the memory of your lips . . . god, im so lovesick

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 . . . 𝐠𝐨𝐝, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤

[lunaviee]

⛦ ꩜⋆ ༘ “ WHEN THE WORLD OUTSIDE NO LONGER CARES IF YOU LIVE OR DIE; REMEMBER, I LOVE YOU ” ༘⋆꩜ ⛦

🪐 . . . LIA!! ִ ࣪𖤐 18. she/they. infj. 🇲🇽 — discontinued blog

⊹ THE itoshi rin and nagi seishiro enthusiast !!

🌌 . . . sfw blog (16+) ⊹ new account ; @viectini

⊹ my requests are closed! ⊹ ⋆୨rules୧⋆ ⋆୨m.list୧⋆ ⋆୨events୧⋆

© LUNAVIEE 2023-25 — do not repost, translate, alter, etc. on any other platform. especially without permission.

[lunaviee]

real name reveal btw lol

forgot i made vie my alias when i was going through it 2 years ago yikes

[lunaviee]

guys i miss writing🫩

[lunaviee]

INFRUNAMI — rin itoshi SMAU

(400 follower event/special!)

,, cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me “

⨳ SYNOPSIS — rin finally realizes what he had before he lost it..is it too late? or maybe you feel the same…?

⨳ TAGS — college au, hurt/comfort, classmates to friends to lovers, social media au, f!reader, idk what i’m doing

⨳ STATUS — hiatus.., started: may 27th

⨳ AUTHORS NOTES — yes ik the song is about his ex but umm we’re ignoring that!! sae and rin have an actual HEALTHY relationship in this bc i cannot deal with them being separated they need to be brothers again😞😞 it’s basically the same thing methinks…anyways, this is my first smau and event! hope u all enjoy!! + idk how much i’ll upload so be patient!

PROFILES ✮ TAGLIST

01. - complaints

02. - denial is a river in egypt

03. - wingman?

04. - jealousy…?

05. - ,, yn, you’re an idiot… “

06. - sae is done with rin

07. - tba…

08. - tba…

[lunaviee]

hi guys being so completely truthful, this smau reminds me of my situationship so i will not be continuing ok bye LMAOO……

[yukkigiri]

because he had to

bound by an arranged engagement with rin, whom you’ve loved since childhood, you start to wonder if the kindness you once thought was duty had always been love he chose to give—quiet, steady, and meant only for you.

starring. itoshi rin x fem!reader

genre. romance, angst.

wc. 12.5k

cw. generational trauma, misogynistic comments from rin's family.

author's note: thankfully, I recovered this fic because I really love this to the point I even wrote sae's spin off

sae's side story: if only

You first saw Itoshi Rin when you were around ten years old, at a grand charity gala your parents insisted you attend. You were still small enough to get away with hiding under buffet tables or sneaking extra dessert plates, but that night, something made you pause.

He was sitting at a corner table, not quite sulking but clearly not enjoying himself. His older brother, Sae, stood just a few feet away, surrounded by adults clapping him on the back, heaping praise for his early success in football. Rin sat stiffly, watching in silence, his small hands clenched in his lap. He must have been only a year or two older than you, but already you noticed the way his shoulders curled in—like he was used to shrinking himself down beside Sae’s spotlight.

What stuck with you wasn’t Sae’s fame. It was the subtle way Rin glanced at his brother—part admiration, part resignation. He looked like he was used to being second. But Sae didn’t look pleased either. In fact, the older boy was barely masking his annoyance, his lips in a tight line as though the attention was more exhausting than flattering. And in that strange moment—amid clinking wine glasses and adult laughter—you realized both brothers hated being there, just in different ways.

You didn’t talk to Rin then. Just observed him from behind your parents’ tailored clothes. And then you kept seeing him.

At more events—charity auctions, fundraising banquets, community celebrations that tied your two influential families together. Sometimes it was just a nod, a glance from across the ballroom, a shared glance when the grown-ups talked too loud or said the wrong thing. One time, at your cousin’s wedding, you didn’t realize your dress zipper had broken. You were too busy helping with the reception program when someone placed a warm jacket over your shoulders. You turned around in surprise, and there he was—Rin. He didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod before walking away. That coat smelled like mint and laundry detergent, and you remembered thinking how quiet boys always noticed the important things.

You ended up attending the same prestigious high school, though you were in different classes. Rin was already well on his way to stardom—dedicated to football, almost unreachable in his discipline. You found your own rhythm in the science labs and student council meetings, pouring yourself into volunteer work, biology papers, and late-night cram sessions.

Your family came from a long line of doctors—all men, all top of their class. You were the first daughter in generations to pursue medicine, but no one discouraged you. In fact, your parents were unusually supportive, proudly calling you their “game-changer.” Medicine wasn’t just a family legacy to you—it was your choice, your dream. You wanted it more than anything else. And after years of sleepless nights, caffeine-fueled revisions, and anatomy charts tattooed behind your eyelids, you had finally graduated.

You were now a first-year resident, newly transitioned from the chaos of med school into the grueling hours of internship. It was hard. No one romanticized the truth—thirty-hour shifts, patients coding, seniors snapping, hands that trembled from exhaustion. But you loved it. Every messy, sleep-deprived, adrenaline-filled second of it.

Rin’s trajectory wasn’t any less impressive. His family, known for producing world-class athletes and ruthless business tycoons, had high expectations—and Rin met every single one. He dominated the Japan Football League like a silent storm, precise and terrifying in his technique. Off the field, he ran training camps for aspiring athletes, managed a string of sports clinics, and co-owned a retail chain of elite gear stores. Rin wasn’t just a star player—he was building an empire with the same laser-sharp focus he had as a child.

You had accepted that your paths would always run parallel. Close, almost intimate, but never crossing.

Until the day you dragged yourself home after a brutal twenty-four-hour hospital shift, having juggled emergency rotations and review materials for your upcoming internship exams, and your parents sat you down at the dinner table.

They looked too calm. The kind of calm that came right before life took a sharp, irreversible turn.

“We have something to tell you,” your mother said gently, folding her hands.

Your father smiled, as if this was good news.

And then they said it. You were engaged—to Itoshi Rin.

You didn’t complain—you saw this coming.

You had prepared yourself for it years ago, the possibility always lingering quietly in the back of your mind like a shadow at the edge of a doorframe. And truthfully? You didn’t care. Not in the way that made most women your age spiral into panic or daydreams. You had already built a life for yourself—a solid, hard-earned future that didn’t depend on anyone else.

You were a doctor now—first female in your family to make it past the impossible bar set by generations of male predecessors. You graduated with honors, fought tooth and nail through sleepless nights and clinical rotations, survived condescending mentors and soul-crushing shifts. You were already enough.

So if your name was to be tied to Itoshi Rin’s—if your future was to include a man chosen not by your heart but by obligation—you’d manage. Like always.

After all, you came from a long line of women who did the same.

Arranged marriages were practically tradition in your family—your mother included. But hers was the rare kind that bloomed over time. Your parents' marriage became something beautiful, built on mutual respect and unspoken understanding. What started as strategy became a sanctuary—resulting in a home filled with love, quiet strength, and two children who never once doubted what affection felt like.

Maybe, somewhere in your heart, you hoped yours would follow that path.

And to be fair—you liked Rin. Even before this engagement was proposed.

He was familiar to you. You’d seen him at social events growing up—quiet in the corners, head slightly bowed, posture straight, always watching. Always listening. You went to the same prestigious high school, though his reputation preceded him. Stoic. Calculated. Intimidatingly brilliant. You were never close, but your paths crossed often enough that his name never felt foreign in your mouth.

And now—it was bound to yours.

The engagement was announced the way everything in Rin’s world was—polished, pristine, and press-ready. A curated image for the public to consume. His family handled the release—a glossy photo of the two of you, a generic caption about love and legacy. It was posted to official pages, picked up by sports blogs, and spread across gossip forums before the ink on the paperwork even dried.

You didn’t even mind. You were used to pressure. To scrutiny. To people making assumptions about your life without knowing a single thing about it.

And that’s how you found yourself standing at the entrance of a penthouse—high above the city, luxury wrapped in glass and marble—gifted by Rin’s parents as a pre-wedding gesture. A shared space for a shared future.

You arrived first—boxes filled with textbooks, surgical clogs, and two dozen mugs from med school. You picked the guest room to unpack in, unsure if it was too soon to claim the master bedroom. Not that Rin would have cared.

He moved in two days later—silent, efficient, meticulous. No questions. No expectations.

Rin wasn’t cold—not the way people thought.

He was quiet. He was reserved. But he was also the kind of man who paid attention in the softest, most deliberate ways.

He cooked dinners on the nights you came home late, even if it was already past midnight. He didn’t complain when you were too exhausted to eat properly, instead placing a warm bowl in front of you, murmuring, “At least a few bites. I’ll warm the rest later if you want it.” And when you had to study for your internship exam, Rin was there. Not in a loud or flashy way, but present in the little things. He brought coffee to your desk without asking, sometimes with a post-it stuck to the mug that read, You’re doing great. I’m proud of you.

“Don’t fall asleep on your notes,” he’d say, gently tapping your forehead with a knuckle when you dozed off mid-sentence.

You passed, and Rin celebrated it the way he knew you’d prefer. No huge party, no surprise announcements. Just him, standing in the kitchen with a cake—your favorite flavor—and a spread of greasy takeout food you craved after every long shift. He looked almost smug when you smiled at the sight.

“Thought you’d like this more than people clapping in your face,” he said, opening the plastic containers.

“You were right,” you murmured, leaning on the counter beside him. “This is perfect.”

After that, the transition into your residency was brutal. The hours were longer, the responsibilities heavier, but Rin was always around. Despite training for upcoming matches, juggling press conferences and overseeing his sports brand, he still found time for you. He’d text when he was on the way, and true to his word, he’d be there—waiting at 2am by the hospital’s parking lot in his car, music low, headlights off, eyes tired but patient.

“You should’ve gone home,” you’d tell him as you slid into the passenger seat.

“You looked like you needed a ride more than I needed sleep,” he’d reply simply, hands steady on the wheel.

Sometimes, when your shifts required staying overnight, Rin would send food—carefully packed, with your name scribbled on the lid in black marker. He’d even send two sets if he thought you forgot your lunch too. And when you finally returned home after days of being on call, he’d pull you into a hug so firm it threatened to break you.

“You smell like antiseptic,” he’d mutter against your shoulder.

“You smell like overpriced cologne,” you’d say back, muffled into his chest. But you never pulled away.

At home, you often ended up sprawled on the couch with your head on his lap, recounting the chaos of your day. Rin would run his fingers gently through your hair, pausing only to smooth the strands when they tangled.

“One of my patients coded and came back after six minutes,” you told him once, eyes wide with leftover adrenaline. “It was surreal. His eyes opened and he asked for water like nothing happened.”

Rin blinked, then tilted his head. “So he technically died?”

“Technically, yes.”

He let out a soft whistle. “You guys are scary.”

You laughed, breathless from the high of saving someone’s life. “You play in front of fifty thousand people. I think we’re even.”

Rin hummed. “Yeah, but no one flatlines on the pitch.”

Moments like these painted a picture of something gentle, something bordering on intimate. He remembered what snacks you liked after a long day. He learned how to recognize when you needed to talk versus when you needed silence. He was always there, always attentive, always kind.

But underneath it all—behind the small comforts and shared routines—you knew the truth.

He only agreed to the engagement because it was expected of him.

Because his parents arranged it. Because you were a match that made sense on paper—two heirs from reputable families, both successful in your own rights. Because this was how your world worked.

And you accepted that.

Because that was how it always went for women in your family. Because your mother had once told you that love wasn’t the foundation, but rather something you learned—if you were lucky.

So you stopped hoping for anything more than this quiet companionship, this respectful co-existence.

Because he had to.

And you would learn to be okay with that.

Okay with letting go of the little things—your favorite flowers not making the bouquet, the venue being in his family’s preferred country club, the gown being selected before you even had time to breathe. You would learn to nod when asked a question, even if the answer had already been decided for you.

Most of the wedding planning was orchestrated by his family. You quickly realized that your presence in the room was more ceremonial than necessary. It was his mother and aunts who ran the show, voices firm and faces practiced in subtle smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. They had a vision, and you—well, you were just expected to fit into it.

You said yes a lot. Yes to the menu, yes to the flowers, yes to the dress his mother thought would “balance out your shoulders.” It didn’t matter if you liked it. It was easier to agree than to fight a battle you were never going to win.

And always, always, their comments had a certain edge to them. Not loud enough to cause a scene, but sharp enough to cut.

“She’s always so tired, isn’t she? I suppose that's what happens when you're running around in a hospital all day,” his mother would murmur with a sip of wine.

“You’d think someone in medicine would have more time management,” an aunt said once while flipping through the guest list. “She nearly missed the cake tasting last week.”

Another chimed in, almost sympathetically, “Well, it's not easy balancing a career and a wedding. I suppose it’s admirable she’s trying at all.”

You smiled through it. Every time. You bit your tongue until it hurt and you smiled. Because you weren’t just marrying Rin. You were marrying into all of them. And after all, wasn’t this what they wanted? What your parents wanted? What was expected?

