#blue lock x reader fluff

[darlnosis]

♯ Random BF Texts w/ Sae . . .

pair ⋮ boyfriend!itoshi sae x gn!reader ⟢

syn ⋮ smau , fluff , est relationship , screenshots of your messages with bf!sae ˎˊ˗

[emmyrosee]

“Just one more,” you mewl.

“Oh my god.”

Sae has to leave. It’s past the point of him responsibly leaving, to now, where there’s no choice of him having to leave now, if he wants any chance of making it to practice on time.

But you, however, are seemingly far from getting your Itoshi Sae fix, not wanting to be far from him at all: you whimpered and whined when he got up for his run, you snuck into his shower with him, you looped your arms around his waist while he made his lunch, now you’ve got his face gripped in your hands, sponging kisses over him.

At first, sure, he loved the attention.

But Itoshi Sae has to leave. Four minutes ago.

“Hey,” he sighs softly, trying to push your shoulders back to peel you off of him. “You know I have to go. Don’t make this harder for me.”

“You don’t have to go,” you say simply. “You and I can just be hermits forever, hide here for the rest of our lives and cuddle forever.”

Tempting. Not that he’d ever tell you that.

“Don’t you want to stay here forever with me?”

He clicks his tongue, “you know I absolutely would if I could. But,” he makes a move to step away, and you whine and squeeze tighter. “I have to go. Then, when I come home, I’ll be able to tell you all about my day while we lay down. You like that.”

“I know I do, but,” you peer up at him with your lethal pout, “I like you being here more.”

Sae looks at the clock on the stove. Then back at you. Then he sighs and leans down to steal another kiss from you, slotting your lips with his. They move in harmony, eliciting small pants from you, and his hand cradles the back of your head lovingly. You mewl and rest your hands on his hips, letting the few seconds of heaven be savored between you.

When he finally pulls away, you’re smiling dopily, giddily, and Sae knows he hit the nail on the head.

You’d wanted a goodbye kiss. Sae always knows what you want from him, and in the morning, it just so happens to be a firm, loving, assuring goodbye kiss.

“Okay,” you purr, letting your hands roam over his back, compliant and melted in his arms. “You can go now. I’m happy.”

“You’re done with me?” He asks.

“Yeah, until tonight anyways,” you hum, kissing his chin. “Better go before I change my mind.”

He cracks a smirk, “you’re a real piece of work, you know that right?”

“What can I say?” You sigh dramatically. “I know how much you love a challenge.”

You’re right.

He really, really does.

[sevarchive]

♡ he ate and left no crumbs ──

જ⁀➴ a kunigami rensuke war au. 5k words

synopsis: in which kunigami rensuke, a young soldier bound by a quiet promise, faces the ravages of war and the weight of love waiting in the shadows of an uncertain future.

a/n: PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS PLAYLIST, it makes everything 100% better! btw this piece was written for a ticket from the ask roulette carnival! visit their original ticket here!

everyone loved kunigami rensuke, but not the way you did.

to most, he was a good boy with kind hands and a strong back, someone who always held the door, who nodded at elders and never left a chore unfinished. they knew him by the shape of his silence, by the way he never said more than he had to.

but before he became the boy people whispered about in quiet reverence, before his name softened into memory and myth, he was just someone you hadn’t quite noticed yet.

everything began on an ordinary tuesday, the kind you wouldn’t have remembered—if not for him. you remember because it had just rained, and the cobblestones were still slick with puddles. you were carrying a too-heavy basket and grumbling about it under your breath, the kind of task someone else was supposed to do. and there he was, already outside the bakery, sleeves rolled, arms dusted with flour, reaching for the same stack of firewood beside the door.

you didn’t say anything at first. just glanced.

then, without a word, he took the basket from your hands like it was second nature.

“it’s alright,” you started. “i can manage.”

“i know,” he said.

but he carried it anyway.

that was the first time you noticed how broad his shoulders were. how he moved like he didn’t want to startle anything. like kindness was just a reflex.

he didn’t ask your name until the fourth time he helped you. didn’t use it until the sixth. he always looked like he wanted to say more but never knew how, like he was trying to carry something between his teeth and didn’t want to let it drop.

you started staying longer at the bakery after that. lingered by the window while pretending to adjust the display. you’d watch him knead dough with strong hands and that same quiet concentration, lips pressed together like he was deep in thought.

one evening, he had something wrapped in a cloth, still warm from the oven. he looked almost shy as he offered it to you, eyes flicking between your hands and your face.

“they let me try something new today,” he mumbled.

“it’s not much. just a different filling.”

you bit into it without hesitation, and your eyes widened. soft bread, still steaming, with a honey-sweet center that melted on your tongue.

“kunigami,” you said, mouth full. “this might be the best thing i’ve ever had.”

he flushed. looked down. scuffed his boot against the dirt.

“i—i made it for you.”

you blinked.

he didn’t look up, just kept talking, voice quieter this time.

“the first one. i told them it was just a test batch, but… i already knew who i wanted to give it to.”

you didn’t say anything right away. just held the bread to your chest and smiled like you didn’t know what else to do with something that soft. something that honest.

you walked home slower that evening. he stayed closer than usual.

and neither of you said what it really meant.

but the bread was warm in your hands.

and his fingers brushed yours like maybe—just maybe—he’d do this forever, if you let him.

somehow, weeks blurred into months.

you never called them dates, not out loud. but that’s what they were, wandering through the sunday markets with your arms full of wildflowers, splitting one paper-wrapped pastry between the two of you. he once paid for a locket at the jeweler’s stall with coins he swore he didn’t need. said it reminded him of you. you still wear it under your blouse, even now.

he taught you how to braid bread dough. you taught him how to whistle.

he walked you home every night. you stopped pretending it was a coincidence. you laughed more around him. he started reaching for your hand without thinking.

and though no one said it, not officially, not aloud, everyone in town had already begun to think of you as his.

one afternoon, he took your hand without a word and led you toward the town square. the sun was still golden and soft behind the clouds, and his grip was warm and sure—like he had a plan.

“what are we doing?” you asked, already smiling.

“you’ll see.”

he stopped by a small vendor cart tucked beside the bakery steps, where the old man with the crooked hat only came on fridays. he bought you a pouch of candied almonds, slipping the coins into the man’s hand before you could even offer.

“you remembered,” you said, a little breathless.

“’course i did,” he said, not looking at you, just watching the way you lit up when you took your first bite.

you teased him, like always.

“you’re getting soft on me.”

he gave a half-smile and bumped your shoulder with his.

“i don’t mind, if it makes you happy.”

you looped your arm through his, resting your head lightly against his shoulder as you walked. the world felt distant in that moment—like it could stay just like this, forever.

then the church bell rang.

once.

twice.

you smiled, almost without thinking.

“a wedding,” you murmured, pausing mid-step.

kunigami turned slightly, following your gaze as the breeze carried the faint sound of celebration through the square: petals being thrown, a bride’s laughter, children running ahead in ribbons and polished shoes.

and for a second, just one small second, you saw it.

you in white. him waiting at the altar, shoulders stiff in a borrowed suit. his hands trembling when he took yours. his voice steady when he said your name.

do you take him—always. always.

his fingers brushed yours, and you wondered if maybe he was thinking the same thing.

but then the bell rang a third time. and a fourth.

and it didn’t stop.

it wasn’t just a wedding bell anymore. it was the signal.

the crowd shifted. heads turned. someone ran from the chapel steps, clutching a parchment roll, calling for quiet.

“by royal decree—due to rising tensions beyond the border—”

your smile faltered. kunigami went still beside you.

“—military enlistment will begin at the turn of the season. all able-bodied boys aged seventeen and older are to report for registration—”

the words blurred after that.

your hand tightened around his sleeve before your body even realized what you were doing. you didn’t look at the speaker. you looked at him.

“you’re eighteen,” you whispered.

he didn’t answer right away. just kept his eyes forward. jaw set.

“i know.”

he didn’t flinch, didn’t speak.

but his eyes weren’t on the crowd.

they were on the bride walking into the chapel, veil floating behind her like a promise.

and you knew,

he was wondering what it would’ve looked like if it had been you.

it was early, and most of the village was still asleep. only the soldiers and the wind were awake. the two of you agreed to meet up in the chapel.

and when you saw him, he looked different in uniform.

his coat was stiff. his boots too polished. he kept adjusting the straps like they were choking him. he’d cut his hair shorter than you’d ever seen it—like someone had taken part of him with the scissors.

but when he saw you, his shoulders dropped. and for a moment, he looked just like your rensuke again.

you walked up to him slowly, heart pounding in places it didn’t belong. he smiled when he saw you, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“you’re early,” he said.

“so are you.”

he laughed a little.

“i couldn’t sleep.”

