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shioririn · 5 months

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Broken Dreams On The Ocean Floor - Rafe Alder X GN Reader

Title: Broken Dreams On The Ocean Floor

Rafe Adler X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Sam and Nathan (Mentioned)

Requested by Anon!

WC: 1,116

Warnings: Rafe is depressed, shaving razor mentioned (nothing bad), fire mentioned, Uncharted 4 canon violence mentioned, wounds/injuries mentioned, blood mentioned, hurt/comfort, Rafe needs cuddles, slight angst, and fluff

The razor gently scraped against Rafe's skin, as you shaved away the stubble on his cheeks. Rafe said nothing, completely despondent. His seafoam eyes were dull as he stared off into space. The only sound in the room was the occasional soft swishes of water as you cleaned the razor. You raised the razor once more, slowly, carefully shaving along his cheekbone, until it reached where the scruffy stubble met the smooth skin. You bit your lip, trying to concentrate on helping Rafe, but your mind wandered back to only a few hours before.

You could still remember the flames, they haunted you every time you closed your eyes. You remembered the heat, the smell of smoke, and the fear that had once paralyzed you. The sound of wood burning, grunting, and swords clashing filled your ears. With the ship burning around you, all that was on Rafe's mind was that treasure. It had consumed him, body and soul. Though Rafe had become even more short-tempered than usual, that didn't stop you from trying to get him off that ship before it was too late. His hand held the sword with a death grip, breathing heavily as you slowly walked towards him, even as Nathan tried to yell to you, to stop you, you ignored him. Standing before the man you loved, you told him to drop the sword, to come with you. And you were glad he did.

But now, having failed to retrieve his treasure, Rafe was, in better words, depressed. Everything he had done and worked hard for... Wasted away into nothing but broken pride and bloody knuckles. You understood how he felt, knowing how much Rafe had wanted this... Needed this. Though, you couldn't help but just be glad he listened to you and followed you out of that ship. For the briefest of moments, you had thought he'd go down with the ship, the treasure along with it.

Placing down the razor, you grabbed a fabric washcloth, dabbing away any shaving cream that remained on his now soft skin. You almost smiled, looking down at the man before you. But, Rafe just sat there, silently, his eyes remaining on the floor; a far-off look in his eyes. He looked so defeated, it broke you. You had never seen him like this. Your lips parted to say something, but you closed them, deciding against it. Taking his bloody hands in yours, you started the slow process of cleaning any and all of his wounds, making sure they were clean before you helped him into the shower, before helping him to the bedroom. Rafe sat on the bed, hair wet and dripping as you patted it dry with a silk towel. After, you fidgeted with the slightly damp towel, finally speaking up, "Rafe, darling, I'm going to shower. Do you need anything?" You asked, only to get nothing in response. You felt tears prick your eyes as you sighed sadly, wanting to do something for him, but you didn’t know what to do, or what to say… Turning back to the bathroom, you showered the smell of smoke off you.

Rafe was still where he was when you left him, he hadn't moved an inch. Adjusting Rafe's old college sweatshirt, your wet hair leaving small discolored spots in the wake, you wandered over. Sitting beside him, you stared at him. Rafe's lips were turned into a deep frown, and his brows were furrowed. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, but he looked so tired. After taking some time to study him, you decided to speak up again. "Rafe, honey, let's go to bed, alright?" He said nothing, and you tried again, "Please, my love, speak to me." You begged, but again, Rafe said nothing. You thought you saw a slight flickering in his eyes, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. Rafe didn't move.

Rafe lay in his bed, the plush and warm blanket covering his waist as he stared up at the ceiling as you brushed your teeth in the bathroom. You peeked out from behind the door, checking on him for the fourth time, before quickly spitting out the toothpaste foam and dropping your toothbrush in the small glass cup on the sink. Climbing into bed, you tucked your legs underneath you slightly, peering down at the love of your life with such concern. Rafe's gaze continued to be vacant, not focusing on you at all.

He lay, unmoving on the large bed, his breathing steady. You pushed under the blankets, before scooting closer and closer to Rafe, before pausing. Reaching out, you hesitantly placed your hand on his far shoulder, pulling him into you; his head coming to rest on your chest. You wrapped your arms securely around him, hugging him as tight but as gently as possible. Trying to somehow send all your love through him, hoping that it would break him out of his depressing trance, but you knew that wasn’t possible. This was no fairy tale. Stroking your fingers through his short hair, you whispered softly, your lips brushing his forehead, "I love you, Rafael... So, so much." He still said nothing. Shaking your head, you muttered, "I'll always love you..." As you continued stroking his hair, "You've worked so hard, and you did all you could." You nuzzled your nose into his hair on the top of his head, the scent of his natural musk engulfing you. "There will be other treasure-hunting adventures, I know it." You kissed his forehead, before adding, "We can make this work." Rafe's eyes still remained open, only this time half-lidded.

After a while of laying in the dark, your fingernails gently scratching Rafe's scalp as you hummed a soft tune, you finally felt movement. Pausing, you watched in shock as Rafe's hand rose, sliding across your waist and under your… His sweatshirt. His large warm hand pressed against your backside as he pulled you in even closer. You shivered as his warm breath tickled your neck, and you could feel him press his lips against your skin. His own little way of telling you that he knew... That he loved you too.

You sighed in relief, holding Rafe close to you as you closed your eyes, hoping sleep would eventually overtake you both. You hoped he wouldn't stay awake all night, worrying about what happened to his treasure. You hoped he would finally rest, after so many months of chasing after a dream. But, you knew that in the future, Rafe would find some other treasure to hunt for. You knew that whatever happened next, you'd do everything in your power to make sure Rafe would come out alive.

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shioririn · 5 months

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The Distance Between Us | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a realist.

Not only does he dislike wasting his time on idle thoughts and worries that are mere inconveniences, but he also preferred dealing with the problems when they surface. And with the current predicament that he’d left untreated for far too long, it’s finally time for him to have is dealt with once and for all - or at least until he manages to screw himself over once again.

The empty space that separates the both of you couldn’t have stretched any longer, nor could it feel any colder than it already is, but seeing the distressed expression on your face only served as the final nail in the coffin that he’d built for himself. If he had known that this would happen, he wouldn’t have stood watching as you ran off, not even attempting to call or check up on you when you needed him the most.

It truly is cowardly of him.

In the months that you’d known each other, you both acknowledges the flaws that each of you carry, but being the prideful people that you are, refused to admit to it until the damage has been done. While Kiyoomi is the one that refuses to allow anyone into his physical bubble, you, in turn, is the one that struggles to show emotional vulnerability, even if you needed to. This alone had caused a lot of friction between the both of you, yet you had left it untreated simply because neither of you had the courage to cross the line that separates you the most.

While some people would argue that distance would only make the heart grow fonder, Sakusa Kiyoomi wholeheartedly disagrees.

How could he agree when it was the same distance that now drove a wedge between the both of you, with the indefinite promise of reunion floating in the wind idly?

And when he’d signed the contract with MSBY Black Jackals without much hesitation, the distance only grew even larger as Kiyoomi packed his belongings and hopped on the first flight out to Osaka, leaving what little pieces pieces of his heart in his empty apartment behind. He reminded himself that it was better if he gave you the space you desired - it was not - and that you’d be fine because you’ll always be fine - you were not - so he left.

In hindsight, it was a terrible decision.

To leave you when you needed him, not signing with the Jackals, he repeated.

Komori calls him every Saturday morning to remind him, after all.

The way he ended things with you was less than pleasant, but he was also only seventeen and ignorant. Ignorant of feelings, and disregarding of yours.

