Happy Halloween!! 👻🎃

always makes my day feel better..

-sorry Atsushi !!

Never challenge a clown!

noo you can't expose me like this !!

“my daughter is completely fine!”

ma’am your daughter has to read fanfics about fictional characters just to maintain a healthy mental state

Unexpected Encounter ‼️⁉️

This has actually made my heart explode like- ahshdbdidbdohdid

rin itoshi angst

you and rin are over and all you can do is sob into his stupid fucking hoodie and jersey he left behind. it’s not fair; the breakup wasn’t fair. how is this fair at all? he has soccer to distract himself at least, he has a goal and a mission. you don’t have that. how the fuck is this fair whatsoever? that he’s going to be fine and you’re going to be in shambles for months on end after - your eyes already hurt from all of the crying, your wettened lower lashes reminding you of his when you look in the mirror. your tears made them look exactly like rin’s; long and dark, clumped together a bit. everything fucking reminds you of him even your own damn eyelashes.

you’re laying in bed wearing his hoodie and hugging his jersey so tightly. it’s four in the morning and the deep ache in your heart isn’t making it easy to sleep at all. you’re not even sure if you’ll wake up, it almost feels like a physical pain each time your fragile heart throbs in your chest. you’re not even sure if you want to wake up. why did he break up with you exactly? because having a girlfriend is too draining for him. because he has to focus on his career. because he doesn’t have time for a girlfriend. because he can’t commit. but these reasons mean nothing to you; they’re worthless pathetic excuses made by him. all you can gather from this is that you weren’t good enough for him to want to change, and that’s fine. you don’t have any ego and you don’t care. well, you suppose you care a little, that’s why you’re in hysterics and clutching at your chest as if your heart is about to explode.

your room is like a fucking shrine of rin. his smell lingers on his two pieces of clothing you’re wearing and holding and it’s dominating all of your senses, polaroids you took of him and forced him to take with you are stuck onto your mirror, the wall, laying on your desk, everywhere, his old cleats are in a box under your bed, his blue lock eleven jersey is hung up in your wardrobe tauntingly, and his captain’s armband is your favourite scrunchie. all you can do is sniffle and sigh. where did it go so wrong? why did he even have to do this? is soccer that much more valuable than a real human being? no, of course it is; but not a human like you. you loved him with every single fibre of your being, your very existence feels like its only purpose is to love him and dote on him forever. how could any game be more valuable than that?

when he was breaking up with you he didn’t even look the least bit sad. god you fucking hate how much you love him; this is why you can’t trust guys. it was stupid of you to trust rin at all. why did you let such a good thing come into your life - good things are there to be taken away. but maybe you expected rin to be different. unfortunately he wasn’t. he’s so nonchalant too, god you fucking hate it. you wish he was yearning for you the way you are for him right now, but apparently all his desire lays only in football. nothing to do with you. never will be anything to do with you. you were just there for him when he started needing the attention of the opposite gender, started needing a girl to tell him how much she adores him, when he started needing a little fangirl at all of his games for his ego, when he started needing something to sink his cock into. someone to talk his ears off, someone who just loved to gossip and talk about tiktok trends that he truly never had any care for. yeah, that’s all you were to him; cheap and easy entertainment. fuck you itoshi rin, how could he be so emotionless at a breakup that is tearing you apart slowly, yet not carefully, from the inside out?

rin knows he messed up. he’s on a flight to france now, and he knows he fucking messed up - but there’s no take backsies! he wasn’t nonchalant at all, but god, he can’t fucking commit. he just can’t. he wants to so bad for you; you have your bad days but he knows what having a girlfriend entails, he doesn’t give a fuck man. he really fucking doesn’t care whatsoever. he doesn’t know why he’s like this but it’s pissing him off. he’s a fucking piece of shit. the look in your eyes when he said he was leaving you could shatter the heart of someone with the strongest will of them all. he regrets it so bad already. all he wants to do is have you sitting next to him right now looking out of the window and talking about something he knows absolutely nothing about. but you’re probably in shambles, sobbing on your bed. he flips over his phone and looks at the polaroid of the two of you that he keeps in the back of his phone case. it’s a funny one: he took the initiative for once and took the selfie with you himself whilst you weren’t looking, and you have an ice cream in your hand, with a bit of it on the tip of your nose, not even realising what your boyfriend is doing.

