hello! this is my writing blog. i get self-conscious about my writing a lot but i enjoy writing self-indulgent fandom bollocks so here we are. probs gonna be like 100% daiya no ace stuff yea also on ao3!
ahh it's been a while since i wrote anything. mei's first-year depression resounds with me a lot so i knew i had to write something to do with it sometime. enjoy!
there are multiple ones for most chars because i just love transcanons so so much!!! again not an exhaustive list bc for some i’m not too sure!
inashiro:
narumiya mei - trans girl, afab agender (aka...me...), trans boy, bigender, genderqueer, I COULD GO ON........
harada masatoshi - trans boy
tadano itsuki - trans girl
shirakawa katsuyuki - occasionally femme but forever aggressively gendervoid
kamiya carlos toshiki - polygender
yoshizawa hideaki - masc enby
hirai tsubasa - trans girl
seidou:
sawamura eijun - literally every gender hc ever honestly eijun is number 1 trans child
furuya satoru - demigirl, trans girl
kominato haruichi - demiboy, demigirl, agender, another very trans child
miyuki kazuya - agender
kuramochi youichi - demigirl
kawakami norifumi - trans boy
watanabe hisashi - genderfluid
yuuki tetsuya - trans girl
isashiki jun - trans girl, trans boy, agender
kominato ryousuke - femme nb
miyauchi keisuke - trans boy
kanemaru shinji - demifluid, demiboy
toujou hideaki - trans girl, demigirl, trans boy
yakushi:
todoroki raichi - agender
sanada shunpei - trans boy
mishima yuuta - genderfluid
akiba kazuma - agender
other:
akira nagao - trans girl
umemiya seiichi - trans boy
matsubara nao - genderqueer
you shunshin - trans boy
maki yousuke - trans girl, genderfluid
mukai taiyou - trans boy, trans girl, gendervoid, femme nb
finally living up to my url LOL... for the sake of ppl on mobile tumblr i probably won't host my writing here anymore, just post the ao3 link. pls enjoy~
here are some inashiro headcanons just... just 'cuz
some of them probably blur with canon or contradict it somewhat... orz
shirakawa, mei, and carlos are all on first name basis
all of the regulars stay in the dorms; they don't commute
itsuki's favourite anime is k-on!
mei was considerably littler in his first year but had a growth spurt before his second year began
shirakawa was taller than mei in the beginning, but mei grew when he didn't; now mei will never let him forget their 1cm difference
carlos is bilingual, speaking japanese and portuguese, with the former being his first language
carlos has a pretty big family - he's an older brother (babby kamiyas provided by my wonderful partner in crime chelz)
mei's older sisters are twins, and equally as loud as him, but taller
shirakawa has an older brother who's not into baseball a lot, and a younger sister who idolises katsuyuki (shirakawa sibs pictured here, once again thanks to chelz <3 <3 <3)
masa-san and shirakawa both prefer cats to dogs, whereas carlos and mei prefer dogs
shirakawa has a sailor's mouth despite how prim he appears to be
masa-san's tummy is just a lil bit squishy
mei doesn't have the brain for scholarly things - he doesn't bother with them since they don't advance him in the world of baseball. he's taken the most make-up tests out of any of them
in terms of intelligence for the second years, it goes shirakawa > carlos > mei > yamaoka, with shirakawa and carlos being considerably further ahead than the latter two
yoshizawa and tsubasa are a tag team of pranksters. mei is their favourite kouhai to torment
mei's sisters love to torment their baby brother. when he was little they'd always dress him up like a little dolly, and even now when he's at home they insist on putting cute barrettes in his hair and generally just embarrassing him
shinji's good manners and broad smiles hide a much less pleasant side of him (á la manami sangaku, for lack of a better comparison)
masa-san isn't too fond of sweets
mei is a super fussy eater, but has an unimaginably sweet tooth
shirakawa proclaims that junk food is disgusting but secretly loves it. his stomach is a bottomless pit despite how tiny he is
carlos is an excellent cook thanks to his father owning a restaurant
masa-san's a fairly good cook too
shirakawa never laughs because he has the worst, most undignified snort-laugh, and it embarrasses him to no end
mei, shirakawa, and carlos are super close friends. they go everywhere in a little trio and end up sleeping over one anothers' dorms most nights
that little trio tend to be quite affectionate with one another, carlos and mei in particular - it's not unusual to see them sprawled out over one another. shirakawa puts up with it
shirakawa had a giant crush on chris-senpai when he was in middle school, and thinking about him still makes his heart race a bit now
masa-san's brothers have the same eyebrows as him
yoshizawa rides a motorcycle
tsubasa is super well-built
shinji will be 190cm tall by the time he enrols at inashiro
i know i have way more than this but i can't think of 'em at the moment!! but i'll probably come back and add to this lmao /lays down
just some fluff As Per Usual, this time revolving around pda. i wrote this for my good friend choco, hope you enjoy!!
