「untitled」 | miya a. | one shot; angff
「untitled」 | kageyama t. | series; angff
「untitled」 | sakusa k. | one shot; angff
「untitled」 | konoha a. | one shot; request; fluff
「real, faked love sequel」 | tsukishima k. | one shot; fluff
「untitled one」 | miya a. | series; angff
「untitled two」 | kageyama t. + [redacted, perhaps] | series; band!au
「au’s au」 | various | series; gen fic
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hi lovely could I join the creatures of comfort event? also big congrats to you ahh your work is always so beautifully written. for the request could it be either (you can choose ahh I'm so indecisive) matsukawa, hinata or bokuto and their s/o having body image issues and/or compulsive overthinking? thank you!!
hello anon! thank you for enjoying my writing <3 i hope you find a little something in this :’)
˚｡⋆.creatures of comfort: matsukawa + comfort
“this.” his hand cups the contours of your face, eyes drinking in your reflection as he murmurs into that ticklish patch of skin by your ear. “this.” moving slowly down to cruise over the stroke of your collarbones, he can’t help to press a little kiss to the soft, supple base of your neck. “this.”
issei’s hands, large, warm, and familiar, rests along the curve of your arms, gripping a little, not too tightly, palpable, a force to steady you in the storms of wesdnesday winds and stagnant change.
“gorgeous,” he mumbles, squeezing just the softest bit as he reels you in, coaxing you, mind, body, and soul, from the mirror and into the muscled cotton of his ardour and embrace.
“so gorgeous,” he whispers, eyes finally looking into yours, the wounds and fatigue muddled in the haze of the low lamp light, his hands roaming the planes of your figure, in softness, warmth, and reverence.
“you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he sighs.
his head yields into the comforts of your flesh, cheeks to your neck, tender and soft, an infinity of cotton butterflies blooms along your skin.
issei embroiders an infinite promise into each kiss, into each press. to love, find, and bring to light, the dark, bleak, and the damnedly bright, of your shapes, rhythms, and size.
because to him, to issei, you’re perfect, he sighs,
“right? he’s definitely gonna skin it ‘n cook it ‘n shit– oh shit, he’s looking over here!”
“man, let’s go…before he stews us too…”
“go, go! so scary!”
echoes of their cackling settle like pesky fruit flies over the quiet corner of the park.
you and your friends exchange looks.
the parchment paper in your hand crumples slightly as you swallow the last bite of cream puff.
“so mean…” lemon shivers. none of that had been directed of any of you, but the paper straw in her mouth is just about chewed off after witnessing the whole ordeal. “he’s just minding his own business like the rest of us.”
a flexed arm reaches for the cream puff container yet again. mash turns to you, “nee-san, can i beat them up?”
you blink.
“i want to pummel them.”
“kiddo, that’s–” you start but thought better of it.
you stop to consider your options.
there was no reason to chide mash over this, not when you had to swallow your own urge to surgically remove the toxic masculinity from them.
and without even looking, you know that lemon has turned to you with sparkles in her eyes.
in the absence of finn ames, she was probably the only potentially palpable voice of reason in your baby cousin’s friend group of questionable, well-meaning, and suspicious characters.
and…she was the only other one here.
your eyes narrow at your near empty, much too warm glass of iced tea. where is finn ames when he was the one who had suggested this picnic?
and abel and abyss. where in the world is your own group of friends? you had all agreed to meet more than twenty minutes ago.
the parchment paper collapses in your fist.
“nee-san,” mash stretches out the last syllable, “please stop ignoring me.”
“ah, sorry. was just thinking.” your grip unfurls slightly and you toss it in your makeshift garbage bag. with a sigh, you turn to lemon. “lemon-chan?”
she beams, “leave it to me, nee-san!”
within three minutes of being introduced to lemon irvine, you’d realized that whenever and wherever it concerns your dark-haired cousin, she was more than happy to abandon any and all sense of fundamental logic, sense, and restraint. this inherently included immediately adopting mash’s way of addressing you.
but in times like these, you suppose that as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone…
you give her a small smile back.
“mash-kun!” spurred on by what is surely her nee-san-in-law’s approval, lemon starts her task in pacifying the sole object of her affections. “it’s okay, he should be okay. just look!”
on cue, the three of you swivel to the far corner of the park, where not long after you had laid out the picnic gear, a man arrived and sat on the park bench with a real, living, breathing bunny on his lap.
currently, this stranger on the bench seems completely oblivious to the fact that a group of similarly strange strangers is staring him down in concern. it’s like he existed in his own impenetrable jungle of bunny fur and main character park benches, basking under the afternoon sun even as three pairs of eyes are homed in on him from under the biggest, tallest, and only oak tree in the park.
his hand steadily pets the grey bunny.
that means he should be…fine?
lemon sighs in relief. “see, mash-kun? he’s–”
she is cut abruptly short.
the three of you watch the man lowers his head.
as horror dawns on lemon’s face, the man takes a visible breath and lifts his hand from the bunny’s back. he closes his eyes. the sunlight seems to dim a little.
mash snaps back to you.
lemon also looks at you, panicked. “um, he’s fine? maybe not? uh, umm, n-nee-san? can mash-kun go beat them up?”
“uh,” you pry your eyes away from the man and back at your juniors. “no, that’d be assault,” you shrug. “even if it’s deserved.”
mash visibly deflates, and lemon holds out the half-consumed box of cream buffs in consolation.
you let out a sigh.
you are so going to skin abel and abyss for flaking last minute.
you glance at the stranger again.
the only silver lining…
you can’t help the warmth that canvasses the back of your neck.
middle part, black on the left and yellow on the right, his face is strong and soft features at once. handsome.
you squint in concentration.
he looks to be around the same age as you, abel, and abyss, but the way he carries himself…there is an unmissable, imposing apathy to him, and while it certainly makes him look wiser and more unforgiving than all of you combined, it’s not scary, absolutely not.
it’s that distinct taste of solitude that lifts him into an air of divinity, an untouchable aloofness, which appears just a bit more weighted after the two assholes left.
not that you can be absolutely certain with how cool his default expression has been since he sat down.
not that you’ve been watching him.
and not that you’ve been keeping track.
he’s just eye-catching. in what universe would eyes not be caught by a man sitting with a bunny in the park, you reason.
it’s beyond the fact that the man happens to be handsome, beautiful, and totally your type.
no, it’s only because it’s a man with a bunny sitting on the park bench.
right, the stranger with the bunny just piques your curiosity.
“nee-san.”
“hmm?”
“you should go talk to him.”
you glance at mash. “huh?”
“you should go talk to him.”
the warmth quickly turns into heat. “what?”
“you’re staring,” he explains in between bites of his beloved, homemade cream puff. “a lot.”
“excuse me?” you have half a mind to hit him with the five-litre thermos of iced tea.
“nee-san’s been staring at him since he sat down,” your baby cousin continues, completely clueless to the contortions crawling through the stages of shock on your face. “and when the two guys were talking about him, you look like you were going to fling them–”
“keep talking and i’ll fling you into the lake.”
mash visibly deflates again. “but nee-san, there’s nothing wrong with looking. you’re the one who said that i should do what i want,” he mutters.
a pang of guilt stabs at you.
“plus, it’s a bunny.”
“what?”
“it’s just a bunny.”
you blink. “just a bunny?”
