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jenoutof10 · 4 months ago

Text

how it feels when soph posts

wherever you are, wherever you may be — i. rin

soulmates (name au) + "i'm done waiting."

synopsis. itoshi rin meets you under a sky full of fireworks. he spends the next 6 years of his life trying to convince himself that he doesn't love you. you spend the next 6 years giving him every reason why he should.

wc. 12.4k (i need to close my eyes and sleep for a while)

notes. huge thank you to ellie (@hyomagiri) and mari (@saetoshi) for helping me with this 🥹 this fic actually put me through it and i'm so grateful to both of them for their support 💗

— for my beloved @ode2rin 💐 | event masterlist ✉️

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2024

Every year on the seventh day of the seventh month, Itoshi Rin finds himself standing at the daunting entrance to his local shrine.

The tradition is completely beneath him—something childish that he grumbles about under his breath despite letting you drag him all the way out here with soft eyes watching your smile.

Tanabata is the festival of stars. Of love.

It is a story his mother used to whisper to him as they watched the night sky in awe, pretending that the galaxy was collapsing in on itself to allow for a romantic midnight rendezvous between two lovers.

It’s something far too sappy for his liking.

But the food is okay, he supposes, and it’s a good opportunity to get out of the house and spend time with you which he seldom has time to do now that he’s back in his training season.

There were too many things about it that he loathed: the screaming children that would bump into his legs; the way his ears would stay ringing for days after the festival ended; how you could always convince him to come as if you were some sort of hypnotic devil in disguise, and how thoroughly wounded his pride would be at that fact.

However, his least favourite part of the festival by far is writing down his wish for the year on a scrap piece of paper and hanging it around a bamboo tree. One, because he can never for the life of him think of anything meaningful to wish for. And two, because he isn’t sure he even believes in that sort of thing.

Rin is struggling again this year, pencil lightly scratching his temple as he thinks.

He’s painfully aware that he’s never put so much thought into this before, but you seemed so excited to come all the way here before heading to the festivities that he couldn’t possibly let you down.

His wish dawns on him then, something he wants to do before the next time he makes the climb all the way back up here 365 days from now.

“Hey,” your voice calls out quietly. “What did you wish for?”

“What did you wish for?” Rin quickly refutes.

You cast your narrowed eyes from the side, tilting your little slip of yellow paper away from him.

“Only if I get to see yours first.”

Normally, he would give in to you right away. His resolve when it comes to you is embarrassingly weak. But there’s no way for him to explain himself. No way he could show you the words he’s written lest he hurt his ego.

He stubbornly folds up the piece of paper and shoves your face away. All you do is laugh and he feels terribly warm.

“No peeking,” he tells you when you kiss across his fingertips.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2018

A name appeared for Itoshi Rin when he turned thirteen years old.

He remembers the day well—it was hard to forget, anyway. As much as he wanted to focus on the burning of the name etching its way down his skin, he couldn’t. Not when he was blinking snow out of his lashes and watching his brother’s retreating back.

Rin likes to think that the universe fucks with him in any way that it can.

Maybe he had done something terrible in his past life and this was its karmic retribution, or maybe he was just unlucky.

What he does know is this: the name on his pinky only reminds him of all the things he ever lost.

Every syllable struck needles into his heart—a painful memory of crawling after the tracks of the wheels Sae left behind with his luggage until gravel and ice were stuck under his nails. Or worse, the clawing of his throat as they sat across from each other at dinner—the way he didn't even smile when Rin announced to his parents that his soulmate mark had appeared while his mother cried out in joy.

In fact, Sae didn’t talk to him for the rest of his visit. He remembers that hurt the most.

The name had haunted him for all the remaining years of his life—a forced memory that he wished he could forget. There came with it a feeling of loneliness that crushed him despite the proof on his pinky that there was another soul wandering the earth that would fix him.

He refused to believe it.

Only revenge would fix him. Only proving himself better would heal the cracks in his heart. Only beating Sae. Sae, Sae, Sae. His brother’s name had been repeated so many times that it was easy to ignore the other burning his skin.

In all those years he found it easy to cast aside his soulmate. To ignore it even if it hurt.

So he wonders why it’s so bad tonight.

He’s done everything he could think of: slathering cooling ointment down his finger to stop the searing, wrapping it in a cast to prevent himself from admiring it for too long, even tying a wish to a piece of bamboo hoping it would disappear.

A finger snaps in front of his face, drawing his attention to his teammates in front of him. Both look equally amused.

“You’re dreaming,” Isagi muses. “You’ve been spacing out all night. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rin mutters, swatting his teammate’s hand away from him. He had been staring again, longingly eyeing the way the letters danced down his skin. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“None of your business.”

“Yeesh, it’s not good to keep things bottled up, you know?”

“You’re annoying,” Rin glowers before it melts back into indifference. “I’m fine,” he reiterates.

Isagi seems unconvinced, as he usually is when Rin is being mysteriously vague about what’s on his mind. He and Bachira share a tentative glance before sighing and shaking their heads.

“Well… okay,” he finally yields. “We’re going to get some snacks before the fireworks start. If you’re going to sulk then at least stay put and do it here so we can find you again.”

“Yeah,” Rin grumbles, already making an escape plan. “Whatever. Will do.”

As soon as the boys are out of sight, he turns heel and hurries away. The crowd is driving him crazy and he needs somewhere quiet so he can stare at his hands until his eyes are dry.

He comes to a pond situated just outside of the festival grounds, deep water glimmering under the moon and the passing lanterns.

Plopping down on the bench, he hunches over onto his knees with his elbows and takes a deep breath. It instead comes shallow, as if someone has just punched him in the gut.

It’s then that he realizes he’s not alone.

Your yukata is muddy, fabric soaked and dripping at the sleeves though you don’t seem to care or even notice. You look frustrated for some reason, lip curled into a concentrated frown while you plunge your hands into the mud around the edge of the water.

Away from the crowds of people, he can hear the summer song of cicadas chirping all around. Your hands dip in and out of the water, quiet splashes filling the rest of the silence on top of the distant buzz of children laughing.

It’s just you and him. Something primal inside of him rages, pounding against his chest until it feels like he’s suffocating.

Run. Run. Run.

His legs jerk, urging him to stand up and leave, but he feels glued down to the bench—tethered where he sits and forced to watch you repeatedly sink your hands into the muddy waters.

No more than five minutes must pass as you both ignore each other, yet it feels like an eternity stretches by.

Finally, you pipe up.

“You’re scaring them,” you tell him plainly.

His head whips in your direction at your voice, soft and careful. His teal eyes narrow at you. “Huh?”

Your frown deepens, turning to look at him with your hands still submerged. “The frogs.”

“Come again?”

“Your vibes. It’s scaring the frogs away.”

His eye twitches.

“Ever consider that you’re just dogshit at catching them?”

“Excuse me?”

“And look at you, making a total mess of yourself. Don’t you care that you have to go home looking like that?” He presses, leering at you like an insect he’s about to crush under his heel. You simply stare at him, expression blank.

Huffing, you tear away from him and sink your hands beneath the mud. “No. I don’t.”

He watches in silence as you sift around for a moment before pulling your hands up, a smile slowly morphing into your face.

“I got one…” You breathe, looking more elated than he thinks you should. “I really caught one.”

“First time?” He quips sarcastically. A part of him wonders why he hasn’t gotten up and left you altogether yet.

“Cut me some slack,” you complain, eyeing him from the side again. You gently run a finger along the back of the frog, trying not to scare it away. “I haven’t done this in forever.”

“Clearly.”

You snort. “Yeah. Clearly.”

Rin looks at you quizzically, puzzled at your sudden change in demeanor. You seem… softer. Less agitated, at the very least. You’re gazing at the frog adoringly, as if it had somehow solved all of your problems and was dragging you into another world.

Any retort he had ready to shoot at you dies in his mouth. The anger rising in his chest extinguishes in the blink of an eye, and a deep hush settles over you as he watches in curiosity.

For a moment, the universe goes quiet. He’s gotten so used to having everything on his mind all at once that the silence is almost unnerving.

He once believed that his world would end with an injury that never healed quite right, or when he was too old for any team to want him.

He once believed that his world would end when he could no longer imagine the feel of a ball between his palms.

He once believed that his world would end the day he couldn’t play football anymore—that the only thing that would ever kill him was if the chance of standing alongside his brother died with him.

But he was wrong.

Itoshi Rin’s world ends with the bellow of a firework.

In a few years, he would think of this stretch of a few seconds fondly. He would squeeze you a little tighter with his chin resting on your shoulder, staring up at a colourful sky. He would think it was poetic, in a way, that you were the one who painted his world in the same hues of shimmering gold.

Rin remembers, though, that only one thought had crossed his mind.

I’m so screwed.

He can see every fine detail of your face, illuminated in all the colours of the rainbow. And he can’t help but think you are the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He can trace each intricate curve of your nose to your chin to the surprised parting of your lips; the way your lashes flutter as you blink rapidly, tensed from the sudden explosion.

The light fades faster than it appeared, yet it feels like a millennium has passed. The reverbing echo of the firework crackles across the sky, thundering in his ears so loud that he can feel it pounding in his chest.

(Or is that his heart? He can’t tell. He feels dizzy.)

Darkness envelops your bodies again, save for the dim glow of distant lanterns. Every part of you is seared into his memory, a floating image when he blinks.

The frog leaps from your hands back into the water, leaving nothing but ripples behind.

You stay there with your hands outstretched, looking lonely under the dark sky. Another one goes off above your heads, signalling the start of the display.

“There you are, Rin!” Bachira and Isagi come rushing over from the path, excited smiles and mirth bubbling in their laughs as they approach. “We thought you went home without us already!”

Rin slowly blinks out of his reverie. For a second, he glances in your direction again just to catch your eyes.

“I almost did,” he grumbles, forcing himself not to stare.

“Fireworks are starting!” Isagi yanks Rin to his feet and begins dragging him away before he can even protest.

Without turning around, he can feel the weight of your eyes in the back of his head. There’s an unfamiliar ache in his chest, and the name etched down his pinky burns infinitely hot.

Later at home, he stares at the spot where Sae used to sit back when he still came to Japan for anything other than to take a new passport photo.

“My soulmate’s name showed up,” he had mumbled that night to break the tense silence. It was strange that he still felt like he owed his brother that much—to make his visit as normal as possible despite having his heart carved open.

Sae only looked at him blankly, spoon halting just above his bowl. He was eerily still, quietly deciding how to react. Then,

“Good for you,” he said. And nothing more.

Rin squeezes his eyes shut and he feels warmth rolling down his cheeks. He quickly wipes the tears away, pretending as if they never existed.

He spends the rest of the night trying to forget your face.

(And the next year trying to recreate it in his dreams.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2019

Rin makes it another 275 days before he finally remembers every piece of the puzzle that is your existence.

He saw you in his sleep. The back of your head, anyway.

You were sitting in his favourite café, at the table he claimed for himself right by the window. You ordered a coffee but let it sit for so long that the ice melted. Then, you wiped up the condensation rolling down the frosty glass with your finger.

Rin watched you from afar, observing you the way he wished he did last summer.

Maybe then he could have dived deep into the recesses of his brain to remember why exactly you struck him so. But there he was, stuck watching the back of your head as you gazed out the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your fingers drummed mindlessly against the wooden table, reciting a rhythm just slightly louder than the pounding of his own heart.

“Can you leave me alone?” He finally called out, hoping it would stop your incessant beating.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“You’re annoying me,” he hissed. Annoying for disturbing his peace and quiet. Annoying for plaguing his dreams even after all these days.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Seriously,” he grunted, standing up from his seat so fast that the chair scraped horribly against the wooden floor. Still, you didn’t pay him any mind, instead more interested in the faceless people walking by. “Knock it off!”

Tap.

He bit the inside of his cheek in hesitation, the itch in the back of his mind ever present. “What’s your name?”

Silence.

You finally turned his way. Slowly. Agonizingly slow. And Rin was right—you were still so beautiful, 275 days later.

Grinning at him big and bright, you almost seemed to collapse in on yourself with joy. Like a star about to implode, or maybe more akin to a firework.

Either way, his breath was stolen from him.

You silently mouthed your name, making sure he saw every vowel and accentuated syllable. Warmth flooded him in every way—probably brought on by the racing of his heart.

It was impossible that his soulmate was someone like this. Someone whose smile looked like it could heal even the deepest wounds.

You grabbed his attention again with a big wave of the arms, and he watched in anticipation.

“You’re—”

Rin followed your mouth as you sounded out the words without a voice.

“—smiling!”

He reached up to run his fingers along his bottom lip. And you were right, he realized, as he traced it midway up his cheek.

(When did he start smiling?)

(Why?)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rin thinks about you just as much in the waking world as he does in his dreams.

It’s spring, though snow is still settled over the eaves of homes that he passes on the way to the grocery store. Apparently the winter cold is supposed to be especially long and bitter this year, permeating until mid-May.

He stares at his feet as they mark the virgin snow, decorating his sneakers white and making his feet cold.

Did you walk through the same snow this morning?

Then, when he’s going through the motion of smelling the bottom of pineapples at the store:

Do you like pineapple? What if you’re allergic?

(He shakes his head and puts them away. He suddenly isn’t craving it.)

His obsession with you has only intensified as the year has gone on. If you ever peered into his mind, he would receive a well-deserved slap across the face.

The soulmate mark engraved down his pinky has never bothered him so badly.

It’s like you’re constantly with him—a ghost haunting him, or perhaps more like a curse. Thinking about you takes up unnecessary space in his head. Space that should be dedicated to football, and football only.

He's about to go home so he can make a list outlining the ways he can forget about you.

(Ironic, he knows, but in all honesty he already exhausted all of his options from his first list.)

But then he comes to a stop outside of his favourite café. It looks the same, even has the same advertisements plastered in the window as the last time he was here.

He hesitates at the door, but when he walks in it smells the same. It's decorated the same. Not a single table is out of place.

He walks up to his regular spot, runs his fingers along the wood where he remembers you tapping in his dream.

There's no sign of your existence here.

Rin shakes his head in annoyance, cursing himself out in his head because he was stupid enough to think he would run into you here.

Then disappointment floods his body, like a dam had been released in his chest and it's flowing unstoppably to every piece of him.

(Wait, why is he disappointed? He really needs to take a nap.)

He runs his hand through his hair as a nervous reflex, simultaneously relieved and irritated that you're nowhere to be seen.

It takes him a minute to recollect himself, to realize that he probably looks like a crazy person just standing beside an empty table like a lost child who doesn't know where to go, and decides to just go home.

He pulls into the line to get a drink for his walk home when—

"Thanks!"

His heart drops.

You waltz out of the back, tying your apron around your waist as you exchange spots in the break room with one of your coworkers.

Rin is about to die, seriously. You must be new here, since he's been to this café more times than he can count and he's never seen you before. Or was it that he was specifically looking out for you this time?

Whatever the reason, he's dumbfounded.