You had always tried to communicate through light touches - he misses them - be it linking your pinkie finger with his when they brush past each other as he walks you home after practice, or the way he could feel you smile through the fabric of his shirt when he doesn’t recoil immediately when you hug him, and he wonders if you ever understood him through his eyes. He used to think that you did, but perhaps he was arrogant for assuming such, as the flinch you’d given him when those words left his lips were so foreign, and filled with even more hurt.

Perhaps there had always been a distance that neither of you could see.

He was only ten steps away from you when he met you again for the first time in five years, less, if he were to take larger strides. But unlike the last time he saw you, he harbored no nervousness; because unlike last time, you no longer looked at him like he was a stranger.

Five steps.

He could almost hear the sound of his own heartbeat thundering against his chest, and he swore that if he were to attempt to speak, his heart would jump itself out of his body, so he didn’t speak.

Four steps.

You held your gaze with his, unwavering, and wonders if his eyes have always held so many emotions at the same time. They seem to jump from uncertainty to hesitation, but you eventually found the one emotion that you’d been searching for since middle school, so you smiled, satisfied.

Three steps.

His palms felt sweaty, but he welcomes it, his finger twitching as if searching for the familiar warmth he’d grown accustomed to.

Two steps.

You resisted the urge to take the last step yourself, so you kept your feet planted where they are, although it didn’t stop you from turning the ring that sat on the ring finger of your left hand, a comforting gesture that you weren’t sure you’ll ever be able to shake off.

One step.

He reached out to cup your face with his hands delicately, as if afraid that you’d suddenly vanish right in front of his eyes, but you remained as you are, and he lets out an involuntary sigh of relief, one that you laughed airily at.

“Welcome home, Kiyoomi.”

Maybe what we’d perceived to be distant never really is, and all we needed was a little bit of courage to close the distance between us.

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shioririn · 11 months

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Blue | Mikage Reo

Mikage Reo used to have a vision.

A vision so red, even the slightest touch of blue would turn it into a beautiful lilac that matches his eyes.

He had dreamt for years that they’d make it to 28 years old, believed that their world so devoid of colour would eventually be painted with colourful memories that they’d create together. A world so saturated that the blue would be more than just tainted jeans, and that the grey in his eyes would no longer be the same dullness he’d grown to meet more often than he should recently.

Mikage Reo used to think that Nagi Seishiro was the blue.

Everything about him is blue - his hands, his towel, his dreams.

Perhaps he was naive about his Ride-Nagi-Or-Die philosophy, but it hadn’t always been that way. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to tell that they worked best when they are next to each other - and they were. They were at the top of their world, reigning like there was no tomorrow.

All that he’d done, he’d done it for them. For Nagi.

Then he decided that purple just wasn’t for him.

Reo wasn’t sure when it had all fallen apart at the seams, or when the touches of blue had turned into a dull grey, tainting the beautiful lilac into an ugly shade of ashen red. And when he’d finally realised, the stained pages had spread far beyond salvaging.

Mikage Reo is tired.

He’s tired of chasing after the shadow that was never meant to be held by him, of a blue that had long been greyed, a vision so distant it almost felt ghostly. Had it not been for the pages of their story, he would’ve thought that everything was nothing more than a blissful daydream turned nightmare - one that he was unable to wake up from.

Their future is so devoid of colour he wasn’t sure what it means anymore. What they mean anymore.

Everything about him is grey - his eyes, his smoke, his dreams.

They said he only smiled when the lights are on him, and once the curtain falls the slight curve of his lips does too.

But Reo wouldn’t know. He’d never know.

His emotions used to be that of an overflowing sink, but over the years of diluting by his own tears, they’re nothing but a distant feeling, unfamiliar and estranged. The saturation of colours in his pool of lilac slowly fading into the same grey that he once loved.

Nagi Seishiro is ripped at every edge but he’s a masterpiece.

That’s what his friends would whisper to him.

He supposed they weren’t too far off from what’d written in the tabloids, but Reo couldn’t bring himself to care as much as he once did. It was no longer his business. Not in a long time.

He’d torn through the pages and ink that once carried their dreams - his dreams - and it felt liberating, free.

Maybe he’s finally ready to let go.

Everything about him is blue - his words, his touch, his promises.

Nagi Seishiro is like a dog that wouldn’t stop running after his owner. He was painfully oblivious that it hurts to watch him chase after the same promise he’d broken.

Reo is covered in the colours being pulled apart at its seams, and he isn’t sure if he’d ready to let anyone back into his heart.

But Nagi had tried - relentlessly, desperately - to make up for the word he couldn’t say. They came spluttering out of his mouth, the words so foreign and so saturated it almost felt right.

But does he even know what they mean?

He was red and Nagi only like’d him because he was blue.

They ran side by side once again. He’d passed the ball that carried all his feelings to his first and last partner. The cheers of the crowd is wild.

The lights are on them once again.

A smile graces his face.

Nagi Seishiro had touched him, and suddenly he was a lilac sky.

#bluelock #nagi seishiro #mikage reo #bllk nagi #bllk reo #nagireo #blue lock #ngro #reonagi #nagi x reo #reo x nagi

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shioririn · 2 years

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💄 CONTRIBUTOR LINEUP 💄

Without further ado, please welcome the wonderfully talented creators who will be bringing this project to life!

💋 PAGE ARTISTS 💋

💋 MERCH ARTISTS 💋

💋 WRITERS 💋

Kou | Star | @shioririn | Ixcarus | Tofu

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shioririn · 3 years

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Happier | K. Doppo x I. Hifumi

We often think about how our life would be should it not be what it is - whether it be better or worse - and if we would be happier that way. People crave the life they don’t have, and for the most part, that’s what makes us unhappy and dissatisfied, unable to live life to the fullest.

It’s a funny little thing, fate is.

Izanami Hifumi used to wish upon shooting stars for himself to stop being ordinary - to be someone special, someone people would look up to - much like the red haired idol that he often saw plastered on billboards throughout Shinjuku’s streets. He wondered how it felt to be recognized for his own talents, and to stand out among the rest, having others supporting him despite not seeing it himself, and for that same reason, bringing smiles on people’s faces instead of frowning as he worked through long hours with despicable pay.

His name carried the meaning of “the one that’s loud”, so why did he feel so small and invisible?

Passing by the busy streets of the city who never sleeps, Kannonzaka Doppo couldn’t help but envy the blonde haired salaryman that seemed so carefree, casually enjoying a bowl of ramen by the many food stalls that decorated the bustling nightlife of a city, seemingly free of worries and pressure that everyone else had involuntarily placed on him. There were days where he missed the years where he was ordinary and blended in with the world, following its pace without fear that he’d be left behind; and when he’d traded it all for a life of fame and fortune did he realise how much he craved what he had.

He wanted to support those whom he felt loyal towards instead of having to put up a front for strangers to admire for fear that he’d lose sight of who he really was, and instead, wanted to surround himself with people that he could trust his life on, should it be only one person. How rare it was, loyalty is, in the competitive entertainment society of Shinjuku.

And while his name translates to walking alone, there was nothing else that he’d craved more than to never walk alone again.

They’d realised that life was cruel, unfair, and unjust, but maybe - just maybe - they’d have the chance to live a life that they desired in another life.

But for now, they were content with the life that they were destined with.

Crossing the busy street with loud chatter and busy nightlife seemingly muted, two shoulders brushed against each other, both belonging to people of opposite lives, yet neither of them were as dissimilar as portrayed, for both desired the same goal. The brief contact that resembled the touch of a butterfly on one’s shoulder symbolized the moment of a new start - a better start - that neither would be able to deny, intertwining their fate together by a red string, reeling each other closer.

From the moment blue met gold, both men of different worlds were freed of the chains that bound them to society’s expectations, breaking walls only to be met with a sight with nothing but hope for a brighter future. It was a beautiful sight, and they had only wished to preserve the precious smile that came with the end of each conversation, holding onto the warmth that only each other can provide as if that were the last thing they’d ever be able to experience, cherishing each second they had next to each other.