“just a bunny.”
you sigh and reach out to ruffle his hair. “just a bunny, huh?”
“the bunny’s cute,” mash mumbles in response. he refills your cup of iced tea. “i don’t think he minds, nee-san.”
huh?
picking up the glass, you glance at lemon in confusion.
does he mean the man or the bunny?
lemon could only respond with a helpless smile back.
before mash could become even more sullen over his lack of communication/your lack of comprehension, you quickly hold the glass up to your lips with an appreciative smile.
“you’re right, kiddo, just a bunny,” you say, turning to look at the stranger, face cooled slightly by sips of the iced tea. “maybe they…”
your body stops dead in its track.
he—the man—is looking right back. not in the distance and not in your generally vicinity, not at your friend group and not just at you.
he is looking at you, in your eyes, his half-narrowed gaze meeting yours head on.
and you forget to breath.
they’re beautiful.
sleeping, predator like, a lounging puma in its jungle, they peer down to assess the stranger below.
even from a distance, you see it, clarity, an inquisitive flicker ticking in its dull, amber glow.
oh, this is outrageous.
a gentle nudge pushes at you, interrupting you from whatever that was.
“m-mash?” you turn back to him in surprise, haphazardly gulping down the lukewarm tea you’d been holding all along.
“stop staring, nee-san,” he says. “you were going to choke.”
the heat spreads like a rash.
“mash burndead, i will fling you–!”
lemon quickly cuts in.
“i don’t think he minds either!”
she very not so subtly, rather violently, nods in the stranger’s direction. it won’t be surprising if her head flung itself to the lake.
“what are you two–!”
but they look at you with such sickeningly sweet sparkles and angelic anticipation in their eyes.
your eyes narrow. “are you sure?”
they nod immediately. now, you’re worried that mash’s head might fly into the lake as well.
you bite your lip.
spurred by their boost of unwarranted confidence, you let out a short exhale.
“okay.” grabbing your phone from beside you, you get up. “none of this goes back to abel or abyss, especially that overprotective nepobaby.”
maybe they’re right. it’s a bunny; anyone would think a bunny is cute.
“nee-san, fighting!”
“nee-san, fighting.”
so it makes total sense to walk up to a stranger holding a bunny in the park and strike up a conversation because you think the bunny is cute.
right?
okay.
you start to walk over and almost immediately, you meet his eyes again. just as immediately, you fling your gaze to the far corner of the bench.
no, not okay.
walking up to this stranger with their bunny is totally different from walking up to a bunny and a stranger.
for one, his gaze is nothing like an average stranger’s.
soft, sullen, and slight, they’re sunlight between dense jungle leaves, faint and slanted, but once they notice you—when you notice them—you cannot miss them.
because dull, dark, and deeply stark, they’re no doubt watching and wanting to know why you’re approaching his part of the park.
you stop in front of his bench.
“um, hi,” you start with an introduction.
he stares up at you, expression unchanged.
you clear your throat, fingers tugging at the light linen of your shirt—you hope there’s no grass stains on them.
“i, um, we didn’t mean to stare and make you uncomfortable,” you continue with what you hope is a friendly, non-apocalyptical smile. “i just wanted to come over and let you know that i think the bunny is really cute and you shouldn’t pay those two people any mind!”
at this, and the slight widening of his eyes, you quickly backtrack.
“not that i’m telling you what you should do,” you explain, “it’s just really cool that you’re here with the bunny—your bunny?—i mean, of course it’s yours. i wasn’t insinuating that you’d steal someone else’s bunny, but yeah, um, it’s just cute, and i think kids—if there were any here and if you welcome it, they’d definitely come up and ask to pet it because it’s a—your—bunny and there’s nothing scary about your face—it’s actually really nice—goddamnit, um, ahh, just, umm…uhhhh–”
you take a deep breath in, terror marked front, centre, sideways, and screaming from your face.
at this point, you’re just looking anywhere but at him. you, in fact, are looking for a ditch.
a ditch, yes, a large ditch, any ditch really, for mash, lemon, then abel, abyss, and yourself, in that order. finn can have the honours of burying you all.
if there is no ditch, the lake would do too, and finn can do the honours to tossing you all in in succession.
as you’re mentally competing in a last-ditch effort, where’s waldo game of self-preservation, you hear it.
it’s quiet and barely discernible from an exhale, but he had let out a laugh, and it’s sudden and it’s gentle, low, and warm.
this is so unfair.
against the self-preservation instincts you’ve long forgone, you chance a look at him, teeth biting your lips.
his eyes are on yours, and this time, you catch the lift of his lips before they could fall.
but it’s unmistakeable, the a spark of amusement in his eyes.
you have to keep your teeth from digging in.
he’s beautiful.
you’d forgo the ditches and lake at this point. maybe you can just pretend to drop dead.
tearing your gaze from his away, you mumble a quiet apology. “sorry, i just think it’s really cute…”
“rayne.”
you swivel back to him in breakneck speed.
“huh?”
he clears his throat, “it’s rayne."
you flush deep.
it’s such a nice, steady voice. you fight to swallow the grin that threatens to bubble up.
“rayne,” you repeat, letting the name settle on your tongue. the pout of your lips curls up despite your best attempt.
by now, you’re almost entirely sure you look like you got run over and reconstructed by the mars rover, but your smile is soft as you bend over slightly to get a closer look at the bunny.
the owner is inviting you to conversation, so he wouldn’t mind, right?
“rayne-chan? rayne-kun?” no longer looking at him and with the reciprocated conversation, you ask a little more easily now.
the owner’s response comes after a beat. “…-kun.”
“rayne-kun,” you coo.
the black, round eyes blink at you.
if you weren’t so engrossed in your endeavour to not self-detonate under his softened gaze by avoiding it entirely, you’d probably realize that said softened gaze has become tinged with confusion and a wisp of that subtle, face-microwaving spark of amusement.
“rayne-kun,” you sigh, pouting at the way the bunny’s nose wrinkles. “so cute and docile, isn’t he?”
“yes.” there’s a soft chuckle that you just attribute to tenderness for his bunny.
but you can’t ignore the shiver that it pulled from you.
you shake your head slightly, pushing on. “how old is he?”
“twenty-five.”
“ah, wanna pet him. does he bite–?” your head snaps up. “excuse me?”
“twenty-five.”
“huh?” your smile is still apparent, but confusion washes over your face. “twenty-five?”
“yes.” the grin is tugging at his lips again.
“twenty-five.”
“yes, me.”
“i-i’m sorry?” you blubber, the ease that had finally returned to you snatched away in a mere moment’s notice.
“me, i’m twenty-five.”
“you’re...?”
“rayne, i’m rayne.”
your jaw drops.
as if it could not get any worse, he seals the deal with a tilt of his head. the lighter half of his hair falls softly across his gaze.
sweat starts breaking out at the nape of your neck, and heat plunges from your crown to your toes.
maybe you could convince mash to fling you in the lake right now because you definitely can’t wait for finn ames to arrive anymore.
as if this whole ordeal wasn’t already irreparably mortifying enough, he—rayne—explains, “i thought you were talking about me.”
“i-i was talking about the bunny!”
“i figured.”
so why didn’t your correct me earlier? you wanted to cry.
he lets out another soft exhale, the quiet shine of his eyes disappearing into small half-moons.