ao3 link here!
No matter how well Carlos and Shirakawa complemented one another on and off the field, public displays of affection were one thing they couldn’t agree on for a long time. Carlos was full of them, of course; he’d fuss over Shirakawa all day if he were able to, as brazen about showing his feelings as he was about everything else in life, unfazed by whatever attention such ministrations might garner. His fingertips itched when they weren’t in some form of contact with the other’s paler skin, always yearning to press soft kisses and touches over whatever part of him he could reach. Neither their location nor any present company ever caused him to shy away from being affectionate, wanting only to show his appreciation for his partner, and thinking about nothing aside from doing just that – and, well, such a lack of a filter was hardly a surprise from the man who saw no issues with pulling his clothes off at a moment’s notice.
Shirakawa, on the other hand, was far more reserved than that. At least, that was the impression he liked to give in public. Around other people, he was the textbook example of standoffish, cool and downright haughty in most of his interactions. Carlos had been just as touchy-feely before they’d dated, and Shirakawa had responded just as icily back then, as well; whether it was linked arms or entwined fingers, friendly hugs or long embraces, his lip would curl and he’d jerk away, and Carlos could only chuckle and try again the next day.
It wasn’t that Shirakawa didn’t like those tender touches; truth be told, he adored Carlos fussing over him so much, and that much was evident from how he was practically glued to his side at all times, always managing to be in his general vicinity no matter what the situation was. Beyond that, Carlos had unravelled his tightly-wound disposition long ago. He knew how Shirakawa melted into his touches when they were alone, had woken up countless times with the smaller of them curled in his arms of his own volition. He’d felt his fingers searching and grabbing for his own when they were by themselves in the dugout, taken note of his rare but impossibly blissful smiles when he was curled up with him, watched him sigh and relax as he played with his hair. Carlos didn’t believe his outward stony image for even a second. He knew better.
And he was proven right once again as Shirakawa wriggled away from the arm the other tried to wrap around his waist as they walked back from practice, but then happily accommodated himself in his lap as soon as they were alone in his dorm, lips pressed idly against Carlos’s neck as he leaned his head on his shoulder. Carlos tilted his head to look down at him, regarding him with a warm air of amusement, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his auburn hair.
“You’re done being cold with me, then?” he asked. His tone wasn’t annoyed or upset whatsoever; it was light and teasing, the smile that was on his lips only growing as he saw Shirakawa look up at him and roll his eyes.
“We’re alone now,” he replied, as though that explained it. Which, in his mind, it did. “It’s not like I’m being cold to you, anyway… you’d know if I was angry with you.”
Carlos let out an amused hum in response to that, his unoccupied hand moving to grab one of Shirakawa’s, lacing their fingers together. “Mm, that’s true,” he agreed. “So then why won’t you hold my hand in public?” He lifted the other’s hand to his own lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle, the movements deliberate as though he were showcasing how they caused no problem when it was just the two of them.
Shirakawa didn’t reply to that, focused on the gentle kisses, brows furrowed. He wasn’t even entirely sure himself why he protested against the public displays of affection, since he really was fond of the attention from Carlos, but it just made him ridiculously flustered. His soft and affectionate side wasn’t meant for anybody else’s eyes but Carlos’s, always remaining concealed under his shrewd exterior. It was hard to adjust to the rush of warmth he felt and the increase of his heart rate whenever they touched, especially when they were in public, so his instinctive reaction had always been to balk from such situations. But Carlos’s presence was so comfortable, so warm and pleasant, that he was beginning to mind it less and less with each passing day.