Distance melted away into nothing, and worries faded away into the rising sun, for to someone else, Izanami Hifumi had become more than just ordinary; and for Kannonzaka Doppo, ordinary. The equal footing that paced each other was what they’d been seeking their entire life, and to find it was a blessing of its own, as if the gods had heard their plea, granting them with the one wish, knowing that it’d complete them, bringing out the best of each other.

Maybe life wasn’t as unforgiving as they had thought after all.

And under the autumn sky where they’d first made contact, they’d spend their last together. Belonging together, in each other’s presence felt natural. Right. A dream that once seemed so far away and impossible was now within reach, touchable, and liveable as long as they never let go, believing in the promises that they made.

For even if the world were to end at that moment, they would be content, as when they have each other, they would only be happier.

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #hifudo #hifumi izanami #doppo kannonzaka #hifumi x doppo #hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic au #hypnosis mic izanami hifumi #hypnosis mic kannonzaka doppo #hifudo au #hypmic pain

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shioririn · 3 years

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A World Through Your Eyes | XingQiu

Delicately smoothing out the creases of the folded paper, the hydro vision wielder’s golden amber orbs scanned through each neatly written sentence as if they held the answers to the world’s questions, a soft smile gracing his features. While it wasn’t uncommon for him to receive private letters, the one in hand carried more value than all others combined, for it was from a faraway land, sent by the purest of heart, and foretells the journey of a dearest friend.

My dearest Xingqiu,

Travelling without you has always been lonely, but somehow, this time around, I couldn’t help but feel as if I’m more alone than I’ve ever been. And for some reason, falling asleep at night felt harder than it should, but knowing that you’re staring up at the same stars as I am puts me at ease, for even if the distance between us is far, I’m assured that you aren’t. At least, it doesn’t feel that way to me.

Ah, how he’d finally mastered the art of weaving plain words into that which conveyed one’s deepest feelings. The young exorcist had came a long way in terms of expressing his emotions - and for that reason alone, Xingqiu let out a quiet chuckle, knowing how hard it must’ve been for his blue haired friend to confess to them when he wrote the letter - but unlike the stoic self from his teen years, had grown to be more open and relaxed around him, where he’d lessened the responsibility placed on himself, accepting that it’s alright to let go once in a while.

Xingqiu could tell that he missed Liyue - missed his home - but it was inevitable that work required him to travel afar, often having to leave for months at a time. He understood better than anyone else how difficult it is to live a life they could call their own when they were bound by duties since birth, unable to venture beyond familial traditions. Chongyun had always been the more reserved one out of the both of them, accepting the duties as they are, but Xingqiu desired the opposite, seeking to venture into the vast Teyvat lands as his spirit seeked to soar outside the cage they called duties.

It has been a while since we were able to explore Teyvat as promised all those years ago, but I understand that current circumstances allow no such feat. Your duties will, of course, be of utmost importance, and I would dare not distract you from them, but I also couldn’t help but be worried for your well-being. Are you eating well? Resting enough?

As for myself, all is well. I arrived safely at Inazuma around dawn, and I speculate that you would have enjoyed the sunrise as much as I did. You’ve always been the one who dreamt larger between the both of us, so please allow me to show you through written words.

There was once a time where Xingqiu struggled to understand what truly goes on in Chongyun’s mind, for they differed from each other, personalities contrasting greatly, but he’d eventually came to accept that there was no need to do so, knowing that they are, in the end, more similar than they’d come to admit. Chongyun, too, once had a dream - to travel the world with his best friend - but alas, the real world is much smaller than he’d imagined, and childish dreams could only remain as such. Nonetheless, the promise to see the world together had remained strong even after time had nullified it, and while Xingqiu might not be able to experience it in person, he would do so through him. He’d once been the one to show him a world filled with vibrant colours, and it’s now his turn to do the same.

Inazuma, as far as I could tell, is much similar to that of Liyue, but knowing you, you’d argue that there must be regional specialties that differ from our hometown. And you’re right. I happened to come across this plant that the locals here call sea ganoderma - a genus of mushroom akin wood ear mushrooms - as I walked along the shores, their appearance immediately reminding me of you. Much like how I remember you to be, these plants are soft and blue in appearance, and even if I dare not taste it myself, I’m almost certain that they should taste exquisite if paired with the cold noodles that you love, even if they’re closer to the sea than the mountains that we are familiar with. Should time allow, I will do my best to bring back some fresh ganodermas for you to sample, and perhaps you’d find them as interesting as I do.

The air here is much cooler than that of Liyue’s, for the land is surrounded by the ocean, its breeze carrying subtle hints of saltiness, yet refreshing enough that’ll make you want to close your eyes and lose yourself to time. Decorated by exotic and brightly coloured sea creatures by the shore, and at dawn, the faint glow of fireflies that surround the terrain, the view here truly reminds me of a fantasy world from the books that you often read about. If only I was able to capture everything in a bottle to share with you, I would have done so. But alas, I can only relinquish such ideas.

He could see it. The same world that he’d always dreamed of.

With dainty hands reaching out to nothing and amber eyes fluttering shut as he recited the written words, Xingqiu could feel everything that had been described. From the soft and squishy texture of the sea ganodermas to the salty breeze, for one brief moment, brought him to a land where he could be true to himself. Not as Xingqiu, second son of the Feiyun Commerce Guild, but as Xingqiu, a boy who dared to dream beyond the limits, even if it was only for a fleeting second.

As I write this letter, I can’t help but look forward to when we’ll be united again. Perhaps when qingxin flowers blossom is when I’ll be able to return, but until then, do take care - not just for me, but also for yourself.

Folding the letter, Xingqiu slipped the parchment between the pages of his novel, where it rests atop the highest shelf in the room, next to the window of glaze lilies. Like the memories embedded in ink, his dreams too, would fluorescent into celestial fragrances that remind him that some dreams are worth waiting for.

With love, Chongyun.

#genshin impact #genshin impact xingqiu #genshin impact chongyun #genshin impact fluff #xingyun #genshin impact xingyun #Genshin #genshin xingyun #genshin xingqiu #genshin chongyun #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fic #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction

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shioririn · 3 years

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Polaroid Smiles | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Bright lights, snapping cameras, congratulatory words, and proud smiles.

Despite all that’s laid in front of him, Sakusa Kiyoomi couldn’t help but frown under his mask, for there’s a piece of him that remained empty. He, of course, knew of what’s missing - how couldn’t he? - but even with that, is mindfully aware that it’ll remain empty for the years to come.

He wasn’t used to the lack of a familiar greeting that awaits him when he turned the corner after his matches, nor would he ever get used to the lack of warmth that awaits him at home after a long day out, but it never stopped him from wishing that maybe - just maybe - he’d wake up from this nightmare and everything would be where it always is. He never did.

There are so many things that he wish he should’ve done, and now that he’d lost the chance to do so, he cursed at his decision for valuing pride over selfless love, knowing that you deserve so much more than what he’d offered. Reminiscing the times where you had skipped classes just to support him at his matches despite him telling you not to, or the times where you’d gently rub your thumb over his clenched fists to ease his anxious worries of germs touching him, Sakusa wasn’t sure if he could choose to let go of those memories even if he should.

He didn’t want to forget the person who encouraged him to be who he is today.

If only he’d spared you more of his time when you told him you missed spending time with him; if only he’d danced with you one more time before you walked out the door, never to look back; if only he’d treasured the late nights of him listening to your calming heartbeat; then perhaps you would have stayed a little longer.