“Hey,” your acknowledgment makes him freeze in his spot. “Frog guy?”

He looks at you stupidly, rubbing his eyes like a cartoon character as if he’s imagining you standing right in front of him.

His gaze drifts down to your name tag, fresh and newly printed with white marker. Signed at the end is a little flower, petals swirled into tiny hearts.

Your existence before him is undeniable.

"Um. Yeah," he sputters in disbelief.

"I..." You clear your throat, looking as bewildered as he feels. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

'You're my soulmate. Of course we'd run into each other,' he thinks to himself. Out loud, though:

"Yeah. Me neither."

The person behind him in line coughs quietly, impatiently tapping their foot. Rin takes the hint and quietly tells you what he wants. You lean in across the counter to hear him better, and his face grows warm.

Once you fill in the boxes on the cup, you place it down and move it to the side for someone to fill. It catches his eye immediately.

Itoshi Rin is scribbled neatly down the side of his cup.

“How did you...?”

You awkwardly shift in your spot, evidently embarrassed as you fiddle with the strings of your apron. Then, with your own hands.

“W-Well…”

His eyes dare to drop down to where your thumb is nervously slathering up and down the name on your pinky.

“Oh.”

"Sorry, I just figured—"

"It's fine," he interrupts. Your mouth snaps shut.

Tense silence stretches thin in the air, ready to shatter at any moment. But for some reason, he feels as though he's choking on nothing.

You fumble over the emptiness, quickly snatching up the cup to make his drink yourself after deciding it's too awkward to just stand there.

He watches you in a daze, half shaken and half in awe. Never in a million years would he have thought a dream would lead him back to you.

When you turn back around with a full cup, you look equally stunned.

“Itoshi—”

“Rin. It’s just Rin.”

You look at him in surprise, lashes fluttering rapidly as you let it sink in.

It's not your fault. You don't know that it's a sore spot that he just so happens to share the same last name with the person he despises most in the world.

It's not your fault that he has a quick temper and his voice raises slightly, enough to make you flinch back just a tiny bit.

And it's definitely not your fault that it stings so much—that he had expected you to speak to him as if you'd already known him for a lifetime and not as if you were just two strangers looking at each other from across a bar counter.

“O-Okay," you take a deep breath, cheeks puffed out and expression unreadable.

You slide the cup across the counter and he catches it in his hand.

He debates whether or not he should say more, like apologize for snapping at you. But then someone calls you by your name, and the way it rolls so beautifully off their tongue catches him off guard.

"Sorry. See you, Rin," you smile sweetly. Maybe a little awkwardly, a small step toward the one he dreamed about. And his heart is set in motion.

Rin decides that today won't be the day.

Another day, he'll be brave enough to crack a joke so dry that you try and scrub his name off your skin. And another day, he will ask for your number because, yeah, you might be the most alluring person he's ever met.

As he turns to take his leave after just staring at the spot you were standing in for a solid few seconds, he can hear some of the other baristas clamouring for you.

He doesn't want to look. Really, honestly, he doesn't.

But he does anyway.

It's just a quick glance over his shoulder—nothing more than a fleeting moment as he takes the chance to look at you one more time.

Those two seconds is all it takes for him to realize just how much trouble he's in.

You're laughing big and toothy, waving your hand in front of your face dismissively as your coworkers poke fun at how flustered you are. Then your hands are clasped over your stomach and you've doubled down a little in your awkward fit.

His heart has never beat so loud in his own ears.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Itoshi Rin used to smile just for the sake of smiling, once upon a time.

He had aunties who would pinch him by the cheek and fawn over him, cooing about how he looked just like his mother. How his face would cherub and the apples of his cheeks were bright red. Even when he grew out of his baby face, people would tell him how wonderful his smile was.

Sae rarely ever smiled, so it was something exclusive. He never felt like he was standing in his shadow. It was special—the kind of praise only one Itoshi would know.

Rin has forgotten how to smile like that.

He smiles to be polite to his family, if ever. Even then, it's not like he owes them that much. At some point, it became too much effort. And he had no reason to do it.

It was always a tiny thought bothering him in the back of his mind:

I'll never meet my soulmate if I'm always scowling like this.

He thought that was what he wanted, anyway. He wouldn't need to worry about running into his soulmate if no one ever looked his way. If everyone feared him enough not to spare him a second glance.

He doubts everything he ever thought as he sits on the edge of his bed staring at his desk.

It's lit up by a single lamp, shining down on his empty coffee cup like a spotlight opened up by the heavens themselves.

Your phone number is written just below his name.

Rin had almost tossed it into the trash without a second thought earlier in the day. He would have, if it weren't for the loose dog that blitzed by him and made him drop it.

Fate just loves to mess with him.

He picked it up and his thumb had stopped over the number. It was written so small, as if you had wanted him to miss it. Or perhaps you wanted to test destiny yourself—to see if the planets would align and he would discover your seven digits there for him to find.

And now he's home. He's been home, just looking. Contemplating. Stressing.

He migrates from the edge of the bed and settles into his desk chair. Then he gets up, moves back to the bed, and flops down. An endless cycle, back and forth, pushing and pulling.

Rin plops down onto his desk seat and sighs in frustration, ruffling his hair around before his forehead slams into the table.

Every part of his mind screams at him to stop. To toss the cup away and forget today ever happened. His head raises from his arms and he stares at the set of numbers illuminated on the paper, taunting him.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, sitting up straight and reaching for the cup to toss. His fingers delicately brush along your phone number.

“So dumb…” He huffs, eventually finding his phone instead and opening his contacts.

It’s nearly midnight. He tries to imagine your face as you wait by your phone for a message from him, that stupidly hopeful glimmer in your eyes, and he feels sick to his stomach as he sends it.

Rin: hey. it’s rin.

He throws his phone down on the desk again, screen down so he can’t cringe at himself. A few minutes pass in complete silence as he sulks.

He considers that you may have gone to bed already, or you were offended by the fact that he ignored your offer to connect all day and instantly blocked him. Maybe you thought he never saw your number at all.

Then his phone buzzes. His body moves on autopilot, snatching it up faster than he can realize what he’s doing. He’s halfway through the embarrassing thought that he just immediately read your message after you sent it as your text sinks in.

Unknown: hi! it’s great to hear from you ヾ(〃^∇^)ﾉ

Unknown: i was starting to think you were never gonna text lol

Rin: i wasn’t

He chews his lip for a moment before quickly following up:

Rin: but i changed my mind. just cause.

Unknown: hahaha got it got it. ‘just cause’ (˘◡˘)

Unknown: rin

Unknown: wait nvm

Unknown: whatever

Unknown: rin

Rin: what

Unknown: let’s get coffee ^ ^

He stares at the screen in disbelief, watching the typing bubble pop up and disappear again and again. He can imagine again what kind of smile you must have on your face right now, or maybe you look flustered, or maybe this all means nothing to you at all and this is your way of being polite.

Regardless of the reason, he eventually types out his response.

Rin: ok

Christ, he’s so tepid.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2020

He comes to memorize every part of you, like how the sun kisses the horizon and the moon knows the tides.

Intimately, almost—if he didn’t overthink the way your touch lingered on him he could easily ignore the way it made his heart pound in his ears.

Rin learns the feeling of your fingers against his skin as you compress an ice pack to his knee. He knows your laugh—can pick apart sarcasm from genuine cheer unlike most other people he encounters. He’s never been good at reading people yet for some reason you’ve become an open book for him.

It’s not fair that you’ve ensnared him this way, that he can’t seem to run from you (because his favourite coffee is from your café and he can’t be bothered to find a new place). That he finds himself instinctively reaching over to his phone when he can’t sleep (he has to make sure his alarms are on, might as well text you goodnight while he’s at it). And you’ve become annoyingly comfortable (he doesn’t have an excuse for this one—your lap is just conveniently a very nice place to rest his head).

He must be an open book, too.

At some point he probably stopped trying to hide his growing feelings for you, though you either didn’t notice his sudden shift or you didn’t care.

Vulnerability has never been a part of Rin, even before Itoshi Sae ruined his life.

He despises how you so easily pry him apart, skinning him alive with your hand lathering down his chest as you laugh.

Still, he’s grown accustomed to your fingers stringing through his hair, to the way your head tilts when he explains football plays to you, to the obvious way you fluster when he attempts (poorly) at flirting with you.

He’s gotten especially fond of the way you meet him at the end of his practices with such sweet, wandering hands—pushing the hair stuck to his forehead from sweat away from his eyes; using a towel to wipe up his neck; the squeeze you give his palms as you examine them to see if there are any new cuts and bruises.

Usually, he’s the epitome of confidence in his plays. Today, however, his cheeks burn as you approach him with the same honeyed smile.

“My shots were shoddy,” he admits before you can even get a word out. You only raise a brow, hands faltering in front of you. “That was lame.”

“I think you’re good.”

“Good,” he frowns. “But not great?”

“The greatest,” you quickly correct yourself, smiling at his cravings for praise. You’re armed with a fresh towel like you always are, reaching up to clean his face as if it’s the only thing you were born to do.

He relishes in your gentle touch, peering at you through his lashes while you prattle on about how amazing he was even though he missed half of his shots.

You were so blindly supportive, it sickens him.

Not because he felt you were being disingenuous, but because he’s not deserving of your praise.

For the first time in a long time, it feels as though his soul is disconnected from his body. He used to walk the earth this way—uninterested in his surroundings and obsessed with only one thing.

Itoshi Sae. Itoshi Sae. Itoshi Sae.

Suddenly, he’s thirteen again and gasping for air; screaming into his pillow and trashing their shared awards until his mother comes rushing in to stop him. He’s alone in a field, abandoned and crushed.

It’s not like he’d never lost before, even in front of you. Loss was just a part of football as much as he hated it.

But your praise only makes his stomach turn, because he knows you mean it.

You truly do believe he’s the best, when really he’s been futile in his attempts to catch up with the big brother he admired so much as a kid.

“Stop,” he gently interrupts.

Rin tries to use his hair to hide the wetness of his eyes, with little success. You can see right through him, unfortunately. It’s a talent he wishes you didn’t have.

“Rin?” You say softly, reaching up to brush the hair out of the way. He doesn’t try and back up or swat your hand away, instead letting you see his miserable expression. You sigh quietly, looking more exasperated than surprised.

“Sorry,” he mutters halfheartedly.

You shake your head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Shame boils in his stomach at your reassurance. There is something to apologize for. Here you are, supporting him with all your heart, and all he can think about is his stupid brother. How he’ll never catch up. How he’ll never be good enough.

Doesn’t your kindness warrant his attention at the very least?

“Come on,” you tug at his hand. “Let’s get you a pick-me-up.”

Rin abides silently, body following yours off the field and onto the streets though his mind has floated off elsewhere.

He tries to count how many steps you take in between the field and the destination, but loses count somewhere around three hundred. Then he moves on to counting the hairs on the back of your head. He loses count at one hundred. Eventually, he gives up and opts for staring at your conjoined hands while he lags behind.

When you come to a halt, he nearly bumps into your back.

The ringing in his ears stops as he blinks at his surroundings. Waves crash against the shore of the sandbank, singing the song of the ocean. It had been so long since Rin walked down this stretch of the shore, he almost forgot what the sea looked like.

“Wait here,” you urge as you hold him by the shoulders then disappear around the corner.

He collapses at the wall separating land from sea, swinging his legs under the railings to sit comfortably as he remembers doing when he was a kid. His gym bag is abandoned behind him, cleats and all.

When you return, you shove a popsicle into his hand.

He’s confused at first, just looking absently at the packaging. It must be for a concerning amount of time, because you eventually pipe up.

“Do you need me to open it for you?”

Rin glares at you and your teasing smile. Carefully, he unpackages the treat and pops it in his mouth.

Sweetness melts over his tongue and he exhales sharply through his nose. You watch him in amusement with your own treat stuck in your mouth.

Silence engulfs you, eating Rin from the inside out until he feels ill. He holds his half-eaten popsicle in front of him, watching it melt down his hand.

You stare at him for a second before nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“I was being serious. You were really good. I can’t even imagine playing like you do.”

Rin’s stomach turns. The last thing he wants is your pity.

“You don’t have to be so nice,” he mumbles, resting his chin on the railing. “42 percent.”

“42 percent?” You echo, peering over the railing to get a better look at his face.

“The percent of shots I made today.”

“Come on,” you urge gently. “Aren’t you being too hard on yourself?”

“If I’m not hard on myself, I’ll never—” he stops, choking lightly on his spit. When you don’t interrupt, he shoves the popsicle back in his mouth. “Whatever. You wouldn't get it.”

It’s quiet again, save for the crashing of waves upon rock. Rin thinks for a moment that maybe he had gone too far, or that his little meltdown had freaked you out.

But when he finally dares to look at you again, you’re smiling.

“Maybe not,” you admit with a whisper. “But I do know this…” You reach over and cup his cheek with your free hand, thumb sweeping the expanse of his cheek soothingly. “There is no one—and I mean no one—who works harder than you do.”

He swallows thickly, subconsciously nudging his face a little further into your palm.

“You deserve to be a little kinder to yourself.”

The way his heart catches in his throat is strange. He can’t describe it. The warmth in his belly is foreign, but it’s pleasant.

For the first time in the year he’s gotten to know you, the thought crosses his mind:

I think I’m in love with you.

Rin’s mouth opens with the idea, but he forces it shut just as fast.

Fear grips his lungs and squeezes, stealing his air and forcing him to pull away from your touch.

“Okay,” he breathes in resignation.

You seem stunned by his sudden retreat, smile faltering ever so slightly. But you recover quickly, hugging yourself as you slouch over the railing.

Conversation moves on just like that. He appreciated that about you, too. He never had to dwell.

It feels nice, everything about this; to have his legs dangling over the edge of the cement, feet barely ghosting over the surface of the water; to have a popsicle melting between his teeth while he listens to you talk.

For some reason, it feels as though he’s reclaiming lost time, reliving a moment he thought he would never have again.

When he checks his popsicle stick, it tells him he’s a winner for the first time since he was thirteen.

(He finally allows himself to believe it when your knee gently knocks into his.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2021

“Frog cotton candy?”

“Frog shaped cotton candy,” Rin corrects, peering around the giant fluff of candy to look at you quizzically.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “But why?”

He grumbles quietly, cheeks a soft shade of pink as he shoves the treat into your hands.

“I thought you’d like it. Nevermind,” he deadpans, turning around to toss it into the garbage.

Your laugh crescendos and he feels his heart squeeze with affection. When your hand stops him by the forearm, he thinks he might explode.

“It’s cute.”

You pick apart the floss ruthlessly with your fingers, and he watches almost in a trance—hypnotized by just your existence.

(When you finally pop the sugar into your mouth, he imagines it melting on his own tongue. The thought makes him unbearably warm and he forces it away.)

His fascination with you doesn't end there.

There's a certain charm to you that he can't understand—something that draws him in, tantalizing but terrifying at the same time.

