#sunarin fluff

you never thought your life would get ruined by something as stupid as mind-reading. super strength, teleportation, flying? fine, you’d take those. but no—your gift is hearing what’s rattling around in other people’s heads, which is 80% nonsense, 15% food, and 5% things you wish you could scrub from your memory with bleach.

you begged the universe to take it back.

the universe said no and flipped you off.

atsumu’s brain is a crime scene. osamu’s is a constant stream of onigiri recipe adjustments. aran’s is… surprisingly calm, like jazz music. but suna rintarō?

suna’s head is a deranged fanfiction where you are the unwilling main character.

see, you always thought suna disliked you. he never talks to you unless necessary, never acknowledges your presence outside the role of manager, and his whole vibe screams i would rather nap than engage with humanity. you’d been convinced he couldn’t stand your voice, the way you hover around practice, or the fact that you even exist.

but then you heard him think for the first time.

and it was not the voice of someone indifferent. it was the voice of a man clinging to the edge of sanity by his fingertips. you had this guy screaming like a high school girl who got a letter from her crush.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

it starts during morning drills. you’re crouched down, collecting stray balls near the sideline, when suna’s internal monologue slams into you like a freight train:

‘don’t bend over. don’t bend over. oh my god she’s bending over. jesus christ, i could write a dissertation on her thighs. if i look too long, i’ll drool. i’m literally drooling. am i drooling? oh my god, check your chin. act cool. look bored. bored. BORED.’

you glance up just in time to see suna leaning against the wall with that trademark deadpan, half-lidded expression. he looks like he hasn’t had a single thought in days. which is hilarious, because five seconds ago he was practically making a shrine out of your kneecaps in his mind.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

another time, you’re sitting on the bench scribbling down some notes on rotation patterns. suna’s nearby, idly tying and untying his shoelaces. outwardly, he looks like the human embodiment of the “…” typing bubble. inwardly, though?

‘her fingers. holy shit, her fingers. i want to suck on her fingers. i’d let her break my neck with those. look at the way she holds the pen. elegant. majestic. i could frame a picture of her hand holding that pen and hang it above my bed. i’d bow to it every morning like it’s the fucking sun. she’s gripping the pen tighter. fuck, i wish that was my—RINTARŌ STOP IT.’

you almost drop your clipboard. suna doesn’t even blink. just sits there in silence, probably imagining you strangling him with athletic tape.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

lunch breaks are the worst. one day you’re eating an onigiri osamu made, minding your business, when suna’s thoughts bleed into your head like some cursed radio frequency:

‘she’s eating. holy fuck, she’s eating. look at her lips. look at the way the rice sticks. i’d pay money to be a grain of rice right now. god, i’d be the happiest carb alive. i wonder if she chews soft or hard. jesus christ, listen to yourself, rintarō, you’re disgusting. no, but really—imagine if she fed me a bite. i’d get on my knees for that. in public. i don’t care.’

you choke so hard on the onigiri that aran has to hand you his water bottle. suna just sits there with that same neutral face, but you can feel him vibrating internally like a broken washing machine.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

his obsession leaks into the smallest, dumbest situations.

you say, “good serve, aran!” during a scrimmage. suna’s brain short-circuits: ‘why not me? why the fuck, not me? i can serve. i’ll serve right now. i’ll serve until my arm falls off. say good serve, suna, please, god, i’ll sell my soul.’

when you do say, “good block, suna!” his response is so underwhelming—just a lazy “thanks”—that no one would suspect he’s having a full-blown meltdown inside: ‘holy fuck, she saw me. she noticed me. she loves me. this is it. this is the beginning of our epic romance. kita, you’re best man. atsumu, you’re not invited.’

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

he’s constantly thinking about stupid scenarios: if you tripped, he’d catch you bridal style ‘perfect excuse to touch her waist, god please trip just once, i’ll even stick my foot out’. if you offered him a sip of your water bottle, he’d drink from the exact same spot your lips touched ‘indirect kiss, fuck yes. fuck no, i’m hard’. if you said you were cold, he’d strip off his jersey and force it on you ‘she’ll smell like me. i’ll smell like her. i’ll never wash it again. rot in filth? worth it. should i get my brain checked?’ nah man, you’re good, just a lil off the grid.

you’ll be adjusting the scoreboard and hear: ‘she’s reaching up, that shirt’s riding higher, if i look i’m a creep, but if i don’t look i’ll regret it forever. fuck it. tiny glance. okay, enough. another glance. i’m so hard right now, i’m going to hell. and she’s the devil leading me there and i’d thank her. NO, GO TO THE BATHROOM AND DROW YOURSELF, RINTARŌ.’

all while his face is the picture of absolute boredom.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the wildest part? you still like him. even with the knowledge that suna rintarō is mentally begging to be hand-fed rice balls and strangled with athletic tape, your crush hasn’t died. if anything, it’s worse.

you used to just think he had pretty eyes and a lazy kind of charm. now you know that beneath his flat, apathetic exterior is a man drooling, panting, and metaphorically clawing at the walls of his skull every time you so much as breathe in his direction.

it’s pathetic. it’s hilarious. it’s… honestly kind of endearing.

and the best part is: he has absolutely no idea you can hear every single thirsty, desperate, completely unhinged thought.

for now, you let him keep his dignity.

but oh, is he going to combust when the truth comes out.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

you never realized how long you could keep a secret until now. weeks of knowing suna rintarō’s brain runs like a one-man late-night broadcast, starring you, featuring you, directed by his catastrophically deprived imagination.

and you thought you could handle it.

but today, your poker face finally cracks.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

it’s the end of practice. the boys are sweaty and loud, volleyballs scattered across the floor like confetti. you’re walking along the sideline, clipboard hugged to your chest, when it happens. you bend down to pick up a stray ball, and there it is, blasting straight into your skull like surround sound:

‘that skirt. oh my fucking god. she bent over again. if god loved me, he’d let me crawl under the bleachers and just sniff—no. stop. act cool. bored. bored face. eyes half-shut. don’t stare too long. don’t drool. is my mouth open? close your mouth, idiot. I’M DROOLING! jesus, i need to bite something. maybe the ball. maybe my jersey. maybe her a—’

you snort. loudly.

suna’s head swivels, sharp despite the usual droopy eyes. that look could kill. not because it’s scary—because it’s too calculating, like he’s already putting the puzzle together.

you slap a hand over your mouth, praying he’ll shrug it off. he doesn’t. he stares.

“…what’s so funny?”

your silence is answer enough.

his mind stutters, then detonates:

‘she knows. she KNOWS. holy shit, she’s been listening this whole time. months of me begging to be hand-fed grapes like a roman emperor. months of me imagining her thighs as a pillow. she knows i’d drink her bathwater. she knows that i prepared my vows. SHE KNOWS THAT I WANT 6 KIDS. oh my god. oh my actual god. dig a grave. lower me in. quick. before she tells anyone.’

your composure crumbles. a laugh bursts out, sharp and bright. it echoes in the emptying gym.

suna looks like someone just unplugged him from the matrix.

“you,” he says slowly, voice flat but dangerous. “you can hear me.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

he doesn’t yell. he doesn’t even move fast. he just stands there, staring at you like a man watching his own funeral procession.

“oh my god,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “you’ve been hearing me. all of it.”

the second-hand embarrassment is so bad you almost feel sorry for him. almost.

he collapses onto the floor, sitting like his knees gave out. “…i’m ruined.”

his thoughts pour like a faucet he can’t shut off.

‘she knows i called her my future wife in my head during drills. she knows i mentally thanked god for inventing legs when she wore shorts. she knows i once spent a full set fantasizing about being her chair. i can’t look at her. no, i have to look. she’s so pretty when she laughs. god, i’d let her spit in my face. oh my god she knows that too.’

“rin,” you wheeze, covering your face to hide your grin.

“don’t,” he cuts in flatly, voice muffled behind his hands. “don’t even say my name. every time you say it, my brain takes its clothes off. you know that now. you know everything. i’m exposed. humiliated. reduced to dust.”

you laugh harder, doubling over, and he groans like you’re stabbing him in the chest in a hot way. how does that work? don’t ask me.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

minutes pass. the gym is nearly empty. it’s just the two of you, and suna’s pride in shreds on the floor. finally, he tips his head back against the wall and says, “i’m serious. i should transfer schools. start fresh. join a monastery. shave my head. take a vow of silence. maybe celibacy. actually, no, i can’t do celibacy. not with you around.”

his thoughts churn.

‘look at her sitting there, laughing like sunshine. i’d let her carve her name into my forehead with a rusty nail. i’d be honored. i’d be grateful. she has no idea how bad i want to—oh wait, no, she does. she knows everything. holy fuck, i’m sweating. do i smell? god, i hope i smell good. maybe like desperation. maybe she likes desperation. i’d bathe in it if she asked.’

you clutch your clipboard like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. “you’re insane,” you manage.