He knew that Carlos wouldn’t ever rush him to speak, but he also knew that he’d continue to kiss him and gaze at him with that warm expectant look that made his knees feel weak until he deigned to break the silence, so he decided he’d save them both the time and answer sooner rather than later.
“It’s just…” he began after another pause, and Carlos was still silent, playing with his smaller fingers as he waited for him to continue. His digits were rough and calloused, an unavoidable characteristic garnered from the lifestyle of rigorous baseball, but his touches were tender, always so tender, like they were handling precious china rather than a sharp-tongued shortstop. Not that Shirakawa would ever complain about that, of course; those soft ministrations felt nothing short of heavenly, coaxing words out of him in the way that nobody but Carlos could. “It’s embarrassing,” he finished with a grumble, lowering his gaze to focus on their joined hands.
“Embarrassing?” the taller of them repeated, voice quiet, though his rich timbre still seemed to engulf Shirakawa, as warm as the body it belonged to, and he recognised the tone in it at once, eyes narrowing. It was a tone he was all too familiar with, lilting and unassuming, contrasting entirely with the mischievous glint that he knew he’d see in his gaze if he bothered to lift his head and squint at him.
That tone, paired with that gaze, could only mean one thing: Carlos had sensed an advantage. And he was going to use it.
“Really, holding hands with me embarrasses you, Katsuyuki…” he continued, a smirk playing on his lips as he ghosted kisses along his jawline. “So that’s the effect I have… and all this time I thought you were so cool-headed, hmm…”
That prompted Shirakawa to finally look up at him, and Carlos took the opportunity to trail soft kisses from his jaw down to his neck, his smirk palpable. “Don’t put it like that,” he muttered, the words delayed as he had to take a moment to swallow audibly, trying to focus on his own irritation rather than how smooth and warm Carlos’s lips were. “I do keep a cool head, I just—“
“You do?” There was an added note of amusement to his voice, pulling back to look at him with deceivingly innocent eyes, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, one finger tracing along his jawline. “But you just said it embarrasses you, Katsuyuki. Didn’t you?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean…!” Shirakawa trailed off with gritted teeth, what could only be described as a pout becoming apparent on his face, a soft huff escaping him. Carlos had backed him into a corner, causing him to become tongue-tied and flustered, and proving his point entirely.Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.
“If I really fluster you so much, Katsuyuki…” – Carlos dragged out each syllable of his name in a way that caused a shiver to pass through Shirakawa’s spine, and very much made him flustered – “… then there’s nothing for it, I suppose.” He let out a soft sigh, regretful, almost, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple.
Shirakawa wasn’t blind to what Carlos’s antics were, but he wasn’t immune to them, either. He knew exactly what Carlos was doing. And he knew that he was playing right into his hands, melting into his honeyed words and careful touches like they both knew he was always going to. But despite that knowledge, he stood up quite abruptly, blushing all the way to his ears, flipping his hair out of his face and keeping a tight hold onto Carlos’s hand.
“Let’s go and get a drink, Carlos,” he suggested quietly.
While his low tone and stony expression might have seemed dangerous to some, Carlos knew him well enough to understand exactly what those combinations of characteristics entailed. Shirakawa had decided to do something, and judging from the way he squeezed his hand, he had a glimmer of hopefulness about what exactly it was that he seemed so determined to do. He stood up after him, glancing down first at his embarrassed but resilient expression, and then at their still entwined fingers, pushing the door open.
Shirakawa headed into the hallway first, movements as graceful as everything else he did. Carlos followed, eyes flickering down to their hands once more; although he remained hopeful, he was more than ready to see the other second year drop his hand as if it was a hot poker like he always did. But his resolve didn’t waver, seemingly, and Carlos felt his heart skip with joy as they made their way towards the vending machines, still hand in hand.
It was sufficiently balmy for an early autumn evening in Tokyo, the temperature seeming to reflect the warmth Carlos felt in his chest, the red hue of the sunset’s beginning matching the hue that was prominent across Shirakawa’s cheeks. But he persevered, even as he was sure some snotty first year looked at them weirdly, and even as he heard an endeared little chuckle escape Carlos – in fact, that made him cling onto his hand even more tightly.