He had always struggled to convey his appreciation through touches, but with you, they seem to come so easily. There never was the worry of closing the distance between each other because he knew that you’d patiently wait until he’s ready to take the courageous leap of faith, and that even if he couldn’t do it then, there was always tomorrow to try again. Until there wasn’t anymore.

The city that he’d grown used to seeing for the past few months hadn’t felt as distant as it did today, and without you by his side, it’s much colder than it should have been. An apartment that used to feel like home now felt like the house of an unfamiliar stranger that he’d intruded despite everything being in it’s rightful position - as it always has.

Perhaps it was you that made home feel like home.

Perhaps you were where home was.

It’s funny how before meeting you, he would have been perfectly content with solidary environments, but after being with you, he found himself missing the comfort of another person that he could rely on. With you, it was always alright to meet at the halfway point of where he’d comfortable with, moving forward at a pace where he’s able to thread on, and even if it would take a lifetime, you were willing to give him your patience.

But he gave you up hastily when fear overtook him.

Even with the three months that had passed, he still isn’t ready to tell you the words that he shouldn’t have to say. To see your smile one last time. To let go. To say goodbye.

You were the best thing that ever happened to him, and while it’s arguably said that he shouldn’t let your presence in his life define who he is, Sakusa refused to acknowledge it as it is, for had he not met you by the convenience store on the cold winter day all those years ago, he wouldn’t be where he is now. You had introduced a light that he didn’t knew he needed, and when you left, took it along with the broken pieces of his heart.

Love comes slow, but it leaves fast.

It wasn’t until he stood in the middle of a cold, empty apartment that he started to miss the warmth that came with you; to finally know what it is to love when he let you go. Everything in the space reminded him of you - and it hurt.

Having lost contact with you - save for the mutual following that remained on social media - no longer could he text you reminders not to miss any meals, nor could he hear your soothing voice ramble along about your day, but from what he saw through the phone screen - you looked happier. Much happier.

His MSBY teammates assured him that one day, he too, would feel the same, but Sakusa isn’t sure if he wanted to. You deserve to have a man that would treat you like a queen, and even if he couldn’t be the one to do so, knowing that you’d fall in love with someone else when his time was up, he would continue to wait. For you, he’d wait as long as he needed to.

Wherever that you may be, he hoped that you’ll keep smiling as you did in the photographs that are now kept away in a cupboard, left forgotten and sealed. And until he’d allow himself to let go of the strings that he’d tangled himself in, they would remain as is.

The only memory of who we used to be is pinned onto the wall, polaroid smiles of an old love being the only reminder that before who we are today, there was an us.

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shioririn · 3 years

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S-Shio-san, c-can I request for a Osamu Miya fluff where he gets all j-jealous🥺? And he gets all pouty and cute 😳👉👈 Thank youuuu♥️

- kuto

Of course! Please enjoy the story!~

[ 3 AM KISSES ]

Miya Osamu is restless.

There isn’t much that would bother the stoic man, but given that you’d been giving him less attention and more towards your phone - or whoever that’s on the other side - it almost felt as if you were growing distant from him despite being right next to him. Even so, you’d assure him that there’s no one else that you would run off to but him before landing a teasing kiss on his lips, one so chaste that he’d almost missed it.

He’s always been a patient man. But more than that, he trusted you to remain loyal as he is to you, so he’d painfully allow you to hang out with the senior from your old high school, even if it worried him. It isn’t so much as to you being the one he doesn’t trust in, but you’re beautiful, and that alone is enough to be a worrying factor that maybe your senior would take a liking to you.

“There’s no way senpai would like me in that way. He’s not the type of person to do so,” was what you told him.

Rather reluctantly, Osamu ended up letting you go despite his own insecurities, for he couldn’t bear to see your excited expression drop at the prospect of not being able to meet up with someone whom you’d admired for years. But that didn’t mean that the five hours of the house being vacant of your presence, the mere lingering scent of your perfume on his sweater being the only proof that you’d been in his arms before leaving, was any easier to bear. It was torturous, but he remained patient.

And when you’d finally come stumbling through the front door of your shared apartment, red faced and all, he finally allowed himself to let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t even aware that he’d been holding in.

You were back home. You came back to him.

“You’re awfully clingy today,” you commented lightly, snuggling closer into his chest. “I like it.”

Humming distractedly, the ash haired male only responded by tightening his hold on you, chin resting comfortably on your shoulder. He wanted to ask about your outing, to know if you had fun, but part of him knew that it’s his selfishness talking, wanting to know if your senpai had treated as respectfully as you always told him.

But most importantly, he’s jealous.

Osamu is jealous of how another man had your attention. He’s jealous of how easily you could smile at another man the same way you do to him, to make their hearts beat as fast as his does every time he laid eyes on you.

During nights where you would stay up late, working on a big research of yours left the bed that you shared cold, empty, and incredibly lonely. For the same reason, Osamu would have a harder time falling asleep without the familiar warmth in his arms, craving for what little time that you could spare him. But during rare nights like this, where you’d fill the space that’s usually left vacant, to him, are treasured and savored slowly, knowing that you wouldn’t always be there.

Your outing that evening still left him a little winded, but as long as you’re here with him, he wouldn’t feel as agitated. Or at least, that’s what he’d mumbled out.

“So you are jealous.”

Shaking his head in denial, you could feel his hair tickling your neck as he shifted the position to one where you’re now facing him, an embarrassed whine escaping his lips when you laughed at his obvious refutation despite his red ears giving himself away. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking when he turned you around, but perhaps all he wanted is for you to see how desperate he is for your attention, and maybe - just maybe - you’d give him more.

“You know I only love you,” you murmured, delicate fingers tracing over his vulnerable features. “You and no one else.”

He knows. He always knows.

But having heard your verbal affirmation, he could finally unclench the knot that has been tying around his heart for the past few hours and allow himself the luxury of indulging in your addictive kisses. For all he knew, he could wake up to an empty bed, with you leaving for your morning commute before he’d gotten up like you always do, returning to the routine of work, only to catch a brief glimpse of you when you’d return late at night. So yes, he would do everything he could to relish in the blissful moment.

As the clock on your nightstand hit 3 a.m., you leaned in for a final kiss before sleep blanketed the both of you, an unspoken promise of a better tomorrow being the last thought on your mind.

“Good, because you’re mine.”

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu miya osamu #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x #haikyū!!#osamu fluff #ShioWrites

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shioririn · 3 years

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Beautiful in White | Iwaizumi Hajime

Iwaizumi Hajime had always thought that the color white looks best on you.

Having met you when he was 7 - and you, 5 - it was what he could now proudly admit that it was the best thing that could happen to him. The memory of you approaching Oikawa and himself all shyly at the park that he’d often spend time hunting stag beetles is one that he would never trade for anything in the world, for the way you carried yourself with such purity and innocence was a sight of its own.

The next time memory he treasures is that of the time when you wore a white floral dress, a sloppily made flower crown sitting atop your head, as you attempted to say his name for the first time. With the slightly complicated syllables in his name, you naturally had a hard time pronouncing it correctly, a childish “Iwaichumi” escaping your lips as your brows furrowed in concentration, tiny hands clutching onto the hem of your dress.

And while he’d corrected you, you never did get it right, resorting the mispronunciation of his name sticking around as a nickname for the next three years. Had it been anyone else but you calling him that, his expression would immediately scrunch up at the unfamiliarity, for the name itself has become one reserved for you alone, and to hear it from another person simply is unfamiliar, foreign.

At age 11, Iwaizumi declared that he wanted to protect you. But with his weak arms, he knew that it wouldn’t be enough so he made sure that he would do his best as such that he’d be strong enough for you to rely on him. No longer would you have to cry alone like you used to, for he’d make sure that there’s always a place for you to return to when you felt as if the whole world is against you, a shoulder strong enough to carry the weight that you’ve been burdened to carry since birth, and arms safe enough to catch you when you fall.

