Latest Posts by chaoticcoffeeewitch - Page 11

2am mac n cheese

little by little [atsumu x reader]

part 2/8

< | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

“you’re a familiar face.”

pulling one airpod out, you nearly jump out of your skin. “you scared me!”

he points to the mop in your hands, “you almost went to hit me.”

“don’t creep up on people like that!”

that’s how you meet atsumu again. he walks into the cafe you work part-time at, and somehow you recognise his thick eyebrows even though he’s wearing that mask again.

“i saw you from the window and—“ you raise your eyebrows, and he huffs defensively, “i swear i’m not stalking you!”

it’s been weeks since your first encounter. you never told anyone about him, since it seemed like he really had been a figment of your imagination. you didn’t know his name, only his age and where he grew up, that he isn’t from around here. he might as well have been your little secret.

“i wanted to see you again,” he confesses. “i didn’t even ask for your name.”

you smile, a little giddy, and gladly give it to him. when he tells you his name, you repeat it again for good measure and he waits for a moment, as if expectantly.

“oh,” you say, “did you want…breakfast or something?”

he’s grinning deviously— you can tell by the slant of his eyes. “asking me on a date already?”

“in your dreams, kid,” you laugh.

“you’re only older by 2 years! that’s barely anything!”

you put a hand to your chest, “onee-san will buy you something to eat. leave it to me.”

he scowls and hangs his head. “don’t ever say that again. but…i accept. if you join me.”

so you do. even if it means taking your break when you’re barely even into your shift.

you learn he’ll be leaving the city soon. somehow you’re somewhat sad. you ask if that means he won’t be creeping up on girls anymore and he glowers but continues to guzzle down his food. you wonder why he’s travelling since he’s too young to be a businessman, and he’s always in sweats like it’s a disguise.

“are you a secret agent?” you feign shock. “are you on a mission right now?”

“don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “i’m just visiting my brother. he owns a restaurant here.”

“so you decided to scab off onee-san instead?”

he drops his fork suddenly— “you’re not my sister, quit saying that.” you feel like you should apologise for teasing until he adds, “what kind of little brother would i be if i find you so pretty?”

you’re almost surprised, possibly a little taken aback. and then you laugh it off. you won’t be seeing him again anytime soon.

“flattery won’t get you more free food,” you tell him. he wants to say that isn’t his intention but he swallows the words.

“give me your phone,” he instead says. so you do. he types down his number and then sends himself a text.

“what did you do?” you ask as he slyly slides it back to you across the table.

his face is cunning like a fox.

when you see what he sent himself, your cheeks redden.

atsumu-kun please save my number, i’m you’re number 1 fan— says the message.

“you—!”

he then shows you his phone, and the contact he’s saved you as. “now i can text my number one fan whenever i want,” he goads.

knight osamu I REPEAT MYSELF KNIGHT OSAMU

downfall

lonely forest pt.1

A/N: Hey guys, this is my contribution to this month’s hqhq server collab with the theme “fantasy”. This is a part one and soon there’ll be the part two but I wanted split the story at that point. Please go and check out all of the other amazing ppl in the collab!

Pairing: kitsune!Atsumu x reader

Warning: none

Summary: You and the kitsune have been friends for a long time but somehow things change and insecurities seem to hold things back.

Growing up you were never around many people, mostly kept to yourself while being surrounded by the beautiful nature near your home. And even though you haven’t had many people to keep you company as a child, you were never alone.

You used to wander around the place, exploring the world in your childlike curiosity. One day you lost yourself in the depths of the green leaves and blue painted sky. It was midday and the sun was peaking through the crowns of the trees, marbling the ground in light that distracted you from the fact that you were lost. Suddenly the clay on the ground seemed to bubble, moving into a ball and growing until it looked like a small puppet. The sight of the little creature made you giggle, your feet automatically moving closer to it but before your hands could reach it, it turned around and ran away. Surprised by the speed of the clay puppet you were determined to catch up and so you ran after it, your laughing echoing through the forest.

It was like you were playing tag with a friend, the creature always a few steps ahead but you never gave up. Your feet crushed small branches on the ground and you nearly tripped over some of the roots that worm their way through the earth. Focused on keeping the balance and running, you didn’t even realize that your new clay friend already stopped running. Halting your motions your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. The creature wasn’t alone anymore but stood right next to what seemed like to be a boy around your age. He sat on the ground, patting the clay puppet on the head, paying you no attention. What stunned you wasn’t the fact that there was a boy out of nowhere but the way he looked. He was wearing something that looked like a yukata, his orange hair decorated with fox ears, the fur in the color of his hair, and a fox tail curling on the ground.

Mesmerized by the beauty of the fox-boy you forgot about the clay puppet that you wanted to catch and as you stared at him, his gaze started to move from the creature up to you. Without a word you two were just looking into each other’s eyes, his ears occasionally twitching at any sound and trying to understand the situation at hand.

“W-who are you?” Your small voice seemed to reach his ears but instead of answering your question he just cocked his head to the side. He didn’t seem too dangerous, not that you could already observe it correctly, but you still took a few steps ahead. “I am y/n, I live near the forest but I’ve never seen you before.”

You looked at his ears, they looked so fluffy and you had the urge to touch them. He saw your look and he seemed to understand it because he turned his head towards you, ears once again twitching. With a bright smile you took that invitation and started to touch his fur, the softness keeping you in a trance.  “Atsumu, my name is Atsumu and I live here.” Was all he said, lips slightly curling into a smile at your touch. 

So, Atsumu was his name and he was also the earth kitsune residing in the forest near your house. That would explain the appearance of the fox ears and tail. Other people might’ve thought that it would be strange to see someone like that but for you it started to become a completely normal sight.

Keep reading

What the fvck

summary: Your long term boyfriend leaves you for someone else (no cheating), so you decide to take revenge on the most important person in his life. But it takes an unexpected turn... genre: angst, smut, a pinch of fluff? warnings: fighting, falling out of love, breakup, swearing, MINORS DNI betas: @vivianvampyric thank you so much, my love. What would I do without you <3 special thanks: to @karasunowo for this beautiful Osamu doodle <3 and my soulmate @bokutosace for pushing me past my block <3 a/n: Fic is a part of the Anilysium server collab with a prompt: hate/revenge fucking. You can find the masterlist here. wc: 3.2k

“What the fuck?!”

Eight years. Eight fucking years reduced to this one sentence.

“Am sorry, I really am.”

To be fair, Atsumu does look sorry—with pain besmirching his big brown eyes, usually so warm and bright; a quiver of his bottom lip and muscles shifting in his jaw; and the way he’s fiddling with his fingers, something he almost never does. Something about precious setter fingertips.

“I don’t give a fuck, Atsumu! How could you?!” He shrinks in on himself.

“I— We haven’t done anythin’, I just— A wanted ta be fair ta ya.”

You scoff. Fair. How is dumping a girlfriend of eight years after living together for five for some other chick fair? How is falling in love with someone else after making promises of forever since high school fair?

You’re surprised you haven’t started crying yet—maybe it’s because of the shock, maybe it’s the rage, or maybe it’s your pride and not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you break down. Although between the breakdown and your current outburst, you’re not sure which is worse.

“Look, yer free to stay ‘ere fer as long as ya want. I have a place ta stay, I’ll grab ma things when yer out. I owe ya this much.”

“You don’t owe me shit.”

“I do. I— I better go now. Bye, Y/n.”

Closing the door of your shared apartment (not anymore, you realise) opens a door somewhere inside of you, and you burst in tears. And then you cry, and cry, and cry, until your eyes are swollen and burning, and you can’t open them anymore.

The next few days are a blur; you're not quite sure if it's a day or night with your closed curtains, you fall in and out of an uneasy slumber, and don't remember the last time you ate or showered.

The rage has burnt everything in you, leaving nothing but ashes and dried tear trails. It's bizarre, not feeling anything—a little bit like drowning, a little bit like floating, a little bit like suffocating.

On the fifth day of this timeless suspension you realise that the noise you hear isn't an earthquake; it's just your stomach demanding something, anything. But there's nothing at the apartment, you've already ate whatever was still consumable, and the rest is spoiled.

You're still standing in front of the open empty fridge, deciding on whether to go shopping or not, but the loud grumbling makes the decision for you. But first, you need a shower.

The water feels magical as it flows down your body. It's warm, bringing back sensations in your numb limbs. It cleanses the dread, removes dust, and all the dirt and worries disappear down the drain.

It's kind of refreshing to wear clean clothes after these few days and leaving the apartment, even if it's to go to the grocery store right next to your building. It's almost normal to pick the rice, vegetables, meat, and fruits.

Back at a home that isn't yours, the ingredients for a simple dish are simmering in the pot, and you hum happily while mixing. It's a sound that these walls haven't heard in a while, and it still lingers when you pour the soup in a bowl.

