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usuimasu · 11 months

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— hsr men in a royalty au

INCLUDES : blade ; dan heng ; gepard ; jing yuan ; luocha ; sampo + gn!reader

A/N : what started off as a duke!blade word vomit became a hsr royalty au brain dump. sighs. also once again pushing my knight!reader agenda bc the lack of royalty aus with knight!reader is criminal.

genshin ver.

imagine you're the personal guard for emperor!jing yuan, picked by his hand when he was still just a mere crown prince learning the ropes of what it meant to rule an empire. in truth, there's not much for you to do other than stand close behind when in public settings or indulge in his whimsical nature when in private and within the confines of the palace walls. in spite of that, you can't help but to wonder whether it's necessary to be his partner when he practises ballroom dances, despite never actually dancing in the banquets. well, who are you to question your duties, right?

there is no destination without a journey; jing yuan would know this best. having been thrust onto a pedestal from young, he's witnessed more types of people than he can count on his fingers: those who act nice in order to gain, those whose eyes cannot hide their contempt, those who are kind out of fear, those who act on behalf of others, those who hold respect without ulterior motives... he has seen them all. his view of the world grew dull, the predictability of those around him bringing only disappointment to the young heir. the days passed in a blur with nothing of note, other than a lingering emptiness which kept him awake at night and a passion which only emerges when sparring with his instructor. and so when he was told it was time to choose a personal knight after countless assassination attempts, he trudged through the halls with poise ingrained into his stride and a blank gaze reflecting his thoughts. but when he arrived at the training grounds to oversee the potential candidates his attention was immediately seized by another, his usually stagnant heart thundering. for the first time in his life, jing yuan discovered what it meant to want something as he watched you strike your training sword against your opponent, his world bursting into colours he never knew existed before then.

jing yuan sometimes finds himself envying those who can dance without care at banquets. he has an image to maintain in front of his people while you tend to be a stickler for this kind of thing, often refusing a dance in favour of maintaining your post. he supposes it's fine if you're both together, despite the numerous times he's imagined what it would be like to dance with you in front of everyone, as opposed to the privacy of the palace under the guise of “not becoming rusty”. but as he casts his gaze over to where you rest, having fallen asleep after a particularly thrilling game of starchess with your body tucked within the protective embrace of his ever-dutiful lion, he finds himself engraving moments like these into his memory and filing them away to look back on when nights to himself become a little too lonely for his liking. it's one of the many sides to you which only jing yuan has been privy to; one of which he takes immense pride in and vows to shelter from the danger which lurks around every corner.

(he will never let you know how your bright eyes is what set his once monotonous life ablaze in colour all those years ago — the aloof crown prince utterly besotted with a starry-eyed rookie knight. he will also never let slip how he still thinks back on the warmth he felt when you took his trembling, slumped form in your arms after he fought his stricken teacher all those years ago, the aftereffects of your touch still lingering on his skin even to this day.)

despite being duty-bound beside the impish emperor, there are times where you, too, are in need of some peace away from his scheming mind and watchful eyes. in these moments, you find yourself finding respite within the royal library built into the palace, a stack of books typically used as your makeshift pillow. and even if librarian!dan heng gives you a death stare from his designated place, you know he appreciates your company when he drapes a blanket over your shoulders and replaces the book pile with a cushion or two. although, you can’t shake off the feeling you’ve seen him from somewhere before…

for as long as he can remember, dan heng has always been on the run. from what? he’s not even sure anymore; it has been that long. it is but a mere shadow, a phantom which haunts him under the glowing sun and the gleaming moon. he can run — run until his body is weak and heavy with fatigue — but he can never hide, for it follows close behind and lurks around unseen corners. as unnerving as it may be, he has grown used to the chilling gaze and staying on edge. after all, no matter how far he runs, no matter how hard he tries to blend in, there is no escaping a shadow. maybe that is why he felt a churning sensation stir in his gut when he first met the emperor to discuss his newly appointed position as the librarian, whose gaze held an unfamiliar sheen of conflict veiled behind an amiable disposition upon making eye contact. amidst the eyes of the sun held a glint of familiarity, one which dan heng couldn’t put his finger on the longer he dwelled on the thought.

dan heng didn’t know what to expect when he first met you; you, the personal guard handpicked by jing yuan himself. with all the duties he’s sure keeps you busy, it wouldn’t surprise him if he never met you past the glimpses he catches here and there when in official spaces. perhaps that is why it came as such a surprise when you stumbled into the library one day, all bleary-eyed and attempting to stifle your yawns, and he could only watch in a daze as you pulled out a random set of books from the shelves, plop yourself down at the nearest table, set the books on the surface and slam your head atop the pile, your soft snores filling the once-quiet room. dan heng wasn’t sure how long he sat there staring at you for, but it was long enough to wake you up and inform you of the library’s closing hour when the day’s hues bled into the night. what he thought would be a one-time thing soon became a regular occurrence — a routine — and he has become accustomed to your unceremonious visits and wonderful laughter and draping the blanket he now keeps under his desk over your slumbering form and admiring your peaceful expression over the rim of his novel. it’s come to a point where he can no longer imagine a life without it; without you.

(sometimes he wonders whether you enjoy the time spent with him as much as he does with you, in which he cannot help but to compare himself to the emperor you have pledged your life and devoted your loyalty to. amidst those thoughts, dan heng finds himself hoping you would favour him over the shine of the empire’s revered sun.)

royal guard captain!gepard is someone you have always admired, ever since you were just a rookie knight trying to prove your worth amongst a sea of prodigal candidates like him. he is kind as he is strong, a formidable ally and a terrifying foe. however, you can't help but wonder whether you’ve done something to offend him, what with the way he sometimes avoids you if you happen to bump into each other amidst the palace grounds and speedwalks in the opposite direction with hasty apologies trailing behind him.

the landau dukedom. it is known for its military prowess and defending the borders, but infamous for the strict duke landau. as well-respected he may be by the nobles of the court, gepard only knows a strict man more like a superior than a father. it wouldn’t be a lie to say duke landau was just that; a superior — a teacher, one who viewed his children as either heir candidates or a foundation to bolster the territory’s military power. while it may be a strict method, the respect gepard holds for his father is undeniable, feuling his desire to make him proud and carry out his teaching in the name of the honourable landau duchy. he stuck to harsh training regimens, endured countless trials of tactics and wit, witnessed his elder sister begin to refute against their father’s suffocating hold upon returning from the academy, watched as she left the duchy to have control over her own life with a promise to keep in touch with him and their youngest sister. these moments were fleeting, passing in a blur until he entered the ranks of the elite, eventually promoted to captain as he remained steadfast in defending the borders.

it took gepard countless sleepless nights tossing and turning in his bed and a highly amused serval laughing at his predicament to finally understand his feelings for you. love was an unfamiliar concept to him. he knew of camaraderie between fellow knights (which was what he assumed he felt for you, but just a bit more… intense?) and familial bonds between family, so this new experience of his heart palpitating, hands clamming up, words stuck in his throat and an incessant heat clinging to his cheeks was unfamiliar, thus his avoidance. though that didn’t sit well with him, as a longing ache only seemed to replace it instead. and so, despite the apparent awkward flair his body language carried, gepard decided to follow his heart when it came to matters pertaining to you. he quickly came to discover your likes and dislikes, your miniscule habits when practising swordsmanship, the subtle cues you display when uncomfortable, the smile you showed upon seeing something you liked and the grin you displayed upon besting him in a duel. they were all segments which made up the very being you are, and the pieces which fit within his heart to establish this newfound love he holds for you.

(as your direct superior there are many things he notices when watching from the sidelines. among many, the one which stands out are the eyes which follow you — some gaze at you with envy, others regard you with awe, but there are a few which regard you in the same adoration he does. love and jealousy were never something gepard thought he would experience; not until he met you.)

with your role as one of the empire’s royal knights and the emperor’s personal guard, it comes as no surprise to be inflicted with injuries of varying severities. as a result, you are well-acquainted with royal physician!luocha through your numerous visits. you’ve come to find his pleasant visuals and soothing voice does wonders to heal your fatigue, even if he does tend to go a little overboard in his lectures when you come to him with less-than-fine wounds.

being able to wield elements and being able to use divine powers are two different things; one is widely accepted, the other is not. at least, that’s the case in the xianzhou empire. those born with the ability to use divine powers have fled into hiding, unwilling to be outcasted — or worse, executed — for being afflicted with the cursed power of the divinity. as such, having lived the majority of his life in concealment, luocha is no stranger to hiding his abilities. curse or blessing, it’s an irrevocable part of him. still, he didn’t want to stop helping others the way the nature of his powers could. and so he resorted to learning medicine. he soon became a renowned travelling doctor sought after for his vast knowledge, all of which garnered the attention of the emperor when he stopped by in the capital and was offered the position of royal physician. with little drawbacks, handsome pay, and a grand place to stay without needing to be on the run, luocha accepted and became the sole royal physician of the empire.

there was very little luocha found himself to be afraid of. with no one but himself to rely on, he’s crossed many bridges on his own without care. there was no need for such sentiment in survival. or so he thought. in all his years, luocha doesn’t think there was anything more terrifying than the day you were rushed in by a frantic jing yuan, your complexion sickly and covered in sweat and breathing laboured. as it turned out, you were poisoned, having drank it in place of jing yuan upon sensing something suspicious. he doesn’t recall anything making his heart drop as quickly as the situation then had, his mind blank yet frantic as he forced the panic-stricken emperor out of the infirmary and laid you on one of the beds. your symptoms were dire, he noted, and there was nothing in the cabinets suited for this kind of quick-acting poison. your condition was worsening, a pained furrow of your brows and haggard appearance being clear indicators. a bright glow then illuminated the room, and luocha came to the belated realisation he had used his abilities for the first time since concealing them, for the thought of losing you was far more torturous than his will to hide his abilities.

(there was no thought to the act, just sheer desperation to not let you die. it took him a long few days to realise that, all of which were spent looking after you by your bedside. he never spoke of how he cured you when you asked, eyes bleary with confusion on how you’re still alive, instead choosing to keep it to himself as he chided you for being so reckless. you will never know of the inner turmoil he endured, even praying to a deity he never once believed in to ensure your safety. should you sustain more severe afflictions, luocha has no qualms using his abilities again — if it means you live, he will make an exception.)

thinking about duke!blade, whose… less than pleasant disposition does little to help refute the fearful rumours surrounding his name. you've met him a handful of times when he visits the palace under jing yuan's summon or catching him at the odd banquet or two, and even back when he used to train with jing yuan before his visits suddenly ceased. even so, you find yourself doubting those rumours, especially when he seems to wear an expression akin to peace more often than he does of one resembling disdain.

the cold duke remains an enigma to those around him — even those who work under him. is it due to his quiet hostility? or is it perhaps something no one knows, such as a secret known only to him, his butler, his family physician, and the emperor? a curse; one of immortality where his soul is torn to shreds only to be stitched anew before he can succumb to the paradise known as death. it's a never-ending cycle, one which causes him to no longer track the days when they all feel the same. the days out on leading monster subjugations and expeditions are just a temporary means of escape — an outlet for his pent up frustrations to let loose without worry. no one knows what truly goes on in his mind, only ever witnessing or hearing tales of his brutal yet awe-inspiring deeds on the blood-soaked battlefields, and the origin of his adopted alias: blade. his true name evades him, having been discarded the moment he lost his humanity.

he has always noticed you. it was hard not to when the favour you received was blatantly obvious, even from when you were just a fledgling knight and he the young heir of his duchy. there weren’t many opportunities for him to talk to you, what with the way jing yuan always seemed to divert his attention back to their instructor when noticing his wandering gaze to your distant figure, and even more so after the curse struck him full-force and he stopped visiting altogether outside of summons and banquets. it wasn’t until he returned from a monster subjugation as the sole survivor did he first properly meet you. with his mind torn and body regenerating itself, he failed to notice someone rush towards him, an unfamiliar warmth encompassing his bleeding torso as his conscience began to fade. an unfamiliar ceiling and an unfamiliar room was what greeted him when he awoke, but a warmth he registered as familiar gripped his calloused hand. what met his gaze then was your dozing figure, your head smushed against the duvet beside his leg with even breaths giving way to your unconscious state. his typically chaotic mind was silent as he stared at you. it was an odd feeling, one which elicited a sharp inhale when you shifted in place, your grip on his hand loosening as you sought out a more comfortable position, before exhaling in relief when you resumed your rest. it was an odd feeling, but it wasn’t unpleasant. and, for the first time in his life, blade experienced what it meant to be at peace.

(while he never spoke of that incident to you again other than a brief thanks for giving him (unnecessary) medical attention, he found himself drifting towards you more frequently — whether it be conversing with you during those bothersome banquets, stretching out the time you escort him before he enters jing yuan’s office-slash-meeting room, sharing specialties from his territory during garden strolls, or even requesting you to spar with him. the victory from either side is sweet, but the strained expression he catches from notable figures is even sweeter.)

amongst the many you’re acquainted with, merchant!sampo is the one you’re most on edge around in spite of the years you have known each other for. it’s not that he’s a bad guy, but there’s something about his easy smile and ever-searching eyes and his words that always seem to form into something people want to hear which all seem… off. well, maybe you’re reading too much into his demeanour. after all, if he truly did have sinister intentions, you’re sure he would have acted on them by now — he’s had plenty of time to.

there’s a certain level of cunning one must have in order to survive. whether that be wits, deceit, getting one’s hands dirty, it doesn’t matter. they are all just a means to an end, after all. sampo has long since tread on the path of deceit, a game of cat and mouse with unassuming clients and authorities. but business is business, and what better way to make use of that than exploitation? disguised in a bar known as “masked fools” mapped across the globe sits a wealth of knowledge, hidden behind a secret code only known by those who covet wealth or revenge. it’s a fun pastime; the information-slash-mercenary guild receives money, the client has their request done. sampo quickly discovered playing the unassuming fool in front of the target only for them to discover they were the fool all along to be exhilarating. it was a rush like no other, even more so when he mastered the art of disguise and blended in with the crowd, building connections and biding his time as the airheaded merchant.

sampo admits, he was a tad hasty in his judgement of you. just a little. well, when compared to the ever-imposing figure of the royal guard captain chasing him down when he makes his weekly medicinal run for the palace’s physician, you weren’t all that impressionable at first glance. maybe it was the way you passively regarded him before walking off which led him to that belief, or perhaps it was the unassuming expression you always carried despite being the famed personal guard of the emperor. whatever the case, he was wrong. he realised that when his balance was tilted, back flush against the grass with your body pinning him down. the tip of your sword was against his throat and your eyes burned so brightly when asking what he was doing sneaking around a forbidden area to outsiders. he doesn’t remember what he said or did in response; all he does remember is the adrenaline rushing through his veins at the stern countenance you bestowed upon him. unconventional as it may have been, sampo thought you were the most breathtaking in that moment, a wondrous sight for his heart which only knew of cunning and deceit.