“you’re telling me.” he finally looks at you, straight-on, with that terrifying flat expression that makes everything he says sound 100% dead serious. “i can’t be normal around you. i’ve tried. i’ve failed. i’ve been mentally begging for you to step on my chest since day one.”

“rin!” you squeak.

“what?” he shrugs, but his ears are crimson. “you already know. might as well say it. i’m pathetic. i’m depraved. i’m…” his voice dips, and for once, it’s not bored—it’s rough, desperate. “…completely yours. in my head. in real life. everywhere.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

you swallow. hard. because for all the ridiculous filth spilling out of him, there’s something underneath. something raw and sharp. he means it. every single depraved thought, every humiliating daydream—he means it, because it’s him.

and you like it.

so you lean closer, just enough for your knee to bump his. “so what are you going to do about it?”

his breath catches.

his brain combusts: ‘kiss her. touch her. marry her. crawl inside her pocket and live there forever. no, be cool. be chill. you’ve never been chill in your life. fuck it, just kiss her. now. do it before kita walks in and ruins it.’

and for once, suna doesn’t overthink. he tilts his head lazily, like it’s no big deal, and kisses you.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

it’s not graceful. his mouth is hot, clumsy, too much all at once, but his hands tremble like he’s holding something holy. and all you can hear is static—loud, overwhelming static punctuated by stray words: mine mine mine mine mine.

he pulls back just slightly, eyes half-lidded, smirk twitching at the corner. “you still laughing at me?”

you grin. “a little.”

his brain screams. ‘oh god she smiled. she smiled at me. i’d sell atsumu for her smile. i’d kill aran. i’d kill me. end me, bury me, as long as she smiles while doing it.’

you kiss him again just to shut him up.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

later, as you sit shoulder-to-shoulder on the gym floor, suna murmurs, “so you really heard everything, huh?”

“everything,” you confirm.

he sighs, slow and dramatic. “then i guess you already know i’m never letting you go.”

you laugh softly. “yeah. i know.”

and the static in your head doesn’t stop—‘should i give her a hickey? should i kiss her again? do i take her home now? oh wait, can i take her home? we’re technically married. oh i just realized that i can bury my face between her thighs now, yup, definitely taking her home.’—but maybe you don’t want it to.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a: idk i accidentally deleted this so i wrote a new one. not before crashing out, obviously.

© 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˵)

Now, he finds himself at the balcony of your bedroom, eyes turned towards the moonless sky with a lollipop in his mouth. Through the open door, he can hear the faint sound of the shower and he groans, urging his mind to not stray towards other thoughts.

He feels foolish with these emotions that you’re bringing out of him. Granted, they’re not unfamiliar, but it’s been several years since he’s had these feelings. And truth be told, Suna never thought he’d feel this way again: wanting to love someone.

He knows what he’s feeling for you is more than just platonic. But Suna is also pretty sure that he isn’t in love with you.

Yet.

“Rin?” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Would you mind closing the door? The breeze is coming through.” He sees that you’re now done with your shower, robe wrapped around your body with a towel in your hand.

He bites off the remaining lollipop and chucks the stick at the small bin by the balcony. Shortly after, he joins you in the room but not before making sure the door is securely locked behind him.

The smell of your green-apple hair conditioner hits him almost immediately. It’s a scent he has ignored for years but now that he’s free from his pride to admire every little thing about you, he basks in the scent. He then makes his way to the vanity. “Do you need help drying your hair off?”

Your curious eyes meet his through the mirror and after a few slow blinks, you nod. He takes over the towel and you open a drawer to bring out the dryer.

For a few moments, your eyes watch him work with the towel, gently squeezing clumps of your hair for the last drops of water possible. Then, before passing the hair-blower to him, you say, “You’re gonna end up with cavities given all the candies and lollipops you’ve been having.”

“They’re working, though,” he replies. “I haven’t smoked in over a month.”

You smile at him. “I’m so proud of you.” And then, as if deciding on what to say next, you add, “I wish there is another alternative so you won’t have to take too much sweets.”

Maybe it’s the proud look on your face. Maybe it’s the way your lips pucker out in a cute pout. Or maybe, he’s just so tired of counting the days.

Finally, Suna says, “What about a kiss?”

The way your eyes immediately widen is almost comical. “W-what?”

Suna only laughs as he takes the hair dryer from you, the brief skin contact making you blush. He shakes his head, smiling. “Nothing.”

“Huh?” you try to turn around so you’re face to face but he places a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay still.”

“But…”

“Y/N. Let’s dry your hair first, okay?”

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

Drying one’s hair is supposed to take around five to ten minutes only, but after Rintarou’s question, it feels like it’s taking an hour. It’s not helping that he’s standing so close to you, hands gently drying your hair, warmth radiating from his body.

Once finished, you immediately turn on the seat. “Rin.”

“Y/N.”

The question comes to the tip of your tongue but never leaves your mouth. You bite your lip instead and avoid eye contact. “N-nevermind.”

As you try to stand, Rintarou stops you. “You’re cute when you blush, did you know that?”

You don’t answer, knowing full well that his remark only made your already flushing cheeks redden even more.

Suna sighs before cupping your cheek tenderly, urging you to look at him. Once your eyes meet his, he rubs a gentle circle on your skin. “I want to kiss you.”

It feels like your heart is beating a hundred miles per minute. Did you hear him correctly? He wants to kiss you? Suna Rintarou, the man who never kissed you in the five years you’ve been married? Suna Rintarou, the man who didn’t bother to kiss you on your wedding day?

I want to kiss you.

A lot of things have changed in the past months but still, Suna manages to surprise you. You feel like a teenager navigating romance for the first time again.

Another gentle rub on your cheek brings you back to the present, where Suna is saying he wants to kiss you. “Well? Are you going to allow me to kiss you, Y/N?”

Your only response is a meek nod to which Suna shakes his head. “I want you to say it. Tell me that you want me to kiss you.”

He never once breaks eye contact as he says those words. The urge to look away is so strong, for you feel like the longer you stare into Suna’s eyes, all the emotions inside of you will break out. Burst into a bubble that would consume you. It’s going to be cool, but suffocating.

Instead, your eyes remain on him, trying to decipher if there’s any ill-intentions in them.

You only see sincerity… and pained longing. As if every minute you’re not asking him to kiss you is bringing him immense pain.

But kissing him… it’s going to be a big step in your relationship. Granted, the two of you have been sleeping with each other again. But kissing is an entire thing different from sex. You’ve never kissed during sex before. Kissing him now would mean…

Rin doesn’t speak with words, but the way his thumb grazes your cheek once more tells you that he’s waiting. Finally, you decide to pocket the fears you have about kissing him. “Kiss me, Rin.”

He exhales in relief as he leans down and the distance between your lips get smaller and smaller and smaller and you get the sweet taste of his strawberry lollipop from earlier.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

Goodbye, 25 days. Suna thinks to himself that night, as you lay sleeping beside him.

It’s just a kiss, but he can’t stop himself from feeling warm at the memory of your lips against his.

It’s just a kiss, but he feels like he’s on top of the world.

It’s just a kiss, but when he finally falls asleep that night, a stupid smile is on his face.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

In the following days, Suna learns that he has found a new addiction.

Waking up in the morning? A kiss on your lips.

Thanking you after finishing a meal? A kiss on your lips.

Saying goodbye before leaving for work? A kiss on your lips.

Seeing you after arriving at home? A kiss on your lips.

It’s not just even the feeling of your lips against his that makes him addicted to it - he’s also enamored by your reaction every time you kiss.

The way your breath hitches a little as your lips meet, and the soft sigh you let out once you part almost always bring a flood of warmth to his chest.

“Are you going out today or staying home for work?” Since you’ve been getting better, you have started to resume working again.

If it were up to Suna, he wouldn’t want you to work at all. Your current job is not demanding at all, minimal reports needed. He remembers helping you get it five years ago, when you had opened up to him about the missed opportunity after your graduation. Still, he knows you enjoy what little you do at work, so he can’t ask you to leave it.

“I’ll stay in today,” he hears your response. “I’ll visit the office on Friday.”

He makes a mental note to himself. “Okay.” And then, “Do we have any plans this weekend?”

He adjusts the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt as he hears you hum in contemplation. “Ah! Hajime invited us for Kenta’s birthday party this coming Saturday, right?”

Of course. Suna remembers the conversation two weeks before. He remembers trying to tame the jealousy brewing deep within him as the older man talked to you. He knows he has nothing to be jealous about. You’re just naturally sweet and friendly while Iwaizumi apparently started seeing someone.

“I almost forgot,” he confesses as he approaches you to where you’re lounging at the sofa. You’re currently waiting for your laptop to finish installing its update before you start work. “Do we have a gift already?”

“I actually ordered something but it’s stuck in one of the sorting hubs. If it doesn’t arrive by Friday, maybe we can drop by the mall or something?”

