” he trails off.

You look at him, wondering if he’s being uncharacteristically shy.

“What?” you ask.

“Were you trying to drop the subject, or could I say one more thing?” he asks.

You shrug. “Go for it, if you want,” you say.

He looks at you and then looks down. “Now I’m embarrassed to say it. It’s kind of stupid to say something like “That guy doesn’t know what he’s missing,” huh?”

You smile. “Well. Maybe. It’s still a nice platitude though, so like. I’ll take it. Thanks for the effort.”

Osamu looks at you, torn. “I feel like I’m not. I feel like I’m doing a bad job.”

You look at him in alarm. You didn’t mean to upset him. “Of what?”

“I feel like nothing I’m saying is coming across right.”

You shrug. “I wouldn't blame yourself for that. I don’t really get things. I’m difficult. Set in my ways. Things went wrong for me a really long time ago.”

He opens his mouth.

“Don't ask me about them,” you say. “It’s definitely not something I should share lightly. It's just. It’s too much for most people.”

Osamu nods. “Okay. I trust you that you’ve had bad experiences sharing things in the past. Or maybe you just are used to not sharing about yourself at all. But yeah, I just wanted to say again, that I hope that as we get to know each other, at your own pace, you will one day feel like you can trust me with some of this stuff. If you ever want to.”

You nod, even though you won’t take him up on his offer. Most people would not be willing to stick around that long for you to be able to vet and trust them.

“Do you want any support about that guy?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean. I don't know. Do you want me to say anything in support of you during these trying times?”

You look at him in amusement and a bit of awe, that he’s still trying. “You don’t have to.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I guess now I’m curious about what you are thinking about,” you say, a bit worried about what you’re asking for.

“Just like. I don’t know. I hope that you’ll like, let yourself be sad about him for however long, but also like not for too long. Because he doesn’t deserve it. And also there’s plenty of other guys around.”

You want to argue with him on that. There are not plenty of other guys around. You have never had plenty of guys around. But you get where he’s coming from. You’d probably say something similar to that if someone you knew was going through this kind of thing.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He looks at you in shock. “Really? No argument?”

“I decided to cut you some slack,” you say.

He grins, a little openly and awe-struck, at you.

You’re embarrassed by the genuineness of his expression.

Is he being for real?

“So?” he grins. “Did you like the treats?”

“Yes, they are so good. Thank you so much.”

He preens. “There’s more where that came from, you know. You got any other requests?” he asks.

“I couldn't possibly—”

“You can! You can ask and you should. I’m asking you to ask.”

You look at him shyly. You can’t say anything.

“We could make something together one day, if you wanted,” he said.

You nod.

“And actually, you don’t need to hang out with my friends,” he blurts. “They are stupid.”

“What?” you blink. “You’re uninviting me?” you try for a joking tone.

“It’s going to be way more fun if we hang out just the two of us,” he says.

The malicious voice in your head says, oh he’s ashamed of you, he thinks you’re boring. Gross. Ew. Who cares.

“Yo, Samu, what the fuck?”

A gaggle of boys bursts into the study room and you freeze in embarrassment. You’re still in your fluffiest clothes and slippers and—

Ah, fuck it. Who cares?

You look at them quickly, and then look down.

“Are these the friends you don’t want me to hang out with?” you ask.

Every single boy in the room gapes at you.

“Okay, wait, what?” Atsumu gapes. (Okay, so you realize you remember some of Osamu’s friends a bit more than you first thought. Also, it’s kind of hard to forget his literal twin. With them having the same face and all.)

“Why are we being uninvited?” Hinata whines.

“This makes a lot more sense why you ditched us, but you still suck,” Suna says.

You look at Osamu, pleadingly. “Help!” your look says. You can barely talk to him one on one. Not with an audience, your brain can’t run all the simulations to help you say the exact right thing to not be weird.

There’s too many variables.

“You guys are stupid, get out of here,” Osamu snaps.

“Oh, what’s this?” Suna slides by the table, and puts his arm on the back of your seat, and leans down next to you to inspect the treats. You and Osamu stiffen and still in your respective seats for different (or is it the same?) reasons. “Can I have one?”

“Sure,” you say, at the same time Osamu snaps, “no!”

“Why, Samu?” Hinata croons. “I want one, too!”

“Me, too,” Atsumu says.

“All of you are useless,” Osamu growls.

“Yay, snacks!” Atsumu cheers, grabbing one for himself, after Suna swipes one first.

“Snacks, snacks, snacks,” Hinata sings and dances over, grabbing one for himself.

“Okay, it’s time to go,” Osamu says.

You look at him and wave.

“I meant us,” Osamu says pleadingly.

“As if you can get rid of us that easily,” Atsumu snorts.

“Do you want help carrying your things?” Suna asks, already picking up your backpack.

“No, it’s fine,” you say flustered, and Osamu growls, “I’ll do it!” and yanks the backpack from him.

“No, Osamu, it’s really fine—”

“No, I have to,” Osamu glares at the boys, “otherwise they’ll get their grubby little paws all over your stuff.”

“Okay, I’ll carry the food then,” Suna says.

“No,” Osamu says, and turns to you. “You grab it. Don't let them eat anymore.”

“It’s fine, isn’t it? You said we were going to make more anyway.”

“You’re making more?” Hinata says, eyes sparkling.

How can anyone say no to that face?

“Not. For. You!” Osamu snaps.

Apparently one person can.

Everyone bickers around you and you feel swept away in it all. For someone who never has plans on a Thursday night, you can’t say you’ve hated this evening.

You surprise yourself at that. It really did turn out much better than you were expecting.

You look at Osamu and are too embarrassed to thank him in front of his friends. But you will have to let him know how appreciative you are.

You let the boys escort you out of the study room and down the hall. You let yourself get invited to some upcoming stuff with them.

You let out a deep breath. You can try again.

What could possibly go wrong?

80 notes · View notes

teamatsumu · 8 months

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kinktober 2023 - haikyuu edition

So here is the complete masterlist i did for kinktober 2023, and it is an all haikyuu special! I’m excited to share all these with you and I hope you like them!

Day 1: THIGH RIDING - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 2: THREESOME - Bokuto Koutaro x reader x Akaashi Keiji

Day 3: PHONE SEX - Oikawa Tooru x reader

Day 4: SHOWER/TUB - Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Day 5: MUTUAL MASTURBATION - Kageyama Tobio x reader

Day 6: ORAL - Terushima Yuuji x reader

Day 7: ORGASM DENIAL - Matsukawa Issei x reader

Day 8: DOMINATION - Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader

Day 9: SKINNY DIPPING - Hinata Shoyo x reader

Day 10: VIDEO TAPING - Suna Rintarou x reader

Day 11: STRANGERS - Iwaizumi Hajime x reader

Day 12: PUBLIC PLAY - Tendou Satori x reader

Day 13: GROUP SEX - Seijoh 4 x reader

Day 14: AGE DIFFERENCE - Ukai Keishin x reader

Day 15: MORNING SEX - Bokuto Koutaro x reader

Day 16: DADDY - Miya Osamu x reader

Day 17: DIRTY TALK - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 18: HAIR PULLING - Kozume Kenma x reader

Day 19: SPANKING - Iwaizumi Hajime x reader

Day 20: SCRATCHING - Bokuto Koutaro x reader

Day 21: WINDOW - Suna Rintarou x reader

Day 22: KNOT - Miya Osamu x reader

Day 23: VOYEURISM - Kageyama Tobio x reader x Oikawa Tooru

Day 24: CAR - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 25: COCKWARMING - Sugawara Koushi x reader

Day 26: DEGRADATION - Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Day 27: HATE SEX - Kuroo Tetsuro x reader

Day 28: DOUBLE PENETRATION - Kita Shinsuke x reader x Miya Osamu

Day 29: BRAT TAMING - Kita Shinsuke x reader

Day 30: OVERSTIMULATION - Sugawara Koushi x reader

Day 31: BREEDING KINK - Miya Osamu x reader

3K notes · View notes

milky-aeons · 2 months

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'𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.

warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k

ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.

Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"

: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.

: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.

: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;

"You — are absolutely breath-taking."

: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.

"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."

: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .

"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"

Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.

"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.

And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.

ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎

: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.

: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!

: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.

: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding — your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."

: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.

: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.

"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."

: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . . .

"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.

Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.

