#like a little hey its the end of pride month now and just so you know its not your fault but my skin crawls when you refer to my aceness

[my-strange-attraction]

Ok, so does anyone want to give me advice on how to come out to everyone I know as “not ace anymore but some nebulous form of queer” in a way in which nobody will ask me annoying follow up questions or perceive me and will just accept it and immediately stop thinking of me as ace? Or is that too much to ask.

[nariism]

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.

Tap.

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

[songsofadelaide]

Hey!! just wanna say ive been obsessed w ur works and was wondering if u can do a hoshina drabble/ fic based on P1harmony’s Fall in Love Again (aaaaa pref if past/present can be soichiro & hoshina orrr narumi & hoshina) hust an idea that popped in my mind cause the song kept showing up in my fyp!! thank u so muchh!!

Anon you and your big brain! 🤩 I'll have you know I love the angst between the Hoshina brothers so I might as well! Since you've given me the idea. ✨

✧ Fall In Love Again - P1Harmony

candor — another side story to radiant point. | refulgence

There was a time when you thought of Soichiro as your first love. There was a time when you thought he would turn your way.

After being fed the fairy tale of true love time and again and having eaten of it until its flavours were bland in your mouth, you soon came to realise that all you were fed was false hope. Soichiro was his family's ultimate incarnation, while you were but a paltry offering by yours. Though paltry you were, you were all your family had. Your beauty was their pride and joy, but it certainly wasn't enough to win the heart of your supposed betrothed.

As you grew up alongside the Hoshina brothers, it became clearer to you that it would have made more sense to have been offered to the second son instead. Not only were you two closer in age, but you also shared a deeper friendship with him— the kind that made you forget all about the existence of his older brother, and what his existence meant for your own.

Soichiro did turn your way. Only you were too preoccupied to notice.

The older boy was evidently surprised at how you were able to hold yourself against him during one of your sparring sessions. It had only been a matter of months since you started swordsmanship training under your father but you had a mastery of the basics now and even had a certain flair for precision. But regardless of your exponential growth, you were still outclassed by him, and he toppled over you as easily as kicking a potted plant to the ground.

"Nice try, beggar princess. Let me tell ya somethin' while we're here," Soichiro stated as he turned his back on you. "You're leavin' yourself wide open in other areas, but other than that, your stance is perfect."

He didn't want to admit that there was a beauty in your ferocity, too. Not with his little brother watching you both so intently. He'll settle with berating you until you've had enough. It's not like you were going anywhere, anyway. As far as he knew, his family owned you now.

That time you thought of Soichiro as your first love was a joke.

It was only because you fed into your family's narrative that a daughter like you needed a husband like him. As you grew older, the prospects of him ever becoming a tolerable husband dimmed by the day. He acknowledged your skill now, but he was still an awful person at the end of the day. Awful in that he had no sense of delicacy at all, even when it came to you, who was supposed to be his wife in the future.

Now that you were sixteen, the fairy tale was over, or the curse had been lifted, and you finally decided for yourself that you wanted no part in Soichiro's plans for you in the future, whatever those may be.

So you did what he thought you would never have the courage to do.

"I thank you and your family for your kindness to me, and I apologise, oji-san, but I don't want to marry Soichiro-san," you stated as you prostrated yourself before the Hoshina patriarch. "As much as I would have loved to be part of your family, Soichiro-san's attitude leaves much to be desired."

Was he hearing things right? He was the one who had attitude problems?

Soichiro sat there in complete shock at your declaration, but Soshiro was even more surprised at it unfolding. Their father didn't look too nonplussed by your statement. He knew that his eldest son was a little devil who thrived in discouraging both you and his younger brother, only for you to show him results time and again.

He also knew that Soshiro challenged his older brother for your hand, not just once, but more times than he can remember. Perhaps he can turn you around once more by opening a simple possibility. "Is there nothing that can change your mind? Your family agreed to an engagement, after all."

"I..."

I want Soshiro.

But you couldn't say it. You were in no position to make any demands even if they were freely offered to you. And what would Soshiro say about that? He was more than happy to be your friend, but would he ever accept you as his bride?

No, you've done enough dreaming for the last ten years.

"I'm afraid not, oji-san."

It was only when you left their estate that the brothers spoke once more until it eventually evolved into another duel— like the wild beasts that they were.

"You should have said something back then!" Soichiro exclaimed between his slashes and parries. "Why didn't you ask her and tell her to stay? That you would have treated her better than I ever would? I mean, you already do, but—"

"Are you kidding?! You already ran her out of the family! She already made it clear that she wants nothing to do with us! What makes you think she'd want to stay here?!" Soshiro shot back at him, mirroring his speed and movements until they were all but a single blur of swords and wind.

This blockhead second son knew nothing, of course. Soichiro was annoyed beyond sense at how dense his little brother was. Was he the only one who saw the smile that lit your face every time Soshiro welcomed you to their estate? Was he the only one who noticed how sweet your laughter sounded when it was Soshiro at the other end of the joke? Or how you once said in confidence that you preferred Soshiro's presence over his own because he was unbearable to be with, even though it was all his doing?

Soichiro got his just deserts and it annoyed him to no end. Because once more, he faced the prospect of being second best to his little brother, who grew in strength and skill with each passing day and even managed to win your heart all the same.

"Hgk—!"

But it was his brother's blade on his neck now. Soshiro got the one-up against him without any handicaps this time. His usually boisterous little brother withdrew his sword and quietly stared down at him. Soshiro did not look at him with a sense of superiority, but that of revulsion. The very same emotion in your eyes when you bade him farewell that day.

"I'm going to ask for her in my own time. You better not get in my way when that happens."

Your promotion to Third Division Platoon Leader was met with quiet celebration. Many of your fellow team members rejoiced in the opportunity to work under you this time as their leader. You were known to give out measured and concise orders that allowed every single one of them to seamlessly weave through the field and get the job done with minimum risks and casualties.

When Captain Ashiro congratulated you and presented you with your badge in her office, she let you in on a little secret only she and a handful of other superior officers were aware of. "When you first took the exams, you received a commendation from Captain Hoshina Soichiro of the Sixth Division."

Huh. You heard her right once. "I did not know that."

Captain Hoshina Soichiro of the Sixth Division vouched for your skills. If this was his way of making amends for his terrible treatment of you in the past, it was a pretty gesture, but still far too late.

"In his recommendation, he detailed how your family was a close associate of theirs and how you learned swordsmanship alongside him and our Vice Captain."

"That's true, Captain. Much of my skill was honed under their roof."

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you suddenly shift from Kendo to Fencing?"

Your Captain's question elicited a small laugh from your lips. "You might think it a petty reason, Captain, but I changed sword arms just so I could be better than them at something."

You gently touched the shiny new badge clipped to the collar of your formal regalia. "Soshiro... I mean Vice Captain Hoshina is someone I looked up to very much when we were children. If I may be so bold to say that he inspired me to take up swordsmanship."

"Hmm. I see," came Mina's short but understanding reply to you. "Just as Hoshina is important to me on the battlefield, I'll also be counting on you to carve open a path for me and everyone else."

"Of course, Captain, ma'am!" You said resolutely, followed by a crisp salute that matched the sharpness of your outfit today.

"Will you marry me?"

Soshiro asked you that question in the dead quiet of the night as he held you close in his arms. The silence of your quarters and the stillness of the rest of the base made it feel like you were the only two people in the world.

"Yes," you said with a small swallow of saliva to wet your mouth. "As long as you aren't gonna be like your brother."

"I'm nothin' like him now, am I?" He chuckled at your assumption. "If I wanted to be like him, I would've chased you out of our home the moment I saw ya."

"Mm. I suppose you're right about that," you nodded at him. You contentedly sank into his touch when he moved to cup your warm cheek in his hand. "You're nothing like him at all."

"Good to know. That's high praise comin' from you."

As another comfortable silence lingered over your tired figures, a memory of the past crossed your mind. "Do you remember that time I told your father I didn't want to marry your brother?"

That day was one he would never forget any time soon. "As clear as day."

"I nearly begged for you instead," you told him with a soft laugh.

"You should have. I would've been there beggin' right next to ya!"

"In the end, everything worked out for this beggar princess," you said with a small sigh. "Gosh, I still can't imagine myself as your brother's wife. It kinda gives me the creeps."

A bout of tender laughter left Soshiro's lips this time. He raised your hand to his face and pressed a soft kiss on your palms, near the range of calluses you had from gripping your sabre. "You don't have to imagine anything other than our future together."

You mirrored his actions and planted a similarly gentle kiss on his cold knuckles, your breath blooming warmth into his fingers. He weaved his fingers into yours, as though sharing that little glow with you "Of course. For as long as we're fighting for it."

✦ Thank you for requesting! Nothing makes me happier than writing a request I know I can work with. 🍹 You can read more about requesting here

[lordsukunas]

“never back down never what?”

synop. nagi trying to win a plushie at an arcade machine for you.

tags. gn!reader, lots of fluff, established relationship, possibly ooc

note. this is indeed inspired by the l&ds plushies: fleecy + pea pod boat. first time writing for nagi (kunigami is wip), so pls work w/ me. likes n reblogs r always appreciated, n pls leave criticism!! toodles <3

big gray eyes bore into the poor plushie’s skull as nagi’s hand moves the joystick. why is it so stubborn?! these things are supposed to be easy, right?

“seishirou, it’s okay–”

“no.”

he presses the button for what has to be the dozenth time, and the claw lowers itself. it clamps around the sheep’s fluffy cranium, and slowly lifts back up again. c’mon, c’mon, c’mon...

the grip isn’t as good as he thinks it is, though, and right when the claw is near the deposit zone, it falls free from its grip.

“fuck,” nagi mutters, and he rubs at his eyes with the butt of his hand. he has to win this for you, even if it costs him all of his allowance for the month.

you place a gentle hand on his shoulder and offer him a little smile. immediately, determination spreads from his heart and throughout his entire body. if he gets the plushie, you’ll smile even bigger. and nagi really likes watching you smile — it’s pretty.

“you’re gonna end up spending all of your money, babe. we can just come back later.”

“no, i got it.” he fishes more yen out of his pocket and puts it in the coin slot.

the claw machine starts up again, and he navigates the uncooperative claw right back over the sheep. doesn’t it want to go home? it should be tired of sitting there with all the other plushies. he can set it free and give it a brand new parent!

nagi double, triple checks that the claw will securely get the stuffed animal before pressing the button. the claw lowers, okay, grabs the sheep by the head again (a bit more firm this time), okay, goes back up, okay, moves directly over the deposit, okay, and...

the sheep drops down the deposit, and your hand tightens on his shoulder as you squeal. the sheep is finally free from jail!

“you did it!”

pride blooms in his chest. nagi did, in fact, do it. took him a lot of money and way more effort than he would’ve liked, but it’s worth it when you bend down, grab the plush, and beam up at him.

“thank you!!” you push yourself up a bit and press a kiss to his cheek, and his heart stutters. your lips feel amazing on his milky skin, soft and full. “you really didn’t have to keep trying, it would’ve been fine if you gave up.”

hey, wait.

if he wins more plushies, does he get more kisses? does he get to see you squeal and smile and be so full of happiness it could kill a person?