“Okay. I’ll go now, then. See you later.” He crosses the short distance between you, hand already cupping your face as he kisses you goodbye.

And if Suna is smiling while driving on the way to work, thinking about your goodbye kiss, then no one has to know.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

Express delivery, as is turns out, do not always live up to its name. It’s now Friday and the package carrying your gift for Kenta has made no movement from the sorting hub. You’re at your table at work, waiting for Rin to pick you up after you texted him that you would need to drop by the mall first.

The children are at their grandparents since this morning and you’ll be picking them up when you and Rin go to their house for breakfast tomorrow. You look at the picture on your phone. Rintarou is splayed on the bed with the twins all over him. It’s from last weekend, when your kids had come to wake the two of you up.

Your heart is instantly flooded with warmth and joy. You didn’t think it’s going to be possible, but years later, here you are with a happy family despite of the circumstances. You couldn’t ask for more.

The notification on your phone alerts you that Rin is almost at your office building. You bid goodbye to your colleagues. As the door to the elevator begins to close, you see a woman rushing towards it. Luckily, you’re able to press the ‘hold door’ button immediately.

“Thank you,” the woman sighs in relief as she shoots you a grateful, sweet smile. She’s an unfamiliar face, which is not a surprise to you since you rarely visit the office and interact with people outside of your core department.

“No problem,” you reply while mirroring her smile, before turning your gaze ahead.

You’re about to settle on that elevator silence between strangers when the woman speaks. “For a building with over 30 floors, you’d think they have more than three working elevators.”

You hum in agreement. “The ‘under construction’ signs at the other two elevators have been there forever, right?”

“Oh, really? I wouldn’t know.” She lets out a small laugh. “I’ve only been here for two weeks. I’m in a contractual project, actually.”

The elevator doors open and you two walk out, still conversing. “Ah, may I ask what project?”

“Hitomi-chan’s passion project,” the woman replies with a smile. “I’m in-charge of photography.”

You feel foolish only noticing the camera bag slung on her left shoulder. “I see. You must be very good, then. Hitomi knows to pick partners well.”

A sweet laughter spills from her again, her cheeks blushing a little. “You’re too kind…”

“Y/N,” you reply, as you both approach the exit.

The woman extends a hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. You can call me Serin.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Serin.”

A security staff of the building approaches the two of you. “Your husband’s car just pulled up at the parking area, Mrs. Suna.”

Serin’s grasp on your handshake falters a little. “Oh, you need to go?”

“Yes. See you around the office, Serin.”

She gives you one last smile before waving goodbye. “See you around!”

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

You’re only supposed to buy a gift for Kenta but two hours at the mall later, you and Suna are pushing one big cart of shopping carts each. You don’t talk as you navigate the parking space, but the exchange of smiles and grins speaks a lot.

“Why did we buy so much?” You ask as you watch Rin load the bags into the car. “We’re such impulsive buyers, oh god.”

“Hey, don’t feel bad splurging sometimes. We all deserve to spoil ourselves once in a while.”

“Is that why you bought a large fox plushie?” Your voice is laced with teasing. “I didn’t know you’re into stuffed toys.”

Suna loads the last bags before closing the door. “I bought that for you, though.” He takes your hand and leads you to the front passenger seat, opening its door. “And don’t act as if you weren’t looking at it with heart eyes when I showed it to you.”

You make yourself comfortable in the seat. “Sure.”

Suna scoffs playfully before shaking his head as he swats your hand away and puts the belt on you himself. “Okay, you’re never allowed to hold it ever, then.”

You fake gasp. “Really? Then that makes me sad.”

He leans in and kisses against the pout on your lips. “You’re so cute, Y/N,” he says once he pulls away.

“And you’re so silly, Rin.” This time, you’re the one who leans in and pecks his lips. As you’re about to pull away, you feel Suna’s hand on your head before he tries to deepen the kiss.

A small whine leaves your lips and gets swallowed by Suna immediately before he finally pulls away.

“Rin…”

You’re breathing heavily and he’s in no better situation. His eyes have darkened and the way he looks at you makes you squirm on the seat. You avert your gaze. “L-let’s go home.”

It takes him a beat to answer. “Yeah. Okay, sure.” He pulls back, squeezes your upper thigh, and then closes the door for you. You’re still not looking at him when he gets in the driver’s seat and maneuvers the car outside of the parking lot.

Once you’re on the road, one of his hands lets go of the wheel and reaches for you blindly before landing on your thigh. It stays there for a whole minute before you remove it. You lace your fingers together and place it on your lap instead.

Suna hums in contentment as he continues to drive, but not before squeezing your hand. You don’t even notice that he’s driving at the fastest allowable speed limit.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

You’re glad that your children are at your in-laws’ house as you hear the incessant and loud creaking sound of the bed, paired with the headboard’s rhythmic slamming against the wall. Rintarou is groaning against your lips as his hips are working overtime in thrusting against yours.

“Fuck,” he whispers before capturing your lips in another frenzied kiss. “You feel so damn good, shit.” He’s heavily breathing and making lots of noise than usual.

You would have called him out for it if you were doing any better. “Ah, Rin, ah… right there.” Your words are cut off as he kisses you again.

Tonight’s sex feels different. It’s not only because it’s the first time you two are kissing during the deed. Right now, it feels as if Rintarou wants to tell you something through his actions.

His unforgiving thrusts continue, the onslaught of pleasure throughout your body unending. You already know you’re going to be sore tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him to be less rough. He’s hitting all the right spots and all the sounds that you’re both making are only adding heat to the room.

“It feels like your pussy wants to swallow me whole.” He pulls back slightly so he can see the probably messed up and fucked out expression on your face. “I love the way it pulls me in. Fuck, you’re so tight. Feels so fucking good!”

His words bring you to an unexpected orgasm and you whine with volume. It doesn’t deter him as he continues his hips’ movements. His lips are quick to silence you as he begins to move inside of you faster.

You should probably feel embarrassed with the sloppy, wet noises that your bodies are creating but it just feels so good. Your head is empty and all your mind can do is chant his name repeatedly.

Rintarou. Rin. Rintarou. Rin. Rin. Rintarou. So good.

“Louder,” his word snaps you out of your daze. It’s when you realize that you’re now moaning his name out loud. Ironically, you feel flustered and look away from him.

His hand starts roaming around your body and settles on your left breast before he pinches on the nipple. “Look at me, I want to see you come.”

He guides your face towards him and you two meet eye-to-eye. The room feels too hot but you ignore it, trapped in your bubble of intimacy with your husband. You’re stuck with letting out little whimpers and small exclaims of “ah, ah, ah”s as Rintarou continues to move inside you.

Unlike his earlier kisses, he plants a sweet peck on the side of your lips before pulling back. “Do you feel good? Are you okay?” His voice is now soft, a stark contrast to his rough thrusts.

You can only nod before a gasp of pleasure leaves you again.

He chuckles against your lips before aiming a single hard thrust, forcing a louder moan out of you. “Am I making you feel good, Y/N?”

You nod repeatedly, hands gripping him harder. The dig of your fingers on his skin makes him groan sexily. “Fuck, answer me. Do I feel good inside you, wife?” Another well-aimed thrust.

“Y-yes, yes!” you finally let out. A sniffle. “It’s so good. More please, Rin. I need more.”

Rintarou doesn’t deny you and quickens his pace, giving you what you want.

And everything feels right. This is what things should have been. The both of you giving and taking. The both of you feeling good and taken care of. You and Rintarou. Rintarou and you. Under a happy spell.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

The last time you were at a party setting with Hajime, things didn’t end well. However, you feel like today is a good one. For starters, you don’t have the underlying pressure of making sure everything goes smoothly. And to make things better, your husband has not left your side ever since your family arrived at the venue.

Risa and Ryuu are happily playing with all the other kids while you’re at the parents’ table, making small talk with the other guests. An older couple - Hajime’s relatives, you think - comments on how you and Rin look good together.

You thank them, turning to your husband’s shoulder to hide your blush. Instead, you see him smirk teasingly, an arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

The party goes well. Food, games, gift-giving…

Hajime finally sits next to you with a small sigh, the two of you barely exchanging more than a few words within the past hour. “This is tiring but very rewarding.” He’s staring at the direction of his son. “All for Kenta’s happiness.”

As if feeling his father’s eyes on him, the boy turns to your direction and waves, a toothy grin on his face.

“You know, in his earlier years, I only felt resentment towards his mother.” Hajime’s voice is tender. He rarely talks about the mother of his son, her being a touchy subject. “But now, all I feel is gratefulness and pity. I’m thankful because without her, I wouldn’t have Kenta. I pity her, because she’s missing out so much on how wonderful and amazing my son is.”

You can’t say you truly understand what he’s feeling. Still, you acknowledge to yourself that your children do seem to be merrier ever since Rintarou joined the three of you, bonding all the time. “Did she ever try to reach out?”

