Osamu Fluff - Blog Posts

Can I request a scenario where dazai asking reader "Can I get my best friend back?" Basically wanting to be friends again with the reader ( dazai broke up with her few months back, reader kinda ignores dazai. )

Request?: Yes Summery?: Dazai Had broken up with the reader, which lead into months of torture for both you, him, and your loved ones. Character? Dazai Osamu Genre: Angst to fluff, Hurt to comfort.

A/N: I am Alive, Its been a little while since I posted something, been concentrating mostly on my school. I do get the notifications of you guys reading my stuff and Im upmost grateful that you guys had boosted my Story to 160 Reads, Its amazing knowing people like my stuff. Well Then, I have my other Fanfic ready to go! I hope you guys like this one too.

God the air around you felt like a weight of a thousand Wales.

You couldn’t breath. It was suffocating around you, It has been for a whole while now since the incident when it came towards your Boyfriend, Ex boyfriend now.

The love of your life broke up with you, and In all Honesty,

It had broke you in any way possible.

You were In love With Dazai Osamu, and when you were around him, It really showed when you both were at work. 

You guys looked amazing, The atmosphere felt amazing and You loved working in the agency. Now? It just felt like a tiring request to get out of bed everyday, especially seeing your ex everyday at work, (Even though he didn’t stay long, It was either him being gone, or You leaving early so you wouldn’t talk to him.)

You completely ignored him, as much as you could ignore him.

And today wasn’t any exception too.

“And That’s sums it up for this mission. Dazai, L/n, You will be working together on this case, I trust you two can do that?” It suddenly sounded like a Nightmare, when the president assigned you on a case with, Him.

You immediately stood up, your hands both slammed on the table, as everyone could feel the room shift.

You looked at the president, “I’m sorry Sir, with all due respect, I can’t work with him. Even If our abilities together work the best.” You looked at Dazai, Catching something nobody was suppose to catch in his eyes.

Hurt.

He was deeply hurt but hiding it for the public.

Your voice cracked slightly. “I can’t work with him.”

And with that, you took a heavy breath, and before everyone could stop you, you walked right outside again, You couldn’t possibly be in the same room as the Man you love, The man you still are deeply in love with, especially with you ignoring him for the past months or so.

Walking out that meeting room, distressed, You quickly stumbled downstairs and outside of the building, shaking slightly as you just realised you went out of line with your boss.

“Y/n.” You heard a voice behind you that made you freeze.

You turned around seeing him stand there

The man You want to despise yet you can’t help but love him.

“What.” You Said Coldly. “Why have you been ignoring me?” Dazai asked you, and you could just punch that pretty face of him for asking that.

“Why? WHY? Oh Os-Dazai you Know exactly why. You broke up with me, You broke my heart and you expect me to just, What? Go back and be friends again? No can do sorry not sorry.” You spoke against him, as you quickly recovered from saying his first name, totally ignoring the fact he said yours.

Dazai looked at you, the height difference showing, as you felt so small compared to him, as he looked down on you. “I made a stupid mistake..” He whispered, You not noticing his hand being placed on the back of your lower back, holding you in place, not minding his touch as much as you wished you did mind.

“I was, I am scared Y/n, I come from a dangerous place, dangerous people and a lot of people who want to destroy me, use me, They can try with me but..” He paused a little, his voice becoming smaller, “..I can’t risk you, I want you to be mine but I can’t risk it..”

Your eyes widen at the confession, feeling his tremble a bit, and with that, you relaxed as you put a hand against his cheek, as he gently leaned in. “Please..I need you..” He whispered softly, his emotions finally getting through, as you nodded too.

“I need you too..” You finally confessed, as you now fully held his face, the smallest smile on your face. 

He leaned closer down, and your lips finally connects with his.

The start is fresh, and maybe that’s just what you two needed.

