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mizusnose · 4 months

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Hii!! I love ur writings AND UR ART TOO! I have a req 😈

Mizu meeting reader who has heterochromia!

And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning

Been missing Japan tons recently so this one’ll be set in modern day Tokyo. Here is a list of translated terms/phrases:

Gouchyui kudasai. Abunai desu kara.. : Please be careful, since it’s dangerous

Keigo: super politeful form of words/grammar.

Gaikokujin: foreigner.

daijoubu desu: It’s okay/I’m fine. In this situation, can also mean: I’m okay (without it)

arigatou gozaimasu: thank you (very much)

samu—!: cold/chilly. it’s actually 寒い (samui), but ppl shorten it in daily conversation by dropping the i.

arigatou: thanks, more familiar.

ohayo: good morning

Summary: A meet-cute in a train car leads to an unlikely friendship that blooms into something more. Discussion of beauty standards in Japan. Insecurities are discussed. Tons of flirting, some heavy petting.

SFW, some nudity but nothing blatantly sexual.

— — —

The first time you saw her, it had been on your morning commute to work. The autumn weather muted that far underground. The wind from departing and arriving trains was the only thing that would create a breeze in the otherwise stagnant air.

She was easy to notice.

Her height forced her to duck under the hanging advertisements with a practiced ease, neck long and slender. A white turtleneck against thin golden chains peeked out from her indigo jacket, spots of sunlight soaked into the snow.

And her eyes—a frozen-over ocean in the middle of the Marunouchu line, an early morning in winter. You breathed and suddenly it was the dead of winter in Sendai and the birds fluttered away up above you.

It’d only been a second, a millisecond, the flutter of a bird’s feather. Then she was gone. Her dark hair a shadowing eclipse against the sharp of her chin, the red of her nose—her eyes.

The train ride went uninterrupted. A jingle, shuffling, and then you were on your way to work. You didn’t quite notice though. Your breath a bleary thing in your ballooned-out chest. Belly wide and searching. An open mouth, fanged and hungry.

The next time you see her, it’s in the dead of night. The last train barely caught. Your mini skirt pressed against your bare thigh and the seat. Make-up dark and hair wild in the nearly empty train car. Winter’s fist had started to close around the Tokyo metropolitan area and the nights became a sharp kind of cold. You felt frozen in your seat.

She’d been sitting there, right across from you in the middle of the row of empty seats. Straight tapered office pants meeting her oxford shoes, that same indigo jacket, golden chains glinting in the glow of the moving lights outside. Her glasses caught in the passing stations, a muted orange that blocked the blue of her eyes.

You stared, entranced. You knew it was rude, but the image she made against the smeared nighttime Ginza scenery made you hold your breath, amazed. The last time you’d seen her, it was too quick. Barely a snapshot of a second. So you drank your fill, greedy and tipsy. The train shifted on the tracks and you both leaned into the bend, your bodies in line.

You distantly wonder if she’s willingly not paying attention to you after the doors automatically open and close following two stops. She hasn’t looked up once from her book, her fingertips a dull pink against the English title.

You want to put them in your mouth—a wild thought that conjures itself in your bleary mind.

When she finally does look up, her eyes greet your own and holds—a challenge. Her dark eyebrows furrow: anger. She observes you closer, focusing on your eyes.

You blush, and quickly look away.

You know she’s seen them: your eyes. People usually narrow their own eyes at you after realizing, and yet—hers shift when you meet them again. There’s no longer a scowl, her eyebrows rise instead, lips parted. A question, a surprise, Intrigue.

Oh, you think, oh.

Your chest buzzes and you wonder if your lipstick is still intact. If your eyeliner hasn’t been smudged. If you still look desirable.

There’s no one else but you two, so you quirk an eyebrow, satisfied to see her flush and look away. The cut of her jaw hidden by her short dark hair.

Her wired earbuds follow, they press against her chin and her hair, and you wonder what she’s listening to. If she can hear your breath quicken, heart rate spiked.

The train doors open at your stop and your stomach flips when she stands as well. Her head ducks underneath an advertisement about train manners, and she waits for you to stumble out first. You feel her hands around the air of your body, the pressure of the feeling against your waist. She doesn’t touch, but you wish she had.

“Gouchyui kudasai. Abunai desu kara..” She mutters down to the ground after you’ve both swiped out of the station. Keigo and all.

Her hair flutters in the tunnel wind, grey eye bags and pink cheekbones that make you wonder what her job is. You settle your miniskirt and nod quickly. The glow of the FamilyMart shines on you both, a play, an experiment.

Yet, as she turns to leave, you feel like it’s gone interrupted. Your story, and hers.

“I’ve! um—I’ve seen you around”

She stops, doesn’t turn around. You continue in clunky Japanese. The alcohol settling deeper in your belly, confidence rising in your throat,

“Are you free for lunch or dinner or..”

She freezes—and you feel like you’ve misread the entire situation, but as she turns back around, she nods. A jerky thing that heats up your face.

Her necklace glints in the nearby streetlights as she puts her Line info into your contacts. Her hand encompasses all of your phone, fingers long and palm wide. You ache at the sight.

“Mizu?” Your fingernails brush the character she’s entered after she hands it back to you: 水. Mizu, mizu mizu.

“Mn. My parent’s..Gaikokujin. Thought it sounded pretty.” She looks embarrassed, her short cut hair brushing her jaw, her ears. Yet, her eyes stay on yours. A lull.

“It is.” You swallow around your words. Greet her with your own gaze, a smile.

She doesn’t trust you to walk home in your stumbling state, so she guides you into the FamilyMart nearby.

She grabs a water bottle for you, a hot milk tea for herself. Like this, in the fluorescent light, she’s taller than the aisles and towers above you. Her nape meets her neck and the hair is shaved there. Short—like a boy’s. You want to touch the skin there, just below it.

She pays despite your assurance that you can pay for yourself.

“‘ts only 120 yen.” is what she says, turns to the cashier and waves away a bag, daijoubu desu, collects the receipt and turns to leave, arigatou gozaimasu. A barely there bow, the receipt crushed in her palm, and then you’re both outside in the softly falling snow.

She opens the bottled water for you and you hiss after you take it: samu—!

She chuckles, watches you take the lip of the bottle into your mouth: tracks your throat as you swallow. You feel like you’re burning up inside your chest and finish half the bottle in one go.

“Do you live far?”

“Just past the next streetlight. I’ll be okay, promise.”

She looks unsure. It’s not windy, but strands of her hair push against her face. She presses it away. Behind her ear that has a stud in the soft flesh of her lobe. You follow the movement in your tipsy state. Watch it glimmer in the night.

“Let’s meet again soon, then.” Her hand gestures to your bare legs, eyes averted and away—flushed, “Stay warm.”

She presses the hot milk tea into your hands. Swaps it out for your water bottle. It sloshes against the plastic when she meets your gaze. She’s inspecting you. Tracing the outline of your face, your eyes. Your fingertips welcome the warmth, and you open your mouth to thank her: arigatou

“Get home safe.” Her hands brush your own, and she grins at the touch, slow and soft.

A taxi’s unoccupied sign blinks on in the dark nearby. The rush of the trains sound behind you, a car drives by.

She leaves then, and you watch her go. Her shoulders sharp in the cold night. The snow falls on you but the unopened milk tea burns and you think of her again and again. Even after you turn and walk away too.

The walk back is slippery and when you get home, your phone sits content in your pocket. You smile, a big happy thing. Her name sits in your mouth, and you think: Mizu, mizu, mizu. As if your lips would forget in the morning.

—

You go out for dinner later in the week.

Mizu is shy. She jokes only after you’ve both ordered a round of sapporo, her flush an insistent thing. Her neck is long and you watch as it reddens through the night. The glow of the shop the only thing keeping your hands to yourself.

