#Sand and Ray i can understand more

[passinhosdetartaruga]

I know a lot happened this episode, but all I could think about is the fact the they just

THEY JUST LEFT THE FOOD BEHIND!

[kenmakaashi]

maybe it's on me for expecting certain things from a gmmtv show but honestly i expected ex's to be sleeping with ex's who slept with ex's and for everything to be crashing down 24/7. and you could say it is that but i guess what i was 'wanting' was different from what the genre can handle rn. i can appreciate only friends for what it is, and i hope sand/ray continue to get messier before they get better, i love what they have going on rn. but i'm so bored with type of storyline that top/mew portray. individually i think they're good characters and i enjoy them but this need to push them together feels so annoyingly "BL" rather than just telling a story. they always have to get a good ending huh.. always always always

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hi mira can i pls req a sae x reader and it’s like falling in love with someone. like you know that feeling when you’re really getting to know someone and it sounds like a soft song

i love uu take care x

Synopsis: Thanks to a chance encounter on the beach, you spend your vacation trying to apologize to the famous soccer player you inadvertently offended. Unfortunately, Sae Itoshi has other plans.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Sae x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 11.6k

Content Warnings: love at first sight, fluff, humor, teasing as a love language, sae does not understand emotions or relationships but he’s rich asf, reader has a little brother and loves eating, meet-cutes, summer romance, SEAGULLS

A/N: although sae is a difficult character for me to get a hold of, i ended up having fun with this LMAO as i’m sure you can tell by the massive word count 😭 i hope he’s not horribly ooc or anything and that this is kind of what you were looking for anon!! tysm for requesting and ily too <3

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

You tried to evaluate the series of choices you had made which had led to you lying atop a boy with green eyes and sand smeared across his cheeks, a blank expression on his face despite the way you were literally sprawled over him.

First: your family had decided to spend your summer vacation in Spain. This was innocuous and broad enough, considering how large the country was, so you concluded that your brother’s desire to practice his rudimentary Spanish in a more realistic setting than his high school classroom could not be blamed for your plight.

Second: your father had gotten a great deal on rooms in a luxury beachfront hotel. He was like a bloodhound when it came to haggling and discounts, so it wasn’t a surprise that you were staying in such a nice place for a relatively cheap price — and with a complimentary breakfast every morning, too! Anyways, the hotel had its own private pool that you could’ve been lounging around beside, so that probably wasn’t the cause, either.

Third: your mother had told you that the beach within walking distance of the hotel was famous for its smooth waters and pale sand. You had to visit at least once, according to her and every other travel guide written about the region, but since no one had wanted to go with you, you had decided to go alone, bringing a book, a bottle of sunscreen, and a blanket with you, throwing a dress on over your swimsuit and preparing yourself to spend the entire day soaking in the sun’s rays. This was definitely a contributor to your current predicament, although considering the miles of beach that stretched out in both directions as far as the eye could see where you could’ve been instead of right there, it wasn’t the sole factor.

Fourth: you had thought you would get hungry at some point and had had the foresight to bring a sandwich with you. That was definitely the reason. If only you hadn’t been so concerned with your stomach! If only you had just sucked it up and made the trek back to the hotel upon feeling peckish instead of being so lazy and planning ahead, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Can you get off of me?” the boy groaned.

“I am so sorry!” you said, scrambling to your feet and offering him your hand. He did not take it, standing on his own and doing his best to wipe the sand from his face. Then he shook his head like a dog, shaking out the grittiness from his soft hair. “I’m really sorry. I was just running so fast, and I was so worried about my sandwich that I didn’t notice you were there until it was too late!”

“Sandwich?” he said. A few paces away, a seagull landed, the remnants of your lunch held in its beak. You and the boy watched as it tilted its head back, swallowing the last few bites before cawing at you in satisfaction.

“You pig!” you shouted, pointing at it, the boy beside you temporarily forgotten as you fumed over the loss. It cocked its head at you. “That was mine!”

“Ah,” the boy said. “Your sandwich.”

The seagull hopped towards you, like it was teasing you or something, and you screeched before diving at it. Satisfied with the mischief it had caused and the food it had stolen, as well as with making a fool out of you, the seagull took wing, flying well out of reach and leaving you facedown on the ground, your stomach grumbling sadly and emptily.

A foot nudged against your rib cage. “Hey. Sandwich girl. You’re not concussed, are you?”

Being referred to as sandwich girl was so humiliating that you were instantly pushing yourself into a sitting position, folding your arms across your chest as you gazed up at the boy, who still wore that same unimpressed expression from when you had barreled into him.

“No,” you said.

“That’s great,” he said, though he did not sound particularly concerned nor relieved. “Mind elaborating a bit more on why you ran me over? You could’ve seriously injured me, and then you would’ve been in a bunch of trouble.”

“You would’ve been in a bunch of trouble,��� you mocked, making your voice high and smarmy. “Jeez, what are you, some kind of celebrity or something? I ran you over because I was taking a break from reading my book, and I realized that I was hungry. Well, luckily, I had brought a sandwich along with me, so it wasn’t a huge deal. I was just about ready to dig in, when that fat pig of a bird swooped down and stole it right out of my hands! The gall! The shamelessness! It was definitely laughing at me, and I can’t stand anyone who laughs at me, so naturally I took off in pursuit, and, uh, that’s how I ended up crashing into you. Though you really should’ve been paying more attention, too. What’s so fascinating about the horizon that you just blocked out the rest of the world for it?”

“I like looking at the ocean,” he said. “But, wait. What do you mean, some kind of celebrity? Don’t you know who I am?”

You gave him a once-over. He was tall, though not impressively so, and definitely well-muscled. His hair was a warm shade, and his green eyes were framed with long eyelashes that fluttered every time he blinked. A pair of sunglasses was perched atop the crown of his head, and the top few buttons of his white shirt were undone, lending him a breezy appearance.

“You’re not handsome enough to be an actor, so that can’t be it,” you said, chewing on your lower lip in thought. “Plus, I’ve seen a bunch of movies, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t been in any of them, so if you were in the film industry, you’d be a D-lister at best, and there’s no way you’d want to flex that kind of status.”

He furrowed his brow, the first hint of a different expression than the one he had kept for the entirety of your very brief acquaintance. “What?”

“What else are people famous for?” you said. “Oh! Are you a singer or something? Were you in that one boy band from a few years ago? I’m sorry, I was too busy having a ‘not-like-other-girls’ phase when they were popular, so I never got into them. I’m over the phase now, if you were wondering, but that would be why I didn’t recognize you.”

“You are amazingly off the mark,” he said.

“I am? I’m kind of out of ideas at this point, though. Can I have a hint or something?” you said.

“Do you watch soccer?” he said. You made a face.

“Hell no,” you said. His eye twitched, so you hurried to elaborate. “My little brother is obsessed with it, so by law, I’m required to hate everything related to the sport. Do you have any siblings? You’d get it if you did.”

“Ask your brother about Sae Itoshi,” he said.

“Okay,” you said, drafting a text to your brother and sending it when you had deemed it to be a perfect blend of uninterested and cool while also underscoring the urgency of the request. “So, your name’s Sae Itoshi? I’m Y/N L/N! I’m not a celebrity, though. If you text anyone and ask them about me, they’ll probably be pretty confused.”

“Yeah, I got that impression,” he said. Your phone vibrated in your hand, and when you looked at the notification, you saw that it was from your brother.

uglier sibling: no shit i know about sae itoshi. he’s that one super talented midfielder on re al. he’s dad and i’s fav player atm.

You gulped, glancing up at Sae before returning to your phone.

me: lol wtf is re al.

uglier sibling: it’s madrid’s team lmfaooo dumbass how do you not know that

uglier sibling: actually wait why are u even asking lol

uglier sibling: did u meet him or something

me: funny story actually!

uglier sibling: WHAT

uglier sibling: y/n are u with sae itoshi rn.

uglier sibling: y/n answer pls

uglier sibling: can you at least get his autograph for me or smth???

Pretending like you were still texting your brother, you typed the name Sae Itoshi into your phone’s search engine. The photos that came up matched the boy in front of you, and the news articles made your heart pound. He actually was a celebrity, and furthermore, his earlier arrogance was deserved. If you had somehow injured such a famous player and put him out of commission for the season, then you really would’ve been done for. It hadn’t been an exaggerated sense of self-importance but an honest evaluation of himself.

“Ahem,” you said, feigning a cough to appear dignified and mature. “It seems like you are a pretty well-known soccer player, Mr. Itoshi.”

“It seems like I am,” he said.

“My brother and dad are big fans, apparently,” you said.

“Good thing you didn’t take me out permanently, then, or I’m sure they would’ve been pretty disappointed,” he said.

You cringed. “I’m sorry again.”

“Whatever. I won’t hold it against you; all’s well that ends well, after all,” he said.

“I feel really bad, though,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“You didn’t do anything, so there’s nothing to make up for,” he said.

“Not true! I knocked you over and said you’re not handsome!” you said. “I’d say that warrants some kind of recompense.”

“It’ll warrant more recompense if you keep saying it,” he said.

“You agree that you deserve payment, then? Great! Um…how about I…buy you lunch?” you said, the insistent pangs of your stomach reminding you that you still hadn’t eaten.

“Is food the only thing you can think about?” he said.

“For your information, it is not, but I haven’t eaten since the morning, so I’m hungry,” you said.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m not interested, and just so you know, I’ve been asked out by plenty of girls, but by far, this has been the lamest attempt.”

You supposed, looking back, that it did seem like that was your end goal. But, of course, it had been nothing of the sort; you were just planning on going to eat yourself and thought that you might as well kill two birds with one stone. It was just your luck that he had twisted your words into such a request, though! How were you supposed to maneuver yourself out of this position? If you denied it furiously, then it would seem like you were just ashamed at getting caught, but if you didn’t say anything, then it would be akin to agreeing with his accusation.

There was only one way out of it, and even though you were usually opposed to lying, and even more opposed to bullying others, it was the only thing you could think of. So, bowing your head, you clasped your hands together in front of your heart.

“I’m sorry, but you’re not my type, Mr. Itoshi,” you said. “Like I said, you’re really not that handsome. Also, I’m into tall guys.”

That was how you found yourself sitting across from Sae Itoshi in a private booth at a fancy restaurant, your hands trembling as you read over the menu items and their associated prices.

“I’m in the mood for steak,” Sae said, stroking his chin and setting down his menu, interlacing his fingers and raising his eyebrows at you. “What about you?”

“Steak is a dinner item, don’t you think?” you said, your head spinning at the fact that he had picked the most expensive thing that was served at the entire establishment. “It’s lunchtime.”

“I’m an athlete,” he said seriously. “I need a lot of protein in all of my meals. Especially because I’m so short. It’s important for me to build muscle, don’t you agree? How else will I manage to compete with the taller, better-looking players?”

“Steak it is,” you said with a faux smile. “As for me, I’ll just get crackers.”

“Crackers? What kind of lunch is that?” he said.

“An affordable one,” you muttered under your breath.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing!” you said. “It’s nothing. I just really like crackers.”

He gave you an odd look. “Alright.”

You waved the waiter over. He had been hovering around your table for the past few minutes, and as soon as he saw you beckoning him, he sprinted to your side, fumbling with his pen and notepad before reaching you and bowing.

“Sae Itoshi, sir! I’m sorry to interrupt your date, but I just wanted to say that I’m a huge fan of yours. If — if it’s not too much trouble, could I have your autograph?” he said.

Sae sighed, a long-suffering and irritable sigh. “Just take our order first. I’ll give it to you after we’ve eaten.”

“Oh, my apologies,” the waiter said. “What would you like?”

“I’ll have the steak, and I also want this sandwich, but omit the tomatoes, please,” he said, pointing at the menu items he wanted.

“Got it,” the waiter said. “What about you, miss?”

“Just the crackers,” you said. The waiter paused, but when you did not say anything more, he giggled nervously.

“Would you, uh, like some cheese with those?” he said.

“Nope,” you said. “I’m really the biggest fan of plain crackers. That’s all I want.”

“Sure, miss, if that’s what you’d like,” he said. “So, one steak, one sandwich, and a plate of crackers?”

“That’s right,” Sae said, hardly looking up from his phone when he did so. It was only once the waiter had run off to place your orders that he put the device away, resting his elbows against the table, setting his chin in his hands and giving you a bored look. “Why are you glaring at me?”

“Steak and a sandwich, really?” you said.

“A conversation with you was more than enough to increase my appetite,” he said. “Forget about that. This is the part where you ask me questions about myself and I pretend like I am interested enough to answer them.”

“Why would I do that?” you said, rolling your eyes at him. “Actually, I’m pretty sure your answer to that question will be something that makes me even more annoyed than I already am, so don’t bother. What’s your favorite movie?”

“You’re not going to ask me about soccer?” he said. “It’s Taxi Driver, by the way.”

“I don’t know that much about soccer, so what would I even ask? Based on what I’ve seen from the matches my brother and dad watch, it’s just a bunch of sweaty guys kicking around a ball and pretending like they’re dying whenever another player happens to look at them the wrong way,” you said. “Oh, actually, I am curious about that. How many of those injuries are real? Have you ever faked getting hurt?”

“Almost none of them,” he said. “Generally, players will overreact for the sake of entertainment and the possibility of the opposition receiving yellow cards. I’ve never needed to do anything like that, and I never want to, because it looks stupid. Also, soccer is more than that mediocre description you just gave me.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” you said. “Man kick ball. Ball go in net. Man happy. That’s the extent of it.”

“Women play soccer, too,” he said.

“It’s the same concept there, but with women instead of men. Not the argument you thought it was,” you said.

“I can’t believe you actually dislike soccer,” he said.

There was definitely some irony in the fact that you couldn’t care less about his chosen sport, and yet you were the one who had somehow finagled your way into eating with him — even if you were the one who was paying. There were so many people who’d do anything to be in your place, but to you, it was a begrudging chore that you were only performing because you felt obligated to. Mentally, you had already marked the entire encounter down as something that you’d laugh about to your friends later; a fun story you’d tell at parties, but little else.

“Like I told you earlier, I’m the older sister. If I didn’t rag on my brother’s interests, then I couldn’t claim that title in any way that mattered,” you said. Sae’s eyes flicked down to the ground.

“You should be nice to your brother when you can,” he said.

“Are you some kind of an only child or saint, then? There’s no way you’re saying that if you have a normal relationship with any possible siblings,” you said.

“I have a little brother,” he said. “Our relationship is okay. I haven’t seen him in a while, though.”

“Long distance?” you said, reaching over to pat him on the hand sympathetically. “That’s the worst. I miss my friends and my pets already, and I’m only here for vacation.”

He snatched his hand away. “You make it sound like we’re dating or something. It’s alright. I’m sure it’ll be the same as it was whenever I go back.”

