in which your boyfriend is, for a lack of better words, a "big baby." your friends just don't know it yet.
featuring: suna rintaro x gn!reader
your friends don’t like your boyfriend. you know that much.
maybe it’s the lazy smirk he wears whenever they’re around, or the way he always looks uninterested in whatever conversation they have around you. either way, they’ve never quite understood what you see in him.
“seriously,” one of them says after he leaves the room. “how do you put up with a guy like that?”
you only shrug, fighting back a smile.
because they don’t see him the way you do.
they don’t see the way rintaro slips an arm around your waist the second you’re alone, pulling you to his side like it’s the only thing he wants in the world. they don’t catch how he follows you from room to room with the most outrageous excuses just to be near you — even when he isn’t actively attached to your body, content with being some semblance of a human shadow.
they don’t see the way his cool, unimpressed expression melts the second you meet his gaze. or how he’ll bury his face into your shoulder after a long day, pressing quiet ‘i missed you’s against your skin and the first of a thousand kisses up your neck.
they don't see that part.
and they definitely don’t see how he all but throws himself at you within the confines of your home, head dropping onto your lap the second it becomes available. every few minutes, he nudges you for attention, waiting until your fingers card through his hair before a satisfied grin spreads across his pretty face.
“there it is,” he’ll hum. “thought you forgot about me.” what a big baby.
and while rintaro doesn’t reciprocate your friends’ hostility— not exactly, anyway — he doesn’t understand why they insist on taking up so much of your time. it becomes obvious in the way his hand grips yours beneath the table whenever one monopolizes your attention too long. or how his head always ends up on your shoulder halfway through an especially long phone call.
“me? nonchalant?” he scoffs one evening, having overheard a particularly bold opinion from one of your friends. “they clearly don’t know what they’re talking about.”
you raise an amused brow. rintaro immediately abandons whatever point he was trying to make and drops beside you on the couch, one arm hooking easily around your core.
“hey,” you grin, fingers brushing along the slender line of his jaw.
“hi.”
his answer is so immediate that you burst out laughing.
rintaro looks only pleased with himself; he’s whipped, and unfortunately for him, you know it. fortunately for him, the list stops there.
and you prefer it this way — because if your friends saw the way suna-nonchalant-rintaro acted with you behind closed doors, you know your poor, poor boyfriend would never live it down.
in which you confront your feelings for miya osamu in 7 minutes - inside a closet.
featuring: miya osamu x gn!reader
an: for anon who req more osamu/suna <33
seven minutes in heaven with your classmate slash university heart throb slash good friend, miya osamu.
“begin now!”
the door slams shut.
07:00
around you, the closet is little more than dust and darkness, and your elbow knocks unceremoniously against the wall as you shift to find a more comfortable position without any real success. eventually, you give in and scoot closer to the guy across you. a face you can’t see, but practically know by heart — his tousled hair, grey eyes, the slender column of his neck.
06:00
your breath comes and leaves in slow, uneven intervals, and far, far more ragged than you’d like.
“ya know we don’t actually have to do anything, right?” you can actually hear the smirk in his voice.
when you shove his chest, it’s with a roll of your eyes — briefly, you wonder if he’s learned to hear your habits too. “yes, samu, i’m aware.”
“yeah?” osamu says, and there’s a rustle as he shifts against the confines of the wall. “just makin’ sure. your breathin’s all weird.”
you scoff without meaning.
“well, yeah. ‘cause it’s hot in here.”
“mm.”
outside the closet, the party continues in muffled bursts of laughter and the occasional clamour of footsteps. someone shouts a complaint about a game. another cackles in response. but the noise feels distant, separated from the tiny pocket of space that you and osamu occupy now.
05:00
“are ya lookin’ at me?”
“i literally can’t see you.”
“well i’m lookin’ at ya.” smirk.
“creep.” roll of eyes.
just a couple minutes in, and you already hear your friends pressed against the other side of the door, hushing one another, mumbling amongst each other in the all-inclusive language of university gossip.
can you hear what they’re doing?
shhh! be quiet!
osamu and yn? it’s about time they—
“hey.”
“mhm?”
his knee bumps yours. “ya sure you’re okay?
“yep.”
“liar.”
you swallow, thickly, when the back of his hand brushes your forehead. osamu’s hand slides lower, skimming your temple before settling briefly against your cheek.
“you’re burning.”
04:00
“maybe i’m a little nervous.”
“about seven minutes in heaven?”
“about…being trapped in a closet with you?”
his bark of laughter fills the darkness.
silence settles for just a few seconds before he nudges your arm with a playful fist.
“seven minutes isn’t a lot of time.”
03:00
by now, osamu’s resorted to playing with your fingers. (in a friendly gesture, you feel the need to clarify to yourself) he traces circles along your palm and, occasionally, moves to fan your still burning face.
“maybe i’m nervous too.”
“sure you are,” you laugh.
he doesn’t argue then, just stops to hold your hand in what little space that remains between your bodies, more sincere, more real in a way it wasn’t before.