Rin wasn’t there for most of it. He had flown to Spain with Sae for a training camp. The timing couldn’t have been worse—or maybe it was perfect, depending on who you asked. His mother had taken it as a sign to step in fully. You, on the other hand, simply tried not to crumble.

But Rin... Rin still tried.

He would call you whenever he could—between practices, at odd hours when he knew you’d be on break or walking home from the hospital. His voice was steady, a little tired, but always laced with quiet concern. He didn’t say much, but he always asked if you were holding up, if things were too much, if you were eating.

And in those small, private moments, you felt seen.

You didn’t tell him everything. You never told him how his aunts would make you feel like an accessory instead of a bride. Or how his mother always looked at your hands like they weren’t delicate enough for a wedding band. Or how every time they brought up your job, it was as if it were a phase rather than the result of sleepless nights and years of sacrifice.

Still, Rin had this way of hearing what you didn’t say.

Maybe it was the way your voice dropped when you said “the venue’s fine,” or how long it took you to answer when he asked if you were okay. Maybe it was just Rin—ever quiet, ever watching.

And though he wasn’t there in person, though he couldn’t shoulder any of it physically, his presence still anchored you in a way no one else could.

You were drowning in table settings and fitting appointments and judgment disguised as advice—but whenever you heard his voice, even for a minute, something in you eased.

Even if you were exhausted. Even if your opinion didn’t seem to matter. Even if this wedding felt less and less like yours.

The engagement party was even more of a handful than you imagined.

It was hosted in a hotel ballroom—expansive, gilded, meticulously dressed in white and silver. On paper, it was flawless. But it wasn’t what you wanted.

You had hoped for something small, intimate. A quiet dinner maybe, a celebration with just the people who mattered most. Something you could actually breathe in. Something that wouldn’t feel like a PR move or a corporate gala in disguise.

But your preference didn’t come up.

Or maybe it did—but no one really listened.

His mother had already booked the venue before you were even asked. His aunts handled the guest list. Your own parents said it was “better this way.” You were told to wear the dress already selected for you and show up on time. So you did. Because what else could you do?

Guests arrived in waves—politicians, business partners, executives, hospital board members, distant relatives you’d never met before but were somehow still addressed by their titles.

You recognized none of their names. None of them were there for you.

You stood under the chandelier lights, in heels you didn’t pick, offering polite smiles to people who kept asking if you planned to stop working after the wedding. Some didn’t even know what your job was.

And the worst part?

You had just come off a 24-hour shift at the hospital.

You’d barely made it back in time to shower at the penthouse and lie down for two hours before hair and makeup arrived.

You were running on caffeine and adrenaline.

But you smiled anyway. Because you had to.

When you finally slipped away from the banquet hall, your legs ached and your throat was dry from talking. You found yourself out on the balcony, away from the lights and the noise, leaning on the railing just to keep upright. The cool air stung your skin, but it was the first real breath you took that day.

You weren’t alone for long.

The glass door slid open behind you, and quiet footsteps padded closer.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Rin said softly.

You turned your head slightly, exhausted eyes meeting his. He looked handsome as always in his suit, tie slightly loosened, dark strands falling into his eyes. He had only just returned from Spain a few days ago. You hadn’t even had the chance to really talk.

His gaze swept over you, taking in the curve of your shoulders, the subtle tremble in your arms, the way your back was turned just slightly—like you were too tired to keep your guard up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice gentler than usual. “Are you holding up?”

You blinked slowly, the sting behind your eyes threatening to spill over.

“I heard you came straight from a 24-hour shift,” he added. “You barely slept, didn’t you?”

“Two hours,” you admitted, voice rough. “If that.”

He exhaled, jaw tightening. Not in frustration at you—but at the situation.

“This party... wasn’t what you wanted, was it?”

You gave a tired laugh, low and bitter. “What I wanted never really mattered.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just moved a little closer, enough that you could feel the heat of him next to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve pushed back. I should’ve been here.”

You shook your head, eyes fixed on the city lights beyond the balcony.

“They wouldn’t have listened to you either, Rin.”

“Maybe not,” he murmured. “But I still should’ve been beside you.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

And in that sliver of silence, the music from inside dimmed, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses faded, and it was just the two of you. Just like before—before the pressure, the plans, the politics.

Your eyes fluttered shut, just long enough to feel the weight of his words settle on your chest.

“I’m trying,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said.

Even though everything else felt staged and suffocating, this moment—with just him beside you—was the first time in weeks that felt real.

You tried. God, you tried to be the perfect little daughter-in-law they seemed to want.

Always coming presentable, showing up to their dinners with practiced poise and a strained smile, wearing soft-colored dresses and modest heels, even if you had to change in the hospital locker room. You’d sit through evenings with people you didn’t even know—CEOs, donors, investors, polished women who never broke a sweat, let alone a 30-hour shift—smiling through the remnants of a breakdown you barely had time to feel earlier that day.

Because earlier that day, you lost a patient. A young one. Cardiac arrest. And no matter how many times you ran the rhythm check or how many rounds of epi you administered, they never came back. You washed your face with cold water and shoved your grief into a neat little box so you could go to his family's dinner.

Because you didn’t want to be the disappointment. Not after everything. Not when you were the first female doctor in a long line of men. Not when their entire family had planned the wedding. Not when you still held that flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—someone at that table would see you for who you were.

But alas, everything has a boiling point.

Yours came at a dinner held in Rin’s childhood home. His entire extended family was there—your own parents, too, sitting stiffly at one end of the long, polished wooden table, like two pieces of fine china that didn’t quite match the rest of the set.

You had just come off a 30-hour shift, the last 13 hours of which were spent inside an operating room after the lead surgeon collapsed mid-procedure. You were the one who stepped up. Held the scalpel. Led the team. Saved the patient.

And then, running on half a protein bar and caffeine that burned your gut, you let Rin pick you up straight from the hospital. He offered to cancel the dinner, but you shook your head. “I’ll be fine,” you lied, pinching your cheeks for color in the mirror of his car.

You should’ve known better.

Because the moment you stepped into that dining room, you felt the eyes—judgment dressed as concern.

“She’s paler than the daikon,” one of his aunts said with a light chuckle as she sipped her soup. “Are you sure you’re eating enough, sweetheart?”

“You poor thing,” another aunt added. “Do you even have time to do your hair? You’re always so… busy.”

You tried to breathe through it, through the tightness in your chest, through the taste of iron at the back of your throat. Rin glanced at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking—but he didn’t speak. Not yet.

And then came the real blow.

“Well, I suppose it must be difficult,” one of Rin’s uncles said, swirling his wine like he was about to make a toast. “Being the only female doctor in your family. That’s quite the burden. But you’ll quit when you start a family, won’t you? I mean, no husband wants a wife too tired to care for the kids.”

Laughter followed. A low, agreeable chuckle from the end of the table, and a few muttered “true”s and “just saying”s that felt more like daggers than conversation.

“I mean, sweetheart, you’re just a resident—not even a full physician or surgeon yet at this point.” One of Rin’s uncles leaned back in his chair, lips curved in amusement like he was giving sage advice and not dismissing years of your hard work with a single sentence.

“He’s right,” another aunt piped in, her voice laced with faux sympathy, the kind that dripped more venom than concern. “You’re better off as a housewife.”

There was a beat of silence before another relative added, as if it were the most logical conclusion in the world, “Do you even know how to cook or clean?”

A few more chuckles followed. You weren’t sure if they were laughing at their own cruelty or at the look on your face, but either way, it made your stomach twist.

You sat there frozen.

Your hands rested in your lap, fingers curled so tightly into your palms that your nails bit into your skin. You looked at Rin—stiff and silent, jaw clenched, eyes cast low. Your heart pounded in your chest, not from embarrassment, but from the growing storm inside you. You mentally begged him to say something. Anything.

You silently begged him to look at you. To speak up. To make them stop.

But he just stayed silent.

"Excuse me," you said, your voice low and trembling as you stood up from the table. Your chair scraped softly against the hardwood floor, far too gentle a sound for the chaos building inside your chest.

You had barely taken a step when one of his uncles laughed again and muttered, “Overreacting, aren’t we? Must be the hormones.”

Something in you cracked.

You turned around.

"I followed everything you asked me to do," you started, voice shaking, but louder now. "I swallowed my pride and played the part you all wanted me to play. I stayed quiet while you planned a wedding I didn’t even have a say in. I smiled through every dinner, every meeting, every fitting—even when I felt like I didn’t belong."

You paused. Your throat burned, but you refused to cry yet.

“I stayed silent every single time you belittled my career. I worked ten—no, more—years of my life for those two letters after my name. MD. I missed birthdays, holidays, sleep, my youth, to earn that. And you all reduce me to a glorified housewife with no ambition—like I'm some accessory to Rin’s life and not someone who has her own.”

More silence. Their smug expressions turned neutral, uneasy. But Rin still said nothing. You turned your eyes to him—pleading, searching—for something. Anything.

Nothing came.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips.

“You know what? I don’t want this anymore,” you whispered, the words tasting like blood in your mouth. “You can find someone else who’s fine being your doll. Someone who’ll smile and nod and cook and clean and never talk back. Because I sure as hell am not her.”

Your voice cracked.

“You can talk shit about me all you want—I’ve gotten used to that. But you don’t get to talk down on what I worked my entire life for. I’ve poured every ounce of my being into becoming the woman I am. And you all sit there laughing like I’m nothing but a joke.”

Tears burned in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry in front of them. God, you hated crying in front of them. But it was too late now.

You looked at Rin again, and this time, your voice broke as your gaze locked with his. “And you. You saw how hard I worked. All those nights I called you from the hospital. All the times you told me I was incredible, that you admired me. You knew how much this meant to me. And you let them tear me to pieces right in front of you.”

“I loved you,” you said, the final blow. Your breath hitched. “All these years—I loved you. Even before this stupid engagement. Even when we were kids and you barely looked at me at those family events. I loved you.”

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t move. Didn't reach for you. Didn’t say a word.

Silence.

Your heart felt like it was collapsing inside your chest.

You reached up and slid the engagement ring off your finger. Your hand trembled as you placed it on the table in front of Rin.

“It’s over,” you whispered, voice hoarse and raw. “I’m calling this off.”

Then you turned around and walked out the door—this time, no one dared to laugh.

The tension that lingered in your absence was suffocating. It clung to the ornate walls of the dining room like smoke, thick with the remnants of mockery, judgment, and something worse—entitlement. For a moment, no one moved. Then, the silence was broken by a scoff. Rin's mother.

"Honestly," she said, dabbing at her lips with a cloth napkin, her voice dripping with faux exasperation. "I was just being polite, but I always knew that girl didn’t quite fit in with us. I have another girl in mind to continue this engagement. Someone better suited for this family. With better pedigree."

"Better breeding," muttered one of the aunts with a knowing smirk. "Not just some overworked girl playing pretend as a doctor."

One of the uncles snorted. “Her family’s money might come from hospitals, but it’s nothing compared to the legacy of the Itoshi name. A few doctors in white coats don’t hold a candle to generations of status.”

"All that effort," another chimed in with mock pity, swirling wine in his glass, "just to end up being a glorified caregiver in a glorified clinic. That’s not ambition. That’s settling.”

Rin had been staring at the ring the whole time. The one you'd taken off and left in front of him—gently, without a word, without drama, just the way you always did things. Quiet. Graceful. Strong. His fingers twitched.

Then—

“Shut the fuck up. All of you.”

The room snapped to attention.

Rin stood slowly, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His voice was steady but laced with the kind of fury that burned from the inside out.

“She just got off a thirty-hour shift. Thirteen of those hours, she was standing in an operating room after the head surgeon collapsed. And you have the audacity to sit here and laugh at her? Call her unworthy? She saved lives last night while you all drank champagne and polished your fucking heirlooms.”

He looked at each of them, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass.

“She is more admirable than any of you—than any of your wives who haven't lifted a finger for anyone but themselves. Who’ve never touched anything real other than a wine glass or jewelry they wear to cover up their loveless marriages and affairs.”

One of the uncles opened his mouth, “She’s just a glorified caregiver—”

“She’s a fucking doctor,” Rin barked, slamming his hand on the table, the plates rattling violently. “A better doctor than you ever were a father, or a businessman, or a fucking man, considering the only thing you’re good at is gambling away your inheritance and chasing women young enough to be your daughter!”

Another aunt tried to speak, but Rin cut her off too.

“And don’t you dare talk about her family like they’re beneath us. At least they earned their name. They built something from compassion and service—not from exploiting people or stepping on others just to climb higher.”

Sae stood then, trying to place a hand on Rin’s shoulder, trying to calm him. “Rin—”

“Don’t,” Rin snapped, brushing his hand off without looking at him. “Don’t try to stop me. You’ve done that our whole lives. Let me say what I need to say.”

There was something feral about him now, like he had been caged his entire life, and the bars were finally breaking.

He looked at his mother.

“You knew my only condition for this arranged marriage,” he said, voice low and raw. “You knew that the only reason I agreed to it was because it was her. I told you from the start—if it wasn’t her, I wasn’t going to go through with it. You knew that. And now you're throwing her away like she was disposable?”

“She overreacted—”

“No,” he snapped. “She endured. For months. She endured the cold stares, the snide remarks, the condescending tones from all of you, just to make this family proud. And I—” his voice cracked for the first time, pain flickering behind his rage, “I let her. I stood here and let all of you chip away at the one person who saw me for me.”