“Not such a big deal, is it, kitten?” Carlos remarked, a smirk playing on his lips as per usual, catching Shirakawa’s gaze and brushing a thumb over his knuckles.
“Shut up,” was the reply he was given, one that he certainly expected; though there was hardly any bite to it at all, and if he wasn’t mistaken, one corner of his partner’s mouth had twitched upwards a centimetre or two. Carlos was right – in the end, it wasn’t a big deal, but someone like Shirakawa wasn’t going to freely admit that. Instead, he walked a step closer to him than he normally would, looking straight ahead as he gave his hand a soft squeeze.
The small movement seemed to invoke something in Carlos, an overwhelming rush of affection that he just couldn’t keep to himself, stopping in front of the vending machine and turning to face Shirakawa, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace. The action caused the shorter of them to tense for just a moment, but he responded at a speed that took even him by surprise, relaxing into the hug.
“You’re still embarrassing,” he mumbled, voice soft and muffled from being pressed so close to Carlos’s chest, but he made no move whatsoever to pull away, focusing on how he felt a warm chuckle resonate through the body he was pressed against rather than focusing on their very public location.
“Maybe so, sweetheart,” he replied rather amiably, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “But you love me.”
“Unfortunately,” Shirakawa sighed out, and his intention was to continue hiding his wide smile and flushed cheeks against the fabric of Carlos’s shirt, but that plan was ruined as the taller of the two manoeuvred his free hand to tilt the other’s chin up and catch his lips in a kiss. It was brief and gentle, but overflowing with emotion, and Shirakawa swore that none of his underclassmen were ever going to take him seriously again if they saw how red his cheeks were. Though after a moment of contemplation, gaze sweeping upwards to take in the sight of the warm and affectionate person whose arms were currently wrapped around him, he wondered if he could perhaps learn not to care about that whatsoever.
“I love you, Katsuyuki,” Carlos murmured, voice as soft as his lips had been moments ago, and if Shirakawa wasn’t already as red as was humanly possible, he certainly was after hearing those words. “I can’t help but want everybody to know that.”
He was silent at that, his thoughts racing through his brain, unable to render any kind of response for a few moments. “… If you keep being so sappy, everyone will know, anyway,” he finally mumbled, not sure what else to say.
“Good,” Carlos chuckled, pulling him closer, then pushing his fringe to the side in order to lean in and press a kiss to his forehead. This time, it was Shirakawa who tilted his head and joined their lips in an actual kiss, though he pulled away with a small frown once he heard a girlish giggle from somewhere near them. They both glanced sideways to see a pair of first years looking back at them, scandalised looks on their faces, and Shirakawa clenched his jaw while Carlos hummed in amusement.
“Looks like we generated a bit of an audience, hm, Katsuyuki?” he mused, looking back down at him. Shirakawa’s hand hovered against Carlos’s shoulder, a contemplative expression on his face.
“Good,” he muttered after a moment, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he pulled Carlos into another kiss.
For all he cared now, they could stare all they liked.
shiracarlos (?), 1282 words, spoilers for chapters 185/186
feelgood shiracarlos (I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF THAT'S THE SHIP NAME) fluff. i don't recommend reading unless you've read the summer tournament final orz but there's no direct spoilers (like results and all) so yea!!
ao3 link here!
“I told you already, I’m fine,” Shirakawa insists for what feels like the hundredth time, pushing his hand in Carlos’s face, intercepting him as he leans in from where he’s sitting beside him on the shortstop’s bed.
“I have to make sure,” comes the muffled reply, prompt as ever, and Shirakawa feels lips press against his palm. The movement elicits a frustrated sigh from him, but his mouth twitches up into a smile despite himself. He pulls his hand back, and Carlos catches it in his own, entwines their fingers together and presses kisses against his wrist, up his forearm. Shirakawa gives his hand a soft squeeze and brushes his thumb against the other’s knuckles, not speaking again until his lips reach the crease of his elbow.
“You’re worrying over nothing,” he grumbles.
“You aren’t ‘nothing’,” Carlos responds, pausing the ministrations of his mouth to smile up at him warmly, gaze tender and earnest. Shirakawa lets out a small huff, but his own small smile is back, and there’s a definite pink hue to his cheeks as he looks away.