But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;

"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"

Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.

"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.

He grunted. "Same... thing."

ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.

: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!

Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?

: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.

: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.

: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .

"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.

"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"

"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.

And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.

"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."

Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."

ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.

: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.

: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.

: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;

"There you are, my wife."

: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.

: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.

: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .

"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."

"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."

Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.

He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.

"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."

ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.

: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.

"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.

: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;

"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."

: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.

: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

"Fyodor?"

"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.

"Why did you ask to marry me?"

Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.

Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."

✎ . . . requested by the lovely @cocodrilofeliz!

WRITING REQUESTS

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luvfy0dor · 25 days

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“You Know That I'm Obsessed With Your Body ♡⁠˖” BSD Men x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Chuuya Nakahara, Osamu Dazai, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, H.P. Lovecraft

Warnings; Suggestive, kisses, hickeys, bite marks, allusions to self harm (Dazai), sh scars (Dazai), prolly a little ooc

Description; BSD men and their physical attributes

A/n; CAS lyric title!!! But I cannot bring myself to write reqs RN so............but guys i actually talked to a guy OMG never thought I'd have big enough balls but I got his ig ^w^

⑅Chuuya Nakahara⑅

Chuuyas arms are beautiful to you, they're not insanely buff and they're not thin, but at a perfect equilibrium. They're decorated with intricate tattoos and beautiful colors, and sometimes small dotted lines left by your teeth or maroon spots formed by your love and passion for each other. You loved feeling them wrap around your torso or waist with him leaning his head against your back, letting all the thoughts in his mind flow from his mouth like a waterfall. Other times, he'd hang his arms over your shoulders, letting you feel his biceps against the nape of your neck, ghosting over the baby hairs on your skin. His arms can carry you too, no matter your weight. If it'd make you feel better, he'd use his ability to help and reassure you that he won't drop you or let you get hurt.

“There we go, darlin', see, I told you I wouldn't let you get hurt. Literally not even the strongest gust of wind could knock me over with you right now, so quit worrying.”

⑅Osamu Dazai⑅

Dazai has such a gorgeous torso, bandaged or not. His skin is soft on contrast to the rough and volatile life he's always lead. The only patches of skin that aren't smooth are the ones that are littered with past scars, whether self inflicted or from other people. When Dazai trusts you enough, he'll ask you to help him take off his bandages before bed, letting your fingers brush over the rigid bumps and sharply inhaling while adjusting to your sweet touch in a new, naked place. He lets you kiss the scars and it helps him feel a little relaxed receiving your acceptance through soft kisses and affection instead of being pitied or shamed for his past. It's not like you encourage it, but you don't waste your breath on lecturing him on why he shouldn't have. It's in the past, so instead you'll offer your support for him now rather than dwelling on what you can't change.

“Mmnn...your lips are so soft on my back, baby...keep going, sweetheart, you know how much I love feeling your kisses on my skin...”

⑅Nikolai Gogol⑅

Nikolais thighs could resurrect a dead man, and you couldn't help but feel the same way every time you had your head between or against them. Occasionally your hands would hold them apart and squeeze or grope at them, feeling the firmness beneath the palm of your hand. The pressure from your fingertips leaves temporary pale spots with every pinch and your teeth and tongue leave red ones in your wake as you kiss, suck, and bite all over his thigh, and he loves it. Nikolai loves the harsh feeling of your teeth clamping around his skin, making him gasp and giggle in excitement with a hand on your neck encouraging you to continue. He's got a higher pain tolerance, so if you like to give lovebites, especially on thighs, he's your guy.

“Ah-! Oh, don't worry dove, it doesn't hurt. You know I have a good pain tolerance! You can keep going, hehe, I don't mind it.”

⑅Fyodor Dostoevsky⑅

Fyodors hands are thin and pale aside from some select spots with higher blood concentration. His nails are bitten down to the quick almost always and his fingers are bony and thin. They rest gently on your hips when you sit on his lap while he types or just relaxes with you, his thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric of either your top or bottoms. Sometimes they'll travel upwards, resting against your midsection and making you shiver from their low temperature. He'd laugh under his breath at your reaction and slide them further up, loving the idea that he has you squirming in his grasp. Otherwise, he'd keep a hand on your thigh, rubbing it out of habit modestly. In public he keeps his hands to himself, but in private his hands have a mind of their own.

“Are they that cold, Moya Lyubov? You'll get used to it eventually, unless you'd like to find your own way to warm my hands up?”

⑅Sigma⑅

Sigmas jawline is so defined and Everytime you look at it, an overwhelming urge to kiss along it bubbles up inside of you. Sigma doesn't dislike it, but he'll act like he does, always squirming and playfully grimacing. Eventually he'll give in though, holding your hand while you pepper soft pecks along his skin. He'll return them all over your cheeks and nose, tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can't help but watch Sigmas fingers trace over his jawline while he's deep in thought about this that and the other, admiring how perfect it looks on him.

“H-hey, knock it off, I'm in the middle of fillin' out papers! I said quit it- huff...fine, just a few though! You're really distracting, you know that?”

Bonus; ⑅ H.P. Lovecraft⑅

His hair is so long and luscious- how could you not want to run your fingers through it while your sleepy boyfriend lays his head in your lap? The upper half is smooth and straight while it changes into silky curls towards the bottom, though they're not the tightest and allow for your fingers to brush through them with minimal effort. He loves the feeling of your hands against his scalp, giving soft hums and groans of a relaxed pleasure. His face has his usual neutrality regardless of how nice it feels to get his head massaged by his lover. He frequently lets you pull it into a ponytail or put it into braids or whatever style you please. He lets you brush it, too, as long as you start at the bottom instead of ripping the brush through his hair.

“Mnn...that feels nice, dear...don't mind if I fall asleep on top of you, I can't help it.”

A/n; I feel so bad for not getting to requests, something like this was the easiest thing to do this week though because I had mock trial comp right after school so i couldn't write anything from 8am-7;30 pm some nights and it was the end of the quarter so i had to focus more on school work.

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notavalidblognamebut · 7 months

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I look at this panel every once in a while to convince myself it wasn't a fever dream

#better than any fanfiction #everyone moved on but im still here #THE SPARKLES #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #chuuya #dazai #fifteen #fifteen manga #bsd manga #bungou gay dogs #soukoku

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basilly · 2 years

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i love you

sypnopsis: the different ways they say "i love you"

includes: tsukkishima, atsumu, akaashi, osamu, & kita

warnings: wc 865, swearing, no pronouns mentioned

creds to @sixosix for these prompts

tsukishima kei | “you're a dumbass"

now who would he be if he just outright said "i love you"? he shows his affection through relentless teasing- all out of love though.

"kei... i accidentally ran into the table." "what-"

you rubbed your hip, in attempt to soothe the pain. tsukishima stared at you in disbelief.

"it's?? a massive table y/n" "okay and i have ZERO self awareness" "were you looking at your phone?" "... maybe.... look i was listening to that song you sent me-"

tsukishima starts chuckling before wrapping his arms around you. a small yet fond smile grows on his face.

"you're a dumbass"

miya atsumu | “you could punch me in the face and i would still want you ngl.”

atsumu gets under your skin very often- he has a talent for doing so. but you can't help but adore and love him, he's your precious boyfriend.

you rubbed your temples, trying to register what atsumu was saying. you thought he had been trying to tell you something miniscule.

"'sumu, pause. what are you rambling about?" "i just- i lost the bracelet you gave me and i tried to find it all day, and i thought you'd be mad at me and-"

you almost frowned at the way he was so scared to tell you he lost the bracelet you gave him- which, was like four years ago. you were surprised he had kept it this long.

"oh 'sumu, you should've told me. it's okay, honestly we've had them for so long we should probably get new ones." ".. you're not mad? your not going to like- smack my head?"

you cup his cheeks, placing a small kiss on his nose.

"of course not." "okay- but for the record, you could punch me in the face and i could still want you."

akaashi keiji | “i trust you. it’s okay.”

akaashi takes special care for his things. they may be well worn, but he magically keeps them in good condition. he will always let you borrow his things, but you do try to keep it exactly how you took it.

"are you sure keiji?"

you carefully caressed a gently worn book in your hands. it was his favorite book- you never got the chance to read it with everything in your life going on, but your schedule was finally calming down.

you were a little worried when he offered it for you to borrow. you already decided you're not going to let any liquids near it and keep it in a plastic bag. whenever you could.

to akaashi, he would let you borrow everything from him- no matter what is was. he placed his hands over yours and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before looking you in the eye.

