#going into it with the clear idea that I'm not interested in romance at all has been incredibly freeing.
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How to romance the lovely Miss Hunter
By finding out the tropes you like to read in romance novels, he might know just how you would like this love to be.
ಇ. Character x Reader/MC
Included parts in order: Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne, Caleb
ಇ. Tags: soft, sweet, fluff, cheesy (it's a warning), teasing, established relationship (except for Caleb's part), roleplaying (with Rafayel), jealousy (Xavier being jealous with his other identity - Lumiere), mentioned of all the romance tropes I like to write about, childhood friends to lovers, adopted brother and sister, princess and her merman slave, damsel in distress.
ಇ. Word count: 4k3
ಇ. Requested by Krys.
ಇ. Masterlist
ಇ. Request
𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍
"What have you done just now?! "That was my first kiss."
The princess exclaimed. She then covered her lips with her fingers and concealed her face behind the veil that had just been removed.
The attractive mermaid, with his bare chest revealed beneath the water, smiled, half cold, half alluring. He migrated close to to the Princess and declared:
“Now you are mine.”
The book in Rafayel’s hand rolled from the sofa to the floor, and he began laughing uncontrollably, crawling even. You seized the book in anger, folded it flat, and requested:
“Please stop.”
Rafayel covered his lips with a palm and smiled. His eyes shone with tears, his cheeks went scarlet, and his stomach ached from laughing so hard. He leaned absolutely back on the sofa and gazed at you.
"Your Highness, you do have a hobby of reading such cheesy love stories."
Rafayel replicated the dialogue from the book, making you even more enraged. You shot him a stare.
"Hmm." You gripped the book hard in your hands. Ever since he caught you reading this romantic novel inspired by the legend of Lemuria, Rafayel had been teasing you by reenacting passages from the written scenes, but in a sardonic style that left you flush with embarrassment.
"Your Highness, where are you heading to?" Rafayel grabbed your wrist as you turned to go. "Do not forget that now, you are mine."
Rafayel restrained another chuckle. You violently yanked free from his grip.
“I'm… sorry…” Rafayel cleared his throat. He eventually came to the decision to stop this childish game.
"With the exception of a few references to Lemurian mythology, the rest are too… much. The author has let her imagination wander too far.”
"You are insulting other people's interests!" You frowned and responded. "I enjoy reading passionate love stories like this. Is there a problem with it?”
Rafayel stared at you with an expression of pain. You were the one who got furious, so why did he appear to be more upset?
“If you wish to learn about Lemuria, wouldn't it be better to just ask me directly? You don't need to read stories like that.”
The book in your hand was titled The Lemurian Kiss. The plot focused on a handsome mermaid and the princess he was forced to obey. Tara first exposed you to it, which piqued your interest. Then you were absorbed in the love and resentment, as if it was your own narrative from another life.
Rafayel hated it. Yet you did not understand, if he disliked it so much, why did he even bother to read it more attentively than yourself? Even when he tormented you with passages from the narrative that made you blush, you had to concede that he had read and comprehended it better than you could.
Perhaps it was due to his Lemurian ancestry. Perhaps he had heard a similar story elsewhere in his long life. You had no idea how long he had lived, and you understood very little about Lemurians. Indeed, when you bought this book, you anticipated it to disclose more about his kind than he was eager to share.
Suddenly, you came up with an idea. You gave up attempting to get out of Rafayel's grip. To his astonishment, you crouched down closer to him, giving him no opportunity to sit up. A hand rested on Rafayel's chest, gently forcing him down into the sofa.
"So? Will you tell your beloved princess all the secrets of Lemuria then?"
You altered your voice to seem icy and pompous, like the princess in the tale. Your gaze fixed on Rafayel's, making it impossible for him to ignore you. He was completely taken aback by your abrupt shift in attitude.
“You… What are you doing?”
“Is that how you speak to a princess?”
You appeared unsatisfied, and before Rafayel attempted to get up, you opted to sit on top of him.
“Ouch! That's painful!" He shouted. “You're so heavy! Get off!”
"How insolent of you!" You grabbed Rafayel's chin so he could obediently stay down in place. "I'll have your scales peeled off for daring to insult my weight like this."
He snorted coldly while he was still pinned down on the sofa. "That's it! You're bullying me!"
"Isn't this your favorite scene from the story? When the merman attempted to flee, the princess sat on him. I'm merely offering help since I see you immersing yourself so much in the role from the story there.”
Rafayel's sullen attitude brought you a delicious triumph. He turned his face away, as if he was upset at being bullied. He stated:
“It's best that you don't read these kinds of stories anymore!”
Pleased, you softly patted his cheeks as he puffed them up like a toddler. You stood up, satisfied, and said:
“I'm going to let it slide. Next time, don't tease me like that anymore."
But Rafayel showed obvious disappointment. He grasped your wrist.
“Is that all?”
"Huh?"
“Are you really going to leave?” He grumbled. “You are not dedicated to the role you play after all.”
Rafayel sat up immediately, then he pulled you down on the sofa and in a blink of an eye, you were in his arms. “Once you start a role, you have to be committed to it.”
Rafayel's long fingers slid down the bridge of your nose, then paused at your lips. You held your breath, looking at him, waiting.
“Her Highness loses interest too quickly.”
You grinned, recalling the personal passages between the two main protagonists in the novel. Sometimes you put yourself and Rafayel in it. How astonishing that this was truly happening.
“Entertain me then. Would you?”
Your clear voice rang out. Your fingertips had rendered Rafayel's face red, and you could hear his heart pounding furiously in your ear.
“I can grant all your wishes.” Rafayel held your hand and placed it on his chest, then began to kiss you. First your hair, then your forehead, a lingering kiss on the tip of your nose, and finally he stopped for a moment at your lips. “I can even make you forget all the cheesy things a human wrote about Lemurians in that book.”
Rafayel's fingers gently parted your lips a little. Yet still left you hanging.
“After all, Her Highness needs not a work of fiction, when she already has a true Lemurian, in the flesh, right here.”
At that moment, the merman offered the princess a long-awaited kiss, as if reconnecting an incomplete romance from the past life.
𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓
Those days, Xavier noticed how you often had your nose buried in a book. It was nothing like daily life science research, nor was it like the ones you would usually read. It was brand new, with a silver mask on the cover.
He also realized another thing, that you always laughed to yourself while reading it. Occasionally, you would give him a covert glance, then go back to bury yourself in the pages of the book and smile. Other times, you would hold the entire open book in your hands and roll around on the bed with immense excitement, which he could not comprehend.
Then, one day, he picked it up, that thick large book. What caught his eye was the title of the story: Moonlight Lover. He rolled his eyes.
Xavier's slightly trembling fingers opened the book in a slow motion. The page you were reading was marked with a lovely tiny star-shaped bookmark. He failed to take his eyes off the words presented under the light.
“My beautiful lady, fear not! I have come for you. I will protect you with my life.”
“Oh, my Lumiere…”
A very complicated expression appeared on Xavier's face. He read on, and the next paragraphs perplexed him.
In the midst of fierce battle, Lumiere gave his lover a passionate kiss. Time stopped, the moonlight shone on two hearts in perfect harmony. Right at the climax, you walked in. With a haste you snatched the book from his hands.
“This… is mine!”
You hid it behind your back. Your face turned red as if you had just done something so embarrassing.
"You… Why have you read my book?"
"You…" Xavier was ready to say something, but hesitated. His look remained stunned, as if he had just witnessed something so horrific that he could not speak. Yet that may be true.
"Tara let me borrow this book!" You spoke fast, not daring to look him in the eyes. "She said this… this is the best-selling romance novel in Linkon…"
"I see." Xavier responded. "Do you like reading romantic stories?"
"S-Sometimes…" You murmured. With the book in your hand, you swiftly turned to the bookshelf and placed it there. As you turned around, you nearly ran into Xavier. When did he come to stand right behind you? "Oops!"
"S-Sometimes…" You murmured. With the book in your hand, you swiftly turned to the bookshelf and placed it there. As you turned around, you nearly ran into Xavier. When did he arrive to stand directly behind you? "Oops!"
You exclaimed with surprise. You promptly drew away. Your back was ready to collide with the bookshelf, but Xavier's extensive hand saved you.
His face was so close. Somehow, you imagined that behind a silver mask, he would look just like Lumiere, which was bizarre.
"Xavier…" You quietly uttered his name, indicating that you were safe and that he could let you free. Yet Xavier held you even tighter.
“Do you like Lumiere that much?” He questioned abruptly, his expression not even trying to cover his evident sulking.
“Lumiere… It's merely fiction…” You defended.
“What do you like about him? His flashy appearance? Or his way of flirting with the female lead?”
Xavier's face stiffened. You caught his eyes gradually darken.
“In stories like this,” you clarified. “The male lead often appears just as the main protagonist is in peril to defend her. I simply appreciate their love..."
You could feel Xavier's heavy breathing on your cheek. His hand, which was previously on your back, then moved down to your hip, pushing you towards him so that your bodies were pressed against each other.
“I do the same too, don't I?” Xavier's voice was calm and soft, yet contained so much bitterness. “I will always defend you. I'm always there when you need me."
“Yes… That is true…” You replied, casting a quick glance at him. He rested his chin on your head and wrapped his arms around you in secure, as if afraid Lumiere would appear and take you away at any moment.
“So, me and Lumiere, who do you like more?”
Xavier's question left you hanging in confusion. Before you could respond, he added:
“Lumiere cannot hold you like this. He cannot be there whenever you call. He cannot hang out with you. Cannot be close to you… like this…”
A kiss from Xavier landed on your bare shoulder. You felt dizzy after being embraced with such force. You gasped:
“Erm… Lumiere is a… a legend… Even if he's real… he's probably a lot older than me…”
Xavier sighed deeply once more. He leaned in toward you and pushed you closer to the bookshelf.
“Then tell me. Do you like me more, or him?"
Just when you thought everything was settled, Xavier continued to ask that question. You knew all too well that you could not get out of this situation if you refused to give him the answer he needed. Yet the look on his face made you want to taunt him even more.
“Well, let's see. Lumiere has a luxury attire, exceptional abilities, and—”
Without waiting for you to finish the sentence, Xavier's lips locked your mouth. His kisses were always as gentle as his demeanor, but this was more intense than ever. You were held in his arms, lips devoured by him to the point that every breath slowly left you, your body and heart trembling as you were forced to surrender to him in such a manner.
When Xavier let you go, your mind already went blank. Who was Lumiere again? You no longer remembered. You could not recall.
Xavier gazed down at you, his lips parted slightly into a smile. He removed the book off the shelf and placed it back in your hands.
“Return it to Tara once you're done reading.”
He turned away. At that moment, you concluded that you could read every love story ever written in this world, but the one true male protagonist in your life could only be Xavier.
𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆
There was a book café established on the same street as Akso Hospital recently. And so you have found another place to go while waiting for a certain doctor to finish his shift.
Originally, you intended to pass the time by sipping a drink and munching some sweets. Yet you had no idea that you would also be drawn into the pages of books there, especially a very thrilling love story about a man. The doctor who led two divergent lifestyles.
He was a doctor at an esteemed hospital, also a cold-blooded killer who must conceal his identity from the person he loved. Right from the very first lines, you were drawn into the story that was both tragic and sensational. Especially when the main character resembled a doctor whom you admired. You were so absorbed in reading that you failed to notice the time. You went around the café, holding the book in your hands, and read without paying attention to the world. As a consequence, you ran into someone.
“Zayne?” You cried out in surprise. He stared at you first, then at the book on the floor. He leaned down to pick it up.
“The secrets of Doctor Li?” Zayne read the title aloud. In a haste you used your hands to protect the book from his inquisitive gaze. When he returned it, you clutched it securely against your chest and purposefully turned the cover toward you.
“Well… This is…” You searched for an explanation. “My reference book…”
"Is that so?" Zayne's eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Another one of your reference books?”
You were perplexed while recalling that you had lately left another book in Zayne's office. Of course, you claimed that it helped you understand more about the medical field, and he had pointed out some of its factual misunderstandings. This time, just by looking at the cover, Zayne understood precisely what type of books you were reading, and they had nothing to do with medicine.
“I thought medical books were supposed to be displayed on the other side of the coffee shop, right?” Zayne replied nonchalantly.
“Ah… It was a bit crowded over there, so I moved to this area…”
Zayne turned around to look at the other side of the café. There was not a single person seen. On the contrary, the place you had chosen had more readers.
Realizing what a mistake you had made, you quickly pulled Zayne's hand out of there. “Let's go, Doctor Zayne! I've been waiting for you and now I'm hungry!”
A few days later, you caught Zayne intently reading something at his desk. Moving closer, you recognized the very familiar cover of the book almost immediately.
“The secrets of Doctor Li?! So you're reading it?"
Being caught in the act by you, since you had decided to come to the hospital on your lunch break that day without a notice, Zayne could only chuckle. He covered half of his face with the book, leaving only his eyes visible behind the pair of glasses. You knew he was adjusting the muscles around his face.
“Yes. Hello."
"You. Are. Reading. This. Too!" You uttered every single word as if this was a big deal.
Zayne calmly lowered the book, closed then placed it neatly on the table. He replied:
“I also want to refer to some things from there.”
You appeared perplexed. “Didn't you say that this book is wrong in even basic healthcare knowledge?”
Zayne's serene demeanor belied a sense of perplexity in his gaze. His eyes never lied. He immediately turned away.
"Medical expertise is not what I am looking for in it."
“What is it then?” You placed a hand on your chin thoughtfully. “Is there anything that even Doctor Know-It-All Zayne has to learn from love stories? Unless it's…”
You abruptly discontinued talking. It appeared you already knew the answer.
Zayne glanced at you for a brief moment. He pursed his lips, but it was evident he was smiling.
“People easily find what they want in fiction.” He explained. “For instance, if a girl likes to read romance, then she is waiting for such a sweet love story.”
“That doesn't sound like something Doctor Zayne would say.” You inquired once again: "Are those actually Yvonne's words?"
You guessed, given that you just witnessed the nurse passing the identical book to Doctor Greyson in the corridor.
Zayne confessed that Yvonne had suggested that he read the romantic novels you enjoyed to better understand you.
Zayne admitted that Yvonne had hinted that he should read the type of romance novels you liked to understand you better.
“I've never dated anyone before.” Zayne did not look you in the eye, but his fingers were squeezing your hand as he stood up. “At the start of our relationship, I had certain concerns. I'd want to know which type of partner you prefer, or how you wish to be loved."
You could not hold back the happy smile on your lips anymore. The fact that Zayne was so open about what he was thinking like this was enough to bring you closer to him.
“You can just ask me. Just like how you would always answer my questions about anything.”
You took initiative to stand on tiptoe and wrapped your arms around Zayne's neck. He gently rubbed his nose against the tip of yours.
“I like to be loved by you in your own way,” you whispered very softly, just enough for the two of you to hear even though there was no one else in the office. “There is no need for any stereotypes. Just be yourself, because that's who I like.”
As soon as you finished speaking, you placed a gentle kiss on Zayne's cheek and added: "Do you find me easy to please?"
Zayne lifted you up and let your feet rest on his. “You are as easy to please as a three-year-old child. Just give you sweets and a few romance books, you would obediently sit still all day."
“As expected, the person who understands me best is certainly Doctor Zayne!”
𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃
During the summer, after graduating from high school and waiting for the official announcement from the Hunter Association, you spent the whole day lying at home resting. And, with so much spare time, you began re-reading literature that you had previously missed.
While you were giggling with a romance book in your hands, Caleb stepped in. He snatched it and said:
“Does Gran know you're still reading these things?”
“First,” you said. “Grandma is not at home. Second, I am old enough to read whatever I like now.”
You extended a hand towards Caleb, but he refused to give the book back. He quickly glanced at the cover, then looked at you with a serious expression.
“Pip-squeak, did you forget that I and Grandma had to confiscate your books?”
You crossed your arms over the chest and huffed at him. “Speaking of which, you were a snitch who told her about my books.”
“You stayed up all night reading until your eyes got dark circles.” Caleb laughed. “While you must focus on studying. Books like this will give you a false perspective on love. I'm just worried that any boy would say a few sweet words like in those stories, and you would give him your heart."
“Do you even know what I read?” You sighed. “But you got exactly what you wanted. I've graduated from high school without having had a single romance. Now give me back the book so I can continue daydreaming, okay?"
You sat up straight and were about to reach out to take the book back when he held it up higher. He shook his head.
"Not yet. I must read it first to ensure that this book is safe.”
He sat in another armchair and proceeded to open the book to the page you were already reading. Quick as lightning, you darted forward and placed your hands over to stop him.
"No way! This… You can't read it!”
Caleb glanced at you with perplexed eyes. With just one hand, he easily pushed you away.
“I said, you can't read it!”
The more you attempted to reclaim the book, more firmly Caleb held both of your hands. He rapidly read the stuff you never wished him to know. You bit your lip and dropped your head to the floor in ashamed defeat.
He knew.
He knew what you read. He knew what kind of love you were desperately hoping for.
A moment later, after about ten pages, Caleb turned to look at his sister, who was sitting on the ground in her pajamas and her hair undone still. You simply wanted to hide yourself away so he would never find you, since you knew he would only lecture you.
In fact, you were waiting for that lecture to happen, but Caleb said absolutely nothing for a while. He closed the book and placed it on the sofa.
“So…” He eventually spoke. “The story you are reading… Is it the romance between a brother and his sister?”
“Foster brother and sister.” You added it right away. “They are orphans… Like us.”
You deliberately said the last words in the most quiet tone. But Caleb heard it. He cleared his throat.
“So you like romantic stories… like this?”
You covertly gazed at him before turning away immediately. This room suddenly became so airless.
When you were alone, you could let your imagination run wild. You could prolong the daydream in which you were free to express your feelings. Just like the heroine in the story. Yes, you adored that story, because it told you about the romance that bloomed between two orphans who were adopted and fell in love with each other as they grew up. You enjoyed portraying yourself as the female lead and dreaming that he was the male lead.
That was probably why you dated nobody during your school years. That was probably why you always waited for his vacation to greet him when he returned from Skyhaven.
You wanted to be connected to him in a different way than being his adopted sister.
Then he already knew everything. How could you simply bury this guilt? You dared not look at him anymore. Nonetheless, Caleb sat down in front of you, on the floor. His hand was placed very close to yours.
“Well… You could have told me that you…” Caleb stopped mid-sentence. You also did not know what to say in this case. Then he decided to leave.
During that weekend, you never spoke to each other save for brief phrases when compelled to say something.
Caleb returned home the following weekend, but he arrived by the doorstep late at night. The unexpected summer downpour soaked him. You soon let him inside and after taking a shower, Caleb sat in the living room alone with his hair still dripping.
“You should dry your hair.” You spoke, in your hand a clean cotton towel.
Caleb grinned, but averted your gaze. "You usually help me with it."
You refused to say anything else and proceeded gently towards him. There was a chaotic sense between the two of you, as if a fire that had been smoldering for a long time suddenly flared up in violence.
You did not sit next to Caleb, but rather stood behind the sofa, drying his hair. Caleb's eyes were closed, he leaned back slightly, and his gorgeous face was directed towards you. If it had not been for the cotton towel, his hair and head would have likely touched your abdomen.
"It's done." You spoke quietly. You slowly took one step backwards. But Caleb reached out and held you back.
“Pip-squeak, don't go.”
You lost your breath and lowered the head to look down at him. His eyes opened a little, just enough to capture the image of you half confused, half expectant like this.
“Do you still read that story?”
Your head shook slightly as an answer.
"How come? Why did you stop?"
“It makes me… think about nonsense. Didn't you want me to stop reading those kinds of novels and hoping too much for a romance?"
Caleb laughed. His cold fingers touched your cheek, then slid down to the corner of your ruby lips.
“What a pity. The two characters in that story seemed to… truly be together eventually.”
He knew, since he had read ten more pages than you. You never picked up that book again after that day.
“Of course, because they are the male and female protagonists...” You replied in a soft tone.
“You can also be the main character,” said Caleb. “You are the main character in your own story. So… How would you write it?”
He looked at you for a long moment, waiting for your reaction. Waiting for a sign from you. Waiting for you to let him in.
At last, you allowed yourself to be immersed in his touch, his breath and the delicate aroma of soap on his skin. You rubbed against his palm, your head lowered slightly to get a little closer to him.
If you were the heroine in that story, you would hope this dream to never fade.
“I want… I want Caleb to be mine…”
#love and deepspace#fanfic#fanfiction#rafayel#xavier#zayne#caleb#homura#seiya#rei#mahiru#qi yu#shen xinghui#li shen#xia yizhou#lads x reader#lads x you#lnds x reader#l&ds x reader#rafayel x you#rafayel x reader#rafayel x mc#xavier x you#xavier x reader#xavier x mc#zayne x mc#zayne x reader#zayne x you#caleb x mc#caleb x reader
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#met a new friend via tinder. now we're playing video games together. it's pretty cool.#ngl making friends is really easy for me. which is nice because I have so many other barriers to being a social person ☠️#if making friends were hard I don't think I could take it#the amount of people on tinder just to meet new people and make friends surprised me. it makes sense though#but I'd always thought of tinder as the app where you swipe right on hot people so that you might get to fuck them#which.. sure. Plenty of people are. I got a dude instantly trying to hit. but like. it's not all a single experience#every medium humans live on will necessarily contain a multitude of expressions#I mean. we might still end up fucking. sure. that's very much in the cards.. but it's not all hookups or straight guys looking for a ltr#going into it with the clear idea that I'm not interested in romance at all has been incredibly freeing.#emotions are so hard for me to navigate and social obligation makes me so immensely uncomfortable.#so being able to set that boundary of 'no romance or I'll end things so fast you won't even realize I've blocked you' is so freeing#so maybe I'm not ace but I think aro is definitely still in the cards#I have such a hard time not flirting with men ngl. I have to actively restrain my 😏 impulse. it's compulsive#tag talk
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Game, Set, Love
ART DONALDSON X READER (18+)
Mature Content Warnings:
spoilers if you SQUINT , Forbidden Love, Second-Chance Romance, Age Gap, Mentor and Protégé, cheating ( sorta, not on reader), SMUT, NOT PROOF READ.
WC: 13.2 k
description
After walking away from tennis at the height of his career, Art Donaldson finds himself drawn back into the sport as a favour to an old friend. His new charge, Katrina King, is a talented but emotionally young player navigating the intense pressures of the professional tennis circuit. Art and Katrina's connection deepens as they train for the 2020 US Open but a single night changes everything.
2020 BEVERLLY HILLS CHALLENGER
August 31st, 2020
Art Donaldson sat in the shaded section of the stands, his arms resting casually on the armrests. He'd made it clear to everyone—Tashi and the media—that he was done with tennis. But Martha King, a long-time supporter of his and Tashi's tennis foundation, insisted that he attend, going so far as to cover all his expenses for the weekend so he could attend. Her daughter, Katrina King, was playing her final challenger before qualifying for the US Open, and Martha believed it was something he couldn’t miss.
"It's just one set; I'm not going to sit here and beg you to coach her or anything. Just watch, Art. I think you'll find it worthwhile."
Art nodded slightly, keeping his expression neutral. "I’m here, aren't I?" he said, keeping an aloof facade. He glanced toward the court, where Katrina was preparing to serve and begin the last set. Her movements were fluid and purposeful. He'd heard about her talent and determination, but he wasn't ready to be pulled back into the tennis world.
The game began, and Katrina's serve was powerful, almost explosive. Art watched with mild interest as her opponent, a seasoned French player, struggled to keep up. He watched her body move, head to toe, taking her in. She was tall and lean; her body was nothing less than an athletes that was for sure.
"She's impressive," Art commented, a hint of genuine appreciation in his voice. Katrina’s mother smiled, her perfectly manicured fingers resting on her lap, glancing over towards him.
"She works hard," she replied. "A lot like Tashi used to. I remember watching her play when she was just starting out. She had the same intensity, the same drive."
That had left a bad taste in his mouth.
Art's gaze lingered on Katrina as she moved around the court with confidence and agility. Each shot was precise. He found himself leaning forward slightly, and his interest piqued despite his best efforts to remain indifferent.
Martha noticed the shift in his demeanor and cocked a brow. "It's good to see you out here, Art. I know you didn't want to come, but I'm glad you did," she said, her voice soft yet firm. Art nodded, his eyes fixed on the match.
"I'm just watching; nothing special, really," he replied, unsure if he was convincing himself or her. — Another ace, and the crowd erupted in applause. Art found himself joining in, clapping slowly, though his eyes were locked on Katrina. Something about her—the energy, the focus—reminded him of the early days, the days of fire and ice, Stanford, Wimbledon, and Tashi. It was electric.
As the match progressed, Art's arms uncrossed, and he sat forward, his attention fully on the game. Katrina was dominating, each point building momentum until she reached the match point. The rallies were intense, and the shots were sharp and strategic. With one last ace, Katrina secured the game and title, and her triumphant fist-pump met with a roar from the crowd.
Art stood, clapping with genuine enthusiasm. It had been a long time since he'd felt this kind of excitement watching a match. Martha looked at him, raising an eyebrow, her expression expectant.
"Well?" she asked, her voice warm but with an edge that demanded a response.
Art hesitated only briefly, the words coming out almost involuntarily. "I'll do it," he said, realizing that he meant it. The idea of coaching Katrina suddenly seemed like an opportunity he couldn't pass up.
Martha smiled, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "I knew you'd come around," she said. "Katrina will be thrilled."
Art nodded, his gaze returning to the court where Katrina stood, smiling at the applause. Turning towards the crowd after a few seconds, she found her mother’s gaze, and then — Arts, and she held a fiery look in her eyes, sporting a raised brow and sly smirk for what felt like at least a minute. One thing was sure for Katrina, on August 31st, 2020, the match wasn’t the only thing she had won that day, and maybe, just maybe, tennis had a place for him again.
THE MEETING
Katrina King walked down the narrow corridor backstage, sweaty, hot, and short of breath, the adrenaline from her victory still coursing through her veins. She was basking in her win, her smile broad and confident. But her mother's text just minutes after the game was clear: "Come to the players' lounge. Now."
She pushed open the door and saw her mother sitting at a small table with Art Donaldson. Katrina knew who he was—everyone in tennis knew. A former tennis champion, the US Open winner from a decade earlier.
Art looked up as Katrina entered the room, his eyes scanning her with a mix of curiosity and appraisal. Her long hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of intensity and confidence. He noticed the subtle tilt of her chin—she was used to winning, and it showed.
"Katrina," Martha said, gesturing for her to join them. "You remember Art Donaldson, don't you?"
"Of course," Katrina replied, extending her hand. Art stood, his movement deliberate, and shook her hand firmly. His hair was longer than she remembered, resembling his past self, his Stanford days, and recalling his games she'd seen on YouTube. His grip was strong.
"Great game today," Art said, his voice measured. "You played with a lot of confidence. That last ace was a killer."
"Thanks," Katrina replied, a hint of pride in her tone. She could tell he was assessing her and weighing her potential. She didn't mind—she'd done the same with him, reading up on his career and his playing style as soon as she found out he was attending her game. He was known for his
Martha cleared her throat. "But," she said, her tone turning sharp, "there were a few things you need to work on. Your backhand was a bit sloppy today. And you were late on a couple of volleys. If your opponent had been more aggressive, you could've lost points."
Katrina's expression hardened. She knew her mother was right, but the criticism was not something that needed to be said in front of Art; for God sake, she was a 20-year-old woman but felt like she was a child getting scolded in front of her peers, especially after a big win. Art watched the exchange, noting the dynamic between them.
"I'll work on it," Katrina said, her voice steady. "But I got the win, didn't I?"
"You need to be prepared for tougher competition. Complacency is the enemy." Martha replied. “If you think you can win the grand slam playing like that, you’ll be in for a rude awakening, Katrina.”
Art leaned back in his chair, watching the interplay. Katrina definitely had the spark and the drive, but there was also a stubborn streak in her.
So Tashi
When she was younger, she was always pushing boundaries and never satisfied with just a win. He could see the potential for greatness.
"She's got a point," Art said, jumping in. "There's always room for improvement. But you played a solid game today. The key is to keep that momentum going without getting overconfident."
Katrina glanced at him, assessing his words. She appreciated his straightforward approach. He wasn't coddling her, but he also wasn't tearing her down. It was a balance she could respect.
"I'm not planning on slowing down," she said, meeting his gaze. "I want to keep getting better. Whatever it takes."
Art nodded. He liked her attitude. It was raw and unfiltered, just like he had been. But there was also a hint of something else—an edge that could either make or break her career. He'd have to be careful, tread lightly, and guide her without pushing too hard.
"Good," he replied, a faint smile on his lips. "Because coaching isn't just about winning. It's about building a mindset, a work ethic, and knowing when to listen. You up for that?"
Katrina raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You wouldn’t have agreed to coach me if I wasn’t.”
PRACTICE
Art Donaldson stepped into the grand foyer of the White residence, feeling a slight twinge of unease. The housekeepers greeted him politely, their voices formal and distant, leading him through the opulent hallways.
The backyard was large, with meticulously manicured gardens and a full-sized tennis court at its center. Katrina was on the court, stretching with the fluid grace of a seasoned athlete. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, and in her matching tennis outfit, everything was neatly upheld, even Katrina.
"Hi," she said, her tone somewhat neutral, almost formal. "Ready for practice?"
Art nodded, his expression detached.
Katrina stretched a little longer, glancing at Art occasionally. He stood with his arms crossed, his posture stiff and unwelcoming. The silence between them felt heavy, and neither seemed eager to break it. Katrina was used to coaches being more engaged and enthusiastic, but Art seemed distant, as if he was doing this out of obligation rather than passion.
"Let's get started," he replied, keeping his voice level. He placed his bag on a bench and scanned the court, taking in the pristine surface and the quality equipment. It was clear that the King family spared no expense on Katrina's training facilities.
Art finally spoke, outlining the plan for the day. "We'll start with your serve. There's a lot of power, which is why you can get so many aces in, but you need better footwork if you want to avoid long-term injuries. Then we'll work on your defense, and after that, we'll focus on your shot selection."
Art finally spoke, outlining the plan for the day. "We'll start with your serve. There's a lot of power, which is why you can get so many aces in, but you need better footwork if you want to avoid long-term injuries. Then we'll work on your defense, and after that, we'll focus on your shot selection."
Katrina listened with a mix of uncertainty and skepticism. Art Donaldson wasn't the type to mince words, and despite his unbothered demeanor, his comments were sharp and to the point. What puzzled her was how much he seemed to know about her style, despite only seeing her play once.?
Art continued, his voice even and matter-of-fact. "I've reviewed some of your past games, mostly the ones you lost. It's clear you have the raw strength and power, but you rely on them too much. That's great for getting those aces, but without proper technique and precision, you're risking injuries and inconsistency. We need to refine that raw power and give it more structure."
Katrina couldn't help but feel a flicker of irritation. She knew she was strong, and her serve was one of the best on the circuit, but hearing someone dissect her game so quickly was unsettling. This was only their first practice; they hadn’t even started playing yet, but somehow Art already seemed to know her weaknesses better than most of her previous coaches.
Art continued, unaware of her internal resistance. "So, I've created a set of drills that will help improve your footwork and balance. It's not just about hitting the ball hard; it's about control and accuracy. If we don't work on these areas, you're going to burn out before you reach your peak."
Katrina folded her arms, her brow furrowing slightly. She wasn't one to take criticism lightly, especially from someone who'd barely spent time with her. Art had a point—she'd heard similar comments before—but his bluntness felt a bit too forward for her liking. Who was he to tell her she needed refinement after only seeing her play once?
As much as she wanted to dismiss him, she knew, deep down, that he was right. Her strength was a double-edged sword; it gave her an edge, but it also left her vulnerable. She'd suffered minor injuries in the past due to poor technique, and she'd lost matches because of these errors. Art's critique, though harsh, had truth to it.
Art noticed her hesitation and the slight edge in her expression. "I know this might sound a bit blunt," he said, softening his tone slightly. "But I'm not here to sugarcoat things. If you want to make it to the top and stay there, you need to listen and adjust. This isn't about criticism—it's about giving you the best chance to succeed."
Katrina sighed, feeling her resistance wane. Maybe Art was a bit too forward, but he wasn't wrong. He had seen something in her that others hadn't—or maybe he was just willing to point it out where others had stayed silent. She was stubborn, but she wasn't stupid.
"Okay," she said, her voice steady. "Let's give it a shot."
Art nodded, his demeanor slightly less rigid. "Good. Let's start with the footwork drills. I'll show you what I mean."
As they moved onto the court to begin the practice, Katrina felt a cautious sense of optimism. Art was a mystery; she had only met him once before and couldn’t recall him being this cold, but there was something about his straightforwardness that felt refreshing, even if it rubbed her the wrong way at first. Maybe this coaching thing would work out after all—if she could just learn to trust his instincts.
Art watched her for a while, his arms still crossed. He occasionally offered a brief correction, but his tone lacked enthusiasm. "Keep your elbow in on your serve. It'll give you more control," he said without much inflection.
Katrina adjusted her stance and served again, this time with better accuracy. "I got it," she replied, glancing at Art to gauge his reaction. He simply nodded, his face expressionless.
As the practice progressed, the tension between them slowly eased. Art started giving more detailed feedback, explaining why certain techniques were important. Katrina listened intently, realizing that, despite his aloof demeanor, he knew his stuff. His advice was sound, and when she followed it, she could see near-immediate improvement in her game.
"You're not bad at this coaching thing," she remarked, trying to lighten the mood. Art gave a faint smile, the first she'd seen from him. "Just repeating what I've heard a thousand times," he replied.
Katrina tilted her head, curiosity getting the better of her. "Didn't Tashi coach you your whole career? There must have been an adjustment when you two decided to retire, huh?" After those words left her mouth, she knew she had hit a sore spot.
Art's expression changed, the brief smile vanishing. "Yeah, she was." She hadn't meant any harm; really, it was an honest question. Art had a successful career with more than enough titles under his belt, not to mention a prior injury; it only made sense to retire when he did.
His voice grew colder. "Alright, breaks over." He turned away, signaling the end of the conversation.
The rest of the practice was more focused, with Art providing steady guidance and Katrina working hard to apply his advice. As the session drew to a close, Katrina felt a subtle shift in Art's attitude. He seemed a bit more relaxed and engaged in the process.
Before they wrapped up, Katrina decided to ask a question that had been on her mind. "Art, why did you agree to coach me?" she asked, her tone softer, almost hesitant. “No offense, but you didn't seem the most pleased when you got here.” She stopped and laughed. “And I know my mother's paying you well, but I'm sure you do good for yourself on your own.”
Art paused, considering his response. He looked up to the sky in thought, licking his lips only to settle his gaze on her while she rolled out her quads. "When I watched your game, I saw the determination and drive for tennis that I haven't seen in a long time," he said, his voice softer, almost reflective. "Not since Tashi," he added, his eyes distant. The memory of Tashi's knee injury and the end of her career lingered in the air. “It honestly felt like I was watching her for the first time again.”
Katrina nodded, sensing the heaviness in his words. "Thank you," she said quietly. She knew there was more to Art's story, but she also knew it wasn't her place to press further. She got up after her stretch, dusting herself off.
Art nodded, "We'll meet again tomorrow at the same time," he said, his voice returning to its usual calm. Katrina agreed, sensing that this coaching relationship would take time to develop but feeling that they were on the right track. “I think it would be a smart move to sign you up for some challengers; we’ll be able to fully gauge your abilities after a couple of weeks of training and see what we need to adjust.”
AFTER PRACTICE
Katrina stepped out of the shower, the hot water having done little to soothe the tension in her shoulders. The first practice with Art had been intense, and her muscles were starting to feel the strain. Wrapping a towel around herself, she took a deep breath, wondering if she'd made the right choice in agreeing to work with him.
As she got dressed, the scent of dinner wafted through the air, a rich aroma that made her stomach rumble. She hadn't eaten much during the day, and she hoped her mom would let her have something substantial.
Katrina entered the dining room, where her mother was already seated at the head of the table, a glass of wine in hand. The table was set with a carefully arranged selection of dishes, but Katrina noticed the absence of anything remotely indulgent. No desserts, no heavy carbs, just the usual assortment of protein and vegetables.
"Good evening, Mom," Katrina said, forcing a smile as she took a seat. Her mother looked up from her phone, her eyes bright but her expression serious.
"Katrina," Martha replied, her tone even. "How was practice with art?"
Katrina shrugged, picking up a piece of grilled chicken. "It was fine. He's... intense, but I guess that's to be expected from someone like him." She paused, then added, "How did you even get him to come to my match? He's been avoiding tennis for ages."
Martha's smile was tight, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Art and I have a history; we’ve always been interested in his foundational work. I just reminded him of the impact he could make by coming back, even if it was just for one match. And you know, he doesn't say no to me, not when your father and I are as generous as we are during his charity events."
Katrina raised an eyebrow, sensing the hint of manipulation in her mother's words. "So you used the foundation to guilt him into coming?"
Classic
Martha's eyes narrowed slightly. "It's not guilt, Katrina. It's connections; your father and I do a lot for you and your career. There's a difference.” She paused. “The money we put into the foundations were investments for you; we would have preferred Tashi, sure, but after Art retired, she went off to coach some European girls, so we got the second best.” She was irritated. “Besides, I thought you'd be happy to have a coach like Art. You said yourself you needed someone with real experience."
Katrina sighed, realizing that arguing with her mom was a lost cause. "I guess," she said, taking a cautious bite of the chicken. She glanced at the dessert tray on the far end of the table, spotting a small dish of fruit tarts. Her mouth watered at the sight of them.
Martha followed her gaze and shook her head. "Don't even think about it," she said firmly. "Your dietitian would have a fit. You know you're on a strict regimen."