(it would be no lie to say money talks. in his line of business, it does all the talking. the only exception, sampo discovered, was when an ignorant fool attempted to hire him and have you… removed, to put it lightly. sampo couldn’t help the laugh which escaped him at the expression on the man’s face after his carefree refusal, a sound which ceased as he pointed his weapon to the man’s throat and demanded he spill the identity of the one who sent him. after all, a mere small-fry like him doesn’t have the ability to even dream of hiring someone against you — mercenary or assassin.)

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

#THIS IS SUCHHH A GOOD READ #gepard .. MY GEPARDDD 😭😭😭😭#ur writing is sooo pretty like omg #hsr

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usuimasu · 1 year

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HIHI!! thinking abt how rin itoshi’s mom would try to set him up with someone and he agrees to it for her to stop going on abt it and him realising the person isn’t that bad after all need ur thoughts on this Please 🙏

☆ ONE MORE DATE.

Rin Itoshi is set up by his mother on a date with a person she met while she shopped. He isn't a big fan of this... or is he? CONTAINS TINY SPOILERS FOR THE NEO EGOIST LEAGUE (TEAMS). CW: Rin Itoshi being Rin Itoshi (sigh), 1.2 k word vomit. this was supposed to be a set of hcs but shit happened i'm sorry i hope this is decent.

Paris X Gen players are given two weeks off, so where does the great 𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 go? Home. He's worth a lot, yes, but after calculating expenses and where they need to go, he is not left with what he considers much to invest in a home. Yet.

So, he returns home, to his parents. He isn't ashamed of it, nor is he uncomfortable. Sae isn't staying with them, so that brings relief to him. His relationship with his parents is not as bad; they have dinner together and can sometimes hold a normal conversation. His parents don't pester him unless they really need to. He cooks and cleans for himself. He's self-sufficient.

Rin's mother thinks she needs to act now. Her son is quickly making himself known around the world, especially with Blue Lock TV. She's running out of time before her son is fully immersed in the world of fame. But she isn't specifically worried about him, she's worried about his love life.

Rin Itoshi is not known for his warmth, or his friendliness. His mother is well aware of how his son acts and feels. Yet, there lies hope within her, especially with the cute person she met while she went shopping: YN LN.

She accidentally drops her box of green tea she's buying for Rin, and as you help her pick up her stuff, she thanks you. You and her talk for a bit, bonding over cooking. She asks for your name and age, immediately pulling up pictures of her son, who is conveniently around your age. He is also, conveniently attractive.

So she asks for your number, you already know where this is going. She begs you to go out with him. Just one date. She's worried about him, and his lack of interactions with others. Somehow, she knows that her matchmaking will be a success this time.

Yes, she had tried this multiple times. Even when Rin was younger, she had tried setting him up with potential friends (or partners), but it never seemed to work as Rin shooed them away. She hopes that Rin has 'matured', and is open to one more date.

When she gets home, Rin is already making dinner. It's a small act of gratitude from his part, as he never verbally thanked his parents for letting him stay with them. His mom offers to help, using this opportunity to tell him about her day and about the wonderful person she had met. Rin rolls his eyes as he knows that he is going to be set up again. In his mind, he's already thinking about looking for a place to stay that isn't his home. That would mean he'd have to cut his soccer expenses in half, which he wasn't happy with.

His mom spends the entire night pestering him about this date, and he begrudgingly agrees. It's just to shut his mother up. Dates last about an hour, and who says he needs to listen to what the person is saying? He could be there and have his mind map out his next exercising regimen, for all he cares.

The day comes. You sit down in a small cafe, waiting for the woman's son to show up. A handsome, tall man dressed in a turquoise sweater and black pants comes in, seemingly looking for someone. His eyes meet yours as he slowly approaches your table. "You YN?" is what he asks.

You nod as he sits down, picking up the menu from the table. He looks at you one more time. You look... normal. Like a pest. But.. like.. a pretty pest. An attractive pest. Fuck pests, you're just a good looking person. He's grateful of the menu he grabbed, as it covers his pink cheeks. God damn his mother. God damn it all.

"So, um, you like football?" you ask. He narrows his eyes in annoyance as he replies, "I play football."

Rin's mom made sure to warn you about his attitude, but she also told you about his interests, and it turns out you and him have a lot in common. "I like football, I was taught how to play when I was a child" you say, watching as he motions for you to continue.

"I've gotten rusty from lack of practice, though."

Lukewarm, he thinks, there's clearly no passion. He wouldn't let you skip practice, and would turn you into something better. He'd plan a schedule, select meals for the week, and—

He would what?

Fuck no. There's no time for that. Why is he thinking about you? You're nothing more than lukewarm. But he can't let it show. He has disappointed his mom so many times, he sometimes worries that he might get kicked out of her house. Still, only a few more days until he returns to Blue Lock. He's considering cutting his football expenses down and staying in a hotel for a few days. It can't hurt his wallet that much.

"Uh... do you like horror movies?" he asks.

"I can handle some of them" you reply. His eyes gleam with interest as he watches you talk about how some movies look extremely fake which makes them funny. Someone needs to help Rin, because he fears that with his sweater, and how cute you look when talking about his interest, he will faint from how hot he feels.

Was his mother right? Hell no. He's not going to give her the satisfaction. Not yet at least. Just because you share some of his interest doesn't mean he's immediately falling for you. God no. There's still one more test to be done, and a part of him was scared.

Scared of what? Disappointment. He has known you for around ten minutes, and according to him, things are going fine. He has answered your question, and has asked you one in return. Is that not how conversations work? He wonders why he feels so conflicted. You seem like a nice person, and you're putting some effort into this date. Should he put in more effort? Why is this hard? Why the hell is he thinking like this?

"What do you think of Sae Itoshi?"

That's the effort he puts in? Asking of Sae? You furrow your brows in confusion.

"Who?"

Rin Itoshi is certain that you're an angel sent from above.

His interest in you spikes up as he changes the subject, asking if you're ready to order. After a waiter comes and takes the order, you and him continue getting to know each other. He tells you about Blue Lock, and how he's currently in his week off. In exchange you talk about your lifestyle, and he makes sure to listen closely. Small talk is odd, because it's Rin. It's his first time making an effort when talking to a possible romantic partner. You understand that, though, and appreciate his efforts.

He doesn't know how to ask for another date. He's asking himself why he wants another date in the first place; he's returning to Blue Lock in just a few days. He recognizes that you make him feel... at ease. And maybe, just maybe, he would like for that sense of peacefulness to become part of his daily routine.

When the date ends (he was the one to pay), he grabs your wrist as you stand from your seat. He takes out his phone, opening the contacts app and handing it over to you. You put your number on his phone, saying your goodbyes.

Later that evening, you get a text.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: Hey, it's Rin.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: Can we have one more date?

#LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS OMF #THE SAE PART 😭😭#sooo good op oh ygod d #rin my love 😭❤️❤️❤️#rin

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usuimasu · 1 year

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» THE TRAIN RIDE HOME ; itoshi rin «

; ↠ itoshi rin sees you every morning at 7. the moment you smile at him, he knows it's all over.

## author's note: i went thru the 7th circle of hell and a pack of malboros while writing this. enjoy! ## contents: itoshi rin x reader, gn but feminine details, crushing, canon-compliant i think? idk ur both like 17 so it works, confessions and fluff! ## wc: 13.2k (i'm unwell)

itoshi rin likes to count the people as they board the train. it's a habit leftover from his childhood, where he'd sit with his little legs swinging, pointing everyone out to his brother. (passenger 4 wore blue every day, and passenger 18 always had cat fur on his coat, and so on.)

he collected minute details to store in his head, a way to de-stress from the rush hour of his life. every morning at 6, he'd go on a run, and then from his final destination, he'd take the train back. rin was a regular, and an observant one at that- so it was only a matter of time before he noticed you.

you sat diagonally from him, always with your hands in your lap, twirling around the loose threads on the cuffs of your sweater. that was the first thing he noticed about you- the white cable-knit zip-up you frequently donned.

it looked nice on you, he thought. you seemed cozy, almost, as cozy as one could be on a train at 7 in the morning. rin wondered where you were going, since you appeared too young to have a corporate job.

you were on the train whenever he boarded and got off 2 stops before he did. and itoshi rin couldn't help but watch as you left. you carried a canvas tote with a familiar character that he couldn't quite place, and you'd always smiled warmly at the sweet old lady to your right. there were paint splatters smudging your shoes and rin wonders if you liked to draw.

he’d never ask, though. because why would he? you were a pretty person on the train, and he was just another passenger.

rin thinks he’ll settle for just watching, for now. he never expects you to look his way.

it’s a cloudy thursday when you aren’t sitting at your regular spot for the first time in at least a month. rin shouldn’t feel a tinge of disappointment, the way he does in the pit of his stomach now. he doesn’t even know you, so who is he to be upset by your absence?

it’s not until he takes his own regular place that he realizes- you weren't missing. you'd just shifted seats. you were next to him, now, bag in your lap and hands rested on top of it.

rin snaps his head away from you as soon as he realizes you're there, and he can feel his ears burning. you're not even looking at him, exchanging amicable conversation with the same elderly woman, who is now across from you rather than next to you. there's a mother with a little sleeping boy on her lap occupying your regular place, and he presumes that's the cause of your breech of pattern.

he's snapped back to reality when the old lady laughs and says a name that sounds so honeyed and sweet that it couldn't belong to anyone but you.

"you're just the funniest," chuckles the woman, "makes me feel young again."

your smile is wry. "i guess i picked that up from you, mrs. sato."

rin doesn't quite mean to eavesdrop on your quiet conversation, it kind of just happens. you were right next to him, how could he not? and he also didn't mean to sneak glances towards you whenever you were turned away. that was also an accident, a slip-up he was very grateful that no one else picked up on.

it wasn't his fault that you looked even prettier up close. it wasn't his fault that he wanted to memorize how you looked when you smiled, down to the minuscule creases and lines of your cheeks.

you bid mrs. sato goodbye with a polite tip of your head when the train reaches your stop. your shoes have new paint stains, and your jacket is collecting more lint. rin wonders if you've noticed. and he watches you go long after you're gone.

he's not expecting to be addressed, so it takes a few tries before mrs. sato gets his attention.

"hello! young man! hello," she waves a wrinkled hand in rin's face and he turns to her.

"so..." her eyes shine with a childlike mirth and rin is a bit scared because what is going on?

"you're not as sneaky as you think you are, boy."

rin stiffens. "what?"

"i see you peeking at my dear friend."

he blinks, unsure how to reply. it's not everyday that the 70-something year old woman your totally-not-a-crush is friends with confronts you about your staring problem.

"huh?" he asks dumbly.

the old woman rolls her eyes and the train lurches to a stop. "well. i'm out of town for who knows how long, and i wouldn't want them to be lonely. i'm sure you wouldn't, either."

she stands with a joking wink and rin fights the embarrassed scowl from creeping onto his face. he's positive that he's red right now, and he's giving his all to not be disrespectful to this elderly woman in public.

"well, be good to them." rin opens his mouth but she's already hobbling away. he sinks back into his seat and wishes it would eat him alive.

rin sees you the next day, sitting in the same place as you were yesterday. he shifts to put a little more space between the two of you, a little embarrassed- his breathing is still heavy from his run, and he's sure he smells of sweat.

you notice and give him a soft smile, though something akin to confusion muddles your eyes. you must be wondering where mrs. sato is, but you don't bring it up.

"sorry," you apologize for nothing. you also scoot a little to the side, and rin almost wants to say 'no, don't move further, you didn't do anything,' but that would be creepy and he doesn't want to be that guy.

so instead he fights his resting bitch face and gives you a sharp nod without meeting your eyes, because his face is already hot from hearing your voice say a single word and he is rather humiliated by his limits. "you're fine."

rin thinks he sounds like a strangled cat and he'd punch himself in the face if you weren't right there. but you give him a smile, and he feels a strange elation, and god, was it always this warm on the train?

"you're on this train every day, right?" your voice is hushed, and rin wonders if it's because you're trying not to disturb the mother and her child (who are still cuddled into your usual spot) or if that's just your demeanor. either way, he wants to find out. he wants to know you.

"i am."

you seem to consider his words for a moment and rin realizes that this means you know him. or, at least, know of him. you've seen him every morning just as he's seen you- the realization sends a strange spark through his stomach.

"where are you headed to so early?"

"home. i run out here and take the train back."

"you're a runner?"

"something like that."

you hum, and before you turn away, rin speaks again. "where are you going?"

he watches as you turn your head back towards him, a genuine smile forming on your face. "i work at a primary school. it's not an official position, but i'm kind of the art teacher."

he raises his brows. "art teacher?"

"yeah! i started off as a volunteer, but i guess i fit better since i'm younger than regular teachers," you shrug, and rin thinks he could listen to you talk forever.

your voice is beautiful, he thinks. it suits your name, and you face, and he can't think about it much longer because otherwise he'll start burning alive. he's still not looking at you when you introduce yourself, because for the sake of his dignity he doesn't think he can.

he already knows your name but he thinks it sounds even prettier falling from your lips. and god, he messed up, because now he's thinking about your lips.

"itoshi rin," he manages to get out when it's his turn to introduce himself.

"itoshi rin," you repeat, and the boy thinks he might die right then and there. what is wrong with him?

you're about to say something more but you get a look out the window and realize it's almost your stop. grabbing your bag, you stand as the train stills.

"this is me. i guess i'll see you tomorrow, then."

"see you."

and then you're gone, just like that. the morning train is silent once more, save for the whirring as it begins to run again and the footsteps of passengers finding their places.

rin decides that he can't wait until tomorrow. he's not sure why.

over the next few days, you and rin grow closer. or, you'd like to think you've become closer. you talk a lot more, about everything, and he sits and listens.

he knows about your favorite student at work, and how he had given you the doraemon tote bag that you always sported for your birthday last year. he knows about your cat named snorkel and how your friends always tried to set you up on dates. he knows about your favorite foods and how you hated sleeping with wet hair.

and rin decided that he would do anything to hear you talk. he acted uninterested, sure, but he hung off every word you said. he engraved every single sentence into the details of his memories, stowing away any information you'd give him in the catalogs of his brain.

it came to a point where every single one of his thoughts were tainted with the knowledge of you. you were all he could think about- he saw you in every crowd and smelt your perfume in the wind even when you weren't around.

it was pathetic, really, the way he searched for you in everything, and the way you appeared to him, too. especially since this 'infatuation' was the product of a few measly mornings and some half-asleep conversations.

this was pitiful, rin thought, he was pitiful. but he kept coming back.

(..and it was especially pitiful because you were kind of annoying.)

your smile was as radiant as it was infectious, and you really, really liked talking. you might've been a little hesitant to speak to rin at first, but that certainly wasn't true anymore. with the way you ran your mouth, anyone would think you'd been friends for years.

rin hated how you left him without things to say. he couldn't muster his usual cruelties when he spoke to you. usually, he just hummed along or gave you minimal replies. but the flow of the conversations you had were never dull, and they became a highlight of his day.