“i’m really sorry,” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath in. “rayne-k…san?”
“‘rayne-kun’, but ‘rayne’ works fine too.” his hand runs over the bunny’s back. “this is maimelo.”
you both pause.
“the rabbit.”
“i...figured.”
“chan, but he’s a male bunny.”
“maimelo-chan, maimelo-chan…melo-chan?”
“my melody-chan, but melo-chan works too.”
you smile. “can i pet melo-chan?”
rayne takes his hand away. “please.”
you hesitantly reach for the bunny’s back.
the little grey head turns to nudge against your fingers, and you laugh.
“melo-chan so cute,” you coo, scratching the space under its round little head.
for a while, you are just content with letting your hand run across melo-chan’s supremely soft fur—it’s so dangerously obvious that rayne takes good care of his bunny.
and for a while, rayne is also just content with watching you pet melo-chan, who obviously likes you as well since the little grey menace is not giving you the death nibbles as he would any other non-rayne human, even rayne’s little brother.
and normally, rayne ames would be content to keep to his half-willed, half-fated world of solitude. but ever since he had noticed your looks and stares and then disgruntlement at the two pesky yappers, whether out of your own sense of injustice or your so-very-obvious streak of protectiveness, he had found himself curious to this older cousin of mash burndead’s that finn has been not-so-subtly telling him about.
otherwise, he wouldn’t have stopped by this park after taking melo-chan to the vet.
seeing you now indulging melo-chan with both hands smooshing the rabbit’s cheeks, rayne can’t help the crinkle of mischief that alights once again.
some things can only be attributed to half-will, half-fate.
“and me?”
“hmm?”
“am i cute too?”
you head throws back in shock.
“i-i’m sorry?” you stutter, eyes wide at the man above you.
you must’ve heard wrong because there’s no way—
and maybe there is a way because you are confronted by a most devastatingly dangerous frown, a most heart-meltingly heartfelt shade of yellow, softness, and gold.
you immediately look down at melo-chan, where it’s safe.
rayne sighs, hand reaching to rest on the rabbit’s back. “you were talking about melo-chan,” he hides the lilt when you flinch, “but what about me?”
your mouth stays shut. you don’t know what to do, what to say.
your mind flashes to the lake again but could you really drown in peace when you’re being hunted by someone who’d even weaponize the harmless grey of their bunny?
because your brain cannot function with the almost playful tone he has adopted nor the sheer sense of his skin just through melo-chan’s fur.
“i…uhhh…”
“hmm?”
“i, umm…”
“mhm.”
“i–”
he lets out a soft chuckle. “apologies, i got carried–”
with a squeeze of your eyes, you chance a look up, voice is just above a whisper. “i think you’re cute too.”
and your award is immediate. rayne’s smile cuts through the sun.
“in case you’re wondering,” he says quietly, “i think you’re cute too.”
you stare at him, body reaching new heights on the mercury scale.
he laughs again. “by the way, are you scared of being bit?”
“huh?”
“biting. are you scare?”
“excuse me?”
“by melo-chan.” his head tilts again, and you’re just about blinded by the image. “or did you ask the question because you were thinking about being bitten by something else?”
“rayne!” your jaw drops. “of course not! there are children– okay, not there isn’t, but still!”
“‘of course not’...of being bit or of thinking about me–?”
“both!”
“understood,” he smiles. “do you want to hold him?”
your eyes narrow at him now. this rayne-kun is starting to become an well-meaning and suspiciously tongue-in-cheek character.
“he doesn’t bite. he likes you.”
“i wasn’t thinking about that!”
“oh?”
your face drops, scrambling to backtrack before—
“i don’t bite either,” he continues calmly without a hitch.
“i–”
“unless you want me to.”
“you–!”
“and i would be happy to oblige.”
“rayne–!”
“ames,” he supplies.
“rayne ame–!” your brain stops short. rayne ames? “a-ames…? finn ames?”
shifting over on the bench, rayne ames smiles at you softly, innocently. his eyes flit to behind you.
threading through melo-chan’s fur, he gently takes your hand in his. that amber flickers in the slant of the big cat’s eyes again.
“rayne…?”
the stranger in the park pulls you down to the bench beside him and lets your hand settle into his.
unable to contain the heat in his cheeks, he watches the trio cautiously approaching your part of the jungle.
“sit.” rayne’s hand squeezes your. “my brother and his friends have some explaining to do.”
“right? he’s definitely gonna skin it ‘n cook it ‘n shit– oh shit, he’s looking over here!”
“man, let’s go…before he stews us too…”
“go, go! so scary!”
echoes of their cackling settle like pesky fruit flies over the quiet corner of the park.
you and your friends exchange looks.
the parchment paper in your hand crumples slightly as you swallow the last bite of cream puff.
“so mean…” lemon shivers. none of that had been directed of any of you, but the paper straw in her mouth is just about chewed off after witnessing the whole ordeal. “he’s just minding his own business like the rest of us.”
a flexed arm reaches for the cream puff container yet again. mash turns to you, “nee-san, can i beat them up?”
you blink.
“i want to pummel them.”
“kiddo, that’s–” you start but thought better of it.
you stop to consider your options.
there was no reason to chide mash over this, not when you had to swallow your own urge to surgically remove the toxic masculinity from them.
and without even looking, you know that lemon has turned to you with sparkles in her eyes.
in the absence of finn ames, she was probably the only potentially palpable voice of reason in your baby cousin’s friend group of questionable, well-meaning, and suspicious characters.
and…she was the only other one here.
your eyes narrow at your near empty, much too warm glass of iced tea. where is finn ames when he was the one who had suggested this picnic?
and abel and abyss. where in the world is your own group of friends? you had all agreed to meet more than twenty minutes ago.
the parchment paper collapses in your fist.
“nee-san,” mash stretches out the last syllable, “please stop ignoring me.”
“ah, sorry. was just thinking.” your grip unfurls slightly and you toss it in your makeshift garbage bag. with a sigh, you turn to lemon. “lemon-chan?”
she beams, “leave it to me, nee-san!”
within three minutes of being introduced to lemon irvine, you’d realized that whenever and wherever it concerns your dark-haired cousin, she was more than happy to abandon any and all sense of fundamental logic, sense, and restraint. this inherently included immediately adopting mash’s way of addressing you.
but in times like these, you suppose that as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone…
you give her a small smile back.
“mash-kun!” spurred on by what is surely her nee-san-in-law’s approval, lemon starts her task in pacifying the sole object of her affections. “it’s okay, he should be okay. just look!”
on cue, the three of you swivel to the far corner of the park, where not long after you had laid out the picnic gear, a man arrived and sat on the park bench with a real, living, breathing bunny on his lap.
currently, this stranger on the bench seems completely oblivious to the fact that a group of similarly strange strangers is staring him down in concern. it’s like he existed in his own impenetrable jungle of bunny fur and main character park benches, basking under the afternoon sun even as three pairs of eyes are homed in on him from under the biggest, tallest, and only oak tree in the park.
his hand steadily pets the grey bunny.
that means he should be…fine?
lemon sighs in relief. “see, mash-kun? he’s–”
she is cut abruptly short.
the three of you watch the man lowers his head.
as horror dawns on lemon’s face, the man takes a visible breath and lifts his hand from the bunny’s back. he closes his eyes. the sunlight seems to dim a little.
mash snaps back to you.
lemon also looks at you, panicked. “um, he’s fine? maybe not? uh, umm, n-nee-san? can mash-kun go beat them up?”
