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mxomo · 4 years

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onigiri baby ♡ miya osamu

Osamu learns volleyball with Atsumu, and he learns food with you. c/w: fluff, slice of life, mild food wars crossover, foreign(mixed)/short reader, childhood friends a/n: i watched shokugeki no soma & haikyu! back to back & now i have no idea what this is. in my head, osamu has someone other than atsumu who taught him to love food as much as he does and it has resulted in this weird drabble thing. this is unedited, unbeta-d word vomit. (˘∀˘)♡

once upon a time, there were two boys and one girl

ah, just kidding

but you had known osamu and atsumu for a long time

the miya twins were rambunctious little troublemakers that barrelled into your life at the tender age of several months old

your family ran the local diner, so you spent many days causing chaos in the restaurant or bothering the customers. their parents visited every tuesday for dinner and saturday for drinks, bringing their two sons along with them.

the miyas had been regulars for as long as you could remember

being around the same age as them (it wasn’t even a whole year, but it was enough to put you in the grade below them) meant that, when your parents got to socialising, you were forced to hang out and be friends otherwise you would be bored.

even when you were babies, your parents would put the three of you together either to nap together and play in the same crib or pen. they knew you were always there and vice versa

it sucked for a little while though because once they could talk, atsumu was meaner to you than his brother was, and osamu was too shy to talk to you properly

not that it deterred you at all - if they didn’t want to speak to you, then tough nuts, cus you were going to talk anyways!!

kids cave eventually though and your friendships were firmly cemented when:

2004

“___-obasan?” osamu tugged gently at your mother’s trouser leg, doe-like eyes wide. “where’s ___?”

he noticed how quiet it was immediately. when he walked through the doorway, eyes ready to lock on to your usual location as soon as they turned the corner, he felt an odd woosh of air leave him as he realised you weren’t sitting there. even though he was still a bit too shy to speak to you a lot of the time, it was no deterrent to you- instead, you chattered at him enthusiastically between each bite, mostly asking questions with yes/no answers because that was the best way for you to get at least some interaction. he didn’t always answer, and if he didn’t, you would simply shrug a little and try to talk about something else. when he did answer, your eyes would crinkle adorably as the weight of the sun radiated from you, your happiness infectious and forcing a blush into his rounded cheeks as words poured out of your mouth ever-faster. if he was too quiet, then you would heap some of your meal onto a spoon and purse your lips together to blow a raspberry, poorly imitating a helicopter sound. you would guide the spoon straight into his mouth, somehow timing it perfectly with him opening it for his own spoon, and force him to give you an opinion on the dinner you helped make, because talking about food was easy.

on that particular day, he had been looking forward to seeing you because his mother had finally let him stand in front of the cooker (on a stool) and cook something that didn’t burn his entire arms through the process (he hated frying eggs. they hurt). this time, it was his own onigiri, with a teriyaki chicken filling that he thought was almost as good as his own grandma’s cooking. osamu had put two rice balls aside for you, eager for you to try it, only to have it swiped by atsumu before he had a chance to actually hide them. they both chose to ignore the blossoming bruise on atsumu’s cheek that was a result of osamu’s fury.

it was the first time they had been to visit the restaurant without you there, and osamu missed his friend a lot more than he thought he would.

“___ isn’t feeling very good today, darling,” your mother said gently, placing a hand on his head. “they didn’t sleep very well last night so they’ve been resting for a little while.”

“oh. okay. thank you, oba-san, i hope they feel better soon,” osamu said quietly, looking down at his shoes for just a moment.

“i’ll tell them you said that, osamu. thank you,” your mother smiled warmly. “now, you go and finish your dinner and i’ll bring you a nice treat when you’re finished.” she winked at the little boy, who thought about it for a moment. he wasn’t feeling very hungry, because for some odd reason he felt a little lonely eating that day even though he was with atsumu. in that big dining hall, he was supposed to be part of a trio. even though he was having one of his favourites, you always had a different meal for him to try between his own bites, which always made dinner more interesting. oddly enough, his dinner felt boring without your food-aeroplane attacks. but oba-san said treats, which means-

“mango sago?”

she tapped him on the nose, waving him back to his table with a chuckle. osamu’s face split into a grin as he scuttled back to his table with a small, polite bow, eager for his dessert.