"you'll never guess what happened," you started, as soon as rin took his usual seat next to you one tuesday morning. he uncapped his water bottle and took a sip as you continued.

"yesterday morning, i told you about how we were doing an animal painting activity, right?"

"yeah."

"okay, so i had just finished my example and instructions, and i was helping this one little boy. he's really sweet, by the way, he just doesn't really like... paint. which is kind of counterproductive."

"mhm."

"but anyways, this other kid comes up to me- she's tugging on my sleeve, and she says 'i made you something!' and it's not like i never get paintings from students, so i'm all like 'oh, thank you! what is it!' fully expecting it to be just some drawing, right?"

"right."

"but she hands me my bag!"

it's then that rin notes that you aren't carrying your usual tote bag. instead, you have an old canvas satchel that's cute but not nearly as endearing as your previous one. he frowns.

"it was fully covered in paint- like, it was all over her hands and everything. no way i'm getting that bag back. so messy," you shudder.

"it was the one your student gave you last year, right?"

"yeah. i'm a little sad, but i can't be too upset. she was like, 7 years old. they do that."

you begin to prattle on about some other inane topic, and for the first time since he's met you, you don't have rin's full attention. you don't seem to notice, but he's already adding another item to his mental checklist.

‧̍̊ ˙ · 𓆝 . ° ｡ ˚ 𓆛 ˚ ｡ ° . 𓆞 · ˙ ‧̍̊

the following day, when rin boards the train, he doesn't greet you. he's holding something, and when he sits next to you he wordlessly drops it on your lap.

"what's this?" you fumble with the item in your hands- it's something light in a plain paper bag. rin doesn't reply, crossing his arms and slouching down in his seat. he stares straight ahead, eyes probably burning holes into the side of the train.

"okay, grouch. don't say anything, then."

"just open the bag, dumbass."

"jesus, fine."

you reach into the parcel, pulling out a denim bag. it's roomy and well-crafted, and a set of pins are stuck into the side. you recognize familiar cartoon characters, a paint palette, and a little train. for the first time since you've met rin, you're not sure what to say.

you stare down at the bag. rin stares at you. when you look up to meet his eye he whips his head away. but then he hears a shuffling, and your arms are around his neck, and he's frozen.

you're hugging him, and he can smell your hair, and he can't say a word. he thinks your shampoo smells like peaches. he would ask you if he was right if only he could find the words.

you're gone just as soon as you appeared and rin misses your warmth, but maybe a bit of it has transferred to him because he's all hot beneath the collar of his crewneck and he's feeling his face grow uncomfortably flushed.

he slumps back in his seat as you fiddle with the enamel pins- they're dainty and unique, and you're a little taken aback by how thoughtful they are. "i love this."

if rin were to try and form a coherent sentence, he thinks he might combust. so he just hums an 'mhm' and pries his gaze back to the opposing window, a little humiliated by how difficult it is for him to take his eyes off you.

he thinks he's done a pretty good job of cooling himself down until your hand is on his forearm. the contact feels icy against his hot, flushed skin and it sends a shiver down his spine as he turns to meet your gaze again.

"thank you," you say and your hands gently squeeze his arm, "this means so much to me. really."

this isn't the first time you've left him speechless, but it's the first time you've witnessed just how potent your effect on rin really is. you smile at him again before leaving him be, continuing to fiddle with the bag while he recuperates.

you keep talking at him but it's in one ear and out the other, and by the time it's your stop he's only a little bit better. you stand when the train stops and the window's light trickles through the opened doors and falls upon your lips like they're being highlighted just for him. he blinks the thought away.

"i'll see you tomorrow morning, rin," you say as you hold your bag close to your side, its new contents sitting heavy in the bottom. rin only nods and crosses his arms.

he hopes that little expression can contain the vast expanse of indescribable emotions that he feels for you, but he knows he's unfair for that because even rin himself hasn't been able to comprehend them.

he's not sure why he doesn't see you as a bother or distraction. he's not sure why he'd be disappointed whenever you didn't continue a conversation or praise the littlest things in a way he'd never expect from anyone else. he's not sure why he's so determined to make you smile, and he's even more uncertain as to what the strange, strange sensation he experiences whenever he succeeds is.

he's not sure, he's not sure, he's not sure, but he thinks he loves it.

he frowns. rin loves how you make him feel. his frown grows deeper at the realization. his eyelids flutter shut and he tips his head back against the edge of his seat, a dull thump sounding as it hits the metal.

he thinks he'll ignore this realization, for now.

it's almost a week after rin's gotten you the bag, and it's become your new everyday option. he can't help but think it looks especially good with your white zip-up and he applauds himself silently for his fashion choices.

the bag already has some tiny, colourful fingerprints decorating the sides and streaked up from where you'd presumably snatched your property out of your students' grabby little hands.

the thought makes his lips quirk upwards into a tiny little half-smile, one that's barely there but you pick up on all the same. pausing in the middle of your sentence, you ask him: "what're you thinking about?"

if rin was smooth, and if he was interested in you, he'd reply with 'just you, babe,' or something else that would make you blush and make him want to die inside. but rin is not smooth, nor is he sure how he feels about you.

it's nothing short of sickening, how you continue to take residence in his mind constantly. if he thought it was bad when he'd first started talking to you, it was a thousand times worse now. rin kind of wishes he could go back in time for the sole purpose of beating the shit out of the past him as a warning to not let you do this to him.

because, if he was being honest, he was scared. the premonition that his feelings toward you might be something like attraction was horrific because god, what was he supposed to do?

his entire life was dedicated to being the best. he was born to be on top and he'd die on that podium, looking down on everyone else. in the past, he'd cared about nothing else but winning.

his dreams, for the longest time, were plagued by pedestals and gold medals, and trophies with his last name but someone else's first. he'd fall asleep to his mind's eye envisioning blood pooling in his gut as he bled for his crown, his crown that was always out of reach.

and then you showed up in them. rin couldn't decide if you made his dreams better or worse. (okay, that was a lie- definitely better, but he's not ready to admit that quite yet.)

in the midst of his bad dreams, you'd come to him, sitting pretty on the train next to him. you'd talk but he'd never be able to remember what you said come morning.

this was bad, rin thinks, he was bad. he was awful and horrible and wrong because he should be dreaming about winning and not you. you were distracting him, being on his mind all the time. while he ran to the train stop, a task that usually cleared his tired mind, all he could picture was you, you, you, waiting for him.

that was another thing. you were waiting for him, and he couldn't not show up. rin's considered changing his routine so he could keep away from you for the sole purpose of fighting his maybe-crush and being able to focus on his sport. he's thought about not replying to your texts, which you sent every afternoon to check in and ask how he was.

but then he pictured you, alone on the train, and he couldn't. the thought of you getting friendly with anyone but him made his skin crawl. what if that boy who sat on the other side by the door tried to talk to you while he wasn't there?

no, no, rin couldn't have that. not when he liked you this much- it was far too late to let go. he'd already done this to himself.

so he keeps coming back, every single morning, just to see your face. there was no denying it anymore- rin liked you. too bad he'd never say a thing.

"rin?" your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "what's up?"

he glares at you like he hates you, but you know better and so does he. "nothing."

you tilt your head. he stares right back at you before conceding. "the paint smudges on your sweater and stuff."

"hm. what about them?"

"your job must be hard."

if he's being honest, rin doesn't really care about what you do. he's just trying very hard to not let the fact that he was smiling thinking about you show.

"it's not that bad," you say, "well, i mean- tedious, sure. plus i hardly get paid, i'm not under contract, and they could just decide to stop paying me at any point since there's nothing making them, technically."

rin raises an eyebrow. "and you say it's not that bad?"

"it's not! really!"

"and you work with kids."

"yeah, so not that bad."

"that's worse." you make a face at him and he fights another smile because how do you do this to him so easily?

"i swear it's not as bad a job as it seems."

"it's not even a job, technically," rin points out.

"okay, okay, you can stop making fun of my position, rin."

your use of his name makes his heart do something weird and nauseating in his chest and he hates it. "whatever."

you hum in contemplation before sitting up in your seat with an idea. "how about you come with me today?"

rin stiffens. "what?"

you don't flinch at his unintentionally bittered tone, and rin feels something strange inside him again. he feels a bit like a fish out of water, being put on the spot like that.

"well, i mean- only if you're free, of course," you twist away from rin ever-so-slightly as you start to backtrack, hands finding their way to fiddle with a strand of your hair, "i don't wanna overstep or anything, and i know you're probably busy and we're just-"

"no."

rin's voice cuts you off. "oh. that's cool, i'm sorry i asked."

oh. that wasn't what he meant to say at all. "no, no, wait. i mean no, stop talking."

"oh. i said i was sorry."

he's really just digging his own grave, at this point.

"wait, wait, wait. i mean.. no, stop talking, yes, i'll go with you."

it's almost comical how you brighten up in a heartbeat, and a strange twinge of pride at the fact that his presence could do that to you zips through his chest.

"oh, i'm great. i mean- that's great. this is great. i'm so excited." you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater and the enamel pins on your bag that he got you jingle and rin thinks that he's stupid for ever considering avoiding you.

and again- if he was a better man, he'd say so. but he's not, so he side-eyes you instead. "are you sure this is even allowed?"

"i am. as long as you're not some kind of criminal, or whatever." you look back at him, eyes creased with amusement. "you're not, yeah?"

"nope. just a few aggravated assault charges." he's only kind of joking (because injuries on the field do not count against him outside of it), and his voice is dry with sarcasm. he's not expecting you to laugh but you do, and he thinks everything he's done to lead up to this moment has been worth it.

"lovely. then you'll be fine. i hope you're good with kids, rin."

his mouth falls into a frown. he'd forgotten about that. he's about to say something but the train lurches or a stop and you're standing, prompting him to follow.

it occurs to rin that this is the first time the both of you have stood next to each other. the slight widening of your eyes at his obscene height is something that amuses him, but he chooses not to comment on.

he also keeps silent about how your beat-down and paint-smudged pair of shoes squeak ever-so-slightly as they exit the train. you move with a slight bounce in your step that makes the shoes pivot and squeal a little in a way that should irritate rin and not endear you to him the way it does.

it's only a short way to the school you work at from the train station, and you talk about menial things the whole way. rin's arms are crossed uncomfortably over his chest as he walks, and the plush insides of his deep blue sweater suddenly feel too hot, and he's feeling clammy even though the sun is hardly out.

you walk through the front office with rin in tow, tailing you while looking incredibly uncomfortable the whole time. the front office ladies chuckle like they know something he doesn't when you check him in and rin kind of wants to punch them. he doesn't, though.

when you lead him to your classroom (or, more precisely- a large storage room that was reassembled with tables and chairs to become a classroom) he's not surprised to find it colorful and bright.

the walls which aren't big windows are practically covered in various pieces- hand turkeys, landscapes, various misshapen animals, crude imitations of people- and a few pieces that are undoubtedly from a much more skilled artist. there are beautiful scenes that look like they're from movies, and there are unique interpretations that seem like they took painstakingly long to create.

he walks up to one- a faceless pair of women. one is sitting on the kitchen counter and the other stirs a bowl of something that looks like cookie dough. it's simple, it's sweet, and it's beautifully made. "you painted this?"

you're placing your bag down on the chair that sits behind the teacher's desk, which is just a repurposed old table. "i did. that's really old, though. kind of embarrassing."

"it's not." his finger traces his newest observation about the painting- your name scrawled in the corner. "it's not."

he's not looking at you, but he knows you're staring at him. he won't look back now, but he wonders what you're thinking. he imagines your quizzical expression, and he imagines the sun filtering in through the windows making you shine as you absorb every colour in the room.

he imagines you looking at him, and he thinks it's the prettiest sight he's ever thought up.

the bell rings after a beat of silence passes. the shrill noise draws you both from your stupor, and rin turns to see you walking around, busying yourself with placing a piece of thick watercolour paper on each desk.

"well," you say, and rin might be imagining it but your voice is a little choked, "we've got.. 2 classes? yeah, two. both will be 7-year-olds today. think you can deal with that?"

rin's eyes narrow. "i thought you said i wouldn't have to deal with any kids."

your face contorts into a smile. "yeah. i know. you can just sit in the back and watch. i'll get them to not bother you."

you gesture to a tiny little desk situated in the back corner of the room and rin cringes internally as he walks up to it. he sees you biting back a laugh and glares. as he takes a seat, his knees are up to his chest and his arms are draped uncomfortably over them.

"this isn't funny," he deadpans as you bite your tongue. with a humiliating amount of effort, he removes himself from the tiny chair and walks back over to the teacher's desk where you stand, crossing his arms over his chest.

"in my defense, i didn't compensate for how tall you'd be. you can just be at my desk, i don't mind."

you place your bag down onto the floor in the corner and rin moves to take your seat. all you have on your desk is a pile of books that are collecting dust, and a dingy computer setup that seemed like it was from the stone ages. there's a series of sticky notes on the black screen- he knows he shouldn't, but he reads a few.

there's a few about restocking some supplies, and even more about various lesson plans. rin thinks you put an awful lot of work into a position that technically isn't legal. and then, his eyes land on his name- in pink pen that stands out on the yellow paper, 'itoshi rin' is scrawled on with a myriad of stars and hearts and squiggles surrounding it.

rin blinks, half expecting the message to vanish. it doesn't. his hand reaches out to take the note but he's interrupted by the room door slamming open and a gaggle of children bursting in.

their teacher seems exhausted, and rightfully so, especially considering it was barely 8 in the morning. she takes a seat close to the exit and slumps over, seemingly asleep, as the students spread around the room.

they take places behind desks and fist the provided paintbrushes in their little grubby hands, chattering amongst themselves as if it's not insanely early. rin watches as you bounce around the room, conversing with the kids who call your name.

his gaze doesn't leave you once, as you move to the front of the classroom to begin your speech on today's assignment. he's only half-listening, but he catches short phrases. it's something about practicing watercolour responsibly and learning to work with a new medium.

rin's never been an art kid. he's never seen the appeal. but the way you seem so excited to be there, and so genuinely happy to teach, makes him think that he should be listening, too.

the kids start to paint, now. he notices how some of them start with a pencil, tracing crude outlines of whatever they're trying to make, while others dive headfirst into the watercolour. you weave around desks lavishing them in praise, and rin wonders what you were like when you were their age.

little feet begin to scramble around the classroom as the assigned seating chart dissolves with time. you don't seem to care all too much, continuing to help a student- a little girl, with tiny, short pigtails tied off with purple scrunchies.

he doesn't realize he's been watching you until the girl catches his eye and says something he can only kind of make out. "who's that guy lookin' at you all mean?"

her finger points straight at rin, and he promptly pretends like he was very invested in the blank screen of your 1900s computer. he sneaks a glance back to see your eyes fixed on him before returning to the girl with an awkward laugh.