���i, uh... ‘s no big deal.” he rubs the back of his neck, pink tinting the tips of his ears. “you want another one, or...?”

it’s worth a try, right?

your eyes dart over to the pea plushie, and there’s that wanting twinkle in your eyes. but when you look back at him, you shake your head. “no, it’s okay. you’re probably ready to go back home.”

nagi tilts his head. “but i just saw you look at those peas.”

your eyes widen a bit, and you chuckle. “oh, uh... we can always come back, and you already won me one!”

he boops your nose, a slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downward. “don’t lie. i can just win you another one.”

nagi presses a light kiss to the top of your head and digs in his pocket again. i’m definitely gonna be broke after this, he thinks as he pushes the coins into the slot, hearing the now-familiar jingle of the machine.

[pookietv]

number one fan | george clarke

this was requested! and i couldn't resist the end lmao so !!

george had always been supportive. he liked to consider himself his friends biggest fans, always turning up to whatever may be important to them, from arthur's tours, to his home friends graduations, he always wanted to be there and be able to show his pride in the people in his life.

so when he began dating a singer, it was to no one's surprise that he became the biggest fan out there.

your music a staple of the household, to the point where an intervention was called by arthur and chris.

"geooooorge can we not put on different music now?" chris said with a slight smile on his face as he rolled his eyes jokingly.

"you know we love y/n's music but george, this is a little excessive," arthur agreed, giggling to himself a little.

"just let this song finish! its the best one," he protested whilst cooking at the kitchen island, earning a joking groan from arthur.

"i'm convinced that just by living in this house we may know her lyrics better then she knows them," chris laughed, and george just shrugged with a mockingly innocent look.

when you first got signed by a manager, changing from original songs uploaded to youtube to a real publishing plan.

"george?" you grinned to yourself as you went into his room, having been let in by arthur, seeing him sat at his desk, seeing you and pulling his headphones off his head.

"hey, you! didn't know you were coming around today," he said, standing to press a quick kiss to your hairline, and you could barely stop yourself grinning at him like the cheshire cat.

"what's that look for?" he asked as he pulled away, quirking his head slightly as a small smile approached his face too.

"i got offered to be signed! by a real label! they actually want me to be under their label!" you practically babbled out, watching george's grin grow wider before wrapping you in a hug, practically lifting you from the ground.

"no way! that's amazing, darling," he muffled into your hair, his arms around your torso only wrapping tighter, "i'm so so so proud," he beamed, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

"thank you george," you smiled back, your cheeks glazed with red, "you've been so supportive, and i appreciate it so much,"

"so, now can i convince you to write a whole album about your biggest fan?" he teased, and you playfully pushed his chest.

"well, maybe i could write a song for arthur, i mean he was so lovely letting me open for his tour, he definitely has been a loyal fan..." you teased in return, pretending to ponder, causing george to mock pout.

"hey, hello, i am your biggest fan you muppet!"

when your first album released, and it was all george could yap about for at least a month afterwards.

when he featured on his bach and arthur's podcast? practically the first thing to leave his mouth.

"yeah, so i've not been up to too much, y/n was really busy recently so we decided now she's done and the album's released, we might try and go away somewhere - the album's out now on all streaming platforms! go listen, she's brill," he says with a cheesy grin on his face.

"what was the timer on george mentioning y/n there? under five minutes?" bach laughed, george's face going slightly red as he shrugged.

"it is a good album, in his defence," arthur laughed a little.

when he's in one of chris' videos? practically every goal he scored was backdropped by the beat change of one of your songs.

"if you miss this one, we're not letting you aux the flat for a week," chris chided with a grin, and george rolled his eyes as he placed the ball down, lining it up and kicking it in.

"see? he's the biggest fan around! the second the thought of not playing y/n's new album 24/7 is unthinkable to george," arthur laughed, before continuing, "i don't even live with you guys and i think i've heard y/n's music more times then i have actually met her in person."

going to your first big concert?

you had offered him to be backstage, but he had said no - of course he wanted to be in the front, seeing you perform like he was anyone else, he wanted to see you properly, from the floor.

"you're sure you don't wanna be backstage?" you had asked him on facetime earlier that day, when you were already at the venue for sound checks but he had assured you no.

"we're all coming in the pit, we've gotta see it like a normal concert!" he grinned down the phone, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

"you at least gonna stand at the back so you guys don't get like, mobbed or squashed or something? 'cause people might ask for photos," you said, slightly concerned for him, but he just shook his head.

"we can take photos afterwards with whoever wants one - i'm not standing at the back and barely seeing anything just cause some people may try and be rude and take photos with us whilst you're performing, that's not fair to you," he hummed slightly down the phone, "plus, chris wouldn't be able to see from the back and you know that," he laughed a little at his own joke

you cracked a small smile as you shook your head, "you're so stubborn, george, you know that?"

and when he showed up to the concert, with both of the arthurs and chris, all stood as close to the front as they could be, and before you could even notice anything else, you saw george's shit eating grin at his shirt, which he wore in a teasing sort of pride, that just said 'i fucked the singer', and as he saw your eyes roll, you could hear his laugh from the crowd.

[bheegibilli-studioghibli]

I love your writing so much!!!

Could you maybe write where hozier and you just get engaged or maybe finally get married and its the most sweetest thing? Maybe smutty??

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x gn!reader

Summary: Andrew plans out his proposal to you, meticulously laying it out to make sure it’s perfect. And it is.

Content Warning: language (slightly), mostly just a diabetic amount of fluff, use of y/n (i tried to avoid it but it was necessary here)

A/N: oh my god hey, thank you for the request! I made this fic centred more so around them getting engaged and around the proposal, I hope that’s okay. Also, this is just tooth ache sweet fluff, the smut would’ve made it too long. Maybe I can write a part two? 👀

Hydrangeas. You notice the hydrangeas sitting at the dining table, they grab your attention since they are, after all, your favourite flowers but you almost never get them to put up in the house.   

“Andrew?” You call out to him, smiling at the thought that he bought them for you.

“Yeah, hun. Oh shit you weren’t supposed to see those” he laughs trying to cover up his complete lack of subtlety.

“Did you get them for me?” You press them against your chest trying hard to suppress the stupid grin spreading over your face.

“No I got them for the poltergeist in the attic. Of course I got them for you” he crosses the room making his way to your side, he held your waist in his arms pressing a kiss atop your head.

“Why though? I mean it’s just a Wednesday” you couldn’t help but be a little surprised. Andrew loved serenading you, whispering the most heart flutteringly beautiful words in your ears and even cooking for you, he treated you like you had descended from the heavens. But flowers were new, it felt nice though the sheer surprise of it all.

“I just wanted to get them for you, I never get you flowers and I know you don’t particularly like receiving them but I saw them today and I thought if you” he gazes down at you, stroking your cheek with his free hand.

“Andrewwww, thank you they’re lovely. I love it” you’re usually a very confident person and you pride yourself in that, but things like these make you bashful to no end. You bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent. Always smells like home.

You feel his chest echo with his laugh, “oh come on it’s nothing” he pulls your head away, cupping the sides of it to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

“I should find a vase for them, clearly you’ve done a terrible job at hiding them” you tease.

“Okay okay, I wasn’t expecting you to come in here. I do pride myself in my secrecy, thank you very much” he chuckles as you entered the other room to look for a vase.

Shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The flowers were supposed to be a surprise, well not the flowers per se but they were supposed to aid the process of revealing a bigger surprise, the ring. He had been feeling the comforting weight of the ring in his breast pocket for a few days now, not trusting himself to keep it anywhere but right next to his heart. After months of thoroughly coming up with all the possible ways he could propose to you, he has finally crafted a plan. Meticulously going over every detail, to have it be perfect. Today was the day. He was going to ask you to be his. Forever, if you’ll have him. 

He had unequivocally been yours since the day you started your courtship, but there was nothing he desired more than to be your husband. It made sense, it made perfect sense. 

And he wanted to you to feel the depths of his emotions. How every fibre of his felt intrinsically connected to yours. It had to be perfect, nothing short of it. But he had already fucked up, the flowers.

It’s fine, maybe he can get the ceiling covered in hydrangeas instead. A bouquet? What was he thinking in the first place, it had to be more special than that. He had called up all your friends and his to help him set up the house to look like a dream. After all he might be fulfilling one of his that night.

But he didn’t want anyone to be there when he proposed to you, he wanted to it to be the both of you against the world. He often thought of love that way. Especially the kind of pov e the two of you shared. It was intimate, tender and he wanted to uphold that. They had all agreed only if he promised to call them right after you said yes. If you said yes.

You were surprisingly unaware of the grand plans he had orchestrated. Your friends, back home, painstakingly trying to bring his vision to life. They kept him updated, sending him pictures through your dinner. He was so jittery but he tried to portray himself as if this was just another dinner date, after all he wanted dinner to be just as special. Afterwards, both of you walked a round the canal, hand glued together and laughter echoing through the air. It was lovely, like it always was with him.

Once both of you were back home, you turned the key in the doorway to let the two of you in. As you swung the door open, the sight that met you eyes was of your living room drenched in an aureate glow from the hundreds of flickering candles set up across the length of the room. Before you could take it all in, your eyes travelled up to see bunches of hydrangeas hanging from the ceiling in what looked like another roof altogether. You could see pictures of the two of you hanging in different corners, your first date, your first trip together, the first you went to show. Years and years of beautiful memories creating the timeline of your love. Leading to the centre of the room, where on a tiny coffee stand stood the bouquet you received in the morning, in the ceramic vase you placed it in. Your mouth agape, as you walked further into the room, standing at the centre of it, Andrew following closely behind you. His breath was hitched in his throat, did you like it? Was it perfect? He held his breath, as he let you take it all in.

You turned around to look at Andrew, his face beaming and eyes soft. 

He walked closer to you and then stopped right before he could be at arms length. Slowly sinking down to one knee. Oh. Oh. He was proposing. You felt your eyes well up with tears and as your hands flew to your mouth.

“Hey. Y/N Y/L/N, you are the light of life. A beacon of brilliance in what I thought was unbridled darkness. You are a force of nature. The way you carry yourself from your boundless kindness, enchanting smile, your ridiculous sense of humour, your ability to be the heart and soul of every connection you form suffice to I’ve been completely whipped. I love you. I love how smart you are, how you care so much, how you snort when you laugh, that mole on your chin, your incredibly lame puns, how steadfast you are in your resolve. And more selfishly, I love you because you make me feel like the luckiest man to walk the earth. I used to think that I needed someone to feel whole, you made me realise that I am already whole. I’m so grateful to have you, beyond anything I could ever articulate into a song let alone a mere speech. You inspire me to do my best and to be my best. You’ve helped my hone my craft simply by being you. By existing. Alongside me, behind me, leading me. And I love you, for all of it and more. So much so, that I want to spend the rest of our time on this godforsaken planet with you. Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I. I want to be in your light till death do us part, even then no grave can hold my body down because I know I will always crawl back home to you. Thank you for all that you are and all that you have been. Saying I love you is an understatement but it’s what my feeling are down to their most distilled form. I love you and I promise to love you till you let me. Please.