god he misses you, he’s longing so deeply. but he didn’t want to be emotional. he doesn’t want to stay with you when he knows it’s not fair on you. it’s not fair for him to expect you to commit to him and pamper him sweetly the way you normally do when he would sell you for the title of the world’s best striker. that’s all he really wants, yeah, to be the world’s best striker. and whilst this is what he wanted before, and he was sure of it, he’s unsure now. as he looks into the night sky through the window, taking in the stars, he just can’t help but think of your glassy eyes begging him to not go. if you would ask him before, he would say girls mean nothing. football is what he lives for. being a striker is all he wants. surpassing his brother and that shithead isagi is the closest thing akin to emotion towards another human. but right now all of those things couldn’t be more untrue; he wants you so fucking bad. he misses you so much, his heart is in agony thinking of how sad you probably are right now.

he looks at his hand resting on the arm of the expensive first class seat, and he just sighs. he wants to be holding your hand so bad right now. he really fucking does, but he’s so idiotic. he’s such a dumb guy he really is. he can’t help but think about how bad he messed up. and you can’t help but think about how he doesn’t care at all. but it couldn’t be further from the truth. rin itoshi can only keep up his act of nonchalance for so long; even his mask slips eventually. he misses you dearly. and you miss him so dearly too. your hearts are throbbing in pain in sync, your tears trickling down your cheeks match the way he runs his fingers up and down his temples to try and calm himself down and get rid of the migraine he gained from furrowing his brows so deeply at himself. you’re so in tune, two bodies yet only one soul, intertwined, unbeknownst to you both. but rin had to mess it up.

what the fuck can he do now? he was breaking up with you to focus on football, how can he focus now? when you’re all that’s on his mind? how can he be expected to keep his focus when the only thing he’s going to be doing the whole time he plays is wishing with all of his stupid, less cold than he’d like to admit, heart. wishing for something that he already had in his hands for years, yet foolishly gave it away in seconds. how can he focus when he knows he left a girl crumpled up on the bed wailing like a fucking baby over him? god, you probably hate him don’t you. his eyes tear up a bit at the thought. no, you can’t hate him. you can’t. you just can’t. he knows it’s selfish to think, but god he can’t fucking stand the idea of you hating him. despite what he did.

and you don’t hate him. you wish you did - it would be so much easier that way. but you don’t. no, you could never hate rin (unfortunately for you). all you know how to do is love him. it’s an instinct you feel like you’ve had you’re whole life, buried deep inside you until you finally met him. it’s so far ingrained within you, your love is so delicate. so intricate. so perfectly crafted for a man of rin’s calibre. and his was perfectly designed for you too. so why did he mess it up? why do you wish with all your stupid weak heart that you could hear him whispering “i love you, baby” into your ear again, after shoving his tongue in your mouth so possessively? why do you miss his little fits of jealousy he would have in public if another guy was too close? how when you went to any store and another man came up to you, rin would squeeze your hand tighter and give him a death stare? why do you miss everything about him? it’s so hard to not be pathetic over this man, it really is. it’s so fucking difficult. you miss his perfect imperfections, you couldn’t name a single thing you dislike about him.

it can’t be fair, the heavy feeling in your chest. break ups can be a fresh start, but you feel so much heavier after this one. sabrina carpenter is such a liar, you don’t feel lighter like a feather at all. you mentally laugh at your own dumb thought, but it does little to numb the pain and realisation of your situation. rin is feeling the exact same. he really thought this was for the best, maybe a bit more for him, he’s selfish he’ll admit. but maybe that came back to bite him; because this is so fucking painful. he feels extra bad. you’d been there since the very beginning, since before he went to blue lock, since before any of this shit happened. you’d always been a placeholder for sae, he supposes. all he wanted was to pursue his goals more, try harder, work harder, get everything he’s wanted, surpass everyone he has a rivalry with; he just wants to be the best. but now he thinks about it, he realises he already had something worth more than all of that. someone so patient and kind, who was willing to sit and wait for him and be paid less attention to as he poured himself completely into soccer. someone who had their own set of struggles and emotions too, yet never wanted to talk about them as to not drag rin down. someone who genuinely made his heart hurt when they cried. he realises he loves having a girlfriend as much as he loves soccer. no, scrap that, he loves you as much as he loves soccer. maybe even more. he could literally just fucking do both at one. he’d brought you to france before numerous times and every single fucking time you were so good and he enjoyed himself so much. he doesn’t know why he’s so scared of commitment, especially with you, because even though you have your moments like every girlfriend does - moments where you act erratic, emotional and cry, or just get mad at him for nothing, moments where you’re just being a girl - you make him feel good. you’ve never given him any reason to not trust you. he knows you’d never hurt him, hell, you’ve been hurt yourself various times before, and you still put trust in him. he knows he should trust you, but it’s so hard since what he did; what sae did. he doesn’t want to be emotionally dependant on anyone else anymore, but he already got himself caught up in this mess and his heart is aching so fucking badly, does it even matter anymore.