He can't help the way he watches in a daze, the way you've ensnared all his attention and taken up the space in his mind.

Rin has never been good at being kind, but here he is.

Here he is, bringing you cotton candy because he thought it was stupid but cute.

Here he is, rolling up the sleeves of your yukata with a gentle scolding when you rush over to catch goldfish.

And here he is, letting you cling to his arm as if he's the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

He really, really hates it—how mushy you make his brain feel.

He's halfway through re-rolling your sleeves with a half-hearted scowl on his face when you stop him, hand pressed to his forearm.

“Listen, Rin.”

“Hm?” He leans down so that he can peer at your face hidden behind your almost nonexistent candy floss.

“I have to show you something.”

Rin stops dead in his tracks, raising a brow as he fully turns toward you. “What is it?”

“Can you close your eyes for me?”

His heart does a somersault in his chest. “You’re not doing anything weird, are you?”

“Who do you think I am?” You sputter.

He lets out a long sigh before complying, squeezing his eyes shut. After a long silence, he considers peeking a little bit.

That is, until he feels your breath gently fanning over his parted lips.

Nearly leaping back, he wills himself to stay grounded and slowly slides his hands up your arms until he gets to your shoulders. As he imagined, your body is impossibly close to his.

It takes every bit of concentration he has not to waver. If he really tries, he can focus on how your breath smells sweet of candy. How your hair blows softly with the summer breeze, tickling his cheeks. How you smell. How you breathe.

(Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His heart is about to beat out of his chest. Is that okay?)

You tense up in his hold and suddenly you’re retreating from him, swiftly pulling out of his arms. Just as he’s about to ask you what happened, there’s a piece of candy shoved into his mouth.

“You wanted to try it, didn’t you?” You ask rather breathlessly. He opens his eyes, looking at you curiously.

Rin has never seen this expression on you before, lips pulled tight in embarrassment and pupils blown. You look more like a wild animal caught in a cage than someone who just made a move on him.

He gingerly takes the empty paper cone from your hands and folds it up, no longer able to meet your gaze lest he explode on the spot.

“Yeah,” he says softly, shuffling over to dump it into a bin. “Thanks.”

When he turns around to look at you again, his breath gets caught in his throat.

Why are you laughing?

You giggle into your palm, hiding your gleeful smile from him as you double over slightly.

“Your face is all red!” You holler.

He grunts in embarrassment, using the back of his hand to hide his own face. “Shut the hell up,” he spits.

“It’s almost like you wanted me to kiss you!”

“Oh my god, please drop it.”

“No way! I’ve never seen you look like that before!”

(‘Speak for yourself,’ he thinks.)

“So what if I did?”

Your laughter halts as if it was swallowed into the pits of your stomach. Slowly unraveling to stand up straight, he sees another expression he’s never been able to imagine on you, but he can’t quite place it.

“Did what?” You murmur.

“Want you to kiss me.”

Your face is warm under the glow of lanterns, eyes shimmering with the overhead lights. Rin watches your mouth open and close repeatedly as you try and formulate some sort of response.

A firework explodes atop of you, and he wonders if it just saved you.

You seem jarred for only a moment more until you jolt, grabbing him roughly by the arm and giving him a pull.

“I just remembered,” you gasp. “I actually did have something to show you!”

Rin doesn’t get a word in before you’re dragging him along by the arm. With each boom of an explosion, your footsteps pick up, building into a full blown sprint out of the festival grounds and through the thicket.

You tug him along, guiding him by the hand through the winding path of trees and logs. His stamina is better than yours but you’re pushing up the hill despite your huffing and puffing—it makes him laugh with you.

When you break free of the forest, Rin’s eyes focus on a field of plush grass and buttercups.

You let go of his hand, flinging yourself forward and spinning on your heel to exaggerate how wide the opening is with your arms.

“Isn’t it great?” You shout over the fireworks. “Away from the crowd!”

He rushes up to you so that you can stop yelling, invading your personal space until you can hear him just at his normal volume.

“It’s perfect,” he tells you earnestly.

You grin up at him widely before pulling him along to the edge of the clearing. You plop down together, eyes glued to the sky as the fireworks rage on.

Rin only lasts a few seconds before his eyes drift to the side, trying to drink in your expression. It’s become a habit of his to try and imprint your very existence into his brain.

Against his better judgment, his hand creeps toward yours until your fingers are overlapped.

Thankfully, you don’t use the opportunity to tease him about it, instead shifting a little closer until you’re practically burrowed into his side. If it were anyone else, he would have shoved them away.

(When did he stop trying to push you away?)

When your pinkies slowly close together, he feels as if he can’t breathe properly.

Mark-to-mark, it’s as though he is full of all the love he’s ever felt for you from every life—past or future. Like there’s a love that exists within him that transcends lifetimes, if it were even possible.

If he were to peer into another dimension, would you still be together like this? Would you be plucking buttercups and mindlessly twirling them between your fingers? Would he be itching to envelop you in his arms just to devour you?

His thoughts cease when you take a deep breath.

“I used to come here alone,” you admit.

“No one took you?” He asks. Your gaze is piercing the night sky, never leaving the show. He can see the bloom of colours in them.

“Not since I was little, but I always loved it here.”

The question burns hot in Rin’s mind: even if it was a little lonely sometimes?

He remembers back to the night that he first saw you, with your hands dipping into the murky waters of a frog pond and an air of desolation surrounding you. Then he remembers how he couldn’t sleep that night. Not with the image of you crouching there alone burned into his memory.

“Did you know this festival is a celebration of love?” He suddenly asks.

Oh what the fuck? Oh, god. Why did he say that?

That was so lukewarm of him. So stupid. So pointless and lame.

He just wanted something to say to you, something that would make him stop thinking about how you might have been alone for all that time before you knew him.

The silence burns between you, tense and awkward until he starts stuttering out something else to fill the void. But then you look at him, slow and intrigued and so damn amused that he can feel heat rising to the tips of his ears.

“I had no idea.”

There’s a longing in your expression that tells a different story. A twitch of your pinky against his that gives away your blatant lie.

And, damnit. Here he is again, four years later under the same stars. Under the same fireworks. Only this time, he’s able to see your face even closer as it lights up a million different colours—teal like his eyes; rose like his cheeks; golden like the heart he’s tried so hard to protect.

Four years later and he still thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen: pinkies interlocked, sheepish smile on your face, an undeniable shake in your voice that means you have more that you’re too nervous to say.

For a moment he considers finally letting go of all the things keeping him bolted and chained where he stands, swallowing the key to the cage surrounding his fragile, thumping heart. And for that fleeting second, he feels as though he’s the bravest man alive—that nothing could stop him even if you were to turn away and snub him out with the heel of your foot.

But how could he open his mouth and tell you anything when all he feels is the sick twisting of his stomach, the daunting glare of the older brother he adored so much, and the coldness of snow soaking his clothes as he sits in a field and cries?

There’s a burning, raging fire within him. Something primal and afraid and unchanging despite how much he wants to fall into your arms the way your shared etchings say he should.

It screams at him: run away. Run. Run. Run. This will only end in hurt.

He’s too fucked up. Too messed in the head and too quick to anger because he’s actually soft at heart, easy to betray—

“Rin.”

Your hand swiftly captures his face and he’s dragged unceremoniously out of his reverie.

Of course you would be able to pick out his turmoil by expression alone. By the droop of his lips into a frown—not the annoyed one he would flash his teammates, or the grimace he would scare children away with. The kind that’s sad and slow and timid, like an animal caught in a net.

“I’m really happy that we’re friends.”

“Friends?” He breathes, half confused and half incredulous.

Deep down he knows that it’s an attempt to comfort him without being too sappy. Maybe you can sense it somewhere in your soul that he would probably break down and sob if you were to make him feel any more vulnerable than he already is with you. It’s an effort to take away whatever guilt he feels and give him a chance to relax.

However, he can see a different tale in your eyes.

Loneliness as empty as the sky on a cloudy night. A yearning for more, for someone, for him, to fill the gap. I’m tired of waiting. That’s all he can read beneath the sea of colour exploding in your irises.

It only makes him feel worse, but he allows himself to be lied to anyway if only to feel the warmth of your skin against his just a bit longer.

“Yeah.”

Your pinky twitches again. He can feel the brush of your name against his, the grate of your matching soul marks. Your eyes tear away from his and are glued to the infinite sky above once more. To the stars you know are there but are covered by smoke and fire.

Rin only stares at you. He can’t focus on the explosions of fireworks anymore, not when you’re right in front of him looking so perfect. His summer treasure.

“Yeah?”

He knows he sounds dumb, repeating everything like an oaf who can’t fathom what’s being said. You giggle and it floors him.

“Just being able to stand here with you—” you glance at him again, only for a second. He can see the exhaustion in that moment, but he’s too selfish to pry. “—I think I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“Even if…” He swallows harshly. It feels like shrapnel cutting down his throat. “Even if I can’t be more?”

“Even so.”

There’s a pause and you open your mouth to say more, maybe to give him an ultimatum or to elaborate on your feelings, but then you’re interrupted by the end of the display.

Counteless fireworks explode above you in the finale. Rin can hear the awestruck gasps of families down the hill, the distant cries of children and the faint shutter of cameras filling the air.

He realizes then: he’s been smiling. His cheeks hurt from how big it’s gotten. And you’re smiling at him, too.

(The fireworks rage on, but in the end, all he can look at is you.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2022

Falling in love with Itoshi Rin was one of the most foolish, most wonderful things that could have happened to you.

He was an enigma in and of itself, a mystery of a soulmate who was able to love you wholeheartedly and push you away at the same time.

There were nights where you would stay up wondering why he was your soulmate when it seemed like all he wanted to be was alone. Other times, you fell asleep smiling to yourself knowing that somewhere deep down you both belonged to each other.

The universe chose you. The universe chose him. It was indisputable, yet you still had doubts.

Tonight is one of those “foolish” nights. It seems as though you have been stood up.

For three hours you’ve waited in the same spot at the gates of the festival, watching families and couples pass by but never the one person you’d wait until the end of the world for. The sun has long since gone to sleep over the horizon and the streets are fully lit up with lanterns for the festivities.

6 pm. That was the time Rin promised he would meet you. In the past, he was always late but at least had the decency to tell you beforehand that you could go ahead without him. Only when you arrived and sat down to wait for him had he finally messaged you.

Rin: gonna be late. see you at 7.

7 pm. That was the rescheduled time. It was when you expected to see him walking up to you in his yukata that you begged him to wear this year, matching adoringly with yours. And at 7 pm you would tell him. You would tell him everything.

For months prior you had practiced almost pathetically so, recited and perfected your speech while staring at your reflection in a mirror. You’d written him a letter, too.

7 pm. You were finally going to thank Rin for everything. For accompanying you to such a silly festival even though you know he loathes it. For meeting you under the stars and the moon and the fireworks time and time again. For bringing life back into a childhood memory that you had long since hated.

7 pm. You were going to tell him thank you. You were going to tell him you loved him, just as it had been written in the stars many years before you were born.

It’s 9 pm, nearing 10 and the start of the fireworks show. He missed the entire night without explanation.

At 9:58 pm, just as you’re about to give up all hope, you finally come face to face with teal eyes and a stupidly handsome face sheen with sweat. It shouldn’t hurt so much, the way he looks at you so dismissively as if he hadn’t blown you off all night.

“Sorry,” he mutters disingenuously, attempting to brush past you without a second thought. “Let’s go, I’m thirsty.”

He has his gym bag slung over his shoulder and a windbreaker over his uniform. No sign of the yukata you had picked out for him to wear.

You don’t follow him, staring at his back in disbelief. When he realizes you aren’t trailing behind, he turns on his heel and raises a brow in question. “Are you coming?”

“I was waiting for you all night,” you tell him coldly. I was waiting for you all this time and you never showed up.

He swallows thickly, suddenly overcome by guilt because of your downcast expression. “I know. I lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time?” You scoff incredulously. Your mouth opens as if you have more to say, but you’re interrupted by a bang.

Rin’s eyes flutter closed. He can’t listen to this. He can’t watch.

He knows this all too well. He knew it all along.

The universe was wrong. Itoshi Rin was never cut out to be someone’s soulmate.

“We’re missing it…”

Your back is turned to him but all he can imagine is the terrible expression you must be making right now, twisted in sadness and anger. The worse image is a completely blank face—unfeeling and cold. He doesn’t even want to think about it.

Booms echo in the distance yet all he can focus on is the faint hum in his ears, the horrible churning in his stomach and the fog of guilt clouding his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that he’s sure you can’t even hear him under the deep, bellowing explosions over the horizon.

He doesn’t remember the last time he apologized for anything like this. Being cold and aloof was just in his nature. Never before had he felt like it was necessary to be remorseful for the way he is—for how he was made to be.

The slight tremble of your shoulders and the way you use the back of your sleeves to wipe tears from your eyes force the words out of him before he can stop it. He tells you again,

“I’m sorry.”

He weakly attempts to grab you by the arms, holding you from behind so he can make you look at him. You jerk away fast as lightning, knocking him away as you swivel around to glare.

“Why didn’t you come?” You demand. There’s anger shaking in your voice. Rin doesn’t know how to respond to it, not when you’ve always been so understanding and kind. Perhaps he was too cruel for you if he was going to break you this way.

“I got caught up with—”

“With football, right?” You laugh bitterly, taking a generous step back. Hurt pours from every inch of your expression and all it does is make his heart ache.

“Stop,” he suddenly snaps. You flinch at his tone and shrink back, only adding to his guilt. He always had the worst temper. “Don’t be like this. You know it was important,” he explains, gentler this time. Softer, trying to coax you back over.

There’s a beat of complete silence, save for the hollowed explosions in the distance. Rin blinks at you a couple times before his frayed nerves finally calm again. And then he realizes something terrible.

The look in your eyes, the deflation of your shoulders—this is what utter defeat looks like. For a moment deja vu rushes through his blood, bringing him back to a time when he too felt as miserable as you.

Every year he’s had the opportunity to read your expression: I’m tired of waiting. But he always foolishly assumed you would still wait around for him forever. That your patience would be as infinite as the stars in the sky. That just because he had the privilege of having his name scrawled down your pinky, he would be guaranteed to have you.

It was disgustingly selfish.

Just as he opens his mouth to apologize again, you storm up to him and shove the piece of paper roughly into his chest. With the closed gap, he can clearly see the tears streaming down your face illuminated by warm lanterns.

“Just forget it.”

“Wait—” He catches your wrist as you push past him, stopping you in your tracks again despite your struggle to get away. “Come on, I said I’m sorry!”

“Rin,” you sniffle, voice breaking with just the syllable of his name. It makes him falter. “I’m tired.”

“But—”

“You can’t even spare me one night? Just this one night in the entire year?” You breathe, no longer trying to dance around the subject. “What is it with you? What are you so afraid of?”