“True, it’s not like he can dump you and find a new brother who’s both better and more conveniently located than you are. He’s kind of stuck with you forever,” you said.

“Enough about my brother,” he said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay,” you said. “What TV shows do you watch when you’re bored?”

The two of you continued on in that mindless manner until your food arrived. Your mood, which had steadily been rising as Sae proved himself to be, if nothing else, a willing conversationalist, rapidly plummeted as the waiter set the steak and sandwich in front of Sae and the crackers in front of you.

“Enjoy your meal,” the waiter said.

“I’m sure one of us will,” you said, picking up a cracker and biting into it rebelliously. Sae began to cut his steak into small pieces, using his fork to demurely place the meat on his tongue, doing nothing to disguise the indulgence of eating such a wonderfully prepared meal while you were stuck with crackers.

“What a shame,” Sae said when he was about halfway through his steak. You hadn’t spoken since the food had come, mostly because you were too busy fervently hoping that he would choke and you would somehow be awarded a free meal as an apology on the restaurant’s part, so you jumped at the sound of his voice cutting through the silence. “My eyes were bigger than my stomach. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat that sandwich after all.”

“We should send it back, then,” you said.

“What sort of place do you think this is?” he said. “It’s already been ordered, so it’s ours now.”

“Are you serious?” you said. “What now? I’ll have to pay for something that you didn’t even eat!”

“You’ll just have to have it,” he said.

“Me?” you said, already salivating at the delectable sandwich, the bread which was taunting you. Come, it seemed to be calling out to you. Eat me. You know you want to. “I guess that’s a sensible prospect. Someone’s going to have to take it.”

“Someone will,” he agreed, sliding the plate across the table and stealing a cracker for his troubles. “It might as well be you. My coach will be pretty upset if I get stomach cramps next season because I overate too much on my off time. I’d have to tell him that it was your fault, and then you’d have all of Re Al after you, and you don’t want that. They’re relentless.”

Your fingers inched towards the sandwich. “I definitely don’t. That sounds scary.”

“It would be amusing,” he said. “A waste of resources, though. They might cut my salary to make up for it. ”

“Then the only solution is for me to eat this sandwich,” you said.

“Essentially,” he said. You gave in, taking an enormous bite of the tantalizing sandwich and exhaling in delight. It really was as good as the exorbitant price tag claimed it would be, and although you would never buy such a thing for yourself, you found that you were a little more grateful for the series of events that had led you to be in this position now that your stomach was finally being greeted with something substantial.

“It’s good,” you said, your words muffled by the napkin you held in front of your mouth as you finished chewing. “I can kind of get why they charge so much now. It’s still way more than any sandwich should ever cost, ever, but…I kinda get it. Is your food good, too?”

“It is,” he said.

“Alright!” you said, giving him a double thumbs up. “Then you can consider this a worthy apology! Let’s finish eating and be done with the entire mess.”

“Hm? But how can it be a worthy apology when I’m the one who paid for everything? To me, that doesn’t sound like an apology at all,” he said. You froze, your mouth wide open, the sandwich still halfway to your mouth and drooping in your hands. Sae looked at you, still expressionless, though if you really focused, you would’ve noticed something like mirth dancing in his irises.

“What do you mean?” you said. He unlocked his phone and showed you his screen.

“You can pay by app here,” he said. “I did it as soon as we were done ordering. I was going to tell you after you ordered what you wanted for yourself, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so frugal that you’d really only order crackers!”

“But — but I was supposed to pay! To apologize for—”

“You don’t have to say it,” Sae said sourly, cutting you off. “Believe me, I remember exactly what you have to apologize for, and I’m not going to forget. I just paid this time because I was feeling generous, but you still owe me.”

It was a little suspicious, but you didn’t have any reason to accuse him of anything, so you only narrowed your eyes at him. Taking another bite of your sandwich, you mulled over the latest reveal. He was paying for the entire lunch? You still owed him? You could manipulate that in your favor, then.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll pay for your breakfast,” you said. “The hotel I’m staying at has complimentary breakfast for guests, but outsiders can eat for a certain fee. I’ll pay for your entrance, and then we can be even.”

“Sure,” he said. “I eat breakfast early, though.”

“How early?” you said.

“I have a snack at 7:00 a.m., before I go for my morning run, and then I eat a proper meal afterwards,” he said.

“Oh!” you said. “Any chance you could not do that?”

“It’s part of my training regimen,” he said. “How about you pay for my food and come on my run with me?”

“I hate running,” you said.

“You’re apologizing. It’s supposed to be an agonizing process,” he said. “You’ve called me short and ugly at least three separate times already, not to mention the entire slamming into me ordeal. It’s really the least you can do.”

“7:00 it is,” you said, though you were fighting back tears at the mere thought of getting up so early while on vacation. “Give me your phone.”

“No way,” he said, holding the phone away from you while you tried to swipe at it. “What are you going to do, post something embarrassing on my social media accounts?”

“Why would I do that?” you said. “I was going to text myself so I had your number and could send you my location for tomorrow.”

“Or you could tell me which hotel you’re staying at now, and then my phone is entirely removed from the equation,” he suggested.

“Do you think I remember the name?” you said. “That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. I don’t.”

He handed you his phone with an aggravated huff. “Fine. Don’t abuse the privilege. I only give important people my contact information.”

“Woah, you really are stingy,” you said, scrolling through his contacts list. All of them either had the designation of work attached to their profiles, or they were clearly members of Sae’s family.

Clicking on the plus sign in the corner, you created a new contact for yourself, typing in your number and giving yourself the name Y/N L/N — sandwich. It fit the naming conventions he had going on, and if it weren’t for the reminder that you were the so-called ‘sandwich girl’, you doubted he would remember who you were in the first place.

“Of course I am. Imagine I gave every crazy fan I met my number. I’d have a million stalkers before you could say Re Al,”he said.

“I’m not a crazy fan. To clarify, I’m not a fan in the first place,” you said, texting yourself from his number before taking out your own phone and responding to the message with a thumbs up.

“Correct, which is why you get my number,” he said.

“I feel so honored,” you said dryly. “Actually, you know what? I would feel honored, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re only giving it to me because you want to wake me up at an unholy hour and make me run with you before paying for your breakfast.”

“Would you rather pay for this meal?” he said, showing you the receipt he had been emailed. Your eyes widened, and then you shook your head rapidly.

“Nope! See you tomorrow!”

The next morning, you tiptoed around the hotel room as you got ready, trying your best not to wake your mother up. She, and the rest of your family, had been up late last night, going out for dinner and dessert well past your bedtime. Far too embarrassed to tell them the realreason you were going to sleep early, you had said you were sick and went to bed as soon as the sun set.

Angrily gnawing on a granola bar from your mother’s emergency stash, you stomped down the spiraling hotel staircase, your eyes still bleary as you texted your family group chat that you were going out for a morning walk but would be back for breakfast.

Sae Itoshi was waiting for you in the lobby, doing some weird stretching routine that involved pressing his foot against the wall and leaning over it. You watched him, bemused, wondering which muscles he was trying to stretch before giving up and deciding it was probably one of those pro moves that you were too uninterested and unathletic for.

“Oh, you’re here,” he said. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you said, giving him another one of the granola bars you had taken from your mother’s backpack. “Sorry, it’s sort of smushed. It’s been in a backpack for the last few days.”

He pinched the wrapper between his forefinger and thumb, looking at the granola bar with a disgusted expression. You didn’t think it was thategregious, but according to Sae, it must have been all but an offense against humanity, as he tossed it into the trash can within seconds of having it within his grasp.

“I already ate my snack,” he said.

“Why did you throw that away? I could’ve eaten it!” you said.

“That thing had probably melted and reformed at least twice. It was most definitely radioactive. I did you a favor, so you should say thank you,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Itoshi, for protecting me from the horrors of a slightly misshapen granola bar. I’m sure that, by throwing away that still edible brick of deliciousness, you have done me a great service. Possibly, you have even saved my life. I am eternally grateful,” you said.

He snorted. “You’re terrible at groveling. No wonder you have to do all of this ridiculous stuff to apologize to me instead of just saying sorry and moving on like a normal person.”

“Look, it’s a product of my upbringing,” you said. He finished stretching and headed out of the door; you followed after him with a smile at the hotel concierge, who seemed surprised to watch you go — whether it was the hour or your company, you weren’t sure. “Whenever my parents did something to upset me, they never apologized. They just came to my room with a bowl of fruit they had cut for me.”

“At least you got fruit,” he said. “My parents just told me to go practice soccer until I had cooled off.”

“Wow, really? That’s hardcore,” you said. Sae began to jog, and you did the same, though it was closer to a run for you than anything. “Did you just kick around the ball until you were less mad?”

“Pretty much,” he said.

“How horrible,” you said.

“Eh, it’s fine. It was a good way to get my anger out, and it had the added benefit of making me better at the sport, so it was pretty constructive overall,” he said.

“I still can’t imagine it,” you said, shaking your head. “What’s it like, being a professional athlete? Your entire life revolves around a game. What about when you can’t play anymore? When you’re too old, or if you get injured?”

His upper lip curled. “Do you want that to happen or something? Why are you speaking it into existence?”

“Not the injury part, but everyone grows old. You can’t stop that,” you said.

“I’ll play for as long as I can, and then I’ll coach for longer,” he said. “After that, I’ll retire and make sure my kids follow in my footsteps. Athletes make a lot of money, so I luckily won’t ever have to worry much about my finances.”

“What if your kids don’t want to play soccer?” you said. He actually sneered this time, the expression at home on his cold face.

“What else would they do with themselves? If they don’t want to play soccer, or if they have no talent at it, then they’re definitely not my children in the first place,” he said.

“Hm, maybe cooking? What if they want to be a chef?” you said.

“Then I’d wonder how your kids snuck into my house,” he said. You gasped, though it was as much for breath as it was out of offense.

“Stop it! You just happened to catch me at a hungry time!” you said.

“Sure,” he said.

“Just entertain the hypothetical that you really did somehow father children that were into cooking instead of soccer. How would you react?” you said.

“I would put them up for adoption,” he said.

“Seriously?” you said.

“No, obviously not,” he said. “What kind of person do you think I am? Why did you actually find that to be within the realm of possibility?”

“I think you’re some kind of soccer fiend. Who knows how dedicated you are to the cause?” you said.

“Not that dedicated,” he said. “I’d be disappointed if my kids can’t play soccer, and our relationship would probably be a bit distant, as I don’t know much about anything else, but I wouldn’t disown them.”

“You don’t know much about anything besides soccer? That’s a little sad,” you said.

“Kind of,” he said.

“Do you wish you knew about other things?” you said.

“Everyone has something they specialize in. It’s not uncommon for someone to know a lot about one thing and only a little about others,” he said. “My ‘thing’ is soccer. If it wasn’t that, then it’d be something else, so if I was in the business of wishing, I’d always be unsatisfied.”

You were already panting for breath when Sae picked up the pace, though he had not so much as broken a sweat yet. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, taking in your obvious struggles, and then he made the decision to not slow down at all.

“I get it,” you said. “You’ll face no judgment from me.”

“Like I would care if you did judge me,” he said. “You’re already dying, and we haven’t even started running yet.”

“This isn’t running?” you said. “What the hell? How much faster can you even go?”

“If you think that this is anywhere near the pace of an average soccer match, then I don’t even know where to begin with you,” he said.

“You look slower on TV!”

“What, so you think I’m slow, too?”

You and Sae returned to the hotel in markedly different conditions. He wasn’t even warm, still appearing to be perfectly put together and entirely perspiration-free, smelling faintly like body soap and cologne. On the other hand, you were still trying to regain your wits about you, leaning on his shoulder so that you did not fall over from exhaustion.

“This is embarrassing for you,” he informed you as you walked towards the breakfast area.

“You’re a professional athlete and I’m a normal girl! It would be embarrassing for you if I could keep up!” you argued weakly.

“That would be true, if I wasn’t going easy on you,” he said, pulling out a chair for you and helping you into it, brushing his arm off when he was sure you were seated. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

“Have fun,” you said, resting your head in your hands, already knowing what you wanted to get. “We can walk through the buffet together. I’ll take the time to recover.”

“You do that,” he said.

While he was gone, you opened your phone, catching up on all of the texts in the family group chat that you hadn’t been able to read while you were attempting to run with Sae.

me: going for a morning walk but i’ll be back for breakfast

me: just wanted to let you all know so you weren’t worried!

uglier sibling: yeah nobody was worried LMFAO

mom: Hope you’re feeling better, honey!

dad: Make sure you’re back before 10. That’s when the complimentary breakfast ends, and we’re not paying for overpriced toast with jam.

uglier sibling: i still can’t believe u went for a morning walk

uglier sibling: like

uglier sibling: since when do u voluntarily wake up in the mornings at all let alone leave ur bed LET ALONE TAKE A WALK

uglier sibling: bitches will meet sae itoshi one time and suddenly they’re fitness influencers or wtvr

uglier sibling: btw i’m still mad that u didn’t get his autograph or a photo with him or anything

uglier sibling: i bet u made it up

uglier sibling: LIAR. FRAUD. HACK.

mom: Honey, leave your sister alone. Why would she make something like that up? 

dad: Your mother is right. Y/N doesn’t even know who Sae Itoshi is.

So it was a typical conversation, then. You hadn’t missed much; just your brother being salty and your parents showing some care for your well-being, as well as your father worrying for his wallet like he was prone to do. You didn’t even bother responding, just liking your father’s two messages and then putting your phone away.

“Y/N, you’re back already? What good timing!” your father called out to you from the entrance to the hotel restaurant. The world slowed as you turned to see the rest of your family walking into the restaurant, dressed in their typical touristy outfits. Your mother waved at you, and your brother faked gagging.

“Wow, you look like shit,” he said. “The fuck kinda morning walk were you on?”

“Gross, it’s you,” you said. “Go away! I’m busy.”

“You don’t even have any food with you,” he pointed out. “Can I sit with you? The parents are way too chipper in the mornings.”

“No!” you said.

“But there’s an empty seat at your table. Are you saving it for someone?” he said.

“Yes,” you said, wishing that for once they would’ve all slept in instead of getting here at the exact time that you and Sae had.

“No, you’re not,” he said.

“Come on, you two, let’s sit together and have a family breakfast!” your father said, motioning you and your brother over from where he and your mother had settled at a four-person table. Your brother gave you a pleading look.

“I’ll owe you forever,” he said. “I’ll grind on all of your video games for you the entire plane ride home!”

“I’m not lying, dude, I actually am sitting with someone. Now fuck off and leave me alone!” you hissed.

“Who?” he said, crossing his arms. “Your imaginary friend? Or your imaginary boyfriend!”