The conversation flows steadily. Like two lifelong friends. The banter is easy, and the flirting easier. You notice Mizu’s steady gaze on you and you smile to welcome it. A flower unfurling in the sun.

You both promise to do it again afterwards. Mizu’s hands linger on yours when you leave, and the touch sinks into you, a slow gulp of water against your throat.

It’s breathless and exciting, being with Mizu. She texts you ohayo’s and brushes your hair out of your face, stands close in the train, and slips her hand into yours when she walks you back home after your fifth date. The first night you spend together, her thumb slips against your cheekbones and she smiles,

“You are so beautiful.”

She kisses you and your body and your thighs. She fucks you the way she had promised over texts late at night. Kisses your eyelids afterwards, a love that blooms between you both.

“Did you ever get bullied about it?” She asks one morning.

You’re both naked, the sunshine glinting on the sheets and into the kitchen where you’re making coffee. The question is asked unsure, a train passes by in the distance.

“I did. Not too much, but yeah.”

“Me too.” Mizu shoves on her shirt, a button down that she leaves open, the space between her breasts littered in marks, “Kids can be mean.”

You nod, tilting your head to the side when Mizu comes up behind you and kisses your throat. The muscle in your shoulder. Your back: the bone there.

“You’re stunning.” She whispers. Moves her hands up your body, a warmth that stirs between your legs, “Fuck what anyone says—kids especially.”

You laugh, twisting around to face Mizu. Her eyes meet your own, a clash of colors and you let her gaze win. You tuck your face into her neck and blow a raspberry to the skin there.

“It’s not so bad now. Usually, people just think I forgot to put in my other contact.” Mizu huffs, lets her hands wander lower, “The plus side is that I got a hot girlfriend out of it.”

You pull back and peck Mizu’s unassuming lips. She stutters around the sudden labeling, and you smile to let her know it’s okay. It’s okay.

You spend the day together, a lazy Sunday. And when you see the scene you both make in the bathroom mirror after a shower you flush at it all: Mizu, naked, her eyes boring into you and tracing the lines of your body. And you, the color of your eyes, each a separate hue. Yet, the love inside them the same and as blatant as ever.

“You’re beautiful.” You say, grabbing Mizu and kissing her. Pushing her bangs away from her eyes, hand settling on her back. There’s a freckle there you’d kissed earlier. You press into it.

Mizu chuckles, finds your lips and pulls away to whisper into the opening of your mouth. A secret, a wish, a promise.

You keep every single one.

———

Haha, so I really just miss FamilyMart and affordable food and the stellar Japanese public transportation so here this is. Didn’t specify reader’s eye color so you can imagine whatever colors you want—including your own!

title inspired by about you by the 1975

#blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #heterochromia #mizu x fem!reader #modern!au #Tokyo #Japan #I miss Japan and the trains and the food :

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holespoles · 2 months

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Kishio Koizumi (1893-1945)⁠ One Hundred Pictures of Great Tokyo: Togoshi Ginza Station

小泉癸巳男「昭和大東京百図絵版画完制判第二十七景戸越銀座駅(荏原区)」

#Kishio Koizumi #小泉癸巳男 #illustrations #woodblock print

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hey-hamlet · 4 months

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"Iida." Tenya winced. Midoriya's voice was distant, lacking the warmth it usually held. The guilt and fear that had settled like a rock at the bottom of his stomach grew into a boiling mass. "Iida, you are one of my best friends. I trusted you - and yet-"

"I'm sorry!" The apology burst of out his mouth without warning. Uraraka looked on, her eyes devoid of empathy, her mouth set like it with fighting a sneer. Todoroki was cooly blank, hands in his pockets, body language clearly deferring to Midoryia, who, despite being around 5 inches shorter than Tenya, still managed to look down at him. "I didn't mean for this to happen!"

"You didn't? Really?"

"I swear!" Tenya was flustered now, his hands gesticulating wildly, nearly taking members of the throng of people surrounding them. Uraraka let out a disappointed sigh, turning away from Tenya's increasingly pathetic display.

"Iida. You're a smart guy." The praise felt damning. "How did you manage to lead us to the only part of the train station that doesn't contain the Ginza line if you did it accidentally?" Tenya wanted to wail.

"There were so many signs! Some of them pointed in opposite directions! It's terrible design!" At his flustered near shout, Uraraka broke from her faux serious expression, throwing an arm over his shoulder. He was pretty sure she was on tiptoe, but considering she seemed to be on his side he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"To be honest, my first day at UA I couldn't find the Ginza line either. I was trying to catch it from Asakusa though, so that was admittedly kind of on me." The group all nodded commiseratingly. Midoriya sighed, biting back a grin.

"I'm not sure why we made Iida navigate when he basically never takes the train either. Still! I swear the Ginza line runs in literally every train station within 200km of Tokyo, how did you lose it?"

Tenya flushed. "There were just too many signs pointing in different directions! I don't care if your station is a circle - just pick a direction and stick to it! It's confusing!"

#my fic #OK SO #as you can probably tell #this from personal experience #you may think 'hamlet there is no way the ginza line is everywhere' and to that i say #you are wrong #all roads lead to the ginza line #we found a line map for it in a shrine in the middle of the woods #bnha #bnha fic #iida tenya #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochacho #todoroki shouto #this is very silly

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city-cost · 4 months

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That's a wrap for days at the office in 2023. To the station then home, via Tokyo's Ginza district.

#tokyo #japan blogs #life in japan #japan #street photography #urban #places #ginza #tumblr japan #photographers on tumblr #orginal photography #street

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sashi-ya · 6 months

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東京 NIGHTS mini event 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

⤹˚ rooftop - gojo satoru x fem! reader 　「nsfw」 synopsis. you accept a dinner date with gojo at Ginza, knowing too well that he is a box of surprises

⤹˚ i'll be waiting - okkotsu yuuta x fem! reader 　「sfw」 synopsis. some years have passed since the incident; he moved overseas, you stayed... however, you never forgot, and you always waited

⤹˚ four hundred steps - ichigo kurosaki x f! reader 　「nsfw」 synopsis. adult! ichigo takes you to a winter date to the tokyo tower, climb the steps by his hand, let him guide you the sky.

⤹˚ the living image - toji fushiguro x f! reader 　「dark nsfw」 synopsis. a miserable Toji founds the living image of his death wife in you, a sex worker at Kabukicho.

⤹˚ room 301 - byakuya kuchiki x m! reader 　「nsfw」 synopsis. "I got so scared, I thought no one could save me. You came along, scooped me up like a baby. Every now and then, the stars align. Boy and boy meet by the great design. Could it be that you and me are the lucky ones this time?" - Lucky Ones by Lana del Rey.

⤹˚ a drink, and ramen too - trafalgar law x f! reader 　「nsfw」 synopsis. would you invite your work colleague Law for ramen after some drinks at the bar?

⤹˚ the next station is: shibuya - kenpachi zaraki x afab! reader　「nsfw」 synopsis. the last train on a cold december night, a night out that has ended... what about fucking with a hot stranger on the bathroom of Shibuya station?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⬇ more coming soon ⬇

#jjk x reader #bleach x reader #one piece x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #bleach byakuya #byakuya kuchiki x reader #byakuya x reader #byakuya kuchiki #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #sashi ya #ichigo kurosaki x reader

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vashtijoy · 1 year

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news from NG+: 7/9

So on 7/9, Akechi has his post-Kaneshiro-takedown flail about the PTs in the morning....

... only to then send you one of his obligatory text invitations in the evening—that's to say, he always texts you on 7/9, and he always has that tantrum in the morning.

