YUMIE ! ☆

written for the hq club room's summer fic exchange hosted by lale (thank youuu), here's my gift for @strawbaerie-faerie yay yippieee i hope you like it!

fluff, roommates to lovers, first time writing rintaro so please be kind, ngl it was a bit hard for me to keep him sfw bc he's... him, ykwim, IT IS SFW THO, reader is called "baby" at some point, post timeskip, 2.1k words

Suna Rintaro's nose twitches. 

There's something digging into his side, something sharp and poky. He fishes for the object — 

(his phone? It wouldn't be the first time he's fallen asleep with his phone in hand, only for it to end up mysteriously wedged in the crook of his knee or tucked into the waistband of his shorts) 

— and his hand lands on something warm and soft and very definitely not his phone. 

"Hrmph…?" 

Great. The mystery deepens. Why the hell are you in his bed? 

"Ow." He says, instead of the other questions quickly piling up. "Your elbow could win wars." 

"Sorry," you mumble, shifting against him and removing your elbow from his abdomen. "Didn't think you'd feel it, with your abs of steel. Who gave you the right to have an eight pack, anyway?" 

Rintaro's nose twitches again. He keeps his eyes closed, because maybe this is all just a really good dream. You sound exhausted, wiped out the way you usually are after work, but judging from his internal clock it should be morning. 

"You counted?" 

typical satoru. prioritising his sweet tooth literally minutes away from the greatest battle in jujutsu history. you shake your head, a soft chuckle slipping past your lips as you hand over the device. he taps away furiously for a minute, tongue poking out slightly in concentration, before handing it back with a wink.

-

fast forward to your birthday.

your phone buzzes. it’s a scheduled text from your calendar:

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my favorite person in the entire world !!!! i love you so much. my baby girl (^_^)”

the bright text begins to blur into ugly neon dots as tears hit the glass. you try to wipe the screen, but the moisture keeps coming, smearing his words until you finally just give up. you wish with everything left in you that he was actually here to say it to your face, wearing that stupid, beautiful smile.

only for your friend to gasp in excitement, scoop akito and carry kaiya's car seat into the house with no context or explanation needed.

it doesn't take long for a flurry of texts to come into your phone.

[miya o.] didn't know the tiny humans were coming over

pick them up whenever

and tell your husband to stop calling me to say good night

its weird

"you call him to say good night?" you snicker

he chuckles as he puts the car back in drive, "of course i do. he's my day one, babe, he needs to know i love him."

you nod, "osamu was right. it is weird."

suna is always there to adjust your skirt. his fingers are always curling over the edge of the fabric, lightly tugging down when you bend over or reach up. anytime it threatens to go up, his hands are there first.

it's the same with your shirts. you reach up, and he'll pull down to hide the silver of your skin, though his hand will linger. your hoodie falls back while lying on his shoulder; his fingertips are already pulling the hoodie into its place. the earphones you two share will be adjusted; he'll reach over, ensuring that they are comfortably on. he'll place a hand on the corner of the cabinet or the corner of the desk.

he does it with everything. your tank tops, shorts, dress with a revealing cleavage. probably comes unconsciously, a habit built over the years shared together. you, however, notice. it's a nice, subtle way of showing his love for you.

synopsis; you flirt with a biker at a red light

-> featuring best friend iwa!

a/n: biker!suna yayayayaya

You and Iwaizumi are on your way back from a meal out with friends, cruising through the quiet streets as he drives you home. It’s that in between hour where it’s not quite day, not quite night, where the sky is the colour of cotton candy and the sun is barely peeking out between the clouds.

You’re halfway into a rant about one of your friend’s questionable love life when something—or someone, rather—stops you dead in your tracks.

Literally, because Iwa brakes at the red light.

“So then I told her, why don’t you just dump his ass if he’s so—holy crap he’s cool.”

You barely register Iwa’s inquisitive hum when the low growl of a motorbike creeps up beside the car.

Damn. That’s hot.

He’s like the personification of an eclipse.

Black helmet. Black jacket. Black jeans. Slick black bike. You can’t even see this man’s face, but his demeanour alone is enough to do something to your pulse.

You bite your lip to contain the cheesy grin that’s about to break out onto your face and turn to Iwa. “He is so fine."