“Excuse me? Sorry, I was sitting there. Do you mind—?”

The most comical expression you had ever seen flashed over your brother’s face just then. It was horror mixed with incredulity mixed with extreme confusion. He turned slowly, his jaw dropping as he made eye contact with Sae Itoshi, whose dry countenance and perfect posture were as off-putting as ever.

“What?” your brother said. “What is going on?”

Sae sat opposite you. “This hotel has the most confusing first floor layout I’ve ever encountered. It took me ages just to find the bathroom.”

“There’s signs. Can you not read?” you said. He stared at you dully.

“I can read. I just happened not to look up at them,” he said.

“If I didn’t want to pay for even more food, I’d make another short joke, but I shall refrain,” you said.

“That was cutting it close,” he said.

“Y/N. My beautiful, amazing, wonderful older sister,” your brother said.

“Yes?” you said, preparing yourself for the incoming explosion. “Also, that’s not what you were calling me in the group chat earlier, was it?”

“Is that Sae Itoshi?” he said.

“Liar, fraud, hack, was that what it was?” you said. “Run along, loser. Maybe if you were nicer to me, I’d let you sit with us.”

Your brother opened his mouth to argue, but then, like he had remembered he was standing in front of his idol, he hung his head and trudged off, scuffing his toes against the floor as he did and giving you a betrayed look over his shoulder.

“That’s your little brother?” Sae said.

“Yup,” you said. “Your self-proclaimed biggest fan.”

“And you made him go sit with your parents instead of talking to me? You’re super mean, big sister,” Sae said.

“He wouldn’t shut up if I let him stay here, and considering the goal of this is for you to eat and then leave me alone for the rest of my vacation, that would not be conducive,” you said.

“I see,” he said. “I didn’t realize that was the goal.”

“Isn’t it yours, as well? I’m sure you’d like to enjoy yourself on your time off from soccer,” you said.

“Who says I’m not enjoying myself?” he said. You furrowed your brow at him.

“You’ve had the same expression on your face every time we’ve spoken,” you pointed out, lowering your eyelids and pursing your lips in an imitation of his resting mien. “Like this. It’s totally amphibious.”

“Amphibious?” he repeated. “What does that even mean?”

“You don’t know what amphibious means? Man, when you said you only focused on soccer, I didn’t think it was this bad!” you said.

“I know what amphibious means! I just don’t see how the word applies,” he said.

“Oh, right. Well, you kind of look like the frog emoji,” you said. “Sorry, I could’ve been clearer. That’s my bad.”

“Were you dropped on the head as a baby? I’m asking this from a place of concern, not anger,” Sae said. “It’s because you say so many nonsensical things. After all, I look nothing like the frog emoji.”

“Sure, and people tell me I look like a famous actress,” you said.

“Really?” he said.

“No, I thought we were both saying things that aren’t true,” you said.

“I think you look like a famous actress,” he said. “There. Now we’re both saying things that are true.”

“Well done, Mr. Itoshi! That was clever,” you said, knowing when to concede.

“Thank you,” he said. “Let’s go get our food now. If you die of starvation on my watch, it’ll be a major scandal for Re Al.”

“Your manager must love you,” you said. “So conscientious of your public image.”

“Nope, he’s usually pretty pissed at me,” he said as the two of you got in the buffet line.

“What for?” you said.

“Contrary to what you think, I’m pretty unconcerned with my public image. I’m a soccer player, not some kind of philanthropist or actor or whatever,” he said. “What does it matter if I offend people? My value is in playing well, not being friendly or kind.”

“No one ever accused you of being either of those two,” you said, spreading butter and jam over your toast. “You’re not that bad, though.”

“You’re not that bad, either,” he said. “At least, you’re better company than my manager.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” you said. He scoffed.

“You have low standards,” he said.

“Yours are lower,” you said.

“Very mature response.”

“Thanks!”

Sae was a pretty agreeable breakfast partner. He wasn’t as impossibly cheerful as your parents, who generally drove you crazy with their talkativeness so early in the day, but he also wasn’t as silent and closed off as your brother, who was prone to snapping at others until he had finished at least half of his meal. As with lunch yesterday, it was almost an enjoyable experience, right up until you remembered whose card he was eating on.

“Where are you going?” he said when your plates had been cleared and you had pushed yourself to your feet. He followed after you as you made your way to the hostess’s station, ignoring the whispers that echoed behind the two of you.

“To pay for you to be here, duh,” you said, fishing around in your purse for your wallet. “I know you’re famous and all, but that doesn’t mean you get to eat for free. In fact, that was kind of the point of the meal.”

“I already paid for myself, so you can go and sit back down with your family if you’d like,” he said.

“What? When?” you said.

“I wouldn’t spend that long in a bathroom,” he said. “Not a public one.”

“You little—! Now what?” you said.

“Now you have to see me tomorrow,” he said. “Bye. I’ll pick you up for dinner, so make sure to wear something nice, and bring your credit card. It’s your treat.”

He walked off with a jaunty wave, leaving you standing there, confounded by the development. He had paid for himself again? What was the point of making you take him places if he was just going to cough up the cash himself anyways?

“Psst. Y/N,” your brother said. You weren’t sure when or where he had appeared, but it remained that he was suddenly tapping you on the shoulder and whispering in your ear. “Does Sae Itoshi have a crush on you? If so, please ask if he can get tickets for dad and I to attend his next game.”

“What?” you said, a shockwave running through your entire body at the mere thought of Sae having a crush on you. It was so juvenile and cliched as to be out of Sae’s character entirely. “No! I just owe him.”

“For what?” your brother said.

“I ran into him, called him ugly, and said that he was short,” you said. “Indirectly, of course, but it still happened. I was supposed to buy him lunch yesterday as an apology, but then he ended up paying for us both, and then today, I went on a run with him, and I was going to pay for him to have breakfast here, but guess what?”

“He paid for himself?” your brother said.

“He paid for — yeah, how did you know?” you said.

“There weren’t that many ways the story could’ve gone. Also, I overheard you guys talking,” he said.

“Creep,” you said.

“Weirdo,” he said.

“Freak,” you said.

“Stupid,” he said. “I bet he has a crush on you.”

“Why would he? We have zero common interests, and I’ve mostly only insulted him in our very short time knowing one another,” you said.

“Maybe he’s into that. Some guys are. My one friend is — actually, I’m not exposing him like that,” he said.

“Thank you, because I really didn’t want to know,” you said.

“Anyways, where I was going with that is some guys like girls who humble them a bit. Especially someone like Sae Itoshi; he’s probably so used to people falling all over themselves to get his attention that it’s nice for him to hang out with someone who’s too oblivious to care about that kind of stuff,” he said.

“People like you?” you said. “I told him you were his biggest fan, just so you know.”

“Why would you do that?” your brother said, his eyes bugging out and his mouth forming a pained grimace. “He probably thinks I’m a nerd now!”

“You do it to yourself, buddy,” you said. “Let’s go. It looks like the parents want us to go sit with them. Think you can handle it?”

“After learning that my hero has a crush on my sister and, furthermore, probably thinks of me as some kind of dweeb, I can handle anything,” he said.

The entire day, you pondered your brother’s words. Did Sae have a crush on you? Running through his actions and every conversation you both had ever had led you to think that he did not. It didn’t seem like he liked you very much in even a platonic sense, so how could anyone begin to think he liked you romantically? It was just tolerance for the sake of his pride, that was all.

And you definitely didn’t like him. He was emotionless and conceited and teased you far too often. What did it matter that he was somewhat attractive? He had a terrible personality, and you bet that if more of his fans knew what he was like, he wouldn’t have any to begin with.

No wonder Sae’s manager hated him. He was probably a jerk to his poor employees, too.

“We’re thinking of going here for dinner tonight,” your father said the next day. “Look, their reviews are pretty high, and their prices aren’t crazy. What does everyone think?”

“I’m fine with anything,” your mother said.

“Same here,” your brother said.

“Y/N?” your father said. You were about to respond when your own phone buzzed. You knew exactly who it was texting you, and you sighed as you opened it.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): I will be there in one hour.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): You better not have forgotten about our plans for tonight.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): I made a reservation, so I’ll really be mad if you stand me up.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): Especially because you’re paying.

me: I WILL BE THERE OMFG STOP TEXTING ME

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): Okay.

“I can’t,” you said.

“Why not? Are you on some new diet or something? They should have vegetarian options, so that won’t be a problem,” your father said. “We can look at their menu beforehand if you prefer, and if you really don’t like anything, then we can find somewhere else.”

“I already have plans,” you said, your lower lip jutting out childishly. “Not that I want to! But I made a promise.”

“You already have plans? What’s that supposed to mean?” your mother said.

“I’m having dinner with someone,” you said.

“Ooh, how exciting! With who?” she said.

“I bet I can guess!” your brother sang.

“Enough out of you!” you said, kicking him in the back of the leg. He doubled over, though that did not stop him from smirking at you.

“Y/N and Sae, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” he said.

“You’re going out with Sae Itoshi?” your father said. “You should’ve just said so! That’s perfectly alright, honey. Actually, he’s the one man I’m not upset about you dating!”

“We are not dating!” you said. “It’s a more transactional relationship than that. No feelings involved. It’s just me apologizing to him.”

“Are you close enough to him to get an autograph for your brother and I?” your dad said.

“Um.” You thought about it. Would Sae give you an autograph for them? You weren’t sure. There was a chance he would, but there was also a high chance he would not. “I dunno. I can ask.”

“You’ll ask for dad, but not for me? Wow, I see how it is,” your brother said.

“Yeah, because you’re annoying!” you said. “Ugh. I have to get ready now. He’ll be here to get me in an hour. Have fun at dinner, all of you. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers.”

“You have fun as well,” your mother said. “Make sure not to bring any money with you. Gentlemen should always pay on the first date.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that,” you said, giving up on explaining things to your family for the sake of your sanity.

Sae was aggressively punctual. Exactly an hour after he had texted you, a shiny black car was pulling up in the valet lane, and a tall, bald man in a suit was opening the door for you. You climbed in awkwardly, finding Sae to be sitting on the other side, gazing out of the window pensively.

“Hello,” you said, smoothing your dress and buckling your seatbelt. “You have a driver?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “I usually walk places when I’m on vacation, but this restaurant is kind of far, so I thought it’d be more prudent to have the driver take us.”

“I see,” you said. “Thank you, driver, sir.”

The driver hummed in acknowledgement but did not say anything else. You supposed he probably wasn’t used to talking with his passengers; you doubted Sae ever spoke to him much.

“It’s been so hot out recently,” Sae said stiffly.

“That’s what happens during the summer, yes,” you said.

“That’s true,” he said.

“You’re right, though,” you said. “It has been hot.”

“Super hot,” he said.

“Yes,” you said. “Super hot.”

That must’ve been why there was a slight redness to his cheeks. There was definitely no other reason. And there wasn’t any other reason for why you felt uncomfortably warm, shifting in your seat to dissipate the feeling in your stomach. It was the temperature. That was all.

Given the trend, you really should have anticipated it when Sae paid for your dinner while you were freshening up in the bathroom, but you really had not seen it coming in the slightest. He scrunched up his face when you argued, simply telling you that he would see you tomorrow before dropping you back off at your hotel, the receipt in your hand, his flourishing signature scrawled across the back.

“For your brother,” he had said, handing it to you before you could even ask him for his autograph. “You said he was a fan, right? I’ll get him a better one later, but for now, this should do.”

You spent every day of the rest of that vacation with Sae Itoshi. Some days, you would accompany him on a morning walk — he had softened to slowing his pace, so that he was only barely jogging instead of the full on run that he had forced you into that first time — and on others, the two of you would have some meal or another together. The common theme was that, if there was money involved, he would take care of it. Without question, without hesitation, he always slapped your hand back and pulled out his own credit card, telling you that now you both had to meet again, and the next time you really would be the one paying, or else he’d never be able to forgive you for your terrible behavior.

Your parents and brother complained about it at first, as your new friendship with Sae — could it be considered a friendship, or was it something else? — meant you did not see them much on what was supposed to be a family vacation.

You brought it up with Sae, and he responded with something about how it wouldn’t have been a problem at all if you weren’t such a freeloader and actually paid for him, like you were supposed to. This resulted in a lighthearted squabble between you both, which in turn made you forget your family’s whining, and as well you should have. You could take a million more vacations with them, but you’d likely never get a chance to hang out with Sae Itoshi again, so why wouldn’t you take advantage of it when you could?

Sae didn’t forget, though. He sent you back from dinner the next evening with a soccer ball he had won in one of his games, his signature and a note of gratitude scribbled on it in black marker.

Thank you for letting me borrow your daughter and sister from you while you’re on your trip. I really appreciate it, even if she doesn’t know anything about soccer. — Sae Itoshi

They stopped complaining after that. The ball became your brother’s most prized possession, and every day, your father would tell you how happy he was that you had made such a considerate friend.

“And you know, if you ever want to date him,” he’d say, elbowing you in the side with an obnoxious wink. “We wouldn’t be opposed!”

Your mother was in the same boat. “He really cares about you, I think. Enough that he gave your family something so precious just because he thought we didn’t like him. You could do a lot worse than that.”

“Plus, he’s rich and famous!” your brother would chime in without fail. “Double win!”

“You guys are all nuts,” you’d tell them, shaking your head to disguise how pleased the thought of dating Sae made you.

It could never happen. Like your brother was so happy to remind you, he was rich and famous, an athlete that was adored worldwide and played for the best soccer club in history. He could have any girl he wanted, so why would he ever choose you? You and he were from two different planes of existence. Maybe you could pretend for a little bit that you weren’t, but the date for your eventual departure from Spain was drawing closer and closer, and that day meant the certain end of the fever dream that was your closeness with Sae.

You had been prepared from the start for it to finish in this way. You would go home and tell all of your friends about your trip, how you had spent almost every day with the famous soccer player Sae Itoshi, how he had given you his phone number and made you go on runs with him, how together, you and him had eaten lunch and dinner and breakfast and several meals that you were convinced he had just made up to have an excuse to buy food for the two of you — brunch, linner, midnight snacks and third desserts.

There were other things that you wouldn’t tell them, too, things that Sae had not necessarily said to you in confidence but which you sensed were held close to his heart and which you would therefore hold close to yours. His little brother was named Rin, and they had the same eyes, though Rin’s were quicker to water and perpetually had hair falling into them. He still watched the same shows he used to when he was very small, because they reminded him of his parents’ home. He thought that a person’s athletic potential could be determined by the shape of their butt, but he tended to avoid looking as a form of respect for others.

“That’s a pretty cool skill, Sae! What do you think my athletic potential is?” you had asked when he had revealed that last fact.

“If it’s possible for a person to have negative potential, then that’s about what yours is. If it’s not, then you’re definitely at a zero,” he had responded.