"i trust you, it's okay. you can borrow whatever you need from me anytime."

miya osamu | “hey…” [hesitates] “be safe, alright?”

osamu is a worrier, an overthinker. he's cautious when you go out at night alone- he doesn't want you to be in a dangerous situation. but as simply best friends, he is in no place to intrude on your decisions.

"okay- i'll be back in a little bit, just heading to the convenience store." "what? this late?"

he sat back against the couch cushions, reading up on a new cookbook. he had come over again for your weekly movie night but the movie was long over by now. turning his attention to you, he took in your appearance once more.

seeing you- in a comfortable setting, full of domesticity, made his heart ache. he thought of the many times he could have confessed, but he wouldn't ruin anything you had to take the risk.

thus, his "i love you"'s are hidden behind words, actions, and gifts. not that you would ever notice, he hopes.

“hey…” [hesitates] “be safe, alright?”

for now he would hide, thinking of how he's too much of a coward.

kita shinsuke | “this—” [points at their chest] “—this belongs to you. always.”

he never hid his feelings to you- always straightforward, to the point your legs almost gave out. he never failed to make your face feel hot, ears almost catching fire out of embarassment.

"are you sure you don't want to come?" "it's atsumu's bachelor party! i couldn't"

you sat on the bed, watching kita button up his shirt. atsumu had planned to take his groomsmen to a nearby club- his fiance had immediately shut down the idea of a strip club (which you were glad for). fiddling with your fingers, you couldn't help but sit there anxiously.

"i can just stay home if you don't like the idea of me going."

you sigh before meeting his eye.

"no- it's okay, really."

a moment of silence passed before you spoke up again, timidly.

".. but what if a really pretty girl came up to you?"

kita almost laughed out loud, pausing from finishing up his tie to walk over to you. kneeling in front of you, he took your hands in his.

"y/n. this- "

he gentured to his chest, right at his heart.

"-- belongs to you. always. and this-"

he taps your engagement ring.

"solidifies it."

you laugh out of embarassment, smooshing your face in his neck.

"okayokay."

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nishipostitz · 2 years

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haikyuu men as brother’s best friend

scenario: them meeting you for the first time

gn!reader x multicharacter

part 1 | part 2 | next

tw! none. cliche stories... almost pooing pants in 3rd one. just fluff

ok! in this case. he’s into older people. like. he could be a high schooler having a little puppy crush on a college student. you’re the older person he fell for. it was actually just a normal day. cliche, sorry. but your parents didn’t want to pick up your brother from practice, and you were just coincidentally running errands. “pleaseeeee!!.. can you pick me uppp.. mom and dad won’t pick us up and yk how far we live. we can’t possibly walk..” his tone guilt tripped you. but you kept hearing the way he talked as if there was another person. so you must keep up a good reputation as a great! older sibling. so you drove over to your old school and picked up your little brother his friend. your brother immediately made himself feel at home in your car. and his friend was baffled. how come you look like this, and no offense to your brother, but you’re clearly the attractive sibling. so now he has this bubbly crush on his best friends older sibling. so every chance he gets, he’ll accept a free ride bc who wouldn’t? but he’s shy :/

noya, asahi, kuroo, hinata, aone, bokuto, goshiki, kindaichi, tsukki, yams, sakusa

you were running a lemonade stand. it doesn’t matter how old you are. this was like a summer side hustle. lemonade is good, selling and making it is fun. it’s a winwin! but the best business deal was going to the park. especially one right by the gym! so not only are thirsty(and hot) gym goers and park enjoyers are craving for something sweet, they have a lemonade stand selling for cheap! so as he was exiting the gym, he saw the stand and jogged over. paying and drinking. it was delicious. after a few days, he decided to just jog at the park to see you more. a beauty who knows how to do business? sign him up! so one day, when he visits your brother, he sees you in the kitchen making the lemonade. “oh you’re the lemonade girl!” he said excitedly. you turned around and recognized his smile, and smiled back. his soul slowly left his body. he was starstruck by you. visiting the park and his friend’s house more!

atsumu, oikawa, daichi, ushijima, yamamoto, aran, kuroo, tendou, lev, iwa, tanaka, kita, kageyama

was actually talking online with you. you guys were partners with gaming and many other things. so you guys had many mutual likes. one day, he went over to hang out with your brother. a few hours later, you arrived home after a long drive from college to home. he saw you and was about to poo his pants. how did his best friend know you? answer; you were the sibling that was never mentioned! so not only did he meet someone he kinda had a crush on in real life, but they were closer to him than he thought!

kenma, akaashi, osamu, yaku, kunimi, futakuchi, inouka

guys this part was so boring T_T.... i honestly had no motivation... AGHHHH. hopefully it seemed realistic and enjoyable!!

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yandere-sins · 3 months

Note

Do you think the miya twins would ever "mess around" with their darling at the same time? Ik they usually don't touch her like that unless they have her to themselves. Idk, I think it'd be fun to have the two crazies fighting over her as they have sex.

Oh yeah, totally!

[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content]

Osamu is gracious, almost lenient. He knows Atsumu needs his alone time with you after a hard day of training, to celebrate his victory, or to just shut him up for a while. Having you bounce on his cock until he's satisfied is sure to knock Atsumu out for a while, as he'll be sleeping like a baby after a good fuck. And, to be honest, Osamu doesn't always want to deal with his brother's whining because you moaned the "wrong" name or because you've been kissing Osamu for too long. He just wants to be concentrating on your and his pleasure, knowing his brother can get off just fine by slamming into you but Osamu likes taking his sweet time. Also, Osamu is fully aware that his presence and extra stimulation could overwhelm you (although he enjoys that).

Regardless, that means he'll be the one to back off 7 out of 10 times, whisking you away after Atsumu is done for some fun in the bathtub and to help clean you up. Or he enjoys the rare time he has alone with you, bending you over the kitchen counter or taking you into the twin's room for somewhere more comfortable. There's also the delayed gratification in listening to your moans coming from the other room while he's cooking, his cock throbbing and waiting for his own chance of release that Osamu so likes. And he really likes being the one to pick up the you in pieces that Atsumu leaves behind, making sure you know he's the one to rely on in this weird relationship.

But there are times it can't be helped. I mean, look at you; how can anyone resist you?!

Surely not those two!

It's mostly when Osamu and you are getting frisky, and Atsumu comes home too early and catches you. He really has no shame, and there will be an unoccupied spot he can squeeze himself into. There's so much excitement in his eyes when he sees you, already hot and heavy, dazed, crying, or otherwise deliciously pleasured, and he can't help himself from asking you if you're enjoying his brother's dick and if you want to feel even better. He'll be so vocal about how pretty you are and how well you are taking Osamu's cock. How you'll be able to fit one more and take Atsumu as well, looking absolutely brilliant like this. If your mouth isn't occupied, Atsumu will make you tell him all about how you're feeling, asking you to say where his brother is making you feel good and apply some more stimulation that Osamu might have missed. Atsumu is always a little rougher with you, but he knows where to twist and pull to make your back arch, and he's the best when it comes to praising and degrading you, depending on what you need at that moment. And he knows. He always knows where you're itching to be touched, and if not, he'll make you tell him, kiss you feverishly when you speak up, and do everything you need him to do.

The twins might nag a bit at each other, but you know better than anyone that their teamwork is dreamwork. If they get together, you'll be drowning in pleasure until you no longer feel like the trapped darling you are. They'll make you feel like you belong. Like you are their lover and as if you want to be their bitch, chasing just one more height. The two of them are as addicting and devastating as drugs, but you'll never find anyone who knows your body better. Who's touch will make you cry from joy and who controls you from your thoughts to your orgasm, allowing you to let go of any worry or fear.