when rin arrives in france finally you’re just waking up. he even haunted your dreams, how unfair is that? that he’s probably not even thinking about you whatsoever, he only cares about football. that’s what you think anyway, of course rin thought about you the entire time. he’s begrudgingly dragging his luggage through the airport, and each shop he passes he just thinks about you even harder. he sees something on display he thinks is cute? he’s instinctively turning to nudge you to show you it and ask if you want it. he sees a starbucks? he’s turning to you to ask you what you want to order, and which cake pop you want. he sees a girl with that stupid brand of shoes you like? he’s ready to memorise whatever it is you start talking about, whichever thing from there you want, so he can buy you it as a gift later. he misses your cute mannerisms, things he’s only seen you do and nobody else. all the cute words and actions you do exclusive to you. they’re even deep sated within him now. he finds that when you’re together, he talks like you sometimes. you weren’t even from japan originally, you moved there as a child. and you stayed there because of him, and now he’s just left you. you stayed somewhere that just isn’t home to you because he made it a home to you and now he can’t possibly imagine what you’re feeling. man, everywhere he goes without you just gives him an empty feeling in his chest too, you’re his home too. though he hates admitting it. he feels weak that he’s feeling such sentiments. and as he steps on the bus pxg has waiting outside of the airport for him, he wishes you were here to entertain him for the dull ride. you’re so lively, happy, brimming with life and rainbows. you’re so girly and cute. you’re so, he doesn’t know. you’re just everything. everything to him. and he feels so fucking bad for letting it go. as he looks out of the window he feels bad for even sitting in this seat. you love the window seat, he doesn’t really care, so he’d give you it every single time. there’s other people on the bus too, of course, but he tunes them out. ignores their chatter. he misses you a lot.

he hopes you don’t get close to any other guys now that he’s gone - he knows it’s a selfish wish. he’s sorry. he really is. but he can’t have anyone else having you, he really can’t. you’re a rare catch.

you’re not talking to other guys, you couldn’t ever bring yourself to do that. not ever. not ever in your life could you do that when your heart beat spells his name out. when all that runs through your blood is vitamins and love for him. but you’re going to do something else crazy that you think he would hate you even more for, but you can’t help yourself. if you don’t take the chance now you’ll regret it forever. you won’t just sit around at home and watch his stupid fucking games on tv, knowing he’s just out of reach but still there. you’ll go to france too, love like this doesn’t come to everyone all the time. you can make him like you again, you tell yourself. though, even you aren’t sure of that. honestly you just want to have one more chance to see his face for the last time. and besides, you’ll move out of japan anyway, you have no reason to be there anymore. this can also serve as a property seeing trip. that’s what you delude yourself into anyway, but obviously it’s so much more than that.

so rin is training now. and you’re running through the airport frantically with your things all packed in a rush in your suitcase. that’s where you’re both at; rin kicking the ball hard with determination and you running for your life through the airport to make it to the front desk in time. you booked the ticket frantically, and it left a huge dent in your pocket you honestly can’t even deny it. you weren’t a gold digger so it’s not like you had a lot of money laying around from rin. honestly, you probably look like a loon to all of these airport staff. but you guess that everyone can tell somethings off, the way you’re crying even still at the airport. and you talk so fast too, you carry yourself with little to no etiquette right now and only with desperation for your love. but you aren’t being rude, just emotional. even security gives you an easy time. you run as fast as you can to the gate, 1 minute before closing time. and you’re so fucking relieved.