Katrina rolled her eyes, but she didn't push back. Her mom was relentless when it came to her career, and any deviation from the plan was met with immediate correction. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered, feeling her appetite wane.
“Where’s Jayden and Judea?” Katrina asked only now, noticing her siblings were missing from the dinner table.
“They went out to dinner with the rest of the kids that train with them and coach Pattcheo.”
“mmh.”
After dinner, Katrina retreated to her room, closing the door behind her. She felt a mix of frustration and curiosity. Frustration with her mom's overbearing attitude and curiosity about Art.
She opened her laptop and started searching for Art's social media profiles. His Instagram was sparse, mostly old tennis photos and a few promotional shots, brand deals, and the foundation. Barley has no pictures of his daughter and no recent ones of Tashi. His Facebook was similar, with long gaps between posts. There were articles about his career, but nothing stood out.
"For such a big shot, there’s not much for me to stalk," she muttered to herself, scrolling through the limited content. It was clear that Art wasn't one for the limelight, preferring to keep a low profile. Katrina found herself intrigued.
She searched for videos of his old matches, curious to see him in action. She found a few highlights from his glory days, watching as he moved across the court with precision and grace. It was easy to see why he'd been a champion—his technique was flawless, and his focus was intense.
"Not bad," she said to herself, watching a particularly impressive rally where he had dominated his opponent.
As the night grew darker, Katrina closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair. Art was weird, and she wasn't sure how to feel about him yet. But one thing was clear—he had a depth that she'd have to uncover if she wanted to make the most of his coaching. And maybe, just maybe, he'd be the one to help her reach the next level.
SIX DAYS BEFORE US OPEN
It was six days before the Open, and Art stood at the far end of the court, watching Katrina as she moved through a set of agility drills. The sun was beating down, but Katrina was relentless, her movements swift and precise. As he took her in, he marveled at how good she looked. The thin layer of sweat that covered her form made her glow in the evening light, with her baby hair clinging to her face as she hit ball after ball. He drank in her curves, nearly forgetting what he was actually here for.
Art was calling out instructions, his voice clear but encouraging. Clearly, the past five weeks of training had brought them closer, both in skill and in the ease with which they interacted.
"Remember to keep your weight centered," Art said, pointing toward her feet. "Don't lean too much into the shot; it'll throw off your balance. Other than that, you’re looking good."
Katrina nodded, adjusting her stance. She enjoyed the sound of his voice, especially when he was praising her. It felt genuine, not just a coach’s platitude. She could sense an unspoken tension between them, but she couldn't quite define it. It was there, in the way his eyes lingered a fraction longer than they needed to, in the way he sometimes reached out to correct her form.
"Nice volley," Art said as she expertly returned the ball over the net. "You're really getting the hang of these drills."
"Thanks," Katrina replied, giving him a small smile. "I learned from the best."
Art chuckled, shaking his head. "Flattery won't save you on the court, but it's appreciated." He watched as she moved into position for a backhanded hit, a play that had been a weak point for her. She swung, and the ball clipped the net.
Maybe she was just tired, or maybe he just looked too good; either way, she was distracted. How was she supposed to focus when he was standing with his broad shoulders and arms crossed and that damn backwards Sandford snapback observing like a hawk? She understood that’s his job; he’s quite literally getting paid to be here. Something was different though; the look he gave her five weeks ago, shit even two weeks ago, was nothing near the way he looks at her now.
“Stop.” He says, and she halts her hit.
Art moved closer, taking a pause, before walking behind her, closing the distance between them. "Here, let me show you," he said, reaching around her to correct her grip on the racket. His breath was warm on her neck, and Katrina tensed, feeling a heat that wasn't from the sun. His touch was gentle but firm, guiding her into the proper position.
"Like this," Art said, stepping back slightly but still close enough to feel his presence. "Keep your elbow straight and your wrist firm."
Katrina nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She took a deep breath and swung again, this time clearing the net with ease.
“There we go, atta girl.” He whispered while cracking a smile.
She felt hot, oh god, and it definitely wasn’t the sun. How could he say that so casually? She didn’t have to just deal with the fact that she’s now all hot and bothered, but also the guilty embarrassment of realizing she has a fat crush on her 30-sum-year-old tennis coach, who just happens to be a husband and father.
Right
Pulling away, she changes the subject, considering he’s been silent for the past minute and a half. "How's your daughter doing? And Tashi?" She felt the atmosphere shift as Art cleared his throat, stepping back.
"Lily's doing well," he replied, his voice controlled. "She's on tour with Tashi, who's coaching her for the season." He left it at that, his eyes avoiding hers as he focused on the court. "Keep hitting the ball with that form," he added, his tone all business now.
Art adjusted his pants, his expression tight, and turned to leave. "I'll be right back," he said. "I just need to run to the bathroom."
Katrina watched him go, her heart still racing from the moment he'd been so close. She tried to push the thoughts aside, focusing on her training, but the lingering warmth of his presence was hard to ignore. The open tournament was coming up, and she needed to be at her best, both on and off the court. The challenge would be to keep her focus where it needed to be.
“Oh, what the fuck, Art?” feeling his own disappointment, he said to himself as he did his best to fix the hard-on that was growing by the second. What would he give to be able to take a cold shower right now?
Scurrying to the bathroom, he quickly shut the door behind him. He takes a deep breath and leans against the door, contemplating what just happened and palming himself.
“Fuck” was uttered in a raspy and hushed manner.
He turns to look at himself in the mirror. He felt guilty forgetting hard for a girl over a decade younger than him. But that wasn’t what he really felt guilty about. He felt guilty because he liked it. She was fiery; she was driven, and the way she looked at him, with admiration, was long since Tashi looked at him with any emotion of the sort. Katrina made him feel good about himself. And fuck, was she hot. He was almost certain that as the days of training passed, the length of her skirt shortened and her tops got tighter, or maybe he just started paying attention to it.
He needed to stop thinking of her for his sanity and his cocks, because leaving every practice with blue balls for the last week and a half hasn’t been pleasant.
Splashing himself with cold water and tucking his dick into his waistband, he walks back out before she starts questioning anything.
"All right, that's it for today," he called out, clapping his hands to get her attention. "Good work. We'll take it easy tomorrow, then hit the road the day after."
Katrina straightened, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. "Thanks," she said, her voice a little breathless from the intense workout. "I feel good about it. I think we're ready."
Art nodded, watching her carefully as she walked toward him. There was a grace to her movements, even in her exhaustion. She carried herself with confidence, but there was also a vulnerability that he'd come to recognize. It was in the way she sometimes hesitated before speaking or the way her eyes softened when they shared a joke.
"Thanks for, you know, doing this," Katrina said, her eyes meeting his. "I know you didn't have to, but... I'm glad you did."
Art felt a strange warmth in his chest, a sense of connection that he'd been avoiding, or perhaps suppressing. There was something about Katrina that made him want to stay, to guide her through the ups and downs of the game. And it wasn't just about tennis. It was something deeper, something that made him feel almost protective.
"It's been a good few weeks," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "You've got a lot of potential, Katrina. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you could go far."
She smiled, a genuine smile that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Thanks. It means a lot to hear that from you."
There was a moment of silence, a charged pause where neither of them moved. He knew he should step back and create some distance, but he found himself drawn in, his gaze lingering on her lips, then her eyes. There was something about her.
"All right," he said, finally breaking the silence. "Get some rest tonight. We've got a long drive ahead of us, and I need you focused."
Katrina nodded, her eyes locking with his. The tension was palpable, a mix of excitement and something else, something neither of them wanted to name. Art felt the stirrings of something almost primal, a desire that had been dormant for a long time. He knew it wasn't appropriate, but it was there, simmering just beneath the surface.
"Good night," she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper.
"Good night," he replied, his eyes lingering on her a moment longer than they should. "Rest up. I'll see you tomorrow." With his things packed, he walked off the court, leaving her to stretch.
The US Open tournament was coming, and with it, a new set of challenges—both on and off the court.
THE DRIVE TO SAN DIEGO
This was unexpected. Somehow, Katrina was sitting in the passenger seat of Arts Blue Bronco and had managed to snag herself a one-on-one tournament weekend with the Art Donaldson himself. Her mother had only missed three of her games throughout her entire career. The first time was when Katrina was 12. Her mother didn't attend because Katrina had just started playing tennis, and her mother assumed she wouldn't be good enough to watch, so she spent her time on holiday with the neighborhood housewives and was pleasantly surprised when Katrina returned with her first trophy. The second time was when Katrina was 16. Their grandmother had passed away, but Katrina's mother insisted that Katrina should play in the game instead of staying home to grieve like a normal person. She told Katrina that every win was one step closer to a successful career; bad things happen all the time, and you simply “need to get over it and move on." The third time was today, when Katrina was 20, after her little brother's appendix unexpectedly burst at 4 a.m. in the morning, and he and their mom had to rush to the hospital.
"How do you feel about your mom not being here this time?" Art asked, leaning back in his seat. He took a sip of his coffee, glancing at Katrina's expression carefully.
Katrina shrugged. "Honestly? I'm kind of happy she's not here. It's like a weight off my shoulders. I don't have to worry about her criticizing every move I make or every shot I miss."
Art nodded, sensing the relief in her voice. "Your mom seems pretty tough on you."
"She is," Katrina replied, swirling her drink. "She talks a big game, but sometimes I think she doesn't really know what she's saying. Like when she criticizes my plays—she doesn't really get the game, you know? She just wants to be involved, but it's not always helpful."
Art felt a twinge of sympathy. He'd known parents like that, always pushing, always expecting perfection without understanding the sacrifices involved. "I'm glad I could be here for you, then," he said. "You shouldn't have to go through all this alone. It's hard enough without extra pressure from someone who isn't really helping."
Katrina shrugged, her lips curling into a small, ironic smile. "It's been like that since I was a kid. I never had much of a childhood, anyway. The little bit of teenager-like stuff I did, I had to sneak around to do it. Mom was always watching, always pushing me to be the best and to win. I never really got to be a kid."
Art felt a pang of something deep in his chest. It wasn't just empathy—it was a sense of injustice, of the things Katrina had missed out on. He'd seen it before in other athletes whose parents lived vicariously through their children, expecting them to carry the weight of their own dreams. It was a burden no young person should have to bear. Shit went through it himself with Tashi, and it eventually cost them their relationship.
"That sounds rough," he said, his voice gentle. "Everyone deserves a chance to be a kid—to have fun, to make mistakes, to figure things out without a constant spotlight."
“I definitely have to make mistakes." She paused and giggled in embarrassment. “This might be T.M.I. But my first time was with a random guy around my age that was dragged to a dinner party at his parents house.” She side-eyes Art for a moment. “Of course, while the adults did whatever adults do, we snuck off into the liquor cabinet, got so hammered, and then decided to go up to my room.”
Art only looked at her with a raised brow, waiting for her to finish.
“Long story short, by the time we were done, everyone was looking for us — of course we were too stupid to think that anyone would notice we were missing for over an hour.” She sighs with a smile. "Anyways, it turns out they were serving desert, and when the housekeeper came in looking for us, she couldn’t hold back a scream. It's safe to say I can’t even remember how long I was grounded for.”
Art was fully laughing now, not sure if it was from second hand embarrassment or because of how unexpected this was.
“Mistakes aren’t something; you escape, believe me.” He seemed nostalgic.
"Yeah," Katrina replied, her gaze dropping to the table.
“Anyways, I’m sure instances like that’s what made me basically one of the strongest tennis players of all time,” she concludes, sarcastically exaggerating.
Art sighed, leaning forward slightly. "Strength isn't just about winning," he said. "It's about finding your own way, making your own choices, and being okay with who you are, even if it doesn't fit someone else's expectations."
Katrina looked up at him, her expression thoughtful. "That's what I want," she said. "I want to play because I love it, not because I'm trying to prove something to someone else. I just... I wish I had more time to figure it all out."
Art nodded, understanding her struggle. "You'll get there," he said. "You've got a lot of potential, and you're doing it for the right reasons. Just remember, it's okay to take a step back sometimes. To enjoy the game, to find joy in the small things,
Katrina smiled—a real smile that reached her eyes. "Thanks," she said. "I needed to hear that."
Art returned her smile, feeling a connection that went beyond coach and player. It was a moment of genuine understanding, the kind that made all the effort and hard work worth it. He knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but at least they had each other to navigate it together.
AT THE HOTEL
After a two-hour drive, Art and Katrina King arrived at the hotel where they would be staying during the tournament in San Diego. The hotel was upscale, with modern decor and spacious rooms. They'd been given a suite with two separate bedrooms connected by a shared living area. It was the perfect setup for coach and player.
Art had just finished unpacking when he decided to knock on Katrina's door. It was only 7 p.m., and he thought it might be nice to have dinner together. A little bonding before the tournament might help ease some of the tension they have been feeling lately. There is no harm in a friendly dinner.
Right?
Katrina opened the door, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw Art standing there. "Hey," she said, her voice softer than usual. "What's up?"
"Want to grab dinner?" Art asked, keeping his tone casual. "There's a nice restaurant downtown I've been meaning to check out every time I come down here."
Katrina hesitated for a moment, then nodded with a hint of a smile. "Sure, why not?" she replied. She felt a slight flutter in her stomach—this wasn't just a quick meal at the hotel lobby; it was a proper dinner out.
"Great," Art said, checking his designer watch. "Meet you back here in 40."
Katrina agreed, closing the door to get ready. She picked out a simple black dress, something a little fancier than she normally wears. Her brown hair, usually tied back in a ponytail, cascaded down in curls. When she checked her reflection in the mirror, she felt a mix of excitement and nerves. This was just dinner, right?
When she stepped out of her room, Art was already waiting in the living area. He glanced up and immediately did a double take. Katrina looked stunning, the soft curls of her hair framing her face perfectly. Her dress hugged her figure in a way that made it hard to look away. Art felt like a high school boy going out on his first date. He could already feel himself stiffen.
Blinking, he gives up a smirk. "You look great."
Katrina blushed slightly. "Thanks," she replied, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "You don't look too bad yourself. Nice seeing you outside of tennis attire."
The place was dimly lit with candlelight, adding to the intimate atmosphere. As they sat down, Art felt a sense of ease with Katrina that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was nice to know that for once, something in her life wasn't just about tennis; it was about getting to know each other on a personal level.
As time passed, they got into a comfortable conversation, talking about anything and everything.
"So," Katrina began, looking across the table at him, "you mentioned your daughter earlier. Tell me about her."
Art smiled at the mention of Lily. "She's great," he said. "She's 10 and a total fire cracker; she’s starting boarding school next year. She’s got this energy that lights up a room. She loves tennis, too, but I'm trying not to push her too hard. I want her to find her own path."
Katrina nodded, appreciating his perspective. "Sounds like you're a good dad."
Art chuckled softly, then his expression turned a bit somber. "I try to be. Things have been complicated at home. Tashi and I are technically still together, but it's more for Lily's sake than anything else." He paused, glancing at Katrina to gauge her reaction. "We're not really happy, but we're making it work—for now. Nothing has really been the same since I retired, you know."
Oh, that makes sense. She tensed.
Katrina felt a guilty glimmer of hope. If Art and Tashi were essentially separated, then maybe her fantasies weren't so impossible after all. The thought made her blush, and she took a sip of water to hide it.
As the dinner progressed, they subtly flirted with each other. Art ordered a bottle of wine to keep the conversation going, which prompted Katrina to raise an eyebrow. "Isn't this off-limits?" she teased. "My mother and my dietitian would be so disappointed."
Art smirked. "You have to live a little," he replied, pouring her a glass. "Besides, a glass of wine won't ruin your career. It's all about balance, right?"
Katrina laughed softly. "Isn't it ironic that a thirty-something-year-old man is telling a twenty-year-old to have fun?"
Art chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "Maybe I know a thing or two about loosening up," he said with a playful wink. "Life's too short to be serious all the time."
“You sure look like you know how to have fun,” she said in a teasing tone. It was clear her words had a double meaning.
Art smirked and quipped, “I do; you just have to pry it out of me, I guess.
As the evening went on, the tension between them grew more palpable. The candlelight, the soft music, the wine—all of it added to the atmosphere. There was an undercurrent of attraction, a pull that neither of them could ignore. By the end of the night, you could’ve cut the tension with a knife.
Art leaned in slightly, his voice lower. "We should probably head back," he said, his eyes locking with hers. "I don't want to overdo it before the tournament."
Katrina nodded, feeling her heart race. "Yeah, probably a good idea," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
As they left the restaurant, the night air felt cooler against their skin, but the heat between them hadn't cooled at all. They walked back to the hotel in comfortable silence, each aware of the unspoken desire simmering just beneath the surface, steeling glances here and there.
The tension had been building throughout dinner. As they reached their suite, Art turned to Katrina, his expression neutral but his eyes holding a hint of warmth.
"Well, I guess we should call it a night," he said, reaching for his key card. He didn't want to cross any boundaries, especially with the multiple games she had tomorrow. But the way Katrina looked at him during dinner made it difficult to ignore the desire simmering just beneath the calm exterior.
Katrina held up a finger. "Okay...” she paused, feigning a thought. “But we didn't finish the bottle of wine," she said with a playful smile. "And my mom's going to be back for the second day of the tournament. This might be our only chance to… get to know each other; we’ll have to throw it out if we don’t finish it tonight, just sayin’."
The wine was definitely hitting.
Art hesitated, then nodded. "You're right. It'd be a shame to let it go to waste."
They moved into the shared living room, which had a small kitchenette and a comfortable seating area. Katrina grabbed the bottle of wine and two glasses while Art flipped through the channels on the television, settling on a random movie for background noise. It was an action film with a lot of explosions and fast-paced scenes, but neither of them paid much attention to it.
As they settled onto the couch, Katrina poured them each a glass of wine. The atmosphere was relaxed, but there was an underlying current of flirtation. They started talking about the tournament, about tennis, and then about life in general. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and playful banter.
"You know," Art said, taking a sip of wine, "I didn't think I'd enjoy coaching, but I'm glad I came back for this."
Katrina raised an eyebrow. "Coaching? You're more like a mentor," she teased. "Plus, you're not that old to be called a coach."
Art chuckled. "Careful, or I'll make you run extra laps tomorrow," he replied, giving her a mock stern look. "I'm not that old, but I've seen a lot in my time."
"Sure, sure," Katrina said, rolling her eyes. "You're practically ancient."
They both laughed, the sound filling the room. As the conversation continued, they found themselves leaning closer to each other, the space between them shrinking with each passing minute. The flirting became more overt—the playful touches on the arm, the shared smiles, and the lingering glances.
Art felt the tension building and the pull growing stronger. He knew he should keep his distance, but the way Katrina looked at him, her eyes sparkling in the dim light, made it difficult to resist.
"You know," he said, his voice low and smooth, "you're more than just a talented player, Katrina.” He looked at her with a dark gaze. “There's something about you that makes it hard to stay away. Even when I know I should."
Katrina's eyes widened slightly, her heart racing at his words. The air between them felt electric and charged with anticipation. There were no words left to be said; they leaned in without even noticing, and there they were, on the hotel couch, lips smashed together. The wine glass in Katrina's hand tilted, spilling a few drops onto the couch, but neither of them seemed to notice or care.
The kiss was intense, filled with the desire that had been building for weeks. It was risky, even dangerous, given their roles as coach and athlete. But in that moment, none of it mattered. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of them caught in a whirlwind of emotion and longing.
Sprawled out like a couple of horny teenagers making out on their parent’s couch, it was almost comedic.
When they finally pulled apart, their breathing was ragged, and their eyes locked in a mix of surprise and exhilaration. The movie played on in the background, the noise a distant echo as they sat there, close together, knowing that everything had changed in a single moment.
“We shouldn’t do this.” Art broke the silence first.
“Yeah, we really shouldn't.” She pulled back for a moment. “But we already did.” She moved up to fix his nonexistent collar. “Unfortunately, I have this really good coach, and he’d hate to see me not finish something I started.” Sha gazed up at him as she finished giving him a cheeky smile.
She was giving him that look, a look that said nothing less than fuck me.
Art couldn’t do anything more than chuckle and give in. “Well, I’d hate to be the reason you disappoint him.“ He told her as he lifted her up into his lap.
“You’ve gotta live a little, you know.” She said it in-between kisses. His lips, his neck, and his jaw. There wasn’t an inch of him; she wasn’t going to kiss tonight.
“You’re right.” Their mouths dance together, their tongues fighting for dominance. Arts hands were taking all her in. Her dress pooled around her waist as he slipped his hands under it, grasping her tits. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this, Katrina.” He breathes out in a hushed manner, biting at her lip.
“Prove it to me, Art.” She says she is pulling her dress over her head. He stopped taking a moment to drink her in; she was beautiful.
“Holly fuck.” He rasps out, unclasping her bra, leaving it to be forgotten, much like the wine.
Katrina could feel the raging hardness beneath her. Grinding into it, she lets out a moan as he kisses and sucked on her exposed breast. “Every time I’d walk on the court, and I’d see you wearing your tight little tennis outfits, god,” he rasped while bighting his lip. “All I could think about was how I wanted to bed you over and fuck you right then and there.” He picked her up and started walking to her bedroom. “Now, I get to be a good coach and teach you a thing or two.” He threw her on the bed, peering over her with hungry eyes and breathing heavily. “Will you be a good student and let coach fuck some knowledge into you, huh, baby?”
“I’ve never let you down, have I?” She answered him, looking up at him from the bed, her big doe eyes saying everything for her. “Show me how it’s done, coach.” She wet her lips seductively.
“Well, first, pretty girl, it’s important to get warmed up. You need help warming up, babe.” Art drags his finger from her thigh to her stomach and back down to her panties. Slowly pulling them off. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he gazes up at her with hooded eyes. He kisses along her thighs, sucking now and then, making his way up to her sopping cunt. When he does reach her, he begins lapping at her like a man who’s been deprived of water for forty days and forty nights.
“Oh my God, Art, it feels so good.” She could feel herself getting short of breath. It was so good, better than anything she had fantasized about while taking the shower head for a spin. Grasping his hair in her hand, she can’t help but grind her pussy in his face, making both him and her a sloppy mess.”
“You’re so good for me; you've always been a fast learner, you know.” He pulled up, leaving trails of kisses as he made his way up and onto the bed. “My pretty girl,” he says, looking down at her with a smirk, his chin wet with her juices. He gets off the bed and starts to strip. His shirt comes up first, giving her the opportunity to get up on her knees and run her hands over his toned abs as she continues to kiss his neck. He follows with his. Belt slipped off his pants, his cock springing up, strained by his boxers. Katrina can’t help but feel her mouth damn near water. Pulling his boxers down, she lets a glob of her saliva leak on his cock before taking him into her mouth with a moan. Art only grabs her hair in his fist before letting out a deep moan and letting his eyes roll back. “Really got a mouth on you, huh, pretty girl.” He caresses her cheek. “Taking me all in.”
He pulls out, a string of saliva following, only to drip down from her chin onto her chest as he motions for her to lay back down on the bed. “You ready to get that pretty pussy fucked?” he leans down, sucking on her nipples. “You’ve warmed up enough, don’t you think?”
"Yes.” Its barley is above a whisper.
“What was that? You’ve got to use your words, Kat." He says, slightly pulling away from her lips, waiting for a better response.
“Please fuck me, Art.” She moans out, “I need you now."” She pulls him back down for a kiss, lining her hips up with his. He’s teasing at her entrance for a moment before she grabs his lower back and pulls him in the whole way. They both let out a sigh of relief as she felt her walls stretch around his length and he felt her wetness embrace him.
He’s fully thrusting now, with his whole strength, his hips snapping into hers with purpose. Grunts and moans are coming out of both their mouths.
"Switch,” she says, suddenly pushing him back a bit, only for her to get on top, grinding her hips in circles while riding him. “You’re so good, Art; you make me feel so good,” she’s breathless, guiding his veiny hands onto her chest. “I’ve ouched myself so many times fantasizing about this, thinking about how I’d take your cock.” She slips his fingers into her mouth, sucking on them for a second. “Even better than I dreamed,” she smirked. She could feel the pit inside her tighten; she was close, and she could tell that he was too.
She looked down at her and motioned for Art to open his mouth, and when she did, she let her spit trickle down into his mouth with a satisfied grin. That was it for him; after she did that, he started hammering on her mercilessly.
“Oh my god, harder art.” She says this with her head tucked into the crook of his neck. He obliged his vice like a grip.. Her ass was so hard, she wouldn’t have been surprised if it bruised tomorrow. His pace was uneven with labored breaths; he let out one loud moan before pulling out and cumming all over her stomach, some even getting on himself. She didn’t even have the time to process what happened before she was pushed onto her stomach.
There he was again, nose deep in her aching pussy, only this time it was from behind, and he was going between her cunt and her asshole. Moaning into a pillow, it didn’t take long for her to finish all over his face, collapsing onto the bed, flat on her stomach.
After a long and hot shower, Art lay on his back, his arm around Katrina as they were in bed, enjoying the stillness of the night. The hotel room was dimly lit, casting a soft glow that created an intimate ambiance. Katrina's head rested on his shoulder, her hair cascading over his chest. It felt comfortable and natural, like they belonged there.
Art turned slightly to look down at Katrina, her face peaceful and relaxed. He traced his fingers gently along her arm, a simple, affectionate gesture that made her shiver slightly. It was a closeness that was rare for him, something he hadn't felt in years, and he cherished it.
"You're something else, you know that?" He said, his voice low and warm. "You've got this way of making me feel like I'm twenty again. I don't know what it is, but you bring out a side of me that I thought was long gone."
Katrina smiled, her eyes still closed as she nestled closer against him. "That's a good thing, right?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur.
Art chuckled, his hand gently stroking her hair. "Yeah, it's a good thing," he replied. "I really enjoyed tonight. It was... different from what I'm used to, but in the best possible way. I wasn't sure I wanted to get into coaching, but being your coach has been one of the best decisions I've made in a long time."
Katrina opened her eyes and looked up at him, her gaze warm and inviting. "I'm glad you did," she said. "I don't know where I'd be without you. It's not just about tennis—it's about everything else. You made me realize it’s not just hitting a ball with a stick."
He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, a simple, tender gesture that spoke volumes. "You've got a lot of talent, Katrina," he said.
Katrina blushed, feeling a sense of warmth that had nothing to do with the physical closeness. "Thanks," she said, her voice soft. "That means a lot coming from you. I feel the same way, you know. You make everything seem a little easier, like it's all going to be okay."
Art nodded, his heart swelling with a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. It was more than just affection—it was a sense of connection, a bond that he knew was special.
Katrina sighed contentedly, her head resting against his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat was soothing, grounding her in the moment. She felt safe, secure, and genuinely happy. It was a feeling she hadn't had in a long time, and she wasn't ready to let it go.
Art tightened his arm around her, holding her a little closer. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about the depth of their connection. He knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with Katrina by his side, he felt like he could take on anything.
THE TOURNEMENT
Katrina woke up to an empty bed. The warm spot where Art had lain the night before had cooled, and there was no sign of him in the hotel room. She rubbed her eyes, feeling a twinge of disappointment. It was early, but she figured he had probably gone to start prepping for the tournament—they had a busy day ahead. It had been a long night.
She sat up, stretched, and looked around the room. Everything was in its usual place; nothing seemed out of order. Art's clothes were gone, and her things were neatly put away, almost as if he had never stayed there.
Strange
Katrina didn’t dwell on it. It made sense that he might have moved his things back to his room to get ready for the day. After all, he was her coach, and today was important.
She got dressed in her tennis gear, taking her time in the bathroom to brush her hair and freshen up. The uncertainty about where Art had gone was starting to creep in, but she pushed it aside. There was no need to get worked up—he'd turn up soon enough.
Katrina made her way to the living room and kitchen, expecting to find Art there, but he was nowhere to be seen. She checked her phone, but there were no messages from him. It was odd; usually, he'd leave some sort of note or text. She grabbed one of her pre-prepared meals from the fridge and ate it while waiting for him to return, her mind running through the drills they’d be doing later that day.
After what felt like an eternity, Art finally walked in, holding a cup of coffee from the café downstairs. Katrina felt a rush of relief. "Hey," she said, trying to sound casual. "You went out for coffee?"
Art nodded, but his demeanor was noticeably colder than usual. His eyes were distant, and his responses were curt. "Yeah," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. His tone was flat, lacking the warmth she had come to expect from him.
Katrina felt a flicker of anxiety. "Is everything okay?" she asked, trying to engage him in conversation. "You seem a little off."
Art shrugged, barely looking at her. "Just focused on the tournament," he said, his voice detached. "We've got a lot to do today."
Katrina felt a pang of confusion. This was a complete 180 from the night before. They had shared something special, something she thought was meaningful. She wasn’t expecting a proposal. But now he was acting as if it had never happened. So she pressed the issue.
"Art, why are you acting like this?" she asked, her tone edged with concern. "Last night was... well, it was nice. What changed."
Art set his coffee cup down, his expression hardening. "I'm being a responsible coach," he said, his voice cold. "You have important matches today. We can't afford distractions."
Katrina was taken aback by his abruptness. "Distractions? Is that what last night was to you?" she asked, her voice rising slightly.
Art sighed, rubbing his temples. "Katrina, we can't do this. You need to be focused. What happened last night." He stopped, choosing his words carefully. "It was a mistake, and I need you to be serious about this tournament."
Katrina felt a surge of anger and hurt. "A mistake?" she said, her voice sharp. "So that's it? We just pretend it never happened. You can't just switch like that!"
Art's expression was stern. "You need to act like you've got an important game today, because you do. And I have to be the coach you need, not something else."
Katrina felt her heart sink. This wasn't the Art she knew. The warmth and connection from the night before were gone, replaced by a wall of professionalism and distance. But there wasn't time to press further—they had to get to the court and start their warm-up drills.
The argument left Katrina feeling disoriented and hurt, but there was no time to dwell on it. She had to focus on the tournament, even if her coach seemed to have turned into a different person overnight. As they headed out the door, she tried to shake off the feeling, knowing that the game ahead demanded her full attention.
FIRST MATCH
The stadium was buzzing with anticipation as the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers, introducing the players for the Challenger tournament. The crowd applauded as Katrina King and Alexis Grace stepped onto the court, each acknowledging the fans with a wave. Art Donaldson watched from the sidelines, his eyes focused on Katrina as she moved to her position.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the first match of the US Open," the announcer said, continuing on.
Art knew it would be a challenging game. Alexis was a good opponent who could hold her own, but based on states alone, this should be an easy win, for lack of better words. Art felt a pang of guilt for how he'd acted that morning. He'd been cold and distant, trying to maintain professionalism, but it wasn't what he wanted. He wished he could go back and handle things differently, but now wasn't the time for regrets—Katrina needed his support.
The first set began with Katrina serving. She delivered a somewhat strong shot, but Alexis returned it with ease, sending the ball back with a blistering forehand. Katrina scrambled to keep up, her movements swift but slightly off-balance. She managed to return the shot, but Alexis was already at the net, volleying the ball with precision.
Art watched, his heart racing. Katrina had the talent, but he could tell she was getting into her own head. The missed points seemed to weigh heavily on her, and she was starting to lose her composure. He couldn't blame her—his behavior hadn't helped.
Katrina's next serve was strong, but Alexis anticipated it, returning the ball with a slice that landed just out of Katrina's reach. The crowd murmured, sensing the momentum shift in Alexis's favor. Art clenched his fists, trying to stay calm. He needed to be there for Katrina, even if she didn't want to hear it right now. Her errors were becoming more frequent. A double fault here, a missed volley there—it was starting to add up.
Art's internal thoughts were filled with frustration and guilt. He knew he had to do something to help her, but he also knew her head wasn’t focused on the game. As the set progressed, the tension in the stadium grew. Katrina's shots were becoming more erratic, and Alexis capitalized on every mistake.
Finally, the set ended with a decisive point from Alexis, securing her the first set. The crowd erupted in applause, but Art felt a sinking feeling in his chest.
Katrina King sat on the bench, her racket resting between her knees, and tried to catch her breath. The set break was supposed to be a chance to reset, to gather her thoughts, and to prepare for the next game, but she couldn’t stop her mind from racing. Her body felt tense, and her heart was heavy with doubt.
This match was supposed to be a warmup, and I’m making a complete fool of myself. She thought, scrunching her brows as she looked up at the sky.
Her hand gripped the racket tighter, the familiar texture offering a semblance of comfort.
A mistake
This morning kept replaying in her mind, each word like a weight pressing down on her. It had thrown her off and shaken her confidence. She couldn't understand why he'd suddenly turned so cold.
What the fuck did I get myself into? She wondered, feeling a mix of anger and confusion.
She glanced at the sidelines, where Art sat, his arms crossed, watching the court with a distant expression. He was focused, but not on her. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, and his detachment made her stomach twist. It felt like a betrayal, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was alone out there.
He's just a coach. I don't need him to win. I've been doing this on my own for years.
But the more she tried to convince herself, the more her emotions swirled. Last night felt like a turning point, like they were connecting on a deeper level. And now, all that warmth and all that understanding were gone. It left her feeling hollow and unsure of her next move.
Forget about this morning. Forget about last night. Forget about Art. Just play the game. That’s all you're good at anyway.
She couldn't forget, not when it felt like her world was shifting beneath her feet. The pressure of the tournament, the expectations from everyone, and now the unexpected 180—it was all too much. She needed to find her focus, but it felt like she was battling more than just an opponent on the court. She was battling her own doubts and her own insecurities, and it was starting to show.
The umpire's call signaled the end of the break, and Katrina stood up, her legs feeling heavier than usual. She couldn't afford to let this slip away. She had to find a way to center herself and regain the focus and determination that had brought her this far. But as she walked back onto the court, she knew it wouldn't be easy. The shadows of doubt were growing, and she wasn't sure if she had the strength to push them back.
The final set was about to begin, and the energy in the stadium was electric. Kat had lost the first set to Alexis, barely clawed her way back to win the second, and now faced the challenge of closing out the match.
A whirlpool of frustration was consuming her. She knew she should be playing better than this. Alexis was a competent player, but she shouldn't have been able to pressure Katrina like she was doing now. The missteps, the errant serves, the missed volleys—it was all spiraling out of control. She knew she had to get her head back in the game.
"Come on, Katrina," Art muttered under his breath, his frustration growing. He knew he should’ve never said what he had this morning, and God did he regret it. Not even because it threw her off her game, but simply because it wasn’t true.
I didn’t mean it, Kat.
Alexis returned Katrina's second serve with a deep forehand, forcing Katrina to run to the back of the court. She managed to get the ball back, but it was a weak return, and Alexis took advantage, hitting a powerful backhand down the line. Katrina struggled to reach it, her footwork sloppy.
The crowd murmured, sensing the shift in momentum. Katrina felt her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Get it together," she told herself, trying to drown out the negativity in her mind. She took a deep breath and prepared for the next point, knowing she couldn't afford to lose her composure.
Art clenched his fists, watching Katrina's struggle. He wanted to shout words of encouragement; right now, he needed Katrina to find her focus and to play like he knew she could.
The next few points were a back-and-forth battle. Katrina managed to win a couple of rallies, showing glimpses of her usual skill, but Alexis was relentless. Katrina's errors were piling up, and Alexis capitalized on every mistake. A missed serve here, a poorly timed volley there—it was all adding up, and Katrina felt like she was falling apart.
He knew he had to do something to help her, but he wasn't sure what. She was slipping, and he could see it in her eyes—the doubt, the frustration. He wished he could just rewind the morning and start over.
Katrina's frustration boiled over as she missed yet another shot, sending the ball wide of the sideline. She clenched her racket, her anger turning inward.
What the actual fuck kat? She felt herself slipping.
Art watched as Katrina's confidence seemed to crumble. Every point felt like a battle, and she was struggling to keep her emotions in check. The crowd's cheers seemed distant, drowned out by her own inner turmoil. She needed to find her focus and remember why she loved the game in the first place.
Katrina King stood at the baseline, bouncing the tennis ball as she prepared to serve. The pressure was immense. The score was tied, but this was match point for Alexis.
"Just get this right," she told herself, bouncing the ball one more time. "Keep it simple, focus on your form, and breathe."
She threw the ball up and swung, her serve powerful but lacking the usual precision.
The umpire's call was clear: "In!"
Alexis immediately raised her hand, signaling her challenge.
Katrina tensed, holding her breath. Fuck. She had already accepted defeat.
The electronic system, designed to track the ball's trajectory, sprang into action. The large screen above the court displayed the replay, with the lines highlighted in bold white against the blue surface.
The slow-motion replay showed the ball’s descent, curving slightly in its flight. It landed, from this perspective, millimeters inside the line, causing the crowd to murmur in anticipation. The pause felt longer than it actually was, with everyone waiting for the official verdict.
Alexis stood with her racket resting on her shoulder, her expression tense and unimpressed. She glanced at Katrina, who remained at the baseline, her stance rigid.
The electronic system confirmed the umpire's call: "In!" The word flashed across the screen, accompanied by a graphic showing the ball's exact position—just inside the line. The crowd erupted in applause, and Katrina allowed herself a small smile. She was relieved that the serve was good, but she knew she couldn't let her focus slip.
Alexis nodded curtly; her challenge was unsuccessful. She adjusted her grip on her racket, preparing for the next point. The moment of doubt had passed, and the game resumed its intensity.
Art saw Katrina's moments of ease, but he also saw the hesitation in her footwork and the slight tremors in her hands.
Alexis's return was a deep shot to Katrina's backhand, forcing her to pivot quickly. Katrina reached for it, but her timing was slightly off. The ball clipped the net, but it went over. Katrina breathed a sigh of relief as Alexis scrambled to reach it. and get her racket under the ball just in time.
The volley was clumsy, but it kept the rally going. Katrina's heart raced as she tried to regain her rhythm. She could feel the momentum slipping away, and she knew she couldn't afford another mistake. Alexis, however, was relentless, keeping the pressure on with precise shots to the corners of the court.