"ah, him! he's.. my friend. he's just sticking with me today," you smile, and feels himself sink into the chair deeper. he's not sure what he feels at the use of the word 'friend' but he doesn't think he likes it.

but it was a fine answer. it was decent, it was true- what, did he expect more? if he did, clearly he wasn't the only one because the little girl with the pigtails gives you a look. rather loudly, she exclaims "you mean your boyfriend?"

you blanch at her words and rin's subtle gaze returns to a full-on stare as he watched your reactions. "asami, not so loud! indoor voices," you try to sound authoritative but your voice splinters and sea of little faces is suddenly turned to face you.

and then, slowly, like a horror movie, the 20-something 7-year-olds pivot to face rin.

a little voice speaks up. "you're ms. teacher's boyfriend?"

in a normal scenario, rin would probably linger on the fact that you were addressed as 'ms. teacher' as if you had no other name. but with an ocean of inquisitive eyes, yours especially, he felt a little frozen. just as he was about to snap open his mouth to say something probably cruel and snippy, you jumped in.

rushing to the front of the crowd you wave your hands frantically, trying to maintain your cheery disposition while sweating through your clothes with anxiety. "no, no! he's- he's not my boyfriend! and don't bother him, please, he doesn't.. speak the language! he's from.. germany!"

it's a bad lie. horrible, even. and it would take a fool to fall for it- either a fool or a collection of unbelievably innocent children.

"oh!" one pipes up, "is that why he's so mean and doesn't talk?"

you furrow your brow. "we don't call people mean, remember."

and just like that, everything is back to normal. or, at least, however normal this situation could be. the students resume their artistry and continue scurrying like mice around the room to show off their creations or grab fresh sheets of paper.

you walk up to rin, and he hopes his ears have turned less red at this point as you sit on the desk in front of him. "see? not so bad."

he narrows his eyes. "are we in the same room right now? did you not just see that?'

you sigh dramatically and place your hands behind you as you slouch back. "maybe they're right. you are mean."

"okay?"

"you should be ashamed of yourself, y'know."

"you really do sound like a schoolteacher." at this you laugh and swat at his shoulder, eliciting a tiny could-be smile from rin. "never say that to me again."

and it seems like cutting rin off is a fun activity, because a little boy with messy brown hair skips up to the desk and basically shouts, "hello!"

the thing is, he's not talking to you- he's talking to rin. big, doe eyes are fixed on the striker expectantly, and he rolls back and forth on heels while clutching something in his hands behind his back.

rin blinks. "hi."

he sounds mean, he's sure, and definitely not german, but the kid doesn't seem to notice or care. "i think germ-in-ey is so neat! i made you this!"

the country is pronounced like he's speaking with rocks in his mouth but the boy's smile is bright and he holds a kind-of crumbled piece of watercolour paper in his hands.

it's still dripping and incredibly poorly done. what appears to be a house? or a building of some kind? is splattered onto a green line that might be grass. a blob that could be a body if you squinted hard enough is attached to a big oval with messy dark hair, angry eyebrows paired with neon blue eyes, and the biggest eyelashes the world has ever seen. they extended from all the way inside the eye to the sticks that rin supposes must be hands.

a random rectangle with doodles inside is in the top left corner. a little label reads 'german flag' in pencil.

rin blinks at the paper and looks dully at the kid. he feels your eyes staring into him, too, and he opens his mouth before closing it again, unsure of what to say.

"this looks bad," he speaks before he knows what's coming, eyes widening at his own words. a deep pit of guilt opens in his stomach as the boy retracts his hands with the paper. oh, my god, what did he just say?

he is unbelieveably lucky that you are still next to him at that moment, because you jump in to save the day yet again:

"haru! don't worry about him- he's german, remember? he doesn't know how to say what he means! bad in german actually just.. uh.. means really, really good!"

the boy instantly brightens up again, like a wilting flower back in bloom. "really? that's so cool! i didn't know they spoke german in germ-in-ey!"

you return his bright smile. "how crazy! what a small world!"

the little boy skips away, leaving his masterpiece in your hands, and rin lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"oh, wow," you say with a sparkle of amusement in your eyes, "i didn't know you were this horrid with kids."

a grumble of annoyance leaves him, but he's more embarrassed than anything at this point. "and i didn't know i was german."

you shrug. "it was the first thing that came to mind. it worked, didn't it?"

rin ignores your question. "i can't believe you let that kid go off thinking 'bad' means good. he's gonna go around telling everyone that."

"i.. did not consider this," you purse your lips, "it's his teacher's problem. i don't even work here, technically."

"so you're a random person who comes onto campus and spreads lies to children."

a smile splits your face. "at least i'm a nice liar."

"nice?"

"oh. ouch. okay, thanks rin."

and he exhales, and it's no longer just a half-smile, because you see it so clearly on his face- the way his lips turn up at your words as he speaks. "yeah. anytime."

it's then that itoshi rin has a moment of infinite clarity- he's fallen for you. he doesn't like that fact, nor does he understand the intricacies of this romance.

he likes you. that's all there is to it. rin doesn't see why there needs to be any more. it's not like he'll tell you and even though the feeling of repressed and realized emotions in his chest is something a little unbearable, he's dealt with worse. and he thinks he'd rather keep his mornings beautiful than run the risk of messing it all up.

so rin thinks he'll settle for being in your background, as he watches you hop off the desk and move to help the students as they finish their paintings and clean up.

they sing a stupid jingle about keeping things neat that makes you laugh in the way you do where your head tips back just a little, and rin swears it's his favourite sound in the world.

it's another hour and another class before you're finally done with your work. the second one was thankfully a lot less strenuous for rin- none of the students paid him much mind at all, save for the occasional curious glance every so often.

"bye ms. teacher!" the final student belted before leaving, slamming the door with a resounding thud. you wave cheerfully and take a deep breath as soon as the kid is out of sight. "and we're done! how was that, rin? you just got the full fake-teacher experience."

rin stands from his place behind your desk and stretches out his limbs, slightly sore from being in one place for so long. "as bad as i thought it'd be."

"you're always so negative."

"glad you noticed."

you roll your eyes and grab a spray bottle and washcloths off the highest shelves. "help me clean?"

wordlessly, he catches the rag you toss and the other bottle. the two of you work in silence for a few moments, wiping down the desks that the students had done their best at keeping neat. the only noises were the muffled sounds of the cafeteria during lunchtime outside and the ever-present squeaks your shoes made.

the lighting through the window lit the scene golden and turned all the colors and textures and works in your classroom even more beautiful. and not just them- rin thinks that you look breathtaking in the sunlight. a part of him suspects that it was invented just for you.

"what did you think?"

rin looks up at your voice. "hm?"

"what did you think? about this, i mean."

he looks at you for a moment. this is a new expression, the one you're wearing- at least, one he's never been able to observe unobstructed. you almost seem bashful, in the sunlight, refusing to meet his eyes.

"i think," he says, and he's so careful because he thinks he'd die of embarrassment if he misspoke and insulted you again, "that this makes sense."

"what?"

he frowns, not wanting to explain himself. "you loving this. it makes sense."

"i actually have no idea what you mean by that."

he scoffs, "whatever," but you keep pushing, curiously leaning over the table and placing your washcloth down.

"you can't just 'whatever' me. i'm curious now."

"you're irritating."

"i'm aware." you keep looking at him and it's no surprise to him when his conviction crumbles into dust and ash.

"you just seem like an art person." he tries and fails to get his point across. you raise a brow. "are you profiling me? what, do i seem like your starving artist trope?"

"no, no," he grumbles, "like, you're.."

and he's not sure.

rin has no idea how to follow up his words. because he thinks so many things of you- he thinks you're kind, in ways he will never be, and he thinks you're pretty enough to rival the sun, and he thinks you're flat out lovely- but he can't convey it all into one word.

"you're just you," he says. it's a simple statement, said with a conviction that doesn't match the quiet tone of his voice. he speaks softly, like he's afraid you might disappear if he was too loud.

blinking, you meet his gaze, and rin hopes you can see yourself how he sees you in the reflection. he hopes you see yourself like gold, and all the colours in the world, and as the essence of creativity- he hopes you know that he sees you as art, plain and simple.

but your expression is unreadable. he wonders if his is, too. and rin also wonders what you see when you look at him, because you're suddenly inhaling sharply and pivoting, busing yourself with straightening up jaws that don't really need to be fixed.

"well, rin," you say, and your voice is a pitch higher, "i didn't mean to keep you so long. i'm sorry you got held up here."

you're laughing, but it sounds strained, and rin wishes he could go up and smooth whatever's bothering you out from your skin, but that's creepy so he'd rather not.

"i didn't stay so long because you made me or anything. i wanted to."

"oh." you freeze for a split second before continuing to scrub a little too vigorously, "uh. thanks."

"i like your paintings," he blurts out. it's not fitting as a response, and he should've just said 'you're welcome' and moved on with his life, but he feels like he needs to say something, and relieve at least a fraction of the burden off his chest. he likes your paintings, and he likes you, but he can't say that quite yet.

"oh! i didn't take you as an art connoisseur."

"i'm not."

and he was telling the truth- rin knew virtually nothing about art. he remembers his own experiences with the subject, all limited to his pre-teen years in school, where he'd been forced to make whatever the teacher commanded.

his work had always been lopsided and a little fugly, but in the spirit of learning no one had ever said anything. it was always 'that's so good!' or 'you're so creative!' or 'nice cat!' when it was meant to be a tree.

"not even a little bit?" you hum as you lean onto your tiptoes, struggling to push a bottle of cleaning solution back into the space. rin moves to your side, placing it on for you. he misses how you go breathless at his actions.

"was never an art kid," he says simply.

you purse your lips in that stupid way he's noticed you do when something doesn't go right, and shake your head. "i don't buy it."

he raises an eyebrow. "what?"

"i don't believe that."

"you're just.. rejecting my statement?"

"yeah. everyone's an art kid."

rin considers your words before shaking his head. "no. you're just weird."

rolling your eyes, you're suddenly gone again to the front of the classroom, rifling through a set of overworked cabinets that seem to be bursting at the seams. you come back to the desk rin was standing by with a full arm of various supplies- he recognizes paper, canvas, pencils, gouache paints, and brushes.

"everyone's an art kid," you repeat, "you just never had anyone show you right."

"you sound fucking crazy."

"yeah, probably," you reply, motioning for him to sit down on the chair. he complies, and you hop up to take a seat on the desk again.

"and cheesy as hell. like a stupid nickelodeon character."

"that's a little far. be nicer to me! i'm about to give you free painting lessons."

"ones that i didn't ask for."

you sit back on your hands. "you could leave if you wanted."

rin is silent. you smile. "lessons it is."

‧̍̊ ˙ · 𓆝 . ° ｡ ˚ 𓆛 ˚ ｡ ° . 𓆞 · ˙ ‧̍̊

you might have been a little bit incorrect in your approach. rin is kind of a little bit hopeless with art.

"just a straight line," you're practically begging, "just one. you can do it."

rin proceeds to draw another very un-straight line to go with all the other ones on the piece of paper.

that was okay, though! maybe pencils just weren't for him. you could live with that. you'd brought out some paints just for this possibility, after all.

painting is difficult to mess up. you slap some colors on a canvas, call it modern art, and you're set- that was your philosophy. anyone could paint. anyone, you now think, except for itoshi rin.

"are you colourblind?" you say, and you're not trying to be mean, you're genuine, because he had just used the most horrendous choice of color palate he could have had.

"shut up," he scowls, covering his face with his hands. "you're a shit teacher."

you gawk at him. "how is this on me?"

"your stupid 'art kid' philosophy. plus, you've just been staring, not teaching."

you frown. okay, yeah, maybe you had been a little bit stare-y, but it's not really your fault. he just has one of those faces that would be criminal not to stare at. an idea pops up in your mind, and you hop off the desk.

rin turns his head to follow you as you move behind him. "what are you doing?"

"i'm teaching," you bite back playfully, leaning over his figure. you take a hold of his hand with the paintbrush, and you're both so close that you can hear his heartbeat speeding up inside of his chest. you wonder if he can feel yours do the same.

your hand ghosts his before you take a hold, grabbing it gently. his palms are warm and his whole body seems to radiate heat. the skin of his hand is rough and calloused.

"like this," you instruct, dragging the brush slowly across the canvas. it's already a smoother, straighter line than his previous ones. rin remains speechless, but he lets you take control of his movements. you direct him gently and he moves in return, like a slow dance on canvas.

after some time, a scene is playing out on the formerly blank space before the both of you. it's the classroom, complete with the yellowed lighting of the sun coming through the windows and the blocks of color to represent the various works hanging on the walls. it's a crude imitation of reality, but a piece of you and a piece of him, and you think that makes it beautiful.

"see?" you say, breaking the silence, "you did that."

you move to release your grip on rin's hand but he clasps his other one over it without thinking. you blink at him. he lets go, embarrassed.

"you did most of the work," he shrugs off, but it feels like he's just talking to himself, "i was just there."

"hm. you're right, but come on! give yourself some credit."

your attempt to lighten the heavy tension in the air falls onto deaf ears. "i should go," he mumbles, standing.

"oh."

"bye." his words lack the usual edge, and he seems more confused than upset. still, you wonder if you've overstepped and a pit forms in your stomach.

"bye," you say, but he's already out the door.

you try not to be too upset about it, but it's a little difficult. you've liked rin since before you even knew his name, and you were far too stubborn to let it go just yet.

you'd been almost 100% he felt the same, too. but again, your pride wouldn't allow you to make the first move. and his reaction to the closeness didn't bode well for your intentions.

a surge of disappointment consumes your chest and everything suddenly feels a lot heavier. your regular cable-knit feels itchy and too hot on your skin. you bite your tongue.

your friends have mocked you for your infatuation with this faceless 'itoshi rin.' they've encouraged you to move on from this crush that was seemingly going nowhere until almost a month ago, even going as far as to try and set you up with someone. maybe you should finally look into that offer,

you sigh to yourself and flop back onto the hard wood of the desk. oh well, you think, you'll see him tomorrow anyway.

the next week of early morning train rides is missing something.

rin notices it almost right away- how you sit a little farther from him, you you're just a little more skittish and quick to leave. it's a stab in the gut every single time, and he's not sure how he can mend the undeniable rift forming between the both of you.

he's not sure what happened. was it his leaving? had that upset you? why?

the invisible wound of unspoken words festered like mould as the morning conversations grew shorter and stiffer, and he felt helpless like he never had before.

and then, you bring something up that makes his heart plummet.

"this afternoon? i think i have a date, actually."

he shouldn't be mad. he shouldn't be upset. but doesn't he have the right? the person he likes, and ew, he hates admitting that, is going on a date with someone else.

"oh."