unfortunately for you, you don’t have the kind of money rin has at your disposal. so you don’t pay for first class, so you’re forced to sit in a cramped seat for the next 14 hours of your life. next to strangers you don’t know. you wish one of them was rin, you really do. you lean your head against the window and put your blanket around yourself and cry yourself to sleep, just hoping that the nonstop ache in your chest will go away.

unfortunately for rin, you don’t have the kind of money he has at your disposal. unfortunate for both of you for different reasons. you don’t have any internet on the plane, and you’re fast asleep against the hard window. so when rin texts you and you ignore him for hours, he’s convinced you hate him.

rin: hey

rin: i’m sorry

rin: i miss you

rin stares at his phone screen. he’s more preoccupied in his phone than ever before, everyone notices it. he stares at the delivered sign staring back up at him. you didn’t block him at least? that’s something? but what are you doing right now? are you with another guy? do you hate him? it’s been hours and you still haven’t replied. every set he finishes he checks his phone. every drill he finishes he checks his phone. he has his phone propped in the cupholder of the treadmill to see if you text back and you don’t. and it’s fucking eating him up from the inside out. but he has a game tomorrow, so he doesn’t know what to do. he prays you’re going to be watching it on tv, man, he’d make a love declaration to the world at this point just to have you back. love makes you do crazy things, he’s no exception to the rule.

neither are you, that’s why the moment you wake up and realise your flight is landing, you push your way through all of the people and rush out to dash to the airport and grab your stuff. you know where the pxg training ground is, you just have to make it there. you haven’t looked at your phone once, you forgot about it completely in your pocket. all you do is grab your small shoulder bag over your shoulder, and the small suitcase you packed in a panic, and dash out of the door. you pay one of the ubers with your card, you pay a hefty amount actually. you’re honestly surprised the payment even went through, but he takes you right to the hotel you intend to stay at. it’s a 5 minute walk from the stadium rin is going to play at tomorrow, and also a 30 minute walk from pxg’s training grounds. but god, you underestimated soccer fans, or simply didn’t take it into account; but the hotel is full. you still are yet to pick up your phone this whole time, but you’re determined still. you can’t stay at the hotel? fine, you’ll run to the pxg facility. and run you do, even in the freezing cold of the harsh french winter, you run through the snow and slip several times on the ice but you don’t care, even despite all the people watching you right now. you’re not even tired, you slept through the entire almost 15 hour flight. and you’re determined, it’s the middle of the night though, you don’t know if they’ll let you in, but you don’t care. you’re so fucking desperate to see rin one more time that you abandoned all sense of pride and self worth just to see his gorgeous stupid fucking face again. 

but now you realise how stupid you were, what the fuck are you supposed to do now? all of that indomitable spirit you just had is gone now, what the fuck did you just do? you’re stood outside and you have no idea how to get in, and you finally take your phone out of your pocket and hastily pay for data in france so you can call rin and ask him if he’ll come and open the door to the training facility. your sat on a bench in the freezing cold, sitting atop the snow, waiting for your data to register. and when it does, you’re greeted by a sight that makes your heart do somersaults; rin’s texts. you can’t even reply, your fingers shake from the cold and you call rin and pray he actually meant the texts he sent.

rin is so tired, that when he hears his phone vibrate he can’t even be bothered to check it. it’s probably nothing important; nothing is important except you. and he doubts, no, he knows for a fact it’s not you. it’s probably his stupid fucking manager, or parents, or some random fan who managed to get his number. you’d never call him in the middle of the night knowing he has a game tomorrow, so all he does is reach his arm over without even looking and silences his phone so he can sleep.

and you give up calling after what feels like an hour of going straight to voicemail. you’re not tired, what can you do? how much time do you have to kill? and did rin even mean his texts? you start crying again. your brain is stupid, you’re stupid. he obviously meant them, but you don’t realise it. all you can do is overthink a million times about all the reasons why he could have sent those texts, and not a single reason is simply that he missed you. your brain simply cannot come up with the idea that itoshi rin is longing for you the same way your heart is longing for him. all you can do is trudge around begrudgingly in the snow with your suitcase and shoulder bag, looking for a place to sit and wait. wait for rin’s stupid fucking game. god this hurts, your tears are hot when they roll down your cheeks. nice, you guess, since it’s sub zero temperatures outside right now. it’s 7am now, and some cafes have opened thank god. so you sit in one of them and mope. you mope and you don’t think the worker cares at all; he noticed you’re crying and chose not to question it. and your phone is dead. you don’t remember if you brought your charger or not, you just shoved several tickets into your bag for rin’s previous soccer matches, his jersey and some pictures of you both. you’re an idiot. but you can wait.