Let me.

Make me the most fortunate soul by marrying me. Will you marry me?”

If it wasn’t for the way you clearly looked down at him right now you would’ve believed that you had become a puddle on the ground. He was crying, you were crying. Your chest filled with the kind of love that cannot be caged, it was as if your heart was gonna burst through the walls of it’s enclosure and nestle itself in his hands. Because that’s where it belongs. You fall to your knees, at the same level as him now.

“Yes. Yes yes yes yes Andrew” 

You fling yourself into his arms as both of you fall backwards. 

“Really?” It’s as if he couldn’t believe it. Tears now freely flowing down his cheek, vanishing in his beard’s auburn forest.

“Yes you idiot, I love you. So much. More than can I ever fully comprehend. I love you, I want to be with you. Now and forever”

Before you can even catch a breath, you feel his lips crash into yours. Lifting you up off the ground, as his lips engulfed yours. You felt the saltiness of both your tears in the kiss, as he grabbed your face and tasted you as if he was man starved. I love you. I love you. Both of you kept reciting as if it was hymn into each other’s mouths. The intimacy of the kiss was unparalleled and the passion was palpable. You felt his hands cling to your every curve, as if he thought this was dream and he was desperately trying to hold onto it. But it was real, as real as the green hues of his eyes and the mole on your chin. You could do this forever you thought, you are going to be doing this forever.

I loved writing this so much, I just love telling people how much I love them so writing his little proposal speech was really fun. Thank you for the request anon, I hope I could do it justice!

[ladywaffles]

From the prompt list: icemav + 6. patting the other’s head?? If it inspires

icemav + patting the other’s head

i do not know the meaning of brevity. send me a pairing and a prompt!

To be a fighter pilot, you have to have ego.

It’s not just a requirement, it’s an immutable law. It’s on the checklist of fighter pilot eligibility. One: candidate must be a United States citizen of sound mind and body. Two: candidate must have a four-year degree from an accredited educational institution. Three: candidate must have ego the size of the Grand Canyon and the guts to back it up.

Fighter pilots are young, good-looking guys who grow into stately, well-tailored men. Elegant. Gentlemanly. Airs of class that have since ebbed away in the general population, but which find a home in the handful of officers who call themselves naval aviators, and they wear them damn well.

Ice has always been particular about his appearance; it’s hard not to be painfully aware of it, with twelve years of detentions earned for uniform infractions at elite private schools and four years of the Naval Academy bearing down on him. He holds it together through the six months of hellish diagnoses it takes for the doctors to figure out what’s making him sick (cancer), where the cancer is (his lungs), and where it metastasized to (his throat). There’s never a hair out of goddamn place through the whole endeavor. But when they finally figure it out and get him on a chemotherapy plan, the pristine picture of the Iceman falls apart.

His tan is the first to go; if he’s being honest, it was already on its way out. It’s been nigh on ten years since he was last in a cockpit, and trading his F-14 for another stripe on his sleeve meant he hardly saw the sun in his cramped offices. Maverick used to tease that he looked like a vampire, losing the California bronze that’s been embedded in his skin since he was old enough to walk. Jokes like that are far and few between now that it’s no longer the job that’s draining his color, but his own body.

In the end, it’s easy to let the tan go. What really gets him, what really hurts, is when his hair starts falling out. Iceman has impeccable hair. The sun rises in the east. The facts of life. He puts off shaving it as long as he can, because yes, it’s just hair, and yes, it should grow back—the doctors assured him it would probably grow back—but dammit, he’s a fighter pilot, and he has his pride.

He sulks about it for weeks: gently combing his hair, putting as little product into it as possible so as to prolong the life of the strands that remain, taking shorter showers to reduce the likelihood of tufts of blonde falling out and running down the drain.

Maverick is solid at his side, his own hair dark as the day they met. In the deepest parts of his heart, he hates Maverick just a little bit for it. The asshole doesn’t even have the decency to be going gray yet, and here Ice is losing it all.

But then Maverick will tell him he passed his driving test and got a proper driver’s license so he could drive Ice back and forth from his appointments so Ice wouldn’t have to ride in a smelly taxi on the way home when he’s already starting to feel nauseous, or he’ll smile at Ice when he gets home and say, “Hey, I called up Wolf and he found that baked potato soup recipe from that place we ate at in ’96,” or he’ll sit at Ice’s side at two in the morning on the bathroom floor when the vertigo has Ice kneeling at the altar of the porcelain throne, even though he has to be at the base at five-thirty to do briefings and pre-flight checks, and Ice can’t remember why he was annoyed about Maverick’s hair at all.

Maverick drives him to his next chemo appointment. He sits in the waiting room, perusing the latest copy of People Magazine. Maverick hates People Magazine, but there’s not much else the hospital waiting room can offer in terms of salient literature, so People Magazine it is.

Ice goes back for his chemo treatment. Phil, his technician, doesn’t say much as he putters around the room, hanging IV drip bags here and flipping switches on medical equipment there. When Ice is all hooked up, they chat about inane things. Phil recounts his daughter’s swim meet. Ice responds with tales of his own swim meets, back at the Naval Academy. Phil says his son signed up for flag football, but God bless him, he’s shit at the sport. Ice promises that he’s not going to get much better at it, if he sucks this much at it now; he’s got his own scars from high school to prove it.

Phil unhooks him from the infernal treatment and books him for an appointment in two weeks. Maverick puts down People Magazine—a different issue than he was reading before, Ice notes—and drives them both home. He helps Ice into the living room and lays him down on the couch with the quilt that Carole made for their sort-of-fifteenth-anniversary. He kisses Ice on the forehead and goes to the kitchen to start dinner, and Ice is out like a light.

When he wakes up again, the sky is a dusky gray. It’s just past sundown. Maverick let him sleep for hours.

“Mav?” he calls out. Ice pushes himself up off the couch, his elbows creaking as he goes. “Maverick?”

“In here!” Maverick replies from the guest bathroom. “I’ll be just a second!”

Ice hums and goes into the kitchen. There’s a pot on the counter, but it’s not one of theirs. He lifts the lid; savory chicken congee, with ginger root and scallions. The Reyes’ must have dropped something off while he was asleep.

“Oh, yeah, Martin came by with some soup,” Maverick says behind him. “He says there’s no better cure than his wife’s arroz caldo, not even your mama’s chicken noodle soup.”

Ice puts the lid back on the pot. He turns to Maverick, ready to bear all of his weight down on his partner, because chemo is a bitch and he feels exhausted just standing here in his own kitchen—

—And flinches.

“What the fuck did you do to your hair?” Ice cries. Maverick cracks a grin, his signature Colgate smile.

“Do ya like it?” he asks.

Like it? Ice reaches out for his head, and Maverick leans in. He runs his hand over Maverick’s scalp, feeling the smoothness of his skin. He passes over the whole landscape once, twice, his fingers tripping over the tips of Maverick’s ears and the nape of his neck, as if he’d find something there like a magician performing a sleight of hand, but there’s nothing there.

“It’s all gone,” Ice laughs, somewhat hysterical. “It’s gone, it’s gone! What did you do? What the fuck did you do!”

Maverick shaved all of his thick, dark hair off. All of it is gone. All of Maverick’s damnable, doesn’t-have-the-decency-to-go-even-a-little-salt-and-pepper hair has disappeared.

Maverick smiles, teary himself. “Yeah, babe, it’s all gone.” He takes Ice’s hands in his and holds them tight. Ice tries to fight his own tears, but they’re doing what they please.

“Mitchell, what the hell?”

Maverick laughs. “C’mon, Kazansky, give me some credit. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you worrying about your hair falling out.” He cups Ice’s chin with one hand, looking straight into his eyes. “I thought you’d be less scared of it if we did it together.”

“Maverick,” Ice starts.

He doesn’t know where to go. It’s a grand gesture, that’s for sure, and if fifteen-odd years of knowing Maverick have taught him anything, it’s that you cannot always listen to what Maverick Mitchell says, you must only listen to what he does.

“Maverick,” he says again.

“Ice,” Maverick replies. “Let’s eat. And when we’re done, we’ll call Slider up and tell him what I did, and you can make as much fun of me as you want—for tonight only!—and we can talk about what you want to do next.”

They end up eating dinner in the bathroom. Maverick takes bites of his congee in between bouts of shaving off Ice’s hair as Ice huddles in the tub, ducking his head keep anything from falling into his own bowl. When they’re finished, they cram next to each other in Ice’s office and call Slider on Skype. His laughter is piercing through the laptop speakers and echoes down the hall.

And when Slider arrives ten days later, to, “Make sure Mitchell isn’t leaving you to fend all for yourself, I mean does he even know how to make a proper chicken noodle soup,” he knocks on Ice and Maverick’s front door sporting a grin and a freshly-shaved head.

Fighter pilots might have egos, but they’re a fiercely loyal bunch, too.

[riotwritesthings]

Pride month request!!!

Color: purple my beloved

Ship: stony

Word prompt(if you want): sunflowers

Love youuuuuuu 🥰🥰🥰

I love youuuuu and you've already read this but I guess everyone else can read it too lol

Royal Purple

Stony - T, 600 - Fluff, artist!Steve Rogers

Yes this is technically part of "a series of learning experiences" But that's not important to read it

-

“You know, when you asked to paint me, this is not what I had in mind.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Steve asks, lifting his brush as he looks up at him.

“No no, just making conversation,” Tony says quickly.

“And moving my canvas in the process.”

“Hey, you knew I was gonna talk the whole time,” Tony points out, “and if you didn’t, well, are you even my boyfriend?”

“I did, and I am,” Steve says happily, turning his attention back to the field of wildflowers he’s painting across Tony’s stomach. “So what did you think I meant?” He asks as he carefully adds flourishes of color among the shades of green.

Tony hums, letting his gaze drift up to the ceiling, and finally says, “I don’t want to say now.”

"Did it involve the phrase ‘French girls’?"

“Noo…” Tony says slowly, trying to fight down a laugh, and he feels the bed beneath them shaking as Steve chuckles fondly. He quickly gets bored of staring at the ceiling and cranes his head down again to watch the movement of the paintbrush as he says, “So, tell me about these flowers.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks distractedly.

“Well, like those purple ones, what are they called?”

"I don’t know any of the names," Steve says with a laugh, then lifts his brush and looks up when Tony makes surprised sputtering noises at him. “I just know what they look like, sort of!” He defends, “I’m working from memory here!”

“So you’re just making things up,” Tony says with an offended sniff, "and here I thought I was going to be your masterpiece."

“Hey now, I am putting thought into it here,” Steve pouts, flipping his paintbrush around to poke the end against one of the flowers near Tony’s hip. “This color is called royal purple, and I’ve been thinking that it would look perfect on you,” Steve explains, then shoots him a cheeky grin as he adds, “You know, because you’re my prince charming.”

“Boo, cheesy,” Tony says, but he can’t fight down his smile or the pleased flush rising in his cheeks.