Being put in the spotlight never bothered Rin before. It was easy enough to ignore when all his life he was watched carefully. But it’s different with you; you’re the only one looking at him in this moment yet it feels like the weight of a million pairs of eyes at once.

An answer comes quickly to his mind, almost natural. He knows exactly what’s wrong with him.

He’s afraid of being left behind again. Of being hurt. Rin is terrified of love and being loved because he’s too pathetically fragile.

The pieces of his heart are clumsily glued together and he’s scared that even the smallest turbulence would send it shattering into a billion shards again. He doesn’t know how to put himself back together properly anymore.

Itoshi Sae permanently fucked him up.

Though they were on slightly better terms now, the scars would always haunt him. The simple solution is to shut everyone else out, to protect the weak heart he harbours.

If he told you that, would you understand? Or would you try and claw his name off your skin?

You take his silence as an answer and pry away from him again, holding yourself protectively—guarding yourself from the catastrophe that follows Rin wherever he goes.

“Goodbye, Rin.”

He doesn’t watch you go.

The nearest bench becomes his temporary home. He could do hundreds of plays in a football game and never tire, but for some reason your disdain has sucked every ounce of energy from his body.

It doesn’t register that he’s still holding the paper you forced into his hands until it crinkles in his hold. He slowly unfolds it revealing ink sloppily smeared across the page.

And then he reads it. Again. And again. And again, until it’s shaking in his hold. Until the dull ache in his heart feels like the pierce of a knife.

Rin doesn’t know what to do anymore. He’s always had one clear goal for his entire life, but now everything is all muddled. Messy, like everything else he touches.

He turns everything into a disaster.

Does he chase after you and risk having his fragile heart broken all over again? Does he risk being left behind or does he close off the gate for that option entirely? He could sit in his cowardice and never change, preserving his heart forever in this moment of time; a polaroid in the slideshow of his mortality.

There’s a familiarity to this all. Perhaps he had lived through this decision a million lives before this. Maybe he would live through it again an infinite amount of times, so long as it was your name etched into his skin.

Was he as messed up in this life as he was in every other?

If he had ruined everything in this life, if he made the wrong choice and drove you away in hatred until you drew your last breath, then maybe he could make it all up to you in the next one.

Or, if that were the case, maybe he was born into this world only to love you—to make up for the millenia where he ran away.

Rin’s legs have never moved so fast. Not in football. Not even from his brother. If you were the light at the end of the tunnel then he would keep chasing you forever, he thinks. Until his wounded heart gave out.

Of all the stupid decisions he’s made in his life, have any of them amounted to anything? He’s going to give it one last try. One more chance to prove to himself that not everything he touches burns to ashes.

“Wait!”

You visibly startle, eyes wide as you turn to see Rin dashing toward you. He doesn’t give you even a moment to ask questions, to wonder why he’s coming back to break your heart again.

You’re engulfed in a hug faster than you can blink, stumbling back from the force of his body colliding with yours until your sandals get kicked off your feet.

“Rin?” You murmur his name in disbelief, breathless even though you weren’t the one sprinting down the road.

“Just give me one more chance,” he stammers out. You can feel the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders as he holds you and fights for air simultaneously. Your hands twitch at your sides but you remain lifeless in his arms.

He tries again: “Let me prove it to you. Let me prove that it wasn’t some freak accident that led me to you. That my name on your skin is meant to be there.”

“Don’t do this,” you tell him quietly, lips brushing against his ear as you speak. “I don’t want to be loved and feared at the same time.”

“But…” Rin squeezes your body against his, almost desperately. Clinging to what he has ruined. “For once in my life, I want something more.”

I don’t want to be alone anymore.

You hesitantly shift, hands slowly trailing up his back until your body is curling against his. He can trace the outline of your body against his, like a puzzle piece that he was missing slotted perfectly in his grasp.

“I thought my soulmate would only slow me down and break me. I was wrong. I know that now.”

He slowly rocks your bodies back and forth. You pull away until your eyes meet his, red with tears. It’s the messiest he has ever seen you, but his heart refuses to be still. It aches.

Beautiful. It’s the only word he can describe you with. It didn’t matter if you were lit up under the wondrous sky, or handing him coffee in a crowded café, or sobbing in his arms.

You would only ever be his infinitely beautiful soulmate.

It’s the only constant he would have in this life and every other, even if you were to break his heart. It would be the single greatest achievement in his time, above football, above any of his petty competitions—that your name is etched down his pinky.

It scares him. It thrills him.

With the distant roar of fireworks, he kisses you. And you allow him, hiccuping against his lips as you cry.

You stay like that for a long time, listening to the hollow shockwaves of fireworks exploding miles away. He’s the first to draw back, raking in shallow breaths. You chase him, finding solace against his lips once more but not fully indulging him with another kiss.

“Do you fear me?” You whisper into his mouth.

“More than anything,” he tells you.

“Do you love me?”

After a moment of contemplation, he answers,

“More than anything.”

You nod slowly, awkwardly pulling away from him and taking a step back. It’s your first kiss and you don’t know where you’re supposed to look anymore. Rin stops your nervous shifting with his hand swooping under your chin.

“One year. I promise.” You look at him in confusion, so he continues. “Next year, when the season and my contract are over, I’ll meet you there. At the pond.”

You seem skeptical still, with your brows knitted together and a lost haze in your eyes. He raises his pinky, the one with your name forever grafted into the skin, and offers it to you.

“I pinky promise.”

It’s so ridiculous, wearing his heart on his sleeve with something he learned about on playgrounds when he was a child. A pinky promise shouldn’t mean any more than the words he has already spoken. But for some reason, your eyes light up.

He feels nothing but relief when your pinkies lock together.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“You’ll wait for me?”

“Rin.” His name leaves you in a breathless laugh that makes his world spin. It sounds so tired yet so sweet. “I’ve been waiting all my life.”

“I’m sorry,” he says once more for good measure. You nod. A wordless acceptance.

Itoshi Rin is your soulmate. It’s not like that fact will ever change no matter the time, no matter the distance.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2023

Fate is a funny thing. Soulmates are a funny thing.

The universe threw Rin curveball after curveball, beating him down until he was nothing but a husk heavenly built for one purpose only: beat Sae. Beat Itoshi Sae.

There were times when he would lay awake at night wondering why he was given this life, why he was thrust into hardship and hurt and betrayal. How could something so perfect, something so all-knowing, be so cruel?

For as long as the name had been grafted into his skin, he resented the idea of a soulmate.

He hated the idea that only one person in the world would be his eternal weakness. That one day, one person would hold every piece of his soul in their hands. Even then, his soulmate was the other half of him—his salvation. His downfall.

They would know every inch of his skin. Every bleeding wound of his heart. Every bruise and scar along his legs from cleats and nails and gravel. Having a soulmate meant having every part of him exposed, to be judged and worshiped at the same time.

At your hands, though, he’s certain this is what he was born for—to spend the rest of his days by your side even if you were doing something as mundane as catching frogs together.

“You’re scaring them,” you hiss quietly.

Your fingers sink into the pond and Rin watches your reflections ripple as water fills your palms. Your faces contort and meld into one being. In some ways, it’s a familiar feeling—to have been intertwined with you since his very conception.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“It’s your fault!”

“Right,” he deadpans. “You haven’t caught a single one all night.”

“You were late,” you remind him with a huff, cheeks inflated. “Before you got here I was catching frogs all night. Coincidence?”

Rin makes another noise, something akin to a snort. But he doesn’t acknowledge your statement, instead reaching over to gingerly roll the sleeves of your yukata up to your elbows.

“Are you always so sloppy? Your sleeves are getting all wet.”

You glare at him from the side, delivering a deadly warning. “Are you always such a pain in the ass?”

“I get it, I get it. I said I was sorry for being late. Nii-chan really wanted to try that new ice cream place downtown.”

Your gaze drifts to him in the shimmering reflection, watching his smile soften at the mention of his big brother. It was wonderful that they were trying to patch things up.

Sae had decided to come home after all, promising Rin that they would play together again once they both took a well deserved break.

You could tell that Rin was trying his best not to make a big deal out of it, but the way he cried into your shoulder later that night said it all.

“I feel bad having you come all the way out here just to see me. Your brother is back in Japan isn’t he?”

“Yeah. And he wants to meet you.”

You nearly fall over. “What?”

“Please don’t look so starstruck about that. I feel sick.”

Laughing, you recentre yourself, sitting back on your heels with your hands on your knees. “Sorry, sorry! It’s not that…”

Rin raises a brow. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just—” you fumble, cheeks burning hot at the idea of being introduced to Rin’s family after all these years. Formally, as his partner. His soulmate. The name they had all known since he was thirteen. “What would I even say to him?”

He looks at you in bewilderment. Then, he snickers, only laughing harder when you smack his arm.

“Don’t worry about that,” he assures, reaching out to pat the top of your head. “Just be yourself. My family will love you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, studying your reflections in the water with a soft smile. You’re staring right back at yourself, but Rin is only looking at you.

“I haven’t done anything special.”

“You lit up my world,” you laugh, turning back up to look at him properly. You make a mini explosion with your hands. “Boom! Like that. A firework.”

“You’re too corny,” he murmurs in embarrassment, turning his head away to hide his flushed face. “Can’t you explain it like a normal person?”

“No can do,” you tell him, voice gentler this time. After a pause, you shuffle your sandals around in the mud and take a deep breath. “If you want me to be totally serious…”

You lunge over and tackle him into your arms. He nearly loses his balance holding the both of you upright, stumbling back on his heels before he catches your waist. You don’t seem to share the sentiment of staying pristine, knees digging into the dirt as you squeeze him tighter.

Rin feels his heart catch in his throat the same way you’ve made it for the last six years.

“Thank you. For letting me love you. For being my soulmate.”

His hand is automatically in your hair, scratching your scalp as he smiles into your shoulder.

“I’m sure I gave you nothing but a hard time,” he grumbles.

“But I still love you.”

“Even though you had to wait?”

“Even so.”

“And that I’m a pain in the ass?”

“Even then, I do.”

Rin burrows himself into your neck, hiding his face again. It does a poor job at masking the kind of expression he’s making, though, considering how warm his skin is.

“What if I’m not good enough?”

He feels terrible—guilty that he needs to keep having this conversation with you. But you always comfort him the same way. He hopes you always will.

Drawing his head up with your muddy hands, you dirty his cheeks just to get a glimpse of him. You murmur a half-hearted sorry for making a mess.

Then you’re kissing him.

“I’ll be here to remind you how much I cherish you.”

You nip his bottom lip and he opens wider. You whisper into his mouth,

“And how happy I am that Itoshi Rin was born into this world.”

Itoshi Rin, broken. He who thought that he could never be put back together.

Itoshi Rin, vengeful. He who believed the only happiness that existed for him in this world was to surpass his brother.

Itoshi Rin, who did not believe in his soulmate while staring right at them. And Itoshi Rin, who finally allowed himself to love you wholly, completely, as it was written in the stars.

“I love you,” he says, as if just those three words could encapsulate everything he feels for you.

“Always?” You giggle. He rolls his eyes.

“Wherever you are, and wherever you may be, I will.”

You kiss him one more time for good measure.

“That was corny.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2024

“No peeking.”

Rin folds up his piece of paper and hangs it from the bamboo tree. You’re tugging him along before he can even properly check to see if it’s been secured.

“Come on, I don’t want to miss the fireworks!”

He wouldn’t miss them for the world. You’ve always looked the most beautiful under the brightened summer sky.

The wish he scribbled down blows softly in the breeze as both of you rush by, back to the festival where it all began.

7 July 2024. I wish I had the words to tell you how much I love you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

extra notes. hi! if you made it this far, i'd like to give you the warmest most grateful thank you ever ( ´ ω `)

so, here it is. i've been working on this since last september-ish... for some people that amount of time is not much, but genuinely, i've never devoted so much attention and time to one single fic and i hope i did this one justice. rin has always been a guilty pleasure of mine to write for. i hope this man stays far far away from me until i can stomach even looking at his name again LOL ‾́ ◡ ‾́

also i finally admitted defeat and took out all my pictures and dividers because tumblr was fighting my posts that had any. so... sorry the formatting looks like this

additional tags: @jenoutof10 @hanrinz @itoshiexx lol hi guys it made it out of the drafts i hope you like it

#releasing this on 7/7... definitely a move...#GULPS. thank you... for saving me... i was so thirsty...#🤤#feels like diving into a cool body of water on an excruciatingly hot day... bless you soph...#thank you mimi for choosing this prompt thank you soph for bringing it to life thank you to your parents for bringing you to life #his brother issues basically sabotaging his love life... HELP THIS MAN 😭😭😭😭😭😭#thanks for always including the brother's relationship and them healing... im bowing at ur feet. atp u shd direct bllk.#ill always fall for the 'emotionally stunted man finally opens and pours his heart out to the one that's always been waiting for him' trope #mm mm mm #i think ive said this before but ill say it again... ur fics feel like watching a movie... so cinematic... 🤤#what a read! esp first thing in the morning 😌😌 thanks for tagging me #congratulatory digital slap on the back for finally finishing this and being set free. salute. thank u for ur service soldier.#i hope u sleep well i hope u eat the best food i hope you win the lottery i hope u get a promotion i hope u live the best life #ily... singlehandedly saved the blue lock and rin fandom...#itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x reader

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brayneworms · 5 months ago

Note

can you do one where you edge aki hayakawa? PRETTY PLEEEAASSSEEE WITH ALL THE CHERRIES ONTOP

high & dry

featuring. aki hayakawa x gn!reader

content. MDNI, smut, edging, handjobs + the beginning of a blowjob lol, pet names (honey), gender neutral reader + agab not mentioned, sub!aki + dom!reader, established relationship, cursing, mild pet analogy (it’s me what do you expect)

word count. 1.7k

synopsis. aki has a lesson to learn.

notes. minors don’t interact. found this in my drafts from like january so anon if ur still out there i hope u enjoy smile. i take commissions :3

The thing about Aki is that he doesn't mean to misbehave.

The thing about you is that you've never considered yourself overly strict.

But somehow, somewhere in the muddle of this, this being you two and whatever was becoming of your relationship, both of these factors have been thrust into the spotlight and interrogated. The problem is that Aki is a fighting dog whose leash is fraying more with every day, who rushes into conflict with his heart first and his brain struggling to catch up. The problem is that you care for him, despite the awful inevitability of how badly it will end weighing on your mind.

Aki likes to flirt with death, and you like to keep him safe. These factors, as you might imagine, clash frequently.

So—you either become the screeching, shrewish partner, leaving every night a sour argument where you don't face each other where you sleep. Or you take your frustration out in more productive ways. Because, truly—you don't like to yell at Aki. It makes him grumpy and stonefaced but more than that, it makes him hurt. You can see the flickers of it in his dark blue eyes, some fragment of his childhood that never healed properly, like an old wound that bleeds anew whenever you prod it. Tender and painful as skinned knees.

