Rintaro Suna X Reader - Tumblr Posts

dreamin’

SYP — when your heart says yes, but your brain says no. you don’t know which to follow, but you do know that the offer wont last long.

GEN. — fluff w a twinge of angst

WARN. — gn!reader, reader is described as pretty, soft men

NOTES. — hi loves!! hope u guys had a good day. sorry for being so inactive. maybe i’ll still write but mainly focus on drabbles.

it’s like you’re dreaming.

the rain thumps on your window softly. in contrast to the relentless downpour outside, your room emits a cozy glow, linen and warm.

looking down on the man sprawled across your lap, you brush his hair away from his face. he looks peaceful like this. carefree and completely relaxed, a sight of vulnerability. he wouldn’t show this side of him to anyone but you.

you’ve been waiting for this day, haven’t you?

your feather-like touch tickles the apple of his cheeks, stirring him awake.

“‘m sorry, did i wake you?” your smile so bright he squints his eyes to focus on you. you look so pretty and he loves this view. the moon’s light shines on your face, the upturned corner of your mouth and the tip of your nose. you look ethereal.

he shakes his head. “no, ‘s okay. i wasn’t even asleep anyway,” he lies through that sweet smile of his. a rush of memories hit him as he traces each crevice of your face.

he remembers how that exact smile of yours drooped slightly in devastation that day. the day he left you. the exact day of the previous year when you both swore that you would be each other’s. you remember the feeling, like a slap to the face.

so why? why was he back? and why were you so willing to take him back?

a comfortable silence takes over and you move your hand to ruffle his hair. your fingertips caress his messy mop with utmost care, as if he was going to break like glass with the slightest pressure. your fingernails scratch his scalp and he instantly relaxes. well, his arms around your waist don’t.

“we can’t keep doing this, y’know?” you sigh, rubbing his back gently. he could feel his heart weigh down and the fuzzy feeling in his chest ceases. he knows what you mean, but he wishes he doesn’t.

“keep doing what?” his voice is still raspy and tired, like it was every single morning when you woke beside him.

“this. all of this.” he hears his heart crack and he thinks you did too. “it’s wrong,” you add, ignoring how your heart thumps.

“then take me back.” you jump slightly, not expecting how immediate his response was. “if you take me back, everything will be the same again. like this all never happened,” he trailed off.

you know its sincere. you know you missed this, him. you miss his smile, his laugh, his voice. he does too. he knows you miss him, and he misses you as well.

you’re silent, and he hates when you are. he wants to hear your voice.

say something, anything.

the thumping in your heart gets so loud, you can hear it in your ears. your mind goes blank, not knowing which to follow, your heart, or your brain?

because your heart screams yes, but your brain yells no.

it’s like you’re dreaming.

— (bllk) NAGI, SAE, RIN (genshin) CHILDE, DILUC, KAEYA (star rail) DAN HENG, JING YUAN, BLADE (haikyuu) SUNA, TSUKI (KNY) GIYU, SANEMI () YOUR FAVES

@mykuro 2023. This is my content, inspired or not. Do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated. <3

all i need —

SYP — “girl ur made for me, cuz ur love is all i need” just scenarios <3

GEN. — fluff, crack

WARN. — gn!reader, not proofread

NOTES — yk i love the grumpy x sunshine and polar opposites troupe so why not incorporate some hints of that into this? might make a pt 2..

at first glance, not many people would expect either of you to pursue each other.

the way you both handle things are different, reactions and such. and when you think of that, there’s only one situation that comes to mind..

throwing your head back slightly, you laugh at one of his lame jokes. hand in hand, both of you turn the corner, still too invested in your conversation to take in the sight in front if you.

he’s the first one to look, halting his movements as he stays rooted to the ground. you, taking note of his tense form, stop to turn to him. cocking an eyebrow, you nudge him on his shoulder and worryingly ask, “babe? you okay?”

his mouth is agape a bit and his eyes are fixated on whats in front of him. seeing as he’s not gonna answer, you follow his line of sight and gasp slightly.

there in front of both of you stood a couple leaning against a wall, making out. you grimaced slightly, noticing their lust for each other through their eager movements. ‘they kiss like fish..,’ you thought, deadpanning.

you felt a tug on your arm, pulling you back.

“c’mon, let’s go before they see us. they might think we enjoy watching them eat each others’ face,” he whispered, hooking an arm around your waist.

you were about to comply but you thought of something way better than just ignoring it. a mischievous smile creeps its way on your face and he grows concerned, not liking that smug look on your face.

unraveling your arms from his, you gasp exaggeratedly, successfully catching the couples attention. they break away from each other reluctantly and flushed, glaring at you.

“i knew you had somebody else!” you screamed, stomping away and wiping away invisible tears from the corners of your eyes. he trails quickly after you, standing beside you as you both hide behind a wall.

“are you kidding me? ugh!” you hear one of them shuffling, probably walking away from the other one.

“wait, baby! i swear, i have no idea who that was!” the other one pleaded, scrambling after his ‘baby’. his thick accent making it all the more funnier.

you leaned forward, clutching your stomach in laughter. he stared at you in slight disbelief before joining in on your giggling.

“what are you doing?”

uh oh, caught in the act.

you turn around, hiding the item behind your back. you grin widely but sheepishly. “what do you mean?” you smile innocently, stuffing the perfume bottle up your shirt.

tilting his head slightly, he raises a brow, skeptical. he walks over to you and hastily snatches the bottle from your hands.

“hey! i wasn’t done with that,” you whined, reaching for it but to no avail. he held it far from your reach, above his head. he tsked.

“i’ll give it back if you tell me what you were doing.”

you sighed, mumbling something so soft it was barely audible. “huh?” he nearly squeaked.

“i wanted to spray my perfume on your clothes so when we go out, people know you’re taken,” you grumbled. “but mostly because people are doing it on tiktok..”

he didn’t stop babying you that whole afternoon. and he posted a tiktok about it. (it went viral)

it was a nice noon. the birds were chirping, the grass seemed greener and your boyfriend was throwing a tantrum.

“i don’t wanna!”

“stop acting like a baby. its not that bad.”

“this isn’t fair.”

“what isn’t fair? you lost the bet, you have to do my dare,” you huff victoriously, smirking slightly.

he sighs, knowing there’s no way of convincing you to let him off. “fine, help me find one.”

“gladly,” you chirped, bouncing on the balls of your feet gently. your eyes scanned around the park before locking on someone. “right there,” you whispered, leaning to him and pointing at the person with your lips.

you shoo him to approach the person. he shakes his head and complies, walking backwards to cast you a pouty look to which you rolled your eyes at.

“excuse me?” he asked, approaching said persons line of sight. she smiled at him, waving, “hello! is there anything i can do for you?”

“i just wanted to tell you that your child is the chosen one,” he replied bluntly, pointing at her swollen stomach.

the woman blinked at him.

“child? i’m not pregnant.” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“oh.”

he ran away, dragging you with him before your knees buckled from your wheezing.

— (bllk) NAGI, SAE, RIN (genshin) DILUC, alhaitham (star rail) DAN HENG, jing yuan, BLADE (haikyuu) SUNA, TSUKI (KNY) GIYU, sanemi (ENCANTO) CARLOS, CAMILO () YOUR FAVES

@mykuro 2023. This is my content, inspired or not. Do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated. <3

how sweet ! —

SYP — silly shenanigans 😸

GEN. — fluff, crack

WARN. — f!reader, not proofread or edited.

REQ. — “hi pretty!! can i request a drabble with nagi, camilo and other characters playing roblox together? it can be any game just roblox in general! love you <33”

NOTES. — omg!! xyae being active???!!! also cha eunwoo the man that u are😕 i literally dont write for encanto anymore but 🤡

“babe.”

you freeze for a moment and gulp before slowly moving your arm to peel back the duvet from your body. you hear shuffles before a hand grips your arm firmly but gently.

“just where do you think you’re going, hm?” he huffs, voice raspy and deep before his arms wrap around your waist and pull you back to his side.

you curse under your breath and give in, deciding that this is the only logical decision compared to the ones you’ve made in the past. you’ve learnt from past mistakes.

you see, your boyfriend would rather let the world burn under his touch than have you slip from his arms before he awakens from his slumber, especially in the morning. (he’s more prone to grouchiness and a bad mood throughout the day without his morning cuddles but he argues that it’s just too early to wake up.)

“i was just getting up to get some water. i was g’na come right back, honest!” you nod your head and muster your best convincing smile as he watches you lie straight through your teeth.

he looks at you, unamused eyes drooping after every second.

“could you lie a little bit better? theres a full glass of water near your nightstand,” he yawns, lying down on your chest and using you as a pillow. you curse softly again and he chuckles quietly, his shoulders shaking.

he nuzzles into you and tightens his grip on you. “you’re not going anywhere, stop trying.”

you sigh. you’re definitely aware with the amount of times you’ve attempted to escape the warm confines of his bed and arms. it’s always resulted in you getting dragged back and plopped on the bed.

still, it’s charming and flattering how willing he is to spend time with you by his side in the mornings, despite it ruining your motivation to be more productive in the early hours of the day.

“15 minutes and we have to get up,” you hum, playing with his hair.

“noo,” he whines. “at least an hour..”

you sputter a little, “an hour? we have to eat something soon.”

he huffs, leaning into your fingers as they gently card through his hair. “just order off of doordash or somethin’,” he trails off, dropping all his weight on you before falling back asleep.

you can feel your eye twitch.

“OH MY GOD, NO!” you scream, leaning back on your chair and almost falling over. you toss your phone on the loveseat nearby and scramble to hug your legs together.

he lets out a few chuckles before full on laughing. “it’s not even scary, why are you screaming?” he puts his phone down, looking at you with a boyish grin.

“no! im not touching that game,” you sulk, still trembling from the (not-so) terrifying jumpscare you were a victim to.

“baby,” he purses his lips together to suppress his laughter. “its a block game! you can’t be seriously scared of it, right?”

you look at him in disbelief and scoff, “beat the game yourself then!”

he shrugs, flashing you a smug smirk. “let’s make a deal. if i don’t flinch throughout every level of this game, you have to pay for the takeout.” (you both know its a lie, this man will die before he lets you use your money to pay.)

you huff, “sure. but if you do, i get to pick the movie.”

“deal, i’m not ‘bouta watch ‘Tinkerbell and the pirate fairy’ again,” he shudders, picking his phone back up and progressing through the level.

“its a good movie!” you argue.

“mhm, sure. but when i win, we’re rewatching gossip g-AH!” he lets out a girlish scream, scrambling off of the couch and dropping his phone without hesitation.

your shoulders shake from the cackle you let out before the uncontrollable giggles follow after.

you wipe tears gathering on your lashline, “wow, real brave, babe.”

he crosses his arms, face turning red as he juts his bottom lip out a little. “whatever, it just caught me offguard!” he tries to justify, looking away from your smiling face.

“it’s okay, baby. its totally normal to scream even louder than your girlfriend when you play a horror game on a block g-”

“SO TINKERBELL RIGHT?” he suggests loudly, trying to change the subject.

you giggle and he groans. (yea, you’re definitely not letting this go.)

@xyaehir 2024. This is my content, inspired or not. Do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated. <3

#1

— (bllk) NAGI, sae, REO, rin (genshin) KAEYA, CHILDE, ITTO, diluc, wriothesely, alhaitham (star rail) sampo, JING YUAN (haikyuu) SUNA, tsuki, KUROO (KNY) tengen, giyu, sanemi (assclass) KARMA, gakushu (jjk) GOJO, geto, megumi () YOUR FAVES

#2

— (bllk) REO, isagi, bachira (genshin) CHILDE, ITTO, KAVEH (star rail) sampo (KNY) TENGEN (jjk) GOJO, yuji (ENCANTO) CAMILO () YOUR FAVES

sitting in bed, thinking about suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro.

like the second he’s added into his volleyball groupchat, kita’s writing some long and detailed paragraphs about their new training regimen to practice for their next match.

suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro taps on the notification and just stares for a good 10 seconds before leaving his message on seen and switching his phone off to go nap somewhere.

then the next day rolls around and he’s completely clueless about the new routine and frankly slightly worried about the long earful of a lecture kita’s going to give him.

but when you send him 3 detailed and double-spaced paragraphs ranting about what put you in a bad mood, suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro is suddenly suna “fastest reader in the world” rintaro.

suna “fastest reader in the world” rintaro is immediately replying at the speed of light with his own paragraphs about how baffled he is that all those things happened to you.

and then atsumu does the same thing and suna “fastest reader in the world” rintaro is back to suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro, reacting to his 8 paragraphs with a thumbs up.

if u tell me someone already thought of this istg. anyways, i love this middle blocker sm i need him to be WHIPPED and giving special treatment 😣 not edited cz its 3:02 am rn..

@xyaehir 2024. This is my content. Do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! <3

sitting in bed, thinking about suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro.

like the second he’s added into his volleyball groupchat, kita’s writing some long and detailed paragraphs about their new training regimen to practice for their next match.

suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro taps on the notification and just stares for a good 10 seconds before leaving his message on seen and switching his phone off to go nap somewhere.

then the next day rolls around and he’s completely clueless about the new routine and frankly slightly worried about the long earful of a lecture kita’s going to give him.

but when you send him 3 detailed and double-spaced paragraphs ranting about what put you in a bad mood, suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro is suddenly suna “fastest reader in the world” rintaro.

suna “fastest reader in the world” rintaro is immediately replying at the speed of light with his own paragraphs about how baffled he is that all those things happened to you.

and then atsumu does the same thing and suna “fastest reader in the world” rintaro is back to suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro, reacting to his 8 paragraphs with a thumbs up.

if u tell me someone already thought of this istg. anyways, i love this middle blocker sm i need him to be WHIPPED and giving special treatment 😣

@xyaehir 2024. This is my content. Do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! <3

sitting in bed, thinking about suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro.

like the second he’s added into his volleyball groupchat, kita’s writing some long and detailed paragraphs about their new training regimen to practice for their next match.

suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro taps on the notification and just stares for a good 10 seconds before leaving his message on seen and switching his phone off to go nap somewhere.

then the next day rolls around and he’s completely clueless about the new routine and frankly slightly worried about the long earful of a lecture kita’s going to give him.

but when you send him 3 detailed and double-spaced paragraphs ranting about what put you in a bad mood, suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro is suddenly suna “fastest reader in the world” rintaro.

suna “fastest reader in the world” rintaro is immediately replying at the speed of light with his own paragraphs about how baffled he is that all those things happened to you.

and then atsumu does the same thing and suna “fastest reader in the world” rintaro is back to suna “i’m not reading all that” rintaro, reacting to his 8 paragraphs with a thumbs up.

if u tell me someone already thought of this istg. anyways, i love this middle blocker sm i need him to be WHIPPED and giving special treatment 😣

@xyaehir 2024. This is my content. Do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! <3

normally when you tuck yourself into bed with your lover, you expect him to snuggle into you immediately as he’s done many times.

so why was he scooting away from you instead? and why is he looking at you like he wants to fight?

you blink once and twice before looking at him quizzically. your lover is a man that is undoubtedly and obviously whipped for you, so why now is he acting like it’s the opposite?

“what are you doing?” you finally ask after multiple beats of silence. you watch him turn his head to the side and scoff, his glare intensifying at your arms.

or rather, what was nestled in it.

he narrows his eyes, “there’s an impostor here.”

you quirk an eyebrow, confused, before following his gaze down to your lap.

“why do you have that thing?” he side eyes the big plushie you’re hugging close to your chest.

oh. so that’s what this was about?

you sigh a bit dramatically, amused. “this ‘thing’ is comfortable to sleep with,” you mock his tone, gesturing to the plushie. “plus, he’s literally custom made to look like you.”

he scoffs before crossing his arms. “it’s custom made to look like me? but all it looks like is a filthy homewrecker!”

you laugh, shoulders shaking while he gapes at you (even though you can see the upward quirks of his lips as his facade threatens to break).

“this is no laughing matter, my dear wife!”

he lifts up his hand to point accusingly at the plushie that looks like his clone. “and you! why are you trying to ruin our relationship, huh?” he pokes his face repeatedly, each time putting more and more force.

“you wont take my wife, you hear me?!”

you giggle, watching the amusing interaction play out. “i can’t believe you’re seriously upset over something like this.”

he stops after processing your words. his gaze darkens a little and he reaches both his arms out to shakily grasp your shoulders. “honey, this is a serious situation! this thing is trying to ruin our lives!” he frowns, shaking you slightly.

“you’re a clown.”

“wh- hey!”

“it’s just a plushie, it can’t do anything wrong.”

“oh, so i’m the bad guy now, is that it? sorry for protecting our marriage then!”

you purse your lips to prevent anymore laughter to spill out and provoke your husband to poke the innocent plushie more. “baby, let’s just go to sleep, alright?”

his eyes soften when you reach out to pull his arm closer to you but suddenly narrows at the plushie still on your lap, his favourite pillow.

“sure, on one condition,” he states before picking the plushie up and throwing it out of the bedroom, quickly locking the door.

(you never saw that plushie again and he claims he has nothing to do with it.)