You sit at the table, clasp your hands together with an echoing clap and mutter an itadakimasu. And then it hits you, again. You're at the table, alone. About to eat dinner, alone. You're in this flat, alone. He's not here anymore, not yours anymore.

The dish is forced down your throat, spoon after spoon, even when you choke back the tears. It burns, it hurts, it threatens to go back up, but you continue, swallow after swallow. Because the world hasn't come to a halt, even if yours did.

There's a soft knock on the door, and you notice the room is filled with a red-ish, pink-ish light. You have survived another day, you think glancing at the setting sun.

---

"What the fuck." Osamu mutters under his breath and considers running away. "Why am I even doing this for that dick?"

He knows what Atsumu did. He knows that sometimes things like this happen and it's not necessarily anyone's fault. He's mad because he would never treat you like that. Maybe giving you up back in high school in favour of his twin was a mistake.

The man drags a hand down his face and knocks. Part of him hopes you're out, that you won't open the door and he won't have to pretend that he doesn't see your red, puffy eyes. Another part hopes that upon seeing him you'll just throw yourself into his arms in search of comfort.

There's a click of a lock and then a voice,

"'Samu?"

---

"'Samu? Come in, please."

It hurts how identical they are. Even despite different-coloured eyes, despite Osamu going back to his natural hair, they are so undeniably identical twins. Fuck.

"Would you like some tea? I don't have any coffee, sorry."

He hates the expression you're wearing, he hates how obvious it is that you're in pain, and he hates how it's probably because of his face. He shouldn't overstay his welcome, shouldn't break you any more, but he just can't leave.

When the drinks are ready, both of you sit at the table, the same one that you used to dine at with his brother. Judging by the look in your eyes, he's occupying Atsumu's chair, inflicting damage yet again.

The awkward silence fills the room; neither of you know what to say, because really what is there to say? Between the sips of a hot brew he opts for a meaningless small talk, one of about weather, because any other topic seems dangerous.

Time passes, and after many deafening tick-tocks it's suddenly too dark to see your undereye bags. You stand to turn the lights on.

"'Samu?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you here?"

He looks at you and gulps, not sure of your reaction when he says his name.

"To— to grab 'Tsumu's stuff."

"Did he— he asked you to?"

Osamu nods, and you can feel your blood boil. He was with you for eight fucking years, and he doesn't have the decency to come himself? He threw you away like trash, and he doesn't have the courage to look you in the eyes? He has to drag his brother into this?

You're angry, you're so angry, and the only thing you want is to devastate, to hurt, to break, to trample, just like you were devastated, hurt, broken, and trampled. Osamu stands in front of you.

"Am sorry, Y/n. Am so incredibly sorry."

Blinded by the rage, you hide your face in Osamu's chest, crumple his shirt in your fists, as you decide to destroy the only constant in Atsumu's life. To rip off something that was always his and claim it as yours, even if it’s just for one night.

He’s mad too; he gave you up all those years ago for his brother, only for him to step on it, and in the name of what? He’s spent all those years watching your relationship bloom, wishing you were his instead, but you belonged to his twin, you were untouchable, unattainable. But now, the very same brother left you, spat on Osamu’s sacrifice, and ran away. So he’s going to steal you away, claim you as finally his, even if it’s just for one night.

He hugs you tight, rubbing soothing patterns on your back, and mumbles apology after apology. If there was anything he could do, he'd do it in a heartbeat. There's not one thing he wouldn't do for you.

"'Samu, what's wrong with me? Am I not enough?" You mutter into the fabric. Hook.

"Huh? No, Y/n, look at me." You lift your face and look at him with doe eyes. Line. "There's nothing wrong with ya, yer a wonderful woman." Sinker.

You keep your gaze on him for a moment, pull him down by his shirt as you stand on your toes… and then you kiss him. A gentle peck right on his lips, then another one before you capture his bottom lip between yours.

"I— I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I don't—"

You push yourself off of him, babbling and pretending to panic, but in the corner of your eye you see how much he liked it. Perfect. So you place a finger on your lips, as if the sensation of him still lingered there, and shift your gaze at him.

Everything becomes a blur when you keep looking at each other, millions of feelings swarming in his eyes, a dangerous glint in yours. Everything is hazed over when he pulls you in and crashes his lips on yours.

His warm hands slide under your shirt against your cool skin and you gasp at the sensation. He wastes no time and kisses you deeper, harsher, with a tongue teasing at yours. You wonder if it tastes as sweet to him as it does to you.

Your impatient fingers tug at his shirt, wanting to feel him closer, sooner, right now. The kiss is broken and as if on command, both of you take your shirts off. Osamu's arms snake around your waist again, pulling you into him and into another searing kiss.

It's full of longing, full of hunger, overtaking your senses like a storm. There's just Osamu and the taste of his tongue, the feeling of it sliding and swirling around yours, and the stinging of his bites on your bottom lip.

He pushes you backwards until your thighs hit the edge of the table; you're lifted to sit on it as the black haired twin sucks hot marks onto your neck. His hands are on your thighs, digging in the soft flesh through your pants, and he moves them towards your ass, not forgetting to tease the creases with his thumbs.

A shiver runs down your spine and straight to your cunt; it’s a forbidden fruit with an alluring scent, and you want to bite into it, devour it whole, even if it consumes you back. Just the idea of the act is so sinful, that you can’t help but wonder if the heat inside you is arousal or hellfire.

Osamu’s huge hands unclasp your bra and throw it somewhere on the floor, then they move to cup your tits and squeeze them. His lips are on yours again, kissing you like there’s no tomorrow, as if he’s been waiting for it for a lifetime. A pinch on your nipples makes you release the sweetest little ‘ah’ he’s ever heard in his life.

You’re growing impatient, you want him to finally fill you up, so you tug on the band of his sweats and he gets it. Leaning on your palms you lift your hips us, giving him the opportunity to take both your pants and panties off. Where they land afterwards, you don’t know.

One of his hands reaches straight to your pussy, fingertips prod at the entrance and smear your juices all around your folds.

“Fuck.” He breathes into the kiss. “Yer so fuckin’ wet.”

He flicks your clit a few times and you arch your back in response. Osamu smirks; you’re so sensitive, so responsive, he can’t wait to pull all kinds of sounds from your lips, especially his name. He doesn’t have to wait long though, a few rubs and pinches on your nub and you let out a breathy “‘Samu…”, and he swears he could cum at that moment.

His touch feels so much different from his brother’s—his hands are rougher, fingers thicker, which you notice as the man slips one of them into your cunt. It’s so different but so good, intoxicating even, and you nearly lose your mind when another one joins in.

There’s a steady pace of the pumping of his digits, in and out, in and out, with each time the base of his fingers rubs against your clit. Your walls are squeezing him, nails digging in his shoulders, and when you moan his name again, he has to be inside you. Now.

Osamu pushes you gently so you lay down on the table, and gets rid of his sweats and boxers in the meantime. Your knees are spread wide to invite him into your leaking hole, and he enters in one swift motion. The next few seconds are still, it’s time to adjust to his size, to this new experience, but soon enough he moves again. Tea cups fall to the floor and shatter, but neither of you notices.

At first the thrusts are slow, careful, and he’s watching your face closely for any signs of discomfort. They don’t appear, so the pace is a little quicker, the push a little harder. It’s happening, it’s finally happening, the moment he’s been dreaming of for years at last coming true. It’s difficult to control himself, and soon enough his cock is drilling into you with a force that will surely bruise your cervix.

You’re so full of him, he’s invaded your pussy, your mind—in this moment your whole existence screams “Osamu, Osamu, ‘Samu.” You tell him to go even faster, even harder, to hammer out every thought out of your head. He complies, pulls you closer to the edge of the table and leans down over you. His hands grip the opposite edge of the furniture and Osamu makes an experimental thrust.

And then he’s ramming into you, pushing his cock even further in your cunt, and it’s a miracle that your table is still in one piece. You wrap your arms around his, nails digging in his shoulder blades, as the familiar heat blooms in your abdomen. One of your hands reaches down between your bodies, the other still holding onto him for dear life.

You rub your clit in circles, his cock covered in your slick gliding against your fingers, and you suppose you can’t hold on for much longer. Neither can he, both your brains turned into mush, and between incoherent moans and groans of oh gods and fuckfuckfucks only three words are exchanged.

“Where?”

“Inside. Pill.”

Your thighs shake around him, body arches off the tabletop, and your cunt sucks him deeper and deeper with every clench. His cock twitches at every spasm but he needs to be patient, you need to fall first. And you do, after he suckles harshly on your nipple, with a loud scream of his name. His name. This is what pushes him off the edge, and he spills inside your throbbing pussy in hot spurts.