“uh,” you pry your eyes away from the man and back at your juniors. “no, that’d be assault,” you shrug. “even if it’s deserved.”
mash visibly deflates, and lemon holds out the half-consumed box of cream buffs in consolation.
you let out a sigh.
you are so going to skin abel and abyss for flaking last minute.
you glance at the stranger again.
the only silver lining…
you can’t help the warmth that canvasses the back of your neck.
middle part, black on the left and yellow on the right, his face is strong and soft features at once. handsome.
you squint in concentration.
he looks to be around the same age as you, abel, and abyss, but the way he carries himself…there is an unmissable, imposing apathy to him, and while it certainly makes him look wiser and more unforgiving than all of you combined, it’s not scary, absolutely not.
it’s that distinct taste of solitude that lifts him into an air of divinity, an untouchable aloofness, which appears just a bit more weighted after the two assholes left.
not that you can be absolutely certain with how cool his default expression has been since he sat down.
not that you’ve been watching him.
and not that you’ve been keeping track.
he’s just eye-catching. in what universe would eyes not be caught by a man sitting with a bunny in the park, you reason.
it’s beyond the fact that the man happens to be handsome, beautiful, and totally your type.
no, it’s only because it’s a man with a bunny sitting on the park bench.
right, the stranger with the bunny just piques your curiosity.
“nee-san.”
“hmm?”
“you should go talk to him.”
you glance at mash. “huh?”
“you should go talk to him.”
the warmth quickly turns into heat. “what?”
“you’re staring,” he explains in between bites of his beloved, homemade cream puff. “a lot.”
“excuse me?” you have half a mind to hit him with the five-litre thermos of iced tea.
“nee-san’s been staring at him since he sat down,” your baby cousin continues, completely clueless to the contortions crawling through the stages of shock on your face. “and when the two guys were talking about him, you look like you were going to fling them–”
“keep talking and i’ll fling you into the lake.”
mash visibly deflates again. “but nee-san, there’s nothing wrong with looking. you’re the one who said that i should do what i want,” he mutters.
a pang of guilt stabs at you.
“plus, it’s a bunny.”
“what?”
“it’s just a bunny.”
you blink. “just a bunny?”
“just a bunny.”
you sigh and reach out to ruffle his hair. “just a bunny, huh?”
“the bunny’s cute,” mash mumbles in response. he refills your cup of iced tea. “i don’t think he minds, nee-san.”
huh?
picking up the glass, you glance at lemon in confusion.
does he mean the man or the bunny?
lemon could only respond with a helpless smile back.
before mash could become even more sullen over his lack of communication/your lack of comprehension, you quickly hold the glass up to your lips with an appreciative smile.
“you’re right, kiddo, just a bunny,” you say, turning to look at the stranger, face cooled slightly by sips of the iced tea. “maybe they…”
your body stops dead in its track.
he—the man—is looking right back. not in the distance and not in your generally vicinity, not at your friend group and not just at you.
he is looking at you, in your eyes, his half-narrowed gaze meeting yours head on.
and you forget to breath.
they’re beautiful.
sleeping, predator like, a lounging puma in its jungle, they peer down to assess the stranger below.
even from a distance, you see it, clarity, an inquisitive flicker ticking in its dull, amber glow.
oh, this is outrageous.
a gentle nudge pushes at you, interrupting you from whatever that was.
“m-mash?” you turn back to him in surprise, haphazardly gulping down the lukewarm tea you’d been holding all along.
“stop staring, nee-san,” he says. “you were going to choke.”
the heat spreads like a rash.
“mash burndead, i will fling you–!”
lemon quickly cuts in.
“i don’t think he minds either!”
she very not so subtly, rather violently, nods in the stranger’s direction. it won’t be surprising if her head flung itself to the lake.
“what are you two–!”
but they look at you with such sickeningly sweet sparkles and angelic anticipation in their eyes.
your eyes narrow. “are you sure?”
they nod immediately. now, you’re worried that mash’s head might fly into the lake as well.
you bite your lip.
spurred by their boost of unwarranted confidence, you let out a short exhale.
“okay.” grabbing your phone from beside you, you get up. “none of this goes back to abel or abyss, especially that overprotective nepobaby.”
maybe they’re right. it’s a bunny; anyone would think a bunny is cute.
“nee-san, fighting!”
“nee-san, fighting.”
so it makes total sense to walk up to a stranger holding a bunny in the park and strike up a conversation because you think the bunny is cute.
right?
okay.
you start to walk over and almost immediately, you meet his eyes again. just as immediately, you fling your gaze to the far corner of the bench.
no, not okay.
walking up to this stranger with their bunny is totally different from walking up to a bunny and a stranger.
for one, his gaze is nothing like an average stranger’s.
soft, sullen, and slight, they’re sunlight between dense jungle leaves, faint and slanted, but once they notice you—when you notice them—you cannot miss them.
because dull, dark, and deeply stark, they’re no doubt watching and wanting to know why you’re approaching his part of the park.
you stop in front of his bench.
“um, hi,” you start with an introduction.
he stares up at you, expression unchanged.
you clear your throat, fingers tugging at the light linen of your shirt—you hope there’s no grass stains on them.
“i, um, we didn’t mean to stare and make you uncomfortable,” you continue with what you hope is a friendly, non-apocalyptical smile. “i just wanted to come over and let you know that i think the bunny is really cute and you shouldn’t pay those two people any mind!”
at this, and the slight widening of his eyes, you quickly backtrack.
“not that i’m telling you what you should do,” you explain, “it’s just really cool that you’re here with the bunny—your bunny?—i mean, of course it’s yours. i wasn’t insinuating that you’d steal someone else’s bunny, but yeah, um, it’s just cute, and i think kids—if there were any here and if you welcome it, they’d definitely come up and ask to pet it because it’s a—your—bunny and there’s nothing scary about your face—it’s actually really nice—goddamnit, um, ahh, just, umm…uhhhh–”
you take a deep breath in, terror marked front, centre, sideways, and screaming from your face.
at this point, you’re just looking anywhere but at him. you, in fact, are looking for a ditch.
a ditch, yes, a large ditch, any ditch really, for mash, lemon, then abel, abyss, and yourself, in that order. finn can have the honours of burying you all.
if there is no ditch, the lake would do too, and finn can do the honours to tossing you all in in succession.
as you’re mentally competing in a last-ditch effort, where’s waldo game of self-preservation, you hear it.
it’s quiet and barely discernible from an exhale, but he had let out a laugh, and it’s sudden and it’s gentle, low, and warm.
this is so unfair.
against the self-preservation instincts you’ve long forgone, you chance a look at him, teeth biting your lips.
his eyes are on yours, and this time, you catch the lift of his lips before they could fall.
but it’s unmistakeable, the a spark of amusement in his eyes.
you have to keep your teeth from digging in.
he’s beautiful.
you’d forgo the ditches and lake at this point. maybe you can just pretend to drop dead.
tearing your gaze from his away, you mumble a quiet apology. “sorry, i just think it’s really cute…”
“rayne.”
you swivel back to him in breakneck speed.