For me, that text is confidant stage 4, but other examples of the 7/9 text I've seen have been non-rank-up invitations, I think because I blew him off for Kawakami that once. shamefaced sorry, Goro.

Do what you will with this information. I love that he's clearly been stewing about it all day. "I can't believe he's interfering with my plans/catching up with me/shitting up the Metaverse again/pushing me out of the public eye when I haven't been in it FIVE MINUTES/ugh that SHIT that piece of TRASH i HATE him i HA... this is absurd. I'm being absurd. I will ask him on a date. Yes. I will investigate him over crepes, he will never suspect a thing hahahAHAHA."

That corner he's tucked away in is the back of the Ginza Line Gate / Teikyu Building, by the way:

He's literally found a nice, friendly wall to tuck himself behind, to check his phone and have his tantrum. He's facing the stairs, but unless someone comes up the stairs, nobody can see him. Nice little detail.

Another nice detail is that I already had a feeling he uses the Ginza Line—it, of course, runs between Shibuya and Akasaka Mitsuke, where the TV studio is. By the time you get this sequence, you've probably already met Akechi at Yon Germain, which is further back in shot below the blue sign—so both his appearances at the station are here.

Actually, the station platform you run into him on is also the Ginza Line platform—Aoyama-Itchome (where Shujin is) is between Shibuya and Akasaka.

Those two women chattering in the background, by the way, are the Middle-Aged Lady and the Young-Looking Woman, the latter of which has a daughter at Shujin, and spends the year talking to her friend about how hot Akechi is and, apparently, stalking his ass:

Middle-Aged Lady: So Akechi-kun was saying on TV... The Phantom Thieves are dangerous, aren't they? Young-Looking Woman: Yeah, Akechi-kun! The way his eyes look to the side is pretty sexy... Young-Looking Woman: I love the way he runs his hands through his hair too... Middle-Aged Lady: Did you hear what I just said? You really like younger guys...

The last thing you might have missed on 7/9 is that, after his abortive conversation with Makoto earlier in the day ("the Phantom Thieves are justice and I'm afraid I know nothing c:"), and getting hung out to dry by the SIU Director, you can also find Principal Kobayakawa moping to himself on Harmony Alley:

So yeah, big conspiracy energy in Kichijoji on the evening of 7/9.

#persona 5 #p5 meta #goro akechi #the other weird as fuck thing tho #is that all the guides are like #'akechi is in kichijoji 3-5 evenings a week'#he's fucking not #i've seen him there like three times as of mid-july #he is BUSY BOY and not easy to get hold of

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tenjiiku · 10 months

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how long does it take to fall in love? / 18+

sequel to the first snow

Everything seems to be easier in Rin’s head these days. At least, that is what you have told him. He never understands what you say half of the time, but perhaps that is exactly why he has extended his stay in Japan.

“Has anyone ever told you you look like you are perpetually plotting something?”

Your tender voice brings him out of his reverie. Rin finds himself sitting across from you in a train heading from Tokyo to Osaka. It is late June and though summers in Ginza are busy and ruthless, the train is barren and light. The view from the window is nice — it was why both of you had chosen this seating arrangement in the first place. Rin wanted to be near you and the sunlight: two entities he did not ever believe to be possible of wanting, months ago.

Times are changing. You told him this the day you quit your part-time job. He mocked you for it, so maybe amongst being a perpetual suspicious person — he is also a hypocrite. Suddenly the thought of him at sixteen despising who he has become crosses his mind. The idea does not bother Rin as much as it thought it would. If anything, it brings the opposite effect of relief.

“What?” He asks, because he does not have any clue what you are talking about. But, you look pretty in your light blue beret and plaid skirt to match. Though, the latter is a bit too short for Rin’s mental fortitude. Really, you had no business wearing such a thing. It was not needed, but it was appreciated.

You had pretty legs.

Rin shakes his head at his perverse thoughts. He thinks you notice because your mouth lifts up into a half smirk.

You click your tongue, a small hand gently tracing your chin. Rin sees you smile and feels his head grow hot. “See, that is my point.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You don’t answer him outrightly. Instead, you turn the moment the train envelops a scenic view of long pine trees and bushes, and an opening reveals a multicoloured painting in the sky. Your eyes shine, Rin holds his breath.

“Itoshi-san,” you whisper, “It’s a rainbow.”

Rin gazes at your side profile for a few more moments before turning his sight to the window. His features soften at the sight of, indeed, a rainbow beaming across the parted clouds. They have begun to part after a presumably long shower, which makes Rin question out loud.

“Why has it been raining? It’s 30°C.”

You laugh, which makes him feel small and a bit embarrassed for no reason.

“You know, there is a proverb about rain: ‘it is only a problem if you do not want to get wet’,” turning your face back to him, you look mischievous and attentive, making Rin pay you his entire mind, “So you should be happy. Chiyo-san gets into a rather difficult mood when it is too hot.”

Right. The two of you are heading to your childhood friend’s book-store and home. Rin had asked you why not take him to your parent’s or brothers’ home, and you had teased him for approximately twelve minutes before he had grown too warm and threatened to leave your small apartment. You only had to touch his wrist to disarm him and make him sit by your kotatsu again. Then, you had told him quietly and even a bit diffidently that you’d rather he meet Chiyo-san, as she had taken you in when you left home for the first time at fourteen after your parent’s divorce. Rin had only a diminutive grasp of your past and character, so when you had let that slip he did not hold it to you, and agreed to meet you at 10:30 at Ginza Central Station with a small bag packed with enough clothes for three nights.

Maybe if he met Chiyo-san, and he met the home you spent nearly half your life in, you would let him understand you. Rin never thought he would want this yet, to this extent.

Times are changing after all.

“Your shoes will get wet,” Rin chastises you, hiding his face with his hands and looking out the window from the second story of the train.

You lift a foot, clad in a delicate Mary Jane flat and brush the small sliver of skin Rin’s khakis show at his ankle. Rin jumps, the smallest bit, and grits his teeth at the gentle yet deliberately teasing touch. Rin knows this action would not hold a candle to any taunt you would have given him.

He thinks you know this, too, because for the rest of the ride, your foot remains — persistently reminding him you are here, next to him, across from him, everywhere around him — all the time.

You reach your friend’s, Chiyo’s, town home rather slowly. You told Rin it was alright if you came a little late, that Chiyo was not one for arriving on time either.

So you took your time, renting a bicycle and enjoying the scenery. It was a bit unflattering, a six foot something man sitting behind on the seat while a boisterous woman was peddling the two of them around small stores in a local shopping district. Rin feels a bit lightheaded when he realises you grew up in this neighbourhood, you roamed these streets with who knew how many people — and it does not help when you keep reciting stories of your youth as you pass by diners and boutiques you used to frequent with your friends.

Rin itches to ask about any past relationships, but he is quick to register how intrusive and utterly out of place that would come from.

So, as you sit in a diner across from one another, waiting for your fries and milkshakes, he asks a less ridiculous question.

“Why did you move in with Chiyo at such a young age?”

You look up from the colourful menu to Rin. Your eyes light up a little, then dim — as though to contain your amusement.

“Ah, technically I moved in with her and her mother, Auntie Terada,” You correct. Rin puts his right cheek on his right hand.

You gaze down with a solemn grin, “You know, Rin-chan, when things grow difficult I have the tendency to shut down. It has only happened once or twice in my life, but confrontation makes me feel… apathetic.”

“When my parents split, I hadn’t the slightest idea how to fix it. I’d tried to keep them together by being small and easy, but it did not work. Mama could be nice sometimes, but she worried too much about making my life into something she’d want for herself. Papa was nice almost never, and I never wanted to try to understand him.”