But this, this works for both of you, you think.

His fingers curl up his work slacks, bunching starched polyester between bitten nails. He's looking anywhere but at you, knelt between his legs, cheeks shaded pink beneath the tumbling bangs of ink-dark hair. "You don't have to," he starts, like he always does, ever the gentleman. It makes him a little twitchy to be given pleasure like it's a gift. It's so sweet that it almost makes you feel bad.

You take him in your hand, half-hard and hot, and he hisses. You have a sneaking suspicion, something that's been blooming for a while now, that you may have been the first person to touch Aki like this. The first time you'd slept together he'd had to mumble the names of all the Devils he had contracts with under his breath to last more than a minute inside you.

There's a wound on his hip the colour of a bloody sunset, jagged like a mountain silhouette. It almost seems to mock you as you stroke him loosely, gathering the pearly beads of pre that bloom at his tip as he gets more and more turned on, more sensitive. His chest shakes ones when he inhales, his hands twisting the fabric of his pants uncomfortably. Your slow, patient pace makes him almost overwhelmed, feeling it wrack out from between his thighs in torturously hot, slow waves, makes his whole body shudder.

Once he's hard, you say, "Tell me about today."

Aki grunts, brows furrowing. His hips cant up, once, a silent plea. But your hand has slowed now, so he tenses his jaw and sighs.

"Found a Devil," he says through gritted teeth. "Some a-abandoned warehouse."

"It gave you this?" You use the hand that was wrapped around his cock to stroke over the nasty gash on his skin, and he makes a wonderful shivery noise—both, you think, at the loss of contact to his hardness and the ghost of sharp pain that echoes from your touch along his wound.

"Yeah," he sighs shakily. He looks down at you now, eyes soft, almost pleading. "Could you—"

"You weren't alone, were you, Aki?" you ask, blinking up at him. You think he's starting to get the game now; blood runs up to colour his cheeks darker and his eyes flit away as though in shame. "Didn't you call for backup?"

"Too far away," he says, gritty with irritation. He feels foolish, sitting on the edge of the bed with his dick out. Still hard, despite you not having touched it for about half a minute. "I had it handled."

"You should've waited," you tell him.

"You're killing my hardon," he tells you flatly. You roll your eyes and pick up where you left off; when your hand wraps around him he lets out a shaky sigh and tips his head back towards the ceiling. You'll never tire of how sensitive he is, responding to every touch like it's the first time; when your hand wraps back around him his thighs clench and spasm all over again, and he makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat.

You stroke him, more firmly now, with the occasional focus on his tip. It starts to leak over your hand, and Aki makes a quiet, embarrassed grunt at the sight of it. Privately, you don't mind too much—unlike most guys, Aki has the grace to be abashed by it, which is already enough to put him in your good books—but his humiliation is an added bonus you'd happily put up with some less-than-savoury things for.

You're mean, maybe, in the way a bunny thinks their owner is mean for locking them in a hutch each night. But, you know, the owner only does that for the bunny's own safety.

Sometimes, the owner really does know better.

Aki's thighs twitch; you amuse yourself watching the spasm of the muscles play across beneath the smooth, pale skin, thinking absently of how you'd like to get your mouth on that soft flesh inside. "Y/n," he warns, voice catching, breathy. "I—dammit, I'm gonna—"

You make a thoughtful noise, and then release your grip entirely. Aki gapes down at you, eyes snapping open. "What the hell?" he fumes.

"Say that you should have waited for backup," you tell him patiently. Your positions are some perverse subversion of power; he looms over you, strong legs bracketing your face. By all accounts, you're surrounded as you look up at him. But he's the one looking at you like you've shot him in the chest. His brows knit together in frustration.

"Are you fucking joking?" he gapes. "What is this? You—"

"Aki," you say, so softly that it must frighten him because he stops short, looking at you warily. "You know I care about you, so much, yeah?"

"I—" he looks thrown, impossibly lost. "I guess? Yeah."

"Good." You lean your head on his knee, watching how his throat bobs when he looks at you. His thighs twitch almost indecipherably at the contact, erection showing no sign of flagging. "And you know I want to protect you, and keep you safe? I want you to want that, too."

"I..." Aki's voice is taking on a hoarse tinge. "I know... that."

"Then why do you keep throwing yourself in such dangerous situations?" You unspool a nail up the inside of his leg, and he gasps slightly in anticipation. "What are you going to do next time?"

"I—" he cuts himself off, strangled. "I'm going to... call for backup."

Your finger trails to a halt. "You mean that?"

"Yeah," he says, a little frantically. "I will. I swear. Y/n, please—"

You lean forward, brushing your lips against him. Aki moans, eyes widening as his pupils expound until his eyes are less sodalite and more black-hole. You let your tongue flicker out and trace over the head, tasting him, putting your hands on his thighs so you can feel him strain to hold back. Ever the gentleman, Aki hates to lose control and buck into your mouth. It still happens sometimes, of course, because at his heart he's a needy inexperienced hunter and you revel in the punishment of pretty things. It's mean, you know, to goad him where he's a little helpless.

But the owner knows best. You know how to get him to remember his lesson.

You draw back, pressing a final kiss to the head of his cock like tying the ribbon on a giftbox. Aki blinks blearily at you, mouth slack, expression adorably confused as you wipe at your lips with a thumb.

"What—" he croaks.

"I want you to remember what you said, Aki," you tell him sternly. "I can't reward bad behaviour."

You think he's getting it. Box. Rat. Electric shock. Et cetera.

"Wait," he pleads, brows scrunching together in honest-to-god panic. "I'll remember, okay? I told you I would. I won't misbehave."

"And I want to believe you." Your hand draws soothing circles on his knee and it makes his bottom lip quiver slightly. "So... when you show me you're taking your safety seriously, then you'll get a reward."

Aki's mouth hangs open. "You're serious," he croaks with some shattering finality; he shuts his eyes against the blue-dark, whole body shuddering. "You're fucking... what if I just decide to jack off?"

"You can do that," you shrug. "But I think you know what'll happen if you do."

Aki makes a frustrated noise; he glances down at his erection, starting to flag only slightly. He wants you to touch him so badly; all he can think of is your fingers, your mouth, your hair in his fingers. Or, withholding that, he could at least slide his fingers around himself and get himself off, like he used to mostly infrequently before you.

But if he does that, how long will you hold out for? He knows, with a cold sort of dread, that you can hold out much, much longer than him. He's gotten a taste of it and now he can't be satisfied; it's the one area of his life where he totally lacks any semblance of self-control.

So with a devastated whimper, he reaches down and tucks himself gingerly back into his underwear. He's so turned on it almost stings as his briefs tug on his erection, and it's so much worse when he stiffly tugs up his slacks and buttons them again. For a moment after he just sits on the bed, breathing shakily until he's red in the face, trying not to squirm.

You stand up, brush a lock of his hair back, smiling as he leans pathetically into the touch. There's a lukewarm sweat beading on his brow. "I'm so proud of you, honey. I'm going to start dinner, okay? You stay in here and relax. You've had such a hard day."

Aki's eyes burn into your back as you turn and leave. It takes every modicum of mental fortitude he has not to throw himself on the ground and beg and sob for you to touch him. The thought of going without is almost painful.

He stares down at the faint bulge in his slacks, gripping his own thigh for support. Wonders about grinding the heel of his hand against it, just for some momentary relief.

Aki shuts his eyes. He doesn't want to misbehave. And he does not touch.

#🫀.scribes #chainsaw man x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #csm x reader #aki x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #hayakawa x reader #chainsaw man x gn!reader #gn!reader #chainsaw man smut #aki hayakawa smut #aki smut #hayakawa smut #hayakawa aki smut #dom!reader #sub!aki #sub!aki hayakawa

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ssparksflyy · 2 months ago

Note

just thinking about first kiss w/leo and your hands are in his hair except he gets nervy and the tips of his curls accidentally catch fire and burn your hands !!

so then he carries you bridal style to the infirmary, literally crying and begging for forgiveness

and yk the talk with will as of how you acquired these odd shaped burns is awkward as hell

anon ur so right

whats funny about it is that the tips of his hair catching fire is actually one of your favorite things about him, you think its super cute and tease him about it sometimes- calling him names like 'hot head' and telling how adorable you think it is only makes them burn brighter and has him shoving his tomato red face into his hands. you werent lying when you called it adorable, it truly always made your heart flutter and brought a smile to your face.

so when it happens during your first kiss together, you obviously pull away and remove your hands from his hair cause.. well.. they just got burnt ?? but you still cant help but smile a bit.

the burns themselves werent extremely bad, they just stung a bit, and the kiss was great but that didnt stop leo from freaking out and immediately apologizing repeatedly, asking you if you were okay and grabbing your hands to get a better look at them.

you explain to him that youre okay, but this man is literally on the verge of tears, thinking you hate him and never ever want to see him again. you assure him youre ok, and just need to run over the infirmary for a quick treatment.

you try to turn away to the infirmary, but leo is so quick to literally sweep you off your feet and carry you in his arms, bridal style. he says something about making it up to you and calls himself 'your certified knight in shining armor' which only makes you smile more.

he begins scurrying over to the infirmary, pushing past campers so determined to get you there as quickly as possible, making you giggle. he puts you down at the door of the infirmary, quickly grabbing the door and holding it open for you.

you let out a light laugh and a 'thank you', then brush past him and into the infirmary. he follows right behind you, closing the door behind him. you walk up to the counter, asking one of the apollo kids for some assistance with your burns and she leads you over to sit and wait on one of the hospital beds until will can help you.

leo sits in the chair right next to you and even though youve told him a million times that youre ok, his leg cant help from bouncing and he can't stop fidgeting with his fingers. you notice his behaviors and put a hand on top of his busy ones, giving him a soft smile. he looks up and returns the smile, but is snapped out of his la-la-land trance when will walks over with his clipboard, ready to help you.

he asks you whats wrong and takes a look at your hands, but seems to have a puzzled look on his face.

"how'd you get these burns? theyre really weirdly shaped." he asks.

your face gets hot and your body tenses up, leo having the same reaction.

"uhmmm..uh- i-"

"wel-well you see what had happened was-"

"we ummm.."

"out with it already." will said, giving you a deadpan look.

you and leo glanced at each other in panic, but knew you shouldnt lie. not to will.

"we..wellwekissedandiwastouchinghishairbutthenitcaughtonfireandburntmyhadns" you mumbled quickly, looking down.

"what?" will asked, moving closer in hopes of hearing you better.

"wee.. kissed and i had my hands in his hair but then it caught on fire and burnt my hands" you said, elongating the syllables and feeling your face get hotter with each word.

will tired so hard not to laugh or smile, after all he was in a 'professional environment' ( as chrion called it ) but he really couldn't help it, he smirked and put your hands down, walking away from you and over to the cabinet where all the camp's ointments were kept.

he smothered a glob of the ointment onto your hands then bandaged them up so they could heal properly, and let you go on with your day- but not without a few teases and jokes while leo helped you fill out your paperwork.

after you finished up in the infirmary, you and leo walked out together and immediately plopped onto the bench outside.

"well that was embarrassing" leo said, stating the obvious.

"yep... well, now i know to learn from my mistake the next time i kiss you" you said, a small smirk forming onto your face.

your comment had caught leo by surprise, "what? wait... again? you-you'd wanna do that again?"

you turned to face him with a smile, "i mean why not? youre a good kisser and it's not like ive havent a crush on you for years"

leo had to be on the verge of a heart attack with each surprise he'd faced today, this one only pushing him further off the edge, "you've had a crush on me for years????"

you simply nodded your head and smiled, trying to play it cool when in reality your heart was ready to run out of your chest.

leo ran his fingers through his hair in disbelief, "wait so were you like really good at hiding it or something?? cause ive had a crush on you for years and i feel like its always been painfully obvious."

it was your turn to get nervous, suddenly at a loss for words.

"w-well, maybe you should do something about it then." you said, sounding more confident than you felt.

"well maybe i will."

he cupped your face with his hand and brought you in close for your second kiss that day, holding your hands down with his free one, and moving his lips slowly against yours. this time, the kiss was long and soft, the way your first one should've been. when the two of you finally pulled away for air, you had stupid smiles on your faces that only grew after leo asked you,

"would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?"

to which you gladly said yes to.

#i am on a ROLL #smau fic moodboard AND blurd #this may not seem like a lot to yall but apparently im in a yapper mood cause this never happens #anyway i literally loved this prompt like anon u ate with this one #this was so funness to right !!#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #HOT TO GO ༘⋆💥 ⋆.ᐟ #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.#how queue get the girl ♡

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moeitsu · 3 months ago

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heyyy, I absolutely love ur fics and hcs...I was wondering if u will be willing to write smth fluffy abt logan...

Like they have been good friends for awhile and both of them have been pinning for each other...but the reader thinks he still loves jean...

And they've an argument Abt smth before a mission and obv reader gets injured...but someone else saves her and he doesn't get to meet her and when she recovers she avoids him .....

Smth like thiss...plss....❤️✨

The miscommunication trope is a tough one for me, but I hope I did alright! Thanks for being my first request!

"You're the only one for me" Logan Howlett x Reader

wc: 1k warnings: none Lots of fluff and feels at the end :)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A jealous itch runs up your spine as you see Logan across the room, smiling at her the same way he smiles at you. Jean Grey. Everyone in the mansion knows about their history, about Logan’s long, unrequited love for her.

Despite her loyalty to Scott, Logan couldn’t help but fall for the beautiful, fiery redhead. But that was before you came along.

Logan and you have always had a deep, unspoken understanding. From the very first day you met, there was something electric between you, something unnameable but undeniably there.

A glance across the room was all it took to communicate. And yet, there was always something more, lingering beneath the surface, something neither of you were brave enough to say out loud.

Late nights under the stars became your shared solace. You’d sit side by side, talking about everything and nothing, as the night stretched on. Logan listened to every word you said like it was the most important thing in the world.

Those quiet moments, with the world asleep around you, were what he treasured most. But he never told you that.

He never told you how those talks meant more to him than any battle he’d ever won.

Logan isn’t one for grand gestures, but you noticed the small things. How his hand would linger when he handed you a cup of coffee, the way he instinctively stepped closer when the room got too crowded, or how his arm would sometimes brush against yours when you walked side by side.

These moments made your heart race, but just as you thought there might be something more, you’d catch him with Jean, and the doubts would creep in.

Oh, how he wished he had the courage to tell you how he felt. But the pain of rejection haunted him. The fear of opening his heart, only to have it shattered again, quieted him into submission.

So, he stayed silent, letting the tension build between you, even as he longed to close the gap.

But you were growing tired of the mind games. His feelings for you seemed as real as the ground beneath your feet, as the air in your lungs. He must feel the same way, you told yourself.

But then, there he was, spending time with Jean, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you had it all wrong.

The tension finally boiled over before a big mission. The argument was sharp, words cutting deeper than any blade.