“huh?”
he clears his throat, “it’s rayne."
you flush deep.
it’s such a nice, steady voice. you fight to swallow the grin that threatens to bubble up.
“rayne,” you repeat, letting the name settle on your tongue. the pout of your lips curls up despite your best attempt.
by now, you’re almost entirely sure you look like you got run over and reconstructed by the mars rover, but your smile is soft as you bend over slightly to get a closer look at the bunny.
the owner is inviting you to conversation, so he wouldn’t mind, right?
“rayne-chan? rayne-kun?” no longer looking at him and with the reciprocated conversation, you ask a little more easily now.
the owner’s response comes after a beat. “…-kun.”
“rayne-kun,” you coo.
the black, round eyes blink at you.
if you weren’t so engrossed in your endeavour to not self-detonate under his softened gaze by avoiding it entirely, you’d probably realize that said softened gaze has become tinged with confusion and a wisp of that subtle, face-microwaving spark of amusement.
“rayne-kun,” you sigh, pouting at the way the bunny’s nose wrinkles. “so cute and docile, isn’t he?”
“yes.” there’s a soft chuckle that you just attribute to tenderness for his bunny.
but you can’t ignore the shiver that it pulled from you.
you shake your head slightly, pushing on. “how old is he?”
“twenty-five.”
“ah, wanna pet him. does he bite–?” your head snaps up. “excuse me?”
“twenty-five.”
“huh?” your smile is still apparent, but confusion washes over your face. “twenty-five?”
“yes.” the grin is tugging at his lips again.
“twenty-five.”
“yes, me.”
“i-i’m sorry?” you blubber, the ease that had finally returned to you snatched away in a mere moment’s notice.
“me, i’m twenty-five.”
“you’re...?”
“rayne, i’m rayne.”
your jaw drops.
as if it could not get any worse, he seals the deal with a tilt of his head. the lighter half of his hair falls softly across his gaze.
sweat starts breaking out at the nape of your neck, and heat plunges from your crown to your toes.
maybe you could convince mash to fling you in the lake right now because you definitely can’t wait for finn ames to arrive anymore.
as if this whole ordeal wasn’t already irreparably mortifying enough, he—rayne—explains, “i thought you were talking about me.”
“i-i was talking about the bunny!”
“i figured.”
so why didn’t your correct me earlier? you wanted to cry.
he lets out another soft exhale, the quiet shine of his eyes disappearing into small half-moons.
“i’m really sorry,” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath in. “rayne-k…san?”
“‘rayne-kun’, but ‘rayne’ works fine too.” his hand runs over the bunny’s back. “this is maimelo.”
you both pause.
“the rabbit.”
“i...figured.”
“chan, but he’s a male bunny.”
“maimelo-chan, maimelo-chan…melo-chan?”
“my melody-chan, but melo-chan works too.”
you smile. “can i pet melo-chan?”
rayne takes his hand away. “please.”
you hesitantly reach for the bunny’s back.
the little grey head turns to nudge against your fingers, and you laugh.
“melo-chan so cute,” you coo, scratching the space under its round little head.
for a while, you are just content with letting your hand run across melo-chan’s supremely soft fur—it’s so dangerously obvious that rayne takes good care of his bunny.
and for a while, rayne is also just content with watching you pet melo-chan, who obviously likes you as well since the little grey menace is not giving you the death nibbles as he would any other non-rayne human, even rayne’s little brother.
and normally, rayne ames would be content to keep to his half-willed, half-fated world of solitude. but ever since he had noticed your looks and stares and then disgruntlement at the two pesky yappers, whether out of your own sense of injustice or your so-very-obvious streak of protectiveness, he had found himself curious to this older cousin of mash burndead’s that finn has been not-so-subtly telling him about.
otherwise, he wouldn’t have stopped by this park after taking melo-chan to the vet.
seeing you now indulging melo-chan with both hands smooshing the rabbit’s cheeks, rayne can’t help the crinkle of mischief that alights once again.
some things can only be attributed to half-will, half-fate.
“and me?”
“hmm?”
“am i cute too?”
you head throws back in shock.
“i-i’m sorry?” you stutter, eyes wide at the man above you.
you must’ve heard wrong because there’s no way—
and maybe there is a way because you are confronted by a most devastatingly dangerous frown, a most heart-meltingly heartfelt shade of yellow, softness, and gold.
you immediately look down at melo-chan, where it’s safe.
rayne sighs, hand reaching to rest on the rabbit’s back. “you were talking about melo-chan,” he hides the lilt when you flinch, “but what about me?”
your mouth stays shut. you don’t know what to do, what to say.
your mind flashes to the lake again but could you really drown in peace when you’re being hunted by someone who’d even weaponize the harmless grey of their bunny?
because your brain cannot function with the almost playful tone he has adopted nor the sheer sense of his skin just through melo-chan’s fur.
“i…uhhh…”
“hmm?”
“i, umm…”
“mhm.”
“i–”
he lets out a soft chuckle. “apologies, i got carried–”
with a squeeze of your eyes, you chance a look up, voice is just above a whisper. “i think you’re cute too.”
and your award is immediate. rayne’s smile cuts through the sun.
“in case you’re wondering,” he says quietly, “i think you’re cute too.”
you stare at him, body reaching new heights on the mercury scale.
he laughs again. “by the way, are you scared of being bit?”
“huh?”
“biting. are you scare?”
“excuse me?”
“by melo-chan.” his head tilts again, and you’re just about blinded by the image. “or did you ask the question because you were thinking about being bitten by something else?”
“rayne!” your jaw drops. “of course not! there are children– okay, not there isn’t, but still!”
“‘of course not’...of being bit or of thinking about me–?”
“both!”
“understood,” he smiles. “do you want to hold him?”
your eyes narrow at him now. this rayne-kun is starting to become an well-meaning and suspiciously tongue-in-cheek character.
“he doesn’t bite. he likes you.”
“i wasn’t thinking about that!”
“oh?”
your face drops, scrambling to backtrack before—
“i don’t bite either,” he continues calmly without a hitch.
“i–”
“unless you want me to.”
“you–!”
“and i would be happy to oblige.”
“rayne–!”
“ames,” he supplies.
“rayne ame–!” your brain stops short. rayne ames? “a-ames…? finn ames?”
shifting over on the bench, rayne ames smiles at you softly, innocently. his eyes flit to behind you.
threading through melo-chan’s fur, he gently takes your hand in his. that amber flickers in the slant of the big cat’s eyes again.
“rayne…?”
the stranger in the park pulls you down to the bench beside him and lets your hand settle into his.
unable to contain the heat in his cheeks, he watches the trio cautiously approaching your part of the jungle.
“sit.” rayne’s hand squeezes your. “my brother and his friends have some explaining to do.”
“right? he’s definitely gonna skin it ‘n cook it ‘n shit– oh shit, he’s looking over here!”
“man, let’s go…before he stews us too…”
“go, go! so scary!”
echoes of their cackling settle like pesky fruit flies over the quiet corner of the park.
you and your friends exchange looks.
the parchment paper in your hand crumples slightly as you swallow the last bite of cream puff.
“so mean…” lemon shivers. none of that had been directed of any of you, but the paper straw in her mouth is just about chewed off after witnessing the whole ordeal. “he’s just minding his own business like the rest of us.”
a flexed arm reaches for the cream puff container yet again. mash turns to you, “nee-san, can i beat them up?”
you blink.