“oh…”
“yeah.”
02:00
besides being dusty and dark, the closet is now perpetually awkward.
osamu has gone unusually quiet — as have you this entire experience — but his hand remains wrapped around yours in the darkness. neither of you acknowledges it, though his thumb continues to sweep absentmindedly across your knuckles.
“i thought it’d be funny if we got picked,” he murmurs eventually.
“funny?”
“yeah. didn’t think it’d be like this though.”
“well, what did you expect?”
“it’s embarassing.” a laugh slips out of you at his words. “but i figured i’d make a move earlier.”
his fingers curl around yours.
01:00
osamu shifts, and suddenly you’re aware of the full length of his body beside you in the cramped closet. close enough that when he leans forward, you catch the slight falter in his breath.
the realization sends a thrill through your chest.
because for all his teasing, all his confidence, miya osamu is just as affected by this as you are.
you inch forward without thinking, the revelation having melted away what little composure you had left. you push yourself closer to osamu, closer, then closer, until you’re practically — no, you are — seated completely on top of his lap. the movement earns a quiet, ragged chuckle, suspiciously breathless.
"c'mon, now you're just tryin' to get me nervous."
outside the closet, someone starts counting down the last few seconds.
featuring: miya atsumu, kuroo tetsuro, oikawa toru (separate) x f!reader - established relationship, but no actual children
a/n: here's a silly little thing i wrote last night, i thought these charas would be most fitting LOL - happy mother's day to those who celebrate!
miya atsumu
“happy mother’s day, yn.”
you blink at osamu from across the kitchen island. “huh?”
he just shrugs, taking another bite of his lunch. “dating tsumu’s the equivalent of parenting him, no?”
“oh,” you put a thoughtful hand to your chin. “happy mother’s day to me, i guess.”
“i heard that!” your boyfriend appears as if on command, offended expression already in place as he marches over to your kitchen. “and to think you two are supposed to be my favorite people…”
“is he wrong though?” you smirk, “you are a big baby.”
atsumu responds by throwing himself against your back, arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face into your shoulder. “but you’re not my mom,” he whines. “tell samu i’m right. c’mon, babe, tell him.”
you start laughing when he nuzzles closer, “atsumu — stop, that tickles!”
“say i’m right first!"
“okay, okay! you’re right!”
the blond doesn't release you from his grasp, but you feel as he stills against you, a satisfied grin taking over his features.
across the counter, osamu slowly lowers his fork with visible disappointment.
“disgusting,” he mutters. ”actually get a room.”
kuroo tetsuro
“happy mother’s day!”
“...what?”
tetsuro places the kitten down on your lap. “happy mother’s day!” he repeats proudly.
you stare at him. then at the cat. then back at him.
“surprise! it’s a boy.”
your jaw slacks.
“kuroo tetsuro,” you say slowly. “you cannot place a stray cat in front of me — no matter how cute he is! —” you pause to gush at the creature, “and call me a mother!”
“but ynnn, he looks just like you. this is our baby,” your boyfriend pleads. “let’s take him home?”
which is exactly how you end up, several hours later, under the brand new cat tree in your living room. the newest member of your family mewls in your arms, rubbing affectionately at the base of your neck.
“damn cat,” your boyfriend chuckles from the doorway, lugging in the last of your pet purchases. “already stealing my girl.”
“says the one who wanted him,” you say slyly, “this is our baby, remember?”
you release said baby onto the floor, watching as he wobbles over to his new playground in pure curiosity. “tetsuro,” you whisper, heart suddenly, overwhelmingly full. “he is adorable. i think i’m actually ready to be a mom.”
behind you, tetsuro goes still.
then, the lift of a single amused eyebrow.
“...is that so?”
oikawa tooru
“happy mother’s day!”
you glance up from your phone just in time for your boyfriend to shove a potted plant into your hands.
your head tilts in confusion. “...a cactus?”
“a baby cactus,” he corrects. “for the most caring person i know.”
“didn't you kill your last three plants?”
“exactly,” he grimaces. “but this one will survive because you’re raising it with me.”
you stare at him suspiciously. “tooru, did you just buy me a plant so i would keep it alive for you?”
“no,” he says a little too immediately.
a pause.
“...maybe a little.”
you snort, examining the tiny cactus sitting in a pastel pot of your favorite color, and if that wasn't enough, a pair of cartoon eyes painted on the side. on the bottom, the scribble of a sharpie catches your eye.
“oh my god,” you laugh. “you named it?”
“of course.” tooru beams. “his name is oikawa yn junior.”
“you’re unbelievable.”
