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nariism · 7 months ago

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wherever you are, wherever you may be — i. rin

soulmates (name au) + "i'm done waiting."

synopsis. itoshi rin meets you under a sky full of fireworks. he spends the next 6 years of his life trying to convince himself that he doesn't love you. you spend the next 6 years giving him every reason why he should.

wc. 12.4k (i need to close my eyes and sleep for a while)

notes. huge thank you to ellie (@hyomagiri) and mari (@saetoshi) for helping me with this 🥹 this fic actually put me through it and i'm so grateful to both of them for their support 💗

— for my beloved @ode2rin 💐 | event masterlist ✉️

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2024

Every year on the seventh day of the seventh month, Itoshi Rin finds himself standing at the daunting entrance to his local shrine.

The tradition is completely beneath him—something childish that he grumbles about under his breath despite letting you drag him all the way out here with soft eyes watching your smile.

Tanabata is the festival of stars. Of love.

It is a story his mother used to whisper to him as they watched the night sky in awe, pretending that the galaxy was collapsing in on itself to allow for a romantic midnight rendezvous between two lovers.

It’s something far too sappy for his liking.

But the food is okay, he supposes, and it’s a good opportunity to get out of the house and spend time with you which he seldom has time to do now that he’s back in his training season.

There were too many things about it that he loathed: the screaming children that would bump into his legs; the way his ears would stay ringing for days after the festival ended; how you could always convince him to come as if you were some sort of hypnotic devil in disguise, and how thoroughly wounded his pride would be at that fact.

However, his least favourite part of the festival by far is writing down his wish for the year on a scrap piece of paper and hanging it around a bamboo tree. One, because he can never for the life of him think of anything meaningful to wish for. And two, because he isn’t sure he even believes in that sort of thing.

Rin is struggling again this year, pencil lightly scratching his temple as he thinks.

He’s painfully aware that he’s never put so much thought into this before, but you seemed so excited to come all the way here before heading to the festivities that he couldn’t possibly let you down.

His wish dawns on him then, something he wants to do before the next time he makes the climb all the way back up here 365 days from now.

“Hey,” your voice calls out quietly. “What did you wish for?”

“What did you wish for?” Rin quickly refutes.

You cast your narrowed eyes from the side, tilting your little slip of yellow paper away from him.

“Only if I get to see yours first.”

Normally, he would give in to you right away. His resolve when it comes to you is embarrassingly weak. But there’s no way for him to explain himself. No way he could show you the words he’s written lest he hurt his ego.

He stubbornly folds up the piece of paper and shoves your face away. All you do is laugh and he feels terribly warm.

“No peeking,” he tells you when you kiss across his fingertips.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2018

A name appeared for Itoshi Rin when he turned thirteen years old.

He remembers the day well—it was hard to forget, anyway. As much as he wanted to focus on the burning of the name etching its way down his skin, he couldn’t. Not when he was blinking snow out of his lashes and watching his brother’s retreating back.

Rin likes to think that the universe fucks with him in any way that it can.

Maybe he had done something terrible in his past life and this was its karmic retribution, or maybe he was just unlucky.

What he does know is this: the name on his pinky only reminds him of all the things he ever lost.

Every syllable struck needles into his heart—a painful memory of crawling after the tracks of the wheels Sae left behind with his luggage until gravel and ice were stuck under his nails. Or worse, the clawing of his throat as they sat across from each other at dinner—the way he didn't even smile when Rin announced to his parents that his soulmate mark had appeared while his mother cried out in joy.

In fact, Sae didn’t talk to him for the rest of his visit. He remembers that hurt the most.

The name had haunted him for all the remaining years of his life—a forced memory that he wished he could forget. There came with it a feeling of loneliness that crushed him despite the proof on his pinky that there was another soul wandering the earth that would fix him.

He refused to believe it.

Only revenge would fix him. Only proving himself better would heal the cracks in his heart. Only beating Sae. Sae, Sae, Sae. His brother’s name had been repeated so many times that it was easy to ignore the other burning his skin.

In all those years he found it easy to cast aside his soulmate. To ignore it even if it hurt.

So he wonders why it’s so bad tonight.

He’s done everything he could think of: slathering cooling ointment down his finger to stop the searing, wrapping it in a cast to prevent himself from admiring it for too long, even tying a wish to a piece of bamboo hoping it would disappear.

A finger snaps in front of his face, drawing his attention to his teammates in front of him. Both look equally amused.

“You’re dreaming,” Isagi muses. “You’ve been spacing out all night. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rin mutters, swatting his teammate’s hand away from him. He had been staring again, longingly eyeing the way the letters danced down his skin. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“None of your business.”

“Yeesh, it’s not good to keep things bottled up, you know?”

“You’re annoying,” Rin glowers before it melts back into indifference. “I’m fine,” he reiterates.

Isagi seems unconvinced, as he usually is when Rin is being mysteriously vague about what’s on his mind. He and Bachira share a tentative glance before sighing and shaking their heads.

“Well… okay,” he finally yields. “We’re going to get some snacks before the fireworks start. If you’re going to sulk then at least stay put and do it here so we can find you again.”

“Yeah,” Rin grumbles, already making an escape plan. “Whatever. Will do.”

As soon as the boys are out of sight, he turns heel and hurries away. The crowd is driving him crazy and he needs somewhere quiet so he can stare at his hands until his eyes are dry.

He comes to a pond situated just outside of the festival grounds, deep water glimmering under the moon and the passing lanterns.

Plopping down on the bench, he hunches over onto his knees with his elbows and takes a deep breath. It instead comes shallow, as if someone has just punched him in the gut.

It’s then that he realizes he’s not alone.

Your yukata is muddy, fabric soaked and dripping at the sleeves though you don’t seem to care or even notice. You look frustrated for some reason, lip curled into a concentrated frown while you plunge your hands into the mud around the edge of the water.

Away from the crowds of people, he can hear the summer song of cicadas chirping all around. Your hands dip in and out of the water, quiet splashes filling the rest of the silence on top of the distant buzz of children laughing.

It’s just you and him. Something primal inside of him rages, pounding against his chest until it feels like he’s suffocating.

Run. Run. Run.

His legs jerk, urging him to stand up and leave, but he feels glued down to the bench—tethered where he sits and forced to watch you repeatedly sink your hands into the muddy waters.

No more than five minutes must pass as you both ignore each other, yet it feels like an eternity stretches by.

Finally, you pipe up.

“You’re scaring them,” you tell him plainly.

His head whips in your direction at your voice, soft and careful. His teal eyes narrow at you. “Huh?”

Your frown deepens, turning to look at him with your hands still submerged. “The frogs.”

“Come again?”

“Your vibes. It’s scaring the frogs away.”

His eye twitches.

“Ever consider that you’re just dogshit at catching them?”

“Excuse me?”

“And look at you, making a total mess of yourself. Don’t you care that you have to go home looking like that?” He presses, leering at you like an insect he’s about to crush under his heel. You simply stare at him, expression blank.

Huffing, you tear away from him and sink your hands beneath the mud. “No. I don’t.”

He watches in silence as you sift around for a moment before pulling your hands up, a smile slowly morphing into your face.

“I got one…” You breathe, looking more elated than he thinks you should. “I really caught one.”

“First time?” He quips sarcastically. A part of him wonders why he hasn’t gotten up and left you altogether yet.

“Cut me some slack,” you complain, eyeing him from the side again. You gently run a finger along the back of the frog, trying not to scare it away. “I haven’t done this in forever.”

“Clearly.”

You snort. “Yeah. Clearly.”

Rin looks at you quizzically, puzzled at your sudden change in demeanor. You seem… softer. Less agitated, at the very least. You’re gazing at the frog adoringly, as if it had somehow solved all of your problems and was dragging you into another world.

Any retort he had ready to shoot at you dies in his mouth. The anger rising in his chest extinguishes in the blink of an eye, and a deep hush settles over you as he watches in curiosity.

For a moment, the universe goes quiet. He’s gotten so used to having everything on his mind all at once that the silence is almost unnerving.

He once believed that his world would end with an injury that never healed quite right, or when he was too old for any team to want him.

He once believed that his world would end when he could no longer imagine the feel of a ball between his palms.

He once believed that his world would end the day he couldn’t play football anymore—that the only thing that would ever kill him was if the chance of standing alongside his brother died with him.

But he was wrong.

Itoshi Rin’s world ends with the bellow of a firework.

In a few years, he would think of this stretch of a few seconds fondly. He would squeeze you a little tighter with his chin resting on your shoulder, staring up at a colourful sky. He would think it was poetic, in a way, that you were the one who painted his world in the same hues of shimmering gold.

Rin remembers, though, that only one thought had crossed his mind.

I’m so screwed.

He can see every fine detail of your face, illuminated in all the colours of the rainbow. And he can’t help but think you are the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He can trace each intricate curve of your nose to your chin to the surprised parting of your lips; the way your lashes flutter as you blink rapidly, tensed from the sudden explosion.

The light fades faster than it appeared, yet it feels like a millennium has passed. The reverbing echo of the firework crackles across the sky, thundering in his ears so loud that he can feel it pounding in his chest.

(Or is that his heart? He can’t tell. He feels dizzy.)

Darkness envelops your bodies again, save for the dim glow of distant lanterns. Every part of you is seared into his memory, a floating image when he blinks.

The frog leaps from your hands back into the water, leaving nothing but ripples behind.

You stay there with your hands outstretched, looking lonely under the dark sky. Another one goes off above your heads, signalling the start of the display.

“There you are, Rin!” Bachira and Isagi come rushing over from the path, excited smiles and mirth bubbling in their laughs as they approach. “We thought you went home without us already!”

Rin slowly blinks out of his reverie. For a second, he glances in your direction again just to catch your eyes.

“I almost did,” he grumbles, forcing himself not to stare.

“Fireworks are starting!” Isagi yanks Rin to his feet and begins dragging him away before he can even protest.

Without turning around, he can feel the weight of your eyes in the back of his head. There’s an unfamiliar ache in his chest, and the name etched down his pinky burns infinitely hot.

Later at home, he stares at the spot where Sae used to sit back when he still came to Japan for anything other than to take a new passport photo.

“My soulmate’s name showed up,” he had mumbled that night to break the tense silence. It was strange that he still felt like he owed his brother that much—to make his visit as normal as possible despite having his heart carved open.

Sae only looked at him blankly, spoon halting just above his bowl. He was eerily still, quietly deciding how to react. Then,

“Good for you,” he said. And nothing more.

Rin squeezes his eyes shut and he feels warmth rolling down his cheeks. He quickly wipes the tears away, pretending as if they never existed.

He spends the rest of the night trying to forget your face.

(And the next year trying to recreate it in his dreams.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2019

Rin makes it another 275 days before he finally remembers every piece of the puzzle that is your existence.

He saw you in his sleep. The back of your head, anyway.

You were sitting in his favourite café, at the table he claimed for himself right by the window. You ordered a coffee but let it sit for so long that the ice melted. Then, you wiped up the condensation rolling down the frosty glass with your finger.

Rin watched you from afar, observing you the way he wished he did last summer.

Maybe then he could have dived deep into the recesses of his brain to remember why exactly you struck him so. But there he was, stuck watching the back of your head as you gazed out the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your fingers drummed mindlessly against the wooden table, reciting a rhythm just slightly louder than the pounding of his own heart.

“Can you leave me alone?” He finally called out, hoping it would stop your incessant beating.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“You’re annoying me,” he hissed. Annoying for disturbing his peace and quiet. Annoying for plaguing his dreams even after all these days.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Seriously,” he grunted, standing up from his seat so fast that the chair scraped horribly against the wooden floor. Still, you didn’t pay him any mind, instead more interested in the faceless people walking by. “Knock it off!”

Tap.

He bit the inside of his cheek in hesitation, the itch in the back of his mind ever present. “What’s your name?”

Silence.

You finally turned his way. Slowly. Agonizingly slow. And Rin was right—you were still so beautiful, 275 days later.

Grinning at him big and bright, you almost seemed to collapse in on yourself with joy. Like a star about to implode, or maybe more akin to a firework.

Either way, his breath was stolen from him.

You silently mouthed your name, making sure he saw every vowel and accentuated syllable. Warmth flooded him in every way—probably brought on by the racing of his heart.

It was impossible that his soulmate was someone like this. Someone whose smile looked like it could heal even the deepest wounds.

You grabbed his attention again with a big wave of the arms, and he watched in anticipation.

“You’re—”

Rin followed your mouth as you sounded out the words without a voice.

“—smiling!”

He reached up to run his fingers along his bottom lip. And you were right, he realized, as he traced it midway up his cheek.

(When did he start smiling?)

(Why?)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rin thinks about you just as much in the waking world as he does in his dreams.

It’s spring, though snow is still settled over the eaves of homes that he passes on the way to the grocery store. Apparently the winter cold is supposed to be especially long and bitter this year, permeating until mid-May.

He stares at his feet as they mark the virgin snow, decorating his sneakers white and making his feet cold.

Did you walk through the same snow this morning?

Then, when he’s going through the motion of smelling the bottom of pineapples at the store:

Do you like pineapple? What if you’re allergic?

(He shakes his head and puts them away. He suddenly isn’t craving it.)

His obsession with you has only intensified as the year has gone on. If you ever peered into his mind, he would receive a well-deserved slap across the face.

The soulmate mark engraved down his pinky has never bothered him so badly.

It’s like you’re constantly with him—a ghost haunting him, or perhaps more like a curse. Thinking about you takes up unnecessary space in his head. Space that should be dedicated to football, and football only.

He's about to go home so he can make a list outlining the ways he can forget about you.

(Ironic, he knows, but in all honesty he already exhausted all of his options from his first list.)

But then he comes to a stop outside of his favourite café. It looks the same, even has the same advertisements plastered in the window as the last time he was here.