Just so he could see your carefree smile one more time.

At age 17, he knew that his love for you is endless. You’d became someone so dear to him that just the mere thought of losing you had his chest constricting impossibly tight, so he made the promise to make you the happiest girl in the world. And he delivered the best he could.

The hands that enclosed yours never felt so safe, so warm, that you couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend. What the both of you shares is timeless, a love so strong it could move mountains, floating in a sea of serenity, with nothing but strong faith and simplicity holding it up. Your love for him is one and the same as what you are - sincere and perfect - much like the color that you adore.

At age 20, he broke his own promise. Not only did he fail to stop the same bitter tears from escaping your eyes, but he’d also been the same person that tainted the white canvas. And despite wanting to hold you in his arms to console you, he knew he’d lost the right to do so.

Watching you let go of the hands that you once sought comfort from, Hajime could feel the acid in his stomach, burning away at his insides, but nothing pained him more than the look of utter defeat you’d left him as your presence in his life faded into nothing.

From then on, the color white would never mean the same to him ever again. With nothing but cold isolation surrounding the same color he once revered, Hajime wasn’t sure if there would be a day where he’d fall in love with it once more, as he had never felt such emptiness before.

At age 23, he saw you again. Now working as an elementary school teacher alongside Sugawara Koushi, still looking as beautiful as you did when he last saw you, a thousand emotions flooding him at once, sending his mind into a blank slate. When you offered him one of your sweet smiles, he knew that you’ve all but forgiven him for the past. When you cupped your dainty hands on his face, it only assured him that you’re willing to take another step forward towards a new beginning - together.

This time, he promised to never let you go as easily.

18 years later - today - he saw you in white once more. But instead of the childish innocence that you once held, you now dawned a different light - one of maturity and humility.

Red rose petals rained down on you with each step that you took, a long satin train trailing behind as the diamonds on your gown glistened with the refracted light from large panels of stained glass, basking you in a glow that almost seemed ethereal. And as his olive green orbs met with yours, he no longer saw the doubt that used to be there, only certainty and hope for a future you’ve always dreamt of.

In the very moment that you’d finally closed the gap between each other, he was reminded of the first time he met you. Reenacting a similar scene, but this time as two people who found meaning in each other. You are his reason to keep protecting, and him, your reason to keep believing.

With all his heart he mean every word, sealing the new promise of cherishing you for as long as you live.

You truly do look beautiful in white.

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shioririn · 3 years

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Starlight | Childe/Tartaglia

Childe is a complicated man.

In all of the years of knowing him, you have yet to find a word that perfectly describes the eleventh Harbinger. And while there probably is an answer to your frustration among the hundreds of books in the library of the Knights of Favonius, you doubted your ability to patiently flip through every page just to satisfy a curiosity that only popped up ever so rarely.

You were eight when you first met the Snezhnayan. Having been separated from your father, you’d waddled around the unfamiliar city with tear streaks staining your cheeks, tiny hands hugging a worn down orange fox plushie close as if it were your lifeline. Growing up as a rather sheltered citizen of Liyue, you never had the chance to explore the outside world, and the first time you did, it was then, where you found yourself face to face with an outstretched hand that belonged to a young boy with kind, blue eyes.

Ajax was who he introduced himself to be.

As a young and curious child, the idea of adventures never failed to tempt you. And when he had told you about his dreams of exploring the world outside of the small town that he grew up in, fantasizing about a dream that he’d work hard to achieve, you had decided then that it would be your dream too. It’s a rather simplistic way of thought, but to a child who only wanted to find their own path, desperate for a direction, the bright energy that he emits is alluring, tempting, and gravitational.

Born a warrior at heart, you’ve always known that his thirst for power could never really be satiated, and as his dreams grew bigger, the orange haired hydro user only stretched further away from your reach. You knew that he’d always been stronger than you, more capable than you, and wilder than you, but as he let his intuition guide him towards a far brighter future, you could only trail behind him as best as you could in fear of being left behind.

“I’ll show you a sight you’ve never seen before,” was the first words that left his lips when he returned, coaxing you into following his footsteps with sweet promises that he wasn’t even sure he could hold up to.

When you were eighteen, you knew him as Childe.

Resting your head against his shoulders with fingers intertwined with gloved ones, you dared yourself to dream a little, for the view that you shared from that rooftop was spellbindingly pulchritudinous that you’d momentarily forgotten how cruel the world around you was. During the time when you’d abandoned the comfortable life that you knew, you had already decided to throw them away for the promise of a larger adventure.

And while you worked hard to chase after him, you were only chasing after a light that’s slowly dimming, a path that would further stain your hand with red and taint your soul with sin - all for a taste of momentary bliss. Gone was the childish innocence, and in its place, is replaced by a darker gravitational mystery radiance that the Harbinger is well versed with.

The real world is much smaller than what you’d imagined, but he’d somehow managed to enlarge it enough to keep you by his side.

You’d long since forgotten what it felt like to live life on a slower pace, as you’d been too busy running before you learned how to walk, unwilling to be left behind by your own incompetence. Many times he’d attempt to keep you away from being harmed by the whirlwind of chaos and havoc that he’d rile up, but stubborn as you are, only stood your ground, proving to both him and yourself that you’re capable of holding your own.

“You’re doing so well,” he had praised.

When you were finally able to keep up with him, standing in toe as he is, you knew of him as Tartaglia.

Far more dangerous than he’d ever been before, the light in those beautiful blues has now faded into dull sparks of mischief that you’re unfamiliar with, hardships reflecting off of his orbs if you looked closely, though skillfully hidden with newfound solipsistic pride. To others, he’d come off as recklessly self-confident, but to you, all you could see is man of solitude sacrificing his all for a family that he had to leave behind.

Ah, but he loves his family so.

With each letter and gifts that you’d see him send, the longing for home in him only grew. And when you’d raised your concerns one night, a sad smile was all he gave as a reply before diverting the subject. Even in front of you, he’d forgotten how to be honest with his own feelings.

“I’ve always been home,” was the only assurance that you had received that night.

As intricate as he is, and as many names the public know him as, none of them could perfectly sum up who he is. For he’s all, but also none.

But in the end, it didn’t matter which name he went by, because he’s still the same Ajax that you grew to fell in love with back when the world you knew was made up of wispy dreams and dazzling starlight.

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shioririn · 3 years

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A Bachelor’s Button | Semi Eita

A Semi Eita fanfiction

Strangers to lovers

Slow burn

An actual long fic

Expect: tears, fluff, potential heart pain, angst, probable increase of knowledge regarding plants

00 | Prelude

The language of flowers is universal.

It didn’t matter if you were to be stranded in a new country, or if you were too shy to express yourself verbally, nature always speaks. Dating as far back to the Victorian Era, flowers were used as a common method of expressing and communicating one’s thoughts, and with what you’re well familiar with, it expresses deep feelings that one might have trouble admitting out loud.

Albeit short lasting, the beauty of flowers have lingering presences that never really leave even after their physical presence is no longer in reach. And like the touches of nature, is undoubtedly personal.

But Semi Eita has never been one to care for the smaller things in life.

While the setter doesn’t hold any particular disdain towards others’ hobbies, he doesn’t bode well with treating most matters with care, let alone take the time to patiently nurture a plant whose only purpose is to provide oxygen and look aesthetically pleasing. To him, it lacked excitement, and therefore, is pointless to pursue.

You would argue otherwise, of course. Given that flowers are delicate, you saw it to be similar as the volleyball player you’d see practicing in the gym every Tuesday. It’s a somewhat questionable comparison, yet you found it fitting, for despite his harsh nature, you couldn’t help but notice the loneliness that crept up from underneath his tough exterior.

