ITS ONLY BLACK WHEN I TYPE. WTF. I HATE.

do me a solid and just reblog this saying what time it is where you are and what you’re thinking about in the tags.

[1:46 AM]

characters: suna rintarou x gn! reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.2k

warnings: suna carries you, food, one curse word

a/n: this took a concerning amount of time to write, requested by @svnaskink :]

there’s no time to sleep; not when suna’s cravings have been a pain in his ass the entire day.

what exactly has he been craving for though? don’t ask him because he doesn’t know either. all he knows is that he wants to eat something and he wants it now. perhaps a trip to the store could lead him to the answer.

he props his body up with his elbows, half of his back on the bed, and glances over to his side to see you sleeping. you look very peaceful. time to ruin it.

he generously gives your arm quick, firm pokes, but receives no reaction. “babe, wake up. hey. hello?” he pauses. “if you love me you’ll wake up.”

his heart shatters when you don’t.

now fully sitting up, he cautiously grabs his pillow from behind him and he really hopes you’ll forgive him for this but he also thinks you deserve it for cuddling your pillow instead of him. he hasn’t taken his eyes off your figure for a second, looking for a sign that you’re actually conscious and he isn’t welcoming death with open arms.

yolo, he thinks, then he winds his arm up to gather momentum and slaps it down on your torso.

you wake with a startle, eyes darting around the room even though it’s too dark to see anything and you worry when you don’t feel a warm body in your arms. “rin, are you okay?” your voice is scratchy, laced with sleep, and it’s just how he likes it.

he’s touched that he’s the first thing on your mind; consider his heart repaired.

“did you just fucking hit me with a pillow?”

suna pretends he didn’t hear you. “no, i'm not okay. far from it.” his voice, too, is scratchy and it would have been really nice to hear if you weren’t woken up so rudely.

you’re half-dead right now, so your ability to differ between his serious voice and his joking voice is basically nonexistent. you decide to blame the surreal atmosphere of the night and whatever is going on with suna for his poor decision-making skills and roll on top of him, hugging him tight because maybe he’s just sad that he woke up without seeing your pretty face in front of him. he loosely wraps his arms around your waist and you find yourself on the brink of falling asleep again to the steady beat of his heart.

“i want to eat something,” suna admits, dipping his fingers underneath the bottom of your shirt then softly rubbing your lower back.

you sigh, satisfied. you think suna should quit volleyball and pursue a career as a masseuse. “go ahead, we have a kitchen two seconds away.”

“but there’s nothing to eat here,” he almost whines. “let’s go to the store.”

“that didn’t sound like a question.”

“‘cause it’s not.” suna opens his eyes wide and raises his eyebrows to emphasize the meaning of his words.

“it’s—” you try to reach for your phone on the bedside table, grabbing at air until you feel something solid. even on the dimmest brightness setting, you’re still blinded by the screen and you have to squint to make the numbers out clearly. “— two in the morning, rin. can’t this wait until the sun rises?”

suna rintarou (25) literary genius, replies with an eloquent “no. let’s go, time to wake up,” and rapidly taps your back.

you lift your head up to his ear to mumble “over my dead body,” then bury your face into the crook of his neck (it always fits perfectly and you and suna both think you were made for each other), and close your eyes.

—

it’s your fault honestly. you’ve known suna for nearly half of your life so you should know that if he really wants something, he’s getting it. that’s how you got stuck with him for the past few years.

you don’t even want to know how you slept through suna carrying you out of bed, into the car, out of the car, and into the cart of the convenience store. hopefully no one saw any of that happening, but the worker eyeing the two of you warily makes your face heat up in embarrassment.

no longer are you in the comfort of your warm home, in your warm bed, and in suna’s warm arms. instead, you’re met with the opposite as you watch suna open a door to the freezer and pick up something that looks strangely similar to the ice cream tub you have at home.

suna feels a pair of eyes gazing at him so he turns to look at you, on the verge of becoming single, and gives you his signature charming half-smile.

“good morning,” he waves to you. “you look beautiful and i love you.”

“good morning,” you say with a scowl on your face. “you look ugly and unlovable.” you cross your arms and turn away from him, finally realizing that in this very uncomfortable cart, you’re covered by the emergency blanket suna keeps in his car for late-night rendezvous.

suna chuckles as he places the ice cream in your lap, which sucks out all the little warmth in your body and you’re pretty sure he did this on purpose to give you frostbite. he starts to push the cart toward the checkout counter where the same employee you saw earlier is currently at and you instantly hide your face. you make a mental note to never come to this store ever again.

he’s quick though, using a tactic he’s perfected over the years: making the cashier feel awkward to make them rush through the scanning and payment process. if you weren’t in the store’s shopping cart sometime at two in the morning, you might have subtly intervened; for now, you make a valid point in your head that you can’t be a good person all the time.

sometime during your internal talk, suna had wheeled you out of the store and now, as he helps you get out of the hard, metal cage, you stumble a bit.