— (bllk) nagi, reo (genshin) wriothesely, kaeya, childe, kaveh, itto, ayato (i can see it a lil) (star rail) sampo, jing yuan, caelus (haikyuu) suna, atsumu, kuroo, oikawa (jjk) gojo, geto (maybe), yuji, inumaki (if he could talk properly) (kny) douma, zenitsu (om) mammon, asmo

i’ve seen A LOT of drabbles like this but im not sure if anyone did this exact thing 😭 btw sch is starting real soon so ill be on n off on this app 🫢 this isnt edited yet 🥹

@xyaehir 2024. this is my content. do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated. <3

𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 𝗗𝗢𝗪𝗡 !

in which: suna throws snowballs at you to get you to talk to him.

warnings: fluff, gn!reader, maybe unrealistic snow - idgaf, swearing... i think, mentions of d3ath but not in a grim way, jokes of breaking up :c

a/n: how is christmas so soon already lol i've been slacking on my xmas event anyways ENJOY !

˗ˏˋ XMAS MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

Suna watches your backside with a great pout on his red face, nursing his blushed nose in the uncomfortable fabric of his scarf as he tries to plot ways to get to talk to you again. However, judging by the way you stroll in front of him, walking quicker than you usually do as to maintain the distance between you and your boyfriend, the volleyball player groans at the mountainous task ahead of him.

If only he didn’t spark the petty argument that landed him in this position.

Now you were, rightfully, avoiding him as if he had the plague, opting to walk ahead of him instead of with him. Even when he tried to catch up to you you’d roll your eyes and speed up, leaving a yearning Suna behind. 

After a night of rejecting his hugs, evading any sort of conversation, and giving him the stink eye, to say that Suna’s a little fed up is a bit of an understatement. At this point of no talking, he’s trying everything to get you to break, saying shit that just comes to mind, regardless of whether it’ll get him an answer or not.

A chill runs up his spine from the cold, something he immediately notifies you of.

“Y/N!” He calls out, suddenly feeling hopeful again when you turn around; albeit, with a glare in his direction, but that was better than nothing. “I’m cold!”

“What do you want me to do about it?” You ask with indifference lacing your voice.

“Hold me and warm me up with your loving embrace?”

“I will set you on fire.”

The volleyball player frowns as you turn around and continue walking through the snow-covered and empty park, hiding the smile that was starting to break your chilling facade.

“You’re so mean!” He yells once more. “I come out all this way to accompany you and you decide to repay me like this? I’m too hot for this!”

“I didn’t tell you to do shit,” you retort. “You came outside with me on your own accord.”

Frowning harder at your tough exterior, Suna huffs, his breath condensing into gas before evaporating away and as the snow crunches beneath your boots, leaving imprints behind, he has an idea- one that could either seal his death or… help win you back!

Look, Suna knows well enough that he could apologise to you with flowers, chocolates, money, whatever, and they’d be reasonable ways of getting you to speak to him again, but they were just so unoriginal. If Suna is anything, it’s original (partial lie). And, he believes in the logic that if you never speak to him again, he might as well die, so what does he have to lose? Nothing. 

A considerably-sized snowball hits your head with a thud, causing your head to jerk forward from the force. You feel the broken remnants of the snowball splatter across your coat, some clinging on to your shoulders whilst some fall to the ground. Since when was Suna’s throwing aim so good?

“You want to die?” You threaten, although the smile on your face is anything but intimidating, especially not to your boyfriend who already has another snowball prepared in his hands. 

He throws it up and down mockingly.

“You ready to talk to me yet?” He asked.

“I am talking to you, dimwit.”

“Nicely,” he points an accusatory finger at you. “Can I flirt with you again without you biting my head off?”

“Your flirting is what makes me want to bite your head off-”

That earns you a snowball to the shoulder, one that was aimed for your face if you didn’t protect yourself in time. Without giving you time to react, your boyfriend has somehow conjured another snowball and throws it at you, hitting you square in the chest.

As laughter slips out from your lips, you stumble backwards a little before running away, weaving between snow-covered trees in hopes of losing Suna for a few seconds so you can gather some snowballs to fight back with. But, from how clearly you can hear him call your name, and the footsteps that aren’t too far behind yours, you’d say that this is a losing battle.

Especially with his volleyball player stamina, leg strength and endurance, you never had a chance in the first place. Don’t forget his arm swing from spiking all day. So, when he hits you with a particularly hard snowball to the neck, you naturally freeze a little from the ice that had managed to hit skin, flinching. 

In your time of weakness, you saw your boyfriend lounging at you a little too late, encasing you tightly with his arms, his grip unforgivable even when you both stumble backwards from the force. The world tilts and small shouts of panic escape your mouth. Before you can do anything to save yourself, a shock of pain reverberates through your body, marginally cushioned by the snow. 

However there’s no time to think too hard about what happened when Suna’s hovering above you on all fours, staring down at you with widened eyes of shock, surprised by the outcome of his own actions. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, concern now lacing his features as he scans yours for any signs of discomfort or pain. He retreats to sit on your shins, giving you room to breathe and properly see eye-to-eye with him for the first time in a while; both metaphorically and physically.

“Yeah, that fall was just really sore,” clutching your arm, you pretend to be hurt, hiding the fact that you were, in actuality, grabbing a clump of snow. 

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, was panicking and feeling incredibly guilty. Now you were really going to send him to his death. “Shit, Y/N, I’m really sorry.”

As soon as your boyfriend leaned in to inspect your ‘injury’, you immediately throw the snow across his face, gently slapping him with it. He simply sits there, scrunching his face against the cold before slightly opening his eyes, giving you a defeated look. 

“It’s okay, I accept your apology,” you tell him with a mischievous grin, leaning in slightly towards his face, admiring how clattered the snow fell across his skin. Some clung to his eyelashes, to his lips, even his eyebrows.

Hearing the snow crunch near you, you immediately notice his hand going to grab some of the blizzard beneath and you grab his wrist to prevent him from any more fights. 

“If you throw that at me, I will really bite your head off.”

Suna’s eyes glimmer with some akin to amusement. “Kinky,” he says without any hesitation. “I like it.”

“Don’t say that!” You exclaim, letting go of his wrist to try and wriggle away from him, a gesture that he doesn’t take very well, demonstrated by the way that he then wraps his arms around your waist, invading your personal space. 

“Please, I promise I’ll stop, just let me be close to you,” whispers the dark-haired athlete as he stares a little too shamelessly at your face. There’s a stupid smile on his face that makes you feel even more giddy, flustered by how attentive he is whilst simply looking at you.

“What?”

“You’re just really pretty,” he sighs before continuing. “I don’t know how I bagged you.”

“Yet you still throw snowballs at me. Suna Rintarou, count your blessings before I leave your ass,” the way you roll your eyes tells him that you’re joking- it’s so very clear that you don’t actually mean what you said, but something painful tugs at his chest because of the idea of existing without you. 

He dampens a little just thinking about it, frowning as he presses himself into your neck. “Please don’t do that, you’ll break my heart.”

Your hand sneaks up to his hair, carding through whatever strands you could access under his beanie. With the sudden shift from a lighthearted atmosphere to a suffocating one, guilt plagues you as you watch the way your boyfriend tries to curl himself over you, protective in his stance and grip. It’s obvious that he took your words to heart, even if he knew otherwise. “I’m kidding, Rin,” you reassure, not knowing what else to say beyond that.

After a few moments of heavy silence that consisted of simply holding Suna in the cold, he finally speaks up again, uttering a meek: “you’re not still mad at me, right?”

“Not mad. Annoyed? Maybe. By the way, why snowballs?” 

“I thought that exercise and getting the endorphins running would cheer you up a little so you’d talk to me again.”

“What?”

“Y’know like how endorphins make you feel-”

“Rin- you don’t need to mansplain how endorphins work, I just wasn’t expecting your justification. There are other ways to get me to talk to you, y’know.”

“None of them were working and I had to get your attention somehow! It’s the only thing I want, don’t you know that?”

A chuckle escapes you before you can stop it, one of your hands going up to cup his cheek as you give him an affectionate smile. “Yeah, I do know that, which is why it’s funny to watch you work for it, especially after you messed up,” you give him a quick slap at the back of his head, one that has him murmuring a half-hearted ‘ow’.

“Not funny for me.”

“I found it hilarious.” 

Suna watches the way your eyes crinkle as you smile, only solidifying the idea that he would take as many snowballs to the face as possible so long as you’re smiling like this at the end of it.

suna rintaro •

“c’mon, baby. don’t be like that.”

you huffed back at your boyfriend, your arms crossed over your chest as you childishly pouted. you walked ahead of him, continuing your journey to the passenger seat of his luxury car.

“hey, sweetheart, stop.” he chuckled as you continued to ignore him.

the silent treatment that you played didn’t let up as you neared his car in the store’s packed parking lot, much to his dismay. he stayed behind you, his large hands filled with your family’s christmas gifts you both had just purchased last minute.

it started out small, this argument did.

suna, ever the lazy man he is, pushed aside gift buying for weeks as your schedule filled once finals season approached, resulting in your shopping to begin the night before christmas. to say that you were irritated would be an understatement when you found that there were no gifts to wrap.

you wanted to kill rintaro, and even contemplated makibg sleep on the couch for a week— but it was christmas eve and even though he was annoying, you still wanted nothing more than to be near him during this holiday season.

angry or not.

as you approached your passenger door, you turned around briefly to take one look at him.

his hair was collecting snowflakes, the jet black locks speckled with white fuzz beautifully. his strong arms were carrying two heavy bags and one large electronic box for your younger sibling, and although he looked as if the items were nothing compared to him, you could tell that he was struggling slightly to carry them all in this cold, and his long fingers were most likely numb from the cold.

“wait, just a second. you know that you’re not allowed to open your own door; that’s my job.” suna corrected as your glove clad hand reached the car door handle.

you rolled your eyes, but felt your heart warm a few temperatures at his manners.

“let me just set these in the trunk and i’ll get you in that nice and toasty car, ‘kay? don’t want my princess getting too cold.” he explained as he popen the trunk, and carefully set the gifts in there.

you waited patiently, frustrated at him, but nevertheless ignored him still.

he tucked his frozen hands in his pockets breifly as he walked around the your side of the car, sending a flirty wink your way as he watched your eyes follow his moves briefly before looking off in the distance.

“i saw that, pretty girl.” he chuckled under his breath as he reached you.

the close proximity of him suddenly, caused a warm feeling to envelop your cold body. his scent filled your lungs as you breathed in the harsh air, your eyes nearly rolling back at the smell.

he was intoxicating.

his bare hand covered yours to gain your attention, wanting nothing more than to see your eyes on him once more— those pretty eyes that he adored.

when you didn’t budge, he let out an airy laugh at your behavior,

“sweetie, c’mon. look at me…” his voice was nearly teasing, catlike in every way as he spoke.

“what?” you harshly huffed out.

“ah, there she is. there’s your pretty voice that i missed so much.” he gently cooed at you. you found it condescending.

“what do you want, rintaro? i’m cold.” you were icy cold when you asked him, your voice cruel.

he ignored your attitude, tucking a loose strand behind your ear before caging you against the car door.

“rintaro! what is wrong with you? i’m freezing and i have to go home and wrap presents because you,” you shoved your finger against his coat covered chest. “didn’t tell me that we didn’t have any until last minute! now, i’m going to be exhausted all fucking day tomorrow because i’ll go to bed late”.

he smirked as you shouted quietly at him, careful not to make a scene.

he didn’t want to invalidate you in anyway, because he knew very well that he fucked up this year, but something about how adorable you looked in your puffy coat he bought you had his heart bursting. you looked so damn cute, exclaiming about your worries while you dressed warmly. your cheeks were flushed from the harsh cold, your nose beginning to run as well.

you had his whole heart and you didn’t even realize it.

you noticed the smug look on his face, immediately resulting in a punch to his shoulder.

he hissed in pain lowly, his broad body flinching back slightly before the hand covering yours nursed the now sore muscle.

“ouch, baby. that was awfully mean of you, don’t you think?”

you huffed in annoyance before turning around and opening the door yourself. but, just as you opened it, your boyfriend was quick to shut it with his knee.

“hey! what is your-“

he face leaned closer to yours, his cold nose touching your own freezing one. his dark eyes bored into yours and his lips brushed against yours gently.

“you know only i open this door for you, no one else. not even you.” he whispered darkly, his voice raspy.

you nodded slowly, allowing him to reach next to you and open the door back open for you, his eyes never leaving yours. he backed up enough for the door to fully open.

“go in.”

you obeyed reluctantly. you slid into the luxurious car, the soft heated cushions welcoming you happily with comforting warmth. you let out a satisfied sigh at the feeling, before turning your attention back to your doting boyfriend. he leaned in towards you slowly, your breath hitched as his torso entered the warm car. his face became nothing but a few inches away from yours, giving you the impression that he was going to give you a forgiving kiss. but instead, he reached a few inches behind him, and pulled the seatbelt around your lap before buckling it.

“gotta keep my little princess safe, don’t i? these roads are icy, brat.”

you nodded along, at loss for words.

“suna?” you called out after a few moments of thought as he was exiting the vehicle.

he stopped momentarily, crouching over slightly to hear and look at you as you spoke.

“kiss me.” you whispered.

he smiled wide, and if his cheeks weren’t frostkissed you could’ve seen the blush that creeped upon him at your words.

“of course.”

Men whose personalities flip when they have a crush on you

Suna, Atsumu, Oikawa, Suga, Yaku, Daichi, Futakuchi, Tendou, Kita x gn reader

God himself couldn't stop Suna from flirting with you. You'd think he has a secret twin; honey eyes dull and uninterested until you walk in. He's got a sly smirk on his face as he leans in to talk to you, the first conversation he's engaged in for the day. Calloused fingers poke your cheeks and tease their softness. You and you alone can make him seem this alive.

Atsumu could not be more quiet in your presence. His abdomen is starting to cramp up from how he's been sucking it in for the last two hours, not daring to breathe too loudly in front of you. He's clumsy and dazed, making you repeat yourself a handful of times before his ears regain their function to listen instead of just staring at you. A far cry from the perfect player he is on court.

Oikawa is insufferable. Whether it’s to the people around you both, or you directly, he’s flaunting everything he’s got. He has the pointless delusion that his friends will play wingman for him instead of sabotaging. He’s not a tyrant captain but seeing Mattsun purposely distract you as he sets up for a floater makes him think Seijoh can go for a few laps after practice. Nicknames and small affections galore. Sure, he smiles and waves at all his fans but does he hold their hand and give them long hugs even if they’re just excusing themselves to the restroom? Also he leans on you a TON. Has no spine when you’re around, just always draping himself over you and whining for your attention.

Sugawara gets a little mean. He can't help it! He knows he's the poster boy of being a kind senpai, but one glance at your sweet face has his inner desires tumbling out. He's fairly good at controlling himself but you are his one exception. He'll make sharp quips in the sweetest voice possible just to see you get whiplash over it. He knows he should stop, that there's a chance he might drive you away with his behavior, but he's addicted to teasing you in the worst way.

Demon senpai Yaku? Did you mean angel boyfie-to-be Mori 😇😊🥰 Man is the simp of simps and everyone knows it. Nekoma is disgusted with the way his forehead vein disappears and he immediately stops yelling once when you walk in. Yaku spoils you rotten even if there is no label on you two; he's holding your hand to kiss the back of it, walking you to class, buying you dinner all the time, and complimenting you non stop. He's a perfect gentleman. That's not to say he won't tease you (relentlessly at that,) but that comes later. First, he needs you to know that you're the apple of his eye and there isn't anything he wouldn't do for you.

Daichi would forget his head if it weren't attached to his body. You're just so pretty and wonderful, it makes him nervous! The type to drop his food all over himself if he's eating around you. He's knocking things over and tripping over his feet in your presence. Daichi is adorably clumsy but he always gives you a bashful grin, blush staining his cheeks and ears.

Futakuchi teases you so badly, you'll think that you're the one with the crush instead of him. This man won't let you live. You're not even dating but he already has an entire folder of blackmail on you- when you fell asleep in class, you tripping up the stairs, dropping a whole bag of chips on your white pants. He brings up your embarrassing moments so often. I wonder how much attention he must have been paying to you to catch them all 🧐

Tendou is selectively awful to you. The definition of ‘gives you his worst to see if you deserve his best.’ He’s so tired of people abandoning him when they realize who he is as a person. He’s almost expecting to scare you off, so he goes overboard as some assurance that ‘yeah, you’re not the one.’ Color him surprised if you do stick around and dare he say….treat him normally. If you get to that point, he’s gonna be clinging on you like there's no tomorrow. He might even seem like he’s leading you on a bit with all his hot and cold teasing, but trust me, there are definite feelings behind it.

Nobody expected Kita to be offering you his shoulder for a nap, but here we are. He cares about you deeply. Deep enough that when he sees you yawning, he folds his cardigan in his lap as an extra pillow while he gently guides you to his legs for a quick rest. He keeps his warm hand on your shoulder the entire time and gently rubs it, even long after you drift off. His highly valued personal space is now your highly valued personal space. He has the sweetest smile and a warm blush on his face whenever he talks to you. The team can’t even make fun of him because it’s so adorable.

.masterlist.