He reached toward the ring that sat untouched in front of him. The heirloom. The same one you left just moments ago with trembling fingers.

Rin picked it up and walked toward his mother, standing in front of her like a final act of rebellion.

“I don’t need this anymore,” he said. “This ring, this entire charade—you can keep it. Because I already had something made for her. Something I designed. For a proposal I planned. After all this bullshit was over. Something simple. Something real. Something hers.”

His mother looked horrified. The uncles murmured, but no one dared to interrupt again.

“I loved her,” Rin continued, quieter now, as if the rage was slowly hollowing out into something else—grief. “Since we were kids. I didn’t even realize it at first. But every time I saw her at those childhood events, every time she smiled at me like I wasn’t just the second son of a cold empire, I loved her. And now she’s gone. All because this family couldn’t stomach the idea of someone good being part of it.”

He took a shaky breath and looked back at the table one last time.

“And you—” he pointed at one of his uncles, “—talk like you're above everyone when you’re the one who couldn’t even stay faithful to your wife.”

"And you," he turned to another, "have the nerve to comment on love and worth when your own children won’t even speak to you."

He stepped back. “I stayed in this because I wanted to please all of you. I did everything you asked. Soccer. Branding. The name. But I set one condition—and you broke it. So now I’m done. I’m not marrying anyone else. I won’t play this role for you anymore. I won’t be your pawn.”

Rin turned and walked out, the weight of everything crashing down on his shoulders. He didn’t look back.

A sharp silence fell over the room in his absence—like all the air had been sucked out. Everyone was too stunned to move, to speak. The engagement ring Rin had left behind sat untouched in front of their mother, its presence colder than steel, heavier than gold.

Sae leaned back in his seat, dragging a hand down his face. Then he exhaled long and slow, like this entire dinner had been rotting from the start. His gaze swept across the room, not rushing, but resting—unforgiving—on each of their faces.

"You know," Sae started quietly, "I used to think keeping quiet was the best way to keep peace in this family. Smile through it. Swallow the poison and call it dinner."

His voice dropped a little lower, his tone chilling. "But after what I just witnessed? I think it's time someone tells the truth—no matter how ugly."

Their mother straightened, eyes narrowing, as if bracing herself. But Sae didn’t flinch.

"You sit there acting like Rin’s ungrateful. Like he's immature. But what I saw just now? That wasn’t a tantrum. That was someone finally realizing he’s done bending over backwards for people who only want him when he’s compliant and silent."

There was a shift in the room. An invisible thread pulled taut.

Sae laughed bitterly. “You all act so concerned about appearances. Your image. Your status. Your legacy. And yet behind all that, do any of you even remember how to care for your own blood?”

He looked at their mother now, sharp and unwavering. “You want to lecture Rin about duty? When all you've ever done is try to mold him into a version of himself that you could show off like an accessory at fundraisers.”

She opened her mouth—maybe to protest, maybe to defend herself—but Sae cut her off.

"You think I didn’t notice what you did to him all those years? How every time I tried to take on the pressure so Rin wouldn’t have to, you just redirected it harder on him? I left to shield him from this circus. I took the heat, the spotlight, the expectation. And somehow, you still made him carry it alone."

Sae paused, his jaw tense. “And I regret that. I regret leaving him with people who were supposed to love him, but instead made him feel like love was a transaction. Like he had to earn it.”

His father’s fingers clenched lightly around his glass. His mother said nothing, but her stare was steely, unrepentant.

“You wonder why Rin and I grew apart? Why he never wanted to follow in anyone’s footsteps?” Sae scoffed under his breath. “Maybe it’s because he grew up watching two people stay in a marriage out of obligation and image instead of love.”

His father’s lips thinned. “Watch yourself, Sae.”

“No,” Sae said sharply. “No more watching myself. That’s what we’ve all been doing—watching this family crack and rot under the weight of pride.”

He stood slowly, every movement deliberate, controlled, but beneath it all simmered an anger older than the silverware on their polished table. “You all just saw the girl Rin loves walk out of here with tears in her eyes. And instead of reaching out, you judged her. That’s the girl he’s talked about for years—told me how she’d find him at every function, how she actually listened when he spoke. How she made him feel seen.”

Sae’s voice dropped. “Do you even understand what that means? Feeling seen? Because Rin’s spent most of his life feeling like a shadow in this house.”

Another beat of silence.

He shook his head. “I’m going after him. Because clearly, none of you will.”

And without waiting for a reply, Sae turned and walked away—out the door, out of that godforsaken room with its stifling legacy and empty crystal glasses.

The air was cool that evening, the kind of soft breeze that carried old memories with it. Rin sat alone on the edge of the small football field behind their family home—one they used to play in as kids, back when the world was simpler. His cleats dug into the grass, half-forgotten as he leaned back on his hands, eyes turned toward the soft dusk sky.

He didn’t turn when he heard footsteps approach.

“You always did like brooding out here.”

Rin exhaled, almost amused, before glancing sideways. “And you always liked finding me when I did.”

Sae stood beside him, hands tucked in the pockets of his coat, eyes scanning the empty field like it still held echoes of their childhood laughter. “I didn’t come to pick a fight,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t think you did,” Rin replied, patting the grass next to him.

Sae hesitated for a second before sitting down. Silence settled between them—not heavy, but thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking,” Sae said, “about how things turned out. And if… I ever made you feel like I was too far away from you. Not just physically. I mean… everything.”

Rin’s lips tightened. “I know you didn’t mean to. But yeah,” he admitted, voice softer, “it hurt. You were always the one I looked up to. And then suddenly, it felt like I couldn’t reach you anymore.”

Sae’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve done better. Should’ve been better.”

Rin shook his head, staring down at his hands. “We’re here now, I guess. That’s something.”

“It is.” Sae looked over at his brother. “You know… I’m proud of you. For not giving up on her. For fighting for the love of your life.”

Rin’s brows furrowed, eyes flickering to his brother. “Why are you saying that like it’s something you couldn’t do?”

Sae smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because it’s not something I did. I let her go.”

There was a long pause.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” Rin said. “You always told me life’s too long to carry regrets.”

Sae chuckled, low and self-deprecating. “Might be already too late, Rin.”

“But you never know.”

The older Itoshi brother looked up at the sky, eyes distant. “Yeah… maybe.”

Then, with a sigh, he stood and dusted his pants off. “Go to her.”

Rin looked up.

“Go,” Sae repeated. “She’s still your home. And I think she’s still waiting for you to find your way back.”

Rin didn’t hesitate. He stood, nodding once. And within the hour, he was in the car, heading toward the penthouse they’d shared since the engagement.

He entered quietly, hoping he hadn’t missed her by seconds. But the moment he stepped in, his heart dropped.

Everything was still in place. Her shoes by the door. Her favorite mug drying on the rack. Her coats still hung beside his.

But she wasn’t there.

He checked every room, calling out softly. Nothing.

The silence was deafening.

He didn’t want to assume the worst. So instead, he respected the quiet. He sat down in the living room and looked around—remembering all the nights she fell asleep on the couch waiting for him, the mornings she’d leave notes on the fridge after another night shift, how their life had slowly started to blend into one.

But he also remembered something else: the old apartment near the hospital. The one she used before everything—before the chaos of the engagement, before they were a unit. She hadn’t been there in months. Not since she moved in with him.

And though he didn’t know the exact address, he knew it was close to her work. He could call. He could search. But he didn’t want to push. He didn’t want to chase her too hard, not when she was still hurting.

So he stayed back. Waited. Gave her space, even if every part of him itched to go find her.

Meanwhile, in the quiet familiarity of the old apartment, you curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your lap, the cup of tea on the side table already cold and untouched. The walls still smelled faintly of old books and eucalyptus—home. Comfort. A scent you always loved.

It was quieter here.

No press calls. No stylists or wedding planners asking you to adjust your schedule. No constant reminders of the version of yourself you were supposed to become just to fit neatly into another family’s idea of what a wife should be.

Here, you didn’t have to smile politely when someone talked over you. Or pretend their backhanded compliments didn’t sting.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the silence. You hesitated, then stood, dragging the blanket along with you. When you opened it, your parents stood there—your father with his hands deep in his coat pockets, your mother’s shoulders slightly slumped but her eyes sharp with worry.

Neither of them said anything at first.

They stepped inside like it was instinct, like it would always be their place too. The door clicked shut behind them, and despite the air being still and thick with unsaid words, the apartment felt warmer just by their presence.

It was your mother who spoke first.

“What was that all about earlier?” she asked, voice softer than usual, but disappointed all the same. “You walked out of that dinner like you were setting fire to the table.”

You looked away, your throat tight. “Because I was tired of pretending.”

Your father sat down on the armrest of the chair across from you. “Pretending what?”

You swallowed hard. “That everything they said didn’t bother me. That I could just keep sitting there while Rin’s aunts looked me in the eye and made jokes about how I’m ‘too smart for my own good’ or that I should ‘take off the lab coat and put on an apron’ once I marry into the Itoshi family.”

Your mother’s lips thinned.

“They insulted me, right in front of everyone,” you continued, voice cracking now. “They mocked our family—said we were only good for hospitals and surgeries and wondered how someone like me, who works graveyard shifts in an ER, would ‘entertain’ a man like Rin.”

You laughed bitterly. “Why did you even arrange this in the first place?”

There was a long pause. You looked between the two people who raised you—taught you how to stitch your first wound, taught you to never fold under pressure.

“We agreed to the engagement because we thought you would be happy,” your mother finally said, her voice quieter now. “Because we knew you liked Rin. You’ve liked him for years, even if you never admitted it. And when the Itoshis approached us, it… it felt like it made sense.”

You closed your eyes. “They don’t like me.”

“They don’t know you,” your father said. “Not the way we do. You’re a hardheaded girl, you always were. You never let anyone tell you what you can or can’t do. You broke every expectation the family had because you believed you could do better—and you did.”

You opened your eyes again, blinking through the haze.

Your mother took a step closer. “If you’ve made up your mind… if you want to end the engagement, then we’ll support you. And if you want to leave the country for a while, take some time to breathe, we’ll support that too.”

You looked at them both—your parents, tired from the dinner, from the expectations, from the tug-of-war between two families—but still standing here, with you. Choosing you.

“You’re not alone in this,” your father said gently. “You never were.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but this time, they weren’t from humiliation or exhaustion. This time, they came from the warmth that bloomed quietly in your chest—the kind only home could bring.

And that’s what you did—booked a one-way ticket from Tokyo to Tromsø.

No return date. No itinerary. Just your passport, one suitcase, and the aching exhaustion of trying to please everyone except yourself.

You had mentioned it to Rin once. A few months ago, back when the engagement had just been announced. When the two of you were still learning how to exist around each other—not quite strangers, not quite lovers. Just two people trying to navigate a decision made on their behalf.

It was during a quiet evening at your family’s countryside villa. The air was crisper there, and the sky spilled stars in a way Tokyo never could. You had both slipped away from the formal dinner after too many toasts, your head light from the wine and the pressure. Rin had found you sitting at the edge of the garden steps, your heels discarded in the grass.

“I read about this place once,” you said as he settled beside you, hands resting loosely on his knees. “Tromsø, in Norway. Far north. They say in the winter, the sun disappears for months. But the Northern Lights come out like a dream.”

Rin tilted his head. “Sounds freezing.”

You laughed softly. “It is. But kind of beautiful, right? A place where it’s dark all the time, but something still dances in the sky.”

There was a quiet moment between you, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled. Then Rin murmured, “Is that where you want to go when it all gets too loud?”

You glanced at him, surprised. Then you nodded. “Someday. I don’t know when. But I’d like to.”

He hummed. “Let me know when you do. Maybe I’ll go with you.”

And you had smiled at that. Silly, hopeful thing that you were.

But now, as the final plane descended onto the snow-dusted runway of Tromsø Airport—twenty-four hours later, red-eyed from layovers, your limbs stiff and heavy from travel—he wasn’t here.

The cold was immediate when the terminal doors opened. Icy wind kissed your cheeks as you stepped out, the kind that bit into your skin and made you feel alive all at once. You pulled your scarf tighter, breathing in frost and something like freedom.

You had booked a small cabin on the outskirts of the city, tucked near the fjords. It wasn’t much, just one bedroom and a stove that needed coaxing to warm, but it was quiet. Untouched. A world away from Tokyo’s blinking lights and bitter dinner parties.

You dropped your bags by the door and stood in silence, listening to the hush of snowfall outside the window. No phones buzzing. No family expectations echoing in your ears. Just the whisper of wind and the possibility of healing.

And as you sank into the unfamiliar bed that night, the aurora just beginning to shimmer faintly through the glass above your head, you wondered—

Would Rin still remember the way you said his name that night?

Would he still remember Tromsø?

You hadn’t left a clue. Not a note. Not a word to anyone. No paper trail, no last-minute phone call. Just the hiss of your apartment door closing softly behind you before the early flight from Tokyo to Tromsø took off into the violet-gray dawn.

This wasn’t supposed to be permanent. You didn’t come here to disappear.

You just needed somewhere quiet—somewhere that didn’t expect anything from you. Somewhere far enough to think, but not so far that it felt like running away.