Hajime shakes his head. “No. And my attempts to talk to her were all futile.” The sad look on his face passes quickly. “You know, Y/N, I never considered dating again. Not until Kenta’s much older. But I’m glad I took the leap recently. She already adores Kenta and he likes her a lot, too.”

You perk up at the mention of his new lover. “I’m glad to hear that. Speaking of, I thought she was coming today?”

“She said she’ll catch up because something came up with the project she’s working on.” Just then, a notification pings on Hajime’s phone. “And now we’ve summoned her. I’ll go meet her at the door.”

You watch as your friend eagerly makes his way through the crowd. It’s then that you decide to go on a powder room break to freshen up. On the way, you bump into your husband who’s returning from the restroom. He tucks a hair behind your ear. “You good?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Yes.” It’s crazy, really, how a simple gesture from Rintarou makes your heart flood with happiness.

He mirrors your smile, a bit of mischief laced in it. Rin leans closer to you and asks, “You’re not too sore anymore?”

Blood rushes to your face and you swat at him. “Please, don’t.”

Through his arms around your side, you feel his body shake in laughter. “Okay, okay. Don’t be a blushing mess. We’re in public, Y/N.” He pulls you closer to him and plants a quick kiss on your temple. “Let’s behave from now on.”

You murmur chastising words as events from last night come back to you.

Suna had just forced you to finish drinking a glass of water, mumbling something about you needing to re-hydrate. You’re already washed up, dressed in a pair of fluffy cotton pajamas.

“Good girl,” he murmured before placing the empty glass on the bedside table. He then propped himself up against the headboard, making sure the blankets are covering you.

The praise made you smile like a shy young girl and Rin opened his arm. You didn’t allow yourself a moment of hesitation, immediately going towards his warmth. He squeezed the side of your waist as you snuggled against him.

The post-sex bliss was still surrounding you both. “What are you thinking?”

The sound of his heartbeat was calming, and you didn’t realize it had been slowly lulling you to sleep until Rin repeated his question. It’s been happening a lot lately - him initiating conversation, wanting the two of you to build good communication.

Maybe it’s the domesticity of snuggling in bed with your husband, or the way his hand had traveled upwards to where it’s rubbing softly against your back. You weren’t exactly sure what spurred you to answer candidly. “I’m thinking that I really like you, Rin. A lot. But I guess you already knew that.”

He hummed in confirmation. You weren’t expecting anything back, you knew it’s only been a few months. But much like he’s been doing, Rintarou surprises you. “I’m thinking I’m starting to care about you. A lot. Though it may take me a lot more moments of introspection for me to truly know what I feel. But, really, Y/N, I care about you and I want you to know it, in case I haven’t been clear.”

The hesitation in his voice almost made you melt. He didn’t need to say it, to be honest. You’ve noticed it in all the ways he had been changing in the past several weeks. Trying to quit smoking, spending more time with you and your kids. Opening more communication between you two.

Still, the verbal affirmation is welcomed.

“Thank you, Rin,” you murmured sleepily against him. “For all your efforts.”

You vaguely heard him whisper the words back to you before you drifted off to sleep.

You pull back from hiding your face against your husband’s body and crane your head back. He inspects your face briefly before saying, “All good, you no longer look like a ripe tomato.”

You fake glare at him and remember where you two are. You look around and see Hajime introducing someone to his guests. Beside you, Rintarou pulls out his phone after it pings. He begins typing his reply with one hand, the other reaching for yours.

One of the things you have learned about your husband in the past months is that he can be clingy. You grasp his hand and intertwine your fingers together.

As Hajime approaches you with his new guest, your eyes widen. “Serin?”

Two distinct sounds reach your ear.

Serin’s gasp.

And the sound of a phone crashing on the floor.

Rintarou lets go of your hand as he bends down to pick his phone up.

“Y/N? What a lovely surprise. You’re friends with Hajime?” Serin is quick to give you a hug. “Such a small world!”

You smile at her and then your at friend. “This is… wow.” You turn to Rintarou who’s now back on his feet. You reach for his hand back but he puts both his hands inside his pockets.

The look on his face tells you that his phone must have experienced serious damage.

“Serin, this is my husband, Rintarou. Rin, I met Serin at work yesterday, I didn’t know she’s the girlfriend that Hajime has been talking about. This is a nice coincidence! Don’t you think so?”

The woman blinks slowly before she smiles slightly at your husband. “Nice to meet you.”

To your surprise, Rintarou ignores her extended hand. Instead, he gives her a curt nod before promptly excusing himself outside.

You mask your concern and turn apologetically to Serin and Hajime. “Um, I’m sorry about that. Maybe he’s upset about his phone.”

Serin purses her lips in a small pout. “No worries, Y/N. Let’s talk again later, I want to go to the birthday boy now.” She shoots you a dazzling smile before dragging Hajime by the hand towards Kenta’s direction.

You sigh. As much as you’re delighted that Hajime’s girlfriend is the same nice woman you met yesterday, you can’t help but worry about Rintarou.

After a quick glance at your kids who are engrossed playing with their friends, you follow your husband outside.

Rintarou is restlessly pacing back and forth and though you’re not that physically close, you can see his brows knotted in worry.

“Rin?” He pauses at your voice and looks at you with slightly wide eyes. He doesn’t offer any words.

“Are you okay?”

He blinks a few times. “Yeah.” And then, “Just needed space to breathe.”

There’s a moment of hesitation - as if he wants to say more but decides against it. He resumes his pacing and you quietly slip back inside.

The rest of the party goes relatively well and you’re glad that you’re able to spend time and converse with the other parents from the playground. Moreover, the happy giggles and wide smiles of your children filled your heart with love.

Soon enough, Rin’s earlier actions get pushed to the back of your mind.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

It wasn’t particularly a long day but as soon as you got Risa and Ryuu to fall asleep, your body starts demanding you to rest.

You barely make it through showering. Once you’re done for the night, you move to settle on your shared bed with Rintarou to see him all quiet. He’s sitting on the bed, leg impatiently tapping on the floor.

“Rin, what’s the matter?”

He looks up, your eyes meeting briefly before he turns away. “Nothing.”

In the past, you would have let it go, afraid that you’d push the wrong buttons to set him off against you. But now, given how things have changed between the two of you, you want to talk.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left Kenta’s party. Is something bothering you?”

It takes Rintarou a very long time to respond. When he does, it makes you think you may have misheard him.

“Sorry? What did you say?” You ask, your voice gentle despite the tremors and dread building inside you.

His response comes again, louder and clearer this time. “You.”

“Rin?”

He looks you in the eye this time as he stands up. It’s only then that you noticed he hasn’t changed out of his clothes yet. “You. The one that’s bothering me.”

You shake your head as you begin to step closer to him. “I don’t understand.”

Rintarou scoffs. “Of course you don’t.” He swats away the hand that tries to touch him and it leaves you freeze in surprise.

He then makes his way towards the balcony. And you’re still standing there, left alone in the room, dumbfounded and confused.

Oddly enough, this feels like a deja vu.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

At the beginning of your forced marriage to Suna, you knew there was a slim chance that you two would get along. He hated you, and deep down, though you never voiced it out loud, you also resented him for taking advantage of you and getting you pregnant.

But now, looking back at the past few months, you think that your relationship might actually work. He’s no longer treating you horribly. In fact, he’d been extremely nice, getting involved in preparing for your kids’ arrival, being supportive and caring, and overall acting friendly.

For this night, you decided to cook him a simple dinner. He had texted you earlier in the day that he’d drop by Osamu’s newly-opened restaurant to give his congratulations. You had told him it’s okay if he wanted to celebrate with his friends but Rintarou insisted that he’d much rather spend the evening with you.

You knew not to get your hopes up, that he’s just being a responsible father and husband. Still, your traitorous heart beat wildly at his last message, looking forward to seeing him come home.

Four hours later, however, the dinner you prepared is cold and you’re seated alone at the living room couch. Waiting for Rintarou who never came home at the time he promised.

Your eyes were drooping, drowsiness almost winning the long battle you’ve been having against it. Finally, the door opened and Rintarou came in.

He looked utterly wasted.

You stood up in the fastest way possible for a heavily-pregnant person. “Rin, what happened? You weren’t answering my texts and calls. I was so worried.”

He looked up from tossing his shoes to the side. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed, probably from drinking. “Fuck off.”

The words surprised you, the venom in them strong enough to make you take a step back. You were able to regain your stance nonetheless and moved closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Huh? Are you okay, Rin?”

“Don’t call me that.” He glared at you before swatting your hand away. “You ruined everything. Everything.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “What? Rin, I’m confused. What happened?”

He didn’t answer you and instead began walking towards the stairs. You were hurt and confused but you didn’t want the night to end with him ignoring you.

Being pregnant, it took you longer to arrive at your now shared room. When you opened the door, you saw that it was already a mess. Broken things everywhere, confirming your suspicions from the sounds you heard on the way to the room.