୨♡୧ UMBRELLA — suna x reader. sfw. fluff.

requested by sage ( deactivated :'( ) for my rin round up event!

the one day you forget to stuff your umbrella into the side of your backpack, it rains.

not a light drizzle that would be mildly annoying at most, but the kind of rainfall that you can hear pelting against the windows—the kind that you definitely don’t want to walk home in.

you let out a huff at seeing the time. it’s later than you should be leaving and you can’t help but think that maybe you would have missed the rain if you had left an hour earlier like you normally do on any other weekday. there’s no telling how long it’ll be before it lets up, so, unfortunately, you’ll be stuck in this building until the weather clears up enough for you to make a run for it.

instead of making every minute feel painstakingly longer by watching puddles form on the sidewalk beyond the door, you turn on your heel with the intention of killing time by watching something on your phone. though, before you can make it to one of the many tables, your path is blocked by a broad body. when you look up, you’re met with unmistakable grayish-yellow eyes. 

“so the rumors are true,” suna starts, eyeing you up and down before meeting your gaze once more with a playful smirk. “you’re bound to this school and can’t ever leave.”

in all the time you’ve known suna, you don’t think you’ve heard one serious thing come out of his mouth. you can’t be sure if it’s just you or if he’s always so flippant. you roll your eyes, shaking your head at his dumb statement. “it’s raining and i don’t want to get wet.”

suna raises his eyebrows. “no umbrella? i thought you were always prepared.”

there he goes again, taunting you like it’s a game. it’s been this way since high school and back then you’d respond to his jokes with jabs of your own. it’s never bothered you a great deal but right now, all you want is to go home and suna reminding you that you can’t serves as the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“don’t you have anything better to do than stand here and make fun of my oversight?” you look past him, eyes scanning the lobby for a suitable spot to spend who knows how long.

something about your tone makes suna’s grin fade. it’s not jesting like usual and he’s afraid that the hint of exhaustion he hears in your words has to do with him. joking around with you is much less fun when you aren’t in on it—especially if his teasing has truly struck a nerve.

suna would never consider himself to be well-versed in kind gestures, but he thinks that he might have some way to make up for overstepping.

“i guess i could walk you home,” he offers. there’s a glint of doubt in your eyes as you stare at him. he isn’t sure if it’s because the suggestion is strange coming from him or if you think he’s no better suited to brave the weather than you are. suna can’t do much about that first one, but to prove that he can in fact get you home dry, he pulls out the umbrella from the mesh holding of his backpack and holds it up beside him. “i have an umbrella.”

part of you feels like a fifteen minute walk with suna—someone you would barely consider a friend—is bound to be at least a little bit awkward but a larger part of you is willing to put up with that if it means you can finally get off this campus. “fine. but only because i really want to get home.”

“of course.” suna nods. he steps past you to push open the heavy door, pressing the button to extend the umbrella. the waterproof canopy shields his dark hair from the rain and he jerks his head to the side in a silent gesture for you to follow him.

you do, careful to step close enough so that you’re also under the umbrella but not so close that you’re bumping shoulders with him. “it’s this way,” you point in the direction of your apartment building.

suna nods again and sets off, pacing his steps so that they’re in line with yours. other than the rain hitting the canopy and the sound of your footsteps, it’s silent. you cross your arms and shy away from the edge of the umbrella where water is dripping. it brings you a little closer to suna but the warmth emanating from him is preferable to the sleeve of your sweater getting soaked.

“so,” suna’s smooth voice cuts through the silence, “what were you doing at the sports center?”

you can’t stop your head from turning to look at him, though, his gaze is still focused ahead. seems like that point you made earlier suna never having anything serious to say no longer stands. you’re sure he’s trying to ward off the awkward air surrounding the two of you. you’re sure he’s just trying to be nice, that he doesn’t really care what you were up to, but you answer him anyway. “oh, i was interviewing for a job at the front desk.”

suna’s lips part as he readies to respond with one of his usual quips—something like being able to bother you more often if you get the position—but he quickly presses them closed. he’ll end up running you away if he keeps at it so frequently and that’s the last thing he wants. even though it may not seem like it, suna likes having you around. he likes it a lot.

so he settles for, “that’s cool.”

“the description actually sounds pretty boring.” sitting behind a desk, answering calls, and constantly being around student athletes isn’t exactly your idea of fun but working on campus is convenient and you need the money so you’re hoping for a call back with good news.

“i don’t know,” suna starts, finally turning his gaze to you. there’s a sparkle of playfulness in his eyes. “watching atsumu flirt and fumble is pretty entertaining. it’s like a neverending show.”

the mental image of atsumu flaunting his position as the volleyball team’s setter in an attempt to impress a crowd and maybe walk away with someone’s number makes you chuckle. “okay, that does sound kinda funny.”

your laugh catches suna a bit off guard but aside from his initial surprise, he finds it pretty. sure, he’s heard it plenty of times in passing before, though, never this close. and he’s never been the reason behind your laugh. it’s probably a little silly, but he thinks it sounds even sweeter when he’s the one who caused it.

the rest of your walk is highlighted by natural conversation; questions from you about volleyball and questions from suna about your extracurriculars. it’s uneventful and utterly normal and the exact opposite of what you would expect from suna. although, you don’t dislike it. in fact, you think you could get used to it.

time passes a lot faster in suna’s company and before you know it, you’re standing outside your building. it’s quiet again as suna holds the umbrella over you while you enter your pin to unlock the main door. an automated click sounds through the air and you pull on the handle so it doesn’t lock again. awkwardly, you turn to face suna. “thanks… for walking with me. and sharing your umbrella.”

he dramatically gasps, pressing his free hand to his chest in yet another show of theatrics. “was that a thank you i heard?”

suna is almost sure he’s taken it too far again before you smile.

“don’t get used to it,” you tell him as you step into the dry lobby of your building. before the door closes, you raise your hand in a wave. “bye, suna.”

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

"Stop that, Suna."

"Stop what? I'm not doing anything."

You read the same line of your notes for the fifth time before slowly closing your eyes and trying to deflect the gaze burning into the back of your head.

He sighs, loud and long. "Woe is me."

There's a rustle of linen as he rolls over.

"Ignored. Abandoned." His tone is flat. "The loneliest boyfriend in the world."

There's a quiet scratching sound and you can picture him dragging his fingers along the wall in boredom; you suppress a smile.

"Not even called my real name," he says in mock hopelessness.

He sighs louder. "It's like I don't even exist."

"Rintarō," you reply, trying to focus back on your notes again. "You're not helping."

More rustling and you feel a hand grabbing at the back of your chair.

"Kuroo needs this repor--" the word cuts off in a gasp as the chair is dragged away from your desk. "Rintarō!"

You hop out of the chair the moment before he reaches for you and turn around to see his ridiculously flexible and strong torso hanging over the side of the bed, eyes narrowed at you in frustration at your evasion.

"So you'd rather make Kuroo happy than take care of your boyfriend?" He tsks and shakes his head. "Not very considerate."

"I would be happy to," you try to pull your chair back but he's still got a firm grip on it and he's much stronger, "if my boyfriend," you quickly dance out of reach as he tries to grab you again, "would let me finish the work for my job. You know...So I don't get fired. Rintarō! Give me back my chair."

"Come get it," he replies with a sly smile.

"Damn you and your stupid athlete's body," you mutter and squat awkwardly at your desk.

"Funny...You said that last night, too, but with a much different tone."

"I'm ignoring you," you sing-song reply.

He huffs and there's a moment of quiet before the unmistakable sound of him climbing out of bed.

You move a moment too late.

"Rin--PUT ME DOWN!" You scramble for a grip on your desk but he's already swept you off the ground, carrying you to the bed. "I HAVE to finish this!"

"Relax." He rolls his eyes as he puts you in bed, goes right back to your desk, and brings your computer back, grabbing the lap desk and neatly arranging the workstation on your legs before climbing-crawling over you and wrapping his ridiculously large body around every bit of you he can. He tucks the blanket around you both. "There. See? Now we can both get what we want."

You don't try to hide your smile as you watch him settle down and snuggle into you, content.

"Stop that," he quips, eyes still closed.

In affectionate mocking you reply "stop what? I'm not doing anything."

He buries his face against your side muttering "you're lucky I love you."

With a grin you turn your attention back to your work. "Yeah,

I am."

AMERICAN JESUS PAIRING: suna rintarō x fem!reader TAGS: alternate universe – gang world, smut, oral, flirty suna WORD COUNT: 10k

Life always has a weird way of fucking you over.

Whether it be in the form of finding an injured member of a notorious gang near your apartment, or trading silence for safety, or how he pulls you into a complicated relationship which goes against integrity and... possibly laws.

mature content !

Life always has a weird way of fucking you over.

Not to say you haven't deserved half of the mandated karma – you haven't always been the best person, given the borderline psychopathic attempt of climbing to the top – but a break, or a nice surprise would be a great change in routines.

Whoever said success is a lonely road was, painfully, correct. To think that you spent your high school years working hard to get into an ivy league, spent those four years working at internships to make those desired connections people dream of!

Only to get out at the age of twenty-two and spend the next year as some glorified, under-paid, under appreciated, assistant. And no, that's not what the job description is supposed to entail, you're meant to be an associate – associates are not supposed to run around getting coffee – with the main purpose of developing your career and hopefully making partner in seven to ten years time.

Not to mention, since the city has unbelievable prices of living, you had to move to a neighbouring borough just for the possibility of having a studio apartment that isn't the size of a closet for the same price. Is it the most convenient?

No, not really, considering the fact the commute is over thirty-minutes and you have to go back and forth from work at unreasonable hours because your boss insists on bringing you to every little, insignificant meeting, or post-work drinks at nine at night – which is an excuse for the woman to spiral further into alcoholism – where you will inevitably end up carrying your boss back to her penthouse on the upper east side.

And no, it doesn't get better, because afterwards, after spending two hours at an expensive bar with the drunken, divorced, mess of a boss you have by the time she gets home safe, you're expected to deal with the city's delayed – and inconsistent – subway times at this ungodly hour and spend the next thirty-minutes in a train with rando's and sketchies.

Oh! No, that's not where it ends, because by the time you get off the subway, it's almost midnight, and you have to take a lovely – scary – ten-minute walk alone to your apartment, but walking anywhere at night is terrifying... Except for the rumour, or fact, that violence has been making its way around the borough, and according to new statistics – regarding the quarterly crime rate review – it's been looking a bit too stabby for your liking.

Now, this walk home is nothing different to how it is every day. You stride down the street with purpose, clutching your taser, and eerily aware of your surroundings. Although, remember how life always has a new way of fucking you over through some odd, irrelevant, way of testing your resilience?

This is one of those occasions.

Let's say it's not common for a man to be curled up in the small alley where residents keep their trash, but then again, crime rates have increased by a percentage that can make anyone uncomfortable – still, committing those types of crimes in a residential neighbourhood where people are simply trying to live their lives is ridiculous. Have some class.

Sure, as a law abiding citizen or natural samaritan would help, but no, not you. Living in a densely populated city means one thing, and one thing only, keep your head down. It's a game of see nothing, know nothing. Everyone minds their own business, that's how you stay safe and avoid danger – including scammers, or the random cult recruiters.

So, you intend on reaching for your keys to the front entrance of your small building, until you hear a small groan come from the neighbours dumpster alley. Sighing, you swallow your pride – and maybe your safety – holding your phone in one hand, and taser in another, and go over to look. The flashlight turned on, as you flash it on the curled up body.

You cannot see his face, but you instantly recognize the leather jacket and matching bandana. Of fucking course, out of everyone in the world, you happen to come across a member of a gang – as if this is some cruel joke from the universe. What do they call themselves? The Foxes? That awful group that parades around in black and maroon, with their emblem of a fox printed on leather jackets that they display for the world to see.

You're reluctant to step forward, maybe it's the threatening affiliation this guy has wound himself with, or the blood on his hands – literally and figuratively – as he grips onto the side of his stomach. The thing is, you've got a massive report to read over and playing doctor with someone is not on your list of side-quests – as it doesn't benefit your position, or reputability on the job any better. However, people are always watching, so if word were to magically get out that you saw a member of this notorious, tight-knit gang and ignored him, that could put a dangerous target on your back.

But, if you help him, you can probably lawyer your way into securing safety for your silence. You could exchange saving his life, for him, inevitably, saving yours in turn – ensuring that you're home, your spaces, where you are at all times is a no-go zone. Sure, that means turning your back on the entire legal system you've spent studying is thrown on the backburner, but you need to look out for yourself.

What is success if it means you've got strangers pinning a vendetta against you, and watching your every move before they strike? How could you ever reach partner if you get killed? How could you ever live with the benefits of making partner, if you get killed before you can exercise those benefits?

The short-term pride is not worth it if you don't get to brag about it... and silence for safety seems like the best option on the table. No one ever said that law always has to be good, it's unjust – at times – unfair and just as corrupt. Only ten percent of people who go into this job do it out of the good of their heart, the rest, the majority do it for the money and respect.

And it isn't part of your job description to be a good person, you're not a doctor. You didn't pledge to an oath about refraining from causing harm or hurt, or to act honestly and responsibility. No, you are conducting yourself with dignity and conscience – and as far as you care, freedom of speech and association still exists, and what you're doing isn't necessarily illegal unless you get recruited or actively participate in a crime.

And since when helping someone not die a crime? He's part of the Foxes, for christ sake. They can invoke power anywhere, he can potentially make you untouchable. You can live your life somewhat more peacefully if it means that safety is a guarantee. If you save one of them, they have no choice but to repay you. That's how the system works.

Sighing, you step closer, bending down to get a better look at him. Flashlight illuminating the severe wound on the side of his stomach, the blood surrounding his black top and his hands. "Fuck my life," you mutter. He's practically losing consciousness with every second, you doubt he's capable of standing up by himself, and there's no way you're going to attempt to fix him by a pile of trash.

So, you do what you can, gently lifting up his upper body, draping his arm around your shoulders as you begin to stand. God is he big, and getting him up the stairs will undoubtedly be a struggle. Still, as if on impulse, his feet start moving as you carry more than half of his weight towards the front door of your building, up the stairs to the second floor – where your apartment remains.

Forcefully, pushing open the door, you find all the strength in your body to lead him to the couch – internally crying at the stain that will taint the grey cushions – where he falls over and lays on his back. Absolutely winded, you walk into your bathroom, searching for that old – raggedy – first aid kit in the cupboards along with cotton balls and comically large band aids that you have no reason for owning.

God, it's as if this was planned, fucking written in the stars. Yes, you were meant to end up in this situation because you are one of the only people in the world who thought it'd be fun and convenient to own large band aids that can temporarily cover a stab wound. Good going!

Gathering all the materials in your hand, you walk over to the couch where he remains in limbo. Again, you're no medical professional, no, the most training you have consists of a short one hour life skills lesson and a topic on human physiology that was part of your biology course in high school. So, yes, you're a bit rusty – but that doesn't mean you're incompetent.

Kneeling down on the floor, scattering the items next to you on the floor, reaching for the cotton balls and bottle of disinfectant. But as your fingers graze over the skin on his torso to lift up his shirt, he flinches, and for the first time since running into him, you look at his face with an offended look on yours – as if he's able to see you through his shut eyelids.

He catches you off guard, the delicate and mesmerising features. Strong jaw, dark hair, furrowed eyebrows that mix in well with the discomfort he must be feeling. Yes, he's beautiful, but he's also bleeding out on your couch and part of an infamous gang that got himself stabbed. Letting out a frustrated, hmph, you lift up his shirt to examine the wound – as if you have any idea what you're doing.

First, you need to unarm him. You run your hands through the pockets of his cargos, pulling out a phone, wallet, and pocket knife, then dig through the pockets of his leather jacket finding nothing alarming.

Next, you cover your hands with latex gloves, then get to work. Letting the cotton balls absorb the disinfectant before running it along his skin, in which he finches in response. "Stop flinching, I'm helping you." You mutter, sure, maybe using water would be a better alternative than bathing him in on the shelf disinfectant, but water is not going to effectively clean him up.

You don't even know what you're doing, and your body, mind, even fucking adrenaline knows that by the way your hands shake. Do you need to stitch him up? You don't know how to suture a wound, you don't even know how to stitch! You don't even own string, yarn yes, but you doubt that sealing someone up with lilac yarn is the most sanitary or safe.

So, of course, you do the most reasonable thing and search it up, and given the short research it confirms that you don't have to do anything – then again, how many people get stabbed and don't receive certified medical attention?

Hands still shaking, you dive into the medical box, looking for antibiotic ointment. "I hate you, you know?" You begin speaking to yourself as you uncap the cream, "You're bleeding out on my couch. Is it a good couch? No, it is uncomfortable, and by the way your legs hand off the arm rests, it's not the biggest. But it's my couch, I found it on the street."

You apply the cream around the puncture, hearing his quiet groans and incoherent murmurs. After that, you reach for the band aid – or non-adherent pad as they call it – peeling off the back and gently placing it over the puncture. It's not a good replacement for proper medical care, but it will suffice until he manages to crawl his way back to wherever he lives and gets professionally treated.

"You better pay for a new couch, or a deep cleaning." You continue, beginning to pack up all your things before standing as you remove your gloves, and move to the kitchen to toss them out. "I have things to do, you know?" You say from the kitchen, washing your hands thoroughly.