“You didn’t even look,” you had said, shoving a French fry into his mouth as punishment. He hated French fries for how unhealthy they were, and you had half-expected him to lecture you about fats and oils and salts, but instead, he had dutifully chewed and swallowed without any theatrics.

“Don’t need to, and don’t plan to,” he had said, and that was that. “I’ve already seen you run, and that told me all I needed to know about your athletic skills. Or, in this case, your lack thereof.”

If you took his words at face value, then you would’ve thought he truly hated you. He never missed a chance to make fun of you, and you were the same way — certainly, anyone who overheard your conversations would’ve been convinced that you and he were bitter enemies. But that was because they didn’t see the way he always positioned himself on the sidewalk so that he was between you and the oncoming traffic. They didn’t see the way he’d pull out your chair and only pretend to frown when you’d thank him for it. They didn’t see the way his ears would turn pink if you dared to smile in his direction or, heaven forbid, agreed with what he was saying instead of arguing, as was your go-to.

No, you were pretty confident that Sae Itoshi did not hate you. It was just that soccer was his thing and all other areas were beyond him, areas which included such fields as emotional awareness and sensitivity.

Maybe you might tell the friends you were particularly close to about that. Sae Itoshi treated me pretty well, you’d say, with grand, sweeping hand motions to emphasize the point. As well as he knew how to, which was well enough for me. If I ever get a boyfriend, they’ll have a lot to live up to. Seems kind of unfair to whatever poor schmuck gets stuck with the task, don’t you think? Considering the two of us never even dated…

“I'm going home tomorrow morning,” you said. The sun was setting, and the two of you were walking along the same stretch of beach that you had first met at. “I finished packing all of my things before dinner. It’s surreal, almost. I feel like an entirely different person now, compared to when I came here.”

“Is that so?” he said, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. “I wonder why.”

“Did you just smile?” you said. Immediately, he scowled.

“No way,” he said. “I’d never smile because of something you said.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, you definitely smiled. I made you smile! I made you smile! I made you smile!” you said, poking him in the cheek repeatedly. Sae’s expressions were so subtle that it was easy to overlook them before they had vanished, but there was no overlooking what you had just seen. He had definitely smiled at you, or at least he had been about to.

“Stop poking me,” he grumbled.

“No,” you said, poking him again. “Only if you smile again.”

“Hell no,” he said. You poked his cheek again. “Y/N. Stop it.”

“Will you miss me?” you said.

“Not if you don’t quit that!” he said, grabbing your wrist when you prepared to poke him again. Heat rose to your cheeks at the way his thumb rested against your pulse, and when he realized he was holding your hand so familiarly, his own cheeks flushed. “No. I won’t.”

“I’ll miss you,” you said, digging your feet into the sand, turning out to the sea because you couldn’t stand to look at him when you were being so vulnerable. “I’ll tell everyone I know about you, of course, but it won’t be the same. Something funny will happen, and I’ll think to myself, oh, Sae would’ve snorted at that — but not laughed, because you don’t laugh. Or I’ll order shitty French fries, and it’ll remind me of how much you’d scold me for eating them. You’d say something like, those are basically heart attacks in a box, and then you’d pour a bottle of salted kombucha down my throat to cleanse my system.”

Somewhere in the distance, a seagull squawked, reminding you of the fateful encounter from so long ago. You wished you could go back and get to know Sae all over again. You wished you could ask him the same questions and not know the answers, so that you were surprised when he told them to you. You wished you could argue with him for a little bit longer. You wished that, one more time, you could imply he was short and ugly and slow and a thousand other rude adjectives, even if he was really none of those things, none of them at all.

“I’m going to ask you one last question, okay?” you said. “Please think over your answer carefully. It’s important.”

“Okay,” he said, uncharacteristically gently. “I’ll really consider it well.”

“What’s your favorite animal?” you said.

“Seagulls,” he said immediately, directly contradicting his solemn oath. You laughed at this, burying your face in your hands to hide the hitch in your throat.

“You traitor,” you said. “You know all about the feud between seagulls and I, and yet you’re still claiming they’re your favorites?”

“They always have been,” he said. “I like migratory birds, how they don’t stay in one place but are always moving around. It must be such a blissful life.”

“But it’s probably pretty lonely, too,” you said. “They don’t have anywhere to call home.”

“I like lonely things,” he said. “That’s why the end of the summer is my favorite season.”

“Hm,” you said. “Then, if I tell you that I’ll be lonely once I leave here, will you like me, too?”

He looked at you, but you stared resolutely ahead, your gaze trained on the horizon, the way his had been on the day you had run into him. It was such a kiddish question, and internally, you were beating yourself up for asking it, but deep down, you wanted to know, so you did not move to retract it.

“Well, I like seagulls for a different reason now,” he said.

So that was your answer, then. The waves crashed against the shore, and a balmy wind blew through your hair and clothes, carrying the light scent of Sae’s cologne to your nose, the same one he had worn for as long as you could remember.

“I understand,” you said.

“These days, it’s a specific seagull I’m fond of, actually,” he said.

“Huh? Like a breed or something?” you said.

“No, just one bird in particular,” he said. “It did me a really huge favor recently.”

“What are you talking about? You always say that you suspect I was dropped on the head as a baby, but between the two of us, I think the one that was dropped was you,” you said, the fraying ends of your rejected feelings driving you to irascibility.

“A while ago, I was standing on the beach, feeling pretty annoyed with the world — as usual,” he said. “I had had to run from the paparazzi in order to go on this vacation without being bothered, you know, and I honestly was starting to question if I’d ever be seen as a normal person. I get that the only thing I’m good at is soccer, but it’s pretty tiring to be thought of as a guy who kicks balls around and nothing more.”

Unbidden, you inhaled sharply, because the story was starting to sound familiar. Spinning on your heel, you were met with the sight of Sae smiling shyly, peering down at you through his unfairly long eyelashes.

“That seagull must’ve known how I was feeling. There’s no other explanation for it all. It must’ve known how I was feeling, and somehow, it managed to find the one person in the entire world that saw me as something other than that. Do you know what it did next? It stole that person’s sandwich, and it led her right to me,” he said.

“Are you talking about me?” you said.

“How many people do you think have called me a short, ugly, D-list celebrity instead of asking for my autograph upon meeting me?” he said.

“Probably not very many,” you said. He chuckled.

“Probably not any,” he said. You rested your forehead against his shoulder.

“Probably not,” you said. He stroked your hair, though his motions were like a marionette’s — he was not very used to this type of relationship, after all. But he was trying his best, and you found that to be far more endearing than any suave gestures might’ve been.

“I know you have to go soon, so I was planning on not saying anything,” he said. “What would be the point? I figured this was just a summer fling for you. But then you had to go and be all sentimental, and I had to say something.”

“I’m glad you did,” you said. “It would’ve been worse if I had returned home without knowing at all. Where do we go from here, though?”

“Where do we go from here? Let me think. Well, I’ll ask you to be my girlfriend,” he said. “And you’ll say yes, because who would ever reject me? Then we’ll talk on the phone every day, and you can send me photos of things you find funny, and I’ll have a sixth sense for when you’re eating French fries and I’ll send you strongly worded texts in reprimand. You’ll fly over to watch my matches whenever possible, and when I’m on my next break, I’ll come visit you and meet your family and friends properly.”

“Getting a little presumptuous, aren’t we? What if I say no?” you said.

“Will you?” he said.

“Not sure. How about you ask and find out?” you said.

“If you’re going to say no, then I don’t want to,” he said. You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I can’t be with a man who’s afraid of rejection. It was nice knowing you, Sae,” you said. “See you around. Hope you lose the Champions League.”

“Wait! I’m not afraid of rejection,” he said. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend? Officially, I mean.”

“Yes, of course,” you said. “But you’re going to have to buy my plane tickets if you want me to watch you. Even with frequent flier miles, I doubt I can afford coming to see you that often.”

“Consider it done,” he said. You grinned at him.

“You know, if you’re my boyfriend, then you’re going to have to keep paying for our dates, as well. My mother said that’s the gentlemanly thing for you to do,” you said.

“Right, I was expecting that,” he said. “Don’t you think there’s a reason why I haven’t let you buy anything yet?”

“Then how am I ever supposed to apologize to you for the circumstances of our first meeting? I mean, I was pretty harsh,” you said.

“That’s true,” he said. “Let me think.”

“Mhm,” you said. “I know that that’s out of your comfort zone, so I’ll give you a minute.”

“I have an idea,” he said, though it was accompanied by a slight glare at your jab.

“What is it?” you said.

“Close your eyes,” he said. You obliged, squeezing them shut, though not without widening your feet into the defensive stance he had demonstrated to you on the day he had attempted to teach you basic soccer skills.

“What are you going to do, tackle me or something? I’m using the position you taught me, but please be gentle, you’re way more muscular than—!”

You were cut off by him pressing his lips to yours. It was a soft kiss, gentle and light, like feathers in the air or water against the sand, and he pulled away before you could really react or reciprocate. He had left you wanting, and you knew he knew that, because there was a smugness to his voice when he spoke next.

“Apology accepted,” he said as you blinked at him in shock, your mind still lagging well behind your body. “Now we’re even.”

“Hold on,” you said. “I’m suddenly feeling very repentant and remorseful. Are you quite sure you forgive me with just that?”

He laughed. It was such a lovely sound, his laugh, and you would’ve told him so if you weren’t afraid that he’d stop when you pointed it out.

“Maybe not,” he said. “You might have to apologize a bit more.”

“That sounds doable,” you said. “Yeah, I might be able to work that in. It’ll be agonizing, but a wise man once told me that that’s just the nature of apologizing, so it’s the least I can do, right?”

“Oh, shut up,” he said, holding your face in his hands and leaning in. You did the same, your eyes closing all on their own as you sought out the connection he had deprived you of earlier.

As the sun set over the horizon and the seagulls settled in for the night, he kissed you again.

[xoxochb]

— sea pearls ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

♪ ༘⋆ on the radio… love song by lana del rey !

warnings: lowkey I pulled this outta my ass, fluff, tbh soft! rafe, kissinnnn, language, edging on smut-ish, implications to sex, and a possibility for a part 2 w smut pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ🪸࿔*:･

“I found another one, here.”

you pick up a white pearl from within the damp sand, letting the ocean waves wash off all the excess dirtiness from the pretty sea object. once clean, you place it in the palm of your hand and examine it attentively. you hum contently and hand it to your boyfriend who holds the rest of your collection.

“how many more of these do ya need?”

you ponder for a moment. “a few. I think.”

you bend back down and run your fingers along the sand, sticking them inside to find any pearls beneath what you can see. you find two this time, repeating the same process by washing them off and handing them to rafe who drops a few in the process, hands too full of the others.

“shit,” he murmurs. you pout realizing you had lost a few of your absolutely vital pearls. he attempts to pick up a few, only getting three of them though. “I think this is enough.”

“okay…” you stand up and take a last glance to the ocean floor before turning back to rafe who is trying to keep up with the armful of pearls. “okay, let’s go back. we’ll come back later.”

slowly you make your way back to the sandy portion of the beach, plopping down on your plethora of towels. rafe follows close behind with your pearls, you hold a bag up for him to drop all of them in before he sits down beside you.

you move your wet hair out of your face and take a look in the bag where you have a decent collection of sea pearls. you smile gingerly. and take a handful of them, just feeling. “I’ll probably be able to make a few bracelets with these. maybe a necklace if I have any leftover.”

“what about the shells you got earlier?”

“they’re just for decoration.”

rafe nods understandingly despite not understanding why you collected such objects only to leave them around your house. regardless, he would support your hobby greatly.

“c’mere, sweetheart.” he takes one of your hands away from the bag’s strap, using it to guide you towards him.

you don’t fight his advances, letting him grab your waist and pull you to his lap, moving your arms to wrap lazily over his shoulders. he pecks your forehead delicately.

“what are ya doing, ray?”

“nothin’ just be your pretty self.”

his lips trail from your forehead to your nose, tracing the length of it before pecking your cupid’s bow and then ultimately claiming your lips with his own. he tastes like the sea, salty and inviting, you savor that.

“mhmmm, ray…” your voice comes out half giggly.

“sweetheart…” peck, peck, peck.

“whatcha— mphm— doing?”

“kissin’—” kiss. “my girl. mhm, pretty girl.”

your tummy feels fluttery. you let him do just that.

rafe’s hands trail the skin of your bare waist, and looping around the waistband of your bikini bottoms, tugging at them gently. you deepen each kiss, placing the palm of your head on the back of his head to push his lips nearly impossibly closer to yours.

his tongue runs along your bottom lip— most likely tasting the same as his from when he dunked you underneath the water a relentless amount of times throughout the afternoon— it’s a silent way of asking for inside access to your mouth.

which you oblige to, resorting to open-mouthed kisses so his tongue can tangle with your own and explore your mouth as if he’s never done it before, which is a lie because he has plenty.

you want to start giggling uncontrollably, perhaps kick your feet and skip across the sand. you let your internal senses do that for you as you wish never to part your lips from rafe as he practically devours your mouth with his own.

you feel as his hands slide back up to your waist, holding it tightly as he guides the both of you to lay, your back against the towel and rafe on top of you, better access to your mouth as he kisses you.

you hum into his mouth as his fingers find your bottoms again, twirling the straps around them and very agonizingly slow rate, sliding them down your droplet-veiled legs. you finish for him and kick the remainder off with your feet.

you must say now, this is far more enticing than collecting pearls all afternoon!

[kairismess]

summer heat.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 description . . .

・:〃➜ with how hot the summer is getting, your favorite boys need some way to cool down and relax . . . preferably with you by their side.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ft. HAIKYUU BOYS – kenma, hinata, and suna.

KENMA.

it doesn't take long for kenma to start heaving, panting, and sweating underneath the heat of the deadly hot rays of the sun. he doesn't think he can last 5 more minutes under the sun with how hot the summer's been, even under the shade of the cute cat-themed parasol you bought for the two of you at the beach, this boy is still sweating an awful lot, reaching for your somehow cool, pool of melted ice for a cooler, for a pack of apple juice.

"is there... any more left..." your pudding haired boyfriend heaved with a raspy voice, clenching to the crumpled, empty plastic juice packet. you look into the box full of melted ice and wince as you break the news to him that he just drank his last apple juice box. the poor boy whimpers silently as he feels the sweat pool on the back of his shirt, and since you felt bad, you got up and dusted the sand off your lap, your hand extended out to him as the heat starts to get to him.

"a swim...?" he meekly repeats after you, his cheeks flushing with warmth rushing to his face, either from embarrassment or from the intense heat of the sun. you nod as you wait for his answer, with him taking your hand weakly, slowly pulling you closer to him with a smile. "...alright, alright, i'll take a dip in the water... but just a few minutes of cuddles...?" he pleads, his golden almond eyes begging for you to hold him to keep him from falling apart from the sheer ruthlessness of the heat.