“i want to pummel them.”
“kiddo, that’s–” you start but thought better of it.
you stop to consider your options.
there was no reason to chide mash over this, not when you had to swallow your own urge to surgically remove the toxic masculinity from them.
and without even looking, you know that lemon has turned to you with sparkles in her eyes.
in the absence of finn ames, she was probably the only potentially palpable voice of reason in your baby cousin’s friend group of questionable, well-meaning, and suspicious characters.
and…she was the only other one here.
your eyes narrow at your near empty, much too warm glass of iced tea. where is finn when he was the one who had suggested this picnic in the first place?
and abel and abyss. where in the world is your own group of friends? you had all agreed to meet more than twenty minutes ago.
the parchment paper collapses in your fist.
“nee-san,” mash stretches out the last syllable, “please stop ignoring me.”
“ah, sorry. was just thinking.” your grip unfurls slightly and you toss it in your makeshift garbage bag. with a sigh, you turn to lemon. “lemon-chan?”
she beams, “leave it to me, nee-san!”
within three minutes of being introduced to lemon irvine, you’d realized that whenever and wherever it concerns your dark-haired cousin, she was more than happy to abandon any and all sense of fundamental logic, sense, and restraint. this inherently included immediately adopting mash’s way of addressing you.
but in times like these, you suppose that as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone…
you give her a small smile back.
“mash-kun!” spurred on by what is surely her nee-san-in-law’s approval, lemon starts her task in pacifying the sole object of her affections. “it’s okay, he should be okay. just look!”
on cue, the three of you swivel to the far corner of the park, where not long after you had laid out the picnic gear, a man arrived and sat on the park bench with a real, living, breathing bunny on his lap.
currently, this stranger on the bench seems completely oblivious to the fact that a group of similarly strange strangers is staring him down in concern. it’s like he existed in his own impenetrable jungle of bunny fur and main character park benches, basking under the afternoon sun even as three pairs of eyes are homed in on him from under the biggest, tallest, and only oak tree in the park.
his hand steadily pets the grey bunny.
that means he should be…fine?
lemon sighs in relief. “see, mash-kun? he’s–”
she is cut abruptly short.
the three of you watch the man lowers his head.
as horror dawns on lemon’s face, the man takes a visible breath and lifts his hand from the bunny’s back. he closes his eyes. the sunlight seems to dim a little.
mash snaps back to you.
lemon also looks at you, panicked. “um, he’s fine? maybe not? uh, umm, n-nee-san? can mash-kun go beat them up?”
“uh,” you pry your eyes away from the man and back at your juniors. “no, that’d be assault,” you shrug. “even if it’s deserved.”
mash visibly deflates, and lemon holds out the half-consumed box of cream buffs in consolation.
you let out a sigh.
you are so going to skin abel and abyss for flaking last minute.
you glance at the stranger again.
the only silver lining…
you can’t help the warmth that canvasses the back of your neck.
middle part, black on the left and yellow on the right, his face is strong and soft features at once. handsome.
you squint in concentration.
he looks to be around the same age as you, abel, and abyss, but the way he carries himself…there is an unmissable, imposing apathy to him, and while it certainly makes him look wiser and more unforgiving than all of you combined, it’s not scary, absolutely not.
it’s that distinct taste of solitude that lifts him into an air of divinity, an untouchable aloofness, which appears just a bit more weighted after the two assholes left.
not that you can be absolutely certain with how cool his default expression has been since he sat down.
not that you’ve been watching him.
and not that you’ve been keeping track.
he’s just eye-catching. in what universe would eyes not be caught by a man sitting with a bunny in the park, you reason.
it’s beyond the fact that the man happens to be handsome, beautiful, and totally your type.
no, it’s only because it’s a man with a bunny sitting on the park bench.
right, the stranger with the bunny just piques your curiosity.
“nee-san.”
“hmm?”
“you should go talk to him.”
you glance at mash. “huh?”
“you should go talk to him.”
the warmth quickly turns into heat. “what?”
“you’re staring,” he explains in between bites of his beloved, homemade cream puff. “a lot.”
“excuse me?” you have half a mind to hit him with the five-litre thermos of iced tea —not that it’d do any damage.
“nee-san’s been staring at him since he sat down,” your baby cousin continues, completely clueless to the contortions crawling through the stages of shock on your face. “and when the two guys were talking about him, you look like you were going to fling them–”
“keep talking and i’ll fling you into the lake.”
mash visibly deflates again. “but nee-san, there’s nothing wrong with looking. you’re the one who said that i should do what i want,” he mutters.
a pang of guilt stabs at you.
“plus, it’s a bunny.”
“what?”
“it’s just a bunny.”
you blink. “just a bunny?”
“just a bunny.”
you sigh and reach out to ruffle his hair. “just a bunny, huh?”
“the bunny’s cute,” mash mumbles in response. he refills your cup of iced tea. “i don’t think he minds, nee-san.”
huh?
picking up the glass, you glance at lemon in confusion.
does he mean the man or the bunny?
lemon could only respond with a helpless smile back.
before mash could become even more sullen over his lack of communication/your lack of comprehension, you quickly hold the glass up to your lips with an appreciative smile.
“you’re right, kiddo, just a bunny,” you say, turning to look at the stranger, face cooled slightly by sips of the iced tea. “maybe they…”
your body stops dead in its track.
he—the man—is looking right back. not in the distance and not in your generally vicinity, not at your friend group and not just at you.
he is looking at you, in your eyes, his half-narrowed gaze meeting yours head on.
and you forget to breath.
they’re beautiful.
sleeping, predator like, a lounging puma in its jungle, they peer down to assess the stranger below.
even from a distance, you see it, clarity, an inquisitive flicker ticking in its dull, amber glow.
oh, this is outrageous.
a gentle nudge pushes at you, interrupting you from whatever that was.
“m-mash?” you turn back to him in surprise, haphazardly gulping down the lukewarm tea you’d been holding all along.
“stop staring, nee-san,” he says. “you were going to choke.”
the heat spreads like a rash.
“mash burndead, i will fling you–!”
lemon quickly cuts in.
“i don’t think he minds either!”
she very not so subtly, rather violently, nods in the stranger’s direction. it won’t be surprising if her head flung itself to the lake.
“what are you two–!”
but they look at you with such sickeningly sweet sparkles and angelic anticipation in their eyes.
your eyes narrow. “are you sure?”
they nod immediately. now, you’re worried that mash’s head might fly into the lake as well.
you bite your lip.
spurred by their boost of unwarranted confidence, you let out a short exhale.
“okay.” grabbing your phone from beside you, you get up. “none of this goes back to abel or abyss, especially that overprotective nepobaby.”
maybe they’re right. it’s a bunny; anyone would think a bunny is cute.
“nee-san, fighting!”
“nee-san, fighting.”
so it makes total sense to walk up to a stranger holding a bunny in the park and strike up a conversation because you think the bunny is cute.
right?
okay.
you start to walk over and almost immediately, you meet his eyes again. just as immediately, you fling your gaze to the far corner of the bench.
no, not okay.
walking up to this stranger with their bunny is totally different from walking up to a bunny and a stranger.
for one, his gaze is nothing like an average stranger’s.
soft, sullen, and slight, they’re sunlight between dense jungle leaves, faint and slanted, but once they notice you—when you notice them—you cannot miss them.
because dull, dark, and deeply stark, they’re no doubt watching and wanting to know why you’re approaching his part of the park.
you stop in front of his bench.