There’s a moment of silence, only your quickened pants fill the air. You’re still wrapped around him, keeping him inside, and Osamu thinks that maybe this is his chance. Only chance.

“Lemme take ya to bed.” He whispers in your ear and you nod, so he lifts you off the table and carries you to the bedroom.

He lays you down gently, hovering over you, and captures your lips between his once again. Only this time it’s slow, gentle, full of all the words he’s never said. Because this time is not about the hot eruption of anger, not about revenge. It’s about you (and maybe him, if you allow it), about the worship and unspoken feelings.

His kisses trail down, caressing every inch of your skin, every crease and mound of your body, until you ask him to fill you up again. Only then does he push in again, rolling his hips calmly, almost lovingly. Only then does he whisper how beautiful you are in your ear. Only then does he make love to you, until you both fall asleep.

---

You’re woken up by a clinking noise coming from the kitchen, but it takes a moment before your awareness comes back enough to actually process what’s happening. There’s still a faint scent of a cologne and sex in the air; the pillow next to you is rumpled, same as the sheet.

Then it dawns on you—memories of the last night and who you spent it with flow freely into your mind. You wonder if the noise coming from outside of your bedroom is made by your latest hook-up, who just so happens to be your ex-boyfriend’s twin. Your feet search for the slippers but find none; you just throw some t-shirt from the floor on you and patter barefoot to the kitchen.

You’re welcomed with a sight of Osamu’s bare back, very muscular back, marked with long red stripes and a bite mark on his shoulder. There’s a familiar throbbing between your thighs, and it suddenly feels so empty without his cock; even though it’s wrong, it’s wicked, it’s salacious. What the fuck?

The man is still unaware of your presence, digging through the cupboards in search of bowls, plates, chopsticks—anything to serve the breakfast in. For one person, as you notice. Everything is ready, so he places the dishes on a tray and turns to put them on a table, only to be startled by your figure.

“Oh god, ya scared me.”

“Good morning to you too, ‘Samu.”

There’s an awkward silence; you’re still standing facing each other—you in his shirt, him with a tray.

“I made ya breakfast. Thought you’d be hungry when ya wake up.”

“You’re not gonna eat?”

He’s still standing there, but now his eyes are trained on the food, as if he was counting the grains of rice.

“A don’t think ya’d want my company.”

“I do. Stay. Please?”

The smile that shows up on his face is faint, even less visible than the sudden glint in his irises. But he stays, plates another set of dishes and sits by you at the table. The rest of the meal passes in silence; only after the bowls are empty do you speak,

“‘Samu, I’m sorry, I- I used you to—”

“Do ya regret it?” He doesn’t let you finish, his gaze is intense, taking in your confused expression. “Sleepin’ with me. D’ya regret it?”

You let the question sit in your mind for a moment, wait for your conscience to object but it doesn’t happen, so you reply simply, “No.”

“Good. I don’t either. I used ya too, ya know.” Your confusion changes into disbelief, so he leans back on the chair with a sigh and continues. “I got mad. Back in high school I stepped back from pursuing ya. I told ‘im that if he’s serious about ya, A won’t stand in the way. And then looked at ya both wishin’ t’was me. With you. But that dickhead threw it away. I was so mad that I wanted ya to be mine, even just for a moment, yanno?”

It’s a lot to take in, what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? Twin brother of your now ex-boyfriend, the one you have just spent a very pleasant night with, has been feeling something for you? For this whole time? You watch as Osamu shifts to lean on his elbows on the table, face hidden in his palms.

“Sorry for droppin’ that bomb on ya.”

“Do you… Do you still…”

“Love ya? Yeah.” Your heart skips a beat at his words.

“Wait for me. Wait until I heal.”

It’s a selfish request, you know it, but Osamu nods anyway. There’s something to look forward to now, because when you heal, maybe you’ll make the choice you were deprived of.

WHERE TWO HEARTS MEET - OIKAWA TOORU

a/n: inspired by this exchange with @yujikuna

The air in Amsterdam was cool against your skin, a welcome feeling after eleven hours sitting on a stuffy plane. You’d been thankful for the leg room but it always has been difficult for you to sleep during flights.

Now you were stuck in an airport for eight hours until your connecting flight. There were small hotel rooms somewhere around here that you might be able to get a few hours shut eye in but your first priority was to find something to eat. Nothing against plane food, but you weren’t exactly given much variety.

The layout of Schiphol airport is sleek, modern and artistic in a way. Thankfully it isn’t too busy, unlike how it had been in Tokyo, and you can easily find the shopping court with the help of the English signs. From what you can see there are various chain restaurants, along with a few that you don’t recognise. There are stalls selling beautiful bouquets of tulips, even some selling artwork and sculptures, and you’re drawn in by their vibrant colours.

It seems you had not been the only one, a man stepping toward the stall and tilting his head as he studies the flowers and engaging in polite conversation with the owner. You pause, struck then by a feeling of familiarity, even though you could only see the back of his head. You step away so only your upper half is peaking around the corner and take the time to study him. Sweet deep brown locks curl slightly against his neck and around his ears, some parts of his hair a little flat like he had been leant against them for too long. His back is broad, though hidden under a layer of an oversized hoodie, with long legs. You hear a voice that you listen to every night through the speaker of your phone, the very same voice that tells you he loves you, the very same voice that cries when he misses you.

Tooru.

Still a safe distance away you continue to stare as your eyes grow misty, feeling like you’re in a dream. He plucks an adorable little tulip plush from one of the displays, he pays for it easily with a wave of his card and bids the worker goodbye. Only a few metres away are tall screens detailing flight departures, he saunters toward them and comes to a stop in front of a screen that reads ‘Japan: departs 15:32’.

He was visiting home? But he hadn’t told you anything about coming back, that’s why you had thought it was a good opportunity to surprise him by visiting Argentina during his off season. Warmth bleeds throughout your chest at the thought that he may also be trying to surprise you.

You slide your phone from the pocket of your sweatpants and unlock it with trembling fingers. His contact is your most recent and you quickly press his name, the photo assigned to him covering the screen. Amused, you watch him fumble with his own device, clearly not expecting you to contact him.

When he answers he’s nonchalant, it’s almost impressive how nothing about his voice gives away that he was not in Argentina given Tooru is the worst liar you know. From your spot by the corner you ask him how he is, if he had eaten, everything you would usually talk about over the phone. And then you ask.

“Tooru…” You drawl, a smile pulling at your lips as he tenses. He knows that tone, it usually means he’s in trouble.

“Yes, beautiful?” He stammers, chuckling awkwardly.

“Are you by any chance on your way to Japan right now?”

He startles, his whine loud through the speaker, causing you to wince and briefly pull it away from your ear. “Who told you?! It was supposed to be a surprise!” he complains childishly, the pout evident in the way he sounds. “It was Makki, wasn’t it?”

Laughter bubbles within your chest, a giddy feeling washing over you, the impatience of wanting to be in his arms after eight months away from him is overwhelming. “Baby, turn around”.

He turns, head moving left and right scanning the area around him. There are all types of people milling around, all travelling to different places, leading vastly different lives. It was something he had always loved about airports.

But he didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking for.

“Baby, what are you talking abo—”

The moment he notices you is surreal, it’s as if in that moment you both enter a bubble wherein only the two of you exist. His mouth falls open, the device in his hand almost slipping from his grip, unable to process the sight of you only a few feet from him. When you step out from behind the corner he snaps out of his reverie, unthinkingly breaking into a sprint, desperate to have you pressed against his chest again.

You quickly reach your hands out to steady him as he crashes into you, his arms tightly wrapping around your waist. You curl your hands into his hair, the both of you laughing tearfully amid your dramatic display and catching the attention of passers by who smile at your reunion.

He pushes your shoulders back and takes your face into his hands tenderly, stroking his thumbs along your cheekbones. His eyes flit over your body in disbelief, as if he is making sure you’re truly here. Upon his satisfaction he leans forward to press your foreheads together, your noses brushing together.

“How— how are you here? Why are you here?” he chokes, words thick with emotion. He’s so close you can see the tears settling upon his eyelashes. You nuzzle into his cheek, basking in the undivided affections you’d so sorely missed. The feeling of home slots perfectly back into your heart like it never left.

“I was coming to surprise you in Argentina,” you explain softly. “I didn’t tell anyone but my parents”.

He beams and starts to shower your face with feather light kisses. After moving abroad he’d become much bolder with publicly displaying affection since it was far more normal in Argentina, and you can’t say you were complaining about it. You both had a lot of making up to do.

“I was coming to see you, too. I told Makki and Mattsun, but since you didn’t mention anything to them that’s why no one was able to tell you otherwise” he murmurs, his lips hovering over your own teasingly, his breath tickling your skin. “Missed you more than you know”.