"mhm. my best friend's friend- she's been trying to get me to go out with him for ages."

"oh."

"tomorrow night, i think it is."

"hm."

"i hope it goes well."

"why?"

again, rin's mouth runs separately from his conscience. he wants to hit himself. you have no obligation to answer, because the both of you are just friends, maybe even less.

you blink, looking over at him. "i mean.. why not?"

the rest of the train ride continues in awkward silence until you get off. you give him a brief smile but you don't say goodbye, and rin watches your figure walk away until the train starts again and he can't anymore.

there is a very strange emotion, that rin is experiencing. he recognizes parts of it- that same bitter, green envy that curls around his lungs and squeezes til he can't breathe. he's familiar, but never in this context.

and then there's something darker that hurts his chest. it reminds him of growing pains, and of valentine's day, and of things he never thought he could have wanted. it reminds rin of you, and he is so, so distraught.

that afternoon, he waits for your text. usually, your messages are usual, like clockwork. you'd message him around 1 when you were on the train ride home, either to update him about your day or send him a game pigeon game.

he always indulged your messages, and he'd never let you see but you were one of the pinned contacts on his phone.

that day, however, your text never comes.

he's so pathetic for how he sits in the locker room at 2, alone, staring at his phone screen. he's sad for how he's taking a break from practicing at 3 just in case you message. he's stupid for how he spends the next few hours just waiting for a notification that he knows will probably never come.

it's 10 now, and rin has never felt more tired.

he's about to go to bed, having his night clothes lined up on his bed and brushing his teeth in the bathroom mirror. it was an average, regular day- there was nothing special nor abnormal, but everything just felt so wrong.

he wonders if you were on your date then, as he spits his toothpaste into the sink. he wonders what you wore- if you donned your white cable-knit or your squeaky paint-smudged shoes. he wonders if you carried the bag he got you, pins and all. he wonders if your date held open the door like he would have, or if he joked around with you like he did (kind of.)

rin wonders where you were. he wonders if you were okay.

and then, his phone rings.

your name lights up his screen and suddenly, he's not so exhausted. he answers a little too haistily on the 1st ring.

"hello?"

there's a short pause, but he can hear the way your breath comes in short huffs on the other side of the line. this was strange- the both of you had never called before.

"rin?" your voice is crackly in a way he could accredit to the poor reception wherever you were, but something in his heart wrenches and there's an undertone that is undeniably distress in your voice.

"yeah? what's up?" he's already bustling around his home, though, grateful he hasn't changed yet as he pulls out his shoes.

"are you doing anything?"

"no," he lies.

"i'm sorry then, 'cause i know it's late, but- um, yeah. i'm about to get on the train. like usual, just the night one. but, i don't want to bother you, so-"

"no. keep going."

another silence follows rin's words before you continue. "could you.. come here? i know it's dumb, askin' you to ride the train here just to come back with me but," and your voice cracks, "i don't really want to be alone right now."

rin exhales. he's already outside, walking briskly through the cold night air with his free hand stuffed in his jeans pockets as he makes his way to the train stop.

"i'm on my way."

‧̍̊ ˙ · 𓆝 . ° ｡ ˚ 𓆛 ˚ ｡ ° . 𓆞 · ˙ ‧̍̊

when rin gets on the night train, you're the only other passenger on board. you're huddled up in your usual seat with your knees drawn up to your chin and eyes misty with something dismal. you look at rin and he's heartbroken for you, because nothing should ever make you this upset.

but you offer him a weak grin and move to sit normally, patting his seat next to you. he notes that you are indeed carrying the same bag he got you.

the new distance isn't present when he takes his place beside you. in fact, he's so close tonight that he can almost feel your thigh brush his. he eyes you cautiously, unsure how to begin. thankfully, you answer his questions before he needs to ask.

"remember my date?" rin nods. how could he forget?

"it was kind of awful," you concede with a watery laugh. "he was all fine, at first- but i just wasn't interested. he asked for a second date, and i said no thanks- he just- he yelled at me. called me all sorts of things. i dunno."

his heart tightens in his chest as you keep going. "it's not a big deal but i didn't really- i'm not sure. i'm not sure."

he doesn't think too much about his next actions, as his hand curls around your shoulder. you're all too complacent, letting yourself be pulled into the warm fabric of his crewneck. he hopes you can hear his heartbeat pick up its pace. he hopes yours does the same.

rin allows you to bury yourself in his warmth, to acquaint yourself for a few moments before he starts talking. "last week i went to the grocery store and i saw this lady with her cats," he said.

you glance up at him quizically but his arm holds fast, keeping you there as he continues: "she was old. probably too old to be toting around all those groceries.

"i would've offered to help but then i took another look- she was ripped."

a muffled laugh escapes you. "for real?"

"yeah. i mean it."

"a ripped old lady with cats, huh? what was she getting?"

"blueberries."

he thinks he feels your smile against the fabric of his clothes. "blueberries. that's nice."

"and just a few days ago, i think, i was on my run and i passed by this apartment, right?"

"mhm."

"and i hear yelling. so i stop."

"yeah?"

"on the balcony of the apartment, there was this woman and some guy. they were in their 20s, i think. and she was screaming at him."

"oh? what about?"

your voice is thickening again, but this time with exhaustion. the occurrences of your day were finally weighing on you, rin presumes. he keeps talking.

"something about him being unfaithful. then she threw his gaming console off the balcony."

"oh," you say, with a slight yawn, "that sounds so funny. i wish i was there."

"me too."

rin really should break this habit he's beginning to form. it definitely isn't a great idea to share all his innermost thoughts with you always- but lucky for him, you seem too tired to notice the accidental compliment.

"good for her," you mumble.

"good for her," he repeats.

you tilt prop your chin up on him to meet his gaze. your eyes are heavy with exhaustion and bags are formed beneath your eyes, and your hair is frazzled and messy but rin thinks this might be the prettiest he's ever seen you.

you're dead on your feet, but you're still looking at him. you're feeling so many things and you're still you. his hand absentmindedly flutters accross the back of your head to flatten your hair as you begin to speak.

"you're so nice." is all you say. rin looks at you, incredulous.

"you are," you insist, breaking away from him for a moment with your hand pushing yourself off of his chest. "you wanted to help that old woman. you heard yelling and stopped in case someone needed help. you're here at 10pm after i messed everything up."

rin blinks.

you've always been the kind of person to make him think. you made him reconsider his own future, his capacity for love, his interest in romance- you made him think about it all. but there was one thing that was a constant, that he didn't think even you could make him reconsider- the fact that he wasn't a good person.

it's then that it dawns upon itoshi rin- he doesn't see himself as worth loving. his life's purpose was success, and without it, was he even worth caring about? and on top of all that, he was cruel.

he cared about no one. he was blunt, and he was unfriendly, and when he was in school people walked away. the neighborhood kids all hid from him, and his teammates never bothered to even try and introduce him to new faces anymore.

itoshi rin was mean and cruel, a fact that he had decided for himself and then been enforced by the people around him. itoshi rin was not worth anything without a gold medal to demonstrate his value. itoshi rin was not worth caring about, because he'd just hurt you. itoshi rin didn't think himself even capable of wanting anything but to win.

and itoshi rin was proven wrong the day he met you.

because he'd fallen for you, with your shoddy footwear and worn-out zip-up that could hardly be considered white anymore. he'd fallen for you and the way you always had something to say, and he'd fallen for you, who could see the art in anything- even hideous artwork made by unskilled 7-year-olds, even teenage boys who couldn't find it in themselves to admit that they loved you.

you must've changed him, he thinks, or at least brought out a part of him that he'd long since forgotten had existed. because now, on this train at 10 pm with you still staring at him with intent, tired eyes- he thinks he sees it, too, in a way that he thinks you might've been trying to get him to see from perhaps the very beginning.

he sees himself, itoshi rin, as artwork. and he sees you- the artist.

it's beautiful, how the world explodes into colour at that moment. the night sky outside the train window has never been quite so beautiful, and he thinks he can see all the stars in the world even though he's not even looking at them. his eyes are trained on yours, and there's nothing left to do, say, or realize, so he just pulls you back into himself and keeps talking.

"and then two days ago, i think, i was at practice. and my teammate opens his locker, and a squirrel falls out. nanase- that's his name- was terrified."

it's almost comical, how the roles have reversed. usually, you were the storyteller, and he was the patient listener. he doesn't remember the last time he spoke to someone in such a one-sided fashion for so long, but he doesn't really care anymore.

"apparently it was bachira. no one was really surprised."

he looks down at you, and you're finally asleep. your breathing is even, and he can only partially see your face. your cheeks are patchy from previous tears, but the way your features are relaxed amends for the hurt. his hand holds your head close, still, fingers absently massaging your scalp.

the silence carries on for a few beats. he watches your inhales and exhales when you do. when he finally talks, he's even quieter.

"i missed talking to you," he finally admits. it's almost as if he's admitting this to himself rather than you, with the way he leaves the words to hang in the air.

"so much," he adds, "it was fucking gross."

he continues to speak. perhaps this was his confession- he'd tell you his truths, the fact that he liked you, and the fact that he'd never be able to say it to your face. he doesn't see the harm, not on the empty night train with just him to hear.

"when we were all.. distant. i hated that. i had so much to say to you. i guess i always have. because," he lets an aggravated sigh, "i just didn't know.

"you're rubbing off on me, i guess. you and your stupid.. i dunno. just you. you make me so weird inside."

he pauses like he's waiting for you to say something, even though he knows you can't even register his words. he frowns and rewinds:

"that day. a week and a day ago. i left.

"you were so close to my face, so close to me- i dunno. i guess- i guess i just panicked. because i shouldn't like you. you're so.. you. and i'm nowhere near that. so i left.

"i wanted to kiss you. i want to all the time, it's fucking awful. when you told me about your date today? i hated every second of that. i just wanted to tell you but i couldn't. i don't know why, though.

"i still can't tell you. don't know if i will. but it's out there, now. i like you," rin laments, the last words foreign and unwelcome on his tongue.

"i like you. i like you a lot."

rin thinks his words should be followed by silence. he thinks that they'll hang and vanish in the air like his breathe, and he thinks it'll be gone forever, just like that. he thinks the next morning, he'll find a new morning routine and delete your contact.

but your breath hitches, and your body stiffens ever so slightly against rin's as his confession exits his lips. rin freezes, his hand falling dormant in the air behind your head.

you rise from his chest, and an empty cavity of dread is left in your place. the quiet is so poignant that you could hear a hairpin drop. he stares at you. you stare at him.

"rin," you start slowly, voice rough around the edges with sleep.

(the train rumbles distantly in the background. faintly, rin wonders when his stop would be.)

"you like me?"

he is silent. you blink once. then twice. and then you move. from your place next to him, you take his hand in both of yours and shift it to your lap.

"you like me."

it's not so much of a question now as it is an answer. your skin is cold against his, and it reminds him of the afternoon spent in your classroom where he learned of his limits for the first time.

"and you said you want to kiss me all the time," you continue, and rin thinks he'd be utterly humiliated if he wasn't so frozen.

"so why don't you?"

your question is one that lingers, hanging in the air like a heavy mist or smoke, and his lungs feel like they're being weighed down by the steeled sky.

you're right for asking, because why didn't he? why had he run, that day in your classroom? why had he let you grow so distant from him in the week that followed?

rin has always been one for pushing his limits. even when his body was broken over his sport, but he kept going because that was what was right to do. it was his purpose, and he didn't matter much outside of that.

but things were different now that he'd met you. rin decides that he just might be worth something more than a victory, because you look at him with a reverence, an affection, that tells him that he's maybe more than that.

you hold his hand in yours like it's glass, and your expression is soft with a curious lilt, and his hand is on your side and traveling to your back, and his other one is in your hair, and his lips are pressed on yours like he needs you, because fuck it, rin decides, he's never cared much for limitations anyway.

you kiss him back before long. it's messy and crude, and all teeth and bumping noses, and a long time in the making. you pull away before he does and he chases your lips like a starved man. but you duck your face into the crook of his neck, body as close as you could manage on the uncomfortable train seat. he feels you laugh into his neck, and he can't help the smile that spreads on his face.

"fucking finally," he says quietly, more to himself than you.

"finally," you agree, as the train slows to a stop. you glance up to check the destination- oh. it's your stop- your apartment block was only a short walk from here.

"this is where i am," you say, trying to find it in yourself to stand up. rin beats you to it, emerging from his seat and pulling you with him.

"i'm walking you home." he's no longer holding your hand, but his pinky finger is interlaced with yours, and he gives a surprisingly firm tug as he ushers you to the exit. "let's go."

you skitter along right behind him as the cold air rushes against his face, planting rosy, frosty kisses against his skin. you swing your joined arms with a wicked grin like you know it'll annoy him but he's not about to tell you to stop.

and if rin thought you were the prettiest in your classroom, or prettiest on the train, he was sorely mistaken because you're nothing short of gorgeous now, in the night air holding his hand, with a big, dopey grin on your face and his name on your lips.

he thinks he'd like to kiss you again, so he stops in his tracks on the sidewalk. you lurch to a halt, and call his name questioningly. he kisses you again because he can now, and you kiss him back, and he can do this again, and again, and again, because what's stopping him now?

the weeks following the emergence of your newly formed relationship are nothing short of blissful.

neither of you discussed your relationship status- it was just implied that he was your boyfriend now, because rin is almost sure he'd implode if he had to consider his feelings any longer.

your routines had both amended themselves around each other. every day, you'd meet on the morning train. he'd come to your classroom and sit through your lessons with you, and the both of you would go to either your apartment, his house, or whatever other destination was on one of your to-do lists. he'd go off for practice in the afternoons, but he never missed you too much.

he knew your texts would be waiting to be answered, without fail, and he knew you'd always be waiting for his call. and it felt nice to have someone- someone who cared for him, someone to call his own, someone who waited for him, someone he'd won.

rin thinks that he'd follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked, and especially if you didn't. he sees it as mature and responsible- someone has to keep you in check. you just call him clingy.

this is how he finds himself at a farmer's market. it's bustling, and nostalgic, and crowded, and probably not his scene. but you're there, so he'll make it work.

"oh, there's so many things. uh, let's see," you fumble with your phone, pulling up your list from your phone, "naomi can't have peanuts. asami is allergic to.. strawberries? how sad. and hiroshi will probably start crying if he sees cucumber. god, kids get weirder and weirder by the day."

you've been roped into helping host the graduation party for this year's oldest elementary students, most of which you knew by name. you'd been stuck with the food prep which rin didn't really understand assigning to you, since it's presumably the hardest task and you're not even a real employee.

"what's left, then?"

"uh.. i think we can make blueberry pie or something. and if they don't like it, it's not my fault because i tried."

"i'm not helping."

