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Osamu! 🍙🍙🍙

KUROO TETSUROU doesn’t get it.

you’re around all the time—at school, after school, walking home. you're his neighbor. he sees you practically every day. so why does it feel like he misses you?

and not just a little. like... really misses you. the kind that sits in his chest and doesn’t let up. but calling it “missing you” doesn’t feel right.

one late night, he spirals down a google rabbit hole and finds the word: ‘longing’. that’s it. it’s not just about seeing you. it’s about the way you make things feel okay without even trying. the way he wants more than just friendship, more than what you already give him without realizing.

so, in a moment of zero forethought, he calls you. after three rings, you pick up.

“hello?”

“y/n, i think i’m in love with you.”

there’s a beat of silence, then a soft laugh. “you’re real funny.”

“i’m not joking,” he says. “i’ve been sitting with this for weeks. i miss you, even when i’m with you. and i don’t know what that says about me, but i needed to tell you.”

the silence stretches. regret starts creeping in.

“…forget i said anything. that was—”

“kuroo,” you cut in, “you’re such an idiot. i love you too.”

after yet another beat of silence, he speaks up again.

“can i see you?” he asks, like his mouth’s moving faster than his brain can keep up.

“try not to wake anybody up.” you reply with a soft smile.

© 𝐒𝟔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | please do not edit, translate or plagiarize my work ! dividers belong to @.cafekitsune

@fushiguruuzzzz this is for you 💕💗💖💞💓💘💝

haikyuu & general taglist — @livteracts @honeycrispappletree @ihychi @esotericsorrow @parlaitte @mayyhaps @evesfairytale @lizbix @lacel0veletters @ayatakanosstuff (taglist form linked here)

who do you think cried at our wedding

kageyama

daichi

ukai

atsumu

shomakris

shoyo

IRIISSS

GOOD NIGHT GNG, I WISH THY FROM THIS SIDE OF THE WORLD

thank you nensi sleep well😛

i look horrendous due to my sickness it’s not even funny.

not to body shame tumblr but why is everything looking so fat n ugly rn i had to lower my text size and it still looks fat

behind every writer who rarely posts is a writer who used to post daily

chat am i cooking - sawamura daichi who grew up wanting to be a policeman because he believed in helping his community and the people he loves - now in his 30s, disillusioned, depressed af, feels like he’s not actually helping anyone (acab) and it all comes to a head when he meets escort!reader who’s on the run because she knows something she shouldn’t and he's just like, oh yeah i know what course of action i have to take

me bc lina doesn’t know how to read the tags

i dead ass hate all of u rn especially lina

FOR YOU ｡｡｡

↳ 「 osamu miya 」 ␥ 宮 治 .ᐟ

⤦ wc ⨾ 611

⤦ cw ⨾ no pronouns used, mentions stress baking, kind of hurt to comfort, i forgot how to write.

“what‘s wrong?” his voice, a soft murmur peppered with specks of concern, loud enough to be heard above the monotonous whir of the white fridge placed in the corner of the kitchen.

He rushed to your side, dropping everything, and calloused hands came into contact with your clothed back.

Despite wearing a thick jumper adorned by a delicate dusting of pills, an attempt to protect your skin from the sad bite of the cold, you could feel his fingertips surging small waves of heat through the dense material of your jumper.

Osamu had just come back from work. It was 12am—fridays are always busy for him. A thin layer of salty sweat coated his skin, reflecting a slight glow. He did not expect to come back to find you, a flushed face graced by a sad trail of tears, standing in front of a tray of burnt cookies.

You took in his smell—a subtle sweetness seasoned with the aroma of roasted seaweed—while you let out a soft sniffle.

Within his presence, the previous sense of panic has dissipated into thin air—every breath he drew out matched the melodious rhythm of your heart.

“Stress baking again?” he asked, his head leaning in closer as his eyes trailed the cookies spread out atop the counter, an ugly black furnishing the uneven edges. His hand never left the small of your back.

Your lips pursed into a thin line as you shook your head in agreement. Stress baking, again.

Osamu was tired. Every muscle in his body yearned for sleep—screamed for it. Anyone would be after working a 12 hour shift in a busy restaurant on a Friday.

The hand previously stitched onto your back removed itself—and you felt naked in the aftermath. Your head turned, eyes trailing his figure. He made his way to the fridge.

“What—what are you doing?”

“What do you think?” he turned around with a toothy grin, his arms hugging a few ingredients. “We’re baking cookies,”

You blink at him, furrowing your brows. “But you—“

“I’m craving some cookies,” a tired smirk etched on his lips as he approached you once again. He handed you the butter and sugar and went off to get the rest of the ingredients.

With a confused sigh and a soft sniffle, you measured out the ingredients into the mixing bowl previously laying in front of you and began whisking.

It was quiet for a while, until you felt warm breath fanning your neck and a pair of big arms wrap around your torso. His nose, now brushing the crook of your neck, sent shooting stars down your arms. His toned chest was against your back.

“Hey—“ You began, but he cut you off right away.

“We’re about to make the best cookies—ever” he mumbled into your neck, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion. It was genuine.

Your eyes soften with a bit of water dampening them, guilt seeming to make its way into your chest, almost swallowing your heart whole. Making cookies after a 12 hour shift wasn’t the best way to wind down.

“I’m sorry you’re…you shouldn’t have to come from a busy day at work to bake some cookies“

He raised his head from your neck, arms still lazily wrapped around your waist, fingers intertwined and resting steadily in front of your stomach. “Hey, you better not be crying! I don’t want salty cookies,” he replied, pointing at the bowl in front of you with his head.

Osamu miya loved you dearly, and he was willing to prove that—even if it meant making cookies at 12am—because if it’s with you, he’d do anything. If it’s for you, he’d do everything.

@kameyyy