later on, for dessert, your mum escorted the twins through the home attached to the side of the restaurant into your bedroom

your night hadn’t been good, and you were pretty exhausted, but you weren’t sick so your mum didn’t see the harm in having the boys over

you were actually bored out of your mind, and had moved onto playing games on the tv in front of you to pass the time

so when the boys walked in and your mum put dessert in front of the three of you, you beamed, grabbing each boy around the neck as you hugged them tightly

you were essentially the most affectionate person in their lives, so your hugs, whilst common, always caught them by surprise

it was usually only their grandma that gave them hugs, and even then it was mainly on birthdays

atsumu sputtered and froze, his arms raised by his sides but he didn’t push you off, despite yelling a resounding ‘ew!’ much to your mother’s amusement. his cheeks were bright and flushed, and you squished them between your hands for just a second before you let him go

osamu froze too, but not for as long, so he had a chance to hug you back. whilst his blush was just as strong as his brother’s, he was more composed than atsumu. you guys held hands a lot, after all. so hugging wasn’t so bad.

they joined you in your nest-fort, a mountain of pillows and blankets that held you all in front of the television like a cotton candy cloud. atsumu almost spilled his sago all over your favourite fox plushie, leading in a smack from osamu and watery eyes from yourself. as the evening passed, their voices became hoarse from yelling both at each other and the television each time they died or lost in their game. you were still tired from your sleepless night previously, opting to watch the carnage instead of participating with a small smile on your face.

as your eyes got heavier, you leaned closer into osamu, and your feet made their way onto atsumu’s lap. the weight of you forced them, eventually, to calm down when they heard your very light snores.

osamu didn’t let atsumu draw on your face, much to his displeasure.

by the time their parents came to fetch them, the three of you had curled into each other, a puppy pile of tired children in a dimly-lit nest-fort.

atsumu was atsumu. he pulled your hair sometimes and he laughed when you fell and scraped your knee, he said you sucked all the time and he got jealous about how much time you spent with his brother but whenever he forced you to play with your father’s old volleyball in the back garden with him & osamu, he would be the most excited if you did something well, cheering and hugging you every time (most enthusiastically when you were all trying to spike like you had seen on tv with them and smashed through an old wooden plank leaning against the wall).

“woah!!! y/n, yer crazy strong!!” he’d gasped, brows furrowed, because he hadn’t managed to do that yet

fun fact: the wood had rot & was basically compacted dust with no density whatsoever, but atsumu didn’t know that

he also brought you strawberry pocky instead of chocolate, because he knew you liked it better

big bro vibes, atsumu was a big old meanie but nobody else could be one to you

one time, some big kids were making fun of you for being the funny looking foreign kid in the neighbourhood. atsumu, with a screech, came flying round the corner, leg cutting through the air as he fly-kick whooped their asses

he grabbed your hand and dashed off with a cackle, pulling your teary self along with him back to your house

he ran too fast though and you fell over a couple of times. he panicked, promising an extra large box of strawberry pocky if you didn’t tell anyone that your knees were bleeding because of him

he got in trouble for kicking the bejesus out of those kids though, then got in more trouble for saying that those little pigs deserved it and he would do it again

then he pulled on your hair and asked you, “when are you going to remember that even though you’re annoying, you can hit really good spikes and you make the best takoyaki? so if people make fun of you then you should just give them a big smile and kick them”

you cried again because you were young and felt bad he kept getting in trouble for you (plus he pulled your hair)

it took a little while, but you were one of his very few friends and he loved you just a little bit

but if you had to pick a favourite, by a very small margin it would be osamu

because you bonded

a true bond over food.

knowing that you loved to cook and help out at the restaurant, your parents would sometimes indulge you or make you help prep the food if it was truly, insanely busy. so it didn’t take long for osamu to try his first meal from you - his favourite, onigiri!