“Tch… you know that’s not what I meant. There’s nothing about me to be worried about,” he elaborates, and he can feel a hint of sternness in Carlos’s gaze despite not actually looking at him.
“You took a deadball to the head, sweetheart. That’s more than enough to be worried about.”
“I took a deadball to the helmet, there’s a difference.”
“It still knocked you to the ground,” Carlos points out, and even though they both know his words bear no harshness, and they wouldn’t in a thousand years, Shirakawa still cringes. He didn’t need the reminder.
“And I got straight back up,” he shoots back, “so why are you even bringing it up? I’m fine.” His tone is certainly sharper than it had been before, his grip on the other’s hand loosening as he snaps at him. Carlos lets out a quiet chuckle, eyebrows raised, and as much as Shirakawa wants to grit his teeth and yell at him for laughing, the rich timbre of his laughter just ends up making his heart flutter.
“There’s no need to be so defensive, kitten,” he says, and his voice is smooth and soft, not condescending in the slightest. It’s… comforting, and pleasant, as much as Shirakawa doesn’t want to admit that to himself, and he doesn’t even react to the normally infuriating pet name. When it’s clear he’s not going to receive a response, Carlos resumes his soft kisses along Shirakawa’s skin, coming to a stop again so that he can lean his head against his shoulder, arms coming to wrap around his middle, sliding down to his waist, his touches innocent but feeling so intimate in the moment.
“Katsuyuki,” he murmurs against his paler skin.
Shirakawa doesn’t respond again; he could be cold when he wanted to. His terse silence only draws out another chuckle from Carlos, who leads a trail of kisses up his neck and along his jawline, his touches coming to a stop once more when he reaches his earlobe, pressing his lips to it for a moment before speaking softly.
“Please let me take care of you.”
That’s what makes Shirakawa’s façade melt, finally; and if he’s honest he’s surprised it even lasted this long, because Carlos is so warm and wholesome, and brimming with kisses and tender touches, and he’s certain that both of them are more than aware that no part of him wants or has ever wanted to push him away. Try as he might to be shrewd and icy, it never holds up around Carlos’s wit and warmth – and he was right, in the end, that deadball did hurt, and he couldn’t even fully convince himself that he didn’t want to be fussed over about it. After all, there was a reason he’d allowed this one person in particular to stay here with him when he’d told everybody else to go away.
“Hmph,” Shirakawa begins, but it’s more of a soft chuckle than the disinterested grunt he was aiming for, and he can’t mask the smile that’s prevalent on his face once more. “Fine.”
Carlos lights up straight away; he’s able to more than comfortably accommodate the shorter of them in his lap, and he takes advantage of that fact, pulling him close to his chest. Shirakawa settles there, leaning into his warm frame and exhaling, and there’s nowhere else he could possibly wish to be.
“Katsuyuki, you’re so little,” Carlos is saying to him, and Shirakawa feels his heart race at hearing his name crooned in such an affectionate tone – though he stiffens at the choice of words, even if he does feel quite small when he’s nestled against the other’s broad chest. Carlos chuckles and corrects himself before Shirakawa can even complain, rubbing gentle circles into the small of his back until he relaxes again.
“Not little, then,” he amends, pressing his nose against the other’s hair, placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head. “Petite? Delicate? Mm… precious for sure, isn’t that right?”
When Shirakawa lifts his head – to object, agree, or say something else entirely, he isn’t even sure himself – Carlos leans in to steal a kiss, and his own lips are more than ready for it, pressing closer as his arms come up to wrap loosely around his neck, fingers moving to run through his slicked hair. The gesture is returned after not even half a second; he feels Carlos’s fingers brush against the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck, before they slide through his longer layers. When his digits move against the spot that the deadball hit, still sore no matter how much he tries to insist it isn’t, he can’t help but wince. Carlos breaks the kiss at that, and Shirakawa wants to roll his eyes, tell him that it’s fine and that he doesn’t need to worry so much; but no words or contemptuous mannerisms will come to him, and instead he finds that he just lets out a quiet sigh as he’s pulled close to the other’s chest once again.
“Precious for sure,” Carlos murmurs, an almost thoughtful tone to his smooth voice. “And yet strong, so strong…” He laughs after that, a soft and endeared sound, and presses his lips to that sensitive spot. It’s the most loving and tender touch Shirakawa thinks he’s ever received, and his cheeks burn red before he can even think of quelling such a blush.