COMPARING HAND SIZES — ft. osamu miya, atsumu miya, akaashi keiji, iwaizumi hajime

warnings — reader/you is implied to be shorter because of hand size difference, also let names (baby & love)

⨳OSAMU was confused as to why you wanted to compare hand sizes. you’ve held hands a million times so you both knew your hands were smaller. “do you just wanna hold my hand?” he asked with a skeptical look across his face. “maybe, maybe not.” you shrugged with a cheeky smile. letting out a sigh the man held up one of his hands and you pressed yours against it immediately. “would’ve never have guess your hands were bigger,” you joke before he interlocks your fingers. “yeah i bet,” osamu says sarcastically, rolling his eyes before leaning in and planting a quick kiss to your lips.

⨳ATSUMU would’ve suggested it not you. he thinks he’s so slick about it too. “baby let me see how different our hand sizes are,” he sort of asks before grabbing your hand and putting it right on his. “tsumu are you being serious right now?” you scoff when you feel him pull your hand to his. “you’ve got small hands,” he notes out loud as if you weren’t already aware. “good observation tsumu.” you roll your eyes pulling your hand away. “you’re no fun,” he pouts from beside you. without saying anything you grab his closest hand and interlock your fingers. “look we can hold hands,” you say holding up your hands. atsumu smiles at your hands and leans in to kiss your cheek.

⨳AKAASHI knew you were up to something when you asked for his hand. “why?” he asked cautiously as he held out his hand to you. “comparing hand size,” you responded while putting your palms on his. “wait, lowkey we have the same hand size.” you giggle at the sight. akaashi furrowed his eyebrows and blinked at your hands. two different sizes—completely different. “you think you’re funny.” he told you as he got a firm grip on your hand and puked you close to him. “completely different hand sizes love,” akaashi added before kissing the top of your forehead. “nice try though”

⨳IWAIZUMI always feeds into your antics and lets you do whatever. he can tolerate your nonsense because it’s second nature to him. “why are we comparing hand sizes like we’re in junior high?” he asked while holding his hand up to you. “i need an excuse to hold your hand.” you admit while placing your pal on his proudly. the brunette’s eyebrows are drawn together in confusion for a moment. “you don’t need an excuse,” he tells you and you smile. “i know i know, let me have fun for once,” you dismiss before interlocking your fingers with his. “fine,” he shakes his head lightly before kissing the top of your head.

reblogs are appreciated

Confessions: Osamu

The shop is quiet, bathed in the golden light of the early evening, the kind that settles over wood and stone like a warm sigh. A gentle hush lingers in the space, broken only by the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional click of the camera shutter. Most of the chairs are stacked, the door flipped to its "CLOSED" sign, and the scent of vinegar and freshly cooked rice still lingers in the air. You're both still inside—Osamu behind the counter in his slightly wrinkled apron, you crouched near the front display trying to get the perfect shot of a tuna nigiri against the fading light.

You’d met in college—him, a culinary student with arms always dusted in flour or sea salt, and you, a sharp-tongued marketing major who could charm a room with a smile and tear apart a branding pitch in under a minute.

You clicked almost immediately. It started with coffee-fueled group projects, late-night ramen runs, and long, quiet study sessions where neither of you said much but never seemed to want to leave. By the time you graduated, you'd both moved back home, and when he opened up his own nigiri shop, it felt natural to call you in to help make it shine.

Osamu’s had a crush on you since your second year. He’s certain of it. The first time you snapped at him for being late and then bought him lunch anyway, he was done for. But he never said anything—not when you were swamped with internship applications, not when he got too busy building his dream from scratch. He just... kept you around. Close. Safe. Until now.

“You’re supposed to be takin’ photos,” he says, voice low and amused as he leans against the counter, watching you from across the room.

“I am,” you say around a mouthful of nigiri, holding your phone up with one hand, chopsticks in the other. “I’m multitasking.”

Osamu lifts a brow. “That your fancy marketing term for stealin’ my hard work?”

You grin, chewing contentedly. “Not stealing. Quality control.”

He huffs a laugh, arms crossed, apron a little wrinkled from the long day. You’ve been at this for hours—prepping a new campaign for the shop’s upcoming anniversary special, trying to capture the perfect lighting, the perfect angle, the perfect bite. The trouble is, the food is too good. And you’re hungry. And Osamu’s expression every time you sneak another piece is too funny not to provoke.