“So I told mama I wanted to leave, and she let me,” your eyes crinkle, either out of memory or of sad happiness. Rin cannot really tell, “I think she knew she had it coming.”

Rin does not know what to say. So you add on with a full smile, “I was never too close with my grandparents like my brothers were, so Chiyo-san insisted I could stay at her place.”

Your milkshakes arrive promptly, and for a moment attention is taken off him. Rin digests everything you have fed him. He would not have asked such a thing in a damn all-day breakfast diner if he knew what it entailed. You never wore your feelings on your sleeve, so it was hard for him to navigate himself without tripping a few times.

As you are sipping your vanilla milkshake and picking the single cherry sitting atop it, Rin wraps his hand around his chilled glass and looks away.

“I’m sorry…,” he murmurs.

You blink. “What for?”

“That… must have been hard. I’m sorry.”

You dismiss Rin’s concern with a hum, lips still around the milkshake straw. He grins a little at the sight.

“Water under the bridge,” You shake your hands, to signify that you really do not mind.

Rin feels his lips open and close. He does not know what to say. Even though his relationship with his parents was cumbersome at best and tumultuous at worst, it was to his own accord. He could not comprehend how you became the person you were today; soft, sweet, kind, despite such circumstances. How could you look at anyone and trust them after your mother had let you go without putting up so much of a fight?

You seem to sense his apprehension, because after you finish nibbling on the cherry coated in sugar syrup, you tell him, “I did not tell you all of this so you could pity me, Itoshi-san.”

Rin folds his hands together abruptly, feeling red-faced that he was so easily caught. But, he should have known better. Hiding things from you was a near impossible task. On one hand he liked that, because it meant less work for him to explain his complex emotions. On the other hand, it meant he was played for a fool every time.

The latter would have upset him a decade ago. Your voice rings in the back of his mind like a darling reminder.

“Then why?” He asks.

To this, you do not answer. You finish the rest of your milkshake with a small smile, eyes shining with thought. Rin follows your actions, drinking the rest of his. You place a couple of bills on the tray and stand up. Rin sits, gazing at you, as you place your hands on your hips.

“Come on, it’s almost seven. Chiyo-chan must also be expecting us by now.”

Chiyo Yamada was your childhood friend. The two of you were tied to the bone in elementary school when she pushed the boy who refused to give you your pencil case back in the mud, and ever since, an unbreakable bond formed between you both. She was a few months your senior, and as both a sign of admiration and to annoy her, you referred to her solely as:

“Chiyo-san!”

Rin knocks his back against yours when you come to an abrupt stop on the bicycle. He grunts when you break, and you are already running towards a girl standing outside a quaint book and antique store when he is only half way off his seat. Rin takes his helmet off and hooks it to the front of the bicycle. He watches you envelop the taller woman in an unequivocal bear hug, and he awkwardly pockets his hands in his pants as her gaze travels to him momentarily, before returning to the top of your head.

“Geez, you’re getting taller,” The woman, Chiyo, Rin presumes, utters. Her voice is deep and smooth, and she carries herself with a refined maturity.

Still sheepishly holding onto your shoulders, Chiyo looks to Rin. Her eyes hold a sense of familiar camaraderie. She nods at him, so Rin thinks she has realised his presence.

“Hey,” he murmurs quietly.

Chiyo doesn’t answer him. You do. Stepping away from her, your eyes widen with realisation. You back into a puddle, which Rin watches with amusement. He supposes that should serve as an equal punishment for almost knocking him off the bicycle earlier.

“Oh, Chiyo-san, this is Itoshi Rin. We’ve been hanging out. I told you, you remember?”

“Yeah,” Chiyo hums, still looking at Rin. He looks away to the side for a moment, bending his hands in his pockets, “I know who he is.”

Rin flushes at the prospect. Wonderful.

“How was New Zealand?” She asks. Rin should not be surprised, but still is. It was a small world he lived in, and utterly ironic.

Everyone around you knew who he was — except you.

“Cool,” Rin answers, “Nice lakes.”

Chiyo nods once more with understanding. Then, she brings the two of you inside. The book store itself is clustered and rather small for how much inventory is presented. Whatever area is not covered by shelves filled with novels of all genres, lamps, old cassettes, and physical records of classics cover them. Chiyo leads the two of you — or, mostly Rin, considering you coo at the familiar setting and leave him behind — to a set of spiral stairs that lead up to a locked door.

Chiyo’s apartment is quaint yet substantial for who it is for. The kitchen and general living room seem to be fused into one square area, which is the apartment itself. There is a small round coffee table in the middle of the room, and all of her electronic appliances seem to form a parish of some sort, gathered around an old television screen. If Rin looks close enough, he can spot a few strewn beer cans here and there, but the natural lighting from the one set of quadruple windows shines a pleasant dew into the room, on the tatami flooring. Enough for him to ignore the small things, at least.

“Chiyo-san, you’ve been cleaning…” Your voice is in awe.

Rin looks down beside him, watching as you take your shoes off and walk further into the room. He follows after you, not saying a word.

Chiyo hums, taking her coat off and tossing it onto the rack behind the door. Rin, like the elephant in the room, awkwardly stands between you both. Although his size is something he was never conscious about he wishes he could be small enough to hide under that ridiculous beret you wear. Especially when his head threatens to hit the roof of your childhood home.

“Yeah, well, there’s some kid next door who’s been helping around. Think he likes me or something,”

You grab onto Rin’s arm, making him fall back to reality. He looks down at you, and you offer a petulant smile, ushering him to sit with you at the coffee table. He lays his lips flat and follows your orders.

“Anyways, I bought some groceries.” Chiyo calls from the kitchen.

You raise an eyebrow. When Chiyo emerges, she grabs onto your arm, gesturing you towards the closed kitchen space. Rin’s eyes crinkle at the sight of your confusion.

“Get to it,” The older woman says, giving Rin a small grin, which he returns when he sees your furrowed look.

“Chiyo-san, you’re not being very welcoming to your guests.”

Chiyo responds by uncharacteristically placing her hands on Rin’s shoulder. He stiffens when she squeezes them.

“You are family. He is our honoured guest.”

You only glare at her, and Rin notices the slight look you give to her hands still on him. He feels something in his stomach at the sight. But as soon as the expression came, it left. You sigh before scurrying off to the kitchen. Chiyo removes her hands from Rin, and he sighs — a bit shaky — staring down at the wood of the coffee table.

“I’m making karaage, do you have cornstarch?”

“Everything’s the way you left it,” Chiyo dismisses haphazardly.

Rin feels her rustle behind him, but he does not look back. When she reappears in front, she holds out one cold beer can dripping with condensation to him, and the other is held close to her hip. Rin looks up hesitantly, and Chiyo only shakes it like one would shake a bone in front of a dog. Rin didn’t like that implication that much so he takes it rather easily.

“Thanks,” He says. Chiyo hums. Rin is starting to think she does not like to talk that much.

Taking a seat across from him, Rin lets his eyes roam the walls of her home. He does not think he should look at her. But then she is holding out a cigarette to him, and he stills like a ghost. He gazes in front of him to notice she has one in her mouth, and is rustling in the pocket of her sweats to presumably find a lighter.

“Oh, no thank you,” Rin dismisses, clutching onto his can. He decides to open it.

“You don’t smoke?”

Chiyo asks the question so accusingly, it makes Rin crane an eyebrow. She chuckles.

“Well,” She pauses, covering the butt of her cigarette to light it. Once she does, she places it down on the table and takes a huff, “It’s just that…, I thought professional football players would be a bit more… rowdy.”

Blowing the smoke to the side, Chiyo opens the beer can with one hand and gives Rin a half smirk. He feels his palms sweat as she looks him up and down. He wonders if she's trying to gauge his character, assessing whether he's worthy of being with you.