He hesitates at the door, but when he walks in it smells the same. It's decorated the same. Not a single table is out of place.

He walks up to his regular spot, runs his fingers along the wood where he remembers you tapping in his dream.

There's no sign of your existence here.

Rin shakes his head in annoyance, cursing himself out in his head because he was stupid enough to think he would run into you here.

Then disappointment floods his body, like a dam had been released in his chest and it's flowing unstoppably to every piece of him.

(Wait, why is he disappointed? He really needs to take a nap.)

He runs his hand through his hair as a nervous reflex, simultaneously relieved and irritated that you're nowhere to be seen.

It takes him a minute to recollect himself, to realize that he probably looks like a crazy person just standing beside an empty table like a lost child who doesn't know where to go, and decides to just go home.

He pulls into the line to get a drink for his walk home when—

"Thanks!"

His heart drops.

You waltz out of the back, tying your apron around your waist as you exchange spots in the break room with one of your coworkers.

Rin is about to die, seriously. You must be new here, since he's been to this café more times than he can count and he's never seen you before. Or was it that he was specifically looking out for you this time?

Whatever the reason, he's dumbfounded.

“Hey,” your acknowledgment makes him freeze in his spot. “Frog guy?”

He looks at you stupidly, rubbing his eyes like a cartoon character as if he’s imagining you standing right in front of him.

His gaze drifts down to your name tag, fresh and newly printed with white marker. Signed at the end is a little flower, petals swirled into tiny hearts.

Your existence before him is undeniable.

"Um. Yeah," he sputters in disbelief.

"I..." You clear your throat, looking as bewildered as he feels. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

'You're my soulmate. Of course we'd run into each other,' he thinks to himself. Out loud, though:

"Yeah. Me neither."

The person behind him in line coughs quietly, impatiently tapping their foot. Rin takes the hint and quietly tells you what he wants. You lean in across the counter to hear him better, and his face grows warm.

Once you fill in the boxes on the cup, you place it down and move it to the side for someone to fill. It catches his eye immediately.

Itoshi Rin is scribbled neatly down the side of his cup.

“How did you...?”

You awkwardly shift in your spot, evidently embarrassed as you fiddle with the strings of your apron. Then, with your own hands.

“W-Well…”

His eyes dare to drop down to where your thumb is nervously slathering up and down the name on your pinky.

“Oh.”

"Sorry, I just figured—"

"It's fine," he interrupts. Your mouth snaps shut.

Tense silence stretches thin in the air, ready to shatter at any moment. But for some reason, he feels as though he's choking on nothing.

You fumble over the emptiness, quickly snatching up the cup to make his drink yourself after deciding it's too awkward to just stand there.

He watches you in a daze, half shaken and half in awe. Never in a million years would he have thought a dream would lead him back to you.

When you turn back around with a full cup, you look equally stunned.

“Itoshi—”

“Rin. It’s just Rin.”

You look at him in surprise, lashes fluttering rapidly as you let it sink in.

It's not your fault. You don't know that it's a sore spot that he just so happens to share the same last name with the person he despises most in the world.

It's not your fault that he has a quick temper and his voice raises slightly, enough to make you flinch back just a tiny bit.

And it's definitely not your fault that it stings so much—that he had expected you to speak to him as if you'd already known him for a lifetime and not as if you were just two strangers looking at each other from across a bar counter.

“O-Okay," you take a deep breath, cheeks puffed out and expression unreadable.

You slide the cup across the counter and he catches it in his hand.

He debates whether or not he should say more, like apologize for snapping at you. But then someone calls you by your name, and the way it rolls so beautifully off their tongue catches him off guard.

"Sorry. See you, Rin," you smile sweetly. Maybe a little awkwardly, a small step toward the one he dreamed about. And his heart is set in motion.

Rin decides that today won't be the day.

Another day, he'll be brave enough to crack a joke so dry that you try and scrub his name off your skin. And another day, he will ask for your number because, yeah, you might be the most alluring person he's ever met.

As he turns to take his leave after just staring at the spot you were standing in for a solid few seconds, he can hear some of the other baristas clamouring for you.

He doesn't want to look. Really, honestly, he doesn't.

But he does anyway.

It's just a quick glance over his shoulder—nothing more than a fleeting moment as he takes the chance to look at you one more time.

Those two seconds is all it takes for him to realize just how much trouble he's in.

You're laughing big and toothy, waving your hand in front of your face dismissively as your coworkers poke fun at how flustered you are. Then your hands are clasped over your stomach and you've doubled down a little in your awkward fit.

His heart has never beat so loud in his own ears.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Itoshi Rin used to smile just for the sake of smiling, once upon a time.

He had aunties who would pinch him by the cheek and fawn over him, cooing about how he looked just like his mother. How his face would cherub and the apples of his cheeks were bright red. Even when he grew out of his baby face, people would tell him how wonderful his smile was.

Sae rarely ever smiled, so it was something exclusive. He never felt like he was standing in his shadow. It was special—the kind of praise only one Itoshi would know.

Rin has forgotten how to smile like that.

He smiles to be polite to his family, if ever. Even then, it's not like he owes them that much. At some point, it became too much effort. And he had no reason to do it.

It was always a tiny thought bothering him in the back of his mind:

I'll never meet my soulmate if I'm always scowling like this.

He thought that was what he wanted, anyway. He wouldn't need to worry about running into his soulmate if no one ever looked his way. If everyone feared him enough not to spare him a second glance.

He doubts everything he ever thought as he sits on the edge of his bed staring at his desk.

It's lit up by a single lamp, shining down on his empty coffee cup like a spotlight opened up by the heavens themselves.

Your phone number is written just below his name.

Rin had almost tossed it into the trash without a second thought earlier in the day. He would have, if it weren't for the loose dog that blitzed by him and made him drop it.

Fate just loves to mess with him.

He picked it up and his thumb had stopped over the number. It was written so small, as if you had wanted him to miss it. Or perhaps you wanted to test destiny yourself—to see if the planets would align and he would discover your seven digits there for him to find.

And now he's home. He's been home, just looking. Contemplating. Stressing.

He migrates from the edge of the bed and settles into his desk chair. Then he gets up, moves back to the bed, and flops down. An endless cycle, back and forth, pushing and pulling.

Rin plops down onto his desk seat and sighs in frustration, ruffling his hair around before his forehead slams into the table.

Every part of his mind screams at him to stop. To toss the cup away and forget today ever happened. His head raises from his arms and he stares at the set of numbers illuminated on the paper, taunting him.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, sitting up straight and reaching for the cup to toss. His fingers delicately brush along your phone number.

“So dumb…” He huffs, eventually finding his phone instead and opening his contacts.

It’s nearly midnight. He tries to imagine your face as you wait by your phone for a message from him, that stupidly hopeful glimmer in your eyes, and he feels sick to his stomach as he sends it.

Rin: hey. it’s rin.

He throws his phone down on the desk again, screen down so he can’t cringe at himself. A few minutes pass in complete silence as he sulks.

He considers that you may have gone to bed already, or you were offended by the fact that he ignored your offer to connect all day and instantly blocked him. Maybe you thought he never saw your number at all.

Then his phone buzzes. His body moves on autopilot, snatching it up faster than he can realize what he’s doing. He’s halfway through the embarrassing thought that he just immediately read your message after you sent it as your text sinks in.

Unknown: hi! it’s great to hear from you ヾ(〃^∇^)ﾉ

Unknown: i was starting to think you were never gonna text lol

Rin: i wasn’t

He chews his lip for a moment before quickly following up:

Rin: but i changed my mind. just cause.

Unknown: hahaha got it got it. ‘just cause’ (˘◡˘)

Unknown: rin

Unknown: wait nvm

Unknown: whatever

Unknown: rin

Rin: what

Unknown: let’s get coffee ^ ^

He stares at the screen in disbelief, watching the typing bubble pop up and disappear again and again. He can imagine again what kind of smile you must have on your face right now, or maybe you look flustered, or maybe this all means nothing to you at all and this is your way of being polite.

Regardless of the reason, he eventually types out his response.

Rin: ok

Christ, he’s so tepid.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2020

He comes to memorize every part of you, like how the sun kisses the horizon and the moon knows the tides.

Intimately, almost—if he didn’t overthink the way your touch lingered on him he could easily ignore the way it made his heart pound in his ears.

Rin learns the feeling of your fingers against his skin as you compress an ice pack to his knee. He knows your laugh—can pick apart sarcasm from genuine cheer unlike most other people he encounters. He’s never been good at reading people yet for some reason you’ve become an open book for him.

It’s not fair that you’ve ensnared him this way, that he can’t seem to run from you (because his favourite coffee is from your café and he can’t be bothered to find a new place). That he finds himself instinctively reaching over to his phone when he can’t sleep (he has to make sure his alarms are on, might as well text you goodnight while he’s at it). And you’ve become annoyingly comfortable (he doesn’t have an excuse for this one—your lap is just conveniently a very nice place to rest his head).

He must be an open book, too.

At some point he probably stopped trying to hide his growing feelings for you, though you either didn’t notice his sudden shift or you didn’t care.

Vulnerability has never been a part of Rin, even before Itoshi Sae ruined his life.

He despises how you so easily pry him apart, skinning him alive with your hand lathering down his chest as you laugh.

Still, he’s grown accustomed to your fingers stringing through his hair, to the way your head tilts when he explains football plays to you, to the obvious way you fluster when he attempts (poorly) at flirting with you.

He’s gotten especially fond of the way you meet him at the end of his practices with such sweet, wandering hands—pushing the hair stuck to his forehead from sweat away from his eyes; using a towel to wipe up his neck; the squeeze you give his palms as you examine them to see if there are any new cuts and bruises.

Usually, he’s the epitome of confidence in his plays. Today, however, his cheeks burn as you approach him with the same honeyed smile.

“My shots were shoddy,” he admits before you can even get a word out. You only raise a brow, hands faltering in front of you. “That was lame.”

“I think you’re good.”

“Good,” he frowns. “But not great?”

“The greatest,” you quickly correct yourself, smiling at his cravings for praise. You’re armed with a fresh towel like you always are, reaching up to clean his face as if it’s the only thing you were born to do.

He relishes in your gentle touch, peering at you through his lashes while you prattle on about how amazing he was even though he missed half of his shots.

You were so blindly supportive, it sickens him.

Not because he felt you were being disingenuous, but because he’s not deserving of your praise.

For the first time in a long time, it feels as though his soul is disconnected from his body. He used to walk the earth this way—uninterested in his surroundings and obsessed with only one thing.

Itoshi Sae. Itoshi Sae. Itoshi Sae.

Suddenly, he’s thirteen again and gasping for air; screaming into his pillow and trashing their shared awards until his mother comes rushing in to stop him. He’s alone in a field, abandoned and crushed.

It’s not like he’d never lost before, even in front of you. Loss was just a part of football as much as he hated it.

But your praise only makes his stomach turn, because he knows you mean it.

You truly do believe he’s the best, when really he’s been futile in his attempts to catch up with the big brother he admired so much as a kid.

“Stop,” he gently interrupts.

Rin tries to use his hair to hide the wetness of his eyes, with little success. You can see right through him, unfortunately. It’s a talent he wishes you didn’t have.

“Rin?” You say softly, reaching up to brush the hair out of the way. He doesn’t try and back up or swat your hand away, instead letting you see his miserable expression. You sigh quietly, looking more exasperated than surprised.

“Sorry,” he mutters halfheartedly.

You shake your head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Shame boils in his stomach at your reassurance. There is something to apologize for. Here you are, supporting him with all your heart, and all he can think about is his stupid brother. How he’ll never catch up. How he’ll never be good enough.

Doesn’t your kindness warrant his attention at the very least?

“Come on,” you tug at his hand. “Let’s get you a pick-me-up.”

Rin abides silently, body following yours off the field and onto the streets though his mind has floated off elsewhere.

He tries to count how many steps you take in between the field and the destination, but loses count somewhere around three hundred. Then he moves on to counting the hairs on the back of your head. He loses count at one hundred. Eventually, he gives up and opts for staring at your conjoined hands while he lags behind.

When you come to a halt, he nearly bumps into your back.

The ringing in his ears stops as he blinks at his surroundings. Waves crash against the shore of the sandbank, singing the song of the ocean. It had been so long since Rin walked down this stretch of the shore, he almost forgot what the sea looked like.

“Wait here,” you urge as you hold him by the shoulders then disappear around the corner.

He collapses at the wall separating land from sea, swinging his legs under the railings to sit comfortably as he remembers doing when he was a kid. His gym bag is abandoned behind him, cleats and all.

When you return, you shove a popsicle into his hand.

He’s confused at first, just looking absently at the packaging. It must be for a concerning amount of time, because you eventually pipe up.

“Do you need me to open it for you?”

Rin glares at you and your teasing smile. Carefully, he unpackages the treat and pops it in his mouth.

Sweetness melts over his tongue and he exhales sharply through his nose. You watch him in amusement with your own treat stuck in your mouth.

Silence engulfs you, eating Rin from the inside out until he feels ill. He holds his half-eaten popsicle in front of him, watching it melt down his hand.

You stare at him for a second before nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“I was being serious. You were really good. I can’t even imagine playing like you do.”

Rin’s stomach turns. The last thing he wants is your pity.

“You don’t have to be so nice,” he mumbles, resting his chin on the railing. “42 percent.”

“42 percent?” You echo, peering over the railing to get a better look at his face.

“The percent of shots I made today.”

“Come on,” you urge gently. “Aren’t you being too hard on yourself?”

“If I’m not hard on myself, I’ll never—” he stops, choking lightly on his spit. When you don’t interrupt, he shoves the popsicle back in his mouth. “Whatever. You wouldn't get it.”

It’s quiet again, save for the crashing of waves upon rock. Rin thinks for a moment that maybe he had gone too far, or that his little meltdown had freaked you out.

But when he finally dares to look at you again, you’re smiling.