and when rin finally wakes up and sees it’s you who kept calling him, he beats himself up over it so hard. god, if only he’d have just answered. you probably hate him now. he tries calling you back, a trillion times he really tries, but you don’t pickup at all. you just aren’t answering the phone. he bets you hate him now and all he can do is sigh. you’re both so stupid, it’s so pathetic to see. if there was any outsider knowing what was going on in this stupid relationship, they would laugh at how dense you both are. he’s so angry at himself, his self loathing multiplied by numbers unexplainable. you probably needed him, and he didn’t even answer. and now you probably hate him and you’re off with some other guy. this stupid thought process of his doesn’t slow down, from the entire time he’s training, to heading to the stadium, to sitting in the locker room waiting for the match to begin.

and you, desperate little you, by some stroke of luck, you actually got your seat. the one rin always reserves for you at the very front. you actually managed to get it with your old tickets. everyone must have taken some pity on you or something, and probably recognised you as rin’s girlfriend who hasn’t ever disrupted anything, because things have been going your way luckily. you don’t realise that though, you don’t realise that fate is setting you two absolute fools in love up again. because you’re too busy crying again, thinking how life is so bad without your (ex) boyfriend. and rin is doing the same, he doesn’t even know what you’ve been up to, he doesn’t know you’ve been running around desperately trying to get to him. no, he thinks he knows what you’ve even doing; talking to other guys, hating him. he thinks he’s been replaced already. he thinks you’re back home in japan watching the tv and waiting for his game out of spite; maybe with a boy next to you. maybe you’re watching for one of the other players on the opposing team. maybe you replaced him with another soccer player. god, he’d hate to think that he was just your type and not more. he really fucking would. he’s on the bench sitting with his arms across his knees, legs apart and water bottle in one hand. he’s crushing it unknowingly, squeezing it so tightly that the plastic bends under his heavy fingers. his teammates don’t even bother talking to him, no one wants to talk to rin when he’s like this.

and you’re waiting so hard. your heart is beating out of your chest, your adrenaline is pumping and you’re so anxious. honestly, you don’t even know if you want rin to notice you sitting there. your hands are shaking, not from the cold this time. you feel pathetic, you feel so pathetic for being this way, but how can you care? you’re pathetic for rin; and he’s equally as pathetic for you. he’s clenching his knuckles the entire time, the moment he walks onto the field his knuckles are so white. and he’s so stiff, so much more threatening today. no one talked to him the whole time they were in the locker room, nor training. even his coach couldn’t look him in the eye. rin is freakish in nature, everyone knows not to bother him.

and when the game starts it’s so clear that something is different. he’s so much more aggressive. he can’t even care, all he’s thinking about the entire time is you, he wants to mangle all these shitty lukewarms on the field. no, he’s the shitty lukewarm. he’s the tepid one. it’s him. no one else. just him. his self hatred is amplified so much. he wants to fucking kill everyone here. wants to destroy them so bad. he’s not even playing with sound mind. he can’t even think about the game, only you. you you you you you. and every single kick of the ball, every pass, every dribble everything he does. every mechanic. every skill every goal he aims to shoot. every step. every time he devours one of these shitty washed up players on the enemy and his own team he thinks of you. he wonders if you’re watching. all the cameras are on him, not like he cares, he doesn’t give a fuck about the press, but he wonders if you’re looking. perfect view of him. all eyes on him.

and you’re watching alright. you’re watching intently from the stands. your adrenaline is racing so much, you really want to do nothing but talk to him. but as half time comes you get scared and hide your face as you see rin walking towards the locker rooms. god, you’re so fucking pathetic in love, it’s actually sad. and rin is so pathetic too, he had to stop himself from looking at the stands where you normally sit, because seeing the empty chair would shatter his heart into a million pieces. so he’s there, back where he was at the beginning right before the game, squeezing the life out of the lump of plastic in his hands. taking a sip whilst crushing it with his strong hands. from rage. from something. some instinct inside him telling him he has to destroy everything. god he wants to. he’d burn the fucking world just to see your pretty face again right now. and you would do anything for him too. anything except look at him when he’s in close proximity, that is, because when he walks out again you have to hide your head out of shyness.