That's partially a lie, the things you claim to have insist on reading a fucking brief or case while sitting on your couch watching something on Netflix – because cable is a waste of money – with one of many microwave meals stocking up your small white fridge. Still, this momentary distraction has moved those plans to tomorrow night. A Saturday night.

"I don't know who you are, or what your rank is in this stupid gang of yours, but I don't care." You continue your rant, grabbing a glass of water and pain-killers – placing them on the small cushioned ottoman, because who has the space to own a coffee table? – pacing back and forth in your apartment, where you can finally kick off your shoes by the front door and grab the purse you discarded by the small circular dining table next to the fridge. "I have work to do."

You storm towards your bedroom, dumping your purse on your bed and digging through it for your laptop and thick file, then you grab a highlighter sitting on the bedside table. And hopefully by the time he wakes up, you would have done something worthwhile and beneficial to your career.

So, yes, in conclusion, life always has a weird way of fucking you over. 

An hour has passed since you fixed up the stranger who lays, practically comatose, on your couch. Since then, you've changed out your clothes, showered, and gone through at least fifteen pages of this case you're supposed to assist with and eventually write a report for. Sitting in bed, music softly plays through your laptop as you bite on the end of a highlighter, re-reading the same paragraph over and over again.

It's safe to say that your mind is a bit distracted, maybe it's the fact you're harbouring a criminal in your apartment, waiting for him to wake up and possibly kill you. The Foxes are notorious for many things, heists, robbery, petty murder, but particularly famous for the sale of illegal goods – whether it be drugs, or unlicensed arms – and you happen to have one sitting in your living room.

All for what? The fear of getting murdered? Having a target on your back? Trading integrity for safety? To be fair, those are all valid reasons why you've decided to take him in. You can call the police, turn him in, do greater good for the grand community. He's docile and helpless right now, you've searched him for weapons and you keep his belongings hostage on your bed. But, what are the cops going to do?

You hear a groan coming from the living room, and immediately shoot up from the bed, swinging your feet over the mattress and feeling them hit the cold wooden floors as you turn around to grab the baseball bat leaning against the mattress.

The first, and big thing he feels is pain. An unbearable type of pain on the side of his stomach. He places a hand over the plaster, expecting to feel blood or an infection, but jolts awake when he's proven wrong. He sits up, painfully, and scans the apartment for any sign that will tell him where he is. The messy decor of the room, the glass encased bookshelf that's filled to the brim with trinkets, novels, DVD's, CD's, and records. Behind him, on the wall are framed movie posters and paintings. Lamps, candles, and a full wall tapestry behind the tv. A plethora of coats and bags hanging on the door. So much clutter in this little living room.

He turns his gaze to the small kitchen, a shelf lined with snacks, spices, a bowl of onions and garlic, and a concerning amount of liquor. On the counter, are dishes, coloured pots and pans, empty jars. Whoever lives here loves their fair share of pink, grey, and light blue cups, bowls, and plates. They apparently also love their fair share of tea and instant chai latte mixes, and colourful string lights.

He has no idea where he is, or who happened to pick him up from the streets. All he knows is that he was ambushed by the Crows and left for dead, talk about sending a fucking message. Understandably, he turns his head to look behind him, where you stand holding a baseball bat to your side. He reaches for his pocket, where his knife always remains, only to feel nothing. You've disarmed him.

While he should be focusing on that thought. The logical sense that you must know who he is; hence why you've hidden all his belongings and why you're holding a baseball bat for defence, or the fact that you must've called the police by now. But no, his mind is focused on who you are, why you've brought him into your apartment to avoid death, and how those little shorts look on you. Those little black shorts, that tank top, and that big knitted cardigan.

So what if he's about to get arrested, he loves this sight.

"You brought me here?" He asks, watching the way you nod your head.

"You were bleeding out near a pile of trash, and while I considered leaving you for dead, I figured that I could get something out of saving your life." You explain nonchalantly, well as nonchalant as you can given that you've invited a known criminal into your house.

"Who do you work for?" He questions. There are always upcoming rivals or new recruits circling the scene, they love dirty work and favours – an eye for an eye – and will extort, abuse, and come up with the worst reparations. While you don't look threatening at all, especially in that little outfit, he can't underestimate you.

"Specter and Hastings, the law firm." You reply, causing him to laugh out of pure irony. Out of everyone he could have gotten entwined with, it had to be a lawyer. The universe really loves to play games on him, doesn't it?

"What do you want?" He sighs, "Names? Operations? You want me to snitch?" He'd rather die than rat out his friends, his family, just cuff him and take him down to the station because he's not speaking.

"No." You say, "I want safety." A flash of curiosity flashes across his face, allowing you to elaborate. "I want to make sure that wherever I go will be unharmed, untouched, or fall victim to whatever wars you guys get into. I want to be left out of danger, and never have to worry about getting followed home, mugged, or stabbed. I want the guarantee of safety... for my silence."

"What?"

"Is it so hard to understand?" You huff, "I save your life, you look out for mine. And in doing so, I will pretend that I didn't potentially break a law by not turning you in, I will turn a blind eye and ignore that tonight ever happened."

She's looking out for herself. He can't blame her. If anyone were to find out that she left him for dead, she would be a target. However, as someone whose job literally regards the law, you can't blame him for thinking you're hypocritical and maybe the slightest bit untrustworthy. If you can't even stick by your career, how can he expect you not to snitch on him?

"So?" You say, "Is that a good arrangement?"

"I can't guarantee anything sweetheart," he claims.

"Fine, then can you at least keep the stabbings out of this neighbourhood?" You question, "When I get home at night, I'd rather not come across another bloody body and risk getting more blood on my couch out of fear of being targeted."

That he can do. He can tell the guys to avoid this particular area, in exchange for a stranger – who happens to be a lawyer – that saved his life. Not to mention, you didn't call the cops, didn't turn him in, and you're supposedly open to turning a blind eye. In regards to the blood he got on your couch, he can easily fix that. He nods, "That I can do." There's no reason why he should deny anything, you already know he's part of the Foxes – that's the only reason you bothered saving him – and you are well aware about the culture and how no good deed goes without payment.

"Okay, great." You nod, resting the baseball bat against the frame, you've negotiated poorly, and your terms and conditions are promised to be met. Now, you can move along with your life. "Excuse me for a moment," you say, disappearing back into your bedroom to gather up all the things you took from his pockets.

In your short-lived absence, the man glances over at the painkillers and glass of water on the ottoman. He grabs the packet, reading the warning on the bottom half of the box that informs the users of the small percentage of codeine and its addictive properties, only to ignore it and swallows down the pill. It's drugstore painkillers, so of course, it's not going to be the strongest but when it kicks in, it'll help.

You return holding his things, hanging them to him before sitting on the curved back armchair next to the couch. You are unsure of what to do, or say to the brunette. You've never been put in a situation where a gang member is sitting in your apartment, wounded, and you've offered up your silence in turn of safety. Is it time for you to kick him out, or should you try to make conversation?

He, on the other hand, glances down at his phone, texting away to his friends about what happened and how he'll be back soon. There's no doubt that they're all mad about the situation, how he got ambushed by their rivals, and left by a pair of trash bags to bleed out. Though, it's not all that bad, he got saved by a pretty girl who graces him with skimpy shorts and a tank top that loves to plague his imagination. Better yet, this girl happens to be a lawyer, and if he plays his cards right, he can get a run down of loopholes and secure defence.

"So, do I get a name?" You ask, wrapping your cardigan closer around your body. "Or is that confidential? I'm not going to rat you out, I'm barely a lawyer, let alone a narc. And I need a solid ally in case anyone part of your... um, group ambushes me."

"We're allies now?"

"Are you going to give me a name or what?"

You've already seen his face, and he doubts you'll ever be able to say anything to the authorities without ratting yourself out in the process. Also, he's sure he's never going to see you again, or the maximalist, messy design of your apartment... including the row of CD's and records that you keep in that bookshelf despite being in the age of digital streaming.

"You can call me Rin," half a name, but one nonetheless. "Yeah, Rin is good, or Suna, whatever floats your boat." If he could, he'd try and leave, but he doubts he's in a good enough physical state to do so. Also, being stuck in an apartment with a pretty girl makes him want to stay even more. "Do I get a name from you?"

"No."

"Whatever you say sweetheart," Suna shrugs. "So... a lawyer, what made you go down that route?" He questions, wanting to get his mind off the unbearable ache in his body and sharp pain on his side, as he lays back down on the couch. Might as well get some information on you while he's here.

"I'm doing it for the money." You reply, crossing one leg over the other – unaware of how his eyes follow your movements – as you lean back against the seat, finding some sort of strange comfort in talking to a criminal. "I'm an associate, and in ten years I hope to make partner and move out of this place to somewhere closer to my job. I'm aiming for an apartment on the upper east side, maybe west."

"Is that all?" He hums, watching as you glare at him, "Just for the money?"

"Isn't that why we do anything?" You remark, "For the money, so we can sustain ourselves and live. And it's not like I'm doing court law, or criminal justice, I'm mainly interested in business law – contract and tort law – which is what my firm focuses on, including divorce law, because that's where all the money is."

"So, you're just a lawyer who conveniently knows how to bandage up a wound and goes around saving gang members?" Suna comments, "Oh, and how can I forget the whole trading a life thing for safety."

"Well, it's better than running around on the streets causing havoc." You retort, "Besides, becoming a lawyer is in my blood, meaning both my parents are lawyers and I was told as a young girl that I'd be a good one. Whether or not that was a compliment, can be debated. It's a stable career, a respectable one, and once I move up the ranks, I'll be able to order myself town cars."

"And law is something you really want to do?"

You're quiet for a moment before getting up to walk to your kitchen to brew yourself a cup of tea, "Yes. It is. I don't see what else I could do; the arts are a dying career where only one in a million makes a name for themselves, I don't plan on being the next big entrepreneur, and I hated biology and anything medical." You flip on the kettle, hearing it begin to boil as you dig through your tea bags. "Besides, law seemed easy enough, and there's nothing wrong with sitting through prenuptial meetings."

Suna feels a lot better about getting trapped with a lawyer now. He was initially scared of getting trapped with a potential narc with a six-foot pole up their ass, but you, you're just like every other sleazebag lawyer who's in it for the money. It's refreshing.

"Yeah, and I guess there's that whole thing of justice, but I don't even work in that field." You continue, "The justice system is fucked up anyway, and why would I want to contribute to that? I mean, I could get an innocent life out of prison but then again, I could fuck up and let a guilty person run free or risk them getting a reduced sentence. But, I don't work in that type of field, I just praise the people who do."

You wait for the kettle to finish boiling, and once it does, you pour the water into your mug, adding in honey or sugar into the mix before walking back to the living room. Not before grabbing a bag of chips from your shelf, tossing it at him. He is a guest, can't be that rude.

Reluctantly, Suna accepts it. He hasn't been around you long, but the way you've abandoned your baseball bat and returned all his belongings must mean you don't see him as that big of a threat. Well, how could you? You saw him at his weakest, and he hasn't given you a reason to be afraid... or he hopes he hasn't. Additionally, you're not that much of a threat either, you're smart enough to get through law school, attend an ivy, and work as an associate at a well-known firm in the city. And while he doesn't see much of what you do in your private life, he can see the few small framed photographs on the lamp tables next to him.

He can see you partying with friends, clearly drunk at the time when the photograph was taken, which must mean that you do know how to have fun in whatever spare time you have. Also, your refusal to give him a name eliminates the idea of him ever searching you up online. Meaning, whatever worries he's supposed to have can easily be debunked.

"So, what exactly is your role?" You ask.

"I work in the background, I help plan out whatever, I stay on guard, I'm there to protect them." He explains as vaguely as he can, not wanting to give the gorey details of his role or job description. By the way you nod, it's clear you accept that fact since you don't bat an eye or demand an explanation. Both of you know that the less you know the better. "Are you not scared of me?"

You can't blame him for wondering. Usually, you'd be terrified or the slightest bit frightened, but enough has happened tonight to make talking to a criminal the most normal thing. However, he's not exactly the worst presence. Sure, you can see the way he's looking at you, feel his gaze burn into your skin, how they trail up and down your body – and while it gets a piece of your heart racing, at least you know that he isn't planning on harming you.

"No." You shake your head, "I mean, you probably would scare me if I were to be walking alone on the street at this time of night, and I would definitely be terrified if you happened to be with all your friends. But you're alone, in my apartment, I can see your face, and you're wounded. You can't hurt me, at this point in time, I'm a lot stronger than you."

Unfortunately, you make a good point. He doubts he can walk comfortably, let alone act as a proper threat. "Right, of course," he hums, noticing the obvious blood stain on your couch. "Sorry about that, sweetheart." He comments, "I'll get you a new couch."

"Good," you say, biting back a smile. "I'd prefer one in cream, or even this light grey. In terms of style, I'd like one with a wider back and comfy cushions – like a cloud couch – if you can find one that will fit this apartment, that'd be great."

Suna's lips twitch up in a smile as he listens to you give him a detailed description, you avoid his eyes, staring down at the steam coming out of your mug. He tries to sit up to get your attention before it fades away – and for the act of dramatics, he lets out an exaggerated groan, which causes you to rush towards him – you place your mug on the lamp table behind you and crawl onto the floor in front of him.

You push him back down onto the couch, the force being more painful than when he tried to get up, you lift his shirt up to examine the damage you poorly tried to cover up, it looks fine physically, but you can't imagine what he's feeling. "I can't do much, as I said, I'm not a licensed medical professional." You say, moving down his stained shirt. Your touch ignites a trail of flames along his abdomen that takes all his willpower to fight.

"At least, I'm alive and not curled up by a pile of trash." He remarks.

"Yeah, but who's to say that's going to happen again?" You question, "Next time you get into a situation like this, I can't guarantee that someone will be there to patch you up in time."

"If it's not you patching me up, I don't want to live."

"Oh," you say, surprised, backing up from him. "Well, that doesn't give you an excuse to show up to my doorstep all bloody if it does end up happening again."

It has been a week since you've seen Suna.

Last friday you were nursing a gang member back to life with the promise of safety for silence, and a new couch – both of which you aren't sure you're going to get anytime soon. Instead, you still clutch your taser while you walk home, and you've done your best to wash the stain on the couch cushion. However, nothing is getting rid of that disgusting, faded stain, so you've opted to flip it over and hope time will make you forget.

The individual lamps and overhead lights illuminate the apartment, the candles flames are burning– casting a mixed scent of florals, vanilla, and lavender – creating the perfect ambiance for a Friday night in.

You sigh, collecting a mountain of rice – from your ready-made curry – on your spoon, curled up on your couch, gaze fixed on the television that plays an old show you were obsessed with in your teens. Beside you, is a glass of wine filled with ice cubes, and the bottle is placed on the floor awaiting refill. What else is there for you to do than stay home on a Friday night?

"Previously on Pretty Little Liars," you hear play through the speakers, shoving a mountain of food into your mouth, "It's Mona– Hanna won so Mona loses..."

You sink down into the couch, suddenly engrossed in the recap. It's been a while since you've had time to catch up on television, so the recaps serve a well-needed purpose to remind you of the over-the-top drama and plethora of plotholes. There is nothing better than unwinding after a long, long, week at work. Grabbing the wine glass, ice cubes clinking as you bring the drink up to your lips.

It's an odd combination, putting ice cubes in wine– that's unheard of – but you don't mind the diluted taste, also, you aren't the biggest fan of wine, it just seemed classier than making yourself a sad looking cocktail. Though, given the fact you're watching one of the more questionable teen mystery dramas, wine with ice does not seem like the worst situation.

You could have easily gone out, but all your friends are all too tired to go out, and drinks at bars are far too expensive. And let's be honest, going out by yourself is possibly one of the most depressing things a person could do, also that would mean walking home by yourself intoxicated. Obviously, that's not the smartest or safest decision, given the current rise in crime.

Engrossed in the show, absentmindedly feeding yourself until you're scraping the plastic container with your spoon picking up scraps. Sighing, you slide off the sofa, dragging your feet towards the kitchen where you toss out the empty container and dump your spoon into the sink. Half of your attention is still focused on the television, not wanting to miss anything going on.

Drifting back towards the couch, leaning against the armrest as you refill your wine glass, bringing the bitter alcohol to your lips and tasting it on your tongue. This will be your second glass of the night, the first glass came and went as quickly as the previous episode did.

A loud knock on the door sounds throughout the apartment, causing you to choke on your drink. Frightened, you place the glass down on the lamp table, pushing yourself away from the couch as cautiously and quietly as you can. Walking on your tiptoes back to the kitchen, reaching into a drawer for a knife.

Of course you're not going to open the door, you're not stupid. You're simply going to sit against it, clutching the knife until whoever is on the other side goes away... like a responsible, intelligent, adult. It could be someone with the wrong address, despite how persistent they are on knocking. And no criminal would think of knocking either!

Maybe you should turn off the television, give the illusion that no is home, or alternatively, you could turn the volume all the way up and drown out the sound of their fist pounding against wood. Nevertheless, hiding out in front of this door with a knife seems like the safest option. If things go wrong, and the intruder does break in, you can stab them and leave their body on the street.

Crime isn't news around this area, unfortunate things occur all the time! And the police, being police, won't bother stepping in. It's an accidental murder in a bad part of town, or another victim to gang violence, they won't bother finding out it was a kitchen knife that caused the death. Morally, will it crush you? Yes. It will.

