documentary
— rintarō creates a national geographic style documentary about you, while he narrates everything you do in a dead serious david attenborough voice.
suna rintaro x f!reader
c: fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff
i love sunarin, i wanna bite him. how the hell did i get this idea? dunno
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
suna rintarō should not be allowed access to video editing software. ever.
this is the firm belief of everyone who accidentally stumbles across his laptop when he leaves it unattended in the gym or at practice. because here’s the thing: most people, if they had adobe premiere pro, would use it to make cool montages or highlight reels. suna? no. suna uses it to create a full-length fake documentary called the life of my perfect girlfriend.
and when i say documentary, i mean he takes it more seriously than actual nature channel producers. we’re talking full david attenborough voice, stock jungle sound effects, dramatic zoom-ins, and stolen tiktok clips of you doing completely mundane things. brushing your hair? documentary-worthy. picking out snacks at the konbini? footage worthy of being archived by the national museum. tying your shoelaces? cinematic masterpiece.
to him, you are not just a girl. you are an ecosystem. a phenomenon. a once-in-a-lifetime discovery that science has failed to explain but poetry barely scratches the surface of.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
it starts with a black screen.
then:
suna’s monotone but dramatically slowed voice: “in the wilds of tokyo, we witness a rare and majestic creature: my girlfriend. behold.”
the screen fades into a shaky clip he clearly screen-recorded from your tiktok. you’re in your bedroom, just dancing half-heartedly to some trending audio. the lighting is terrible, your pj shorts are crooked, and you’re laughing at yourself. but to suna? this is oscar-winning material.
“graceful. enigmatic. she moves with the effortlessness of a summer breeze, her rhythm untamed, her beauty… unmatched. the local male population stands no chance. and yet—somehow—she has chosen me.”
if you thought it couldn’t get worse, the camera zooms in way too close on your laughing face until your pores are visible.
“observe the way she smiles. like the sun rising over the sahara. a beacon of warmth. a cruel reminder to all other men that they will never—ever—experience such radiance in their lifetimes.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the next clip is of you eating fries with your friends. you’re not even looking at the camera—someone tagged suna in the background, and that’s clearly where he snagged it.
suna narrates with deadly seriousness: “here we witness my girlfriend in her natural habitat: the feeding grounds. note her impeccable form. the way she selects a fry, dips it, and consumes it. perfection. michelin star chefs weep knowing their craft will never live up to the artistry she displays with a single french fry.”
in the background, you choke on your drink from laughing at a friend’s joke. suna does not cut this out.
instead: “ah, and here she demonstrates her humor. unparalleled. her laugh—like bells ringing at a cathedral, signaling that i alone am chosen.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
your friends, upon discovering this documentary, send you frantic dms: “girl, suna made a 45-minute video essay about you wtf.”
and you—sweet, oblivious, utterly charmed you—watch it one night while suna sprawls beside you, chin on your shoulder, pretending not to care about your reaction when in reality he’s studying every twitch of your mouth like it’s the holy scriptures.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the documentary escalates.
clip: you scrolling on your phone in bed, hair messy, blanket wrapped around you like a burrito.
narration: “here she rests. ethereal. untouchable. if i were a weaker man, i’d kneel and pray. but alas, i’m her boyfriend. i get to kiss her forehead whenever i want. take that, peasants.”
clip: you tying your sneakers, annoyed because the laces won’t cooperate.
narration: “such ferocity. such tenacity. a warrior spirit. historians will one day write about the moment she conquered her shoelaces and compare it to napoleon crossing the alps.”
clip: you sipping boba through a straw.
narration: “observe the precision. the artistry. she stabs the straw into the tapioca pearl chamber with the force of a thousand suns. truly… an apex predator.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the obsession bleeds through when he compares you to things that don’t even make sense.
“she blinks, and the heavens rejoice.”
“the tilt of her head could end wars.”
“when she sneezes, cherry blossoms bloom in winter.”
“if she asked me to, i would sell my kidney and half of atsumu’s too.”
he throws in completely unprovoked threats too, muttered casually in his documentary voice like they’re part of the script:
“anyone who dares look at her too long will be smited. by me. personally.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the absolute peak comes when he uses clips of you with him.
one clip: you resting your chin on his shoulder while he’s gaming. you’re not paying attention to the camera; you’re scrolling your phone, totally unaware he’s screen-recorded the reflection of you in the monitor.
narration: “she rests on me. trusts me. loves me. the rest of you? die mad about it.”
another clip: you fixing his hair absentmindedly while talking to someone else.
narration: “the grooming ritual. a sign of deep affection. i have transcended humanity by becoming hers.”
the final sequence is just a slideshow of selfies of you two together, set to overly dramatic orchestral music.
“and so concludes our study. my girlfriend: flawless, miraculous, divine. this has been the life of my perfect girlfriend, directed, produced, edited, and worshipped by suna rintarō. all rights reserved. copyright pending. don’t touch her or i’ll cut your hands off.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
when the credits roll (yes, he made credits), you turn to look at him.
“you’re insane,” you whisper, but you’re smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.
suna smirks, half-lidded eyes glinting like he just pulled off a bank heist. “and yet… you’re still with me.”
you roll your eyes and push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge. instead, he leans in and kisses your temple with all the lazy devotion in the world, mumbling against your skin:
“you’re my favorite documentary subject, baby. forever.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
and that’s how suna rintarō’s fake documentary becomes both the funniest and most unhinged love letter ever created—part comedy, part shrine, entirely him.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
a: THIS IS THE LAST ONE! I REALLY HAD FUN WITH IT 🙂↕️
special mentions to the gorgeous people telling me to sleep: @whimsybloom @yeonette
© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)
iloveu