It isn’t your place to say anything, that much is for certain, but you hoped that the blonde haired setter would one day find what he’d been missing.

As the colder season approaches, the paths of a certain pair would slowly grow to intertwine, and perhaps by the time spring came by, white jasmines would blossom, branching out into a beautiful start of a story between two strangers.

Fact of the day:

White jasmines (Jasminum polyanthum) are fast climbers with the growth span of 20 to 30 feet (around 6 to 9 meters) and a strong and unforgettable scent. The blooming of these flowers are from spring to autumn, with its typical color palette ranging from cream to yellow. They’re known to symbolize purity, innocence, and respect.

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shioririn · 3 years

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Eyes on Me | Bokuto Koutaro

Bokuto Koutaro wasn’t sure when he’d started to fill the silence in his head with a boisterous and loud personality, but looking back at it, didn’t necessarily feel wrong. He remembered his younger years being that of ordinary, and craved to be someone that’s more than just himself, and perhaps that also contributed to the first change of his personality.

Gone was the quiet and insecure little owl fledgling, and in it’s place, an outgoing and playful owlet with an unshakeable love for volleyball.

He never minded the names people would often call him behind his back when during his years in middle school, because that had meant that they noticed him. And he was alright with it... right?

But beyond that, his outspoken personality had finally caught your attention and you’d finally look at him with your mesmerizing (e/c) orbs, so to him, it was worth it. He liked your attention to be on him and him alone, but somehow, branched out to be a greedy desire for more - to have you cheer on him with every spike he’d make.

It didn’t matter to him whether or not everyone else has their eyes on him when yours isn’t among the crowd, because in the end, yours is the only one that matters the most. The way your eyes would light up in fascination whenever the ball would be passed to him and when he’d scored was all too satisfactory, and it only pushed him to keep scoring, if that meant that he’d get to see you being mesmerized by him.

Despite never managing to master the courage to approach you despite his outgoing nature, having your attention fixated on him is more than enough.

When he’d moved up to being a second year in high school, Bokuto grew to be restless. Restless for more than just faraway attention. And when Akaashi Keiji had joined the team as a starting setter, he’d had his first taste of bitter jealousy when your eyes no longer followed him, but rather, the curly haired newbie.

It was a silly thought, of course, but he couldn’t help it, and it felt as if he’d lost everything all at once despite never really having it in the palm of his hand in the first place. You were now closer than ever, yet so far away that it almost felt unreachable, mocking him in such a way that could only be described as unnecessarily cruel.

How unjust.

All those hours that he’d spent perfecting his spikes almost felt wasted, as it could no longer fascinate you, and despite managing to secure a spot as one of the top 5 aces in the country, it wasn’t enough. Yes, Akaashi’s sets were one of the best he’d received, and that he truly loves volleyball with all his heart, but it wasn’t enough to shake off the sour taste in his mouth whenever he would see you happily engaging with the setter.

He couldn’t blame you for not approaching him as casually as you do with Akaashi, given that he’d never once spoken to you nor made any moves to, but the heavy feeling never left, and the grey haired male wondered if it will ever. He wouldn’t stop you from being friendly with others, but there was no denying the one, tiny part of himself that wanted your attention to be on him and only him.

Selfishly so.

And when you’d started showing up to the team’s practices did he finally agreed to accept that maybe - just maybe - you would continue to watch him just as you did a year ago. You never placed your name down as a manager, but you’d given the team so much care that it almost felt like there is a third manager encouraging them.

Your attention had been divided, but it still felt warm to have you around him. Unsatisfied as he is, the captain would never raise his complaints, for the insecurities that he has when he was younger would constantly resurface. What if you’d thought of him as annoying? Would you still give him the same amount of attention as you do with Akaashi as you playfully ruffled his curls like a sibling would?

Oh.

A platonic sibling-like relationship.

Heavy weights lifted off his shoulders almost instantly at the realization, where he could breathe normally now without feeling needles pricking at his heart every time he inhaled. Noticing his distraught expression that marred his handsome face, you let a tiny smile slip out.

It seems like he’d finally figured it out.

From then on, you made sure to continuously support the owl haired teen, going as far as to rewarding him with yakiniku bentos after morning practice, and occasionally during lunch. And with each passing day, you only grew fonder of the volleyball player. You never minded the loud greetings from across the hallway, nor do you mind the surprise bear hugs from him, as you’d never seen him so energetic without having to put up an exaggerated front.

Passing years flew by faster than the both of you could count, and before he knew it, he’d grown past the stage of reliance and insecurity, now sprouting large wings that could carry both himself and his team. Ever since you’d walked into his life, his life has never been the same. With silent support in step with him, Koutaro knew that it’s time to leave the encouraging front he’d build for himself all those years ago, for there’s no need to stand out when he already stood out to the most important person in his life.

Maybe there’s no longer a need to fill the silence he loathed so much with loud voices anymore.

Maybe it’s alright to be ordinary again.

Bokuto Koutaro is satisfied with who he is today, and while it still felt nice to have all those eyes on him when he’s on a larger court, it didn’t hold as much importance as it did then. Because among all those eyes, only one pair mattered the most.

So please, keep your eyes on me.

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shioririn · 3 years

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Butterfly Touches | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Touches from a loved one are precious.

And with Sakusa Kiyoomi, it’s particularly rare.

Not one for physical affections, the curly haired male often struggle to express his feelings without coming off as harsh or rude, thus limiting the circle of those he consider as safe to interact with at a closer distance. His mysophobia separated him from many, yet you’d been so determined to befriend him that you eventually managed to weasel your way past his bubble, where you’d then grew to become an important piece in his life.

Being with him is a challenge of its own, as for the most part, he’d come off as distant, yet you’d gotten used to reading him that it never bothered you too much. Even then, there are still days where you’d worry that he’d grown disinterested in you, which would explain the passiveness, yet you still continued to place your trust in him.

Kiyoomi is as straightforward as one can get. And if he wanted to end your relationship, he would just say it - right?

The relationship that the both of you share always seem to fall into the category of a grey area, as there never really is a solid black or white when it comes to expressing his feelings. You know he loves you, that much is clear, but is that love strong enough to keep you from leaving? Are you satisfied with what you currently have?

He didn’t know. And he’s scared to find out the answer when he sat you down that evening, long fingers fidgeting nervously and picking at the drying patch on his left hand that came about from over-washing, unsure of how he’s supposed to initiate the conversation. The could almost hear the pounding of his heart with how loudly it’s beating, but he still refused to look at you.

It was hard. How could he look you in the eye and reassure you that the love he has for you is still as strong as ever when he couldn’t even bring himself to hold your hand in public for a few minutes? He blamed his inability to physically express his care on the disorder, but he shouldn’t - he knows he shouldn’t - and he should do something about it before you slip away.

Were you about to yell at him? Break up with him? Look at him with disgust? He couldn’t tell.

“Kiyoomi,” you started, turning to face him completely, but respectively kept your distance. “I- this has to end.”

There it is. The four words he’d been dreading to hear.

You’d finally had enough. The curly haired volleyball player just knew that there was no way he could salvage what little hope that’s left once the words left your lips. He couldn’t breathe.

His could feel his lungs contract and his heart being squeezed so tightly that he was certain he’d drop dead any moment now, wishing that he’s anywhere but there so he could curl up into a ball and become one with the walls that’s surrounding him. With thoughts racing faster than germs can spread, the only one that stood out was regret.

Regrets that are probably too late to atone.

He recalled all the times you’d attempted to bring up a topic regarding your relationship and all the times he’d evaded from them, the silence that follows and the disappointment that glazed your eyes now serving as a haunting nightmare playing repetitively like a broken record, taunting him. He should’ve listened, let you speak your mind, but he hadn’t done so. And he’s now reaping what he sowed.