You lean back against the door, the continuous knocks do not falter... Until they do, you hear them rest their head against the wood. Maybe they've finally given up. Slowly, you get up from the floor, the faint noise of police sirens flying by. You backpedal until your back hits the counter, reluctantly, you place the knife on the surface behind you.

Heart racing in your chest, then you hear it. You hear him. "Sweetheart, open the door." His voice is muffled, but a simple piece of wood is not going to hide the exhaustion lacing his tone. "Please," he adds.

You hope that your home isn't the new hideout for gang members running from the police, but you can't stop yourself from quickly striding towards the front door and swinging it open. "Oh my god," you gasp, catching him in your arms before he plummets onto the floor. Stumbling back, you quickly catch your balance and drop him on the couch – the same way you did last week – where he falls back, arms resting on the back cushions.

Apparently, Suna has taken an involuntary liking towards you and insists on showing up outside your apartment, and door every time he gets hurt. At least, this time around, he's not shot, stabbed, or badly wounded, he just looks a little... beat up. Busted lip, and black eye that's beginning to form. You know this is not the time, but god does he look so good.

Lord knows what he's gotten himself into, why he's bruised or why out of all the places he could run, he ran here... to you. What happened? Why is he suddenly out of breath, unable to stand, and exhausted on your couch? You climb over him, straddling his lap, and grab his face between your fingers, forcing him to look at you. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" You huff, slapping the side of his face to jolt him awake, "This is no time for a nap Rin, you need to tell me what happened."

Even in this dazed state of mind, even after running five blocks, being chased by both the police and the Crows as a distraction while his team can get away. Getting cornered, beat up (not as bad as the others), picking the lock to get into your building, then running up the stairs, and waiting for you to let him in. He can still appreciate the sight in front of him, including those shorts, his hands running up your thighs, leaning his head back while his lips turn up into a smirk.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I had to run, and believe it or not, this is the safest place for me." He mutters, sitting up to lean in close to you. "And I know you won't refuse me," he hums. Suna's breath is hot against yours, his touch running up and down your thighs setting a fire to burn and a shiver to involuntarily run down your spine. He kicks off his shoes, opting to make himself comfortable on your couch.

"This is not your safe haven," you scoff, pressing a hand flat on his chest to push him back from you as you climb off his lap. You storm over to the kitchen, opening the small freezer hatch on your fridge to pull out a frozen bag of peas for his eye. Sure, it's not your job to care for him, but you can't help doing it – as if it has been engraved in your memory after one experience. You toss the frozen peas at him, which he luckily knows what they're for. "I did you a favour, which you have yet to return, by the way."

He holds the frozen bag of peas up to his eye, this is not the warm welcome he's been expecting, and for your information he has kept up one side of his deal. He has kept your street a no-go zone, and he has been making sure that you are safe. Sure, his methods are a bit stalkerish, he's been trailing you to and from work – lurking from the shadows and wiping out any potential threats that come your way. In terms of the new couch... he's working on it.

"Don't tell me that you're running from the police," you say, beginning to pace back and forth in your living room. "What do you think you're doing?" You exclaim, "You can't keep coming here to hide from the police! Do they know what you look like? Do they know that you came here? Do you know that my entire career can be ruined?"

"Calm down sweetheart," Suna hums. "No one knows I'm here, you're fine. And speaking of the police... yeah, I'm running from them, but I managed to get away through a couple short cuts. Trust me, you're safe." He stands from the couch, one long stride taken to reach you, his hands running down your arms in a somewhat reassuring manner. With one hand tilting up your chin, "And I wanted to see you."

His eyes are mesmerising, a perfect combination of green, yellow, and grey. It's hard to not melt under their gaze. Your hand wraps around his wrist, moving his touch away from your face before turning on your heel to walk towards your bedroom. He hates to see you leave, but he loves to watch you walk away. Maybe this is the universe repaying him for almost dying, it sent an angel in the form of you.

"Wanted to see me," you mutter to yourself, packing up the mess on your bed. The files, loose papers, highlighters, notes, and your laptop. You move them to sit on your cluttered vanity. "As flattering as that is," you continue, "I'd rather you come see me when you're not running from law enforcement. You owe me."

"Sorry to add insult to injury, but I was wondering if I could camp out here for the night?" Suna asks, leaning against the doorframe of your room. He knows you're not going to deny him refuge, whether you want to admit it or not. You don't have it in your heart to leave him out in the rain. Even if you want him gone, he's not going to leave. He's never been that good at taking hints – hence the black eye and busted lip. "Just for the night."

"One night." You sigh, "Only if –" there's always a catch "– you avoid robbing my bank, and stay clear of where I work, and make sure that everyone knows that. And no more attracting police to this side of town," you list. "And if you're going to stay here frequently, I'm going to need some sort of compensation."

"Is that all?"

"Yes." You nod, "now," you begin pushing the brunette back into the living room and onto the couch. Since he's here, may as well check up on how that old stab wound is going. You force him down onto the sofa, his back hitting the cushions – the wind escaping his lungs – as you lift up his shirt. There's still a nasty cut that's bound to turn into an even worse scar, but at least it's healing correctly.

"You sure are quite aggressive," he comments, propping his head up with his hands as he looks up at you. "I don't mind, kinda like it." He purrs, softly laughing at the way you pull his shirt back down and storm up off the ground, grabbing your wine glass and downing the rest of the contents. "I was just teasing babe, no need to overreact."

"Are you aware that you're an idiot?" You comment, placing your glass and the wine bottle on the kitchen counter.

"Do you like that I'm an idiot?" He retorts. He's got a bit of a little infatuation with you. A hot shot associate with a morally grey high ground, and a weakness for criminals like him. It is not everyday a pretty normal girl like you fixes him up and lets him into the apartment while he's running from the cops.

"The same way I like how I continuously find myself harbouring a fugitive." You reply, "It could be better. And can you please either use the frozen peas or put them back in the freezer."

You have better things to do! Sure, the situation could be worse. At least Suna is decent to look at, and he's alright company who doesn't want to kill you, and you have felt the slightest bit safer on your walks to and from work. Though, it's not like you're thrilled to have him in your apartment.

He gets up from the couch, places the peas back where they belong, then slides in next to you. He grabs the wine bottle, taking a swig from the bottle. You watch him intently, the way his Adam's apple moves, the beginning traces of a bruise forming around his eye, and the cut on his lip. He still wears that stupid leather jacket, but at least there's no blood on his hands, legs, or torso. Suna glances at you from the corner of his eye, holding the bottle firmly in his hand, "Take a picture. It lasts longer."

"I would," you say, "but that would mean proving a direct affiliation with you. And lord knows if you ever get caught, I'd rather die than testify in court and risk losing all respect I have in this industry."

"I get it," he shrugs, "I'm bad news, but that doesn't mean I'm necessarily a bad person. I mean, you make money off people's brokens marriages, shouldn't that equate to something? I think that we both do bad things, but we're not bad people."

"Comparing me to you is a low blow," you snort. "That's like comparing apples and oranges."

"They're both fruit aren't they? They both grow on trees, they both make juice." Suna argues, "One is sure, significantly better than the other, but that all depends on personal preference."

You meet his eyes, seeing nothing other than the greyish-green hues. He's got that tough exterior that can draw any girl toward him – including you – the danger that people write about, the allure and flirty personality that makes him less of an asshole and more human. He is the fallen angel that the universe sent to you as a form of twisted karma and dilemma of morals that cross a line. He's beautiful, prideful, a criminal, but has got a strong sense of loyalty and protection. Why else will he make himself the scapegoat to every situation?

"Yeah, well, anyone with a brain can tell who's the better one of the both of us."

"If this is about breaking the law," he says, placing the bottle down on the counter. He steps in front of you, trapping you between his arms, pushing you back against the counter as his body presses against yours. "You're breaking a lot by being here with me, hiding me from the law, trading silence for safety, I'm sure there's something in the constitution that you've broken by not turning me in." He lowers his voice, dipping his head down to yours, "I'm sure if I string enough together, you can be charged with aiding and abetting."

"That's one thing out of the many covering your roster."

He bends down, lips brushing against your own. Heart pounding against your chest. He's so close. Remnants of his cologne fill your senses; oak, wood, musk, sweet amber, cardamom, raspberry. He's addictive in all the ways he shouldn't be. A real fallen angel. Beautiful, perfect, but dangerous, treacherous, and duplicitous. But what does that make you? You're addicting, the light in his dark tunnel, his bittersweet obsession that he cannot indulge in.

"You don't care." He rasps, "If you did, you would have kicked me out. You like me, you like having a dirty little secret, you fucking revel in it."

You don't respond, verbally that is. You break the small gap between the two of you. He reciprocates the action, deepens the kiss, presses you further back against the counter. A hand gripping your hip, while the other travels up your neck, holding under your jaw tight between his fingers. His body against yours, fingers wrapping around the belt loops of his jeans trying desperately to pull him closer. It's messy, driven, and lustful.

Your hands travel under his shirt, feeling the burning skin and the shiver that runs down his spine. The hand he has on your hips, his fingers dig harder into your side while the one around your neck shifts to the nape, reaching up to tug at the roots of your hair. The throaty moan that he elicits from you sends him into overdrive, fuck you're addictive. He wants you, so bad. He needs you.

Palms placed flat on his stomach you step forward, pushing him back onto the couch. He takes in the sight of you, standing over him in those little shorts and tank top that hugs your body so well. You climb on top of him, straddling his lap, and his hands instinctively run up the back of your thighs, sliding under your shorts. Rough hands making themselves comfortable, holding the flesh in his hands, squeezing hard as he helps you grind down onto him. He's hard as a fucking rock, and your moving against him so needy. The friction against your clit, slow and tortuous, small whimpers and staggered breaths that Suna swallows.

Your hands move to move the leather jacket off his body, which he tosses across the living room, leaving him in a black muscle tee that shows off all the hidden, scattered tattoos on his arms you've never had the pleasure of seeing. His fingers grab the front of your tank top, tugging down the fabric to expose you to him. His cold hand cupping your tit, the pad of his thumb running over a hardened nipple as goosebumps scatter down your body and you press down further into the bulge in his jeans.

"Fuck," he groans at your reaction, breaking away from your lips to kiss down your jaw, neck, collarbones, before his lips wrap around your chest. His tongue pressing against you, teeth grazing your skin, while his hand continues to work and massage against the other.

Your back arches, hands tangling themselves in his brown hair, continuously grinding against him as his leaves scatter hickey across your chest. "Sweetheart, you're killing me." He murmurs, reconnecting your lips together. You hum against him, lifting your arms in the air as he pulls off your top, throwing it across your apartment before he does the same with his shirt.

You begin to kiss down his chest, his torso, his stomach, falling down to the floor in front of him – between his legs – as you undo his belt. Suna's eyes fixed on you, the sweetly dangerous glimmer in your eyes as you unbutton and unzip his jeans. He lips his hips, allowing you to pull them down – jeans and briefs – letting his clothes drop to the floor. He shudders the second your hand wraps around his dick, head dropping back and hands gripping onto your hair.

Wrapping your lips around the sensitive tip, you tease the spot hearing desperate whimpers escape his throat. Tongue flat against him, head beginning to bob back and forth, cheeks hollowing out as you literally suck the soul out of him. The salty taste of pre-cum on your tongue, his hands firmly entwined in your hair as he lets out a strain of whimpers, bucking his hips up, controlling your movements making you take him deeper in your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

Tears begin to prickle in your eyes. Head moving back and forth at a faster pace, his hands knotted in your hair as he takes control, fucking your mouth. Looking up through teary eyes, laying eyes on a sinful sight. His abdomen flexing, head thrown back, eyes shut, and Adam's apple moving at every repressed whimper and moan. You grip onto his thighs as he increases his pace.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Breathless moans coming out in repeated pleas that chase a high. He's so close, impatient, and seeking a heavy and desperate release. "Just like that baby, keep going."

You don't stop, you continue as a mess of fallen tears, pre-cum and saliva. You can't breathe, throat filled with his cock. He fucks your throat, using you for pleasure. He fucks your mouth, swollen head hitting the back of your throat, shuddering as you to swallow or gasp for air. You feel his dick twitch, and in seconds a hot load is shot down your throat and his grip on you loosens. You swallow down his cum, tongue and lips cleaning him up. Once, your lips remove themselves from his cock, he wastes no time to pull you up and reconnect your lips, tasting him on your tongue. You stand from your knees, and he pulls down your shorts along with the simple black panties, then pulls you down onto the couch, laying you on your back.

He hovers over you, hand wrapping itself around your throat as he kisses you. The other, spreads your leg, calloused rough fingers pressing against your cunt. Using the arousal to rub against your clit, a harsh play of light and rough. Fingers pressing hard against your clit, causing a strained moan to sound through the living room, he rubs against the bud. Playing between teasing movements, to forceful mechanisms. He's fast and slow, teasing you, edging you.

"Rin," you muster out, biting down on his lip which pushes him to give you what you need. Working his fingers swiftly, skillfully, roughly against your clit. You squirm beneath him, he's vicious against you, his free hand kneading your tit in a hard grasp. "Fuck, Rin." You moan, chest rising and falling, as he quickens his pace. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you grip onto the armrest of the couch, mouth agape.

Legs twitching, as he brings you to an insatiable climax. His fingers are covered in your slick. He brings them up to his mouth, getting a taste of what he's missing out of. He doesn't waste time, wrapping your legs around his shoulders before he buries himself in your cunt. Lips wrapping themselves around your clit, sucking on it, his tongue moving at a rapid pace. He feels how sensitive you are. Fingers digging into your thighs, sucking your clit into his mouth.

You're a mess, a writhing, mess. And the way he looks up at you through half lidded eyes, buried between your thighs. You sink your hands into his hair, looking for something to hold onto. A groan rumbles in his throat, sending you farther over the edge. He increases his pace, devouring you like a starved man who hasn't eaten in years. He's pushing you over the edge, your heels digging into his back, pulling at his hair, forcing him deeper into you.

To add fuel to the fire, he thrusts two fingers inside you, curling into your sweet spot that has you bucking your hips into his mouth. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, perfectly matching the pace of his tongue. He continues until he feels you come undone, pleasure and heat clouding your vision as he pulls away from you. He examines the sight, leaning in close to you.

"I need to feel you." He pleads, the blood already rushing back to his dick, "I need you sweetheart."

You nod, "Please." Whispering, "It's fine, I'm on the pill." You reassure.

He almost collapses right there and then, letting out a whimper as he slides into you. Feeling you raw and whole, he's going crazy, losing his mind at the way you suck him in. Your walls around his dick, warm and so good that he could come right there and then. His find is spinning, he's going absolutely feral over being in you. He slowly moves out, before bottoming out, stealing your breath in the process. That's all he needed, the feeling of having you grip around him.

Suna thrusts into you, picking up a faster speed and your ragged breaths urging him on. He revels in the way your tits bounce, his movements causing the sinful shake of your body. Your nails digging into his back, scratching the skin. If he could save this as a permanent memory in his mind, he would, and he'd replay it over and over again in his dreams. He bottoms out, rolling his hips each time he does so, thrusting in and out at a faster speed and pace.

He then pulls out, the lack of touch jolting you back from your daze, only for him to flip you over onto your stomach, harsh grip on your hips as he lifts your ass in the air. He grips onto the flesh, holding it in his palms while he tugs them towards him in a big thrust. You let out a moan, face buried into the couch cushions, as he pounds into you.

Dick reaches deep into your cunt, watches you shake under him, the couch shakes, and the lamps shake. He holds both your wrists in his hands, pinning them behind your back, as he pushes himself faster, rougher, crazier than he did before. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoing throughout the apartment, mixed in with your strained whimpers and his throaty groans. "You like this?" He mutters.

This is so much better than he imagined. All the nights he spent with his hand wrapped around his dick in the shower and in bed. The thought of you crumbling beneath him, moaning out his name, becoming nothing but putty underneath him. The thought of him pounding into you relentlessly, feeling you bare and raw, the way your walls wrap around his cock. Imagination never could have prepared him for this, it's so much better than he imagined.

You're so wet around him. He fucks into you, in and out so quickly that you can't even grasp onto the feeling despite your cunt quivering and tightening around him every time he fills you. He lands a hard slap on your ass, only to rub over the red spot, roughly massaging and kneading the flesh. Suna continues to go harder, faster, more feral, moving both your hips to meet. Back is arched and he pushes you further down into the cushions, if that's even possible.

"You're no saint sweetheart," his hips stuttering, "you fucking love getting fucked dirty by a criminal." He rasps, tugging you up by your arms, whispers close to your ear sending a shiver down your spine. "Tell me how much you love it," he instructs. "Go on."

"I love it." You breathe out. Suna forcefully pushes you back down onto the couch, harshly pounding into you, "Fuck, so good."

"No one's ever gonna fuck you as good as I will. I'm going to make you mine, I'm going to corrupt you, I'll protect you." His voice falters at the feeling of you tightening around him, his cock twitching in response. "Fuck, you're mine. Mine only, and I'll fucking kill anyone who comes near you."

You listen to him, losing all sense of strength in your body. You're so close, he knows you are. "Rin, please keep going, I'm so close." You whimper, and he endures, picking up his pace and pushing into you faster, deeper, and harder until you become a limp mess, tightening around him, giving him the greenlight to release.

