i love talking to people in real life and being like โoh yeah i have instagram but i donโt really use itโฆ i donโt have facebook or tiktok or anything like that eitherโฆ idk i just donโt want to waste my life on social media, i prefer to live in the momentโ and then i go home and spend 12 hours a day on tumblr
Approximately at the same time. Eight at night, when the club comes to life and the bar is at its busiest moment. You order the same thingโa lemon waterโand you look around the room before leaving an hour after your arrival.
It always feels as if youโre on the quest for someone, your eyes darting around in a manner that is almost suspicious. It would be suspicious for most, he presumes, but Suna canโt find it in himself to care. Not when he has a dozen drunk customers to serve.
He doesnโt care, until the day you sit directly in front of him and ask for his number.
โHello,โ you say, and Suna notices the color of your eyes.
โHi. Would you like your usual?โ
โNo,โ your response comes quick, โIโd like to talk to you.โ
โThatโs not exactly in my pay grade.โ
โYouโll make it work.โ
He doesnโt care enough to argue, so he moves closer to you. Itโs here where he notices the small wrinkles on your faceโyears of laughter and smiles have graced your face with such beautiful marks. He notices the scars on your hands, the birthmarks on your skin, and how your lips lean slightly to the left when you smile. (Heโs never cared this much about someone elseโs appearance. Maybe itโs just you. Maybe thereโs a first time for everything.)
โDo you have a girlfriend?โ
Straight to the point. Thereโs no hesitation in your voice, only pure confidence and elegance to your speech.
โNo.โ
โWould you like a girlfriend?โ
โI donโt care much about love.โ
That makes you stop. He notices a slight twitch to your eye, and how your fingers tap against the table in deep contemplation.
โMaybe you havenโt been loved right.โ
โMaybe. Or maybe youโre asking too many questions about a bartender you hardly know.โ
โI could change that.โ
He smiles. Typically, your persuasive attitude would annoy him. But thereโs something about you, something so strong and captivating. He is simply a man at sea falling into the tune and tricks of a siren.
โYou could. Or you could let me do my job.โ
Heโs playing hard to get. He knows it and you know it. Heโs never been one to beat around the bush, but Suna Rintarou has never been desired and he wants to enjoy the chase.
You smile. He smirks. He has fallen for your tricks.
โYou could do your job, or you could tell me what time your shift ends.โ
โ10 PM.โ
Another smile. Youโve got him.
โIโll wait for you.โ
-
True to your word, you wait.
His eyes follow you whenever you move, a moth to a flame. He watches as your hands run over your face, when your fingers trace the worn-out scratches on the table, and when your eyes wander around the room.
He watches the clock till itโs time for him to leave, and youโre still seated pretty where he left you.
โHello, stranger.โ
โHello, Rintarou.โ
He smiles. He almost feels like jumping over the counter, but decency, dignity, and decorum stop him from acting like a fool in your presence.
โDid you wait for long?โ he asks, finally by your side.
โOnly as long as I needed to.โ
You place your hands on his cheeks. He warms at your touch, heart fluttering in ways heโs never felt before.
โYouโre too cold.โ
โItโs winter.โ
You frown at his response, an action that leads him to dote on you further. He places his hands on your cheeks, squeezing the soft fat in his delicate hands.
โYou know,โ he starts, โyou have got to stop acting like you donโt know me whenever you come over.โ
You giggle, โwhereโs the fun in that? I like flirting with you.โ
โFlirting or harassment?โ
โItโs roleplay,โ youโre quick to comment. โStrangers to lovers. Itโs fun.โ
deep blue your love is the colour of warm nights, of starlit skies and of deep waters. your love is serious, everlasting. people value the deepness of it.
you groan, pressing your head back into the pillow. youโd dragged it into the living room to make yourself a makeshift bed on the couch while you waited for bakugou to get home.
โdonโt feel good,โ you mumble quietly. your eyes are closed, but you can feel him glaring at you from his spot near the door.
a second passes and you flinch when you feel a rough hand press into your foreheadโthen both cheeks, your temples, your neck. youโd smile at his doting if you didnโt feel so awful.