“Rintarou, stop!” You tried to tell him but he whipped so fast to face you that your feet froze on the spot. “Leave me the fuck alone! You ruined my life, my everything!”

You remained unmoving, fists clenched at the sides. “I don’t understand. Can you calm down, please?”

He grabbed an ornamental vase that you had placed on the dresser and threw it on the floor.

You stared at the flowers from your garden. Lying, broken, and mangled. “Rin, I’m getting scared. Please, let’s talk about what’s wrong?”

“You,” he finally responded. “You’re the most wrong thing in my life.”

His words felt like dagger to your heart. You couldn’t understand what was happening. Things have been going well…

“I hate your existence in my life. I hate this. I hate that I had to marry you. I hate that you’re pregnant. I hate-”

“Please don’t say that,” you begged, tears flowing down your face. “Don’t.”

Rintarou laughed emptily. It pained you to see how angry and sad he looked like. “Isn’t this what you wanted? To talk about what’s wrong? It’s you. So here’s what’s going to happen: since you’re adamant about keeping the babies, then fine, go ahead.

“But I want you to know that this marriage will only be words on a paper. Do not expect anything from me. I will never be your husband. I will never be your friend. You will never mean anything to me. I will never love you. Understood?”

You could barely see him through the stream of your tears. You wished this was just a bad dream and that you’d wake up soon.

“Answer me!” Rintarou yelled. “Do you understand?”

“Y-yes.”

He kicked at the broken vase by his foot. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

The memory claws at your heart and you clutch at your chest. It seems like everything from the past is repeating but this time, the pain is multiplied ten-fold.

You can’t help but ask yourself as you stare at the fox plushie on your hands.

What really happened?

Can you really not be happy with Rintarou?

You lift a hand to wipe at your eyes. The other loses its grip on the toy and it drops onto the floor. You wipe your tears one more time before leaning over the bed to reach for it. It bounces against your strained grip, going further out of your reach.

It seems like the fox plush is mocking you.

You tiredly go down the bed to pick it up. However, once it’s back in your hands, you decide to just lean your back against the bed’s side instead of climbing back onto the bed.

You haven’t felt this tired in a long time. Not even during your recent fight with Rintarou months ago.

You close your eyes to fight off the tears that have resurfaced, tears that never really stopped forming in your eyes. To your dismay, you’re unable to ward them off, so you’re left crying, tears escaping your closed eyes.

And as you succumb to the darkness brought by your closed lids, you wish for the pain to be gone the moment you open your eyes.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

Outside, Suna shuts the balcony door behind him before he leans against the railing. He can hear the faint sounds of your crying but wills himself to ignore them.

Instead, he stares ahead at nothing, hoping something can drown out your sounds of sorrow. He curses under his breath until he reaches into his pocket, hand clenching tightly on the item.

Not long after, with the backdrop of the dark sky devoid of moon and any stars, the tip of a lit cigarette burns bright like a blaze.

to be continued.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

I hope you liked this update hehehe. Question! Do we resolve things quickly or go down the hard path (and curse Suna along the way?) LET ME KNOW!

- “did you see her new insta post? shes so pretty bro how tf did i pull her”

- “i miss my gf rn”

- “hey do you think y/n would want something like this?”

- his sister loves you, but is so tired of her brother constantly talking about you

- he would choose you over anybody, and anything. even over his airpods. which says a lot for suna

- will literally do anything to spend time with you. he will drop as much as he could on his schedule for you. he just genuinely wants you to be with him all the time. (he’s so clingy its cute but he hates admitting how attached he is to you hes like a lil koala bear hanging onto his branch)

- without you even knowing he signed you up to be a manager for his volleyball team just so you could spend time with him at his practice

- this mf so obsessed with you he got hit in the face with a volleyball because he was too busy looking at you instead of paying attention to the actual practice

- he will ‘go to the bathroom’ during practice just to sneak off underneath the bleachers to give you a quick kiss and talk to you.

- suna isn’t dumb he’s actually really smart just very lazy, so if you were in advanced classes he would literally get his grade up, request a transfer to your advanced classes, just so he could spend more time with you there

- plus he loves seeing you seem so smart and focused he thinks you look so cute like that ^^

- he unfollowed every girl on his socials besides you and his sister

- he has a whole instagram highlight dedicated for you and its filled with over 20 stories of you and him together or sometimes just pictures of how beautiful you are.

- his insta bio has your initial with a heart, and says “i love my gf” just for fan girls to back off

- his photo album is way worse. he organized his whole camera roll and has a full album of you which takes up half his storage, but who cares, he doesn’t mind having to delete games he downloaded cause he was bored ( especially if its for you )

- in his notes app he has every little detail about you written down, not in a creepy way, just to remember important stuff about you. like what you hate in people, your fav stuff, etc.

- he dedicates every long song to you.

- also hes like very touchy in private, i mean in public he is too, BUT IN PRIVATE. oh my. he is not afraid to cling onto you.. you will literally have to claw him off you if you have to use the bathroom while your cuddling

- he’s only like that because he loves you so much and he’s so attached to you, he just wants to stay with you forever because he cant imagine losing you

- he asks his mom if he can sleep over at your house as much as he could, the days he can’t, you either go to him, or he facetimes you and you both end up falling asleep on the phone.

- everytime he goes to the mall with his friends or something, he will ask them every 3 seconds “do you think y/n would want this ?” he really just wants to spoil you to show you how much he loves and appreciates you

- sometimes he sleeps late at night rewatching his volleyball games and analyzing his plays, so he bought you a sleeing mask and earplugs so you could fall asleep without the sound or light of the tv bothering your slumber

- he loves being in between your thighs, your fingers tangled in his hair while you both watch tv.

- but at night he loves burrying his face in the crook of your neck with one armed wrapped around your waist and the other placed diagonally on your back while his hand covers the back of your head, almost looking like hes protecting it.

- you’ve genuinely helped him become a better version of himself, when he’s with you he’s at his best, which is probably why he loves you so much. because when he’s with you it feels like he’s just at peace, he just falls in love with you even more everyday.

- he hates thinking your love is puppy love and it wouldn’t last, and some nights when he’s not with you, he’ll overthink like crazy, really just wondering why someone as perfect as you hasn’t left him yet, or why are you even with him in the first place ?

the neon lights of the hyōgo summer festival were definitely vibrating at a frequency that suggested financial ruin, but suna rintarō didn’t care. he was currently staring down a stack of milk bottles with the predatory focus of a hawk that had just been told it was a “little short on rent.” he’d already dropped enough yen on this booth to buy a small island, or at least a very high-quality ergonomic chair, yet the bottles remained standing, mocking his very existence.

“rin, i think the gravity in this specific six-inch radius is just built different,” you teased, leaning against the wooden counter while nursing a cup of shaved ice. “or maybe you’re just bad at this. it’s okay. acceptance is the first step toward healing.”

suna’s eyes didn’t move. he looked like he was trying to calculate the trajectory of the ball using nothing but sheer spite and the power of his fox-like soul. behind him, the rest of the inarizaki crew was a chaotic mess of unhelpful energy.

“he’s gonna do it. he’s gonna blow his entire birthday budget on a polyester bear that smells like a wet basement,” atsumu cackled, pointing a finger. “look at ’im. he’s vibrating. he’s glitching out.”

“let him be, ’tsumu,” kita said, though his voice held the terrifying calmness of a parent watching their child try to eat a rock. “he needs to learn that physics doesn’t care about his feelings.”

osamu was busy eating a skewer of squid, completely disinterested. “i could’ve bought four bowls of fatty tuna with what he’s spent on those bottles. shameful.”

aran just sighed, the sound of a man who had spent years acting as a human lightning rod for everyone else’s nonsense. “suna, give it up. the guy running the booth hasn’t blinked in twenty minutes. it’s rigged.”

suna finally threw the last ball. it bounced off the bottles with a pathetic clink, and the booth owner—a man who looked like he’d survived exclusively on cigarettes and disappointment—gave a toothless grin. “tough luck, kid. try again?”

suna didn’t move for a long five seconds. he just adjusted his sleeves, his face a mask of absolute, terrifying neutrality. “nah,” he drawled, his voice smoother than a buttered slide. “i think i’m done with games.”

you snickered, poking his arm. “aw, did the big bad middle blocker get defeated by some ceramic? don’t worry, rintarō, i’ll buy you a consolation crepe so you don’t cry on the way home.”

suna turned his head slowly, his half-lidded eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, sharp intensity that made your heart do a frantic backflip. his gaze wasn’t just “looking” at you; it was the look of a man who had just found a winning lottery ticket in the trash.

“actually,” he said, a slow, lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “that scammer did me a favor. why would i want a dusty stuffed animal anyway? fine, guess you’ll just have to be my prize instead.”

you rolled your eyes, a laugh bubbling up. “in your dreams, suna. i’m a human being, not a—”

before you could finish the sentence, the world tilted. with the speed of a professional athlete who was tired of being mocked, suna hooked an arm around your waist and hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of premium rice.