“um, hi,” you start with an introduction.
he stares up at you, expression unchanged.
you clear your throat, fingers tugging at the light linen of your shirt—you hope there’s no grass stains on them.
“i, um, we didn’t mean to stare and make you uncomfortable,” you continue with what you hope is a friendly, non-apocalyptical smile. “i just wanted to come over and let you know that i think the bunny is really cute and you shouldn’t pay those two people any mind!”
at this, and the slight widening of his eyes, you quickly backtrack.
“not that i’m telling you what you should do,” you explain, “it’s just really cool that you’re here with the bunny—your bunny?—i mean, of course it’s yours. i wasn’t insinuating that you’d steal someone else’s bunny, but yeah, um, it’s just cute, and i think kids—if there were any here and if you welcome it, they’d definitely come up and ask to pet it because it’s a—your—bunny and there’s nothing scary about your face—it’s actually really nice—goddamnit, um, ahh, just, umm…uhhhh–”
you take a deep breath in, terror marked front, centre, sideways, and screaming from your face.
at this point, you’re just looking anywhere but at him. you, in fact, are looking for a ditch.
a ditch, yes, a large ditch, any ditch really, for mash, lemon, then abel, abyss, and yourself, in that order. finn can have the honours of burying you all.
if there is no ditch, the lake would do too, and finn can do the honours to tossing you all in in succession.
as you’re mentally competing in a last-ditch effort, where’s waldo game of self-preservation, you hear it.
it’s quiet and barely discernible from an exhale, but he had let out a laugh, and it’s sudden and it’s gentle, low, and warm.
this is so unfair.
against the self-preservation instincts you’ve long forgone, you chance a look at him, teeth biting your lips.
his eyes are on yours, and this time, you catch the lift of his lips before they could fall.
but it’s unmistakeable, the a spark of amusement in his eyes.
you have to keep your teeth from digging in.
he’s beautiful.
you’d forgo the ditches and lake at this point. maybe you can just pretend to drop dead.
tearing your gaze from his away, you mumble a quiet apology. “sorry, i just think it’s really cute…”
“rayne.”
you swivel back to him in breakneck speed.
“huh?”
he clears his throat, “it’s rayne."
you flush deep.
it’s such a nice, steady voice. you fight to swallow the grin that threatens to bubble up.
“rayne,” you repeat, letting the name settle on your tongue. the pout of your lips curls up despite your best attempt.
by now, you’re almost entirely sure you look like you got run over and reconstructed by the mars rover, but your smile is soft as you bend over slightly to get a closer look at the bunny.
the owner is inviting you to conversation, so he wouldn’t mind, right?
“rayne-chan? rayne-kun?” no longer looking at him and with the reciprocated conversation, you ask a little more easily now.
the owner’s response comes after a beat. “…-kun.”
“rayne-kun,” you coo.
the black, round eyes blink at you.
if you weren’t so engrossed in your endeavour to not self-detonate under his softened gaze by avoiding it entirely, you’d probably realize that said softened gaze has become tinged with confusion and a wisp of that subtle, face-microwaving spark of amusement.
“rayne-kun,” you sigh, pouting at the way the bunny’s nose wrinkles. “so cute and docile, isn’t he?”
“yes.” there’s a soft chuckle that you just attribute to tenderness for his bunny.
but you can’t ignore the shiver that it pulled from you.
you shake your head slightly, pushing on. “how old is he?”
“twenty-five.”
“ah, wanna pet him. does he bite–?” your head snaps up. “excuse me?”
“twenty-five.”
“huh?” your smile is still apparent, but confusion washes over your face. “twenty-five?”
“yes.” the grin is tugging at his lips again.
“twenty-five.”
“yes, me.”
“i-i’m sorry?” you blubber, the ease that had finally returned to you snatched away in a mere moment’s notice.
“me, i’m twenty-five.”
“you’re...?”
“rayne, i’m rayne.”
your jaw drops.
as if it could not get any worse, he seals the deal with a tilt of his head. the lighter half of his hair falls softly across his gaze.
sweat starts breaking out at the nape of your neck, and heat plunges from your crown to your toes.
maybe you could convince mash to fling you in the lake right now because you definitely can’t wait for finn ames to arrive anymore.
as if this whole ordeal wasn’t already irreparably mortifying enough, he—rayne—explains, “i thought you were talking about me.”
“i-i was talking about the bunny!”
“i figured.”
so why didn’t your correct me earlier? you wanted to cry.
he lets out another soft exhale, the quiet shine of his eyes disappearing into small half-moons.
“i’m really sorry,” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath in. “rayne-k…san?”
“‘rayne-kun’, but ‘rayne’ works fine too.” his hand runs over the bunny’s back. “this is maimelo.”
you both pause.
“the rabbit.”
“i...figured.”
“chan, but he’s a male rabbit.”
“maimelo-chan, maimelo-chan…melo-chan?”
“my melody-chan, but melo-chan works too.”
you smile. “can i pet melo-chan?”
rayne takes his hand away. “please.”
you hesitantly reach for the bunny’s back.
the little grey head turns to nudge against your fingers, and you laugh.
“melo-chan so cute,” you coo, scratching the space under its round little head.
for a while, you are just content with letting your hand run across melo-chan’s supremely soft fur—it’s so dangerously obvious that rayne takes good care of his bunny.
and for a while, rayne is also just content with watching you pet melo-chan, who obviously likes you as well since the little grey menace is not giving you the death nibbles as he would any other non-rayne human, even rayne’s little brother.
and normally, rayne ames would be content to keep to his half-willed, half-fated world of solitude. but ever since he had noticed your looks and stares and then disgruntlement at the two pesky yappers, whether out of your own sense of injustice or your so-very-obvious streak of protectiveness, he had found himself curious to this older cousin of mash burndead’s that finn has been not-so-subtly telling him about.
otherwise, he wouldn’t have stopped by this park after taking melo-chan to the vet.
seeing you now indulging melo-chan with both hands smooshing the rabbit’s cheeks, rayne can’t help the crinkle of mischief that alights once again.
some things can only be attributed to half-will, half-fate.
“and me?”
“hmm?”
“am i cute too?”
you head throws back in shock.
“i-i’m sorry?” you stutter, eyes wide at the man above you.
you must’ve heard wrong because there’s no way—
and maybe there is a way because you are confronted by a most devastatingly dangerous frown, a most heart-meltingly heartfelt shade of yellow, softness, and gold.
you immediately look down at melo-chan, where it’s safe.
rayne sighs, hand reaching to rest on the rabbit’s back. “you were talking about melo-chan,” he hides the lilt when you flinch, “but what about me?”
your mouth stays shut. you don’t know what to do, what to say.
your mind flashes to the lake again but could you really drown in peace when you’re being hunted by someone who’d even weaponize the harmless grey of their bunny?
because your brain cannot function with the almost playful tone he has adopted nor the sheer sense of his skin just through melo-chan’s fur.
“i…uhhh…”
“hmm?”
“i, umm…”
“mhm.”