โwhat doesnโt feel good?โ
โstomach hurtsโฆmy head too. feel really tired.โ
โfuckinโ idiot,โ he snaps, but thereโs no heat to it as he brushes your hair out of your face thatโs just a little sweaty, โwhatโd you stay up for me for then?โ
even on days that the shop is closed, thereโs always something to do, whether itโs prepping for the next day, or going over inventory. heโs used to rising early and sleeping late.
miya osamu, however, is also a little weak when it comes to you.
so when youโd asked the day before if he wanted to bake bread with you, heโd immediately said yes.
and sure, he has a laundry list of things that need to be done today - a leaky sink that needs to be looked at, a batch of umeboshi heโs supposed to start - but he just couldnโt tell you no. couldnโt even fathom the idea.
did he know anything about baking bread? absolutely not, but how hard could it be, really? itโs bread. if youโd asked him to help you bake and decorate a five tier wedding cake, he would have said yes.
and, no, itโs not because he has a crush on you or anything like stupid tsumu who canโt mind his own business claims. stupid tsumu who keeps calling him things like whipped and a simp. stupid tsumu who has never felt the touch of a woman, heโs sure.
itโs just because he wants to be nice (to you, at least), because youโre his friend.
his friend, whose company he always sought after whether itโs walking around with you at the grocery or just stopping by to help you change a bulb. whose smile makes him weak in the knees and whose simple texts almost always make him blush.
okay, so maybe youโre a good friend.
thatโs all.
โsamu! come in, come in,โ you greet, ushering him inside.
youโre wearing an apron when you open the door to let him inside your apartment. itโs stained with beige fingerprints, and when you turn around to lead him into the kitchen, he sees youโve tied the strings into a cute bow, sitting right atop the curve of yourโ
he immediately averts his gaze when you glance over your shoulder to smile at him, his cheeks burning. baking is supposed to be a platonic activity.
โi already did the first few steps,โ you explain, flicking on your kitchen light. after washing his hands, osamu rests his elbows on your island countertop, watching with interest as you pull a bowl from the fridge. โi had to refrigerate the dough for twelve hours and didnโt want to make you wait around that long, so i did it overnight. now all we have to do is shape it, let it rest, then bake!โ
osamu will always be a restaurant owner first and foremost, so thereโs nothing he values more than an efficient kitchen. but he is a little offended that you think he wouldnโt want to be around you for twelve hours straight.
heโs so stuck in his own head that he doesnโt notice you rounding the island until youโre next to him, shoulders brushing. that split second of contact is enough to make him wish he were brave enough to grab you by the hips and pull you in to kissโ
โokay,โ you start, pulling him from his thoughts before he can spiral. โbefore we split the dough, we need to stretch and fold it.โ
โthat looks easy enough,โ he says as he watches you demonstrate the procedure.
โokay big strong man,โ you scoff, patting his bicep. if you notice him flexing, you donโt mention it. โdonโt whine when your arms are tired after the third or fourth set.โ
osamu proceeds to stretch and fold the dough, pretending not to notice the way you watch him. obviously youโre very intent on making sure he follows your instructions, pulling yourself to sit atop the counter, swinging your legs as you tell him,
โyou look really good when youโre doing that.โ
osamuโs just died. heโs dead, and atsumuโs finally going to be able to say heโs maโs favourite.
โsamu, are you flustered? youโre flustered, arenโt you?โ you hop off the counter, poking at his cheek until he catches your hand.
because heโs tired of pretending the two of you are just friends. and if heโs going to be stuck here for 10 more hours, he has to do something about it.