He wouldn't remember.

That’s what you told yourself again and again. Not when you only ever mentioned it once, months ago, at the beginning—when everything between you and Rin was new and strange and teetering between civil and chaotic. When the engagement was still fresh and everyone expected you to smile, to bend, to be proud and graceful and agreeable in the way your parents always expected you to be.

He wasn’t supposed to remember. But part of you had hoped he would.

You’d been in Tromsø for just under a week, staying at a quiet rental near the harbor, surrounded by pale wooden homes and snow-dusted rooftops. The kind of town where the wind moved slower and people remembered your face after just one visit.

You hadn’t done much—read in bed, walked along the water, bought groceries in awkward English. And every morning, you stopped by the same small café just down the street. It had yellow doors, always warm inside. They already knew your order now: black coffee, two sugars, and a cinnamon roll with extra icing when the ache in your chest got too heavy.

And today, you were walking there again.

Boots crunching softly against a thin dusting of fresh snow, scarf wrapped tightly around your mouth. The clouds overhead looked like they hadn’t moved all morning—gray and full, like something was waiting to break.

You turned the corner. The café was up ahead.

But you stopped.

Because you saw him.

You blinked hard, then again, wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you.

Tall frame. Dark green hair, tousled and damp at the ends from melting snow. He was bundled up in a black wool coat, a thick navy scarf tucked neatly around his neck. He stood near the flower stall beside the bookshop, talking to someone—one of the local vendors, it seemed.

You ducked slightly behind a parked car, your breath catching.

His voice floated through the space between you.

“…Ah, I see. Thank you,” he said, bowing his head politely before taking a small step back.

The way he spoke—it was soft. Controlled. Like he’d said the same thing to several people already. You couldn’t hear what he’d asked, but the pattern was clear now that you were listening.

He was asking around.

You felt your stomach twist.

Rin was here.

In Tromsø.

Looking for you.

He moved to the next person, expression composed but weary. There were shadows under his eyes, even from where you stood. A tension in his jaw. His hands kept clenching inside his pockets like he wasn’t used to this—like he wasn’t used to not knowing where to find you.

And he looked like he hadn’t slept well in days.

Your heart kicked against your ribs, faster now, almost panicked. You hadn’t expected this. You didn’t plan for this.

What were you even going to say?

But then—he turned his head.

Slowly. Searching the street.

And then his eyes found you.

Your breath stopped.

You didn’t know what expression you wore, but whatever he saw on your face was enough.

Because Rin moved.

He started walking—fast, like he was afraid you might disappear if he looked away. Then he broke into a run, boots kicking up snow, scarf flying out behind him as he crossed the narrow road.

You couldn’t move.

You couldn’t breathe.

Until he reached you.

His arms wrapped around you without hesitation, pulling you into his chest like you were something precious he thought he’d lost. He held you with both arms around your waist, his gloved hands gripping your coat tightly, like if he loosened them even a little, you’d vanish again.

You hadn’t cried since arriving.

But something about the way his chin tucked over your shoulder, how he let out a shaky breath like he'd finally exhaled after holding it in for days—that undid you.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, voice low and rough and uneven against your ear. “For two days.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you.

His eyes were glassy, rimmed with red from cold and exhaustion. His brows furrowed as he studied your face, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

“I didn’t know if you were actually here. I wasn’t sure if… if you even meant it,” he murmured. “I started thinking maybe I was stupid for trying. That maybe I’d misunderstood.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“I was already starting to lose hope,” he confessed, his voice softer now. “That maybe you weren’t in Tromsø at all. That maybe you picked somewhere else. Somewhere I couldn’t guess.”

He paused. His hands clenched at your sides again.

“But I still came. I still looked,” he said, voice steady now with something unshakable. “Because… you said it once. That if things ever got too heavy, you’d come here.”

A heartbeat passed. Then another.

“And I had to believe you.”

You swallowed. Your chest felt painfully full.

All this time… you didn’t know if he even cared. You didn’t know if your absence would be met with relief or indifference. You were bracing yourself for silence. For more cold.

But here he was.

Breathing hard. Shaking. Still holding you like it physically hurt him to let go.

He remembered.

And he came.

Not because anyone told him to. Not because he had to.

But because he wanted to.

Because it was you.

And just like that—

The tight knot in your chest began to loosen.

Your hand came up to his cheek, thumb gently brushing against the skin that was chilled from the northern wind. You didn’t even notice your breath catching until it came out as a shaky whisper.

"Rin… why are you here?"

He leaned into your touch like he had been starved of it—like this small gesture grounded him, reminded him that you were real and not some cruel trick of the cold.

“I came for you,” he said quietly. His voice didn’t waver, but his eyes—those storm-colored eyes that always guarded too much—were softer now, less composed. “Because I remembered.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. You were still standing on the cobbled path, the faint crunch of snow beneath your boots the only other sound besides the rush of your pulse in your ears. Tromsø had been your quiet escape, the place you once said you'd go if life ever got too heavy. A passing comment from long ago, half-laughed over in bed or under the sheets of a rainy afternoon. You never thought he’d hold on to it.

"I didn’t tell anyone," you murmured. “No one knew.”

“I know,” he said. “I figured you wouldn’t.” He looked around—at the rows of snow-covered rooftops, the quiet hills that framed the town like a secret. “But this place… I remembered how your eyes lit up when you talked about it. So I came here. Just hoping.”

Your chest tightened. You hated how well he knew you. You hated that even after all the tension, the silence, the weight of everything between you—he still knew how to find you. That he remembered where you’d go when you needed peace, even if it meant chasing you halfway across the world.

"I didn't think you'd actually—"

"I didn’t come to make you leave," he said, cutting through your doubt like a blade, his forehead leaning gently against yours. “I just needed to see you. To make sure you were okay. You don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to forgive me yet. I just… I had to be here.”

The wind blew again, sharp but fleeting. Still, all you felt was him.

“Rin…” your voice cracked, just a little, and his arms tightened around your waist.

“If it’s space you need, I’ll give it. I’ll wait in whatever way you need me to,” he said, breathing in like he was memorizing the scent of your jacket, your skin, your quiet presence. “But I’m here. And I’m not letting you go again without knowing what you want.”

And just like that—his words unhurried, unpolished, but honest—your resolve, already thin and frayed, began to slip through your fingers like snow melting in your palm.

You ended up inviting him to the cabin where you were staying—half out of instinct, half out of something deeper that your heart hadn’t yet found the words for. It wasn’t much. Just a small wooden place tucked at the edge of a forest clearing, the kind that smelled of pine and silence and something safe. You had rented it without any intention of being found. Yet here he was—standing in the doorway, snow still caught on his lashes and his scarf damp from the wind.

He stepped in carefully, like he didn’t want to disturb whatever fragile peace you had built for yourself over the last few days. You didn’t speak much at first. He helped you take off your coat, set your gloves by the small heater near the door. The only sound in the cabin was the low crackle of the fire in the corner and the slow, nervous beat of your heart.

He sat across from you at the small dining table, elbows on the wood, hands clasped together like he needed something to hold onto.

“There’s something I should’ve told you sooner,” Rin said, finally breaking the silence. “That night. At the dinner.”

You looked at him, your expression unreadable.

“After you left,” he continued, eyes on yours, “I didn’t just sit there.”

He swallowed, jaw tight, as if replaying the memory still made his skin burn. “I told them off. My parents. My relatives. I told them they didn’t know a damn thing about you or what you’ve been through. That you’ve done more with your life—more good, more meaningful work—than any of them sitting around that table.”

Your breath caught, but you didn’t interrupt. He went on, voice lower now, more careful.

“I told them about your residency. How hard you’ve worked. The way you’d still show up to shifts even when you were dead on your feet. How you’d tell me stories about your patients like they were the brightest parts of your day. I told them you weren’t just my wife because our families wanted it—you’re someone I’ve always admired. Someone I’ve always cared about.”

The silence that followed was heavier than anything the snow outside could ever weigh down.

“I should’ve said it in front of you,” he admitted, voice cracking the smallest bit. “I should’ve defended you before you walked out. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

You stared at him—really stared. For the first time in a long while, his walls weren’t up. His apology wasn’t rehearsed. It was real. Raw. The kind of vulnerable honesty Rin rarely let anyone see.

You rose from your seat slowly, the soft rustle of fabric and the crackle of the fireplace filling the silence between you. Your eyes never left him.

Rin was seated at the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. His jaw was tight, shoulders tense, as if he were bracing for a storm you hadn’t started yet.

You approached him with quiet steps.

When you reached him, your fingers reached out for his—hesitating only briefly—before you threaded your hand into his. He didn’t pull away. If anything, he looked like he was holding his breath.

His gaze flickered up to you, vulnerable in a way you’d only seen a handful of times in your entire life. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hope.

“Rin,” you said, voice low and steady. “What do you want to come out of this?”

He blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Then you felt his grip tighten around yours.

“I want…” he started, then faltered. “I want this to be more than just something we agreed to.”

You stared at him, heart climbing to your throat.

“I want you,” he said, firmer now. “I’ve always wanted you.”

The world seemed to quiet.

You barely managed to breathe. “What…?”

“I only agreed to this engagement if it would be with you,” Rin confessed, finally looking at you with eyes that burned straight through your disbelief. “That was my only condition. I told my parents—if it’s not her, I’m not doing it.”

You could feel your pulse in your ears.

“I didn’t know if you’d ever say yes to me if I asked on my own. Maybe because I’m not good with this—” he gestured vaguely between you, “—with feelings. With words. But even when we were kids, it was always you. Every year. Every time I saw you at those stupid events.”

Your heart stuttered. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Rin’s voice was steady. “You were the only one who ever looked at me like I was more than Sae’s shadow. Like I was worth listening to. You’d tell me about your dreams, your stupid high school stories, your patients, your rounds… and I remembered everything. You made the world feel bigger, and for the first time, I wanted to be part of it.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

“I kept it all to myself because I didn’t want to mess it up. And then when our parents brought up the marriage, I told myself… maybe this was the only chance I had. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but if it was you—” he looked up at you, earnest and exposed—“I’d take it.”

He let go of your hand for a moment, and your fingers instinctively reached to keep the warmth of his touch. But he was already moving.

Down.

Onto one knee.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I wanted to do this right,” he murmured, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat. “Even if it came late.”

He opened a velvet box.

Inside was a ring with a pale pink diamond, delicately set in rose gold. The band was slim, elegant—simple in design, but breathtaking in execution. A custom cut. No gaudy flare, no excess—just quietly stunning. Just like everything Rin did when he cared.

“I had it made when I found out pink was your favorite,” he said, almost shy now. “Not because of the engagement. Because I thought maybe… one day, I’d get to ask you for real.”

Your hands flew to your mouth, lips trembling.

“Marry me, for real this time,” Rin whispered. “Not because they said we should. Not because it’s expected of us. But because you want to. Because I’ve always wanted you—and I’ll keep choosing you. Every time.”

Tears blurred your vision, spilling freely before you could stop them.

You fell to your knees in front of him, grabbing his face in your hands, shaking with disbelief and something deeper—years of silent longing finally catching up to you.

“You idiot,” you breathed, laughing through the tears. “You should’ve told me.”

“I’m telling you now.”

“And you think a pink diamond makes up for years of me thinking this was one-sided?” you teased, eyes wet.

He smirked, just a little. “It’s a start.”

You didn’t say yes.

You just kissed him—full, deep, and desperate like you were trying to make up for every day you had convinced yourself he didn’t feel the same. Like you were claiming him now.

And when you finally pulled back, forehead pressed to his, you whispered:

“Yes, Rin. For real this time.”

And in that quiet cabin, surrounded by snow and history and everything unspoken finally laid bare, Rin Itoshi smiled like he had everything he’d ever wanted.

Because he did. He had you.

And in that quiet cabin tucked beneath layers of snow, with logs crackling in the fireplace and the silence finally settling between confessions, Rin Itoshi smiled—not the kind of smile reserved for cameras or curated dinners, not the kind honed for politeness or worn like armor. This one was different. This one was unguarded and whole. It touched the corners of his eyes, curved his mouth in quiet reverence, and melted years of silence he didn’t realize he’d been carrying.

It was the smile of a man who, for the first time in a long while, felt like the weight of his world had finally found a place to rest.

Because in that moment, with your hand tucked safely in his, he had everything he’d ever needed. He had you.

There was no urgency to return to Tokyo. Rin stayed. Even when his agency called, even when his schedule threatened to snap back into its usual pace, he stayed. The world outside moved on, days bleeding into nights, but in Tromsø—between snowdrifts and coffee steam and the rustle of flannel sheets—time moved slower. Kinder.

He made you breakfast each morning, sometimes a little too burnt on the edges, sometimes just right. He kissed the sugar off your lips when you sweetened your coffee too much. He walked with you down the frozen paths, fingers laced in yours like he was afraid to let go. You shared memories like secrets under blankets at dawn, laughed in low murmurs, kissed in doorways, in the middle of cooking, while brushing your teeth. You held each other like you had all the time in the world. And maybe you did. Maybe time—this time—was finally on your side.

Rin never rushed. Never demanded. Never asked for more than what you could give. He simply stayed close, inching his way into the tender cracks of your heart until you forgot what it meant to be alone in love. Slowly, gently, he made you believe again—both in him, and in the life you could finally build without fear.