god you’re both pathetic, you’re gushing over him from the stands with your heart thumping wildly inside of the ribcage of your small frame, and he’s going berserk on everyone. the game isn’t even close. how can it be close when rin is angry? he thrives from anything negative in nature, the poor boy was set up from failure right from the beginning. even his instincts as a striker are self destructive. but you were so good, something not akin to the destruction he knows at all. the opposite. and now he’s stuck hating himself for the abhorrent stupid decision he made. he really shot himself in the leg there. the game isn’t close at all, it’s really not.

you’ve seen him like this a few times, towards the ends of games. tongue out mumbling nonsense. you’ve seen this side of him when he fucks you sometimes too. when he fucks you so hard into the bed you’re worried about your spine fracturing. rin is a monster, don’t ever doubt it. it’s crazy really, and a little scary. watching him play like this; you honestly just put it down to passion for the sport. that’s why he left you after all. but you couldn’t be anymore wrong. it’s because of you, he wants to fucking obliterate this field in your name. and when he scores the winning goal, with a shocking score of 5 - 0, you can’t help but jump out of your seat and exclaim his name. and he could have swore he heard it. you think he looks beautiful, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, the veins popping out of his hands, his face; you don’t know how he manages to stay nonchalant even at times like this. itoshi rin is a prodigy, a godsend to soccer and to you. it’s a shame he slipped out of your hands so fast. slipped right through your fingers. he’d say the same thing about you.

maybe you could have been together in a different life, but it’s his fault you’re not in this one. and he detests himself for that. all he can think about is you, so when all the stupid fucking tabloids come rushing over to him when all he’s trying to do is go to the locker room, he gets pissed off. so pissed, they’re asking him why he was so angry, what was his motivation for this match. he played so well, better than he’s ever played before; so in tune with the ball, with the sport. this is itoshi rin’s true essence, pure unadulterated destruction. it’s thanks to you, obviously. but he can’t tell the world that. he doesn’t want anyone else to know about you, you’re his for fuck sake. not anyone else’s.

but everyone is dying to know! it’s not like they don’t know he has a girlfriend, but they don’t know who she is. he could tell, but he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to be reminded of the sting in his heart that remembering your sweet laugh and cute face brings. they almost give up, he’s as sour and bad mannered as his brother. the same attitude as his brother towards interviewers. the itoshi brothers are not known for their charisma, they’re renowned for their skill not their fan service. they’d never participate in something so lukewarm. they almost gave up. almost.

because when they see the girl in rin’s jersey and a coat that’s far too big on her, presumably his, running towards him with her arms stretched out for a hug, they have their answer. they have it even more when rin holds her back and looks so starstruck. looking down at her, holding her like she’s the most valuable thing he could have ever gotten from this day. from this week. month. year. lifetime. more valuable than all of the trophies and awards he’s claimed. how he holds her so tightly and kisses her forehead, cameras be damned. everyone has their answer. even rin needs a princess, he’s not immune to human emotions. no, he’s immune to those. they’re tepid. but he’s never immune to you, you are the one virus, invasive species, bacteria, germ, all of these, that runs through his bloodstream. and he doesn’t mind it.

you look up at him when you both pull away to see each other’s face for the first time in what feels like forever. you broke up a day ago, well two almost, the time zones are different. but you look at each other like you’ve been yearning for the other’s touch and affections for a lifetime.

rin knows here and now he loves you, and he was fucking stupid to let you go. he can play football and love you. he can multitask. god; you’re almost his reason to keep playing this sport, to be the best, he wants to impress you. the light in your eyes as you look up at him, big beautiful eyes. so cute. he’s holding your shoulders still. he never wants to lose skin to skin contact with you again. you look beautiful, wet lashes from crying, red nose, big puffy lips, red cheeks, tears rolling down your cheeks now. he leans in to lick one off, he truly can’t give a single fuck about the lukewarm freaks recording this moment, at everyone gawking at him, at the scolding he’s going to probably get from his pr manager later. you’re face to face, and god, he never wants to let you go again. he licks his lips to taste the remnants of your tear he just lapped up. and he almost smiles at you. you know he’d be smiling if he wasn’t itoshi rin, the softness in his eyes gives him away so bad.

he leans into your touch as you brush a piece of his hair out of his eyes. as you lift your hand to caress his cheek as if he isn’t some fucking deranged monster on the field, like he’s an angel, a petal that could bend. and you smile up at him. rin opens his mouth to speak the first word in what feels like a century to you.