Although more rare, there are also times when Osamu joins you and Atsumu. Interestingly, Atsumu does give out an invitation every time Osamu walks in on you and his brother cock-deep inside you. It might be a jest, but Atsumu is unpredictable and mischievous in that way, and Osamu, too, can't resist his pretty darling, writhing and moaning in front of him, desperately in need of his attention. (It's what he tells himself, at least.) Sometimes, it's enough to watch you and his brother go at it as he jerks himself off, but on the very good days, Osamu will do anything to worship you, putting your pleasure before his, especially after seeing his brother rough you up. Isn't it nice of him to kiss all those bites and scratches? Osamu's hands can be so amazing as they dance across your skin, leaving trails of his touch from one hickey to another that make you gasp while his palms almost seem to burn when they settle. You'll want to nod and confirm any of his questions because you know he'll treat you to mind-breaking stimulation when you do. Of course you'll suck his fingers, push out your tongue for him and let him play with your hair as he rearranges you into new positions, making you feel things even deeper to the point both you and Atsumu are trembling and moaning.

Having the full attention of one twin can be exhausting or quite one-sided. But once you have both, you'll start to forget that you never wanted any of this.

Because in those moments, you'll only want more.

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tinkerleaf · 1 month

Text

Protective Men

warnings: cursing, a little violence, creeps

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

I can see Dazai as the type to carefully watch as the client you've been working with leans a little too close to you. He may be across the room but he still follows the man's every move. You wave off a few subtly flirtatious remarks and glance over at Dazai. When he sees the man 'accidentally' brush a hand on your back, he's had enough, leaving his chair and strolling over to the two of you.

"You need any help, sweetheart?"

Your client is less than pleased with his presence, "We're fine, thank you."

"You're flirting with them, aren't you?" His voice is calm and low, but his tone has a clear edge of warning.

The man scoffs, "As if that's any of your business."

"They're a little busy with your case right now. You should be focused on that."

"I don't think I was hurting anything."

"That's not the point. They're working. They don't need you to distract them." Dazai replies, still calm but firm. "Atsushi! Come take this case!"

The silver-haired boy comes in, a look of concern on his face. "What's going on?"

"Nothing" Dazai replies with a smirk, "This fellow has a case for you."

Atsushi nods and takes over while Dazai takes you by the arm and leads you out of the office. "I didn't like that at all."

"I can see that," you smile as you two walk into the cafe. "But now I've lost a case..."

"You didn't need it. I've seen his file. You're more suited for missions than simple tasks. It's good practice for Atsushi." He sips his coffee. "Besides, he was too comfortable with you, and I don't like random people getting too close to you."

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

I imagine Chuuya biting his tongue to keep himself from telling off the man whose eyes were all over your figure. The Port Mafia had all kinds of weirdos come in and out, but this one in particular must not have known who he was dealing with.

When you get up to leave, the man grabs you by your wrist. "Where ya goin'?"

Chuuya instantly stands and swiftly places a knife up to his throat. The man lets you go, holding his hands above his head. "Keep your fucking hands off of them."

"I wasn't gonna do anythi-"

Chuuya interrupts him by knocking him out. The man has an important role for now in the mafia, so he couldn't kill him yet.

"Come on." You follow him back to his office. He shuts the door behind him and sits at his desk. "Look at me."

You sit down across from him.

"If anything happens like that again with anybody here, you let me know first, understand?"

You nod.

"That shit pisses me off more than anything, especially when it comes to you."

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taeyamayang · 1 year

Text

previously on FMY / NAVIGATION

SMILE FOR SECRETS

the west wind current drove the waves into the shore in a sluggish way, slowly reaching forward and drawing back as if it was in a constant turmoil of whether to stay or not.

death has breathed whispers to the hollow trees, wrinkling its body and limbs, forefingers falling apart as the leaves turn bright. one only blossoms when at the brick of their death, falsely deceiving the living of their radiant tone. death is indeed an odd thing.

"why?" your voice, low and faltering, could easily be whiffed by the gushed of air; akin to the autumn leaves that lifelessly fall from the deciduous trees, yet your mouth is still warm as though you could still feel his lips pressing against yours.

"i'm sorry." is all he could say.

you silently wished he would say more.

---

it's the final day of the sports event in school and everyone is either fired up for the championships or looking forward to hangout with friends after school hours. as for you, you are neither. unfortunately, your team couldn't make it to championships. the last match your team will participate in this morning is nothing but mere formalityㅡa battle for fourth place, and you and your friends have not planned anything after school.

currently, you are gathering your team members for the said final match. the opponent, class 1-B obvioulsy have the upper hand. they are bigger and much stronger in physique and it seemed as if they could crush your team with a simple shove. nonetheless, that does not stop you from encouraging your members. it's the final blow, you told them to pour all their stress from school into this match and let the underdogs win.

your words seemed to work as some of your members instantly became determined to fight for the last time but the results are predetermined from the get-go.

class 1-B won.

if only your legs were as long as the final runner and captain of the other team you could have at least inched the gap but this and other if's and then's were obliterated when your members commended you from being a good captain (they probably thought you would be a mediocre leader since you have always been a reserved wallflower) and as soon as they left, you find yourself lying on the grass as you catch your breath. your lids flutter close as you wait for the adrenaline to wear off.

"great work, captain." a voice from above says making your lids fly open. right then you are met with a midnight blue mixed with pale gray orbs similar to that of a cloudy starless sky.

"Miya." you say, sitting up. you adjust your eyes to the blinding bright sun and just then, you see the man standing next to him.

you are unfamiliar with him, you definitely have not seen him beforeㅡnot that you know everyone in school. his parted bangs and sharp eyes become the focal point almost scouring the smug and boredom off his face. atches your eyes.

you bring your attention back to the other, you speak. "we lost, by the way."

"i know, we watched the game." Osamu replies nonchalantly making you cringe in embarrassment.

"ugh, i feel like you're mocking me." you grunt and crinkle your nose at him. on the other hand, the latter smiles. you stand upright to dust off stray blades of grass on your clothes.

"no, take it as a compliment. you have the heart, determination, and energy of a main character in a sports tv series except... you couldn't win."

"that is more of an insult than a compliment." you whisper to yourself but osamu was quick to catch on your words, making him chuckle outloud. he's doing this on purpose. what a fucking tease. when he's done enjoying the reaction he's getting from you he points at the person next to him.

"anyway, suna rin meet (y/n), (y/n) this is suna rin." osamu gestures back and forth from you and to the man with a piercing gaze.

"-taro. suna rintaro. introduce me properly, man." suna, the one with parted bangs and sharp eyes, speaks for the first time.

"force of habit, my bad." osamu sheepishly scratches the back of his neck in apology before turning to look at you. "we're going. see you in the next meeting."

"wait, do you have a match today?" your eyes dart to the duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

"yep." he nods.

"what time?"

"one thirty, why?"

"which sports?" you disregard his question and his mouth breaks into a smirk.

"i'm not telling."

"why not?" you challenge him, narrowing your eyes at him.

"it's a secret." he utters in a teasing tone before turning his back on you. "see you around." he waves without looking.

the two leaves you hanging. you have no idea why he's being mysterious all of a sudden and not to mention, he was purposely teasing you. the last time you met him he was crumbling in shyness, cheeks almost tinted in pink as he stands in a corner with you. it's as if you've seen a different side of him.

"'Miya'." suna copies your tone as an awful smile imprints on his face. "it feels good to know that not everyone in school knows you."

osamu responses without batting an eye at him. "let's keep things this way."

---

it's now lunchtime and you are restless. you have nothing to do but wait for the games to end and attend the awarding ceremony. you are eating with some of the students whom you've spoken a few words with before in class. one of which is masayoshi, a boy who eventually became part of your group of friends in class. he's fine, a bit timid, and quite short-tempered but he's easy going and patient when it comes to you. you consider him as one of your friends. but your friendship with him could deepen if you were to open up your inner thuoghts with him but doing so isn't an easy task. in short, masayoshi is someone you feel comfortable with having around but a huge part of you knows that he doesn't know you well yet.

as you were about to take a spoonful of rice and meat into your mouth, you catch a figure passing by far behind masayoshi. the figure slings the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder as he listen to his company talking. he sports a basketball jersey similar to the boy with him. when he whips his head to your way as he laughs, you finally see his face. a sly smile breaks on your lips.

so, he plays basketball, huh?

masayoshi's eyes go wide when he sees you tucking your utensils back into its pouch and locking your bento box.

"woah, you're done?" he asks the obvious. as a slow eater, you always finish last but seeing your hurried demeanor makes him shoves the remaining food into his mouth.

"are you free at one thirty?" you ask and he nods, cheeks puffy from the food.

"let's watch a game!"