Iwa gives the stranger a quick side glance and huffs something close to a laugh. “You into bikers now?”

“Didn’t used to be. I’ve been getting a bunch of videos on my Instagram, though, and I’ve kinda been converted.”

Iwa shakes his head in either amusement, or bemusement—hard to tell. What’s clear is that he’s not fully grasping the appeal of this majestic individual, so you smack his arm like it might knock some sense into him.

“No, Haji, look. I’m serious.” You ball your hand into a fist and gnaw on your knuckles to contain a squeal. Your brain replays the time Maki and Mattsun called you a crazed lunatic and said Hajime was your carer—only to stomp the thought back down.

“What do I do?” you breathe.

“You can’t even see his face."

“Doesn’t matter,” you chide, ignoring Iwa's painfully typical male response. “It’s all about the body language. The aura, you know?"

"Can't say I do."

"Never mind."

You’re leaning forward now, peeking through the side mirror, heart kicking up as you admire the handsome stranger. Iwa’s right—you can hardly see the guy’s face through the helmet visor, but your imagination does all the work for you. Sharp jaw. High cheekbones. He’s got a lazy slouch that fits the brooding image you’ve painted of him perfectly. One hand rests on the throttle, the other tapping a rhythm on his thigh like he’s got nowhere better to be.

“Should I say something?” you whisper, rocking in your seat like a kid who just spotted a celebrity and is building up the courage to ask for an autograph.

“Want me to open the window?”

“No—“

Whirrrr.

You stare frantically at Iwa as the window slides down with a mechanical whir, and the purr of the biker's engine fills the silence.

"How could you do this to me—"

Iwa just clears his throat, gaze fixed on the road ahead as if to say, from now on, I am no longer present. Good luck.

Your stomach flips.

It's fine. You're overthinking. Maybe he didn't even hear. Maybe you can play this off. For all he knows, you just rolled down the window for some fresh air.

The biker turns his head.

Annnd you just made eye contact.

Well, you think you did. It's impossible to tell with his visor tinted so dark, but it definitely felt like eye contact. You realise you're still staring when the biker subtly jerks his chin at you in silent question.

Something wrong?

You’ve barely got time to think. The light will turn green any minute and it dawns on you that you might miss your chance.

And so—because you’re well-versed in the art of biker Instagram reels and see these kinds of interactions all the time—you lean out the window just a little and put on your best smile.

“I like your bike,” you call, only to immediately regret it because surely you could’ve said something better than that.

The man tilts his helmet slightly, like he wasn’t expecting the compliment. His voice is muffled, low, and amused when he replies:

“Thanks. You drive?”

Oh. Does he think you’re a fellow biker?

You snort at the thought. “God, no. I don't think that'd be safe for anyone." You wave a dismissive hand before adding, "I'm just the co-pilot."

He rolls his shoulder back, spine straightening just enough to give you a better look.

Hm. He’s broader than you imagined. Taller, too.

Guess being hunched over was hiding all that potential.

“Mm. The hard job,” he says—and if your ears aren't deceiving you, you'd say he was teasing.

Perfect. You can't help but grin. Now's your chance.

"The hard job," you echo. "Are you hiring?"

Iwa lets out a sound caught between a laugh and a groan.

The guy laughs—just a little. Deep and dry and unfairly attractive. Success, you think. At least you made him laugh.

Then, without looking away, he flips his visor up.

You try not to stare.

Dark, tired eyes. Green like freshly picked apples. Strands of messy brown hair falling over his forehead. It feels like a tease—one that has you impatiently wondering what the rest of him looks like under all that gear.

“What’s your name, passenger princess?”

You can hardly believe your ears. As if he's actually going along with this.

“(Y/n).”

“Suna,” he says. “You free Friday?”

Ohmygod. Ohmygod.

“You don’t even know what I like,” you goad, emboldened now that you've confirmed his interest.

He revs the engine once in response—slow and suggestive. “I know one thing.”

Your face warms.

Then he shifts forward slightly, one hand reaching into his jacket pocket. When it re-emerges, he’s holding a phone—already unlocked, already open on the “new contact” screen.

He doesn’t say anything, just gives a little tilt of his head as he extends it toward you through the window.

You take it and blink down at the screen.

Suddenly, you no longer remember your own name.