“whoa! hey! put me down!” you yelped, your hands flailing against his back.

“denied,” suna stated. his grip was like iron—not painful, but absolutely final. it was the kind of hold that suggested he had no intention of letting go for the next three to five business days.

“atsumu! help!” you yelled at the twins.

atsumu looked at you, looked at the terrifyingly focused expression on suna’s face, and then looked at his own feet. “sorry, y/n. i don’t mess with a man who’s reached that level of ‘down bad.’ you’re on your own.”

“kita!” you pleaded.

kita tilted his head, watching suna begin to walk away with you firmly tucked under his arm. “he seems happy. and it’s his birthday. it would be rude to interrupt his gift-wrapping process.”

“you guys are useless!” you shouted, though your face was starting to heat up as suna carried you through the crowded festival aisle.

he didn’t care about the stares. he didn’t care about the fact that you were squirming. he just walked with a terrifyingly calm purpose, his fingers digging slightly into your side as if to remind you that you were currently his favorite possession. he looked like he’d just won the olympic gold medal for ‘best friend kidnapping.’

“rintarō, people are looking,” you hissed, your face hidden against his shirt.

“let them look,” he hummed, his chest vibrating against your ear. “they’re just jealous they didn’t get a prize as cute as mine.”

he finally settled you down on a quiet stone bench near the edge of the shrine grounds, away from the roaring crowds and the smell of fried dough. but even then, he didn’t really let go. he sat right next to you, his arm draped heavily over your shoulders, pulling you into his side so firmly that you were basically fused together at the hip.

“you’re being weird,” you whispered, though your heart was hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. “even for you. are you sure you didn’t get heatstroke?”

suna didn’t answer immediately. he reached out, his long, slender fingers gently tucking a stray hair behind your ear. his touch was so light, so incredibly careful, it felt like he was handling a piece of glass that he’d spent his whole life trying to find.

“i’m not being weird,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming something soft and dangerous. “i’m being honest. do you have any idea how hard it is to pretend i’m fine with just being ‘the best friend’ while those idiots are constantly hovering around you?”

your breath hitched. “what?”

suna leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. his eyes were wide now, reflecting the distant fireworks, and you realized with a jolt that he looked completely wrecked—like he was barely holding himself together.

“i don’t want the bear, y/n. i don’t want the festival. i don’t even really want the cake,” he breathed, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip with a desperate, shaky devotion. “i want to be the only person you look at like that. i want to be the one who gets to hold you like this every single day without needing an excuse.”

he sounded so vulnerable, so completely and utterly gone for you, that it felt like the air had been sucked out of the world. this wasn’t the snarky, detached suna you knew. this was a man who had built a shrine to you in his head and was currently inviting you to take your place in it.

“rin,” you choked out, your hands finally coming up to grip his shirt. “you... you’re a complete idiot. i’ve been waiting for you to stop being so cool and just say something for like, two years.”

suna froze. a slow, dazed expression crossed his face, followed by a look of such pure, unadulterated relief that he looked like he might actually melt into the pavement.

“wait,” he whispered. “you mean i’ve been suffering in silence while you were just... waiting?”

“literally every day,” you laughed, a small sob of happiness catching in your throat.

suna didn’t waste another second. he pulled you into a hug so tight it felt like he was trying to merge your atoms. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his whole body relaxing as he finally, finally claimed his real prize.

“i’m never letting you go,” he muttered into your skin, his voice thick with a level of adoration that was borderline terrifying. “i’m going to follow you around like a lost shadow. i’m going to be the most annoying, clingy boyfriend in the history of the world. you’re stuck. you’re trapped. i’m making it everyone else’s problem.”

you smiled, melting into him, feeling the warmth of his heart beating against yours. “i think i can live with that.”

“good,” suna said, pulling back just enough to press his lips to your forehead with a reverence that made your toes curl. “because i’ve already decided—you’re mine now, and i’m a very greedy winner.”

n: suna is so fun to write, he’s such a simp 😝😝

rin’s taglist 1/2

@cvntyandfasionable @the-bloopsters @moon-blizz0 @trulyylee @nelinkythoughts @kukikoooo @averys-place @sxnnee @anzuuhoshi @evilari111 @tetsurae @rabbitcola @nivabiva @yeonette @forgottensniper @michexoxo @katzline @pelicanpizza @george-russell-defender @han0vyc @knkzshx @fiannee @eri0-0 @babybird-meena @depressinglyobsessed @buriedfifii @ghostwifeyy @bigdaddyyaoii @perpetuallydone @mptality @qardasngan @crystal-lilac @methiart @wensurr @alyriaschoenheit @suha-reads @sillylule @horanghaepaws @imjustanobody2024 @hibernatinghamster @olliesoxenfree @mitzukita @griffincorn @kkkkkyatory @starzlytoetsie @ceramic-raven @nekoffie @littlemissfix-itfic @kuroofangirl67 @lov3shin

© 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 !

you know that weird moment when you accidentally make eye contact with someone too long, and your brain convinces you that maybe, just maybe, they’ve become your soulmate in those three seconds?

that was suna rintarō’s personal hell—except it wasn’t three seconds, it was five minutes, and you weren’t just staring at him. you were talking to him.

“you’re seriously so cool on court,” you’d said, smiling like you had no idea you’d just ruined his entire career. “you looked so focused and calm the entire game. i swear, i’ve never seen someone block so effortlessly. you’re… my favorite. actually, you’re my absolute favorite player ever.”

and he’d nodded, tried to look calm, tried not to combust on the spot.

inside? suna’s brain was buffering so hard he could practically hear the windows error sound in the background. he was half-convinced his soul had been ejected into the stands and was now sitting next to komori’s mom, staring at you in disbelief.

and then—you smiled.

no, you don’t get it. you smiled. the overhead lights didn’t just dim—they melted into a golden spotlight that followed the curve of your lips. angels probably high-fived each other in the rafters. if a documentary crew had been filming, they’d have zoomed in on his dumb face and narrated: “and this, ladies and gentlemen, is the exact second suna rintarō lost the will to live a normal life.”

“i’m your biggest fan, by the way,” you added, casual, like you hadn’t just destroyed him at a molecular level.

he caught your name. your last name. your laugh. your little wave before you disappeared.

but he didn’t catch your number.

and that was when suna realized he’d just committed the greatest blunder of his entire existence. worse than missing a block. worse than getting a ball smacked in his face in high school. worse than forgetting his gym shoes and having to wear komori’s neon green pair in front of the whole team.

tragedy.

apocalyptic-level tragedy. like, if ancient greece had met him, they would’ve written another epic about his suffering.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the locker room after the game was buzzing with chatter, but suna just sat there, towel over his head, staring at the floor.

komori eyes him, “you okay?”

“yeah.” he replies, still spacing out.

(translation: no. no, i’m not. my heart’s been mugged in broad daylight and the thief didn’t even leave a calling card.)

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the next day, he was on his phone like a man possessed.

scroll. type. delete. type again.

search. wrong spelling.

search again. thirty results.

you had no instagram. none. not a private one, not one with two posts and a cat picture, not one with a username like “xx.unicornPinkpony69420.” nothing.

“maybe she doesn’t have instagram,” washio suggested gently.

suna lifted his head, hair in his face, and gave him a look usually reserved for opponents at the net.

“everyone has instagram.”

“not everyone—”

“komori’s grandma has instagram.”

“stop dragging my grandma into this!” komori snapped, clutching his protein shake like it was a shield.

but suna wasn’t done. twitter. facebook. hell, he even opened linkedin at one point, because why not. at this stage, his dignity was already buried somewhere under the stadium.

and then—he found it. one random facebook account with your last name. profile picture? some family event. in the background, blurry but undeniable, there you were. apron on. holding a latte. smile so bright he almost dropped his phone.

and behind you, on a chalkboard menu in curly letters, was the café name.

he zoomed in like an fbi agent. enhanced. squinted. enhanced again.

bingo.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

there was one problem: the café was ninety minutes away.

ninety. minutes.

to a normal person, that would’ve been an obstacle.

to suna? it was nothing. not when he’d already built an entire greek tragedy in his head about never seeing you again.

“you’re insane,” sarukui said flatly, watching him pull on a hoodie.

“random craving,” suna muttered, lacing his sneakers.

“for coffee?”

“yeah.”

“at seven pm?”

“yeah.”

“an hour and a half away?”

“yeah.”

hirai groaned. “suna, this is how horror movies start.”

but suna was already out the door, mentally calculating train times like he was plotting a heist.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the café was… different. warm. golden light spilling from the windows, fairy lights strung across the ceiling. the smell of sugar and cinnamon drifted onto the street, wrapping around him like a trap.

the bell above the door chimed when he pushed it open, and suddenly he wasn’t a professional volleyball player anymore. he was some awkward guy in a hoodie, heart pounding so loud he was sure the customers could hear it.

and then you looked up.

and smiled.

and suna swore on his life, if there were any gods up there, they had to be laughing at him right now.