“Just go back to Jean!” you snapped, frustration and hurt lacing your voice.

Logan’s eyes widened, his own frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You think I—” he started, but the words stumbled. He tried to deny it, but his voice failed him, the weight of unspoken truths holding him back.

You both stormed off, leaving the air between you crackling with unresolved tension.

The mission was a blur of chaos, and then—disaster.

You were injured, and it was serious. Logan’s heart stopped when he heard. He fought through enemies with a ferocity that terrified even his allies, desperate to reach you. But before he could get to you, someone else did, pulling you to safety.

The relief was brief, overshadowed by guilt and frustration. He should have been there. He should have protected you. As he watched you being carried away, unconscious and bleeding, he made a vow—he would never let that happen again.

When you recovered, the physical wounds healed faster than the emotional ones. You avoided Logan, convinced that his heart still belonged to someone else, that your feelings were nothing but wishful thinking.

Better to rip the band-aid off now, you thought, than suffer more heartbreak later.

Logan noticed the distance immediately. It gnawed at him, a constant ache in his chest. You had always come to him when there was trouble, when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you just needed someone to sit with you in silence.

But now, you turned away, leaving him feeling helpless and lost.

He asked others about your condition, made sure you were okay in his own quiet way, even sat outside your room at night, listening to your breathing just to make sure you were sleeping. But the distance between you felt like an unbridgeable valley.

The tension finally became too much to bear. Logan couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

One night, he cornered you—gentle but firm, his voice low and rough. “Jean will always be a part of my past,” he said, his words heavy with truth, “but you… you’re my present, my future. I’ve been afraid of screwing this up, of losing what we have, but I can’t stay quiet anymore. You're the only one for me, and I’m not letting you slip away.”

You were stunned, tears welling up as you realized how wrong you’d been.

“I thought… I was so afraid that…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Logan stepped closer, his rough hand brushing against your cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice soft but certain.

The confession hung between you, fragile but true. And then, slowly, Logan leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was long overdue.

It was slow, tender, filled with all the emotions you’d both kept bottled up for too long. When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes soft and full of affection.

“You’re the only one for me,” he repeated with a whisper, his voice rough but sincere.

After that night, everything changed. The tension that had once thickened the air melted away, replaced by a quiet, comfortable closeness.

Logan became more open with his affection—small touches, lingering looks, and a new ease in your interactions. You both felt the relief of finally being on the same page, of knowing that the unspoken feelings were now shared and mutual.

Logan made sure you never doubted his feelings again. He talked more, shared more of himself, making it clear that you were the most important person in his life.

Jean was a part of his past, but you were his future, and he wasn’t going to let you forget it.

Thanks for requesting this!!

I hope I did it some justice. I love Jean Grey and I tried my best not to paint her in a bad light. But I know everyone's a sucker for a good love triangle hehe

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool & wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine #logan howlett xmen #hugh jackman wolverine #wolverine x reader #send requests #writing requests

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 9 months ago

Text

@softgirlgonehaywire @staryukis @dollsuguru

growing old together <3

#OLD MAN YAOI LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOO #OP I CHEERED SO FUCKING LOUD #IM IN LOVE WITH YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU #UR STSG IS EVERYTHING BUT THIS PARTICULAR STSG……….. AAAAAAA THEYRE SO IM SO ?????????#BITING AT MY FIST CHEWING THROGUH MY DESK #LOSING IT COMPLETELY WAHHHHHHHHHH #MY ANGELLSSSSSSS THEYRE GORGEOUS 🥺🥺🥺😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫#AGED LIKE FINE WINE #I ADORE THESE DESIGNS SM IT GENUINELY HURTS :((((((((#SUGU LOOKS ESPECIALLY GOOD PHEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW he’s so pretty </3 #they shouldve grown old together :(((((((((((( sniffle…….#ur fanart is healing me slowly but surely i hope u know that!!!!! this made my heart feel so full i genuinely wanna cryyyyyy they’re just….#im tearing up :((((#they’re just the sweetest……. their love is just sooooo steadfast i love how sugu is still able to turn toru into a flustered mess hehe #IN LOVE W THIS WHOLLY AND COMPLETELY ‼️‼️‼️‼️#i blacked out for a moment had to contact stsg nation immediately #pspspspspsppsp come get ur daily dose of old man yaoi ……. pspspspsp………..#fanart ✩

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luveline · 1 year ago

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hiii, i just wanna say i absolutely adoreee ur writing ur amazing and fabulous. I wanted to request something with hotch where reader gets hurt pretty badly in the field and is gonna have to spend a lot of time in recovery (so like not being able to work in the field for a while) and just a lot of fluff and comforting? (thx ur the bestest ever ever ever and i <3 u i’ve been reading ur stuff for years)

love u <3 fem

Your leg is broken in four different places.

Hotch is sure you're going to cry the moment you realise what that means, but he isn't expecting for it to be a minute after you've woken up.

“We'll get you something for the pain,” a nurse promises.

“It's not that,” you say, you sob, looking between your leg and Hotch as though you're hoping he'll tell you something different.

You live for your job. They all have their reasons, and they all have their vices. You and Hotch are the same —you can't live without this. There's no alternative.

But your leg is undeniably broken.

The nurse gives him a look, hoping he'll calm you down, and he would've started the moment your eyes welled with tears if he thought he could change the outcome. Still, it breaks his heart to see you so immediately upset. He has to try something.

“It's not forever,” he says.

“How long?”

“Not forever.” The break, the surgery, the physical therapy. He asked for the estimates. He doesn't want to be the one to tell you, but you won't accept it from anyone else. “Six months.”

The broken leg isn't the end of it. Your wrist is fractured, your pinky and ring finger broken, a laceration the length of his hand up your thigh. You were concussed, you're still at risk of agitating all the things you've hurt. Your face crumples and you can't even cover it with two hands like you would. It is, admittedly, the worst you've ever been at. Hotch can't stand it.

“Would you excuse us?” he asks the nurse. “I have her.”

“Hotch,” you say as the door closes, your voice achingly unhappy, “make them check again.”

He takes your uninjured wrist. Holds it. “They've done everything they can do. I promise you, I was here for all of it. I argued against the pins, I knew they'd keep you here longer, I– against my better judgement, I sent people away because I knew you wouldn't want them to see you like this. This is the best outcome I could salvage.”

“This is the best?” you ask, shaking your head at him. “This is my life.”

You didn't see yourself. The way you'd laid there after it was over. You don't get that this is a good thing, that you weren't hurt worse. All you can see is months of desk duty, and he can't even blame you, because six months away would make him ill.

“This is the best I could do for you,” he says, rubbing your wrist with his thumb. “I'm sorry.”

His apology catches you off guard. You make a sound near a hiccup and turn to him completely, the fat body of a tear dripping down your cheek to your chin, where it stays. He can see the question before you've asked it and he won't make you, either, leaning down to cover you up with his arms, his chin atop your head. “I'm sorry, honey. I know how much it means to you.”

“It's…” Your good arm works around him weakly, a hesitant touch to his back. “Not your fault. I…”

He lets you fade, rubbing at the top of your arm, enthusing you with as much warmth as he can. “Six months recovery doesn't mean six months out of the field,” he promises. “In two months you'll be walking. It won't feel as long as you're thinking.”

“In a boot.”

In a full cast, poor thing. He frowns, pressing his nose into your head. “You can consult from home just as soon as you're home,” he says softly, still rubbing your arm. The touch turns to a gentle stroking, his palm numb to the ticklish sensation your naked arm brings, the sleeve of your hospital gown bunching with each line he makes.

“I know you're unhappy, but it will heal. And you have an army of people who can't wait to see you. We… things have been complicated.”

“How long was I out?” you ask.

“You were awake between surgeries, but it's been two days.”

You hug him with more insistence. “Thanks for looking after me,” you whisper.

Oh, sweetheart, he could say. He could kiss your crown. Honestly, Hotch could take your face into his hands and suddenly he is, he's holding your face and looking down at you, eyes dark and sorry to your silvery tears.

He strokes your cheek. “It'll be alright,” he promises.

You dissolve into tears again in his hands. He wipes them away as they come, for as long as they will. It's the least he'd do for you.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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edges-of-night · 1 year ago

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Hello! I was wondering if I could request something? Fellowship x reader where the reader gets injured in a battle or something and confessed their feelings before passing out… and when they wake up they find out their feelings r returned 🤭 I love ur requests they r so very cute! Thank u!

That was such a lovely request to write, nonnie! I’m really sorry you had to wait for it so long. Also, thank you for your kind words!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Initially, Aragorn would not treat you much differently after your recovery – so much so that you start wondering if you actually confessed your feelings to him or hallucinated that whole part. But all Aragorn wants to do is find the right moment to talk to you. Once he does, he’d gently take your hands in his and tell you how much you mean to him – and that your feelings are in fact reciprocated! Confessing your love first gave him the courage to do the same. “I am not well versed in these fields. But I hope I can show you my heart just as bluntly as you did yours.”

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir would not be around when you wake up. The others tell you he was simply shocked by your passing out and that he needed time to adjust and would be overjoyed to hear you’re fine – but you suspect it would be something else that scared him away. You’d find him pondering in a lone corner, afraid of how he’ll react to seeing you again – only to see his hardened face light up when your eyes meet his – and then he’d rush to kiss you! “I’ve been a fool for not understanding it sooner. Forgive me…!” ♡

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

I like to think that out of the Fellowship, Frodo would be the most mature to handle your love confession. After all, he knows your injuries aren’t lethal and worries not about what happens next, since he is very clear in his own feelings. After you wake up, he greets you with a smile, takes your hand to make sure you’re fine – and lowers his voice to say, “I’ll call the others right away. But before that, I need you to remember the last thing you said to me. I feel the same.” He’d give you the cutest smile, shining all the way up to his blue eyes.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf, being the one who tried to heal you in the moment you passed out, tries ignoring your dramatic love confession and silently urges the others to forget what they overheard. That said, he is very flattered – after all, he’s been enamoured with you for a while now. Still, his romance is quiet and subdued. He’d sit next to you with a smile when you wake up. At first, you thought his behaviour was unchanged – until he ends his sentences toward you with “darling” or “my dear”. There is a playful spark in his eyes that tells you everything you need to know. (Eventually, he would also spell out ‘I love you too’ in fireworks or butterflies!)

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Gimli stays with you during your recovery, guarding your bed day and night, so dutifully that the others need to remind him of eating. Once you wake up, you’d meet his soft eyes, only to watch them harden when you try to speak to him: “Don’t do that again! Ever!” – “What? Talk to you…?” – “Scare me like that!” he corrects, grumbling into his beard. “What’s a lad supposed to do when his sweetheart passes out in his arms?” You smile blissfully as you understand and offer him a hug that Gimli more than eagerly returns!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas is entirely stumped when you pass out after that dramatic “I love you”. There is a frown on his pretty face for the next few hours, waiting for you to wake up again. When you do, you’re terribly embarrassed by the way he’s staring at you through his Elven eyes. He’d fixate you and ask, “Did you mean it? What you said to me?” You’d blush and retort that yes, of course you meant it – and that is enough to make his bright smile and joy return. “What a relief! I feared that if it had been but a fever, my reciprocation would ring false, or sound like a mockery. Please know it’s nothing but the truth!” And he’d take your hands and lean in for a quick and happy kiss!

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

At first, Merry would not believe what he heard just before you passed out. During your recovery, he retreats into dark corners to think and rationalise – people say all kinds of stupid things when they thought they were about to die, right? You couldn’t possibly be in love with him – not when there are so many other people – taller people – all around you. So, imagine his surprise when you do ask him for a private conversation after waking up, to set everything straight. Only Merry doesn’t accept your apology. “What’s there to apologise for? You said what you felt in that moment. It’s not like I didn’t like what I heard, I feel the same, after all…” And then, you both share an ‘oh!’ moment before you laugh and fall into the other’s arms!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin would initially be overwhelmed by your confession and subsequent passing out. However, he’s positive you’ll be fine, firmly believing that no matter how important, these matters needn’t be so dramatic. He’d treat you as casually as always after your recovery, though you can’t deny there is a spring in his steps and a smile on his face whenever you’re talking. You now know that your feelings are returned, and yet you still blush when he tells you over a shared bowl of strawberries: “I don’t think I’ve told you yet, but I love you, too! Very much so! I’ve thought of a few different pet names to call you, but I wanted to clarify that first. So, just tell me which one you like best…”

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam would not leave your side, no matter how long you were passed out. Whenever someone would try and tear him away, he’d explain that he has something very important to discuss with you when you wake up. He would practice romantic speeches and poems to recite for you, really thinking the whole thing through – only to remain absolutely speechless when your eyes do meet his. After your initial greeting – “Thank goodness you’re alive!” – he’d just hold your hand and ask you to stay with him ♡

#lotr imagine #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #aragorn x reader #boromir x reader #frodo x reader #gandalf x reader #gimli x reader #legolas x reader #merry x reader #pippin x reader #samwise x reader #* ask #* request #* hurt/comfort #* fluffy #also sidenote: i love love love that giffed moment of sam rushing to frodo's side haha <3

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nouvxllev · 8 months ago

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Hi, love your writing! I have a request where reader and Jenna are in a long distance relationship and reader decides to surprise Jenna after hearing Jenna’s been having a tough week filming or something. Just something along those lines haha

a flight away

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: ^^ request!!!

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: bittersweet

a/n: first of all,, thank you so much!!!! and second of all, ill try my best! hope this is to ur liking anon

masterlist

You didn't know what you were getting into the first thing in the morning when you checked your phone at exactly 6:34 AM.

Normally, you'd do the routine where you stare at your wallpaper (it was a picture of Jenna) for a good 20 minutes before internally dying inside because of why should she be such a hardworking woman to the point you only get to see her for about 1-2 months before leaving again, but then fall in love with her like it was the first time for that exact reason entirely.

Now, you woke up to Jenna's notifications flooding her digital face, more voicemails and missed calls rather than messages.

Obviously, you panicked out of your fucking mind.

You knew she was safe in Ireland where she was filming season 2 of Wednesday. She has more bodyguards around her than people trying to get her autograph, and she has her co-stars with her at all times.

She was safe. Safe. The word almost sounded like a prayer you repeated in your head as you eyed her messages.

You couldn't open the voicemail for the reasons that you might hear an announcement that Jenna has got into some serious shit and might need to be hospitalized and you absolutely need to be there for her right now.

But after 5 minutes of going through all stages of grief, you pressed play.

You were not expecting Jenna to outright scream at her phone in the middle of the night.

"Y/n. Y/n, I—God, I don't even know where to start with this. I'm just so… so tired. From everything, from everyone. I don't know why, seriously, I don't know why but i just—I just broke down when I came back to my apartment."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have to message you like this in the middle of the night. I'm doing well in Ireland, but I'm having such a rough fucking time in shooting every scene. It's not like I hate everyone on the set, I love them, I… I don't know."