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me know what’s bothering you.”

What?

With all the built-up and unnecessary worries, you were only attempting to help him. He felt like an idiot - an overthinking, empty headed idiot.

And before he could stop himself, he’d teared up. You’d been so unbelievably patient with him that it almost felt unreal, that maybe you were playing a joke on him this entire time. But you weren’t.

Your week had been clouded with worry for the ace spiker when he’d been quieter than usual, but was unsure of whether or not you should bring it up in fear that you’d overstepped your boundaries. Seeing him break down right now only served as a punch to your gut as this was the first time he allowed himself to be weak in front of you, and you felt helpless, knowing that you couldn’t even reach out to give him a reassuring hug.

So he did it instead. With trembling arms reaching out to clutch at the fabric of your uniform, he allowed himself to bask your hesitant embrace. He wasn’t sure if what he’s currently feeling is fear or excitement, but when you’d finally wrapped your arms around him, there was no denying that it was neither.

He’d never been more relieved to know that you still cared enough about him to raise the same worries you’d been carrying because of his selfish attitude, and it felt good. Registering that this was the first time the both of you have truly touched, he let himself remember such an unfamiliar yet welcoming feeling.

Warm. It felt warm.

Since then, he’d opened up to your more, through both his words and action. Albeit not much, the ace did his best to convey his thoughts with small gestures on days where he could manage, and you respected it when he couldn’t. He’s trying, and that’s what matters the most.

Like the touch of a butterfly, Kiyoomi’s is much alike - gentle, soft, and uniquely his.

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shioririn · 3 years

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Photogenic | Suna Rintarou

Memories.

Made up of little, tiny snippets of moments in one’s life, memories are considered to be of high value, much less, important to an individual. Should it be good or bad moments, those are what makes up a more complicated play of cinematic records, linking each and every one of them to an emotion, hence why it’s so special.

Suna Rintarou is no different.

Valuing evocations of the little things that pass him by on a daily basis, the fox eyed male would naturally, want to keep a physical keepsake rather than having it memorized - prompting the habit of recording to develop within. With the volleyball team, he treasures the little banters between the Miya twins as they are often - if not the only - interesting subjects during long practice hours that he found to be disinteresting.

He isn’t arrogant by any means, no, but the middle blocker merely found life to be too short to waste over trivial matters. What good would it do him if he’d waste his high school years taking an extracurricular activity so seriously without a dose of fun?

With that thought in mind, it’s quite naturally, to everyone’s surprise that the second year would have his interest captured by the president of the debate club.

If he’d wanted easily entertaining subjects, the twins on his team would be more than sufficient, yet the quiet male had chosen one that’s outside of his comfort zone, and of a grade higher than himself. You were by no means hard to get along with, as you got along well with the majority of the student body, but there was something about the younger brunette that made it particularly hard for you to adjust to.

Perhaps it was the way his grayish yellow eyes would sparkle with a glint of slyness whenever you’d get riled up over his teases that bothered you to no end; or perhaps it was the reliable presence he’d unconsciously give out that you couldn’t really deny whenever he’d pop up during days where responsibilities overwhelmed your tiny shoulders, with the ending being you spilling out your worries as the both of you munched on jelly fruit sticks by the hillside while the setting sun watched over your silhouettes - but you’d grown to enjoy his presence. And you thought that he did as well, for never once did he complain, allowing you to talk his ears off until you’d eventually huff and give up on empty complaints.

He never told you, nor would he ever have the courage to admit such an embarrassing feat to anyone other than himself, but of all the memories that he’d collected, those with you are the ones with the most value. The little blushes of embarrassment and polarized personality is what he liked best, and while you no longer carry an air of temperament around him, as it had been replaced with warmth and familiarity, you are just as easy to rile up currently just as you did six months ago.

And he wouldn’t wish for any change.

He’d found out that you aren’t good with cameras, but is ironically, extremely photogenic, for never did he once fail to capture your beauty, through both the lenses of his cellphone camera and his eyes. He’d always known you as the senpai with pretty hair and helpful nature when he’d first enrolled into Inarizaki High, your Kansai dialect sticking out from among the student body despite everyone sharing the same dialect, but he hadn’t grown the courage to approach you back then, only recently doing so when he could no longer ignore the weirdly anxious feelings that only surfaced when you were around.

You’d always been oddly polite when speaking to everyone else, and he wondered if you would be any different if he were to poke at you.

Since then, your entire relationship was built on lighthearted banters, and neither of you would trade it for anything different. He appreciates the way you’d do your best to keep up with his foxy nature, and you appreciates his quiet company on long days, essentially balancing each other out where it’s needed.

Very rarely would you be able to watch his practices, but you’d always watch the official matches, rewarding him with the Chuupet sticks that he loves regardless of the outcome. He’d often try to sneak a few pictures of your reddened face as you held onto the snacks as if your life depended on it, which would result in an even more embarrassed you with your weak attempts of deleting the images.

It didn’t matter to him whether or not you’d end up deleting the expertly taken candid photographs as he’d already had you memorized, but it didn’t hurt to have a physical keepsake of it as well. It was a shame that you’d waste your photogenic talents like so, but little moments like these were rare and reserved for him alone, and Rintarou found no need to complain.

To him, being able to create memories with you is enough.

He wouldn’t dare wish for more in fear that you’d slip through his fingers, but he had a feeling that you’d be staying around for a while. At least, that’s what you had hinted. But he’s satisfied as it is, as you’d somehow managed to weasel your way through to his heart and made a mark of your own on him.

Like the lenses of his camera, Suna Rintarou would make sure that your photogenic beauty is captured the same way it’s presented, for you are the one memory he’d be sure to treasure forever.

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shioririn · 3 years

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Redamancy | Iwaizumi Hajime

Redamancy. An act of a love that is returned in full.

Something that Iwaizumi Hajime is much unfamiliar with.

Being a man capable of many skills, the one skill that he’d always be proud to flaunt - if he ever did - is his ability to give. To be able to constantly give without expecting anything in return is what made him, him. With his family, he’d give his life; with his schoolmates, he’d give his kindness; with his teammates he’d give his care; with his close friends, he’d give whatever they asked of him; but with you, he’d give you the stars.

He first heard of you from Oikawa Toru, when you’d shamelessly march up to the setter, red faced and trembling like a leaf, with a bag of volleyball shaped cookies decorated plainly, much unlike the many gifts he’d received in the past. But before he could assume anything, you’d mumbled out quiet sentences that he could barely make out, the only words he’d managed to gather being ‘Ace’. ‘Iwaizumi-senpai’, and ‘great’.

Then it hit him.

You liked his friend. His angry, Godzilla haired, exclusively abusive best friend.

But with your timid nature, couldn’t for the life of anything, give him the cookies yourself, and instead, chosen the most approachable one out of the entire team to engage with. He’d let out a laugh at the realization and reached his free arm to pat your head, resulting in more embarrassment on your part, with the promise that he’d have them delivered for you.

And he did.

By the end of their lunch break, Iwaizumi had came back to find the exact same bag sitting on his desk, a confused frown resting on his handsome features for the rest of the day. Much threatening had to be done in order for Oikawa to finally spill the tea, and that was when he’d first felt an unfamiliarly warm feeling brewing in his chest, but not unwelcomed.

He remembered you, of course.

You were the second year underclassman of his that he’d often see watching practices, if there were any, and the same kouhai that he remembered helping once when he visited the library a few weeks back. It was a surprise that you’d shown your thanks through such unusually distant ways, but at the same time, wasn’t as you weren’t the most talkative one of the lot.