“Maybe not,” you admit with a whisper. “But I do know this…” You reach over and cup his cheek with your free hand, thumb sweeping the expanse of his cheek soothingly. “There is no one—and I mean no one—who works harder than you do.”

He swallows thickly, subconsciously nudging his face a little further into your palm.

“You deserve to be a little kinder to yourself.”

The way his heart catches in his throat is strange. He can’t describe it. The warmth in his belly is foreign, but it’s pleasant.

For the first time in the year he’s gotten to know you, the thought crosses his mind:

I think I’m in love with you.

Rin’s mouth opens with the idea, but he forces it shut just as fast.

Fear grips his lungs and squeezes, stealing his air and forcing him to pull away from your touch.

“Okay,” he breathes in resignation.

You seem stunned by his sudden retreat, smile faltering ever so slightly. But you recover quickly, hugging yourself as you slouch over the railing.

Conversation moves on just like that. He appreciated that about you, too. He never had to dwell.

It feels nice, everything about this; to have his legs dangling over the edge of the cement, feet barely ghosting over the surface of the water; to have a popsicle melting between his teeth while he listens to you talk.

For some reason, it feels as though he’s reclaiming lost time, reliving a moment he thought he would never have again.

When he checks his popsicle stick, it tells him he’s a winner for the first time since he was thirteen.

(He finally allows himself to believe it when your knee gently knocks into his.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2021

“Frog cotton candy?”

“Frog shaped cotton candy,” Rin corrects, peering around the giant fluff of candy to look at you quizzically.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “But why?”

He grumbles quietly, cheeks a soft shade of pink as he shoves the treat into your hands.

“I thought you’d like it. Nevermind,” he deadpans, turning around to toss it into the garbage.

Your laugh crescendos and he feels his heart squeeze with affection. When your hand stops him by the forearm, he thinks he might explode.

“It’s cute.”

You pick apart the floss ruthlessly with your fingers, and he watches almost in a trance—hypnotized by just your existence.

(When you finally pop the sugar into your mouth, he imagines it melting on his own tongue. The thought makes him unbearably warm and he forces it away.)

His fascination with you doesn't end there.

There's a certain charm to you that he can't understand—something that draws him in, tantalizing but terrifying at the same time.

He can't help the way he watches in a daze, the way you've ensnared all his attention and taken up the space in his mind.

Rin has never been good at being kind, but here he is.

Here he is, bringing you cotton candy because he thought it was stupid but cute.

Here he is, rolling up the sleeves of your yukata with a gentle scolding when you rush over to catch goldfish.

And here he is, letting you cling to his arm as if he's the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

He really, really hates it—how mushy you make his brain feel.

He's halfway through re-rolling your sleeves with a half-hearted scowl on his face when you stop him, hand pressed to his forearm.

“Listen, Rin.”

“Hm?” He leans down so that he can peer at your face hidden behind your almost nonexistent candy floss.

“I have to show you something.”

Rin stops dead in his tracks, raising a brow as he fully turns toward you. “What is it?”

“Can you close your eyes for me?”

His heart does a somersault in his chest. “You’re not doing anything weird, are you?”

“Who do you think I am?” You sputter.

He lets out a long sigh before complying, squeezing his eyes shut. After a long silence, he considers peeking a little bit.

That is, until he feels your breath gently fanning over his parted lips.

Nearly leaping back, he wills himself to stay grounded and slowly slides his hands up your arms until he gets to your shoulders. As he imagined, your body is impossibly close to his.

It takes every bit of concentration he has not to waver. If he really tries, he can focus on how your breath smells sweet of candy. How your hair blows softly with the summer breeze, tickling his cheeks. How you smell. How you breathe.

(Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His heart is about to beat out of his chest. Is that okay?)

You tense up in his hold and suddenly you’re retreating from him, swiftly pulling out of his arms. Just as he’s about to ask you what happened, there’s a piece of candy shoved into his mouth.

“You wanted to try it, didn’t you?” You ask rather breathlessly. He opens his eyes, looking at you curiously.

Rin has never seen this expression on you before, lips pulled tight in embarrassment and pupils blown. You look more like a wild animal caught in a cage than someone who just made a move on him.

He gingerly takes the empty paper cone from your hands and folds it up, no longer able to meet your gaze lest he explode on the spot.

“Yeah,” he says softly, shuffling over to dump it into a bin. “Thanks.”

When he turns around to look at you again, his breath gets caught in his throat.

Why are you laughing?

You giggle into your palm, hiding your gleeful smile from him as you double over slightly.

“Your face is all red!” You holler.

He grunts in embarrassment, using the back of his hand to hide his own face. “Shut the hell up,” he spits.

“It’s almost like you wanted me to kiss you!”

“Oh my god, please drop it.”

“No way! I’ve never seen you look like that before!”

(‘Speak for yourself,’ he thinks.)

“So what if I did?”

Your laughter halts as if it was swallowed into the pits of your stomach. Slowly unraveling to stand up straight, he sees another expression he’s never been able to imagine on you, but he can’t quite place it.

“Did what?” You murmur.

“Want you to kiss me.”

Your face is warm under the glow of lanterns, eyes shimmering with the overhead lights. Rin watches your mouth open and close repeatedly as you try and formulate some sort of response.

A firework explodes atop of you, and he wonders if it just saved you.

You seem jarred for only a moment more until you jolt, grabbing him roughly by the arm and giving him a pull.

“I just remembered,” you gasp. “I actually did have something to show you!”

Rin doesn’t get a word in before you’re dragging him along by the arm. With each boom of an explosion, your footsteps pick up, building into a full blown sprint out of the festival grounds and through the thicket.

You tug him along, guiding him by the hand through the winding path of trees and logs. His stamina is better than yours but you’re pushing up the hill despite your huffing and puffing—it makes him laugh with you.

When you break free of the forest, Rin’s eyes focus on a field of plush grass and buttercups.

You let go of his hand, flinging yourself forward and spinning on your heel to exaggerate how wide the opening is with your arms.

“Isn’t it great?” You shout over the fireworks. “Away from the crowd!”

He rushes up to you so that you can stop yelling, invading your personal space until you can hear him just at his normal volume.

“It’s perfect,” he tells you earnestly.

You grin up at him widely before pulling him along to the edge of the clearing. You plop down together, eyes glued to the sky as the fireworks rage on.

Rin only lasts a few seconds before his eyes drift to the side, trying to drink in your expression. It’s become a habit of his to try and imprint your very existence into his brain.

Against his better judgment, his hand creeps toward yours until your fingers are overlapped.

Thankfully, you don’t use the opportunity to tease him about it, instead shifting a little closer until you’re practically burrowed into his side. If it were anyone else, he would have shoved them away.

(When did he stop trying to push you away?)

When your pinkies slowly close together, he feels as if he can’t breathe properly.

Mark-to-mark, it’s as though he is full of all the love he’s ever felt for you from every life—past or future. Like there’s a love that exists within him that transcends lifetimes, if it were even possible.

If he were to peer into another dimension, would you still be together like this? Would you be plucking buttercups and mindlessly twirling them between your fingers? Would he be itching to envelop you in his arms just to devour you?

His thoughts cease when you take a deep breath.

“I used to come here alone,” you admit.

“No one took you?” He asks. Your gaze is piercing the night sky, never leaving the show. He can see the bloom of colours in them.

“Not since I was little, but I always loved it here.”

The question burns hot in Rin’s mind: even if it was a little lonely sometimes?

He remembers back to the night that he first saw you, with your hands dipping into the murky waters of a frog pond and an air of desolation surrounding you. Then he remembers how he couldn’t sleep that night. Not with the image of you crouching there alone burned into his memory.

“Did you know this festival is a celebration of love?” He suddenly asks.

Oh what the fuck? Oh, god. Why did he say that?

That was so lukewarm of him. So stupid. So pointless and lame.

He just wanted something to say to you, something that would make him stop thinking about how you might have been alone for all that time before you knew him.

The silence burns between you, tense and awkward until he starts stuttering out something else to fill the void. But then you look at him, slow and intrigued and so damn amused that he can feel heat rising to the tips of his ears.

“I had no idea.”

There’s a longing in your expression that tells a different story. A twitch of your pinky against his that gives away your blatant lie.

And, damnit. Here he is again, four years later under the same stars. Under the same fireworks. Only this time, he’s able to see your face even closer as it lights up a million different colours—teal like his eyes; rose like his cheeks; golden like the heart he’s tried so hard to protect.

Four years later and he still thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen: pinkies interlocked, sheepish smile on your face, an undeniable shake in your voice that means you have more that you’re too nervous to say.

For a moment he considers finally letting go of all the things keeping him bolted and chained where he stands, swallowing the key to the cage surrounding his fragile, thumping heart. And for that fleeting second, he feels as though he’s the bravest man alive—that nothing could stop him even if you were to turn away and snub him out with the heel of your foot.

But how could he open his mouth and tell you anything when all he feels is the sick twisting of his stomach, the daunting glare of the older brother he adored so much, and the coldness of snow soaking his clothes as he sits in a field and cries?

There’s a burning, raging fire within him. Something primal and afraid and unchanging despite how much he wants to fall into your arms the way your shared etchings say he should.

It screams at him: run away. Run. Run. Run. This will only end in hurt.

He’s too fucked up. Too messed in the head and too quick to anger because he’s actually soft at heart, easy to betray—

“Rin.”

Your hand swiftly captures his face and he’s dragged unceremoniously out of his reverie.

Of course you would be able to pick out his turmoil by expression alone. By the droop of his lips into a frown—not the annoyed one he would flash his teammates, or the grimace he would scare children away with. The kind that’s sad and slow and timid, like an animal caught in a net.

“I’m really happy that we’re friends.”

“Friends?” He breathes, half confused and half incredulous.

Deep down he knows that it’s an attempt to comfort him without being too sappy. Maybe you can sense it somewhere in your soul that he would probably break down and sob if you were to make him feel any more vulnerable than he already is with you. It’s an effort to take away whatever guilt he feels and give him a chance to relax.

However, he can see a different tale in your eyes.

Loneliness as empty as the sky on a cloudy night. A yearning for more, for someone, for him, to fill the gap. I’m tired of waiting. That’s all he can read beneath the sea of colour exploding in your irises.

It only makes him feel worse, but he allows himself to be lied to anyway if only to feel the warmth of your skin against his just a bit longer.

“Yeah.”

Your pinky twitches again. He can feel the brush of your name against his, the grate of your matching soul marks. Your eyes tear away from his and are glued to the infinite sky above once more. To the stars you know are there but are covered by smoke and fire.

Rin only stares at you. He can’t focus on the explosions of fireworks anymore, not when you’re right in front of him looking so perfect. His summer treasure.

“Yeah?”

He knows he sounds dumb, repeating everything like an oaf who can’t fathom what’s being said. You giggle and it floors him.

“Just being able to stand here with you—” you glance at him again, only for a second. He can see the exhaustion in that moment, but he’s too selfish to pry. “—I think I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“Even if…” He swallows harshly. It feels like shrapnel cutting down his throat. “Even if I can’t be more?”

“Even so.”

There’s a pause and you open your mouth to say more, maybe to give him an ultimatum or to elaborate on your feelings, but then you’re interrupted by the end of the display.

Counteless fireworks explode above you in the finale. Rin can hear the awestruck gasps of families down the hill, the distant cries of children and the faint shutter of cameras filling the air.

He realizes then: he’s been smiling. His cheeks hurt from how big it’s gotten. And you’re smiling at him, too.

(The fireworks rage on, but in the end, all he can look at is you.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2022

Falling in love with Itoshi Rin was one of the most foolish, most wonderful things that could have happened to you.

He was an enigma in and of itself, a mystery of a soulmate who was able to love you wholeheartedly and push you away at the same time.

There were nights where you would stay up wondering why he was your soulmate when it seemed like all he wanted to be was alone. Other times, you fell asleep smiling to yourself knowing that somewhere deep down you both belonged to each other.

The universe chose you. The universe chose him. It was indisputable, yet you still had doubts.

Tonight is one of those “foolish” nights. It seems as though you have been stood up.

For three hours you’ve waited in the same spot at the gates of the festival, watching families and couples pass by but never the one person you’d wait until the end of the world for. The sun has long since gone to sleep over the horizon and the streets are fully lit up with lanterns for the festivities.

6 pm. That was the time Rin promised he would meet you. In the past, he was always late but at least had the decency to tell you beforehand that you could go ahead without him. Only when you arrived and sat down to wait for him had he finally messaged you.

Rin: gonna be late. see you at 7.

7 pm. That was the rescheduled time. It was when you expected to see him walking up to you in his yukata that you begged him to wear this year, matching adoringly with yours. And at 7 pm you would tell him. You would tell him everything.

For months prior you had practiced almost pathetically so, recited and perfected your speech while staring at your reflection in a mirror. You’d written him a letter, too.

7 pm. You were finally going to thank Rin for everything. For accompanying you to such a silly festival even though you know he loathes it. For meeting you under the stars and the moon and the fireworks time and time again. For bringing life back into a childhood memory that you had long since hated.

7 pm. You were going to tell him thank you. You were going to tell him you loved him, just as it had been written in the stars many years before you were born.

It’s 9 pm, nearing 10 and the start of the fireworks show. He missed the entire night without explanation.

At 9:58 pm, just as you’re about to give up all hope, you finally come face to face with teal eyes and a stupidly handsome face sheen with sweat. It shouldn’t hurt so much, the way he looks at you so dismissively as if he hadn’t blown you off all night.

“Sorry,” he mutters disingenuously, attempting to brush past you without a second thought. “Let’s go, I’m thirsty.”

He has his gym bag slung over his shoulder and a windbreaker over his uniform. No sign of the yukata you had picked out for him to wear.

You don’t follow him, staring at his back in disbelief. When he realizes you aren’t trailing behind, he turns on his heel and raises a brow in question. “Are you coming?”