“me neither.”

you both fell quiet.

it wasn’t like the usual silences you both had, this one felt sharp. temporary. like a match that had just been struck, already fading.  then, like he couldn’t hold it in anymore, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper.

your breath caught.

you knew that paper.

“you left this at the bakery the other day,” he said, smoothing it out gently. “i saw it before you came back.”

it was the little sketch you’d made, drawn in charcoal on the back of a receipt. a crooked house with wildflowers in the yard. a tiny oven puffing smoke out the chimney. a bench under a tree. a window with two cups of tea drawn on the sill.

you’d barely spent ten minutes on it. yet he memorized every detail.

“i want to build this for you,” he said, holding it out with both hands like it was a blueprint. like it was sacred. “not something fancy. not something grand. just this.”

his voice softened, almost ashamed.

“i know it’s messy. the world, i mean. and i don’t know what i’ll come back with. but if i make it—when i make it—this is what i’m working for.”

“you really remember it?” you whispered.

“down to the window with two mugs,” he said, smiling faintly. “you drew it small, but i saw.”

“i didn’t think you looked.”

“i always look.”

your throat tightened. you reached for the sketch and held it close, the crinkled edges warming beneath your fingers like it could hold the future in its folds.

he stepped closer. looked down at the drawing like he could see more than ink.

“that little room on the left?” he said, tapping the page gently. “that’ll be the kitchen. you’ll bake in the mornings, and i’ll burn toast pretending to help.”

“of course you will,” you said, laughing through your tears.

“and that room here, just off the kitchen—that’ll be the baby’s room,” he added, voice dipping with something tender. “the first one. a little girl, i think. i’ll carve her name into the windowsill the day she’s born.”

your breath hitched.

“next to that’ll be the living room. not much in it. just us. your books, a soft couch, maybe a radio if we’re lucky. and a rug our kids will fall asleep on during storms.”

he traced the sketch like it was real, like he could already touch it.

“then our bedroom. the creaky floorboards. the warm lamp. and me, always getting up too early to knead dough or check if it snowed. and you, wrapped in every blanket.”

you said nothing. you couldn’t.

“and the porch,” he whispered. “don’t forget the porch. you drew a bench. we’ll sit there when we’re old. i’ll hold your hand even when it hurts my joints.”

you laughed, shaky and soft. then he looked up, eyes a little glassy now.

“that’s what i’ll come back for. not medals. not glory. just this. just you. just… home.”

you reached up, cupped his cheek.

“we’ll fill every room, rensuke. i promise.”

then he reached into his coat. pulled out something small. a little cloth pouch. tied with string.

“what’s this?” you asked, voice trembling.

“almonds. from the same vendor,” he said softly. “they’re still sweet.”

you took it with both hands. held it to your chest like it was the most precious thing you’d ever been given.

“i’m coming back.”

you looked at him. he wasn’t smiling. he was serious. like this was something he needed you to believe more than anything.

“i’ll come back. i’ll send letters. i’ll write you every week. and when the war ends—”

his voice broke. he tried again.

“when the war ends… i’ll come back for you. i’ll take you to the river. we’ll eat bread on sundays again. and i’ll—i’ll marry you. right here. in this chapel. i promise.”

you felt it all at once. the weight. the fear. the fierce, aching hope of it.

“rensuke—”

“you can open your own bakery. i’ll help, even if i’m terrible at it. we’ll have two kids. maybe three. i’ll build the crib myself. we’ll hang flowers over the door. and every year, i’ll buy you almonds—”

you let out a shaky laugh through the tears.

“that’s not fair.”

“i know.”

“you’re saying too many beautiful things.”

“then say yes to them,” he said, eyes fierce and soft all at once. “say you’ll wait for me.”

“of course i’ll wait for you.”

you stepped forward, forehead pressed to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you like he could memorize the shape of you. his heart was racing. or maybe yours was.

“say you’ll marry me,” he whispered into your hair.

“i’ll marry you,” you whispered back. “i’ll wear the white dress, and you’ll bring almonds, and we’ll grow old in that little house.”

he didn’t move. didn’t breathe.

“you promise?”

“i do,” you said, voice steady now. “i promise. i’ll be yours. no matter how long it takes.”

the whistle blew in the distance. you clutched his coat tighter.

“you come back to me, rensuke,” you said. “you come home.”

“i will,” he swore, pulling back to look you in the eye. “i swear on everything—i’ll come home to you.”

but he didn’t kiss you. just cupped your face like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers. his thumbs brushed your cheekbones, so gentle it almost hurt. he leaned in, close enough for your breaths to mix, your noses to touch.

and then he paused.

“not yet,” he whispered. “i’ll kiss you when it’s done. when i come back. when you’re in white and i’m standing at the end of that aisle—i’ll kiss you then. not a second before.”

you blinked hard, lips parting, but no sound came.

“that’ll be my first victory,” he said, voice thick. “and you’ll be my prize.”

and slowly, like it shattered him, he stepped back.

left you there with a promise on your lips, and a kiss you never got to taste. you stood there long after the train had gone. fingers cold. chest full of promises. and the pouch of almonds still in your pocket.

he had said forever. and you had believed him.

but forever is a cruel thing to say right before goodbye.

the first months were the hardest. not because of the cold, or the drills, or the mud that clung to his boots for days at a time.

he could live with the cold.

he could live with the shouting, the bruises, the weight of the rifle pressing into his spine.

he could live with waking up at dawn and sleeping on damp earth, chewing food that tasted like metal and silence.

what he couldn’t live with was missing you.

he missed you in a way that didn’t pass, it settled in his chest and made a home there.

he missed your hands and your voice and the sound you made when you tried not to laugh.

he missed the bench you drew. the way you leaned on him like you never needed to ask.

so he wrote to you.

whenever he could, wherever he was. in trenches, under flickering lamps, in the lull between gunfire. sometimes with dirty fingers and blood on his boots, sometimes with shaking hands and mud still drying in his sleeves. but always to you.

the first one came only a week after he left.

my love,i thought i’d be too tired to write. turns out, i’m more tired without you. the barracks are cold, but i keep thinking about the window you drew. the one with the two mugs. when i come back, mine will always be for you. – rensuke.

the second came two weeks later, tucked with a pressed wildflower between the pages.

the field was full of these today. nothing else good to say about it, really—except that it reminded me of your sketch. the one where flowers were growing out front. i didn’t even like flowers before. i do now. tell the baker i still miss the almond bread. tell him he’s got competition when i get home. – rensuke.

the third one was longer. you’d read it ten times over by the end of the week.

they’ve started training us with heavier gear. my hands are raw. you’d probably fuss over them. i wish you could. a boy cried last night. said he didn’t want to die. i didn’t know what to say, so i told him about you. about the house. the kitchen. the baby’s room. it helped. i think it helped me too. when this ends, i’m going to build that life with you like i said. every nail, every beam, with these hands. just wait for me. always yours. – rensuke.

you folded that letter into your pocket and carried it with you through every market, every morning, every storm. the words stayed close to your heart. some days they were the only thing that kept it beating.

and in the quiet of your little room, with your hands ink-stained and your eyes heavy from waiting, you whispered the same thing into every reply.

come home.

come build what we dreamed.

and kunigami rensuke, who once kissed flour off your nose and talked about nursery windows—was made to march through fields of screaming mud, watching boys collapse next to him with their eyes still open.

he didn’t write about that part. not at first.

he wrote about you.

because it was the only thing keeping him human.

my love,we stood for hours today. i could barely feel my legs by the end of it. one of the boys fell and didn’t get back up, but no one stopped. that’s the rule now—you don’t stop. but i keep thinking about that crooked house you drew. the one with the chimney that leans a little to the side. it makes me smile. i’d fix it for you. i’d paint it the color of your favorite apron. i miss you more than anything. i hope you’re still saving that ribbon for your hair. i hope your hands are warm tonight. i’ll come back. i promise. – rensuke.

you read that letter by candlelight, pressed it to your chest and wept into your sleeves. you had no idea where he was when he wrote it. no idea what he'd seen. what he was becoming.

but still, you believed him. you had to.

the rain came hard that day. it wasn't the kind that passed quickly. it fell like the sky was angry, like it wanted to drown everything still standing. the battlefield turned to sludge beneath their boots, trenches caved in under the weight of water, and the fog made it impossible to see more than a few paces ahead.

they were told it was a routine movement. they were told the enemy had pulled back.

they were lied to.

gunfire cracked before dawn, tearing through the gray. they scrambled—young boys in too-large uniforms, slipping on wet roots and shouting each other's names. they were scattered. they were surrounded.

kunigami’s first instinct was to find riku.

seventeen. barely up to his shoulder. quiet, kind. carried a picture of his little sister in his breast pocket, and once shared half a chocolate bar with kunigami even though rations were thin.

he spotted him by the treeline, blood already soaking through his trousers, one hand pressed weakly to his thigh.