Art clenched his fists, chewing his gum while watching Katrina's struggle. He felt the intensity of the moment, knowing that this point could determine the outcome of the match. He wanted to find a way to ease her nerves, but all he could do was watch and hope she could pull through.
The rally continued, with Katrina barely managing to keep up. Alexis played a drop shot, and Katrina lunged to reach it. She got there just in time, but her return was weak, giving Alexis the upper hand. Alexis moved in for the kill, smashing the ball toward the baseline.
Katrina dove to reach it, her body hitting the ground as her racket connected with the ball. It went over the net, but it was a high lob, an easy shot for Alexis. Alexis jumped, delivering a powerful overhead smash that Katrina couldn't hope to reach. The ball hit the court with a decisive thud, and the umpire called the point.
Art felt a pang of disappointment as the crowd erupted in applause. He knew Katrina had fought hard, but the internal turmoil had cost her the match. He saw the frustration on her face as she stood up, brushing off the dirt from her fall. She glanced toward him, her eyes filled with a mix of anger, defeat, and tears.
Katrina knew she had given it her all, but it hadn't been enough. She felt the weight of the loss, knowing that her own doubts and the fight with Art had played a part in her performance. As she walked off the court, she felt a mix of disappointment and a lingering sense of confusion about what had gone wrong—both on and off the court.
Art made his way down to talk to Katrina. She was sitting on the bench, her head down, a towel draped over her shoulders. Art approached, trying to keep his voice steady. "Hey, it's okay," he said, his tone gentle. "It's just one game; you’ve got three more today. You can still turn this around. Just focus on your game, okay? Don't let this get in your head." He finished and tried to embrace her in his arms for some sort of comfort, but his efforts proved futile because before he could fully hug her, she pushed him off.
Katrina looked back at him, her eyes watery, cold, and distant. "Oh, now you're being supportive?" She shot back, her voice laced with sarcasm. "What happened to the coach who was so concerned about being professional this morning?"
Art winced, feeling the sting of her words. He knew he deserved it, but it still hurt. "I know, I messed up," he said, trying to keep his voice calm.
Katrina shook her head, her expression hardening. "I don't need your fake support, Art," she said, standing up. "Just let me play my game."
“Kat, don’t be like that.” He said he was stepping forward, trying to get a hold of her.
“Be like what, Art?” she said, feeling her anger rise. “I shouldn’t act like you treated me as if I were a late-night tinder hookup.” She paused, her lips trembling. “I wouldn’t be like this if you would have had the human decency to treat me with a little respect, even if you regrated it!” She took a breath. “You know what the worst part is; you could have waited for the tournament to be over to shit on me, on us, like that. At least I would’ve left this stupid fucking weekend with a champion title and cup.” She started walking away from the locker rooms. “Guess once your balls are empty, you come to your senses, huh?” She hadn’t even bothered to turn around for the last bit.
"Kat, wait!" he said, grabbing her arm gently but firmly. "Please, just give me a minute."
Katrina turned, her eyes blazing with anger. "What do you want?" she snapped. "Haven't you done enough today? Did you finally decide to be a good coach?"
Art knew he deserved that, but he needed her to hear him out. "Just let me explain," he said, his voice desperate. "Not here. Let's go outside, away from everyone."
She hesitated, clearly still furious, but she didn't pull away. Art led her through a side door and out into the area behind the arena, where it was quiet and they could talk in private. He released her arm, taking a deep breath to calm himself.
"Katrina, I'm sorry," he began, his voice soft but urgent. "I'm sorry for everything I said this morning and for telling you it was a mistake. I didn't mean it. I was just... scared."
"Scared?" Katrina's eyes narrowed. "Scared of what? Scared of actually caring about someone? Scared to give up the overdone, nonchalant act you’ve got going for you?"
Art shook his head, struggling to find the right words. "I was scared that I was crossing a line," he said. "I was scared that I was too old for you and that being your coach and being with you would mess up your career. I was worried that we'd end up like... like me and Tashi."
Katrina's anger flared. "I'm not Tashi!" she shouted, stepping closer to him. "So stop comparing me to her; I'm my own person, and I'm nothing like her!"
"I know," Art replied, his voice gentle but firm. "I know you're not her. But that's what scared me. I don't want what happened to me and Tashi to happen to us. I didn't want to mess up your game, your career, or... anything."
Katrina huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, you sure did a good job of that," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Look at what happened today! I lost because you couldn't make up your mind about what you wanted!"
Art felt a pang of guilt, knowing she was right. "I know," he said, his voice low. "I was selfish. I shouldn’t have acted like I did. I just didn’t want you to get hurt because of me. But now I see that I hurt you anyway, and that’s the last thing I wanted." He is groveling.
Katrina looked at him, her eyes still blazing. "So, what do you want now?" she asked. "Are you just going to apologize and then go back to being cold and distant?"
Art stepped forward, taking her cheek gently in his hand. "I don't know what we are, Katrina," he said, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "But I know I don't want to stop whatever this is. It's special. You make me feel things I haven't felt in a long time, and I can't keep ignoring that."
Katrina's anger softened, her eyes searching for any sign of insincerity. Art felt the connection between them, the tension that had been building for weeks, and he knew he couldn't let it end like this.
"I was wrong this morning," he continued. "I was scared, and I acted like an idiot. But you... you're amazing. You didn't deserve the way I treated you, and I know the game today was my fault. You were distracted because of me, and I'm sorry. But I know you're going to win this. I believe in you. I always have, and that hasn’t changed."
Katrina's expression softened, her anger giving way to something else—something that felt like forgiveness. Art leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, his hand still gently cupping her cheek. She responded with equal intensity, her arms wrapping around his neck as they pressed against the concrete wall.
The kiss was long and intense, filled with the emotions they’d both been suppressing. When they finally pulled back, their breathing was heavy, and their eyes locked in a shared moment of understanding. Art pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before laying his against hers.
“Are you ready to bring another title home, pretty girl?” He says, gazing into her eyes.
She looked up, her eyes glistening with a familiar spark. “You wouldn’t have agreed to coach me if I wasn’t.” She held a soft smile, bringing him in for another kiss.
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson fic#challengers#challengers fic#challengers x reader#mike faist#mike faist x reader#challengers universe#x reader#smut#Art donaldson x oc
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Genshin SAGAU where GN! Reader reads a fanfic about them being a sub.
people of tevyat look in horror as a fanfic about you being a sub is released, not knowing you ARE actually a sub. not proofread. also shoutout to @/gameperson23100 (not sure how tags work here im just a tumblr noob so i just did like a twitter thing) they were in my comments on my first post about this and had an idea about a sub reader! i just expanded on it a little :))
Creator! Reader who seems so elegant yet have such an untouchable aura towards them. Everyone praises them for being so mature, for being so calm and collected towards stressfull siturations, everyone fawns over them. Just one glance from their slightly intimidating eyes has their knees trembling. The archons praise them as someone to really look up to, a true pillar of Tevyat.
When fanfictions like the Creator x Reader became popular, there was an unsaid rule that you were the dominant one in the relationship.
So imagine everyones suprise when a book from an anonymous author potraying the Creator as a sub pops up in Inazuma. Yae Miko was suprised this was published unsupervised! She shut it down but it was too late, almost all of its copies were sold! Everyone was baffled at how the author potrayed the Creator, when it came to their duties, the author wrote them perfectly but when it came to the romance between the Creator and whoever the reader is... It was a catastrophe! The Creator? Submissive?? Down on their knees?? Begging?! Getting degraded and liking it?!?!
BLASPHEMY!
People of Tevyat were conflicted at this book, everyone had divided opinions. Some saying that the Creator is a sub, while some saying they are a dom. There are a few people who suggest that the Creator may be a switch but this gets shut down by both sides. It even reached the scholars of Sumeru! With debates turning into heated arguments that escalates into fights.
The archons, except Nahida, were upset at this book as this somewhat taints your image. (although they secretly love the idea of the creator being beneath their feet) The acolytes were also divided and different opinions, with Alhaitham finding it somewhat interesting while Kaeya found it a little hilarious and treated the book like a parody. Xiao on the other hand, had the same opinion as Zhongli, the book may taint your image thus he made it his mission to hunt down the anonymous author. Itto, who got the book from a random stranger he befriended, treated the book like a sacred scripture or a guilty pleasure. He knows it's probably bad but he just can't stop reading it! Wriothesley read the book during tea time, and thought that the idea of the Creator being a sub was possible...
"And that concludes the report on Fontaine." Neuvillette concluded his report. You only hummed in response as you looked around the room. the Archons were there and some acolytes were also present in the meeting. You felt as if they have something they want to ask but is holding themselves back.
'...Is it about the book...? Fuck, why did it have to be so accurate...' you thought.
You cleared your throat, "I'm sure all of you are aware of a certain book going around." you spoke up, their minds started scrambling, thinking that you would be upset and angry that they haven't found the author yet. "Your Grace, we are all working hard to hunt down the author and imprison whoever they are." Zhongli spoke up, you shook your head.
"No need, it's... An interesting book." you told them, you cleared your throat again, trying to ease your embarrassment. That book ended on a cliff hanger too! No way in hell were you going to imprison the author after writing an accurate potrayal of you!
Everyone didn't show it in their face but they were shocked, but even more shocked at how red your ears are while you tried to keep a calm face. Did this mean that you didn't mind the potrayal of the book about you?! Or are you truly a sub?! Do you just like the book?! What is it???!! HOW IS IT INTERESTING??!!? Their minds were filled with unanswered questions.
Word spread to Tevyat really fast, and as soon as they heard that you called the book interesting, it just added more fuel in the debates about you being a sub or a dom. Like two groups in the same fandom fighting for their non canon ship! The book would still be treated like an illegal book, a guilty pleasure.
#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#genshin x reader#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin impact x reader#genshin sagau x reader#sagau x reader
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I am so so obsessed with Gale's romance because God it's so clear he worships your Tav through it and it's absolutely horrifying.
His love through so much of the game is in *spite* of himself. Is in abject hatred of himself. He is holding guilt and shame and self loathing so bad he'd rather unmake himself into something that the Tav never loved in the name of some notion of "deserving" because Gale is *so* broken by Mystra even still that he thinks he must earn Tav's love. That he must make himself *worthy* of all that Tav has to offer.
Do you know how horrifying that is? To realise the person you love would destroy themselves for you, in some desperate attempt to please you, and with it take away everything you loved about them and they ask you to be happy with it?
Gale lays at Tav's feet a love that is built on worship, on looking at the Tav as divine. And it's not until the VERY end and you being really patient and stubborn does he begin to see Tav as a person. And that's horrific. He loves you so much he'd destroy himself.
He has placed you in the same spot as Mystra, but you are no all powerful Goddess, you do not spin magic along with a wave of your hand and seeking to mould him. You are a person. A person who is flawed and human (in the personhood sense of the word). A person who he does not have to prove himself for. Unmake himself for. At that point, he doesn't love Tav, he loves the idea he's made of Tav. And this idea, it's been built at his own expense. He's hurting, he blames himself, so even in the love that requires no proving oneself, no supplication, no means to *earn* it he takes it upon himself to make himself "deserving" and maybe he'll finally be content with himself if he just gets enough power, makes himself better, makes himself someone who is not him.
Because he hates himself.
And that is so heartbreaking to watch, because it's so very clear he has had zero time to heal. You are in love with a deeply suicidal depressed man, who would rather watch himself burn than accept your love for him as it is. Whole and human, with no notion of "deserving". The foundations of the love he has for Tav are so so unhealthy. And I love it. I love him. I want him to get better. It's so sad we don't get to see more Gale Dekarios in the game. He's so interesting in comparison to "Gale of Waterdeep" and I'm glad he has a chance to go back to it.
#bg3#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#bg3 gale#gale x tav#baldurs gate gale#bg3 tav#bg3 spoilers#bg3 meta
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Went to a panel about slash fanfic at a con. Moderator said, "Welcome to the panel about erotica." The words "slash" and "erotica" were used interchangeably throughout. Panel was great.
There was a Q&A at the end so I raised my hand and said these terms seemed conflated. Moderator explained she'd run this panel for 10 years and it started out being about slash but drifted into erotica and she never changed the name. (She also said she was glad I brought it up and would keep it in mind for the future of the panel.) The guy on the panel who writes original m/f erotica said that slash and what he writes are basically the same thing. I said I had no complaints about the name of the panel or the panelists, I was just curious about what slash meant to them, and whether slash by necessity had to include sex scenes to be considered slash.
Two panelists answered that slash was romance between men but usually had sex. Eventually one of them did make clear that slash didn't have to have sex but that it was what they wanted to read. Another panelist said that to them slash really just meant dude romance but people wouldn't read their fic unless there was sex so they felt they had to put sex scenes in.
Person came up to me after the panel. Said they felt I didn't get my question answered. Then they explained that since the 70s, 'slash' has been used to mean m slash m romance, meaning explicit and sexual. Then they said it sounded like what I wanted to ask about was shipping. They explained to me that shipping is just wanting the characters to be together but slash meant sex. They explained that since the invention of AO3, people had begun to use the ampersand to mean the fic had two characters who were friends and that the slash was used to denote ships, but even though that punctuation just meant romance, the word "slash" in the last twenty years had become synonymous with explicit fic. I explained I had been in fandom longer than twenty years and this was not necessarily my experience. They said, "Bye!"
Though they seemed confused as to whether what they personally defined as slash had been mainstream since the 70s or since the last twenty years (the person was 24), they were well-meaning. The panel was great. I'd recommend it to anyone, though I'm not stating the name of the con here because I don't want anyone involved to feel this is really a critique of the panel itself. The moderator in particular was superb.
I think that this conversation just brought up a whole lot of feelings for me. I think it bothers me that people still think that all fanfic is smutty, that all slash requires porn, and that all fic must have porn in order to be read. I am familiar with this conflation and feel perfectly fine going to a panel that I think is about slash fic and finding out it's about erotic lit, some of which is fanfic. After all, I like both, and I recognize that fandom mushes these things together and teasing them out into separate strands isn't something everyone--or possibly even most fans--have any interest in. I recognize that I am pedantic to a degree that most people find uninteresting.
I have a little bit more of a problem with the idea that slash is "basically the same" as het, but this was said by only one of the panelists. If your panel is actually about straight up erotica and not slash, then the problem is just the name of the panel.
What I found the most frustrating, however, is that whenever I have this conversation, I feel like the default assumption most of my interlocutors begin AND end with is this: smut is why we're here. And I just don't understand that. Away Childish Things has 44,800 kudos, and it has no smut in it. My next most kudosed fic has almost 15,000 kudos and tons of smut. My next most kudosed fic has almost 14,000 kudos and it doesn't even have a kiss.
I'm not talking about kudos to show off how many I have, or because I think kudos make a point about quality of a fic. They have nothing to do with quality. But they do have to do with popularity, and the truth is, sex doesn't sell. It's something else. It's not good writing. It's not a great plot. It's not in-character characterization. IT'S SOMETHING ELSE. What is it?
I've had people say to me, "Well, you're lettered; it works differently for you." DOES IT??? Maybe they meant that because enough people know me as fic author, people will read my fic anyway, but let me tell you, it's always been this way for me, long before my fic was really popular. The ones with smut did not get more praise and attention. The ones that PEOPLE LIKED got more praise and attention. Do people like fic that has smut in it more than fic without smut? Some of the time! Does there have to be smut for people to like it? NO.
Have I had people tell me they didn't want to read something I wrote because it didn't have smut? YES. But the point I'm trying to make is, there are people who want to read fic that doesn't have smut in it. THEY are your audience for the fic you want to write that doesn't have smut in it. Fic does not have to have smut to be fic; it doesn't have to have smut to be read.
I think part of the reason I get so upset about it is that slash as we know it today didn't just emerge because some people weren't getting to read smut and they wanted to. It emerged because women and queer people and other marginalized communities were not getting to see what they wanted to in mainstream media. They weren't getting sex scenes, but they also weren't getting queer content, they weren't getting stories about sensitive men that defied patriarchal stereotypes of male toxicity; they weren't getting stories about disabled folks and people of color and folks who are into kink and folks who have different lifestyles. To reduce fanfic to porn is to remove the rich history of why it exists and who it exists for.
I asked earlier what makes a fic popular, and to me, it's exactly this. It's when you read a thing and you feel, "this is really satisfying to my id in a way that I am not getting from mainstream media." And sometimes what is satisfying to your id is very horny anal sex. Other times what is satisfying to your id is Bucky Barnes getting a blanket and facing his trauma. Sometimes it's Harry Potter being trans. Sometimes it's Naruto and Sasuke getting to just hold hands as the sun sets. I have no idea who those two people are but boy howdy do I know they just fucking need to hold hands.
But the other reason I get so upset about it is I'm so fucking tired of reading a great fic that devolves into mediocre mechanical porn that is there due to the collective brainwashing that states that this is the ONLY reason ALL of us are here.
Discuss.
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I don't know why whether Astarion does or doesn't want kids is such a hot debate. I feel like he could go either way to be honest. Imma be honest as someone who isn't eager to have kids irl I think some of y'all are projecting yourselves onto Astarion when you say he wouldn't want them.
If you pay attention to him carefully in game it's pretty clear he just pretends to hate kids. (Likely as an unhealthy coping mechanism to deal with the fact that he was forced to kidnap the gur children)
You know like how he pretends to hate Scratch, how he pretends to hate kind people, how he pretends he doesn't care about anyone, need I say more?
You know the man bullshits half the time right?
Man is legit concerned if Yenna is kidnapped by Orin, approves of giving her food or money, and approves of saving Vanra from Ethel before killing the hag.
My own personal headcanon is that if Tav (or whoever he's romanced by) wants kids, then Astarion will probably warm up to the idea and if Tav doesn't then Astarion is perfectly happy being child free.
Whether or not he'd be a good dad is a whole different ball game entirely. I personally think he would be far from perfect, (likely he would have no fucking idea what he was doing most of the time) but he'd care about his kid. I honestly get a little pissed off when people say he would be a deadbeat dad, because unless we're talking about the ascendant version of him that is so not true.
I can however definitely see him raising a spoiled rotten entitled brat who gets away with murder though. But him not being interested in his kid whatsoever does not feel right to me.
Basically I'm just saying let people enjoy their little dhampir baby fantasies godsdamnit.
If you don't want kids it's perfectly valid. You do you honey! Enjoy all that extra child-free cash you're gonna have! Take a vacation, travel, buy all shit you want! Enjoy your freedom!
I really don't like the idea of being responsible for children irl personally but the idea of having a sweet dhamphir daughter with long bouncy white curls just makes me feel all fuzzy inside.
#baldurs gate 3#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#bg3#astarion x tav#astarion my beloved#astarion romance#astarion x reader#dadstarion
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WON'T YOU LEND ME YOUR FAITH? | R. ITOSHI
❁ tags ; fem!reader (reader dresses femininely + is referred to as a girl / with she/her pronouns), reader is shorter than rin , strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, getting together, rin is soo teenage boy (and makes some annoying teen-boy comments), slow-burn, making out is as suggestive as this gets, stereotypical shoujo romance, usage of honorifics, coming of age
❁ wc ; 21.4k (insane. most insane thing ive ever seen)
❁ a/n ; i'm genuinely appalled by the length of this fic. how did that happen. what in the world. this fic is truly just. every single shoujou manga trope crammed into one okay. my silly little self indulgent romance !!!!
also this fic is sfw + takes place in their third of hs so im not gonna say mdni that's silly. however if you're a minor please do not follow me i post heinous dark content and this fic is a fluke in the timeline dskffjkfd
❁ synopsis ; the love story of a sensitive, stoic soccer player and an eccentric wannabe journalist
or that time you confess to itoshi rin, knowing he'll reject you, and asking to befriend him in spite of it.
“I like you,”
A breeze of wind passes.
“What?”
You confess to Itoshi Rin at the start of the Spring semester. On the school rooftop with your head down. Bent at a near ninety degrees as you hold out what looks like a love letter.
For a minute, he can’t do anything more than stare. He’s received countless confessions in highschool. Half of which he rejected immediately, not even stopping to hear the full extent of their feelings. Why would he? The lukewarm ideas of first love had never been of interest. Even before his fight with Sae, Rin was always focused on his goals.
After his second year of high school was spent in Bluelock, Rin has only returned for his third. He promised his parents he’d graduate properly, and Bluelock was off-season until Ego could fully prepare for the next stages.
And a lot has changed since then. But some parts of him, namely his feelings towards the idea of conventional relationships, haven't changed at all.
It’s only been a little less than three weeks since school had started, and by now he’s received more confessions than he can really remember. All of which he’s rejected coldly, and blankly, because Itoshi Rin has never been in the business of coddling anyone. Most of those girls he’s never even met. Knows nothing about them because they’re first or second years he’d never even spoken to.
Rin, however, does know you. You’ve been in his class in all 3 years of his highschool, and he’s seen you around more than once. You’re in the newspaper club, which he remembers because you covered their winning match back when Rin was a first year. He wouldn’t call you friends, but you’ve spoken to each other enough that he can remember your name with a little effort.
He also remembers you being sort of annoying. You’re one of those loud and earnest types that he can’t stand.
A year ago, Rin would’ve denied knowing you at all. But now that things with Sae have cleared up just a little - he’s not inclined to take his anger out on you. He knows you. Not well, but enough.
And if his reputation precedes him at all, then you know Rin too. You know that he’s never once gone out with a single girl in his 3 years of highschool and that most of the guys in all three grades consider him an arrogant jerk. You know that he mostly plays soccer alone during breaks and that he only really hangs out with one person.
Which means you must know that he doesn’t harbor any feelings for you. And that he’s going to reject your confession without thinking twice about it.
In the first place, he was just curious if you were stupid enough to do it. If you really called him up here for a roof-top confession. The fact that you were is what’s stifling him. Your words are familiar. He’s heard them so many times. But it’s baffling. It’s ridiculous.
You lift your head to face him. You’re still smiling, though there’s something more there that he can’t understand. He doesn’t do well with people like you begin with. He finds himself backing away when you jog up closer towards him.
He’s taller than you, he notices. You pick your head up to look at him and smile, toothy and at ease. You hold the letter up again and shove it towards him, though you don’t seem like you’re expecting him to take it. He stares at you.
“I like you,” You repeat, smooth and bubbly. He frowns.
“I don’t like you.”
He has expectations for this part. Normally he receives a saddened look like a dog whose tail he stepped on or a fit of crying (sometimes genuine, sometimes with the intent of guilt.) Sometimes he gets an awkward smile trying to seem unbothered by the whole situation.
You don’t falter though. You don’t even flinch at the words, cold as ice and steely. It throws him off.
“I know,” You say back, prying the letter away from him. You turn the other way, walking towards the metal grates and for a minute Rin wonders if you’re going to do something drastic. You don’t though, instead sticking your the paper in the air “That’s why I have a proposal,”
He stares, absolutely dumbfounded. You turn again towards him.
“I want to get to know you. And keep confessing to you,” You say first, and Rin immediately goes to reject you until you put your hands up “And I want you to keep rejecting me.”
He’s baffled. Really.
“What?”
“So I can gradually lose my feelings for you. Nothing that different on your end, honestly..”
It sounds annoying. It really does. If it were anyone else, under any other circumstance he would scoff and tell them to deal with their own shitty feelings alone just like everyone else. But there’s no hidden intention there. Rin’s always been good at sniffing that out. Your words are pure as can be.
Frustratingly simple and twice as sincere, no matter how confusing the whole thing is.
“Why should I?”
“We can be friends,” You reply like it’s the best deal he could ask for. “Isn’t that enough? Not like you really have any right now.”
He scoffs bitterly albeit he can’t counter you.
“Friendship is lukewarm. I don’t care about any of that stuff,”
“Lukewarm? Really? Then..think of it like I’ll be your shield. You hate when people socialize with you right? I’ll help you deal with it.”
That doesn’t sound too bad actually. On top of that, he’s kind of curious what your deal is. He rolls his eyes at you, turning to face the other way.
“Do whatever you want. It’s not like it matters.”
His response makes you beam. He hears you shout from the otherside of the yard, followed by the sound of your footsteps noisily thudding against the concrete as you try to catch up with him. He walks faster than you just to spite you for earlier, but he hears your last words through a huff of breath.
“Jeez, you’re fast. I’ll see you at lunch, be prepared!”
Somehow, he feels like he’s crossed paths with something he shouldn’t’ve.
__
You keep up with your end of the deal with Rin to the best of your ability.
The upsides of your arrangement is that the usual annoyances Rin has to deal with have decreased significantly in the time you’ve been hanging around him. You’re very good at using your speech to sway conversations one way or the other without upsetting the other party.
Normally, Rin’s rejections for different things leave a bitter taste in the air. He’s never been good at mincing his words for anyone and while it doesn’t affect him - the strange stares and whispers he gets are a little annoying to deal with. People always take his disinterest personally. Rin has always hated that. He was probably a little gentler about the denial before but still.
While other people are too stupid to pay it any mind, you’re clever at turning the tides your way. You always manage to completely divert their questions without making them feel uncomfortable. Rin has tried, many times, to actually break down how you’re doing it. He doesn’t think he’d ever be able to replicate it, no matter how much he studies you.
He’s reluctant to admit it, but really, your presence has significantly lowered the number of obstacles in his daily life and made him overall, less irritable.
Instead of many annoying things, there’s only you. Which is tolerable in comparison.
You also expect him to uphold his end of the deal. For the most part, this has just meant you inserting yourself into his usual activities. It started out small enough, mostly just you sitting with him during lunch. It draws too much attention to eat in the classroom so you both fuck off to the roof.
(You often joke about how romantic it is, reminiscing on your rejected first love with as much melodrama as you can muster.
Rin never laughs about it to your face, but he admits it’s funny. Your stupidity is mildly amusing, at least )
There, you eat lunch together. Rin learns you make yourself colorful bentos from time to time- though some days are much less elaborate than others. You like to unwind that way, your designated and nightly me-time. You work part-time, and you take care of your neighbors kids by helping them every morning and night.
Rin doesn’t ask you for more, not willing to deliberately show interest.
But you notice his curiosity for better or for worse and explain that she, the woman next door, used to make you dinner back when your parents were too busy. You have an older brother who's nearly twelve years your senior so you were alone for most of your childhood. She had children late, but they feel like your little siblings. So you help them in the mornings and in the evenings when you have time.
Rin learns you, funnily enough, have a sense of obligation towards other people that he can’t fully comprehend. He forgot there were people like that. In an environment like Bluelock that is so dead set on fostering ego, it’s easy to forget something so simple.
You haven’t confessed to him again since that time. Not like he’s expecting it, but given your personality he wonders why. He thought it’d be more of a daily occurence, something like a bit you did. But you never do. Even when at times, it’s so heavy in the atmosphere even he can tell you want too.
Admittedly, Rin wonders a lot more about you than he cares to. He wonders why you spend so much time with him when you have plenty of other friends who seem to cherish you. He wonders why you care so much about the dying club you're in. He wonders if this, in some strange way, stems from some kind of obligation.
He wonders, sometimes, what about him you could even like. It’s probably something stupid. You’d probably think long and hard before going on to say that you like him because he’s handsome or cool. Something shallow and meaningless.
He tells himself that when he starts thinking about it again.
__
Rin gets roped into cleaning the classroom with you.
He’s used to being paired with other people. But he’s never had to do with you before, even in the years prior. Or maybe he did. He doesn’t recall much of his first year.
Still, now that it’s already mid-May, Rin has never been on cleaning duty with you. He’s conscious of the sound of your name these days. It’s not something he’s happy about.
It’s a simple affair. Just 15 or 20 minutes. Nothing to talk about. Not really.
But, today you’re alone with him. Alone in an empty classroom with light pouring through the windows and reflecting off of the wooden desks. You’re busying yourself with wiping down the chalkboard, humming quietly. Rin has the broom and dust pan, slowly working himself towards the front of the room.
It’s mostly quiet. Just your humming. The soft thud of a dust pan, a gentle brush of the bristle.
Rin feels a crick in his neck, half-way done with the task at hand. He stares at you, off in the front. In your own little world as you fix everything up diligently without turning your head to look up at him even once.
The nape of your neck is visible from the way you’re standing. There’s a chain there. Do you wear a necklace under your uniform? He can see the slope of your shoulders. The light reflects on you.
It stops him dead in his tracks. All he can hear is the quiet. The soft humming of your voice. The thud of the dust pan, the woosh of an eraser. The gentle bristle of a broom. The sound of his own heartbeat, a little louder than it was a minute ago.
He shakes his head. He goes back to sweeping.
__
“Why do you look like that?”
You look depressed. For Rin, this expression on you is unusual. You do look sad sometimes. Somber, occasionally but the look you have on your face right now is down right harrowing. You’re staring blankly out into the open, sitting in the usual spot the two of you have lunch at. But you’ve hardly touched your food and your favorite juicebox (a lunchtime staple) doesn’t have a straw in it yet.
It’s freaking him out, quite frankly. He stares at you, waving a hand in front of your face until you click back into reality. You jump in your skin at the sight of him before taking a deep breath once you’ve realized who’s in front of you.
“Oh. It’s just you. Sorry,” You say, immediately going for your juice. See? “What did you say?”
He sighs, sitting down next to you with his own lunch. Nothing special, something his mom likes to pack when he’s at home - though he doesn’t often take it. He opens up his own tin, taking chopsticks out attached from the top.
“I asked why you looked like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like someone just died.”
You look at him morbidly, clasping your hands and leaning forward with your elbows on your knees.
“My midterm grades,” You say solemnly, voice wavering ever so slightly “They’re detestable. A shame to my bloodline.”
Rin looks at you plainly.
“Aren’t you an idiot to begin with?”
“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m average. Super average. But I scored even lower than usual and I’m concerned. I need to do well on the next one and on my entrance exams.”
Oh, right. Rin forgot since he has no plans to take any.
“Do you know what you want to do for college?” He asks, mostly out of obligation.
“I want to study journalism.” There’s a wispiness to your way of speaking. It gives the air a sentimental feel. “There’s a private university with a good program I want to get into but they’re kind of tough. So I have to focus and do well,”
“What subject are you struggling with?”
You deflate all over again.
“Chemistry and Classical Japanese,”
Rin does well in both subjects. He thinks it over, and decides he can consider this payback. That’s all it is. He’s never liked owing people for favors and while you say this much is enough - Rin can rest assured about your little deal if he’s actually been of use to you in return. He remains impassive as he takes a sip of water.
“Do you want me to help you study?”
You turn to him immediately, suddenly full of life. He doesn’t like the gleam in your eyes, an immediate regret settling in as he stares at you, eyes full of disdain. You don’t hesitate grabbing his hand, putting it to your forehead and bowing deeply as you face him. You’re like a fly that keeps buzzing around him.
“Are you serious? Really? Forreal? Do you mean it?”
“If you keep being a dipshit I’m going to take it back,”
You pull away, hands folded in your lap, going stone faced.
“I would be very grateful,” You say, hands clasped in front of your face. He rolls his eyes.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” He says bluntly, staring out into space “I just don’t want to owe you any favors.”
This you laugh at, leaning back on the wall behind you - with your legs stretched out.
“Don’t worry,” You reply, self-assured. “Somehow, you asking me to study with you so innocently really cements it in that you don’t have a shred of affection for me.”
Something in him stirs. He ignores it.
“Never in a million years.”
You laugh light-heartedly.
“You’re so cold to me, Itoshi-kun.”
“You still call me that.” He grimaces. You stare at him confused.
“How else would I call you?”
“When you use my last name it reminds me of my brother,”
“...Are you implying I should use your first name?”
Oh. Shit. That is what he sort of said, isn’t it?
“No,” He denies, somehow unable to come up with anything worthwhile “Don’t address me at all.”
“Eh? But that’s impossible? I can try but,”
Only an idiot like you would think to actually try. He shakes his head. It’s no good after all.
“Shut up,” He decides, because there’s not anything else he can think to say “We can study at the library.”
You’re quick to reject the proposal.
“We have to pick somewhere else. Like a cafe or something,” You say, not looking at him. You have your phone pulled up now, looking for places nearby. He’s lost again.
“What? Why? Isn’t it easier if it’s at school?”
You glance over at him wide-eyed, before suddenly smiling. It’s a knowing smile, almost like you feel sorry for him. He wants to ask why you look like that. It’s weirdly guarded and he hates that from you. He stares at you, trying to will you to explain yourself. You’re good at reading his thoughts, frustratingly enough, so he’s not accustomed to asking.
Which means your lack of answer is deliberate, and even with the pressure he’s putting on you, you don’t budge.
“Trust me on this one,” You voice light and airy. “It’s better if we find somewhere away from school, too. There’s still some time to look, so no rush.”
He lets it go because he doesn’t have any other choice. Lunch passes and you talk like everything's normal.
The question lingers in the back of his mind.
__
Rin spends most of his time between classes watching soccer. If he has some free time on his day off, he’ll look for a new movie to watch. There’s a new foreign film coming out from a director who he really likes and he’s just finished watching the trailer.
Thirsty, with nothing to do - he stands to his feet and briefly surveys the classroom. He wants a drink and there’s a vending machine down the hallway with a sports drink that tastes like..something.
His airpods are close to being dead so there’s no music as he makes his way. He’s not a fan of being forced to listen to the chatter of the general populace so it’s not that hard to ignore.
It catches his attention when he hears your name in passing before turning the corner of the hall. It stops him dead in his tracks, something tense left in the syllables after . He doesn’t know why he stopped, not exactly. He figured it’d be annoying if his presence caused a ruckus.
He’s used to people talking about you, though they usually describe you as a busybody. The Senpai who’s everywhere. A hand in every jar, or something like that. But there’s a tone to that, mild amusement - never malice, that Rin is more than accustomed to.
This is not that, he notices. He leans on the wall and listens. A group of girls. Some of the voices he recognizes. They’re from the third year classroom down the hall.
“It’s like, I don’t know,” Eto-san, he thinks. She’s come up to him before, more times than he can really count on one hand. Rin knows the type. Kind but not really. To the point it’s hard for anyone to call her out on it. “It’s weird how much she hangs around him. She’s not a bad girl or anything,”
The addition makes Rin’s eye twitch. Yeah. He’s very familiar with this type. He keeps listening. Another voice, but he has no idea who this one is.
“Really? But Senpai is pretty kind to me,”
“Mm, I guess so. I just wonder if it makes Itoshi-kun uncomfortable, you know? With pushy people like that, it doesn’t matter how blunt you are. I just worry about him a bit.”
If it wasn’t so annoying to listen in, Rin would laugh. He’s never understood girls. Especially not highschool ones. He doesn’t pay attention to that kind of social hierarchical shit to begin with, only forced to acknowledge it because other people do. None of it matters to him.
He does think back to what you said a week ago, about finding a place away from school to study. It clicks. You probably know they talk about you like this. Or you could surmise this outcome. Rin should expect that level of awareness from you. Sincere. Always attuned to everyone. Of course this is something you know but he doesn’t.
Why didn’t you tell him? That’s annoying. It’s nothing he couldn’t deal with knowing. He would’ve got it if you explained it earlier.
“Oh wow, you really care about him Eto-san,”
There’s a soft chuckle that makes Rin annoyed. Is he supposed to feel grateful? They’ve barely spoken to each other.
“It’s not like that. It must be hard since he missed second year, that’s all.”
With that, Rin decides to turn the corner.
He’s a little pleased at the reaction. How everyone goes into complete silence when he arrives. He spares her a glance as he moves towards the vending machines, clicking in the buttons. A generic sports drink comes tumbling out of the bottom, and Rin grabs it with deliberate slowness - drawing out the unease.
Eto-san gives him a blank stare before suddenly looking cheerful. She seems a little panicked, quickly trying to make conversation with him. The words don’t reach his ears as he stares down at her expressionlessly.
“Are you done?” He says, ice-cold. She stutters at that. Rin suppresses a smile.
“Oh, uhm, yeah. Sorry, were you busy?”
“Yeah,” He says back, completely apathetic.
He doesn’t plan on saying anymore in the first place. The little victories count.
It does feel like some kind of magic when he hears your voice from the other end of the hallway. You’re practically shouting it, and following is the sound of the hall monitors telling you off for running as you barrel toward him full speed. He can hear the thud of your sneakers all the way till they skid to a stop.
You’re out of breath, bent over your knees and messy as you put a hand up. Most times, he would be embarrassed. He’d even tell you off for being such an idiot. Right now, he finds the corners of his lips upturned as he stares at you from where you stand.
“Oh, hey guys. Sorry, I had some business with this guy. Oh, Fujita-chan, your hair is cute today! I like how it looks up on you,” You say, to the girl who was calling you kind just a minute ago “I hope he wasn’t too cruel to you. He’s actually afraid of women, it’s a generational curse. Every night he turns into a frog and—”
You shuffle in front him, arms stretched out like a shield. He sticks his leg out and kicks your shin. You yelp in pain.
“What the hell are you talking about? Shut up.”
“Ow, you strong bastard. You’re a soccer player, please be more conscious of your kicks. What if you shattered my shin? I know you’re loaded but it’s the principle of the thing, you know—”
“Stop talking or I’ll kick you a second time.”
You go silent immediately.
“Forgive me, Itoshi-sama. I’ve strayed from the path of righteousness. Alas, the people need you.” You say, turning around.
“Speak clearly.”
“Homeroom teacher wanted to double check with you about after graduation plans and told me to go get you.”
“Why you?”
“I was already walking around for the newspaper club.”
He nods, not needing any more explanation.
“H-hey, aren’t you acting too friendly with him?”
So she decided to speak. This makes you falter, just a little, and Rin detests the look of self-satisfaction on her face. He speaks this time. It’s not like he can’t fight any of his own battles.