“You look clean, Mr. Itoshi,” Chiyo compliments, her voice laced with a hint of intrigue. Or at least Rin thinks it was a compliment. He glances down at his crisp shirt and neatly combed hair, silently hoping that his appearance is up to her standards.

“Please, call me Rin,” he replies, trying to maintain a calm and composed demeanour in the face of Chiyo's probing gaze.

“You really must like her if you’re willing to stay at a dump like this.”

“It’s not— you’re not—,” Rin stammers, his voice betraying a mix of defensiveness. He tries to find the right words but can’t quite wrap his head around what sort of explanation would quell her worries.

“Relax, I’m kidding,” Chiyo interjects, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Rin exhales a breath he didn't realise he was holding, grateful for the brief respite from the tension that had settled between them.

“But, still, this must be a cave compared to all of the places you must stay at,” Chiyo adds, her tone now lighter and more conversational. Rin can't help but feel a sense of relief as the conversation shifts to a less scrutinising topic.

“Y/n is too naive for her own good. Take care of her.”

Rin stills at the prospect. He did not really know how to respond to that sentiment. Although he had no particular qualms about ‘taking care of you’ — he had worked through them for the past nine months — he could not tell if you even required that. Everyday he seemed to be learning more of you. It was a fascinating ordeal and a comfortable relationship. Rin would choose to stay like that if the selfish part of him — the part of him who would longingly stare at the back of your neck every time you would put your hair up, wear a shirt a couple sizes too small to show the sliver of stomach, touch his bicep as a support for mundane activities — did not exist.

So if someone from your past was trusting him with your future, he had no room to deny.

“I… I will,” Rin stammers, “I will.”

When you bring a side dish of egg rolls and grilled sausages to fend their hunger, you bend down to place it on the table. Rin stares a bit too unabashedly at your neck, and when he realises what he is doing it is too late, because you stare at him with a hint of amusement.

“What are you two talking about? Hopefully all good things. Itoshi-san, if Chiyo makes you uncomfortable you tell me, okay?”

At this, Chiyo knocks your forehead. Rin bites his cheek when you holler at her before going back to the kitchen to finish frying the chicken.

In the evening after dinner and a few more stories of your time spent in this townhouse, you come to him in his hoodie, a drunken gleam to your eyes and practically tossing your head on his lap.

Rin wonders if you can tell he is losing.

Chiyo pulled out her guitar after you grouched to her about playing you a few songs, which turned into many, which turned into mindless strumming as more beers were introduced in the night. Rin had opted out very early on and bound himself to drinking a couple of sodas. The two of you had only but shrugged your shoulders and continued on.

You’re restless on his lap. Even though you only lay your head on his thigh, your hands wander — playing with the fabric of his shorts, reaching down to tease the skin of his shin, and — worst of all — sometimes letting your eyes wander upwards to meet his face, squinting with joy at the sight. A fine sheen of sweat covers your forehead, and you practically shine in Rin’s grasp.

Suffice to say, Rin was in for an even longer night than he anticipated.

Luckily, you believe that Chiyo should retell Rin her adolescent stories as a form of entertainment.

“Re—Remember when Terada-san caught you behind the bookshelves when you brought that Toru boy over for your first date?” You giggle, and Rin can feel the sound vibrate on his skin.

“Was in the damn erotica section, too.” Chiyo grits her teeth as she smiles, adjusting a few strings of her guitar with one hand that rests on her lap. With her other, she reaches for a new beer can, “Toru-chan was so tense and really religious, I think. Really screwed with him. He was too scared to go out anywhere ‘cause he was afraid of getting caught by his parents and congregation. So I brought him over, what was I supposed to do?!”

You laugh loudly at this, and Rin looks down at you. He feels his features loosen at the sight of delicate tears filling the corners of your eyes.

“Wa—Wasn’t he a terrible kisser?”

“Oh, god, yeah. He had no idea where to put his hands! He just stretched them out like a starfish!”

You squeal when Chiyo describes such an act, and toss your head to the side, practically burying your face into Rin’s abdomen. Rin feels sweat run down his back. He watches helplessly as you rustle in his hoodie, on his legs. He doesn’t know how much more he can take, so he places a hand under his nose and looks down at you.

“Tell him—tell him how red he became when he saw the cover of t—that half-naked girl!”

Chiyo, seemingly noticing Rin’s dilemma — either out of pity or disgust from his reactions — reprimands you.

“Please, Y/n-chan, stop treating your friend like an oversized pillow.”

You pout, and Rin feels you begin to rustle and move away from him. But even though your actions flustered him and rendered him utterly incapable — bringing out a side of him he did not know laid dormant — Rin did not want you to go away. He wanted to chase this feeling and hold it closer to him. It was unlike anything he has felt before, after all.

It was only natural.

“No—No, I—,” Rin stutters, and comes to a halt when your eyes flicker to his, “…I’m fine.”

You stare at him innocently and Rin surmises he might end up in Hell if you knew what he was thinking. Yet you only smile and adjust your head comfortably once more in his lap, while Chiyo clicks her tongue.

“Play that Beatles song,” you drone to Chiyo, nuzzling your cheek into Rin’s thigh which makes him sweat.

He discreetly tries to adjust his posture without moving too much — without alerting you — to no avail. Yet when your eyes trail upwards to meet his, you only push yourself into his hand that hovers over your cheek. Rin feels his ears grow hot, and the same warmth travels down his neck to his stomach.

“Which one?”

“Chiyo-san,” you whine her name out like a child, Rin finds it endearing — sickly cute, “you know which one.”

Chiyo laughs, ending the ballad on her acoustic guitar early. “Alright, alright,” she complies, fixing her pick and bending her wrist for a second before starting the familiar, gentle strums. They’re loud on the ears and vibrate on the drums, but they bring a soothing backdrop to the quaint living room painted in yellows and oranges.

You fall asleep just like that. Chiyo notices before Rin does.

“I’ll bring the futons, try not to move. She won’t sleep all night if she wakes up,” Chiyo says, before leaving Rin and your sleeping frame in the living room.

It gives Rin the chance to stare at you all he wants. He studies your features closely. You have a scar above the bone of your left brow. His hand hovers over your face, before it decides it wants to touch the skin. You murmur an unintelligible sound, and Rin’s lips twitch. He bites the inside of his cheek. He does not think he should be allowed to see you like this, but you decided for him.

So, when you lay next to him late at night with an inch of separation drawn between you both and empty beer cans on the table, Rin pulls you in close with the intention of feeding this selfish desire within him. You hadn’t asked before you laid yourself on him, because you probably knew he would allow it regardless. Rin could blame it on the small living room area, or point to the drinks as evidence of his uncharacteristic behaviour in the morning.

For now, he wants to hold you close to him. And that is what he does.

I give her all my love, that’s all I do. And if you saw my love, you’d love her too.

The next morning, Chiyo is gone, and you find yourself burrowed in Rin’s chest. He looks down at you. He can’t hear really anything else, but he listens to you: the soft breaths you take, the small, unintelligible whimper you let out in your sleep, the rustling of your legs beneath the floral duvet and over the futon. They taunt Rin. The room is hushed, allowing him to focus on the small sounds that emanate from you — the soft breaths, the occasional whimper, the faint rustling of the bedcovers as you shift in your sleep. These sounds, insignificant to others, hold a profound significance for Rin.

When your eyes peel open, he holds a breath, adjusting his bicep you lay on.

“Good morning,” Rin greets, his voice a low murmur, not wanting to disturb your delicate state of rest.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice filled with sleep-laden warmth.

