reya

To me, the one basking in infinite glory is you.

The one fallen from grace is also you.

What matters is you, and not the state of you.

reya | 14, desi, she/her, gojos #1, anime + danmei fan

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MASTERLIST ABOUT ME

latest work: osamu x reader

side blog: @ryrebloog

tw: blood

ok so like. i don’t post my edits on here but @adoresia inspired me to do so

this is my third ever ae edit so don’t judge😞

ignore the ass masking on the wei ying part its almost four am and i made this twenty mins ago ok ty

new theme eye gee😒

osamu x reader

wc: 600 i thibk

it’s late, the kind of late where the streets outside are quiet and the sky is painted that deep navy blue that comes right before black. the shop is technically closed, but the lights are still on, casting a warm glow over the wooden counter and cozy chairs. you’re sitting on one of the stools, chin in your hand, watching osamu move around behind the counter like he’s done this a thousand times.

because he has.

“you sure you don’t mind me hangin’ around?” you ask, even though you already know the answer. it’s a question you throw out just to hear his voice.

he glances over his shoulder, one brow raised. “d’ya ask me that every time just so i’ll tell ya to stay again?”

you smile. “maybe.”

he shakes his head, but there’s the smallest grin tugging at his lips as he turns back to the rice cooker. he’s got his sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted with bits of rice and sesame. it’s quiet for a bit, just the sound of him moving around and the soft hum of whatever old jazz song he’s got playing in the background. this place is his, every inch of it, and you like being here because when you’re here, it feels a little like you’re his, too.

he finally sets down a fresh plate in front of you—two onigiri, perfectly shaped. “try these,” he says, leaning on the counter to watch your reaction.

you bite into it and tilt your head. “hmm… secret recipe? or are you just trying to impress me again?”

“yeah,” he says, clearly pleased. “thought i’d try somethin’ different.”

you chew slowly, savoring it. “samu, this is unreal. you’re gonna have people lining up just for this.”

he shrugs, but the tips of his ears are pink. “yeah, well… ‘m glad you like it.”

you glance at him, your heart doing that quiet little stutter it always does when he looks at you like that—like you’re not just another customer who stuck around too long. like maybe he’s been waiting for you to stay.

you set the plate down and rest your arms on the counter, leaning a little closer. “you know,” you say softly, “you could probably close the shop and still feed me every night. i wouldn’t complain.”

he snorts. “you plannin’ on freeloadin’ off me, is that it?”

“maybe,” you tease, nudging his arm. “but only if you let me help out sometimes.”

he looks at you for a second—really looks at you. then he says, a little quieter than before, “you already help, y’know. just by bein’ here.”

your throat feels tight all of a sudden, and you duck your head to hide your smile. he’s not the kind of guy to say things like that often. when he does, it always sticks.

he walks around the counter, standing beside you now, and taps your leg lightly with his knee. “c’mon. help me close up. then i’ll walk you home.”

you hop off the stool, brushing crumbs off your clothes. “deal. but only if you promise to let me come by tomorrow.”

he pauses in the middle of wiping a table and turns to you, eyes soft. “you don’t gotta ask.”

and maybe it’s not a grand confession. maybe it’s not a dramatic moment under fireworks or in the rain.

but it’s enough.

and when you leave the shop with his hand brushing yours, with leftover onigiri in a paper bag and the promise of another quiet evening just like this one, you think—this might be the start of something really, really good.