“You love it,” Steve says confidently, grinning wider, and Tony can’t exactly argue that. Steve props himself up and then leans over to grab a different brush, his elbow digging into Tony’s thigh a little. “Here,” he says as he settles back down sprawled between Tony’s legs,“I’ll add a flower I do know the name of.”

“The suspense builds,” Tony says, dropping his head back against the pillow again.

He tries to figure out what Steve is painting from the ticklish drag of the brush, but he quickly loses track. So instead he lets his eyes fall closed and just tries not to squirm until Steve announces that he’s done.

“Alright, lets see the extent of your flower knowlege,” Tony says, lifting his head and looking down at himself. He finds a large, familiar yellow flower spread across his skin, the tips of its bright petals reaching from his ribs to his navel.

“Its a sunflower,” Steve says unnecessarily, smiling widely up at him and Tony can feel it coming as Steve adds, “because you’re my sunshine.”

"So cheesy," Tony accuses, but his voice comes out thick and he can’t resist reaching out. He gets his hand in Steve’s hair, on the curve of his shoulder, and then pulls him up into a kiss, heedless of the paint smearing between them.

“You love it,” Steve says again, smiling against his lips.

"I love you, Tony corrects, even though they both know its the same thing.

[solarwoniii]

if you'll have me, i want you ! PART ONE ! seok matthew

suggestive, angst, exes to lovers, mdni, late matthew birthday special !! (happy late matthew day)

synopsis ; after a horrible rainstorm leaves you forced to pay a visit to your ex boyfriend's house on his birthday, you begin to fall in love with him all over again

contains ; angstyyy, crying, hugging, slight possessiveness, l-bombs, no smut in this part but ending is suggestive ! future parts will include smut

wc ; 1.5k

based on 'i want you' by stephen sanchez !

it'd been a while since you'd last found yourself stood before seok matthew's front door.

you'd broken up three months ago. went separate ways after a petty little fight between the two of you got blown completely out of proportion.

you had never expected that you'd be back here. especially not on his birthday. but you really had to other choice. unless you wanted to go out into the thunder storm and walk the five kilometers it was to get back home.

you wish you could have messaged him in advance. that could have worked if the two of you hadn't blocked each other on everything.

you prayed that he wasn't out celebrating his birthday. or that he hadn't found himself a new girlfriend. that would be extremely awkward.

it was fine. all you were going to do was knock, ask for a ride home and then continue ignoring him and his existence as you had been for the past few months.

you gulped away your pride as you raised your fisted hand to knock on the cold wooden door.

the sounds of footsteps nearing made your heartbeat quicken.

the latch clicked as the door pulled open, matthew's soft brown eyes meeting yours. you'd heard the phrase 'eyes wide as saucers' before in your lifetime. but you were sure you'd never seen it until now.

"y/n?" he sounded shocked. and rightfully so. it wasn't everyday you were showing up at your ex boyfriend's house.

"hey." you said softly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you stared down at the floor.

"is something up?" he asked concerningly, tilting his head to the side. you nodded your head and glanced up at him.

"i'm so sorry for coming here so unannounced on your birthday like this." you apologised, "i just . . . my bus to get home was cancelled, and i have no other way to get back. your house was the only one i knew in the area, so i was wondering if i could maybe get a ride?" you mumbled, fiddling with your sleeves and looking into his pitiful eyes hopefully.

"i see." he said biting his lower lip in thought, "i would love to give you a ride, but my car's at the mechanic right now." he responded, before opening his door wider for you, "but if you want, you can come in and stay until the storm calms down?"

your eyes widened, "are you sure?"

matthew smiled at you.

"yeah, of course. come in."

you walked inside, feeling your heart flutter. you hadn't been inside of his house in what felt like years. it was much nicer inside. the warmth of the heater bringing solace to your freezing body.

"did you eat today?" he asked.

"h-huh?"

"you usually never ate until after work. horrible habit."

your face heated up. "i didn't eat." you mumbled, slightly surprised that he'd remembered something like that.

but then again, this was seok matthew. he remembered everything about you.

"i cooked your favourite." he said gently, leaning down so his eyes were at level with yours. you felt yourself going completely crazy whenever he did that.

"you . . . did?"

a small smile found its way onto his lips as he nodded, gesturing for you to follow him into the kitchen. you slowly trailed behind his as you

your head was now going insane. so much has happened between the past two minutes, you were sure he was about to say or do something else that would make you explode.

he pushed a bowl of food before you as you sat at the barstool before he marble countertop. awkwardness quickly encased the both of you as you quickly raked your brain for small talk.

"did you . . . do anything for your birthday today?" you asked.

matthew smiled sadly and shook his head.

"hanbin tried to throw a party for me. but i wasn't interested."

"oh. why not?"

"i don't know. i guess i just stopped liking that stuff." he said vaguely.

that wasn't right. matthew loved parties, he loved his friends, and he loved going out. he wouldn't just stop liking those things out of nowhere.

you looked back up from your bowl, matthew was now on his phone.

"looks like the storm isn't calming down until like, three in the morning. do you want to stay here tonight?"

your eyes widened at the sudden offer. he quickly became flustered, cheeks reddening as he stumbled over his words, "i'll sleep the couch, though."

"are you sure? i don't want to be a bother to you."

"it's not like you have another option, right?" he chuckled dryly, leaning against the counterspace beside you, "and it'd be nice to have some company."

your heart dropped a little at the sight of him so lonely. how could you possible decline, knowing he was all alone on his birthday?

"i'm taking the couch." you said.

he smiled and nodded, "okay."

and then it went quiet again. any chatter sucked away into the air as the two of you stared at each other in the epitome of awkwardness. you silently studied his soft features. his beautiful eyes, his dark brown hair, the little beauty mark that rested just beside his eye.

you'd yearned for him horribly.

his stupid laugh, his sweet voice, his pretty face, everything. it still felt surreal to you that you were sat here, in his kitchen, eating his homecooked food, face-to-face with him.

"you're still working at the cafe?" he asked quietly, noticing the uniform you still had on.

"yeah, i am."

"i thought you quit? your manager was a piece of shit."

"i did. but after we broke up, i couldn't find any other work. so i went back."

he furrowed his eyebrows.

"i'm sorry you have to deal with that."

you smiled and shook your head.

"it's not your fault. i shouldn't have gone back in the first place, that was on me."

"it is my fault. i broke a promise." he said.

the room fell silent once more as matthew chewed on his lower lip. you didn't knew what to do or how to respond. so you sat there dumbly, staring into the bitter abyss that was his eyes.

"i swore to your parents that i would always be there for you."

your face began to heat up at his words. you gulped and shook your head, "that was a while ago, matthew, it doesn't matter anymore-"

"yes it does. it all matters. i was a shit boyfriend. i wasn't there for you at all."

you reached out for his hand that was sat by itself on the countertop, putting your own on top of it.

"you were an amazing boyfriend."

he blinked in surprise, looking at you in such a way that would surely make you melt at any second.

he captured your hand in his, holding it tightly.

"i've missed you." he whispered, reaching over to tuck away a strand of stray hair that had fallen before your face. tears prickling at your eyes when he smiled warmly at you.

your bottom lip quivered as large droplets raced down your cheeks, "m-missed you as well."

matthew's face struggled to hold the grin he kept on for you as he opened his arms wide for you. you stood up from your seat and threw yourself around him in a hug, hiccupping and shaking as warm tears escaped your eyes, soaking into the fabric of his shirt when you buried your head in his shoulder. he put a gentle hand on the back of your head comfortingly, beginning to cry himself as he embraced after so long.

"shh, i'm here now." he whispered, "don't cry."

you sniffled as he cupped your face and made you look up at him, wiping at your cheek with his thumb.

"you're crying too, idiot." you croaked.

he laughed at you, his beautiful crying face full of love as he neared you to whisper into your ear.

"i love you." his arms found your waist yet again as he blinked back more tears, "and i'm so sorry for everything."

"you're an idiot." you mumbled, standing up onto your tip-toes, keening further into him as your fingers pulled themselves away from the warmth of your long pink sweater to wipe away his tears in return.

matthew just chuckled and nodded.

"i am, aren't i?" he sighed dramatically as his body fell loose against you.

you closed your eyes, lashes binding together through your tears as you nodded your head, "but you're my idiot."

"all yours." he whispered in response.

"and i'm your idiot." you muttered, heavy lidded, already drunken in lust although he'd done almost nothing now.

"all mine." he confirmed,

"had the prettiest girl in the world in front of me and i showed no appreciation for it at all." he brought his hand up, squishing both of your cheeks together as he looked into your eyes, "can i make up for it?"

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

wanna be tagged in the next part of the series ? shoot me an ask or comment ! @en-ct @iameternallylonely @cowsidfk @quuuuueeeeen @wooseokisbae @globaloppaaa

[artiststarme]

Oblivious Eddie

This is kind of the opposite of @ladykailitha's current story. It turned out a lot longer than I anticipated lol. Featuring the screaming match that you guys voted on! I hope you guys like it and please share your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve was at his wit’s end. Things were now back to normal in the summer after the supernatural happenings of the Upside Down in the spring. The older teens had graduated from high school (Eddie included), the younger kids were off at camp or work or rehab respectively, and Steve was working his usual shift at Family Video. 

He was alone today since Keith was out of town on vacation and Robin was touring the campus at Indiana State. He was bored out of his mind. The entire day, he’d had a mere four customers with plenty of time to rewind the returned tapes, organize the shelves in a way Robin would hate, and take a variety of magazine quizzes. He now knew that his spirit animal was a golden retriever, Tom Cruise would date him for his personality, and that his zodiac sign would find fortune in the next month. 

However, if something interesting didn’t happen in the next ten minutes, he was going to do something drastic like pull his hair out or something. As the minutes ticked on, he started getting worried. Steve prided himself on being a man of his word and he made a decision which meant he had to stick to it. But did it count if it was a thought to himself? Would he have to pull his hair out by the clump to prove a point to his own brain? Maybe he-

His spiral was cut off by the jingle of the door’s bell. Steve let out a sigh of relief, “Welcome to Family Video, is there anythi- Eddie! Hey man, what’s up?”

Eddie had gotten a part-time job at Thatcher Tire and was trying to bring in some money from work of the legal variety. He said it was time to make money like an honest man and develop the good habits of the working class. Steve thinks that Hopper threatened him about the drug dealing and Eddie had no choice but to abide by his rules because he was the one who cleared his name in the media and with the cops. Either way, Eddie should be at work but instead he was walking straight towards Steve with a swish to his hips. 

“Heya Big Boy, guess what.”

“What?” Steve asked in curiosity. He didn’t know what would make Eddie so happy but his face was nearly splitting with the force of his beaming grin. 

“I got a call from a concert venue in Indy and they want Corroded Coffin to perform! They said that my notoriety from Spring Break could work as publicity and bring in more people. They want us to play this weekend!” Eddie was practically jumping up and down in excitement. 

Steve hopped the counter in order to envelop Eddie in a hug, “congratulations man! What did the kids say? Are they excited for you too?”

Eddie pulled back slightly, just enough to place his hand on Steve’s shoulder and look him in the eye whilst pulling a strand of hair from its position stuck in his mouth. “The kids? I don’t know, I came directly here to tell you.”