“I was waiting for you all night,” you tell him coldly. I was waiting for you all this time and you never showed up.

He swallows thickly, suddenly overcome by guilt because of your downcast expression. “I know. I lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time?” You scoff incredulously. Your mouth opens as if you have more to say, but you’re interrupted by a bang.

Rin’s eyes flutter closed. He can’t listen to this. He can’t watch.

He knows this all too well. He knew it all along.

The universe was wrong. Itoshi Rin was never cut out to be someone’s soulmate.

“We’re missing it…”

Your back is turned to him but all he can imagine is the terrible expression you must be making right now, twisted in sadness and anger. The worse image is a completely blank face—unfeeling and cold. He doesn’t even want to think about it.

Booms echo in the distance yet all he can focus on is the faint hum in his ears, the horrible churning in his stomach and the fog of guilt clouding his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that he’s sure you can’t even hear him under the deep, bellowing explosions over the horizon.

He doesn’t remember the last time he apologized for anything like this. Being cold and aloof was just in his nature. Never before had he felt like it was necessary to be remorseful for the way he is—for how he was made to be.

The slight tremble of your shoulders and the way you use the back of your sleeves to wipe tears from your eyes force the words out of him before he can stop it. He tells you again,

“I’m sorry.”

He weakly attempts to grab you by the arms, holding you from behind so he can make you look at him. You jerk away fast as lightning, knocking him away as you swivel around to glare.

“Why didn’t you come?” You demand. There’s anger shaking in your voice. Rin doesn’t know how to respond to it, not when you’ve always been so understanding and kind. Perhaps he was too cruel for you if he was going to break you this way.

“I got caught up with—”

“With football, right?” You laugh bitterly, taking a generous step back. Hurt pours from every inch of your expression and all it does is make his heart ache.

“Stop,” he suddenly snaps. You flinch at his tone and shrink back, only adding to his guilt. He always had the worst temper. “Don’t be like this. You know it was important,” he explains, gentler this time. Softer, trying to coax you back over.

There’s a beat of complete silence, save for the hollowed explosions in the distance. Rin blinks at you a couple times before his frayed nerves finally calm again. And then he realizes something terrible.

The look in your eyes, the deflation of your shoulders—this is what utter defeat looks like. For a moment deja vu rushes through his blood, bringing him back to a time when he too felt as miserable as you.

Every year he’s had the opportunity to read your expression: I’m tired of waiting. But he always foolishly assumed you would still wait around for him forever. That your patience would be as infinite as the stars in the sky. That just because he had the privilege of having his name scrawled down your pinky, he would be guaranteed to have you.

It was disgustingly selfish.

Just as he opens his mouth to apologize again, you storm up to him and shove the piece of paper roughly into his chest. With the closed gap, he can clearly see the tears streaming down your face illuminated by warm lanterns.

“Just forget it.”

“Wait—” He catches your wrist as you push past him, stopping you in your tracks again despite your struggle to get away. “Come on, I said I’m sorry!”

“Rin,” you sniffle, voice breaking with just the syllable of his name. It makes him falter. “I’m tired.”

“But—”

“You can’t even spare me one night? Just this one night in the entire year?” You breathe, no longer trying to dance around the subject. “What is it with you? What are you so afraid of?”

Being put in the spotlight never bothered Rin before. It was easy enough to ignore when all his life he was watched carefully. But it’s different with you; you’re the only one looking at him in this moment yet it feels like the weight of a million pairs of eyes at once.

An answer comes quickly to his mind, almost natural. He knows exactly what’s wrong with him.

He’s afraid of being left behind again. Of being hurt. Rin is terrified of love and being loved because he’s too pathetically fragile.

The pieces of his heart are clumsily glued together and he’s scared that even the smallest turbulence would send it shattering into a billion shards again. He doesn’t know how to put himself back together properly anymore.

Itoshi Sae permanently fucked him up.

Though they were on slightly better terms now, the scars would always haunt him. The simple solution is to shut everyone else out, to protect the weak heart he harbours.

If he told you that, would you understand? Or would you try and claw his name off your skin?

You take his silence as an answer and pry away from him again, holding yourself protectively—guarding yourself from the catastrophe that follows Rin wherever he goes.

“Goodbye, Rin.”

He doesn’t watch you go.

The nearest bench becomes his temporary home. He could do hundreds of plays in a football game and never tire, but for some reason your disdain has sucked every ounce of energy from his body.

It doesn’t register that he’s still holding the paper you forced into his hands until it crinkles in his hold. He slowly unfolds it revealing ink sloppily smeared across the page.

And then he reads it. Again. And again. And again, until it’s shaking in his hold. Until the dull ache in his heart feels like the pierce of a knife.

Rin doesn’t know what to do anymore. He’s always had one clear goal for his entire life, but now everything is all muddled. Messy, like everything else he touches.

He turns everything into a disaster.

Does he chase after you and risk having his fragile heart broken all over again? Does he risk being left behind or does he close off the gate for that option entirely? He could sit in his cowardice and never change, preserving his heart forever in this moment of time; a polaroid in the slideshow of his mortality.

There’s a familiarity to this all. Perhaps he had lived through this decision a million lives before this. Maybe he would live through it again an infinite amount of times, so long as it was your name etched into his skin.

Was he as messed up in this life as he was in every other?

If he had ruined everything in this life, if he made the wrong choice and drove you away in hatred until you drew your last breath, then maybe he could make it all up to you in the next one.

Or, if that were the case, maybe he was born into this world only to love you—to make up for the millenia where he ran away.

Rin’s legs have never moved so fast. Not in football. Not even from his brother. If you were the light at the end of the tunnel then he would keep chasing you forever, he thinks. Until his wounded heart gave out.

Of all the stupid decisions he’s made in his life, have any of them amounted to anything? He’s going to give it one last try. One more chance to prove to himself that not everything he touches burns to ashes.

“Wait!”

You visibly startle, eyes wide as you turn to see Rin dashing toward you. He doesn’t give you even a moment to ask questions, to wonder why he’s coming back to break your heart again.

You’re engulfed in a hug faster than you can blink, stumbling back from the force of his body colliding with yours until your sandals get kicked off your feet.

“Rin?” You murmur his name in disbelief, breathless even though you weren’t the one sprinting down the road.

“Just give me one more chance,” he stammers out. You can feel the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders as he holds you and fights for air simultaneously. Your hands twitch at your sides but you remain lifeless in his arms.

He tries again: “Let me prove it to you. Let me prove that it wasn’t some freak accident that led me to you. That my name on your skin is meant to be there.”

“Don’t do this,” you tell him quietly, lips brushing against his ear as you speak. “I don’t want to be loved and feared at the same time.”

“But…” Rin squeezes your body against his, almost desperately. Clinging to what he has ruined. “For once in my life, I want something more.”

I don’t want to be alone anymore.

You hesitantly shift, hands slowly trailing up his back until your body is curling against his. He can trace the outline of your body against his, like a puzzle piece that he was missing slotted perfectly in his grasp.

“I thought my soulmate would only slow me down and break me. I was wrong. I know that now.”

He slowly rocks your bodies back and forth. You pull away until your eyes meet his, red with tears. It’s the messiest he has ever seen you, but his heart refuses to be still. It aches.

Beautiful. It’s the only word he can describe you with. It didn’t matter if you were lit up under the wondrous sky, or handing him coffee in a crowded café, or sobbing in his arms.

You would only ever be his infinitely beautiful soulmate.

It’s the only constant he would have in this life and every other, even if you were to break his heart. It would be the single greatest achievement in his time, above football, above any of his petty competitions—that your name is etched down his pinky.

It scares him. It thrills him.

With the distant roar of fireworks, he kisses you. And you allow him, hiccuping against his lips as you cry.

You stay like that for a long time, listening to the hollow shockwaves of fireworks exploding miles away. He’s the first to draw back, raking in shallow breaths. You chase him, finding solace against his lips once more but not fully indulging him with another kiss.

“Do you fear me?” You whisper into his mouth.

“More than anything,” he tells you.

“Do you love me?”

After a moment of contemplation, he answers,

“More than anything.”

You nod slowly, awkwardly pulling away from him and taking a step back. It’s your first kiss and you don’t know where you’re supposed to look anymore. Rin stops your nervous shifting with his hand swooping under your chin.

“One year. I promise.” You look at him in confusion, so he continues. “Next year, when the season and my contract are over, I’ll meet you there. At the pond.”

You seem skeptical still, with your brows knitted together and a lost haze in your eyes. He raises his pinky, the one with your name forever grafted into the skin, and offers it to you.

“I pinky promise.”

It’s so ridiculous, wearing his heart on his sleeve with something he learned about on playgrounds when he was a child. A pinky promise shouldn’t mean any more than the words he has already spoken. But for some reason, your eyes light up.

He feels nothing but relief when your pinkies lock together.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“You’ll wait for me?”

“Rin.” His name leaves you in a breathless laugh that makes his world spin. It sounds so tired yet so sweet. “I’ve been waiting all my life.”

“I’m sorry,” he says once more for good measure. You nod. A wordless acceptance.

Itoshi Rin is your soulmate. It’s not like that fact will ever change no matter the time, no matter the distance.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2023

Fate is a funny thing. Soulmates are a funny thing.

The universe threw Rin curveball after curveball, beating him down until he was nothing but a husk heavenly built for one purpose only: beat Sae. Beat Itoshi Sae.

There were times when he would lay awake at night wondering why he was given this life, why he was thrust into hardship and hurt and betrayal. How could something so perfect, something so all-knowing, be so cruel?

For as long as the name had been grafted into his skin, he resented the idea of a soulmate.

He hated the idea that only one person in the world would be his eternal weakness. That one day, one person would hold every piece of his soul in their hands. Even then, his soulmate was the other half of him—his salvation. His downfall.

They would know every inch of his skin. Every bleeding wound of his heart. Every bruise and scar along his legs from cleats and nails and gravel. Having a soulmate meant having every part of him exposed, to be judged and worshiped at the same time.

At your hands, though, he’s certain this is what he was born for—to spend the rest of his days by your side even if you were doing something as mundane as catching frogs together.

“You’re scaring them,” you hiss quietly.

Your fingers sink into the pond and Rin watches your reflections ripple as water fills your palms. Your faces contort and meld into one being. In some ways, it’s a familiar feeling—to have been intertwined with you since his very conception.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“It’s your fault!”

“Right,” he deadpans. “You haven’t caught a single one all night.”

“You were late,” you remind him with a huff, cheeks inflated. “Before you got here I was catching frogs all night. Coincidence?”

Rin makes another noise, something akin to a snort. But he doesn’t acknowledge your statement, instead reaching over to gingerly roll the sleeves of your yukata up to your elbows.

“Are you always so sloppy? Your sleeves are getting all wet.”

You glare at him from the side, delivering a deadly warning. “Are you always such a pain in the ass?”

“I get it, I get it. I said I was sorry for being late. Nii-chan really wanted to try that new ice cream place downtown.”

Your gaze drifts to him in the shimmering reflection, watching his smile soften at the mention of his big brother. It was wonderful that they were trying to patch things up.

Sae had decided to come home after all, promising Rin that they would play together again once they both took a well deserved break.

You could tell that Rin was trying his best not to make a big deal out of it, but the way he cried into your shoulder later that night said it all.

“I feel bad having you come all the way out here just to see me. Your brother is back in Japan isn’t he?”

“Yeah. And he wants to meet you.”

You nearly fall over. “What?”

“Please don’t look so starstruck about that. I feel sick.”

Laughing, you recentre yourself, sitting back on your heels with your hands on your knees. “Sorry, sorry! It’s not that…”

Rin raises a brow. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just—” you fumble, cheeks burning hot at the idea of being introduced to Rin’s family after all these years. Formally, as his partner. His soulmate. The name they had all known since he was thirteen. “What would I even say to him?”

He looks at you in bewilderment. Then, he snickers, only laughing harder when you smack his arm.

“Don’t worry about that,” he assures, reaching out to pat the top of your head. “Just be yourself. My family will love you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, studying your reflections in the water with a soft smile. You’re staring right back at yourself, but Rin is only looking at you.

“I haven’t done anything special.”

“You lit up my world,” you laugh, turning back up to look at him properly. You make a mini explosion with your hands. “Boom! Like that. A firework.”

“You’re too corny,” he murmurs in embarrassment, turning his head away to hide his flushed face. “Can’t you explain it like a normal person?”

“No can do,” you tell him, voice gentler this time. After a pause, you shuffle your sandals around in the mud and take a deep breath. “If you want me to be totally serious…”

You lunge over and tackle him into your arms. He nearly loses his balance holding the both of you upright, stumbling back on his heels before he catches your waist. You don’t seem to share the sentiment of staying pristine, knees digging into the dirt as you squeeze him tighter.

Rin feels his heart catch in his throat the same way you’ve made it for the last six years.

“Thank you. For letting me love you. For being my soulmate.”

His hand is automatically in your hair, scratching your scalp as he smiles into your shoulder.

“I’m sure I gave you nothing but a hard time,” he grumbles.

“But I still love you.”

“Even though you had to wait?”

“Even so.”

“And that I’m a pain in the ass?”

“Even then, I do.”

Rin burrows himself into your neck, hiding his face again. It does a poor job at masking the kind of expression he’s making, though, considering how warm his skin is.

“What if I’m not good enough?”

He feels terrible—guilty that he needs to keep having this conversation with you. But you always comfort him the same way. He hopes you always will.

Drawing his head up with your muddy hands, you dirty his cheeks just to get a glimpse of him. You murmur a half-hearted sorry for making a mess.

Then you’re kissing him.

“I’ll be here to remind you how much I cherish you.”

You nip his bottom lip and he opens wider. You whisper into his mouth,

“And how happy I am that Itoshi Rin was born into this world.”

Itoshi Rin, broken. He who thought that he could never be put back together.