“and yet,” he says, slipping an arm around your shoulders and throwing you that honeyed smile he knows you love, “you’re the mother of my child.”
in which you reunite with your junior from high school.
featuring: miya osamu x f!reader - downbad-ness, the miyas being menaces, osamu being the menace, and yea....
your third year of inarizaki high passes in a blur of routine and restless anticipation. by then, you already know.
miya osamu likes you. his brother does too.
you don't miss the way their eyes linger when you walk by in uniform, or how their ears perk up like eager puppies at the sound of your voice. you don't miss their excuses either --- how they drag along poor aran just to wander the third-year hall, fooling absolutely no one.
what a pair of dogs, you think then, stuck between feeling annoyed, flattered, and amused.
still, when graduation comes and the brothers mosey over to your group of friends humbly requesting photos, you say yes. you flash them a smile, quick and easy, even throw in a wink for good measure.
then high school ends.
time moves on, as it does. the miyas --- once loud, persistent, almost impossible to ignore --- become just another fond blur tucked away in the past.
so when your old friend kita shinsuke messages you out of the blue, asking to catch up, you don't think much of it.
he tells you to come by onigiri miya. you do.
your meeting with shinsuke isn't the problem. the two of you reminisce over favorite teachers and late night study sessions, catch up on life after graduation --- he's pleased to hear you're doing well. no, shinsuke isn't the problem at all.
the problem is him.
"y/n! long time no see," miya osamu greets as you walk through the door --- all fitted tee, toned arms, and those dark, droning eyes. "remember me?"
you huff a laugh. "just barely."
duty calls, and osamu leaves his seniors to talk alone. two hours pass in warm, easy chatter before shinsuke excuses himself for the night. you stay behind, having promised your roommates to bring back some of your junior's best menu.
it's 15 minutes to closing, meaning the last of his customers have trickled out, and osamu and you are the only two people left in his store. you're perched at the bar, swinging your legs as you watch him move around the kitchen with practiced ease.
"i feel like i can finally tell you the truth!" you announce. "atsumu was always my favorite."
in front of you, osamu chuckles, unfazed, "aw man, well i'm not telling him you said that." his hands move deftly as he wraps your food. "you said your friends wanted two grilled salmon, two tuna mayo?" he turns to you.
"mmhm," you hum amidst reapplying lipstick. you press your lips together with a steady pop!
and then you catch it again.
for the first time in years.
that stare.
osamu's always been the calmer, "better" twin --- everyone knows that. but for some reason, you've never quite bought it.
it's the same reason you knew all those years ago, back in high school, that osamu liked you. and sometime after, you just figured his brother did too.
because miya osamu has no shame.
because miya osamu has absolutely no shame simply staring at the things he likes --- and always with that same blank look on his face.
right now, you think he's taken a particular liking to your lips.
"while we're telling the truth..." your junior starts, "tsumu and i actually had huge crushes on you back in high school." he grins to himself, "we thought you were so cool."
"oh, i know," you quip. "why’d you think atsumu was my favorite? all my friends thought he was trouble, but in reality, you’re just as bad --- just better at hiding it," you shrug, "at least respect how earnest he is, right?"
osamu just stares at you, clearly amused. "sure."
"i mean, i saw the way you two looked at me," you continue. "always thought you were kinda like little dogs."
"whoa. ouch, y/n," osamu jokes, pressing a hand to his heart. "now, i'm wounded."
"well you don't have to be," you offer, tapping a thoughtful finger to your freshly painted mouth, "recently, i've come to realize i like dogs. they're actually pretty cute."
osamu laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. "dogs? or men that act like dogs?"
"both," you snicker. "when you grow up, you realize the best men in this world are the ones willing to literally bark for you."
you watch as his gaze leaves your lips and settles directly on your eyes, dark, grey, plotting.
in which you attempt to keep your cool in front of your classmate - crush - project partner. you think you succeed. osamu? not so much.
college!au
featuring: miya osamu x gn!reader - a peek into the deep, dark, mysterious storm that is the miyas + suna, flufffff, kuroo + kenma + akaashi cameo (sorry bokuto..)
a/n: trying to motivate myself by writing something short and lighthearted! this was pretty fun to work on:)
you really weren't supposed to end up here.
when you first signed up for 8 a.m. econ, the plan was simple: sit in the back of lecture with your daily iced americano, cruise through the course via tetsuro's notes, and, preferably, do not develop a massive crush on the devastatingly beautiful guy who sits next to you on day one.
unfortunately for you, tetsuro is a terrible best friend who drops the class only two weeks later, and by then, you’re sure you’re already smitten.
"alright, i expect everyone here is more than capable of finding their own partner for this project. it's as simple as asking the person beside you right now --- let's get on with it!" your professor announces just a few weeks after that.
and by what you consider fate, but is actually just your very strategic daily seat selection, you end up paired with none other than miya osamu.
which is why you're currently cross-legged on his apartment floor, surrounded by papers, half-highlighted paragraphs, and a nearly tragic number of empty snack wrappers.
"okay," you say, tapping your pen against a page. "if we shift the demand curve here, then---”
osamu leans closer, squinting. "nah, that'd mess up the elasticity. try flipping it the other way."
you stare at the graph. then at him. then back at the graph.
"...oh."
"yeah."