He cums inside you, white liquid filling you and dripping out as he pulls out. Your hips fall to the couch, as you flip over in time for him to collapse on top of you. If you didn't need a new couch before, you definitely need one now. His arms wrap under your body, he lays between your legs, head resting on your rising and falling chest, hearing your heartbeat in his ears. You brush your fingers through his hair.

He meant what he said. You're his, and he will fucking kill anyone who comes near you. 

emotion

s. you get stuck in your crush/study buddy's room during a freak storm.

w.c. 1.8k

w. gn! reader (I thought a fem reader when writing this, but then I noticed that I didn't really make it gender coded! so I figured it was a plus it came out this way!) , suna! x reader , fluff! suggestive! bc there is some steamy kissing and of the making out

a/n: Earth spun a wheel between Rin, Osamu, and Atsumu for me to write for and it so conveniently picked Suna Rin

Ending up in the same room as your classmate/crush during a storm, at night, with no electricity had never been on your bingo card for the year. Yet, here you were, blinking back into reality seconds after the lights just went out.

"Shit" Suna sighs. You can hear him start to move, making out the shadow of his body standing up and moving towards his beside drawer.

"I have a candle in here." He mutters, the obvious rummaging being heard before it ceases after you somewhat see a cylindrical shape in his left hand. The smell of paraffin going up into flames accompanies the slight bit of light coming from the match he just lit, it fades away the moment he blows out the match after getting the candle to light.

It isn't much, the light coming from the medium sized candle, but it lets you fawn over his face, his entire being. It's a flattering light and it sets a mood you wish you could do something about.

"You think the Professor will cancel the test?" He shivers a little when he sits down across from you again, rubbing his hands together.

That's the reason you were here in the first place, to study for that damn test.

Suna had sat next to you at the beginning the semester after getting there at the last minute and the last open seat had been the one next to yours. Ever since then, you had exchanged small talk and numbers with each other. It happened frequently, befriending the people sitting next to you in class, some days it was a great help to ask each other if the other had done the homework, understood yesterday's lecture, or if they had notes because one of you couldn't go to class that day.

But you only got excited when Suna asked you for your version of the notes from the previous lecture. Everyone always complimented your penmanship, but the first time he got your notes for reference against his, he sent a text:

lol you write really pretty

You smiled to yourself at it when he sent it and could only send a thank you back.

He didn't really befriend anyone else in the class and neither did you because of it. You didn't have the chance to when any free time in the class where the professor hadn't started lecture yet was taken up by conversation he tried striking up with you. It automatically made you study buddies by the time this first test came around.

"Well if it looks like the rest of the campus, or at least half of us lost electricity too, then it might be a no brainer to save it for another time."

He lets out a puff of air as a sarcastic laugh at the situation, "It's like that shit you say. Being delulu is the--"

"Solulu." You finish for him, giggling.

He lets out a 'heh' and leans forward while hugging himself even tighter, "Sorry you got stuck here. The storm really came out of nowhere."

"I'm sorry I got stuck here." You counter, your body starting to shiver at the increasingly cold air filling up the room with harsh cold rain storming just a window away and no heater to protect against it. "I'm in your room after all."

"It's fine," He says, his eyes acting a bit more fox-like than usual as he stares you down before he adds, "Let me give you one of my hoodies, it's getting cold."

And before you can interject and say that won't be necessary, which it really won't--you don't need Suna's hoodie, you're fine freezing to death if it means you don't have to breathe in his intoxicating scent clinging to your skin--he's getting up and walking to his closet.

As quickly as he gets up, he's coming back and handing you a hoodie, the specifics of it like the color or design not something your eyes couldn't register at the moment.

"Thanks." You meep out, basking in the moment your head first slips through it and you feel the hoodie envelop you. You didn't know what was keeping you warm now, the actual material draped over your body or the fact that it was Suna's and he had worn it before, it was his.

When you look back at him and squint a little, you can tell he's wearing one of his own too. One he rarely wore--yes you noted how frequently he wore his hoodies, you couldn't help but make the observation.

"Well if we think tomorrow's test is gonna be cancelled..." Suna drags on, "We can play Mario Kart on my switch?"

You weren't one to frequently come across the opportunity to play on a switch, so you asked, "It can work without wifi?"

"Yea, " He nods, "it's the only I can think of to keep us occupied while we wait to see if the electricity comes back any time soon."

You can think of something else.

And so does he, but he won't tell you that either.

While he gets up to get his console from his desk, you nervously near his bed.

"Hey, Suna, can I play on your bed?"

A shiver runs up his spine and his eyes go wide as he's disconnecting any unnecessary wires from his switch. Time stands still for him and-

"Suna?"

"Yea!" He manages to blurt out like it's not big deal as he comes back to you with the console in hand. When he joins you in sitting on his bed, next to you, propping up the little screen across from both of you, he says, "And you can call me Rintaro. If you want."

You lean over a bit to look at him curiously, noticing a slight change in his demeanor, as if he had something else busying his mind. His eyes seemed caught up in a thought.

"Sure."

That small observation of yours became a thing of the past soon after you had finished playing two matches against him.

He had become your worst enemy.

"You do not let me catch a break!" You laugh and yell at the same time, shoving him with your shoulder.

"Just because you don't play it often, doesn't mean I have to go easy on you." He defends himself, smirking as he looks at you from the corner of his eye while he picks a new map to play on.

You toss your controller to his side of the bed to throw an over exaggerated fit.

"Well now I don't wanna play if I'm gonna keep getting bullied like this." You haughtily huff and cross your arms

Suna jokingly rolls his eyes and is about to ridicule you when you're both suddenly enveloped in darkness again.

The candle must've gone out.

And for some reason, the lack of light made for a lack of noise in the space between the both of you. The rumbles coming from the storm outside filled the void between the both of you and eventually closed the space between you two when a monstrous crack of thunder and lightning made you yelp and grab onto whatever was near.

The shock of the sudden noise had you breathing a bit quick and with your arms around Suna's torso, who instinctively put his arms around you too.

It was quiet, yet not at the same time.

The roaring storm outside was noisy enough,

but you and your study buddy weren't saying anything.

Your hands can feel how sturdy he is underneath the layers of his shirt and hoodie. He's big, an obvious fact considering he is tall and a volleyball player for the school, but it seems so much more prominent when your hand feels so small compared to his huge back.

His breath tickles your ear and you move your head back when you shiver because of it.

His face is now in front of yours because of it. And now you're both in a position to kiss. You can feel his body and mind contemplating it, by the way his head moves a little and how his breath starts to sound. You don't doubt that you're probably doing the same.

When you feel his hand squeeze around your hip, you give him a small peck on the lips. It took all of your courage and some of the intensity from the moment to do it.

You have no opportunity to berate yourself for doing it when he chases after your mouth immediately when you're about to pull away.

And now you're making out with...

"Suna." You sigh, feeling him manhandle you onto his lap

"Rin." He breathes quickly before he reaches for your mouth again.

You can't help the mewl you let out from savoring the moment like the repeated relief of taking off your shoes after a long day of walking.

"Rin." You repeat after him.

Rintaro, Rin, is breathing just as heavily against you as you are. He's going as far as you are, whatever you do, he does in return. When you swipe your tongue against his lips, he does the same, except you open your mouth to him when he does.

And now you're both kissing with tongue.

You moan particularly loud and he juts his hips up into you right before he pulls away from you, the look in his eyes something you so agonizingly wish you could see right now.

"I like you a lot." He confesses, moving his hands down to slither across your thighs and hold them there.

"I like you a lot too." You say back, gripping onto the hem of his hoodie.

"Yea?" Rin breathes against you, going back in to kiss you

"Mhm." You sigh in relief.

"Fuck, "He can't help but push up into you, "You're so fucking pretty."

"You think so?"

"Know so." He groans and heads towards your neck for an assault, holding you in place by the back of your neck. "I want you so bad."

You grind your hips against him, turned on by the confession, "I want you bad too."

BOOM!

And you get scared shitless by the bitchy thunder again, dragging you away from the intensity of your increasingly intense makeout session with Rintaro and into a breathless heap of laughter with him. He had fallen back onto the bed, dragging you down with him and into his arms, snuggled into the crook of his neck.

"Does this mean I can finally follow you on Instagram?"

"Huh?" You're still dazed from the oxygen sucking of a makeout you just shared with him

"I found it a long time ago, but you never gave it to me so I didn't wanna seem like a stalker. You looked really pretty in your post last week though. I like pink on you."

"Stalker!"

HQ BOYS MEETING A BEAUTIFUL FAN

⟶ ft. kuroo, suna, ushijima

♡ kuroo

"kuroo? kuroo testurou?"

kuroo whips around, ready to apologise to whoever that the nekoma volleyball team is currently rushing to catch their bus back to school, when he's suddenly hit with...

kuroo's jaw drops.

he doesn't even know how to describe what he's seeing. all he knows is that he's currently staring at the girl of his dreams.

"um, could i take a video with you?" you give him a tentative grin, before rocking back on your heels, adding, "and if it's okay, could you wish my friend to get well soon?"

kuroo immediately closes his mouth, aware that he looks completely stupid in front of the cutest girl he's ever laid eyes on. he gazes at you with his iconic half-lidded eyes, hoping he sounds more confident than the way his heart is clenching in his chest, "oh? a video? and what's your friend's name?"

"misaki! she's your biggest fan but she couldn't be here because she's sick today." kuroo nods empathetically at your explanation, internally swooning because you're going to such lengths for your sick friend? that is so cute.

"sure! a video's nothing! hang on - kenma, help us take a video!"

kenma turns around, about to protest how they have no more time to entertain fangirls when he sees kuroo slinging an arm around you. kuroo shoots kenma a pleading look and kenma finds himself sighing because, of course, kuroo is absolute putty for pretty girls.

when coach nekomata calls for kuroo and kenma, kuroo frowns as he removes his arm around your waist, before he gets an idea.

he leans in closer to you, pressing something into your hands, smirking, "return this to me in school."

before you can even open your mouth and protest, kuroo's gone.

you look down in your hands and see his nekoma jacket crumpling between your fingers as you giggle to yourself.

♡ suna

suna is normally cool as a cucumber, eyes glued to his phone nonchalantly whenever a group of fangirls approach his teammates and gush animatedly.

normally.

he thinks he's being slick when he sneaks a few glances your way, heart clenching in his chest as he sees you move closer - or rather sees your friends drag you towards...him?

suna quickly assesses his situation and scans the area around him - no, the miya twins were not around him. this could only mean one thing - you're headed straight in his direction.

before he has the time to really freak out about an angel of a girl approaching him, you're already getting pushed towards him, with your friends' soft snickers in the background. and you're beaming up at him softly.

he feels his heart in his throat when he hears you repeat, gesturing to your friend who's holding up a polaroid camera, "are you okay to take a photo with me?"

okay? fuck. he is more than okay.

suna blinks, regaining a little composure. straightening his jersey, suna nods at you silently and wraps an arm around your shoulder, hoping you don't hear the way his heart is hammering thunderously against his chest.

holy shit. how do you smell amazing too? what was that - vanilla or something floral?

as suna tries to figure out what exactly is the intoxicating scent wafting around him, the photo is over, a little too fast might he add. he feels you pulling away from him and his arm drops back to his sides.

he knows he sounds uncharacteristically simp-y and even cringes a little at himself, but he knows he will forever regret it if he didn't ask you.

"do you wanna have another photo? with the polaroid camera, i mean."

suna may or may not have left his number behind the second polaroid.

♡ ushijima

"hi!"

ushijima feels a gentle tap on his shoulder right after he hears you. he turns around slowly and -

there is no way you are real.

"hello." he greets, looking stoic in contrast to the way he's internally panicking.

ushijima feels his grip tighten on the volleyball he's holding, taking in the way your eyes shine under the harsh gym lights. he listens to you ramble something about being a fan of his and a reporter as his eyes continue to glaze over your angelic figure, only snapping out of it when he feels kageyama nudging his side.

"so ermmm, what do you do in your free time?" you repeat helpfully, prodding a pen against your notepad.

"uhm." ushijima feels his face heating up. "i take care of my plants."

you're immediately gasping, "no way! i'm a plant mom too!"

"oh, uhhh," ushijima swallows, growing impossibly redder at the revelation of your shared hobby, "what do you grow?"

"roses!"

of course. that suits you, he thinks, pretty flowers for a pretty girl.

before ushijima knows it, he's spluttering nervously, "there's...actually a nursery around here..."

you look up from your notepad, eyes crinkling excitedly as you listen to ushijima explain how to get there. but after a couple of failed descriptions, ushijima scratches his head, "i-if you're not too busy afterwards, i could take you there?"

your eyes widen at the insinuation, before you nod shyly and give ushijima a small smile, which he finds himself melting at.

did ushijima just score himself a date? maybe.

is he complaining? oh hell no.

🤍 reblogs are very appreciated!

Rintaro loves to pretend he doesn’t care.

There’s a nonchalance that carries around your man, one that comes from years of training of gaslighting the twins and making them turn against each other, or the scoldings from Kita-San that could’ve got so intense with his disappointment Rintaro could cry.

He’s gotten good at keeping a stoic emotion and making you act out. He loves to pretend he doesn’t care.

“It’s because he doesn’t,” Atsumu assures, playing with the strings of his hoodie.

You roll your eyes, “trust me, he cares. You just don’t see it.”

“And I never will. Because it doesn’t happen.”

You raise your brows in challenge, and he matches your brow raising. “Wanna bet on it?”

“Wager?”

“If I can prove to you Rintaro actually is a dork for my attention, I want a signed Kiyoomi jersey.”

He scoffs, “can’t you just ask Kiyoomi for one?”

“Komori tells me not to bother him after games.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, “okay. And when he doesn’t show he’s a loser, I want all you can eat at Onigiri Miya and you pick up the bill.”

“….”

“What?”

“Osamu doesn’t naturally give you all you can eat?”

“No?”

“Oh…”

“Does he GIVE IT TO YOU?!”

You give him a cheesy smile and quickly move to grab your keys, his jaw slacked in betrayal, only for him to roll his eyes, “whatever. Either way, we’re going when I win. What’re the keys for?”

“You’ll see.”

You jingle your keys with a small smirk, making sure to do it loud enough for him to hear down the hall. Atsumu shakes his head in disbelief, only for his hand to cover his mouth as socked feet quickly become louder as Rintaro barrels down the hall.

A lanky frame fills the doorway, “where you goi-“

Atsumu and you let out a string of cackles, his hand smacking his knee while Rintaro scrubs his face with his free hand, the other one holding a controller for his, hopefully, paused game.

“Dawg I hate you for real,” he sighs, coming into the room to kiss your head. You smile and angle your head to kiss him for real, which he complies with happily and making Atsumu gag. His green eyes dart to glare at Atsumu, “I wish osamu was an only child.”

“Damn, bringing guns to knife fights,” the blonde snorts. “Not my fault you got caught in 4K, dickhead.”

“Not my fault you’re a single loser.” He leans down to kiss your lips, “where’re we going?”

“No where,” you hum happily. “Just wanted to make sure you were still obsessed with me.”

He beams down at you while Atsumu groans in disgust.

“Always.”

RINRINRINRINRIN

CALLING THEM "DUDE"

gn!reader | oikawa, akaashi, suna, atsumu, aone

OIKAWA, predictably, lets his jaw drop and acts as if you’ve broken up with him. he teeters between draping his entire body over yours and whining, or crossing his arms and huffing while turning away. calling you dude feels foreign on his tongue, an insult to you, in tooru’s mind. but he’s nothing if not a little petty, and will call you it until you apologize.

“thanks, dude.”

tooru freezes, plate of cut up fruit in his right hand that mere moments ago, he pictured he’d be feeding you. but now—“dude?”

off the court, he’s nothing but predictable. you bait him with a smile. “yeah?”

“no! what- you called me dude! me?!” tooru holds his free hand to his chest.

“tooru—”

“oh, now i’m tooru? sorry, only the love of my life can call me that and be fed fruit from my personalized platter, bro i don’t know.”

AKAASHI cares a little—it feels kind of awkward and he finds himself overthinking the term. but once he’s comfortable, he can tell if it’s just something you say or if you’re messing with him, in which case he’ll have a knowing smile as he refers to you as his friend. but if he’s tired, he’ll drag out the bit just long enough to make you regret it.

“you okay, dude?” you ask as he finally comes out from the washroom, ready for bed.

keiji doesn’t respond, the pout on his face and his slow steps speaking for themselves. he climbs into bed, curling into your side and draping an arm over you.

his breath is warm against your collarbone. “no, dude. i think we need to stop capitalism. can i have a hug now?”

wrapping yourself around him, you place a kiss on his head, hair more ruffled than usual. “i’ll collapse capitalism for you.”

“you’re the best, dude. love you, dude.”

“keiji, please.”

SUNA doesn't really care. the times rintarou 'takes offense' are for a bit, and he sounds amused the entire time. if you don't care either, he'll call you “dude” himself and means nothing negative about it. this isn't to say he won't call you "baby" or "babe" or even "hon," but he—in his words—considers a large nickname vocabulary to be diverse and for the better.