HINATA.

hinata isn't usually one to complain about the weather, but with the rise of the past week's temperature, he's been pretty much exhausted every time he goes out; and it's a big bummer, because he so badly wants to take you out on a date and enjoy some sceneries together, go to the beach, have a nice dinner with you... but the heat makes you both too lazy to get out of the house.

he can't emphasize to you how much he wants to go out with you, while being in front of the fan, sweating a storm. you try to reassure him and tell him you two don't have to go out to enjoy each other's company, but your little tangerine wants the best date for you after being abroad for a long while and having to focus on his volleyball career and training months prior.

while your sunshine sulks about not being able to take you out, you scoop up a couple of bowls of ice cream for the two of you, handing one of the bowls to him. you explain to him that, even though you also want to go out with him, you don't need all those fancy outings to be happy with him–you're more than happy sharing some ice cream with him on a hot day.

you have no idea just how happy you made him, because it was like the clouds parted from the sun, and the room got five times warmer with the growth of his shining smile. "y-yeah! i guess i feel the same way too... i mean, all i want is to make you happy, the where doesn't really matter, all that matters to me is your happiness, love." he beams, and though you try to warn him his ice cream will melt, he doesn't mind, because his ice cream will stay sweet no matter how melty it'll get; for now, all he wants to focus on is you and how adorable you look eating up your ice cream... maybe hoping to feed you some on your spoon.

SUNA.

your boyfriend suna is usually calm, cool, and collected; making it hard for you to know what it is he wants or is feeling. but the nasty highs the temperature outside is reaching brings out the hidden character of your usually composed boyfriend, though in a manner you wouldn't expect.

it's a no-brainer that the heat can make someone a bit lazy to move their body to get things done, and your boy understands that too much, that he wants you to give yourself a break and cool off for a little bit from your chores at home and suffer from the intense heat.

and how would he get you to do that? by offering the perfect at home date between you two in your room–with a tv show to binge, a closet full of snacks, a minifridge full of cool drinks, and the AC on blast with him and your pillows and stuffed animals waiting for you.

"hey, um..." he calls out to you in his gravelly voice, gently grabbing your wrist, pulling you closer to him. his pale green eyes gazing at you, with neediness in those orbs of his. "i turned on the AC, and since, y'know, that recent show you've wanted to binge just released all episodes available, and the snack bar we have in our room is stacked up... why not take a break from the chores and just chill out with me, babe?" and how could you say no to his desperate pleading face?

[agatharkn3ss]

Lilia Calderu is extremely important (Spoilers)

Lilia says in ep.5 that she "reads people" and she "reads time". But she is much more than that, she just doesn't know it yet.

I believe Lilia Calderu is Fate itself - or Fate of this coven at least.

You can see the background of Patti's end credit is the tarot table. This is going to be her air trial in episode 7. But do you also see the word "Fate"? Circled in red?

Now... Doesn't that remind you of something? Like maybe... "Circle sewn with Fate"?

Oh and what else does Lilia do? That's right, her side hustle "Lilia's Leggings"! The motif of sewing around Lilia is repeated throughout episode 2 - she has a sewing machine in her kitchen/bedroom and when she starts singing the ballad, there are big thread spools in her background. Could they be any more obvious?

Without Lilia, there would be no coven. She is the one who sends the list of names to her past self so that they can form their circle.

I am convinced she will do this as part of her trial. She will be doing a tarot reading and sending messages to the past events, trying to find the right time - just as she uncovers her tarot cards - and yes, that's including the broken line "Alice don't try to save Agatha".

If you want to know more about how I think those messages will be send, I have described the detail in this post.

The tarot cards that have been used so far give us insights into the story - not just because of their tarot meanings, but also because the images on those cards correspond exactly to the moments when Lilia said their names out loud.

These are the scenes as seen through Fate's eyes.

Three of Pentacles has the coven singing the Ballad. Three of Swords is the moment before Teen is healed - they are in the woods, on the purple Road and Lilia sees Agatha's heart being broken three-fold (because of Rio, Nicky and now Teen). High Priestess is exactly how Lilia first met Jen - with the rays coming out of the painting behind her. And finally, the Knight of Wands is standing in exactly the same stance as Alice was when she saved Agatha.

The rest of the cards, although not named in the show yet, will likely make appearance in her trial. Queen of Cups bears striking resemblance to young Lilia. Death is holding a dagger and a black heart, and is surrounded by flowers... And finally, there is the Tower card. Which is going to be about the her tarot (Air) trial.

You can read more about my predictions on how her episode 7 trial will go in this post.

But essentially, the members of the coven will be dressed up as the evil witches from the pop culture, while Lilia will be in white - like Glinda the Good Witch. So it looks like Lilia will need to confront those negative stereotypes yet again. She will also understand, that although she predicted tragedies in the past, she actually has the power to predict something good, even control it.

There will be swords sticking out of the ceiling and falling down to the floor - probably serving as a time reminder. You can see those swords in the poster above too. There is another poster - that resembling the cover of "The Crucible" - a play about the Salem witch trials. Again, we see the "thread" elements clearly here.

Unfortunately, we know that Salem Seven manage to get inside the trial too. I think once Lilia completes her task to finish the tarot reading and deliver the list to the past, she will then flip the sand timer - another reminder that she can, in fact, control time. Unfortunately, flipping the timer will also mean that the whole tower room they are in, will also flip upside down. We see Lilia and Salem Seven floating up. Sadly, I think that means that they will end up impaled on those swords? We can't see anyone else from the coven.

The Tower card seems to suggest people floating, but there is also a blue crown being toppled off the top. I wonder what that means for Billy.

That last shot breaks my heart!

But to finish on a different note, there is even more to Lilia Calderu.

You see, every tarot card has this little squiggle in the corner. Looks familiar?

I believe, after all this, that it is Lilia who puts the sigil on Teen - again, this maybe done in retrospect, when she sends her messages from the future. She knows that Teen's identity must be hidden or Agatha never becomes interested in what he has to say. And maybe others' decisions would change too if they knew. Maybe he needs protecting from the Salem Seven, because he is the son of the Scarlet Witch (that Salem witches call the Harbinger of Chaos and wanted to attack Wanda). Or even protection from Lady Death herself - because if she found out he was literally a ghost, reincarnated, she would want the body to restore the order?

So, in her true style, she literally SEWS the sigil onto Billy's mouth.

Lilia Calderu, what a legend. She is FATE.

[winterrrnight]

rafe comforting you when he realizes you aren’t comfortable in your skin and can’t accept compliments <3 cw: body insecurities, intentional use of lower case, shy!reader, self indulgent af bro :/

it took him some time, but he started to notice it; the way you dodged his compliments, the way you always switched the topic each time he praised how beautiful you look, or how pretty you are.

he didn’t quite understand it at first. why would you not be so readily accepting the compliments? after all, every word coming out of his mouth is 100% true.

it’s a wonderful fall evening, both of you at the quiet beach as you sit next to each other on the sand, the sun slumping down in the horizon and the sky streaked with beautiful tints of oranges and yellows, a cool breeze blowing past you both. his arm stays slumped around your shoulders, his way of keeping you warm in the chilly breeze.

he takes a glance at you; the evening sun rays shining off you, making you look even more ethereal than ever.

“you look so beautiful right now…” he mutters softly, not realizing when the words leave the mouth. it’s more or less like a reflex for him to compliment you, he just can’t stop himself.

you feel your cheeks heat up at his words, your gaze now fixated at your lap, your fingers pulling onto each other. rafe notices this almost immediately, and realizes that each time he compliments you, he never hears a ‘thank you’ back.

“hey…” he says softly, placing his hand on top of yours to stop you from fiddling with your fingers, “look at me,”

you slowly, but surely, turn your head to meet your eyes with his warm blue ones, and he can see the hesitance in your eyes, your mind working away the gears as a million thoughts generate in your head.

“why do you hide from me any time I compliment you?” he asks softly. he doesn’t mean to pressurize you, but he’s realized this has been going on for way too long now, and he wants to get to the bottom of this.

“rafe i…” you fumble, your lips parting and he expects you to say something else, but nothing really leaves your mouth. your eye contact with him falters and you start to look away, but rafe is quick to gently grip on your chin and make you look at him.

“uh uh uh… look at me, please,” he pleads softly. it gets hard for you to maintain strong eye contact but nevertheless you keep on looking in his eyes.

“sweetheart…” he tuts softly, “don’t tell me you aren’t… comfortable with what you look like…”

when no response leaves your lips and you just look in his eyes, the sadness only evolving in them more and more, all the dots connect in his mind.

you aren’t comfortable with what you look like, so you believe you don’t deserve the compliments he loves to shower you in, and don’t readily accept them the way he wishes you would.

he gently moves his hand to your cheek and strokes the skin softly, and you subconsciously lean into the warmth of his hand.

“you’re gonna keep looking at me when I say the next words…” he takes a deep breath. “you, my love, are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on. and no– none of the hiding you always do okay? I will say this everyday to you if needed to show you that you indeed are so gorgeous, inside and out. that you radiate a certain light no one does. there is a charm you have that keeps on pulling me to you. I just hope you can see yourself from my eyes. and you’d see how your entire face glows under the warm sunlight, how your eyes shine when the moon shines its light on you. you smile so beautifully each time I take you to your favorite restaurant, or talk about some movie or show you love, or talk to you about new music… and I just wish you can see that, because it’s so beautiful, it’s the only thing I can think of all day,”

you don’t take your eyes off of him as tears full your eyes up to the brim. you blink and the tears make their way down, streaking your cheeks. your breathing is a little shaky, and rafe wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

“it’s okay to feel this way…” he whispers, “but just know, i’m never letting a single day pass by without reminding you just how beautiful you are okay? i’ll make you sick of my compliments,” he chuckles softly.

you can’t help but chuckle a little yourself, your face pressed against his blue lacoste. you slowly pull your face back and he quickly wipes off the residual tears off your face.

“thank you rafe…” you whisper softly, not knowing how badly you had needed that.

he smiles softly, knowing he’s succeeded because you didn’t dodge the compliment, you accepted it and thanked him for it. he presses a kiss to your forehead, closing his eyes for a moment as his lips come in contact with your skin.

“you’re so welcome my love,” he whispers against your skin, pressing another kiss.

he made you feel extremely loved and wanted in a way you’ve never felt.

— —

now who’s crying with me? 😁

[kacievvbbbb]

Mihawk Headcannons

Some of the headcannons I have about Mihawk that have recently been eating a whole through my brain like a very persistent worm.

These are all just my hopes and dreams based on no evidence whatsoever so yeah the resolute language is just for jokes. - When we see Mihawk at Roger's execution he is 19 and has to wear Yoru across his back because she is too tall for him. Meaning that there was a good at least 5 years where Mihawk prayed every day that he would continue to grow so he could wear Yoru down his back and live out his aesthetic.

-Also, Yoru probably weighed more than 19-year-old Mihawk, and that weight is not distributed evenly, especially with how Mihawk was wearing her across his back. And Mihawk even then was masterfully skilled of course, but say, every now and again he'd be distracted, maybe by a certain redhead whose to say🤷🏿‍♀️, and forget to counterbalance losing him his ever-present fight with gravity. All this to say was that in the right circumstances, young Mihawk was very tippable and had to quickly become acquainted with the expert skill of picking yourself up while on the sand, with a sword bigger than you are strapped across his back.

- I don't really care how but it is imperative to me that Mihawk knew Rayleigh, Garp, Benn and Yasopp as a teenager/very young adult and they used to clown him relentlessly. Garp and Ray are too damn old to be scared of a teenage Mihawk, Yasopp has no self-preservation and Benn has always recognized Mihawk as the awkward, sarcastic mess he is and has had to scold him just as much as his Captain. It's why they are the two rhp he's most familiar with and Benn is his favorite (captain included) - He is Spanish. I know a lot of people headcanon Romanian because of the whole Dracula lives in a dark castle thing but I will stand by he looks like a Spanish Conquistador till my dying day. And obviously, because people don't have to be from just one place he can deffs be both! But yeah I think he's Spanish and should speak/understand Spanish solely because Doffy is also Spanish (can't believe people thought he was German his name is literally Donquioxte) and regularly tries to rizz people up at the Warlord mewting (namely Crocodile) in Spanish and Mihawk (the only other Spanish speaker) has to bare the burden of comprehension of the truly fluid and vile nonsense Doffy is spewing. And Doffy who of course also clocks this is trying to go for a record of what nobody is quiet sure, but whatever it is Mihawk will be damned before he loses at anything to that damn bird

- This one gonna be very brief because the rest of this has been pretty lighthearted and I don't want to harsh the vibes too much. But Mihawk definitely has scars on his back like not just one but properly multiple. And given the fact that he was supposedly betrayed, his mistrust and loner attitude, and the fact that his eyes are very rare and probably special all signs point to; he was definitely at one point hunted as a child till he turned hunter.

[victorialovesstiles]

I was trying to figure out why this scene had so much power to it and I realized this is the moment Ray figures out Sand’s feelings for him. It is so beautifully written and executed… I have so many thoughts on this:

Firstly, Sand is the one to bring up the elephant in the room that is RayMew. This is not surprising, given Ray’s lack of accountability and avoidance of serious matters.

What IS surprising is Ray’s immediate reaction to this - he completely discredits the seriousness and validity of RayMew’s relationship to Sand:

“… we need to see if it’s gonna work.”

He’s (consciously or unconsciously) trying to reassure Sand that he’s not entirely unavailable - that him and Mew are just “trying things out”. That there’s still room for Sand and this thing between them.

He follows that discredit with a comment that can be read as direct criticism and comparison of Sand’s own “just friends” boundaries during their time together:

“At least he let me cross that friend zone line.”

At least HE did, at least HE let me try.

Sand returns this thinly veiled snide comment with a double entendre of his own:

“Good. You can finally end the secret crush.” To which I don’t think Ray picks up on Sand’s true meaning until Sand finishes with “Such a waste of time, right?”

THERE. RIGHT THEN. THAT MOMENT is when Sand’s true feelings finally become clear for Ray.

Because why would Ray’s secret crush be a waste of time if it worked out and he is now with Mew???

Sand is talking about himself… and Ray knows it.

You can literally see the lightbulb moment clear on Ray’s face. Sand likes him, Sand has a crush on him, Sand doesn’t want them to be only friends, and possibly never did.

But Ray didn’t know that before, how could he? And how unfair that he finds out now, finds out RIGHT as Sand is telling him that he’ll end his secret crush on Ray, and that he’ll let Ray go now that Ray has Mew?

