[10:28 PM] SUNA RINTARO

[10:28 PM]— SUNA RINTARO

When Suna sees your story, your smile large as you’re out with friends for the first time in a while since the break up, his head spins. It’s not the outfit you’re wearing, it’s not the way the colors compliment your eyes perfectly or the way your body’s hugged in all the right places—it’s the arm wrapped around your shoulders, loosely hanging around you as though it were normal.

And he hates that the man who’s got you tucked into him seems so bright, so content.

And Suna sits in his room, on the creaky old bed, next to the dim old lamp, surrounded by the bare old walls, watching as you seem to have your life together.

Do you? Are you happy now? Now that you’re no longer tied to him, tied to his habits of shrugging you off, keeping you out of the loop, not coming to you when he needs it most, not being there for you when you needed him most.

He supposes it makes sense. It should. But he dies inside at the look on your face, and with every second he stares at your smile, his composure falters, and his eyes turn misty.

So, with shaky hands, he calls you, and to his surprise, you pick up.

“Suna?” He blinks, shocked at the normalcy of your tone.

“Hey, y/n,” he mutters. It’s quiet for a moment, and neither of you knows what to say, and then you sigh. He feels wetness seep down his cheeks.

“What is it?” Sniffling, he stares at the small cushions set up by the window where you’d both sit and watch the lights of the city. Suna pretends he’s looking out of it and talking to you while you visit your family like he used to do. He used to laugh when someone struggled parallel parking across the street, pausing you mid-sentence to tell you about it.

“I wanted to just… I just needed to hear your voice,” he whispers, admitting to you for the first time in a while that he needed something to do with your presence. Even too late, it feels somewhat nice.

But nice wasn’t always enough. Nice was fleeting, a small sense of security in a moment that you stole from the world, and it was easily outweighed by much more. Being with Suna was nice. And then it wasn’t.

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Too cute 😍

thank you!! 💗

for @tetsvhoe ’s please don’t say you love me collab (angst)

kiyoomi watches as his daughter’s hand holds yours, clutching tightly onto your shirt as she stares up at him with wide eyes.

and they’re disappointed.

he feels a hole rip itself into the middle of his heart, and he wonders how he’d let it get this far. how something as familiar as family has become so distant, he doesn’t know where he lies or what his part is anymore. he’s held her hand so many times, helped her waddle through her first steps, walked her to school on her first day, played with her in the backyard through afternoon adventures.

and suddenly, she’s too far from his grasp.

he’s held yours so many times, through first dates and rough days, through happy moments and random spurs of clinginess, through self doubts and even just simple mornings laying together. you’ve always been there, just a simple reach away, your fingers connecting with his just like the strings of your hearts, interlacing and becoming one.

and you’ve been reaching, trying to grasp him desperately, but he’s never reached back.

“the papers will be sent to you by my lawyer soon. and—”

he cuts you off with wet eyes and wobbly lips, with his heart shattered and ruined and ugly, but he offers it to you anyway because kiyoomi’s willing to give you all he has—every fiber of his being, even if it’s not enough.

“please, don’t go,” he croaks, and suddenly, he notices how the paint on the walls of your house—the ones you’d happily painted together after your marriage—is chipping by the front door.

he hadn’t noticed the cracks before now.

kiyoomi’s begging you through his eyes—they’re dark and obsidian, but you find a way to make them shine a warm brown in the middle, and he can’t lose that. he’s desperately trying to get you to see his heart and soul, that they’re yours. he presses them to your hands, and he craves the safety they bring, but somehow the home he’s found in you is desolate of its usual warmth.

“kiyoomi—”

“i’m omi. you…i’m your omi,” he whispers, his voice cracking in the middle. and then his eyes drop to her, the sweet voice in his dreams, the giggles in the mornings, the hugs after work, the goodnight kisses and bedtime story cuddles and the bridge to his future, they’re all in her. “princess, where…where are you going?”

“we’re going on a trip,” she whispers. “just us two. ‘cause you’re never here, daddy.”

and finally, finally, kiyoomi’s breath stutters as he chokes on a sob—the family he’s been searching for his whole life, the one he’s built with his own hands, is falling apart from the seams.

and on any other day, though his hands are callused, they’re also warm, and you hold them anyway. but he’s a phantom now, the ghost feeling of his touch just a lost memory, an old engraving in your brain.

“y/n, you can’t do this,” he sobs, the tears streaking down his face and collecting at his chin. he’s never wanted his daughter to see him like this, but his world is being plucked from his hands and he’s got no other place to call home. “you can’t! you… you just can’t—”

“and why not, kiyoomi?” you raise your voice, and your daughter flinches slightly. the shattered remains of his heart all but disintegrate at the sight. she’s too good for this world, too good to witness this—this mess he’s created. “why the hell not? tell me something, kiyoomi. would you even realize we’re gone? huh? would you? it’s not like we’re a part of your daily routine anymore. you wouldn’t feel a thing if we walked out this door.”

he wishes he could show you, physically offer you the scene of his heart wilting the second your foot would step out the door, but he can’t, and he’s at a loss.