“riku!”

no response.

“riku, look at me! come on, stay awake, kid.”

kunigami dropped to his knees in the mud, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. he threw riku’s arm over his shoulder and tried to stand, he was heavier than he looked. or maybe kunigami was just exhausted.

every muscle screamed. but he didn’t stop. they had to move. they had to go now or not at all.

“you’re alright,” kunigami muttered, more to himself than to riku. “you’re alright. i’ve got you.”

he didn’t think about dying. not yet.

not until the sound of enemy boots pounded through the brush just behind them.

“shit, shit—”

he staggered forward, half-carrying, half-dragging riku through mud that sucked at his legs like quicksand. his shoulder ached. his lungs burned. his fingers were numb from gripping the rifle too tight, from not letting go of the only thing he could still save.

but it wasn’t enough.

a shot rang out behind them, close. too close.

he felt the wind of it pass his cheek. heard the bark of a tree splinter.

riku stirred weakly, eyes glassy.

“tell my sister—” he choked.

“don’t,” kunigami snapped, voice cracking. “you’ll tell her yourself. just hold on.”

but he knew. he knew they wouldn’t make it out.

his boots slipped again. he crashed hard against the trunk of a fallen tree, dragging riku down with him. his chest heaved. his arms screamed. riku’s weight was slumping.

there was no way forward.

kunigami dropped his head against the bark, rain soaking into his collar. he was shaking. he tried to breathe, but it felt like drowning.

and for one brief, quiet second, the war slipped away. the shouting blurred into a hum. the pain dulled. and all he could see was you, barefoot in that imaginary yard, apron tied loose, holding out a warm roll in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

you smiled like he’d never left. like he'd made it back. like it was real.

this is it, he thought. this is where i die.this is where everything ends.this is where i fail you.

he closed his eyes. drew in a shuddering breath.

i’m sorry. i wanted more time.

then—footsteps.

he barely registered the sound of boots slamming into the mud, the low, desperate shout of his name. someone grabbed him by the collar. dragged him upright with a grunt.

“kunigami—”

his eyes cracked open. blurred.

“what the hell did you do,” takeshi growled.

kunigami blinked. he couldn’t answer. couldn’t think. his fingers were numb. his body felt like stone.

“you said you’d watch him. you said—”

and then the fist came with no warning. it landed across his jaw. sharp, brutal. kunigami slumped sideways, blood in his mouth, the taste of copper thick and warm.

he didn’t fight back. he didn’t move.

“where is he?”

“where the hell is riku?!”

kunigami’s lips moved. no sound came.

“you let him die!”

another punch—this one to his ribs. a scream threatened to rip out of him, but he swallowed it. choked on it.

“you should’ve stayed down with him,” takeshi spat. “should’ve rotted there too.”

he fell to his knees beside him, panting, rain soaking through both of them. the forest around them was silent, save for their breathing. and kunigami? he didn’t even cry.

he just curled a hand near riku’s dog tags still clenched in his palm, mud-caked, bloodied, bent at the edge—and whispered, almost to no one,

“i tried.”

takeshi didn’t respond. didn’t look at him. and for the longest time, kunigami stayed there on the ground. hand still wrapped around something cold that used to mean a life.

the world just moved on.

and kunigami rensuke, well, he stopped moving too.

the war ended in spring.

they rang the bell in the church tower just after dawn, and for once, it wasn’t for mourning. the sound echoed through the hills like laughter returned to the world. there were ribbons on windows. flags draped across doors. a warmth in the air that didn’t feel borrowed.

you stood at your gate, heart full and trembling, watching the road.

he’d come home today. you were sure of it. even if his last letter came months ago. even if the silence had stretched too long.

you told yourself the war had taken too much of him. that maybe he was still healing. maybe his hand couldn’t write, but his heart still remembered.

he promised.

you whispered it into your morning tea. you said it under your breath at the bakery. you folded his old letters and kept them tucked into your pocket like scripture.

he said he’d come back.he said he’d build the house with the crooked roof.he remembered every line of it. even the mugs in the window.

you told the girls at the shop that you'd marry him before the leaves turned gold. that he wanted a room for your books. a window for the cradle. that he swore he’d plant trees even if he didn’t know how.

you laughed like it wasn’t killing you to wait.

the streets were full now. people shouted names. ran into arms. wept into uniforms.

one by one, the men arrived.

you clutched your coat tighter around you. the ribbon in your hair was the same one he touched the day he left. you imagined his voice behind you,

“it suits you,” he’d say, all red ears and clumsy smiles.

and then—there he was.

a tall figure through the crowd. broad shoulders. reddish hair in the light. your breath caught.

rensuke—

but it wasn’t him.

he turned, and his face was wrong. and so was the next man. and the next. maybe he was just late, that’s all. maybe the train. maybe the march took longer. you were still waiting when someone tapped your shoulder.

a man you didn’t know. dirty boots. torn coat. eyes like a wound that hadn’t closed right.

“are you… were you waiting for kunigami rensuke?”

you blinked.

“yes,” you whispered. “he’s mine.”

the man paused. his mouth opened. closed.

“i was with him.”

your heart stilled.

“where is he?”

“is he alright?”

“is he still recovering? he hasn’t written in months—maybe he couldn’t—but he’s coming, right? he said he would—”

the man’s face crumpled.

“he didn’t make it.”

the world dropped out from under you.

you didn’t hear the cheers anymore. couldn’t feel the cobblestones under your feet. your fingers trembled as the stranger reached into his coat and handed you something small, softened by dirt, warped by blood, barely holding together at the seams.

it was your sketch. the house you drew.

the crooked roof, the mugs in the window. he kept it. all this time. even at the end.

and then it started to rain.

but your cries were louder.

you collapsed to your knees in the street, sketch clutched to your chest, sobs ripping through your ribs like they wanted to take everything with them. people turned. watched. but no one moved. because grief like that—loud and raw and holy—was something they didn’t dare interrupt. he had promised. a house. a life. forever. and now all you had was paper in your hands, soaked in blood and rain and everything he never got to say.

what do you call the girl who ironed her best dress for a wedding that never came? who memorized a last name she never got to take?

what do you call someone who waited like a wife, wept like a widow—

but never got to be either?

it had been five years since the war ended. most days, kunigami didn’t count anymore. time moved differently here, in the quiet stretch of coast where the sea touched the sky and nothing felt urgent.

he worked when his body allowed, slept lightly, and lived in the corners of a village too kind to ask questions. his right hand never fully healed. his ribs still ached when it rained. but he breathed. and some days, that felt like enough.

he never made it back with the others.

a month before the troops were set to return home, he and another soldier, takeshi, had been sent across the river for supply relay.

it was a calm mission, barely watched. and maybe that’s why he didn’t expect it. the shove came quick. silent. one second he was standing, the next, the river swallowed him whole.

when he woke, he was alone on the rocks, lungs burning, shoulder torn. the locals found him half-dead. patched him up with herbs and warm hands. he couldn’t walk for weeks. couldn’t write. couldn’t even speak. and by the time he could move again, the war had ended without him.

but he never forgot her. not even once. not even when his own name felt strange in his mouth. if she still waited. if she’d stopped hoping.

but he whispered her name like a prayer. and he swore to himself, quiet and steady, that one day, he’d find her. even if she had moved on. even if she didn’t recognize him. he’d find her.

because he had promised. and promises were the only thing he had left.

i hadn’t meant to come back.

i was just passing through, looking for a warm meal, maybe a bed that didn’t creak with every breath, when i saw the sign.

the same weathered wood, the same crooked lettering that had been nailed to the post when i was seventeen. the old bakery still stood, vines curling up its brick walls. the bench out front hadn’t moved. neither had the ache in my chest.

everything looked smaller now. quieter. but it was still home.

or at least… it used to be.

my feet moved before my mind caught up. i walked the same stone path we always used to take, passed the leaning fence where i used to wait for her, and the bakery window where she’d wave at me with flour on her cheek.

by the time i reached the road to the chapel, my hands were shaking. and then the bell rang.

for a moment, i forgot how to breathe. it was the same sound we’d heard years ago while walking home after closing up the shop. everyone stood outside the chapel, dressed in spring colors, smiling and waiting. someone was getting married.

and then—i saw her.

she walked slowly down the aisle, veil catching the light, a bouquet of soft blooms cradled in her hands. she moved like the air itself parted for her. like even time had paused, just to watch her, just to say goodbye to me one last time.

i watched from the shadows. just behind the hedges, far enough that no one would notice. far enough that i could fall apart in silence. my hands trembled.

god, she was beautiful. and then—it hit me. all at once, like a storm to the ribs.

every version of her i’d ever loved. her voice echoing in the bakery after we locked up.