"what the fuck are you talking about, dude?" you laugh.

rintarou rolls onto his back to look at you as you rest against the bed's headboard.

he squints at you and frowns—the look of disbelief on his face isn't at the term, but your reaction. "you're supposed to get me like no one else as the love of my life."

you raise an eyebrow. "maybe you should try making more sense?"

"i'm gonna 'dude-zone' you until you take that back."

"rin—"

"what, dude?"

ATSUMU instinctively responds as if you were osamu, not used to hearing the word in your voice. as soon as it clicks, he's as offended as you'd expect him to be. it becomes nonsensical bickering as soon as you act offended, until you're both laughing and ‘apologizing’ to each other.

“dude, where is my towel?”

“huh? i dunno, why would i touch your nasty ass towel?” he asks, eyes honed in on the game on his monitor.

you blink, and a moment passes before atsumu pauses and whips around. “wait, ‘dude’?”

his expression mirrors yours as laughter builds in your stomach. “what the hell did you just say to me?”

“y’just called me dude!”

“my nasty ass towel?”

atsumu’s own words finally hit him and he stutters, “babe- wait- i thought you were ’samu—”

“samu?!”

“wait—”

AONE’s gotten so used to you calling his first name, or using terms of endearment that he thinks he’s done something wrong. his anxiety doesn’t last long, not when you take a look at his hesitant expression and posture while he works up the courage to ask about it. he wishes it didn’t bother him so much, but he admits that he’d like having a special name, or just his first instead.

“hey, dude, can you pass me my charger?”

“...huh?”

“my charger? it’s next to the couch by your feet,” you explain.

takanobu’s brows furrow as he quietly picks it up and hands it to you. he wonders if he’s imagining things when you shoot him your regular smile and thank him.

a few minutes go by, and it’s nowhere near unusual for the both of you to sit quietly together, but he hasn’t sat comfortably since you asked for your charger. moving closer, you apologize and hold onto his arm. “’m kidding, ’nobu, just wanted to see your reaction.”

his body relaxes as the both of you lean into each other, and he smiles, albeit a little embarrassed. “that’s good to know.”

“...i like your nicknames for me more.”

my new tag list form if you'd like to be tagged! ^^ sorry old tag list. love u.

@dira333 i know u like aone.. i don't write for him a lot but He is here. thought of u. and @reverie-starlight u r of course my local tsumu fan. YAAAY!!!

Seems like you fell for me again — ft. Suna Rintarou.

cw: wc 3k, fem reader, time skip au kinda, exes to lovers, lovesick suna.

You lay on the couch letting out a sigh. You take a look at the furniture in your apartment. It’s placed randomly around the room, cardboard boxes are everywhere, the shelves and the walls are completely empty. The couch you’re on is so out of place, in the middle of the room, and you don’t even have curtains on your windows yet. It’s a big mess and it looks kinda sad. You can hear your phone ringing, it’s on the kitchen counter. It takes you a few seconds to get up and walk to it. It’s a call.

‘Sunarin <3’

You read it again, to be sure. But then again, as strange as it may be, you were kind of expecting it. You accept the phone call and bring your phone to your ear, swiftly moving your hair out of the way.

‘Hello?’ You say.

‘Hi,’ he replies and, as you hear his voice, you let out a deep breath. His voice is a bit deeper than the last time you heard it. You can hear him taking in some air, he’s going to say something, but you don’t hear anything. He doesn’t say anything. You can hear the sound of his steps as he nervously walks back and forth.

‘Suna...’ You say. You can’t hear his steps anymore, he stopped.

‘Yeah, I’m here,’ he says and swallows his saliva, ‘So, you are back.’

You assumed this was the reason behind the call.

You had gotten back in Japan just a few days earlier. You and Suna used to live in the same neighborhood when you were in high school so, when you got back in the country and went to see your parents, you also happened to meet Suna’s mom who was taking out the trash. She greeted you, she asked you how you’ve been. It made you feel nostalgic from when you were only sixteen, you would visit her house almost everyday because any excuse was good enough to see Suna. She asked you if you’d seen his son, you told her not yet. You hadn’t even told him you were back, but you figured now his mom was going to let him know.

‘Mhm.’ You mumble, nodding as if he could see you. You lean on the counter, waiting for him to say something but, again, you can only hear faint sounds of him moving around. It’s as if you had him right in front of you, you could vividly imagine him in his house, on the phone with you. He has a hand in the pocket of his sweats as the other holds the phone, he’s walking around the room with his head thrown back as he looks at the cieling.

He takes a deep breath, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Oh, Suna...’

You have thought of it, of telling him you were coming back. Doubts flooded your mind and you were still weighing the options today.

‘We haven’t talked in so long, I—’ Your voice dies in the back of your throat, ‘I didn’t know if you wanted to know.’

‘I did.’

You’re not sure what to say to that, so you say nothing. You can hear the sound of water being poured in a glass, then you hear him drink it down.

‘Can I see you?’ He asks in a whisper.

‘Yeah, of course.’ You say softly and you can feel a smile forming on your face.

When the phone call ends you stare outside the window lost in thoughts. The realization of how much you’ve missed him just now sinking in as you remember your break up years ago.

You had told Suna about going to college abroad months prior to your graduation. You were walking together after his volleyball practice. He was holding your hand and you were looking at your shoes as you told him.

He stopped walking, ‘You’re leaving?’

You looked at him with tears already forming in your eyes, ‘It’s a great opportunity Rin...’

‘Oh no yeah I know, sweet girl, and I want you to go, obviously,’ he got closer to you and wiped your tears, ‘I’m just going to miss you.’

‘I'll miss you too.’ You said and you couldn’t help the tears from falling down your cheeks.

‘What are you so sad about, I thought this was what you wanted... and besides, it’s just for a few years,’ he hugged you and ran his fingers through your hair, ‘Are you going to miss me that much?’

You stepped away from him, ‘I think it’s best if we break up.’

For a moment he doesn’t say anything. It’s just you two standing on the sidewalk as the cars pass by in the street. Then you could see his eyes getting glossy and you wanted to move, to get closer to him, to get back in his arms, to tell him you take it back. Your legs wouldn’t move and no sound was coming out of your mouth.

‘Why?’ He asked fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie.

‘I—’ more tears fell from your eyes, ‘We won’t be able to see each other and,’ your heart was physically hurting, as if it was continiously being stabbed, ‘I’ll be busy with studying and you’ll be busy with volleyball...’

A car passes by outside your window, bringing you back to reality. Suna agreed to meet you at your apartment and help you moving in. You go to your room to get changed out of your sleepwear, anxiety starts growing inside you at the thought of seeing Suna again after so long. You start wondering what he’ll think of you now, of how he’s changed. What does he look like now? Is he taller? Did he change his haircut? You think that maybe you look a little lame, you’re still tired from the long flight and the dark circles under your eyes don’t help your case. It all feels like when you were just a teenager with a silly crush on your neighbor, when you’d spend hours deciding what to wear the next day to school just so his gaze would linger on you a little longer. You take one last look at yourself in the bathroom mirror before deciding that your hair looks fine enough and then, your doorbell rings.

You open the door and you’re met with his beautiful green eyes. You fight the urge to run in his arms and you try to hide the smile creeping up on your face.

‘Hi,’ you say letting him in, ‘Sorry for the mess.’

You take a better look at him, he is taller and his hair is shorter. It suits him, you think.

‘Hey,’ he greets you, he takes off his shoes, ‘You look good.’

You smile, ‘I think I’ve looked better, but thank you.’

He goes wandering around every room to check out your apartment. In your bathroom he notices the toothpaste you have sitting on your sink, it’s still the same brand you used to buy when you were younger. In your bedroom he takes a look at your bedsheets, they are the same you had on your old bed when he slept at your house for the first time.

‘Do you want something to drink?’ You ask from the kitchen. You open the fridge, ‘I don’t have much to offer though...’ you mutter under your breath.

‘Mh...’ he takes a peak inside your fridge sneaking behind you, he grabs the cranberry juice bottle and studies it, ‘This seems nice.’

You smile and move to get him a glass, ‘Here.’

‘This place is cool,’ he takes a sip of the red drink, ‘You just need to settle in, right now it looks a bit... anonymous.’

‘Yeah I’m just a little overwhelmed, still so many things to unpack and all that furniture to move...’

The awkwardness from your phone call is soon replaced by the familiarity of being together. You catch up on each other lives, he tells you about his volleyball team and his matches, you tell him about your studies and your exams. He’s happy, you notice. He has a genuine smile on his face as he tells you about his latest practice. You’re happy too, that he’s here. That he’s talking to you, you’re happy to listen to him. Happy to see him, to notice all the little habits he still has. The way he taps his fingers on the glass he’s holding as he talks, how he leans back in the chair he’s sitting on, the way he keeps intense eye contact with you for a few seconds, that feel like hours, just to move his gaze somewhere else and catch you staring when he looks back at you. You’re happy to see he’s, somehow, the same old Suna Rintarou you once knew.

‘Enough about volleyball,’ he gets up from the chair, ‘I’ve come here to help.’

So you get to work and after a couple of hours the room looks completely different to what it looked like that morning. Your sofa is still in the middle of the room, but now there’s a low table in front of it and the beautiful carpet your mom gifted you is beneath it. All the cardboard boxes are piled in a corner still waiting to be emptied, but at least it’s tidier. Suna helped you move every piece of forniture exactly where you wanted and now, your windows even have curtains.

‘Way better.’ You say with both your hands on your hips, looking satisfied.

Suna hums beside you, ‘So what do I get for helping you?’

‘Oh and here I thought you just wanted to spend time with me,’ you roll your eyes at him, ‘What would you like? And don’t joke about anything sexual, you idiot.’

‘Ah, too bad then...’ He smirks then his expression changes to something more sincere, ‘How about you stop calling me Suna, mh?’

You know exactly what he means and you can feel your cheeks getting warmer, you avoid his gaze as you say ‘Alright, Rin.’

You don’t miss the shit-eating grin that forms on his face, and you can’t help but smile yourself. Suna suppresses the temptation to pick you up and spin you around, to hold you, to get closer to you and to vomit a love confession right there in that instant. He prides himself in being good at hiding his true feelings, so he acts indifferent and tells you it’s time for him to go but, when you walk him to the door and say bye to him, the sun is hitting you just the right way. Your kind eyes look even prettier and you look drop-dead gorgeous, he feels like sixteen again wearing his heart on his sleeve for you.

He can’t help the words from escaping his lips as he leaves and says, ‘Bye, love you.’ And he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying because his mind feels like any teenage girl’s notebook: filled with heart doodles and your name on every page, written in pink glittery gel pen.

You on the other hand, you realize what he’s saying, your mind is muddled with thousands of different thoughts running wild and your heart is racing. You wonder why he said that and you find yourself overthinking once again.

You close the door and let out a loud groan.

—

It’s been almost a week since that ‘Bye, love you.’. Suna came to your house again, he helped you some more, there are only a couple of cardboard boxes left to unpack. Now when you look at your apartment, it feels like you. There are pictures on the wall, books on the shelves, colorful notes sticking to your fridge with magnets of every shape. Your bathroom cabinet filled with products and in your bedroom, you already formed a pile of clothes on a chair. Suna even helped you with your grocery for the week and yet, no one addressed those two words. Now it’s getting late but you’re not tired yet. You’re laying on your couch watching some show on netflix when your phone starts ringing and, as you read ‘Sunarin <3’ on the screen, it all feels like déjàvu.

‘Hello.’ You answer. You wait for a response on the other line but you can only hear the noise of cars passing by and people talking in the background.

‘Hi?’ You try again and this time you can hear Suna asking someone if it’s your voice he heard, then you hear someone else saying ‘Shut yer trap, Suna.’

Someone finally talks to you, ‘Hi, Y/n, it’s Samu.’

‘Oh, hey, is everything alright?’

‘Yeah look, we went out to drink and Suna here got a little too tipsy.’

You can hear Suna and Atsumu arguing but you can’t make out the exact words, still, the mental image makes you smile.

‘He wants to see ya.’ Osamu says.

You hear Suna in the background asking to talk to you, Osamu probably moves the phone away from him as you hear vague noises in the distance.

‘Should I take him home or can I bring him to ya?’

Your brain is slower than your mouth and the words just escape from your lips as you tell Osamu your new address.

When the doorbell rings you rush to the door and you’re met with Atsumu, in the back you see Suna with an arm around Osamu’s shoulders as they carefully make their way to your apartment.

As soon as Suna lays his eyes on you a grin shows up on his face and you can’t help but reciprocate it. The twins leave the boy in your care before saying their goodbyes. You close the door behind you and when you turn around you’re quick to be engulfed by Suna’s arms. He was always a clingy person, and even more so when drunk. You missed being embraced by him, his warmth, his touch, him.

‘I missed you while you were gone.’ He says as he thigthens his arms around your body.

It feels like he’s ripping your heart from your chest with his bare hands.

‘Did you miss me too?’ He asks with pleading eyes.

When you broke up with him, when you left, you also left a part of you behind. A part of you that, by then, was not yours anymore but Suna’s.

You avert your gaze from him, ‘Come on, let’s go, you need water,’ you try to push him towards your kitchen, ‘Please, Rin.’

You get him to sip some water then you walk him to the bathroom. You make him sit on the edge of the bathtub, in front of the sink, and you push his hair back with a headband.

‘I’m gonna wash your face, you’re sweaty and you stink.’

He nods to that, he let’s you do wathever you want, happy that you’re there with him, that you’re paying attention to him. You do your whole skincare routine on his face as it reminds you about the many times he did it for you. When you’re done, you place little dots of moisturizer on his skin then start massiging it to spread it out evenly. Suna is keeping his eyes closed, giving you the chance to admire his face and skin as much as you want. You trace the shape of his eyebrows, his cheekbones, his nose and you can’t stop your thumb from grazing his lips.

His eyes flutter open in an istant and you run from his gaze lowering your head. He slides his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. His hands creeps inside your tshirt to feel your bare skin. He caresses your waist and your lower back, you feel your skin tingling under his touch.

You grab one of his wrists to stop him, ‘Rin...’

He moves his hand from your wasit to your hand, he moves up and his long fingers trace meaningless shapes on your inner arm. The air around you seems getting hotter.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks.

Your eyes widen and you quickly put an hand over his chest to be sure he won’t move, your heart is racing so fast you swear it’s going to break your ribcage. You want to say yes, you want to feel his lips against yours again, you want his hands in your hair as he pulls you closer to deepen the kiss, you want him biting your bottom lip, you want him grinning against your face, you want to feel his hot breath on you as he tells you he loves you in the middle of the kiss, you want to tell him you love him too. You want to tell him you never stopped loving him.

‘You’re drunk.’ Is what you say.

‘I wanted to kiss you when I was sober too,’ he cups your face with one hand, ‘I always want to kiss you.’

‘You need to sleep.’ You say, but your gaze doesn’t move from his lips.

‘Please,’ he whispers, ‘Just a peck?’

You really want to say yes. He’s looking up at you with half lidded eyes, his lips almost pouting and he just looks too cute with your pink headband holding back his hair. Your thumb graze past his bottom lip again and, before you can stop yourself, you’re lowering your face on his. When your noses meet it’s too late to turn back, you feel his breath on you and your lips part on their own. Soon his lips are on yours. It really is just a peck and it lasts only a few seconds, yet it still makes you feel the butterflies in your stomach and crave for more. You give him another quick peck before caving in and kiss him. You put your arms around his neck and Suna’s hand on your face moves to your nape to keep your head still as he wastes no time slipping his tongue in. His grip on your waist thightens and he pulls your whole body closer. You’re so into the kiss you both forget Suna’s sitting on the edge of the bathtub so, when you lean on him as he pulls you closer, he falls back bringing you with him.

‘Rin oh my god!’ You check if he hit his head, ‘Are you okay?’

He laughs and reassures you everything is alright, he cups your face and gives you another peck, ‘Seems like you fell for me again,’ he says that with a sly mirk, ‘Quite literally.’

You push his hands away, ‘You fell too!’

‘So you’re not denying it?’ He promptly asks.

‘Let’s talk about tomorrow, alright?’ You say after taking a deep breath. You get out of the bathtub and you reach out to him with your hand, ‘Time for bed.’

He grabs your hand and leaves the bathtub, ‘Y/n?’

‘Mh?’ You murmur as you look for a tshirt for him to change into.

‘I lov—’

You throw the tshirt in his face, ‘Don’t say it. Tell me tomorrow.’

He smiles at you and pulls you in a hug, ‘Okay, don’t worry, I will remember.’

You smile hugging him back, ‘You better.’

DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ

oh future husband, better love me right!

premise. the nhk gives it’s viewers a peak into the love lives of the jnt’s lineup, interviewing the future wives of the jnt to crack the secret to a happy relationship ❤︎

content. haikyu!! jnt / f!reader. (atsumu miya, rintarou suna, wakatoshi ushijima & shoyo hinata). fluff. somewhat decent relationship advice. downbad fiancés. healthy relationships(!!). suggestive moments. petnames.

soundtrack. dear future husband : meghan trainor.

part two can be read here.

dear future husband m.list. // hq. masterlist.

ATSUMU MIYA.

“after every fight, just apologize.”

“Relationship advice?” You repeat, sitting across from the NHK interviewer, mic strapped to your shirt as a camera filmed your living room. She nods, smiling while holding a microphone of her own.