“I think I do know,” you hum, tilting your head to bring your mouths together in a firm kiss, pressing all your yearning against his lips. Time doesn’t seem real in his embrace as he kisses you again, and again, and again. Every lick and hitched gasp feels like the very first and the very last, Tooru always kisses you like the world could end at any moment.

Somewhere a bell chimes overhead indicating an announcement, jolting you both out of your daze. Tooru tenses once he hears the words ‘flight to Japan’ and ‘boarding soon’, eyes wide in panic, and he curses.

“Quick, we gotta go to the ticket desk and get me on your flight!” He blurts, reaching down to grab your hand and pull you along with him. Tripping over your feet as you try to keep up with him, you feel yourself grinning freely at his theatrics.

This would make a good story.

kenmas new friends

inarizaki fic recommendations

(Reader inserts) Recommendations of my favorite headcanons/imagines/fics/scenarios (I don’t own any)

・・・・・・

fluff / hugging your boyfriend and not letting go ⟶ w/Atsumu, Osamu & Kita

sfw / showing off their manager

sfw / celebrating manager’s birthday

sfw / being Inarizaki’s manager

sfw / crushing on a cute waitress ⟶ w/Osamu, Suna & Atsumu

sfw / asking “are you awake?” while they’re sleeping ⟶ w/Atsumu, Osamu, Suna, Kita & Aran

sfw / taking them bra shopping ⟶ w/Kita, Aran, Atsumu, Osamu & Suna

angst fluff / you overhear them say they don’t like you ⟶ w/Kita & Atsumu

fluff / when they realize they want to marry you ⟶ w/Atsumu, Osamu & Suna

sfw / soulmate troupe ⟶ w/Suna & Osamu

fluff / last first kiss ⟶ w/Suna, Osamu, Aran, Atsumu & Kita

fluff / first kiss ⟶ w/Atsumu, Osamu, Suna, Aran, Kita, Gisnhima & Akagi

・・・・・・

fluff / unexpected

fluff / boyfriend

fluff / breakfast in bed

angst fluff / ascian

fluff / “you wanna pizza me?”

fluff / the way to a man’s heart

sfw fluff / jealousy

fluff / first

fluff / a bit biased

sfw / Karasuno #1 supporter (part 1, part 2)

timeskip (masterlist)

fluff / tiny

fluff / little words

fluff / lazy in bed

fluff / foolish four

fluff / six

fluff / kiss you

fluff / boyfriend

fluff / friends to lovers

fluff / highlighters

fluff / friday nights

angst fluff / aparecium (harry potter au, masterlist)

fluff / finding out you used to have a crush on him (part 1, part 2)

nsfw ish / enemies to lovers

fluff / “you’re mine now”

sfw / “my friends get so annoyed by how I talk about you sometimes”

fluff / victory high

angst fluff / moment’s silence

sfw fluff / club stupid (smau, masterlist)

sfw fluff / interact (smau, masterlist)

fluff / boyfriend

sfw fluff / instant boyfriend (smau, masterlist)

fluff / soft

fluff / “because I know you”

angst sfw / choose her

fluff / lovedrunk

fluff / confessions

sfw / almost funny

sfw /au metamorphosis (smau, masterlist, ongoing)

sfw fluff / swipe left (smau, masterlist)

fluff / “I ended up liking you more than I originally planned”

angst fluff / the in-betweens

sfw / bracelet maker matchmaker

fluff / hand warmers

sfw / pocky

fluff / switched

timeskip

fluff / and then forever

fluff / returned home

fluff / cuddles

fluff / back where we belong

sfw / dancin

sfw / au too rough

sfw / now or never

fluff / playing with his hair

fluff / patience is a virtue

fluff / steal my girl

fluff / stay as I sleep

fluff / mistletoe

fluff / boyfriend

fluff / call me (please)

fluff / childhood best friends to lovers

sfw fluff / golden days

timeskip

fluff / finding out you used to have a crush on him (part 1, part 2)

fluff / his two favorite people

fluff / for convenience sake

・・・・・・

Other Haikyuu!! masterlists

Updated:27-Aug-2021

Banners made by me ♡

100 WAYS. ¹

PAIRING | miya osamu x fem!reader

GENRE | angst, fluff, smut (18+)

WARNINGS | TIME SKIP MANGA SPOILERS + NSFW! minors dni. this part: toxic relationship and behavior, growing up not being loved by family, cursing, very slight body shaming, etc. next part(s): penetration, protected sex, oral (f & m receiving), praising, osamu flirting with you right in front your fiancé, suggestive? food play? exhibitionism (in car & restaurant), mild pet names like ‘brat,’ teasing, very light degradation, overstimulation, etc.

DISCLAIMER | this part does not contain smut, however the following parts will which makes this mini-series have smut in general. do not ignore warnings.

WORD COUNT | this part: 5.5k

SUMMARY | in which the moment you walked into "onigiri miya" with your arranged fiancé, you realized your taste in men could be a lot better. and miya osamu, the owner of the restaurant, was willing to change that. treat you just right and on the house, of course. especially since the moment you entered the restaurant, he wants to see you come again.

BONUS | i recently reread the timeskip chapters, (s)creamed at osamu's panels uhm, and wrote this based off 100 ways by austin hull. muy sexy song if i might add </3

PART ONE [ 1/4 ] | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

YOU FELT NOTHING AS THE MAN TUGGED YOU INSIDE THE RESTAURANT HARSHLY BY THE HAND, your hair half-soaked and coat damp. It was as if this night just couldn’t get any worse. This was supposed to be a date night that was not only ruined by the weather’s inconvenience but also the fact your date decided to run late again due to a business overtime meeting.

“Shit,” The man cursed under his breath as he padded down the droplets of water from his top. “Couldn’t you have brought an umbrella? This suit was expensive, you know.”

“I didn’t know it was gonna rain,” You mumbled, carding your fingers through your wet hair and trying to make it look somewhat presentable, padding your hands on your coat.

“Whatever, let’s just get this date over with,” He grumbled under his breath, grabbing your hand and trying to find a table to sit at. “I’d rather be anywhere else than with you.”

Ouch.

You were to marry this man who had no love or remorse for the sharp actions and words he throws at you. You were to marry this man who couldn’t at least give you the time of day and pretend to love you. You were to marry this man against your will because you couldn’t find love fast enough. For your rich family, that is.

You came from a family of money and business, and you never felt true affection or care or sometimes even love from them. Everything seemed to be for money for them all. And you felt nothing from him. Regardless if it was arranged, you would have hoped he’d come to love you and you, him.

But that never happened. He was just as heartless as them. And just as stuck up. Of all the ways you could find love, an arranged marriage just wasn’t one. But you didn’t stand the idea of disappointing your family, therefore you agreed and have regretted it deeply since.

You ignored his last comment and looked around for a table to sit at while he dramatically tried to compose himself. A hostess who was at the front of the restaurant asked if you’d like a table for two, you nodded weakly and followed her, ushering for your fiancé to follow you and not just stand there.

You thanked the hostess as she gave you two menus and sat down with your fiancé, not paying him a glance, and looked straight at the menu. He grunted and grabbed his menu, skimming through it with disinterest.

“Why’d you pick this restaurant?” He raised a brow as he looked through the menu. “Looks cheap if you ask me.”

“I have a friend who recommended it,” You stated weakly, lying. “And it has really good reviews.”

“Let’s just hope it’s decent, I’m not here to waste my time on shit food—!”

“Hello!” A voice from behind his seat interrupted, causing you to look up and meet the kind eyes with a small notebook in hand. “Welcome to Onigiri Miya! I’m Osamu. Can I take yer order?”

“Hi! Um—!” You opened your mouth, lightly stuttering, to greet the man and unfortunately getting cut off short.

“No, can’t you see we’re still looking?” Your fiancé interrupted you harshly, taking the waiter by surprise.

You’re to marry a man with no manners.

“S-Sorry,” You stuttered, gulping and giving the man standing a weak smile. “What he meant was we just came in. So maybe a few more minutes, if that’s okay?”

“Oh alright, no worries,” Osamu smiled back at you, eyes crinkling as he retreated, ignoring the rude tone your fiancé grumbled. “Let me know when yer ready to order then!”

“Thank you... Osamu,” You gave him another weak smile as he walked away, immediately fading when you met your fiancé’s annoyed expression at the fact you stated his first name as if he wasn’t a stranger.

“First name basis with a stranger? Pathetic,” He muttered under his breath, flipping through the menu.

“I know you’re forced to be here. Trust me, I’d also rather be anywhere than with you. But it wouldn’t kill you to be nice, especially since that waiter was being nice,” You stated with annoyance in your features, causing him to scoff and turn back to the menu in his hands.