2000

he stared at you, eyes wide and mouth gaping, almost disgustingly full of onigiri as the true flavour of what he was tasting sunk into his consciousness. for a second, he was lost for words.

osamu had always loved dinner time. he wasn’t picky like his brother, he devoured almost anything put in front of him with fervour because dinner time meant his belly would be satisfied. his grandmother made the best food (even though yakinori came to a very close second) and he had seconds- at least- at every meal. sometimes his mother would let him help, teaching him how to hold a knife, how to fry an egg, how to boil ramen. even though he wanted to cook for real, his mum kept saying that his arms weren’t long enough just yet, and they would use the cooker more after his next birthday so no way could osamu cook something like this.

however, his friend - someone his age - had made something this amazing. a small part of him felt guilty that he even dared consider someone as being on par with his grandmother’s food, but-

“dis is shoo amazing!” he barely stated through his mouthful, resuming his chewing and swallowing with a satisfied sigh. “you’re really good at cooking, ___!”

you couldn’t help but flush at his enthusiasm, basking in the compliment from the sweet boy in front of you, too many stars in his eyes to see how giddy his reaction to the food made you. he continued to stuff the rice ball in his mouth, chipmunk cheeks flushing in happiness as he reached for another. “will you cook more for me?”

your hands felt clammy as you beamed at him, nodding in affirmation as you wiped down your station and hopped off the small step-stool that helped you reach the counter more comfortably. his breath stuttered for a moment as the impact of your joy crashed through his food haze, and then he wasn’t smiling because of the food. he felt excited. his stomach fluttered as he realised that if they could do it, there was no way he couldn’t- so he was going to learn, and he was going to cook for you too. he would make onigiri just as good as yours. better, even.

he would make you beam like that with his food one day.

basically from that point on osamu was your food buddy and test subject, and he was a complete sucker for you.

he would eat everything you gave him, he would tell you how good it was and have seconds but your sharp eyes wanted to see him react with the same boundless joy as the first time you made onigiri for him, which for some reason he never did. you wanted that happiness every day and it was almost like a challenge, so you continued to cook for him.

osamu enjoyed this development massively, but his favourite of yours was always onigiri so he hung out with you whenever he could, going as far as ignoring atsumu when he got bored in the restaurant and wanted to go play ball outside

you weren’t his brother so you were less annoying and you always ate everything he gave you to try

even if it was gross

and eventually it became a little game to see who could make the most disgusting food (your parents didn’t like you doing this because they said it was a waste)

but you would both sit with bowls of leftovers, bottles and jars of sauce, seasonings, whatever you could find in the cupboard and mix them together in a lunchbox

then taste-test them and make atsumu eat them too (his twin not so much a fan of this particular development)

but mostly, he tried very hard to make you say something was the best

just like he was competitive with atsumu, he still wanted to win - he was quietly very competitive with you as well

eventually, you would both cook meals and make your family decide which one was better and, much to his complete annoyance, he hadn’t beaten you yet.

by the time your transfer test to totsuki came in your final year of middle school, you had beaten osamu a total of 231 times to 0.

it happened more often as you got older, but sometimes both sets of your parents would get carried away and spend too long at the restaurant. it was a perfect opportunity for you and the twins to sneak off.

you would lie in the fields not too far away from the restaurant - close enough for your parents to shout you back if there weren’t too many cars - sometimes with a volleyball to play with, and look up at the stars, a twin on either side of you

osamu always pointed out the big dipper before his brother could so atsumu pouted a lot

he’d get back on his feet quickly though, pointing up at clusters of stars and desperately trying to convince you and osamu that it was definitely shaped like a fox, or a volleyball sneaker, or anything else at all

“and that cluster there is its tail! c’mon, can ya really not see it at all?”

“no, atsumu, find a better one. yours is lame.”

the first time you snuck away, the three of you returned to the restaurant to hear frantic screaming as your parents tried to find you

your mum smacked you in the back of the head before squeezing you to death

eventually though it was part of your routine with the boys and your parents would simply pretend that they didn’t see the three of you sneaking off to play.

2006

“what if we run out of constellations to find?” you pondered, eyes drinking in each twinkle.

“that’s literally never gonna happen,” osamu said frowning, looking up at the sky above him. “we find different things every time.”

“yes, but osamu,” you whined gently. “everything runs out eventually. i wonder how long it will take?”

“probably, like, a thousand years,” atsumu chimed in.

you all stayed quiet as you contemplated what that meant for the three of you.

“so, does that mean we’ll always do this together?” the boys turned to look at you curiously. you blushed under their gaze. “i mean, if we don’t run out of new stars to find together. can we keep coming back here to look for them? even when we’re grown-ups?”

atsumu frowned. “i think volleyball players would be too busy playing matches to come here,” he said thoughtfully, fingers on his chin as he looked into the distance.