"..oh, that makes way more sense."
he shrugs, but a small, pleased smile tugs at his mouth. "told ya."
your heart does something deeply unhelpful, and you attempt to calm yourself by glancing at your phone, only to be met with 53 new notifications bleeding the screen.
---
^ 44 unread messages ^
tetsurhoe: y/n. when you see this, it is your DUTY to update us
kenma (neutral evil): oh hell no why am i nervous
kenma (neutral evil): y/n don't fumble
keiji (lawful evil): i have an idea
keiji (lawful evil): y/n how about we focus on the assignment
tetsurhoe: dude this is actually a godsent chance, they've sat together every single day this entire term
tetsurhoe: AND THEY TALK
keiji (lawful evil): wow
keiji (lawful evil): so they're classmates
tetsurhoe: ok shut up Y/N'S TYPING
y/n: why do you guys hate me
---
so much for help.
before you can spiral any further, the front door bursts open.
a tall blond with the exact same face as osamu (but louder, somehow) appears in front of you. atsumu, the twin brother, you recognize immediately. osamu had mentioned him the first time you'd worked up the nerve to turn to him during a class discussion --- "so yeah, you can just call me osamu. no formalities necessary." --- but even if he hadn't, you're sure tetsuro, full-time gossip and instigation practitioner, would've filled you in anyway, considering he’d already made it his personal mission to acquaint you with every scrap of publicly available information on the poor guy.
you straighten, batting your lashes to disguise any trace of questionable prior knowledge, and prepare to make an excellent first impression on your very hypothetical, definitely-not-confirmed future brother-in-law.
"hi, y/n~”
wait.
behind him, a brunette with tired eyes and the general energy of someone who hasn't slept in some time throws you a lazy wave. suna rintaro, his other, "sorta weird" friend. "hey, y/n."
what?
"ah," osamu cuts in quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "y/n, these are my roommates. as you can see, that's my twin, atsumu. and there's rin, er...suna rintaro. i might've told them you were comin' over."
"might've?" the blond snorts. "he's been--"
"shut it," osamu cuts immediately.
you narrow your eyes, but before you can interrogate any further, atsumu takes it upon himself to saunter over.
"it’s nice to finally meet ya,” he grins, a little too smug, as he scans the general area around the two of you and promptly pulls out his phone. “you poor kids look like you’ve been working too hard --- allow me to get you some fuel!”
from the side of your eye, you see osamu glower at the blond before shifting back towards you.
"this okay?" he mouths, eyebrows furrowed apologetically.
you just nod.
meanwhile, atsumu is already tapping away. "okay, caffeine for two! sunarin and i already had a little something so," he winks at you before turning back to his screen. "for samu, a hot latte..." he types, "...and for y/n, an iced americano, right?"
you freeze.
"...how'd you know that?"
and silence.
one by one, three heads turn to osamu.
he's smiling.
not a normal smile.
"one moment please," the twin says calmly, already standing up and grabbing his brother by the collar.
"hey--WAIT---"
the two disappear into the nearest room. a rather unpleasant ensemble of noises follow.
"I THOUGHT YOU---"
"IT’S OBVIOUS---"
“YOU'RE BEIN---"
a loud thud.
you stare at the closed door, clutching your pen. "...should i call someone?"
"nah," the only other remaining person says, crouching down next to you silently. "they do this like, everyday."
you glance at him. "suna, right?"
"yeah," he yawns. "sorry about them."
another crash reverberates from inside.
"is he okay?"
"which one?"
"...good point."
suna rests his chin on his hand, eyeing you with mild curiosity. "so," he says, "what've you and my lovely roommate been up to?"
"oh, uh---just this project," you say quickly. "we're still working on pretty basic microecon stuff. you know, like supply and demand shifts and whatnot."
"mhm..." he nods slowly. "he cleaned the whole apartment before you came."
you pause.
"what?"
"and restocked on snacks." suna gestures vaguely to the wrappers around you. "which is wild, because he's usually the first to hog them all."
you squint in contemplation. "sounds like a coincidence."
"he also changed his shirt three times."
your heart starts to hammer again. you wonder if suna can hear.
"okay...maybe less of a coincidence."
"and he told atsumu not to be weird."
you glance at the door as a muffled "I'M ALWAYS NORMAL, YOU'RE TH---" echoes through.
"well, that clearly worked."
suna just hums in response. "point is," he says, standing up with a sigh, "you don't usually do all this for just a group partner."
your face is burning now. "i mean, i don't--we're only---"
"y/n," suna looks at you, expression impressively blank as he places a very solemn hand on your shoulder. "your friend kuroo tetsuro isn't the only one who does his research."
the door swings open.
osamu steps out, perfectly composed, as if he didn't just commit what you're pretty sure is a minor act of violence.
atsumu stumbles out behind him, hair slightly messier, pointing accusingly. "yer an actual menace---"
"kitchen," osamu says flatly.
atsumu grumbles but leaves, dragging his dignity with him. suna pats your shoulder, then follows.
osamu turns back to you, expression softening. “y/n, listen. i am so sorry 'bout that. i really am."
you try to act normal. you really do.