In all honesty, you chose this place to dine at because you’ve happened to walk by it a couple of times when getting back from work. By yourself. You’d been walking past it for a couple of months, but never actually came in to try it. It looked popular and busy on the daily, so it must mean the food is good.

So today was the day you walked by it in the afternoon and decided it would be nice to go for dinner here. If you’re going to be forced to date a man you hate, at least have some good food while doing it. And for some reason, you felt like it would be a good choice.

“Whatever, it’s his job to be nice,” He scoffed, putting the menu down. “Are you ready to order?”

“Not yet,” You stated softly as you looked over the menu. You were actually starving, and you weren’t sure if only one thing on the menu would satisfy you. Your eyes danced over the options that sounded delicious and picked out what you were going to order.

“Hurry it up, I have to get home so I can finish up the paperwork for tomorrow’s promotional video,” He rolls his eyes, adjusting his coat. “Advertising shit for even shittier volleyball players takes up half my time, aside from wasting moments like this.”

“Okay, I’m ready,” You looked up from the menu, choosing to ignore his final sentence. He really has no filter, even in public. If anyone’s the piece of shit here, it’s him.

He motioned carelessly for Osamu as he had just finished handing an order for customers in the back. He waved back, saying he’ll be right there.

“I don’t get why you complain so much,” You rolled your eyes. “If you hate working there so much, then quit.”

“Quit? You still don’t get it?” He scoffed. “I actually have to work hard to provide for the both of us when we’re married, you’re the one complaining here, woman. Not understanding how men have to work hard to provide for you women.”

“I don’t need you to provide anything for me. I have a perfectly stable income, I don’t need you,” You state bitterly, quietly as you see Osamu approach the table with his small notebook.

“Then why are you marrying me, huh?” He mocked, chuckling. “Stable income, my ass. Having rich parents isn’t a stable income. They’ll cut you off one day. Why’d you think they chose me? I’m successful, and you’re not.”

This statement was unlike any of the harsh remarks he’s thrown at you. His words stung because of his power dynamic and clearly sexist standards in the arranged relationship. It hurt because part of it was true, you had relied on your parents up until now— when you’re supposed to marry a self-centered bastard with an ego so far up his ass he doesn’t even know how to properly talk to a woman. With manners. It hurt because you couldn’t answer why you married him.

You agreed to marry him to at least show some form of gratitude to your parents. As if it’s the price you pay, a price owed for raising you in a nice home with things that were shiner than everyone else’s. But you’d always had a modest and kind heart that was never affected by the money. But the money had got to their heads, and clearly, to this bastard that you’re supposed to marry.

You’d like to say you’re successful in your own way. Despite working for your father’s company just because he’s your father as if you can’t find another job of your own. You’d like to say you’re successful because despite the emotional damage they’ve put you through, you stay standing. And you felt like a part of you was weak, when in reality you weren’t. You were strong and you just needed someone to help you see that aside from yourself.

“What will ya be havin’ today?” Osamu approached your table with a smile once more, and for some reason, his presence alone helped ease your emotions and the tension you’d been trying to rid of all night.

“I’ll just have curry and the deep-fried Basa rice, no drink on that,” Your fiancé stated in a bored expression, handing Osamu the menu in an almost aggressive manner. Osamu raised a brow before nodding and turning to look at you.

You bit your lip as you wondered whether or not you should just order the amount you originally wanted. It’s just that everything looked so good on the menu and you just couldn’t choose! You were starving. And the food around you smelled appetizing and absolutely ravishing. Besides, you could always take whatever leftovers remain to-go and you could eat it at home later.

“Um,” You smiled shyly before putting the menu on the table, ready to list out what you’d like to order. “I’d like to order some pork Katsu rice with cream of corn crab soup. As well as fried tuna dumplings and your onigiri special. With Jasmine tea.”

Osamu was about to nod with a soft smile and ask if you’d like anything else before your fiancé burst out laughing in a quiet tone, but can still be heard if people were looking.

“You’re gonna eat all of that?” He chuckled in a preposterously loud tone, causing your smile to fall. “By yourself? No wonder that dress fits you less than it did before.”

You were fuming, you were practically ready to stand on the balls of your feet and turn your heels and walk the fuck out, and never see him again. But how come pride, in the most awful sense, causes you to try and chuckle awkwardly— pretending to laugh along with the venomous words.

You failed to make it sound genuine, though, as Osamu’s smile fell. He didn’t even know you, but his fists clenched as he saw how you pretended to find the harsh words funny.

“You can order whatever ya’d like, sweetheart,” Osamu stated, smiling and causing your fiancé to stop laughing all of a sudden, turning towards Osamu with eyes widened with rage bubbling in them.

You blushed at the kind nickname Osamu referred to you as, encouraging you to order to your heart’s desire.

“Oi! That’s my fiancé, don’t call her that,” Your fiancé spit, eyes widening when Osamu completely ignores him and shoots you a kind smile, once more. Especially softening when you smile back in gratitude. He could tell this wasn’t a position you’d rather be in.

You’re to marry this son of a bitch? Just who were you to allow an average-looking man to talk to you, absolutely beautiful and innocently sweet? Surely, you must know your worth. There was more than that to you. You’d have to have a reason to marry a dickhead like that and let him speak to you that way.

It was a moment that caused you to pique Osamu’s interest and curiosity from now on.

“Can I get ya anything else?” Osamu brought up, ignoring your fiancé’s shocked expression, smiling at you when you smiled back shyly in gratitude.

“N-No, that’s all,” You grinned, shaking your head. “Thank you.”

“No problem, I’ll be out with yer order soon!” Osamu waved and walked back to the counter, handing your order list to the cooks in the back.

“Can you believe that guy?” Your fiancé grumbled, turning to you and crossing his arms over his chest. “Absolutely disrespectful. I might just have to speak to the manager about him.”

You ignored his statement as you looked past the line of cooks and at the boy with the cap, talking to the rest of the staff with a kind smile. Osamu, huh?

Thank you, Osamu.

You basically sat in awkward silence, which didn’t faze your fiancé at all since he clearly was preoccupying his time by sending business emails or texting other people on his phone. Rather than talk to you, at the very least.

He’s not even trying. Not bothering to in the slightest.

You look up when an overwhelming scent of the hot soup you ordered fills your senses, watching Osamu approach your table with both your and your fiancé’s orders on a large platter with one hand, placing your hot tea down on your table with the other.

“Alright! Curry with deep-fried Basa rice,” He said, placing the meal your fiancé ordered and turning to you with a smile, eyes crinkling once more. “And pork Katsu rice, cream of corn soup with crab, fried tuna dumplings, and onigiri with Jasmine tea for the pretty lady.”

Your face flushed in pink and your lips parted, shyly, at the little compliment Osamu called you as he dipped his head closer to yours, placing your orders at your side, and looking up; from under the cap he was wearing, meeting your eyes with a smile that looked daring and kind all at once. His gaze in yours allowed your heart to race as if he was looking at you with an intensity that meant to say something after he said Pretty. Did you even look pretty with your hair messed up from the rain? You thought, shaking your head mentally, ready to thank Osamu when your fiancé just had to act out again.

“Enjoy yer meal—!”

“Pretty girl? Seriously? You don’t take your job seriously, man?” Your fiancé retorted, looking at Osamu with annoyance. “Flirting with my woman in front of me?”

“I do take my job seriously sir,” Osamu blankly stated, still looking into your eyes, not bothering to spare him a glance. “I also suggest lowering yer voice, ‘cause ya don’t wanna disturb my other customers.”

Your fiancé’s mouth was agape at Osamu’s words. You resisted the urge to chuckle at his shocked face.

“Your customers?! Just who do you think you are—!” Your fiancé paused, looking at Osamu more closely and his eyes widening, expressions flooding with some kind of realization. “Wait a damn minute, you look oddly familiar…”

“Enjoy the food!” Osamu exclaimed, ignoring him once more, and turning back to you with a smile. “Let me know if I can get ya anything else, hm?”

“Yeah yeah,” Your fiancé grumbled as if Osamu was speaking to him. You were slightly taken back when Osamu shot you a quick wink before walking away. Nodding when he was out of sight.

“Can you believe that guy? I will definitely speak to his manager after this, flirting with you right in front of me.”

“You’re the one who insulted me in front of him,” You scoffed, taking your fork out of the rolled napkin.

“Oh, so you’re gonna let some minimum-wage paid waiter defend you? How low, even for you!” Your fiancé chuckled, mocking your tone.

You almost felt your eyes swell with tears, but you chose to just close your mouth with a neutral expression that felt nothing. Even the slightest heartbeat from hearing a kind and handsome waiter

Unbeknownst to you, the blue eyes stared softly at your sad expression from across the restaurant.