“Yes! Tell us, what is the secret to a healthy relationship?”

You tilt your head, “Well, I guess I have some advice to give.” Your fingers drum against the armrest of your couch as you sit in thought, contemplating on what to tell the reporter, “hmm..”

Atsumu sitting beside you laughs, his arm slung comfortably over your shoulder, “I have some advice I’d like to give as well.”

You turn to him with a grimace. “I don’t want any young viewers following whatever is about to come out of your mouth, ‘Tsumu.”

He looks at you offended; reeling his arm back to his side, shock spelled out all over his face. “Excuse me, I’m great at romance. I romanced you, didn’t I?”

“Unfortunately,” you jest, with Atsumu exclaiming in protest, “But this isn’t just about romancing someone, ‘Tsumu. They’re asking what makes a relationship a healthy one.”

“So?” He shrugs, “A healthy relationship is one that’s full of romance.”

“I apologize for him,” you playfully tell the interviewer, ignoring the look Atsumu gives you in response, “He’s not the best at this sorta stuff.”

She merely giggles, “No worries, the players are allowed to give their own opinions as well.” Atsumu puffs his chest out, “See, babe? She said I can talk too.”

“Yeah well, just make sure to cut out whatever he says in the final broadcast,” She lets out a snort at your jab, hiding the smile that creeps onto her face behind her microphone while Atsumu shoves your shoulder in despair.

“Awe, c’mon! I’m not that bad with relationship advice!” He pouts at you, looking like a kicked puppy when he does so, “What makes you think I’m so bad at this, do you actually want to marry me, babe?”

Your eyes soften at his saddened tone, feeling slightly guilty you link your fingers with his, eyes full of love when he smiles down at your intertwined hands.

“Of course I do, ‘Tsumu.”

The camera crew awes as you turn back to face the cameras, still holding Atsumu’s hand firmly in your own, running your thumb over the smooth cut diamond ring studded band he wears on his ring finger.

“The advice I have to give viewers is; Apologize when you are wrong,” you tell the interviewer, “No matter your pride, no amount will replace your relationship. It’s never worth sacrificing your loved one just for the sake of winning an argument.”

“Uh huh, you’re one to talk about that, babe,” Atsumu rolls his neck, “You never apologize first, it’s always me who has to for you to talk to me again.”

“What are you talking about?” You look at him confused, “I’m the one who initiates the apology conversations, you’re the stubborn one out of us.”

“Nuh-uh.”

You groan, “Exactly.”

Atsumu pulls his hand out of yours, placing it on your thigh instead before facing the cameras. “But, she is right. Do not ever choose a winning an argument over your partner. It ends badly.”

“You would know,” you snort, “You give me the longest silent treatments until I coax you out of it with kisses.”

“Can we cut that out of the broadcast, please?”

You purse your lips to hide the oncoming smile until Atsumu leans forward, a handsome grin on his face as he looks directly into the rolling cameras with a newfound confidence.

“But, y’know. I do always apologize in the end, ‘cause my girl’s never wrong.”

RINTAROU SUNA.

“make time for her.”

“You see this girl?” Suna jabs a thumb in your direction from across the kitchen, leaning against the marble island lazily as the camera team nods. “Yeah, she gets constipated if I don’t give her enough attention.”

Your head perks up immediately as you shoot him a halfhearted glare, “Do not.”

“See, she’s doing it right now.” He ignores, drinking from his glass of water before setting it down on the counter, ignoring the little gasp you let out at his actions.

Rolling your eyes, you smack his arm before sliding a coaster under his drink, “Don’t scratch the marble, Rinnie. I just bought this island.”

The camera team silently giggles at the short interactions between you two, with Suna sticking his tongue out at you and in response you give him a middle finger before he turns back to face them, “Can you believe her?”

Scoffing, you enter the camera frame beside him, “Don’t bring them into this, Rinnie.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m your fiancée.”

Suna opens his mouth to argue before shutting it promptly, “Good point.”

One of the crew members holds a sign from behind the cameras, indicating to get the interview back on topic. “Why would you ever ask her for relationship advice?” Suna chuckles, “I was the one who made the first move.”

“The interview is for the fiancée’s of the JNT, Mr. Suna,” the interviewer reminds him, “But the players are welcome to voice their own opinions as well.”

Suna stretches his arm behind his back with a yawn, a sliver of his abdomen peeking out from underneath his home shirt before disappearing quickly, “Well in that case, allow me to voice this opinion—”

You slap a hand over his mouth before he can begin, “Nope, didn’t you hear them? This is my interview, Rinnie.”

“Buhf dey shaid I can shpeak too, affhole." Suna glares from behind your hand, removing it from his mouth with a groan. “Did you even wash your hand? Tastes gross.”

“Why did you lick my hand?”

“We’ve done freakier things than that and that’s what you’re worried about?”

Your words get lodged in your throat, sputtering out hurriedly, “This is going on T.V, Rinnie!”

He looks to you with a smug smile, “Yeah, and I can’t wait to rewatch this interview and see your reaction again later.”

Your fists clench momentarily before taking a deep breath, relaxing yourself and facing the cameras with a smile. “Anyways, some relationship advice I’d give to anyone watching; make time for your spouse.”

Suna nods along to your words, “Mhm, I think that’s the most important thing in a relationship.”

“Shut up, Rinnie.”

“Ouch,” he fakes a stab through his heart, monotonous eyes but a playful grin on his lips. “I talk for two seconds and you tell your dear fiancé to shut up?”

You shake your head towards him jokingly, continuing to talk to the interviewer, “A healthy relationship means you spend time with your loved ones, and your spouse should be the most loved person in your life.”

The reporter nods, “I see, I see, what do you suggest to our viewers the best ways to spend quality time with their lover?”

“In bed.” Suna chimes in immediately, earning another smack on the shoulder from you. “What?” He looks at you with a knowing grin, “Oh, you— I didn’t mean like that, oh my god you’re sooo dirty minded.”

He chuckles, “I meant like cuddling, laying in bed together, watching movies. Y’know, wholesome things.”

“Nothing is wholesome with you,” you exasperate, speaking from personal experience. “But yes, those are great ways to spend times with your lover. They’re good times to bond with them, or just relax and unwind after a long day.”

“Yeah, after a gruelling day of practice, it’s nice to come home and lay in her arms,” Suna motions to you before leaning his head on your shoulder, his grin now replaced with a small but gentle smile. “She’s all I want to see after practice.”

“Wow,” you tease, leaning your head atop his, “and where did you learn to be so smooth, hm? Are you just playing it up for the cameras, Rinnie?”

Suna snickers, hands crossed over his chest relaxed, “I would never,” he says before mumbling close to your ear.

“I just, really like to spend time with you.”

WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA.

“treat her like a lady.”

“My fiancé is out right now at the gym,” you inform the NHK station crew, their camera men follow you inside your house for the opening shots of the broadcast. “Make yourselves comfortable while you wait.”

The interviewer settles himself on a seat at your dining table as you reach for the vase of flowers atop, moving into the kitchen to pour the old water out of their vase, careful to not spill any over your kitchen counter as you refill the container with fresh water from your tap.

Refreshing the water, you carefully place the flowers back into their vase before rearranging them neatly, coming back out of the kitchen to place them back on your table and adjusting them accordingly as the interviewer watches amazed.

“Those flowers are very lovely,” he notes softly, almost as if any louder of a volume would disturb the plants, “Did you fiancé happen to get them for you?”

You smile, “yes, he did,” recalling the first time he got you a bouquet, on your first date many years ago.

“‘Toshi knows I love flowers.”

The soft click of the lock to your house causes you to perk your head up in familiarity, the frame of your fiancé’s figure coming into view as you see him placing his shoes down beside your door before coming inside.

“Welcome home, dear,” you call out to him from the kitchen, one of the camera crew’s members break off to film your fiancé as he enters the home. He drops his gym bag to the floor beside your couch, removing his jacket and hanging it on your coatrack before passing through the halls of your shared home to get to you.

Ushijima shuffles his way into the kitchen, passing by the camera crew and approaching you from behind, hugging you as his hands are wrap around your stomach, head dropping into the crook of your shoulder.

You lean into his touch, his freshly showered hair smells of the shampoo the two of you use.

“Are you showing them the flowers I got you?” He asks, eying the pretty arrangement of flowers on the table. The cameras zoom in to take a closer shot at the flowers, noting the vibrancy of the colours and the lack of thorns adorning the stems.

You and the reporter nod, Ushijima lets a small smile settle on his face. “She told me they were her favourites,” he tells the reporter.

“Hm,” he hums before turning to you, microphone extending outwards. “is that your relationship advice for the viewers then? Giving your loved one gifts?”

You shake your head quickly, “Oh, no! No, that’s not my advice— Of course, do get your partner gifts if you know they’ll enjoy them.” Ushijima straightens up, hands snaking around your waist to stand beside you as the cameras pan out to record the both of you in the same shot.

“‘Toshi just really likes to get me little things,” you smile, reminicing on all the times your eyes barely glazed over something in a store front before he was scrambling inside the shop to buy it for you, despite your pleas.

“But gifts do not have to be expensive,” You reassure the viewers again, “just little trinkets that remind you of your partner will be enough.”

Ushijima nods before lifting your hand up to the camera, showing off the engagement ring with a large diamond displayed proudly atop it. “Yes, but I do like to splurge when it comes to her.”

You retract your hand quickly, warily eying your fiancé, “‘Toshi! Don’t make the viewers think they need to buy people’s happiness with expensive gifts!”

His head tilts unsurely, “My love, do you not like the ring I got you?”

“I-I do! When did I ever say I didn’t?”

His eyes crinkle slightly in concern, “Then why are you hiding our engagement ring from the viewers?”

“Because,” you sigh, “I don’t want young, inexperienced lovers to think they need something like a huge, flashy engagement ring to be loved by someone.”

“But you deserve the best,” he rebuffs, “There is nothing I wouldn’t buy for you if you asked.”

“‘Toshi.. this isn’t really helping our case…”

The reporter turns to Ushijima, “Even though this is a special for the JNT fiancées, the players are allowed to give their own insight.” He informs your soon-to-be husband, “Do you have anything else to add for our viewers?”

Ushijima thinks for a moment, silent in thought as you look to your fiancé, and the sight of his matching engagement ring twinkling under the bright studio lights filling your home catches your eye all too quickly.

“Do you have anything you want to say, ‘Toshi?” You nudge his shoulder slightly when he continues to remain quiet, an encouraging smile on your lips.

He nods, bringing the hand with your ring on it before giving the intricately cut diamond a kiss, his piercing eyes gazing deep into yours, causing your face to heat up fervently at his wolfish grin.

“Treat your partner the best that you can, like the lady she is and deserves to be treated as.”

SHOYO HINATA.

“don’t forget your anniversaries!”

Shoyo’s leg bounces feverishly as the reporter speaks to you casually, unable to contain his excitement at being asked to join you for this broadcasted interview special.

His grin is wide, beaming whenever you sneak small glances at him whenever the reporter looks down at their cue cards of start up questions to ease into the conversation, before the real topic is brought up.

“Do you have any relationship advice for our viewers?”

You’re about to speak until Shoyo interrupts you, quite literally flying out of his seat while brightly smiling as his hand grasps yours with a tight grip, “I do, I do!”

The reporter chortles, smiling at his tactics, “Thank you, Mr. Hinata. But this interview is specifically for your fiancée.” Shoyo’s face sullens lightly until he speaks again, “But you’re allowed to give your own thoughts when she’s done.”

Shoyo slumps back into his seat dejectedly as you rub his back comfortingly, “Sorry, Sho. But just let me speak first, okay?” His pout is replaced instantaneously at your words with the usual smile he holds when around you, “Alright, baby!”

You look towards the reporter, hand still clasped in Shoyo’s securely. “Here is my advice for a healthy relationship; Don’t forget your anniversaries.”

Your fiancé’s mouth hangs open in shock at your words, head whipping to face you with a hearty laugh, “That’s what I was going to say!”

The look of shock that spreads across your face amuses him, staring at you expectantly for a few moments before you too erupt into laughter, shoulders shaking in surprise as the two of you cling to each other for support, with Shoyo nearly falling off the couch with how hard he cackles.

He clings onto your shoulder to stop himself from tumbling, which in turn causes you to laugh harder as you try to pull him back up as Shoyo calls out for you to ‘save him’.

“Baby, I’m falling!” Shoyo shrieks while howling with laughter, “Grab my hand!”

“You’re already grabbing my hand, Sho!”

Cameras stationed around your living room pan to zoom in on Shoyo’s joyful face when he fools around with you, the grip he still holds on your hand as clear as day as you jokingly attempt to rescue his bumbling self.

The out of frame reporter looks to the two of you happily, the fact that you both seem so absorbed in each other and have forgotten about the interview portion of the broadcast is surprisingly heartwarming for both the crew and the viewers watching the broadcast.

Once the two of you manage to calm down, you shyly look back to the NHK crew with a timid smile.

“Sorry,” you apologize to your interviewer, coughing as you try to hold back another bout of laughter when you catch Shoyo smiling at you again, attempting to contain his giggles. “We got a little- uhm, carried away.”

“It’s no problem,” the reporter chuckles, “I can see the two of you are very much in love, so is that the advice you wish to tell our viewers on how your relationship with each other is so healthy?”

You and Shoyo nod simultaneously, “Yeah, don’t you ever forget your partner’s anniversaries!!” Shoyo sternly but playfully warns the viewers, “I’m serious, guys! Anniversaries are important!”

“What anniversaries should our viewers be aware of when it comes to their lovers?”

This time you speak up, “Well, the major and most well known ones of course,” you begin, listing off the ones you can recall at the moment.

“For example; first month together, first year spent as a couple, birthdays could also count I suppose—”

“Did you know I proposed to her on our fifth anniversary?” Shoyo interrupts excitedly, the same happy and bright smile on his face shining when he proudly pulls up his hand to show off the ring on his finger, “I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot to put the ring on her finger after she accepted!”

Recalling that memory brings warmth to your cheeks, “Yeah, he literally forgot about the ring in the box until I asked him about it later.”

“But in any case,” you circle back to original topic at hand, noticing the way Shoyo’s smile dampens a little when you switch back so quickly as you shoot him an apologetic smile, you don’t want to waste the reporter’s and NHK crew’s time any longer.

“Don’t forget your anniversaries, people! They’re a big deal for a ton of lovers!”

“Th-that’s right!” Shoyo piggybacks off your response, “And if you do forget, you better apologize a lot!”

The reporter nods, turning their attention to your fiancé. “And do you have any final thoughts for our viewers on how you maintain a healthy relationship with your fiancée, Mr. Hinata?”

Shoyo smiles deviously at the open ended question he’s been dying to answer this whole time; his hand creeping teasingly up your thigh to the small of your back as he leans in real close to you with a knowing wink, the flushed expression displayed on your face at his actions encourages him even more to continue.

His eyes glint with amusement, the mischievous grin on his lips is firm even in front of several strangers and cameras rolling in real time, footage of his behaviour being broadcasted to the entirety of Japan this very second.

And without shame or guilt, Shoyo smirks.

“Make your anniversary nights real special for her, trust me on that one.”

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© property of shoyostar / thomae 2023. all rights reserved.

“what the hell?”

needless to say, you were confused to see your best friend, suna, standing at your door at three fucking am, looking drunk with his hair drippin wet thanks to the rain.

“hi,” he says and staggers into your apartment.

“dude!” you exclaim.

“hey hey, it’s fine, we’re cool, we’re bffs,” he says, a sly smirk on his flushed face.

yeah, he is definitely drunk.

“please don’t sit on my couch —” you say, but it was too late, he was already sitting down, letting out an exaggerated sigh as water droplets drip down on your sofa.

he pats the spot next to him, giving you a lazy grin, you scowl at him but decide to humor him and sit down next to him on the couch.

“god, i missed you,” he tells you and you huff, “i just saw you, two days ago.”

“what? I can’t miss my best friend?” he says, a slight pout on his lips.

you sigh, “rin, what’s gotten you so drunk so late?”

he hums in response and rests his arm on the back of the couch, “tsumu.”

“don’t you have practice tomorrow?” you ask and he shakes his head, letting out a sigh and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, “i’m calling in sick tomorrow.” he slurs.

you nod your head along, entertaining him for the most part — rintaro wasn’t easily drunk, so for him to be staggering into your apartment at three in the morning meant the he seriously had more than his fair share.

all thanks to atsumu.

“do you wanna know?” he suddenly says.

you quirk an eyebrow, “do i wanna know what?”

“how much i like you.”

your heart stutters in your chest, “....you like me?”

he grins, and his face flushes even more, “what’s there not to like?”

you laugh awkwardly, “okay!” you exclaim, “lets get you to bed, no?” you say in an attempt to  change the subject.

“y/n,” he says, a serious look on his face, “i like you.”

it’s true, he likes you, maybe even loves you, and it’s gotten so hard for him to deny or ignore, every song he listens to reminds him of you and he’s been dreaming about you, it’s gotten so bad.

you hum, and pause, then smile at him, ruffling his hair, “tell me that when your’re sober, rin,” you say because you hope to god that it’s true.

he blinks up at you, then nods his head, “okay.”

and as he lays down on the couch, he makes a mental note to himself to confess his feelings appropriately in the morning.