"no, no. you are. you don't have a choice in this."

he scoffs, and is about to reply, when-

"ms. teacher! hi, hi! hi!"

a little tiny pair of legs attached to a blur of brown hair as a small boy hurtles into your legs, capturing you into a hug the best he can. you let out a huff as the wind is knocked out of you.

looking down, rin recognizes the same kid- the same one who had made the watercolour painting of him and was surprised that they spoke german in 'germ-in-ey'.

"haru? hi yourself! what're you doing here?"

you almost instantly kneel down to meet his eyes and haru immediately giggles and taps the side of your head. "bonk, bonk!"

you laugh. "that isn't an answer, buddy."

the boy rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet with his hands fidgeting with each other in front of him, and rin is both enamoured by your endless warmth and feeling very out of place, standing awkwardly behind you like a scared child.

"my mama runs a fruit shore. yum, fruit! 'nd, i get to ex-spore! 'cause they're all busy with the fruit shore!"

"really? how cool!"

"yeah, yeah! 'nd, why are you here ms. teacher?"

you pretend to be in deep contemplation, tapping your finger on your chin. "well, if i tell you, you've got to keep it a secret, 'kay?"

"pinky swear! swear it!"

"it's for a surprise party."

haru looks like you just told him nuclear secrets. "oh my gosh!"

he squirms where he stands, running around in circles. "a sur-pies party! a sur-pies party!"

and then he stills, looking at you with the utmost serious expression that cracks a grin onto even rin's face. "i swear i won't tell anyone about your sur-pies party."

"thank you very much, haru. i appreciate it," you reply, with equal seriousness.

and then, haru's eyes wander over to rin.

"mr. germ-in-ey!"

rin cringes. he wasn't mentally prepared for this, not today. "hi."

haru seems to have forgotten that people from germany tend to speak german, because he converses with rin like there's no implicit barrier there. "hey, hi! i didn't know you went outside the school!"

rin's brows furrow and you stand, laughing. "what?"

"you're always in ms. teacher's classroom. in the back, all sad."

he frowns. "i'm not sad."

haru surveys him, and he feels a little ridiculous getting once-overed by a 7-year-old. "no," haru agrees, "not anymore!"

at this, you chime in. "oh? what changed?"

rin glares at you over his shoulder and you return with a bemused expression. haru mimics your previous posture, with his hands on his chin like he's stroking a beard.

"you guys are in love!"

you freeze, shooting up straight with wide eyes. rin stares at the kid.

"come again, haru?" you manage to choke out, perhaps hoping that you heard him wrong.

"you guys are in L-O-E-V-E!" haru sings the words out, spelling it wrong but still reinforcing his previous statement.

rin is flabbergasted, and you choke on your saliva. bystanders are beginning to look at the scene unfolding, and you attempt to straighten yourself out while rin takes a step away.

"uh, haru," you say, letting out a breath and an awkward laugh, "why don't you go find your mom? tell her i say hi."

haru hums before nodding like he'd entirely forgotten the previous conversation. he scuttles away with the speed of a scared cat. rin directs his gaze to you and shoots you a look.

"your students are so fucking strange."

you sigh, "yeah. yeah, they are."

he pauses. and lets out the heaviest, most resigned sigh he thinks he's ever managed before. "but they're not wrong."

you look at him blankly, before you process his words. and then you're positively beaming as rin makes a face.

"ugh, gross. forget i said that. that was vile."

"awh, rin!" you say, disregarding his statement, "you're so cute! so, so cute!"

you close the distance between him and you, and he ducks his face away but makes no real effort to move. "i hate you so much."

"i don't think so," you hum, getting infinitely closer to his face. he's sure you can feel the heat radiating off him at your proximity, as you continue: "i think that you are obsessed with me."

your lips are ghosting the corner of his mouth and he doesn't realize he was holding his breath until you pull away, eyes suddenly wide with realization.

"oh my god," you say, all the teasing removed from your voice and instead replaced with a daunting sobriety, "haru is going to tell the entire class. the entire school."

rin blinks. "okay? and?"

"no, you don't get it!" you grab his arm, a genuine terror that is almost comical shining in them. "i'm going to be trampled."

your boyfriend shrugs. "i don't see how that's my issue."

"you idiot. you come with me every day."

"so?"

"you're never going to know peace again."

rin finally gets it, and he frowns deeper than he thinks he ever has. "i'm breaking up with you, then. no way am i dealing with that."

you roll your eyes and sigh, and rin laughs- it's quiet and short but real and genuine, and he sees the love brimming in your eyes as you follow his movements.

"god, i love you."

your words catch him off guard. but he takes your hand as a response. rin doesn't think he can say it back, not right now- but you know he does, and this time, so does he.

because rin loves you, and you love him, simple as that. there are no limits, there are no rules- just brushstrokes on a canvas, just an artist and a muse.

in that moment, in the middle of the bustling farmer's market, you and rin are all alone, and he thinks to himself: he would spend forever counting the passengers on a train if it meant he would meet you.

he'd spend years if he had to, waiting for his girl, the one with a white worn-out zip-up and shoes that were on their last few wears, and a denim bag smeared with paint and decorated with pins, and a smile to rival the sun.

he'd give it all to meet you again, and he'd give even more if you asked. in truth, there's nothing he wouldn't do to fall in love with you all over again- but he doesn't need to imagine, because you make it happen every day.

because truly, it may have started in just a few mornings, but it would always end with you.

(3 weeks later, mrs. sato appears on the morning train again.

you and rin are seated in conversation, bodies turned towards each other as he listens to your words. you're both interrupted when the train doors shut and a voice calls your name.

"ah, what have i missed! do my eyes deceive me, or is there a lovely new couple in my presence?"

you grin at her arrival. "oh my gosh, mrs. sato?"

the older woman hobbles over to sit down in front of you. "you have so much to tell me," she states, wrinkled smile gleaming with childlike joy.

rin frowns. why is it such a common trend to make him the 3rd wheel in his own relationship?

rin listens in as you narrate the course of your relationship, thankfully skipping out some more personal pieces, with a pink face and blood warming the tips of his ears.

and in turn, you learn that in mrs. sato's absence, she'd been partying all over the bahamas on a cruise, making a few crude and suggestive jokes about ship crew boys. "ah, but i can't say that anymore, can i? not with your boyfriend here. girl talk."

rin crosses his arms over his chest, looking and feeling a bit ridiculous with your bag on his laugh. mrs. sato cackles. he thinks she reminds him of a witch, just a little.

"ah, well, i hope you didn't miss me too much, dear. i'm off again- to jamaica this time!" mrs. sato exclaims and you smile supportively even though rin can tell you're more amused than anything.

"when do you leave?"

"tonight," she laughs, "i'm going to the airport right now."

when mrs. sato leaves and bids you and rin farewell with a hug and wink respectively. rin looks at you questioningly. "i can't believe you speak to her."

you grimace. "she's terrifying. i think if i wasn't friendly she'd hunt me down."

"probably. wouldn't be hard."

"i should send you to jamaica with her."

"i'd take some cruise boys over you any day."

"i'd pick them over you, too"

rin smiles. his hand taps a rhythm onto your knee. "so what're we doing today?"

"after school, i think it's finally time i buy new shoes. it's been long enough."

he frowns. "i like your shoes."

"they're like, a million years old. there's a hole in the sole."

"oh."

"you can pick them, since you clearly seem to think your fashion sense is better than mine."

"it is, actually."

"you're horrible, y'know that?"

"yep."

the train stops, and you stand before he does. you extend your hand for him to take.

he takes it without hesitation.)

##: if you read this long, hey! writing this actually made me insane i'm not gonna lie! but it's finally out, and genuinely would mean the world if u left a like, reblog, or comment :,) feedback keeps me motivated!

#STOPPP THIS IS SO CUTE #my heart feels all warm and fuzzy ohmygid.. rin ilysm #such a good read im goinf crazy #rin

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usuimasu · 1 year

Text

YOURS AND MINE — nagi seishiro

nagi seishiro isn't big on nicknames.

sure, on lazy sunday mornings, he'll throw in a "let's just stay like this for five more minutes, hmm babe?" words muffled because he chooses to hide his face in the crook of your neck, his hold on you tightening just slightly when you make a sound of protest. "five more minutes" he says, and you think it would do no harm. but that's all it takes for him to fall asleep and you can't quite bring yourself to get up when he looks so peaceful. cheeks full and wholesome and snow-coloured bangs falling over his eyes.

and on long wednesday nights when you're just a little more tired than usual, eyes heavy with drowsiness, your responses low and short. the times he knows you're having a bad day even when you haven't said anything, he'll casually whisper endearments like "how 'bout we just get to bed and cuddle? you up for that angel?" when you nod silently, he picks you up from where you're slumped on the couch, letting your head fall on his chest to place delicate kisses on your forehead.

warm friday afternoons when you're getting ready for your riverside picnic date & nagi seishiro is busy trying to level up his characters. when you step out of your shared bedroom, still fixing your hair and your clothes and your hair again, nagi spares you a glance when you ask him if you look okay. he hums. doesn't like the adjective. "okay" is downright disrespectful and unjustified to describe you. he turns his attention back to his phone screen, letting the silence take form for a few seconds, "you always look pretty, princess"

mellow saturday evenings. nagi seishiro still isn't big on nicknames. sure he calls you babe, angel, sweetheart, love. anything that melts on his tongue like sugarpaper and glosses over his lips when they meet yours. when his tongue glides across your own, when he closes his eyes to solely focus on the presence of you and your scent, your touch, your smile, your hands in his hair and his on your waist.

between the hushed breaths and low-lidded eyes, the faint taste of nectar on each other's lips that nagi knows he won't ever get enough of, you call him by his name and he calls you by yours.

nagi seishiro decides he likes calling you by your name more than anything. because you're too much and not enough at the same time, because he knows no endearment could ever compare to the special ring his name has when you say it. because he wants to revel in the intimacy of beings yours and yours alone, in moments like this when you're his and only his. because he knows your eyes will search for him in a crowd at the call of your name. because he knows every initial of your name like he knows he's bound to win every game when you're watching.

because he knows your name belongs to him just as much as his belongs to you.

#just shed so many tears #I LOV HIM😭😭😭😭😭#nagi

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usuimasu · 2 years

Note

*kisses you on the nose*

Hey Marchie, for the alphabet prompt may I request O, Q and S for Subaru. Thanks, Ily😘

A/N: thanks for the dia subaru .

*ೃ༄ Subaru Akehoshi + O, Q, S

*ೃ༄ Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

At first glance, Subaru seems like an open book — someone who wears their heart on their sleeve. But, as you and him get closer, you find out that isn’t entirely true. It takes awhile for him to reveal the deepest parts of himself to you — his past, how he really feels about everything in his life — but once he does, he only falls deeper in love with you, happy that you accept him as he is, flaws, baggage, and all.

*ೃ༄ Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Subaru remembers most of what you tell him, and tends to bring up random facts about you in conversation with whoever would listen. He talks about the things you share about yourself with him with such passion, that of which only a lover would possess. You have him whipped, and it’s extremely easy to tell. He’s very thoughtful — always accommodating your likes and dislikes, bringing you random things he remembers you telling him that you liked, and looking into topics you were interested in.

*ೃ༄ Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is extremely protective over you. Subaru is not afraid to give someone who’s causing you turmoil a piece of his mind, telling them angrily to leave you alone before he gets really angry. Sometimes he looks more like an angry puppy than an angry man, but it’s the thought that counts. Subaru always makes sure you feel safe and comfortable, and he hopes that in turn, you’ll do the same for him.

#TEARS IN MY EYES #this is so warm and fuzzy i feel so warm n fuzzy thank u op #subaru #enstars

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usuimasu · 2 years

Note

tysm for liking my geto imagine like 🥺🥺 im sososososo glad you like it !! ily and have a good day or night ! <3333

ofc !! im so in love w the way you write geto ohmgoddd 😭😭 TYSM FOR UR AMAZING WRITING !! i love it sm i love u sm sobsob 💔 i hope u have a great day too ^^!!

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usuimasu · 2 years

Text

LATE NIGHT SNACKING . . . G.SUGURU warnings.ㅤswearing. rice crispies slander. geto calls you baby once. back to navigation!

"what are you doing?" your boyfriend's voice resonated throughout your shared kitchen; effectively freezing you in place. "it's one in the morning, (y/n)..."

slowly turning around to face geto, you smiled sheepishly. you knew that there was a chance of your lover catching you as you retrieved your midnight snack though you had hoped otherwise — a hope that was now tarnished.

your fluffy socks slid against the floor as your feet shuffled uncomfortably at the situation that you had caught yourself in, your hand still gripping the box of cereal you were about to eat.

"oh hey suguru... i'm just... checking the cereal?" you quizzed yourself and gave said man a weak smile, causing his eyebrow to raise annoyedly.

taking several paces so that he was a mere half-metre away from you, geto took a hold of the box from your laxing clasp and placed it on the counter. "baby, i thought we agreed you would stop snacking on the cocoa puffs at night? you can't sleep for at least four hours after you eat them and you bought a box of rice crispies the other day."

"but rice crispies are so boring! plus, you said that you liked them in the store!" you were haste to reply as you placed the box of cocoa puffs back in the cupboard.

however, whilst you had your back turned, geto's face turned sour at the accusation you had just made; disgust morphing his typically relaxed features. "since when did i say that? who do you think i am, someone with no taste?"

your body whipped around to face your boyfriend, your face scrunched up in offence. approaching suguru until both of your chests were touching, and you were on your tiptoes to try to match his height, you glared at him. "are you insulting your own mother, honey?"

the venom that dripped from your voice could have made anyone in the room realise your significant other's mistake, and your close connection with his mother. "let me just call her to tell her that!"

snatching your phone from the countertop and ignoring the sudden panic on geto's face, you sauntered into your living room and sat down on your loveseat: extending your legs across both of the seats to purposefully make your lover unable to sit next to you.

ㅤ

your ringtone buzzed a few times before your proclaimed mother picked up her phone; only for her greeting to be cut off when her son seized the device from your grasp.

geto ignored your aggravation as he hastily hung up on his parent, placing your phone on the small side coffee table. "that was uncalled for."

though you wanted to continue your little act, you couldn't hold in your laughter at the pout on suguru's expression: his tone replicating your whining one from earlier. "oh, come on. let's just go and eat some cocoa puffs... just this once?"

there was a brief pause in the conversation before your boyfriend slowly nodded, a genuine smile tilting at his lips as he responded to you. "but i'm not being responsible for you being sleep deprived in the morning"

you would usually complain about his teasing at your low tolerance to sugar but you couldn't help the giddy grin that infected you as you giggled like a schoolgirl. "deal! but you have to stop being such a grump."

geto couldn't help but chuckle lightly, his lips curling upwards even more as he gazed down at your splayed frame on the sofa. "deal."