You thanked the gods for the silence that followed as soon as you dug in. You hoped that even the man you’re out on a date with couldn’t ruin the taste and exploding flavor from the dishes you ordered.

You hummed in content as you devoured the onigiri in bigger bites than usual, savoring the taste as you paired it with the creamy crab soup. You couldn’t help but feel joy at the ravishing dishes this restaurant had to offer. Perhaps it was the fact that at least the waiter of this restaurant was the only man that was kind to you tonight— or that the onigiri had its own signature flavor, being the restaurant’s pride and joy. You had already eaten the fried tuna dumplings and your rice, saving the best for last. The floral taste of the jasmine tea adds to the heavenly taste. You couldn’t help but feel like if his gentle touch handing you the food might have added to the sweetness of it all.

“Could you eat any more?” Your fiancé scowls in disgust. “Might as well order the whole menu while you’re at it!”

He laughed at his own harsh words, thinking he’s funny with his jokes. His words caused you to experience a sinking feeling in your stomach, dropping your spoon back into the half-full soup bowl, sinking into the creamy delight. And you were just starting to enjoy everything you thought this night would have in store for you. He couldn’t let you fucking live, for fuck’s sake. Though no one is laughing, certainly not you and certainly not the boy with a scrunched up and pissed off expression hooded under the cap he was wearing who just managed to hear what your fiancé said as he approached your table.

Osamu wanted to say something and pour the hot kettle of Jasmine tea over his filthy head that he thought he’d come over to you to refill if you’d like. The kettle shook in his hand, he was seriously debating it.

Instead, he chose to walk past your fiancé and stand in front of you, hiding your view from him.

“Would ya like a refill on the tea, sweetheart?” Osamu asked softly, looking at your empty cup of tea.

It would be nice…

“Oh, I-I’m good. Thank you, though—!” You smiled weakly with a faint blush at the nickname he called you again, shaking your hand but, once again, getting cut short.

“OI!” Your fiancé exclaimed, catching the attention of the table next to yours. “I thought I told you to quit with that. Have you no manners?”

“I’m afraid I should be asking you that,” Osamu stood up straight by your side, dark eyes boring into your fiancé’s. “Is that any way to talk to a woman?”

Your heart hammered in your chest. You didn’t want him to cause a scene. Please. Anything but a scene in public. You couldn’t take it anymore. You just wanted some good food and to go home. You didn’t want shit to worsen your night than it already had.

“Who the hell are you to tell me how to talk to a woman!?” Your fiancé yelled, causing even people in the back to turn and look at your trouble, you looked down in embarrassment, just praying for him to shut the fuck up.

“A man with decent manners…?” Osamu raised a brow as he nodded his head towards you, causing your fiancé to scoff. “Can’t ya see she’s tired of yer bullshit?”

“Bullshit?!” Your fiancé exclaimed in bewilderment.

“Yeah,” Osamu leaned forward, smirking, causing your eyes to widen and oddly for you to rub your thighs under the material of your dress together. “Everythin’ ya said was bullshit. Yer out with a real beauty at this ‘cheap’ restaurant, and ya don’t even have the fuckin’ balls to talk to her like a real man.”

Osamu seemed to have heard everything. He was so far away at some of these moments, how could he have heard?

“Who are you talking to me about my own relationship? I’m a rich and successful man around here. And I could very well sue this establishment!”

“Oh really? Because the shit ya said tonight doesn’t even make ya a man,” Osamu chuckled, both eyebrows raised in amusement. Your eyes widen at the comments Osamu keeps retorting, you were fighting the urge to laugh along with him, but you could only blush under the many eyes of this restaurant now staring at the loud commotion your fiancé is making. “Can’t expect me to take the shit comin’ out of yer mouth seriously.”

Your fiancé scrunched his brows together both in frustration and question. It was like he’s trying to figure out who Osamu was. He looked up and his eyes widened in realization.

“You’re Miya Atsumu’s twin brother!” Your fiancé pointed out, chuckling awkwardly. “I sincerely apologize for the way I treated this establishment as it’s in his name. I work for the Japanese Volleyball Association and Sports Promotion Division. I worked with Atsumu once on an advertisement. Forgive my words, if I hadn’t known—!”

Osamu raised a brow and chuckled darkly as he crossed his arms over his chest. You sat next to his standing figure feeling as if you couldn’t do anything to shut that man up. But Osamu was just thinking about how you could be with someone as fake and pathetic as him.

Exactly what does this man offer to you for you to stay through toxic shit like that? What does this man offer to you, that Osamu could offer over a hundred ways more than to make you happy? To make you feel so good about yourself in every which way that’ll leave you seeing stars from euphoria. Osamu could only scoff at the fact this man even exists to hurt you. No woman, especially a woman so mesmerizing in beauty and adorning features, kind and as humble as you should ever be treated like that. And he was willing to prove that. Even if you were a stranger he met only an hour ago.

“What does my brother have to do with the way you’re treatin’ this place like it’s below you? Or the way yer talkin’ to her?” Osamu laughed at your fiancé’s pathetic response. Your fiancé was taken back by his response, expecting something else.

“I just mean your brother is an important and outstanding athletic figure in Japan, it’s awfully tasteless of me to speak to any person working at his establishment in this way, Osamu-san.”

“Oh-ho? Ya switchin’ up that quick just ‘cause of my brother, sir?” Osamu raised a brow, fighting the urge to laugh again but choosing against it. Instead, choosing to humiliate him. “And on a first-name basis with a stranger? How pathetic.”

Your fiancé’s eyes widened once more, rage evident on his features, he looked about ready to swing his arm at Osamu, if it weren’t for his co-worker stepping in suddenly between his standing figure and your fiancé’s. You could only find yourself subconsciously smiling at Osamu’s words with a faint blush and light tears staining your cheeks.

It hurt that no one had ever been this kind and sweet to you without expecting much back. It hurts that a mere stranger you met only an hour ago at a local restaurant has shown you more affection than anyone had in your entire life. A stranger who turned the night around by making you feel better about yourself than when you had walked in. A stranger who practically spelled out for you through the dishes he served, that you should strive to find better taste in the little things in life.

And that includes the bastard you were seriously going to marry, causing a commotion at what was supposed to be a calm and normal date.

“Something the matter, sir? Customers are complaining,” Osamu’s co-worker walked up to your table. Osamu turned and smiled at his co-worker.

“Unfortunately, yeah. There is somethin’ wrong with this man.” Osamu laughed, turning to face your fiancé. “Nothin’ we can do about it though, some are just born this way.”

“You got some nerve speaking to me this way!” Your fiancé scowled, offense way past his limit. “I could very well get your brother fired, ruin his career and this restaurant! Watch your—!”

“Yer switchin’ up on me again, sir? Didn’t ya say ya were gonna sue me earlier?” Osamu smirked, whistling. “Like hell, you could. I bet yer the least paid employee at the company. My brother could ruin yer sappy career, not the other way around. But whatever ya say.”

Your mouth was parted nearly the entire time, your cheeks flushing in crimson by now at the warmth emitting from this restaurant and Osamu’s words. His confidence added to just how attractive he seemed to get to you, the longer you’re sat so close to his thigh and arms that just oozed power the more your fiancé thought he did something. You lick your lips in anticipation at what else Osamu could say. It may have been weird to get aroused by the idea of him defending you and speaking for you in such a dominant tone that set the upper hand here. You rubbed your thighs as you let your gaze trail over his pecs and biceps bulging in his black shirt. Your cheeks were getting more red by the minute, but you couldn’t care.

Fuck, how is he so hot? And respectful?!

“I will not be tolerating this behavior! I need to have a word with your manager!” Your fiancé smacked the table with his fist.

“Our manager’s out for the night,” Osamu fakely pouted at his pathetic anger. He really was fake. “But I’m afraid I won’t be toleratin’ yer behavior any longer. Itsuki-kun, if ya would be so kind as to escort this ‘gentleman’ out of the restaurant and to his car after he pays? I’d be really grateful to ya.”

“Of course, sir!” Itsuki nodded and walked over to your fiancé’s side, motioning for him to get up so they take their leave. “Please pay up so I can escort you to your car.”

You were surprised to see how the staff would obey Osamu as if he were the manager or something since he clearly had the upper hand here. He also would hand the orders to the cooks and walk around and make sure everyone was finding everything alright, besides being a waiter or a server. He would even stand to make conversation as if he wasn’t running on a time limit. You had a feeling he had more authority over here somehow, especially since your fiancé mentioned his brother who the restaurant might be for or owned by. That could do with it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Your fiancé scoffed as he took out his wallet and placed the bill from the receipt Osamu had already put thereafter he brought out your meals, groaning as he stood up, sending a glare towards you as he motioned for you to get up as well. “Leave the food, we’re leaving!”