Itoshi Rin, vengeful. He who believed the only happiness that existed for him in this world was to surpass his brother.

Itoshi Rin, who did not believe in his soulmate while staring right at them. And Itoshi Rin, who finally allowed himself to love you wholly, completely, as it was written in the stars.

“I love you,” he says, as if just those three words could encapsulate everything he feels for you.

“Always?” You giggle. He rolls his eyes.

“Wherever you are, and wherever you may be, I will.”

You kiss him one more time for good measure.

“That was corny.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

2024

“No peeking.”

Rin folds up his piece of paper and hangs it from the bamboo tree. You’re tugging him along before he can even properly check to see if it’s been secured.

“Come on, I don’t want to miss the fireworks!”

He wouldn’t miss them for the world. You’ve always looked the most beautiful under the brightened summer sky.

The wish he scribbled down blows softly in the breeze as both of you rush by, back to the festival where it all began.

7 July 2024. I wish I had the words to tell you how much I love you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

extra notes. hi! if you made it this far, i'd like to give you the warmest most grateful thank you ever ( ´ ω `)

so, here it is. i've been working on this since last september-ish... for some people that amount of time is not much, but genuinely, i've never devoted so much attention and time to one single fic and i hope i did this one justice. rin has always been a guilty pleasure of mine to write for. i hope this man stays far far away from me until i can stomach even looking at his name again LOL ‾́ ◡ ‾́

also i finally admitted defeat and took out all my pictures and dividers because tumblr was fighting my posts that had any. so... sorry the formatting looks like this

additional tags: @jenoutof10 @hanrinz @itoshiexx lol hi guys it made it out of the drafts i hope you like it

#— whispers in the wind: 1k event ✉️#blue lock x reader #blue lock #blue lock fic #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk fic #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin fluff #rin itoshi fluff

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flowafairy · 1 month ago

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TONIGHT, GO CRAZY !

★ postscript. what i imagine the bllk men to be like at a christmas party. ★ feat. kaiser, rin, reo, nagi, sae, barou, bachira, shidou, isagi, otoya, karasu, aiku ★ contents. crack mostly, not really x reader LMAO

note. hello. i just wanna start this off by saying i am so so sorry for how late and rushed this is 😵‍💫. i scrapped my other multi cause the idea was sorta dumb and i didn’t know how to write it but.. merry ( late ) christmas and happy new year! hope you enjoy this silly little late gift <3

★ KAISER : WHO INVITED THE GRINCH BRUH..

absolutely does not want to be here, was forced to come because it was his birthday.. not that he actually cares about that. he probably got the most gifts, sent everyone like $1 as a return gift with a proud smirk—“money for the peasants, i guess.” his ass ate all of the cookies and would smack anyone who dared touch him.. ptsd ig 💙

★ RIN : PARTY LONER

not very fond of christmas after his brother dropped the bomb on him that he does not give 2 fucks about him. probably that one loner in the party who stays in the room upstairs. secretly wore a pendant that sae gave him on the last birthday they celebrated together, the picture being rin holding up sae’s trophy with a fond look on his face. christmas makes his heart ache with both nostalgia and sorrow.

★ REO : RICH AUNT

the rich aunt uncle, this motherfucker gifted every single person at the party something well over $1000, and the worst part is he knew exactly what to give everyone too. would brush it off with a “oh, its nothing. just spare change.” .. rich ass. screams in joy when someone gifts him something back, could be a $2 teddy bear and suddenly you’re opening your phone to ‘reo mikage has sent you $3000’.

★ NAGI : LONER #2

also forced to show up like kaiser. parties were never nagi’s thing, he’d much rather stay at home and play video games all day. it took a little bit of convincing ( and a lot of whining ) but he agreed to come if he could bring his phone. does not participate in anything, just lounges in the corner with the occasional damn it when he loses.

★ SAE : THE FUCKS A RETURN GIFT?

he came, with no gifts at all. according to him he expected everyone to be giving him gifts and not expecting anything in return.. i mean, his parents never asked him for a present back so could you blame him? yeah.. you kinda could. i could see him trying to make everything about soccer, imagine this: you’re unboxing your present and you get something like a new pan, and suddenly this bitch speaks up like. “shame its not a soccer ball.. this is why you suck.” someone tape his mouth now.

★ BAROU : PARTY HOST

helped hosting the party, cleaned the house spotless! he also probably cooked 70% of the food, thats what growing with sisters gets you :b. doubled as a security guard of sorts outside the house. except he didn’t ask for identification, he’d yell at you to take your dang shoes off before you walk in. spill anything on the floor? he is coming for you and your entire bloodline.. just kidding!

★ BACHIRA : “SANTA’S REAL..”

unironically believes santa is real, please help this man. to this date he still puts cookies and milk on the table. his mother used to eat them and keep a couple of presents under the tree, thinking he’ll eventually realise santa isn’t real.. which he didn’t. so when the presents suddenly stopped coming and no one ate the cookies, he thought he was on the naughty list forever and sobbed about it for 20 minutes.. poor guy. his heart shattered when isagi held his hand and told him santa isn’t real—he was only trying to help, he swears!

★ SHIDOU : “BRO YOU WEREN’T INVITED???”

shidou is the complete contrast from bachira. does not believe santa is real and crashes the party ( he was not invited. ) yells at children that santa isn’t real and started a tomato war at the party when someone threw a tomato at him and yelled booo! … thankfully, he was later kicked out.

★ ISAGI : SANTA.. NOT REALLY!

epitome of santa, the opposite of kaiser. made hand-made gifts for everyone.. well, almost everyone. ( did not bring one for kaiser <3 ) he had a mini concert at the party, singing his heart out until someone kaiser burst out laughing and started mocking his singing.. things got a little heated from there! lets just say the title of santa was taken away from isagi the moment his ass opened his mouth 💔

★ OTOYA : “WHERE THE HOES AT”

came for the hoes cause he was told there would be a bunch of hotties at the party, which there wasn’t.. but thats okay, he swings both ways! assaulted chigiri with his ninja moves until he got bored, probably pulled up a 10 slide presentation on why he should introduce him to his sister and that he’s got ‘the experience’.. yeah, he got slapped in the face.

★ KARASU : HO ACT LIKE HE A JUDGE..

everybody hates him. constantly judging literally everything.. “these cookies ‘r mediocre at best..” “i could gift ya somethin’ better cutie.” “damn, these decorations lame as hell.” you get the point. starts pouting like a man-child when isagi tells him to shut the hell up, he knows he deserves it but he just can’t help the lil itch in his brain to judge everything okay! ( he just like me fr.. red flag moment 💔 )

★ AIKU : HOES BEFORE BROS

cool unc of the party, drinks are on him alright. i can imagine him grabbing a random sharpie he found on a desk and suddenly giving out tattoo’s for a dollar, broke ass. works pretty efficiently until he’s being labelled a scammer when the tattoo turns out to look like dog shit.. cut him some slack, he’s no artist! leaves the party early when one of his hoes text him to come over.. ima slap the shit out of him n eita 💕

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etherealrin · 1 month ago

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♡⸝⸝ definitely not a high school boy in love!

highschool!rin has something to tell you…

warnings: none // wc: 1.3k

note: not really proofread and kinda crack, bit of ooc rin, au w no blue lock and sae doesn't go to spain, reader is a girl

you can’t seem to find your best friend of twelve years, itoshi rin, for the life of you. some may question how a bubbly and outgoing person such as you came about to being so close with the likes of him—who was cold, rude, and generally terrifying.

you guess it was just because you had known each other for so long, since you were childhood friends. so why was it that rin seemed to be dodging you lately?

“i can’t believe this guy…” you mutter under your breath as class ends. he was skipping your one shared class, chemistry, too? the audacity is crazy.

“hey y/n, is rin sick or something?” isagi asks you, walking towards your desk as the bell rings, signaling the end of another day.

“i don’t know, he’s never done anything like this before,” you sigh. you think back to when you first met the itoshi brothers. you had taken a liking to the younger one almost immediately (albeit you were scared of sae). isagi’s brow is furrowed. “well, if you do manage to find him, tell him we need him at his best for nationals on friday,” he says, exiting the classroom.

nationals? it was so unlike itoshi rin to be missing soccer practices. you begin to wonder if he had been kidnapped, murdered, run over, or worse. you decide that there was only one way to solve the mystery. you had to break into the itoshi household.

okay, so maybe it wasn’t really breaking into the his home if you had knocked on the door and been let in by sae, but at least you could catch rin off guard.

“could you please not tell your brother that i’m here?” you beg sae. sae looks at you, humored. he cocks a brow, fighting a laugh, as if there was some inside joke you weren’t aware of.

“sure?” he offers, snickering. “i mean he’s been locked inside his room the whole day anyway, doubt he’s aware of anything happening right now.”

the itoshi rin confining himself in his room? so he was alive and well, yet why the hell was he not at school? it doesn't ease your nerves that sae was behaving strangely either. disregarding that, you try your best to tiptoe up the stairs, as to not alert rin’s sharp senses. sae snorts at this but remains silent.

as you traverse through the itoshi’s hallway, you pass by bronze framed photos from the past. you and rin, age six, playing with bubbles while sae sat perched on a slide slightly above you in the playground. rin as a newborn (adorable and peacefully asleep). sae and rin holding up a gleaming golden trophy together, their elementary school soccer team flanking each side with an awe-struck look on their faces. you pause in front of rin’s door. not a sound nor a soul could be heard from the other side, as far as you could tell.

except—was that the scratch of a pencil and the crumpling of a paper? just what witchcraft was rin doing in there?

you unceremoniously creak rin’s bedroom door open, just a crack. it’s enough for you to notice the piles and piles of rejected scraps of notebook paper littering the space, each in his slightly messy scrawl, which was indecipherable at the moment given most had been crossed out. papers lined his floor, bed, and even surrounded the desk he was currently hunched over, where he was squinting at yet another piece of paper. you’d never seen rin or his room in such a state before. what evil spirit had possesed him? rin was never one to take his homework this seriously, so it must be something else entirely, you conclude.

rin glowers at his door, not bothering to look up from his work. “sae i said i don’t need your lukewarm little writing advice!” he groaned.

“didn’t know i was your brother now,” you joked, inviting yourself into his quarters. it had been a few months since you’d been inside his room, but it appeared the same. it was still decorated with a heap of medals for rin’s soccer endeavors, the occasional school assignment, the white sheets of his bed made pristinely, and soccer cleats lying in a corner by his backpack. surprisingly, a grainy polaroid you two had taken together at a friend’s party (which he had only attended because you begged him) was plastered to his wall as well. the only major change were the discarded piles of crumpled paper.

“i- wh- y/n?” rin stutters; clearly, you were the last person he expected or wanted to see in his house at the moment. “get out, please,” he huffs, sounding embarrased. “i can’t believe sae let you in, i had extremely specific instructions!”

“you instructed sae to not let me into your house?” you ask, bewilderment in your tone. “and you’re avoiding me at school? why? i haven’t done anythi-"

you're suddenly unable to form words as you finally read the contents of one extremely wrinkled paper. it was…a letter?

dear y/n,

i know i act like i hate everyone and call them all “tepid npcs,” and while that might be true, i don’t think you’re one…

the rest was angrily scratched out. another letter read:

y/n,

you make me feel really weird. like i want to throw up around you, but somehow i like it. i want to be near you at all times.

i really like y-

the remainder of the note appeared to be torn off. a loud sigh brings your attention back to rin, who currently refuses to look at you.

“rin, what’s the meaning of this?” you’re practically begging for an explanation.

“are you illiterate?” rin grumbles. “do i really need to spell it out for you? i thought you were smart!”

“hey! it’s not my fault that what i’m reading doesn’t exactly match your character,” you shoot back. but you can’t control the blush that’s managed to creep onto your cheeks, or how your heart was pounding inside your ribcage right now.

“y/n, you actually drive me crazy. do you know how nervous you make me? not even an ounce of awareness of how distracting you are to me? hell, i can’t stop staring at you in class! i woke up today and i couldn’t take it anymore, seeing you would be too much and i..." he sighs for the umpteenth time. “i had to tell you how i felt, so i guess this is it,” he admits quietly after his outburst. “take it how you want.”

“rin.” you start. he won’t meet your eyes, slightly pouting and evidently bracing himself for the worst. “itoshi rin, look at me,” you plead. pained azure eyes meet yours. “i’ve liked you since we were four.”

“huh? why didn’t you ever tell me? i went through all this pain for what!” he seethes, evidently distraught.

“because i didn’t think you’d ever like me back! you reject all the girls every valentines day, and at one point i wasn't sure if you even liked girls!”

the dark haired boy stares at you, eyes boring into your soul.

“oh i’ll prove to you that i do like girls,” he declares as he stands up, pulling you to him by the waist.

you two are too close now, you can hear his slightly erratic breathing and your own. you're suddenly hyperware of the boundary he was crossing, the invisible line drawn between friend and something more. his spidery lashes flutter shut as he closes the distance between your lips, and you feel your own close as well.

the kiss is long and full of everything. all of the unsaid words, the tension between years, you felt it all in that one moment with itoshi rin. you savor every detail, vowing to commit each inch of his mouth to memory.

when rin finally pulls away from you, you’re both breathless and grateful for the air.

“itoshi rin, never ever pull a stunt like this again,” you start, wagging a finger at him. “i seriously thought you had died or something!”

“i’ll make it up to you pretty,” rin whispers, never taking his eyes off you. “can i take you out?”

you’re aware of the stupid, lovesick grin stuck to your face at the moment as you nod. “yeah.”

somewhere on the first floor, itoshi sae chuckles, having heard it all—his high school brother’s confession to his first and only love.