Your mind scrambles, fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard as your brain reboots. When it finally does, your thumbs fly across the keyboard. You add your name, number, and a cute little emoji for good measure (a bike and princess emoji), then you hand it back, biting back a grin like a kid in a candy store.

He glances at the screen. His shoulders bounce, just once, like he laughed under his breath. Then he slides the phone back into his jacket.

The light turns green just in time.

“See you Friday, (y/n),” he says. And somehow, you have a feeling he’s smirking.

He lifts two fingers off the handle in a lazy little salute, then peels off into the night.

You spin in your seat so fast the seatbelt locks in place. “Haji, did you see that?! I got a date in like under two minutes!”

He’s already turning the corner, half smiling at your success. “Sure did. Guess that means I’m dropping you off on Friday?”

You giggle into your palms.

Best. Red light interaction Ever.

thank you to everyone who likes, comments &/or reblogs! ☺️

osamu realized that suna was down bad for you very early on in your relationship.

you see, suna was a bit of a fickle guy. an "i do whatever the hell i want" kind of guy. a lot of his actions had no rhyme or reason and he did them based purely on amusement or simply "why not?"

for example, he had a little game he liked to play that osamu had no idea how suna got the idea for. whenever he'd meet unimportant strangers like baristas, cashiers, people on the street, he would completely lie to their faces about everything about himself.

he was not suna rintaro and he did not play volleyball. he'd give them different identities each time with a completely straight face like this was completely normal.

he'd tell the barista that he was in college and currently pledging to a fraternity. he'd tell the sweet old lady in the park that he was a single father of two trying his best. he'd tell the cashier that he was an italian fashion designer in a really oddly perfect accent.

"why d'ya do that?" osamu had asked him once.

"just 'cos," suna had answered nonchalantly, "why not?"

that was the thing about suna. he was hard to pin down.

why did he do this? for fun.

why did he do that? he just felt like it.

he was like a gust of wind; a wave at your feet. he did as he pleased when he pleased.

none of suna's "identities" had a particular pattern. he gave the strangers completely randomized names and incredibly detailed life stories that he would literally come up with on the spot.

one day, his name was akane, and he was studying biology at fukuro uni. he was born in okinawa, hence his dialect.

another, he was hizashi, and he had three beautiful baby girls that he was mighty proud of. they were all young, so they were quite a handful, but his mom was helping out, and he couldn't be more grateful for his family!

the next, he was kaito, and he just moved from his family's rice farm in akita. his family also grew fruit, like pears and apples. he moved to the city to try and fulfill his dream of having an acting career!

seriously, there was no point trying to make sense of him. osamu began to wonder if suna was some sort of social experiment bot put out by the government.

however, at some point, right around when you and suna had started talking, osamu began to notice something. suna's actions usually had one pattern: that there was no pattern. however, he began to notice that one was actually forming.

his identities and stories were still random, but there seemed to be a constant:

you.

even as watari, the aspiring engineer, he had a new girlfriend who's not good with mornings.

even as miyano, the very young grandparent, he had a lovely wife who liked to surprise him with backhugs.

even as tooru, the nice young man who volunteers at the animal shelter, he had a girl he was talking to that had the cutest smile.

every identity, no matter what age, background, career, preference, whatever, included a girl who sounded exactly like you.

it was then that osamu realized.

it didn't matter what form, identity, timeline, or universe suna had randomly picked that day for his own amusement.

he would find you, choose you, and love you in every single one.

ft. iwaizumi, suna, and osamu

caleb x reader texts after you get your very own apartment for the first time and move out of gran's house. problem is, caleb spoiled you a bit too much by doing everything for you, and now you go to him for everything. inspired by this tiktok ☼ set pre-explosion (and relationship!), just around the time you're taking hunter exams, which would make you roughly around 21-22

note: i tried to replicate the game's ui best as i could, but of course it's not perfect 😭 that apple pin placement drove me CRAZY. but alas, my spite persevered against months of procrastination on this workskin project with my anger at fake text generators on play store being so ass. i hope you enjoy!! (pls don't talk about the voice note discrepanciees i wasnt paying attention and am too lazy to go back to the htmls and change ;;;;;)

role reversal AU (Yuta < -- > Rika)

To all my people out there, who loved Yuta ever since JJK 0 and stood tall despite his slander.