Your heart sank as you realized the night had to end in such a humiliating way. It was nice while it lasted, you frowned, grabbing your purse from your side of the chair and turning around to get up when Osamu placed his hand gently on your shoulder, shaking his head and smiling before turning to look at your fiancé whose eyes were wide with anger and surprise.

“Oh, she can’t leave now! Especially not with you,” Osamu chuckled, his hand still warm on your shoulder. “The pretty lady hasn’t had dessert yet! But don’t worry, sir, I’ll make sure she gets somethin’ just as sweet as her… And just as tasty, I bet.”

The moment those words slipped out of Osamu’s lips, he turned to smile innocently at you, hand squeezing your shoulder in assurance. As if the last sentence wasn’t suggestive enough to cause you to lick your lips and fist-clutch your dress at your thighs squeezing together. He had one hell of a good effect on you. You stare at Osamu towering over you in awe and gratitude, ignoring your fiancé’s yells as background noise when this moment just revolved around him and you, mostly around him being so kind and attentive to your needs tonight.

Wasn’t the night even supposed to be over? Why did he ask you to stay? Especially after all the crap your fiancé pulled at the restaurant, disrespecting Osamu and everyone else working tonight.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Osamu looked into your eyes with nothing but soft sincerity in his voice, fingers rubbing your collarbone, causing shivers to run down your spine at his gentle touch.

“Y-Yeah! I…” You blush, not sure what to say since you were left speechless by Osamu. You were so grateful, you didn’t really know how to thank him, and at this point, you felt small tears stinging your eyes. “Thank you, you’re so kind. I’m sorry for the way he acted, I didn’t mean—!”

“Don’t apologize for that dickhead,” Osamu bluntly stated, smiling, causing your lips to lift in a small smile. “Ya did nothing wrong, pretty girl. It should have been him who shoulda genuinely apologized, not fakin’ one just for the sake of knowin’ my brother.”

“I know,” You smiled weakly. “But that was still ill-mannered of him and I didn’t mean to cause any commotion at—!”

“Sweetheart,” Osamu interrupted you softly, leaning over closer to your face, but not to the point of making you uncomfortable. In fact, doing the complete opposite by calming you down with his kind gaze. “I said don’t apologize.”

You didn’t know why you immediately obeyed what he said under his dominant gaze over your own. You felt like entirely doing whatever he wished due to the fact he was so kind to you tonight.

So you stayed quiet.

“Now,” Osamu clasped his hands, his smile still gentle, turning to call over someone. “Himiko-chan!”

“Yes, Osamu-kun?” The hostess from earlier walking over to where Osamu ushered for her.

“Could ya grab me one of the dessert menus for the pretty lady?” He asked with a smile, Himiko nodding before sauntering away to grab a dessert menu for you.

Osamu turns to you and smiles for the hundredth time tonight, grabbing the menu from Himiko as she walked back and handed him one. Osamu chuckled at your nervous state before handing you the dessert menu.

“It’s q-quite alright, you don’t have to do this, Osamu-san!” You shook your hands frantically, honestly feeling like a burden.

“Yer right, I don’t have to do this,” Osamu shrugged, causing you to frown for a split moment. “I’d really like to do this.”

Your lips parted and your cheeks turned red for the hundredth time tonight as well, nodding sheepishly and relaxing under Osamu’s gaze and whole-hearted smile. He was being so sweet… in so many ways that you’re truly not sure how to thank him.

You looked down at your purse and cursed mentally at the fact you chose not to bring your wallet since you were assured your fiancé would pay for dinner. And since he left…

“Actually, I’m sorry but I misplaced my wallet since he paid for my dinner, so I really can’t...” You trail off, frowning at the inconvenience. However, looking up in surprise when Osamu chuckles softly at your words.

“I didn’t say ya had to pay,” Osamu chuckled at your flustered state, causing you to part your lips once more in surprise. “It’s on the house, pretty girl.”

“I…” You trailed off, flushed and taken back by all his actions. “But how can you—?”

Osamu sighed as he sat down across from your curious gaze at the table, resting his cheek onto his hand as he tilted his head at you.

“How?” Osamu grinned as he repeated your innocent question, you nodding, waiting for him to answer.

“I’m the owner of the restaurant, sweetheart.”

for every reblog i’ll give you a kith on the nose <3

Redraw~

He looked so cute in the official art that I had to draw him <3

POV: you’re buying some onigiri and the vendor is hot

Miya Atsumu manga redrawn by me.

I love him soooo much ✨

Please do not repost. Reblogging is appreciated.

Atsumu and Osamu

you two reject me already so I can move on😔

Onigiri Miya’s wall

You got it all wrong

Character: Miya Osamu x GN reader, Miya Atsumu & GN reader Genre: childhood enemies to lovers, idiots in love, miya atsumu has had enough of yer bullshit, best friend atsumu, suggestive themes A/N: osamu fluff, come get yer osamu fluff! GN reader!

“W-where are ya going?” He pushes down on your shoulders when you try to stand. “I’m going home because I’ve got early practice tomorrow. You are gonna stay here and sort yer shit out because frankly it’s disturbin’ having to watch ya eye fuck ma brother every time we come here-“ “It’s not every time!" "It's definitely every time"

Ever since you were young you and Osamu had been in a weird love-hate relationship. It had all started the afternoon you declared Atsumu to be your favourite twin. Even then Osamu had simply shrugged with his face neutral, exercising great control for a 9 year old, but it obviously got to him because he spent the next 14 years teasing you. As children it had begun with the typical stuff; hair pulling, hiding your favourite pens and stickers, stealing food from your bento when you weren’t looking, jumping out at you from around corners. Into adolescence he stopped the physical irritants and turned to relentless bickering and insults that carefully never crossed the line.

You weren’t sure at what point that your feelings of annoyance toward him changed to feelings of wanting, but it was overwhelming how drawn to him you were.

“Could you two jus’ hurry up and fuck?” Atsumu huffs as he observes you, leaning back in his seat across from you. You snort at his vulgarity, cheek resting against your propped up hand. “I’m trying,” you mutter solemnly.

He bites into his onigiri with a raised eyebrow that reads ‘are you serious?’ and you poke out your tongue petulantly in response.

“Starin' holes into his back is not trying,” he smirks. “Yer such a coward”. Leaning over the restaurant table you lightly smack him upside his head to shut him up, but you knew he was right.

Osamu has always been pretty observant and aware of those around him, or at least you always thought he was. Perhaps his volleyball skills did not translate to real life interactions with other people. Because you had been very obviously flirting with him since you got here and he hasn’t cracked once.

Maybe he noticed and doesn’t reciprocate so he’s not acknowledging it. Maybe he noticed but he’s teasing you. Maybe he really is dense.

Surely not, you think, as he rolls his work sleeves up his thick forearms. No. This is definitely on purpose.

“Do ya blame me? He barely even tolerates me,” you mumble, picking at the rice ball in your hand. Even now as adults your relationship with Osamu hadn’t evolved much, he still took pleasure in winding you up and poking fun at you and you never really spent time alone with him without his brother present. There really was no indication that he reciprocated you romantic feelings.

“Why do you think he puts so much effort in to gettin’ a reaction out of ya?” Atsumu muses, genuinely curious of your answer. In his mind you were both as blind as the other, and frankly he was getting sick of having to sit back and watch the two of you dance around each other.

Gaze unmoving you watch another customer come in and press their chest up against the front counter, batting their eyelashes at the attractive young restaurant owner. When it's anyone but you he's obviously aware when he's being flirted with.

Atsumu clicks his fingers in front of your face after a few moments of you ignoring his question, startling you. "Oi, would ya stop starin' and listen to me? He's not going anywhere you know, he works here".

Narrowing your eyes you slump back into your side of the booth with reluctance, anxious about what was going on on the other side of the room. "Fine, am listening," you tut, tongue clicking against your teeth.

"Just hear me out, and a know you might think it's ridiculous but it's the truth," Atsumu declares, crossing his arms together in a theatrical show of 'seriousness'. You mentally prepare yourself.

"Osamu is jealous," he hypothesises. "He is jealous of me".

"You're right," you scoff, shovelling the rest of your food in to your mouth, "that is ridiculous". Your best friend rolls his eyes so hard in response his head hits the back of his chair.

"He's jealous because I get all yer attention and the only way he'll ever have it is if he messes with ya," Atsumu explains with a proud expression, as if he had cracked a nuclear code. "Now because you've both been at it so long he has no clue how to pursue an actual relationship wit' ya' so he just sticks to what's familiar".

“Since when were you an expert in psychology?” You ask mockingly, too scared to take his analysis as truth. If he was wrong and Osamu truly didn’t like you then confessing to him would only lead to an incredibly uncomfortable situation for all three of you.