#rinsgfREAL #im sorry dis lowkey ass #rin x reader #blue lock fluff #rin fluff #itoshi rin #rin blue lock #rin x you #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock x you #blue lock rin #blue lock x reader #blue lock

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xoxoaugust · 4 days ago

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I Dont Know If I'll See You Again

In which: Sae Itoshi knew what he wanted from the beginning. He wanted to be a professional soccer player, and to play alongside those who weren't a waste of time (well according to him). Unbeknownst to Sae, a little birdie told him that you, a childhood friend of his, would be in Spain for the next three years. He didn't think he'd ever see you again, especially not after your, not so peaceful falling-out. But who knows what might happen when he comes face to face with you again? (2.0k wc)

an: This is 4 years after the start of the first selection, so Sae is around 22 years old. In this timeline, Sae and Rin have made up (because I said so) and he has returned to Spain to continue playing. I put this with the U-20 team because the only other person I know of that was on the Spainish team is Luna, sooooooo idk idk. Reader is fem, and is a university student in film studies. Enjoyyyy!(might make multiple parts)

His POV

January 1st, 2022

The New Year, god he hated the New Year. What is so special about a new year? It's just another 365 days to spend, what is so different that you must celebrate so loudly. Sae was just a little bit grumpy that all he could hear was loud music, drunkenly cheers, and laughter all night long.

Sae was meticulous about his night routine, he would work out, shower, brush his teeth, wash his face, set his hair, put on his sleep mask and then pass out. Unfortunately for his teammates, he couldn't sleep properly that night, so now everyone must suffer. Luckily, practices were called off for the week, for new years, and weather reasons.

'no practice' is not a thing to Sae, even if they were called off, he would still be at that field. So there he was 6:00 AM on January 1st, practicing alone. He didn't mind being alone, he was more than used to it. But sometimes, even just for a split second, he forgets that there was a time where he wasn't truly lonely. That split second eats at his mind like that plague, he hated how vulnerable it made him feel, so he would act like it never happen.

January 5th, 2022

When he wasn't at the field practicing or at home watching clips, he would be found at the little family cafe down a couple blocks from his penthouse. He would go there after an early morning jog, and order the same thing. An unsweetened iced matcha with a yogurt fruit bowl, he liked it because it didn't fill him up too much before a practice.

That morning at practice in locker rooms, he overheard something...interesting. He couldn't give a crap about anything Aiku had to say, but this was the only time he was truly listening.

"A close friend of mine is coming back for some time, she hasn't told me how long she's going to stay, but she's studying here."

Out of curiosity, Sendou asks,

"What's her name? Is she hot?"

"Why is that the first thing you think of? She's pretty but thats so weird to say. Her name is [y/n]."

"Well my bad! Its not like i'm going to try, I'm going to date a hot actress."

The groans let out in that room echoed from wall to wall, but Sae on the other hand broke character. Sae is know for his neutral, cold demeanor, but hearing your name clashed against the chink in his armor, and was enough for the walls to come crashing down.

November 27th, 2017

His POV

God, what a drag. Why was Rin so damn persistent on that dream, it wasn't even realistic.

Sae had just won the goal against Rin, and sealed the deal of scrapping that old dream. He had to say, he didn't enjoy saying this to his brother, but if no one was going to be honest with him, who was?

He knew his brother would be at that field, but he didn't know that you would be there.

He turned to look at you, standing there with a shocked expression and teary eyes. He couldn't stand it, why were you looking at him like that? Like he was evil, or something.

You walked closer to the brothers. Sae thought you would walk to him and say something. Maybe a 'Welcome back!' or something that matched your usually cheerful personality. But no, you walked right over to Rin, and helped him up off the ground.

Rin saw you like an older sister, you basically were. You always made sure he took care of himself, even before Sae left. He had immense respect for you, he considered you his best friend.

Rin stared down at you with a heartbreaking expression, tears flowed down his face as he avoided making eye contact with you for too long, he thought it might spare some of his dignity.

Your POV

At first you were shocked, how could Sae do this? Easy answer, this wasn't your Sae.

Your Sae would rather die than ever hurt his little brother, he would never intentionally hurt him. Your Sae would give his younger brother the last popsicle, he would bandage his wounds, he would play with him, protect him from anything or anyone that even tried to harm his precious brother. They were like peas in a pod.

You would know, you and Sae had practically raised Rin. You would pack him and Sae food to eat after playing because they would always forget, and they would always get hangry. They would stop by your house right next door and take you to their games, to get popsicles. You saw how kind Sae truly was, Rin brought out the best in him.

But now, he's changed.

Now you felt anger, unadulterated rage.

You didn't hesitate. Not even a little bit.

You shot a glare at him before marching up to him.

You slapped the everliving shit out of him.

You left a red mark on his face, the hands he used to hold had now hurt him.

The two of you never dated, but you acted like a couple. Just two kids holding hands on the park benches eating snacks, stolen glances and warm cheeks.

Sae was your first love, and you were his first love.

No, scratch that. You taught him love.

He stood there, like a kicked puppy holding his cheek. No expression, just a frown tattooed on his pretty face, the same on he walked in with.

You never yelled at him, until today.

"Sae Itoshi, I don't know what happened to you in Spain, and honestly I don't care right now, but you cannot treat Rin this way!

I don't know who you think you are, maybe that 'Japan's Treasure' title finally got to you, but the audacity is appalling!

You come back after FOUR WHOLE YEARS, you didn't contact Rin or I for three years out of the four.

and the first FUCKING thing you say is say is this lame, no PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A HELLO?

no, you don't get to treat either of us this way, some treasure you are."

That got his attention.

"What did you want me to do? Let him live on with some childish dream? He won't get anywhere dreaming like a toddler. I was busy building my career, not that you would know anything about that."

If you weren't angry before, you were SCATHING now.

You took a breath in, and out.

You wanted to scream, but you knew it would be a lost cause.

"When did you get so cruel?"

...

Thats where the memory ended before Aiku's loud voice snapped him out of his daze. His mind clouded by the vision of her teary eyes.

It couldn't be you right? There could always be another person with the same name, there's no way you could ever be friends with Oliver Aiku.

*incoming call from [name]*

Oliver picked up his phone and answered your call.

"Hey what's up?"

"I'm at the airport right now, can you drop me to my apartment building?"

"I am nothing but a servant to you huh?"

"So dramatic, i'll just take an uber you lazy ass"

Oliver laughs before saying

"No i'm done with practice i'm on my way"

Now he was sure, it was you. He would never forget that voice. The voice that he would wait to hear every night over the phone when he first went to Spain. The voice that brought him comfort when he was homesick. And the same voice that flooded him with guilt for the last 5 years.

a week later ----------------------------------------------------------------

He jogs to his little cafe down the street, same time as usual. He walks in, slightly sweaty.

As he approached the counter, he froze.

"Can I have one sweetened iced matcha and one avocado toast? Thanks!" You smiled as you swiped the card and clicked the 20% tip option before turning around to find a nice table.

When you turned around, you made eye contact with Sae.

It was as if time stood still, or rather time spun backwards.

You hated this, you hated how you turned into that lovesick little girl in his presence, even after five whole years.

You broke eye contact. You weren’t going to let him ruin your breakfast or ruin your stay in Spain. You walked past him to the nice table next to the window.

He walked up to the register and order his usual. He tends to forget that he grew to love matcha because of you, yet another reminder of you.

He grabs his food and sits at the table right next to you.

“You just can’t leave me alone, can you?” You said sharply.

“You’re sitting at the table I usually sit at; this was the next best seat.”

“Still an ass I see” you laughed bitterly.

You sipped on your matcha as you typed away on your laptop, being an exchange student was no joke. You felt Sae’s eyes on your screen.

“What are you studying here?” Sae asked.

You sighed, loudly.

“I’m here for my bachelor’s degree, in film studies.”

“You still want to be an actor? Wow, you haven’t changed.”

You turned to him and glared.

“No, I'm studying to be a director.”

He turned his head to look at you.

"You always talked about how much you wanted to be an actress, what changed?"

You scoffed, how dense can one man be?

"Well people change, you're walking proof."

He sighed, he and Rin had made up years ago, why were you still upset?

"You know Rin and I made up right?"

You stopped typing.

"I know." You said softly.

In all honesty, you didn't know why you were still angry, it was probably bitterness because he didn't reach out in those five years to say anything, but then again you didn't expect him to anyways.

In your mind you felt bad, you shouldn't hold a grudge, especially not for this long, but you'd never admit that out loud.

"How have you been? It's been a while." You said, in effort to reciprocate the conversation.

"Not too bad, what about you?"

"I'd be good if my professor wouldn't assign more than he can grade, but aside from that i'm good."

You smiled awkwardly before turning back to your laptop to type. Sae felt relief, he's never felt this tense about anything.

"How is Rin? Did you see him before coming here?" he asked.

You felt a smile creep up to your lips, you knew he loved his brother.

"I did, he's doing great, he's playing in pro leagues now, watch out though, he might kick your ass."

He almost laughed, you're still the funny and loving girl you've always been. You sat in comfortable silence for the remaining time, but as you got up to leave and say goodbye, he stops you. He writes something down on a notecard that slipped out of your bag.

"Is this your number?"

"Yes, I got a new one back when I got a new phone. Call me if you need anything."

You smiled.

"I will, i'll see you around." You waved at him before walking out of the cafe.

You had only just left, but Sae hopes that you'll call soon.

As he jogs back to his penthouse, he feels his phone vibrate.

Today 7:13 AM

Is this Sae? It's {name}

Yes this is Sae.

jeez you text like an old man

Using grammar is being like an old man?

yes

Now I see how you and Aiku are friends.

thats so mean :(

whatever

Oliver told me to come to one of your practices so you might see me there

Okay, see you then.

He felt his chest bubble when he heard you call Aiku by his first name. But, at least he knew when he'd see you again.

xoxo, august

(pt 2 upon request)

#itoshi sae #sae itoshi #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin itoshi #rin #itoshi rin #oliver aiku #oliver aiku x reader #sae x you #sae itoshi x you

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wttcsms · 2 years ago

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it always leads to you ; sae itoshi

pairing sae itoshi x f!reader word count 2.4k synopsis 5 times you can't escape the memory of sae + the 1 time he comes back. content contains ex boyfriend sae, attempts at moving on, second chances author's notes this serves as a prologue to my new mini multipart series here but could be read as a stand alone one shot <3

zero.

Sae Itoshi breaks up with you five days before graduation, which is also six days before he hops onto a plane to an entirely different continent, and it’s seven days before your second anniversary.

The worst part of it all, though, is that even across the world, you can’t seem to escape him.

one.

Smartphones, you discover, for all their artificial intelligence, still can’t keep up with the intricacies of human relationships.

At least, that’s how it feels.

It’s been seven days since graduation, six days since he left the country, and five days ago, you were supposed to be celebrating your anniversary with him. A week. It’s been a week since Sae reverted back to Itoshi, a week since you’ve practically ignored every invitation from your former classmates (his friends before they were ever really yours) to hang out, and a week since you last texted him.

Still, when you swipe through your phone, thumb hitting the search bar, your eyes flicker down to SIRI SUGGESTIONS.

Send a message to sae🫶🏻.

You turn off your phone after that.

two.

You’re still number one best friends on Snapchat. It shouldn’t mean that much to you, but it does. It’s been one month since Sae left, leaving you, his little brother, and maybe everything else in Japan tying him down, behind.

He’s still at the top of your best friends list, still the only one with the special emoji next to his user that signifies his status, still the common denominator in every single one of your Snap memories.

You wonder if you should delete your entire account; start fresh, maybe.

(You don’t, though. It’s too much of a hassle, is what you tell yourself. What you know and don’t need to bother to say is that you’re scared he won’t be able to find you in case he needs you, and you’re still not ready to give up any scraps of Sae you have left of him, and you must be delusional because there’s a part of you that holds out hope that he’ll want you back because you’re still number one best friends — he hasn’t been Snapping anyone else.)

three.

You run into his mom at the grocery store.

You’re not sure how to react at first. All you know is that you see her before she sees you, and in that split-second, you had the opportunity to run as fast as you could, but you didn’t.

You’re not sure why. You can blame it on shock, or fear, or even admit that a small part of you craved an interaction with her because, by extension and some sort of delusional logic, connecting with her would be like connecting with Sae.

She smiles at you, and your feet are firmly planted on the too-shiny tiles of this supermarket, and the shelves full of instant rice are closing in on you ‘til the world feels so small and all that’s left is just you and her and the tantalizing spirit of Sae.

He takes after her more than he does his father. Growing up, he didn’t like hearing the adults say oh, you look just like your mother! because he’s a boy, and no boy wants to hear that. It’s the truth, though. When you originally spotted her, it was her distinct reddish-brown hair that caught your attention. It’s the same shade she passed down to Sae, and seeing the familiar color up close shouldn’t cause your throat to close up and to give your stomach nervous flutters, but it does.

“[Name]!” She gives you one of her gentle smiles, and the warmth of it seems to unfreeze you. You can move freely now, and you choose to smile back at her. You’re not sure if she knows that her son broke your heart and that he did it so coldly and clinically, with the precision of a surgeon. Without feeling or remorse. You don’t know how to react properly when she closes the distance between you two to give you a hug, one that doesn’t indicate that she’s going to treat you like her son’s ex.

You return the hug, of course, but when she pulls back to speak, you know that you should have just avoided her when you had the chance.

“How are you doing with Sae’s move to Spain? You haven’t come by the house in a while. I hope you know that I miss having a daughter around.” Her soft laugh does something cruel to your soul. He didn’t tell her, then. She doesn’t know. You wonder if he maybe left that responsibility to you, if crushing his mother’s spirit was a burden he personally chose you to bear. You never knew he had such a mean streak in him.

“Sorry, Mrs. Itoshi.” The words taste bitter on your tongue, and you think the polite smile you give her is more of a grimace. “Your son and I…” Aren’t together. Broke up. No longer on speaking terms.

You can’t even say his name, and you can’t admit the truth, and luckily enough, she was once a teenage girl too.