her grin when i handed her bread too warm to hold. her eyes, tired but soft, as she leaned against me in the cold. her fingers trembling as she pressed a crumpled sketch to her chest like it was the only future she could hold onto.

i want to build this for you, i told her once. and i meant it. i still do.

even now, i can see it, the little crooked house. the window with two mugs. the porch swing. the nursery where i’d carve our child’s name into the sill with clumsy, shaking hands. the life we whispered about when the world was too loud to dream in daylight.

i still love her.

every breath of her.

every memory. every smile. every moment i never got to have.

but she was already walking forward. and she wasn’t walking toward me. her steps slowed at the altar. and that’s when i saw him.

takeshi.

no. no, that… that couldn’t be right. my breath caught in my throat, sharp and sudden like i'd been punched again.

takeshi?

i blinked hard, like maybe i was wrong. like my mind, still scattered from everything it had survived, was showing me ghosts. but it wasn’t a ghost.

it was him. standing at the altar. he looked like he belonged there. takeshi.

the same bastard who found me broken in the dirt and didn’t say a word to her. the same comrade who threw me off that boat. who left me behind when we were finally going home.

the one who looked me in the eye after riku died and said, you should’ve brought him home. who hit me like grief was a weapon, and i was the only one left to hurt.

and now—now he was the one holding her future.

he could’ve told her.

he knew.

he knew i was alive.

he saw me breathing, broken but breathing, and he still went home and told her nothing.

he let her mourn me. he let her believe i was gone.

and i, i couldn’t write. i couldn’t even hold a pen. my right hand wouldn’t close, my ribs cracked, my mind stuck somewhere between fever and memory. i screamed her name into pillows when the pain got too sharp. i carved her initials into wood when my fingers started working again. i held that sketch like a prayer.

and he, he took everything.

i looked back up. she was reaching for him.

her hands in his.

and she smiled, like she was finally safe. finally home.

i remember that smile, she used to give it to me. and in that moment, everything inside me shattered.

the house.

the mugs in the window.

the baby’s name on the sill.

the almonds in her coat pocket.

the porch swing we never sat on.

all of it, ours.

all of it, gone.

she gave it to someone else. and i hadn’t even known. then the bells rang again.

i stood there, frozen in place like something buried in frost. i blinked—just once—and in that single breath, i let myself see it differently.

her in white, walking to me.

her arms wrapping around my neck.

her lips meeting mine at the end of that aisle.

me in the suit.

me saying the vows.

me kissing her like i swore i would, like it was the only thing i’d lived for.

but it wasn’t real, because she was already his. she had already chosen, and i was five years too late. i turned before the music started. before she said i do. before i saw her kiss someone else like she meant it.

i walked away from the chapel. from her.

from the ghost of a boy who promised forever and the man who bled his way back, only to lose her in the end.

i’ll go somewhere far. somewhere no one says her name.

somewhere almonds don’t taste like goodbye.

somewhere i don’t look at windows and think, there should’ve been two mugs there.

because she was my home. and nothing in this world hurts more than watching your home smile for someone who knew exactly what she meant to me.

i don’t know where i’m going, but wherever i end up, some part of me is still there, standing outside that chapel, watching her walk toward someone else with the smile she once gave to me.

carrying every vow we whispered in the dark like they never happened, and maybe the world will forget my name, maybe no one will remember the promises or the porch or the almonds in her coat pocket.

if anyone ever asks, tell them i loved her—enough to crawl my way back through hell just to keep a promise she’s already forgotten. tell them i waited, even when my hands couldn’t hold a pen, even when the pain begged me to let go.

and tell them i’m still there, stuck in that moment she smiled for someone else, still wearing a heart that only knows her name, still the man who can’t be moved.

it had been sixty years.

the town had changed. storefronts repainted, streets renamed. the bakery they used to pass on the way home was long gone, replaced by a laundromat that smelled like bleach and rain. no one remembered the war anymore. not really. only rusted plaques and the occasional wilting flag remained.

y/n never had children.

people used to ask, back when she was newly married and still learning how to smile like she meant it. they’d say things like, “you’d be such a good mother,” and she’d nod, say “maybe one day,” and tuck the ache away like it didn’t already have a name.

but the truth was, she couldn’t bring herself to. not because she couldn’t, but because the life in her chest had already been lived once, in a dream she never got to keep. a crooked house, a porch swing, two chipped mugs. and him.

rensuke.

the boy who said “when the war ends, i’ll kiss you at the altar.”

the one who carried her sketch like scripture.

the one who left with every piece of her heart and never came back.

they said he died in the line. no body. no letters. just smoke and silence. she believed them. she had to. it was the only way to keep breathing.

she buried the sketch in a drawer, lit candles for him every year and whispered his name like prayer.

but grief doesn't listen to time. so even now, on a quiet walk far from town, with her knees aching and her scarf pulled tight against the wind, something still tugged her toward the trees. a forgotten path. a bend in the hill she hadn’t taken in years.

and there—she saw it.

a house.

not just any house. their house.

crooked chimney. a porch swing swaying gently in the wind. wildflowers spilling over the edge of the path. and in the kitchen window: two mugs. waiting.

her chest tightened like a fist. she stepped closer, afraid to blink. afraid it might vanish. but it didn’t. it stayed. it breathed.

the door was closed. the yard was swept. the silence wrapped around it like something sacred. there was no name carved into the frame. no sign. but she knew.

everything about it was exact.

just as she had drawn it. just as he had described.

the almond tree beside the porch. the little bench. the way the swing faced west, where he said he wanted to watch the sun set on a life they'd built.

her fingers brushed the windowsill.

“someone must’ve had the same dream,” she whispered.

but even she didn’t believe it.

because who else remembered where the mugs should go? who else would’ve left the chimney crooked on purpose? who else would’ve built this, down to the tiniest, most impossible detail?

her hands trembled as she reached into her coat pocket.

the locket was still there. its brass dulled. its clasp fragile, wrapped in the same red ribbon he had tied around it, decades ago.

she pressed it to her chest. then she pulled it away, slow, like it might shatter. his name was still inside.

with what little strength she had left, she stepped to the edge of the porch—

and let it go. the locket landed in the grass with a soft whisper.

because he never got to come home, and she never got to wait long enough. and yet, somehow, the dream still lived, not in memory, not in hope, but in wood. and love, even the kind left behind in the dirt of a battlefield, even the kind buried under sixty years of silence, still remembers what it was made for.

it still knows the shape of his hands.

still looks for him in places he never got to return to.

still hurts in the exact shape of the life we never got to live.

finally, after standing for a long time, she turned away before she could change her mind. unbeknownst to her, she never saw what lay just beyond the trees, where the shadows grew thick and the grass grew tall.

two names carved into the stone, one long faded by wind and time, the other still new, waiting.

y/n kunigami, beloved wife.

the other was newer, the engraving still crisp and clear,

kunigami rensuke, beloved husband.

જ⁀➴ © sevarchive ✦ masterlist ; like/reblogs are appreciated ꣑ৎ

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° sniper, sniper, sniper ♡ wifey, wifey, wifey

( bllk boys showing you off )

♡ a/n — i just love the tiktok trend so :) ( was going to attach a link to a tiktok showing what i was talking abt but it wouldn't work. just look up sniper sniper sniper wifey wifey marines and you'll see what i meant :) )

♡ content — all characters are 18+ !!, mentions of tiktok & instagram, slight cursing, tbh bad writing, nicknames like 'love' , 'wifey' , and 'my girl' used, probably ooc characters

♡ synopsis — blue lock boys showing off their girlfriend :)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' oh that's your wifey ? ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...tiktok maker

if there was anyone you would really and truly call chronically online, it would be him. every day he'd come to you with some new word he learned from tiktok, or a meme that would plague your house for weeks until it went away.

so when he pulled out his phone to show you a video, you weren't expecting it to be a couples trend.