โโm not flustered,โ he mumbles.
you gaze up at him, wide-eyed as he backs you away from the kitchen, finally on the offensive. โh-hey, what are you doing? what about the bread?โ
โdidnโt come for the bread,โ he tells you quietly, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. โi came here for you.โ
toji was never the type for birthdays. his excitement dwindled down for each year that swung on by. usually, heโd just buy himself a mini cake or a dozen donuts from krispy kreme as a minor celebration but with you around this time, it seems his plans of another uneventful birthday had gone down the shitter.
since the first day of december, it was the nonstop tormenting of asking what heโd like to do for his birthday, what did he like to eat? did he want any gifts? you were so curious to know but was left with witty responses, simply shrugging off the idea of a plan.
but today was the day. his birthday. waking up this morning, toji expected an empty bedside. you had work and toji demanded various times for you not to take the day off. his eyes are barely open, sighing as he pats all around his bed, searching for his phone in hopes of sending you a good morning text.
however, though itโs never a major occurrence, there are a few things that toji didnโt expect this morning. one: to be burned by a liquid sitting on his vanity that causes him to seethe, โfuck,โ he whispers to himself, sitting up from bed rather quickly. two: to see a note in your handwriting, โfor when you wake up <3 letโs enjoy your day.โ three: a tray filled with breakfast items that were still suspiciously warm.
older brotherโs best friend suna is so annoying !!!
like you come home to find him lounging in the kitchen with a bag of chips and he shoots you a look, asking โwhat are you doing here?โ and youโre stuck there flabbergasted because the last time you checked, YOU lived here!
or how he has absolutely no regard for your personal space. heโll plop down next to you on the couch and spend exactly .23 seconds being normal before heโs laying his long ass body down across the length of the couch and shoving his feet all over your face.
somehow the even more infuriating breach of personal space than feet in the face is when he crowds up behind you in the kitchen during another one of your parents family dinners, leaning down โ his head almost resting on your shoulder โ to reach into the fridge that youโd been scouring. not so much as apologizing as he grabs a bottle of beer and leaves.
or when youโre both hanging out in your brotherโs apartment one night in college โ YOUโRE house sitting for him as he visits his girlfriend, you donโt know what sunaโs excuse is โ and youโre on the couch just flipping through tinder. suna pokes his head over your shoulder, encouraging you to swipe left on every guy that you see for various reasons. โtoo scrubbyโ โheโs lying about his heightโ โis that a fishโ. until you stumble across his profile โ itโs barely even that, just a picture of himself and a short bio + some details. and the two of you sit there silently for a second until you cough and laugh breathily, breaking the ice by telling him what a shitty photo he chose. (you close the app as you tease him, though he doesnโt miss how you donโt swipe.)
or when he gives you tickets to his game against MSBY, explaining them away like โi had some extra onesโ โyour brother said he couldnโt make itโ โi know youโre busy with school, just wanted to get them off my handsโ. but has the dumbest grin on his face when he sees you in the stands. and after EJP wins the match, he heads straight over to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders emphatically and preening about how โyou came just to see me ?? you like me or something??โ
(โthat his girl?โ washio asks, nodding to where you and suna stand by the edge of the gym. sunaโs face is lit up like a christmas tree, and although youโre rolling your eyes at whatever heโs saying, your smile is no less wider.
komori opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again โi-โ. closes it. and then he settles for a shrug. โdonโt know, honestly.โ)
will bug you at 2am over text with offers of gamepigeon and trips to the nearby 24hr ramen place because he knows youโre awake and whether itโs through text or in person, though you win at 8ball every time, he relishes every second of the time he can get with you.
who stands on the balcony of his apartment with you at 11:58pm, a new yearโs eve party in full blast on the other side of the sliding glass doors. his suit jacket is tossed over your shoulders and thereโs snow in his hair and yours. you clink your champagne glasses at 11:59 and as the clock reaches midnight you lean up on the tiptoes of your heels and kiss his cheek. โhappy new year, rin.โ who wraps an arm around your shoulder and tugs you to his side, kissing your temple. โhappy new year, scrub.โ
who avoids your brotherโs knowing gaze when theyโre out with their friends and someone asks whoโs texting him โ his phone having most of his attention that night as you give him your live reaction to the show youโre watching. he replies โno one, itโs nothingโ and your brotherโs eyes narrow a bit โ teasingly, appraisingly, knowinglyโ and the weight of it hangs between them for the rest of the night, though neither of them breach the subject again.
brotherโs best friend suna who goes abroad for the olympics. who visits you before he goes โ your apartment a quick stop on the way to the airport. you make him a cup of coffee and talk about everything and nothing, and he canโt tear his eyes off of you. you ask him if you can drive him to the airport but he shrugs and sets his cup down, claiming he doesnโt want to be a bother.