“It’s fine,” He says, not bothering to think about it. He looks at you, as you stare back at him where he stands, wide-eyed. Idiot. “I don’t mind.”
You grin at him. Big and rounded and stupid, with all of your teeth like you’re giddy. If the hallway monitor wasn’t up your ass, he figures you’d be skipping about now. You usher him into the hall, back where he came from, waving them off.
“Be seeing you guys, then! Bye!”
And you’re off. It’s quiet until you’re both completely out of ear-shot. Before he can go any further you stand in front of him, hands behind your back with a dumb look on your face. He already knows what you’re going to say.
“Hey. I really like you a lot. Just now… my heart was fluttering. I thought I was hallucinating,”
“You’re a moron,”
“Ahhh, what should I do? I’m all hot under the collar. Is this what it’s like being a maiden in love? It’s great.”
“How can you say that knowing I’ve already rejected you?”
“It’s because you’ve rejected me, I can say that.”
And Rin doesn't really get it. He’s not sure he ever will.
But you seem happy enough. He decides against prying.
__
Somehow, you’ve ended up at Rin’s house.
He doesn’t know how it happened. Really.
He mentioned to his mother off-handedly that he needed to help someone study. He should’ve lied about it then, but coming off of running drills makes him pretty stupid. He uses most of his brain power when he trains. So in an altered state of mind due to dehydration, hunger and general exhaustion - he answered honestly instead of lying.
You’re helping someone study? Yes, they’re from my class.
Is it a boy or a girl? A girl. We’re friends.
You can’t study at the library? She doesn’t want to, so we’re trying to find somewhere else.
Why not invite her here, if her parents are okay with it? Her parent’s don’t really pay enough attention to be bothered.
Wait, what is he saying?
Rin doesn’t know how it happened. Really. Really. He tried pretty hard to reject his mothers advances about the situation but he’s never been one to upset her. The whole thing with Sae really tore her up so they both had a silent agreement to try and get along at home. And since Rin is still living at home for now, he tries harder to listen to her. Even so, he wasn’t planning on yielding for this one.
Rin is not immune to his mothers guilt. A long lecture about how her only sons never cared about anything but soccer and how she’s worried she’s never going to have grandchildren later, he finally gave in and gave you a call at his dinner table.
He was hoping you would come through and reject the offer. Say something stupid about how that’s dangerous territory for a young girl in love and let his mom down gently. He forgot about your whole thing about responsibility and being a nice girl who gets along well with adults.
And now, the door is ringing and Rin knows he’s going to open it to you. He mostly blames himself for not thinking ahead.
Rin opens the door on a Saturday afternoon and the first thing he thinks is that you’re not wearing your uniform.
You look…different. It’s weird. Your hair is styled in an unusual way, tied with something like ribbon. You’re wearing something flowy and loose but the neck is a little rounder than usual. There’s a necklace there, a heart-pendant with a chain. You have in...earrings.
Rin thinks vaguely that you look…something. He doesn’t know. But in his vision you’re like a troublesome and amorphous blob that yammers on about nothing. And right now you look…not like that.
“You’re dressed up.” Are the first words to come out of his mouth. You blink at him owlishly.
“Oh. Yeah. I wanted to make a good impression on your mom so I tried not to look sloppy.” You say sheepishly. He leans against the doorframe.
“She doesn’t care about stuff like that.”
“Well I do, okay? Now, can I come in?”
“The white slippers are for you.”
He steps aside and lets you in. You have perfect manners. He probably should’ve expected that. You take your shoes off neatly and place them on the rack the same way, slipping your feet into the slippers provided. Rin just watches, eyes tracing the curve of your neck.
“Where’s your mom?” You ask.
“In the kitchen making dinner. You’re staying for dinner right?”
You blink at him, surprised.
“I mean it’s not like I can’t.”
“She’d be upset if you didn’t.” He says noncommittally before walking you down to the kitchen.
His mother is right where he expects. He stands in the corner as you shuffle in watching on. She turns around to look at you, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Oh, my, you must be Rin’s friend? Such a lovely girl. Welcome! Welcome.”
To this, you bow your head as deep as it can go. The air around you feels serious. Rin scoffs internally. There’s a strange feeling in his chest that he can’t describe, seeing you bowing in front of his mom. An itch he can’t reach, locked tight around his ribs.
You give his mother your name first and she smiles like she’s absolutely delighted just hearing it.
“Thank you for having me. I brought some fruit with me as a gift, I hope that’s alright.”
His mom shoots him a look that Rin deflects by turning away, opening the plastic bag you’ve handed to her.
“Oh my! Aren’t these expensive fruits? Please thank your parents for me!”
“Oh no, don’t worry about that. I work part-time, so I paid for them myself. It was the least I could do. I’m grateful for the tutoring.”
You tense up, realizing that might’ve been an awkward thing to say. It isn’t. Even if it was, Rin’s mother has always been soft-hearted. His dad tells him they’re a lot alike but Rin doesn’t see it. Whatever it may be, Rin’s mom is too doting and too sociable to let you feel bad. Right now she seems emotional, an expression between empathy and pride. She reaches for you like it’s the most natural thing in the world, patting your head gently.
“How diligent. Thank you, then, for the fruit.”
Rin can’t see your face but it’s easy to picture.
“Of course. And pardon the intrusion! And uhm, thank you for having me for dinner.”
Clumsy. Rin thinks you’re clumsy. A flickering light. His mom laughs brightly and tells you not to worry. She leans in closer like she’s whispering but Rin can hear her loud and clear.
“Rin can be very brash but he’s a good boy, so thank you for being kind to him.”
He feels embarrassed. Even readies himself to intervene.
“He is very kind to me.”
Wait. What?
His mom smiles even brighter, and mouths something like ‘take care of her’ when you’re not looking. He wants to stop it before it starts. You’re not dating. You’re hardly even friends, you’re just here to study. Rin almost wants to shout it, but he’s stuck. Before he can do any of that, you’re turning around and smiling like you haven’t said anything strange.
What do you mean he’s kind to you? When his whole thing is rejecting you mercilessly? Being cruel?
What kind of person would ever describe him as kind?
He can’t find the words he wants to say, so he takes you to his room in silence.
__
You both make it to Rin’s room in one piece.
You’ve been studying now for about an hour. Given your personality, Rin was expecting more of a fuss. He thought you’d make some comment about being in a boys room and then fight off the actual studying like the plague.
Much to his surprise, you started studying with him right away. Rin tries his best to tutor you, though he does make fun of you in the process. But you’re a try-hard all the same, stopping only to ask questions and get clarification occasionally.
You’ve been focused that whole time, miraculously enough. Rin studies too, but only a bit, after deciding to study some recent matches instead.
( Every now and again, he’ll glance at you. Just to see if you’re stuck or still working. Each time, he gets caught up on the fact you’re not in your uniform and has to tear his eyes away. )
After a bout of silence, you yawn out loud, quietly shutting your workbook.
“I’ve finished all my practice problems for today,” You announce, before deciding to lay down on his floor “I’m beat.”
“I thought you were gonna give up before you started.” Rin admits. You frown at him.
“I was serious about needing tutoring. Thanks for all your help.”
“I already told you it’s fine. Is there anything else? Finals are next week.”
You shake your head.
“Mm, I don’t think so. One of the guys from the newspaper club helped me with math so I’ll be okay.”
…Huh?
“From the newspaper club?”
“Huh? Yeah. Murata-senpai. We’re in the same year. He’s a few months older so he insists on making me call him Senpai.”
“And he helped you with math?”
“Yeah. He was a delinquent like, all of first year but he really cleaned up his act. He’s actually really gentle.”
Rin frowns at that.
“Do people usually describe delinquents as gentle?”
You make a noise of indignance from where you’re laid on his floor.
“Hey. Murata-senpai is really nice, okay? And he is gentle, so I won’t tolerate your usual judginess.”
Rin rolls his eyes.
“How’d you even meet him?”
“Uh…I wanted to write a column about him, basically. He was helping in the garden last year and I kinda…stalked him. It sounds worse than it is. I just wanted to know what made him change.”
“So stalking people is pretty typical for you.”
You sit up and gape at him. Rin suppresses a laugh.
“Anyways. I eventually flagged him down for an interview. Apparently, he had a real scare with his granny getting sick and decided he needed to cut the shit. He’s a good guy. He joined the newspaper club after the interview,”
“After the interview…?”
You nod, leaning forward with your elbows on the table in front of you.
“Uh-huh. Said he was interested because of my passion or something. He’s been really nice to me ever since and helps me with all of the ideas I have.” You soften as you talk about it. Rin feels an ugly emotion in his chest “I’m worried about what will happen to the club after graduation, but Senpai is always encouraging me to make the most out of the time we still have. So I’m really thankful for him. That’s why you have to be nice.”
Rin is super annoyed. He doesn’t know why he’s so annoyed but he is. How do you not realize this guy likes you? He doesn’t know why he’s opening his mouth to tell you what’s so obvious. It’s not like it really matters. Rin doesn’t like you in the first place, so if he informs you that your beloved Murata-senpai has feelings for you - it’s no big deal.
In fact it might be better for everyone if you realize. He’s just frustrated by how clueless you can be sometimes.
“He’s interested in you,” Rin says, against his better judgment. It feels like the words are welling up in his throat “Your senpai or whatever.”
You blink at him stupidly. He wonders if you’re wearing mascara.
“Huh? I doubt that somehow. Senpai is kind to me but I think he sees me like a little sister.”
He scoffs at you.
“You would think that. Most guys aren’t just nice to girls they don’t like.”
“Not everyone is like you, yanno.” You say back without thinking twice. That’s not the point this time, he wants to say. And he’s right for this one. Anyone else with half of a brain would realize. You’re just… you. Which means you’re absolutely unaware of things pertaining to you. It’s the only reason he can think you’d deny something so obvious.
The only reason you could come to the house of a boy you liked just to study.
“Shut up. I’m saying this because you’re too much of a dumbass to put it together on your own. The guy definitely likes you.”
“I didn’t know you were a love guru,” You say sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at him. Childish. Annoying “It doesn’t matter if he does.”
“Why wouldn’t it matter?”
You give him an incredulous look.
“Unfortunately my heart is captured by an aloof sportsman.”
He doesn’t know why he feels relieved when you say that. He feels his heart all the way in his throat like he’s going to throw it up, even though his expression remains impassive.
“You already know I don’t like you, though. It’s a good opportunity, isn’t it? Don’t a lot of people move on that way.”
You shake your head.
“I’m not that sort of wishy-washy woman.” You reply, huffing your chest up and trying to ease the tension. You stop to shake your head, a small smile on your face. “You wouldn’t get it even if I explained.”
“It’s annoying when you do that,” Rin voices, not bothering to cut it any other way “You did that with the girls at school too. I’m never gonna get it if you don’t bother explaining it to me.”
You soften at this, then whisper.
“...Why do you care?” But it’s not said with any malice. It’s not said sadly either. Just curious. He freezes, but doesn’t let it show. He wants to ask himself the same question.
“I don’t. It’s just,” And he scoffs, not looking at your face “It’s a pain.”
You hum, not expecting more of an answer.
“I want to treasure my own feelings towards you,” You say, and something in Rin feels like it’s being set on fire. “It’s not just about having a boyfriend. If it was, then I’d consider Senpai's feelings.”
“...So it’s about me, specifically?”
“Yeah,” You say without offering any more explanation than that “It is. I like you.”
The words but why, linger in the air. You seem to be feeling merciful, as you lean back on your palms and stare up at his ceiling. You wear your heart outside of your body, more often than not. And he thinks that part of you is so hard to get used to.
“You’re really awkward. And aloof. And you don’t have any friends.”
“Is this some kind of revenge or…?”
“But. You’re also sensitive. The more I know you, the more I think you’re kind and well-meaning. You uh, remind me of a cat.”
He blinks.
“A cat?”
“A cat. Sometimes they want their own space. And sometimes they knock your water off your desk for fun. Plus they only really care about people in their own circle,”
“Again, is this—”
“Let me finish, jeez. They’re solitary creatures. But like when they accept you, they get comfortable. An’ nice . And they look out for you in their own way. To me you’re a lot like that.”
You give him a smile so warm it makes his back hot. So loud and so vibrant like it burst out of him at any minute.
“I’ve uh, always been interested in you. I watched you play in Bluelock too. I kept thinking to myself, there’s something about you. I want to know more, even if it’s just a little. Stuff like that.” You talk so quietly yet it’s all Rin can hear. All Rin can see in his vision is you. All Rin can think about is you. “I’ve always been interested in other peoples stories. So I thought, what a waste it would be, to throw away that feeling because of something like love or like. I thought, ‘What's your story, Itoshi Rin?’”
Rin doesn’t know what to say so he chooses to say nothing.
“When I confessed, I knew you would never like me. Because that’s just the sort of person everyone says you are. Still, what a waste, right? You miss all the shots you don’t take or whatever. So, I wanted to get to know you. I guess.”
“I don’t get it. I get what you’re like but it still doesn’t make any sense. There’s nothing special to know, is there?”
“Feeling that is special, don’t you think? That’s a special reason to me.”
He doesn’t follow. You laugh lightly.
“If I never became interested in Murata-senpai’s story, I would’ve never been his friend. If I gave up on trying to know you, just because you didn’t return to my one-sided feelings, then I would’ve never gotten to know you either. Don’t you think that’s a waste?”
Rin doesn’t know. He’s never really cared about it. He’s rejected so many confessions and never once thought enough about any of them in any depth. That part of you is foreign. He can chalk it up to a difference in character. He can’t understand wanting to know someone just because.
(Or maybe he can. He just hasn’t until now. Until this very moment, suspended in time. Where he wants to know what things make you the way you are.)
Some small, dark part of him wants to ask why. Over and over until his throat feels raw - long enough to understand it. Even as he grips onto that desire so tight, with such bruising force, the words sit in his mouth. They taste like iron. They taste like a bitten tongue. If you’ve watched him all this time, then you know. Being chosen. He’s never been confident in that. Rin wants to ask, why him?
What’s so special? Enough to keep talking to him? Enough to do any of this? Is getting to know people is always this difficult, he wonders. Does it always feel uncomfortable to be in proximity with someone?
In the end, he can’t bring himself to ask. He can’t even bear to examine it in himself, the sense of dread washing over him like sickness. He’s nauseous. And this time, there’s a residue of tension he’s finding increasingly difficult to ignore.
You come through again. He wonders if you can read his mind just like you do with all the nobodies at school.
“Rin-kun,” You say, your voice like the summer heat. “Getting to know you makes me feel like my feelings aren’t a waste. I’m happy getting to know you. I want to treasure that.”
What happens when you run out of things to know? The question is too heavy. He settles on a different one. He wants to understand it more. Just to put himself at ease.
“Isn’t being in the same room with someone who rejected you uncomfortable?”
“Maybe. But there’s a clear line for me and you, so it’s cool. In like, ten years, maybe someone will interview me about you. As your classmate and stuff. And I’ll go - ‘He’s actually a really nice guy. I actually had a crush on him.’ If I can say that, without being regretful, then that’ll be enough for me.”
“That’ll be enough for you? Really?”
“Really.”
“You’re so weird.” He says, unsure of what else he could possibly say. You giggle, and lay back down on his floor.
“I knew you’d say that.”
__
Summer comes.
It doesn’t occur to Rin how often he sees you in school until it all comes to a halt. He has your number, and you text him often - about unimportant and trivial shit that you think of. In that way, it doesn’t even really feel like you’ve separated.
But the sudden absence of your chattering in his life makes everything feel especially quiet. Summer is a boring time for Rin. It’s mostly the same. Practicing and playing and studying. On the few occasions he’s been out, it’s because some of the other Bluelock members are gathering and refuse to let him know even a breath of peace.
He’s seen Sae now, though they never really talk about anything. Sort of just look at each other and exchange enough words that their mom doesn’t cry before going back to their room. Sae will be gone before school starts back up again, so Rin isn’t all that worried about it.
It occurs to Rin for the first time that this summer will be the last of his highschool days. He’s never been sentimental about stuff like that - so he figures you’re to blame for these sudden thoughts.
Your summer has been a lot busier than his. He should probably expect this from you by now, but your surprisingly youthful social life always shocks him. You’ve been working part-time as usual. In that time though, you’ve also been to the beach and been on an overnight trip to Osaka with your newspaper club.
(Rin wasn’t happy to hear about this. He was relieved to know it was with a teacher and that you roomed with a girl. But still, not exactly his favorite of anecdotes for the summer.)
You’ve invited Rin more than once to come hang out with you, but he’s basically always declined. The group setting is troublesome, but being alone with you feels even worse somehow. It wouldn’t be a date, obviously, but it would be something. Something deliberate.
Rin doesn’t know if he can come see you in good faith for such a reason.
It’s another day spent doing his usual. Being technical, it’s a rest day, which means he’s only allowed to stretch. He has done his basics. Studied, messed around with his ball, responded to a barrage of texts from Bachira and Isagi. He played games for a while, checking out a new horror game before deciding it’d be best not to get too sucked in so he has something to play next time.
After all that, during a mid-August day while Rin sits on his couch and watches T.V., he receives a facetime call from you for the very first time. At first, he just lets it ring. But when it keeps ringing - he figures your persistence is going to continue unless he replies.
He looks around. No one's home, so he doesn’t need to go to his room. He swipes, and the call connects. The screen shows him, propped up against something with a full shot of your room. You’re turned away from the camera. Rin just stares.
“Oh, shit - did you actually pick up?”
“Should I hang up.”
“No! No, I just wasn’t expecting you. Don’t hang up. I need a guy's opinion.”
“What? What for?”
“I got in a fight with my brother about a dress I bought,” You say, exasperated, and Rin is surprised because you hardly see him. “I know he’s probably looking out for me but I don’t think we talk enough for him to be telling me how to dress.”
“He’s older than you, right? Maybe you should listen to him.”
“You’re the last person I want to hear that from. Either way, I’m not a kid. I’m already 18 and I’m going to college. It’s a cute dress! I feel like it’s fine.”
“So..why’d you call me again?”
“I’m gonna try it on and show you. Murata-senpai is busy.”
“You shouldn’t do that to a guy who likes you.” Rin deadpans. You laugh.
“Shut up. I really need an opinion. I wanted to wear it to go out today so if it’s actually too provocative then I have to change my outfit.”
“Where are you even going?”
“My friend needs to get a concealer, so probably the mall or something. After that I’ll go buy some stationary.”
“Alone? What about your friend?”
“She’s gonna go see her boyfriend.”
“Why can’t you just go with them? Or ask them to go with you”
“And third wheel? I’m good. I just need some stationary and then I’ll be home. Easy peasy. Anyway, what’s with the interrogation?”
“It’s not interrogation.” He insists. You’re offscreen so Rin can’t see you, but he can hear the sound of a zipper echo in the speakers. He’s also sure you’re rolling your eyes.
When you come on camera, the dress of the hour is on display. Rin’s first thought is to tell you to take it off. It is too provocative to him. The front is fine as is, but it’s nearly backless and it’s cut too high on your thighs. He’s never seen so much of your skin. Maybe that’s a given, since he didn’t go to the beach with you either.
You give him a quick spin, before patting the front down. You say something, but the words don’t register. It feels like his brain is full of cotton or something.
“So? Too much? I mean it’s backless but like. I don’t know, it’s kind of loose? And the sleeves are long. Neckline isn’t that bad, either.”
Rin just says what he thinks “You shouldn’t go out alone wearing it.”
You frown at him.
“That’s not helpful, Rin-kun.”
“It’s…fine. What time does your friend have to go?”
“Probably right after we’re done.”
He sighs.
“Tell her to go with her boyfriend early. I’ll come with you to get your stationary.”
“Wait, what? Did I hear that right? You’re coming to get me? After I’ve been hounding you to hang out? What’s with the change of heart?”
“I don’t have anything to do since it’s a rest day. You need stuff and I don’t think you should be out alone. Don’t read into it.”
“Kinda hard not too but I’m not gonna complain. Are you coming right now?”
“Yeah. Send me your address.”
__
Rin has no idea what impulse has brought him here.
That’s not entirely true. What brought him to your apartment towards the end of summer is impulse. He acted on nothing but impulse.
Rin, for better or for worse, finds that you’re clueless about yourself. The fact you were going to call Murata-senpai is already bothering him enough. That, along with the fact you wore the dress and didn’t think it was too short is troubling. It’s not that Rin wants to tell you what not to wear. He doesn’t have the right but you did ask.
Anyway, it’s a lot less agitating if you’re being accompanied while wearing it. Going alone in something like that, even if it’s the middle of summer, would be stupid.
Rin doesn’t make it a habit of worrying about the outfits of girls he doesn’t know. He does know you though. He thinks you’d be really annoying if something happened and you got upset about it. So, all he’s doing is preventing that outcome. It’s nothing more than that.
He knocks on your door as he shakes the thoughts out of his head, and he’s greeted by a man in his late twenties. It dawns on Rin that this is your brother. He really didn’t think this through.
Your brother is an imposing person. He’s a head taller than Rin with a gruff voice and a scar on his cheek. Rin stares at him blankly.
“Who are you?”
“Itoshi Rin. I’m here for—”
“Nii-san, tell Rin-kun to come inside and sit! I’m not done getting ready.”
Your brother glares at him.
“Who’s he? Your boyfriend? Is that why—”
You come stumbling out of your room, half-dressed and Rin immediately averts his eyes. This is the most uncomfortable experience of his life.
“He’s not my boyfriend. He already rejected me, so we’re just friends. Stop fussing and let him in, it’s hot out.”
“He rejected you?”
Rin should just leave.
“I already knew he was going to. Now move,”
Rin doesn’t enjoy being involved in your sibling quarrel. Suddenly, he feels a twinge of regret about some old Bluelock memories. He understands it now more than ever, gaining a little empathy.
Your brother moves out of the way. You’re standing in the hall, with a single stocking on and powder on your face he’s pretty sure is meant to be brushed. You grin at him.
“Sorry! I won’t be long, promise. You got here faster than I thought you would.”
Rin can feel a pair of eyes in the back of his skull.
“Uh. Yeah. I took the bus so it was quick.”
“It might be uncomfortable here. Do you wanna sit in my room instead? It’s colder but it’s kind of a mess—”
“He can sit here.” Your brother insists. Rin is never leaving his house again. You frown.
“Didn’t I already tell you we’re not dating? He’s not even interested in me, it’s not like anything is gonna happen.”
“It’s the principle of it.” Yeah. Definitely siblings.
“Whatever. If you make him uncomfortable, I’m gonna yell at you. Rin-kun, sorry. Do you need anything? Juice? Water?”
Your hospitality throws him off. You’re different at home.
“Uh. No. I’m okay.”
“Okay, then I’ll hurry and get dressed. Nii-san, please be civil.”
With that, you flounce back up to your room. Your brother is staring hard in Rin’s direction. He’s not intimidated. It’s just… so awkward it’s kind of unbearable for him. What do people usually do in this situation? Rin’s not exactly the sociable type.
“She confessed to you?”
Rin is startled.
“Uh. Yeah. In April.”
“And you’re friends?”
“She asked to be friends.”
Your brother looks distressed.
“I don’t understand that girl at all.”
Rin doesn't either.
“What’s she like in school?”
Rin stares. Oh. He’s that kind of older brother.
“Uh. Busy. She’s in the newspaper club so she’s always doing something. She has a lot of friends and gets along with our class.”
“I see…that’s good. I’m always worried about her. Our family has always been busy and I moved out when I was 18 so… we don’t see much of each other. She doesn’t talk about herself that much either.”
Rin nods absently. What circle of hell is this?
“She probably thinks I’m just being overprotective,” Bullseye “But I just worry she grew up too fast.”
Rin thinks if he were a different kind of guy, now would be the time he gives your older brother an encouraging heart to heart. The script is there. It’s just not how he honestly feels. Rin doesn’t take pleasure in defending you. But it’s hypocritical and a little ridiculous to hear it from him.
Some of it is leftover resentment from Sae. The rest is knowing you.
You did grow up too fast. From what he knows about teenage girls, they’re supposed to be…meaner. More hysterical. More inconsiderate. Less responsible and more in the moment. Messy. All teenagers are, really.
For all the ways you are clumsy and ridiculous, sometimes Rin thinks you’re too off-puttingly mature. It wouldn’t kill you to be more selfish. To be just a little less self-reliant. It’s not normal is it? To be so grateful for things you’re owed. It bothers him. Always has.
Rin knows what the script is. But it bothers him.
“If you know that then you don’t really have any right to intervene,” Rin says bluntly. “Suddenly acting protective and considerate when she grew up on her own is just going to feel stifling. Aren’t you just trying to make yourself feel better?”
He looks surprised by his answer. Hurt too.
“I guess that’s right,”
He frowns.
“If you actually care, just be honest. She’s not the type of person to turn someone away on a grudge.”
Before Rin can feel embarrassed about what he’s said, you come stumbling down the steps all dressed up. Your brother gives you a look.
“Do you need any money?”
You look at him confused then shake your head no.
“Okay. Stay safe and have fun.”
He turns to leave. You watch him go. Rin puts his hands in his pockets like he’s trying to wipe himself of it.
“Weird… anyways. Ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
__
Your outing goes well.
Outing. Not a date. No matter how many times people mistake you two for being on a date today - it was nothing more than an outing.
You start with stationary for the upcoming term, then you drag Rin to the mall because you need some more clothes. After that, you go into a bookstore to pick up some manga. Rin has fun there because he gets to pick out some new releases and you bond mutually over your tastes. Rin learns both like thrillers. You spend a lot of time together, reading over his shoulder.
It’s not a date. But it wasn’t bad. He’s so used to talking to you that the entire situation doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You’re funnier than he’s usually willing to give you credit for. Doing all that, plus train rides, makes it so you’re not home until sundown. You, however, refuse to end the night without having some kind of treat. After a lot of begging Rin to cheat on his meal plan, the two of you get ice-cream and you drag Rin to a local playground. Apparently you bring your neighbors' kids here sometimes.
Now he’s here. Sitting on swings with ice-cream and it is still not a date. Rin has no opinions on the day but you’re practically bursting at the seams with happiness. The dress you’re wearing is hiking up on your thigh from how you’re sitting. He was right to accompany you, by the way. The amount of creeps he’s had to stare down today alone is outright disgusting.
Rin takes a spoonful of ice-cream and lets it melt in his mouth. You let your feet hit the mulch beneath you as you lick the ice-cream carefully - trying desperately not to let it spill on your hand. He watches on in amusement. After you finally get a handle on it, you give him a small look.
“I had fun today,” You say sentimentally. Rin feels his stomach tie in knots “Thank you.”
He frowns.
“Gross. Stop that.”
“Aw, c’mon. You’re so edgy. Just admit you had fun! You had a fantastic and whimsical time.”
He gives you an unimpressed stare.
“Really? Nothing? You’re not feeling the flames of youthful joy in your loins at all?”
“Describing it like that is disgusting.”
“So you admit you know what it is.”
Rin wants to smile. Fuck, he hates you.
“...It wasn’t bad.”
You grin. You’re so annoying.
“Ladies and gents, we got an ‘it wasn’t bad’ from the ever soulless Itoshi Rin!”
Stupid. So stupid.
“It was more tolerable than hanging out with some of my other dipshit friends.”
You clasp a hand over your mouth dramatically.
“Oh…Oh wow… Do you want to try proposing next? The set-up is there. Perfect ambience.”
His face cracks into a begrudging smile.
“You’re insufferable.”
You suddenly go quiet. When Rin looks at you, you’re stunned
“Why’re you being weird?”
“No, sorry, I was just thinking I really like you,” You say, like it’s the easiest and most natural thing in the world “I’ve never seen you smile before. It’s nice.”
“...Your ability to say cringy shit like that so easily is astounding to me.”
“I don’t want to hear this from the guy who unironically uses lukewarm,” You say, biting into your ice-cream cone. Rin blushes. “Besides, nothing wrong with being cringe when you’re in love.”
“Freak.”
You give him a thumbs up.
“One of a kind.”
There’s a beat of silence. It’s comfortable. Rin eats his too, probably a little slower than he has to. Summer feels heavy in the air.
“You weren’t always like..an edgelord, right?”
Rin stares at you, perplexed by how sudden the question is.
“Where’d you hear that from?”
“Your mom after dinner. You already went upstairs. Said you had a nasty fight with your brother.”
He doesn’t say anything, posture stiffening at the mention of Sae.
“It’s not your business.”
“Hey. No need for the attitude. I’m curious as your number one fan.” You say, trying to back off as much as possible. Like he’s some kind of feral cat you’re trying to calm. “Don’t be mad, okay? You don’t have to talk about it.”
You try your best to be soothing and Rin softens
He is angry. Not at you. Not really. The mention of Sae just does that to him. And if anyone else even thought to bring it up - he’d probably tell them to go fuck themselves with nothing but bitter hatred.
With you, there’s not any of that. There’s a lingering sense of hesitance - an internal conflict, but not anger. Rin’s never enjoyed opening his heart to anyone.
Even so, he feels compelled to tell you, so he does.
“My brothers a dick,” Resentment seeps into his words “He came back from overseas and then basically insulted me for a minute straight. We were always meant to play soccer together but he went through something. He changed. We never talked about it,”
“What? He insulted you for no reason? That’s so weird. Did you always have a bad relationship?”
Rin sits with himself quietly.
“I don’t know if we have one now. We were close as kids. At least.”
“And he just… came back and started being an asshole to you? Seriously?”
Rin nods. There’s not much else to the story. Rin’s tried hard not to think about the situation itself. He only uses the feelings that stayed behind to make him better. To give him a reason to play - it’s motivation and nothing more. If he starts to view it too much like what it is, betrayal, he’s afraid everything inside of him will collapse.
“There’s probably more to it than that,” You conclude thoughtfully. Rin thinks the same “But still. You’re his baby brother. Even if he’s going through something…”
Rin scoffs “You sound like you’re worried about him.” It comes out more petulantly than he expects
“Not really. Not as much as I’m worried about you,” You counter, giving him a small smile. Rin feels his heart leap into his throat “I just figure, you know, maybe thinking about it like that would help. You were close right? Your mom said he used to dote on you,”
Rin nods. He feels his chest swell and tighten.
“Then…I bet it sucked. I bet it was hard. Or at least, it must’ve been lonely to go through that,” You say, frown deepening “Such a sudden change would be hard for anyone to deal with, I think. It’s okay if you feel like it’s unfair. His reasons aside.”
You sigh, suddenly, covering your hands with your face.
“What?” Rin asks. You shake your head.
“You poor thing. I wanna hug you to death you know. A good squeeze. I’m trying to refrain.” You say, stomping your feet just slightly. He feels a flush crawl up his neck, turning his head to look away.
“...It’s not like I’m stopping you.”
He doesn’t have the courage to look at you. Not as he says it, or after to steal a glance of what face you're making. Instead, he hears the metal of the chain and feels the warmth of your body. It’s a tight hug. You’re standing and he’s sitting, your arms around his neck, his face directly against your chest. He widens his eyes. He wants to yell at you for being a defenseless idiot, but the feeling of being hugged so tightly washes the words away. You���re soft…and warm. He’s never been hugged by someone who isn’t his mom or brother before, and he can’t remember the last time either thing happened to him. You pat his head.
Do you touch people like this often? So casually? Or is he special because you like him, he wants to ask. He wants to ask but doesn’t want to know the answer, pushing the feeling down as deep as he can make it go. He wraps his arms around you loosely, above your waist trying to be respectful.
But he leans into the warmth. Like it’s something that happens once in a lifetime.
“Hey, Rin.” You say, soft. He can feel the warmth of your breath against his hair.
“Hn.”
“I hope you kick your brother's ass in soccer.”
You sound teary. Weirdly, it makes Rin feel better.
“Yeah.”
__
School starts up again during September.
The autumn season welcomes warm colors, fallen leaves and the sort of cool weather that puts the summer uniforms back up on the hangers. Rin is listening to music when he spots you waiting for him at the gate, waving your hand at him. He has half a mind to ignore you, you’re so embarrassing.
But before he can pretend not to see, you’re jogging over to him. He has to stand so you don’t end up bumping into him. You walk like you were born backwards, two left feet with such little awareness of your surroundings it stresses Rin out.
He gives you a blank stare as you smile, securing your bag to your shoulder.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” You say warmly. Rin pauses to look at you. You look different somehow. Lately you always do, Rin wonders if you’ve picked up some weird shape-shifting in your time apart “Are you excited for the new semester, hm? Hmm?”
He keeps walking and you fall in step with him. You try but he’s too fast, so he slows just a little. He clicks his teeth, shaking his head, eyes taking in the view of the building in front him.
“Why would I be excited?”
You shrug.
“Because winter break is close? Because there’s fun leaves outside? Because it’s your birthday in 6 days?”
He stops dead in his tracks.
“What the hell? Why do you know that?”
“Your mom told me.” You say, skipping along happily to school like you didn’t just say something insane. His frown deepens.
“You have my moms number? You talk to my mom?”
“She loves me,” You say casually, turning only to look at him and stick your tongue out “And she’s nice. Get over it.”
With this, you rush into the building faster, giggling as you leave. Rin, frustrated, stomps after you.
__
Your time together at lunch continues into fall. It’s the third day of the term, September 6th and you’re sitting by his side. The two of you eat in casual silence now, falling into a regular routine. There’s something about the whole ordeal that makes Rin feel a little funny.
Friendship, as it stands, is still a lukewarm idea to him. But sprawled out next to you in a comfortable quiet isn’t the worst thing. The weather is cool enough to be nice and the daylight lasts for just the right amount of time to see sunset when he treks back home from practicing shooting into the net.
That kind of sentimental viewing of his surroundings is a bad habit he’s picked up from you. He can’t seem to shake it off. He’s tried at least, but Rin has been stopping to look at everything nowadays. The sun, the trees, the cars passing. Everything passes right by his life, slowly.
Eventually, eventually this whole thing will cease. You’ll never see Rin again and he’ll never see you - and you’ll part your separate ways. Thinking about that feels so stifling. But he figures since that’s the case, there’s probably not any harm in letting the time pass like this. As long as he’s still improving.
Your voice doesn’t catch him off-guard anymore, no matter how loud it is after a long bout of silence. You stuff something into your mouth, a tomato he thinks.
“Rin-kun,” You start, tilting your head to one-side “Are you doing anything for your birthday?”
“No.” He answers immediately because he never does. He hasn’t done much since Sae left home and now that he’s a third year and about to be 18, there’s even less of a desire to pull together a party and celebrate.
“What? Boo. That’s so lame.”
“Don’t be so childish.”
“I’m older than you, you dummy,” You say with such automation that Rin doesn’t even get the chance to process “You’re not even gonna have cake? Nothing?”
“My mom might but I don’t have any plans.”
“Your mom is so nice.”
“Stop.”
You frown at him but don’t say any more. You look like you have something on your mind. Probably something stupid, but Rin can’t help but wonder what’s making your brow crease so intensely.
“What?” He snips. You flick your eyes to him and shake your head.
“I just think it’s a waste,” You say simply, that tone of fondness seeping into it that Rin can’t get used to. “It’s such a big number, you know? A little cake and some show tunes or something would suffice.”
Rin scoffs.
“I don’t care about it. It’s pointless to me. Lukewarm” He says, before noticing your genuine sadness. He sighs a little to himself “Stop looking like a depressed mutt.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“I guess dogs are more well-trained.’
“Hey. Hey, what the hell do you mean by that?”
He ignores you.
“Anyway, stop worrying about it.”
You pout.
“Easier said than done.”.
__
Rin’s morning routine has been the exact same for two years.
He starts by opening the window, to let fresh air and sunlight come in through the glass. He feels like his room gets stale overnight and it wakes him up to taste the sun in the back of his mouth. He takes a deep breath of it, clearing out his lungs and blinking his eyes open.
After that he stretches. He unfurls a Bluelock brand yoga mat onto his carpeted floor and gets to his usual cycle. It’s integral for an athlete to keep their muscles stretched, functioning like a well-oiled machine. He has it down pat. He starts from the bottom up, stretching his legs and working up to his arms and shoulders. His legs always come first since he’s a striker, always focusing on the mobility of his calves and foot before he stretches out his thigh.
His core, then his chest and arms. When he’s done with all that - he practices yoga for fifteen minutes. Again with mobility but this time full body, like making sure each of his limbs work with each other without any stops. He’ll sit back down after those minutes are up to meditate for another fifteen - clear his mind of absolutely anything stuck in it. It’s the most peace he gets on any given day.
At the end, he sits with his feelings. Carefully, he undoes the wrapped clothed box around his heart and stares at it as it sits in his lap. Beating and raw and melancholy blue - so full of sadness and anger like it could burst at any minute. Revisiting his sadness and rage is a necessity. Sometimes it feels like only sadness. Only monochrome.
(He wonders if a day will come where that part of his routine is changed. If ever, he’ll unwrap his own heart only to see it pink or golden yellow or even a softer shade of red. He wonders if the colors ever change, or if time will fade them.)
All of this happens before he even brushes his teeth. The rest of his morning routine is keeping his room neat. He folds the comforter on his bed, puts any dirty clothes away, and gets dressed. He doesn’t really style his hair - it’s so pin straight after washing he normally just has to brush it to keep it nice.
After that he has breakfast, and checks through his bag. On days he has school he goes to school and comes back to practice. If he’s home alone - he picks one of many other things to do. He tends to practice closer to evening, taking a shower before he goes to sleep.
On the morning of Rin’s 18th birthday, he’s only really acutely aware of the date. His morning starts the exact same as it has everyday for nearly two years. Nothing to make him feel particularly different. When he looks in the mirror, he still sees his brother's face and when he looks at his heart it’s still a steely, melancholy blue.
When he comes down stairs, though - there’s a pair of shoes he doesn’t recognize. And there’s a humming traveling down the hall and always the way up towards him that he knows quite well.