" please, please, pleaseee, love? you'd look so cute in my arms like that ! " and he had just won a big game...how could you say no to him?

so here you were, being carried like a bride in your lovely boyfriend's arms. if it were anyone else, you'd be too worried about how long they could hold you, but since it was him you didn't worry.

it took a few tries, each of you messing up a part at least once and you accidentally dropping the phone a few times, but after you figured it out, the video was practically perfect.

they posted it to their public tiktok account with the caption

' not my wifey yet, but soon ;) '

and to say all the notifications were making his phone glitch would be an understatement.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ BACHIRA MEGURU, hiori yo, SHIDOU RYUSEI, chigiri hyoma, OTOYA EITA, isagi yoichi

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...instagram poster

maybe, just maybe it was wrong of him.

wrong of him to want to post these pictures the two of you had taken on your date to the aquarium?

if he were any other, normal, person this wouldn't have seemed like a big deal, but since he had at least a million followers and some were a bit more obsessed than others, it was.

you'd told him multiple times that you were okay with him posting you, really if he was happy, you were happy. maybe it was the egoist in him, but he wanted to keep you to himself.

fuck it.

if you wanted to be posted, he was going to post you. who cared what anyone else thought? their opinions didn't mean anything to him.

he selected a few of the pictures the two of you had taken at the aquarium, sneaking one of a lipstick stain on his neck in the middle of the slides.

if he was going to announce his relationship to the public, why not let the world know how utterly whipped he was for you?

the caption was a simple

' gotta love my girl ♡ '

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ YUKIMIYA KENYU, karasu tobito, REO MIKAGE, alexis ness, RANZE KURONA, gin gagamaru

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...national television?!

the ever illusive pro soccer player. that's what every press agency called your boyfriend.

his ability to somehow dodge any paparazzi and answer very short questions during press conferences made every view into his personal life shine like gold.

based on an instagram story ( that was taken down in less than 10 minutes ) where a picture of him with his arms around a woman in a bathroom mirror, the media could assume he was in a relationship. in that photo, however, the woman's face was not visible, so the questioned still remained...

what woman could capture this mans heart?

he hadn't cared, not really. a photo was nothing to him, but you were everything. he tried really hard to keep your identity private, he didn't want you to be absorbed into a world of cameras always in your face.

but after he made the game winning goal of a very important game...all he wanted to do was see you.

maybe it was the way he could see you in the section you'd always sat, or maybe it was his ego wanting to tell everyone "yeah i'm the best soccer player, and yeah i have the best girl, what about it?"

as all of the adoring fans rushed the field, including you, he just wanted to see you. he knew, realistically, he should just go back to the locker room and come meet you afterwards like he usually did, but not today.

he shrugged off ever reporter and fan that wanted to talk to him, which was nothing new, but instead of leaving to the locker room, they watched as he walked over to you

he knew all eyes were on him, the world still watching...but he couldn't find it in himself to care. he wrapped his arms around your waist

" made that goal for you, ya know? "

you were a little surprised at his appearance, but if he didn't care neither than you.

" i know. "

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, rensuke kunigami, RIN ITOSHI, shidou ryusei, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, sae itoshi

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' i think i like her . ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was a midnight brain dump so it's pretty bad, but i hope yall liked it :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[thevinsmokerlaw]

[ 12:56 AM ] — rin itoshi.

✩ ˛˚ . notes— because i headcanon that rin is a lightweight and when he's drunk he becomes a completely different person.

"hey, don't fall asleep here, it'd be a hassle to get you to bed"

rin takes note of your feather-light voice. he feels lightheaded and warm and giddy. his shoulders relax and heartbeat calms at the way your fingers lightly caress his cheek. he lets himself lean into your touch, towards your warmth that's almost beginning to lull him to sleep.

"mmh... 'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes" he slurs when your fingers brush his lips and rest there, you chuckle at the boyish grin he offers at the touch.

"you always say that rin, you shouldn't drink so much when you know you're a lightweight"

rin playfully bites your fingers at that, then kisses them, "don't call me that" he whines in a childish manner, puffing his flushed cheeks in a pout.

"that's your name, rin, what else am i supposed to call you?"

you suppress the laugh threatening to spill from your lips when rin attempts to send a glare your way. his bangs fall over his half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed lightly. it's amusing— the way he looks offended. a drunk rin pouting in all his glory, crimson blooming on his face and ears. it's a stark contrast to the perpetual scowl he has on his face.

his usual sharp gaze, now unguarded and soft is scanning every miniscule detail of you. he's confused and frowning and you want to run your fingers through his hair and ease those worry lines on his forehead.

and when you do, rin almost curls up in your lap like a cat.

he's big and heavy and drunk and he's completely forgotten all about that.

"don't call me by my name," he says. "tell me what you always call me"

you're sure you won't ever catch rin slipping like this again, and you don't waste a second to grab your phone and point it at him, "and what do i always call you?" you hate ( not really ) to tease him like this, but a flustered rin is a rare occurrence.

"call me your love" rin nuzzles closer to you, "tell me 'm your love".

there's an adorable desperation in the way his fists close on the fabric of your shirt, the way he holds you firmly close to him, and he's finally gazing up at you like a puppy waiting for a treat.

"rin, my love, let's please get to bed?"

you laugh at the way his eyes light up like a thousand suns. he parts his lips to speak, but not before leaving a chaste kiss on your lips "say it again"

"love, you're drunk, you really should just get to bed"

rin's smiling like a lovesick idiot, "then come with me" and you're smiling because it's all being recorded. he takes it as a yes, and when he's practically dragging you with him to your shared bedroom, rin's still smiling like an idiot and you're still laughing.

maybe you'll save this recording for when he's sober.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

[lumiambrose]

Sae Itoshi never strays from his morning routine.

From opening the window to his morning kombucha, it’s always the same. That is, until you came around.

Golden sunlight filters through the curtains as Sae shifts awake. His body clock wakes him up relatively early, so he’s not surprised to find you still fast asleep, nestled gently in his arms.

He takes in your slumbering form—the way your chest rises and falls softly, your hair messy, and your arm resting ever so lightly holding his own. You’re perfect, he thinks to himself. His beautiful lover, lost in the land of dreams, all for his eyes to take in.

Although he doesn’t allow himself to linger any longer. The grasp you once held on his arm slowly loosens as he wriggles out of your hold, gently to not disturb you.

It pains him to see you cling aimlessly to the air instead of him, but he has a busy day ahead of him and can’t afford to waste time.

That is, until he hears a faint whimper from across the room. To his dismay, he instantly recognises the sound. Putting his clothes down and turning around only to find your slumbering figure writhing slightly, letting out small sounds of discontent.

He curses himself inwardly. Putting you in such a painful situation makes his heart clench. Is he really that heartless? Not for you. He vowed to never make you sad, awake, or asleep.

“Mierda, amor,” he murmurs, slipping off the clothes he’d just put on before quietly sliding back into his spot beside you. Pulling your restless body into a warm embrace, one that assures him that he made the right decision.

“I’m sorry, angel. Didn’t know you’d be that restless without me.” He whispers, tracing soft patterns on your arm. “I’ll stay as long as you need me here.” He places a soft kiss on the back of your head, allowing himself to fall back into slumber for the first time he can remember.

All because of you.

©lumiambrose ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[adeepdeepslumber]

rin itoshi loves it when you reach out for a hug when he comes home.

when the door clicks open, and he trudges into the apartment tiredly, he seeks comfort in the warmth of your hugs. even if you just ran out from your room to greet him, the first thing you do is open your arms wide, inviting him to rest. he loves to be able to rest his head in the crook of your neck, while your arms take him in.

even if he pushes away, avoiding the warmth he knows he needs, you never push. when rin goes near you after, you always reach for a hug, no matter how harsh he may have pushed you away earlier. he knows he can always return to you, and he know he can rely on you sometimes. you are a big part in his life, one that stays by his side no matter how hard he tries to push everyone away. your hugs you give him are home. rin loves how you hug back tighter when he hugs you back, how you like to ruffle his hair and murmur questions for him. he loves your scent, and loves how his hands automatically rest on your lower back, while yours wrap around his neck.

your hugs bring rin a comfort he can't explain.

bachira meguru melts in your touch when you play with his hair.

the moment your gentle fingers make contact with his fluffy hair, he instantly leans into you. be it when you two are walking back home in the dark streets, or when he's laying on your lap dozing off. when your hands fiddle with his hair ever so slightly, shivers are instantly sent down bachira's spine. he's like an affectionate cat, closing his eyes and sighing when your hands ruffle his hair.

when he returned home, you gave him a hug that gave him a smile alone. not only that, your hands slowly traced to the back of his head, and bachira immediately relaxed in your touch.

"welcome back." you whispered.

"mmh. glad to be back!" bachira muttered into your cheek, hugging you tighter as you twirled his hair.

everything you do makes him love you more and more.

[confessionsandcreampies]

sae’s chaos queen

they were expecting… someone different. maybe a fashion model. maybe a quiet, classy type who only spoke in syllables and wore sunglasses indoors. but what walked into the blue lock training compound was wearing a hoodie that said ‘i licked it, so it’s mine’ and carried a pink frog plushie as a bag over her shoulder, like a little girl.

“hi sae!!” she said, running up to him, tripping, hitting her knee, yelling “i’m fine” before sticking a frog sticker on his sleeve and running off again.

rin froze. “sae. what is that?”

sae didn’t even look up from tying his shoes. “my girlfriend.”

everyone turned slowly. the tension was high. everyone was in disbelief. eyes moved back and forth, from sae’s ‘i’m serious’ expression to her humming ‘we are the champions’.

“you’re lying,” said reo.

“no.”