And Rin, in turn, began to free himself.

You noticed it in the way his phone calls grew shorter. His tone sharper. He started saying no—firmly, clearly. He turned down meetings without guilt, ignored messages that once would’ve sent him spiraling, and spoke less and less of the family that had always spoken for him. He didn’t rage or rebel. He simply… let go. Of expectations. Of appearances. Of people who didn’t see your worth or his. And in their place, he reached for something real. For you.

Then one night, the sky changed.

It was late—past midnight—and the world outside was quiet, blanketed in snow and silence. You were nestled together under a thick knit blanket when Rin nudged you gently, the air fogging in front of his mouth as he whispered, “Come outside.”

He didn’t say why, but his voice held something sacred, something childlike and awed. You slipped on coats and boots, fingers brushing as you stepped out into the night.

And above you—the heavens bloomed.

Green and violet streaks painted the sky, shifting like silk across the stars. It looked like magic. Like something out of a dream you forgot you had. The aurora shimmered, moved, danced across the canvas of the night like a prayer being answered.

Your breath caught, soft clouds puffing into the cold air.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, voice reverent.

Beside you, Rin didn’t look up.

His eyes stayed on you, unblinking, unwavering. The light from the aurora caught in your eyes, casting your skin in hues of emerald and lilac, making you look like something ethereal. Something made to be worshipped in silence.

“Yes,” he murmured, almost too soft to hear. “It is.”

You turned, a smile playing on your lips, but when you met his eyes—you knew.

He wasn’t talking about the lights.

Your breath hitched.

He didn’t look away. And in the middle of the snow and starlight, in the hush of the north, Rin leaned forward—like the moment was too full, too sacred to speak through—and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t performative. It wasn’t for anyone else.

It was just for you.

His lips found yours slowly, like he was memorizing the way you felt all over again. The cold air melted between your mouths, the warmth of him anchoring you even as the sky spun. It was a kiss that unraveled years of silence, a kiss that didn’t ask questions because it already knew the answer.

A kiss that promised he was here. Not because he had to. But because he wanted to.

You melted into him, hands tangled in the lapels of his coat, his arms wrapping around your waist. The aurora danced on, painting the snow with light, but the most beautiful thing in that moment wasn’t the sky—it was the boy who’d spent a lifetime chasing perfection finally choosing something messy, something soft, something real.

Choosing you.

And when he pulled back, his forehead resting gently against yours, he whispered—not to convince you, not even to convince himself, but simply because it was true—“I’m not going anywhere.”

In that sacred stillness beneath the stars, with snowflakes catching on your lashes and his breath mingling with yours, you finally believed him.

You believed every whispered word against the shell of your ear, every trembling syllable that carried years’ worth of emotions Rin never learned how to say until now. You believed it in the way his hand stayed wrapped around yours even as the cold numbed your fingers, in how his voice cracked when he said he never stopped looking—never stopped loving, in his own way.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. Because the silence between you had never been empty—it had always been full of the things you never dared to say out loud. And now, the distance had crumbled into snowflakes between you.

When you both returned to Japan, not much had changed externally. The world kept spinning, your hospital still buzzed with chaos, Rin’s practices still ran long and grueling. Your lives didn’t magically transform overnight. But something had shifted. Everything was the same—but it felt softer now. Lighter.

He would still wait for you in the hospital parking lot, just like before. Except now, instead of sitting coldly in the driver's seat with a silent phone on the dashboard, he’d get out of the car the second he saw your white coat approaching through the night fog and instead of you slipping in quietly after a long shift, he would meet you halfway, arms already open. He would pull you close into his chest, lifting your tired body slightly off the ground, and press a long, gentle kiss on your temple—or sometimes, directly on your lips, not caring who saw. “Missed you,” he’d murmur. “You look tired. Let me take you home.”

You teased him once—called him clingy, even—but all he did was hum and kiss your cheek again. “Don’t care,” he said. “I like being around you.”

At home, Rin became a lovesick fool. You’d catch him smiling—actually smiling—at the sight of your pink Crocs kicked off beside his neatly lined cleats by the genkan. It was such a small detail, yet it never failed to tug at something deep in his chest. Every time he came home from training, weary and sore, the moment he saw them, he knew: You came home to me.

There were nights he’d come back later than you, only to find you dozing on the couch, still in scrubs, medical textbook open on your lap and an empty mug of coffee nearby. He never woke you. He just sat beside you carefully, one arm around your shoulders, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “Mrs. Itoshi,” like a secret he never thought he could say out loud.

You blinked awake once after hearing it and laughed, hoarse from exhaustion. “You’re using that now?”

He looked at you with soft, sleepy eyes and said it again—this time with a small smile that only ever appeared when you were around. “Yeah. Gotta get used to it, don’t I?”

Planning the wedding became its own kind of comfort. It wasn’t a spectacle the way both your families had once envisioned it—this time, it was yours. Just the two of you. There were late-night Pinterest boards open on his iPad, your fingers twined with his as you discussed outdoor venues and minimalist themes. Rin always let you speak first, nodding at your ideas, occasionally chiming in with, “I think you’d look good in that,” or, “I want it to feel like us. Simple. Real.”

You'd share clips of wedding playlists while brushing your teeth together, dance barefoot in the kitchen while you cooked dinner, and giggle in bed about guest lists and seating arrangements. And even when you argued about flower colors or dessert choices, it was Rin who’d pull you into his arms and kiss your forehead. “As long as it ends with you walking down the aisle to me—I don’t care if we serve onigiri and water.”

You often ended your days curled on the couch, your head in his lap as you recounted your patient cases, the rare ones that left you in awe or the difficult ones that tugged at your heart. Rin listened—really listened—his fingers gently combing through your hair as he asked questions. “What ended up happening to the kid from the ER the other night?” “Was that rare infection what you thought it was?” He may not have understood everything medically, but he understood you, and that was enough.

Sometimes it was the other way around—Rin lying on your lap, scrolling through plays or stats while you reviewed case notes, highlighters in hand. He wouldn’t speak much, but he'd glance up at you every now and then with this completely smitten look, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real and his.

On weekends, when you had a day off together, he'd bring you breakfast in bed—badly cut strawberries and burnt toast sometimes, but you never complained. He tried. And that effort? That was Rin Itoshi’s way of screaming he loved you.

“I like seeing you like this,” he once said while you were in your pajamas, hair messily tied up, glasses on, bent over your laptop. “All soft. All mine.”

You chuckled, not even looking up. “I’ve always been yours, idiot.”

That night, he pulled you close as if vowing never to let go again. “Mrs. Itoshi,” he whispered again, lips against your bare shoulder.

“What is it, Rin?”

He kissed the skin just below your ear. “I’m so in love with you, it’s fucking embarrassing.”

You didn’t laugh. You didn’t tease. You just turned in his arms, kissed him back slowly, and whispered, “Me too.”

Because you were. And for once—it wasn’t out of duty, or pressure, or family expectation.

It was because you wanted to be his.

And this time, so did he.

Not because he had to—but because he wanted to.

© 2025 yukkigiri ☾ creations by luna — please do not repost, copy, or translate without permission.

[lunaviee]

hey guys idk what to write

[lunaviee]

rafayel the type of guy to sit next to you in a restaurant instead of across

[happyheidi]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ. 2025 will bring blessings.

ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

[jasscheeks]

haikyuu ; the wing spikers

their reactions to if you had to go home

pairings: iwaizumi, tsukishima, hinata, osamu, ushijima, bokuto, suna, and asahi x fem!reader

i hope this isn’t too longgg i just wanted to make sure i got just abt everyone

tell me if i forget anybody or there’s someone else you want to see!

warnings: after-timeskip characters, i love ushijima yall

m.list

pretty setter edition

IWAIZUMI hops up with you when you get up and starts helping you look for your stuff. you'd been staying over for a few days, it might've been longer but the two of you stopped counting. you stayed so long to the point where he'd reserved a few drawers and hangers for your clothes, making his apartment a place where you can live comfortably. his house became like a home away from home to you, just like he intended.

but you're confused as he starts following you towards the door and slipping his shoes on with you. last time you checked, you were the one who didn't live here. "iwa? where are you going?" you ask but he just shrugs and grabs both of your coats and sidles behind you.

"what do you mean?" he holds your jacket open for you to slip your arms through. "i'm taking you back to your apartment," he explained as you turned towards him, helping you adjust the sleeves of your jacket.

you looked up at your boyfriend as if he'd grown another eye. "it's pretty late though," you then returned the gesture as you helped him put his coat on. while you straightened out the front of his jacket, he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around your shoulders.

"babe that's even more of a reason for me to take you," he chuckled, eyes practically glistening as he stared down at you. "there's no way i'm letting you take the subway alone this late at night," he told you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. seeing the look on your face, he could tell you were readying your protest. so he beat you to it, "and it's fine, i want to drive you home, that's just more time together."

so without another word, you hopped into the passenger's seat of iwaizumi's car. your laughter, the music you played between your shared account, and your singing filled the interior. as he glanced over at you, a smile immediately plastered itself on your lips, proving iwaizumi's point that he couldn't be any happier than when he's with you. you bring a certain light to any situation that no one can replicate.

however, on the ride back it was quiet, just him and the playlist the two of you had created. the whole ride every song would remind him of you, and he could imagine you now, singing your heart out in the passenger seat. he could hear your coax as you desperately tried to get him to sing at least one line. but looking over at the passenger's side, he was met with the vacant space that was reserved for you only.

back at his apartment, it wasn't any better now that everything reminded him of you. he saw you at every crevice and every turn, it was starting to feel a little lonely and empty without his other half around. you lit up his apartment with your very presence, every single lamp would simply pale in comparison.

20 minutes into the silence, he was starting to think that maybe he should've convinced you to spend just one more night.

"what are you doing?" TSUKISHIMA asks, seeing you slowly gathering your stuff together. you'd just been lounging about in his apartment, now watching some random movie on netflix as you cuddled into his side.

well, you were until you suddenly got up and grabbed your bag and started shoving your stuff inside.

even though tsukishima would never admit it, he loved having you so close. you were so warm and cuddly that he couldn’t help but want to keep you around him, it was hard not to miss you. so feeling your body heat leave his side he immediately noticed and turned to look at you.

peering over your shoulder, you can already feel his hard stare on you before even making eye contact. without his glasses, he looked even sharper than he is with them on.

“oh, it's just, it’s getting a little late tsuki," you stated as you gently put your bag down, your arms relaxing, "i don't want to overstay my welcome, you know?"

his eyebrow quirked up just hearing that. "overstay?" he repeated, sass laced throughout his voice. you turned completely towards him before he shook his head and reached over, "what are you on about?" he grunted as he grabbed a hold of your hand and pulled you back into his arms, returning you to his side just as you were.

"just..." he looked down at you only to pause seeing the way you were ogling at him. just seeing your eyes sparkle, he could've sworn he felt his heart stop for a second. it didn't help that he found you to be the prettiest girl on the planet. and to think you were here and only had eyes for him, he felt like the luckiest guy alive.

looking away, he felt his cheeks warm up as blood rushed to his face. "stay for now..." he then muttered, "and stop looking at me like that."

your sweet, sweet giggles filled the air, knowing the way tsukishima gets embarrassed all too well. he can never fool you, even as he tried to look all tough you could still see the tips of his ears turning red like apples. "stop looking at you like what?" you teased, laying your head on his chest, intertwining your fingers with the hand he had wrapped around your waist.

he didn't dare look at you, knowing you'd only tease him more. you were beating him at his own game like you always did, doing the exact thing that made him fall head over heels for you. "i don’t find you funny," he quipped in the most serious tone he could muster, but he's lying straight through his teeth.

HINATA watched on curiously, as you kissed his cheek and stood up from the couch the two of you had huddled together on. “huh?” he asked out loud, waiting for you to repeat what you had just said.

his eyes followed you as you walked to the kitchen, watching as you grabbed your keys from the counter, the jingle of them immediately catching his attention. that sound was way too familiar for him, and he had an idea of what was coming next.

"you’re going home?" he asked as he leant his head backwards over the head of the couch, his vision looking as though you were walking on the ceiling towards the bedroom. a few seconds passed by and you were walking out with your bag, eyes finding his. you were definitely leaving, and he could already feel his heart dropping.

as you approached him, you snorted, his silly posture tickling your heartstrings. placing your hands on either side of his face, you leant over to press a soft kiss onto his pouted lips. "mhm, it’s about that time,” you confirmed his worst fear. as soon as the two of you parted he was quick to sit up, seemingly giving himself whiplash but that never was the case with hinata.