"I need you, please Y/n. Even if it's just your voice, just please give me a piece of your presence. I need something to hold on, someone to tell me that it's going to be okay and I'll get through this. I know, it's a bit overdramatic but… I just miss you so damn much, and this distance is killing me more than ever. We haven't seen eachother atleast a year now. I'm so tired."

"Please pick up, y/n. It's selfish for me to ask, but I just want to hear you. It feels like I'm losing myself in all of this. I don't want to break down in front of everyone on set tomorrow. But, y/n. Y/n, y/n, y/n, it's so hard."

"I love you. I love you so much. So damn much, it's killing me. I miss New York, I miss our home, I miss you. I wish you were here. I'm sorry for letting you hear me like this over the phone, it's unbecoming. I love you, goodnight."

Your heart sank.

It was all too surreal, all too agonizing, like you feel bile coming up to your throat.

The daunting feeling of Jenna experiencing all of these emotions at once dragged your heart, her voice like a film tape in your mind as if were right there with Jenna in her room.

You heard her cry, you watched her curl herself up on her mattress all while she clung to her phone as if it was your hand she wished she held everyday.

You craved for the warmth of her hand, and you imagine she craves yours as much as you do with hers while you longed to be there with her, for her. To hold her close to you and offer the comfort she needed. The very touch that healed every scar, present and future, was replaced by the lifeless screen of your phone.

You were there, you swear you're there, but you couldn't do anything but listen.

On top of everything, you blamed yourself.

You called her almost everyday, the long-distance relationship being almost a mere label to the both of you.

You texted her every morning and went to bed with her every night. You were there, always. Yet, it felt like you neglected her. Like a piece of you was missing before you even realized it.

Now all you can think about are her restless nights.

The days where Jenna staged a performance with a heavy heart while you smiled with joy, the nights where you slept peacefully in your own bed while Jenna tossed and turned in discomfort in something unfamiliar, sacrificing her rest for your peaceful evenings to remain the same.

You don't know how many days she's been like this, nor do you want to know, the thought was unbearable enough.

And you almost feel bad of booking a plane ticket rather than responding to her. You were just a flight away anyways.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shit, her head hurts.

Hammering, actually.

Like someone cracked it open with an axe made out of obsidian right down the middle and served it to her on a silver platter.

She never should've accepted that afterparty invite from Georgie.

If she never got absolutely wasted to shots from bottles of alcohol, maybe Jenna would've had the brain capacity to curse him under her breath for being such a good damn friend.

Worst of all, she was missing someone. Horribly.

You.

Not just you, but everything of you.

Your scent, your warmth, your presence, your heartbeat against hers—a cruel reminder on how she was missing all of these.

She longed to hear the way you laugh as if you heard the funniest joke ever, the way you smile at Jenna as if she was a saint that had done nothing wrong, the way you loved her oh so dearly like she was the only person that made you crawl out of your skin in a good way.

Now it was taken from her. All of it. She felt like she was nothing without her muse, which was actually the case here.

Jenna was supposed to stay for a year with you—a whole fucking year! A whole year was watered down to a pathetic one to two months because of a change in filming schedule that Jenna had, somehow, no right to turn down.

That's not even half of the time Jenna spent miles away from you, and she couldn't even apologize properly in person since she had to depart so early in the morning.

The thought of you expecting Jenna to wake up beside you with a smile and a kiss only to be woken up with a cold bed with a note apologizing a million times made her flight to another country worse.

She would've been happier if the plane crashed then she would be begging to whatever afterlife she was in to bring her back to the living and spend her life with you.

It's gotten to that point where she looked just like Wednesday off-cam if not worse. She even almost snapped at Emma when she tried consoling her.

Now she sits in her trailer, on a chair, not with you, but with... a chair. Along with her script on a table.

Jenna tried a few lines, repeated them, tried a few lines, repeated them, and it all just comes back full circle.

No matter what she does, she still fucking missed you and wished she could just tell everyone she wanted and needed a nap along with her girlfriend by her side until it reaches winter of 2025.

She could take a nap right now, but you weren't with her. The cold surface would make you appear in her dreams like the loving parasite you are to her and she would only yearn more.

She could take a walk right now, but little ice cream shops along the way would only make her reminisce about the times you would take her out on dates every damn day like you had buckets on buckets of gold to spend it all on Jenna. She would only miss you even more.

She could talk to one of her co-stars, but they weren't you. The stupid and fuckass conversations you'd often bring up, they wouldn't do that. Even if they did, it wouldn't have the same effect.

Why did life suddenly become so difficult when she now has the most gorgeous, talented, and loving girlfriend a billion miles away from her!?

After putting her arms over her eyes, trying to calm down the impending woe and sadness she was facing, a soft knock on her door interrupted all of it.

"Jenna?" She heard Emma's voice, soft like she was hesitant to talk to her if not for Jenna responding with a hum, "we've been calling you for 5 minutes now. It's our scene."

Her voice was serious, though quiet. Or maybe that was just concern, Jenna has been distant for a while now.

Letting out a sigh, she replied, "Right, I'll be there in a minute."

She pulled herself up from the chair. She didn't really need to return to the makeup team, just thankful she didn't cry herself to death thinking about you.

She turned her back to see Emma standing in front of the door, half opened, peering half of her body, "Jenna, you know you can take a break if you want—"

Jenna only offered a weak smile, her steps matching Emmas as they walked over to set, "It's fine. Don't worry about me too much."

Her thoughts are too different from what she was saying, but it wasn't like she could say she'd rather kill herself before even stepping foot out of her trailer without seeing y/n.

"Jenna!" Tim Burton called her out, his voice calm, stretching out her name like he was going to say something completely off-guard.

The girl in question was already staring him down as he spoke, "We've got a change in script"

The girl in question was already staring him down as he spoke, "We've got a change in script. Nothing too big, just that we've added a new extra that Wednesday needs to interact with on this scene."

Isn't that a slight bit unprofessional?

Jenna could let out the most exhausted and exasperated sigh if not for Tim being the one of the sweetest, yet often odd, directors she ever worked with.

"Yeah, sure, can I atleast meet this person—"

"Sorry, Jenna," He lead her to the place she needed to be, the extra in question being no where near in Jenna's sight, "but this is really a last minute change and we just need you both to improvise."

"Wait, but—!"

Her protests were already too late, looking like it went through one ear and out the other through the audio. She was just grateful she had enough training and years in this industry to immediately get into character.

It was supposed to be her scene with Emma, lurking in the woods, a lantern between her fingers as they approached a silhouette of a figure.

Now it was just Jenna in the scene, lurking in the woods, leaves crunching under her combat boots as she watched the camera move alongside her body, not a lantern but rather a flashlight gripped on her palm.

She was informed that the silhouette in question was one of her co-stars that she had met before hand, a tall figure in the distance that she could immediately distinguish based on the back alone.

Now... it's... not exactly what she was expecting to see when she got in character.

She approached the figure, confused as ever, not because it was in her script to do so, but she was actually so damn confused it wouldn't be a surprise to her if she was imagining things.

Because the silhouette looked exactly like you.

Jenna knew you from the slightest shade of your skin, even when it's so damn dark outside.

She knew you from the way you stood, the way you sometimes would do whatever it is with your hands when idle, the way you'd often slightly tilt your head back when you're suppressing a hard giggle—which you were and failing to do so—the way you, in your own words by the way, aren't a good actress for Jenna to practice her lines on without laughing like a total maniac.

Holy shit.

Jenna's mind raced, all too fast for her liking, her heart pounding in her chest, and her body almost in flames at the thought of you being here. Finally being here.

It couldn't be real, of course it wouldn't, why would you be on set in fucking Ireland? It must be a trick, much so a figment of her imagination and maybe more or less girlfriend deprived of everything you gave her. But as she drew closer, her steps doing all but walking slowly to the silhouette, it because unmistakable who it was.

It was you.

Her best friend ever since she learned how to act in middle school, a friend that stuck with her forever even in times where you could've left her all alone.

Her girlfriend. The girlfriend of almost a few years that she loved and cherished with all her might, even if she were to commit a sin, there would be no greater wrong than Jenna disliking you.

It was her home. At last.

Without a second thought, Jenna abandoned everything, forgetting that she was even supposed to be the character she was and rushed towards her, arms already stretched in a desperate embrace to feel your warmth against her body once again. Your heartbeat against hers. It was all too surreal, all too fucking real.

Jenna threw herself into your arms, wrapping you in a tight hug that almost knock you both off of balance in the dirt. Your body stumbling forwards as your back was faced on her.

You still smelled like New York, mixed with that familiar airpot scent that Jenna always got used to. But now, it felt so new, so new that you were hugging her, touching her like it was the last symphony you'd play in your life.

She hugged you, tight. Her hands gripping your clothes like you'd disappear in a matter of seconds. You can hear her taking deep breaths against your body, gulps, and her hold tightening onto you with each passing moment.

As you turned around, you waited for Jenna to slowly loosen her grip, her eyes searching yours as if she still could hardly believe that you were here, standing in front of her after all this time apart. And now, you couldn't believe devotion was still present in her eyes, that warm of a gaze that you always managed to capture in her eyes.

"You're here. Y/n, you're—" She sniffed, looking up at you as she cupped your cheeks, a stray tear trickling down her eyes that shimmered, "You're really here." She whispered, her voice cracking almost to a fault. Her voice was fragile, it crushed you. "Why, how? What, I don't under—"

You smiled softly, chuckling even, you didn't expect it to go this way. "That's not part of the script, Wednesday." You joked, even if it was a serious moment, you always seemed to have one.

"You're not part of the script, why are you here!?"

You reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from Jenna's fringe as Wednesday, your touch gentle and reassuring like it never changed over the years. It was still there, your love was still there, and you were waiting for your lover to come back once in your arms to show how much you missed her oh so dearly.

"I missed you." You simply said, slightly swaying the both of you back and forth

Jenna couldn't say anything, let alone form a few words, but the way she hugged you yet again after a few seconds of silence with such tenderness and compassion, it said everything that you needed to know.

Everything that you lost and you hold today, nothing mattered. Not even the heart that wouldn't stop beating against your chest, it wouldn't matter if you died, atleast it was in her arms.

"So I don't get to have an I miss you back?"

Jenna pulled back slightly, you can see how her eyes glistened looking if it was something that not even renaissance artists could sclupt.

"You don't know how many nights I've spent crying because of how I missed you." She mumbled, voice below a whisper, her mouth hung open from her slight crying, taking a deep breath as she let herself be in the most vulnerable state with you yet.

"You cried?"

"Without you? Terribly so."

Your heart ached when Jenna started to cry, she looked small. Smaller than ever in your arms when you once held her for the first time when she became a busy actress.

She broke down, almost melting in your presence as you try to hold her up. You knew there were cameras rolling, that there were people on set watching this go down, but you knew that you were the only one witnessing her vulnerable state, no matter how many people would see right through her.

You reached up to gently wipe away the tears that streaked down her cheeks, her freckles being in view, something that you missed so dearly, your touch light and tender as you held her—your world—in your hands.

"I wish I could've been there for you," you regretted, "I wish I was there every night, to wipe away the inevitable tears that would grace your face, to hold you in my arms every night.

Jenna shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, "all that matters is that you're here with me." She chuckled. "Why are you here?"

"Booking a small plane ticket from New York to here was the smallest price to pay for the chance to hold you in my arms once again."

"You know those are expensive, y/n," she scolded you, yet her tone was playful. "How long are you planning to stay?"

You hummed, a grin curling on your lips, "As long as you want me to be here," you replied, "I can't go back when I don't have a return ticket."

Jenna leaned into your touch, her eyes closing as she savored the warmth of your embrace, she didn't know how much she took advantage of this until now. She was afraid you'll be leaving soon, even with all assurances, everything you'll be giving her wouldn't be enough to ease her fears of you departing from her soul once more.

"I love you, y/n. Too much."

"I love you too, Jenna. You know I was only a flight away."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y: i heard your voicemails, by the way. J: i sent voicemails?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: sorry if this request was so so so late!! i still have more requests in my inbox and they'll probably be delayed for a couple of days or maybe even weeks because of exams. buttt ill try to post as much as i can with requests and super sorry in advance to those who requested! ill be updating future posts in my masterlists

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega

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puppym3 · 3 months ago

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heyaaa!!! if u still do requests, i have a request for minho! if u also havent done this one, but what if u do their song "i like it" about minho ??

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

── .✦ 'i love that i like you, but i don't wanna love'

minho x reader

wc: 4.1k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, situationship, fwb, angsty, one-sided pining, minho is an asshole, "i can fix him" reader, awkward, reader is so delusional at the start it's funny, hurt comfort, late confessions, fluffy at end, i heal ur wounds dw, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: omg anon ur trying to break my heart, as a hopeless romantic this might be my first ever sort of angsty piece. but either way i love "i like it" its literally been on repeat its probs one of my favorites from the album. i loved writing this so much you have no idea, THANK YOU for suggesting!

reminder to not be too delulu, these are just fictional stories that i write to show off my creative writing!! also i have a taglist if you're interested!!!!!

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The city lights glimmered through the window, casting a soft glow across Minho's apartment. The hum of the city outside was a constant reminder of the world continuing on, regardless of the turmoil within. You lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, Minho's arm draped lazily over your waist. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, a mix of comfort and longing that you had come to know too well.

"Hey," Minho's voice broke through your thoughts. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through you. "You okay?"

You forced a smile, nodding slightly. "Yeah, just thinking."

He sighed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

That was the problem. Talking meant opening up, and opening up meant risking the fragile balance you had. Friends with benefits, a situationship, whatever it was, it worked because there were no labels, no expectations. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

"Minho," you started, hesitating. The words felt heavy on your tongue, a mix of hope and fear. "What are we doing?"

His expression softened, but there was a flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe?—in his eyes. "We're having fun, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but..." You sat up, pulling the sheets around you like a shield. "Is that all this is? Just fun?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a habit you had come to recognize as his way of stalling for time. "I like what we have, you know that. I just... I,"

You swallowed hard, the words stinging more than you wanted to admit. "And what if I want more?"

Minho's gaze dropped, his silence louder than any answer he could give. 'I like you'—if only it were that easy.

"I can't do this forever, Minho," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I need to know if there's a future here, or if I'm just fooling myself."

He looked back at you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and confusion. "I'm not ready for anything more right now."

The words hung in the air, a painful confirmation of your deepest fears. You nodded slowly, the ache in your chest spreading. "I understand."

As you got dressed and prepared to leave, Minho reached out, his hand catching yours. "Wait, don't go like this."

You paused, looking at him one last time. "I need to go think."

With that, you slipped out of his grasp, each step away from him feeling heavier than the last. The door closed behind you, the finality of it echoing in the empty hallway.

That night, you cried until your eyes were raw and your head ached until there were no tears left and all that was left was an empty feeling in your chest.

"What are you doing here?"

You saw your best friend standing in your doorway, her brow furrowed with worry. "I needed to see you, you didn't pick up any calls."