"yeah, no, it's fine," you say, absolutely not fine. "wow, your roommates are very...intriguing?"
he huffs a small laugh, striding the room and sitting back down next to you. "that's one way to put it."
the two of you turn to the pile of papers lying unceremoniously on his floor.
"so," you start, almost too casually, "you, uh...change outfits for all your group partners?"
he stills.
"...nah," osamu says. "just one."
"oh," you say, brilliantly.
your heart continues a determined attempt to launch itself out of your chest.
from the kitchen, atsumu yells, "AND THE FREAK EVEN KNOWS WHAT YOU DRINK EVERYDA---"
a loud smack cuts him off.
osamu groans. "please. please just ignore him."
"okay, done. ignoring."
silence again.
"as much as i hate to admit it, my brother's right," osamu finally sighs, then laughs defeatedly. he scratches his cheek, almost sheepish, but his gaze stays steadily on you. "so since we're already here...give your poor classmate a chance and grab coffee with me sometime?" he asks, his smile coming easy --- soft, a little crooked.
and doing absolutely nothing to help your reddening face.
osamu exhales lightly, like he's debating how much to admit, then just goes for it. "and uh...yeah, i know this probably makes me sound like a creep," he adds with a small chuckle. "but it's hard not to notice things, you know? you show up to econ with the same americano every day, you’re...really smart, and," he pauses, a faint blush touching his ears. "you're kinda hard to ignore."
his hand drifts through his hair, a nervous habit he’s picked up over the years. "so yeah...i might've mentioned you to my brother. and rin,” he admits, glancing away for half a second before meeting your eyes again. “and when you asked me to be your partner for this thing," osamu smiles, the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. "i dunno, it just felt like really good timing --- god, y/n, i swore to them it was fate.”
surely your heart’s slipped clean out of you by now, probably somewhere on miya osamu's living room floor along with the rest of your papers, stationary, mind, body, and soul.
"yeah," you finally manage, a soft, breathless laugh escaping your lips. "i like you too, osamu."
and from the kitchen, a faint, victorious whisper:
"called it."
another smack.
peace returns.
mostly.
BONUS!
---
^72 unread messages^
tetsurhoe: y/nnn
tetsurhoe: y/nnnnnn
tetsurhoe: i have your location. i can see you moving
y/n: guys
tetsurhoe: YES
y/n: ok so he just walked me back to my car and
tetsurhoe: AAND
kenma (neutral evil): isn't that the bare minimum
y/n: that man is going to be the father of my children
in which suna rintaro shows up to his sister's new apartment, but you’re the only one home to deal with it
featuring: suna rintaro x gn!reader
suna rintaro is your best friend's brother, meaning you've known him for as long as you can remember.
long enough that, if you really tried, you're sure you could count the exact number of 'be more careful's he's ever muttered bandaging your scraped knees in the sunas' backyard.
which also means he might still have that awful video from your first year of high school --- the one of you sobbing through the saddest movie you'd ever seen and clinging onto his sister like life depended on it.
and naturally, it means that in all your years of knowing him, he's always been just out of reach, always just two years superior.
suna rintaro, who stands in front of you now, plucking candy from the bowl you and his sister left out in your new shared kitchen.
"hey, y/n," he drawls from the counter as you step inside your home, exhausted from a long day of classes and very much not expecting company.
startled, your first instinct is to whip out your phone:
---
rikaa<3: oh my brother said he’s gonna drop off some stuff from home, i js gave him the apt code
rikaa<3: u prob won’t run into him tho
rikaa<3: nvm ur already there LOL lmk ;p
---
you dislike all three of her messages as you slip off your shoes and shuffle over to the surprise intruder. "rintaro..! it's been awhile, how are you?"
"i'm doing well." he glances up at you briefly before gesturing towards your new apartment. "i see thing 1 and thing 2 are still getting into trouble together."
you roll your eyes, but relent a small smile at the familiar nickname. "if by getting in trouble, you mean your sister and i are living together, then yes. yes, we are."
"figures." the brunette chuckles, making it a point to unlock his phone, but not resume whatever scrolling you assume he's been up to. neither does he attempt to move at all from against your kitchen counter.
instead, he stares.
meeting his gaze, you find yourself scanning the boy, briefly. in the last few years, it had become increasingly clear that rintaro was not your favorite suna --- you were practically inseparable from his sister, still receiving birthday gifts from his mom, and prone to cracking years-old inside jokes with his dad.
but rintaro?
you'd always figured it was unrealistic to keep in touch with any friend's brother, and you had to admit that by your teens, it was simply easier to ignore his presence than confront the way you felt whenever he set foot into rika's room, all long limbs and mischievous eyes. still, it's clear that in the months you hadn’t seen him --- too busy adjusting to adulting, school, and a move into your first real apartment, albeit with his sister --- that he's been taking care of himself. for a lack of better words, he looks grown.
guess that’s what pro sports do to you, you think.
unfortunately, that doesn't change the fact that he absolutely does not own the kitchen counter he's so leisurely propped against right now.
as if reading your thoughts, the brunette smirks. "want one?" he picks up a wrapped candy from the bowl and tosses it to you.