“So strong, Katsuyuki,” the taller of the two repeats after a moment, pulling back just a bit so that he can gaze down at him, and his gaze is full to the brim of affection and care. Shirakawa would scoff, but he’s sure that his own eyes likely mirror the same sort of embarrassing emotions, ones that he could never vocalise, though he knows that Carlos is well aware of them. “Talented, amazing, beautiful… I could go on, you know. You are fine, I know you are. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to look after you.” He smiles then, and Shirakawa chews on his lower lip for a moment before closing his eyes, leaning in close enough to nuzzle their noses together.
“Carlos, you’re so…” he begins, but he doesn’t know where to go with it.
“Hmm? Wonderful? Handsome? Romantic?” he suggests, and Shirakawa doesn’t have to open his eyes to see his smug smirk, he can hear it in his amused tone.
“Embarrassing,” he decides to settle on, leaning in to kiss him properly. Carlos was right; he was perfectly fine. But if he was being truthful, he didn't mind having someone to kiss it better.
furuharu, 914 words, featuring demigirl furuya! written to make a dear friend feel better <3
ao3 link here!
Miyuki might have been the one to suggest nail polish to Furuya in the first place, to strengthen their nails, but it was Haruichi who ventured that perhaps they could use different coloured polishes. The topic had arose when they were sat together on a breezy summer afternoon, the canopy of the tree they rested under still allowing the sunlight to shine through, speckled and warm and wholesome. Haruichi sat in Furuya’s lap, as he always preferred to, and their hands were clasped together, like they so often were. Haruichi liked to examine the other’s hands, partially out of his concern for Furuya, ensuring they were taking care of themselves and that they weren’t causing any damage with their heavy pitching – but partially just because he loved to explore their hands. They were so much bigger than his own slender digits; rough and calloused from their years of baseball, they were by no means soft, and yet Furuya’s touches against his skin were some of the most tender he’d ever experienced.
“Your nails are so strong and neat now,” he sighed, with an almost wistful tone in his voice. “You put polish on them, right?”
“Yeah,” came the reply, and it was delayed as always; Haruichi had grown accustomed to waiting for a response after anything he said. “Miyuki-senpai said it’ll stop them from breaking.”
“Mm, it’s working… Have you ever tried any different colours?” the shorter of them ventured, which was followed by a longer pause than usual, prompting him to tilt his head up and look back at Furuya, pink hair falling away from his eyes.
“… You can do that?” they said, and there was a glimmer of hopefulness in their eyes that Haruichi wasn’t used to – that look mixed with their general unawareness filled him with endeared emotions, and he nodded quickly, giving them a rather radiant smile.
“Of course you can! Hmm… I’ll just be a moment, Satoru-kun,” he promised, climbing out of their lap and dusting himself off. “Think about your favourite colour while I’m gone, okay?”
Furuya might have had a tinge of confusion to their expression now, but they didn’t object, and Haruichi really was gone for but a moment before he returned, clutching a small bag in one hand. When he settled down, he didn’t resume his position in their lap; instead, he settled down across from them, cross-legged and beaming as he unzipped the bag.
“So what colour do you want, Satoru-kun?” he asked, looking up at them again. Furuya glanced down at the bag, seeing that it was filled with little jars of nail polish, in any colour that they could have imagined. But they knew their answer already, even if they were a little bit hesitant to reveal it, biting down on their lower lip before speaking.
“P…Pink. Like this,” they murmured, and to illustrate their point, they lifted a hand to gently grab a few strands of Haruichi’s light hair, rolling it between their fingertips. It was like candyfloss, they’d always thought, framing the boy’s face and falling into his eyes, though they knew very well by now that beneath the fringe of light hair, his irises were a matching and equally gorgeous pink. Haruichi let out a quiet laugh at the tender movement, and allowed himself a moment to lean into the touch, nothing but affection and happiness running through his body at that point in time.