#CRYING i love the way you wrote him here ohmgodddd #tears in my eyes..#THIS IS SO CUTE he’s so cute 😭#geto #jjk

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usuimasu · 2 years

Text

ᥫ᭡ — romantic gestures with ayato, thoma & childe

╰➤ gender neutral , no cws

— ayato

ayato, despite having a hard time working around his packed schedule, tries his best to set aside time for you. late night walks are far and few between for him, but he always makes sure to have you accompany him. the moonlight flatters you most charmingly, he tells you. words as flowery as ever, he laments about how the view from the high cliffs around the kamisato estate pales in comparison to your beauty. the path you take each time is the same as the last, but he never fails to keep you on your toes with his not so subtle teases and misleading anecdotes. it’s on the walks back to the estate where ayato mellows out, facade undone and walls crumbling down. with his front stripped away, what he reveals to you is the ayato that nobody else gets to see — exhausted, stressed, and ready to turn in for another night. with a little probing, he eases some of his worries from his mind into the open air. he’s always been hesitant to discuss such matters with you, never divulging them without some hesitation. his fingers loop through yours, body leaning into yours as he talks and talks. ayato brings your hand up to his lips just before you turn the last corner on your way home, leaving an array of kisses before thanking you for listening to his worries. somehow, you find a new flower discreetly tucked into your hair every time you return to your room

you find letters addressed to you in perfect calligraphy on a regular basis, signed off with a small heart and a note of being from your beloved. it’s difficult for him to spare much time in the midst of his hectic schedule, but the short, sweet messages left in random places for you to find throughout the day serve as a reminder of his affection in times of his absence. even his print leaves traces of the steady, albeit sly, smile he always seems to have on — his messages remind you to take care of yourself properly, cheeky compliments of how lovely you look, and lighthearted lines to not miss him too much while he’s away. what ayato looks forward to most, though, is getting notes back from you. your notes never fail to leave a smile on his face, and he makes sure to keep a collection of them near his workspace to serve as a quick pick-me-up whenever he needs a break

after a long day of tending to the affairs of the yashiro commission, ayato always drags himself back into bed and into your arms. he presses his face into your chest, one hand guiding your fingers to intertwine with his hair. he holds your waist tight against his own body, leaving little space between the two of you. his grip is firm and his breathing is deep — the same way he always settles into your embrace every night. ayato finds the most late night comfort enraptured in the confines of your bedroom, soft and homey and safe enough for him to let the burdens of every day life lift ever so slightly from his shoulders.

Keep reading

#CUTEEE OMG #ayato #thoma #childe #genshin

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usuimasu · 2 years

Text

Warnings/Tags: Inazuma archon quest spoilers, mentions of sex, reader is a general in the Shogun’s army, childhood friends to lovers?, in love Ayato, in denial reader

a/n: This is the first instalment of a few fics that will be connected. Not really a series, just seeing how Ayato and reader’s relationship progresses. Updates will be slow.

2.1k words

You hate venturing to the Kamisato estate.

It’s not just the ridiculously long hike from the city. On the contrary, the walk through Chinju forest and up the winding mountain leading to the estate is rather enjoyable. The view of Inazuma is beautiful, and Chinju forest is peaceful at night, fireflies and soft, glowing lamps providing the only light to the path as the wind blows through the grass.

The silence of the dark night allows you to collect your thoughts and words before arriving at the home of the Yashiro commissioner. If you don’t prepare yourself, you’ll be swept away by a silver tongue and pretty eyes.

Keep reading

#OP THIS IS SO GOOD ?/!?/-?#IM GOING CRAZYY I LOVE THE WAY YOU WROTE HIM #ITS SO GOOD 😭😭😭😭😭 FUCKK #ayato #genshin

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usuimasu · 2 years

Text

ᥫ᭡ — 4:07AM with diluc

╰➤ gender neutral , cw angsty undertones ?

diluc could’ve sworn that he’d only been out for an hour.

the door leading into your shared bedroom slowly creaks open, and diluc makes a conscious effort to keep his movements small. it’s far too late in the night — or, conversely, far too early in the morning — to be accidentally stirring you awake. he returns from his most recent nightly excursion with the same tired sigh that he always does. he takes his coat off the same way, and he steps deeper into the moonlight illuminating the room the same way as well.

he gazes at you the same way he always does after a long night — achingly affectionate, and with eyes filled with lingering flickers of warmth that only seem to come to fruition behind closed doors.

with a kiss to your forehead, diluc finally settles into bed. he’s sure that his familiar bed space right next to yours is the most secure place in teyvat — warm and loving, encompassing a sense of comfort that no other place in the world could ever compare to. a homey feeling completely different from the flourishing vineyards of dawn winery, akin to love in its purest form. he wonders if you feel the same way about resting by his side as well.

his body curls up next to yours, hand coming up to linger on your cheeks. his touch is shaky, timid even with nothing but the stillness of night to keep watch his descent into slumber. uncertain fingers meet skin, yearning to feel and soak up the warmth of the bright sunlight that has come to him in the form of you. yearning, and yet his caress contains fear all the same — fear of both scorching and being scorched.

like icarus, he muses. diluc’s already experienced the feeling of being burned to ashes once. he promises to himself that he won’t ever let it happen again, especially not with you.

in his reverie, diluc opts to lacing his fingers through yours. once morning comes, he assures himself, the sun will welcome him into another day with open arms.

“good night, my love.”

#diluc #genshin

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usuimasu · 2 years

Text

Their Love Languages - Childe, Diluc, Xiao x GN!Reader

A/N: Good afternoon! I've been wanting to write some Genshin Impact headcanons for a while now so I turned on a good playlist and made it a reality! I hope you enjoy reading, my lovely stars~ ⭐

warnings: none, no pronouns used

Childe - Physical Touch

Though he won’t openly admit it, Childe is deeply touch-starved. He was thrown into the throes of battle at such a young age and often forgets how a simple loving touch feels, that is, until he met you. He never thought the benevolent warmth of another person would be so addictive.

He always leans into your touch, whether it be a hearty embrace, a gentle caress of his cheek, or even a mere soft graze of your skin against his own. A small hum of satisfaction arises from his chest, enjoying the affection laced within your touch.

Sometimes, he will tease you about it, saying things like “You really can’t keep your hands off me, can you?” or “Can’t get enough of me, love?” However, it is him who can’t get enough of your touch. If you decide to tease him back, withdrawing yourself from him, he playfully pouts before pulling you back into a warmhearted embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck while his lips place generous kisses on your skin.

He absolutely melts when you run your fingers over his scars; mending the harsh marks of battle with much-needed love and affection. This simple form of skin-to-skin contact is enough to make the stress of his demanding position among the Fatui roll off his shoulders so easily.

Childe deeply cherishes any and every loving touch of yours, no matter how grand or simple. Knowing that there is a partner at home, ready to give him those special touches he so readily craves, makes a comfortable feeling course throughout his veins, starting from his heart. ♡

Diluc - Quality Time

Because of his busy life as both the owner of Dawn Winery and the Darknight Hero, Diluc rarely finds time to truly enjoy himself. However, when he does have free time, there is nobody he would rather spend that precious time with other than you.

Your presence alone is enough to put the red-haired man at ease. To him, it doesn’t matter what you two are doing, as long as he’s around you then he’s happy. Maybe it’s the soft smile that forms on your lips whenever he comes around or the sound of your voice that winds him down? Whatever it is, he loves every bit of it.

Even when he’s working, there is a small thread of hope that you will step through the doors of Dawn Winery to spend time with him while he’s working on paperwork at his desk. Just the simple act of sitting beside him and talking about interesting tidbits of your day is enough to make his hard exterior crack, making him melt like wax in your hands.

Though he does like spending time with you in public, he prefers more intimate time with you to fully immerse himself in your company. During those special moments spent alone together, he can truly act like his authentic self, showing you his wonderful smile and his unbridled affection; placing tender kisses to your temple and running his fingers through your hair.

Diluc sees you as a sanctuary in a sense; a beacon of loving contentment. He won’t admit it but he always looks forward to coming home after a busy day to spend time with you, for you bring him an immeasurable amount of happiness. ♡

Xiao - Acts of Service

Being a Yaskha that only ever knew violence and the despair that follows it, Xiao feels very strange whenever you perform a kind gesture for him, such as making him almond tofu or taking time out of your day to write him a heartfelt letter. A part of him wonders what he did to deserve your kindness while another part of him relishes in the warm feeling that comes about your genial gestures.

Initially, he’s a little unreceptive of your affectionate acts, feeling suspicious and wondering if you have any underlying, malicious intentions. However, he gradually warms up to your generousness, feeling the corners of his lips slightly raise whenever you come around.

Sometimes, he will wonder what act of kindness you will perform next, though he doesn’t expect it from you. Feeling the need to return your benevolence, he eventually starts doing things for you, such as swearing an oath to keep you under his protection and inviting you to spend time with him. He is a little wary, however, since he knows his karmic debt can have an effect on you so he does keep a bit of a distance for your sake, which you understand once he explains it to you.

Deep down, he is very grateful for every single thing you do for him, though he doesn’t exactly know how to put his gratitude into words. Instead, he flashes you a rare, soft smile, along with a simple “thank you” as his cheeks dust a light pink. It really amazes him how a human like you can be so kind and warm to somebody like him; an adepti with blood-stained hands that slaughtered through his enemies without mercy.

Xiao holds much appreciation towards you for showing him genuine human kindness. If he could, he would give you the world, for somebody as loving as you deserves it. ♡

Please do not copy, steal, claim, or edit any of my work. If you would like to repost or take inspiration, please give proper credits or ask me beforehand, thank you! - starrybrujita 🧿

#GOINF CRAZY.. touch starved .. chikde …!.. z zz ))/?#childe #diluc #xiao #genshin

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usuimasu · 2 years

Text

sharp blade, soft heart

note from kin: i know i said on the gorou piece that everything upcoming was fluff, but it turns out i was lying. anyway in this one childe falls in love with the spirit of a long dead wandering warrior - very loosely inspired by the presence of the iwakura guys and ‘masanori’ in inazuma

this one’s kinda long, so strap in! it's also a bit of a fixer-upper in regards to plot tbh, but i like it even so

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn! reader, childe

pairing(s): childe/reader

warning(s): references to death, and also i still haven’t read up on childe’s actual lore so this is not canon compliant at all

genre: uh oh! angst time (not the devastating kind, more the ~yearning~ kind. man i really do love writing this sort of thing for tartaggle huh)

You first appear to him in the distant peaks of one of Snezhnaya’s coldest mountain ranges.

Childe is here on a self-imposed test of courage, one hand clutching the hilt of his sheathed blade, and the other trying to keep his hat from being blown clean off his head. The snowstorm has died down, but the wind continues to roar past his ears in great, howling gusts - it knows that he’s an intruder on this mountain, and it’s determined to blow him away.

If he hadn’t been looking in the right place at the right time, he probably would’ve missed you - but the sun is still high enough in the sky for him to spot your figure, standing there amid the stark white snow. At first he contemplates ignoring you, assuming you to just be another odd Snezhnayan about on their own business - but then he looks a little closer, and realises that you’re translucent.

Now that’s unusual...

“Who goes there?!” You bark as soon as he approaches, yanking his hat off his head and stowing it in his bag to leave both hands free. “I hear your footsteps!”

“Whoa there!” He raises his left hand as you abruptly turn to face him, and he sees the telltale glint of a notched arrow aimed his way. “Calm down, we’re all friends here.”

You narrow your eyes at him, fingers still poised at the bowstring. “You have a weapon.”

“So do you,” He points out in reply, though he does take his other hand off the hilt of his blade, and lifts that as well. “So, have you noticed that you’re see-through?”

“My arrows are not,” You growl, and Childe notes with mild surprise that you’re right. The weapon in your hands seems perfectly solid compared to the rest of your body. “I aim to kill. What are you doing here?”

“It’s a free estate, isn’t it?” He spreads his arms to gesture around himself. The wind immediately bites at his exposed torso; he quickly brings his arms closer to himself again. “No one owns the mountains. Anyway - isn’t killing a bit harsh? Why can’t you aim to incapacitate instead?”

You regard him with mild disdain, then very slowly and deliberately move your arrow to point to his groin. At this, his eyes open wide with horror - only partly exaggerated. “Oh, never mind, killing’s fine, killing’s fine…”

For a moment you don’t move, but then you sigh and lower your bow. “...I will not fire. I have limited arrows as it is.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Childe observes you for a moment, then continues, “Can we go back to the see-through thing, then?”

“We cannot,” You dismiss almost grumpily, then look him up ad down. He wonders vaguely if you’re checking him out. “...are you an able fighter?”

At this, he practically inflates like a pufferfish with pride, your translucency forgotten in a heartbeat. “Ha! Well, I’d like to think so! Why - are you looking for a brawl?”

You cock a brow at him, drop the bow, then quite suddenly unsheathe a blade of your own - for a second he thinks it’s come out of nowhere, then realises that you’ve deftly pulled it out from your left sleeve. He doesn’t even know how you were hiding it in there without it being noticeable, but… well, all he can think for a few moments is whoa, that’s hot.

“I have not had a good fight in a very long time,” You announce, pointing the sword at him. He notes its oddly thin blade - the style of blacksmithery doesn’t seem local. “Amuse me.”

“Heh…” He pushes down on that familiar rush of adrenaline that always comes with a chance to draw his weapon. “What’s in it for me?”

“A satisfying battle is its own reward,” You reply, and that’s enough to bring a grin to his face. It seems you have similar ideologies. “We will fight to disarm. I doubt you will be able to strike me directly, anyway… if you manage to survive the first five seconds.”

He unsheathes his own blade. “What makes you think—”

Next thing he knows, he’s lying in the snow and staring up at a cloud so white that it makes his eyes hurt a little. There’s a dull aching sensation in the centre of his chest - after some extremely perplexed thought, he realises that you’d slammed the hilt of your sword into him.

“The first moments of a fight are some of the most important.” You lean over him - against the sky, your face is barely visible. You’re shimmering, like some sort of desert mirage. “You can win in a flash if you simply make your move swiftly enough.”

“Wh—” He sputters in outrage, sitting up quickly - you don’t move back in time, and his head phases through your torso entirely. “—oh, that’s not nice…”

“I suppose not,” You observe as he hops to his feet, wearing a marginally disturbed expression. “You were saying?’

“Huh...? Oh, right!” He points at you accusingly. “You didn’t tell me the fight had started yet!”

“Will your enemies do you the honour of warning you before they strike?” You ask in reply. Childe opens his mouth, then slowly shakes his head in defeat. “...this should be common knowledge to you. It is the first rule taught by any master worth their salt.”

Now that he thinks about it, he has heard something along those lines before. It’s just that he’s usually the enemy striking without warning - not the one being struck. “...well, I’ll concede. I let my guard down. Will you let me fight you for real now?”

You respond with a deft jab of your sword. Had he not kept his grip on his own weapon even as he went down, he’d have been skewered in seconds - but, thankfully, he manages to deflect the blow. As you draw your blade back to your side, he takes several long steps back, cursing the snow obstructing his boots.