"...these are mine."
raising his palms in surrender, rintaro watches as you return the treat back to the bowl, eyes narrowing in light amusement. "so...how's life been, college student?”
you purse your lips, trying to remember how long it's been since you've seen his face this clearly. "it’s fine, not like it's my first year...i guess i've been a bit busy lately...” then to dissipate the awkwardness of your ramble: “um, how are your parents?”
"they’re well," he hums, “you’ve probably seen them more than i have these days, with the move and all.” he waves a dismissive hand, as if to physically change the subject. "enough of that. how was korea?"
you pause.
now, you'd be lying if you said you were unlike all other students your age and never checked story views on instagram, but either way, your recent visit to korea --- courtesy of the latest three day weekend --- was, without a doubt, a trip worth posting about. more importantly, and you could never tell rika, but you had most definitely been tracking her older brother in your views.
but with good reason!
at first, you thought nothing of the older suna heart-ing your stories --- just intermittently, and reserved for photos of you hanging out with his sister, or even his mom for the occasional girls’ night.
but you couldn't deny how your heart skipped a beat the first time rintaro pressed like on one of your cuter selfies. then again for a spontaneous ‘ootd!’ and most recently for a particularly nice solo, in korea.
still, you never expected him to actually remember the things you uploaded on social media, let alone bring them up.
you blink, caught somewhere between confusion and embarrassment and something slightly warmer.
"oh yeah, you saw that?"
rintaro shrugs, unbothered, like it's the most normal thing in the world. "hard to miss. you post a lot."
"doesn't mean you have to watch everything." or like it. you suddenly remember a rather specific picture you'd posted: a shot of you against the dark skyline, eyes half lidded and clothes blurring as you spun around in a sort of confidence one could only identify as liquor. you remember how your equally tipsy friend had insisted you put it out for the world to see.
"i don't have to," the brunette replies, finally slipping his phone into his pocket and opting to direct his entire body towards you instead. "guess i'm just a fan."
in a sudden wave of horror, you realize how provocative the story had been.
rintaro had liked it just an hour after you hit post.
"korea was nice," you mumble, heat rising on your face. "fun." yet again, suna rintaro succeeds in making you feel small.
"seemed like it," his gaze lingers on you, a little more focused than before. "you looked happy, y/n."
something in your chest tightens at that. you always knew he was attentive, but when was the last time this attention was directed towards you?
silence falls again, and this time it stretches.
you hate that your heart is beating faster than it should. this is just rintaro. rika's annoying older brother. the same guy who used to snicker when you lost a video game, who dragged his feet walking you and his sister to the convenience store, who'd barge into the latter's room during sleepovers just to steal your snacks.
rintaro --- who always made sure to offer a rematch, who, no matter how begrudgingly, never forgot to pull out his own wallet for your late night indulgences. who had once told you you had 'good taste' in between bites of your favorite candy.
the one who left oddly casual likes on your instagram stories to this day, reminding you that he was there. that he always has been there.
and it's like he reads your mind again. "you still cry at movies?" he asks, face now directed towards the communal tv in your living room.
you scoff. "excuse me? that was like one time."
"mmm," his lips twitch. "pretty sure i recorded you one time. i've seen you do it, like, five."
you step closer without thinking, narrowing your eyes. "you keeping count?"
he doesn't step back, flashing a smile. "someone has to."
it hits you then. how much taller he feels when you’re just a few inches away, how his presence fills the space in your home. broader shoulders. slower movements. the same calm, observant gaze, but heavier somehow. a little less boyish, and significantly more sincere. you're hit with the vague scent of cologne, and you can't help but wonder when he traded in mrs. suna's choice of detergent --- a soft, familiar scent that still clung onto rika's clothes --- for something this intoxicating.
rintaro's not a kid anymore.
but neither are you.
"you've changed," you murmer.
he tilts his head. "yeah?"
you nod, increasingly aware of the tremble in your voice, your hands, and the way he's looking at you like he's trying to figure you out too. "a little."
he hums. "you too."
you laugh, trying to shake off the tension. "hopefully for the better."
"probably," his voice dips, quieter now.
your breath hitches.
"so i'm guessing you do still cry at movies?" he asks, but it comes out softer than you expect.
you groan, not missing the way his mouth twitches at the sound. "and i'm guessing if you're mentioning this again...you still have that video, don't you?"
"maaaybe." he drags a slow finger across his cheek in mock tears.
"rintaro---"
"relax." a faint smile. "i'm not showing anyone."
"you better not."
"i wouldn't." he pauses, then adds, "i always thought it was kinda cute." he looks at you, and there's something you can't decipher in his eyes, like he's testing the waters, ready to retreat at any moment.
"...that's one way to say i was a crybaby."
"and still are?"
you open to your mouth to argue, but stop.