He thinks, for a minute, he might still be dreaming. Why you would be in his house on a Saturday morning makes absolutely no sense otherwise.
He slips his feet into his gray slippers and treks into the living room, only to find you in view of the open kitchen. There’s a balloon attached to flowers and a spread of fruits on the table. Orange juice in a cold glass. You with his moms borrowed apron, humming contentedly as you bend over the stove.
Rin doesn’t know what the feeling is. He doesn’t know if he’s irritated or not. Just that it’s so overwhelming to see you in his kitchen, marching to the beat of your own drum like you always do.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?”
You startle when you hear his voice, whipping around to face him. Dramatically putting a hand on your chest - you shoot him an unfriendly glare.
“Well hello to you too.”
“Answer my question.” He demands. You click your teeth.
“Well, obviously I’m making breakfast. We’re celebrating your birthday.”
“Without telling me.”
You snap your fingers before giving him finger guns “Precisely. Genius deduction, Itoshi-sama.”
“What the fuck. Where are my parents.”
“They’re out on a day-trip! It’s a Saturday. They’ll be back here on Sunday afternoon. Read the note.”
“What were you gonna do if I had last minute plans?”
“You don’t though?” You say like knowing that is so obvious. He knows you asked but still “I guess I’d turn around and make my own breakfast. Give you your gift at school or something.”
“Why are you here?” He asks a little softer this time. With a little more emotion, just a touch. He never expects anyone to make a fuss about his birthday.
Rin doesn’t really ask for much. Certainly wouldn’t ask for this on his own accord. That’s a vain thing to do, right?
It occurs to Rin that this is the kind of birthday you do for someone you like. Someone you love. You’re always confessing your feelings to him. You only say it when you’re sure. It wasn’t like Rin didn’t know you had feelings for him, because the point of it all had been for you to try and get rid of them. Or honor them, or deal with them in whatever way you saw fit. Rin had agreed on a whim to help you with that. Your friendship had started with the very notion that you liked Itoshi Rin and he didn’t like you back. It’s not some secret.
When the light pours in through the windows and hits your back and for the first time - Rin understands what the fuss is about being in love is. He’s sure that this strange, grotesque warmth is the aftermath of being liked. He always thought it’d feel more simple. That he’d remain unmoved in the face of it because he was different.
It’s not like he’s unloved. He’s sure his parents love him. His brother did too. Still does, Rin thinks.
But it’s the first time someone has made their feelings so clear to him. Someone who isn’t supposed to love or like him. And even Rin, chronically apathetic, can’t bring himself to ignore the weight of knowing that. He stares at you, dumbstruck.
You’re still turned to him. There’s a cool tumbler of iced-coffee sitting on the counter that you sip, head tilted to one side.
“Well, I don’t know,” You start, a hand on your hip “It just felt like too much of a waste to do nothing on your birthday. But you’re not the kind of guy who likes big celebrations. So I thought maybe just hanging out would be more your speed.”
Rin swallows. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Bold thing to assume.”
You frown back.
“Well, I was gonna invite Isagi-kun—“
“Isagi? How do you know Isagi?”
“He saw me leaving your house ‘cause he was gonna visit. After we talked he followed me on Instagram. Anyway, I was gonna invite him and Bachira and all four of us could go to a movie,” You explain as you sigh and go back to the stove “But he said you’d probably just want to hang out with me.”
“…And he didn’t say anything else?”
“Well he asked if we were dating so I just told him the truth. Really nice guy, by the way.”
Rin’s going to hound Isagi next time they practice together.
“So. Now you’re here… doing what exactly?”
“Making you breakfast. I’ll make you ochazuke for lunch later. Haven’t decided on dinner, I thought I’d ask when you woke up. Your mom said you liked traditional breakfast but I didn’t think I’d be done by the time you woke up so there’s fruit.”
Sure enough, when Rin walks over to the other side of the table - there’s a half done spread of breakfast on the table. All the dining ware is set up neatly, the table arranged so well he feels guilty for not helping.
“You didn’t have to do all this for me.” Rin tsks, a frown on his expression as he stands next to you. He watches you pour egg into a square pan, slowly evening out the layers.
“I wanted to,” You reply, not thinking twice about it. “I enjoy cooking for people. It’s fun. I normally just do it to feed myself, so it’s nice to share.”
He closes his eyes.
“Thanks.”
He’s afraid to look over at you, the excitement radiating off of you. It makes him uncomfortable that something so simple could make you so happy.
“Can you repeat that?”
“Don’t start.”
“Rin-chan,” You coo, immediately making him so embarrassed he wants to hit you “You’re so docile today.”
“I’m gonna kill you.” He says, hitting your shoulder as light as he can.
“Woah…how romantic. Dying on the day you were born? Jeez. I’m swooning.”
He looks at you blankly.
“Stop being gross. Where did you even get that from?”
“Too many things to count,” You say with a snap. He shakes his head.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
“How diligent. It’s fine! It’s your birthday, right? Sit. Eat some fruit. Pick out what you wanna do. I rented some games and there’s some movies I had in mind too. Make your agenda. “
Rin laughs to himself, lightly.
“Isn’t that supposed to be your job?”
“Don’t be stingy! I’m already making breakfast.”
Rin rolls his eyes.
“Yeah. Whatever.”
__
You end up back in Rin’s room.
After a healthy discussion about what he would like to do - Rin landed on wanting to do both. He picked out a copy of Resident Evil to play until after lunch and then decided to binge a bunch of movies after.
You even agree to accompany him while he practices. There’s 24 hours in a day and the plans are nothing more than vague suggestions - but deep down, it makes Rin kind of…well whatever. It’s not a bad plan.
Currently, you’re sitting at the foot of Rin’s bed with your hands tight around the controller of his PS4. Rin feels a little bad for you. While you do okay with horror movies, the immersion of horror games seems to frighten you enough that your eyes are glued onto the screen. As such, Rin is trying his best not to startle you as you lean forward every so slightly. The leg of your pants is pushed up just barely. You’re dressed cozy, so it’s funny seeing your head shrink into your hoodie.
“Why the fuck would you set it hardcore if this BOTH of our first times playing,” You whine, turning yourself into the next room carefully on screen “I’m scared.”
“You’re such a wuss,” He scoffs, leaning back from where he’s sitting next to you on his bed. “We’re never gonna make any progress like this.”
You stomp your feet and Rin resists the urge to laugh.
“Shut up, it’s scary.”
He nudges your shoulder with his knee.
“Stop complaining. You got to pick the character and I got to pick the difficulty.”
“I deserve to lust after Leon after the shit I’m getting put through,”
Rin scoffs at your declaration. The irritation is softened when you walk into the backroom faced with a zombie - a short scream leaving your lips as you mash buttons and use your gun to kill it quickly. You manage to dodge as much damage as you can, obviously trying not to waste limited resources. Even so it takes damn near 7 bullets. Despite your cowardice, you’re pretty good at the game.
You loot the room for any possible supplies then leave. You turn the corner of the isle, a zombie filled gas station awaiting you. You manage to save bullets and stun the one closest to you before getting your shit completely rocked - quick to duck out. The first cut scene of the game comes next where you meet the other main character Claire. You gasp like you’ve been running, shoving the controller towards Rin.
“Your turn. Move, I wanna sit on your bed.”
“Why?”
“Cause it’s a weekend and I have a right to be lazy. Shoo. On the floor.”
“You’re getting way too comfortable in my house on my birthday.”
Rin, does, go sit on the floor where you were. Mostly because it’s a better position to play the game in. At least it has minimal back support. The cut scene plays in the background, nothing difficult as the main characters go to the next area - the police station and the technical start of the game. Rin hasn’t played the remake, but he did longingly watch some playthroughs while he was in Bluelock during its release.
He had never mentioned it to you, so he was shocked you knew enough about it to bring it over. He likes survival horror and he was always wanting to play it.
“Me and your mom are best friends so I practically live here anyways. Also shut-up and look.”
He does shut up, too invested in the story to be annoyed. The main characters get separated and Leon ends up in the streets.
For whatever reason, he’s conscious about proximity. Your knee next to his shoulder. You’re close enough to touch him casually and he’s wondering…hoping to know if you’re naive enough to do it without thinking. It feels like a stroke of luck, or maybe a form of mind-reading when you reach for his hair with your fingers. He wonders if you’re doing it on purpose. He thinks he should tell you to stop.
But when you ask “Is this okay?”
He can’t find the strength in himself to do it. He focuses on the scene in front of him, weaving through the cars to shake off a horde of zombies. Rin grabs the controls, immediately turning around to try and stun a group of zombies before turning into the gate so he can head to the station.
His heart is racing and his eyes almost feel cross from how much he’s focusing but it’s not exactly the game. The game isn’t even that scary, as much as it’s gory he thinks.
“I don’t care but,” He says through a breath, trying to sound like he means it and that he’s not so conscious of the way your pinky lingers on his nape “when’d you get so touchy?”
“I like touching you.” You reply, twirling a strand of hair around your fingers “Your hair is so silky and nice. I felt when I gave you a hug that one time and I kept thinking about it.”
Rin wants to say “Do you think about me that much?” but the words don’t come out how he wants.
“Do you touch everyone like this?”
You’re silent for a minute. It takes patience, effort - not to turn his head to see the look on your face. Though he probably knows it. He thinks he just wants affirmation from you.
“...No. Not really. I just like you.”
There’s a beat of silence - a pause designated for his rejection, the promise he made to you so many months ago. He knows what the script is. And he’s said it many times before. Not in a million years, right?
But he can’t bring himself to say it this time, so he doesn’t.
“Yeah. I know.”
___
Before Rin knows it, the day is coming to a close.
The entirety of it you spend together, with you faithfully stuck to him and without Rin feeling entirely suffocated. He isn’t sure why it’s so easy with you. Normally this much socialization would render him exhausted. Irritable at best and angry at worst. But he’s not. In fact even after his entire workout routine, he felt fine listening to you ramble. He didn’t need complete silence, but even when there were lulls and dips - it didn’t feel uncomfortable.
You didn’t get far in Resident Evil 2. Rin decides to cut it short since it’d definitely take a lot longer than all the time you had and there were movies he wanted to watch. When you whine about not being able to finish - he quietly told you to just come over next time and play it with him then.
He waited a year, so he can wait a little longer. Your face lit up idiotically, giddy with delight at the promise of next time. As promised, ochazuke was for lunch and after 30 minutes of digestion - he put it out of his mind as he did his daily drills. You joined him, insisting that you’d be fine doing nothing. Sat on the field with a book the entire time even though it was cold, tossing him his things whenever he took a break - smiling each time he talked to you.
(“You know you don’t actually need to stay with me the entire day.” He reminds you of this as he brings a bottle of water to lips, sweat dripping down the side of his head even in the cool weather. You turn your head up at him.
“When else am I gonna get to stick by your side all day? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
“You’re so good at being annoying it’s impressive,” He says, dropping his water bottle back down “Aren’t you bored?”
“Huh? No way. I have my fun book to keep me company and on top of that I get to see you play in the flesh.”
Oh, yeah. You mentioned watching him when he was in Bluelock. “Well, it’s not like a match. But I’m not gonna keep asking, so whatever.”
“Yes, yes - I understand. Now go, shoo.”)
Even though Rin practiced for his usually long amount of hours, you sat with him diligently - even stopping to cheer him on when you needed a break from reading or studying or whatever else you were doing.
Upon returning, he went to shower and you went to warm up in the kitchen. After he was redressed and clean, he joined you downstairs to order take-out and have dinner.
Finally, it’s after dinner and you’ve banished Rin to his room while you set something up downstairs. He’s mostly scrolling twitter, watching soccer highlights from the accounts he follows. He’s just about comfortable when you finally call him back down, which irritates him enough to click his teeth but not enough to bring it up to you.
After a long day, when Rin finally comes back down stairs, walking down into the hall and back into the living room - he can’t help but be surprised at the change in scenery. All the lights have been turned low, and everything looks different. You’ve taken to decorating a wall of his living room after some rearranging. A white sheet hanging up with something, and a plethora of fairy lights in stripes going down it in a nice pattern.
There’s a banner and it looks hand-made. It spells out happy birthday, rin in neat, thick blue letters on cut-out white shapes, attached along the back wall. On the table in front, there’s some decoration along with nice paper plates and plastic cutlery and a cake in the middle that’s nicer than he’s expecting.
You beam at him as he walks in. And you’re stupid enough to be wearing a birthday hat, giving him jazz hands as he enters.
“Happy birthday!”
On paper, Rin thinks it’s been something of a boring birthday. He did what he normally would do on a day off but you cooked for him twice. He spent most of it with you, even though it was a lot of nothing. A lot of being together like you were roommates or something. Maybe that's why he’s so reluctant to admit that this is making him feel something.
That the silly theatrics feel meaningful. It is thoughtful, isn’t it? Rin doesn’t think anyone in his entire life has done anything this thoughtful for him. Birthdays are birthdays, and they’ve never really been especially meaningful. He didn’t see the point in just celebrating the day of someone's birth. Certainly, he doesn’t think he’d have it in himself to do something like this for another person.
Rin stares at you. Wearing a stupid birthday hat and the most gleeful, idiotic smile he’s ever seen. All of this for a guy who’s rejected you, but you seem to cherish so much anyways. Apathetic and ungraceful as he is and always will be - he’s so overwhelmed he doesn’t know what to do. What a strange, unrecognizable feeling welling up inside of him. And not even one feeling, but so many so tangled with each other - he can’t see anything straight. His eyes aren’t drawn to the candlelight, or the moon, or the cake.
It’s like a sense of tunnel vision. Where all Rin can really look at is you. It’s happened before. How can anyone be like this, he wonders. Are there people born into the world so unselfishly? And if they are, why would he ever cross paths with them? How could someone so easy to love have any business loving him, in the first place?
Rin won’t ever understand you. He accepts that. He’ll never be able to understand this kind of person. Someone who shines even brighter than the sun.
But he’s not so stupid to not understand himself. He’s unable to say the words he’d promised to you all the way in April. Rin doesn’t like to lie.
He would be lying, that is, if you told him just one more time that you liked him. He’d be lying if it told you it’ll never happen. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t like you. And it’s not just because you like him, because that never mattered to him in the first place.
Some people are made to be adored. Born special and bright like everything should revolve around them. Perhaps that kind of thing is only afforded to people without ego. With heart and character and charisma.
It doesn’t matter. What a stupid thing to realize on his birthday of all days.
“Rin-kun?”
He blinks.
“Where’d you hide all of this?”
You laugh at him, bubbly and delighted.
“I brought it in a tote and kept it in the kitchen. Mostly stuff from my house, and your mom helped with the cake and stuff. It’s nice right? I did a good job, no?”
Ah. He’s fucked.
“It looks okay.”
You frown, huffing and puffing “Just okay? C’mon, don’t be stingy.”
“Doesn’t begging for compliments defeat the purpose of them.”
“Not to me,”
Your frown deepens and Rin is starting to feel the rose colored glasses set in.
“It’s nice. It’s good.”
“So you like it? You’re happy? Delighted, even? Absolutely overjoyed by-”
“Cut it out or I’m going to send you home.”
“No,” You whine, tugging on his sleeves like you’re worried he really will “I want cake.”
“Then let’s cut the cake?”
“We can’t,” You put your arms up in a cross and Rin gives you a look of confusion. “I promised I’d get a good picture of you.”
“What? Promised who?”
“Your parents, mostly. But also, you should post on your Instagram a little more, no? You’re basically a famous player already, you should have the courtesy to feed your fans.”
Before he can do anything to protest, you usher Rin to sit on the other side of the table before you back with his phone. He stares at you but you only look at him expectantly. Still, he unlocks it and hands it to you. He gives you an irritated sigh (though he isn’t really irritated).
“This is stupid.”
“It’s a good thing to capture memories, you dummy. Now smile,” You say, holding up the camera after some angling “Or don’t. The people do love a good scowl.”
That makes him want to smile. He’s awkward in the photos but he does stay still for them, trying his best not to look ridiculous. You take a few, then pause to come up to the table and light the candles in front of him. He hears the camera shutter one more time before you look up at him over the edge.
“Ready to blow out your candles?”
“I guess.”
Before Rin can do anything about it, he listens to you sing happy birthday - poorly with too much enthusiasm. You’re tone deaf and passionate all at the same time - singing each word with a dramatic flair until you’re on the final word. You can’t clap because you’re recording but you do cheer as he burns the candles out. Once it’s over you stop recording, looking down and swiping through the pictures.
“They turned out good. You should post them.”
“...You’re done taking them?”
You tilt your head to one side.
“Yeah?”
“We didn’t get any together.”
Your eyes widen like he said something shocking.
“...You wanna take them together?”
He scoffs.
“We spent the whole day together.”
You flush, suddenly embarrassed and god.
“I just wasn’t expecting you to want that. I mean we’re friends but-”
“Shut up. And come here.”
So you do, phone still in hand as you mess with your appearance.
“Do you want to take it or do you want me to?”
“Oh, uh lemme just-” You go through a bunch of filters and find one before handing it to him, a nervous expression “You take it cause your arm is longer and you’re taller.”
Rin just nods. Takes the phone from you, and lets you pose a little before he takes the photo. He hands it back to you so you can see, and watches your eyes light up as you stare at it. Stupid.
“It came out nice.” You say. You save it onto his phone before handing it back to him. “Send it to me later?”
“Yeah.”
You give him another grin and Rin takes his phone from you, going through the pictures as he opens up Instagram. He guess it wouldn’t hurt to post. You leave his side, saying something about cutting the cake. But he isn’t looking, really.
He drafts a post as he waits for you. He likes the picture you took together best and decides to put it second. He never has any idea on how to caption these which is why he doesn’t want to post it in the first place. He glances at you, then sighs internally.
itoshirin._ posted for the first time in a while.
posted 7 mins ago. liked by isagi_yoichi, bachiraaaaa, and others.
itoshirin._ ; 09.09.2002. thanks for everything, stupid.
isagi_yoichi commented: no way you’re getting a girlfriend before me. life is so unfair and cruel.
isagi_yoichi commented: oh happy birthday btw
bachiraaaaa commented: RIN-CHAN !!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶
official_itoshisae: happy birthday.
itoshirinsnumberonefan: WHO IS THAT??
yo_hiori: happy birthday!
“Rin, I cut the cake!”
He puts his phone on DND before taking a plate of cake from your hand.
__
The clock strikes two, and you’re still at Rin’s place.
After a long binge of horror movies, you’re both comfortably in each other's space - only inches away, talking about nothing. The movie ended a little over half an hour ago.
He’s still doing just that, listening to you chatter away next to his ear. The room is completely dark minus the soft glow of the T.V. which gives just enough light for Rin to gaze at your face. Your eyes are wide and sparkly, still, even though it seems like the tiredness is getting to you too.
Neither of you wants to stop talking. You’ve started discussing manga - particularly Rin's favorite manga.
“Ciguatera was interesting,” You say, hugging one of his pillows close to your chest. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“I’m shocked you read it. Seriously. I thought you would’ve forgotten the minute after I told you.”
“Well, yeah. You recommended it, so obviously I wanted to at least try,” You say with a breathless laugh, turning over to face him. You’re facing each other, he realizes a second too late “You’re such a boy, by the way. Weekly young magazine? Really.”
“Shut up.” He says, with no real bite to his words “What were you expecting?”
“Dunno. Didn’t think you were interested in romance of all things. Especially cause Ogino’s kind of a loser.”
“There was other stuff in it.” He points out. You chuckle.
“Yeah. Way raunchier and darker than I thought. But it was mostly about romance. So, I was surprised to say the last.”
“What,” Rin starts, partially offended by the implication “Do you think I'm a soulless machine or something?”
“Well no,” You frown, shaking your head as you stare at him “But you’ve rejected every confession you’ve ever gotten, even from some of the prettiest girls in our entire grade. So I didn’t think you had any interest in that kinda thing.”
He scoffs.”You’re stupid.”
“You tell me all the time,” You point your fingers and place them under your chin. “Why did you reject them, by the way? Just trying to focus on soccer?”
He feels flush, explaining. Turning his gaze to the ceiling, he sighs.
“None of those people actually had feelings for me. It wasn’t meaningful in any way.”
“And you want it to be meaningful?”
“There’s no point being in a relationship with someone I don’t like and barely know. And who doesn’t really care to get to know me. I’m busy enough with soccer, and I don’t have time to entertain lukewarm relationships like that.”
“What an unexpectedly sentimental reason. How soft of you Rin-kun.”
“Shut up.”
There’s a pause of thoughtful silence where you hum and lay flat on your back, reaching your hand up towards the ceilings. Rin can’t do much more than look.
“You know. How I said I’ve been watching you since you were in Bluelock?”
“Yeah.”
“Y’know. I always thought you looked really sad back then. I might’ve been reading too much into it but,” You smile, corners of your lips upturned while you giggle “It’s like…weirdly relieving to see you like this.”
“Like what?”
“You’re like…just a boy,” You say wispy and delighted “A normal boy who reads shitty raunchy magazines and thinks about love. It’s comforting somehow. Makes me feel special. I really like you. A little more every day, it feels like.”
Another beat of silence. He thinks you can sense the hesitance of his rejection. There’s such a tangible shift in the atmosphere. If Rin stretches his hand out to touch it, he thinks he’d push through an impossible barrier and keep falling in it forever. He thinks it would swallow him.
He isn’t sure what it is. If it’s an act of bravery, or a sudden uptick in adrenaline, or if the exhaustion of a long day is finally starting to hit. Maybe it’s just these feelings that keep overwhelming him that make his body move. Something outside of his mind, nestled in his ribs, that has him inching closer to you.
He flips until he’s hovering over you. Your eyes widen and you stare at him. He stares back, like he almost can’t believe himself.
“Rin-kun?”
And he freezes. The confidence dissipates as soon as he finds it but now he’s above you, on top of you. You’re messy and flush from the day. Your mascara is smudged and your lipgloss is gone - leaving a faint sheen on your mouth that matches your skin. Your hoodie is rumpled around the shoulders - one of the sleeves pulled to your elbows. Rin really gets a look at you. Cognizant of the fact he spent all day with you. That’s why you look worn and sleepy and so unbelievably cute. So cute it annoys him. Irritates him half to death.
You open your mouth again, only to close it. It almost feels like he can hear your heart. Or maybe it’s his. It’s hard to know the difference.
“Is this a n-new kind of bullying?” You joke, trying to ease the tension. He frowns at you.
“Does it seem like I’m joking?”
Your eyes widen and you turn away. Rin wants to make you look.
“Well no but…” And you squirm a little “what are you doing?”
He doesn’t know, either.
“I don’t know.” He admits, and you laugh a little breathless and the tension is so thick Rin can’t swallow around it “I want to kiss you.” He blurts out. Awkward and uncharismatic and clumsy.
A bout of silence.
“...Am I going insane? Did you just say you want to kiss me?”
“I did.”
More silence.
“Why? Wouldn’t that make me your first kiss?”
“It would.”
“And isn’t that like… reserved for your special someone?”
“It is.”
“Rin-kun,” You breathe out, blinking in disbelief “Do you even know what you’re saying?”
“I do.”
You’re a little more serious this time. You put your hand on his shoulder. He feels like the Earth is gonna fall from under his feet.
“Stop messing with me.”
“I’m not.”
You frown.
“Do you really want to kiss me?”
“Yeah,” He can’t think “I do.”
You reach up for him. You’re more experienced with this kind of thing and it shows as you cup the nape of his neck. He doesn’t finch. He doesn’t look away from you either, as your thumb brushes under his eyes - the both of you so wrapped up in each other nothing matters. Rin would stay in this forever, if someone gave him the option.
“W-we have to talk about this afterwards, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, Itoshi Rin. Because you can’t just—”
Your palm cups his cheek and he rubs against it instinctively. He sees your eyes widen and you swallow - a frown still etched into your features.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Your voice goes as soft as a whisper.
“You’re so unfair.”
He almost laughs.
“Please kiss me.” He asks, so silently it almost goes unheard but he knows you hear it because your lips press into a thin line before you’re pulling Rin down towards you. Your lips are soft. And warm. And they taste faintly like whip-cream and the slight sour of strawberries and your hands are so gentle. Somehow he feels at ease even though he feels like he’s going to implode on himself from nerves.
Just a little deeper before you pull away and stare at him. Rin looks back, eyes jumping from your lips up to your eyes and back down to your lips. You open your mouth to say something. Mumbling his given name only for him to cut you off with another kiss, a little deeper this time. The way it shuts you up is so cute it almost makes him angry. How it muffles your words, tapers off into a noise of surprise and ends up just back at a kiss.
He’s never felt like this kind of thing was a viable option. Itoshi Rin is an antisocial, angry, and apathetic soccer protege and he has no time in the world for anything lukewarm. He’s rejected every confession he’s ever received in his life and always thought of relationships as something far off and disconnected to him in his entirety.
Perpetually unloveable but maybe not in such an angsty, vulnerable way. Like a law of the universe. A truth, like thinking of him, means to postulate that he is that way. A prerequisite to understanding him.
Rin doesn’t like things that are half-ass. Perhaps, part of the reason he likes you so much is because you’ve proved him wrong in such an utterly defeating way. The fact your very existence is by and large, the antithesis of this truth.
Itoshi Rin is not only loveable, but he is capable of loving. There is evidence of it, right underneath him now - with soft lashes and wet eyes and the brightest smile that could ever exist.
And it’s haunting for more reasons than one. But he likes how unyielding the revelation is. You’re worried he’ll want to avoid it, and he does. But he doesn’t think he could forever, even if he tried.
He’s confident if he made the attempt, you’d come barreling towards him once more. With all the confidence in the world. It makes him want to at least try to face it.
Which is why he’s kissing you a second, third, and fourth time. Which is why he’s looking at you in between, wide blue eyes transfixed on every part of your face. He’s trying to face what daunts him most, not like but love and the difference is more important as the days pass.
You pull away, finally - put a hand on his chest and stare.
“Rin-kun,” You whisper, uncertain of yourself which he hates. “I like you. I really like you.” And again, a little softer “And I want you to like me too,” Like that had been the biggest secret of all. Something you’d never told anyone, even once.
Rin can’t imagine it. Have you been holding in something like this all this time? He only realized a couple hours ago and it already feels like he’s going to rip apart at the seams.
“I do. I do like you.”
“Really? Forreal? Seriously? You’re not pulling my leg? Yanking my chain?”
He knocks his forehead against yours.
“Be quiet. How can you be this stupid in the middle of getting confessed to?”
You pout. Pout at him, all whiny. God.
“It doesn’t feel real to me.”
He laughs humorlessly. “It’s all a dream. You’ll forget it all in the morning.”
“Stop being mean to me.”
He has to be. If he’s not you’re going to see right through him.
“No,” He says instead “Stop being so ridiculous first.”
“An impossible ask to the world's most ridiculous girl.”
He smiles a little.
“That’s a good name for you. I’ll change your contact.”
“Nooo,” You say again, this time pulling him down for a hug. His eyes widened. And he’s unfair? “Be nice to your girlfriend.”
He doesn’t have anything to say to that. It flusters him too, admittedly. Before he can think of a counter, you yawn big and wide. Rin is still on top of you and neither of you have brushed your teeth. He was planning on putting you up in the guest room, but currently you’re clinging to him half-away. And he has no such plans of telling you to move.
“I’m so tired.”
Rin feels like he’s going to pass out, He mumbles.
“You can sleep.”
“Want you to sleep too.”
Rin closes his eyes. He couldn’t refuse even if he wanted to. You’ll have to talk about it in the morning.
“Okay.”
__
“Rin? Where’s your frie—oh!”
Rin stirs the minute his mom enters the room. It only takes him a minute to regain consciousness and by the time he’s awake - he’s already regretting not locking his door.
He continues to pretend to be asleep. He thinks you still are because you’re comfortably slotted in his arms. Rin is so embarrassed he wants to die. He hears his mom gasp, and then quietly shouts for his father to come to his room.
“What are you—oh.”
Rin is going to have the worst morning of his life whenever they leave. He remains still. He hears the shutter of a camera and grits his teeth all the way in the back of his jaw.
“Oh this will make a great wedding photo.”
His dad laughs a little to himself, ushering his mother out of the room “Don’t get carried away,”
When the door finally clicks, Rin opens his eyes and lets out a breath of relief. Much to his shock, he also feels you stir. His eyes widen when you turn to him, your face painted in utter mortification before you bury it in your hands. He stares at you as you groan, kicking your feet.
“Oh god I’m going to cry. How am I going to face her? Oh my god”
Rin scoffs a little at your dramatics. It calms him down in a strange way “She’s not gonna say anything to you. She’s probably only going to bully me about it.”
“I’ve forsaken you, mother-in-law”
Rin nudges your ribs, blush crawling up his face.
“Shut up.”
__
Up until three weeks ago, Rin didn’t take issue with the way you interacted at school.
You two have a pretty strict policy about it. Though you’re in the same class and you chat occasionally in the halls - you tend to avoid Rin where you can. Originally, this made sense. For the sake of his comfort and yours, the best choice was sneaking to the roof together to eat where you could remain mostly undisturbed.
As such, Rin has never been particularly consciousness of your presence in the classroom. For starters, you’re always somewhere. A busybody of the highest pedigree and always running errands - even if Rin were to try to talk to you he can only really find you 20 percent of the time. Secondly, unlike Rin, you have a handful of friends surrounding you. Rin has interacted with them very briefly but you (seemingly for his sake) try not to force him out of his comfort zone too much by making you all sit together. The most Rin has gotten from them is a single knowing smirk or glance.
And lastly, before three weeks ago, it would’ve been a big problem if people started getting onto either of you about a relationship that didn’t exist. That would've been all around awkward and uncomfortable and maybe would’ve deterred your future endeavors with other guys.
That was when you and Itoshi Rin were in fact not dating.
Three weeks into your relationship and nothing much has changed, though nowadays you come over to his house on weekends where you can. You’ve even been on one date after his dad (of all people) hounded him about never taking you on a proper one.
You text the same as you did before, and you call Rin a little more often. Usually for the purposes of rambling so much you tucker yourself out and fall asleep.
But at school, Rin only really sees you for the spare minutes of lunch and not much more than that. He’s never really thought about it before. It was never enough of an issue to warrant his intervention.
It’s not like he cares, okay?
But he’s more aware of it, now - frustratingly enough. You really don’t see each other often enough in school and you have many more guy friends than he had ever considered before. Every time he catches you and Murata-senpai trekking down the hall he feels his blood pressure rise.
You and Rin have both decided, though. Despite his posting of you, neither of you have confirmed the relationship. Rin is immune to the prying and you’re good at dodging it altogether. This is the agreement.
It is therefore very irrational of him to be thinking of speaking up at this current moment in time.
Despite your mutual decision to keep things as private as possible, Rin has heard nothing but gossip about the situation for weeks. Outside of the usual, direct kind of prying - there’s whispers and stares and all sorts of other things. Rin doesn’t care about it. He’s used to it, it’s part of the gig and the neo-egoist league made him near immune.
It’s all the things directed at you that make him seethe. Misplaced jealousy and the disappointed remarks of guys in class that make him feel like his blood pressure is rising. The latter is what’s making him most irritated now. How fucking long are these idiots going to talk about this?
“Dude, you had like three years to confess,” Some idiot, who’s name Rin doesn’t know is still yapping “If she’s actually dating Mr.Popular then it’s on you for fucking yourself over.”
The other idiot in question groans, and Rin forces his face to remain impassive as he listens. He tries to stop listening. More than once, actually. But they just keep going.
“I didn’t think he’d actually do it dude. Like there’s no way, right? He rejected every single girl who ever confessed to him. I thought she was safe. And now my highschool love is forever ruined.”
Like he ever stood a chance. How ridiculous.
Another one of the goons speaks up “Dunno. Neither of them have said anything right? You miss all of the shots you don’t take.”
“Are you saying I should just confess to her anyway? She got posted on his Instagram dude.”
A smirk appears on Extra Three’s face “No confirmation means fair game. Stop being pussy and do it.”
“You think I stand a chance against that dude?”
Rin can feel all three pairs' eyes hit him at once.
“Nah. Not a chance. But you could always wait till she’s all heartbroken and comfort her, right? Hook, line, and sinker.”
“I hear when girls are heartbroken they’re like way more likely to let you—”
With that, Rin stands to his feet. He’s seething. It’s ridiculous. It’s stupid. He should definitely just leave to go cool his head but he’s so fucking angry it’s hard to sit still and he has no other way of dealing with his feelings. So he walks towards the table slowly, eyes darkened and just barely holding it in
He knows this is a bad idea. He can feel the whole classroom look at him as he slams his hand down on the desk. But he doesn’t care. He’ll deal with it later.
“You’d be fucking lucky if my girlfriend ever looked your way.”
As soon as Rin says it, there's a thud at the door-way of the classroom. When he looks up you’re there with your eyes widened. Rin just looks back, impassive and immune to the sudden uproar of whispers.
He only clicks his teeth when you grab him by the sleeve of his uniform - cracking a small smile as he hears the faint words “Just give up dude.” as he leaves.
__
Up on the roof top, you’re shaking Rin by the shoulders - visibly distressed.
“Hey! What the hell was that?”
“What.” He offers, not willing to budge on the situation. In the first place he’s a little irritated by all of it. And he’s a little irritated by how much you’ve been enforcing the no-talking rule. Right now, it really feels like he can’t take it anymore.
You frown deeply, distress only growing as the time passes in uncomfortable silence. Rin doesn’t want to be civil about it. About it and about you and about those idiots.
“We had an agreement!” You say, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, though it’s weak. He stares down at you.
“So what?”
“Rin, we talked about this. Don’t be like this.”
“Like what.”
“Pissy and weird. You’re being weird and I don’t like it. It’s making me sad.”
“How am I being—”
Before Rin can proceed with his sentence, he catches a glimpse of your face in the midst of his tantrum. Sad like a puppy who got its tail stepped on and about ready to cry, he immediately seals his mouth in fear of making it worse.
“Why are you doing that?” He spits.
“Doing what?”
“Being all sad and pathetic. Does it really bother you that much if people know we’re dating?”
“It’s not like that.” You assure.
“Then what is it?” Rin prods, frustrated but not wanting to make things worse “Why is it such a big deal?”
There’s a bout of silence before you sigh.
“Rin, you’re a huge soccer player. The people you’re dating and stuff - it’s a big deal,”
Rin cuts you off.
“That’s what you were worried about? My career?”
“Well, yeah.”
“You’re stupid.”
“Hey! I’m seriously worried about it and then you go and—”
He gives you a frown. He forgets all too often you’re like this. He’s used to your silly and unserious way of talking, so it slips his mind that you’re actually a massively responsible person. You probably have a point about it, thinking of the consequences of your relationship through hell and back. With a detached sense of rationality - Rin can recognize that you’re probably thinking about more things than this. Otherwise it wouldn’t be so touchy of a subject.
Nothing’s changed on paper, but everything will eventually. It’s something to think about, admittedly.
Honestly Rin doesn’t care what strangers think. He’s blunt and unfriendly. Always has been, and will continue to be through the majority of his career he’s absolutely sure. Even outside of Bluelock, he has almost no regard for the opinions of other people and what concerns them. Maybe it’s irresponsible, but Rin isn’t playing soccer for the approval of the populace and nothing will ever change that.
“If I thought that was something I should worry about, we wouldn’t be dating.”
You look up at him.
“You should be worried about it.” You emphasize.
“I’m not. I don’t care what any of those people think.”
“Then why’d you go and say something?”
Rin seethes.
“They deserved it.”
Your hand reaches for his cheek. He pauses and takes a deep breath, staring at you. He leans into your touch instinctively, frustration eased by the sensation. You stare back.
“Okay. We’ll announce it officially later, then.”
“Do we even need to do that? If you tell three people, half of our grade’ll find out anyway.”
“Are you saying my friends gossip?”
He doesn’t reply to that. You pout at him and Rin fights the urge to kiss you. There’s a beat of silence as you give him a hug - the two of you on the same roof you always are. Rin doesn’t mind it, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist.
“You know, it’s gonna get busy for me soon.” You mumble. So this is what else you were worrying about. “And for you. I have my entrance exam and the school is in Tokyo. And you’re gonna go back to Bluelock and—”
“It’ll be fine.”
“I’m worried about it anyways.”
“About what?”
“I’ll see you less. What if you stop liking me randomly and I can’t even hunt you down about it?”
Rin huffs “You’re insane enough to find me,” He drops his chin on your shoulder “Plus you talk to my mom.”
“You’re gonna be so busy.”
“I’ll come see you when I’m not.”
“And you’re going to be surrounded by the human equivalent of siren women someday soon.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“But you might.”
“I haven’t in eighteen years, you moron.”
“I’m gonna miss you all the time.” You say, sniffly and Rin is so struck with a feeling of affection he almost falls “I already miss you all the time.”
He squeezes you a little tighter “It’ll be fine.”
“For you.”
Rin furrows his brow, pulling back to stare at you.
“Not for me,” Because Rin can begrudgingly admit he will miss you worse than this “Just in general. It’ll be fine. You almost made it a year without me.”
“But now I’m with you,” You reply easily, and softly and oh-so in love Rin wants to turn away “And I’m so happy and I want it be like this for a long time,”
“Just a long time? Not something stupid like a blossoming eternity?”
“I thought I’d scare you.”
“You did that in April.” He points out flatly. You hit him lightly but smile anyway.
“It’s a problem how much I like you.”
Rin likes you just as much. You’re probably too much of an idiot to realize and won’t for a long while. He takes a little comfort in, strangely.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll come see you.” He says again, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. He believes in it thoroughly. If Rin were a better, more candidly vulnerable person he thinks now he’d give the loving boyfriend speech. He almost wants to half-assedly try but can’t bring himself to get past the awkwardness. He hugs you tighter because it’s all he’s capable of, and hopes he can will it into you. The sincerity of his words, he wants so badly for them to reach you “Stop worrying so much.”