All of the times Sand said he would never take Ray as his boyfriend or lover - insisted that they stay friends and nothing more. Possibly even hurting Ray with these words during the brief time when Ray was properly trying to move on from Mew.

And now that the man Ray has loved for years is giving him a chance - now that it’s seemingly too late, Ray is figuring out that he was wrong - that Sand did want him, like him, love him.

You can see the wheels turning in his head - trying to figure out his next move - and in that moment, he can see himself in Sand. Because at the end of the day, Ray understands loneliness and rejection better than anyone.

And so finally, he decides to next ask Sand the question he wishes someone would ask him:

“Are you okay?”

[papiliotao]

・❥・DICTIONARY OF LOVE

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Albedo, Ayaka, Kazuha, Tartaglia, Wanderer (Scaramouche), Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: love through their eyes.

♡ — Content: fluff, very very light angst(?)

♡ — Warnings: spoilers for some characters' backstories

♡ — A/N: honestly, I'm kind of proud of the fact that I was able to keep each part relatively concise. Also, one of these parts is just me being down bad for one of the characters (I'll leave who it is to your imagination hehe). Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy the fic!!

To ALBEDO, love means patience. He's well aware that he's not the most energetic or expressive person. There are moments where his social battery is low, and he needs to immerse himself in his own world more than anything. Whenever this happens, you sit in the snowy landscape of Dragonspine, watching Albedo as he drags a brush across a canvas, causing inky strokes to bleed across the intricate composition. You wait in silence, intently peering at him, observing every movement of his arm and flick of his wrist. The frigid air stings your cheeks, but Albedo's presence is enough to cease the chills that threaten to wrack your body. Once he finishes, he turns to you and smiles softly. Albedo thanks you for waiting for him. Your understanding means the world to him, and despite the fact that you insist you need nothing in return, he still feels the need to reimburse you by taking you back to his camp in Dragonspine where he cuddles you until you feel warm again.

To AYAKA, love means acceptance. After long days of being surrounded by people who idolize her instead of seeing her as a friend, your presence makes her feel like a human being instead of some faultless goddess. Although she appreciates the individuals who think highly of her, she loves how spending time with you feels so easy in comparison. With you, she has no image to maintain. Formalities and etiquette are thrown out the window when she is with the one she adores. Despite the fact that you know she's not a perfect person, you're still hers, and that makes her feel secure. You're special to her because you accept all her flaws instead of ignoring them, yet you love her nonetheless.

To KAZUHA, love means tranquility. After all the storms he has encountered in his lifetime, he needs someone who can help him calm the raging tempests in his heart, and that someone is you. Peace — it's a feeling reminiscent of the serenity that courses through his veins when he basks in the last ephemeral rays of sunlight with you by his side. It’s a sentiment that is evoked by the gentle lapping of waves on sand as the two of you walk along a pristine shoreline, hand-in-hand as the sun sinks below the horizon. And most importantly of all, it's found in the sense of stillness that settles over him each night as he falls asleep with you in his arms. The moon acts as a witness to your love, curiously glancing down at the two of you as Kazuha holds you close and whispers sweet nothings into your ear until you drift off into slumber. When he is finally left alone with his thoughts, Kazuha wistfully gazes overhead and thanks every star in his sight for leading him to you.

To TARTAGLIA, love means war. He is a fighter by nature, so needless to say, he will fight as many battles as it takes to protect you. He knows it's not easy nor safe being romantically involved with one of the Fatui Harbingers. Numerous foes have tried to take you hostage and use you as leverage against him. However, Tartaglia is always there to protect you whenever his enemies try to strike from the shadows. His love for you and his contempt for those who attempt to hurt you fuel a fiery rage that urges him to show no mercy. By the time he is finished with them, he is certain that they will never try to harm you again. In Tartaglia's eyes, loving you is like fighting a war, and although the prospect is unappealing to many, Tartaglia is different. The thrill of battle fills him with adrenaline, and at the end of the day, he finds that it is all worth it because you're still by his side.

To the WANDERER, love means eternity. It is a concept he is all too familiar with — after all, the deity who embodies the principle is the one who created him just to cast him aside, initiating the first of several betrayals to come. All the fleeting moments of warmth he has experienced in his lifetime have left him raring for more, but no one ever quite quenches his thirst for intimacy before they abandon him. He wants something lasting, but he's too afraid to voice his desires due to the dubious thoughts that riddle his mind. If the God of Eternity’s affection for him was as transient as the vibrant maple leaves that adorned his birthplace, then who would ever be willing to love him indefinitely? His burning questions are all answered when he meets you. You are able to look past his harsh exterior and see him for who he truly is: someone afraid of the impermanence of tenderness, so when you finally confess your true feelings to him, you make it clear that you plan on staying by his side forevermore. When you make your vow to the Wanderer, he feels a gentle heartbeat thrumming to life in his once-empty chest. Perhaps this time, eternity will last forever.

To XIAO, love means subtlety. It is difficult for Xiao to verbally convey his admiration for you, so instead of expressing his infatuation in a straightforward manner, it is instead a sentiment he administers through lingering touches and shy acts of service. His love is quiet. Subdued, yet passionate all the same, and he will forever be grateful that you never fail to pick up on what he is discreetly trying to say to you. A heartfelt "I love you" is hidden in every small moment, no matter how insignificant it seems. And the way you reciprocate his gestures by preparing his favourite dish, shyly taking his hand while you're sitting together on Wangshu Inn's roof, and inspecting his body for any injuries in what you think is an inconspicuous manner makes his heart race time and time again. To Xiao, love is not something that needs to be in-your-face; it is found when you read between the lines.

Au revoir, mes amis. Also, all of these were supposed to be wholesome, and then Childe came along, and I just said VIOLENCE. I wonder if anyone can tell which one of these characters is my favourite. (Any guesses? /hj)

[k-n0-x]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Sandy dunesˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A/N: HI GUYS SORRY FOR BEING SOOOO INACTIVE. @lucifers-personal-cum-dump GAVE ME A REQUEST A VERY LONG WHILE AGO AND NOW IT’S FINISHED RAAAAAH

ˏˋ°•⁀➷ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Are you ready to go now sweet pea?” Lucifer knocks on the bathroom door, and you open it.

“Yeah, just give me a second!” You reply as you apply hellcream on your front, arms and face.

“Can you help me put some on my back?” 

Today was the hottest day in Hell, so Lucifer and yourself decided to spend the day on Hell’s “best” beaches.

“Of course,” You ignored his smug tone as he spread the sun blocker with his palms. 

Him being the King of Hell, he is very much inured to the death  rays of the hellish sun that burned the sinners.

“You know~” His delicate hands trace towards the scars just below your lower chest.

“We can have our own fun day inside,” 

You ponder for a few moments, not understanding  his innuendo.

“Nah, we should go out. You have not gone outside in a while. Besides-” you put your hands on either side of his face.

“It’s a good opportunity for bonding time,” 

He sighs into the warmth of your hands.

“Alright, if you insist”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥໒꒱🌱⠈⠂⠄ ‹𝟹 🚞〃 ˝˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

“See Lulu, ain’t too bad, right?” You gaze on the sultry red sand beneath your feet, and then to the lapping teal waves.

“You got that right,” he replies, but he wasn’t looking at the scenery.

“Come onn, knock it out!” You bump into his side, grinning all the same. 

Something catches your interest from the corner of your eye.

“Ooooh, Surf boards! I’m going to get one, okay babe?” 

“Alright. Don’t take too long, okay?” Lucifer stands on his tiptoes and pecks the nape of your neck, a comical sight, you towering over the King of Hell.

“Don’t worry, I won’t!” You tredge to the stall which is selling surfboards.

The dinky booth was unoccupied, with a vandalised sign, and one of the surf boards were snapped in half.

You lean over the countertop and scrummage around for one that is in decent edition, when a calloused hand snaps to your shoulder.

“‘Ey,” 

You turn around and quickly produce an apology.

“Oh! Sorry I didn’t realise that this was your stall- I was planning to put it back when I’m done I promise!” You wince. This was gonna be roug-

“Nono, it’s nothing, really. You can keep the board,” The voice rumbles from the thuggish broad demon.

���Woah really? Thank you!” Score!

“It’s no problem. You’re quite the smokeshow,” 

“Aw thanks! You don’t look too bad yourself,” You smile at the big fella leering at you.

“Say, how about we blow this joint and go somewhere else?” 

“I think not buddy!” Lucifer’s voice rings in your ears.

“Huh? Oh, hi LuLu. This guy wants to hang out with us! I hope you don’t mind?” 

The Demon King’s nostrils flare.

“I’m pretty sure this guy wants more than ‘to hang’ out with us. So, yes, I do mind quite a bit,” 

“Oh uhh, on second thought, I have somewhere to be,” your heart drips in embarrassment as the sinner turns and dead runs the other way in fear of being in the presence of Lucifer Morningstar. 

Lucifer starts to ramble after seeing your sullen expression.

“Hey don’t look so down. I- I actually have something planned for us, which is uhhh-” he looks at his wrist, like there was a watch telling him the time.

“In about five minutes!” 

You squint your eyes at his sheepish grin.

“And how come you didn’t tell me this? I would’ve brought more suitable attire,” You retort, earning yourself at the sight of him flushing an embarrassing shade of red. 

“Well, uh…. I wanted it to be a surprise?” His display of improv is impressive.

Nonetheless, you kick the sand beneath you both.

“I wanted to go surfing though,” you sigh dejectedly.

Your sullen face was too much for your darling Luci to bear.

“Oh- don’t worry, you can! We can basically go anytime we want! Besides, I’m great at squeezing things in~”

“Okay buddy,” you nudge him, rolling your eyes.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥໒꒱🌱⠈⠂⠄ ‹𝟹 🚞〃 ˝˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Ahh. The way the dry air whistles in your ears as you swerve across the ripples of water is just- otherworldly.

Not to mention the frequent wave that you absolutely shred. The adrenaline that pumps through your veins is almost addictive.

Who knows? You could probably compete in surfboarding competitions and come out on top each and every time.

Lucifer, on the other hand-

Well, he’s trying his hardest, and that’s all that matters. Right?

You giggle when the most recent wave of water submerged your devilish partner. 

He emerges from the water, with sunken eyes, and a not-very-amused expression.

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing. Oh look, even you’re laughing at me,” he folds his arms.

“Don’t take it personally, love,” you reply, hugging him from the back.

“Darling, I’m the King of Hell! I’m not taking anything personally,” he grumbles earnestly.

“Oh? Is that so? Well, if I kissed you now, you wouldn’t take it personally? Especially me, your partner?” You feign sorrow, when the King’s eyes dilate.

“What? No, it’s not like that-” His voice cracks.

“Oh, who am I kidding? Of course, a lowly sinner like me isn’t even worthy of being graced in the presence of the King of Hell,” your voice drawls, taking on a dramatic tone.

“What?” The pain in his voice and his eyes dilating with sadness fills you with guilt immediately.

“Wait no, baby I’m sorry I didn’t mean that, I was just joking like I always do-” You squeeze your arms around Lucifer.

He sighs into your touch. “It’s alright, but please don’t do that again?”

“I promise, I truly, truly, don’t mean it,” You rub his rosy cheeks either side of his face with your thumbs.

Lucifer takes your hands and kisses into them. “God, I love you so much. I will never let anyone take you from me,”

Your lips break into a great grin.

“You don’t know how much power you have with that smile,” 

Your face contorts into a question mark.

“What, do you mean?”

“Darling, those toothy grins could break so many hearts. The guy on the beach-” He hesitates. Maybe he was just over-reacting. Maybe that specific sinner wasn’t trying to do anything…

Lucifer continues, “Well, I’ve just noticed that when we ever go out, you get hit on a LOT, and I’m sorry if I might be making a big deal out of nothing, but the thought of you leaving scares me so much, and, and-” Thoughts whirl around in his brain that couldn’t be properly computed into words.

You, however, stay beside him and listen until he’s finished before putting out your own.

“Lulu, first, thank you for telling me this. I truly, truly didn’t realise how forward some people have been with me. I thought they were just being polite, but I realise the place we live in is quite devoid of that behaviour, though that’s not really an excuse. What I can say for a fact is that I’ll never trade you for the world. The acceptance and love you give me is something priceless that I never want to be taken from me,”

“How did you ever not go up to Heaven?” He sniffs, a happy tear rolling down his cheek.

You wipe it away. “I don’t know, but I’m glad I didn’t,”

“I’m glad you didn’t too,”

ˏˋ°•⁀➷ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

~1,236 words

[eksvaized]

Part One König / Ghost / Reader [ Previous 〡 Next ] ︱AO3 ︱Wattpad ︱ taglist: - (if you want to be added - let me know!)

since I finished editing 'just friends', I decided to rewrite & edit this story, so I hope you'll enjoy the new version! <3

Each morning, you awaken alone. The enormous bed, once filled with warmth, now cold and empty. Today, your morning isn't any different from the countless ones that have come before. As you roll onto your side, your hand stretches out, tracing the cool, empty expanse of the mattress. Your fingers curl around the frosty pillow, its fabric still bearing the faintest scent of him. You draw it closer to you, clutching at it in a futile attempt to fill the void that is left by your boyfriend and his lack of presence.

A sigh, barely audible, escapes your lips as a wave of loneliness engulfs you. Its icy tendrils wrap tightly around your heart, constricting it in a bitter reminder of your solitude. You yearn for a morning where you can flutter open your eyes to find König next to you, his arms securely wrapped around your body, his breath warm against your skin. You long to see him still sleeping, his face relaxed in peaceful slumber, instead of disappearing and getting out of bed as soon as the first rays of sunshine peek through the window. A longing for the soft whispers of "good morning" and the gentle comfort of his embrace fills you, making the emptiness of the bed all the more pathetic.

The first two years of your relationship with König were great. You were happy, genuinely happy, and over the moon because you finally had someone in your life, who truly cared about you, who showered you with attention and affection, and even lavished you with expensive gifts. You felt cherished and valued, and it was a feeling unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

However, as of late, König has transformed into someone unrecognizable. He is still your boyfriend; you love him very much, and he probably loves you even more. Yet, his demeanour, his behaviour, and the manner in which he has started to conduct himself have left you in a state of constant questioning. The love you once never doubted now seems uncertain, as his actions and attitude have begun to paint a different picture—he's not the man you met and fell in love with two years ago.

Sometimes, usually after a couple glasses of wine when you've gathered the courage, you dare to confront him about his nonchalant attitude towards you. In these moments of newfound bravery, you bombard him with questions, desperately seeking to understand if it's something you are doing that causes him to act as if he couldn't care less about you or your feelings. But no matter how earnestly you implore, he never gives you the answers you're looking for. He never provides any concrete explanations or reasons for his indifference.