"depends," you admit.
"on?"
"the situation."
rintaro studies you for a moment, like he's weighing something. then quietly, "what about now?"
your heart skips a beat. "what about now?"
at last, he pushes himself from against the counter, arms folding loosely as he lowers his face to level with yours. "you look like you might."
you let out a small breath, half-laugh, half-something else. "i'm not going to cry in my own kitchen, rintaro."
"good," his gaze softens lightly. "would've been embarrassing."
"oh, shut up. i'm not a kid anymore."
"i know."
a beat passes before he turns to reach into the candy bowl, then hesitates back towards you.
"...can i have one?"
you blink. "you've already had, like, ten."
"yeah, but those were stolen."
"and this is different how?"
he holds your gaze, that same undecipherable weirdness settling into his expression once again. "this time, i'm asking you."
it shouldn't feel like more than it is. but it does.
you swallow, then reach into the bowl yourself, picking out a piece and holding it out to him.
"here."
his fingers brush against yours --- neither pulls away. you watch as rintaro glances down at your hand, then back up at you, his face still dangerously close. "thanks," he breathes.
he takes the candy just to put it in his pocket.
caught in the moment, you inhale a shaky breath, delirious on what you'll say next.
"so are you gonna kiss me?"
and for the first time in your life, you watch rintaro's resolve crumble.
his lips are softer than you expected. more hesitant. more careful. just slightly more restrained than the one time you’d allowed yourself to imagine kissing him at 16 --- right after he’d hugged you ‘goodbye’ at graduation and mere hours before you vowed to eradicate this silly little crush in his absence, once and for all.
up until just half an hour ago, you would’ve sworn you succeeded.
in the present, rintaro’s hands cup your cheeks, warm, and calloused just enough to make your breath catch.
your own arms slide around his neck, tugging him closer, and he exhales sharply in response. up close, you catch the faint flush on his cheeks, and you pull him in just a little more --- enough to feel him unravel all over again.
when his mouth finally lets go of yours, you find yourself staring up at a pair of blown pupils, completely breathless.
"y/n, i--"
beep! beep! beep! beep!
his eyes widen.
beeeep!
"i'm homee!" your best friend calls from the door, saving you just enough time to scramble off of her brother and pat down your clothes. head spinning, you listen to the sound of rika's footsteps --- "oh." --- and then the silence which follows in their stop. "what are you still doing here?"
"just about to leave," rintaro sighs from next to you. "uh, the groceries and mom's food are all in the fridge."
you watch as he rolls his shoulders back, once, then twice, before slipping his hands into his pockets, and finally, start towards the exit.
holding open the door, rintaro makes one last scan of your house. "nice place," he says, and you make a mental note of the slight pant in his voice as he eyes you one final time across the counter. "think i'll drop by more often."
"just don't steal our candy!" you call back.
the smile he returns is utterly fond.
click!
"what a weirdo," rika mutters, too busy scoping the new contents of your fridge to notice your goodbye. she pokes her head out just a moment later, tossing you a fresh yakult in a gesture that feels oddly familiar. "he didn't cause you any trouble, did he?"
you shake your head, heart beating still a little too fast.
"no, he didn't."
you wonder when exactly suna rintaro stopped being just your best friend's brother.
self care night with your cute roommate pt. 2 <headcanons>
pt. 1
modern!au college!au roommate!au
featuring: scaramouche, thoma (separate) x gn!reader
genre: fluff
a/n: sorry idk thoma’s character the absolute best so i made his portion kinda general aahh :T also it’s 1:30 am rn so my writing’s kinda << on that note, GN/GM everyone!
scaramouche
• in hindsight, it was a tad bit foolish to think your roommate would willingly participate in something like self care.
• you just want to have fun and relax! loosen up! he just wants to kick you out! yay!
• but whether he likes it or not, you show up at scaramouche’s room one night with a basketful of activities. as expected, he doesn’t take it too well.
• you have to coax him at first, promising to take some stress off his shoulders (because he definitely needs that) and minutes later, find yourself unraveling a freshly-refrigerated sheet mask and placing it in his reluctant hands.
• upon pressing mask to face, your roommate complains it’s all icky and gooey and more than anything, cold. he can only see your back as you reach over to open another pack and inform him: that’s just a description of himself.
• scaramouche is about to say something not very nice in response when you abruptly turn around and….burst out laughing. oh goodness. his face—his face!!! it looks so funny with those confused blue eyes, nose, and mouth of his, starkly visible through the holes on the mask. confusion slowly steams into anger, and to your ultimate surprise..dissipates with a bemused grunt.
• he tells you to look in the mirror, which you do and can’t help but laugh again, this time, at yourself. you two look like ghosts; sheet masks are definitely not as pretty as those media-loved, liquid ones. but hey, they work just as good! soon, scaramouche joins in your softening giggles, saying you look stupid, but smirking to himself nonetheless.