“Rin-kun,” You start, then pause to look up at him. His breath hitches “Rin. I love you. Really.”
He feels like he’s gonna be sick as he stares at you, eyes widened. You look the same as you always do. Unexpectant, terribly sincere, with your heart on your sleeve. The more Rin knows you, the more he thinks it can’t be easy to be so vulnerable all the time.
So you do it for him, and only him. And Rin is always going to be intolerable. Frustrating and impatient. But he wants to do it for you too, where he can. Rin wants you to know it’ll be fine because the fact that you’re standing here now is nothing short of a miracle. Nothing comes out right.
“Yeah.” He says, but he can’t get the rest of words out. And you laugh, and peek up at him through your lashes.
“And you love me too, don’t you?”
Rin grits his teeth. He wants to say no.
“I guess.”
“And we’re going to be just fine.” You repeat, hugging him tight. Rin hugs you back. He wants to say thank you. He wants to kiss you stupid and make fun of you at the same time. He wants you so much and so often he’s sure he’s lost his fucking mind.
But he agrees with you, at least. He nods. He holds you. He doesn’t like to lie, so he looks at you instead.
“Yeah. It’s gonna be fine.”
__
EPILOGUE ;
In Rin’s defense, he’s not trying to listen in on the conversions of your underclassmen.
For starters, the club door is cracked up and Rin only has one airpod fully charged. Secondly, it’s not like they’re being quiet. Rin’s pretty sure anyone with decent enough hearing could hear them from down the hall. Given that it’s the newspaper club, he’s sure that the conversation isn’t usually this interesting.
It’s just when he catches wind of your name while you’re nowhere to be found, he finds himself eavesdropping just a little. He leans back into the chair he’s sitting in, face tucked into his black mask and hat pulled neatly over his head.
“Guys, I’ve decided I’m going to confess to Boss no matter what.”
He must mean you. Rin often hears how some of the people in the club affectionately add danchou to the end of your name. Rin scoffs a little at the kids' confidence. It reminds him a little of highschool. Rin really think you’re at more of a risk than he is. Being a celebrity makes him naturally unattainable - more of a fixture than a person.
Everytime someone confesses to you though it’s sincere. From knowing you. And he gets it but it doesn’t keep him from scoffing and turning his nose up.
“It’d be a good idea to give up while you’re ahead.” Says another unnamed voice.
“Yeah Nakao-san. Do you even know who Senpai's boyfriend is?”
“N-no. But it doesn’t matter. Through the powerful of love I’ll—”
Before Rin gets a chance to listen anymore, he hears your voice call out for him. He snaps his head up to look at you. You’re dressed so professionally it’s hard to recognize you like that. Your hair is cut neat and styled professionally and you’re dressed in business casual. He’s relieved he brought shoes for you to change into.
You run up to him anyway, and Rin stands up to make sure you don’t stumble as you throw your arms around his neck. You’re closer in height with your heels on so he doesn’t have to bend down much at all to kiss you. He pulls down his mask quickly.
“Rin-tan, you’re here.” You say with a soft, breathless giggle “I missed youuu.”
“Missed you too,” He says, an arm squeezed around your waist “I have shoes for you in the car,”
You gasp, rubbing your cheek against his affectionately.
“You’re the best in the world. My feet are so sore.”
“Did the interview go well?” Rin asks. You pull away, moving your hair away from your eyes before nodding.
“Uh-huh. The women's rugby team captain is super chill and she interviews great so it went smoothly. I just need to drop the transcript off and then we can leave,” You say holding his hand. He squeezes your palms “Do you want to meet them? You don’t have to but a lot of them ask about you.”
Normally Rin would say no. But he’s feeling a little petty today, after all.
“Sure.”
You beam, your hand in his as you nudge the door open. The room goes silent, a bout of excited cheering following at your return. He’s relieved to see you’re still so well loved, a little reluctant to let go of your hand.
“Senpai, you’re back.”
“Yup, yup. I have the transcript and recording on this USB. Watch it and draft the article up tonight. When I come in tomorrow, we’ll go through editing and get it out by Monday.” You say, hand on hip before remembering his presence. You grab him and Rin follows “Oh, and guys - this is my boyfriend! Rin Itoshi.”
Most of them seem to know. Rin can sense the admiration but it’s respectful. He can tell that everyone is professionals in the field. Rin likes that. He bows politely.
“Nice to meet everyone,”
“Nice to meet you too, Itoshi-san.”
“Danchou…you’re dating Rin Itoshi…the famous soccer player Rin Itoshi?”
You giggle, looping your arm in Rin’s. He laughs internally. It’s the same kid who wanted to confess to you.
“Uh-huh. We’re highschool sweethearts! And today is our very special date night so don’t contact me for any reason until tomorrow morning at least. I’ll see you guys later.”
“Bye, senpai.”
“Have fun on your date.”
With that, you turn the corner and leave the room - immediately beginning to ramble about your day. Rin half-listens. He only pays complete attention when he hears your kouhais talking from down the hall.
“Told you to give up, dude.”
“Rin. Are you paying attention?”
He chuckles to himself.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
❁ a/n ; hello!! me again. first of alll, if you read through this whole fic, thank you so much. second of all i want to discuss a few things about this fic.
im usually pretty keen on localization for my fics where possible because i think it makes for a smoother reader experience - however the usage of honorifics was important to the atmosphere for this one so i'll hope it wasn't too awkward to read.
secondly, im nervous about rins characterization for this one so i hope it was alright. apologies for any errors its 5am and im soo tired.
this fic was mostly meant as an exploration of how i think rin would really benefit from being with someone eccentric and bubbly. the core of their relationship is that reader is an overall emotionally intelligent and honest person and how that has a huge influence on rin so i hope that growth came thru. once again thanks for reading and i hope u enjoyed. rbs and tags always appreciated!
#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin fluff#bllk x reader#bllk fluff#writing tag#rin x reader#rin fluff#my brother in christ... how did this happen.
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Hello! Do you have any ideas for Yandere!reader x Shinjuro? Thank you so much.
shinjuro rengoku x yandere!reader hcs
✮ an ⨟ i do >:) this got long my bad. i'm not used to writing for yandere!reader, but i hope i did ok! it's also relatively tame? def more soft yandere coded.
✮ cw ⨟ shinjuro rengoku . yandere!fem!reader . stalking . possessiveness . obsessive behavior . manipulation . gaslighting . suggestive . dubcon in places . stylized lowercase .
✮ you met by chance, stumbling into one another in the market a few years after his wife's passing. shinjuro scarcely remembers the interaction, but you can recall it in vivid detail.
✮ what he was wearing. his drunken wobble. his warm body knocking into yours. his prickly stubble grazing your cheeks as you nearly topple over. his bulging biceps in your hands as you rush to steady the man. his molten golden-red gaze searing into yours, making your heart stutter and your brain give pause.
✮ he was quick to pull himself away from you, warning you to "watch where you're going." something in you changed that day, or maybe this is who you always were, but kept it buried. you hadn't spoken a word to him, only stared in amazement after him as he stumbled off, and yet his gravelly voice rung in your ears days after your encounter.
✮ you make sure to bump into him several more times after that, actively seeking out his flame-colored hair in crowds. you always played it off as a coincidence, but it was far from it.
✮ you follow him home, shadow him wherever he goes. just observing from a distance and memorizing his schedule. you have a few awkward run-ins with his sons whilst snooping around the premises of the rengoku estate, but both were too young at the time to suspect anything malicious of your uninvited visits.
✮ you gradually weaseled yourself into his life, insisting on walking him home, initiating conversation whenever possible, and listening to all his gripes and troubles he'd let slip in his drunken stupors.
✮ eventually, he grew less irritated by your presence, allowing himself to look forward to your company.
✮ soon you're staying for dinner a few nights out of the week, showing up with gifts for shinjuro and his sons, and shinjuro can't help but be surprised every time. it's been years since he's had a woman around, especially one so outwardly kind and caring towards him and his family.
✮ he's naturally suspicious of your intentions and more than a little skeptical of the flirtatious comments you throw his way.
✮ but when you don't disappear or grow bored of his attitude, he softens, becomes more compliant, and starts thanking you. the ecstatic glimmer in your eyes when he so much as acknowledges you makes his stomach flutter.
✮ his sons have taken to you like ducks to water, overeager to have a motherly presence in the home after so long. shinjuro gets this warm feeling in his chest when he finds you caring for them as if they were your own, looking all too domestic.
✮ shinjuro isn't dumb, he sees those longing looks you send his way. he notices all the little things you do for him, all the effort you put into maintaining your relationship. he admits he's made it hard for you intentionally, pushing you away whenever you got too close.
✮ but your persistence makes it all the more clear that you're interested in him, and he can't deny that your feelings are far from one-sided.
✮ you're kind- too kind, suspiciously kind. he realizes that, but he's a weak man, and you are a beautiful woman consistently making the first move. it was only a matter of time before he gave in, seeking you out for comfort instead of looking for it at the bottom of a bottle.
✮ your friendship quickly escalates into a clumsy romance. shinjuro is rusty, but you balance out his awkwardness with your burning passion. it's as if all your inhibitions disappeared the moment he indicated your feelings were reciprocated.
✮ you praise him for every little thing he does, and he's absolutely unequipped to handle all the attention.
✮ he's got a few years on you, but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest- in fact, he gets the feeling you like it. you can't go five minutes without complimenting him, in that poetic (and midly disturbing) way you always did. his looks, his voice, his taste in literature. you found it all so captivating, and shinjuro can't help but get flustered by how outspoken you are about it.
✮ you court for a while, move in together shortly after, settling further into domesticity within the span of a few months. a year passes by, and shinjuro is still left reeling from how truly happy he feels. he lashes out less, and when he does, you're always patient with him, never screaming back at him no matter how nasty he gets.
✮ it's a little unsettling how content you always look, even when he's being awful to you. it's as if you're simply happy to receive his attention. it only deepens his guilt when he sobers up again, pulling you aside to hold you and murmur his reluctant apologies. you shouldn't forgive him so quickly, he often tells you after you make up.
"i know you didn't mean it, dearest. please, don't worry yourself a moment more over it," you croon, stroking your fingers through his flaxen hair. "i'm not going anywhere."
✮ you're too good at putting his concerns to rest. he isn't proud to admit how easily he folds underneath your tenderness. he's all too aware of how reliant he's become on your affection, and he fears what would happen to him if you were to ever leave.
✮ you're not like his ruka, he realizes. you don't hold him accountable for anything, not for acting out, or being defiant, or rude. he's always 'just tired', or 'must be hungry', or 'having a bad day.' at first, he's grateful for your understanding nature until he puts two and two together that you don't take him seriously.
✮ not his emotions, his protestations, or his input. even as you begin to overstep more and more boundaries. insisting that you dress him, feed him, and even brush his teeth for him. you're insistent on not letting him raise a finger. any opposition on his end is veiwed as a tantrum and not to be concerned with.
✮ you pout and tsk when you catch him brushing his own hair or bathing himself, quickly taking over any tasks he attempts.
"i thought i told you i can do that for you, darling," you hum from the doorframe, startling him as he fumbles with his obi. you waltz into the room, sliding the shoji door shut with your foot and replacing his shaky hands with your own.
his joints don't quite work the same after long years of wielding a sword and beheading demons, but he can surely dress himself. his pride demands he be self-sufficient, but you're always so convincing. your acts of service are appreiciated but... embarassing. he can't help but feel infantilized by your smothering behavior, but can never quite tell you no when you give him 'the eyes.'
"i'm not a child, love," he grouches, rouge blooming across his cheeks as you tie his obi and straighten his kimono, smoothing over any wrinkles like a doting mother would. "i could've done that myself."
"i don't want you to," you snap, your facade slipping for but a moment and his thick brows raise in surprise. your smile is quick to reappear, and you snake your arms around his waist- noting his increasing plumpness with delight. he was a bit scraggly when you first met, having cared more about drinking his sorrows than eating regular meals. but look at him now! healthy... and soft.
"maybe i just want an excuse to touch you."
you flutter your lashes at him and just like that he folds, lips parting as you pull him closer by the obi until your hips are flush.
"j-just ask then. don't gotta baby me s'much. i'm a grown man," shinjuro stutters, his gold gaze falling to where your bodies meet.
"do i have to ask to touch my husband? your body's mine to do with as i please, isn't it?" you asked with a smirk, your voice intentionally seductive as you knead his hips in your hands. your head tilts, entertained by the way he shivers.
"well, i suppose not..." shinjuro rasps, his adam's apple bobbing as your lips find his throat. but you aren't satisfied yet, you want to hear him validate your claim over him. that ugly piece of you that you keep buried paces like a beast in a cage, gnawing at the bars, trying to claw its way out.
your fingers tighten on his hips and you grip becomes bruising.
"say you're mine," you demand in a near growl against his neck and his breath hitches, thick brows furrowing. he's helplessly aroused and slightly unsettled by the way you're handling him. "i... i'm yours. yours to use and to touch." he gulps, and you nearly moan in response, suckling a dark mark just below his ear.
"hnn, yes. all mine."
✮ you're good at that too. making him forget why he was uncertain about your behavior. and when he asks you about it after the fact, you raise a brow, claiming you didn't remember the conversation.
"you must be sleepy, darling. perhaps you dreamed it?" you dismissed, continuing to chop vegetables and busy about the kitchen. and with shinjuro's tendency to get pass-out drunk, he can't help but doubt his convictions every time. you wouldn't steer him wrong, no... he must've dreamed it like you said.
"yes... yes, perhaps you're right about that."
you only smile at him over your shoulder, humming a cheerful tune as you make dinner for your perfect family.
✮ you know you're taking things too far. setting curfews, not letting him go out without you, smothering him like an overprotective parent would... but you just can't stop- can't control yourself. you ache for him so profoundly that being away from him is like torture. if anything ever happened to him, you'd never forgive yourself.
✮ you want him to need you like you need him. desire you half as much as you desire him. maybe what you feel for him is too messy and twisted to be love, and maybe your love is more like a festering sickness, but you can't let him go.
2024 © vampyan ; do not modify, translate, or repost my work onto any platform. reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated!
#🧪.writing#shinjuro rengoku x reader#shinjuro x reader#yandere!reader#yandere reader#kny x reader#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#demon slayer x reader#fem!reader#female reader#cw yandere#cw dark content
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Angst! I choose you! (That was cringe I'm sorry 😭)
Can I please request a Vox x Female Reader where Reader protected Vox from Valentino
(PS: Val killed Reader in the process)
And because of that Velvette has to take care of a Depressed Vox
A/N: My friend and I were going back and forth on ideas for this because we love angst. I hope you guys enjoy! A part 2 will be made for this because I love you guys
Word count: 1.6k (1,611)
Warnings: ANGST, valentino being a FUCKER, descriptions of violence, death, there is no mention of y/n but it's f!reader
My Beloved [ Vox x F!Reader ]
Vox got into another argument with Valentino. Both overlords had anger issues so their arguments always end up becoming explosive with glassware being thrown around. You came in as soon as you got word of their fight. When you ran into his office, it was clear that it was about you again. Valentino shoved you out of his way, glaring at you, seething with anger. He slammed the door shut but you couldn’t care any less. You ran to your lover’s side and held his hand.
“Vox? What happened?” You frowned, seeing all the broken glass. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“It’s…” He hesitated and planted a gentle kiss on your hand, “It’s nothing, baby. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll always worry, my beloved.” You held his hand close, “Is it about the shoot again?” He sighed and nodded.
“He came in here demanding I convince you to be in one of his movies. I told him no and well,” He gestured to the shattered glass that littered his office, “You see how well that fucking turned out. Fucking moth just won’t stop. I told him that there’s nothing he could ever offer for your body! He ju-” You gently tighten your grip on his hand, cutting him off. He looked at you and the worry in your eyes melted his anger away. “I’m sorry, baby. It just makes me so angry when fuckers like him think they have any right to a sweetheart like you.”
“I’m sorry I’m causing this much stress.” You said softly, “I’ll talk to him if you need me to!”
“No!” He said as his screen got brighter with his increased panic, “No, babe. It’s fine. I got it handled. I promise, okay?”
You knelt next to him, your head on his lap, “Okay. But if anything happens, I’ll always be here for you, my beloved.”
He smiled, gently caressing your head, “Of all the souls in Hell, I know that the most, my dear.”
Your relationship with Vox seemed to come out of nowhere to those that didn’t know the past he shared with you. Velvette was the first to learn about his life with you before he died. He confided in her. At first she just wanted tea on his life before Hell but it ended up with her showing genuine interest. He had been pining for you even after his death. He wanted so desperately to confess how much he loved you. You never left his mind in his final hours and when he found himself in Hell, his heart broke. He feared that he would never meet you again. This fear pushed him into trying to get into relationships with people that had the smallest of reminders of you. You were an angel to him, the gentlest soul he’d ever met. He was sure that you would go to Heaven but when he saw you aimlessly roaming the streets of Hell, he rushed to meet you. You didn’t recognize him at first glance but the moment you heard his voice, everything fell into place. He, honestly, didn’t understand how you ended up in Hell. You had to remind him that you ran his “business” with him. His love for you blinded him from your heinous crimes, almost erasing it from his memory just out of adoration for you. He got such a massive ego boost when he learned you went on a bit of a rampage after his death that led to your execution.
It wasn’t long after your arrival that the two of you entered a honeymoon phase, constantly out on dates and always being at each other’s sides. After months of flirting, teasing and a multitude of dates, Vox finally asked you out. He was bad at romance more than he’d like to admit. Without Velvette’s help, he was definitely going to change his mind. The way he asked you out made you think he was going to propose. He had petals scattered on the floor and held the sweetest flowers he could buy in Hell. He was a nervous wreck waiting for you to arrive at the location he sent. The sight of him standing disheveled in front of a giant “Will you be mine?” neon sign made you burst out into laughter. But you said yes nonetheless.
Days passed after the argument. You were walking up to Vox’s office and as you got close you heard yelling. It was Valentino starting another fight. You started to run as soon as you heard glass breaking. When you reach the doorway you see Valentino aim a glass cup at Vox.
You grabbed his arm to stop him and raised your voice. “Stop! Valentino, that's enough!”
Valentino got angrier at your attempt to stop him and he pushed you off of him, knocking you down to the ground. “Don’t fucking touch me, bitch. You’re lower than me, don’t forget that.” He hissed. Vox ran to your side and helped you up.
You scowled at him as you held your head high, “I don’t give a single shit who you are. You’re a little bitch baby that can’t take no for an answer.” You spat back.
“What the fuck did you call me?!” He yelled and began to step closer to you. Vox blocked him from getting any closer.
“Val. Fuck off. I said no and my decision isn’t going to change.”
You saw Valentino raise his hand to hit Vox. Without thinking, you pulled Vox out of the way. You barely dodged his swing, his claw scratching your cheek deep enough for it to draw blood. You growled at him and slapped him across the face. It shocked all three of you. Your confidence faded once Valentino opened his wings, his face shrouded in rage.
In the blink of an eye, he had you by the throat. You instinctively held onto his hands, trying to pry his tightening grip on your neck. His hold alone left bruises on your neck. Before Vox could reach him, Valentino flew through Vox’s balcony. He used your head to break through the glass door, making you scream from fear.
“Valentino! What are you doing?!” Vox yelled, running after him.
“Aw, what?” He teased, “You’re telling me you really give a fuck about this bitch?” He laughed, menacingly. You struggled against him and managed to get a glimpse of how high up you were. “You loved me too, remember? Before her.”
“Put her down, Valentino!” He screamed, glitching from both fear and anger. His pleas received laughter.
“You’re turning out so pathetic and soft, Vox.” He grins, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. “I’ll put her down, just for you~”
Your eyes widened at his tone and knew exactly what was coming. You looked at Vox with tears in your eyes. The fear in his eyes broke your heart. His hand reached out towards you as if he could reach you. THe only thing you could do was smile at him. He couldn’t get himself to smile back, he could only stare at you. This exchange only fueled Valentino’s rage.
“V-Vox.” You croaked out, your voice hoarse from Valentino’s grasp. “I love y-”
Before you could continue, you were suddenly pummeling towards the concrete below you.
“No!” Vox screamed at the top of his lungs.
You heard his cry for you. You heard Valentino’s cackle. As you got closer to the ground, you relaxed your body and shut your eyes, accepting what was about to happen. And then you no longer heard anything. You didn’t hear the way Vox screamed and cried. You didn’t hear the hums of electricity that came before his power outages. You died from Valentino’s rage.
All power was cut off in Pentagram City. He heard your last words. He knew what you wanted to say. After the time you shared together, you had never told him “I love you.” because of your personal past. He didn’t need to hear you say it, you both knew how much you love each other. He didn’t know that you were finally ready to tell him you love him. He didn’t know he helped you get over your past. And he’ll never get to hear you say you love him. He’ll never hear your sweet voice again. He’ll never get to make up the time he lost with you. The only time he’ll be able to hold you again was to collect you from the ground.
His heart was shattered. It was obvious to everyone around him. Vox never left his security room. He locked himself in there and drank his pain away. He played the videos he had of you, looked at your photos and longed for your smile. He’ll never hear your songs, your jokes, your laugh or see your smile. He was alone again.
The only person that managed to get into his security room was Velvette. She did her best to comfort him and get him to clean up. Everytime she went in there, the entire room would reek of alcohol and grief. As cold as her heart was, the sight of him crying at your photos and videos broke her. She grew close to you when you first came. Her first impression of you was from Vox’s lovestruck stories and meeting you was a different ride. She understood why Vox loved you the way he did. She never spoke of it but she cried with Vox when you died. She was enraged. The only thing that stopped her from killing Valentino herself was the grief.
None of the Vees spoke to Valentino for months and that pissed him off.
Tag list:
@froggybich @baizzhu @dickmastersworld @matrixbearer2024
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#vox hazbin hotel#vox x reader#hazbin hotel vees#hazbin hotel valentino#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel velvette#hazbin hotel angst#hazbin hotel x reader angst#vox x reader angst
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just married !
❥ pairing: nonidol!niki x fem!reader
❥ genre: arrangedmarriage!au, angst, fluff, highschool!au, unrequited love > requited love
❥ summary: You and Ni-ki are set up in an arranged marriage by your parents and even though you've liked him for the longest time, you're not so happy about the idea of being forced into this, and Ni-ki isn't either (or his girlfriend). How will this go?
❥ warnings: arranged marriage, bullying, grammar mistakes, not proofread!!!, let me know if I forgot something!
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WC: 3.8k
A/N: I'm back from my trip, I actually was able to visit Korea and Japan! it was so beautiful! anyway, I know this isn't tweeting hearts but it's been in my drafts so I fixed it up a bit and wanted to post it just so there is something new, so I hope you like it. also, this one is a longer one.
You've always had a crush on Niki. From the first moment you laid eyes on him in your parents' luxurious living room during one of their many business meetings, you fell for him. His longish black hair, striking brown eyes, and charming smile made your heart race. You'd even managed to have a few conversations with him, but you doubted he even remembered your name.
The years passed, and you grew from "childhood friends" into high school students. Your feelings for Niki only intensified. You watched from a distance as he dated other girls, your heart aching with every passing romance. It was clear that Niki wasn't interested in you, and you had resigned yourself to the idea that he might never be.
Meanwhile, Niki's current girlfriend, Yunji, was another source of your frustration. She had somehow discovered your crush on Niki, and she took every opportunity to make your life difficult. She made annoying remarks and spread rumors about you, painting you as the lovelorn girl who would never have a chance with Niki.
High school was already challenging, and the added stress of dealing with Yunji's taunts and Niki's obliviousness was almost too much to bear. But then, things took an unexpected turn. It was right before your eighteenth birthday when your parents approached you with an announcement that left you stunned.
"Y/N," your mother said one evening after dinner with niki and his parents, "We have some news to share with you."
You exchanged glances with your parents, trying to read the expressions on their faces. Their business partnership with Niki's family had always been prosperous, but it seemed like something more significant was happening.
"Your father and I have been in discussions with Niki's parents," your mother continued. "We've decided that the two of you will get married."
The words hung in the air, and you felt like the ground had shifted beneath your feet. Marriage? You were still in high school, and while you had expected an eventual arranged marriage due to your parents' business alliance, you never thought it would happen so soon, or with someone you had such complicated feelings for.
Niki was sitting across from you, and he looked as stunned as you felt. He turned to his parents, shocked by the announcement.
"What?" Niki finally managed to sputter, his eyes locked onto yours.
You could hardly bring yourself to meet his gaze, so you looked down at your plate, your heart pounding in your chest. This was a mess, a complete and utter mess.
"I know it's sudden," your father said, trying to sound reassuring. "But it's in the best interest of both our families. We've known Niki's family for so long, and it's a solid match."
Niki's mother nodded in agreement. "We believe this will strengthen our partnership and ensure a bright future for both of you."
You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Your parents were making decisions about your life without even consulting you. You looked at Niki, hoping to find some sign of protest in his eyes, but all you saw was resignation. He seemed just as unhappy about the arrangement as you were.
In the weeks that followed, preparations for the upcoming marriage were made in a whirlwind. Both your parents had set a date for the ceremony – just a few days after your eighteenth birthday. You felt like you were living in a nightmare, unable to wake up from this surreal situation.
High school became a place of rumors and gossip. Whispers of your marriage with Niki spread like wildfire. Yunji, who had always enjoyed making your life difficult, seemed to revel in the chaos. She mocked you openly, taking every opportunity to remind you that Niki would never be yours.
One day, as you were leaving school, you heard her voice behind you. "So, Y/N, how does it feel to be Niki's little pawn in this game?"
You clenched your fists, trying to ignore her taunts. You didn't want to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, but it was getting increasingly difficult.
Yunji continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm sure you've been dreaming of this day for years, right? Your fairytale ending with Niki."
You stopped in your tracks, unable to take it anymore. Turning to face her, you forced yourself to speak. "This isn't what I wanted, Yunji. You think you know everything, but you have no idea how complicated this is for me."
Yunji smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Oh, please. You've been following Niki like a lost puppy for years. You practically threw yourself at him, and now you're getting what you wanted."
You shook your head, your voice trembling with frustration. "You're wrong, Yunji. I never wanted this, and I certainly never asked for it. I didn't have a say in any of this, just like Niki."
Yunji's laughter cut through the tension. "Keep telling yourself that, Y/N. Maybe someday Niki will see through your act."
With those words, she walked away, leaving you seething with anger and helplessness. You couldn't deny that you'd had a crush on Niki, but this wasn't how you had ever envisioned being with him. It was a forced marriage, and the pressure from both your parents and your classmates was suffocating.
The days leading up to the wedding were a blur of dress fittings, meetings with the wedding planner, and endless discussions about the future. Niki remained distant throughout the process, his frustration with the situation evident. You had never felt so alone, even as you were surrounded by people making decisions for you.
The night before the wedding, as you lay in bed, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life was spiraling out of control. You needed to talk to someone, and the only person who came to mind was your best friend, Jiwoo.
With trembling hands, you picked up your phone and called Jiwoo. After a few rings, she answered, her voice filled with concern. "Y/N, what's wrong?"
Tears welled up in your eyes as you poured out your heart to Jiwoo. You told her about your unrequited love for Niki, the forced marriage, the constant taunts from Yunji, and the overwhelming pressure from your parents. Jiwoo listened intently, offering words of comfort and understanding.
"Y/N," she said, "I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you. But you know that I'll always be here for you, right?"
You nodded, even though she couldn't see you. "I know, Jiwoo. You're the only one who truly understands what I'm going through."
As the night wore on, Jiwoo's words provided some comfort, but they couldn't erase the uncertainty and fear that filled your heart. You couldn't help but wonder how Niki was feeling. Was he as trapped as you were, or had he managed to find a way to escape this unwanted fate?
The wedding day arrived with a mixture of nerves and apprehension. You stood in front of the mirror, your heart racing, as the stylist worked on your hair and makeup. The long white dress your parents had chosen for you was beautiful, but it felt like a prison. It was a reminder of the life you were about to enter, one that you hadn't chosen for yourself.
As you made your way to the venue, you could hear the hushed whispers of the guests and the flash of cameras. The wedding was a grand affair, with both families' business associates and friends in attendance. You felt like a puppet on display, and the weight of expectation pressed down on you.
When you finally reached the altar, Niki was waiting for you. He wore a tailored black suit, looking handsome as ever, but there was an aura of tiredness coming from him. He didn't meet your eyes, and you couldn't blame him. This wasn't the way anyone should start a marriage.
The ceremony began, and the officiant's words were a blur as you struggled to keep your emotions in check. You could feel the eyes of the crowd on you, the whispers and judgments weighing you down. When it came time to exchange vows, Niki finally looked at you.
"I promise to do my best to make this work," he said, his voice strained. It wasn't the declaration of love you had dreamed of, but it was all you were going to get.
Tears welled up in your eyes as you said your vows, promising to support and stand by Niki, even though your heart was heavy with doubt. The exchange of rings followed, and the weight of the commitment settled over you like a shroud.
As the ceremony ended, you and Niki were officially married. The crowd erupted in applause, and you forced a smile for the cameras, all the while feeling like a stranger in your own life. Niki's family and yours congratulated you both, offering well-wishes and advice on marriage, but you couldn't help but feel detached from it all.
The reception that followed was a big affair, with a lot of gourmet food, live music, and dancing. You tried to enjoy the festivities, but the weight of the situation hung over you like a dark cloud. Yunji's presence at the reception only added to your discomfort. She continued to mock you, making rude remarks about your wedding and your future with Niki.
Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You excused yourself from the table and headed to a quiet corner of the venue, where you could be alone for a moment. The tears you had been holding back finally began to flow, and you buried your face in your hands.
"You, okay?"
The voice was soft and gentle, and you looked up to see Niki standing there. He looked awkward, as if he wasn't sure what to say or do. You wiped away your tears and tried to compose yourself.
"I'm fine," you replied, your voice trembling. "Just needed a moment."
Niki nodded, and for a moment, there was a tense silence between you two. Then, he surprised you by speaking.
"I didn't ask for this either, you know."
His words caught you off guard. "Oh, You didn't?" you said sarcastically.
Niki sadly chuckled, and his eyes held a hint of vulnerability. "I've always felt like my parents had this image of the perfect future for me, and I was just expected to go along with it. But I never wanted any of this, especially not at this age."
As he spoke, you saw a glimmer of the real Niki, the one behind the charming facade. It was a moment of connection, a shared understanding of the unfair situation you both found yourselves in.
"I'm sorry for everything, Y/N," Niki continued. "I know I've been distant, but I didn't know how to handle all of this."
You nodded, feeling a sense of relief that he understood your struggle as well. "I'm sorry too, Niki. I never wanted any of this, and it's been really hard."
Niki hesitated for a moment before offering a small, tentative smile. "Maybe we can figure this out together. I don't know what the future holds, but we can make the best of it."
It was a far cry from the passionate love you had once dreamt of, but it was a start. In that moment, you realized that you and Niki were both victims of circumstances beyond your control. Perhaps, in time, you could find a way to make your marriage work, maybe not out of love, but out of a shared determination to reclaim your lives.
The reception continued, and you and Niki reentered the festivities, both with a renewed sense of resolve. The night wore on, and the guests celebrated the union of the two families. For now, you were bound together by a marriage you hadn't chosen, but you were determined to face the future with strength and resilience.
As the weeks turned into months, you and Niki navigated the challenges of your arranged marriage. It wasn't easy, and there were many obstacles to overcome. Niki's relationship with Yunji continued to be a source of tension, and it was clear that she still had resentment toward you. Niki remained oblivious to her true feelings, and it was a constant source of frustration for you.
One evening, as you and Niki sat in your shared living room, you decided it was time to have a conversation about the situation with Yunji. You had reached a breaking point and couldn't continue to endure her hostility.
"Niki," you began, taking a deep breath, "we need to talk about Yunji."
Niki looked at you with a confused expression. "What about her?"
You chose your words carefully. "I know that she's not happy about our marriage, but she's been making things difficult for me. I think it's important for us to address this issue."
Niki's brow furrowed as he considered your words. "I hadn't realized she was causing problems for you. I'll talk to her and try to sort things out."
You appreciated Niki's willingness to address the issue, but you knew that this wasn't a problem that could be solved with a simple conversation. Yunji's resentment ran deep, and you suspected that her anger went beyond just your marriage.
Days later, Niki had a conversation with Yunji, and it didn't go as smoothly as you had hoped. She was defensive and unwilling to admit her true feelings. The tension between Niki and Yunji only seemed to grow, and you couldn't help but feel like a pawn in their complicated dynamic.
As the months passed, you and Niki struggled to find common ground in your marriage. While you had a newfound understanding of each other's feelings about the forced arrangement, you couldn't escape the fact that your marriage lacked love and passion. It was a marriage of convenience, a union formed for the sake of your parents' business partnership.
One evening, as you sat on your shared balcony, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance, you turned to Niki as he suddenly spoke, "Do you ever wonder what our lives would be like if we had the freedom to choose who we wanted to be with?" You looked away from him while slightly frowning at his question.
Niki gazed at the cityscape, deep in thought. "Y-yeah, but that's not our reality." you said slowly.
He nodded, "I know. It's just...sometimes, I can't help but wish for something more." He said. You sighed "I think I'm going to head to bed, I'm tired." You said, avoiding eye contact.
The conversation with Niki left you feeling disheartened. It was clear that he still viewed your marriage as a mere arrangement, devoid of any romantic potential. You couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance for your feelings to ever be reciprocated.
As you lay in bed that night, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. The boy you had loved for so long was just as distant as ever, and the prospect of ever breaking through to his heart felt increasingly impossible. It was a painful realization that you had tried so hard to avoid, but it was becoming undeniable.
In the days that followed, you couldn't help but distance yourself from Niki. You tried to keep your emotions hidden, focusing on your studies and other aspects of your life, but it was difficult when you were living under the same roof with him. Your interactions became increasingly polite but distant, and the emotion between you grew wider.
Niki, too, began to sense the growing divide between you. He couldn't help but wonder if his words had hurt you, even though he had no idea about your long-standing feelings for him. He found himself regretting that night on the balcony, wishing he could take back his words and offer you some comfort.
One evening, Niki decided to make amends. He knocked on your bedroom door and found you sitting at your desk, engrossed in your book. You looked up when he entered, and he could see the weariness in your eyes.
"Y/N, we need to talk," Niki began, his tone earnest.
You closed your book and turned your full attention to him, curiosity mixed with a touch of apprehension. "What is it, Niki?"
Niki took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "I want you to know that I didn't mean to upset you the other night. I've been thinking about it, and I regret saying what I did."
You studied him for a moment, trying to understand his sincerity. "Niki, it's okay. You were just being honest. I appreciate your honesty."
Niki shook his head, a hint of frustration in his voice. "No, you don't understand. I didn't consider how my words might have affected you, and I want you to know that I'm sorry if I offended you."
Your heart ached at his words, but you still held back the truth about your own feelings. "Niki, we're both in this situation, and it's not ideal for either of us. Let's just make the best of it."
Niki couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed something important. He left your room with a heavy heart, realizing that he needed to confront his own emotions and what he truly wanted from this marriage.
Over the following weeks, Niki made an effort to get to know you better. He spent more time with you, engaging in conversations, sharing stories, and learning about your dreams and aspirations. The more he discovered about you, the more he found himself drawn to your kindness, resilience, and intelligence.
As his feelings for you began to evolve, he couldn't help but reflect on his past with Yunji. The intense arguments and the constant friction had taken a toll on their relationship. He realized that the connection he had with you, despite the circumstances, was much more harmonious and genuine.
One evening, as you both sat in the living room, Niki hesitated before finally speaking, "Y/N, I've been doing some thinking."
You turned to him, intrigued. "What's on your mind?"
He took a deep breath, his eyes locked on yours. "I've realized that I enjoy spending time with you. You're a great person, and I want to be a better husband to you."
Your heart skipped a beat, but you maintained your composure. "That's kind of you to say, Niki."
Niki pressed on, determined to be honest with you. "I've also come to see that my relationship with Yunji is not working. We argue all the time, and it's exhausting. I think it's time for us to break up."
You were taken aback by his words, and you couldn't hide the flicker of hope in your eyes. "Niki, are you sure about this?"
Niki nodded. "I've never been surer about anything. I want to be with someone who makes me happy."
The room was charged with unspoken emotions, and you found yourself torn between revealing your feelings for Niki or keeping them hidden. The thought of his breakup with Yunji had ignited a glimmer of hope within you, but you still couldn't be sure if your feelings would be reciprocated.
Niki, his eyes fixed on you, was waiting for a response. He was sincere in his desire to be a better husband to you and his intention to end his tumultuous relationship with Yunji. But you knew that taking a step towards love was a complex journey, especially given the circumstances surrounding your marriage.
You took a deep breath and decided to be honest, up to a point. "Niki, I appreciate your honesty and your willingness to make this marriage work. It means a lot to me that you want to be a better husband."
Niki's eyes shone with gratitude. "I'm glad you understand, Y/N. I want us to have a real chance at happiness."
You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I believe in giving this marriage a genuine try, Niki. We both deserve that."
As the days turned into weeks, Niki followed through with his decision to end things with Yunji. It was a difficult process, filled with emotional turmoil, but he was determined to move forward. You stood by his side, offering your support and understanding. It was during this challenging period that you both began to build a stronger foundation for your marriage.
With Yunji out of the picture, Niki's focus shifted entirely to you. He made an effort to get to know you on a deeper level, and he couldn't help but marvel at the strength of your character.
Niki found himself drawn to your warmth and kindness, and it wasn't long before he started to experience a shift in his feelings. What began as a reluctant friendship had the potential to blossom into something more. He was falling for you, but he remained oblivious to your hidden feelings.