“of course i would! what are you saying? why wouldn’t i feel anything? you’re my whole life!” you laugh, and it’s bitter, there’s not a trace of humor, but he still feels helpless at the sound. it rings off the chipped paint of the walls and mocks him.

“you have one hell of a way of showing it,” you sneer.

and with a shaky whisper of “i love you, i love you both,” he reaches out, but you step back and your daughter is tugged along.

he offers you the words you’ve desperately tried to hear through the echoes of your memory, but they’ve become as far away as your husband himself, and you don’t care for them now.

“don’t say that now,” you whisper. “please don’t say you love me now.” and with a sigh, you straighten your shoulders, almost like you’re rolling the remnants of his love off your body. “the divorce papers will be sent to you, and we’ll handle how often our daughter gets to see you at court. but don’t contact me.” and he sinks to his knees when he hears the door slam shut, wishing he’d said i love you just once when you needed it most.

Nanami reverse parking on my mind

I JUST PUT ON LIP GLOSS

req

character/s: tsukishima kei x f!reader, iwaizumi hajime x f!reader, miya osamu x f!reader

genre/s: fluff

warning/s: none

gwen’s notes 🤍: not proofread. currently experiencing miya osamu brain rot.

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

tsukishima kei is petty. so when you reel back from his kiss, he instantly frowns with an eyebrow raised and a look of disbelief. how dare you shy away from his kiss? you laugh dismissively, bringing a small mirror up higher to admire your reflection, lightly touching up your face. "sorry, babe. i just put on lip gloss." he stares at you incredulously before rolling his eyes and scoffing, annoyed. you think nothing of it until later when you try to cling onto his arm and nuzzle to his side and he all but peels himself away from you. you pout. tsukishima gives you a mocking, childish look. "sorry, babe i just put on cologne. i don't want you rubbing on the scent." "that doesn't make any sense," you laugh. he narrows his eyes at you before clicking his tongue and looking away. "well since i can't kiss you, you shouldn't be able to touch me," he grumbles. but his eyes widen in surprise when you quickly stand on the tips of your toes to place a fat, juicy kiss on his cheek, giggling manically at your antics. he frowns, feeling the stickiness but you stand to place more kisses all over his face. "alright, alright! damn," he pushes you away, palm on your face. "fine, i get it. you can stop being annoying now." you happily skip towards him, successfully hooking your arms together while you watch him struggle to wipe it off. you did offer him makeup wipes after a good few minutes of him struggling.

iwaizumi hajime cannot get his hands off of you especially when you look that good. he can barely wait for you to get settled in his passenger seat so that he could finally kiss those sweet lips of yours. to his disappointment, you gently push him off and smile apologetically. "why, what's the matter, angel?" he asks, puzzled. he watches you reach for the sun visor, flipping it open to peak at your reflection in the tiny mirror, fluffing up your hair and lashes a little bit. "i just put lip gloss on," you giggle, eyes still trailed on the mirror above your head. in a swift motion, he clasps your cheeks between his hand and turns your head to face him. he leans in to give you a kiss which startles you at first but melt into nonetheless. you point to his now shiny lips when you pull away, a wide smile etched on your face. “how do i look?” he jokes before reaching for some tissues to wipe off the gloss smeared all over his mouth. “pretty,” you chirp, tilting your head to the side to admire him. “i can’t promise i won’t mess up your lip gloss again. you look too pretty to resist.” he gives you a brief side glance, winking at you and sporting a boyish grin before he drives off. you sink further into your seat as you feel your cheeks heat up with his remarks.

miya osamu is petty (2). the bell rings as you enter the restaurant and he’s practically pouncing on you, not even thinking about how a customer could walk right through the door at any second. he tries to kiss you but you explain to him you don’t want to mess up your lips. he frowns at you, a childish pout ever so slightly noticeable on his lips. “your vanity is more important than my kisses?” he challenges overdramatically, wrapping two strong arms around you. “yes,” you chuckle, earning a whine from him. he leans his head on your shoulder. “please, just one,” he tries again, lifting his head up and mustering the cutest puppy dog eyes as he juts his lips out. you stick your tongue out, causing him to push himself off of you with a huff. “fine, but don’t think i would serve you any onigiris for that.” your mouth gapes open in disbelief. “what? if you don’t want to kiss me, you must not want to eat,” he smirks triumphantly, watching you make a fuss. he throws a white towel over his shoulder, making his way back into the kitchen. “nooo,” you whine padding after him. “i’ll give you kisses, i’m sorry.” you feel him chuckle as you press your cheek against his back and barely wrap your arms around his torso. he could almost see you pout even with his back turned to you. “good.” he turns to face you, plopping his black baseball hat onto your head before giving you a smug kiss.

@singularly-gifted-witch @mirakeul @realityisabitch-blr @erinoikawa @haji-bby @seijohoe @szeonn @banananaa4 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @thezebra12 @iwaizumisunshine @stffychn @vvvselfindulgence @devilgirlcrybabiey @ebiharachan @coco96 @knmsapplepi @strawberryzos @iwasunshine @bidisaster1307 @jesssobs @asaitashi @duhsies @devilsbooksworld @littlemochi @mikeystomanjacket @noitsmrleorio

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