"can i come?" a girl from your class, let's just call her a friend (since she's everyone's friend and gets offended when you don't refer to her as your friend), raises her hand.

"sure." you grin at her and the three of you head to the gym.

you sit with masayoshi and your friend at the middle bleachers of the covered court. the game has not started yet when you arrived but the players were already warming up by the time the three of you settled in your seats.

"2-D versus 2-A." your friend reads the score board when one of the facilitators labeled the opposing teams. "let's cheer for 2-A since we're sort of like siblings, our senpais!"

you could have agreed easily but seeing miya osamu represent their class, 2-D, makes you want to keep an eye on him. the boy surely has a vexatious side and you're not the type to back down in a petty bickering, especially when he mocked you hours ago.

but seeing how he handles the ball, your plan might not go as you wished. who would have though that a shy boy like him is good at sports? he's athletic like his body is used to the trenuous hours of practice and you didn't expect that from him (although he has fit stature, still some boys in your class are built just fine even when all they do is lie on bed and do nothing). he's a team player and from the way he handles the game, he surely knows what he's doing.

he scored a generous amount of points for their team which made him an instant celebrity. the girls from the other side of the bench scream when the timer goes off, the same pack of audiences whose eyes followed him like a cat targeting a chase wand. you can't blame them though, his gameplay is impressive. in the end, 2-D wins and you're torn between congratulating him or not.

"geez, samu still got his game." your friend utters, shaking her head as you follow her eyes leading to miya osamu downing water down his throat.

"samu?" you ask but your voice are barely recognizable. right then, your eyes lock with him and he almost spits the water from his mouth when he sees you sitting by the bleachers.

"(y/n), do you know him?" masayoshi speaks for the first time since the game started. you were not able to respond to him as osamu himself approaches you, answering masayoshi's question.

"what are you doing here?!" osamu whisper-shouts, glancing through his shoulders anxiously.

"my, my, i came here to tease you and have my revenge but-" you wave your hand in the air as a sigh drags from your lips. "i'm a bad liar. you were good. congrats."

"(y/n)." suna rintaro follows behind osamu. afterwards, he greets you.

"suna rintaro." you courteously nod in greeting.

"suna rin's fine." he says casually making you squint your eyes at him.

this guy. hot and cold. unpredictable.

osamu coughs then turns to look at suna. "attend to your fans, suna rin." osamu nudges him using his elbows but suna's brows press together as he peers at his friend with a bewildered face.

"ha?!" his jaw hangs, shooting him a glare that says 'what the fuck are you talking about?'

osamu points at the crowd at the other side of the bleachers using a quick shift in his eyes. it's the same crowd from last time. even if the game has ended, they stayed behind whispering and gushing about the two players in front of you. some of them would look and stare at you in a rather intimidating way, cocking their brows up when they see you looking. what's their deal, anyway?

at the same time suna understands what osamu meant, you take this as a cue to leave. the dead air between you and him is starting to feel a bit weird and on top of that are a few girls looking at you from across the court with eyes that could slice you in half.

"good game, i'm impressed. bye-bye." you stand from the bleachers and exit without sparing him a second to say goodbye.

suna and osamu exchanged a few words which made the former grow worried. suna si right, it is inevitable but not far from impossible to happen. with that, osamu watches you leave the gym.

---

the next time you see osamu is at the theater meeting. you came before him so you were left alone at the farthest corner away from everyone, as per usual. seeing the casts and crews interact makes you drain of social energy so you would rather save your battery for practice.

"you're early." osamu says and sits next to you.

"i know. i should have dropped by the cafeteria to get snacks." even if you have only met him four times: first theater meeting, at your game, his game, and this included, conversations with him feels natural like you've known him for a longer time. osamu unzips the pocket of his school bag and pulls out an onigiri which makes your mouth water at its plain sight.

"salmon onigiri." he cooly places it on your lap. you dramatically take the food using both of your hands (a sign of high respect) and you swear, you saw sparks twinkling around him. indeed, food makes relationships grow fonder.

"thank you, senpai." you tease him with the sudden use of honorifics.

"don't call me senpai." the creases around his eyes deepens.

"okay..." you pause. "...senpai."

"you-!" osamu's outburst lets out a loud guffaw from you. not long, osamu joins you. the world seemed to vanish around you when you're with him.

it's so easy, easy to be with him.

osamu watches you munch on the food with delight, not caring about your appearance as you enjoy the food he gave. he has met a dozen of poeple your age but has never seen anyone as carefree and different as you are. without knowing, he finds himself lost in you.

---

days and weeks had past since the first meeting of the theater group. sticking next to osamu has become a habit. you are both in each other's orbit that when either of you gets called for an acting scene, it feels almost empty to sit alone.

but as you both grow fond of each other, others have seemed to taken notice of your bond with him. most of the casts that regularly approaches you, actually him, are from his batch, your seniors. he would exchange words with them but the conversations never lead to anything deep as osamu rarely shares anything about him or how his day went; contrary to when he's with you. with you he's an open book, not that he's easy to read but beacuse he's willing to let you know a part of him.

additionally, osamu has sort of become your ryuukei repellant. ever since you hang out with him during practices, ryuukei has never attempted to cling onto you. although you would often catch a glimpse of him watching your from afar.

"just got home. i have homework, sucks." you type in your reply as soon as you reach home.

your chats with him developed from updating each other of practices to casually chatting. you honestly don't know how it started, the same thing wiht other things such as sitting nwith him during practices, looking out for each other during scenes, and eating together during breaks. but one thing is for sure, whatever you have right now makes you happy.

"what subject?" he replies within seconds. you change into home clothes before sitting on the bed.

"physics. i like science but this one," you look for an emoji to fit your mood before hitting send.

seconds turn into minutes and you find yourself waiting for the elipses next to his profile picture to pop out a text. he must be busy, you thought. after what seems like ages, you pick up an academic book on next to your bed, so you could be productive, but suddenly your phone dings, distracting you once again from doing your homework.

a message.

the last time you were this quick to grab your phone was when your favorite artist dropped a single.

"my hands are full." you read the message from him. you were right. he's busy.

another message pops in.

"do you mind if we call?" your mind pauses, heartbeat dropping at his simple request. your fingers have gained its own consciousness as you typed in "not at all." before your mind could process what you are doing.

osamu replies, "great. let me get my earphones."

you did the same, fishing for you earphones before plugging it in. within seconds you see an incoming call from him. you are nervous but your excitement dominates your wracked nerves. you take a deep breath and clear your throat before hitting the answer button.

"hey." he says, voice hoarse and thick. so this is what his voice sounds like in a call. clatters of falling objects reverbrates from the other line, followed by a mumbled curse.

"what are you up to?" you place your phone on the bed as you open the unattended book before you pretending to finally have taken interest in your homework.

"i'm looking for something. i need it for my project." rustling papers and books being placed on top of each other are heard. osamu speaks in a sheepish tone, "one sec." before shouting at someone in their house.

"tsum! it's not here!" a hint of annoyance coats his voice.

"ya dumbass! open yer eyes!" the person from whom you assume is 'tsum' replies in a thick accent. evidently, he is as equally as annoyed as osamu. a series of heavy footsteps thuds against the floor.

"but it's not here!" osamu protested. then, silence falls.

"who are you talking to." the kansai dialect dies down as tsum questions in a calm manner. "is that suna rin?" quick footsteps get louder as tsum closes the distance between him, osamu, and the phone placed on the ground.

"oi! practice blocks with me tomorrow after class!" your ear rings at the sudden pain of tsum's voice breaking loudly through the microphone.

"it's not suna rin." the light 'ow' of the other lets you know that osamu must have pushed him away.

"then, who is it?"

"none of your business."

a light thud from the line connecting the call resounds. the quality of the sound from the other line changed as if the microphone had increased in its size making two distinct voices clearer to hear.

"yer an asshole! give me back my earphones!" osamu's in rage, boiling in anger. you have never heard of him speak in this tone before. nonetheless, it's interesting for you to eavesdrop in the argument happening on the other line.

"whoever you are speak!" tsum speaks directly speaks to you leaving you staring at the screen of your phone.

"yer disturbing me!" osamu fights back and you feel the sudden urge to back your friend up. taking the built in microphone to your mouth, you speak with ease. a calm breeze admist a storm.

"what possible gains would you have if you hear my voice?"