The comment in Eddie’s earnest tone caused butterflies to flutter in Steve’s stomach. He wanted to tell him first? That’s so sweet. Then he shook his head, it wasn’t sweet. It was just a dude telling his bro some exciting news. That’s all. 

“They’re going to be thrilled, Eds! You’re going to do great, I wish I could see it.” 

“That’s kinda why I’m here. Would you, Steve Harrington, do me the honor of watching me perform the most metal concert ever in a dingy venue in Indy this weekend? I’ll be honest with you, I’m a little nervous and having you there would make me really happy.” Eddie looked at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster, trying to persuade Steve to go. And honestly, he didn’t even have to. As soon as he had told Steve about the gig, his mind started thinking over blackmail he could use to get Keith to cover his shift. 

But, as he looked into Eddie’s pleading eyes and pouty lips, all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss him. Which… what the fuck?! Steve wasn’t gay, he liked boobies! He still liked boobies! But now he thinks he liked the picture of Tom Cruise in the magazine from earlier and maybe Matthew Broderick on the movie poster over there and definitely Eddie, fuck. Steve needed to have a mental breakdown, STAT. 

“Fine, yes, I would be honored to go with you. Now, get out of here and tell the kids. They’re going to be thrilled,” Steve said as quickly and nonchalantly as he could muster in the face of his fast-approaching sexuality crisis. 

“Yay! Thanks Stevie, I swear you’re going to love it. I’ll see you tomorrow for movies and beer at mine, right?” Eddie asked over his shoulder while walking to the door. 

Steve felt like he was being strangled as he watched Eddie’s ass walking away, “yep, I’ll be there. See you later, Alligator!”

The second Eddie’s van drove out of the lot, Steve was rushing to lock the door and turn the closed sign. He needed to have a breakdown in peace. He slid down the wall of the disgusting Family Video bathroom and let the pent up sobs explode out of him. He knew he was freaking out over nothing but he couldn’t help it. It felt like in the few minutes it took for Steve to realize he liked guys, his entire world had changed. He was an outsider now, a queer, a freak. Deep down, he knew there was nothing wrong with being gay. Love is love. But why him?

Honestly, this wasn’t the worst thing he’d gone through. Yeah, he couldn’t be open with his love for another dude without being targeted which sucked. But he fought literal monsters with a bat and came out of it relatively unscathed. So this obviously wasn’t the end of the world. 

Steve tried to think of what Robin would say in this moment but couldn’t come up with anything. He felt a rush of irrational anger at her because of it. Why did she choose to tour a college campus now? She was already planning on leaving him behind and now she missed his crisis when she was supposed to be there with him? Ridiculous, some platonic soulmate she was. 

After another several minutes of freaking out, he started to calm down. This wasn’t an awful thing despite his initial thoughts. He knew Eddie was gay after one two many beers and a miniature freak out on Eddie’s part. And he knew his friends should be okay with it. And Eddie was amazing, they went through the same things, and they’ve bonded over their matching bat scars. Looking back, maybe that’s why Steve hasn’t been able to get a girlfriend in months… because he like-likes Eddie!

A plan started to form in Steve’s mind. He was going to woo Eddie and show him what it would be like to have the full ‘Steve Harrington Dating Experience’. He’d flirt, take him on dates, the whole shebang. And when Eddie inevitably fell for him, they could be boyfriends. With the plan in mind and the crisis averted, Steve left the bathroom, opened the door to the shop, and continued plotting for the rest of his shift. 

This would be a piece of cake. 

~*~*~*~

This was much harder than Steve had originally anticipated. He did not consider how utterly unobservant Eddie was or how oblivious Eddie would be to his affections. Steve had been flirting with this fucking guy for a month now and he was no closer to making him his boyfriend. 

He’d started smooth the night after his breakdown when he and Eddie watched movies and smoked weed in his trailer. Steve had given Eddie a compliment on his outfit, brought beers, and rested his arm on his shoulder during one of the scarier movies. What did Eddie do? Nothing! Steve thought he might’ve seen the barest hint of a blush when he wrapped his arm around him but it was gone before he could check to make sure. So he vowed to spend more quality time with him to be more obvious. 

The next time was at Eddie’s concert. Steve drove Eddie’s van with Eddie and the rest of the van the entire way to Indy. During the drive. They kept up conversation about metal music, summer plans, and the kids. At one point of the drive, Steve straight up grabbed Eddie’s hand and intertwined their fingers. Eddie didn’t even break his train of thought and continued speaking, rubbing his thumb along Steve’s knuckles. Steve couldn’t even focus on listening as if Eddie’s thumb rubbing circles didn’t make Steve want to stick his fingers in his mouth. Physical touch was also not affecting his guy. 

He tried words of affirmation next and those didn’t work either. His flirts initially started small. He would compliment Eddie’s clothes, his hair, or the things he liked. Then they escalated to comment on his character, his personality, and ‘how adorable he was’. Yesterday, Steve literally told him that his ass looked great in his black jeans but would look better out of them. That statement made Eddie’s jaw drop and he let out a loud guffaw before continuing his conversation like Steve hadn’t just implied that he wanted to see his bare ass. Son of a bitch. 

He was trying out acts of service when Eddie called him out. Steve had been doing the dishes at the Munson trailer while he waited for Eddie’s shift to end when he came in. And he came in hot. He slammed the door behind him and waved his hands around in flailing outrage. 

“Harrington, what the actual fuck! What are you even doing? You’re so fucking confusing!” He screamed as he saw Steve scrubbing at a stain on a white cutting board. 

Steve whipped around to look at him and narrowed his eyes. He was the confusing one? He’d been flirting with this dumbass nearly every day for a month and getting nowhere. “I’m confusing? That’s rich coming from you.”

Eddie blinked in shock before his lips pulled back in a snarl. “First of all, nothing about me is rich. Second of all, yes it’s you that’s confusing! You’ve been fucking flirting with me for weeks and no you’re doing my uncle’s dishes! That’s confusing.”

“Why is it confusing? I’m doing the dishes because you weren’t home yet and I needed something to do. I’m flirting with you because I like you. What’s confusing?” Steve was legitimately confused at this line of questioning and he really didn’t understand why Eddie was yelling. 

“You like me? Newsflash- you’re straight. You’re the straightest person that I have ever met. I don’t know why you keep flirting with me or what angle you’re trying to play here but I’m not interested in being your experiment, Harrington.” Eddie yelled at him, his finger pointing at Steve accusingly before moving to hug himself in self-comfort.   

Steve saw his discomfort but elected to act defensively and yell back at him. “I’m not straight, I never said I was and you never asked! I like both and it’s really shitty of you to try and tell me who I like when you have no idea what’s going on!”

Eddie opened his mouth to talk but Steve plowed on, “your whole schtick is nonconformity and sticking it to the fucking man but you draw the line at me liking guys and girls? Maybe I don’t like you as much as I thought I did. You’re obviously just as rude and judgmental as everyone else. And you’re welcome for the dishes, fucker.”

Eddie grabbed his arms as he went to move past. “Harrington, Steve, Stevie. I’m sorry, please just listen to me. Steve!”

Steve jerked his head to the side to glare at him. “What?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you or not be appreciative of you washing our fucking dishes. I just, I didn’t know you liked both and I was losing my mind the past few weeks because I couldn’t figure out if you were flirting with me or if it was just you being a good friend or if you were playing a prank or something. I’m sorry and I do appreciate you,” Eddie was biting his lips nervously and his hand was still wrapped around Steve’s upper arm. He looked earnest and like he genuinely regretted his actions. 

Steve sighed, “I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“I’m not uncomfortable! I was just really confused and I didn’t know what was happening. But uh, I like you too.”

Steve’s eyes met Eddie’s. “You do?”

“Hell yeah, man. You were my gay awakening in middle school. That’s why I’ve been so frustrated this past month. I didn’t know if I was imagining it or if I actually had a shot,” Eddie chuckled. 

Steve stepped closer to him and put his hand on the back of Eddie’s neck. “You definitely have a shot.”

And then, Steve pulled Eddie’s face closer to his own and their lips smashed in a kiss. Eddie groaned as their teeth gnashed in the bruising kiss. When they finally pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together and breathed in the same air. Steve whispered, “you were my gay awakening too.”

Eddie’s answering cackles were so loud, Max came over to tell them to shut the hell up. She got a free front-row seat to their liplock and let out a scream so high-pitched that the window glass quivered before running back to her trailer. On the bright side, they wouldn’t have to come out to the kids.

@doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @pyrohonk

[pebblysand]

Hey there. Just wanted to say thank you for sharing Castles with us. I was 16 when I stumbled upon this masterpiece. I turned 18 a couple of months ago. I came of age with this fic. Whenever things got too much, Castles was what I'd find an escape in. It has taught me so much, taught me how the world's never just black & white and how life can be messy yet worth living. Castles has been a safe place, really. I cried, laughed, mourned and loved along with the characters. Your writing has made me feel so much so deeply, and I'd feel those heartaches all over again in a heartbeat. The female characters especially are so strong, so nuanced, their beauty lies in their imperfections which you've portrayed with so much care . As we reach the end of this road, I hope you are proud of yourself. I hope you know that this fic of yours has left a lasting impact on me.

Oh and I've been meaning to ask, how are you feeling now that it's all out?

thank you so much. that means more to me than you can imagine. ❤️

as to your question... how am i? pfew. i don't know. as i write this, i am now in france, enjoying the riviera's setting sun on my mum's terrace, with my thirteen-year-old four-legged baby sleeping underneath the table. there are palm trees and bougainvilleas. she's just woken up to bark at the airbnb neighbours next door.

how am i? exhausted. like, bone-deep. i don't know how to explain. the exhaustion of having published 82,000 words in two months. of having written 403,000 words in four years. of having made a thing. i made a thing. i could sleep for ten years, i feel, but i'm also wired. from the excitement and the adrenaline. i woke up every hour last night. i woke up at four o'clock this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. i now have two weeks of holidays and beach days to hopefully let my brain recuperate.

i am... terribly unfit lol. i'm the heaviest i've ever been, but it's not really about that, it's about the fact that i've been eating absolute shite for the past four/five months (with the above-mentioned exhaustion, i couldn't be bothered to cook), and honestly don't feel i could walk 10,000 steps without being out of breath. let me tell you that spending your days working in front of a laptop for your big girl job and all your evenings and weekends writing makes your life very sedentary. but that is easily fixable. my mum's building has a pool, so we'll be going every day and doing laps and going for walks and exploring the world again and recharging, and hopefully we'll feel better in a few weeks.

i am also... in absolute disbelief. i think it will take a while to truly sink in. i am incredibly proud of myself, proud of this story. proud of having told it. proud of not giving up on it. i came so close, this time last year. but i hung on. i owed it to myself. and, frankly, i owed it to lily, to tell her story. how lovely that i can finally say that without spoiling. she deserved someone else to hear.

i am... immensely honoured. beyond belief. i think for a long time, i blocked out and minimised the kind comments and the things people would say about how much this story meant to them, not out of rudeness but more to preserve myself from the pressure. it can be difficult - petrifying - to write a story that means a lot to people. but now, i have seventy-two comments (and counting) in my inbox and i am slowly realising that maybe, people weren't just being nice when they said these things. maybe it was true. and that means more to me than words could ever express.

i am... grieving. a little bit. i think, reading all of your messages and comments, a lot of you seem to feel that too. a bittersweetness of a four-year adventure ending. i think this emotion is already a bit on its way out for me, because i've been grieving castles for a while now, and have slowly come to terms with it ending. but, still. i would be remiss if i did not mention that the immense sense of pride and satisfaction and fulfilment that i feel ending this project, also didn't come with a bit of grief.

and, finally, i am very much looking forward to the future. i am excited for a lot of travel plans i have set up in the autumn. i am excited for my birthday in six days. i am excited for what the future will bring in terms of the stories i will inevitably tell again. fanfic or original.

and, i am immensely grateful to all of you. so thank you ❤️

[rockingrobin69]

In celebration of joy

This is actually a snip from a wip (700 words) and also a ‘hey I’m alive’ and most of all, it’s a (humble!!) present for my pride and joy @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm who is out there being the best in us etc. etc. Joy, I love you, I love you, I love you. And so does this special lil guy.