“don’t go falling for me, sweetheart,” he says as he steadies you, and you want to wipe that stupid smirk off his stupid(ly gorgeous) face. he reaches for the blanket hanging off the side of the cart and wraps it around your shoulders, and smoothly tugs you forward to land a peck on your forehead. “wouldn’t want that happening, now would we?”

he goes to put the cart away while you fawn over your boyfriend wait in the car with the ice cream in your hands, and you remember that you have a very important question for him.

when he comes back, you allow him to put on his seatbelt first and as he puts the car in reverse, you ask him, “did you forget that we have ice cream at home?”

he purses his lips for a second, then mutters, “i ate it when you fell asleep again.” he gently pinches your cheek when you laugh and you can spot the faintest pop of red appearing on the tips of his ears.

and as he exits the parking lot of the store, well-past two in the morning, you take his hand in yours and kiss the back of it and say, “i love you too.”

You don’t win alone. That’s just how it is.

I wonder if you know how they live in Tokyo

osamu + “we’re fake dating! why did you tell them we were engaged?!” for @amarinthe thanks for requesting this! it's probably one of my favourite prompts

the moment you open your front door, you kind of regret it.

because while your totally hot neighbour is standing in your doorway in his dark jeans and fitted black t-shirt glory, you’re rocking shorts and an unreasonably large sweatshirt.

“osamu,” you blink, tugging the hem of your shirt down a little. “hey.”

“hey,” he replies with a smile that makes your knees weak, holding up a takeout bag. “i brought some onigiri home. wanna share?”

thinking about the instant ramen currently boiling on your stovetop, you couldn’t possibly refuse his offer (especially if it’s from miya osamu, whose very successful restaurant is quite literally across the street).

so you open your door wider, letting him step inside and slip his shoes off while you move into the kitchen, placing two plates on the counter.

“so, how was your day?” he asks, unpacking the setting two onigiri on each plate. “anything interesting happen?”

you slide into the stool next to him, swinging your legs lightly as you munch on happily on the food. “not particularly, you?”

“actually, yeah,” he starts, taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair (you think it’s unfair, how good it still looks, even after spending all day smushed under a baseball cap). “my ma called today.”

“your ma?” you hum through a mouthful of salmon and rice. “what’d she say?”

he picks disinterestedly at the seaweed on his onigiri. “she, uh, asked that i visit home for dinner tomorrow night.”

“that’s sounds fun,” you start, pausing when he visibly grimaces. “unless it’s...not?”

“my brother’s bringin’ his girl again,” he shrugs. “and i know that means ma’s gonna be on my ass about why i’m not datin’.”

“yeah, i’ve had that conversation with my parents before,” you shudder, patting his shoulder in understanding. “the future, grandchildren, the passive-aggressive judgement from siblings. you should just call and say you’re sick.”

“can’t,” he sighs heavily. “i already cancelled twice. she may disown me if i skip a third time, or worse, show up at my place.”

it’d probably be funny, you think, seeing mama and brother miya across the hall, bugging osamu. “then maybe you should bring someone,” you suggest off-handedly. “just to keep them off your back a little. when was the last time you went on a date?”

when he doesn’t answer, your happy chewing slows, and you glance over at him. “jeez, that long ago? i thought you had more game than that, miya.”

a slow grin spread across his face when he meets your gaze. “last time i went out with someone was...four months ago, actually.”

“four months ago? that was around when we—” your eyes widen slightly, heat spreading to your cheeks. “oh. that...was not a date. that was a slightly intoxicated but very satisfying sexual exchange between friends.”

osamu chuckles, ducking his head a little and making those eyes at you (the ones that’d lured you into fucking him on your living room floor at two in the morning). “maybe don’t bring that up when ya meet my mom.”

“excuse me?” you laugh. “you cannot bring me home to meet your family.”

“why not?” he questions, looking genuinely confused. “you’re the one who suggested it. it’s just for one night anyway.”

“i just can’t!” you insist, looking at him incredulously. “i’d be nervous even if we were dating. what if they ask questions about--”

“i’ll give you free onigiri for a month.”

_____

“so, how did the two of you meet?” osamu’s mother asks as she pours you a generous glass of wine.

you freeze, blinking a few times. when you open your mouth, nothing comes out.

(it’s funny how, on the hour-long drive to hyogo, the two of you hadn’t discussed any basic information about your relationship. instead, you’d spent your time debating the best taylor swift album and making fun of the other tenants in your building.)

you almost flinch when someone places a hand on the small of your back, but relax when osamu’s faint cologne meets your senses. “actually it was the day after she moved in next door,” he says. “i brought some onigiri over because she’d asked me that morning where the closest grocery store was so i figured…”

you smile fondly, recalling the day you’d run into him at the mailboxes, and he’d shown up a few hours later with food. he’d claimed they were just leftovers even though it was mid-afternoon.