• by the end of the night, you’ve miraculously gotten him to let you tie up his bangs and paint his nails with a coat of clear manicure. (he finds out the next day that it is not indeed clear, but an ‘extra fine silver shimmer,’ which you insist is practically the same thing) honestly, it’s baffling how you’re still alive.
• but as of right now, you’re knocked out cold on the floor. scaramouche sighs and stares/glares(?) at you, pondering what to do. perhaps...throw you out of the apartment while you’re unconscious? decisions, decisions!!
• he chooses to lift you onto his bed instead, covering your entire body—yes, including face—with the comforter. you’ll pay by making breakfast in the morning. or maybe, this could be his secret thanks for getting all that stress off his shoulders.
thoma
• you bring it up once, and being the sauve gentleman he always is, your roommate purchases and prepares everything for you.
• now, you’ve always known how great he was—assisting with especially hard assignments, bringing you lunch on campus—but this tops yet another level!
• thoma tells you how to use this and what to pair with that…he even bought your favorite scented soap! everything seems to be in smooth-sailing once he takes over, and soon enough, the night is already almost over! almost, but not quite yet.
• there is a playful tease in his voice as he places the sliced cucumbers one-by-one on your cheeks. you are currently resting your head on thoma’s outstretched leg as he concentrates on rejuvenating your skin. his hands are so gentle and his fingers dance with little to no effort. right now, you’re just grateful for the cucumbers cooling the rising heat on your face.
• afterwards, you offer to do the same for him. he deserves it after all! of course, thoma insists it’s okay, that he was more than glad to ‘serve’ you. but you simply smile and push your roommate to lay down on your leg as you did to him.
• he seems at peace after awhile and a content silence takes over. you lean down to brush his hair out of the way and at that moment, your roommate is just grateful for the cucumbers cooling the rising heat on his face.
self care night with your cute roommate <headcanons>
college!au roommate!au
featuring: akaashi keiji, oikawa toru (separate) x gn!reader
childe
• is the one to first initiate it!
• insists on going product-shopping with you and ends up paying for all the items (to this day, you still don’t know how he has so much money. aren’t all college students supposed to be broke???)
• speaking of questions, how is he so good at this? your roommate’s already built a fort out of blankets and prepped his laptop. he says it’s because he grew up with many siblings. you say he’s perfect boyfriend material.
• absolute king at applying face masks. so much to the point you just allow him to do it for you. wow, he must be some sort of self care professional.
• 20 minutes pass; you wash off the mask and turn to see childe with a small towel in hand. he dabs gently at the water droplets on your face, leaving your skin deliciously tingly as he turns to the sink with a silly smirk and washes his own reddening cheeks.
• the two of you end up watching miscellaneous videos on his laptop for the rest of the night—yes of course, he shows you clips of his siblings—while testing various serums on one another.
• eventually, he lets you lean on his shoulder (which can be a bit hard given that he is so tall) and the two of you fall asleep inside the fort, an adorable video from childe’s child(e)hood playing in the background.
• unconsciously, he holds you and you cozy up to the comfortable warmth. yes, your roommate really is perfect boyfriend material.
kaeya
• also one to first bring up the topic, woohoo!! actually, he insists on it. seriously.
• and because you can never say no to kaeya, the two of you agree on a self care night!
• he’s quite enthusiastic about it and claims he wants to “glow” after the session. at the same time, he reveals absolutely nothing about what he wants to try and doesn’t seem to have planned anything in advance….spontaneity for the win!
• the first thing he does is put on a fuzzy cosmetic headband. with zero shame. it conveniently has bunny ears, which you really want to laugh at, but can’t, because he pulls it off extremely well?? life isn’t fair.
• he then makes a show out of getting you to wear one with him, saying there’s no need to be shy, you’ll look great! but the real issue is: how are you supposed to compete with him???
• alas, the two of you are matching in soft bunny ears because once again, you can never say no to kaeya. now, the real party begins!
• he doesn’t mind what types of liquids and creams you slather onto his face. in fact, he’d rather you just try them all.
• pretty soon enough, you begin to have a sneaking suspicion that your roommate just wants some of your time. maybe underneath all that flair, he’s lonely! so you make sure to give him all the attention you can.
• in return, he makes you laugh until you can’t breathe and woos you with compliments a bit friendlier than roommate-level. you know he’s a flirtatious guy though, and try not to think of it too much.
• what you just barely miss, however, is the glint in his eyes. they reveal how happy he truly is, getting to hangout with you so genuinely. it’s more than he hoped for this night.
• you guys end up digging through your closets and putting on a mini fashion show! it’s rushed, but you’re having fun. at the end of your makeshift runway, kaeya spins you around, laughing at the outfit you hastily styled with him. and at that moment, you have to hold back a child-like gasp.
• maybe it was the light. possibly the numerous toners and shimmery oils from just a few hours ago. or maybe…it was you that made your roommate seem to glow.
pixelskylines
kaledo-art
romaincrisis
discoholicmusic
blakekathryn
prguitarman
ellievsbear
dededos
baratheonpilled