The coffee machine went on a strike on a Tuesday, roughly around nine. A big notice all over the screen, CHANGE FILTER that didn’t relent no matter what Draco attempted. He changed the damn filter, three times. Changed the water. Emptied and reloaded the bean tray. Nothing worked: the notice remained, and the smell of coffee pervaded the kitchenette, made his eyes water.

The manual was in Italian, which, according to his CV, shouldn’t be a problem. Apparently there was a world of difference between chatting up pretty boys in the Piazza and fine mechanics. Apparently, Draco was equally rubbish at both. And the coffee machine, blast it to high hell, kept at its pouty, childish rebellion.  

He didn’t even like coffee. Did have an espresso every once in a while, half in punishment, half-reward. Drowned it in sugar until no flavour was discernible, went on a glucose-fuelled paperwork rampage, terrorising the office till the inevitable crash. But he liked making coffees for some of the others—liked being trusted with a task he could perform. The coffee machine was tricky, needed a gentle touch: the frothing settings, the roast, all had to be perfectly calibrated. Usually he had it. And now, change filter, and no coffee in sight.

He's going to have to go back to Harry empty-handed.

Going to have to look him in the eye and say, hey, so, remember when you hired me, all that long month ago, and I promised I’d do my very best? Right. Yes, failed at the most basic of tasks today, what else could you expect. Also, please don’t fire me.

Draco rubbed his eyes a little harsher than recommended. Bore the angry flashes behind his eyelids, tried to breathe. Why must everything be a panic, why couldn’t he just. Be normal about this. Be a man, not a muppet, for a change.

Opened his eyes, grit his teeth till the world un-blurried itself. Took a deep breath. Went back to the manual, skimmed till he found the right place, and tried again.

In the end he ran down to the Costa across the street. Took him exactly forty minutes and twenty-three seconds to get back at Harry’s office door, red-faced and soaking wet, but with the flat white he’s promised. Tried not to look too smug about it as he sauntered through, gently laid the cup (still hot, he thought, he hoped) next to Harry’s computer screen.

“Thanks,” murmured Harry, not even looking up from the folder open on his desk. “Mm, that smells nice.”

Draco allowed himself a little smile. “No problem, Mr. Potter.”

As he knew, that zapped Harry’s attention back to him. He flushed so easily, and so sweetly too, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose for an excuse to use his hands. Calling Harry Mr. Potter always had the same effect—sometimes, when Draco was feeling rather cheeky, he even threw in a Sir, just to watch him flail.

“Erm. Yes. Thank you, Draco. Are—why are you wet?”

“Hmm?” looked down, remembered. “Oh. It’s raining again.”

Harry turned his head to the window, stared for a moment. “Yes,” he said, chewing on a poor lower lip. “Yes, it is indeed.”

Winding Harry up sure was one of the biggest perks of the job, but Draco actually had work to do. “Anything else, Mr. Potter?” (couldn’t help himself, he just couldn’t). “If you wouldn’t mind, the paperwork for Mr. Dougherty’s case requires further attention.”

More of the fidgeting. “No, no, that’s quite all right. Certainly, er, important that you get to it.” Draco nodded, and was already at the door when he heard, “Wait, why does the cup say Costa?”

Rushed out of Harry’s office without closing the door behind him. The prat never did anyway. Went back to the kitchenette, opened the manual, and a pocket dictionary from the shop right next door to blasted Costa. (The Dougherty dossier was compiled and completed two days ago. Not his fault he was good at his job). Stared the machine down until it bowed before him, spilled its mechanical guts.

He’ll get it, eventually. He thought. He hoped.

[goodbye-exclusion]

Reader is referred to with he/him pronouns in this chapter.

⋆༺𓆩 02 YOUTH. 𓆪༻⋆ 3.3k

← 01 || masterlist || 03 →

You've spent years and years traversing Ionia, and you know the lands like the back of your hand, including most of its cities and villages. But to most people, Ionia is massive. As a child, you would've attested to its grandness in a heartbeat.

When you were 11, you decided to venture out of the city on your own.

You lived at the Placidium of Navori, arguably the most notable city of Ionia. It was a hub for education and business. You studied at the academy there—the city's pride and joy. Most of the other students were over the age of 20, but with your older brother working as a professor there, you grew up studying medicine and health at the academy, alongside adults. 

Despite your age, you were able to maintain your education and earn an apprenticeship. At first, your mentor seemed upset to be babysitting you. But you worked hard, and he eventually warmed up to you over the course of a couple months. 

He even let you tag along with him on his journeys out of the city. He loved travelling to help and care for people all over Ionia, and you were always excited to help, too. Of course, he never took you out too far. Partially because of your young age, and partially because of his old age. But he always made sure to take good care of you.

This time, however, you would be going alone. With his old age came weakness, and he fell ill. He was unwell, so you decided you would go alone in his stead. You didn't actually ask for permission; you knew the answer would be no. But you wanted to help people, and if all goes well, no harm done! 

So, with a backpack nearly as big as you, you set off. The wide dirt roads thinned out as you followed your map off the trail to the Southwest of the Placidium. And after a day's worth of travelling, you were sure you'd arrived. 

In hindsight, the journey really wasn't all that far. Now, you could probably cross the distance in half an afternoon if you set your mind to it. But when you first arrived, you stared on in determination.

[■□□□□□□□□□] 

The city you arrived in was nothing like you'd seen. The Placidium of Navori was grand and clean and prim. Some of the villages you'd visited were a little scratchy, but this place was far more than just 'scratchy.' 

It was a pretty large city, but it looked like there were no systems to ensure the city was well maintained. You wandered a bit, looking around. There was no way you could find your patient here. Eventually, you ended up at an arena. The smell of mud, sweat, and blood was heavy in the air, even outside of the coliseum. 

A young boy, probably only a year or two older than you, leaned back against a wall, supporting himself as he slowly collapsed onto the ground. His hair was messy with dark red locks just about covering his eyes. He messily wrapped his bloodied hands. 

"Hey," you approached him slowly. "May I—"

"Piss off," he spits instinctively. "Unless you wanna fight, too."

"Please… You're injured."

"No shit!" he snapped. 

You sit in front of him cautiously; you could tell he didn't particularly want to beat you up. You pulled your backpack off and set it in front of you. 

"Stop touching your wounds," you instructed, digging through your backpack. 

He clicked his tongue and glared at you in defiance, but he kept his hands free nonetheless. You pulled out the medical equipment you needed and pushed your backpack aside. 

"What happened?" You asked quietly, gently holding his hands in yours. He looked away with pink cheeks. 

"Nothin'."

You frowned, but didn't push it. "Okay, I'll trust you, then. This might sting a little," you warned, cleaning his knuckles. "I'm [Name]. I live at the Placidium of Navori," you started, trying to distract him from the sting. 

"Fancy."

"A little, I suppose. I'm studying medicine and wellbeing." You began wrapping his knuckles and hands, down to his wrists for stability. "Have you been using your raw fists?" 

"Yeah?" he replied, like it was obvious. 

"I see… If I make you special gloves, will you wear them?" You asked, finishing up the wrap and putting his hands down. 

He narrowed his eyes. "What type'a 'gloves' you got in mind?" 

You moved to clean the broken skin along his forehead. "They'd protect your knuckles. I read about them before. It will help you, uh… pack a punch, too," you added. 

He raised an eyebrow. "Knuckle dusters?" 

You shook your head. "Less, um…" 'Crude,' you wanted to say. "Inefficient."

He shrugged and leaned back, letting you dab the cleaner on his face. "Whatever you say."

"May I know your name?" you asked, nearly done patching him up. 

Silence, for a moment, and then: "Settrigh."

You smiled. "Settrigh… I like it," you murmured, bandaging the last wound. "Does it hurt anywhere else?" He shakes his head. "Alright. Then, let's get you home."

"I can get home by myself," he growled, but then his face softened, regretting raising his voice. "I mean… I'm fine," he mumbled, looking away. 

"I know. But… May I come along anyway? It would make me feel a lot better."

He clicked his tongue. "Fine. Just don't tell my momma I've been fighting again."

You nodded, smiling. "I think she'd be able to tell, anyway."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." 

You helped him up and put your backpack on. "Let's go," you said, taking his hand in yours. 

His instincts told him to snap at you and pull away, but his heart kept fluttering at your touch. He didn't want you to let go. So he grumbled halfheartedly and started walking home with red cheeks. 

[■■□□□□□□□□]

Settrigh's home was nothing like the housing accommodations at the Placidium. The houses you were used to were compact and squeezed between buildings with multiple stories stacked on each.

His home was standalone, a little hidden from the rest of the city in a small valley at the outskirts. It was definitely an old home, but you could tell it was well cared for. Despite the scratches and shallow cracks in the windows, the glass looked recently cleaned. Two flowerbeds sat beneath each front window. Healthy white, red, pink, and yellow flowers bloomed from the soil, the petals vibrant and disease-free. 

You'd never even considered the beauty of nature, let alone gardening, until then. 

"Ma would kill me if I didn't a'least invite you in, so… Come in if you want or whatever," Settrigh huffs. 

"You wouldn't mind?" 

He shrugged and led the way in.

The entryway was longer than the shallow ones you were used to. The walls were long enough to be decorated with drawings that you assumed Settrigh had drawn as a kid were hung. He saw you looking at them and pulled on your hand hurriedly. "Don't look at those!" he said, looking away in embarrassment. 

"But I think they're cute," you protested. You let go of his hand to take off your shoes. 

He ignored the comment and clicked his tongue. "The hell are you doing?" 

You tilted your head. "I'm taking off my shoes. There's no rack, so I'll put them here," you said, placing the pair of boots near the door. 

"Weird." He shrugged. "Ma, I'm home!" he called out, marching into the living room. 

A woman with soft lavender pink hair reaching her waist entered, frowning slightly. "Settrigh, you can't keep fighting all the time," she scolded, before turning her gaze to you, softening. "Come in, dear, would you like some water?"