“Okay, pink like my hair,” he agreed happily, rifling through the little bag until he found a bottle that resembled the pigment, shuffling closer to Furuya. “Give me your hand, please…”
Haruichi’s hands were as steady and precise as everything else he did, holding onto the other’s larger one carefully once he’d uncapped the bottle of nail polish. His strokes were swift and accurate, and he didn’t speak as he did it, but that was alright – they were both quiet individuals, and the silence was comfortable. Beyond that, Furuya was busy thinking as they watched him paint their nails, thinking about how… okay this all was. How they could paint their nails if they wanted to and nobody would think anything of it, and it didn’t matter if they weren’t a girl or they were kind of a girl or they weren’t anything like that, it was just okay. And although their expression didn’t change too much, they closed their eyes and felt the corners of their mouth tugging up just a bit, their cheeks resembling the colour that was being so intricately placed upon their fingernails.
They might have almost dozed off, were it not for Haruichi blowing on their fingertips, which caused them to curl them back slightly, the sensation soft and ticklish. Haruichi smiled up at them, drawing his own hand back so that they could admire his handiwork together.
“I think it looks nice,” he chirped, and Furuya quickly jerked their head in an agreeing nod as they held their hand up, gazing at their neat and now pastel pink fingertips. They felt so touched by the gesture, and while the happiness wasn’t massively apparent on their face, the gaze that they regarded their boyfriend with was full of affection.
“Thank you, Haruichi,” they said, and the boy just let out a gentle giggle that was as beautiful as birdsong to their ears. Furuya pulled Haruichi into their lap without a second of hesitation, and it all felt so right, and they felt warmer than any Tokyo summer day.
furuharu, 1471 words, "kisses in the rain" prompt from twitter
i don't know how to format yet, please bear with me LOL
ao3 link here!
Sudden, light drizzles were a nuisance for most people, but for the members of the Seidou baseball team, they came as a welcome change to the hot weather. They were always more than committed enough to continue their practice anyway, come rain or shine… but it wasn’t ideal once the sky began to turn a stormier grey, the rumbling skies and slippery ground beginning to feel quite far removed from the warm, dry baseball fields that made them feel so at home. When the thunder grew louder and lightning began to flash along the horizon, some players headed towards the indoor practice areas, but it wasn’t until the heavens really opened up and the rain grew merciless that they all scrambled for cover.
Haruichi was among those stragglers, having been in the middle of fretting over the handle of his wooden bat that was now slick from rainwater; by the time he glanced up, the majority of his teammates had already made it halfway across the field. His plan was to head somewhere drier and then continue practicing, but as he began to jog he noticed a familiar tall figure, one that made his heart flutter more than any jolting clap of thunder ever could. Furuya didn’t seem to be heading anywhere; he stood just outside of the fields with his cap in one hand, away from the sight of most of the other players dashing towards the practice areas, head tilted upwards to the swelling sky above that was still visible through the lush canopy of the tree he stood under. His expression was as vacant as ever, eyes half closed, not showing any positive or negative emotions – although he’d never been the most expressive fellow, Haruichi supposed with a small smile to himself. The direction he’d been walking changed before he even consciously registered it, approaching the pitcher and raising his hand in a shy greeting. Furuya acknowledged it by turning his body ever so slightly towards him, which was a good start, in all honesty; the entire team had heard Sawamura’s raging about the tall boy ignoring him. But he’d never dream of ignoring Haruichi – he knew that much, and it made his stomach do a funny little flip.
“Furuya-kun, aren’t you going inside to practice?” he ventured, shifting and leaning against his bat as he peered up at him. He could see that he was soaked, dark hair damp and clinging to his head, droplets of rain running down his nose and tracing along his jawline. “It’s wet, and everybody else went in…”
The response came after a slight delay, as it always did, and Haruichi couldn’t help but smile a bit once again. Even with the background noise of heavy rain, ominous thunder, and distant voices, you could practically hear the cogs in his brain whirring, registering that he was being spoken to, and that a reply was expected of him. His social skills were stunted at best, and rude at worst, but Haruichi had long since accepted it as the lonely boy’s social awkwardness; by now it was endearing to him more than anything. Furuya really did try his best.
“Miyuki-senpai said to meet him, but… in a minute. I want to stay out here.”
“Out here, in the rain?” the shorter boy repeated, a questioning tone in his voice. “Aren’t you cold…?”