“yeah, i guess so,” you said quietly, a little dejected. osamu frowned at your downcast eyes and took your hand in his own, giving it a little squeeze. you smiled back at him, as you always did, but you didn’t let go. “are you going to be a volleyball player too, ‘samu?”

“i think so,” he nodded. “coach says i’m better than ‘tsumu.”

“shut yer trap!” atsumu snapped, throwing his ball at osamu’s head which he blocked and slapped away in quick succession. osamu cackled as atsumu grumbled, getting up and following the ball as it rolled leisurely away from them.

it fell into a comfortable silence.

“what about you, ___?” osamu asked, his tone curious. you turned your head to look at him. “what are you going to be when you grow up?”

you hummed, thinking about it for a moment. “i’m going to cook,” you said finally, firmly. you were sad, you realised, that one day you wouldn’t be able to do this with your friends. it was scary to realise for the first time that they wouldn’t be by your side forever. if they went to play volleyball then they wouldn’t be home very much, but until then, you hadn’t truly thought about what it meant to be a grown up, so you went with something that you were familiar with even though you and your world were so small. “i want to make people happy with my food.”

osamu smiled a little as atsumu ambled back to them, spinning the ball in his hands. “you gonna cook fer us when we aren’t playin’ then, ___?” atsumu asked happily, taking his place next to you in the grass again. you agreed, enthusiasm matching his own as he started rattling off all the different foods you could make for them as you nodded along to what he was saying.

“you’ll be good at that, ___,” osamu said, looking back up to the sky. truly, he hadn’t put much thought into his answer because it seemed only natural to osamu that playing professionally would be the path forward. atsumu had decided this was what he wanted, and it only made sense for the miya twins to stick together, right?

you didn’t look at him, continuing to pay attention to atsumu’s incredibly large lifetime food order but your cheeks grew warm and you squeezed his hand, which had never let go of your own, gratefully.

even though the boys did become such good volleyball players, in your last year of middle school and first year of high school, you still went back to that field every once in a while

it was always on a tuesday or a saturday, and one tuesday atsumu stayed back to practice when osamu was too hungry to

only osamu visited with his parents that night, so you packed a box of food from the kitchen and took his hand, leading him to your spot in the fields

it was cold, so you decided that you didn’t want to let go of his hand and you told him so

“..yeah, alright then,” he said

but inside he was m e l t i n g

he put his hand in his pocket with your own, just to see your cheeks bloom as he desperately ignored the burning in his own.

2011

“hey, ___?”

your bentos lay empty and discarded as both of you lay side by side, osamu’s jacket on your smaller frame as his arm lay across your shoulders. you were only half joking about holding his hand because it was cold, and the temperature continued to drop so you had snuggled into the side of your best friend, the human space heater. he drew mindless circles on your shoulder as his gaze remained unfocused in the distance.

“mm?”

“i think i’ve changed my mind,” he said airily, rubbing his hand up and down your arm slowly. you decided to stay quiet, looking up at him to continue instead. “i don’t think i want to be a volleyball player forever.”

furrowing your brow, you pushed yourself up on your elbows so you were lying on your belly. you wanted to see him more clearly, surprised that this was coming from him. you could remember clearly the conversation you had with the twins in that very spot almost ten years previously, about what you all wanted to be when you grew up.

for several months, you had watched them work themselves to the bone at inarizaki, making the starting lineup in less than three months. your middle school was slightly further away from home than their school, but it was in the same direction so you would often wait by the inarizaki gym for the boys to finish volleyball practice before walking home with them. you saw through disjointed moments how incredibly hard the two of them worked and, as a result, you became a fixture at their matches, with masses of snacks and food in tow for the team when they were finished. part of you made sure to walk home with them most days if you could, because it would force them to stop practicing before they crossed the line of overworking themselves.

“why is that?”

“i just don’t think i love volleyball quite as much as i thought i did,” he mumbled, not once tearing his eyes from the sky above him. “it’s not that i don’t love it, but.. i think ‘tsumu playing fer the both of us would be plenty.”

a few moments of silence later, you hummed, reaching up to his fringe and pushing it slightly out of his eyes. your hand worked its way to the back of his head, him twisting his neck slightly to allow you better access as you gently worked your fingers into his scalp. there was a crease between his brows that you didn’t enjoy seeing, a crease of stress and you were pleased to see it melt away shortly after his neck began to relax.