“hey”

“hi”

Why do I see this so well??!

akutagawa, climbing through the agency's window:

kunikida: hold it right there

akutagawa, scowling: i am not here for conflict, though i will not hesitate if it arises--

kunikida: yeah i know; ur here to see atsushi

akutagawa: i most certainly am NOT-

kunikida, ignoring him: well you can't see him today

akutagawa, immediately forgetting his protests: you wish to keep me apart from him--

kunikida: look, brat, atsushi is in trouble right now, he can't see you--

akutagawa, worried and angry: is he hurt? why did no one inform--

kunikida: what? no!

kunikida: he did something reckless, so he's in trouble. his punishment is that he can't see you

akutagawa:

akutagawa: what

kunikida: but since your already here, here's the agency's grocery list for the week

akutagawa:

kunikida: you can see atsushi again next week

akutagawa:

akutagawa: does it matter which brands i get or--

Go back to sleep, Ace

Ace has an episode and wakes up with his head in your lap.

First time writing Ace so lemme know how I did! ❤️

Masterlist

Ace doesn't remember passing out, so that must mean that he'd had another one of his episodes. Usually, that wouldn't bother him, but he vaguely recalls speaking to you, his crush, right before his mind goes blank. However, wherever he is, Ace is comfy as hell and really doesn't want to get up.

There are fingers running through his hair that stop and gently scratch his scalp every now and then. Ace doesn't remember the last time someone has played with his hair like this. He kinda likes it. His face is pressed into something soft and squishy, and he is shameless in the way he sighs and presses into it.

The sound of you snickering has Ace opening his eyes, embarrassment, and mortification flooding his system. The first thing he sees are your legs extended in front of him, your sandal covered feet crossed at the ankles. He goes to rise up, apologies bubbling up and spilling out.

"Shit. _, I'm so sorry. I didn't uhm-"

"Shut up, Ace. It's not a big deal," you interrupt Fire Fist and gently push his head back down to your lap, your fingers still tangled in his black locks. His mouth clicks shut, his freckled cheeks so hot they may as well have been on fire.

"Are you sure? I know I'm heavy, I can move?" Ace stresses again but can't help the way he slumps down when you resume your careful petting, and soon his eyes begin to grow heavy.

"I don't mind. Go back to sleep, Ace," You assure him once more and are rewarded with the young man rolling so that he could look up at you, his arms winding around your waist to cuddle you close. Fire Fist is back asleep within moments, feeling safe and comfortable with you keeping him company.

if i stare at tiny rin w his lil chubby cheeks for too long i'm gonna pass out from cuteness aggression

Your art is making me feel things i‘m not supposed to feel🙏

like... the urge to pay taxes?

I used to be kinda neutral on the whole likes vs reblogs thing but recently it’s started to bother me more and I’m getting where you’re coming from. People are coming in my masterlist and liking fics literally down the line and then leave without a single reblog or a follow. I get its the nature of the platform but like they clearly like my stuff so would it kill them to leave a little support behind

That's the thing anon, is that is isn't the nature of the platform.

Imagine if all the people you follow never reblogged anything.

Your dash would be empty. Nothing.

Tumblr, as it's original concept, was intended as a platform designed for sharing. You had to go seek out people with your interests and follow them precisely because they shared things from creators. Why would you follow a blank blog, or someone that never shared anything?

Things have changed a bit, yeah. We have the 'for you' page full of terrible recommendations, you don't have to go hunting through tags anymore and can just have them on your dash recommending you things passively, but the original concept of a platform built on it's main function being that of sharing works/art/media is still there. If we all stopped reblogging, hell if we all stopped tagging things, we'd never find anything on here. We have to reblog.