“but why?” he asked, slightly making you jump at his sudden outburst of energy. “you’re leaving already? it feels like you just got here…” he scratched the back of his head, his eyebrows knitting together.

whenever he was with you, his internal clock slowed down so he could savor every moment with you. time passed by so excruciatingly slow, though he’d rather that than time to fly by. he noticed that he truly wanted to be present for every minute when he was near you, so of course he made sure to give you his utmost attention.

and he was quite well at what he did. he’s never made you feel like he wasn’t listening or like he was annoyed with your presence. in his eyes, you were like the sun and him the sunflower that made it a point to find the sun. “shoyo, i’ve been here all day!” you giggled those contagious giggles he was drinking up, his own smile growing onto his lips as well. throwing your arms over his shoulders from where you stood behind the couch, your laughter filled his ears. you just couldn’t help it, he was cute without even trying.

his muscular hand met your side, the other grabbing hold of your arm. “no, seriously! you really can’t stay?” he asked as he slightly laughed just hearing your bellows. his thumb rubbed soothing circles into your arm, hoping that this little bit would convince you.

his eyes gave you that same look he always gave you when you had to leave. eyebrows furrowed, brown eyes filled with sadness, and the tiny jut of his lips, you knew his tricks all too well. “please? just one night?” he added, flashing a pleading smile your way.

just like you knew him, he knew you all too well. he could see you crumbling bit by bit, internally debating if you should stay or not. and of course, it was clear to the both of you that soon “one night” would turn into multiple.

you sighed, tilting your head to the side as you played with the orange hairs that fell at the back of his neck. “mmm…fine, just one more night,” you bit his bait, immediately noticing the victorious smile that curled itself onto his lips.

he pulled you in close and pressed a long kiss into your check, “alright! now come back over here! i’m starting to get cold,” he released you from his arms, watching giddily as you made your way around and back into his cuddles, right where you belonged.

OSAMU is confused when you start making moves to leave. you start talking about how late it is and how you have a class in the morning. but how could you even think about leaving when the both of you are so comfortable, snuggled up on his bed right now? he can be the one to take you to your classes too, problem solved.

but he sees you slowly moving away, and it's hurting his heart bit by bit. "babe, you're hurting my feelings right now, where are you going?" he asked, sneaky fingers inching closer to your waist.

you freeze, eyes finally meeting his. the look in them is unreadable, but you can tell by the tone of his voice he doesn't appreciate you scooting off the bed. "it's about time i start heading home, 'samu. i've been here all day," you answered, not even noticing the arm he snaked around your waist.

he shrugged, "duh, but i don't mind," he quipped as he slowly pulled you back into his chest, "can't this be like your second home?" he cuddled back into you, hoping you wouldn't move away again. "your home away from home?" he suggested, with his arms wrapped securely around you, he nuzzled his face into your neck like he had before.

"but ‘samu…” you asked him, your voice echoing in his ears. “are you sure?” he hummed back affirmatively, the sound of his deep voice vibrating against your neck, tickling your skin. you couldn't fight the smile that spread on your lips, "so if i moved in tomorrow you wouldn't be mad?" you asked again, making him hum confusedly.

"nope, actually, that can be arranged,” and just like that, he sent your heart straight to the clouds. he adjusted himself to where he hovered over your body with his arms holding him up. "i like it better when you're here, it looks and feels a lot brighter, ya' know?" his eyes bore into yours, the warm yet serious glint in them sending butterflies bounding around your insides. "maybe it's about time you move in."

you reached for his cheeks, a smile on your lips as you guided him back down. "guess i'm staying permanently, hmm?" softly, you pressed yours against his, your smile spreading to his lips with one touch. his woody musk and the smell of his restaurant filled your nostrils. its delicious scent filled your lungs and suddenly you craved his cooking. and of course, the only way you could get that was by spending the night.

his hands roamed down, pulling your leg to wrap around his waist, the mere feeling of his touch sending a whirlwind of butterflies fluttering through your stomach. as your kisses began to get a bit more feverish, both your hands began to wander around each other, the ins and outs of your bodies feeling like second nature to the two of you.

so softly, he murmured against your lips, “mhm, we can work the details out later, baby,” he kissed your chin this time, trailing his way down. “just for right now…stay, please.”

"i’d like it if you stayed," USHIJIMA suggested, turning his head to you. you sat with your body facing his, legs sitting over his lap as his big, strong hands massaged soothing circles over your calves. his massage only stopped when you’d mentioned heading back to your own apartment. “i like having you here,” he trailed a hand down from your knee to your ankle.

you blinked back, getting the exact answer you expected. you were merely testing the waters, considering this was the first time you’d stayed over for so long. “i’ve been here all day though, toshi,” you tilted your head to the side, eyes never once leaving his. so far the water was warm and inviting.

“doesn’t make me like it any less,” he shrugged back, directing his eyes to the pretty pair of legs sitting in his lap. “it’s fine, there’s no rule saying you can’t stay longer,” he grazed his gentle touch over your skin, the mere feeling of his calloused fingers gliding over you sent shivers up your spine. you loved how he expressed himself unapologetically. there was nothing but transparency between the two of you. no secrets, no lies, just transparent love.

ushijima wasn’t a man of many words, but when he felt strongly about something, he’d make it known. you always adored that about him. you could listen to him ramble about volleyball for hours, because the sparkle it brought to your lovers eyes was something worth witnessing.

he was much of the same, always giving you his undivided attention and respect when you’d open up to him. it’s only been a little bit over a year since the two of you started dating, but he could already see you being his last. just watching you smile and laugh as you recalled something from your day, he can already imagine you moving through your shared home, glistening ring on your finger as you joined him on the couch just as you are now. he wanted to be the reason behind that smile, behind that melodious laugh that could be heard from far and wide.

you’re his first and last love, and ushijima’s sure of it.

“so you don’t mind if i stay the night?” you flashed that sweet smile he often dreamt about. just looking at you he was transported back to the first time he met you at one of his games. back then he just knew he needed to have you, and his gut hasn’t proven him wrong yet.

exhaling through his nose laughing, he hooked an arm underneath your legs and pulled you further down the couch. dipping you back onto the plush cushions beneath you, you caught a glimpse of the grin on his lips as he hovered over you. “i wouldn’t mind if you decided to stay a lifetime,” he pressed a kiss into your cheek, picking his legs up onto the couch as well. as he pressed more kisses into your skin, he basked in the sweet giggles that fell from your lips, your soft hands meeting his cheeks.

“toshi, stop that tickles!” you squealed the closer he got to the crook of your neck, the exact place you were ticklish. he knew that of course, kissing that spot on purpose just to hear you laugh.

he pressed just a few more kisses into your jaw and cheeks, before he was coming up to meet your eyes. your smile was contagious, as he leant into the touch you ghosted over his cheek, craving for more, “so you’re staying over?” he asked, one last time.

just by the look in your eyes, he had an idea what the answer would be. pulling him back down you murmured against his lips, “i’m staying for a lifetime,” you smiled before pressing further, capturing his lips with yours.

BOKUTO goes into extreme sulk mode, he's as dramatic as can be. he's helping you get your stuff together, just very...very...slowly. he's hoping that maybe the slower he goes the faster you'll forget and stay over for a few more hours.

earlier you were showering him with kisses and endless affection, now you were talking about leaving him? what man would be okay with that? definitely not this one.

he can't function without waking up to your pretty face in the early mornings. who will he wait on in those late nights to come back to his arms? who will he try to make food for on those nights they want to have homemade food? and who will he have to hold him when he's feeling down? you were one of his life sources, he always feels so energized and content when he's in your presence.

"kou, for the last time, i'm not leaving you, i'm just leaving your apartment." you pressed your lips against his cheek, your hands holding either side of his face. here he was holding your waist against his slumped body, sunken shoulders conveying his distaste for the loss of your company. he mumbled something along the lines of that's basically the same thing, making you tut your lips at him.

he looked down at you, those dejected eyes telling you just how much he wanted you to stay. "babe, you can facetime me when i get home, i'll call you as soon as i get back."

"i know, i know...just," he nodded, leaning into your soft touch. he was never this sulky whenever you left his apartment. of course there was the occasional whining here and there, but this was a full-blown emotional roller coaster. "not even for a few more hours?" he tilted his head into the palm of your hand, letting his gaze remain locked on yours. he'd never shy away from making eye contact with you, you were just about the only thing he could stare at for hours on end.

his pretty girl, he's completely enamored by you he can't exist in a world without you, or better yet an apartment that doesn't have you in it. "not even, i have to go home and finish packing for my trip," you cooed, but for some reason that only made matters worse.

he'd almost let the fact that you'll be gone for a whole two weeks on your girl's trip to cancun slip from his mind. it was just the icing on the cake. why can't you just bring him along? he always argues that he wouldn't bother you at all unless you call for him. "ugh, that's two long weeks without you," he hugged you tighter, burying his face into your shoulder this time, relishing in the giggles that fell from your pretty lips. "i'm missing you already," he mumbled, as he nuzzled into your skin, feeling your soft touch along the base of his neck. the sound of your laugh lifted the weight off his shoulders just a little bit, but he still was torn over this.

even as you hop into your car and drive away, he's leaning on his doorframe, hoping you'll return home as soon as you can.

"why are you trying to leave?" SUNA demands in that monotone voice, his strong arms holding you tight against his chest. you squirmed all you could, giggling at how serious he was. he'd caught you red-handed as you tiptoed around his apartment discreetly gathering your things without notifying him first. he scooped you up so quick, keeping you in hug jail until you answered him.

it was all within good reason though. you knew exactly how he acted when you left his apartment. suddenly his clingy side would come out to play and you were back in his arms for another day or so. how could you say no to him? he was so pretty and his hazel eyes only melted that adamant facade you'd put up. suna rintarou was utterly irresistible in your eyes.

you weren't complaining though, because when you think about it, you like being at his apartment more than anywhere else. contrary to your joint friends' belief, his apartment was way more clean than they'd joked about. he kept it clean and tidy and always kept some of your clothes over so you'd have something to change into. but he did prefer you wear his clothes a lot more, saying they made you look cute.

"suna! let gooo, i promise i'll be back later!" you turned your head to look at him. as you lifted your hand to caress the left side of his face, he turned inwards so he could look at you. "we'll see each other on saturday," you giggled at the pout on his lips and the way his deadpan expression barely changed.

he shook his head, "it's tuesday, that's too far," he groaned before he unraveled his self from around you. instead, he ducked down and hooked an arm under your legs, supporting your back with his other arm as he hoisted you up into his arms. hearing your girly squeals and feeling you cling onto him for dear life, he snickered and mumbled a small, "i got you," adjusting your position so he could keep you secure against his chest.

swiftly, he began walking back to the bedroom, ready to return to that comfy position the two of you were just in, all before you so rudely got up and left him. "rin, i'm still leaving." you smacked his shoulder, noticing he was doing all he could to ignore your pleas.

he gently let you down onto the soft sheets, before crashing next to you, pulling you back into his arms. his grip was firm, even as you tried to break free from his arms, he wasn't budging at all. softly, he pressed a kiss against your forehead, smiling at the way you relaxed, "shhh, let's just sleep for now."

but even after he dragged you back to the bed, you found a way to get home after all. he stood at the doorframe, pulling out all the stops to get you to stay but you weren’t budging.

finally, you gave him his goodbye kiss, and of course he was trying to use that as opening to pull you back inside (he failed). expect a lengthy facetime call of him listing a plethora of pros if you move in together once you make it home.

"you're leaving?" ASAHI sleepily murmurs into your temple, his arms still draped around your frame. his big hands rested at the small of your back, and with his muscular arms hugging you close, you were basking in the warmth that emanated off of his core. and that only made it harder to move.

mumbling, you snuggled further into his chest as you snaked your arm up and around his shoulder, pulling yourself closer to him. "mhm...i gotta get home," the drowsy tone was still so prominent in your voice. your words held no real intention, because as long as asahi was the comfy, warm, grizzly bear that he is, you weren't moving a single inch.

after the day the two of you spent outside his apartment, this nap was much needed. he had taken you on quite the eventful date that lasted just about all day. first, you hit up your favorite breakfast place, then both of yours and his favorite clothing shops, he even bought you a few things and vice versa. on top of that he took you to a dine in movie theater. and again after the theater, he had to take you out to ice cream. the two of you came to the conclusion a few dates back that no date is complete without ice cream.

all that food and running around the city was definitely catching up to you both. it seemed as soon as you stepped foot in asahi's apartment, melatonin lingered in the air that had the two of you walking like zombies to his bed. he was quick to hoist you up into his arms, keeping you pressed up against his chest as the two of you dozed off.

"hm," he hummed, his soft yet deep voice echoing through your ears. "when are you leaving?" he asked, his sleepy voice sending butterflies throughout your body.

you hummed, trying to figure out just when you were going to leave. but the more you sunk into the warmth that was practically radiating off of his body, the more you didn’t want to leave. you'd been at his place all day, so you felt like it was about time you started heading home. but these cuddles were well-needed and heavily persuading your previous choices.

prying your eyes open, you searched his sleepy expression, your own drowsy mind taking over as you slowly blinked up at him. his eyes were fully closed and his lips were slightly parted, to which you placed a sweet kiss to the corner of. "in...a little bit," you finished. but that was most definitely a lie.

as his lips curled into a bashful grin, you were snuggling back into your position. already, you could feel yourself drifting off to take yet another nap, wrapped up in his arms.

thank you for reading!! and please repost! if i missed anybody or there’s someone you want to see, let me know!!!

[lunaviee]

i genuinely, WHOLEHEARTEDLY am trying to cook something up for you guys and finally post after 9274 years BUT I CANNOT THINK OF ANNNYYYTTHHHINNGGG so ummmm requests are 10000% open plsplspls

[lunaviee]

hey..erm i MIGHT be continuing my rin series if i figure out what im doing with the plot 💀💀 i do not know yet !!! okay that’s it bye

[qquibb]

idc if haikyuu is done my brainworms will never rest when it comes to suna

[hiraethwrote]

i've only ever wanted you

summary: you can blame the alcohol for your reaction, but hey... what's yours is yours, right?