“yer going to tokyo next week, yeah? on friday?” he said quietly.

you nodded. it was a bittersweet time for you, because you had passed your audition to transfer into totsuki high and it was a dream come true for sure - but you had to move to the school, and you would only be coming home for the holidays sometimes. you were going to miss your life at home. knowing how strict it was, with such a low graduation rate, you were absolutely terrified that you would arrive and be sent home immediately, but you didn’t have the heart to tell osamu or atsumu that. they were already sad enough about you leaving.

atsumu, with his characteristic volleyball tunnel-vision, had expected nothing less than for you to join inarizaki with them and manage the team; with your incredible talent for cooking and hospitable nature, he had no doubt you would have done a great job. the last year had also sowed the seeds for the miya twins fanclub - at the very least, the boys knew you would do the job of a manager properly. yet, just a few months into your last year at junior high, you broke the news to the twins together that you had found a school you wanted to go to - and it was in tokyo. it was the best cooking school in japan, you said, if not in the whole world, and your eyes sparkled in excitement as you clutched the pamphlet to your chest.

“where didja hear ‘bout this?” atsumu took the pamphlet from your hands, giving it a curious glance over. “looks pretty fancy, chibi-chan.” atsumu had taken to calling you that nickname after he passed the 180cm mark and you barely reached 154cm.

“i got scouted,” you breathed, almost vibrating. “there was a man who said he’d heard about the specials i make for the restaurant sometimes. y’know, ‘cus mam and dad make such a fuss over my recipes right? so he asked me to make him something, gave me his card and pamphlet and said i should try and transfer in for high school! he doesn’t approve or deny the scholarships, but he gets ta recommend students he finds promising and he said that i could put his name down as a recommendation!”

“woah,” osamu gasped, taking the pamphlet from his brother. “ain’t this place super hard to graduate from? only the best go there! and you got scouted, holy shit!”

he threw his arms around you and you nestled your head into the crook of his neck, laughing loudly and attaching yourself firmly to his waist as he spun you around.

“oi, you ain’t there yet, chibi-chan!” atsumu snapped, grabbing her by the waist as well and forcing osamu to come to a stop. “are ya really that eager to get rid of us? aren’t ya scared to go all the way to tokyo by yourself?” “well, no, i’m not there yet. i might not even get there at all, ‘cus i still have to do the transfer exam. and even if i got in, most of them have been learning since middle school so i’m going to be super far behind on the basics,” you laughed, eyes gleaming. their eyes narrowed in response, not liking where this was going. “but i love to cook. i don’t know if i’m particularly good at it, if my cooking is special, or if i’m just a little better than the others around here because i’ve had more practice. but this place, this place is going to teach me so quickly whether i have what it takes to make people happy with my food. and i’m going to learn so much from other people who want the same thing as me.”

with a huge grin, you turned you put a hand on atsumu’s left cheek, and osamu’s right, causing them to flush automatically. “and, to top it off, it’s the super hard hidden level equivalent of cooking school, right? this is like your summer training volleyball camp, but it doesn’t end. i’m going to be surrounded by amazing people from every angle. and how completely mind-blowingly cool is that?!”

neither of them ever doubted you would make it, even if you did. your initial excitement at the challenge eventually made way for nerves, and you had cried a little the night before you left for tokyo, asking the boys to take you to the train station as your parents couldn’t make it to the exam with you so you had to go on your own. osamu had given you his softest jumper and atsumu had given you a scarf, so you were adequately prepared with your twin good-luck shields when you walked into that room in tokyo. they had stood on the platform until the train was completely out of sight and osamu pouted all the way back to the restaurant.

“i’ll miss ya, ___,” osamu said gently, never breaking tearing his eyes away from the stars above him. “a lot.” his fingers, tangled with your own, clutched your hand a little more, so your palms were touching and you realised that one, if not both of you, were clammy. even though he was pretty certain you loved him just as much as he loved you, it was still unspoken. it made him nervous, admitting this, because he had never been totally upfront about his feelings on the odd occasions that they came up. so he couldn’t look at you yet. you were always more straightforward about things than he was.