"oh." you can imagine the intruder pondering to himself. "such sweet voice, that's new. what's your name?"

"leave!" osamu's voice gets further away, then a loud smashing of a door bangs. labored breathing accompanied by footsteps are the only thing you can hear after. shortly, osamu speaks.

"i'm sorry, that was brother." his voice calmer than before.

"quite a relationship, huh?" you joke, laughing at their typical sibling dynamics

"you can tell." osamu joins you in laughter.

"what were you looking for?" changing the subject may help him from recovering from the height of his emotions.

"a blank CD. my brother misplaced it."

"do you need it for tomorrow?" your eyes dart to the shelves next to your cabinet. the bottom shelf is tucked with books, old albums, and empty CDs. for some reasons, you keep spares since your parents used to hate USB devices because of it's 'complexities'.

"not really, i just want to start this project. it's due next week."

"i have a spare. i can bring it tomorrow if you want." you twist the cord of your earphones around your finger as you intenly listen to his voice.

"really?! that would be great! but we don't have practice tomorrow."

"then come pick it up in my class before the first period starts. i'm in class A."

and then there was a pause, like he's hesitating on your idea.

"i, uh," he stammers.

"what is it?" the cord looses around your finger.

"i can't visit a lowerclass' room. i'm, uh, shy. yeah, i'm a shy person." there we go again with his unbelievable "i'm shy" excuse. the more you get closer to him, the harder it is for you to believe his claim.

"that's bullshit, miya." you spit through the phone.

"no, no, no, i swear i can't-" you cut him off mid-sentence.

"i'll bring it to your room." you decide, hearing a dramatic gasp from him.

"you'll do that for me?!" if you were told that he was seething in rage minutes ago, you wouldn't believe it. his mood drastically changes and it's obvious enough on his upbeat tone.

"yeah, whatever." you playfully roll your eyes though he can't see you.

"i'll come to school early tomorrow! i'll wait for you!"

"you better be."

it was a simple favor to him but you can feel the bubbling excitement inside you. you have never seen osamu outside of practices (except during sports event) and the idea of seeing him with his classmates, your seniors, itches your curiosity as to who he is as a student and a fellow classmate. does his classmates know him well?

---

the following day finally has arrived and you're headed to school early in the morning. usually, you would rather arrive in school just before the bell rings. it's pointless to come to class early and do nothing when you can use that time for sleep. hitting the snooze button is better than socializing with people who you'll spend the rest of the year with.

masayoshi is surprised to see you arrive a split minute before him. you greet him with a "goodmorning" and he immediately says it back.

"why are you so early today?" he walks up next to your desk.

"someone asked for a favor." you stick your hand inside your bag to fish for the CD sealed in a plastic case. when you find it, your heart throbs quickly and your mouth runs dry. it's just meet up with a friend but something inside you makes you feel anxious. when you look up to meet eyes with your friend, you ask. "do you wanna tag along?"

masayoshi smiles, his face brighter than the morning sun. "sure! where?"

"class 2-D." you say simply.

"what?! why?! the seniors?!" have you ever mentioned that masayoshi is a nervous wreck? no? well, this is who he is when faced by minor inconvenience. he's pretty reactive to most things but right now you internally agree with him.

"it's a friend so it's no big deal, really. we'll drop this off then go." your words of assurance were meant for him but it feels as though you said it for yourself.

a lower batch student visiting a senior is bit of a show. you don't know what exactly makes it odd, but to many people it's enough to start a gossip. well, only if you're known in your batch or in school but if you are someone as nameless and insiginificant as you are, you won't probably make noise. besides, osamu miya seemed to be the quiet type in class.

"if you don't want to come with me then it's fine, yoshi." you walk pass yoshi, not wanting to put a burden on his shoulders by accompanying you but he tails you behind shortly. you told him to go back to the room if he's uncomfortable but he insisted the he wants to come. in the end, you let him.

upong arriving at room 2-D, you pop your head inside and scan the room for an obnoxious grey-headed but to your dismay he's nowhere to be found. hence, you are left to ask the girl sitting nearest to the doorway.

you hate doing this.

you absolutely despise the idea of asking someone you do not know and bothering them of their own business. you hate it so much that when it comes to calling for a teacher in the faculty room, you would rather be the one to knock on the door and let your friend stick their head inside and do the talking. but since mr. i'll-wait-for-you is not waiting for you here, you are left to ask a fellow student.

"hi, do you know where miya is?" the girl with headphones stuck to her ears swiftly lifts her head up. her eyes widen at the sight of you by the doorway.

"oh, uhm," she twists and turns her body around to look for the person you just mentioned. as she does so, you notice a few stares from the seniors in the room.

"who's she looking for?" the girl from one of the circles, glance at you.

"i heard she said 'miya'." the other replies. you don't know if they're doing it on purpose but their whispers are definitely louder than it should be.

"miya?! seriously?!" one girl in their group chuckles condescendingly. "gosh, he quickly changes everytime." before you could feel bad for turning up here, the girl by the doorway speaks.

"sorry, i don't think he's here." her voice is sweet akin to her large soft eyes. for a moment, you were glad you asked her.

"do you know where he went?" you ask with a small smile. just when she was about to utter a reply, a booming voice from the hallway calls out your name.

"(y/n)!" he runs towards you like a kid excited to see their favorite toy after a long day.

"you said you'll wait here." you frown in return.

"i did! but someone called for me in the hallway so i had to attend to them. i didn't know that the time i was out is the exact time you'll be here." as osamu explains, you catch a sight of the group of girls from ealier and others more giving you unwanted stares through his shoulders. it could be just your imagination or the tendency of your mind to overthink things but with the way they're giving you looks, you can't help but feel as if you've stepped on a line you were'nt supposed to.

when you shifyt your eyes to meet with his, you see him looking at a point behind you. you follow where his eyes lead. it lands on your company.

agh, how can you forget about introducing masayoshi? how disrespectful!

"miya, this is tanaka masayoshi and yoshi this is miya osamu. you guys have met before, during the sports event. i was with yoshi and another friend when we wathed your game, miya." when you were done speaking, both of them exchanged nods without uttering a single word. men are weird, you thought.

you turn and mouth "five minutes, sorry!" to masayoshi and he gives you an approved smile. but five minutes easily turn into fifteen and eventually the only thing capable of separating you from osamu is the bell, a signal for the first class to begin. you had so much to talk about with osamu despite being on the phone with him after class everyday.

when you went back to the room with masayoshi, your producer friend immediately approaches you.

"where'd you guys go?" she assk, worried that you might have skipped school today and you don't miss classes unless you're sick.

"you wouldn't believe it." masayoshi drags his feet as he says in a deflated tone. you feel bad for him for tagging along but at the same time he kept insisting on coming with you.

"there she is!" a pompous voice echoes in the room. like a magnet, all eyes turn to him. "my frirdn over here is asking about the happening in the theater group. how's it going for you, (y/n)?"

he's up to no good. he's always is.

"or rather," he lets out a short airy laugh which in turn unsettles you. he turns to face you, crossing one leg over the other as he rests his arm over the backrest of his seat. a smirk grows on his face. "how's it going with osamu?"

just when you thought he's done stirring unwanted drama, he speaks in a cunning and petty way and loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

"dating?"

tags: @imsoluvly

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq osamu #hq fanfiction #hq fanfic #hq romance #hq fluff #hq angst #hq x reader #osamu x y/n #osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya angst #osamu fanfiction #osamu fluff #osamu imagine #hq x y/n #pea.writes

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daebraeksan · 2 years

Text

Osamu comforts after you feel embarrassed in a social setting

Genre: comfort, fluff, pre-relationship/not established (romantic) relationship/ friendship,

Contents:

mental/emotional/social issues: social anxiety, self-critical, spiraling, embarrassment, shame,feeling wrong and bad, feeling undeserving, fearing other people's anger *anger never shown, fear of abandonment, thinking no one likes you, not believing when people like you, low self esteem, low self worth, people pleasing trait (not necessarily in action, but potentially in thought), scarcity mindset, not feeling like socializing needs are met,

Ability: walking is mentioned.. But i’m imaging commuting or traversing--any way that would get someone from point A to point B, does not have to be walking; and a hand is mentioned but like any kind of being able to pat someone on the head would work

Personality traits: reader does not like to cook: if you do like to cook, i imagine it would get both competitive and/or collaborative~ like arguing about who is the better cook but also like making fancy stuff together and having fun from that ; reader likes cooking as a social activity; if that stresses you out (i knew someone who got stressed by that) then like …. I imagine osamu would just love to cook for you just like everything arrives fully ready and you can just enjoy <3 or you can just watch him and hang out with him and not help while he cooks, but you’re there for company and moral support and to eat together afterwards <3 anyway;

Wc: 3585

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Wait, wait, wait, what?” Osamu asks.