“i can’t believe you remember that,” you murmur.

he hums quietly, gaze flicking over your face briefly. “i guess it’s just when i knew.”

you’re sure that your heart stutters in your chest. surely he’d stolen that from some cheesy romance flick?

“how long have you two been together?” his mother follows up with, glancing between the two of you expectantly, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“eight months,” you say.

“almost a year,” osamu answers at the same time.

across from you, atsumu hides a smile behind his glass of water.

“i mean, who’s counting?” you laugh, quick to recover, reaching over to your ‘boyfriend’ blindly, meaning to pat his shoulder but instead catching him on the cheek. “time flies when you’re in love.”

you turn to stare at osamu when you feel him clasp your hand, pressing a kiss to your fingers, lips curling against them.

your stomach flutters a little at the gesture.

“‘tsumu,” he continues, redirecting the conversation. he rests your clasped hands on the table, thumb brushing the back of yours gently. “i thought you were bringing your girlfriend.”

“oh, she’s at her place doin’ some packing,” he answers easily. “she’s movin’ in next week.”

“that’s great news!” their mother beams, osamu’s hand tightening around yours as he blurts,

“yeah, well, we’re engaged!”

this time, you choke on your bite of chicken, almost hacking up a lung as you whip your head towards your neighbour/friend/fake boyfriend turned fake fiancé.

he shoots you a pleading gaze as he rubs firm circles on your back, and when you finally dislodge that traitorous piece of meat, you draw a slow breath and sigh. “babe, i thought we were going to wait until you made it official.” you lift your left hand, pointing at your empty ring finger before turning back to his mother and brother. “do you mind if we step away for a second?”

they both wave you off, and you snatch osamu’s wrist, dragging him out the back door, making sure it’s shut tight before you whisper-shout,

“we are fake dating! why would you tell them that we were engaged?”

he rubs his hands down his face, groaning. “i’m sorry, i panicked! it’s just that when atsumu mentioned moving in i got weirdly competitive because we’re twins—”

“so naturally you told your mother we were getting married? what’s next, atsumu mentions a joint bank account and you tell them that i’m pregnant?”

osamu lowers his hands to peek at you. “can i actually do that?”

“no! this is so not worth the free onigiri!” you growl, smacking him on the shoulder a few times, osamu yelling in protest.

(inside, atsumu and their mother peek out the kitchen window to watch the both of you, the latter murmuring, ‘definitely engaged.’)

_____

“you cannot tell that story in your toast,” you laugh, three years later with a very real engagement ring on your finger.

“why not?” osamu whines, completely invading your side of the bed to wrap his arms around you. “it’s how we got together, isn’t it?”

“by lying to your family.”

“soon to be your family,” he reminds you happily. “and i didn’t have to lie and tell them you were pregnant.”

it’s kinda silly how like people who like the same characters … like the same characters from other series

texting fwb!suna 'happy father's day' and then ignoring his texts and calls just to make him sweat a bit

sero vs. tape dispenser 

do me a solid and just reblog this saying what time it is where you are and what you’re thinking about in the tags.

“tetsuro,” you bit out slowly, hardened glare zeroed in on the carpet that had been spotless before you left for work that morning.

“why are there red stains on our carpet?”

“please don’t be wine,” you think to yourself as you hesitantly approach the red blotch, seeing even more red blotches the closer you got. the frustration started to prick at your nerves even more.

that is until your husband’s response threw you into a state of confusion.

“because our carpet was witness to a miracle.”

you blink. “what miracle?”

“the miracle of life.”

you finally turn the corner into your living room to see your husband’s tall frame sitting on the floor, features softened as he gazed at the stray cat he often feeds on your back porch.

the stray cat that was currently tending to four tiny, newborn kittens.

“oh my,” you breathed out, your annoyance from earlier melting away as you took in the sweet scene before you.

moving to sit down next to kuroo, you felt his arm encircle your shoulders as he pulled you closer to him. the two of you sat there together, small smiles on both of your faces as a chorus of tiny mews and happy purrs filled the silence of the room.

“i left the window cracked open this morning and she must’ve climbed in. i guess she’s comfortable enough with us she wanted to have her babies here.”

“with the amount of food you give her, tetsu, i would hope she’d be comfortable with us.”

that earned you a chuckle from your husband. he then reached a hand out, letting the mother cat sniff him for a second before she affectionately nudged his fingers and began purring more. kuroo then rubbed her head once he felt he’d received permission.

“you did a great job, mama.”

standing to his full height, the nekoma grad reached a hand down to help you get to your feet.

“come on,” he said, excitement in his hazel eyes.

“let’s go make the world’s most luxurious nesting box.”