Suna Drabbles - Tumblr Posts
( 8.37pm ); suna rintarou x f!reader
“i can’t do this anymore,” suna’s voice comes out forced; he’s exhausted, he’s been exhausted for a while now, so much so his voice feels like it’s going to crack at any moment.
you feel your heart fall the moment the words leave his lips—all this, all this time, this effort, and you get nothing to show for it at the end of the day. your hopes of being the perfect girlfriend of suna rintarou, your hopes of being accepted by his family—all dashed.
for a moment you get a picture in your head; of suna happily eating your cooking, of suna waking up pleasantly surprised that you’ve made him breakfast in bed. you swallow the lump in your throat.
“i’m sorry, but you have to,” you choke out, and suna’s tired eyes shift from the surface of the table to you. (but you can’t see him, you have your back turned to him already, because truth be told, you’ve been anticipating this conversation for a while now.)
now is not the time to feel defeated.
for once in your relationship, suna offers no playful, snarky comments—he is aware of the sensitivity of the issue at hand (not for him, but for you). and even though he would rather not move from his position right now, he drags his feet to you.
you’re carefully washing whatever’s in the sink, your eyes glazed over, trying your best not to start the waterworks, though everything spills out the moment you feel suna’s arms around your waist and his chest pressed against your back.
“my family’s going to love you regardless of whether or not you can cook some stupid cookies,” he mumbles in your ear, lips gently caressing your cheeks, landing a kiss on your temple.
you sigh, the dejection getting to you a lot more than you usually let it. meeting his family for the first time is an important event after all. when you first started dating you never thought that you would actually get to see this day, and now that it’s looming near (this weekend—yikes), you’re exceptionally nervous.
“you know i love you, babe,” suna mutters again in your lack of response, chin coming to rest on your shoulder, “but i’m done being your taste tester.”
a laugh escapes your lips—today he’s been sat on the dining table for over twelve hours tasting your batch after batch after batch of cookies (it doesn’t help you’re not the greatest baker, and that he’s been taste-testing for three days now), and now he’s full. so full, especially from tasting batches 10-17 because god, he doesn’t know what you used as the chocolate substitute but suna hates it. (he also kept quiet about batch 18 because you accidentally substituted sugar with salt and he just about nearly cried trying to contain his laughter.)
pausing your motions, you place the sponge back in its holder and dry off your hands on your apron before turning around in his arms and wrapping your hands around his neck. suna searches your eyes for any hint of that earlier sadness to find it’s uplifted a little, to his relief. (he absolutely hates seeing you stressed.)
“you know i love you too, babe,” you tell him, and he starts groaning because he knows where you’re going with this, “but you’ll have to continue being my taste tester even if it means you’ll get some food poisoning.”
a total joke, but you’re still praying that you won’t accidentally make your boyfriend puke for the remainder of his off-season.
suna rolls his eyes, a playful “i hate you” rolling off his tongue as he makes his way back to the dining table and sits back down, “c’mon, bring me batch twenty-three.”
the smile you beam at him is enough to ease his stomach troubles (figuratively), but it really does help ease his worries. it’s been a while since he’s seen his family, and he has his own reason to feel nervous—it’s rare that he ever asks anyone for approval, but he’d like to see if his family likes you as much as he does, too.
“while you’re tasting these, i’ll go pack,” you absentmindedly tell him, moving about in the kitchen.
“sure,” he says, feeling his pockets, thanking god he remembered to grab the ring and hide it in his pockets.