The moment screeches to a halt. Your words peter out, while your brain tries to catch up with your mouth, and with the situation you have created.

Everyone was already looking at you because you were talking, but now, somehow—and this is going to sound crazy, but it’s true—they are looking at you harder.

You blink, your mouth dry and your throat scratchy. Everyone processes what you’ve said in deafening silence. Then Bokuto laughs and Suna says “damn.” An aggravatingly neutral response from the both of them—Bokuto laughs at everything, and Suna is painstakingly hard to read unless you really try—and even then, you still don’t trust yourself 100% in your assessments. In this case, you’re confused, and alarmed, too: Are you wrong or right? Are you going to be shunned forever, or is everything fine? You are mortified and you’re about to apologize, but everyone has already taken when you’ve said and run with it. You watch in silence and impending doom as they escalate the situation. You are witnessing a new inside joke being created. You could be proud—you had a hand in it! They can’t forget you now, can’t say this group of words, or mention anything even remotely related to this, without thinking of you, and this moment. You could be happy and how you are settling into your new friend group. But you’re not quite ready to let yourself off the hook yet. You’re embarrassed, mortified. How could you do this? You don’t know these people nearly well enough to be making jokes like that. (And it wasn't even on purpose—you said some random stuff on accident, and now you’re in this situation. You do not know these people nearly well enough for you to be letting yourself go off the cuff like this.)

The conversation goes on without you. But you don't always need to be speaking every second to be included in the group. Just because you are quiet, doesn’t mean they don’t accept you, or dislike you for that. You talk the right amount for you and that’s all that matters. And also they accept you for who you are anyway so you have nothing to worry about.

Some of the group is about to disperse for their next activity. Your plan is to linger for as long as any of them will let you. You have nowhere to be—where do you ever have to be?

The chairs next to you open up and Osamu moves to sit beside you.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you say back, barely holding back a giggle. What’s funny? Stop giggling about everything. G-d.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say.

He nudges your arm. “You look like you have seventeen frogs in your mouth.”

You pull a face at him. “Poetic,” you say, exaggerating your wince.

“Hm, okay,” Osamu says, (jokingly) bitter and biting. “I didn’t know I was appearing before the literary committee today. I am so sorry.”

“You need to come more prepared,” you say. “You can’t keep wasting our time like this.”

“Oh, man, sorry, I’ll do better next time.”

“See to it that you do.”

Osamu scoffs at you. You think he’s trying to peer into your soul, his grey eyes trying to pry open something in you, you don’t know. Jokes on him though, you don’t have a soul! Haha.

No, but seriously, you don’t want him looking too deeply. You don’t know what gross weird stuff he’s going to find and get weirded out by.

“What do you have planned next?” Osamu asks.

You shrug. “Nothing, really. What about you?”

“What a coincidence!” he says. “We both have scheduled nothing at the same time!”

“Yay!” you cheer.

He raises both of his hands for a double hi five. You experience all the anxiety of fucking up the hi fives and not having the coordination to deal with this and you get through the moment and try not to worry about how hard or soft you completed the hi five.

We have to move on.

“Do you like to cook?” he asks out of the blue.

“No,” you say.

He barks out a startled laugh and you get embarrassed at your curtness.

“Like,” you say, and then you let the babble flow out. “I mean I have to sustain myself somehow. But I don’t really enjoy it. But I like cooking with someone. I think it’s a fun social activity. I think I have fun cooking when it’s with someone. But I get stressed to cook for my own sustenance. It’s not fun. And I hate doing dishes.”

You’ve talked for way too long and you look over at home to see if he regrets asking you anything. He looks interested, but that can’t be right. But he’s still here somehow, hanging on. You admire his determination.

He nods at you. “I get that,” he says. “Doing dishes while cooking helps, but yeah, it’s definitely the worst part. Though, actually, I think doing dishes is relaxing sometimes.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely relaxing once I’m in the zone, but it’s agony before I start.”

“Y’know, I’m a pretty good cook,” he says.

“Oooh, really?”

“Yeah, what do you like? I can make it sometime.”

Fireworks of delight go off in your brain. Someone wants to hang out with you! You’re shook! Someone else trying to make future plans with you? So that they can see you again?

You’re sure it’s not that big of a deal. It’s a big deal to you, but he loves to cook. And seems really good at talking to people or at least does not seem to have a lick of anxiety. He’s used to this. This is normal for him.

That’s what you assume.

“Oh my g-d, thank you! That sounds awesome, I am honored.”

“Of course! So make sure you think about what you want, okay?”

You tell him you definitely will.

You hang out for a little bit longer until he makes a displeased face at his phone and then looks at you.

“So I actually I forgot I do have something to do today,” he says. “But I don’t even want to go.”

“Do you have to go?”

He sighed, and looked so sad and dejected. You wanted to run your hand through his hair or press your lips to the top of his head and comfort him. What is this engagement that is plaguing him? You don’t want them to suffer like this.

“It would be better if I go,” he said, sadly admitting defeat.

He trudges through getting ready to leave, and you offer to walk him.

“I should be walking you to your place,” he says, very disgruntled.

“You don’t have time for that,” you say.

“I should have planned it better,” he grumbles.

“This way we get to talk for longer,” you say, and then you have to clasp your hands together to physically restrain yourself from clapping your hand over your mouth. Because you can’t believe you just said that (out loud). You can’t let anyone know that you're not normal. You have to pretend that you are completely normal and have a normal amount of socialization and don’t have a scarcity mindset. How could you say this?

How could you let yourself go like this?

You are really off your game and you need to step it up.

A normal person who is not desperate at all.

Everything is fine.

Oh no.

You smile sweetly and laugh, trying to make it seem like it was a joke, or exaggeration, but still with genuine intent, since you do actually like him and you're not being sarcastic about liking him and wanting to be his friend. You don’t want to swing so far the other way that he retracts his dinner/hang out offer. You aren’t trying to end up alone.

It’s a hard balance to strike. The calculations don't always run smoothly, but you try your best.

While you damage control, you try to see if he is weirded out by what you said. He scratches the back of his head, with a fairly neutral expression, if not a little redness in his cheeks. But it’s hard to say. It could be the lighting. And you don’t know him all that well yet. You are still learning his quirks and stuff. But he doesn't seem completely caught off guard or upset or angry or grossed out, so….

“You want to hang out with me that much, huh?” he asks, and his words sound like they would be paired with a roasting tone, but he actually asks his question kind of softly and gently.

“Yes,” you say. “You’re so fun and I like hanging out with you.”

He looks at you with another unreadable (to you) expression. (You don’t want to read too much into it, because what do you know?) His eyebrows fly up and he coughs. “Oh,” he says. Now he seems to be caught off guard. “I feel the same way about you.”

“Yay!” you cheer. “And thanks for introducing me to your friends.”

“Of course! Thanks for wanting to meet them! Sorry they are so stupid and weird.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, I like them.”

He smiles wanly. “Really? I’m glad. Not more than me, though, I hope.”

You laugh, startled.

He looks at you for a second longer, and you freak out because was that a rhetorical quesiton or are you going to seem stupid for trying to answer it or was he really waiting for an answer or—

“I’m glad, because they can be a lot for some people.”

You nod. “They seem pretty cool and nice.”

“You must be amazing at handling crazy personalities.”

You look at his awed expression in shock. “I don’t know about that,” you say. You don’t know what you need to do to give him back his admiration because you don’t deserve it. He’s being a little dramatic. You did absolutely nothing.

“You were so good with them!” he exclaims.

“I was so nervous,” you argue. “I wanted them to like me.” And you wanted Osamu to like you, too, of course—but you keep that to yourself, because maybe you’ve said too much the exact right number of times today, and you should really try harder not to say too much for the rest of the day, lest you reach some imaginary limit that would make everyone hate you and never return to you ever again.

