#todoriin

[todoriin]

lose something, babe | rin can't leave you if you do it first.

cw: toxic relationship, avoidant gn!reader, angst w comfort, ambiguous ending, unhealthy portrayals of love, read with caution.

The rain hits your windshield like bullets.

Even with your wipers cranked up to the most powerful option, you still can’t see too clearly admist the chaos, streetlights and passing cars becoming nothing but droplets of light in the dark. It’s exceptionally lonely in your car, and cold, too.

Bringing your sweater-covered hands to your mouth, you breathe warmth into them, reaching for your phone. 

No messages from Rin, or any notifications, for that matter. You don’t know whether to be relieved or saddened that he didn’t care to reach out in this weather, not that it surprised you. The only thing Rin will have with him when he crawls over mountains and swims across seas is his pride, and it’s the one thing he vehemently defends, even if it’s against you. 

He makes you feel so small in comparison to him, and in a way, you are. Your name isn’t on billboards, you don’t have millions of followers on social media, and you don’t have the ego of a thousand suns behind you. At any moment, he could leave, and you know that, so you'll do it first.

Even if it means getting trapped in a thunderstorm; your least favourite weather to be stuck outside in.

Your phone rings with the sounds of a call, phone speaker turned up to max volume to break through the thunderous storm.

“Isagi?” You greet.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He answers from the other end.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, you can talk.” 

“Can I crash at yours for a little? I’m… a bit far from home and you’re closer to my location.”

“You’re outside? In this weather? Does Rin know?”

“Don’t tell him.”

“Why not?” 

You’re silent, pondering whether to lie or not. However, your lack of an answer gave Isagi one regardless.

“It’s none of my business, I shouldn’t have pried. Come over, you shouldn’t be alone in a storm like this.” 

“Thank you, it means a lot.”

“No problem. Drive safe.”

“I will.”

It feels a little warmer when Isagi hangs up, his friendliness contrasting the ice that Rin likes to weaponise and throw against you.

The drive to his takes no longer than five minutes, and when you arrive, Isagi is already waiting for you, bundled in a warm hoodie and track pants.

Comfort is standing under the light and warmth of his front entrance, gratitude is being thankful to have a roof over your head. 

“Come in,” the athlete ushers you inside. 

“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” you murmur guiltily, quietly removing your shoes because to make sound was to exist, and you don’t want your presence to be a burden to him. You know that you're out of place here, and that his hospitality was one you don't deserve.

“No, please don’t apologise. It’s what friends do for each other.” 

It’s peaceful at his place. There’s a 90s romance playing on his widescreen TV, an opened bag of chips on his coffee table paired with a no sugar fizzy drink. He ushers around the attached kitchen to pour you a cup of water.

You don’t recognise the show, and you won’t pretend like you do. To make conversation, you ask him what he’s watching, and whether or not it’s good since you’re on the lookout for good shows to watch. It’s only when Isagi’s done with his explanation that your phone buzzes with a message, the notification even reaching his ears.

“Is that Rin?” The dark-haired questions.

“Yeah.”

rin: The storm just reached here, are you safe?

y/n: yeah

Three bubbles appear, and then disappear, and then reappear. “Did something happen between you two?” Isagi asks, sincere and careful with his words. 

“A small argument.”

“Are you sure? I don't know if it was... small.”

The evidence is plastered all over your face. Puffy eyes, dry tear marks, a red nose- all traces of the breakdown you had in the car that you tried to wipe away, but the most observant of people in the world see what others don’t want you to. Isagi’s good at that exactly.

"Small arguments don't cause people to drive so far from home."

You might cry again if he keeps looking at you so pitifully. You’re not miserable, you want to tell him, that you’re happy in your relationship with Rin even though sometimes his thorns pierce your most guarded of layers. There are more ups than downs with Rin, and you work through them together, you just need some time to breathe without him first because it’s easier to do so without him, that’s just how love and relationships should work, and when will this nightmare end?