"Yes, please! If it's no bother, ma'am," you said gratefully. You and Settrigh sat at the kitchen island as his ma provided a glass of water for each of you. And then you took a good look at her and found that she had fuzzy ears the same colour as her hair at the top of her head, slightly drooping down to where her ears would normally be. Catching you staring, she chuckled. 

"Yes, dear?"

You blinked. "You… Are you a Vastaya?" 

She smiled and nodded. Settrigh growled, narrowing his eyes at you. "Got an issue with that?" 

You turned to him and noticed for the first time that he has his own pair of fluffy ears perched on his head, resembling a wolf's. 

"You're also a Vastaya?" you asked, confused. 

He clicked his tongue. "Half."

"I've read about Vastaya before, but I've never seen one in person. O-oh, I have no problem with it!" you quickly added. "I've heard about the, um…" You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to find the word. "The discrimination Vastaya have had to face. But I don't care," you said, determined. 

His ma gave a tiny, pleased smile and petted your head gently. "Don't worry, I know. I can tell. I wouldn't have allowed you to stay if I thought otherwise."

You nodded firmly. "Besides, Settrigh is my friend!" 

The boy seemed surprised at the declaration, cheeks turning red. "Huh?! We just met!"

You pouted. "Well, you're my friend, even if I'm not yours."

Settrigh stuttered, trying to find a response, and his ma laughed. 

"My boy could use a friend, he's just shy," she hummed.

"Momma!" Settrigh groaned. "Don't say that!"

She smiled, and you couldn't help but feel safe. At home. Turning back to you, she continued. 

"You're not from Qayanvi, are you? What's your name, dear?"

"Oh yeah, he's from the, uh Plashitium or whatever," Settrigh chimes, now realising he didn't actually know what you were doing away from home. 

You nodded. "I'm [Name]. I live at the Placidium of Navori studying medicine. I came to find a patient since my mentor couldn't travel. But, um… I don't really know where they are," you admitted. "This place is way bigger than the other villages we went to."

"I see… I can't help you much with that, but you're welcome to stay here for as long as you need before you head back home. You came alone?"

"Yeah. Well, I wasn't supposed to come at all, but, well… I wanted to? Are you sure it's alright if I stay here for a day or two? I don't want to intrude…" 

"Of course. Settrigh can sleep on the couch," she said simply, revelling in the way her son protested. 

"I don't wanna sleep on the damn couch!" 

"Oh, not at all! I don't mind sleeping on the couch. I'm truly thankful for your hospitality, ma'am."

Settrigh huffed, feeling slightly guilty. "I'll sleep on the fuckn' couch," he resigned. 

You suppressed a gasp at his language. "It's okay, really!" you insisted. 

She laughed lightly. "Why don't you two share the bed?" she suggests, enjoying the flustered look from her son and the look of innocent agreement from you. 

"That's a good idea," you agreed. If you both wanted the other to sleep in the bed, then the solution to both sleep in the bed seemed logical to you. 

As much as Settrigh wanted to protest to save his dignity, he couldn't deny that he wanted to be close to you. His ma stifled a giggle. Childhood love, she thought wistfully. 

[■■■■■□□□□□]

Dinner soon came around, and it was easily the best meal you'd ever had. There were some good dishes served at some of the larger ceremonies that the Placidium held, but the one Settrigh's momma made was a different type of delicious. It tasted like love, and you were sure to tell her how much you loved it. 

Settrigh raised an eyebrow at it. "They ain't got some fancy food at the Plashitium?" 

You shook your head and took a second to find the best way to explain it. "The cafeteria food and stuff is okay, but… I never really had anyone at home, really, to make homemade meals like this," you said, not realising that you'd been longing for something like that for years. 

He stayed quiet for a brief moment before letting out a guttural noise—something like a growl—then a click of his tongue. "Fuck that, stupid shitfaces leaving their own kid," he hissed. 

Your eyes widened and you shook your head frantically, a response that got his momma to send a sharp glare at him.

"It's not that, it's just that, um…" you trailed off awkwardly, not knowing how to phrase it. 

"We don't have to talk about it while we eat," Settrigh's ma hummed gently.

He raised an eyebrow. "Why the hell not? 'S not like we're gonna pretend pops wasn't a good-for-nothing shitface," he argued. 

Her eyes pierced into her son's defiant ones. "We do not discuss death at the dinner table," she reiterated sternly. You nodded shyly, thanking her in your mind for being perceptive enough to pick up on it.

Silence, for a brief moment, as the cogs turned in his mind. "Oh, shit, I didn't… I didn't, uh… Fuck, 'm sorry, [Name]," he stuttered. 

You shook your head assuredly. "It's okay, really. You didn't know. And besides," you added, a glimmer of unintended confidence shining in your eyes, "I can handle it, I've grown up tons."

Settrigh couldn't hold back a laugh, and his ma let out a light chuckle. "Ain't you a lil' too small to call yourself 'grown up,'" he teases. 

You huff in embarrassment. "'M not that short! I just haven't had my growth spurt yet…" He lets out another laugh. "Hey! You're not even that much older than me, I bet, so you can't say anything either!"

And to your credit, he was only 2 years your senior, as you found out. You also found out that, after asking, you could call Settrigh's ma "Ita." The three of you spent a few hours in the living room, mostly just you and Miss Ita talking. It was cosy. As moonlight began to seep in through the windows, Momma Ita had ushered you and Settrigh into his room for the night. 

His room wasn't really messy, but it wasn't exactly clean, either. It was more so that there wasn't much room to be messy. The rest of the house was far more decorated and well attended to compared to his room. And with the piles of clothes scattered around the room, you could see why. He really only used the room to sleep and get dressed. 

A tiny cough of embarrassment slipped from Settrigh's throat as he ducked in front of you to scoop up the strewn around clothing. He hurriedly shoved it all into one drawer in the dresser. You furrowed your eyebrows and stepped towards the overflowing heap of clothing. 

"They'll all get wrinkled if you do it like that," you pointed out. 

He couldn't give less of a shit. But there was something strange he felt as he watched you delicately but quickly separated his shirts from pants and folded them almost perfectly. It was a good strange. A strange that you brought. 

A strange that he didn't want to leave. He didn't want you to leave. 

─•~[■■■■■■■□□□]~•─

Settrigh's face was bright fucking red. And he could only hope you couldn't see it through the darkness. Neither of you had given it a second thought, climbing in bed together and tucking in. He faced you, and he'd never felt so self-conscious about his own breathing before. 

"Sett," you murmured sleepily, the nickname perfect in your voice. 

"Yeah?" he replied breathily.

"Thank you for being my friend. I like you."

I like you. I like you, I like you, I like you. It was an innocent confession, but the words repeated in his head over and over. You liked him, and he wouldn't let you go. Not for anyone, not for anything. 

"I like you too," he replied, voice barely louder than a whisper. 

You giggled happily, and fuck that sound took his breath away. He pulled you closer to him, closing his eyes in bliss as you reflexively pressed into his body. You didn't have to leave, right? You could just stay with him and his Ma.

It had only been a few minutes, and you were already asleep. Not that he minded, though. He wondered if you usually fell asleep so quickly, or if his presence gave you comfort. He'd like to think the latter. Sett himself didn't usually fall asleep easily, but… It was so warm. He'd never felt so warm before. You were warm. Curled up against him, in his arms, where he decided you belonged. 

He fell asleep not long after, getting the best sleep he ever had. A small jolt of disappointment pricked at his chest when he woke up without you. But it wasn't all that bad when he pulled himself from bed to the kitchen, finding you and his momma cooking side by side. You'd changed clothes, but they weren't all that different from the ones you arrived in. Some blue and white uniform that had little frills at the front and around the bottom of the shorts. He thought it looked stupid at first, but he supposed it was kind of cute on you. He cleared his throat to shoo away the stupid thoughts. The outfit still looked a little stupid.

You glanced back at him with a grin. "Good morning, Sett!"

He'd usually probably scrunch up his nose at that much energy in the morning—too peppy and cheerful too early. But your bright smile was refreshing, and he liked it.

"You've been an excellent little helper, [Name]," she hummed. "Go sit at the table, and I'll finish up breakfast, alright?"

You nodded and took a seat alongside him. 

Breakfast that morning had never tasted so good. Everything had never been so good. 

And then you had to leave. You waved them goodbye, promising you'd return at some point. He didn't get why you had to leave at all. He'd stood there, watching you head off, carrying your too-big backpack and humming quietly. 

When you were nearly out of sight, his momma ruffled his hair lightly. "'Sett,' hm?" she mused. 

"Shut up," he huffed, scowling at his voice cracking. 

"Young love is sweet," she hummed, turning and heading back inside. 

"I don't like him like that!" he insisted, but he wasn't fooling anyone. Especially not himself. 

─•~[■■■■■■■■■□]~•─

When you got back to the Placidium, your mentor was upset, but he was more stressed and worried for you than angry. He spent at least half an hour lecturing you on safety. Nothing you didn't already know, but 

At last, he sighed and shook his head. "I'm just glad you're alright, but you disappearing aged me another decade," he grunted.

You nodded, apologising for the nth time. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry." You paused for a moment. "Can I go back?" you murmured. 

He blinked, astounded for a brief moment. "You want to… what?"

"I made a friend, and I told him I'd visit again," you added. 

"Right. But, Qayanvi? Really?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "Maybe the place has changed since I last visited, though I doubt it. No mind. You may return as long as you bring someone with you, okay? I'm getting far too old to make those trips now." 

You grinned at his response. "Thank you! I promise I will."

And you were a good kid, so he believed you. He didn't know you already figured out a way to go back alone. You didn't want to stay in some shabby motel or have someone watching over your shoulder the whole time, after all. 

You went straight to the library after saying goodbye. You sifted through tens of books before picking a few and stacking them onto the table, pulling out a notebook and sketching out a few messy ideas, occasionally rubbing your arms to warm yourself up from the chilliness, the windy air conditioning pricking at your skin. 

After a few hours, you had a good idea of what you wanted to make and how to do it. You checked out a small stack of books, went back home, and stayed up all night putting together a prototype. Engineering wasn't your forte—far from it—but you'd figure something out. Ideas swirled around your mind, and you carelessly abandoned sleep in favour of pursuing the newfound inspiration. 

[venusandapostles]

Rukawa and his strange concept of tranquility || Ruhana

Rukawa Kaede loved the quiet, don't take him as a dull bore of life who found fun or noise boring but he sincerely loved its quiet

It wasn't that everything was serenity around him, when he was a child he had to endure the screams of his mother every time he ran away to play basketball with his friends, when he was a teenager the screams of all those girls who followed him. daily to confess, when he finally became an adult, Sakuragi's constant complaints about leaving dirty clothes out of the hamper where they belonged, and when he finally got married, well, Rukawa was more certain that life was trying to steal his peace of mind

It was Tuesday and like every Tuesday the damn nursery rhyme program that Hanamichi had insisted that her son learn since childhood had begun, her son, who was a strange link between her apathetic appearance and the explosive personality of her omega husband, was already there, sitting in a position ready to start singing or so she called Hanamichi to the wordless screams that the barely five-month-old baby began to emit when was just beginning to play the song

— So much energy so early in the morning — he murmured under his breath after watching the child prepare to start singing. Sometimes he wondered how such a small child who spent entire nights crying to attract his father's attention had so much energy every morning as soon as the first rays of sun brightened the atmosphere, in the end Rukawa concluded that it came in his genes from being the son of Sakuragi Hanamichi

Rukawa snorted heavily remembering a certain incident before the birth of his son, he had won the bet but at what cost?