Since then, he’d made it a duty to help you out whenever he saw you struggling to carry the stack of exercise books in the hallway, and you’d reciprocated by making him light snacks for practice. So often so that the both of you had fallen into an unspoken routine, looking out for each other in your unique ways. It isn’t something unwelcomed, and neither of you voiced out any complaints so the gestures remained.

But of course, the mutual reciprocation didn’t stop there, as it slowly grew from something platonic to something more. And it didn’t take long until it bloomed into fuzzy feelings of love by the time summer came.

No longer did you watch his practices from a distance, but from the manager and coaches’ benches instead; no longer did you have to hide your concern whenever you’d watch him tend to the rarely attained minor sports injuries, but is able to patch him up yourself; and in return, he’d sit through long nights with you as you struggle to complete your English homework, helping you complete them; and when you couldn’t decide between which succulent to add to your collection, he’d read up on them and gave you the final push of decision making.

Because being able to receive the same love he gave out is enough for him.

With you, there was no need to worry about the little things in life, because he knew that you’d be there to ease his worries. Like many in his life, you’d received his kindness, but unlike many in his life, you’d reciprocated them in full without being asked.

There’s no room for growth should one not reciprocate in a relationship, no matter what relationship it is, and you’d proven that ever since the day you approached Oikawa. And Hajime couldn’t have been any happier to have you in his life - however long you would stay.

He’d appreciate every moment with you, no matter how trivial they might seem, and you’d do the same.

Under the warm blanket of the moonlit night sky, olive green orbs traced over your sleeping figure in his arms before his eyes drooped from tiredness. For a long time the question of whether or not what he had is enough, and tonight he’d made up his mind.

Yes, it’s enough.

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shioririn · 3 years

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Perfect | Oikawa Tooru

Suffocating.

A singular word that perfectly sums up how it felt like to be around Oikawa Tooru. Cruel as it may be, there was no denying blatant truths when it is all but presented to you on a golden plate. And you hated it.

You hated how much the brunette had to sacrifice just for a brief moment of glory, or how much he’d push himself to be someone he isn’t happy to be. It didn’t matter how many time he’d had to apologize for missing dates, or how many times you’d have to wait for him to finish the extra practices he assigns himself - none of that mattered when he’d forgotten what it meant to be happy.

You couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely enjoyed a match and played just for the sake of fun, and that’s what pains you the most. Had he forgotten the first time he set the ball? The sensation of absolute awe and innocence of volleyball?

Was it worth drowning himself in all those late nights, slaving away to a sport that is in turn, cutting his own life short when he wasn’t enjoying it?

The logical answer should be no. But you never did ask, because you already knew.

Ever since he was recognized as a talented setter, Toru had slowly but surely grown distant from the sport he once treated with so much love. From then on, the gap only grew, and before he even knew, had enslaved him on an invisible chain, choking and dragging him down.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he recognized the sensation - the same sensation that he’d have to live with as long as he wouldn’t let go. Under media pressure and the pretense that he has to be the ideal role model for those that scrutinize every move he makes, he’d forgotten what it felt like to be himself - the Oikawa Tooru that didn’t have to put up fake smiles and a childish attitude just to be recognized and accepted by others.

You’ve always told him that him being himself is enough, and that there is no need to replace any part of his personality for others to love him. But as time passes, the same words that you’d never fail to assure him with had begun to dull, blending in with the white noise of his childhood innocence that was drowned out by the camera flashes and self rejection.

He’d built an entire empire of his own, but he’d also traded the same self for cold and bitter fame that could never satisfy his hunger, for the craving only grew, and thus, pulling him further from who he used to be. To trade it all is a difficult feat, but to trade it back is even tougher.

So he’d shut himself out from the world, cutting off the growing roots that was supposed to stretch far, and hid it all with an empty smile and an even emptier personality.

For so long he had to built a mask to hide under in fear of being rejected for being himself, so much so that it had became a routine that he could no longer part from. He’d finally been recognized as ‘perfect’ but there was no helping the tears that leaked through the holes of his mask every time he saw your smile towards him dim, yet being the prideful trash can that he is, refused to bow down in acceptance of himself.

You’d only wished for him to be himself again, and he’d still failed to commit to a single request even when you’d given up everything for him when he’d asked.

Selfish. That’s wish he is.

It’s a miracle in its own that you hadn’t gotten up and left when he’d decided to put himself before anyone else, and perhaps that’s what made you so special. Just like Iwaizumi, you have your own way of dealing with his shitty personality, and despite never saying it out loud, he appreciates every single one of them. You kept him grounded when he’d allowed a shell of himself to float about the vast and endless pit of water, and he even if he’d spent his entire lifetime and the next few returning the favor, he couldn’t.

The unconditional love that you’d given him is special.

The same kind of special that he is to you just as you are to him.

You would never ask of him to return it to you, but you’d only as him to be happy again. To accept himself as who he is without worrying about the prying eyes of others that are only grazing past him, never to stay long enough to be a part of his life. Those that really matter would accept him no matter how messed up of a person he is, and they’d stay without question, as they already knew the worth he carries.

So for you and for himself, he’d learn to accept that it’s alright. It’s alright to be Oikawa Tooru. The same imperfect, selfish, and tantrum throwing overgrown child that worked hard for his dreams that you fell in love with.

Because there never is a need to be perfect around you when you’d never seen him as nothing short of perfect.

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shioririn · 3 years

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Cruelly Kind | Yamaguchi Tadashi

There are a lot of things that make up a person.

For Yamaguchi Tadashi, it is the pure kindness that he carries which sets him apart from everyone else. A kindness so pure and genuine, it’s almost cruel.

You had never really played a part in his life - or at least, a part that isn’t as important as the tall blonde you’d see him following all the time - for you’d always been more of an observer than a participant. Yet it was also the same distance that drew you closer to the freckled teen, similar to that of a moth drawn to flame.

Dangerous yet tempting.

And from the point of an onlooker, there was nothing wrong with the volleyball player. Absolutely nothing. And that’s what made him so suspicious.

Yamaguchi is an angel, both on and off court, and quite literally, even highlighted on his volleyball jersey. The number 12 meant many things, but the notably prominent meaning behind the numeric is that it’s used to symbolize love and guidance - everything that he is as a person.

You’d never seen him raise his voice even when he’d been bullied, and even during your high school years, still kept his meek and submissive nature, despite it being perfectly alright to raise an opinion. It was disgusting, that personality, for you’d seen him stand and do nothing as the tall french fry of a friend taunted others. Is he really deserving to be called kind when he wouldn’t even stand up for someone in the exact same position he’d been in years ago?

Yes, yes he does.

Because despite him blissfully ignoring the world, he could never really ignore your presence, even if you’d do everything you could to ignore his.

You always noticed how he would purposefully leave chocolate bars on your table as he passed during days where you would have kendo practice, or how he would volunteer to help you clean the classroom despite having practice and his scheduled cleaning to be days ahead of yours. You noticed them all.

But even so, you’d chosen to ignore them.

Being kind isn’t a sin, no, but Yamaguchi had chosen to be kind to the world while accepting how cruel the world is to him, and in turn, using the same cruelty under the guise of being kind. How cruel it is for him to be so selfless, unconfident in his own abilities while continuing to support his classmates and teammates without expecting anything in return.

You’d seen the way his little antenna on his head droop down whenever the coach never called for his name to be on the lineup, or when his teammates would call for the ball while he sat on the sidelines, unable to share the same joy that they did despite being in the same world. But he’d chosen to be an observer from the moment he silenced his own words before they would make their way out, and an observer he would stay until he accepted those same words without having to worry about hurting others.

So until he’d learn to be cruelly kind to himself as he’d been with everyone else, you wouldn’t allow yourself into his world, just like he wouldn’t allow himself into his own.

The unopened pink envelope sitting on your bedside can wait after all.

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