“It was a small argument,” you pinch your nose bridge, eyes stinging with tears that threaten to fall.

Isagi hums in sympathy, not believing your words. That’s when your phone buzzes with another message. 

rin: Where are you?

you: safe im turning notifications off

Isagi invites you to talk, that if you need the space, he’s offering it to you. What starts off as a small rant blows up into something you can’t control, only spaced out by sighs and noises of exasperation as you go over the fucked up things you both said to each other tonight. 

By the time you’re done, there’s a series of loud bashes on Isagi’s door. Rin’s voice comes from the other side, fighting the downpour outside that still drums down, neither of them relenting.

“Don’t open it,” Isagi tells you, and you remain frozen in your spot. It’s hard to get up, hard to breathe, hard to think as he easily gets up and walks over to the entrance.

Is Rin angry at you for coming here? Has he come to drag you back home? To continue the argument from before you stormed out?

An infinity stretches between now and Isagi opening the door, but time comes crashing down when you hear the abrasiveness of Rin’s voice. He’s demanding for you, asking if Isagi did anything to harm you as if he isn’t the sole reason for your tears and sorrow tonight. As if he isn’t the one who hurt you the most, and here he is, making a ruckus in the home of a man who let you under his roof when you couldn’t go home. 

“Rin, leave Isagi alone,” you call out, finally finding the courage to stand.

It’s silent, but the footsteps come barrelling towards you and Rin turns the corner with a frantic look in his eyes. 

“Fuck, baby, are you okay?”

You were until he showed up. “I’m fine. How did you know I was here?”

“Your location, you’re always sharing it with me.”

“I- then what gave you the right to show up?” You almost choke on your anger, “I don’t want to see you, Rin.” 

His grip on the wall tightens, as if the floor beneath him would give out from any second and he’d be sent tumbling into the abyss of emotions he can’t recognise and refuses to recognise. Despite it all, he can’t stop looking at you, as if tearing his eyes away would cause you to vanish, and he’d be tripping after traces.

“I needed to know if you were safe,” your boyfriend breathes shakily, pushing himself off the wall and towards you. You back away and only stop when your feet hit the couch, and Rin cages you in easily, large hands wrapping around your wrists like chains. “Come home, babe.”

“I want space, Rin.”

“I’ll give you space, I’ll give you everything you need, just- come home,” he begs, leaning in to rest his foreheads against yours with closed eyes. 

It’s airy and desperate, the way he speaks. It is a siren’s song, and you shouldn’t listen, but oh, he is speaking so softly and kindly that it lures you in to a false sense of security. You almost close your eyes- almost, but in the moment it matters most, you push him away, allowing him to see your sorrowful state for the first time since he caused it.

Is love supposed to be as cruel as Itoshi Rin? Is it supposed to make you cry, fight, and thrash?

“Let go,” you try to tear your hands out of his, but he only retaliates by kissing your complaints away, swallowing them with his mouth so that your venom will settle in his stomach instead of his heart. 

He’s insistent and everywhere. One of his legs are slotted between yours, his hands are warm on your cheeks, and the clash of his nose and teeth against yours feel so raw and human that it drains all of your fight out of you. How do you run away from this?

Persistently and blindly, he places kisses along your face, never straying too far from your lips.

No matter how much you want to pull away, you fight for what you love, not against it, so you sink into him instead and let Rin run his course, helpless to his onslaught of affection.

You try not to cower away too much.

“I’m sorry,” Rin whispers. “Don’t be mad anymore, I’m sorry for being a dick, come home, I'll leave, I just need to know that you're safe.” 

He coaxes you into coming home with him, that you can come pick up your car tomorrow because he knows you hate driving in heavy rain. That he’ll pay for whatever parking fees you have accumulated. That you can talk- really talk it out, together at home.

The look Rin gives Isagi is less than friendly when you bid your farewells. You deem it compulsory to go out tomorrow to buy a gift for the poor soccer player, who has been an involuntary witness to the mess that is tonight. 