“she just tried to feed isagi a crayon,” said bachira, delighted.

“she told me my aura was ‘beige,’” isagi added, still offended.

“she gave me a bag of googly eyes and told me to ‘make art,’” said nagi, who had obediently googly-eyed the vending machine.

sae shrugged. “she’s harmless.”

at that exact moment, she climbed onto sae’s back, blew a raspberry into his neck, and whispered with a giggle, “guess who forgot to lock the bathroom door this morning so i could sneak iiiin.”

sae grabbed her thighs so she didn’t fall. “you’re never letting that go, huh.”

“neverrrrrrrrrr!!!” she sang, flailing her arms like a victorious wrestler on his shoulders.

chigiri stared. “i thought he hated loud girls.”

“she’s the only person he doesn’t glare at,” reo muttered. “that must be love.”

she jumped off sae’s back, twirled dramatically, and curtsied like they were in the middle of a royal court. “sae and i are soulmates. he’s the brooding anime protagonist, i’m the weird girl he secretly adores.” she winked.

sae hummed. “she’s not wrong.”

later, as they watched sae open her juice box without her asking, take her hand when she offered him a rock ‘for luck’, and carry her bag when she got distracted by a butterfly… the boys realized that this woman had cracked the code. she was pure chaos. she made no sense. she licked his jersey once ‘for superstitions’.

and yet itoshi sae looked at her like she hung the stars. and if she ever left him? they were pretty sure the entire world would freeze over.

i know sae isn’t at blue lock, i just thought it’d be funny to see the boys’ reactions to her 🤭

[suksatoru]

—sixth sense!

↪ rin has a specil sixth sense reserved just for you and your silly antics <3

pairing: itoshi rin x fem!reader

rin itoshi has a very special skill, one where he can predict when you're about to spew absolute nonsense. he says he has a sixth sense reserved just for your antics, and he also swears you're going to be the reason he has a full head of gray hair before he turns twenty.

"rinnie," you try again—pouting when rin exhales sharply from his nose, refusing to meet your gaze. rin sits on the ground at the end of his bed, and you sit perched on top of his blankets—hanging your head upside down to stare at him like the cheshire cat.

"no." he replies, short and curt as you drape yourself over his shoulder with a sigh. he shifts the slightest bit so you can comfortably curl your head against his form. you nose at his throat before speaking up again, quieter this time.

"pretty please? it's really all i want, rinnie. it would make my day—no, my life! please?"

rin thought you were the idiot in this relationship, but he knows he's the real lovesick fool. it wasn't impossible to say no, he says it to other people all the time. but your eyes are hopeful and round. and truthfully, the sight of your frown was truly his undoing.

rin lets out a dramatic sigh, loud and annoyed—and you know he accepts his defeat when he hands you his hair brush with a grumble. you roll off of the bed, sitting criss cross on the ground across him in an instant as you grab the nearby rubber bands laying on the floor with a dopey grin

"you just relax while i work rinnie! i promise, you won't even know i'm here!"

rin's deadpan expression only makes you laugh quietly, and you lean forward to place a gentle peck onto his lips. you hover over his mouth after pulling away an inch, taking a moment to admire his face before grinning

"grumpy," you muse as you gently brush your nose against his. rin mumbles something about you knowing nothing about personal space as he tugs you onto his lap

"if i'm bald by the end of this—"

"oooh rinnie your hair's so soft! i'm stealing your shampoo later," you interrupt with a giggle, pressing soft kisses onto the crown of his head as his shoulders slump. his broody expression is far too adorable to not kiss, and after peppering enough kisses onto his cheeks to leave them tinted pink—you get to work.

rin doesn't know why you want to style his hair. he regards your sparkly pink hair clips with an eye roll. but your fingers are gentle and soothing as they work to brush and style his hair, and he can feel the exhaustion slowly dispersing from his muscles as he leans into your touch.

"it feels...nice. thank you," he murmurs softly, gently rubbing your thigh as you hum in response. he moves to take a glance at you, and his heart skips a beat when he sees your tongue poked out in concentration as you work on tying his hair. cute.

it takes another fifteen minutes for you to finish your assault on his head. rin's practically putty beneath your fingers now, and there's a barely visible furrow between his brows when you pull your touch away from him.

"you look like a prince... you should totally let me style your hair more often, rinnie!" you gush, smiling softly as you admire your work on him.

"i'll be the judge of that," he mutters with a small smile, reaching onto his bed to grab your phone. he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling when he sees your wallpaper being his back and jersey number, but the smile is wiped off his face in an instant as he lets out a startled yelp—staring at his reflection in the camera app.

"yeah. not happening, you cheeky brat." he scoffs, pointing at his head with a scowl

"y/n, tell me where you got five hundred charms of hello kitty clips... what damned store did you rob? and why are there pink extensions in my hair? are they—is that fucking glitter in them?"

rin eventually fell victim to a photoshoot, though he shouldn't be surprised. did he really think he'd escape you that easily? he's not very amused by your new wallpaper of him afterwards, but he can't even try and stop the amusement glimmering in his emerald eyes.

"not a soul will see those pictures. or i swear, i'll stick you in a gold fish tank y/n." rin mutters later that night as you two lay in bed, pressing feather soft kisses onto your shoulder blades as he silently admires the way your lips jut out in an adorable pout. his threat isn't very scary when he holds you like you're the most precious thing in his life, but you nod anyway.

"okay," you sigh in defeat. rin's eyes narrow suspiciously as he wraps his arms around your waist, settling in for the night as he turns off his bedside lamp.

"night, y/n." he whispers gently, his lashes brushing against your cheek as he kisses you softly. your hand gently brushes his bangs away from his eyes, and his face softens at your giggles

"night, rinnie. tomorrow you can style my hair! and then, we can be twins..." you affirm quietly. it's dark in the room, the night outside blanketing you two. there's a sliver of moonlight pouring through the window, and it's the only reason you're able to see the gentle smile on rin's face before you fall asleep.

[xoxojisu]

PRINCESS CHARMING!

synopsis: chigiri hyoma might not be as hard to read as you think. (aka hes clingy af DO NOT BE FOOLED)

notes: THANK U FOR 2K!!

you had always been good at reading people.

it was one of your strengths. it came naturally. one person, however, that you had a lot of trouble reading, was chigiri hyoma.

he wasn't mean and emotionally constipated like itoshi rin, but he wasn't sunshiney and constantly happy like bachira meguru.

you thought that he was a pretty calm guy who was on the serious side and pretty straightforward, but sometimes he'd tell the funniest jokes or get extremely sarcastic, and it would throw off your perception of him. it was confusing.

he wasn't rude. he was very polite and well-mannered. sometimes, though, he'd get oddly stubborn and sassy. he'd go from being elegant and cordial to "hell no! this is my last gummy worm and you can't have it!"

you had thought that he was a sort of feminine guy. he had the prettiest, most well cared-for hair you had ever seen, clean cuticles, and flawless glass skin. he seemed delicate and didn't care much for roughing around with the team z boys.

but then, he'd get oddly masculine and ferocious whilst playing soccer. he would hit the gym all the time and got literal gym withdrawals if he didn't go enough for his liking. you couldn't really tell if he was more masculine or feminine, and that, too, was very perplexing.

he seemed very well-educated and intelligent. he spoke in full, eloquent, well-worded sentences, and had once briefly spoken of the honors and AP's he had taken in years past.

but he also put metal in the microwave once. and put both colors and whites in the washing machine at the same time. so, clearly, he wasn't necessarily the brightest.

he was so hard to pin down. like a walking contradiction.

he was generally quieter and kept to himself, so you had assumed that he was the independent type, but clearly, you were wrong about that, too.

-

"get off of me."

"mmm... no."

"hyoma."

"no."

"hyoma.."

he grumbled. "no!" his grip around your waist tightened, and he pulled you into his lap. "stay here with me," he mumbled.

you chuckled and gave in. "you're weird," you said.

he pressed a little kiss to your neck. "how so?"

"like, you're hard to pin down, i guess."

he chuckled. "what's that mean?"

"i dunno. i thought you'd be more.. independent."

"oi," he said, tightening his grip on you. "you calling me clingy?"

you glanced down at his arms still wrapped tightly around you. one was hooked around your waist, and the other was resting casually across your thigh like he’s making sure you don’t even think about moving. you glanced back up at him with a smirk.

“a little.”

he scoffed, nose wrinkling like he's just seen a cockroach crawl out of his conditioner. “i am not.”

“do you see yourself right now? or before, when you dragged me into your lap when i tried to leave the room?”

“because you were leaving.”

“i was going to the kitchen.”

“for what?”

“water?”

“you could’ve asked me to get it for you.”

you blink. “so you could stay glued to me?”