“Whatever,” Tsumu huffs, licking the flavour from each of his fingers after finishing his final onigiri. “If ya don’t believe me then I think ya should just ask him if he really dislikes you. Cause I know you’ve never hated him even when we were kids but still, ya provoked him”.

Mouth agape, you watch him rise from where he’s sitting and pull on his jacket. “W-where are ya going?”

He pushes down on your shoulders when you try to stand. “I’m going home because I’ve got early practice tomorrow. You are gonna stay here and sort yer shit out because frankly it’s disturbin’ having to watch ya eye fuck ma brother every time we come here-“

“It’s not every time!”

"It's definitely every time," he reaffirms impatiently. He takes in your anxious expression and sighs, running a hand through his dyed platinum hair.

“Look, yer one of my favourite people. Do ya really think that I’d leave ya here and encourage ya to do this if I knew he’d just reject ya?”

You shake your head no. You know that underneath his sarcastic hard headed exterior, Atsumu is an overwhelmingly caring and attentive person. You trusted him with anything and everything and you knew deep down that he wouldn’t put you in a situation that would leave you hurt.

Even if Osamu did reject you, Atsumu was atleast certain that his brother did not hate you and you could live with that.

Your best friend leaves you with a light flick to the forehead and calls out to his brother that he’s going home. Exhaling shakily you scan the room and study the few people left sitting at their tables. It was very nearly time for Osamu to close up.

You fiddle uncomfortably with your remaining onigiri, debating whether or not you should just make a run for it. Even if you were to let this discussion happen you weren’t sure that you wanted it to happen here.

Amid the quiet atmosphere of onigiri miya you sit internally scrutinising any and all of the interactions you’d had with Osamu, the ones you could remember anyway. Truthfully you never did detect any kind of malice from the dark haired twin, and he had never said anything sincerely hurtful to you. Maybe Atsumu was right.

You jump when a familiar hand comes in to view, placing another 'giri in your dish. Peaking up at Osamu you find yourself glaring suspiciously out of habit, wondering what his motives were behind his actions.

He snorts a laugh at your familiar expression, black work cap covering his eyes. “Ya know, sometimes I just want to be generous without any evil hidden agenda,” he teases.

Typically you would send an equally sarcastic comment back to him but today your best friends words bounce around your mind vigorously, attempting to attach to anything Osamu says as proof that it’s true.

“I’ll see it when I believe it,” he suddenly mocks, imitating your voice. You stare at him, affronted.

“Sorry but I’m a bit weirded out by yer lack of response so I’m just filling in the gaps here,” he jokes as he pulls out the seat next to you.

Taking in his tired appearance, you recall the day you’d admitted to Atsumu that you had feelings for his brother. Straight away he had asked if you also found him attractive, to his relief your immediate answer was no, but that was still something many people wondered after you told them.

The truth is, to you Osamu and Atsumu look completely different. A persons outward appearance isn’t the only thing that makes them, well, themselves. Osamu and Atsumu may have the same face, minus the current hair colour, but they have complete opposite mannerisms, senses of humour, facial expressions, body language, voices, likes and dislikes. It’s all of those things that add up and create an attraction to someone.

You loved Atsumu as a brother but you had not once found yourself attracted to him the way you were attracted to 'Samu.

“Ya in there? Do I have to be worried?” 'Samu pulls you back to reality, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and index finger. Blinking into focus you bat his hand away and pout, plucking the new warm onigiri from your plate and taking a bite.

To your surprise it is your favourite flavour, and freshly made. Usually Samu’ stuck to his menu pretty strictly and this was not on there, which meant he had made it for you specifically.

‘Is’ good,” you say, words muffled by the food in your mouth. Osamu gives a small grin in response, tilting his head forward to hide his expression with the tongue of his cap.

“And, m’alright. Thanks for asking. Just got a bit lost in my head there,” you admit shyly, hoping he’ll look you in the eye so you can see what he might truly be trying to tell you. He doesn't.

“Was surprised that you were still here, thought you’d leave with ma brother”.

“Nah, he scurried off somewhere with an excuse about practice but am pretty sure he’s seeing someone new,” you share. He shoots you a curious, but cautious expression.

“Doesn’t that bother ya? Since ya like him and all,” he stammers, appearing to be very weary of your reaction. As if he’s truly expecting you to be upset.

He was not ready for you to burst into fits of laughter.

“Jesus, no, ‘Samu. Sure he’s got a pretty face but I don’t like ya brother, not in a million years. He’s told me far too much about his bowel movements and his sexual fantasies for that to ever happen,” you snivel, voice trailing off into a quiet giggle.

Once he’s processed the realisation that this entire time you haven’t actually been pining for his brother, he latches on to the first part of your statement. “Ya think I’ve got a pretty face huh?”

Not even bothering to deny it, still amused by the fact that he’d had entirely the wrong idea this whole time, you simply hum in agreement. “Might just be one of the only things ya have going for ya, ‘Samu”.

The teasing was familiar ground and thus it relieves the tension in his shoulders slightly. “So a man with a pretty face, his own business and good cooking skills isn’t enough for ya?”

You might be starting to understand where ‘Tsumu was coming from when he complained about you and ‘Samu flirting. Restaurant now void of customers it was just the two of you, testing the waters and scrutinising each other’s reactions.

“Does this dream man also happen to be 6’3?” You ask dryly, eyes widening when a pink stripe paints itself across Osamus cheeks.

A few moments of silence pass.

“Why’d ya pick him as ya favourite?” He finally probes, dodging your question.

“Oh my god,” you groan, “you’re still holding that over me?”

“Ain’t nice to pick and choose favourites,” he taunts. “I’m just curious”.

“I guess it’s because you tried too hard ta’ be nice,” you explain with a small shrug, wringing your hands together. “You were known as the better twin, the friendly twin, but I saw right through ya. Ya were always instigating fights, startin’ trouble, breaking stuff, an’ poor Tsumu took the fall for ya every time. Sure he was an ass and still is but at least he was honest about it. Guess I wanted to provoke you in to showing your true colours”.

“An I proved ya right by continuing to be an ass for over a decade,” he chuckles self depreciatively, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You frown, knocking your shoulders together playfully. “Ya weren’t that bad. It was fun, wasn’t it?”

His eyes glint and narrow under the helpless grin that spreads across his face. “Yeah,” he murmurs under his breath as he gazes down at you with such fondness it makes your chest tight. “It was”.

The air seems thinner after that, and you can’t look away from each other. Nervously you wet your bottom lip and watch him follow the movement of your tongue. You remember what you’d promised Atsumu.

“Did you ever actually hate me, ‘Samu?”

Inching closer to you he cautiously cups his hand against your jaw, pleased when you don’t flinch away from him. His fingers delicately graze the apple of your cheek.

“S’impossible to hate you,” he admits earnestly. “Just wanted ya to look at me more, is all”.

“You’re an idiot,” you breathe, overwhelmed by the warmth radiating from him and the smell of his cologne washing over you. In quiet amazement he glides his thumb along your bottom lip, inhaling sharply when your mouth falls open. Slowly he leans toward you, eyes half lidded in want.

“Excuse me, are you still open?”

You jolt away from each other abruptly at the sudden intrusion, turning to see a couple standing sheepishly at the entrance. Osamu, to your disappointment, gets to his feet and approaches them to bow politely.

“Sorry to tell ya but we closed about five minutes ago. My fault, I shoulda put the sign up”.

The two look so embarrassed to have walked in on your intimate moment, and even from this distance you can see that Osamus ears have taken on a bright red hue. Covering the sound of your laughter with your hands, not wanting to humiliate anyone any further, you watch as they scurry out and ‘Samu quickly locks the door behind them.

“Can hear ya laughing over there!” He growls, flipping the switch for the shutters to come down. Thankfully the loud harsh metal sound covers your spluttering.

He approaches you again, this time with a bashful expression and his hand open for you to take. ‘Come on, I’ll drive ya home”.

Accepting his offer you push your fingers into the spaces between his own and press your palms together. You guess you’ll have to kiss him when he walks you to your door.

set me up | atsumu x reader

PAIRING: timeskip!atsumu x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: You’re an ambitious career woman, who’s got everything…except a significant other. Your mom, sick of you showing up to family functions alone, sets you up on a series of (terrible) blind dates. You make these dates meet you at your favorite restaurant, Onigiri Miya, but for some reason the owner’s jerk of a twin brother always happens to be there exactly when things crash and burn.

NOTE: Betcha didn’t think this series was ever gonna update. But lemme tell you I finally got around to starting the second part of To the Top today and when I say I ascended when I saw the twins again–!! Anyways, rather than an epilogue I’m planning making any chapters from here on extras so that I can keep adding stuff whenever I feel like it. This story has been real close to my heart, so thank you to everyone who followed me on my journey to write it. Hope you all enjoy this long overdue installment! 

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