— Ahhh, our little Haruki is so cool — a translucent figure with a pink apron and an English sign quickly walked past Rukawa, pushing his chair carelessly in the process. Hanamichi, who was preparing breakfast like every Tuesday, ran into the arms of his son and was greeted with a huge hug

Rukawa looked at the complicity of the alpha son and omega father from afar and felt a slight feeling of pride, it was his son, which he had fathered with the person he loved and his alpha instinct felt the emotion of seeing that on the other hand his son should being enjoying his father's smell too much

— Come on, Haruki, sing one more song for your father — the baby sounds in the hands of his omega father and, displaying the grace that every baby professes, he screamed a loud howl that made the toast in Rukawa's hands shake with the sound. falling intention — Ahhh, Haruki, Haruki, it seems that your father was never wrong, you are a great talent, when you grow up you will surely be like me — a blush crumbled on Hanamichi's face — I will have to receive so many omegas who will come to chase you, like when I was young — Rukawa yawns bored and Hanamichi frowned at her husband's grimace

— I don't remember having to fight with so many alphas when I was chasing you, in fact I don't remember any — a blush of fury accompanied Hanamichi. Stinking Fox, you dare to humiliate him in front of his beloved Haruki

— Stinking Fox, who said I didn't have more suitors than you? This genius had thousands but you were the only one brave enough to confess it otherwise I wouldn't have even noticed you - Rukawa Kaede knew that the story was not like that and is grateful that it had ended well after the thousands of misunderstandings between the two. , he couldn't even imagine what would happen between them, if he and Hanamichi hadn't talked after the crazy fan club incident and the pregnancy test, maybe his child wouldn't even have been born with him. No, now things were fine and there was no need to think about the past — Hey fox, what do you have? — Hanamichi looked at Rukawa's always serious but thoughtful face, she seemed worried and…

— I think our son has no talent for music — Now Hanamichi is angry

— Haruki, don't listen to your father — he said, covering the ears of the baby who was just laughing — You're great at everything, if you want to be a singer, dad will help you — a kiss on his lush black hair and a loud laugh from the baby livened up the atmosphere

Rukawa may love his quiet very much but Hanamichi and his family are a new state of loud quiet that Rukawa still can't understand but it feels great

— Little bee, fly high and bring me honey — Hanamichi sang along with his son dressed as a bee while next to him an uncomfortable Rukawa performed the same bee movements while a bee suit completely adorned him and the baby in the middle of both – Rukawa sings – Hanamichi scolded him

— Little Bee — bass

— Harder — Hanamichi demanded

— Little bee, fly high and bring me honey — Rukawa plans to get revenge after that, how about we start at the big monkey's waist?

[youremyheaven]

Hey, I always end up here for some reason. I actually do have a lot of people I want to ask about but it would take an eternity, but I would like to ask about relationships. I never dated but I did attract the boys I liked, some moments just happened for 1 or more years but I couldn't date them or anything, I don't regret nothing but I do remember them messing bad and it always ends up with me and my dignity, and I choose latter. They do remember and "seem" to like me even after months, as I heard from my friends after I stopped talking to them which I don't what's happening like where was your courtesy before? With such failed attempts in barely seeing them made me question my own taste. If I remember I know they reciprocate the feelings from here and there but they never told me directly, it's like I've to put efforts which I mostly don't and I don't want to assume anything so I just have to move on. I take my time and they end up doing bizzare things so I create some distance. There was a guy who did confess after whole ton of my hardwork but it was such a trashy experience, I didn't settle of course but my goodness never in my life again. I just gave up on this matter overall, let's see what happens next. I want to be a little delusional for a while. Can you talk about V a little bit, I was curious because I relate to him a lot and I thought of it as romantic before but I don't think it's the same now, I don't know what I'm trying to say but you haven't talked about him much either and I wished to hear this from your side? So if you just want to add something? Maybe I'll know myself a little too? Can you also talk about my attraction to such partners and them being weird?

i dont know if i entirely understood what you were trying to say

but basically you attract boys you like but even if they seem to like you, you don't get them to confess or be straight up with you??

IF this is what you meant,

boys who dont tell you they like you are weaklings. a lack of clear communication means they dont like you enough to risk their pride getting bruised. if a guy genuinely likes you, he'll risk it all and be straightforward with you

guys hold back when they have multiple thoughts running through their head and ideally their only thought should be bagging u

what goes on in their heads is none of our business and it doesnt matter. a guy who does not actually be clear with his intentions and does not pursue you is NOT worth your time. leave them in the dust.

idk how young you are but since you say you dont have any experience dating , i feel like saying this, its okay to want to be desired and wanted by others. there is nothing wrong with it. its biological and natural.

so ask yourself if you just wanted a bunch of admirers or if you actually wanted to date these guys

i know it can be really confusing and stressing as well tbh when someone gives you mixed signals but honestly just leave it at that. theyre being shady because THEY have shady intentions. no man with actually good intentions would hesitate to approach you directly my queen<333

idk how useful this is but im someone with a very "a win is a win" mentality lmao in the sense that if i liked someone and they liked me back, thats a win 😌😜

you did hear from your friends that those guys liked you, so likeeee 👀💅🏻

the number of people who like you, who you have mutual liking with etc will always exceed the number of people you actually date bc thats just math

if 10 guys like u and u like them back, u cant date all 10 in one go (or maybe u can but u'd have to figure that one out urself 🤡)

alsooo men being weird is just ://// how a lot of men are. many guys are straight up bizarre ://// dont take that stuff personally

about V (taehyung), he's actually my least favourite BTS member tbh,, idk if its because he's a Revati Moon (atmakaraka) with Mars in Uttara Ashadha amatyakaraka or what but he's always struck me as a guy who was kinda tough to be around. i dont think he's horrible or anything but his Shravana Venus, UA Mercury and Mars, Moon conjunct Ketu,,, its a weird combo,, he himself is a bit offbeat and eccentric but he would expect his partner to be kinda traditional and modest. i just dont like malefic influenced men i guess :///

something about his sweet boy act feels insincere to me. and as someone who has been around manyyyyy Revatis ,, i dont like that ADHD type behaviour they exhibit (im not making fun of anyone who actually suffers from ADHD and nor am i equating a mental condition with a nakshatra, i just dont know how else to describe the way manyyy Mercurials act??? yk all those funny reels and tiktoks about how gen z has a short attention span and communicate in a weird way bc they're chronically online, yeah, thats how a lot of Mercurials act)

a bit of a self-drag but i went to a girls school until i was 15 and had never interacted with a guy my age, after switching to a co-ed school at 16, i had to learn how to deal with guys from scratch. its a whole different world ill tell u. i think atp due to your lack of experiences with dating, you just dont know what to expect and how to deal with it. and thats okayyy,, this is just a part of life and youll figure it out for yourself as you go. dont stress out too much and dont worry about it tbh,, there are 8 billion people on this planet, there has to be a decent guy who will be honest, as well <333

[pawbean-soda]

catgender short story

hi, leopard here. so recently we started researching xenogenders and neopronouns and i found out about catgender, a label that i find fits me really well. my gender is closely linked to my therianism and my therotype and I'd like to explain it a little. leopards and animals in general lead very physical lives and for me that transfers over in large quantities. i am the most in touch with the body and have the most (or at least very) vivid shifts out of all of us. if you were to ask a cat what their gender was, what would they say? would the cat really pick a human gender or is that just bias from our own human-centric experience. wouldn't the cat have it's own idea of gender derived from its own cat-centric experience. everyone's alter humanity is different, but for me the answer is a resounding yes. both my experience of living in a human body and being a leopard combine to have me end up being a catgender girl.

while researching how catgender pronouns work i found a resounding lack of material representing catgender and catgender pronouns, so i made my own. not sure if this will become a thing or not but here you have it. a short (very short) story featuring a main character who use exclusively catgender pronouns. enjoy.

Eli had lived in vancouver washington paw’s whole life, but at night it was like a new city altogether. the streetlamps and the stars breathing new life into paw’s home. Even the view through paw’s window was wholly different in the dark, mysterious and bathed in a blanket of shadow.

“Hey, are you coming or what?” paws dad yelled up the stairs. Right! Eli was going on a night hike with paws dad. Paw pulled pawself from the window and quickly finished packing paws bag. A flashlight, some snacks, paws phone, bugspray. Eli had been on many hikes before, but never at night. Paw’s dad prided themself on their outdoorsmanship and had taken paw on many, many camping trips and hikes through paws childhood and even now, with Eli being almost seventeen, he was still insistent that paw always come with him on little trips like this. Not that paw had any objections. Paw loved the feeling of wind through paws' hair and bark beneath paws fingers. The forest was always so alive in a way the city wasn't, from the eagles sorting so high paw would have trouble breathing at those heights to the tiny almost too small to see bugs on every leaf and rock. And with paws dad being a veteran hiker, the views were always amazing. Finally with paws bag packed and paws hiking boots securely laced, Eli and paws dad set off in the car to the olympic national park.

Even just a few minutes into the hike Eli was seeing things in a new light. Originally when paws dad suggested this idea, paw thought it would be a dark and spooky experience, but it was more otherworldly and ethereal than scary. All the little white mushrooms that dotted the trail almost seemed to glow in the moonlight and the ferns weaving between the trees glinted like they were catching the stars in their leaves. From way up in the trees Eli could hear leaves rustling and owls hooting and off in the distance a coyote pack rallied for a hunt.

“Careful here this moss is more slippery than it looks” purrs dad was a foot and a half onto a wooden bridge spanning a ravine and had clearly almost slipped, gripping the handrail so hard his knuckles were white. With a good grip on the railing mew started to cross the bridge. Eli was here last summer with paws friend Noah's family. Back then there was a river rushing through the ravine. Looking down, paw saw that in the month's sense purr’s visit it had trickled down into a small stream. “Hey, look at that” paw pointed to something down in the ravine. “Good spotting eli. Those are mule deer”. The deer, a mother and a baby, had stopped at the stream to drink. The mom turned to look up at Eli and mews dad before turning and darting away, her fawn following closely after.

“It should be right, here! Eli it’s over here”, purrs dad was gesturing excitedly at a seaming inconspicuous game trail, which apparently led to the lake. “You know, this was easter to find in the daylight” eli pushed through the bushes and stepped out onto the rocky shore. The lake was almost completely still, with only gentle ripples disturbing the dark clear surface. A reflection of the stars peppered the water like pinholes in blackout curtains, letting the light from the other side seep through and The moon’s watery twin danced with the gentle sway of the waves. It was mesmerizing in a way only nature could be. Eli sat down on the beach, mews feet almost touching the water. Mews dad sat down beside them. For what felt like hours, they sat with the lake and the moon, the forest at their backs. They will have to leave at some point, but not anytime soon.