“exactly.”

you raise a brow. “you’re not proving your point, hyoma.”

he huffs and buries his face in your shoulder.

you run your fingers lazily through his soft hair, half to comfort him, half because you know he melts a little when you do it. “you literally whined when i tried to get up.”

he pulls back to look at you, expression calm but his eyes sparkling with mischief now. “i just expressed my disappointment calmly."

you laugh. “right. with a pout and a death grip.”

“it was very mature of me.”

“so mature.”

“thank you.”

you shake your head, smiling, and trace a slow circle on the back of his hand. “you’re weird,” you repeat, softer this time. “but, like… charming weird."

he looks at you oddly.

"like, you're not quite prince charming, but..” the idea strikes you, "oh! like princess charming!"

his expression flickers. just a tiny hint of pink touches his cheeks. you think he'll make a snarky retort about you calling him a princess.

"whatever," he mutters, “you like it.”

“maybe.”

“you like me.”

“maybe.”

he narrows his eyes playfully. “say it.”

you lean in, nose brushing his. “make me.”

he grins, smug and way too pleased with himself, and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “if i kiss you again, will you say it?”

“mmm. i dunno. i might need convincing.”

“good,” he whispers, “i’ve got time.”

and honestly, when he pulls you closer, soft and stubborn and completely full of contradiction, holding you like this, not letting go, you think to yourself:

maybe he's not so hard to read after all.

masterlist reblogs + comments super duper appreciated! <3

[emmyrosee]

“Do you ever wish you were taller?”

Immediately, under your touch, Sae tenses up from his perch with his head on your chest. You tuck your lips in to try and hide your snickers, and slowly, he raises his head, glaring at you. “Don’t start with me. Not right now.” Two big hands brace themselves on either side of you, what was once a relaxing environment suddenly turning playful, and it makes anticipation swirl in your belly.

“I’m just asking.” Your voice quivers from amusement, trying to hide it under a shroud of genuine curiosity. It’s not working. Sae scowls at you while you clear your throat, “I mean, Rin is so tall-“

“I’ll leave you. Swear to god.”

“And your buddy pal there shidou is also a freak of nature.”

“That’s not because of his height, that’s just how he is.”

“And then there’s you-“

“Do you have a point to this, other than to piss me off?” He grumbles. Itoshi Sae is pouting, true, genuine, pouting at you and your words, nose scrunched in annoyance and lip curled in a snarl. You reach your hand up to card his hair gently, fingers working out the strands and smoothing them. You can see him trying to fight his desire to lean into your touch, even when annoyed, your touch brings him back to a state of peace.

He grumbles as he angles his head into your palm. You won and he knows it.

“Aww, you know I love you.”

“Suddenly I’m not so sure,” he huffs. His brows lower, “do you wish I was taller?”

“No,” you say quickly, collected. Your hands shift to gently grab his biceps, squeezing them lovingly while you lift your head to kiss his nose. “I don’t. I think you’re perfect, handsome, talented, smart, pretty, beautiful, stunning, gorgeous-“

He chuckles. You stop.

He raises a brow, “go on. Keep going.”

You laugh as you pat your chest for him to lay back down on, which he does. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and scratch his scalp sweetly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. For some reason.”

You giggle and let silence fill the air once again, your eyes closing in peace and body melting under sae’s comfortable embrace.

……

“To clarify, is that a no, or?”

He leaps up and storms out of the room, leaving you to cackle while calling out his name in an attempt to coax him back in your arms.

[shidoglazer]

Degrading kink with rin, plss?? Tyy🫶🏻🫶🏻

Love your works btw!!

“god y’re such a whore for me, aren’t you?” that was the first time you’ve ever heard rin degrade you during sex, and it may have been embarrassing on how fast you came untouched after that if rin himself didn’t enjoy it. “..oh. so you really are a whore for me?” and it may have just been one of the few times you’ve heard rin genuinely chuckle.

ever since then, it was like a switch turned on for him, each time you’re nearing orgasms, he’ll always whisper in your ear in a condescending tone, “such a whore,” “you like it when i’m this rough? can’t believe this lil angels so filthy.” “yeah, getting off to me calling you these things? whattawhore.” and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t work, its shameful how fast you cum after he insults you.

but theres always one word that lets you cum the hardest. “my”.

“my whore.” “my dirty little girl.” “my slut.”

rin picks up on it eventually, noticing the way your body trembles and the way your moans get louder everytime he claims you as his. and before you know it, even when you’re not having sex, he’ll drop some nicknames like

“my angel.” “my baby,” “my darling”

and he knows exactly what it does to you.

[airybcby]

Call It What You Want To

(soft launching with the bllk boys)

a / n — i love soft launches and blue lock…so why not combine them?

content — fluff, cutesie stuff, bllk characters x fem! reader, pretty much gn! but i did use ‘she’ so just to be safe, + your faves if you want!!

synopsis — soft launches with the boyfies <3

✿.｡. “ nobody’s heard from me for months , ” .｡.✿

is NEVER on social media. has accounts of course, but never posts on them. usually the most they do is repost things about soccer on their stories. so when they post these pictures as their first post EVER? it’s inevitable that their fans are going to go insane.

they preferred posting these pictures, neither of your faces showing. you’d both decided to keep your relationship “private but not secret” , if someone were to find out it was you in these photos? so be it. they would never dream of hiding you from the world.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ RIN ITOSHI, barou shouei, sae itoshi, jinpachi ego

they don't have many posts, but the ones they do have no less than a million likes each. their fans are adoring, so when they post a new photo, thousands of people get the notification and within seconds the post has 200k likes.

their fans are insane, and that's putting it lightly. they find your account within a minute all by looking at your phone case and finding your account.

the both of you wake up the next morning and find yourselves not only trending on twitter, but also with thousands of edits made of the two of you. AND A SHIP NAME??

so much for a soft launch.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ YUKIMIYA KENYU(im biased), shido ryusei, MICHAEL KAISER, hyoma chigiri

a chronic poster. i mean literal photo dumps GALORE. they had many fans, obviously with them being a famous soccer player, but also because of how 'real' they were. they would constantly post stories in the bathroom and ranting- all that fun stuff.

their fans had no indication that they'd been in a relationship at all. which was strange because due to their openness, their fans began thinking they deserved to know every little thing about them.

they just wanted to keep you their little secret for a little bit, so they posted these very inconspicuous photos and had the internet up in a frenzy.

soccerluver44: WHO IS THIS??

urmomshouse: no way

and thousands of comments just like that flooded their inbox.

this was fun, they thought. maybe for a little while longer they'd keep you their little secret. the thought crossed their mind as they pressed the 'your story' button, posting a photo of them sitting on the sink with your arms wrapped around them.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ MEGURU BACHIRA, isagi yoichi, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku

not a constant poster, but definitely has a social media presence. they mostly post about their upcoming games and where to get tickets and watch. they definitely don't post about their personal life, so when people log on and see a soft launch??

the world goes into a state of shock. the comments are limited, so no one besides people they follow back (most of which who already knew of the relationship) are allowed to comment.

they did this on purpose. they saw no point in having strangers question them when the caption said it all

" spoiling my girl <3 "

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ REO MIKAGE, tabito karasu, jyubei aryu, DON LORENZO

✿.｡. “ i'm doing better than i ever was ” .｡.✿

took myself to the computer version to do this since there's a photo limit on the mobile version.

hope yall liked it though, i've never done anything like this before!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[yuquinzel]

— nobody’s business.

feat. itoshi sae. a little sensual. 700+ wc. self indulgent :> publicizing your relationship with japan’s star player.

itoshi sae is holding onto your hand, a little more firmly than ever before. teal eyes out ahead on the field in front of you both searching for something you can’t name. you follow his gaze— it’s on the bleachers first, then hastily eyeing every player on the pitch. it’s on the spectators one second, then it’s on the cameras panning and zooming in from every direction.

sae grimaces when one such camera directs at the two of you, pulling you behind and away from the prying eyes of the media eager to catch just a glimpse of japan’s prized player and his partner who he keeps oh so hidden from the world.

he’s never denied being in a relationship. never tried to refute dating allegations with a non-celebrity, never once fazed to address the blurred pictures of him making out with someone in his car, never tried to hide the bruises on his neck that catch the eye of every fan leaving nobody wondering what it really is. he knows what they’ll do once they really know who you are— the paparazzi wouldn’t fucking leave you alone, following you everywhere. magazines would be willing to kill to get just one word from you and twist it to their likings. sae’s discreet with his words though, never gives them something to work with.

it was not until you addressed it to him yourself. just another article surfacing all around social media. something that had left a bitter taste on your tongue. ‘ itoshi sae and his supposed girlfriend ! ’ — it’s a picture of sae with a model you don’t know the name of, attending an event you weren’t invited to. he looks clearly unimpressed. but it helps little when every single comment under the article is how of well the two look together.

how well itoshi sae looks with someone who’s not you.