“Good reaction time,” You note, then suddenly aim a slash at him that he only just parries. “Hmm. Your technique is sound.”

“Yours isn’t bad, either,” He replies, shifting his stance and tightening his grip around his blade hilt as he prepares for an attack of his own. “This’ll be fun.”

It’d probably do him well to be less arrogant next time. He attacks with the same deftness of movement that has been more than enough to fell countless opponents before - each move calculated and swift, almost mechanical in their accuracy. But you counter each one by a hair’s breadth; it almost takes his breath away, the way you match his every blow.

It’s as if the two of you are engaged in some kind of deadly dance, set to the tune of clashing steel. Your expression is muted and flat; the only hint that you’re engaged in the battle at all is the subtle spark in your eyes. Childe, meanwhile, feels his grin grow wider with each passing moment, heart thumping louder and louder each time your blades cross.

The thrill of an equal opponent is such that, when you finally knock the blade from his hands and send it spinning into a nearby snowdrift, Childe can’t do much other than throw back his head and laugh. He laughs for a while - long enough that he’s sure you’ll think he’s gone crazy when he finally stops. But he just can’t help it! He feels too good!

“...you enjoyed the battle, I assume,” You say drily as his laughter finally dies down. “Was it worth it?”

“Worth it?” He brushes away a tear. “Oh, it was worth it alright. Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“I learnt a little from every nation I visited,” You reply mysteriously, stowing your blade back in your sleeve. “From the masters I met, and from the many defeats I encountered along the way.”

“I’d expect no less,” He sighs with a smile, trudging over to retrieve his fallen blade. “So where’ve you been ‘along the way’?”

“All over the world,” You say, sweeping your arm out theatrically. Then you pause, looking around at the snow, and frown. “...my journey was not supposed to end here.”

“No?” Childe looks you up and down. Your clothes are hardly suitable for Snezhnayan weather. “Well, it’s true you don’t look like you’re from around here...”

You follow his gaze, then scowl a little. “I assure you, this is not my usual attire. I was not wearing my armour when I passed.”

“Oh. Oh.” He should probably be more surprised by that, “So you’re a ghost, then?

“I prefer spirit,” You say grandly.

“Spirit, right. How did you die?”

“...straight to the point, I see.” You give him a look, folding your arms. “...a once-friend murdered me. I had assumed they were as honourable as they appeared… as you can tell, they were not.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, intrigued. “...care to elaborate?”

“I suppose.” You pause for a moment, then begin matter-of-factly, “They had a little green stone that they used to aid them in battle. They used it to create a plant of poison, and used it alongside another herb to brew me a sedative tea. I lost consciousness within minutes and died in my sleep.”

That’s an… unorthodox way to use Dendro. Childe feels his own Hydro Vision burning a hole through the pouch hanging from his waist. “...how long ago was this?”

You ruminate on this for a long while. “If I have observed the seasons correctly, then it should have been at least one hundred and fifty years by the next thaw.”

“One hundred and—” He chokes on an inhale, and has to spend the next minute or so doubled over coughing. Meanwhile, you just stand there and watch him with a mildly concerned look on his face. “...why have you stuck around for so long?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” You reply. Now that he thinks about it, the way you talk makes a lot more sense when he considers that you’re from more than a century ago. “I do not wish for vengeance. Even if I did, my once-friend will be long-dead by now.”

“Probably,” He agrees, then pauses. “...why did they poison you?”

“I won a precious artifact during my travels,” You say, a distant look passing over your face for a moment. “A beautiful goblet. I suppose they coveted it… or else I wouldn’t have watched them steal it from the pack strapped to my cold corpse’s back.”

Childe winces a little. He’s not afraid of death himself, but it’s odd to hear someone talk so casually of their own demise. Not least because you’re the first (and only) not-yet-departed soul he’s ever met.

“...well,” he starts, rubbing hesitantly at the back of his neck, “I hope I… made your afterlife a little more interesting.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. A transient smile passes across your face. “You did, indeed. You are the first person I’ve met since I passed.”

He feels an odd little throb in his chest. Sympathy, he supposes. “Does it get lonely?”

“Perhaps. It has been too long for me to remember the difference between isolation and company.” You pause. “...but I would welcome another visit, if you ever have the time.”

He offers you a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And so he does. At first, he only comes by sparingly - to have a word, and exchange a few blows. But then, more and more, he finds himself making the long trek, not just to fight you, but to see you again. He hadn’t quite realised how easy you were on the eyes the first time he met you; he hadn’t quite realised how soothing your voice was, either.

The cold stops biting as much soon enough, and the bracing exercise does wonders for his stamina. Which is a good thing, because the lengths of your fights are getting almost ridiculous… even though you always manage to best him in the end. That’s alright, though; it just means he can keep getting stronger. It helps that it’s really quite alluring when you smirk at him after yet another defeat, too.

He gets questions from the other Harbingers about his constant absences, most of them accompanied with ill-intentioned jabs questioning his loyalty. He ignores all of them - until he’s given a mission to complete, he’ll spend his free time however he likes, and at the moment he really quite likes spending his free time with you.

The only problem would be that it reduces the time he gets to spend with his family, but there’s a silver lining to that cloud, too. Soon enough into his series of visits, you begin to tell him stories - of the landscapes you have traversed, the battles you have both fought in and witnessed, and the endless amount of other lives that you passed through like a leaf on a stream. And those stories most certainly go down well with the kids back home.

It’s clear that, even though it was cut short prematurely, you still lived an impressively full life; even after almost half a year has passed, you don’t seem anywhere close to running out of experiences to recount. Childe’s grateful for that; his siblings have gotten so accustomed to having your thrilling tales relayed to them that, were he to go back to telling them his own poorly-improvised stories, they’d be extremely disappointed.

Childe himself enjoys your stories greatly, too. In fact, he’s hiding something about that - there is one story that he never re-tells to his family, that he keeps close to his chest like a precious childhood toy. He can’t quite put why he does it into words, but he keeps doing it, anyway.

And, out of the many you tell him, it’s only that story that he asks to hear again. It isn’t one about conquest and conflict, as would be typical of him, but a fairly mundane one about your time in the nation of Liyue.

In it, you speak of a distant peak in Minlin - Mount Hulao, which towers over the Huaguang Stone Forest, and is hell to climb if you don’t know where to put your feet. You describe the amber crystals - prisons of the purest colour, locking everything they incarcerate into an eternal stasis that lasts for as long as the stone remains unshattered.

Above all, though, you talk of the view - of cloud-shrouded peaks, distant blue waters, and rippling green grass. You talk of how the sunset would cloak the trees with the most vivid golden glow you’d ever seen, and of how the pale sunrise and chilled morning dew served as a far better wake-up call than the sound of an ambushing enemy. Rather unusually, your favourite time to go gazing on the mountain was deep in the night - at the right time, it’d seem like the moon and stars had cast a silvery shroud of gossamer over Liyue.

This, above all others, is Childe’s favourite story of yours.

He’d be lying if he was saying he was still paying complete attention to the words, though; rather, he likes to watch you. It’s when you describe that view that you look the closest to corporeal that you’ve ever been, when a true smile comes closest to actually lingering on your face. The sparkle he sees in your eyes then is different to the one he spots in the midst of a fight, and though the latter was bolstering enough to warrant several returns, he thinks that it’s the former that keeps him coming back to you now, over and over again.

Is it possible to love someone across so many years? He’s not sure - but he’s also not sure what other word he could apply to how it feels to be near you these days. And it’s not the sort of term that Childe throws around lightly, but somehow it feels right.

He’d never say it, of course. 'I love you’ - he can’t even touch you; he doubts that you’d believe him if he suddenly made that confession. But he thinks it to himself, practises whispering it into the night when he’s about to fall asleep, and shouts it silently - a thousand times for each smile that passes across your face.

Childe doesn’t do things by halves. Like his thirst for battle, his feelings are all-consuming, and sometimes it’s all he can do to keep himself from screaming with the intensity of it all. It’s such an odd thing, something straight out of a folk tale - to have fallen in love with a piece of the long-forgotten past. Those stories never end well, nothing that brings the living and the dead too close does… but Childe allows himself to dream.

In many of your stories about Liyue, you talk about a so-called adeptus who lives upon that Mount Hulao that you love so much - an adeptus named Mountain Shaper. Somehow you earned the honour of being able to call him your master for a short while, and it was he who gifted you the bow that you aimed at Childe when he first met you.

“It was buried by its first master,” You tell him, holding it out for him to take a closer look. “Mountain Shaper presented it to me just before I left Liyue, and I have wielded it since. It fires well, even if it is rusted. Perhaps you could learn to use it one day… after all, I have no use for it.”

“Sounds fun,” He agrees, reaching out, then pausing when his fingers pass straight through the bow’s handle. “...that’ll be a bit of an obstacle, though… and I warn you, I’m hopeless with anything long range at the moment.”

You don’t seem fazed. “Ah, the instrument is never as important as the one who wields it. As long as the bow you find is sturdy, it will serve well as a weapon - and, as long as you polish your craft, you will find your aim is true before long.”

He agrees with you then, but the topic never quite seems to crop up again after that day. The two of you fight with your respective blades, as always, and as always you send his flying away in the end. Somehow, though, the idea of finally being able to hold that bow of yours nestles at the back of his mind, and never quite leaves.

Maybe it’s because you don’t seem to place much sentimental value in your blade - at least, not nearly as much as you do in your bow. Maybe it’s because of the link it shares with your story about Mount Hulao. Or maybe it’s just a matter of principle - if he were able to touch the bow, he might be able to touch you, too.

Childe has grown soft, it seems. He’s let his guard down. He becomes too comfortable with you, too comfortable in your existence, too comfortable in this routine he has fallen into. He forgets himself and the position he has been given; a position that is flimsy as it is, recent as his appointment has been. He supposes that what follows is some kind divine retribution for forgetting his place.

Precisely two years to the day he met you, he finally bests you in battle. He doesn’t register it at first, but then he catches it - the shine of your blade as it’s flung skywards. In the sudden burst of excitement that follows, he doesn’t realise that your sword does not return to earth - it fades away in a cloud of mist and dust.

“I did it! I beat you!” He drops his own blade - it sinks into the snow with a muted thump - and pumps his fist in the air, suddenly feeling like a little boy again for the first time in years. “Oh, wow— I really have gotten stronger, huh?”

“You have, indeed,” You agree, and he realises you’re smiling at him - properly, without it fading within seconds as it always does. “Congratulations, Ajax.”

He feels an odd little shiver shoot up his back. It’s been a long time now since he told you his birth name, but he hadn’t expected you to suddenly use it so bluntly. “Well— it’s all down to you.”

“Perhaps.” Your smile is the brightest he’s ever seen it - but, for some odd reason, he feels his own falter. “Ajax - take this for me, would you?”

You’re holding out your bow. His smile truly drops at this; a cold sense of dread steals over him. “...what? You know I can’t touch it.”

“I have reason to believe that that might have changed.” You push the bow forward, and he takes a step back, hands held stiff by his sides. “...what’s wrong?”

He’s silent for a long while, staring at both you and the bow warily. The realisation had hit him as soon as he saw your smile, he thinks. When he speaks again, his voice is small - almost child-like. “...you’re leaving.”

“I don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” You chuckle, and he curses the fact that he can’t appreciate the sound. “Besides - I left a hundred and fifty years ago. It isn’t quite a recent development.”

“But you didn’t,” He says, and he hates how petulant he sounds. “You’re still here. You’re… you’re still with me.”

“I was never going to stay around forever, Ajax,” You say gently. “I died a long time ago.”

You reach forward again, with your hand instead of the bow, and this time he does not move away. When your hand meets his cheek, it doesn’t pass through it - for the first time, Childe feels your touch.

“You fight well,” You say gently. “And you’ve grown stronger.”

“There’s no point to it,” He mutters bitterly, fighting the urge to turn away. “I wouldn’t have bothered if I knew this would happen.”

You give him a stern frown“That’s a foolish thing to say and you know it.”

He looks at you. Everything rushes in on him so quickly that, for a fleeting moment, he feels as if he can't breathe. Something inside him aches, keens, whimpers - it wants to grasp your hand, hold on tight, and never let go. But... he can’t move. He can’t do anything but stare at you, drinking in your face greedily, as if he’ll never see it again - because he won’t.

Slowly, you draw away from him. He follows your motion; in that split second before your hand leaves his cheek, he thinks a million words - but he can’t find it in himself to say any of them aloud.

“It isn’t fair,” He murmurs finally, face crumpling. “We didn’t have enough time.”

“Of course we didn’t. It’s cruel - that I had to remain here for over a hundred years, and only spend two of them with you. But my time has always been stolen. You have to remember that.”

You hold your bow out to him again. This time, he doesn’t reject it. He only looks at it, then back at you. “...so this is it, then?”

“This is it,” You repeat back to him, and take a small step forward. “Take it. I know you will wield it well.”

He reaches forward, agonisingly slowly - hoping that, if he can drag this moment out for long enough, he can make it last an eternity. But time stops for no one; finally, his hand closes around its solid handle.

You smile at him, one last time. “Thank you, Ajax.”

The bow weighs heavily in his hand. Childe’s breath catches. All he can do is stand and watch you disappear.

Everything after that feels like an echo. He takes the bow back home with him, trudging through the snow, feeling the bitter cold for the first time in a long while. In the months that come, his fellow Harbingers question his sudden obsession with the weapon he’s neglected ever since he joined their ranks, but he has no answers for them. He only practises harder - until the string of your bow is as familiar to him as his own palms.

He goes back to keenly awaiting the next outpost to take, if only to avoid the too-familiar Snezhnayan snow. Eventually, a mission comes up - and he receives several disparaging looks from his fellow Harbingers when he practically jumps at the opportunity, but he couldn’t care less. Within a week, he’s on a boat bound for Liyue.

His first move upon arriving in the Harbour is not to scout around for info regarding Rex Lapis, as he was advised to do. Instead, he stops a passing local, and asks for directions to Mount Hulao.

The golden-eyed gentleman is detailed in his instruction, and kind in his warning about the adeptus who will surely strike this insolent human down for daring to enter his abode. Childe barely hears his talk of sigils and permissions; his mind is already set on one track, and by the time he sets off, the only thing he remembers is the route that has been dictated to him.

Funnily enough, he meets no obstruction on his way up the mountain. No crystal comes to swallow him up; no adeptus comes to smite him. Perhaps it is the presence of the bow that he has carried since the day he lost you, or perhaps it is something else entirely, but it seems Mountain Carver will allow him passage on the mountain for now.

It’s dark by the time he reaches the peak. He barely feels the exhaustion weighing down his legs - only the relief as he finally sits down, and breathes in the cool night air.

He looks out across a sea of mountain peaks, the tips painted silver by the moonlight, and smiles. The view is every bit as beautiful as you said it was.

#eating my own fist 💔💔 /pos #childe #genshin

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