You felt the tears starting to form again as she pulled you into her arms. "I'm an idiot," you managed to say in between sobs.

She gently patted your back. "You're not an idiot, he's the idiot."

"He's not an idiot," you said softly.

She held you at arm's length, looking into your eyes. "Then tell me what happened. What has your eyes all puffy at 9 in the morning?"

"He wants to be just friends, that's all." you sighed.

"What?" her brows furrowed. "I thought you liked each other? What's stopping him?"

"I asked what he wants to be, and he said 'he's not ready for anything'."

She groaned, "he doesn't deserve you"

You let out a deep breath. "He doesn't, does he? But, I like him."

"Why are you putting yourself through this?" She said with worry in her eyes as she traced circles on your back.

"I wanted to fight for him, but every time I end up in his bed, I hurt myself more."

"Fight for him?"

You nodded slowly, your resolve hardening as you said the words aloud. "I'm going to fight for him."

She rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "And how are you going to do that?"

You hesitated, realizing that you hadn't thought that far ahead. "I guess I'll... call him? No, no that would be awkward... maybe I'll just stop by his apartment and—"

She raised an eyebrow, looking at you pointedly. "And what, you're gonna sleep with him again? What would that do?"

Your cheeks flushed. "Okay, no. Maybe I'll take him out to coffee? No, that's too casual. Maybe dinner?"

"Dinner would be good."

"Dinner would be good," you agreed, a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice.

Your best friend put her arm around your shoulder and gave you a reassuring squeeze. "You shouldn't be doing this, but I support you."

"Thank you."

She shook her head, laughing softly. "If it doesn't work, we're gonna eat so much comfort food tonight."

That afternoon, you paced around your apartment, phone in hand as you tried to muster up the courage to call Minho. Your best friend's words echoed in your mind, reminding you of the risk you were taking. With a deep breath, you hit the call button.

As the phone rang, you felt your heart pounding in your chest, your palms growing clammy. After what felt like an eternity, the familiar sound of Minho's voice filled your ear.

"Hey, it's me." You paused, gathering your thoughts. "I wanted to apologize for the other night. I was upset and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

You could hear the hesitance in his voice as he replied, "No, it's alright. I'm sorry, too."

"Can I take you out for dinner? I think we need to talk about things." You held your breath, waiting for his response.

"Yeah... I think that'd be okay," he said after a moment, "When?"

"I'm free tonight," you offered, trying to hide the hopeful note in your voice.

There was a long silence before Minho spoke again, "Okay, I'll see you at 6."

You hung up, the finality of the words hitting you. Was this your last chance?

The minutes passed by slowly, your anticipation building with each passing minute. Finally, 6 o'clock came around, and you made your way to the restaurant. You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves as you pushed open the doors.

You spotted Minho seated at a table, and made your way over to him. He stood as you approached, smiling.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Hey." You swallowed, trying to find your words. "I, I've missed you."

Minho looked away, a mix of emotions on his face. "It's been a day."

You laughed, trying to ease the tension. "Oh, right."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Minho finally spoke again, his voice barely a whisper.

"I think I missed you too."

You looked at him, the realization dawning on you. He had missed you too. It was something, he at least thought about you during day. "Minho—"

He looked up, meeting your gaze. "What is it?"

"I just..." You took a deep breath. "I don't want to lose what we have. But if that means being friends, then that's what we'll do. Because I can't stand losing you completely."

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes filled with surprise. Then he nodded slowly. "I don't want to lose what we have as well."

Your chest ached, but you smiled anyway, grateful for the small victory. You would be fine with it. You could be fine with it if that's all you could ever get.

"But," you started, an idea coming to your mind, "if I get a boyfriend, we'll stop whatever this is."

Minho blinked, the words sinking in. He took a moment, contemplating. Then he nodded slowly.

"Okay," he said. "Okay."

His expression was unreadable, was he upset? Or was he fine with the idea of never speaking to you again?

Your heart sank at the thought, did he really feel nothing at all for you?

You forced yourself to smile, trying to hide the ache in your chest. "Thank you," you said softly.

Minho smiled, but you could tell it was forced. You excused yourself and went to the washroom to splash cold water on your face, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill.

You had to leave, you had to get out of here. You made your way outside, the cool night air helping to calm you.

You leaned against the wall, taking a shaky breath as you tried to hold back the tears. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heartbeat.

You forced yourself to come to reality with all of this, you ran home without thinking twice. You had to end all of this now and leave before you ended up in his bed again.

You slammed your front door shut, locking the deadbolt and falling on the ground crying. The tears wouldn't stop flowing, it felt like a river of emotion that was overwhelming you. You were so scared of losing him, of not having him in your life. You sat on the ground for what felt like an eternity, trying to make sense of your emotions.

Getting rid of him now was the only way, the only way you'd survive without being broken-hearted. You dragged yourself to bed and cried yourself to sleep, clutching the pillow and blankets like they were your lifeline.

A week had already passed. You did your best to stay busy, trying to distract yourself from thinking about Minho. You had blocked his number, so you had no idea if he had tried to reach out to you at all.

Your best friend had been beside you to keep you from losing your mind completely or unblocking his number.

The two of you decided to watch movies all weekend long to take your minds off the situation, which helped for a while, but now that it was Monday and you were back at work, you felt like a walking zombie.

Your thoughts drifted to Minho throughout the day, wondering what he was doing, if he had moved on yet, or if he still thought of you at all.

You pushed the thoughts out of your head, trying to focus on your work. But it was no use. He was constantly in your mind, even though you knew there was no point in thinking of him.

You closed your eyes, letting your mind wander back to when things were still good between the two of you, the feeling of his tender hands on your body and his soft lips against yours. You remembered his words, 'I like what we have.' Did he mean it? Did he still think that after everything that happened? Or were they just words?

You opened your eyes, tears forming again as you stared out the window, lost in thought.

The clock seemed to move agonizingly slowly, but eventually, your workday came to an end, and you gathered your things to head home. You took a deep breath before heading out the door, bracing yourself for another long, lonely night.

You walked slowly through the dark streets, lost in your thoughts. You came across a familiar intersection, and you hesitated, memories of Minho flooding your mind.

The two of you used to take this route back to your apartment when he would walk you home from work. You stood in the middle of the empty intersection, staring at the stoplight, debating on whether to continue home or take the long way to your apartment, the way the two of you used to take.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. It was silly, getting hung up on someone that didn't even care.

You crossed the street, heading in the direction of your apartment. You glanced down the familiar route, memories of the two of you talking about the stupidest things.

You closed your eyes and sighed, a pang of longing hitting you. You missed him so much, more than you had ever expected.

You kept your eyes closed, your mind replaying memories of Minho as you walked home. It hurt to think about, but it also hurt not to think about him.

The two of you were inseparable, even when you fell in love with him, he enabled your feelings, kissing you, touching you, and sharing nights with you.

He was so easy to love. And he was so easy to lose.

You opened your eyes as you reached your apartment, the familiar surroundings providing you with a sense of comfort.

You trudged up the stairs, feeling more drained than you had all week. You reached your apartment, the familiar walls surrounding you like a warm embrace.

You threw your keys onto the table, slumping down in a chair and closing your eyes.

You breathed in the comforting scent of home, the ache in your chest still lingering, but you felt a sense of calm wash over you. You were home.

You sat for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of being at home after a long day at work. The quiet was comforting, a contrast to the busy, loud environment you'd spent your day in. You sat with your eyes closed for a few minutes, allowing your thoughts to settle.

You heard a faint knock on your front door. Your heart stopped, and you shot up out of your chair, hesitantly walking to the door.

You paused, taking a deep breath before opening it, knowing you couldn't keep it locked forever.

"Minho." The word slipped out before you could stop it, your voice a mix of surprise and pain.

Minho's face was somber, his expression unreadable as he spoke.

"I think I love you."

His voice was soft, the words tinged with sadness. You looked into his eyes, seeing the pain there.

You took a deep breath, your heart aching. You opened your mouth to reply, but he continued, the words pouring out of him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it would feel so painful to not see you, or hear your voice, or touch you. I just couldn't stop thinking about you, about how you made me feel."

You couldn't hold back the tears any longer as his words filled your ears, your chest aching more than it had in a long time.

You bit your lip, trying to stay calm. Is this real, or are you dreaming? Did he come back to fuck with your feelings?

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of pain and happiness flooding you as you looked into his eyes, trying to see if he was sincere.

His face was pained, his expression vulnerable as he stood in your doorway. You hesitated, trying to find the words to say.

He stepped closer to you, closing the space between you, the proximity causing your heart to skip a beat.

"I liked what we had, that part is true. But I never realized how I felt until you disappeared from my life."

You tried to breathe evenly as he reached out to take your hands, his touch gentle as he spoke again.

"I know I've been selfish this entire time, but I miss you. I miss everything about you."

His words pierced through your heart, leaving you speechless. You were frozen in place, trying to comprehend his words.

Minho closed his eyes, a small smile forming on his face. "I missed you."

The two of you stood in silence for a few seconds, his hands holding yours tightly as he stared into your eyes, his gaze softening as you finally managed to reply.

"I missed you, too."

Without hesitation, you grabbed his face and pulled him in, crashing your lips together as his hands pulled you close to him, holding you as if you would disappear any second.

Your hands moved from his face to the nape of his neck as the kiss grew deeper, his lips parting as the two of you explored each other's mouths.

Minho's hands roamed your body as yours did his, a familiar warmth spreading through your body as you gave yourself to him once again.

You broke apart for air, panting as you tried to catch your breath. The two of you stood there in your doorway for a moment, catching your breaths and staring at each other, neither one wanting to let go.

You were still unsure of where your relationship stood, but as Minho's hand reached for your waist once more and pulled you close, his lips capturing yours again, all your worries seemed to disappear.

He guided you into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and backing you against the wall. Your hands found the back of his head once again as you melted into his touch, his kisses filled with longing.

His hand wandered up your back and into your hair as his other hand rested on your hip, a soft groan escaping his lips as the kiss grew deeper. You wrapped your leg around his, your body pressing against him as you held him close, trying to convey the emotions you couldn't put into words.

After a few minutes, you finally broke the kiss, looking into his eyes as you both panted softly. Your chest was pounding as you looked up at him, trying to read his expression.

He smiled softly at you, his face flushed from the intensity of the kiss. His eyes met yours and held your gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in your flushed cheeks and disheveled hair.

He reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your forehead.

You felt a familiar warmth spreading through your chest at his touch, a small smile forming on your lips as you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck. You leaned into him, your chest pressing against his as you hugged him tightly, your cheek resting against his.

He hugged you back, his arms wrapping around you as you nuzzled your nose against his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying each other's warmth and closeness, the silence broken only by the soft sound of his heart beating.

The two of you stood in each other's arms for what felt like an eternity, but could have been minutes or hours. Time didn't exist anymore as the two of you held onto each other, neither one wanting to let go.

Finally, you reluctantly pulled away, looking into his eyes as you spoke. "We should probably talk properly."

His eyes searched yours, his expression serious as he nodded, a hint of hesitation in his voice. "Okay," he said softly.

You nodded, stepping away from him and moving to the living room, the distance between the two of you growing again. You sat down on the couch, your hands resting in your lap as you stared down at them.

Minho sat down next to you, his body tense as he watched you.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as you gathered your thoughts. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words seemed to get caught in your throat, your voice coming out barely louder than a whisper. "I've loved you ever since we started sleeping together."

Minho's eyes widened slightly as he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape as your words registered with him. You felt a familiar pang of sadness in your chest as you remembered that time.

He looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You bit your lip, struggling to find the right words. "I thought you knew. I would always bring up going further with you, but you dismissed me."

You looked down, fidgeting with your hands as you tried to hold back tears. "I just thought things would change if we put labels on things."

The silence in the air grew deafening as you looked up, your heart pounding as you saw tears forming in Minho's eyes. He reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder, his touch light and reassuring.

"But I want those labels now, all of them," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I made you feel that way."

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally began to trickle down your cheeks as you looked up at him. "Minho, I thought you felt nothing for me."

He reached out and gently brushed the tears away from your face, his eyes filled with concern as he stared into your eyes.

Minho took a deep breath before continuing. "I know I've hurt you, but I never want to see you cry again."

Your chest ached as you tried to process his words. It was as if everything you had gone through since the 'break-up' was suddenly erased, as if none of it had mattered. You stared into his eyes, trying to figure out what to say.

Minho's lips curved up into a small smile as he cupped your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumb as he gazed into your eyes.

You reached up and wrapped your hands around his, holding onto them tightly as you felt a familiar warmth spreading through your chest at his touch.

"I want to try and start again, as your boyfriend," he said softly, placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

You felt your heart racing as the words left his mouth, your chest tightening as he looked into your eyes, searching for your reaction.

You took a deep breath, your eyes closing for a second as you tried to steady yourself, the words that left his mouth feeling almost unreal. "Minho," you breathed. "Is this real? Are you serious?"

A smile broke out onto his face as he nodded. "If you'll let me, yes."

Without saying a word, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him into a kiss as your heart raced, the tears on your face now dried.

Minho kissed you back with equal intensity, his hands cupping your face as your hands tangled themselves into his hair. The kiss was soft and filled with longing as the two of you lost yourselves in the moment.

As your lips parted, you felt Minho's forehead pressed against yours as his hands traced down to the small of your back, holding you close. You closed your eyes and smiled, relishing the feeling of being in his arms once again.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you, the two of you taking in the feeling of each other. It had only been a week, but it felt like a lifetime had passed.

"I'm your girlfriend now?" you asked hesitantly, still not sure if this was all real.

Minho laughed softly as he nodded. "You're my girlfriend," he confirmed, his voice filled with affection.

You laughed and leaned back, taking in his expression and memorizing the look in his eyes, feeling a warmth in your heart you hadn't felt for a while.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up with ease as you shrieked in surprise. He carried you to the bed and gently placed you down on the mattress as if you were made of glass, the mattress shifting from the weight of his body as he moved to lie beside you.

"What do we do now?" you asked softly as his hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your lips as he leaned in for a tender kiss.

When he broke away, you found yourself expecting more, but he simply smiled at you as he laid back down and pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you.

"This is all I want to do," he whispered, nuzzling your neck and kissing it lightly. "I want to fall asleep holding you and wake up beside you in the morning."

His words were tender as they reached your ears, making your heart melt.

"Okay," you breathed, pressing a kiss on his cheek and turning around so your back was facing his chest. You snuggled closer to him as he pulled you close, his hands resting on your abdomen and holding you tightly as he buried his face into your neck, kissing it.

You breathed in deeply, his scent surrounding you as your heart swelled with affection.

"Good night, I love you."

His voice was soft, but you could feel the emotion behind the words. You let out a soft sigh as your eyelids fluttered shut, the feeling of Minho holding you lulling you to sleep.

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taglist for my beauties : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @jiyeonslays, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88

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