“I see.” She says, and you wish she says it coldly. You wish she would view you as a stranger, so that way the split would feel more real. Instead, she’s telling you that you’re still welcome to visit their household any time you want. You know she’s not extending this invitation to be nice; she genuinely wants you to come by, and that only makes you feel worse.

four.

On the eve before you leave for college, your graduating class hosts a bonfire party on the beach. You originally don’t want to attend, but you know that being antisocial for the rest of your youth would ultimately do more harm than good.

Almost no underclassmen are present, so you’re surprised that when you look up after hearing the sound of footsteps approaching, it’s Rin that’s standing near you.

Rin’s always been a little more awkward than his older brother. It’s endearing, in a way that all little brothers happen to be when you love them. Without your tie to Sae, though, you know that you can’t adopt Rin as your own sibling anymore, and you two haven’t even spoken since the breakup.

“Congratulations on your graduation and getting into UTokyo.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him, but you’re a bit confused as to why he showed up to a party just to congratulate you. Rin’s never been the type to attend parties, and you hope that he isn’t trying to get into any trouble with Sae’s brotherly guidance now gone.

“Have you heard from Sae after he left?”

Sae’s always harbored a soft spot for Rin; this you know for a fact. Rin sounding dejected at the mention of his brother only adds to your confusion.

“Um, no. We don’t really talk anymore, actually.”

Admitting this out loud now doesn’t hurt nearly as much as admitting it a few weeks ago did, so clearly you have some “healthy” progress going on. At this rate, maybe you’ll even be able to stomach the action of deleting his phone number.

“Oh.” And then a minute later, Rin is sitting cross-legged in the sand next to you, two feet of space separating you both. “He doesn’t really talk to me anymore, either.”

Oh, great. Now you’re basically having a pity party with your ex’s younger brother, and you two are probably about to have a good cry session about how he essentially abandoned you both. Who would have thought that rock bottom had a basement?

You don’t know what to say in reply, so you don’t say anything at all, and the two of you just sit in silence, staring at the sun setting over the sea. Thirty minutes into the party, you couldn’t even fathom why you wanted to force yourself to endure social interaction with people you have no true relationship with, and you snuck off to the edge of the beach to just be alone with your thoughts.

“Sae really likes the sea.” Rin breaks the silence once more. “I heard him talking to our parents when he called last week. He says the water in Spain is beautiful, and it makes him feel at home.”

This beach is where he asked you to be his girlfriend. The moment your toes touched the sand, you were transported back to simpler times, where Sae was still Sae, and you were happy. He brought you here on your last anniversary (maybe it’s best to start realizing that it’ll be your only anniversary with him), and you sat in this same position with him, watching the sun set over the sea, basking in the bliss of young love. You suppose that back then, you really liked the sea, too.

five.

Everyone has a type, you suppose. A preference for when it comes to selecting a partner.

You’re still young and woefully inexperienced, but you’re a pretty, single girl on a college campus full of cute, single boys. The possibilities are endless.

So what are the odds that when you finally sit down on a dinner date with one of your classmates (your first date after Sae), and the two of you are doing the obligatory “get to know each other” first date icebreakers, your date tells you:

“I’m actually here on a soccer scholarship.”

It shouldn’t affect you the way it does. It’s been nearly two months, after all. Soccer isn’t a sport exclusive to just Sae. Lots of people play the damn sport. It’s a fucking international sport, and a popular one, at that.

“Oh! That’s cool!” You’re lying through your teeth, and your date can’t tell. And you shouldn’t hate him for it; he doesn’t know you, and he’s known you only from the first two lectures you two sat next to each other for. You know it’s absolutely unhealthy and probably unhinged to start comparing him to Sae, but you can’t help it. It’s like once the word “soccer” left his lips, he summoned the ghost of Sae, and his presence is now haunting you. He’s standing behind your date, and you can see Sae clear as day, maybe even better than you can see your classmate, and he’s shaking his head as if to say is this really the best you could do after me?

And you hate your date, and yourself, and Sae, and you know it’s bad. You know that you should have moved on by now, but it’s like he cursed you. As if everything in this world somehow has a connection to Sae, and it doesn’t make any sense, but sometimes it does because for a brief moment, Sae was the whole world to you.

six.

You’re back in your childhood home for the long weekend. Your parents are ecstatic to have you back, and it feels good to be back in your hometown and sleeping in your own bed. College has done wonders for you, and maybe being in Tokyo has helped you heal. Everything is new and shiny there, and best of all, everything in that city has thankfully been left untouched by Sae.

There’s a cute boy that shares mutual classes and friends with you, and your best friend, Cami, keeps hinting that he’s going to ask you out soon, and you can’t help but tell her that if he does, you’ll gladly say yes.

You think he’s going to mention something about wanting to take you out judging by the texts he’s been sending you ever since you’ve got back home, and you’re too focused giggling at your screen to even bother to check who’s knocking on your front door. All you do is open it, looking up briefly to see who it is, only to nearly drop your phone once you realize who’s standing on your front porch.

Sae Itoshi is standing right in front of you. In the flesh. Not some figment of your imagination or a hyper-realistic delusional daydream. You know it’s him because you would have never anticipated him finally finding a haircut that suits his features. He looks leaner than before, angular features of his face now more defined, sharper. His cheeks have slightly hollowed out, and maybe you’re just projecting onto him when you think he looks more tired now than he ever did before.

Your phone vibrates, signaling that you’ve gotten a text back, but you can’t focus on anything but Sae. There are a million different scenarios that have played through your head whenever you daydreamed about what would happen should you ever come face to face with him. There is nothing in your head now.

“Hey,” he says, with a nonchalant audacity only a truly cocky bastard could pull off. The first thing he says after breaking your heart and leaving you in ruins is hey. In your head, you know you deserve better. Your heart, however, practically jumps at the sound of his voice, like a dog reuniting with its owner that’s been away from home for years. It doesn’t matter what he does or says: a small part of you, maybe all the parts that matter most, will always be fulfilled with having Sae’s attention.

“Can I come in?”

While trying to move on from Sae, you realize that leaving yourself ready to invite him back into your heart is essentially like leaving the front door of your house unlocked for him, because even though you know you’ve given him a key, you also know that he’s most likely forgotten he has it. It’s why you could never truly form any romantic attachments to anybody else; you were still too busy trying to leave yourself open for him.

Now, in this moment, you finally have a chance to finally be rid of him for good. You have the opportunity to get the final word in. You can slam the door in his face, and he will never have the chance to be let in again because even if he holds the key, the locks have changed.

That chance evaporates the moment you move away from the entrance, inviting him back in, and telling him,

“Of course.”

#sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi angst #one shot #drabble #series: it always leads to you

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misaerabl · 14 days ago

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oh man since i already have a hockey player abby fic i kinda wanna make a vi one too cuz i saw this helluva tweet

#sae-scraps ༊·˚#the last of us #abby anderson #vi arcane #arcane #vi arcane x reader #vi league of legends #vi fanfic #vi lol #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby tlou

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pursued-by-the-squid · 22 days ago

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i. exorcizing demons

pairing: eventual gi-hun x gn!reader x in-ho

word count: 3.7k

ao3 | masterlist

December 26, 2021

Would you help that man? A shitfaced man abandoned to the sidewalk, the trash of the world in the eyes of people like Oh Il-nam. Do you still trust in humanity? In the people stepping over the bodies in the street, in the kind souls who go running for help. Do you still have hope? After everything he’s seen, everything he’s done.

Gi-hun squeezes his eyes shut.

Do you still have hope?

His jaw clenches against the cold and the memories and the bitter taste of the truth. Hope is… hard to come by these days.

But do you still have it?

He pushes the hair out of his eyes as the wind comes down over his head. A bit of snow goes sprinkling over his face and hand, some of it even catches in his eyelashes. He remembers the first time Ga-yeong saw snow and her chubby little face split wide open with a grin, how her eyes sparkled with the reflection of the city lights, how he’d looked at her in that moment and knew straight away that he would do anything for her. Anything in the world.

Then he remembers Sae-byok’s body, Sang-woo’s face. Ali’s voice.

Look at that. The quiet woop of the police siren. The panicked gestures of a good Samaritan. There’s someone who cares.

Hope.

Hope is…

Mrrow!

Gi-hun’s feet come to a stop, crunching softly on freshly fallen snow. He remembers the sting of ddakji and the elation of 100 thousand won in his pocket. He remembers the little striped thing hunting for scraps in the dumpster outside his house. In fact, when he turns toward the sound, curious, chasing a memory that feels too foreign to be his anymore, he almost swears he’s watching himself.

The shape of a person on their knees cuts through the snow, hand outstretched to scratch at the underside of a calico kitten’s chin, their head tilted in just the right way so their face is shadowed. The kitten meows again, playfully butting its head into the open palm of the hand still trying to feed it.

He smiles. For the first time in a year, Gi-hun finds it in himself to smile.

Do you still have hope?

“Hey there, little one.” The voice coming out of the shadows is accented and soft, trembling. A foreigner, he thinks, though he has no way of knowing from exactly where. It intrigues him, though. Maybe it reminds him of Ali. “You have to stay warm tonight, okay? It’s cold out here.”

The head tips back, out of the shadows and into a sliver of light from the nearby streetlamp, and suddenly the unknown they becomes a vaguely familiar you. No longer a stranger, but a person just like him. A bit of hair that peeks out from beneath a beanie, glassy eyes that look a bit like stars when the light hits them just right. A mouth that trembles as much as your voice does. He realizes with a start that you’re crying.

Do you still have hope?

He remembers the man on the street, perhaps only moments away from freezing to death but saved, ultimately, because someone had the courage to do what was right. He remembers Ga-yeong and all the ways he’s let her down since the moment she was born. He remembers Ali and Sang-woo and Sae-byok, and the little striped cat outside his mother’s house.

He lifts his chin in your direction. “Are you alright?”

October 2022

He had asked for one very simple thing – think of it as a dream. Let the past settle into your bones, let the horrors fade away with the morning sun, and carry on living. You were the winning horse, Seong Gi-hun. You could have galloped far away from here. Instead, he’s chosen to stay and fight. In-ho wants to understand why.

He knows why. He knows that 456 is a broken man, a selfish cheapskate who got pushed too far. He knows that 456 is as stubborn as he is troublesome. He knows everything he needs to know about him, but what In-ho doesn’t have is understanding. Gi-hun had been so desperate to leave the Games, and yet they’ve now become the only thing he lives for.

If they have anything in common – and that’s a remarkably strong assumption to make – he thinks it might be this.

The flash of light on his cufflinks catches in his reflection as In-ho takes a long sip of whiskey. He takes an equally long breath, his chest tight with irritation and exhaustion, and for the first time in a long time, he finds himself desperate for a cigarette. The inclination feels foreign to him now, even though he can still remember the itch in his lungs, the addictive sting of nicotine that now pulls at him for some inexplicable reason. He hasn’t smoked in years, not since…

Casting his drink aside, In-ho storms out of the bathroom and into his office. He pulls up every file he has available – the covert photos of Gi-hun’s hired loan sharks, the businesses he frequents, the people seen coming and going from that shithole he’s boarded himself inside. 45.6 billion won and this is what he chooses to do with it? It would be laughable if it weren’t also impacting the Games. He’s had to reroute several recruiters just to escape all those prying eyes and his player count is down because of it.

Bastard.

He doesn’t feel particularly inclined to killing Seong Gi-hun, not this close to the next Games. The VIPs are restless and demanding, the player count is worryingly low, and there are still loose threads left hanging after Oh Il-nam’s death. Piling on a perfect execution in addition to the rest of his obligations simply isn’t feasible, and he suspects that contacting 456 and threatening him will only double his efforts. It’s not worth the risk.

In-ho scans through every file, note, and photograph until his head throbs and his eyes are tired. He needs a different approach, something 456 won’t be expecting. His daughter is in America, too far away and too young to trifle with. His parents are dead. He doesn’t keep in contact with any of his friends from before the Games. There is, disappointingly, no exposed nerve-ending for him to tug at.

At least, there isn’t until there’s you.

The pictures had been written off as unimportant, an acquaintance made in passing but unconnected to any of Gi-hun’s schemes. After a year of constantly keeping 456 in his periphery, however, In-ho has developed something of a sixth sense when it comes to his weaknesses. The softening of the eyes, the lingering gaze, and it seems to have started the night that Oh Il-nam died.

The shots from the CCTV are timestamped to shortly after midnight. You’re petting a street cat, crying. 456 stops. He talks to you. He leaves. The exchange ends there, but you don’t. You crop up again on December 27th. 456 meets you on a college campus, his hair obnoxiously red and his beard gone. He offers you a small shoulder bag. And again, several weeks later. The red hair is gone by that point, and In-ho recognizes the timestamp with a jolt. Just days after refusing to board the plane to America. Another meeting, this one much more discreet, several months after that.

Now that he knows what to look for, In-ho finds traces of you everywhere he looks. What had once been presumed carelessness or laziness on the part of the hired loan sharks is revealed to be an obligation to keep watch over your apartment. The rare diversions from 456’s usual schedule that he had thought to be signs of a clandestine meeting are suddenly understood to be arrangements with you, located as far away from Gi-hun’s central hub and In-ho’s prying eyes as is possible and perfectly timed with the large withdrawals from Gi-hun’s bank account.

He’s been so incredibly careful, but not even 45.6 billion won can hide the truth – you are the very weakness he’s been searching for. How intriguing.

“You smell like cigarettes.”

It’s a little mean of you, perhaps, to poke at him like this after everything he’s done, but you hate feeling like a greedy stranger taking advantage of his kindness. Just once, you want to pretend that this arrangement is somewhat normal, that you have friends, that you sit down and have dinner with people. That you’re not absolutely insane for agreeing to all of this in the first place. So you poke, hoping that one day he’ll crack and give you something you can craft a friendship out of.