There is concern in Isagi’s eyes when you turn around to wave goodbye. 

[earthtooz]

hello, hello! if u like my writing and might be interested in some more (mature) pieces, please be mindful to give @todoriin a follow!!

i am not moving! todoriin will just be a space where i can explore a few more mature themes that i feel are out of place on the earth-'happy endings zone'-tooz. this account is still my pride and joy and the centre for all of my writing, todoriin is just a side blog i am experimenting with!!

[earthtooz]

5 likes achieved, sunday nsfw coming soon on @todoriin

x : LUST FOR LIFE *+ﾟ

in which: sunday discovers a new emotion when he's under you.

warnings: 1.5k words, sunday is B(h)ORNY and doesn't know how to deal with it, he wants reader so bad, lowkey implied switch!sunday, gn!reader being sunday's freak awakening, NO SMUT BUT UNDER 16 DNI, not edited

a/n: five likes and i'll write nsfw for sunday

What good is a leader who can’t empathise with the lives of the people he was supposed to be leading?

This thought has plagued Sunday ever since he exiled himself from Penacony, since he joined the Astral Express in a journey of self-discovery and reflection, embracing the Nameless lifestyle so he can broaden the horizons that Penacony had restricted. There, he was so detached from the reality of the people he was trying to help, so trapped in a whirlwind of his own ideals to experience humanity, too buried in official duties to rejoice in the many wonders of the universe, the simple pleasures and the grandiose ones.

Since boarding, the former head of the Oak Family has experienced humiliation, desperation, and many close calls with death. It seems he underestimated how easily trouble found the Trailblazers, and the diary he carries with him has been updated with multiple entries, filled with exasperated recounts that ended with him being grateful that he is still well and unscathed.

Sunday has also experienced laughter, connection, and the bond of humankind- something he did not have before. When he controlled the Oak Family, had everyone under or at his fingertips, the only person he could depend on was himself. When Robin left to travel the cosmos, what was he to do than learn the bitter truth of independence and self-sufficiency? 

Yet, he sits on the couches of the Astral Express and there is bound to be another by him, trying to converse with him like an old friend. He is mentioned in the conversations like an individual who they keep around because they want to, not because he is crafty, not because of what he can offer. No, he can’t offer anything right now, and the crew still wants him to stay.

He learns more about humanity with each passing day.

However, perhaps one of the more puzzling feelings Sunday has had to confront was… infatuation. 

It’s a tricky feeling. It sends his heart into overdrive and his limbs to become jelly, and at the epicentre of this hurricane of uncharted territory, is you. 

“Sunday?” Your voice comes through muffled from the other side of the door. He almost jumps off his mattress at the sound. 

“Door is open,” he responds as calmly as possible, heart thrumming alive at the sound of your voice, beating in time with the rapid succession of your knocks. 

The door slides open slowly to reveal you on the other side. “Pom Pom just wanted to let everyone know that we will be jumping soon.” 

“I see, thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem,” your gaze then flickers to the angels that flock around him and he watches as your eyes gleam with fascination.

Then, without any hesitation or reluctance, you enter his room and approach him, the door sliding closed without your weight to hold it open. You stop before him without a bow, without a formal greeting of ‘Mr. Sunday’- no, you stop before him like an equal, which you most certainly are. In fact, he would even think of himself below you, but Sunday needs to unlearn this assumption of hierarchy, needs to not let it define the relationships he forms, even if he looks up to you and finds you reverent. 

“Hey, I’ve never seen these little guys before!” You exclaim, sticking out a hand to act like a perch for the angel-like summons. One of them flits up to you and stays on your outstretched finger. “Well, not this close, at least.”

It keens at your praise. Like owner like summon, Sunday supposes.

“I don’t tend to bring them out. They are for combat purposes,” he explains. 

Your eyes widen slightly. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?” 

“What? No! That’s not it-”

“-I’m kidding, Sunday,” you snicker. “We’re friends, I wouldn’t want to fight you.”