“i–”
he lets out a soft chuckle. “apologies, i got carried–”
with a squeeze of your eyes, you chance a look up, voice is just above a whisper. “i think you’re cute too.”
and your award is immediate. rayne’s smile cuts through the sun.
“in case you’re wondering,” he says quietly, “i think you’re cute too.”
you stare at him, body reaching new heights on the mercury scale.
he laughs again. “by the way, are you scared of being bit?”
“huh?”
“biting. are you scare?”
“excuse me?”
“by melo-chan.” his head tilts again, and you’re just about blinded by the image. “or did you ask the question because you were thinking about being bitten by something else?”
“rayne!” your jaw drops. “of course not! there are children– okay, not there isn’t, but still!”
“‘of course not’...of being bit or of thinking about me–?”
“both!”
“understood,” he smiles. “do you want to hold him?”
your eyes narrow at him now. this rayne-kun is starting to become an well-meaning and suspiciously tongue-in-cheek character.
“he doesn’t bite. he likes you.”
“i wasn’t thinking about that!”
“oh?”
your face drops, scrambling to backtrack before—
“i don’t bite either,” he continues calmly without a hitch.
“i–”
“unless you want me to.”
“you–!”
“and i would be happy to oblige.”
“rayne–!”
“ames,” he supplies.
“rayne ame–!” your brain stops short. rayne ames? “a-ames…? finn ames?”
shifting over on the bench, rayne ames smiles at you softly, innocently. his eyes flit to behind you.
threading through melo-chan’s fur, he gently takes your hand in his. that amber flickers in the slant of the big cat’s eyes again.
“rayne…?”
the stranger in the park pulls you down to the bench beside him and lets your hand settle into his.
unable to contain the heat in his cheeks, he watches the trio cautiously approaching your part of the jungle.
“sit.” rayne’s hand squeezes your. “my brother and his friends have some explaining to do.”
was having a bitter, unreasonable, and really irritable day but seeing the hyunjin x donatella vidéo and hearing him speak english like that just boosted my mood by 92%
yuren!! i hope august has been treating you well 🥺 it’s been a while since i last dropped by, but i thought i’d pop in to ask how you are 🥺💗 and to of course, ask a curious sel question 🤓
going off the whole ‘beauty marks are spots where your soulmate liked to kiss on past lives’ saying, where do you hc tobio’s beauty marks to be?
(and i have a bonus question too!! something writing related because i’m curious—who comes easiest to write for you? why?)
sending you all my love and fresh flowers for the month 💗🌷
sel!! hello to you as well and hope late summer has been kind to you also and that you’ve seen the touch the dream version of iwa <3 so sweet of you to drop by with these q’s ahh and sending the love and a dreamy, sprawling wildflower bouquet back🥺🌻🌾
beauty marks: other than the lower outer corner of his left eye, the other most obvious place would be a smattering across the collarbones, a over where his heart is hehe he also has faint ones on the palm of his right hand and his inner thig– *gunshot sound* damn his soulmate is real generous with their love 🤧🤧
bonus question: it’d be an absolute cop out to reply with tobio, so other than him, then it’s likely ushijima and atsumu (to absolutely no one’s surprise)
ushijima and a certain side of me are similar in many ways and with the whole strongest thing, i love peeling back that godliness, fleshing out the humanity in him, that vulnerability, love, and tenderness. also just that he is someone that i logically, one a good sane day, would like to see qualities of from an ideal partner (please god)
atsumu because he’s such a fascinatingly all-consuming character with such confidence, selfishness, ego, awareness, and built-in capacity for love, so much so that i want to break him <3 i would like to wreck havoc for y/n to love and be loved by miya atsumu. also that he is someone that i illogically, on a not sane day, would like to see qualities from an…ideal…partner
The first time you stepped foot in Ushijima Wakatoshi’s apartment, you were shitfaced drunk.
But three things were made clear in that visit.
First, Ushijima wasn’t going to touch you in such a situation.
He was very adamant about it, and even if the progression of events are still quite fuzzy, you do remember his insistence on keeping things strictly safe for work. Once it became clear that you were no longer coherent, that is.
The second thing you learned is that Ushijima’s a good man.
Not because he just so happens to be a tall, handsome professional athlete with multiple sponsorships and advertisements under his belt. Those certainly help but you’d already known all that.
No, it’s because of the bottle of Pocari Sweat you found yourself reaching for the next morning, limbs feeling as though they’ve been put through a meat tenderizer and head clanging in all shapes and sizes of drums and other orchestral percussion.
As you downed the electrolyte-infused drink with a vengeance, you didn’t even know why you felt disappointed that the bed was chillingly empty — the two of you hadn’t even done anything — but you didn’t stay in that vacant space long.
The plan was to leave with the last slice of dignity intact, even if you had to temporarily borrow your sort-of colleague’s t-shirt and shorts. It was better than facing the embarrassment of having said colleague look at you with a mild twitch of amusement on his lips as he stands in the middle of his kitchen, in a loose white tee and sweatpants, sipping at a steaming mug of morning tea.
“Ushijima-san?” you rasped out.
“Morning, senpai.” His tone was matter-of-fact as usual but there was something tongue-in-cheek in the way that the word pitched up at the end.
Your own voice definitely did not sound that good.
OK IM READY TO TALK OMG THAT MATCH 😭😭 i’m so devastated for all of them esp watching their post game interviews, seeing ran sob uncontrollably to his mom was not what i needed to start my day 😭 and yuki!!! he must be feeling incredibly disappointed and i wish he had another chance to show the world the kind of athlete he is in spite of his performance during the prelims
that being said, i’m so glad that it was italy that was able to bring out yuki’s best esp since he’s been playing in their league for the past 10 years :,) but what a privilege it was to witness such an intense match on the world’s greatest stage!! it’s so hard to believe that the same team that used to struggle against more dominant teams was just neck-to-neck against one of the strongest teams out there!! i think this match was such a testament to their growth and resilience as a team and they should be so incredibly proud that they got to show the world, at least for a brief moment, the wonders of japanese volleyball!!
with the end of their olympic run comes new changes: kentaro’s retirement, nishida to take time away from the nt, & blain’s end as their coach… i’m a little scared for what this means as this was rjn’s best team in a long time but my fingers are crossed for a day when rjn gets to truly show the world what they’re truly capable of!!!
i. have so many thoughts about today’s match but i’m at work but 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
cherry TT sorry you were ready to talk but i really wasn’t TT watching ran cry and dkaldkskldlsldld whEN YUKI HUGGED BLAIN I JUST SOBBED—
i know that a LOT of people became intrigued by yuki’s volleyball after this game and he really pull himself together to put himself out there. but he expects so much more and better from himself but everyone still really believes in him so i really wish him all the best
but yeah like you said, it was just a really really fun and wonderful game. i’m glad that he got to show everyone why he’s the ace, why they should be wary him, and why he is the number one player that’s been dissected and regurgitated by every team, their coach, and their medical staff
and why he inspired an entire generation and more of volleyball players
i’m just glad that he got to play a proper, incredible, and unapologetic game of volleyball with his team — like you said, one of the best team in a really long time. it’s been so incredible to see their growth, his growth, their potential, and his hunger and dedication for more
we got to see ostuka, kai, and they also got to step onto the world stage with these budding giants paving the way so 2028🌻