One evening, you and Niki found yourselves watching a movie together on the couch. Your shoulders were touching, and a warm, comfortable silence filled the room. As the movie played on, Niki couldn't resist the urge to speak his mind.
"Y/N," he began, his voice gentle, "I have to admit that I've been feeling a strong connection between us lately."
You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest. "I've felt it too, Niki. I think our friendship is growing stronger."
Niki's gaze met yours, and he smiled softly. "It's more than that, Y/N. I've realized that I care for you deeply. I never expected this, but I can't deny my feelings anymore."
Your heart soared with hope, but you couldn't help but remain cautious. Niki still had no idea about your long-standing crush on him. "Niki, I value our friendship too, and I'm glad we're getting closer. But there's something I haven't told you."
Niki furrowed his brow, concerned. "What is it, Y/N?"
You took a deep breath, summoning the courage to reveal your secret. "Niki, I've had feelings for you for a long time. Even before this marriage was arranged."
Niki's eyes widened in surprise, and he stared at you in disbelief. "You...you've liked me all this time?"
You nodded, feeling a mix of vulnerability and relief. "Yes, but I never thought you'd feel the same way, so I tried to keep it hidden."
Niki's expression shifted from shock to realization, and a warm smile graced his lips. "Y/N, you have no idea how much this means to me. I've fallen for you too. I'm so glad you told me."
Tears welled up in your eyes, and Niki gently wiped them away with his thumb. In that moment, the weight of unspoken emotions lifted, and the connection between you deepened. You had both discovered that sometimes, love can emerge from unexpected circumstances, and that the most profound relationships can be found where you least expect them.
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© rosie-rosem
#kpop#enhypen#enha#fanfic#rosie rosem#ni-ki#enhypen niki#niki x reader#nishimura riki#arranged marriage#enhypen angst#enhypen x female reader
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Theory: Ryuji was popular, before.
I'm not entirely sure if anyone has really talked about this but I maintain my interpretation that, in the canon of Persona 5, Ryuji used to be very (or at least moderately) popular prior to the events of the story.
This is something I've gotten into before when talking to friends who like the game and the character, but I haven't really considered writing it down until now. The main argument I have is based on three things:
Things Ryuji alluded to in canon (but no one believed him on)
The deliberate choice of making him a track athlete
Typecasting for voice actors
1: "There were girls all over me!"
I don't really have the time to go on a deep dive through all the instances in which he hints at his reputation before the Kamoshida incident, but I think the most clear-cut representation of this was during the scene where he and Ann spend the day with Futaba during her post-palace social rehabilitation:
So here's the thing...I don't think he's lying about this. Nobody in the room would be that impressed to find out whether Ryuji was popular since they are already friends (or in Mona's case, he really just doesn't care), so it wouldn't make sense for him to lie.
Regarding everyone's reactions though, here's my impression: Ann was simply not aware of what was going on with the track team, being predominantly focused on dealing with rumors, her friendship with Shiho, and her modeling career (and eventually Kamoshida's advances once he started doing that shit) and she mentions a few times that she and Ryuji weren't actually close before joining the PT; they were just in the same class in middle school. Futaba hasn't interacted with anyone her age in years and isn't the most reliable source when it comes to what people generally find attractive; just because she doesn't have any interest in Ryuji doesn't mean that nobody her age would. And Morgana is a cat that brags constantly about how cool he is, so he shouldn't be throwing rocks.
There are many other times in the game when you get little glimpses of his social savvy, and from my understanding of Royal (I'm an OG vanilla P5 player and haven't done 3rd-semester yet, so don't kill me) when the track team returns to "how it was", he is getting along extremely well with everyone. Not only was he the team's ace: this kid was also expected to become the captain by his senior year (as briefly mentioned when he bumps into his former senpai at the gym, iirc). That's huge! If his team held him in such high regard, then the general student body of Shujin surely had a similar opinion. This brings me to my next point:
2: Girls like boys that run fast(???)
This is honestly something that baffles me. It's also really difficult for me to substantiate; any source material on this is obviously in Japanese and if I could find any of it, I sure as hell can't read it. The only English-language source I know of I cannot find anymore; I think it was an old Tofugu article? However. If you've watched any romance anime set in a high school during the last 20 years, you might have seen this trope at some point: the school sports festival is happening, and the relay race is kind of a huge deal (it's the final event! a make-or-break moment for the class!). The boy thinks to himself "If I win this race, I'll be able to win her heart/ask her out/etc." Low-stakes drama ensues. Maybe a confession happens.
This is (from what I've been told) based on a long-standing trend of girls and women self-reporting in surveys about how, oftentimes, their crushes in junior or senior high school were simply "the boy who ran the fastest in the races". I have no idea what this means in a broader cultural context. It makes no goddamn sense to me at all. Do not cite me on this. But I think it's worth keeping in mind, even if it's almost entirely speculative (and possibly outdated) information. And even if it's just based on rumors, don't you think it's pretty in-character for Ryuji to go for a track scholarship—despite being adept at other sports like baseball and football/soccer, as mentioned in P5 and P5D—because he was aware of the potential of being more popular with girls? Of course, his priority would be getting the scholarship and paying his way through school to lighten his mother's burden, but hey, getting a girlfriend on the way up wouldn't be half bad!
I think this could also inform us as to why Kamoshida (as a predator who wanted attention from high school girls) felt so threatened by the track team in particular, and why he felt a need to specifically knock Ryuji down a peg and sought out a weakness to do so (as opposed to targeting any of the probably just-as-popular boys on the many other athletic teams and clubs in the school). Just some food for thought on this one! Also, if anyone can find a source or has any insight on the relay race thing, please share. I am so confused about it.
3: Typecasting
So this is something that you really only notice if you are very into keeping up with seiyuu in Japan. I am not one of those people. But I do have some favorite voice actors! One of these being Mamoru Miyano.
So I freakin' love this dude. He's voiced a lot of my favorite characters, sings incredibly well, and has an unreal sense of comedy. He's stated in interviews that his acting inspiration is Jim Carrey, and let me tell you: it shows. He is also quite consistently typecast into certain roles, predominantly as princely pretty-boy types, Coolguys, or complete fucking nutcases. Sometimes all three at the same time (shoutout to my boy Ling FMA!)
ATLUS definitely cast him for P5 because of his comedic chops. But I think they also cast him because having him voice someone like Ryuji is a great way to subvert expectations for the player. I think it's supposed to give you whiplash—"what do you mean the voice of LIGHT FUCKING YAGAMI is coming out of this guy's mouth?" "why does the delinquent character sound like king of the host club Tamaki Suou?" "isn't that Rin Matsuoka's voice?" etc. etc. etc.
(here's a quick list, just to really get the idea across. maybe you recognize a few.)
This is obviously a non-comprehensive list, but something that a lot of the characters he's voiced over the years have in common is that they were considered cool, handsome, or popular. Not just for fans, but within the canon of their stories! So...what does that mean? What does that say about how we should see Ryuji?
I think players are supposed to expect that he will fall into one of those categories too, and then be surprised to find that it's not the case—that he's been isolated and made bitter and resigned by what happened to him the year before.
Speaking of his tone, I think it's very telling that Ryuji actually forgets to keep up the delinquent act a lot in the original JP audio, which unfortunately doesn't really carry over in the ENG translation. The delivery of his JP lines sounds a bit more subdued in comparison too—yeah he's got a lot of energy and is very hotheaded, but when he gets to talking about serious shit, he sounds a lot more regretful and melancholy as opposed to the EN delivery which depicts him as more resentful and outwardly angry. I think before Shit Went Down, he probably had the Coolguy vibe. Still a bit of a rowdy idiot and a showoff, but I think he probably came across to most people as a very friendly, sincere, and popular guy.
So yeah, the girls probably were all over him, at least for a short while.
#persona 5#ryuji sakamoto#character analysis#LONGASS POST SORRY#I JUST REALLY LIKE HIM AND WANTED TO THINK MY THOUGHTS FOR A WHILE#pita.txt
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27 with itoshi rin please :D
honestly i can see rin filling their partner up with his cum and put a vibrator them so that his cum doesn't leak out + plus he uses the remote to tease them throughout the day <3
｡☆✼★━ Challenge ━★✼☆｡
Summary: You stumbled upon a challenge on Twitter and shared it with your boyfriend, who seemed open to the idea. However, with the upcoming party on the horizon, you suspected he might have forgotten all about it. But as it turns out, you couldn't have been more wrong.
Tw : Creep Guy, Creep Group of guys, Annoying girls and Drinking.
Kinks : F receiving, Cream-pie, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), Rough sex, vibrators, impact play and spitting
Word count : 3.3k
An: Sorry if the smut isn’t the best it’s like 4 in the morning I’ll probably redo it later
Enjoy!
As you lounged comfortably on the plush couch, the soft glow of your phone screen illuminating your face, time seemed to slip away. Your Twitter feed was a never-ending stream of mundane updates and viral memes, until, out of nowhere, a tweet appeared that changing the mood of everything.
The interesting challenges caught your attention, luring you in with their mysterious allure. You had lots of free time and not much else to do, so you couldn't help but get curious about these intriguing suggestions. Some were harmless and innocent, while others were more daring, making you want to give them a try.
As you scrolled further, your heart started pounding when you found some really explicit challenges, things that you would on see one PornHub or something. Though as you read each suggestion it felt like it was drawing you into a world of intense passion and desire.
Then, like fate had a hand in it, a certain suggestion stood out among all the online noise. It caught your eye, making you curious like a moth drawn to a light. This challenge promised a night of excitement and closeness, but it also made you feel a bit nervous. The words on the screen gave you a shiver: "You or your partner has to wear a vibrator all day or night, while the other controls it."
You thought about it more and couldn't help yourself. You went to your bedroom where Rin was already there. When you sat next to him, he looked at you with curious eyes.You gave a little smile and got closer, gently touching his cheek, and asked, "Rin, should we give this a shot?" Just then, you showed him the tweet on your phone and point to the one that caught your attention.
With a sly smile, he said, "So, if I get this right, you want one of us to wear a vibrator all day?" You nodded, and he chuckled, saying, "Okay, we'll do it, but on my terms." You asked, "What are the terms?" He then grinned wickedly and said, "First, I choose when and where you put the vibrator on. Second, if you get handsy or try to finish early, I increase the intensity. Lastly, no holding back moans, even in public."
You were about to say "yes," but then what he said registers in your head , causing you playfully hit him in the arm. You then say, "I can't touch you or myself when I'm feeling needy, and I have to talk in moanish gibberish that not far."
With that, Rin gracefully rises, positioning himself shoulder to shoulder with you. He places his hand beneath his chin, tilting his head to the right, a clear sign that he's deep in thought. Eventually, he arrives at some sort of conclusion, declaring, "Alright, I’ll let you win – just this once. So, here's the deal: when you get all needy, you can handle it yourself, or even use my body to help , but I'm strictly off-limits when it comes to helping you so no begging for me to fuck you or touch you sound far."
His face lights up with a mischievous grin, and you find yourself equally enthralled by the idea, offering a nod of agreement. The two of you settle with that, and both of you return to looking at the TV screen, immersing yourselves in the world of sappy old romance movies. It's been an absolute blast. Everything was going well, but suddenly, Rin’s loud alarm goes off. He turns over and turns it off before getting out of bed, and saying, "It's time for us to get ready."
You raise an eyebrow, confused by your boyfriend's sudden excitement. You didn't remember any important plans, so you just stayed in bed, not doing much. It was only when Rin spoke excitedly that you stopped rolling around."We need to get ready for the party tonight," he reminds you, trying to jogging your memory. "Remember the one I mentioned last week? It's like a get-together for me and the guys from Blue Lock."
You stop fidgeting and think hard. After a moment, you remember what he talked about. You look at him again and say, "I thought that was in October."
He quickly takes off the covers, picks you up, and carries you to the bathroom. He hands you your toothbrush from the matching set you got together. Then, with a teasing look, he says, "It's October, sweetheart."
You shoot him a disbelieving look, your expression clearly conveying a "no way" sentiment. Your incredulous gaze causes him to pause mid-toothbrushing, and he points over to the bathroom calendar and speaker.
Turning your attention to these, you're met with the surprising revelation that the date indeed reads October 12. You offer a nonchalant shrug, not wanting to admit that you'd completely lost track of time.
Now, as you both stand side by side, brushing your teeth together while nodding along to your shared playlist, you can't help but smile. It's a simple, endearing routine that only the two of you share. It's one of those cute, intimate moments that usually belong in movies, but somehow, it's a part of your everyday life.
Though you couldn’t bathe in the moment, for too long knowing how particular Rin can be about punctuality, you hasten your tooth-brushing, not wanting to keep him waiting. You quickly grab something comfortable to wear, fully aware that your boyfriend has a penchant for making you try on countless outfits, even when you're only looking for one.
Finally, the two of you venture out into the bustling world of stores and outlets. While strolling and casually peering into shop windows, your gaze locks onto a stunning drape collar dress in a mesmerizing champagne hue. Captivated by its beauty, you can't resist tugging on Rin's arm, impulsively leading him into the store. Without wasting a moment, you head straight to the racks, where you luckily find the dress in your size.
Hastening to the dressing room, you slip into the dress. It fits you like a glove, accentuating your curves in all the right places. It strikes the perfect balance between revealing enough to be alluring but modest enough to make you feel comfortable. Now, it's time for the tricky part – showing it off to Rin.
You have a habit of enthusiastically displaying your fashion finds to him, but he has an equally strong tendency to, well, get handsy and maybe a little too eager. Despite this, you gather your courage and exit the dressing room. With a playful twirl, you put on a show for Rin, hoping he'll appreciate your choice without, well, ripping it off you prematurely.
"So, what do you think?" you ask, a radiant smile gracing your lips, eager for Rin's response. Surprisingly, Rin remains silent for a moment, and a pang of disappointment begins to well up within you. Feeling a bit disheartened, you start to turn away, but just as you pivot, he seizes you and pulls you close. In a passionate kiss that lingers along your neck, he murmurs, "God, why are you so fuckin sexy?"
His hands start to explore your body, igniting a desire within you that's difficult to ignore. You wouldn't mind indulging in a little action, but you both know time isn't on your side. You summon the willpower to gently slap his wandering hand away and retreat back to the dressing room. However, before you disappear, you blow him a quick, teasing kiss.
Now that you've secured your evening outfit, the two of you head back home. Once you're there, you hurry to the bathroom, eager to don your chosen ensemble and craft your makeup look.
After about a 1 hour and half you finish your look and step out side where you see Rin dressed all nice in I wonderful blue suit that match him perfectly lucky your dress fits well with his outfit. Walking up to him you pull him down to you height and places a soft kiss on his lips before saying “Ready to go” giving you a quick the nodded the two of you walk out the house and making your way to the party
Once your their you look around your eyes widening as you saw the building it look more like a hotel or a well renowned businesses agency then it did a party spot . Not giving you much time to take it all in Rin comes over and opens the door for you while offering his arm, the two of you walk in and are immediately greeted by Isagi and Bachira this were about the only two people Rin keep up with after blue lock.
Waiting to give your boyfriend some time and space to catch up with his friends you head over to a little booth we’re you see a large group of girl who look be either girlfriends or sisters of the former blue lock boys. You sit yourself down and listen in on what’s they we’re talking about, it was most just the normal conversation of how hot their boyfriends were how they brothers could beat anyone. You decided not to join in knowing that someone comment might set you off completely.
Finally you spot Isagi and Bachira girlfriends the three got to know each other pretty well since your boyfriend and pretty much inseparable on the field . Getting up from your sit you make you way over to the girls who were at the bar taking a couple shots once their you say with a exited tone “Hey girls” they both turn to you and they eye immediately widened. Getting up form their sit they run over to you and give you a warm hug before saying “Damn girl you look good as fuck, surprise Rin let you out the house looking like this” You let a little chuckle before replying “Same goes to the two of you, I know it was hard to get out the house” the girls then look at each other then back at you before giving a nod.
Not long after that the three of you head back over to the bar and throw a couple shot back everything was going good you guys would hit the dance floor and not and then come back and sit down because someone feet were hurting or they were thirsty. Finally you guys had enough of the dance for a hit up a empty booth once their the three of you caught up of what’s new in each others life while spilling tea about what’s going on in the soccer world. It was then that a blonde haired and a couple of his friends came up to you guys and began hitting on you.
“You girls look lonely why don’t y’all come with us” one of the guys says he places his hand y’all table while licking lips. You just look up from your phone and roll eyes thinking that they would take the hint and leave but of course they didn’t so they take a seats beside you guys trying to start up conversation but you guys weren’t having it so you say “ Can you see get the hell away from use, we’re not interested in hanging out with you” but it’s like everything you said went in one hear and out the other as he wraps his arms your neck.
Lucky for you Rin, Isagi and Bachira had finished up their conversation and had come longing for you guys. Rin’s face when he saw some other guys that wasn’t him touching you was something to be remembered, he stormed over to you and pull the guy up from the chair. “What the hell do you think your doing with my girl” Rin said his eyes full with a murderous attempt but apparently the guy must have been a masochist cause he continued to push Rin’s buttons “I was just showing her what’s it’s like to have a real man by her side” he guy said before get the wind punched out of his lungs.
Rin started to beat the shit out of the guy until his hands had blood on them finally after Isagi and Bachira pulled him off the guy did Rin quit beat the man not wasting any more time he went over to you and grab you by the wrist pulling out side of the building. Soon enough the to of you make it to Rin’s car we’re you both sit in silence until you look around looking for something to clean the blood of with
Finding some napkins you grab Rin’s hands and start cleaning them off while giving him a could talking to. “Rin what the hell were you thinking beating that guy like that what about your soccer career” you say with a upset tone you were happy he fought but he can’t just go out beating people up. Rin the mumbles something that you can’t hearing pissing you off even more “Fine if your going be a jerk then you can wipe the blood off your own hand” you say as you throw the napkin at him.
He doesn’t say anything he just takes the napkin and begins to wipe his own hands while you seat and pout. A couple more minutes go by and Rin finally says something “I’m sorry, you were right I shouldn’t have beaten that guy that badly even though he deserved it” you look over at him before grabbing his cheek and pulling to kiss “You know that’s not why I’m mad I’m mad because you but your dreams on the line for one dick head even if you looked sexy while doing” you say as you kiss him again this time making it last longer then before.
“You know you could give me a treat for being such a god boyfriend” Rin says licking his lips you look at him and roll your eyes before saying Fine, but just a quickie we don’t want be get worried”
｡☆✼★━ Smut Time ━★✼☆｡
You laid in the back seat of the car naked while your boyfriend was on top of you fully dressed, his knee spreading your legs out and rubbing right against your wetting cunt causing you to throw back your head in frustration. But Rin doesn’t let you think before he crashes his lips into your swirling his hot tongue around yours back hard for the both of you to breathe.
You both pull away and watch as the string of saliva connecting your snaps with that Rin starts to trail hot kisses down your body not stopping until he reached you wet cunt not wanting anymore time Rin started to places kiss across you puffy lips finally using his rough clauses thumb he spread your cute cunt apart before spitting on it, using his other hand he slides his spit up and down your cunt mixing it slowly with your juices once he thought you were good and wet he began to lick long hot laps across your folds.
“Fuvk Rin right there ” you moaned out as you gripped on to his raven hair and pushed him farther into your cunt.
Yet Rin didn’t mind. He loved when gripped his hair and tried to ride his face and normally he would let you put tonight was a little different. Wasting no time Rin used his hand to bring down a hard slap to your ass causing you to grip on to his hair tighter. “Did I tell you, you could ride my face sweetheart” Rin says as his tongue teases at your hole causing you to try to close your legs which only made Rin more angry “I didn’t tell you to close your legs either” Rin says this time slapping your ass harder than before.
"M'mm sorry Rin, just please keep going, I'm so close," you squirm, trying to get any be of frustration you can, deciding to give what you want Rin grabs you by the hips and pulls you in to him closer so you can't squirm why he laps up all your juices and pushes his tongue deep into your hole causing your eyes to roll back into your head. "Rin right there, don't stop," you try to add, but your words come out as a moanisg slur.
"I'm cumming," you chant as you rock your hips into Rin's tongue, but Rin abruptly stops. causing you to look at him with a wtf face expression, to which he quickly answered "The only thing you’re allowed to cum on is my cock" Rin says as he pulls down his pants and boxers, allowing his cock to jump free. His tip was glowing red and oozing with percum, and he wasted no time in aligning his cock with your wet openings and shoving his throbbing cock within, without allowing you to adjust to his size before ramming into your sloppy, wet cunt. You began crying because you felt him within you.
“God you feel so fuckin good sweetheart, so so fuckin good” Rin growls out as as he pushes your hips up and down slowly your warm cunt tighting harder around his thick cock as his hips thrust up to meet you half way. Rin could feel his cock harden his balls tighten but the only thing he could really focus on was your gummy wall and how they felt around him.
“I can’t wait to use this cunt that was just made for me, can’t wait to fill it up with my kids, can’t wait to breed it over and over again” He muttered between clenched teeth, trying his best not cum inside you just yet. His thrust became slow and deep making sure you were feeling just as good as him hit all your shots right stops with his hard cock. His eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips got tighter, pushing you faster up and down his dick as your tight walls gripped him, a mix of your cream and his cum coating his length, making a ring on the base of it.
"Fuck- sweetheart , I’m going cum in you." He groans.”Want to fill you up so good and make you have my babies.”
Rin’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you give him a nod because you were to fucked out to speak , groaning and grunting as he begins to thrust harder and deeper into you, his gloved hands pulling your hips all the way down so his cock is completely inside you as his thick, warm cum fills your womb up.
"Fuck yes," you scream as your nails dig into Rin's clothed back, bringing down both of your highs. You two kissed one another that time, and before cuddling, you collected your air. Soon after, you two get ready to go back in, but just as you're about to put your pants on, Rin stops you and inserts a cute egg vibrator inside you, causing your gummy overstim cunt to clamp down around the toy. "Rin what the hell," you yell, grabbing on to run as the vibration of the toy weakens your leg. Rin simply looks at you before responding, "We don't want any of my cum to leak out now, do we?"
And with that, you two walk back inside, clamping your legs together and trying not to make any strange noises while the girls ask you if you're okay. "Hey, what's wrong with your girlfriend Rin, she's walking funny," Isagi says, with Bachira following right behind. "Yeah, it looks like something got into her or something," Rin replies, with a devilish grin painted across his face, before walking away and playing with his new favorite toy.
Kinktober still open so get in your request in before it’s closed. Link
#x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#smut#anime smut#blue lock#rin itoshi#rin itoshi smut#blue lock smut#bllk smut#anime#kinktober#angst#protective bf#fighting#party au#tw drinking#dancing
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see me | chapter two: closer
pairing: choi beomgyu x you
summary: after another failed relationship, you're ready to accept your fate as hopeless. choi beomgyu has other plans, though. or, beomgyu's your best friend's little brother and he's tired of you treating him like a kid.
genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending, best friend's brother au
word count: 2-3k-ish
notes: as promised, here is chapter two :) i realize most people are actually waiting for chapter three of to know him is to love him, but somebody wanted to read this and i already had it written!! it also made me so happy that someone was interested in the first fic i posted on here 😭 i'm still working on chapter 3 of tkhitlm, but i will be bouncing back and forth between that and see me (which is how i like to write, don't worry). also, feedback is appreciated :,)
after an intervention with jia, you decide you're not going to forgive donghyun for his infidelity. it's tempting to just listen to him and move forward with your relationship, but you decide to put your dignity first and break up with him once and for all. for that, beomgyu is more grateful than you'll ever know.
jia suggests going on a trip with her and her boyfriend, yijun. you decisively reject her under the claim that you're unwilling to be the third wheel, but jia, ever the mastermind, placates you by inviting beomgyu. you're immediately a lot more willing than before. sure, you'd still be an extra wheel, but you could do so with company. you and beomgyu are friends — almost like family. the idea of going on a trip with them is exponentially more appealing when you know he'll be there with you. he could, in theory, bring one of the many girls who are always hanging off of him, but he's been more lowkey lately for reasons unknown to you.
the trip in question is to the closest beach. yijun has a beach house (you often joke about how she hit the jackpot with him) and you're finally ready to unwind and forget about your shitty reality. beomgyu is uncharacteristically quiet for the entire drive there, but you don't push because you assume he's not in the mood for you to. you plan on asking him about it when you get a moment alone, though.
the house has three bedrooms and you're beyond thankful. you'd feel awful if you had to share a room with jia just so you wouldn't have to room with beomgyu. you begin to imagine what would have happened if donghyun had come instead, but you shake off the thought as fast as you possibly can, though it lingers in the back of your mind.
jia and yijun are on the first level while you and beomgyu are on the second. you stare up the long staircase and sigh at the thought of having to heave your suitcase up there after such a tiring drive. then, as if reading your mind, beomgyu grabs your suitcase along with his and lugs them up the stairs without saying a word. you grin and comment on his chivalry and strength. the tips of his ears turn pink, but they are (thankfully) hidden under his long hair.
jia and yijun invite you to the beach, but you decide you're too tired and would rather stay in for the time being. you decide to take a quick nap, or at least you try to, but end up waking up so disoriented you briefly can't recall where you are and why. when you regain your senses and check your phone, you realize you've been out for at least 4 hours and the sky is already darkening. so much for an eventful first day.
with a grimace, you make your way down the stairs and to the living room, half expecting jia to make fun of you, but the only person you see is beomgyu. he's sitting there, posture relaxed while he fiddles with his phone. when you call out to him, he immediately drops it onto the floor.
"shit!" he exclaims.
"sorry, i didn't know i'd freak you out this bad," you remark sheepishly.
"it's okay," he says clearing his throat awkwardly. "how are you? did you sleep okay?"
"i woke up literally not knowing who i was. that's how good i slept." you both laugh at this and he shakes his head.
"hey, where are jia and yijun?" you ask.
"they're at the beach."
"still?"
"still."
"why didn't you go with them?" you question lightly with a tilt of your head.
"i dunno, just didn't feel like it," he lies with a cough. he just really didn't wanna leave you here alone, and if he could spend some one-on-one time with you, all the better.
"well, i'm hungry. do you want to get dinner together?" you assumed jia and yijun were probably out to eat on their own.
"do you mean going out?"
you steal a glance at the mirror hanging above the couch and catch a glimpse of your drool encrusted mouth and bedhead. going out? no fucking way.
"i was thinking of just ordering chinese food?"
"sounds good to me."
when the food arrives, you make beomgyu go out to get it, arguing that you look like shit. he says you look fine and you roll your eyes at this. you took a four hour nap and you'll be damned if it doesn't show. if it was anyone else, you may have been embarrassed about your appearance, but it's just beomgyu. he certainly doesn't care about what you look like.
in between bites of your noodles, you laugh at beomgyu's storytelling. he's not being as quiet as before and he's talking about an unspecified friend's antics with two new situationships, only to find out he's been fucking two so-called best friends simultaneously. you groan at the revelation and cover your face in secondhand embarrassment. he doesn't spare any of the finer details and you're kicking your feet at the awkwardness.
he's acting normal more or less, but you can't help but notice how hesitant he seems at certain points. you're still set on asking him what's wrong, so after you're done laughing and reacting to his enthralling story, you find a quiet moment.
"beomie?"
"what is it?" he asks, smile still present from your infectious laughter.
"are you alright?" immediately, his smile drops and is replaced by a light frown.
"yeah... why wouldn't i be?"
"it just feels like you're not 100% here, is everything okay?" leave it to you to notice the almost imperceptible changes within him. even his own sister doesn't seem to notice how off he's felt lately, but his heart soars at how much you've been evidently paying attention.
"actually, i—" the front door swings open and jia comes in with yijun in tow.
"jesus, did you just wake up?" she asks, unimpressed with your current appearance.
"more or less," you grin. beomgyu can't help but grin too, but his smile falters when he realizes the conversation you two were having was cut short and he's unsure of when you two will be alone again.
"we brought you guys some food, but i guess we didn't need to," she says, eyeing the chinese food messily sitting on the coffee table.
"really? you're the best," you answer.
beomgyu thinks he gives his thanks too, but he honestly can't tell if he said it aloud or not. he's so disappointed because he felt like you two were finally getting somewhere, but he supposes he'll have time to talk to you again during the trip. he just hopes jia and yijun take a hint and fuck off for awhile sometime soon.
they don't. actually, it feels like jia is more glued to you than usual, which could be due in part to the heartbreak you've just borne, but he still can't help but feel indignant. he wants to tell her to kick rocks, but he can't — that would raise too much suspicion. so he sits patiently, like he always has, and waits.
in the meantime, the rest of his crew is blowing up his phone — coaching him on how to make subtle moves on you. sometimes, he stands behind you and grabs things you can't reach on your own, which seems innocuous enough, but he feels so close you can feel his breath on your neck and it takes everything in you not to shiver. other times, he gently touches your shoulder or knee when redirecting your attention. these harmless gestures are meaningless to you, but you have no idea how much courage it takes him to make these moves. you and beomgyu have touched each other before, so it's not like you question a single thing he does. in fact, you've hugged him, even, but that was only ever once and never again. you don't like to relive that memory for reasons unrelated to him, but he remembers everything.
-
being with doyoon was everything you ever hoped love could be. it was patient, it was kind, and it was unbreakable, at least to you. you didn't want to be naive, but after a few months, you already knew you wanted to marry him.
you always felt a little lost. the reason why you even went to college in the first place was mostly because you didn't want to be home anymore, not because of some grand plan for yourself and for your life. doyoon was the exact opposite. he knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it, but you loved him for that. he seemed so determined and sure of himself, everything you weren't. being with him made you want to be better. actually, being with him made you better. sure, you still weren't 100% sure what you were doing, but you knew you wanted more. whatever happened, you knew he'd be there to help you figure it out. or that's what you used to think, at least.
for three years, you tried to measure up to him. you wanted to become someone worthy of him to the point where you abandoned a lot of who you used to be. good riddance to bad rubbish, you thought. no need for tears spilled over the loss of someone you didn't even like. jia would worry, though. she said you weren't acting like yourself because you were wound so tight you were no longer the easygoing person you always had been. you were hard on yourself to the point of tears at times, wanting so desperately to be someone doyoon could be proud of, but you fell short every time.
when you didn't get promotions and the internship you wanted, doyoon would always comfort you, but you knew he was disappointed. not with the fact that you failed, but just in you. he said you needed to apply yourself more, so you did. he said you had more potential than you even knew and he didn't want you to settle for anything less, but one day you couldn't help but ask "what if this is all i can do?!"
he was silent for a moment, seriously contemplating your question. you felt an unparalleled sense of dread while you waited for him to answer. why didn't he know his answer? why wasn't it "then i'll love you anyway"? why, why, why? eventually, he replied, and your dread was met with despair.
"then i can't be with you."
he said more after that. something about wanting different things, something about needing to find someone more compatible, something about needing to grow with someone instead of watching them wither. the last one in particular hurt the most. you had tried so, so hard to be someone you wanted to be around, but it was never enough. you felt like everything you did had been pointless and the person you had become was a façade. a really strong person wouldn't crumble the way you did. a really strong person wouldn't cling to his shirt and beg him to see the good in you, and you knew that, but you did it anyway.
when he inevitably left you as you sobbed alone, you wanted to see jia immediately, but she was home for the holidays. you tried calling on your drive over, but it went straight to voicemail. do not disturb, a nasty little feature. she must have been asleep. still, you drove over like a madman and paused several times when you couldn't see through your tears.
when you arrived at the choi's house, you knocked rapidly on the door — basically pounding on it. you sighed in relief when the door opened and you expected to see her face on the other side. what you didn't foresee was her little brother answering instead.
"what's wrong?!" he shouted in concern, taking in your pitiful frame. to this day you don't know why, but you took the 19-year-old beomgyu in your arms and released your sobs onto his chest. maybe you just needed somebody, anybody, to hold onto. and he let you. he pulled you in even closer and shut the door behind you. he shushed you as he gently rubbed circles into your shaking back and let you cry.
when you finally calmed down enough to talk, your voice was still choked and heavy with emotion.
"it's doyoon, h-he doesn't want me anymore. he said he can't be with me because i'm not — because i can't be good enough for him. he said we want different things, but we don't. i'm trying! can't he see that i'm trying?! can you see that i'm trying?!" you asked, not even really making sense, but beomgyu seemed to understand perfectly.
he knew jia had expressed concern for you and your relationship. she said you weren't acting like yourself anymore. she didn't mention that you would have meltdowns over not achieving what you felt you were supposed to achieve, but beomgyu overheard her consoling you more than once. he wanted to grab the phone from her and talk to you himself, but what could he say? that he saw you, the real you? that he could understand how you felt? that he always understood how you felt?
he couldn't before, but there you were, asking him the questions he always wanted you to ask. he wouldn't miss that chance.
"of course i can," he said softly. "of course i can. anyone can see it, and if they can't, they just don't know you." not like i know you.
"then — then why? why can't he understand me?" you seemed so lost he wished he could find the right words to soothe you. it felt like if he just said the right thing, maybe it would click for you that you just had the wrong person. maybe it would click for you that he could be the right person.
"because he's not the right person for you. the right person would never make you doubt yourself. the right person should make you want to be better on your own terms, not theirs. the right person would accept you just as you are even when you want to be something more."
you couldn't help but scoff at this.
"and who is the right person for me? who would want me the way i am right now?" you didn't mean to sound frustrated, but you were racking your brain trying to figure this shit out yourself too.
"i... i don't know." coward, he thought. "but i know he's out there. there's someone out there who really wants the best for you, but will never make you feel small while you're still trying to figure out what that looks like."
"i just want to know when that will be," you cried, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. he almost took a chance to wipe your tears, but he opted to push your hair back behind your ears instead.
"it will be soon, just wait. don't cry. it's okay, don't cry."
you can't recall how long you cried after that, in spite of beomgyu's sincere pleas. after you were all cried out, you put your head on his shoulder and he tried not to visibly stiffen.
"thank you. you know, beomie, this might be weird to say, but i've always felt that you're like..." he gulped and hoped to god you didn't hear it. was this it?
"that you're like a little brother to me, honestly." he felt like he had been punched in the stomach. "i really hope that's not weird, but i really do love you. you're such a good friend to me." he felt like he had been kicked in the stomach, actually.
"any time. i mean it. i love you, too." the sentiment was a little different, but he was still glad to say it.
#niningtori#see me#txt angst#txt#txt fluff#txt fic#beomgyu#txt beomgyu#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x you#beomgyu fic#tomorrow x together#txt imagines#txt scenarios#txt headcanons#beomgyu imagines#beomgyu scenarios#beomgyu headcanons#honestly know this is gonna flop#but i do it for my readers cuz i love u
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hit me with the sunshine!james and grumpy!reader fluff, loser :)
-cece
how delicious! so good i'll ignore the name calling <3 all for you, @theemporium :) i've never done this trope before so hopefully this works!!! | fluff, fem!reader, grumpy!reader x sunshine!james, 1k
"If you keep frowning like that your face is going to stick," James says lightly. He startles you a bit, but you don't let it show. He knows you well enough to tell, anyway. He slides his hand over your lower back as you continue to stare, arms crossed, at the book in your hand.
"Ha, ha," you say, toneless. "James, it's no use." Your lower lip has a small indent in it like you've been chewing on it. He wonders if you'll let him kiss you in the store.
"What's no use, darling? Catch me up, I'm slow." Sometimes, if you're in the mood, you'll bump your hip with his when he teases like that. But you don't move, don't even lean into the hand on your back.
"I think today is going to be a bust." It's shopping day -- different from errand day, you both wander around local shops and buy things you don't technically need. Birthday presents, new clothes, books. It tires you out immensely and James knows that tonight you'll fall asleep in his lap with a movie in the background.
"Why's that?" he asks. You won't ask him to go home early, even if you're not enjoying yourself, since you know he's got things to buy. You won't even sulk -- that's not your style. He'll just be able to feel it radiate off of you, and while he adores your slightly sour disposition, he never wants you to actually be upset. Dissatisfied with the state of the world? Sure, who isn't. Annoyed at slow walkers? Again, join the club. He loves you when you're frosty, he loves you when you're grumpy, he loves you when you're soft in his arms when you wake up every morning. It doesn't matter. He loves it all.
"I--," you start. You set the book back down on the table perhaps a bit too forcefully, as you wince at the noise it makes. "I'm just annoyed they don't have the edition I wanted. When I called last week they said they did." You take a deep breath. "And I'm frustrated that I've dragged you here when it's on the other side of town as the stationary shop we need to go to for Remus and all the other places we need to visit." You sigh again, frown deepening. Time for him to make his move.
He's mastered this by now. James knows that you'll let him underneath your exterior no matter what, half because he's so damn charming and half because you want him to see you, to make you smile. And, if he's honest, he's got no idea why you let him. But from the moment you met it was clear that he was the perfect companion to your mood.
"I'll buy you another book. Two other books. No, three!" You turn towards him and his hand slides to the flesh of your hip, squeeing once, gently. "Well, any more than three and you definetly have to carry some."
You aren't convinced. "James, that's not the point --"
"Well, who needs books, anyway?" He hooks two long fingers through your belt loop and tugs gently. You allow it, falling into his chest and catching the lapels of his jacket, frown still in place. But he can see he's getting there -- your eyebrows are quirked in interest and your shoulders are already looser. He taps the tip of your chin with a knuckle before cupping your cheek. "I could just ravish you in the stacks of this shop, instead. No purchase required."
"James," you scold. Your grip on his jacket tightens and he can tell you're fighting a smile. "I will not be kicked out for public indecency. Who even says ravish, anyway? Who are you, a historical romance hero?"
He nods very seriously. "That's my day job, obviously. How did you not know? You really should pay more attention to me." That earns him an eye roll and tug at the corner of your mouth .