[ loner!megumi x popular!reader ]

cw: college au, f!reader, sorority!reader, aged up characters, drinking, intoxication, arguing, emotions running high, jumping to conclusions, jealousy, kinda angsty, eventually comfort, no use of y/n

word count: 3.2k

“I look ridiculous.”

“Stop that! You look hot,” you shouted through the bathroom door.

His displeased expression stared back at him from the mirror, observing every detail of the costume you’d put him in.

He’d been so focused on being a good boyfriend, actually accepting your invitation to one of your parties because it was supposed to be the party of the year. And as newly elected president of your sorority, you’d stood for all the planning and decorating.

What he had completely forgotten to take into consideration when he said he’d come was the fact that it was a Halloween party, meaning costumes, something that was way out of his comfort zone.

You, however, had already planned matching Halloween costumes before you even knew if he was coming or not.

That being said, you knew he’d never go along with anything that would draw too much attention to him. So all things considered, the costume you’d put together for him was the bare minimum in terms of dressing up — didn’t make him feel any less stupid when he looked at himself in the mirror.

A few weeks back, you’d spotted the ruffled collar of a white, linen shirt in the window of a thrift store downtown. Without thinking, you had sprung through the door and handed the cashier the money.

Next thing Megumi knew, he was feeling incredibly exposed while the tiniest sliver of his chest was on display and his usually messy hair was tied down by a red handkerchief around his head. As low effort as it was, one could clearly tell it was a pirate he was supposed to be.

“God knows why I agreed to this,” he mumbled to himself, fidgeting with his sleeves, the nerves building up by the second.

“I will not hear another negative word about your costume come out of your mouth for the rest of the evening,” you sighed as you exited the bathroom.

“Can’t make any prom-“

The sentence was abruptly cut short when he spun around to give you an answer, only to end up like a deer caught in headlights.

Now, Megumi had always thought of you to be absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. But when you came out that door all dolled up for the evening, looking a lot more like a pirate than he did, the lump was instantly created in his throat as his palms started to turn clammy.

It was different, for sure. With leather pants, a black and red corset tied tightly over a cream coloured blouse with puffy sleeves, a red fabric draped over your hips and a handkerchief tied over your head to match his, Megumi was only reminded of how incredibly out of his league he thought you were.

“You look-“ he cut himself off to clear his throat when it came out embarrassingly high pitched. “You look great.” The modest blush crept up on his cheeks, and as much as he wished you didn’t notice, he wasn’t so lucky. The scrunch of your nose and the bounce in your step as you scattered over to him told him so, as you placed a hand on each side of his face and squeezed his cheeks.

“Love it when I make you blush,” you teased. While he rolled his eyes, pulling out of your tender grip, he tried to find back to his previous stature — the one where you didn’t have him flustered by simply existing within his vicinity while looking so good it should be illegal.

“I bet you do,” he mumbled shyly.

You quickly landed a light peck on his lips that were withdrawn into a line. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

“‘S no problem,” he said, his statement bordering on a lie. The stress was slowly building up inside him at the thought of spending the evening with this crowd that had rarely done their due diligence to make him feel welcome. But he’d seen how hard you’d worked and how much it meant to you, it was only right he swallowed his insecurities to support you.

His shoulders were visibly tense, having you try to rub the worst of it out while shooting him a compassionate smirk. “Come on, let’s get you a drink to loosen up,” you placed another small peck on his cheek before hurrying down to the kitchen, clutching Megumi’s hand tight in your own.

The small ball he threw hit the last cup standing on the other side of the table, causing you to squeal in unmatched excitement, launching yourself at him in a bone crushing embrace. It was hard, even for him, not to actually let out a small chuckle when you were so publicly proud of him.

“I didn’t know you were so good at beer pong,” you said once he released his arms around you.

“Neither did I,” he said only so you could hear him.

“Well, I’m going to get another drink, you want one?”

“Sure, why not?” The drunk smile instantly spread across your face before placing a wet kiss on his cheek and scurrying away.

Against all odds, Megumi was actually enjoying himself a little more than he usually did at these things. It probably had everything to do with the fact that you had stayed at his side for most of the evening, because he instantly fell into his reclusive habits the second you were out of sight.

Standing by the table, he let his eyes travel the room, looking at all the different people scattered about, drunk out of their mind — while he stood awkwardly in the same spot you left him in.

In the past, he rarely minded being on his own, he preferred it even. But after you came into his life, he had come to appreciate the company of others… well, that was probably a stretch. He appreciated the company of you, and that was about it.

“Hey,” a soft voice caught his attention as a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder to turn him around. “Great beer pong play!” The girl standing in front of him, sporting a genuine smile, had been on the opposing team when playing.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, hand clutching tighter onto his nearly empty cup.

“It’s Megumi, right?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded with a withdrawn smile.

“I’m Mio,” she leaned in to tell him so he could hear over the music. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he mumbled politely, eyes continuing to dart around the room in hopes he’d spot you turn the corner to join him again, but all he saw was a sea of unfamiliar faces.

He didn’t get to look for long until her voice captured his attention again. “You’re not really the party guy, are you?”

“Is it that obvious?” He scoffed.

“Well, sort of, but I can’t remember seeing you all that much.”

“Oh,” he hesitated. “Yeah, not really my scene.”

She swiftly jumped up on the table beside them, swirling her red solo cup, newly filled with some drink that smelled awfully sugary. “I like your costume.”

He instinctively narrowed his eyebrows as he glanced down at what was essentially just a white shirt with some extra details added to it. Megumi was just a cautions person by nature, and though he rarely had any ill intent behind his cold front, he just liked to keep strangers at an arm’s length.

But maybe this Mio wasn’t a bad person, and was simply keeping him company while he was all in his lonesome.

“Thanks. Yours is cool too,” he shrugged casually, looking at her costume of what he thought was supposed to be a cat, hoping and praying you were to rejoin him again soon. She grinned wildly at the comment, balance swaying a little by the alcohol in her system.

You, at the other side of the living room, were blissfully unaware of the scene that took place not too far from you.

On your excursion to get more to drink for you and Megumi, you’d been hauled in my a few of your sorority sisters for group tequilas — to which you couldn’t say no. That’s when they came with the very convincing argument of ‘one tequila is never enough’. So one tequila quickly turned into two, slamming the glass against the counter before biting into the lime slice.

The drunken giggle on your lips was wiped away when one of your girlfriends pointed out the scene you’d been missing out on.

“She’s at it again,” she said into your ear as you both stared at them while Mio accidentally stumbled down from the table she was sitting on, just to latch one hand onto his forearm and the other rest on his chest for support.

And though Megumi’s reaction was probably one simply out of politeness, it didn’t stop you from seeing red when a small smile was formed in his lips at whatever words left Mio’s mouth.

Why had he suddenly decided to turn so sociable?

The drinks you were supposed to fetch was long forgotten, as you stormed over to the two of them, not hesitating to wedge yourself between them with glee.

“Mio, you better take a step back!” You bit as she quickly retreated her clawy hands to herself.

The way she sung your name sent a cold shiver down your spine, as if you were friends. If there was one girl in this sorority you were willing to throw to the dogs, it was her.

Ever since moving into the house, you and Mio had been at each others throats — for good reason, you thought. Both being individuals with immensely strong personalities, you were doomed to butt heads. Neither of you even tried to keep your mouth shut when the other did something that infuriated the other.

For the most part, your relationship consisted of petty spitting matches — until you managed to snatch the title of president of the sorority, which quickly escalated the ongoing feud.

If there were an opportunity for her to come for you, she would definitely take it. So when you saw her even come close to your boyfriend, after having garnered a small reputation of a home-wrecker, there was no way you were letting her off easy.

“I’m only keeping the nice pirate company.”

Her sweet tone had you grind your teeth together, Megumi noticing how your nails were digging into the palms of your hands. “Yeah, and your service isn’t needed anymore.”

“I’m sure Megumi doesn’t mind. We were having a lovely conversation-“

“I don’t really care,” you cut her off, raising your voice, disguising your anger in feigned sincerity.

What sounded like such an innocent flutter of a laugh sailed past her lips. “No reason to get hostile.”

“Could never be too sure with you.”

Your mean stare at Mio was averted to Megumi when you felt his familiar touch carefully circle your wrist. He tried calling your name in order to calm down the situation, but was taken aback when his voice had no soothing affect on your angled eyebrows.

What was worse, was how you pulled your hand out of his grip, folding your arms over your chest before turning your back to him again, fiery eyes locked on Mio.

“Poor guy looked so lost where he stood. Wouldn’t have been right to just let him stand alone while you were out and about,” she said, subtly tilting her head to the side to eye Megumi from top to toe.

You quickly took a step to the side to block her view. Whatever her intentions were, if she was actually interested in him or if she was just looking to get a rise out of you, you did not appreciate the glint in her eyes or the visible heat in her cheeks as things grew more tense.

You didn’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes at her sugary tone, fed up with her fake attitude. “Just-“ you took a deep sigh. “Just keep your hands off my boyfriend, got it?”

“Then don’t let your handsome boyfriend stand all alone for me to get my hands on,” the same fake smile plastered on her lips. You swear you were about to let your hand come travelling through the air to slap her across the face, the alcohol not helping on your restraints.

Taking a step closer, you felt a few eyes start to turn towards you. “You better watch what comes out of your mouth next-“ eyes widen when she clicked her tongue before once again tilting her head to address Megumi.

“You let her talk like this?”

The whole interaction Mio’d had with you had instantly made Megumi dislike her immensely, wearing an expression of distain at how she could even think to talk to you like that — but you didn’t notice this, too focused on channeling all your self control in not getting yourself arrested.

“I’ve had enough of your bullshit, Mio! This whole attitude is going to get you slapped one day, and I’ll make sure of it-“

Once again, Megumi spoke your name. “It’s not worth-“

“And you!” Spinning around to face your boyfriend, whose eyes were as big as saucers when you seemed to have shifted all your fury to him, having a stern finger lingering on his chest. “Is this funny to you?” The slightest crack in your voice could be heard, Megumi’s eyes flittering between yours in utter confusion, not understanding why he was on the receiving end of your loud remarks.

“What? No, of course not-“

“Suddenly in college and decide you wanna be all social and outgoing?” He heard how the heartbreak was subtly latching on to every word, the intoxication in your system making it harder for you to control the quiver in your chin.

“That’s not-“ he cut himself off with a sigh of thought, the little alcohol he himself had consumed having his brain move a little slower than usual. “Let’s take this somewhere else,” he said and reached for your arm again, only for you to flinch away stubbornly.

“What? You don’t wanna do this here? Embarrassed people will see?” Both of you knew he was hating every second of the scenario taking place, the nosy eyes that were now glued on you having his face slowly turn red. However, that wasn’t his biggest concern, not even close — you were.

He carefully leaned in closer so you were the only one who’d be able to hear him. “You don’t wanna do this here.” His voice was soft, the tension in your shoulders only slipping for a second at the sound of his compassion. “Come on,” he nodded towards the backyard that was a lot less crowded. “Please.”

After a second of steadying your breath, you shyly nodded in agreement. With a lot of love in his gesture, he snaked his arm around your waist to lead you out, but not before Mio got the chance to throw another comment at you.

“What a behaviour from our president,” every word laced with petty venom. Megumi’s grip grew sturdier around you to prevent you from launching at her.

“She’s not worth it. Let it go.”

You were practically shaking with adrenaline caused by Mio’s tasteless comments, mixed with the hurt you’d come to feel after spiralling about your boyfriend’s sudden changed behaviour, wrapping your arms around yourself once Megumi had led you to a secluded corner of the garden.

“You enjoying all this female attention you’re suddenly getting?” It tumbled out of you before he had the chance to ask.

“Where’s this coming from?”

You scoffed, the angry tears wetting the corner of your eyes. “First there’s Yukiko throwing herself at you, then there’s Mio, and I cannot see why you don’t to anything to shut them down!” You annunciated the last three words so clearly, pointing your hand out to get the point across.

“What?” He drifted off into a whisper, nearly speechless by perplexity.

“You’ve always been so god damn stoic, distancing yourself from any human interaction at all cost,” you exaggerated, the sobs threatening in your throat, “and now when these pretty girls show an interest you’ve decided it’s time to start being smiley and shit? What’s that all about, Megumi? Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

His mouth hung open in shock, letting your words sink in as he witnessed how the tears were now rolling down your puffy cheeks, the alcohol causing you to wobble slightly.

“I’ve never noticed,” was the first thing he managed to say.

“Noticed what? That you’re letting these girls flirt with you?” Your shoulders were now bouncing along with your heaving.

“No, I never even noticed they were flirting.”

A moment of silence was shared, your frantic sniffling filling the void before you opened your mouth to snap a frustrated “what?”

“Look,” he breathed, shyly grabbing your chin to force you to look in his eyes. He guess he could actually thank the alcohol for his sudden directness, having strayed from his confrontational ways long ago and now leaning more into an avoidant style of resolution. But right now, the liquid courage seemed to bring out a side of him you desperately needed in the moment.