He has a myriad of excuses for why he doesn't want to engage with you about your concerns. The reasons are countless and they change each time, just like shifting sands, always elusive and never consistent. You've heard a variety of them. For instance, he might dismiss your confrontation because of you being wine drunk, suggesting that you should go to bed. Another time, he might say he's too tired to engage in a deep conversation and promise to talk with you in the morning.

But perhaps the one that stings the most, your least favourite, is when he pretends he didn't hear you. Even when you're standing directly in front of him, looking at him with teary eyes, and pouring out your heart, he chooses to feign ignorance and act as though he didn't hear a single word. This cold dismissal is far worse than any words he could say.

Although he's cold with you, he never never displays any outright cruelty. Still, you can't help but notice the chilly detachment that has creeps into his voice when he talks with you. It's as if a frost has settled over your conversations, making each word feel like a shard of ice. Or the flicker of irritation that now seems to have taken up permanent residence in his eyes whenever he comes home and sees you. It's as if he's looking through you rather than at you, seeing not the person you are but the person he wishes you were.

König has constructed around himself an impenetrable wall. A wall so thick and so high that no matter how much you chip away at it, no matter how hard you try to scale its heights, it remains steadfast. It stands there as a constant reminder of the gulf that has opened up between you two—a gulf that seems to widen with each passing day.

You find yourself continuously attempting to convince your own mind that this is merely a fleeting phase, a temporary hiccup in your relationship. Every relationship, after all, has its own set of struggles and hurdles to overcome. It's normal, you tell yourself, maybe all you need to do is to be patient and wait it out. Time has a way of healing wounds and mending bridges, and perhaps a little more of it could be the magic potion that brings everything back to the way it used to be - normal and simple.

However, despite your best efforts to suppress it, there's a harsh, cruel voice that resides in the deepest recesses of your mind, nagging persistently. It casts a dark shadow of doubt over your thoughts, suggesting with an unsettling certainty that maybe, just maybe, the once deep love that existed between you and him is gradually, and painfully, fading away into oblivion.

You are brewing coffee, desperately hoping that the invigorating aroma and the caffeine would help to dissipate the remnants of sleep that linger stubbornly within you. The quiet solitude of the early morning embraces you, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the brewing machine and the occasional chirping of a bird outside.

But suddenly, the tranquillity of the moment shatters like glass as the front door swings open with a force that rings through the house. This abrupt entrance is quickly followed by the distinct, rhythmic thud of heavy boots making their way down the lengthy corridor. Each footfall sends a reverberation through the floorboards. The sound is so familiar, yet it sends a jolt through your heart. You don't even need to turn around to know - König has returned home.

Over the past few weeks, you've found yourself walking on eggshells around him. It feels as though the surrounding air has become thin and brittle, ready to shatter at the slightest misstep. You've been constantly monitoring your words and actions, choosing them with careful deliberation so as not to accidentally exacerbate his increasingly volatile mood, which has been fluctuating more frequently as days pass. But when he finally appears in the doorway of the kitchen, his face etched with deep lines of exhaustion and his eyes vacant, you find the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"What's wrong?"

His response is curt, delivered with an air of finality that leaves no room for further questions. "Nothing you need to worry about, liebling," he says, attempting to alleviate the palpable tension in the kitchen with a smile. But it's strained, fragile, like a piece of glass that's on the verge of shattering. The corners of his lips quiver slightly, an involuntary reaction betraying his inner turmoil. The frown lines etched deep on his forehead refuse to disappear, stubbornly present even as he tries to mask his emotions.

He closes the distance between you, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He leans in to plant a brief, fleeting kiss on your forehead, his lips colder than you remember, their warmth replaced by a chill that sends a shiver down your spine. As he continues his task, his hand reaches up to retrieve a cup from the cupboard above your head. You can't help but notice the new changes in him. His movements lack their usual grace, his touch feels mechanical, and his caresses are devoid of the genuine affection you've grown accustomed to. It's as if he's simply operating on autopilot, his mind evidently elsewhere.

You yearn for him to confide in you, to share his burdens and let you in on the whirlwind of thoughts that seem to be plaguing him. You wish to be his solace, to help him navigate through his sea of worries. More than anything, you want to help him, to alleviate his worries and bring back the man you know and love. But how can you do that if he refuses to let you in, if he remains so stubbornly silent, his emotions locked up tighter than a fortress?

"I'm leaving tomorrow. Have another mission. It's going to be a short one," König finally says, his gaze piercing you with an intensity that suggests he's expecting you to blow up.

However, you strive to maintain your composure. You have no intention of descending into another fruitless argument; every time he leaves after a fight, you feel awful for the way you acted.

"It's only been a week since you've returned home," you say, your eyes focused on the steaming cup cradled in your hands. The heat radiating from the cup is causing your fingertips to tingle, and the steam is lightly brushing against your skin. Despite the discomfort, you hold on to it with a firm grip. "I thought you were going to stay for at least another week. We had plans, remember? You gave me your word—."

He cuts you off before you can complete your sentence. "Plans have changed."

There have been countless times when you've wanted to confront König, to ask him directly why he finds it so challenging to uphold the promises that he so confidently makes. Yet each time you find yourself holding back, fully aware that such a conversation would be futile and would only result in both of you raising your voices in frustration. It has become painfully clear that he has no intention of discussing work-related matters with you.

König has a habit of offering reassurances that are devoid of any real comfort. He frequently insists that it's silly for you to burden your mind with matters that, in his opinion, do not directly concern you. This line of reasoning, though flawed, he presents as if it were an undeniable truth. And if, despite his attempts to dissuade you, you still muster the courage to press further, he always has a fallback. He always abruptly ends the conversation, leaving you hanging with a parting remark that it would be safer, better for you, if you remained ignorant.

* * *

As dawn breaks, you stir from your slumber only to find yourself enveloped once again by the cold emptiness of the bed beside you. The dreary grey skies outside mirror your inner turmoil. Raindrops pitter-patter gently against the windowpane. König didn't even bother waking you up before leaving. Yet, his absence is punctuated by a hastily scrawled note left carelessly on the nightstand. The message is brief and impersonal, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth: 'had to get up early, didn't want to wake you up. see you soon.'

Was it really so difficult to scribble three more words?

With a soft sigh, you whisper into the stillness of the bedroom, "I love you, too." The words, left unsaid by him, hang heavy in the air. You clutch the note in your hand before crumpling it and aimlessly tossing it onto the mattress.

With a great deal of effort, you pull yourself from the warm embrace of the bed, your feet reluctantly making contact with the icy floor beneath. You pause for a second, collecting your scattered thoughts, allowing the remnants of sleep to fade away as you mentally prepare yourself for yet another day.

Slowly, you venture through the hauntingly silent house, each step echoing through the stillness of the early morning. Each room you pass through seems to reverberate with echoes of a thousand memories that seem to cling to the walls and linger in the air. Yet amidst the symphony of remembrances, there's one memory that stands out from the rest, a memory that refuses to be drowned out by the others. It's that heated argument with König, a fiery exchange of words and emotions that took place just a few months ago.

You vividly recall the sting of his dismissive attitude on that day when you bared your soul to him, accusing him bitterly of not taking your relationship as seriously as you did, accusing him of taking your love, your commitment, for granted as if it were an inconsequential thing.

In the depths of your heart, you wished fervently, desperately even, for him to just be honest with you if his feelings for you were slowly fading away, like the last embers of a once roaring fire. You wanted him to admit it if he no longer felt the same passion, the same affection that once seemed to radiate from him like a comforting warmth.

But instead of providing the honesty you craved, he had merely dismissed your concerns, brushed them aside like dust. He told you that you were imagining things, that it was all just a figment of your overactive imagination, assuring you with words that felt hollow, that nothing between you two had changed.

But by the day's end, he had taken a step that had left you reeling in confusion. He had asked you to move in with him, a grand gesture that he believed would dispel your doubts and insecurities, a gesture that he thought would reassure you of his commitment. But instead of providing the comfort he hoped it would, it merely added another layer of complexity to the turbulent sea of emotions within you.

Initially, there was a glimmer of hope, a faint belief that things were on the verge of improving. You harboured the thought that perhaps the physical distance, the living apart, had been the catalyst that dimmed the once vibrant flame of your relationship. However, as each day bled into the next, and weeks morphed into seemingly interminable months, the solitary confinement within these walls began to weigh heavily on you.

The more time you spent alone in this house, the more you found yourself yearning for the familiar corners of your old apartment, regretting the decision to sell it to relocate here. After all, you pondered, what difference does it make where you live? The four walls of a room are just that, and the absence of König made this house feel no different than your old apartment.

What was the point of moving in together if König was always away, prioritising his work and his duty as a soldier above you?

You shake your head, as if physically trying to dispel the thoughts that have begun to creep into your mind. You can't allow yourself to dwell on them any longer, to let them take root and cast a shadow over your day. After all, the day has only just begun and you don't want to end up sulking on the couch, a prisoner in your own home, wallowing in a sea of regret and loneliness.

You stroll into the kitchen. As you slowly approach the counter, your fingers lightly graze the cool, granite surface, your mind whirling with the endless possibilities of what to make for breakfast. Your gaze wanders aimlessly, eventually settling on the window that provides a picturesque view of the neighbourhood.

You squint against the bright sun, your eyes catching an unusual sight - a man, his face damp with sweat under the morning sun, is engaged in an arduous task of moving boxes from a truck to the house across the street. His movements are slow and meticulous, each box handled with care as if they contain something precious.

A new neighbour.

A sense of intrigue washes over you, an irresistible curiosity that grips your very being. It's a magnetic pull that holds your attention captive, rendering you incapable of tearing your gaze away from the scene unfolding before your eyes.

His house lies across the street, a good distance away, yet his features are strikingly apparent and impossible to ignore even from your secluded vantage point in the cosy confines of your kitchen. His stature is tall and imposing, a figure that commands attention. His shoulders are broad, his hair is a dishevelled mess of rich blond locks.

As the day wears on, you find yourself repeatedly drawn to the kitchen window. Every so often, the man would step outside to retrieve yet another box from his truck, providing you with fleeting glimpses of him.

You remind yourself that you are in a committed relationship. You know that ogling other men is not something you should be doing. It's not something you usually do, and it's certainly not something you want to make a habit of.

However, in the recesses of your mind, a voice tries to justify your actions. It whispers, seeking to ease your guilt. You're just looking. That's not really doing anything wrong, right? It's a feeble attempt at rationalizing, but it works nonetheless.

[astraystayyh]

Snow on the beach

Hyunjin x reader. friends to lovers, but they've always known. implied soulmates.

this basically wrote itself nsbdbd as always feedback is highly appreciated <33 (if you can listen to Snow On The Beach by Taylor and Lana, do it!)

The ocean laps softly at your feet, and you watch its ebb and flow intently, admiring how each wave always knows precisely where to go- where to finally rest after a long journey of travels. 

This beach is your spot with Hyunjin. Not a secret one by any means, but one that feels yours because of all the memories you've shared here. The ocean has witnessed it all between the two of you.

"I will miss this," you sigh wistfully, and Hyunjin hums from beside you. He's watching the water too, legs tightly hugged to his chest, his cheek resting softly on his knee. 

You've grown up with Hyunjin right in front of this ocean. You weren't lovers but you weren't friends either. You were simply a mirror of one another. Every part of him found its reflection in you. 

"Me too. Remember when we first came here?" he chuckles softly at the distant memory and you smile to yourself. That was seven years ago. 

You are 15, stomping down the beach because you are angry at the world, just like every other teenager. You plop down on the sand and dig your hand into its warm particles. The soothing sensation grounds you and the sound of the waves drowns out your thoughts.  

"Hey," someone greets and you look up to find Hyunjin. He's your classmate in high school. You remember him in passing because you once dropped your pen and he picked it up for you without a word.  

"Hi," you greet back, shielding your eyes from the harsh sun rays with your hand. Hyunjin moves a bit to the side to block out the sun for you. You notice. 

"Mind if I sit with you?" he asks and you shrug, "Sure. But I don't feel like talking." 

"Me too. We can sit alone together." 

Paradoxal words, but you soon understand what he means by them. He's right next to you, but you're both lost in your own worlds. And yet his presence seems to have a calming effect on you. It feels comforting, to have someone exist with you without asking for anything in return.

"I do remember," you smile, turning back to look at the ocean. Your hand starts to pick up the sand once more, and Hyunjin does the same. Your pinkies brush against each other- it isn't the first time this happened. Touching Hyunjin has become second nature to you. 

You are 16, facing the ocean once again. Only this time tears are streaming down your eyes. 'Where are you?' you read in Hyunjin's text and you quickly write back 'Our spot'. He's there ten minutes later. He doesn't ask what's wrong, but his fingers are intertwined with yours and it's enough. It was the first time Hyunjin has grabbed your hand in. You haven't been the same since. 

"And now you're leaving me," Hyunjin teases, a glint of amusement shining brightly in his eyes. He knows you'd never leave. Even if you are no longer near him. 

"Mm, finally getting a break from you after 7 years," you joke as your fingers curl around his pinky, as his hand gently tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You'll always be here. 

You're 17, and it's nearly midnight, and yet you and Hyunjin are still talking in front of the ocean- the waves drinking in each bit of your conversation.

It's cold and you shiver slightly from the breeze grazing your exposed arms. Hyunjin notices and opens his jacket wide for you, silently inviting you to seek warmth from him. You bury yourself in his chest, his arms coming around to encircle you.

Your ear settles directedly on top of his heart- the first time you listen to Hyunjin's heartbeat. But it feels familiar, as if it's been ringing within you from the moment you met.

"Can't believe you won't be here for my birthday," he pouts and you giggle, inching closer to him in the process.

You've celebrated your birthday together for the past seven years. You've known all his wishes, since he always shared them with you. He didn't care about the superstition that telling someone your wish prevented it from becoming a reality. He believed that you and he are one, so it was only natural to tell you. 

"I'll call you from the other side of the world." You were leaving, not for long, only a year. A work opportunity you couldn't pass on. And yet it felt weird and unnatural to be somewhere where Hyunjin wouldn't be. 

You are 18, and as you watch the waves fizzle out as they meet the shore, your head laying on Hyunjin's shoulder, a sudden realization dawns on you. 

You are an ocean wave soaring too close to the sky, fueled by emotions too raw, too powerful, to be guarded by your heart alone. But as you near Hyunjin, your waves falter, your steps halt. Your worries, your fears, and your anger are no longer forces to be reckoned with. Instead, they become harmless sea foam. A mere shell of what they once were. To you, Hyunjin is the shore, bringing you out of your darkness, welcoming you home. 

"You'll call at my midnight?" he asks, leaning his face closer toward yours. You could clearly see his moles now, the one under his eye, and the one on his cheek. They remind you of the ink of a poet that ended up drying on his face. Everything that made Hyunjin was poetry to you. 