Your hair is a mess, and there is a soft puffiness to your face that was not there last night. When you rub your eyes and look around, seemingly getting a grasp of your surroundings, you look back towards Rin. A smile graces your lips and Rin cannot help returning it.

You get up, murmuring something about a killing migraine. Rin follows you to the kitchen, standing under its arch entryway, observing as you fill a glass with lukewarm water from the sink. With you still in his shirt, he feels something stir inside of him, but decides to put that aside when he sees that the house keys are on the counter, realising something a bit more important.

“...Chiyo is gone.”

“Oh, yeah. She did that often. Does that often,” you explain, your voice trailing off as you recall Chiyo's unpredictable nature. "She’s like a stray cat. She’ll leave for a couple of days and return as though nothing happened."

“Even with guests over?” Rin can't help but inquire, a hint of curiosity tinging his voice.

“I suppose she considers you more than that, now. Take it as a compliment,” you say, offering him reassurance in the form of a playful remark.

When you bend down to open the lower cabinet — presumably to find utensils for breakfast — saying something about visiting the Ame-mura shopping district, the shirt rises ever so slightly to reveal your underwear beneath.

Rin flushes deeply and looks away just as quickly as he’d seen it, and runs off to the bathroom.

The two of you find yourselves strolling through Sankaku park. As you pause to rest beneath a blooming wisteria tree, Rin notices the tension in your jaw, and he gently scolds you.

“Stop grinding your teeth. It isn’t good for you.”

He adjusts the straps of your bucket hat, his touch gentle yet firm, attempting to alleviate some of the stress that burdens you.

You respond with a smile, your lips parting to reveal your canines. Rin's breath catches in his throat as your tongue glides over them, a simple act that sends a shiver down his spine. He watches, captivated, as you guide your index finger and thumb to touch your teeth, a gesture that feels strangely intimate to him.

“They seem to be getting sharper,” you muse, your words slightly muffled with your mouth half-open in contemplation.

“You seem to be growing duller.”

“Hold my bag, Itoshi-san,” you request, interrupting the momentary lull in conversation.

He gapes as you push your knapsack into his arms. It gives him a moment to look at your attire. These days you have been showing off more skin, and Rin does not know what to make of it. He doesn’t know if you want him to notice or if you are simply growing more comfortable around him. Because if it was the latter, Rin would be utterly played for a fool.

He hopes it was the former.

Yet amongst all the articles of clothing you wear — Rin's eyes drift down to your hand, where he notices a jewel adorning your ring finger. It is quaint and simple, yet stirs something inside of him. Confusion furrows his brow as he tries to make sense of it.

“Why do you have that on?” he asks, his curiosity tinged with a touch of jealousy he can't quite conceal.

You look down with wide eyes, and when you follow his gaze you only smile — which darkens this green envy colouring Rin’s insides.

“Oh," you respond, your voice laced with casual nonchalance. "Ah, I put it on by habit."

Just as casually as you noticed it, you take it off. Rin’s eyes never leave where it travels — tightly secured in your fist.

“I usually wear it in workshops. There is this one kid who refuses to leave me alone. He’s been loitering around since my second year, so I have started to wear this to make him act normal."

“He is… a student of yours?” Rin probes, his jealousy simmering beneath the surface.

You hum, looking downwards at your phone for coordinates of the cafe you wanted to go to. You nonchalantly scratch your chin.

“Mm, somewhat. He constantly books academic appointments with me, and I cannot refuse. The pay is quite good for what the work is,” you explain matter-of-factly, unaware of the effect your words have on Rin's emotions. His jealousy takes root, fueled by the image of another person vying for your attention and proximity.

Rin doesn’t know how to direct these emotions. Well, whoever this boy was, he certainly didn’t come to Osaka with you.

When he ponders on the thought that had just flashed through his mind — Rin almost grows mad. So he channels all of these petty feelings to your stupid bucket hat. Cute as it was, it drove him even more further down than he was.

Rin knocks your head to catch your attention. You make an adorable sound between a grunt and a squeak.

“Why do you insist on wearing such ridiculous hats these days?”

You tense under his hand. Rin’s eye twitches. He can’t move his knuckles, he finds himself incapable of moving at all. You lightly bite your bottom lip and rock yourself on your toes, before sighing.

“Ah, well…, I mean…” You stutter, embarrassed of being caught for something, “You have been.. needing to wear them, every time we go out.”

Rin’s pupils enlarge. He retracts his hand from your head. He lets his eyebrows raise, since you cannot see his eyes considering he is wearing dark sunglasses to conceal his face. Suddenly he is hyper aware of the baseball cap on his head, the same one you had given him the night he met. He hadn’t thought much of wearing it out every time you took him somewhere. It was a nice hat — it reminded him of you — and it prevented you from ever ending up in another tabloid again. He didn’t want anyone to know your character because they would never really know, in the first place. Rin has only known you for a year and still cannot seem to figure out your sweet disposition.

“I… didn’t want to feel left out,” you add on softly, looking up at him with gentle eyes.

Rin feels his palms sweat. He didn’t know if you were aware of the hold you had on him before, but now he thinks you definitely have an inkling. He doesn’t say anything. He only reaches for your hand.

When you smile, Rin finds himself gone.

Your laugh sounds more like a cry. It is a solemn sound and if it were not for the smile Rin could hear in your tone, he would worry.

“What are you laughing about?” He sighs, yet he cannot hide the entertainment in his tone. He brings a cold glass of water to where you sit, lounging by the kotatsu you pulled out.

Your legs are bent, and you rest your hands — holding your phone — on your knees. Your bucket hat rests next to Rin’s baseball cap and glasses on the surface of the table, and you hiccup as you laugh at something on your phone.

“My—My brother sent me a voice message, I—I just found out you can play it at two times the speed. He sounds so strange,” You practically fall over when Rin takes a seat beside you, “Oh, I can’t.”

“Stop it, you’ll choke on air,” Rin lectures — he finds himself doing that a lot — taking away your phone from your hands and handing you the glass of water.

You oblige rather easily. You always do. Rin wonders if you are like this with everyone — or only him. He wonders if you think about him as much as he thinks about you: everyday, all the time — even more so when you are constantly around.

A quietness falls on you both. Rin has a hand on the small sofa behind you both, the one you lean against. After sipping some of the water, you lay your cheek on his bicep, face turned towards his. Feeling daring, he lays his face on the cushion as well.

Only a few centimetres away, with a light shower happening outside that makes the pine trees outside in the alley shine viridescent, Rin feels your breath on his lips. His eyes flicker to them, and when he looks back up — you are already staring at him.

“I really like you, Itoshi-san.”

Rin pauses, feeling a heat swarm his head. Just as easily as you had been coming close to him, just as simple as your confession had been. He feels like a teenager again; those same swarm of emotions from his adolescence reinventing themselves into his head cause a storm. Rin knows he is not the same person he was twenty years ago, just as you know nearly everyone you were supposed to love did not reciprocate those emotions. Rin wants to give you all of them, he wants to give you all of him — and when he ponders on this in his mind and is met with no worries nor feuds — he knows he has been yours for a long time, now.

“I really like you, too,” He whispers. He wants to touch you, so he places a hand on your cheek. He bites the inside of his cheek when he sees your eyes widen.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Rin affirms, his voice unwavering. He brushes the scar on your forehead, lightly massaging the skin.

“You really mean it?”

The tone of your voice, though innocent, only makes Rin feel embarrassed. He flushes, burying his face in the soft material of the sofa and away from your prodding eyes.

“Must you make me repeat it?” He groans. You only laugh, which makes him turn slightly to watch the expression of joy envelop your face.

Tentatively, as though testing his reaction, you place a hand on his head. Rin lifts his head, wanting you to be closer. You move in, but it is not enough. In a moment of utter torment, he grabs your wrist and situates you on his lap.