“oh my god—rintarō?” you nearly dropped the cup you were holding.

game over. no extra lives. no retries. he was done. his heart packed his bags, flipped him off, farted, then jumped out of his mouth.

because you didn’t call him suna. not “raijin’s middle blocker.” not “hey, volleyball guy.” you called him rintarō. like it was natural. like you already owned it.

“hey,” he said, aiming for smooth and hitting ‘awkward freshman on his first day of high school.’ “i, uh. found your café.”

you tilted your head, grin blooming like spring. “really? we’re kinda far from your home base, aren’t we?”

oh. you knew. you knew.

“just a random craving,” he mumbled, scratching his neck.

you hummed, not buying it for a second. “mmhm. so, what can i get my favorite player?”

my favorite player.

he almost dropped to his knees right there. his brain froze like a laptop with too many tabs open. his internal hard drive was overheating. somewhere inside his chest, a choir started singing.

he ended up sitting at a corner table, latte in hand, pretending to taste it when all he could focus on was the fact that you’d leaned over to hand it to him, vanilla clinging to your skin.

when you sat across from him on your break, chin in your hands, he almost short-circuited.

“so,” you teased, eyes glinting, “did you really come all this way for coffee? or maybe… was it for me?”

his heart did a triple axel, a backflip, and face-planted into the ice.

“…coffee,” he deadpanned.

you laughed. not just a giggle—a real laugh, warm and unguarded. suna nearly ascended on the spot. he knew then, with a terrifying sort of clarity: he’d take this ninety-minute trip every single day if it meant hearing that sound again.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

and that’s how it started.

him showing up more often than any sane customer should, always insisting it was “just for the drinks.”

komori: “he’s down bad.”

hirai: “down catastrophic.”

sarukui: “bro’s not even on earth anymore. he’s magma level.”

washio: “nah, deeper. core of the planet.”

they weren’t wrong.

because you lit up every time he walked in. because you started writing messages on his cups—rin <3, mvp, coolest guy alive. because his teammates nearly staged an intervention when they saw the stack of saved cups in his apartment.

“rin,” you’d say sweetly, sliding him an extra cookie. “on the house.”

and he’d keep his poker face, sipping his drink like it was fine, totally normal, nothing to see here—while inside, he was already drafting vows.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the thing about being ninety minutes away was… suna didn’t care. every time he stepped into that café, the trip vanished. the exhaustion vanished. the ache in his shoulders from training vanished.

because there you’d be, apron tied snug, hair pulled back, waving like he was the only person in the room.

sometimes he’d come in and you’d already have his drink started, teasing, “i knew you’d show up again.”

sometimes he’d catch you humming behind the counter, and he’d sit there like a creep, latte untouched, memorizing the sound so he could replay it later.

sometimes your coworkers whispered with a random guy named berto, shooting him knowing looks, giggling when you leaned too close over the counter.

he noticed. oh, he noticed. but if it meant being in your orbit, he’d endure being the star of café gossip for eternity.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

one night, komori cornered him in the locker room.

“suna,” he said, deadly serious. “are you… dating that café owner?”

suna looked at him, expression blank. “no.”

“but you go there like, every other day.”

“so?”

“you don’t even like coffee!” komori cried, exasperated.

suna sipped his sports drink calmly. “i do now.”

komori threw his towel at him.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

walking back to the station one night, latte warm in his hands, hoodie smelling like sugar and you, suna realized something he wasn’t prepared for.

volleyball had always been his rush. the adrenaline. the thrill. the focus.

but lately? the thing making his pulse spike wasn’t a match point. it was the sound of you calling him rin like it belonged to you.

and honestly? suna rintarō was fine with that.

because if you were his biggest fan—

then he was yours too.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a: ya girl should be sleeping since i studied for 10+ hours, i’m gonna flunk this cs i’ll doze off in the exam room.

© 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˵)

lunch at inarizaki is never boring, but it definitely wasn’t supposed to turn into your sudden engagement announcement.

it happens halfway through the break. you’re seated across from aran and suna, trying not to laugh too hard at some dumb story about osamu yelling at atsumu in the middle of the grocery store because “you can’t put five bags of chips in the cart, tsumu, we are not millionaires.” your rice ball is halfway to your mouth when a tickle burns through your nose. you have just enough time to grab a napkin.

“achoo!”

it’s embarrassingly loud. heads turn. you cover your face, cheeks burning.

“...bless you,” suna says immediately, his tone flat, but his eyes sharp, glinting.

“thanks,” you mumble, still embarrassed.

and then—

“no, seriously. blessed,” he repeats, leaning forward, voice grave. “you’re chosen. the heavens just confirmed we’re soulmates.”

you blink at him. “…what?”

aran groans, already anticipating the headache. “bro, she sneezed because of the pepper.”

but suna’s not listening. he’s pulling out his phone with the air of a man who has just been given a divine mission. thumbs flying, he types something into google, eyes narrowing in concentration.

“...you’re literally googling wedding venues, aren’t you,” aran deadpans, leaning over to peek.

“shhh.” suna swats at him without looking up. “signs are signs.”

you laugh, and that’s the mistake. because suna hears it—softer than a bell, warmer than spring—and his world tilts a little more off its axis. he looks up at you, and you can almost feel the weight of it: the way he stares like he’s memorizing your face, like if he blinks, you’ll vanish.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the thing about suna rintarō is that he doesn’t look like the type to be dramatic. he’s quiet, always slouched somewhere with his hood half up, scrolling on his phone. but that’s exactly why it hits harder when he does things like this.

because now, for the rest of lunch, you’re stuck under his gaze. he doesn’t even bother eating anymore, just watching you chew like it’s the most fascinating thing in the universe.

you take a sip of water. he leans closer. “do you feel it?”

you pause. “…feel what?”

“the bond,” he says simply, as if it’s obvious. “it’s electric. i sneezed when i was seven and my mom said whoever answered me first would be my future spouse. and then you did. today. see? fate. done deal.”

aran drops his chopsticks. “ain’t no way you just made that up.”

suna shrugs, totally unbothered. “did i?” his lips twitch like he’s hiding a smile. “maybe. but it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

you should argue. you should tell him he’s being ridiculous. instead, you snort into your lunch, shaking your head.

and oh—oh, you shouldn’t have laughed again. because suna leans back in his chair, smug, like he’s already won.

“see? you think it’s funny, but that’s just your body agreeing with me,” he murmurs. “don’t fight destiny.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

from that day on, suna doesn’t let it go.

you sneeze again two days later—dust this time, not pepper—and he’s instantly at your side, draping his jacket over your shoulders like you’ve just contracted pneumonia.

“you’re fragile,” he mutters, tightening the sleeves around you when you try to push it off. “precious things need protection.”

“suna, i just sneezed.”

“exactly. who knows what else could happen.”

it’s insane. it’s embarrassing. but it’s also kind of… sweet? he never pushes too far, never crosses the line into making you uncomfortable. he just hovers. buys you drinks without asking. sends you links to ridiculous wedding rings at 2 a.m. “do you like oval or round cuts?”. stares at you like you’re sunlight he’s not supposed to touch, but he’s going to anyway.

and whenever you call him out, he just tilts his head lazily, a little smirk tugging at his lips.

“don’t act like you don’t love it.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

aran tries to intervene once. give this man a break. give him to me.

“you’re creeping her out, man,” he says after practice, throwing suna a towel. “tone it down.”

“creeping her out?” suna echoes, catching the towel but not looking away from where you’re laughing with kita. “nah. she’s glowing. that’s love.”

“it’s pepper-induced sneezing,” aran insists.

suna finally turns, eyes sharp. “it’s fate,” he corrects, voice low. “and i don’t miss signs.”

aran just sighs. “you’re hopeless.”

“hopelessly hers,” suna says without missing a beat, and aran groans so loud half the team hears, “you stupid little—”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the thing is—you don’t mind.

sure, he’s ridiculous. yes, he’s overly intense. but when suna’s around, you feel… cared for. like someone’s always watching your back. like someone’s memorizing all the tiny things about you nobody else notices.

when you forget your pen, he’s already sliding one across your desk.

when you’re shivering in the gym, he pulls out an extra hoodie you swear you’ve never seen him wear before.

when you say you like a certain snack, it magically appears in your bag the next day.

he never admits it, but you know it’s him. and every time, your chest warms.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the next big sneeze happens a week later. you’re outside, sitting on the bleachers, the sun in your eyes. the pollen hits hard.

“achoo!”

before you can even grab a tissue, suna’s there, tilting your head toward his chest, pressing a tissue into your hand.

“bless you,” he murmurs, softer this time, almost reverent.

“thanks,” you sniffle.

his lips quirk. “you’re welcome, my forever.”