"Missing me already?" you grin at him and his eyes soften at you. "I miss you even when you are with me." 

You are 19, and Hyunjin is laying his head on your lap, dried tear stains on his face. This isn't the first time you've seen Hyunjin cry. But it is the first he sobbed in your arms. It was an agonizing sight, one that made you realize just how far you care for him. His eyes were now closed, as you gently thread through his hair, your touch seemingly calming him down. 

"I think I'm your shore today," you whisper, your voice getting caught up with the wind and the crashing of waves. But Hyunjin catches it. He understands.

"I need to write you a list of reminders, since I won't be here to take care of you," you joke, brushing away his words as if they weren't now imprinted onto your heart.

"If I don't follow them will you come back?"

You are 20, and it's your birthday. You are naturally celebrating it at your spot at the beach. You are laughing loudly at a joke Hyunjin just said when your hand slips from beneath you, and you are suddenly thrown forward, your nose now brushing against his. Hyunjin stares deeply into your eyes, and it makes your heart clench- how unguarded he seems to be with you. So you lean in and place a chaste kiss on the mole adorning his cheek. You've always wanted to do that. 

"This is my birthday gift," you giggle and Hyunjin shakes his head, a crimson blush tinting his cheeks. 

"I'll always come back to you," you say quietly. 

You are 21 and it's snowing at the beach. The first time you've seen it happen in your entire existence. You watch in awe as dainty snowflakes coat the sand- a sight so mesmerizing it renders you speechless for a few moments. But despite the beauty unfolding around you, Hyunjin still only has his eyes on you. You are admiring the snow and he's admiring you. 

"And I'll always be here."

You are now twenty-two, and you are saying your goodbyes to your place at the beach with Hyunjin.

It happens naturally, the way Hyunjin finally tells you that he loves you, right where it had all started. This is the first time he's uttered those three words and yet it's as if you've been hearing them for the past seven years. 

"I love you," you say back, the confession flowing easily from your mouth because you've both always known. 

You've known each time you sat down here, in front of this ocean. Where every past version of yourselves confessed the way they knew best- through stolen glances and subtle touches and comforting words. Where you've slowly grown within ones another's soul, just like the rings of a tree.

[coolcatatajazzclub]

Luke Skywalkers Warmth and Light and why he's important in Star Wars

HE NEEDS MORE APPRECIATION!

I feel like these days in the Star Wars Fandom Luke Skywalker is not appreciated enough. But there is so much more that needs to be said about him, and I have a few words of my own to share.

Luke Skywalker is a breath of fresh air after all that transpired during the prequel movies/The Clone Wars, as he manages to bring a ray of light in the cold merciless dark that the empire had brought to the Galaxy after the Clone Wars ended.

We experienced Anakin losing Everything, his wife, "his kids", his life as a jedi mentor, and life as a general, his physical and mental health, and even his own name/identity. There was nothing left for him. The name of Anakin Skywalker represented a past that could never be revived, so to must Anakin remain dead.

But then Luke shows up abord the Empire ship and let's Vader know I'm not here to turn to your empire as a servant but instead as your son, the son of Anakin Skywalker. If you can't accept yourself as Anakin Skywalker my father, then your no father of mine at all. He in turn as Vader had done to him the previous movie offers Vader an ultimatum, but instead of towards darkness it's a choice that leads towards light. And Luke offers this choice with a hand outstretched, a hand willing to hold yours with compassion sympathy and unconditional love. The one thing Padme offers Vader before she dies.

This scene is very intimate as it is about Vader saving the galaxy just so he could save his son. Dying not as Vader but as a father.

Luke doesn't just reach his hand out to Vader but also to Obi Wan Kenobi himself. Though when Luke meets Obi Wan, he's not the man we see in the Prequels, instead he is a shell of what he once was, the shell now empty filled with sand, and decay.

Obi Wan is too a relic of the past. The Jedi warrior for the Republic he loved so dearly, the master of Anakin Skywalker his pride and glory, and the friend of so many Jedi now buried in dirt and ashes. Obi Wan is dead along with the past now in Ruins, fractured and broken.

But Luke addresses him not as "Old Ben" or Ben Kenobi, but by Obi Wan Kenobi. The name of the past once forgotten now brought to life by its recognition. Luke brought the light of the past back to Obi Wan by reminding him of his father's companionship (And he was a good friend), and the similarities Luke shares to Anakin only furthers this bittersweet nostalgia. Bringing back the compassion Obi wan felt towards Anakin, and a smile back to his withered face.

And finally, for the Targruta girl herself Ahsoka Tano.

Once the Jedi Padawan of the Galaxy's prized hero Anakin Skywalker, a friend and victim to so many jedi, and a Commander of the 501st. But after the war Ahsoka no longer remains instead now Fulcrum, secret informant of the Rebellion. We even see her have to change her name in Tales of the Jedi, so as to not be hunted down by the empire. She too lost it all, but she still had herself to offer to the world and all that was remaining inside her heart. Her compassion.

She cant show compassion as Ashoka but she can as Fulcrum, continuing to play her part in the Rebellion even after all the confusion and chaos that has endlessly barraged into her life.

Though the pain of realization of Anakin's turn, and the guilt of not being there for him, her unspoken words of compassion and understanding that could have pulled Anakin from the dark could now never be said. Instead all she can offer Anakin is the death of the monster that has taken his place.

And so after all of the pain Luke offers his hand to Ahsoka and with that a familiarity of Anakin, something that Ahsoka can see light in, and with Luke telling of the light he saw and brought out of his father allowing Ahsoka to let go of Darth Vader and Remember like Obi Wan had the light that Anakin had to offer.

Ahsoka looks so happy around Luke, I bet she offers Luke the same smile she gave Anakin

Luke brings warmth and comfort to my heart in a world full of cruelty. He is the light in the dark, the stars we look up at in the Dark sky, and the hope that tomorrow brings.

To say goodbye, I would like to add a quote that summarized Luke Skywalkers best.

Both scenes show Luke and Tenma pillars of light in their respective worlds, upholding a broken person, being their light and warmth. Despite being surrounded by darkness, they give them hope for a better tomorrow.

[justme-1723]

Episode 11: Sand Ramblings

- Sand is not responsible for making sure Ray doesn’t drink.

- Traveling the world, going to all the different festivals, is Sand’s dream. He once wanted to share that with Boeing, but they broke up. Ray is in his life now and wants to experience this with Sand. That’s okay! Things change and sometimes life doesn’t go as we expect. I’m happy that Sand has someone else he trusts enough to share this with.

- I rewatched this episode twice and each time I did, I noticed how utterly exhausted Sand seemed when he was dealing with Boeing. His body language, his facial expressions, everything about him screamed, “I’m fucking miserable… why are you doing this to me?” I never got the vibe that he wanted Boeing back.

- Sand sending Ray home didn’t feel dismissive to me. It felt proactive. He knew the two of them together wouldn’t end well. I think Sand wanted to handle this alone because that’s who he is. “Don’t feel pity for me. I can deal with my own feelings.” He’s independent and likes to take care of things without help. Ray is known for being explosive and Boeing is manipulative as fuck.

- Sand telling Boeing he had a roommate when Boeing asked him if he could come over to his place wasn’t disrespectful. Boeing already knew Sand had a boyfriend. He had just met him. That didn’t stop his advances. Boeing didn’t care. I think Sand knew him well enough to pick up on that. He gave him another reason as to why it wouldn’t be a good idea. Sand isn’t always great at setting boundaries and YES he could’ve been more direct, but Boeing coming back into his life really threw him for a loop. He was trying his best y’all.

- Sand tried to remain uninvolved. Ray and Boeing had a pissing contest of sorts, which clearly annoyed the shit out of Sand. He didn’t want to have the pool party. He didn’t want to get in the pool. I’m not blaming Ray, I understand his need for Sand to actively choose him. I just think Sand wanted to do this without all the damn theatrics.

- I have no doubt that Sand is in love with Ray. I have no doubt that he has zero plans of reconnecting with Boeing. I DO think that Boeing being back has brought back some old insecurities. “I’m not that important. I don’t want to be anyone’s option.” Boeing chose Top. Ray chose Mew… and this has stuck with Sand. Now he has what he’s been craving and those feelings no doubt came rushing back. Sand is fucking terrified and we all know how he deals with that. He shut down. He retreats. That’s exactly what he was doing. He literally looked like he was on auto pilot the second Boeing showed up. The carefree attitude we saw with him when he was around Ray was gone.

I wanted to hug him the entire episode and punch Boeing. I’ve been around manipulative people like him and it wears you down. Poor Sand aged twenty years when Boeing was anywhere near him.

Enough of my nonsense.

Can’t wait for the finale ❤️

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: EP10 Ray's Therapy Scene (First Focus)

I've been meaning to do a deep dive on this scene, which has no doubt been immensely commended for Khaotung's stellar performance (I'm running out of vocabulary to gush about how talented that boy is). However the purpose of this post is to highlight how equally superb First is, as I fear some may overlook the excellent work he does here.

The reason why this scene warrants a huge amount of respect is how challenging this dynamic is on both actors. Only Ray is speaking the entire way through, which means the tone and rhythm of the scene is led by Khaotung, whilst First's role here as Sand is to be reactive to this immense outpouring and release of emotion. First is required to be a very restrained and contemplative presence - a projection and visual representation of Sand in Ray's own mind. It's literally acting on a macro (Khaotung) and micro (First) level in tandem.

I want to start by mentioning how well First portrays this bedded-in weariness in Sand’s demeanor throughout, an expression we’ve seen in Episode 8. It carries this heartbreakingly heavy and worn down quality. A symptom of a man who bears far too much weight on his shoulders, whose mental toil never seems to end; a product of his own nature and those who knowingly or unknowingly take advantage of it. This is the tragedy of Sand's character. And this is the realisation that is well and truly hitting Ray now. His temper and behaviour have inevitably taken its toll on someone Ray knows doesn't deserve all the suffering he's been putting him through.

⬆️ "I was stupid, but I want you to understand me. I was mad at you because I cared so much about you."

When Ray starts asking for forgiveness, there's an air of slightly deflated scepticism that flits across Sand's face. Sand's immediate instinct is to be hopeful, to give someone the benefit of the doubt. But the reality is Ray has apologised a number of times before and that hasn’t stopped him from hurting Sand still. So Sand’s expression sobers, conscious of how likely it is that Ray will let him down again.

This is Ray acknowledging that he's fallen into a pattern of taking Sand for granted. If that’s all Sand has come to expect, why would his apology this time change anything? Ray has not earnt his redemption yet as he hasn't apologised to Sand in person, and has no guarantee it would be accepted. Which is why he's so upset because he registers that Sand's disappointment in him is fully deserved.

⬆️ "There's no one more caring or loving than you. Though I've been nothing but an asshole to you."

You see the tiniest lift of Sand's brow that's tinged with grateful disbelief, 'Me? But I'm nothing special'. His gaze softens by the sentiment, a visible breath inhaled in as if taken aback, clearly touched but hesitant to believe it. A humbling trait of Sand's is that he genuinely struggles to see his own value. He doesn't realise just how meaningful he can be to someone. That he could hold such weight.

And all the criticism that Ray has thrown at Sand has only piled onto the insecurities he possesses. Remarks that have questioned Sand's principles, his dignity, his sense of worth.

⬆️ "But if you don't want to put up with me anymore, that's alright. I get you."

Ray's image of Sand watches on as he begins to fall apart, crushed by a mixture of intense fear, regret, and despair that this may be too little too late. That his last outburst may well have been the final straw, and he failed to appreciate Sand when it mattered.

On the surface Sand may look numb or somewhat devoid of emotion, but you can detect the turbulence brewing underneath. Sand has a habit of holding in his feelings in to an almost painful degree (which begs for release). It gives you the impression he could suddenly burst at the seams at any given moment. But Sand as always holds still, holds strong, holds steady. Other than the slight twitch of his lip, he holds himself together somehow.

⬆️ "No one can put up with me".

Ray vocalises his own self-hatred, how little he deserves someone like Sand, how guilty he feels for causing this damage. Whilst he does so, Sand appears increasingly teary, lip ever so slightly quivering, brows crumpling. He looks like he desperately wants to break down and cry along with Ray.

What sets Sand apart from everyone else in Ray’s life is he understands. He can sympathise with why Ray is the way he is. Despite everything Ray has done, Sand still very much wants to protect him, shield him, care for him. He doesn't blame him. It breaks his heart to see Ray upset, to see Ray hurting. His compassion for Ray has always been his undoing.

The last thing he would want is for Ray to feel unwanted or intolerable. He tries to be the person who can withstand Ray's temper, his volatile nature, because he knows Ray is still deserving of love. It’s because of this love that he can feel every single thing that Ray is going through.

Sand exudes an incredibly strong parental presence in this scene; a form of unconditional love and patience. As we're often told by our parents, they're not angry at us when we veer off path, just disappointed and perhaps saddened on our behalf - but that won't stop them from loving us all the same. This is beautifully captured by First. You can detect Sand's selfless love for Ray in his every gaze, always.

⬆️ "Ever since you walked into my life, I've been so happy. So damn happy Sand."

This is where Sand almost breaks down as he displays a small, tentative smile that is laced with pained and tired relief. His eyes close in an attempt to maintain composure. Whilst there’s overwhelm, there’s also finally a glimmer of peace.

This is what Ray knows Sand needs to hear, what Ray wishes he'd said sooner. Ray picturing himself saying this to Sand may be a form of vindication in the event he doesn't get say this to him in-person.

Finally Ray collapses into Sand's arms. Sand seems to visibly reign in his own emotions, in order to revert back to 'care-taker' mode. Sand nods once, a gesture of kindness and true acceptance that says 'It's all okay, I know.'

He's Ray's pillar, his rock, and his raft. Sand has become Ray's primary source of safety and comfort. Sand's gaze is so endlessly gentle as he nestles in close to hold Ray. Everything about his embrace feels warm and stable in such a reassuring way. Sand is every bit as loving and caring as Ray just described him to be.

What makes this entire portrayal so devastating is this is the Sand Ray sees and knows. Ray mentions in Episode 11 that he’s been stowing away these details. Which indicates that everything Sand has done and said has not gone unnoticed. Whether it was due to denial or ignorance that prevented Ray from confronting it sooner, he has unconsciously taken note of it all. How Ray's image of Sand responds in this scene is based on every interaction he's had with Sand up until now. This imaginary representation of Sand is proof of everything that Ray has come to fall in love with.

First was not given any dialogue in which to communicate in this scene. His entire performance relies solely on the tiniest of micro-expressions and gestures. He symbolises the essence of Sand but not the physical manifestation of him. Therefore his acting may come across as understated but that’s a sign of real talent when you can say so much with so little.