“I want to kiss you, Itoshi-san,” You murmur almost desperately, voice dripping with an intoxicating want. A want for him — and only him.

Rin lets his hands grips your waist, and relishes in the way you gasp at the contact.

“Do whatever you want,” He mutters against your lips, “I’m here.”

The statement comes off more monotone than intended, but you read in his everything: the slight twitch of his brow, the light sweat starting to form on his forehead, the way his sight flickers to your neck and lips for half a millisecond.

You press your lips against his first. Rin’s chest heaves up and down, and he only pulls you in closer to get more of a taste. It is only when you push against him a bit too sensually, almost purposefully trying to arouse him, is when he breaks it off first.

“Chiyo—…” Rin breathes, desperately, but does not relent when your hands dig into his shoulders.

“She’s gone,” You murmur, kissing him for a moment which he returns, to only pull back, “she won’t be back.”

Rin furrows his eyebrows at the way you tilt your head, and the slight anguish painted on your features.

“Please, Itoshi-san,” you plead so sweetly, scratching the back of his scalp. You didn’t need to do any of that — he has been burning you for months now.

“I want to touch you,” Rin admits, with no amount of shame present in his voice. He likes the way you tremble at the timbre in his tone, so he plants a soft kiss on your collarbone, “I want to do a lot of things, to you.”

You look down at him, elevated as his hands find themselves beneath you.

“A lot?”

Rin nuzzles his nose beneath your chest, nodding as he looks up at you.

“A lot.”

You smile, leaning down. Rin hesitates which makes you pause. Rin feels petulant despite having you in his arms. A sense of deja vu envelops him. He ran away the last time, and though he never expected certainty from you — it would be too hypocritical of him — he cannot imagine anything but you nowadays.

“I… need certainty,” he breathes moments after, looking down and away from you.

A soft hand is placed on his cheek, making Rin look towards you. Your face is understanding, yet your question knocks all of the air out from him.

“Are you a virgin?”

“N—No!” Rin exclaims a bit too quickly.

You sink down into his lap, contemplating. Rin doesn’t know how you obtained such an ability to leave him embarrassed every time. He takes this time to look at the way your skirt falls to your waist, the way your shirt is wrinkled at the bottom from his insistence. He feels a warmth cover his skin.

Rin didn’t think it could get any more complicated.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend, Itoshi-san?”

You ask such a decent, fatuous question in such an indecent way, Rin feels himself tighten around his pants.

“Please, don’t say it like that,” He groans, head falling to push against your chest, “You’re making this really difficult.”

“I know,” You grin, “But I know you are smart, Itoshi-san. Surely you didn’t think I brought you to my childhood home for the sole intent to sleep with you.”

“I want to be yours, too, Itoshi-san. I want to love you a lot.”

You look at him like some sort of apparition. You say such a thing so easily it leaves Rin speechless. And that is no good. No good at all. Because then it will lead to Rin overthinking everything about you: your delicate fingers scratching at the skin on the back of his neck, the way your chest rises up and down, the haze in your eyes telling him you want him.

So, Rin responds with a heated kiss.

He swallows every one of your mewls, and lets his hands run everywhere they wanted to touch before. The dip between your thigh and hip, the small birthmark on your elbow, your ribcage that you told him you wanted to get tattooed, the fingers that grip tightly to his now — somehow, opened — button-down shirt.

You press yourself against his hard-on, and gasp when his large hands grab at your ass to only encourage your movement.

“Yeah?” Rin kisses the column of your neck, voice a mess as you ruffle his hair, “You like that, baby?”

“Rin, please—oh, oh,” You moan, tossing your head back with a gasp. Rin looks at your expression, lips twitching as he frowns at the way you push your chest to his face.

“So beautiful…” He murmurs to himself, appreciating the hands in his hair and the sounds that leave your lips.

“Oh—Rin, please, please.”

“What is it, love?”

The pet name comes out as naturally as breathing to him.

“Need you — kiss me, please.”

Obeying your request comes just as easily.

Rin meets your mouth in a clash of teeth. Soft lips melt into his, and he explores every crevice of your mouth with adept dexterity. His hands bunch at your skirt, and you whimper — resting your chin on his broad shoulder when you pull away for air.

“This damn skirt drove me crazy all day,” Rin grunts, digging his thumbs into the waistline.

“Yeah—Yeah?”

“Yeah. Leave it on for me.”

Rin feels you shiver, “O—Okay…”

Rin huffs a laugh under his breath when he discards your shirt to reveal mismatching underwear colours. It was exactly you, the cheap panties with striking red and blue colours, and the violet sports bra. You twitch beneath him, half from embarrassment and excitement, he can tell.

Hooking your arms around his broad shoulders, you pout and small tears fill your eyes.

“Don’t laugh, I forgot to pack my good underwear,”

“So you did bring me all the way to Osaka to sleep with me?” Rin teases, running a hand down to your inner thigh. You gasp and arch your back, before returning his smile with a wolfish grin of your own.

“My side-men in Tokyo might get intimidated if they see that a pro footballer has joined the roster.”

Rin narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue. His reply is prompt.

“I’d kill them.”

“I know,” you giggle, pulling Rin down to your lips once more.

Still in his clothes, Rin manages to tug his sweats down along with his boxers to his mid thighs, revealing his sturdy manhood. You moan into his mouth when the hot skin presses against your inner thigh.

“R—Rin, please,” you mewl so sweetly, gazing down at him as he teases the hem of your skirt.

The very sight of you, held by him like this, would probably send him to purgatory. It’s debauched in every sense of the word.

“I was so jealous when you told me about that damned student in the park,” Rin groans, rubbing the head of his manhood over your slick folds that twitch and cream over it.

“Wanted to— Wanna kill him for even thinking—,” Rin’s frustrations fall short when he finds himself burying into you. He rests his head on your collar, as you wrap your arms around him and bury yourself in the crook of his neck — a pliant and soft mess for him.

“Rin, Rin,” You cry, small tears escaping your eyes as Rin pushes you further down his cock, “Feels—Feels good.”

Sweat runs down his forehead, and your moist body presses against his. He kisses at your chest, which only makes you arch your back and press him further into you. Rin’s thrusts grow more intense, wanting to take you away — wanting to have you all for himself. A warm hand goes down to tease your clit and when you tighten around him, Rin sees stars. When the familiar band of pleasure reaches him, something he had not felt in years, Rin’s thrusts grow more rapid — with a strong want.

“Rin—Rin, gonna—,” You mewl, and Rin grips tighter onto your hips.

“I have you, I have you,” He grunts, driving further to make you reach your high. You hiccup, and Rin can feel a few tears fall down and touch his skin when you pull away from his neck to meet his lips as you come around you. He comes shortly after, clutching onto your malleable frame tightly, afraid that if he were to blink you would disappear.

When Rin comes back down, you lay next to him. You collapse into his chest, and he hums, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He still feels a bit high, especially as you coddle him. The clouds part outside, painting the room in a soft glow — painting over your skin.

You prop yourself on his chest, and Rin lets himself pet your cheek.

“I really, really love you Rin,” You murmur once more, lids drooping — threatening to close. He rubs your cheekbone with the knuckle of his finger, pushing your cheek — urging you to rest.

His eyes wander the room as he lay there with you. Your articles of clothing lay across the kotatsu, next to your beret and his hat. Rin wraps his arms around you, letting himself feel this selfish emotion longer. He likes the way you seem to fall into yourself every time you find something amusing, likes the way you find the need to hold onto something — anything — to ground yourself, and Rin likes it that, recently, the thing keeping you grounded has been him.

Rin likes you so much he cannot think straight.