whose hugs are usually so obnoxious โ big, bone crushing things where he practically lifts you off your feet, his arms enveloping your entire body โ but today he hugs you softly at your front door, his head resting on top of yours for a few moments before he pulls back and smiles down at you, his usual snark returning with a goodbye of โdonโt burn the place down while iโm goneโ.
who knew that you had long since exited the realm of just being his best friendโs little sister but doesnโt realize what exactly you are to him โ what he wants to be to you โ until heโs home again and the adrenaline has worn off. your brother drags him into the house for a welcome-back dinner and although heโs over the moon to see your father and mother again, as they are him, his eyes dart around, looking for you.
and when he hears your voice (calling out โwhoโs at the door?โ) and sees you at the top of the staircase, his heart feels like it stops. it only jumpstarts when youโre in his arms suddenly, barreling down the stairs and throwing your own around his neck as you laugh.
the difference between black reader fics and non-black reader fics is that us black authors make it known that y/n is black. most of us include that in our notes. as for the non-black readers, yโall swear up and down that y/n is neutral, but always describe y/n as white or someone with fair skin. if we being real, black reader fics are more neutral than the neutral fics yโall swear yโall write. with the exception of skin color and hair texture, the way we describe our reactions are more inclusive. (ex. skin feeling hot as suppose to cheeks turning red) if your fic is self-indulgent just say that. hell. make it an OC if you got to. but this y/nโs knuckles do not turn white. ๐ฟ
a/n: pretty self indulgent since i have exams every week and i wish someone told me these words. anyways, i guess ill be posting smts.
cw: use of 'girl' like twice so ig its fem reader. not proofread.
"give me a minute, i'm trying to rememberใผ"
"alright," nanami adjusts his glasses, eyes leaving the book spread on his lap to instead focus on your figure pacing around the living room as you desperately tried to shake your memory for the right answer to his question.
you stare at the carpet beneath you, eyes furrowed in frustration as you bring your hand to your mouth to nervously bite on the nails of your fingers before you hear a soft 'don't do that' from nanami and immediately hide your hand with a sheepish apology leaving you.
you can't remember the answer. face heating up from embarrassment you stop your walking and slowly turn to face nanami, eyes catching the way his head tilts to one side in interest(that was so cuteใผ), the room quiet as he waits for you to say something.
"you don't remember, do you?"
you groan in annoyance, rubbing your face with your palms roughly as you stomp your way back to the couch. removing the book from his lap you let yourself fall by his side, head not so gently hitting his stomach with a soft 'oof-' coming from him in response.
"sorry, kentoใผ"
"it's fine."
you feel one of his hands on your back, slowly rubbing soothing circles on the surface as his other hand finds a purpose in your hair, waving through it with gentle movements. the quietness of the living room along with the calming march of kento's steady breathing makes you want to fall asleep right there and now, but you just have so much to learn and go over... too much.
"you should get a little bit of rest, beloved," nanami mutters softly as if reading your mind, and you want to give into the temptation so bad yet the fear of failure makes you feel dizzy and anxious, further pushing back the thoughts of any rest.
you sit up, rubbing your eyes like a child, mumbling about how you still have tons of things to do, before kento pulls your fists away, clicking his tongue about how you are too harsh on yourself as he soothes the area around your eyes with his thumbs and you melt.
"i want you to sleep with me." he whispers, eyes locked with yours, distracting from the warmth that fills your chest at the worry waving through his features.
"but, 'namiใผ"
"no." he shushes you simply. standing up from the couch, he puts the book on the coffee table and then tugs you to follow him.
the bed feels softer than usual, always warmer with nanami wrapped around you. your body is slowly shutting down for the day but your brain still thinks with an unstoppable force pushing your thoughts further into a mess.
"i justใผ i don't want to fail, y'know?"
"i know you don't, darling," he presses his lips to your forehead, then to you cheek, pecking the skin couple of times before he gazes at you once again. "you won't fail, i'm sure. you are my smart girl."
you nod slowly, wrapping your arms around his torso, feeling the way he presses you further onto himself.
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