“Y’know,” he says, walking over to the bar where you’ve made a makeshift photography studio of cutting boards and empty plates, “I could’ve just hired a photographer.”

“Yeah, but they wouldn’t have my good side memorized.”

He pauses behind you, and you feel his gaze on the back of your head before he leans slightly over your shoulder to glance at your camera roll.

“Half these are just you eatin’ food,” he mutters.

“Well, you can tell it's good food.”

“Yer a menace.”

You laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls of the quiet shop. As you're reaching for another piece of nigiri, he eyes you from behind the counter.

“Oi,” he says, pointing a chopstick at you, “I said stop eatin’ 'em all.”

You pop the bite into your mouth with a grin. “Oh, c'mon. This is my payment for staying late and taking these photos.”

Osamu raises a brow. “Yeah, well, you can’t get the damn photos if there’s nothin’ left to shoot.”

You reach forward and pluck another piece off the plate just to spite him.

Osamu throws his head back with a groan, but the sound blends into a laugh—low and unfiltered. His arms uncross, one hand resting on the counter’s edge as he leans forward, shaking his head.

His smile cracks wide across his face, tugging at the corners of his eyes, and for a moment, he just watches you with something helplessly fond behind the amusement. His shoulders lift slightly with each breath, the kind of laugh that takes over your whole body before you even realize it. There’s no trace of the usual teasing smirk, no sarcasm—just the kind of joy that escapes when you stop trying to hide it.

“Hey—stop eatin’ all the—ugh, I love you.”

The words slip out in the middle of a breathless laugh, tangled in warmth and amusement, tumbling into the open before either of you can brace for the impact. His voice trails off at the end, like his brain only just caught up with his mouth—and then the moment hangs.

Still.

Your fingers hover above the plate, chopsticks clutched mid-air, and your smile falters as the weight of what he just said sinks in. The warmth still lingering in your chest twists into something deeper—sharper.

Both of you freeze, suspended in golden light and thick, heady silence. His laughter dies like a flame catching wind.

Your hand stops mid-air, halfway to your mouth. “...What did you say?”

Osamu straightens up like he touched a live wire. “Nothin’. I didn’t—I mean, that wasn’t—”

“No no,” you say, slowly lowering the chopsticks, your eyes narrowing with disbelief and something else—something softer. “Did you just say you love me?”

“I didn’t mean to say it like that!” he blurts, already rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just—ya were bein’ you, and I laughed, and it slipped out, but I do, I mean, I didn’t plan to just—shit—”

You cut off his rambling by stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him in a sudden, fierce hug.

Osamu goes completely still for a second, his breath shallow as his arms remain half-curled like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to hold you yet. Then you feel the tension give way as he exhales against your hair, and his arms tighten around you just slightly, enough to pull you flush against his chest.

You bury your face into the soft cotton of his shirt, the scent of soy and rice grounding you. “I love you too, you moron.”

You feel his breath stutter against your temple, and you tilt your head up just enough to see his eyes—soft, stunned, and a little dazed.

"Took you long enough," you add with a teasing smile.

He huffs a laugh, low and disbelieving, the sound rumbling through his chest. His shoulders sag, relief pouring through him in quiet waves. “You’re not just sayin’ that?” he asks, voice rough at the edges, like he still doesn’t fully believe he didn’t just hallucinate this entire thing.

You grin. “Would I lie to the man who makes me free food every week?”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face before ruffling the back of your hair affectionately. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, but his tone is nothing but fond.

He’s smiling, really smiling, like the kind of smile that lives in the corners of his mouth even after it fades, the kind you remember for days. His hand finds yours without hesitation, fingers curling through yours like he’s done it a thousand times in his head already. You stay like that for a moment—standing in the golden hush of the closed shop, surrounded by the scent of rice and vinegar and the lingering echo of laughter.

“You still owe me promotional photos,” he murmurs against your lips.

You pull back just enough to smile. “Only if I get to eat the props after.”

“Fine. But I’m writin’ you off as an expense.”