He finds it easier everyday to admit this. Everything is easier in his head, and now you are there.

I know this love of mine will never die. And I love her.

#writing #minors dni #cw unhealthy relationship with parents #rin itoshi x female reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi

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katze-thief · 8 months

Text

five days for love confession

pairing: Ren Amamiya/Akira Kurusu x fem!reader

summary: Shujin Academy is holding its annual cultural festival, and it seems that five days of preparation is all it takes to make your crush fall in love with you.

chapter two: rainy monday

"five days for love confession" series' masterlist

Rain bucketed out of the sky since early morning. You could hear the loud sound it made against the roof, a rowdy and consistent rumble that sounded like it was shaking the structure of the building. Nonetheless, everything was open as usual today. Even though you could see, through your window, everyone running in the streets and struggling to commute to work, apparently no one was exempt of work or school, it seemed. Including you. The traditional summer weather.

You sighed, as you finished your bento. You wrapped it around a pink fabric, placing it on top of your school bag, alongside some snacks. Today, as per the school official schedule lists’ email, you were going to attend Shujin until 8PM, because of the long awaited annual cultural festival — although, for you, at least, the rain was a clear signal that the school should just drop it. Nobody was really excited by it — besides Makoto (but it’s kind of a responsibility issue for her) and Haru — and organizing it seemed more like a chore than the ‘bonding-magical-cooperative-life-experience-of-the-youth’ it was initially intended. But, of course, for a generational prep school like Shujin it was important to maintain these things. To maintain sovereignty over the other prep schools.

Basically dragged, you left home.

The entire path to the station was just terrible. Besides the rain, there was a cold weather that looked like autumn. Your umbrella visibly wasn’t withstanding the winds, and the summer uniform provided no comfort. But you did it. You entered the train — that looked more like an umbrella exhibition — and arrived in Ginza Line, ready to take the next train to Shibuya. It was full as usual. You were in between a second-year student, who gossiped too loud about Makoto, and a guy that was soaked wet, dripping water in your uniform.

Twenty minutes later (that seemed like an eternity), the train stopped.

“Shibuya Ward, Line 3. Shibuya Ward, Line 3” the familiar train voice yelled, repeatedly.

Shibuya was as full of people as always, a lot of them carrying umbrellas or soaked by the rain. You gently placed your broken umbrella at a trash can, as you stared at the heavy rain. A bunch of people was standing at the Shibuya’s station exit, looking at the waterfall coming out of the sky. A lot of Shujin students too, you notice. Your eyes fluttered searching for a special someone, though, leaving your brain disappointed by his absence.

“This may be the heaviest rain in the last 10 years, I heard!” A businesswomen said.

“I heard it. Truly, a summer rain!” A salary-man laughed.

You stood there for, maybe, ten or fifteen minutes, picking up courage to run through the rain. Your eyes flickered to the station’s clock, aware of the entrance time. Eventually, encompassing that some students were running, you ran with them, jolting the way to school. As you felt the rain getting too heavy, you ran into an awning.

“You too?” you heard a familiar voice say.

As you looked to your right, all of them were there. Almost all. Ann, Makoto, Ryuji, Futaba, and, more important, Ren. Ann, the voice you recognized, looked at you, chuckling.

Everyone was drenched, in different degrees. Ann was almost dry, as Makoto. Futaba’s hair was drenched, not her clothes, which really did not make that much of a sense in your head. Ren and Ryuji were completely dripping water, as you.

Makoto was squatting on the floor, as Ren and Futaba passed a few coins to her. She was counting them, coin by coin. The three of them looked unaware of your arrival. Your eyes lingered in Ren for a while.

“Gosh, it’s raining a lot today.” you said, drawing attention to you. “A woman on the station said it’s the heaviest rain in years. I don’t get how they expect us to plan while dealing with this weather. They should just cancel this festival already. I’m certain it’ll rain next Saturday anyway.”

“Good morning, sunshine.” Ren joked, as everyone laughed. You felt your cheeks burning. His cheeks were slightly toned pink, and water from his hair dripped down his face. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, which made you stare at him a bit curious. “I agree. It’s such a hassle…”

“All this festival effin’ shit is just bullshit.” Ryuji added, visibly angry.

“It’s very important, though. It gets funds for the clubs.” Makoto’s eyes were still fixed on the coins. “Any fund for the umbrella whip-round here?”

You searched for coins in your purse, and handed it to Ren, who passed to Makoto. She seemed to count it all again, before going into the store which awning you were all standing underneath. A few minutes later she came back, carefully carrying three umbrellas. Makoto took one and Ryuji the other.

You splitted one with Ren, noticing that he walked slower, respecting your pace. Makoto and Ann giggled and gossiped under their umbrella behind you, and Ryuji and Futaba basically ran ahead of you. The splatting sounds of water fulfilled the silence in between you.

“So…” Ren started, coughing softly after. “I read the email with today’s schedule. Seem like we have the same schedule today.”

Your mind stopped working for a second. How would you answer in a non-suspicious way, that certainly would not seem like you pleaded for the school administration council to be placed on the same activities as him?

You could feel your hands getting sweaty and the sounds of talking getting quieter. You chewed on your lip and answered the first thing that crossed your mind.

“How bizarre.”

The day flew by inconsequential. You were in a different classroom than the Thieves, and, besides that, they had an unspoken rule of not talking on school grounds, or, at least, in front of everyone. Ren and Ryuji had their reputation, and Futaba had to socialize with her classmates, as she was entering her first year. So, at least until after lunch, each one had their own groupies, and Ren and Ryuji had each other.

Then, it was festival preparation time.

As soon the rain stopped, the campus was garnished. You walked through the corridor, trying to find the classroom that “Cutting and Sewing of Hangings” was supposed to be, and, of course, admiring the students’ hard work, as many decorations were being pushed around the school, glued to the walls, and hanged on the ceilings.

Haru waved at you, holding a small bonsai and an orchid vase. Around her, was other girls carrying a few boxes and pushing carts with the most beautiful flowers: hydrangeas, lavenders, and many, MANY, daisies, and sunflowers. The second floor was full of pollen, and you could even spot some students frantically scratching their noses. You waved back, quickening the pace to get out of there.

You slid the door of the class 2-A, just to find the students divided. The room had a weird unwelcoming aura that just made you want to go back to the allergy-inducing corridor. Half the students were on one side and half on the other side, with Ren alone on the corner of the classroom, cutting some red swirls. A silent altercation.

Quickly, Kimiko, a friend of your class, grabbed your wrist.

“I’m so sorry, I tried to tell the counselor, but he said that he couldn’t change the role!” she pleaded "Nobody need to talk with such a weirdo like him."

You quickly walked over to the desk on Ren’s side, the only available, placing your bag on the floor and sitting not so long after.

He looks tired. A lot tired. He was rubbing his temples with a hand, cutting with the other, blinking slowly like on a daze. Ren was wearing gym clothes, which you assumed it was because of the drenched clothes from earlier. Also, he wore his glasses. You could feel your heart beating a bit faster.

“Nobody puts Baby on a corner.” you whispered, joking, as you refer to the endless ‘Dirty Dancing movie sessions that Yusuke and Ann obligated the entire squad to see. Ren chuckled, making the entire classroom stare at both of you weirdly. “What happened here?” you whispered again, wrinkling your nose.

He handed you a script and a note, written in very big, bold letters.

“ROMEO AND JULIET: CAST

REN AMAMIYA as ROMEO

Y/N L/N as JULIET”

As someone who just lost total willpower to contest, you handed the script back to him and picked up the scissors to cut out flags.

What a great Monday it is.

hi guys!! thank you for the support! it really makes me happy. i'll try to post a new chapter every week, at least, so stay tuned. also, i take requests!

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