“you really gotta stop saying stuff like that—”

“never.”

and he means it.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

it’s silly, it’s over the top, it’s absolutely unnecessary—but it’s also the most genuine thing you’ve ever felt.

because behind all the dramatics, suna looks at you like you’re the only real thing in the world. like the universe sneezed, too, and in that moment, gave him you.

and maybe, just maybe—you don’t mind being his sign.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡‎

♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a/n: i hang my head low as i shamefully post more suna fics than my actual favs.

© 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˵)

it all starts with six words.

“hey, are you free after practice?”

you ask it casually, leaning against the school gates. you mean, do you wanna get snacks, maybe hang out? something normal.

but suna rintarō isn’t normal.

“yeah,” he says, bored drawl, unreadable face.

and three hours later, there’s a knock at your door. you open it to find suna with a suitcase AND a duffel bag. not an overnight backpack. a full-blown suitcase, neatly packed, wheels and all.

“yeah,” he says, brushing past you like it’s the most natural thing in the world, “i’m free. forever. i live here now.”

before you can kick him back onto the porch, your mom gasps from the kitchen doorway.

“rintarō!” she exclaims, delighted. “come in, come in—dinner’s almost ready!”

your dad appears behind her, spots the suitcase, and claps suna on the back like they’ve just signed a contract.

“good,” your dad says gravely. “stay as long as you want. stay forever.”

and just like that, your own parents sold you out.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

you try to fight it.

“you don’t live here,” you hiss on night two, standing in your bedroom doorway.

suna is sprawled across your bed, phone in hand, blanket over his lap. his suitcase is unpacked. his toothbrush is next to yours. he’s wearing your hoodie.

he looks at you, smirks, and pats the mattress beside him. “yeah, i do.”

“no, you don’t.”

“yeah, i do,” he repeats, tugging your pillow closer to his chest. “get in. it’s late.”

you gape. “i didn’t invite you to—”

he leans over, presses a kiss to your cheek, and murmurs, “shh. you did. when you asked if i was free.”

and somehow, impossibly, you end up under the blanket with him, his arm slung over your waist, his breath warm against your neck.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

it doesn’t stop there.

suna is clingy. disgustingly clingy.

he follows you from room to room, sliding his hand into yours like it’s second nature. he curls around you on the couch, head on your shoulder, kissing your jaw every time you try to push him off. he traps you in the kitchen, arms braced around you, chin dropping to your shoulder while you cook.

“move, rin,” you mutter, trying to stir the pot.

“no,” he says simply, lips brushing your neck. “i’m comfy.”

your mom walks in, sees the position, and beams. “adorable!”

traitor.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

it’s bad enough at home. but then suna opens his big mouth at practice.

atsumu groans, flopping onto the court. “i’m starving. i could eat a whole cow.”

“same,” suna mutters, wiping sweat from his face. “wonder what she’s cooking tonight.”

there’s a pause.

“...who’s she?” osamu asks slowly.

suna shrugs. “my wife.”

the gym erupts.

“WIFE?!” atsumu shrieks.

suna groaned , “fine, girlfriend.”

“SINCE WHEN?!”

“you live with her?” aran demands.

“yeah,” suna says, like it’s obvious. “her parents said i could stay forever.”

atsumu throws his towel at him. “YOU’RE INSANE.”

suna smirks. “maybe.” of course he is, he planned all of it. he just waited for that question.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

they don’t believe him. until they show up at your house. with an invite? nah.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

it’s saturday afternoon when you open the door to find the entire inarizaki team crammed onto your porch.

atsumu grins way too wide. “hey! we were just, uh… in the neighborhood!”

“we’re thirty minutes away,” aran mutters.

“shut up,” atsumu hisses.

before you can slam the door, suna appears behind you, arms sliding around your waist, chin dropping onto your shoulder.

“oh,” he drawls, voice low, smug. “you guys found our house.”

OUR HOUSE. “you shameless little—”

your teammates collectively short-circuit.

“our… OUR HOUSE?!” ginjima squawks.

your mom bustles in, eyes lighting up. “oh, rintarō’s friends! come in, come in—there’s plenty of food!”

you’re dying inside.

the team is wheezing.

suna’s just smirking against your hair, kissing your temple for emphasis.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

dinner is a disaster.

atsumu sits there gaping as your mom heaps food onto suna’s plate like he’s royalty. osamu keeps kicking his brother under the table, whispering, “bro, he wasn’t kidding.” aran watches like he’s witnessing a crime. kita, stoic as always, just says, “makes sense,” which somehow makes it worse.

and suna?

he spends the whole meal touching you. no, not like that.

hand on your thigh under the table. brushing hair behind your ear. pressing a kiss to your temple when you say something dumb. stealing bites off your plate just to lean in close and murmur, “thanks, babe.”

“BAAAABE?!” atsumu nearly chokes on his rice.

“what the hell,” ginjima mutters, eyes wide.

osamu leans over to aran. “the food is good, ya think i could come over more to ask his girlfriend.” which earns a kick under the table and s glare from suna.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

after dinner, they pile into the living room, and it gets worse.

suna pulls you onto his lap, arms caging you in, chin on your shoulder while he scrolls his phone. you try to get up once—he pulls you back down, kisses your neck, and mutters, “no.”

the entire team watches in stunned silence.

atsumu finally blurts, “HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?!”

“forever,” suna says lazily, kissing your cheek. “told you.”

and the way your parents nod approvingly in the background? yeah. you’ll never recover.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

when the team finally leaves, half-traumatized, half-envious, suna drags you upstairs, collapses onto your bed, and pulls you down with him.

“see?” he murmurs, kissing your jaw, your lips, your throat. “fits. perfectly.”

and maybe you don’t hate the idea of him staying forever.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a: i can only write a lot on midnight since i’m busy ;(

© 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˵)

somehow knows your schedule better than you do. you’re like “ugh i forgot i have class in 10 minutes” and he’s already standing up like, “yeah, we should leave, it starts at 2:30.” suspicious.

casually has your wifi password memorized even though you swear you never gave it to him. he just shrugs and goes “you probably did.” you insist that you didn’t, but he just rubs your cheek with his thumb and say “i know you’re quite forgetful but i didn’t know that it’d be this bad.”

will show up exactly where you are with the excuse “i was just in the neighborhood.” sure, he was “just in the neighborhood” outside the nail salon you’ve never even told him you go to.

you’ll tell him once about liking a snack and then it mysteriously shows up in your bag the next day. “must’ve slipped in,” he says, like packs of pocky can walk.

takes random blurry pictures of you constantly. not even hiding it, but he plays it off as “haha, look, you look so dumb.” meanwhile his gallery is organized by date, lighting, and outfit.

if you post on your story that you’re hungry, five minutes later he’s knocking on your door with food. you: “did you just teleport here?” him: “i live five minutes away.” he does not live five minutes away, but he was five minutes away from your house.

will always stand behind you when you’re walking somewhere, not beside you. it’s “to protect you from traffic” but really it’s so he can watch you like a hawk.

every time you hang out, he pockets something small you leave around. pen, hair tie, receipt. you’re like “where do all my things go??” meanwhile suna’s at home like a dragon sitting on his hoard.

pretends to be lazy but he’s freakishly fast when it comes to stopping someone else from getting too close to you. some guy asks for your number, and suna’s already sliding in with, “she doesn’t give it out.” you’re looking hella confused, “i don’t??”

somehow always knows your order before you even say it. you walk into a café and the barista goes “the usual?” while suna’s nodding behind you. you’ve been there once.

keeps your location “for safety.” but safety apparently means checking it every ten minutes, zooming in on the map, and mumbling, “what’s she doing at 7-11 at 11 pm…”

gets irrationally smug when you ask him to walk you home. little do you know he’s been following you home every day for months.

owns hoodies he claims are his but they’re suspiciously your size. you’re like “why is this one so small?” and he shrugs, “shrunk in the wash.” no, he bought it because it would fit you perfectly.

calls you “dumb” every other sentence but if anyone else even jokes about you, his stare could curdle milk.

when you say “ugh i feel like someone’s watching me,” he’s the first one to laugh and say “you’re just paranoid.” he is the someone, sweetie.

you’ll be like “i can never find good pictures of myself” and he’ll just send you a 200-photo google drive folder titled “the prettiest.” you don’t even ask where he got half of them.

somehow knows things about you you’ve never told him. like, you’ll say “i’m craving sushi,” and he’s like “yeah, it’s your comfort food when you’re stressed.” you blink at him like, “how do you know that?” and he just smirks.

he plays it off so well with his deadpan personality that you just assume he’s “weirdly observant.” no, girl, he’s your personal surveillance camera.

oh right, he has also managed to hack your phone camera. he will turn it off when you’re changing though, unless you guys are much older.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a: even if i write stuff like these, having a stalker is NOT fun. i had one, he stole my used sock, used mask, my LIPSTICK, and my sanity. found out and filed a restraining order.

© 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˵)