“Right,” he exhales, “I wouldn’t want to fight you either.”

“Besides, we already did once.”

He freezes at the memory, remembers when he got hit with the exact train he is currently boarding. 

You, however, are unphased by the recollection, and even continue to rub salt in the wound. “I remember fighting against these little summons too, your owner was a real meanie, do you guys know that?” 

They flock around you, spinning and fluttering like little fireflies.  Instinctively, Sunday covers his flustered expression with his wings, and he doesn’t budge, even when he hears your laugh, the sound almost enough for him to melt into a puddle by your feet.

“Hey, hey, I was kidding, sorry if I took the joke too far.” 

He uncovers himself with an embarrassed sigh, not meeting your eyes. “It’s okay, I think the memory is just… humiliating, more than anything.”

“There are no more hard feelings. Everyone has accepted you on board and none of us think of you to be the same person you were when we first met, I promise.”

Your words are completely earnest, Sunday knows it, can feel it in the way you tell him so unabashedly. So who is he to deny it?

“Thank you,” he says, finally looking up at you, “it means a lot to hear that.” 

“I’ll say it as much as you need. Well, I’ll get out of your hair now, just prepare for the jump-”

Your sentence is interrupted by a shriek when you lose your footing, and Sunday feels it too, the force so strong that even he, while sitting, feels as if is being stretched and pulled into a miniscule hole. What he also feels is your body colliding on top of his, and his hands come to your waist to catch you in an attempt to prevent you from slipping, but it’s not enough and he’s falling with you onto the expanse of his made bed.

The Express is warping to some expanse of the universe, and his stomach drops at the sensation, spreading to the ends of his nerves before disappearing, just replaced by the extremely odd feeling of being pulled through the stars. He just hopes you’re comfortable, standing up whilst warping is tough, he heard the stories of when Stelle first tried to do it and how she fell flat on her face. 

When the feeling of normality returns and Sunday doesn’t feel like he has been stretched out, he opens his eyes and tries to take in the sight before him.

You. Your face. Centimetres away from his.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but seeing you this close… perhaps just pretty is an understatement. His gaze unwillingly flicks to your lips and he wished he hadn’t because suddenly the urge to sit up and lick into your mouth is raging; a fire that can’t be contained. 

Sunday wants you to push him down by the shoulders, with no gentleness or mercy, and just… devour him whole. His hands want to find you by the hips and pull you into him more than humanly possible, he wants you to indent yourself onto him so he can remember your taste forever, so that, in a way, you couldn’t ever leave him. 

Alternatively, he would happily flip around and pin you against the mattress. He would pry you open, explore the cavern of your mouth with his tongue and suck your sacred essence out of you so that it can stay and settle in his bones instead, replacing where marrow should be. He wants to lay you vulnerable so his hands can explore places only you want him to touch, wants to take you so that you stay forever, wants to feel your tongue against his, wants to hold your face and feel how you react when he takes his time cherishing you, revering you. 

This feeling is too much, these thoughts are overpowering, yet nothing has ever been more clear. Sunday wants you, lusts for you, even, and he’s never felt so intensely for someone before. 

How would the symphonies sound when they learn of the atrocities he wants to perform? 

Temptation holds him close and infects him with a desire so strong, he’s practically frozen in place as you recover from the shock, holding yourself up with your arms that were on either side of his head. 

“Ow, I’m sorry!” You immediately exclaim, before realising exactly what position you are in, your chests are pressed together, and you’re mortified to think about how close you were before you picked yourself off him, and- his… his hips… are pressed against yours- okay, you needed to leave as soon as possible.

You scramble off him like he had burnt you, frantically shouting apologies whilst doing so, the words clumsy and rushed, but neither of you can deny how you miss the warmth that was suddenly ripped away. 

(If he wanted to, you could have stayed in that position with him.)

Then, before you could get anymore thoughts, you turn and practically bolt out of his room without another word, leaving a hot and bothered Sunday behind.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.