“you’ve already denied the rumours, so then why...” you’d said, avoiding his gaze for reasons you can’t pinpoint. “they always make up shit to write when their lukewarm ass doesn’t have real shit to sell.” he’d answered, “don’t think much about it. they’ll forget about it soon.”

when you didn’t say anything back, sae had known what he was to do. he’d known what it was you were asking of him with your silence. and for you, he was more than willing.

he’s sure a few cameras would’ve captured him with you by now, your face clear and beautiful for everyone to see and engrave on their papers and headlines. they’ll adorn you with pretty words and pretty adjectives, and he’ll have to share you with the eyes of the world now. something about it leaves a bitter flavor on his tongue, so he kisses you instead to taste the sweetness of your lips.

“don’t take your eyes off me,” he rasps between the kisses, one hand coming to cradle your jaw while the other hooks around your waist. “look at only me.”

“only you.” you say and sae breathes you in. he leans down closer, lips moving against yours more desperately than ever. he’s pleased with your answer. phantom touches of his hands slithering under your shirt and tracing the skin of your abdomen.

you forget about the match about to start in a mere minutes, about the cameras still desperate to get one glimpse of this very scene, and if you do remember that his teammates would march out any second now— sae makes you forget about everyone else when he tugs on your bottom lip lightly, “afraid? ” he challenges you with a long, languid glide of his tongue, “of what? I’m the only thing on your mind. ”

later when the game ends with the final pass from sae leading to a goal, the camera pans to you sitting in the vip section and cheering for sae and his team. another pans to sae when he notices you on the screen. sae ignores the roars of the crowd, ignores his teammates gathering around him, screaming for their win. he looks at you, waiting intently. you know what he’s asking of you — did you watch? he shifts forward ever so slightly — was i good?

you’re smiling as you mouth a clear I’m so proud of you — and only then does sae feels like he’s won.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

why am I posting this it's a year old 🧘🏻‍♀️🧘🏻‍♀️

[chimielie]

“We’re gonna be late,” calls Reo from the living room, where he’s been waiting for the last twenty minutes.

“Sorry!” You shout back through the closed door. “Hold on, I’m almost done.”

You emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of hairspray and smoky perfume, your lips standing out against the rest of your face. It takes him a few more minutes to tear his eyes away to take in the rest of your ensemble while you pace the room, saying something about how you can’t find the pair of shoes you’d meant to wear tonight.

When he finally can focus on anything else, his eyes almost fall out of his head. You bend over, your back towards him, your skin exposed and glowing in the lamplight of your entryway, the fabric of your dress falling away from your body, exposing the sides of your breasts, your arched spine, the dimples of your lower back. Your skirt comes up and the backs of your knees are exposed, which should be absolutely nothing but is somehow obscene. You stand up and the backless dress falls back into place, covering your chest but settling around your hips.

“Reo?” He’s crossed the room without noticing. His hands are on your hips, his eyes roving over you relentlessly. “Reo? Are you listening to me?”

“Yes,” he lies, dipping his head to brush his mouth along the juncture of your neck and jaw. You push him back with a finger to his forehead and he whines.

“Have you seen my heels? I left them in the shoe closet, I thought, but now I can’t find them?”

“Have you checked the other shoe closet?” He suggests, sliding one of his hands into the back of your dress. “Or the downstairs spare closet? Ow!”

You’ve just swatted his hand away, prompting him to clutch the wounded limb to his chest with tears in his eyes. You hate him, you don’t love him anymore, you’re going to break up with him. You turn and head in the direction of the second shoe closet.

“I thought you said we were late,” you say as you walk; he trails behind you like a total stalker.

“I’ve never said that,” he says immediately. “My assistant probably completely got the time wrong and it doesn’t start for another hour. Or five.”

“At least I know you like it,” you sigh. He grins at you and swats your ass while you pause to look at one of the lower shelves. You turn to look at him and he sticks his tongue out at you. “Oh! There it is!”

You point to a shelf behind him, the highest one. A green-and-pink box is stacked precariously there.

“The maid must have moved it,” you muse. “Can you grab it, please?”

He folds his arms.

“Reo, please.”

“Gimme a kiss.”

“You’re gonna mess up my makeup,” you plead. “Please, honey? I’ll kiss you all you want once the photo ops are over.”

He waits.

You sidle up to him and press a quick kiss to his cheek. The print is dark against his tan skin. He stays silent and unmoving.

You sigh and take his face in your hands, pressing a soft, openmouthed kiss to his lips, smiling when you feel him melt immediately beneath you. His hands find their way back to your waist, his skin warm under your touch. You keep it sweet, but you suck his lower lip between your teeth and then release him with a pop.

“Love of my life, light of my days, will you please take down my shoes?” You say. He nods, looking dazed, your lipstick smeared all over his mouth, and reaches for the box.

“As you wish,” he says, and you wrap your arms around him, careful not to press your face into his black suit jacket but hovering close.

“Help me put them on?”

He drops to his knees so fast something cracks. You can’t help but laugh, the sound fork-tender and sweet in the middle.

[reverie-starlight]

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. it's implied that reader understands german, but no reason behind that is given, feel free to decide for yourself. FLUFF!! I love kaiser sm it's crazy and I love making him a softie even more, I don't care <3

based on prompt 12 from this list :)

the world outside is calm. the trees and grass are covered in a soft, untouched blanket of white. ponds are frozen over and icicles are hanging from the bottoms of bridges. dawn steadily approaches and a once dark landscape will soon be littered with gold.

inside of michael kaiser’s countryside property, however?

“liebling, please, I need to get up!” the blond pleads.

chaos.

he’s been trying to go on his morning run for what feels like hours at this point. trying and failing.

as soon as his alarm went off twenty minutes ago, you had woken up and whined about it being too early to do anything productive. he had shushed you and allowed himself five more minutes in bed, even going as far as to let you curl into his side.

clearly that was a mistake, because you still haven’t let go of him, even as he tries to maneuver himself into a sitting position.

“no,” you mumble into his side, arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

he groans and tries to pry your arms off. “hase, come on. I’ll be back before you know it!”

“no!” you repeat, this time with more bite behind it. “we’re on holiday, michael, you can go on your run later!”

you know asking him to skip one day would be for naught, so you attempt to compromise with him.

“or I could just get it out of the way now, and cuddle for the rest of the morning once I’m back!”

to no avail, of course. he's stubborn, but so are you.

“you’ll be all sweaty and gross!”

“that’s what we have a shower for, schatz.”

“but it’s not the sameeee,” you roll your eyes and drag out the word. “just stay with me and cuddle.”

he cards a hand through his hair and tries to keep any signs of amusement off of his face. kaiser isn’t annoyed with you in the slightest- in fact he's kind of relieved that you’re being clingy right now. it makes him feel wanted. desired.

loved.

he knows that he’ll get his run in today no matter what, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy messing with you.

even if it is six in the morning.

so when he feels your grip loosen just enough, he quickly stands and attempts to make his way into the bathroom to get ready. he assumes you'll follow him into the bathroom and talk his ear off to wear him down, or maybe even insist upon him carrying you as he gets his morning routine done.

what he doesn’t anticipate, however, is you jumping on his back and causing him to lose his balance.

“you can’t escape my cuddles, micha, but nice try,” you say once he’s steady again and holding onto your thighs to keep you from slipping.

“how do you even have the energy to do that this early?!” he gasps.

you nuzzle into his neck from behind. “I could ask you the same thing about your run, baby.”

he finally lets one little laugh slip out- he personally wouldn’t even count it as such, it’s more of an aggressive exhale, but of course you do.

and as always, you can sense his crumbling resolve. you know exactly where to hit him where he’s weak.

“c’mon, baby, sleep in with me a little longer,” you whisper, trailing kisses up his neck and towards his sensitive ears. “you don’t want to leave me freezing cold and all alone in our bed, do you?”

his left ear twitches slightly, but he doesn’t waiver and you smirk, letting go and falling back onto the semi-firm mattress (he insists upon semi-firm because it's better for lumbar support. he'd be damned if a bad back were to keep him away from soccer). “all right, I guess… if that’s what you want…”

you count for three beats in your head before you're grinning triumphantly and welcoming him back into your arms. apparently the guilt of leaving you in bed on holiday is too much for him to bear. "du bist unerträglich, weißt du das?" he mumbles into your chest.

you snicker and run your hands through his soft hair. "I know."

"and you're coming with me on my run later," he peeks up at you, daring you to deny him.

you sigh and stare up at the ceiling, allowing yourself to take in the last moments of peace before you have to get up for real. "yeah, I figured you'd say that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(rough) translation: you're unbearable, you know that?

hope you enjoyed!!

@emmyrosee this is why I asked for a random number lol