“I think I’m oblivious to it because of you.” He watched how your eyebrows narrowed, uncertain if it was out of confusion or anger. “I’m still baffled you’re into me. So it’s beyond me that anyone would be.”

He had no idea what words were to come out of him next, slowly sensing that his nerves was having him retreat to his normal, reserved self. “I’ve always been alone, and always enjoyed being alone. Until you came along.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you’re now… I don’t know, engaging in these interactions so happily! What am I supposed to do with that?” You pleaded.

“Well, I think that’s also because of you.” The worst of your sobs calmed down at the statement, your shoulders along with them. “I have you now… so I guess I’m just… happy.”

There had never been a person Megumi had been more comfortable around than you, finally finding someone he was able to completely let his guard down with — but that didn’t mean he was any better with big declarations, still feeling every inch of his skin grow hot with agitated stress, especially with your wet and watchful eyes never daring to look away from him.

“Really?” Your voice cracked, to which he slowly nodded in confirmation.

“I only want you. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

The simple confession, though not a secret, felt heavy, only amplified ten times over by the shots you’d downed not too long ago as your lips once again started to tremble. In sheer embarrassment, your head fell forward and collided with his chest to hide your face.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled between calm sniffles.

His chest hummed with a relieved chuckle as he loosely knitted his arms around you. “It’s nothing to be sorry about.”

He simply held you for some time, feeling your body shake meekly against him while you cried it out quietly, his own mind deep in thought — mostly by how he had been introduced to some insecurities he couldn’t have imagined you were feeling.

Never in his wildest dreams could he have thought these things would cause you as much discomfort as they clearly did, when everyone always saw you as so sure of yourself and confident. And with this newly obtained information, he knew to be more aware in the future if his nativity.

Come morning, he also knew you’d curse and shame yourself for the outburst, and he was prepared to calm you down again when that came.

tags (taglist is open) @sad-darksoul @nyahctrl @ssetsuka @aceakariii @chxlexauriana

@ps-forgetmenot @thejujvtsupost @acowboykisser @rixo-19

@shokosbunny @xxaestheticvibezxx @iheartlinds @rory-cakes

a/n okay so, not suuuper happy with this but it’s for those who wanted a more heated argument so here you go, hope it's a little more confrontational than the last one. but we all know megumi would never do anything. also, fun fact, reader's costume is very heavily inspired by my own halloween costume last year lol likes, comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[lunaviee]

atsumu miya, who doesn’t care about anyone’s opinion at all because why should it matter?? but the second he thinks you’re upset with him….

pls be prepared to console him, he just wants your love and attention

[hydrobunny]

'cause he really knows me (so call it what you want)

tags: hurt/comfort, established relationship, argument?, happy ending! 1.1k words

a/n: slightly different style than my previous stuff but it's been a while. fic based on call it what you want.

nagi seishiro isn’t known for being a very public persona.

it’s usually reo who takes that crown; the heir isn’t afraid of posting whatever he has on his mind. his best friend, on the other hand, might as well as not exist for all the presence he has on social media.

you close out of nagi’s blank profile with a sigh.

the teen in question is barely three feet in front of you, headset glued over his ears as some fast-paced first person shooter game blazes on. as if he could hear the sigh, nagi turns around immediately.

“you good?” he asks, dark eyes flicking over your form in scrutiny.

you give him a smile. “fine.”

after a pause, he turns the chair back around, muttering some apology into the headset.

with another exhale, you roll over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. sometimes you wondered if nagi was purposely ignoring you when you were over, or he was actually just that dense.

for god’s sake, you were in his bed. you had been in it for at least two hours, and he had been on the game for probably three.

you eye the back of his head again. all that time on his computer was going to give him a headphone dent soon enough. hell, if you squinted, you could already see it forming.

in one smooth motion, you roll over once again to step off the bed. “bathroom,” you say, not sure why you’re even bothering.

compared to his LED lit bedroom, the rest of nagi’s household is bright, with large windows littering almost every wall. the afternoon sunset peeks in through slightly closed window blinds, you breeze through the hallway, avoiding making any noise.

you’re not really sure where his parents go all the time. you saw them once, for a slightly awkward dinner, and then never again. either way, he doesn’t seem to mind, so you don’t press the issue. you’re pretty sure he’s spent more time with reo than them anyway.

(deep inside, you wonder if it bothers him. you think it might bother you.)

as you enter the bathroom, you realize that you didn’t even need to go.

so why are you here?

you stare at your reflection through the large mirror, eyes tracing the shape of your facial features slowly. is there a particular reason nagi finds better company in the form of online games? does something not fit his many likes?

you find your hand steadily approaching your mouth, and actively push it down. it’s taken you long enough to stop your anxious habit of biting your nails down to the quick, and you’re not excited to start that again.

instead, you go for something safer: turning on the sink and absolutely dousing your face. the coldness helps ground you, helps you realize that you probably should take the hint and just leave.

your phone’s in your hand before you realize, some dark emotion taking over to write a message to your boyfriend.

going home. ill text you tomorrow.

you’ve made a decision. and honestly, you think nagi’s made one too. you doubt he’ll even see this message- or even notice you’re gone- for at least an hour.

it still takes you two minutes to leave the bathroom.

the sound of your steps almost echoes in the large house. your vision blurs with every beat of your heart, and you know that you’re simply being stupid.

crying did not act as a viable solution. crying fixed none of your problems.

your fingers clasp over the door handle-

and there is a hand on your shoulder, bringing you to an abrupt stop.

“hey,” nagi’s familiar voice says. “why are you leaving?”

you turn. and you can spot the exact moment nagi realizes you are crying. his usually tired eyes widen to an extreme, then he’s stepping backward, taking you with him.

“y/n, what's wrong?” he asks. “did something happen?”

so the sobs start coming faster, for you realize he still doesn't understand- he pulls you into his embrace, and your cries become muffled by his soft hoodie. you can tell he’s trying to awkwardly console you from the rhythmic pats on the back.

when you finally manage to get out your words, he immediately freezes.

“sei- sei, it’s you.”

nagi gently pulls you away from his chest. he stares down at you with uncomprehending eyes, still so heartbreakingly concerned.

“it's me?”

those two words get your own tirade flowing.

“i don’t know if you know me anymore. i don't know if you still want me anymore,” you inhale, guttural. “i look at us and wonder if you would notice if i wasn't there. i look at us and don’t even see a couple. i- i think you might be better if i wasn’t here.”

there’s a beat of silence. he swallows.

“i would.” he says softly.

you meet his gaze.

“i would notice if you were gone.” nagi continues. you think he’s never been more ready to talk in his entire life. “y/n, i would notice- i can’t stop noticing you.”

“i don’t say it enough. i know. but i also know that you’ve changed your perfume lately. i know that you’ve been feeding the stray cat in your neighborhood. that you’ve been thinking about going to the beach. that you want another ear piercing. that you’ve started another save in my game.”

you blink rapidly.

“i know i don't sometimes act like it. but i’m listening, y/n. and i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i don’t tell you i love you. because i do. i love you.”

your mouth is hanging open, all tears stopped from sheer surprise. nagi stares at you, gaze searching.

you nod. it’s all he needs.

and so his entire body relaxes into you, and it’s just ironic enough to get you laughing. (and crying, again.)

“i love you too,” you manage out. “i love you too- and i’m sorry i made you leave your game, and i named the cat melon, and-”

nagi snorts into your shoulder.

there’s no more words to be said after that. you're both too busy laughing at each other, hands tangling in the other's hair.

it probably seemed a little strange to other people, having a boyfriend that didn't act like he was a boyfriend to the online world. one that didn't seem to mind long silences. maybe it did bother you, in the smallest sense there was.

but honestly, in moments like these, you were willing to let it go.

because in this moment, seishiro nagi was your boyfriend/lover/something. it didn't matter that he didn’t shout it from the rooptops, didn't matter that no one could put a label on it.

he was here. and he saw you. and that was all you needed.

[rinsoap]

SONGS THEY LOVE TO MAKE OUT TO!

✿²˖ ࣪ ➣ includes : suna rintaro. iwaizumi hajime. atsumu miya.

note : me after incorporating my music hyperfixation into all my works. also can u tell im so obsessed with all of these men's arms n hands.

SUNA RINTARO: REDBONE BY CHILDISH GAMBINO

makeouts with suna are always distracting you. this night was no different except for the fact that you're on the floor. well, you're sittting on the rug beside his bed that's pushed up to the wall. he's sitting against it, and you're in his lap facing him. you're on your phone, not paying attention to the boy directly in front of you, too busy trying to instruct one of your project partners on how to use microsoft. suna is not usually jealous. who cares if someone's into you? it's not like they have a chance. you never entertain them anyways. he just misses you. he was out of the city for a week for an away game, and he's hardly kissed you since he left. he's had awaken, my love! by childish gambino playing for a while now, head lolling back on the bed, bored out of his mind. "babyyyy" he hums in complaint after you giggle at your phone. "hold on rin, i'm almost done... god these people are so stupid, i swear i'm literally carrying this project" you roll your eyes as your fingers fly across the screen, the tapping filling the silence until your boyfriend groans and brings his head up to look at your pretty face. the intro of redbone kicks in, and his mind starts racing, thinking about all the times he's kissed your lips to this song. his hand snakes around your waist, and you feel his thumb start tracing hearts into your skin. "you're too pretty to be worrying about school," suna pouts, "you should pay attention to... other things..." his suspicious trail off causing your eyes to flick to his face, but before you could find his eye contact, he was planting kisses onto your neck. "rin," you whine, winding up to tell him off, but he makes his way up to your jaw, grinning against your cheek when you catch his eye. "rin i can't..." you sigh, incredibly receptive to his touch despite your words, dropping your phone still open on your messages to wrap your arms around his shoulders. "you just look so good, i could hardly myself," he mumbles before pressing his lips against yours, hands making their way to hold the dip between your jaw and neck. you lean into his desperate kiss, and when your fingers carress the nape of his neck, you feel him smile. "missed you so much baby"

IWAIZUMI HAJIME: NIGHTS BY FRANK OCEAN

makeouts with iwaizumi always start out polite. it's always just one kiss, something casual, until he starts getting needier. you had dragged your boyfriend into another late afternoon nap, him shirtless, and you wearing one of his faded graphic t-shirts. you're woken by the sunlight beaming through iwaizumi's ineffective blinds. his arm is lazily holding you and he's laying on his stomach, you're on your back. you place your hand on his forearm and hum along to the end of hold on by the internet. you had forgotten you put on a playlist. you hear iwaizumi grunt and you giggle. "you awake finally?" he teases, turning on his side to face you and you do the same. "take a guess, genius" you quip back and he tsks. he doesn't say anything though, chest to chest and noses touching, he just stares into your eyes. sometimes he wakes up with you next to him and he is baffled at how he managed to pull someone as gorgeous as you. his eyes only break from yours to flick to your lips, and you can tell he's trying to be discreet by the way they immediately dart back. the song changes, and you both smile at each other knowingly. you were about to exclaim that he should just kiss you, but he interrupts that thought to oblige, and your face goes hot. his kisses still gave you butterflies despite being with him for so long. you kiss him back, matching the way he deepens it, hands over your hips as he pulls you onto him. you gasp at the sudden nature of it, and he grins against your mouth. you break free and move your hands from the sides of his face to his bare chest, but he pulls you closer to kiss up your shoulder and your collarbones and ultimately brings you back to kiss him. as the beat switches, his strong arms hold you tighter, closing whatever distance the two of you might have had before. he groans in your mouth when your hands tangle in his hair, tugging on it slightly when he quietly mumbles, "i love you". he could kiss you all day if he could, and he acts like it.

MIYA ATSUMU: ONE NIGHT ONLY BY SONDER

makeouts with atsumu are intense and frequent. he loves pda, he's the type of guy to use any excuse to show off his girl, and is that such a crime?! he needs to stop kissing you at parties though, i fear you've become that couple. you were both a little tipsy, and when atsumu drinks, he can't take his hands off of you. so when he started kissing on your neck, you rushed him to the bathroom to avert everyone's eyes from the pda. you shut the door behind you, and atsumu quickly takes the opportunity to close the distance between you two until he had you pressed against the door. "oh, hey," you say with a sarcastic smirk that he matches. "hi baby," he bites his lip, looking you up and down and then back to your eyes, "you look so good... i couldn't stop looking at ya, princess" he knows he's not subtle. your heart beats to the bass of the song playing through the door as he cups your cheeks in his big hands. he leans in to kiss you fervently, leaving you breathless and almost as needy as him. his hands thread through your hair and yours do the same as he nips at your lips playfully. you giggle and he pulls back just enough to speak, resting his forehead on yours. "you're so perfect" is all he says before he starts peppering you face and neck with soft kisses, working his way up back to your lips to capture you in a kiss much more intense comparatively. his hands roam your back, and you melt into his touch as the two of you intertwine. the world fades away, it's just you and him and the song. "hey are y'all done in there or what?" osamu knocks irritably, gladly interrupting you much to both of your displeasure. you laugh, and atsumu rolls his eyes. "yeah yeah whatever," he calls out, planting one last kiss on your cheek before you drag him out of the bathroom, "this will be continued later, promise you baby" he's so corny

[lowkeyremi]

“BSF TO LOVERS IS SO CLICHE !”

suna smau (fem reader)