"Poor you," you drone. "Most neglected boyfriend on the planet."
He drags his thumb across your skin, watching it pull. Your nostrils flare. "No," he says. "No, I don't think so. You couldn't neglect me if you tried." He moves his face closer, so close that your noses brush. Your eyelashes flutter and your eyes close.
"Only because you're so bloody loud," you say, softly. "It's very hard to ignore you." He scoffs.
"Careful," he says. "Or I might think you're flirting with me." He drags it out even more, brushing his lips over yours without properly kissing you.
"Now that would be a real blow to my reputa--" you say, but he ends his own game and presses his lips to yours. You gasp and he swallows it, right there in the fiction section of the bookshop. James doesn't let it go on too long, lest you actually get kicked out, which would be a shame since he knows you do like this place normally. So after a few mostly decent-for-public kisses, he pulls away. Your hands loosen their grip on his jacket and he releases your face.
"Shall we go, then?" he asks, finding his voice a little rough. He loves the effect you have on him. You nod, frustration seemingly gone for now.
"I hate when you do that," you grumble, linking your fingers together. He squeezes your hand. "Cheer me up so easily."
"No, you don't," he says, beaming at you. You reach up and flick a loose curl back into place.
"No, I don't," you say, suppressing a smile. "I still don't have my book, though." Well, at least you no longer look put out about it.
"Then we'll go to every shop in the city, silly girl," James says, tugging you toward the exit. "We've got all day."
thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!
#james potter x reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fanfiction#marauders fanfiction#marauders
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Korrasami prompt: Romance
Asami derives the idea of dating Korra after she gives Korra her first driving lesson.
"I never had a girlfriend before," Korra says after they clear the air about Mako. However, Korra strangely follows it up with a quick, 'except Naga.'
Asami is left pondering what Korra means for several days.
Is Korra saying she is in a romantic relationship with her polar bear dog? Or does she not know the full meaning of the term girlfriend?
Asami assumes the latter. The former is too strange and disturbing for her to dare let lose on her far too vivid imagination.
So Asami endeavors to teach Korra what girlfriend means. Her plan involves first approaching the subject to gather data, next she will implement her 'date Korra' strategy, and finally romance will blossom and grow into a happy ending. It is surely a fool-proof plan.
She tries approaching the subject subtlety, by asking if Korra enjoys going out on the town. (She does.) If Korra enjoys flowers (if there's food involved). What Korra is looking for in a romantic partner (someone badass who can keep up with her).
Asami hopes this gives Korra a clue she's interested.
It doesn't. Korra instead calls them delightful chats with a friend.
It's a trifle frustrating.
She decides perhaps gifting Korra something magnificent will help. Since her first airship, that she designed herself, was completed by the time airbenders started appearing, Asami decides this is the moment of truth.
Korra is elated. Then calls her the bestest friend one could have.
Asami is a trifle discouraged, but she is if anything relentless when she sets her sights on a goal.
Her next attempt involves offering Korra dinner in Omashu. Surely a candlelight dinner at a noodle restaurant will do the trick?
Korra tells the brothers, and they crash the attempted date. Her only solace is Korra sitting next to her, their legs practically touching. Asami does her best to make Mako as uncomfortable as possible. (She still hasn't forgiven him for refusing to tell Korra he broke up with her when Korra had partial amnesia. Nor for leading Asami and Korra on during that time. Plus making him squirm amuses her.)
Perhaps the right combination of flowers, noodles, and tickets to a musical in Zaofu would work as a clue?
Instead, Korra calls that a girl's night out and drags Opal and Jinora along, which Asami doesn't mind, but it defeats her plan of a romantic night that hopefully ends with a kiss.
Her next tactic involves borrowing a jeep in Zaofu to go for a picnic in the mountains.
That somehow ends with Korra challenging her to a sparring match, of which Asami wins.
Honestly, why she doesn't kiss Korra the moment she pins her to the grass leaves Asami frustrated with herself. Surely that would clue Korra into her attempts at romance? (Her nervousness at the possibility of a kiss ruining the fun she's having with Korra is what stops her.)
All of this is before Zaheer. Before the poisoning.
Before Asami fights her way to the airbenders, before she picks the locks on their chains, before Asami is tempted to zap Zaheer's head to shut him up, before Asami panics over whether Korra will live or not.
Taking care of Korra is the role Asami assigns herself. She insists on it.
Tonraq takes her aside on the airship to Zaofu. "Are you sure, Asami?" He looks concerned.
Asami nods. "I am sure. I will stay at her side as long as she has me."
Tonraq smiles at her and grasps her shoulder. "I'm glad she has you."
Asami considers this a sad victory. She has won the approval of Korra's father, even if Korra herself doesn't view her in a romantic way.
So Asami tirelessly and selflessly stays at Korra's side those few weeks in Zaofu and Air Temple Island. She helps Korra bathe and dress. Brushes and does her hair. Helps her into the wheelchair. Takes her outside to breathe fresh air at times. Reads books out loud to her to help her fall asleep. Tucks her in at night. (She is tempted to kiss Korra's temple each time. One night she gives in and does so.)
In the end, Korra decides to head South to see Katara.
Asami doesn't think twice. She offers to relocate South with Korra and aid in her recovery. She doesn't say the truth out loud to Korra -- that doing so would mean giving up everything she has in Republic City if Korra's stay in the South turns out to be more long-term, but Asami doesn't care.
Korra is what matters to her far more than anything else. That is when she realizes that she is hopelessly in love.
"No," Korra says that day at the docks, "I appreciate it, but I'll only be gone a couple of weeks. A little alone time will likely be good for me." Korra sounds dejected. Her entire frame droops forward, and she stares at her motionless feet. Asami squeezes her shoulders and accepts Korra's words.
The rejection stings, but Asami does her best to stay supportive. Korra is in pain. She's depressed. Likely doesn't know what to do with that request.
So Asami endeavors to write Korra often.
At first, she doesn't know quite what to write. Asami chews on the end of her pen and glares at the empty paper in front of her. Obviously, she can't just say, "Korra, I love you ,and I hope you feel my love across the distance, so that you know you're not alone."
That seems presumptuous and possibly too heavy.
Instead, she decides the best way to handle the situation would be to share about her day and how she feels about that.
Her first letter is written a week after Korra left for the South:
Dear Korra,
I never know how to start a letter, so I will jump into exactly how this day is going. At this moment, I sit at my desk within my office at Future Industries. Before me lies a large stack of paperwork that requires my review and signatures. I do not look forward to this. If someone had warned me that being CEO means mountains of paperwork, I might have stolen a plane and flown off into the sunset instead. But alas, I must do my duty and will do my best to survive. Wish me luck!
It is now close to lunchtime, the mountain of paperwork half done, but my break was sadly not at all interesting. I had several meetings this afternoon, except, Korra, have I mentioned how boring older men are? No hint of humor, dry blandness, and sterile suits that look like they bought new that day. Is that how they spend their salaries? What do they do with the old suits? Recycle them? Put them on display in the world's ugliest museum? I must listen and speak with authority, otherwise these egotistical and horribly uncreative duds would refuse to recognize that I am the CEO not them. So I've learned two dozen ways to politely tell them how terrifically awful their ideas for the company truly are.
Have I mentioned that they have no color sense? Who puts blue and orange together on a tie? It looked like a glaring florescent sign like those we saw in Ba Sing Se's Middle and Lower Rings.
After those meetings, I escape to the factories. There I am able to work alongside my employees. Perhaps the best part of the day. I inspect the lines, repair sections that failed to work, and assist newly hired employees with the finer details of construction. Walking and working with my employees like this makes me look more human to them. Like I'm approachable. I don't ever want to be that CEO that lives in some ivory tower and fails to offer their employees living wages and benefits to help them thrive.
Actually, one of workers on the line reminds me of you. She's from the Southern Water Tribe but a nonbender. She was so excited to meet me and had some excellent ideas about engine efficiency. I took her aside and we worked on an engine to test a few of her ideas, and I dare say, they worked! I am giving her a raise, and she's now on one of our engineering teams working to make her designs a reality. I love moments like that.
That actually gives me an idea. Since we are badly in need of sales still to break even, why not help get our name out in a good way? I'm going to set up community forums in the Dragonflats and Water Boroughs to teach engineering to anyone interested for free. Longer courses will be available at a very low price. Way cheaper than the university is my goal, maybe for the price of a noodle bowl once a month? We'll have a repair garage attached to the forums, and students can work with our engineers on repairs to see how it's done. What do you think?
I better close this up else I write you a novel!
Love, Asami
It's the word 'love' that has Asami hesitating on sending it, but in the end, she figures it can't hurt. Maybe if she's more blatant about her feelings Korra will eventually understand that Asami has been trying to date her this whole time. At the very least, the word will hopefully provide a comforting reminder that Korra is indeed loved. Asami desperately hopes Korra understands that truth.
She will gladly remind her with each salutation to her letters.
There is no reply to her initial letter, but this doesn't deter Asami. If anything, it makes her more determined. She decides on a schedule, sets time aside for updating the letter throughout the day, and a time to send it.
She determines that two times a week can suffice at first. If her schedule becomes too intensive with the rebuild Republic City project, then she will downgrade to once a week. She will not stand for less than once a week however.
Months pass, but Korra doesn't reply to her letters. At this point, it becomes a habit. She writes the letters and starts to become more free in what she says. At first, Korra's mother replies with a thank her for the letters, but that stops on month three.
By month seven, Asami wonders if something is wrong with the mail system. Maybe her letters are getting lost? Does she have the right address? She verifies with Tenzin, who offers to call Tonraq. Asami sits in on that call and learns that Korra hasn't written anyone back. In fact, she's closed in on herself.
This worries Asami.
Is there a way she can still help despite Korra's refusal to allow anyone close?
She decides to keep her schedule. It helps ease her own worry to write, and maybe the steadiness of her letters will aid Korra somehow too.
Part of this decision hinges on a conversation she had with Korra on the airship:
---
"Tenzin's schedules got no room for fun!" Korra throws her hands into the air, frustrated.
Asami leans against the balcony railing next to Korra. The wind blows her black hair backward, like a cape. "If you built the schedule, what would it look like?"
Korra looks startled. "Oh. Hmmm, maybe time for Naga, meditation, I guess we ought to do some airbending practice.... Ugh, okay, I'm terrible at them." She smiles, sheepishly. "I lose track of the time and day a lot. Easily get caught up in doing stuff, and then whoops, I failed to go to meditation or whatever."
Asami tilts her head and studies Korra. The sunlight on Korra's skin highlights the gorgeous copper undertones, and a hint of sweat glistens the hairline of Korra's chestnut-colored hair. Her wolftails dance with the touch of the wind. Asami simply cannot get enough of looking at Korra's bulging muscles, the curve of her breasts, or her deliciously muscular thighs.
This is not helpful for Korra. Asami blinks and focuses on Korra's eyes instead. "Did Tenzin start building schedules because of that then?"
Korra sighs. "Probably." Her blue eyes meets Asami's green, and for a moment, Asami's breath hitches in her throat. So unfair how utterly beautiful Korra looks all the time. "How do you manage it?"
Asami can't think the longer she looks into Korra's eyes. Her brain refuses to function. Instead she thinks only of how Korra's lips might taste. She forces herself to look at the mountains below them, while she grips the cold metal of the balcony tighter.
"Being CEO, I have to abide by a schedule, and honestly, I had one my entire life. Even as a child. So I am used to drafting one for each day. I made one for today actually."
"Really? Was our talk part of that?" Korra asks.
Asami blushes. "I always leave space on my schedule for you. I call it the spontaneity with Korra hour."
Korra grins. "Really?"
"Yes." Asami says, firmly. "It's what I call a floating hour. My schedules aren't as strict as Tenzin's. I tend to have one thing that cannot be altered, that item grounds my day, then I build up the tasks that need to be done and set them around that root. I need to be flexible since emergencies can and often do happen."
"Oh, you know, I like that. Having one thing that roots everything else, and float the other stuff around it." Korra taps her chin. "Maybe I can convince Tenzin to adapt to that."
Asami laughs. "Good luck. He seems as stubborn as you."
Korra crosses her arms over her chest. "Stubborn? I'm not stubborn. I'm...." She struggles to find a word, only to sigh and slump against the balcony's railing. "All right, you got me."
The next day, Asami makes it her goal to find a root to help anchor Korra. This becomes more urgent when she listens to Korra complain of her failed attempt to convince Tenzin. Asami takes it upon herself to soften him to the idea, until he gives in and tasks her with making the schedules. (Korra sees the newly pinned schedules as her finally convincing Tenzin, and Asami doesn't have the heart to correct this.)
---
So Asami continues to write weekly to Korra. Perhaps this root will help stabilize things for Korra? She hopes so.
A year passes with no reply. Asami is frustrated, worried, and grieving. She wonders if it was something she said or did. Maybe Korra hates her letters?
On the day of Asami's birth, one year and two months after Korra left, Asami fails to write her weekly letter.
Instead, after work, she buys several bottles of whiskey and drives to the mansion. She parks far from the entrance to avoid being seen my Mako's family. The sun sets to a glaze of red and gold, stars start to shine in the night sky, and Asami glances at it and feels only despair.
She unlocks the workshop that holds the entrances to her father's hateful underground factory, steps inside, and locks the door behind her. The room has not changed since that fateful day she turned on her father. The floor is still ripped up above the trap doors, and the shelves are still full of workshop supplies. She opens the trap doors. The darkness of the factory looms like the maw of a hideous mouth. A suitable mockery of her birthday she supposes. She sits on the steps and drinks the whiskeys, wallowing in grief.
Her company still struggles to make sales. Although the construction projects are going well, the city rarely meets its financial obligation in their contract. This makes it difficult to pay her workers, and she has decides to take only ten percent of her usual salary and bonuses in order to make sure all her workers are paid a living wage no matter what. In turn, she dips deep into her remaining savings to keep up with the taxes on her estate, the upkeep of her satomobile, and the cost of her new penthouse she'd bought three months prior.
For her friends and loved ones, their lives deviate from her own in painful ways. She receives nothing from Korra. Bolin leaves to assist Kuvira. Mako dives headfirst into investigator work, and the Air Nation works hard to help people all over the world.
Asami feels cut off and lost. She drinks an entire bottle of whiskey, and tosses the bottle down the stairs. It clatters against the wall and shatters on the bottom step. She uncaps the next bottle and raises it in a toast.
"To the eternal autumn that is the Sato name! Grief and despair seems to be our fate. May this one day be broken."
She drinks that bottle too and throws it.
It shatters on the third step.
She calls in sick to work to recover from the epic hangover. Asami decides it best to tell no one of this incident.
Two weeks after her birthday, she receives a surprise in the mail. A letter with the postmarking of the Southern Water Tribe.
Hope crashes through her, and she sprints into the residential building, staggers into the elevator, and takes it to her penthouse. She rips open the letter by the time she reaches her door and has to juggle her keys with the letter to unlock. Leaning against the door, Asami unfolds the letter.
Dear Asami,
This is Senna. First, I wanted to express heartfelt thanks for your steadiness and kindness with writing Korra. I know it may be frustrating to not hear from her.
Second, are you all right? We missed your letter this past week, which was unusual. Korra wanted to write and ask if you were okay, but she was unable to put words to paper. I offered to assist, which is why I am writing you today.
I hope this letter finds you well. If you need anything, please feel free to ask myself, Tonraq, or Tenzin. I'm sure we can provide support. Be safe, Asami.
Senna
Tucked inside the letter is a folded origami triangle, which is the start of a crane. Nothing is written on the origami, and Asami isn't sure if Korra folded it or if Senna or Tonraq did. Maybe Katara? She inspects it thoroughly, but she cannot find any clue as to why it was included. Despite this, she carries it with her to work to display on her desk in honor of Korra.
The letter, itself, is a balm to her soul. Her weekly letters did impact Korra. Enough to cause worry.
Asami hates the idea that she causes Korra worry.
She endeavors to repair this immediately and sends a reply that is not at all part of her schedule. (She decides she'll restart her schedule that week, so Korra will end up with two letters for the week.)
Dear Korra, Senna, and Tonraq,
Thank you for your concern. I apologize for causing you worry! I never meant to do so. I am sorry for that. It has been a rough week for me. My birthday was this past week, and it brought sour memories of my father. I am okay now. I suppose the grief of that hits me hard during my or my former parents' birthdays, and I admit, I am unused to seeking assistance or support. So thank you again for checking in on me.
I plan to continue my schedule. I hope it helps to anchor you all. Give you a root on which to build your own days and hopes.
Much love to you all,
Asami
Within a week and a half, Asami receives a reply to her spontaneous letter.
Dear Asami,
I understand how hard birthdays can be. I too struggle with grief on the birthday of my late mother. She died when I was a teenager from a lung disease that couldn't be cured. So I understand how hard grief can hit. No need for you to apologize. That is perhaps my message for you. Never apologize for your feelings. Your feelings are valid.
Feel free to write me further if you find it helpful.
Take care,
Senna
Asami is so touched by Senna's reply, that she reexamines her schedule. Perhaps writing Senna can be added to it?
She decides to continue her weekly schedule for Korra, but adds another schedule, where she writes Senna twice a month. She is a little worried this is presumptuous of her, but Senna's letters did offer this twice now. So why not?
To Asami's shock, Senna does reply to her letters. She does not mention Korra. She instead describes the landscape of the South (mostly glaciers and mountains, where trees are rare, Asami learns), some of her duties as the wife of the Chief (surprisingly she does a lot of negotiation), and asks questions about Asami's work.
One of Senna's suggestions sends Asami to the Air Nation to check on their needs. This, in turn, causes Asami to build an airbending glider suit, which she leverages Future Industries resources to build. It is a rousing success among the Air Nation, and Jinora demands Asami start visiting more often.
This is why Asami finds herself scheduling time for dinner with Jinora and her family twice a month. The connection warms her heart.
When one year and five months have passed, Asami finds herself frustrated with work. Frustrated at how sales continue to flounder. Frustrated by Raiko being a jerk about her community forums. (He calls them 'useless time wasters when those attending ought to be working.' The gall of the man! Asami decides to open up more forums and builds a few homeless shelters just to spite him.)
More than anything else, Asami finds herself frustrated by Korra's lack of reply, and frustrated with herself for not being able to handle the silence. Korra is likely struggling with so much. Why should Asami expect Korra to have energy to reply to her inane ramblings?
After a particularly hard day at work, Asami returns to the mansion's workshop, opens the trapdoor, and drinks an entire bottle of whiskey. She sings a song she vaguely remembers her mother singing to her. Her father has also sung it whenever they visited her grave, but he stopped when Asami was eleven.
So she sings it to herself as she drinks and tosses crumpled up love letters to Korra into the darkness of the factory entrance.
"Winter, spring, Summer and fall.
Winter, spring, Summer and fall
Four seasons, Four loves.
Four seasons, For love."
Part of Asami is tempted to go down and smash things. Maybe rip apart what is left of the vile factory, wreck destruction in a way she'd never done before, but she can't bring herself to do this.
Asami Sato is an engineer. She fixes things. She doesn't break things.
Instead, she drinks the bottle and tosses it down the steps. It lands far enough away that she can't hear if it shatters or not.
She does not describe this day in her letter to Korra.
By the second year, Asami is lost in depression. Keeping to her schedule has become incredibly hard. She has managed to persevere this long. Surely, she can keep going, right?
She wonders if she loves a ghost.
Will Korra ever return?
By this point, Asami's whiskey drinking on the steps of the underground factory has become a monthly activity. She makes sure she is not seen by Mako's family -- how could she explain it? -- she verifies a radio is playing somewhere, and she locks the workshop door behind her. The trapdoor pulls up easier each time.
She is unsure of how much shattered glass lies at the bottom of these steps nor how many crumpled up love letters. (She's a little afraid to check.)
On the third day of the second year, Asami goes to the workshop for her monthly drinking. She sings sadly to the looming maw of darkness, drinks far too much whiskey, and passes out on the floor of the workshop. When she wakes in the morning, she has a massive hangover. One that leaves her confused as to where she even is.
For a terrifying moment, she's convinced she's been kidnapped. Only for her to hear the sounds of Mako's family shouting nearby about breakfast. That roots her in her reality, and she realizes she fell asleep in the workshop. How embarrassing.
The sink in the workshop doesn't work, which is frustrating. Asami hasn't needed it before, nor has she included the upkeep of this workshop in the duties of her mansion's staff. (She's actually written rules that forbid them from entering this place, and keeps it locked.)
Asami sneaks out to her satomobile. When she reaches her penthouse at the residential building near Future Industries, she is feeling terrible, her head pounds, and she wishes she could be swallowed by the earth.
But she must focus on recovery since she has work the next day. It will be a big day. Several of the road projects will be completed, and she must do a press conference with that hideous Raiko. (Asami hates press conferences with Raiko. He insists on shaking her hand and putting his hand at the small of her back for a photo every time. He is lucky to not get punched after.)
Asami then discovers a surprise in her mailbox. A white and blue letter leans against the side of the box. It has a Southern Water Tribe postmark.
Except the handwriting doesn't match Senna's.
Asami is far too hungover to process the script on the letter's envelope. She thinks perhaps she is delusional.
She decides to leave it on her kitchen counter and shower instead. (Hot water is excellent for distilling thoughts into coherent ideas.)
When she returns to the kitchen, her hair wrapped in a towel, she notes how the letter continues to take up counter space. The print writing is still not Senna's handwriting. Asami doesn't know what Tonraq's handwriting is like. She decides it must be his. Though why he would write her is not something her hungover-addled brain can fathom.
She decides to make breakfast first and drink as much water as she can stomach. After she eats her oatmeal and eggs, she cleans the dishes and puts them away. Getting out a book, she tries to read in the armchair by her balcony door. Her headaches causes her to fall asleep.
By lunchtime, the letter has not moved. It is still in the same spot with that same handwriting.
Asami wonders if the letter is daring her to open it.
Is she afraid of a letter?
How ridiculous! She is Asami Sato. CEO of Future Industries, listed as one of the top philanthropists in the Republic Times (that award was just four months prior), and a local community leader. A letter does not scare her.
She takes a deep breath and snatches it off the counter. Her finger rips it open.
Inside is a folded piece of paper and again that origami triangle, except this time, it's much closer to being a full crane.
Asami unfolds the letter and promptly drops it on the counter.
Korra's name is in the salutation.
Asami has to sit down.
Korra has written her back. She truly has written her back.
Asami feels like she's soaring high, where all the spirits in the world sing the love song her parents had sung so often when she was a child.
Korra has written her back! What joy! What delight! Asami grins and swoons at the sight of Korra's meticulously written characters.
She picks up the letter again to read.
Dear Asami,
I'm sorry I haven't written to you sooner, but every time I've tried, I never know what to say. The past two years have been the hardest of my life. Even though I can get around fine now, I still can't go into the Avatar State. I keep having visions of Zaheer and what happened that day.
Katara thinks a lot of this is in my head, so I've been meditating a lot, but sometimes I worry I'll never fully recover.
Please don't tell Mako and Bolin I wrote to you and not them. I don't want to hurt their feelings, but it's easier to tell you about this stuff. I don't think they'd understand.
Yours, Korra
Asami can't stop the tears from flowing. She pulls out her handkerchief and weeps. She wishes she could hold Korra. To kiss her forehead. To remind her that she is worth everything and that she can defeat this. She can recover.
In the end, Asami decides she cannot wait for her schedule day to write. She responds right away.
Dear Korra,
I understand. Don't worry about how long it took. I will always be here to support you. And don't worry! I won't speak a word of this to Mako or Bolin. I will continue my weekly schedule, but I wanted to get this to you as soon as I could. So you knew that I hear you and I understand. Recovery is hard.
Love,
Asami
Asami stares at her letter and thinks of how inane it feels. It doesn't come close to summing up how she feels. She thinks again of Korra's worry about the Avatar state, and wonders if she can help with that. She doesn't truly understand how the Avatar state works, but perhaps she can do some preliminary research? Would that help Korra through this?
When Asami sees a problem, it immediately makes her want to seek a solution, but she doesn't know if that is wise for this.
In the end, she sends the letter as is. She continues her weekly schedule, but she adds in time for brainstorming. She visits every library in the city and Air Temple Island. She reads about chi pathways, chakras, and prior Avatars. She learns about how acupuncture opens up the chakras, and how this effects bending. She ponders if this can be turned into a way for Korra to still have the Avatar state without the Avatar state.
She decides to take the glider suite design and add in an acupuncture design to the back. Between meetings and mountains of paperwork, she works on this in the workshop in front of her office. Occasionally, one of her department managers asks her about the project, and she only levels a 'don't you dare test me' glare at them. The interrupter slinks away ashamed. It takes her most of the month to complete.
When she visits Air Temple Island for her second dinner of the month, she asks Jinora to chat with her in the meditation pavilion.
"Would you like to test an idea for me?" Asami is both excited and nervous.
Jinora grins at her. "Sure!"
"Really? I haven't even explained what it is." Asami is taken aback at Jinora's blind trust.
Jinora laughs. "It's you asking. Why wouldn't I say yes? I know you'd never hurt me."
Asami hopes that is the case. "Well, I have a prototype glider suit for you. Can you wear it for three days and write down your observations for me? If you find it uncomfortable or if something goes wrong, please call me immediately. I'll drop everything for this, okay?" She reaches into her backpack and takes out the suit. She has specifically designed it for Jinora's build.
Jinora takes it and looks it over. "Why is the back so hard?" She taps her fist against the spine of the suit.
"That's the acupuncture spine. It's meant to open your chakras." Asami is very nervous now. "At least, that's what I read. We'll see what if it works."
Jinora smiles. "All right. I'll do it."
Asami leaves the island feeling like she's on cloud nine. Maybe her wacky idea might actually work.
She receives the call during one of her meetings. Her assistant, Tariq, rushes into the room. His blue eyes are wide, his brown skin flushed likely from running down several flights of stairs to the meeting room. He gasps out, "Ms. Sato, you said if Jinora called to alert you immediately."
Asami stands. "Thank you, Tariq." She turns to the engineering team. "Excuse me, I must attend this emergency. We will reschedule."
She rushes up the four flights to her office to take the call. Jinora sounds panicked, and talks far too fast for Asami to make sense of on the phone.
"I'll be right there," Asami assures her and hangs up. Grabbing her keys, she swaps out her dress shoes for her sturdier boots and sprints to the elevator. The drive takes far longer than she prefers, and finding a spot to park her precious blue satomobile also eats up minutes.
On the ferry, Asami frets over whether her idea has hurt Jinora. She wouldn't be able to bear it if it did.
When she walks up the path from the docks, she is shocked to see several fully grown trees torn up by their roots laying across the path. A large clearing now exists where that grove of trees once stood. Jinora sits on one of the trunks holding the suit, her head downcast.
"Asami!" She looks up relieved. "You came!"
"What... what happened?" Asami stares flabbergasted at the destruction. At least the trees hadn't hit the buildings?
Jinora stands and hands her the suit. "I... I wore this and tried to air bend, but I couldn't control it. It was way powerful, far more than I'd ever felt in my life." She looks sad and kicks at the ground. "I'm sorry I couldn't do the full experiment. Dad forbid me from wearing it again."
Asami looks down at the suit and comes to the conclusion that this is perhaps the worst idea she ever had.
But it would be a funny postscript for Korra. Best to not explain the why however.
She adds it to her next letter. "P.S. Jinora and I did an experiment. However, things went awry. We accidentally tore up an entire grove of fully grown trees. Tenzin was furious. However, I think our remodeling added a beautiful clearing for picnicking."
Asami doesn't expect a reply. It has been three months since Korra's last letter.
To her surprise, a letter from the Southern Water Tribe shows up in her mailbox a week later.
Dear Asami,
What the spirits was this experiment? That sounds amazing. I wish I could have seen that. I don't think I've laughed so hard in a long time. I could just picture Tenzin's face red with fury. Bet there was steam coming out his ears too.
It got me thinking. Do you think I've been in the South too long? If maybe that's why I'm stuck in my healing? I haven't made any progress since my last letter, and it's been eating me up. But your letter got me thinking that maybe I do need a change of scenery. My own remodeling maybe?
What do you think?
Yours, Korra
Asami is delighted to learn she caused Korra to laugh. However, Korra's question makes Asami wonder if now is the time to reveal her truth. She so badly wants Korra to return to Republic City. She wants to take Korra out on a date still, maybe even go on an adventure in the wilds to do some experiments with chakras (Asami hasn't quite let go of ways to help Korra find her Avatar spirit again).
But part of her holds back out of fear that Korra doesn't return her feelings.
Sure, Korra signs these letters with 'yours' but Asami doesn't know if that is a friendship-y 'yours' or a romantic 'yours.' In fact, Asami hasn't ever written someone like this before, so she doesn't know how friends sign letters. Business contacts use 'sincerely,' so that isn't any help.
Asami decides to play it safe. She will admit to Korra having her heart, but that is the most she will do. Surely, that won't scare her away? She doesn't want Korra to stop writing after all.
Dear Korra,
I want to say come here to Republic City, but I also know you need to feel ready to do that. So please do not see this as me trying to convince you to come back. I want you to now that whatever you decide, I will always support you. You have my word and my heart.
Whenever I am stuck on an idea, which feels often of late especially with how difficult things are with Future Industries, I will take a day and go hiking in the mountains. There in the wilderness I find a solace that can't be captured elsewhere. Nature has such beauty and wonder hidden around every bend.
Did you know that fractals are perhaps the most common type of growth among plants and fungi? They are a perfect repeating geometric pattern that is everywhere. I bring my magnifying glass sometimes to examine leaves, mushrooms, even rocks, and all have these lovely patterns.
This excites my imagination. Then when I reach the peak, I stand at the edge and take in the breadth of the world. I can see for kilometers in all directions. Did you know that one of the tallest peaks in Republic Nation is Mount Makapu and is within a day journey by Satomobile? That one is my favorite to climb. It sits on a peninsula that overlooks Yue Bay and the ocean. I can see so far, and I can touch the clouds. (Clouds are so wet. I know scientifically they are made of water crystals condensed into fog form, but it's quite different to physically feel such a thing on my fingertips).
It reminds me of our airship adventures. Where we wandered the Earth Kingdom, sparring, laughing, and having great fun. Perhaps that is what you need?
Sometimes a journey requires more than a step. You took a big leap to go South for healing, but now you face the next step of your journey.
I have hope that no matter where that next step leads you, you will find your way. It will be hard at first. Just as climbing a mountain is hard. (Let me tell you, if you don't get the right boots, your feet will hate you forever! So make sure you have good hiking boots!) Each step up the mountain gets harder, especially at higher elevations when there is far less oxygen. This makes the journey very, very hard.
But to stand there at the top of the world? It is worth the hardship and pain.
I think you are still climbing that mountain. You have not yet reached the peak, but you will, Korra, you will. And when you are ready to climb back down, I will be here to offer you a hug and a heartfelt congratulations at such a marvelous achievement.
And if you want someone to accompany you on this next stage of your climb, you have only to ask. I will gladly take leave to walk that with you.
May this letter inspire you to new heights. And remember, you have my support always.
Love,
Asami
Asami again doesn't expect a reply. She, however, continues her schedule. Writing Korra is perhaps one of the few things that gets her through her long days.
She often finds herself in Avatar Korra park (this was the first thing she built, she is proud to say) and sits by the statue to draw. Sometimes, she comes late at night to sit between Korra's legs and whisper her secrets to the stone (she hopes she is less likely to be recognized at night).
During this time, the bureaucrats in charge of the city's contract keep being very dodgy about paying the full amount owed, and she is tired of this song and dance to get them to follow through. Her company badly needs the money.
At least sales has improved somewhat thanks to her efforts with community forums. She finds that the lower income boroughs have lots of interesting engineering ideas. This delights her. For some of the more promising ones, she offers to help realize their designs with a contract. She can't afford to pay them full time, but she can at least sub contract with them part time to fund their projects. This is well received by the public, and Asami can't help but preen with pride at how helpful it has been for people.
She eagerly shares these successes with Korra in her letters. For the bureaucrats, she mocks them in what she hopes is an amusing way. She badly wants to hear Korra laugh, but this she supposes is the next best thing.
At two years and five months, Asami receives a third letter from Korra. She has had a long day at the office and construction sites dealing with emergencies. Plus, she keeps getting letters from her father (why is he writing her at all? The memory of him trying to kill her haunts her dreams far more than she'll ever admit.) All of this grief and frustrations tempts her with heading to the mansion workshop to drink it all away.
Instead, she opens her mailbox to find the letter.
She barely reaches her penthouse before she has torn it open.
Dear Asami,
I don't know what I'd do without you. Honestly, you're the best thing that's ever happened in my life.
I've thought long and hard about your letters, especially the one about mountain climbing. I think you're right. I do need to take this next step, and I think I know what to do. But I need you to do something for me. I know this will be hard, and it's not fair to you. Especially with how kind you are. With how devoted and steady you've been despite my lack of replies. I am probably being selfish, aren't I?
But I don't think I can do this without knowing you have my back. Can you stop writing me in exactly one month from the postscript of this letter? I need everyone to think I am returning at that time. Please tell no one of this letter.
I promise that I'll come back to you. I just need more time. I need to finish that metaphorical mountain climb, and when I reach the peak, I hope I will find my Avatar state there. Thank you for being here for me. I hope to see you soon.
Love, Korra
Asami stares at the letter. Her fingers hover over the word 'love.'
What is Korra planning? Asami thinks through her last few letters, and then abruptly remembers the one she'd written in reply to Korra's questions.
Korra is going on a journey somewhere. She asks Asami to not share with anyone what Asami now knows. For Korra to entrust her with this? Asami's heart swells with love.
She will honor Korra's request.
Asami continues her schedule for one month and promptly ends it. She tells no one of Korra's final letter to her.
At two years and six months, Asami must attend the train station reveal and deal with President Raiko. (She really hopes he doesn't do that touching of her back while shaking her hand. She decides she'll step hard on his foot if he does. Maybe she'll break one of his toes. It'd serve him right.)
The crowd is surprisingly large. Reporters hog the front viewing area with their large, lumbering cameras and pen and paper. Asami is anxious but relieved to learn she doesn't need to speak. (She really doesn't like public speaking.) Instead, she smiles and cuts the stupid, red ribbon with the biggest and most ungainly scissors she's ever seen.
She hopes this is all she needs to do. The mingling after the ceremony goes significantly easier. Nod, smile, pretend to care about the inane ramblings of uninteresting people. Honestly, Korra is the only person Asami could happily listen to ramble. Certainly not stiff business people in their overly tailored suits, greasy hair, and badly chosen tie colors. She's mastered the 'pretend to care' expression due to her time as CEO.
At least, it would have been easy if not for Prince Wu. He corners her to her irritation, then blatantly hits on her. This makes her want to stab his eyeballs or maybe stab her own. Then he calls himself a super human, and she can't help but roll her eyes.
No, the only superhuman is Korra.
To her relief, Mako comes to her rescue. She could hug him. (Not kiss him, that is only for Korra, and she knows Mako well enough that even a kiss on the cheek would confuse him. She is not interested in him and will never be interested in him again. That ship sailed long, long ago. Korra is the only one who has her heart.)
Mako mentions Korra's return.
Asami can't look him in the eye. She knows the truth. So she looks at the ground, and says what needs to be said, "I can't wait to see her." For that is the truth, but when she will see Korra, Asami doesn't know.
Later that day, the boat from the Southern Water Tribe pulls into Air Temple Dock. Asami sits on a bench at the top of the path and watches, knowing Korra will not be there. Naga is however, which makes Asami wonder if Korra has decided to be incognito.
The others panic at first. They talk of searching for Korra.
Asami decides to go play with Naga before she loses her temper at how ridiculous everyone is being. She is tempted to tell them all off and demand they trust Korra's intentions. But she simply cannot take that risk.
Naga is delighted to see her. Nearly knocks her over. Asami decides to incorporate visits with Naga into her schedule. She decides on three times a week. For her, Naga is a fragile connection with Korra, the person she loves most in the world. This is the least she can do for Korra.
Tonraq finds her in the clearing -- the same one Jinora had made by accident during Asami's suit experiment -- and he watches her throw the ball for Naga for awhile. Asami is nervous at first, but slowly relaxes when he doesn't try to interrogate her.
Except, his next words breaks Asami's calm. "Asami, I wanted to ask. Korra wrote you, didn't she?"
Asami doesn't want to lie to Korra's father. Not after all her work to prove herself to him. "She did."
"What did she tell you?"
Asami turns and meets his gaze. She sees the worry in his expression, the furrow in his brows. Korra has his eyes and nose, she realizes. "Tonraq, you are asking that I betray Korra's trust. I can't do that."
His lips twitch in an almost smile. "I understand. May I ask if you are worried? Of all of us, you are the most calm."
Asami is worried. She can't help it. Not knowing where Korra is, or if she is safe drives Asami to distraction. But Korra has asked for her word and her trust. Asami gives it readily to her. "I do worry, but I cannot and will not speak further on this."
Tonraq studies her for a long moment. She finds herself holding her breath and hopes she hasn't made an enemy out of Korra's father.
To her relief, he reaches out and grasps her shoulder. "Thank you, Asami, for being there for my daughter. She couldn't have a better pa-friend."
Asami smiles and bows her head in reply.
When he walks away to join the others, she looks after his tall figure and wonders if the word he meant to say was 'partner.'
EDIT: Got it up on AO3 now.
#legend of korra#korrasami#tlok#asami sato#avatar korra#the legend of korra#asami#korra#korra x asami#writing#asami x korra#avatar: tlok#tlok fanfic#fanfic#drabble#fluff#angst#pinning#Couldn't resist writing the story of how their romance starts#I'm positive Asami knew she had feelings for Korra after the events of Book 2 no matter what Turf Wars claims
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