“No, it’s nice. It’s not hot for once…” came the reply from the Hokkaido native, and, oh. Haruichi gave him an understanding nod. He worried for his teammate during the hot Tokyo summer, more than aware that he was about as tolerant of the heat as his adored polar bears were.
“That makes sense… well, I’ll stay with you for a bit, then.” Haruichi nodded again and offered him a bashful glance, daring to step closer, heat rising to his cheeks. “It is cold, though…”
“You’re cold?” Furuya tilted his head to the side at that – Haruichi could feel his gaze surveying over him, which only served to make his cheeks heat up more. “But your face is red.”
“That’s—!” He heard a slight squeak in his voice, blush deepening even further as it was pointed out, flustered within a moment. “That’s, um… just because I was jogging!”
“Oh… I see…” Furuya accepted the explanation without question, and Haruichi couldn’t help but feel a slight sting of disappointment, letting out a little sigh as he glanced across the field. They remained silent for a few more moments, but it was an amicable kind of silence, basking in the simplicity of one another’s company. Haruichi found that his gaze and thoughts were constantly dragged back to the boy standing with him, and on more than one occasion, he could have sworn that he felt his gaze burning into him, as well.
He wanted to spend more time with the pitcher above anything else, but he really was cold, huddled into his jersey and standing as close to the other as he could without being conspicuous. He was close to suggesting that they retreat inside, but he was caught off guard when Furuya was the one to break the quietness before he could, and it was his words that took him even more by surprise.
To be specific, it was the first word he said: “Haruichi.” It was uttered so softly, but his voice came through the rainfall as clear as anything, and the unfamiliar yet pleasant sound of the syllables rolling off of Furuya’s tongue was enough to make the shorter of them look up at him immediately, his cheeks rapidly turning pinker than his hair. There was a somewhat shy quality to his tone, one that Haruichi hadn’t heard before, but he didn’t stumble over the name. It was as if he’d been preparing himself to say it, almost, and he continued in the same quiet voice, keeping his gaze fixed on the person in front of him. “… Your lips look blue.”
Haruichi supposed that was no particular surprise; even under the tree’s cover, he felt soaked through to the bone after standing outside for so long. A thought occurred to him at the comment, but before he could open his mouth to venture, Furuya-kun, why were you looking at my lips…?, a warm mouth was pressed against his own.
That gave him his answer, in retrospect. But at the time, all he could focus on was the fact that he was being kissed, their lips moving against one another’s in a way that was decidedly clumsy and inexperienced, but sweet and meaningful nonetheless. And Furuya was so warm, he couldn’t help but press into it, seeking the warmth and passion that was thinly veiled under his stoic exterior. Being kissed wasn’t a sensation he was at all familiar with, but he knew that he could get used to it soon enough if they continued like this. Though it came to an end quite soon, the pleasant and warm feeling didn’t fade, and Haruichi felt himself longing to refresh his scattered mind of the curvature of Furuya’s lips again at once.
They were left staring at one another for a few long, albeit comfortable moments, both as flushed as the other, the kiss having chased away any concerns about the downpour surrounding them. Haruichi broke the silence this time with a nervous giggle, and though Furuya didn’t respond with a laugh of his own, the corners of his mouth certainly turned upwards.
“Your lips aren’t blue anymore,” he commented, causing Haruichi to lift a hand to his mouth a tad self-consciously, pressing a finger against his lower lip, which now had a pleasant tingling running through it.
“They aren’t,” he agreed with a soft tone, peering up at Furuya through his long bangs. “Even so, ah… I still feel a little cold… do you mind if we… do that again?”
Furuya didn’t answer with words, having always been the sort to do rather than explain, choosing instead to lean down and kiss him once again, and after he had begun, neither could bring themselves to stop. Their second kiss chased the last of their coldness away entirely; the third taught them that the utmost care should be taken to ensure that neither noses nor teeth bump against each other; the fourth taught them that tongues were an interesting addition to the medley of affection and passion.
And the fifth, well; the fifth taught them that unless you want to be caught in an embarrassing situation, you really shouldn’t leave your senpai wondering where on earth you’ve gotten to, because he will come looking for you. And he will laugh at you. Excessively so.
However, they soon learned that they didn’t really mind that enough to not steal their sixth kiss from each other as they traipsed behind Miyuki on their way to the inside practice fields.
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