Osamu tilts his head at you. And now he’s really studying you. You scramble for a smokescreen because you weren’t joking, you really don't want him finding anything gross about you and not liking you anymore after that.

“Really?” he asks. “None of us could tell. I couldn't.”

You are shocked to hear that. As usual. But you're happy. You don’t want to be a faker… but you do have to fake to be normal. Otherwise if everyone knew every fucked up thing about you, you’d be alone. So you’re happy that you’re doing your job properly. But you're still surprised that it worked.

“Do you think I was too weird?” you asked.

“What do you mean?” He adjusts his backpack straps. “No weirder than them.”

You nod.

He leans in. “Did something happen? Did they make you uncomfortable?”

You look up at him. You really don’t want to bring up the incident because you want everyone to forget it. But. It’s hard to say.

Like—why even get into it, right? Life has moved on without you. You are still stuck in the discomfort and the catastrophizing, thinking they are mad at you, thinking they hate you, thinking that they are really grossed out by you. You are waiting for people to reveal that they were waiting for a reason to abandon you. It doesn’t compute to you that not everyone operates that way.

But no one else is thinking that. Allegedly. Right? It’s okay, everything is fine. These things happen. It’s honestly really funny, and you are going to recover from this.

“No,” you say. “It’s not really them. I’m just. Always nervous. I’m a mess.”

“Oh, no,” Osamu says softly, and you are a bit alarmed at his gaze on you. Like he cares so much. You kind of wanted him to (or expected him to?) laugh it off and be like “we’ve all been there” and move on, but instead he says, “is there anything I can do to help? Or any of us?”

“Oh, no, no, it’s nothing like that,” you say, and you think his face falls, but before you can double check if it was really disappointment on his face, his face rests at neutral again. “I don’t want to bother anyone. It’s my own problem. I’m so annoying.”

“I—we want you to be comfortable, you know?” he says, and his earnestness pierces your heart. “So let us know. They’re all crazy, but they’re all good guys, and I know them, and they would definitely want to know if there was anything they can do to help. And same goes for me—I’m here if you want to talk about anything or if you need me to say anything to one of them.”

You nod.

“So there was nothing specific that happened today?” His hand twitches like he is going to reach for something, but he lets it fall back to his side. “Also if you’re done talking about this, I don’t want to pry or be nosy so like, we can stop talking about it, if that’s better.”

You truly cannot get more surprised. He’s so kind and caring and considerate and you have no idea where this all came from. What did you do to deserve this kindness? Why is he inconveniencing himself for you? Now you’re second guessing yourself—do you want to talk about it? Is it safe and fine? “It’s just embarrassing. I’m so stupid.”

“You are definitely not stupid,” Osamu says. “Did you see those dumbasses in there?”

You’re about to protest and he cuts you off with, “if you were about to say they aren’t stupid, then you aren’t etiher.”

You nod. You look up at him, and he has a self-satisfied smirk, and you want to roast him for something to bring him down a peg, but you can’t think of anything because you’re also floating away on a cloud because you’re so happy, and you never want this conversation to end.

“Did I do anything embarrassing?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

Okay. So you can take him at face value or maybe he’s lying maliciously. (He’s definitely not lying maliciously.) Maybe he was lying with good intentions? That could be positive—he feels positively towards you, and doesn’t want you to feel sad about this particular thing. That could be good.

So where do we go from here? You know that realistically this is not a life or death situation. But you keep flashing back to it, even though everyone has moved on. You don’t know whether you can realistically call it a shame attack—but who’s going to judge you for what you call it inside your head? You don’t want to catastrophize but you also don't want to invalidate yourself. You want to feel better and you want this to go away, and you don’t know how to make that happen.

You are embarrassed.

And that is okay.

It wasn’t the best outcome to have occurred (although nothing really bad happened, either.) Everyone laughed and made a joke and moved on. Everyone seemed to be giving you grace, and assuming best intent, which is great. That is great! The benefit of the doubt? Not starting drama on purpose? This is incredible. Who knew people could behave like this?

There’s no non-awful way to ask this. You look at him, wondering how to warn him.

“I have another question,” you say.

“What’s up?”

“It’s very—” you catch his eye and deliver him a displeased expression. “I am actually worried about it. But like maybe it’s silly and fine, and if it (the situation) is fine, then it’s (my question) going to be asking for validation which is. I dunno.” Embarrassing, but do you need to go into that much detail? Isn’t enough enough? Haven’t you done enough? But you keep going. “But like if I am right, then like I really do need to know, I think. So I can apologize.”

Osamu genuinely looks so alarmed. You feel bad for causing drama. Why can’t you be calm and normal? “Whoa. What is going on?”

“Was anyone mad at me?”

He looks at you for a few seconds, apparently expecting more. He lets out a sigh. You’ve done it. You've ruined everything. He’s probably annoyed now. Maybe no one was mad before, but now you’ve done it.

“I don't think so.”

“Really?” you ask.

“Really, really,” he says. “I know those guys pretty well, and they all seemed at ease and happy and having fun.”

You nod.

Did that check out?

Yes, with your perception of reality. Honestly, the other person was pretty gracious about it and did not seem mad or uncomfortable at all. Everyone had moved on, and it’s ok for this to have happened. It’s ok to have had a funny story occur, and it’s okay to be memorable, because even if it was kind of in a “bad” way, it wasn’t in a way that would make any of them not want to hang out with you anymore. It’s ok to go out and interact with people and take that risk of something embarrassing happening. Bonding happens in a lot of ways! Sometimes it can be this—not exactly in your control, which is scary. But there’s no reason to always be “in control.” Bad things don’t “always” happen when you are “not” “in control.” There’s no need to always be the savior, or a therapist, or always helping people with their problems, or proving your worth by helping to solve problems. Or trying to be indispensable by being a problem-solver.

You're now realizing that you don’t think you’re a fun person. That’s the only reason why you would be so completely shocked and confused by people liking you even if you don’t solve problems for them. You don’t think you're a fun person, but maybe other people do. You don’t have to be right about everything. Right? And there can be differences in opinions. Just because you don’t think you’re fun but other people do think you’re fun, doesn’t mean either of you have to be wrong.

There’s no need to always trauma bond. Trauma will always be a part of you but it does not have to be all that you are. You can bond with other people based on other things.

You can be fun.

So, did “was anyone mad at me?” “no” check out? Yes, based on reality. No, based on you assume someone is always going to be mad at you, is mad at you, will be mad at you, etc. You always assume you are in imminent danger.

But maybe you aren’t this one time. Maybe it’s fine.

You and Osamu reached your destination a few minutes ago and you’ve been standing in front of the building. It’s truly been 🧍🧍.

“Um—” you hate to be this person because you never want a hang out to end, but you also don’t want to be an asshole and cause problems, so you have to ask, “Did I make you late?”

“It’s fine,” he says, waving his hand, as if dispersing your question in the air. “Do you have more you want to talk about?”

You shake your head. “I want to talk to you more, but it can be after your thing.”

He grins. “Okay. Are you sure?”

“Yeah! I'll be fine. You were a big help.”

“Okay! If you’re sure.”

You nod.

He sighs. “I’m glad to hear that. So I’ll text you later?”

“Yeah!” You beam at him. “Sounds good.”

“Okay. See you later?”

“See you later!”

He stands there, and stares at you still, even after you’ve said bye 23984 more times. He is not ready to leave. You turn away, thinking he’s going to enter the building, but he stays planted.

“What?” you ask, grinning and buzzing.

“Nothing,” he says. He turns around and enters the building, yanking open the door, and speedwalks down the hall.

You turn away for real, finally, and scroll through your phone, trying to pick out what music you want to listen to as you start your journey back to your residence.

While you’re tapping through your phone, you get a notification from Osamu.

#~#~#~

Osamu: did you think of what you want me to make for dinner yet?

#~#~#~

You have to laugh. You have to.

You text him back:

#~#~#~

You: When was I going to have time to think of that? Weren’t we both together until literally just now? You know what was on my mind this whole time

Osamu: okay well think of something

You: be patient

#~#~#~

You are happy for yet another positive social interaction for the books. You’re doing such a good job, and you can be proud of yourself, and you will continue to do a good job.

And plus, now that you can put this behind you, you can spend some time thinking about what you want Osamu to make you for dinner. (The possibilities are endless.) 💖🤍🖤

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