“don’t say that, ‘samu,” you said, your voice wobbling as you tried to keep yourself together. your eyes were watering almost comically, massive tears gathering in the corner of your eyes as it sunk in that you would no longer have them by your side as you always had. on top of that, you were going into the belly of the beast by yourself. “i’ll be ho-ome really soon.” you gave him a big, watery smile, trying your very best not to let the tears fall but the dam broke as soon as you mentioned the word ‘home’, causing your voice to crack embarrassingly.

eyes wide, and completely surprised at how quickly you dissolved into tears at his words, osamu scooped you up onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist and his arms around you as you clutched his jacket for dear life. one of his hands found its way into your hair as his whispered soft apologies in your ear, rocking back and forth slightly to soothe you. “i’m so sorry, ___, i didn’t mean to make ya cry,” he planted a light kiss right on your hairline, as he always did when you were sad.

“i’ll miss ya too, ‘samu,” you choked through your tears, almost vibrating as you tried desperately to curb the sobs breaking through. “i don’t want to leave you here.”

osamu frowned, the hand previously in your hair snaking around to your cheek, pulling your face so he was looking you right in the eye. you trembled softly under his intense gaze.

“yes you do,” he said shortly. “you wanna leave me here ‘cus where yer going, yer gonna eat so many amazing things, cook like yer life depends on it ‘n’ meet the weirdest people, am sure of it. yer gonna have the best time, ‘n’ before ya know it, yer gonna be home teachin’ me how to do all those things so i can practice it and whoop your culinary ass one day. alright? i want to go on this journey with you, even if it is only a little, and one day yer gonna come home or i’m gonna follow ya,” you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from you through the tears, nodding slightly as you tried to wipe your face against your own clothing and not on his chest. not that he was bothered, he pulled his own sleeves over his hands and used them to wipe your face before guiding you back towards him for another cuddle. “just ‘cus you were smart enough ta plan ahead ‘n’ go to fancy cooking school doesn’t mean i won’t be making better onigiris than you one day!”

your heart and stomach felt warm as you looked at the man in front of you. he had recently dyed his hair and you had only just gotten used to it, but it made him look very handsome, if you did say so yourself. his cheeks were rosy and his eyes, to your surprise, also looked a bit too shiny to be tear-free. and, without a second thought, you took his face in your hands, pushing your lips firmly onto his own for the first time.

osamu felt his heart unravel and stop as your grip tightened around him desperately. his arm moved around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his other hand, cradling your cheek, ensured he vould keep his mouth on yours. every loving bite of food, each time you both held hands or cuddled or told the other you loved them came crashing down on the both of you as you poured everything you had felt into him, and he reciprocated. your heart pounded rapidly in your chest as the rest of the world came to a halt, your only focus being osamu’s soft, yet slightly chapped lips and the searing heat of his thighs beneath your own and his hands tracing lines on your silhouette.

it took several minutes for the two of you to pull away from each other fully, hands entwined as you enjoyed what was more than likely the last bit of alone time you would have together for a long time. once you kissed him, he didn’t want to stop. not after all this time, all the moments he had spent quietly loving you and you loving him, they have finally come together at the moment you had to say goodbye.

“so, if you’re not going to play volleyball.. you wanna eat with me?” you asked timidly. your heart was about to burst as you realised what he was saying. osamu had decided food was more important than volleyball to him.

“yeah. yeah, i’d really like to eat with you.”

it was a bittersweet time for you both, and the kisses continued until the very furthest limits of what you could get away with before you had to go home that night. when you were younger, you had heard from your father that the best way to become a good chef is to dedicate your cooking to somebody. even though you were sure he didn’t know, your heart stuttered at the thought of osamu following you on your journey. you continued to talk, to laugh, to cuddle. as much as you both tried to tip the scale so the moment was happier than sad, you failed. it stayed bittersweet, but warm.

but, as you walked away from the field with your hand clasped firmly in the hand of your best friend and now boyfriend, you both felt a little more brave than you thought you could be, staring into the wastelands ahead.

“the trick to being a good chef is meeting someone that will make you want to give all the food you make to them.” saiba joichiro

masterlist

#*hq #*fluff #*writing #osamu #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #osamu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq!!#haikyuu crossover #sns #shokugeki no souma #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x you #osamu miya x you #osamu x you

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