Gi-hun glances up at you from beneath his lashes. He has that look, the one that begs you not to push him farther than he can stand, but it’s more resigned than usual. He says nothing.

“It wouldn’t kill you to have a conversation with me, you know.”

“No,” he agrees after a moment, his head inclined to one side, “but it might kill you.”

Not for the first time, you wonder if you’ve gotten yourself tangled up in some kind of drug or human trafficking ring. Who else would have the ability to pay off your debts while also acting the way he does? But Gi-hun’s never really struck you as the type, despite all the mystery. It isn’t anger or hatred or anything evil that you see in his eyes. It’s sorrow.

The money is pushed across the table in its usual manner – a dark and unassuming little shoulder bag. “Classes are finishing soon, aren’t they.” It isn’t a question, exactly, but at least it’s something.

“Soon enough, yeah. Finals are coming up.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Will you be going back when you’ve finished? Back home?”

Even just thinking about it has your gut twisting in on itself. You have so many conflicting feelings about staying and even more about leaving. Staying wouldn’t even be an option if it weren’t for Gi-hun, yet now that the opportunity has presented itself… is it selfish of you to want to stay?

“Honestly, I… I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

“I could…” The shadows that so often linger on his face lift for a few seconds, revealing something softer and lighter than you’ve ever seen from him. You might almost call it hope. “Whatever you decide, [___], I can still help you. I would like to help you.”

His words ring in your ear all the way home. He’s already helped you so much. He’s given you millions of won by now and he still wants to give you more? Gi-hun doesn’t even know you, doesn’t even want to know you, and yet he seems content enough to throw his money at you. You don’t even know where he gets it from. You don’t even know why he picked you out of the entire population of Seoul. What makes you any better, any different from the rest of the students struggling to make ends meet? What makes you worthy of his aid?

You lie in bed the entire night, staring at the ceiling and wondering to the point of hysteria. I would like to help you, he’d said and a part of you had desperately wanted to leap at the opportunity. You could move to a nicer neighborhood. You could buy some new shoes, ones better suited for the coming winter weather. And then your mind starts to wander even further. Charming knick-knacks you’ve seen in passing, that new album from your favorite K-group, a new potted plant to replace the one you accidentally killed – things you don’t truly need, but want all the same. Non-necessities.

You’re selfish, you ultimately decide. Greedy. How in the world do you manage the audacity to even consider spending Gi-hun’s money on anything other than school fees? Saving a few hundred won to splurge on decent meals and new highlighters is one thing, but choosing to remain in Korea because staying means receiving money without labor is another.

The following day passes in a blur. Lectures go right over your head. Your food tastes bland and unappealing. The bundle of cash tucked into your backpack burns a hole through your spine. Ought to be ashamed of yourself. You watch the numbers in your savings account steadily tick up, but instead of lifting a bit of weight off your shoulders, all it does is settle in your stomach like a rock.

A shadow passes over you at the bus stop, another rider settling onto the bench. Their briefcase is placed in the space between you, followed by a gentle click. You turn your head so you’re gazing out at the street and sigh. You have several assignments to work on tonight, a mostly bare cupboard, and no motivation to take care of either problem. Defeat begins to creep into your bones. Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. Order takeout and watch something mindless to distract yourself. There’s a decent ramyeon place just down the–

“Excuse me.”

You start, blinking back into the present with a frown. The shadow sitting beside you is smiling. She looks like a businesswoman, very pristine in her charcoal gray blazer, pencil skirt, and pitch-black heels.

“Would you like to play a game?”

If that’s a pick-up line, it’s the weirdest one you’ve ever heard.

“I’m… sorry?”

The woman gestures to her briefcase, now propped open and twisted around so it’s facing you. There are two folded squares on one side, one red and one blue, and an obscene stack of bundled won on the other. Your mouth drops open. That’s… that’s…

“Ddakji. Do you play?”

“I…” You can’t look away from the money, all that money. What is she doing carrying that much money around, and especially as a woman? That’s hardly safe, let alone smart. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, “I don’t understand.”

The woman picks up the two squares before snapping the briefcase shut. The sound is enough to jolt you out of your trance. She holds the squares before you, one in each hand, and she explains the game, slow and steady like a teacher guiding a particularly slow student. You make a considerable effort not to be offended.

“Flip my square over and I’ll give you 100 thousand won. If I flip your square over, you give me 100 thousand won.”

“… Why?”

The woman shrugs lightly, unbothered by the query and, apparently, equally unbothered to properly reply. “If you’re not interested in playing–”

The speed with which you reach out to stop her genuinely surprises you. “No. No, I didn’t say that.”

100 thousand won isn’t exactly petty cash. If you win even a single round, you could buy yourself dinner without dipping into Gi-hun’s money, and after spending the past 24 hours agonizing over your own selfishness and greed, the thought of leaving his money untouched is a balm on your wounded soul.

“Excellent,” she says, her smile cracking even farther across her face. You pretend not to notice the unnerving emptiness in her eyes. “Which color would you like?”

If you’re ever in trouble, call me. I will help you.

You’ve never taken him up on the offer, never needed to before. It’s not so much that you’re in trouble as it is that you’re deeply unsettled. Your encounter with the strange businesswoman had left you with 300 thousand won, a sore cheek, the promise of more money, and a very curious business card. It’s almost too good to be true. It’s almost too similar to the proposition you were given nearly a year ago by a much kinder man, with dark, sad eyes and an affinity for street cats.

“Yes?”

It had taken him nearly six rings to answer. Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you. Maybe you’re annoying him.

Your throat closes up and you’re suddenly choking around your words. “N-Nothing. No, sorry. I’m sorry. Never mind–”

“[___],” he implores, his voice more stern than it was a second ago. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly. I just…” You’re shaking your head, peering down at the business card in your hands, pressing the pointed corners into the whorls of your fingerprints and wishing that life was so much simpler than it’s turned out to be. “Something happened today and I don’t…”

You don’t what? You don’t know what to do? You don’t know if you should tell him about the 300 thousand won, or you don’t know if you want to try for more? Or maybe you don’t know if you can trust him anymore.

“Where are you?” he mutters, and his voice is like gravel. “Are you hurt?”

“No! No, I’m fine, it’s not that. It’s… I met this woman and she gave me a card, and I don’t… I’m…” It doesn’t hit you until you feel the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes that you’re crying. “I’m scared.”

Somewhere on the other end of the line, you hear the clattering of objects and the huff of Gi-hun’s breath. “Stay where you are, I’ll come get you.”

Panic sparks at the base of your neck, hot and electric, and you’re shaking your head again, eyes wide and terrified. “No, don’t. It’s okay, I’m okay.”

But he doesn’t listen. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. “Stay on the phone until I get there. Tell me what happened.”

“It’s nothing,” you protest.

“Tell me.”

Your eyes dart around your surroundings. The bus has already deposited you at your home stop. It’s late, the sun is starting to set and your stomach is gurgling angrily, and you want nothing more than to barricade yourself inside your apartment and block out the rest of the world, to pretend that everything is normal and fine.

But everything is not normal. It hasn’t been normal since Gi-hun met you on the street and promised to pay every single one of your expenses. It hasn’t been normal all the times he met you in the quiet, unassuming corners of a public park, or at the bus stop, or just outside class. It hasn’t been normal at all and you’re a fool for wanting to believe otherwise.

“Who are you?”

Gi-hun grunts in confusion. “What?”

“Are you… Is this some kind of gang thing? Or like, a pyramid scheme?”

The phone is quiet for a long time, long enough that you almost think he hasn’t heard you. Or doesn’t care enough to answer. You pull the phone away from your ear just to ensure that he hasn’t dropped the call, but no. He’s still there.

“Gi-hun-ssi?”

A massive gust of wind comes screaming down the street, funneled in by the skyscrapers, and you tell yourself it’s for that reason that a chill runs down your spine. Not the embers burning in his throat when he utters, “Was it him? The man in the suit?”

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth when you reply. “No, it was a woman. She approached me at the bus stop and asked me to play this game with her.”

“The game. Was it ddakji?”

“Yeah, I…” Is the man psychic? “How did you know?”

Gi-hun’s end falls silent again, punctuated only by low, incoherent mutterings, his labored breaths, and the distant revving of an engine. Is he driving? You weren’t even aware he knew how, he only ever meets you on foot. You call his name once, twice, again and again, but he refuses to dignify you with an answer. All the while, your anxiety is mounting.

He knows about the ddakji. How could he know about the ddakji unless he were somehow connected to it? And both he and the strange woman were loaded with cash, inexplicably so. They both cornered you in the street, friendly enough in Gi-hun’s case, but it’s suspicious all the same.

You breathe heavily into the receiver. You’re trying to find the right words to all the right questions, trying to find sense in a nonsensical world, and you’re failing miserably.

“I have to go.”

Gi-hun’s breath audibly catches, then you hear him fumbling for the phone. “No, [___], don’t hang up. I’m almost there.”

You’re afraid to ask. You don’t want to know, you don’t want to hear an answer that you know you won’t like, but you have to ask. You have to. “Almost where?”

“Stay. Put,” he tells you, and you can picture the look on his face – the gritted teeth and furrowed brows. It’s enough to finally knock some sense into your thick skull.

You drop the call and go to shove your phone in your pocket when you hear the distant sound of a car horn blaring. It’s a few blocks away, but moving quickly, as if it were hurtling down the street abnormally fast. It’s probably nothing. You’re paranoid. You’re hungry and you’re not thinking straight, and it’s been a long day, and you just need a few minutes to relax and compose yourself, and everything is so, so much. You wish it would stop.

Instinct has you darting inside your apartment building, rushing as fast as you can for the elevator. Your fist slams into the button for your level and after a second, you push some of the buttons above your floor as well. Just in case. And then once you’re inside your room, you’ll bolt the door. Just in case. And you’ll draw the shades. Throw away that damn card. You’ll forget all about Gi-hun and the money and the ddakji woman (his cohort? accomplice?), and you’ll go back to your home country when your classes are done, and Korea will be little more than a distant memory. Just in case.

The elevator dings as it pulls up to your floor.

Just in case.

It’s for the best regardless. Normal people, smart people don’t go around accepting money from strangers.

The door slams shut behind you. You triple check the lock. You ignore the incoming texts from Gi-hun asking why you won’t pick up the phone, why you’re running, if you’re okay, and focus instead on darkening the apartment so it looks like no one is home. Just in case.

#seong gi hun x reader #gi hun x reader #squid game #my fics

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sparklesandpudding · 7 months ago

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Men who like to stare at the absolute ugliest looking scrap with a face or googly eyes, purchasing it just because he swore it looked like you. It could be some sort of cursed looking creature, or maybe even a poop shaped plush with tiny black eyes— what the hell have you done to him? Why does he see your face in it? ... He'd Then stare at it whenever he's feeling pissed or stressed, squeezing the living shit out of it multiple times just to soothe his nerves. It really looked like you, he'd think. Those tiny beady looking eyes, that weird look on its face...or it's weak little limbs that he could tug on.

..oh my god...it's just like you. 😦

You'd find it stringed to his phone, or maybe a keychain to his bag, heck, it could even be displayed in his place. Just for him to look at whenever he wants to feel you or if he misses you. Don't worry though, he won't give it all his attention. Once you're there with him, he'd completely forget about it, and focus on you instead. But he won't get rid of that little thing, he still wants to keep it as a reminder of you.

-Michael kaiser bllk, -Sae itoshi bllk, -Rin itoshi bllk -noel noa bllk, -hiori yo bllk, -kunigami rensuke (after wildcard) bllk, - Gun park lookism, -DG/lee Jihoon lookism, - Eugene lookism, -Eli Jang lookism, -jaegyeon na lookism, -johan seong lookism, -Goo Kim lookism, -Jihan kwak lookism, -Kitae kim lookism, -Hudson ahn lookism, -Poseidon RoR, -Hades RoR, -Beelzebub RoR, -Shiva RoR, -Odin RoR, -Thor RoR, - Sylus LaD

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tricksterlatte · 5 months ago

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The Phantom Thieves' scrapped plans for outwitting Akechi on 11/20

Joker convinces Sae that guns aren’t real so the bullet will just bounce off of Joker’s forehead

Convince Sae that Akechi has an evil(er) fraternal twin who was raised to become a cage fighter so the bigger Akechi will simply eat the smaller one for enrichment

Futaba releases a Goro Akechi gacha game and does a Phantom Thief collab as a fail-safe, so Akechi’s life will be guaranteed to end service less than one year from now

Put Joker’s smartphone up his ass because the cops are too homophobic to perform a cavity search (make sure vibrate is off)

#p5 #persona 5 #persona 5 spoilers #p5 spoilers #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #goro akechi #hi everyone I've been afk bc I deleted my socmed apps #I recently reinstalled two just to share my Joker ita bag stuff for the collab #but yeah hi how are you all! been busy and drained but that's life #miss you all very much #have my stupid memes #my stuff

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kissagii · 1 year ago

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Your brothers are dumb, but Isagi is always your number one fan.

cw: gender neutral reader, 2.4k words, reader is rin & sae's musically gifted sibling, silly isagi, obscene amounts of pining, i don't know how music competitions work lol

@celestair it's here!!!! thank you so much for the fabulous prompt <3

“So, you’re on next, how do you feel?” Your friend Yuki asks, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. The performer before you is wrapping up his piece, and your turn on stage is approaching far too quickly.

“Were they there?” You whisper, completely ignoring her question.

“Didn’t see ‘em,” Yuki sighs, “But hey, you can’t see anything from up on that stage, don’t give up just yet.”

Despite her attempts at encouragement, you both know the truth. They aren’t there. They never are. Even now, as you prepare to step onstage in the final round of a national piano competition, your two soccer-obsessed brothers are nowhere to be found. You should’ve expected that from the start when the most they could offer to your invitation was “ok.”

How many soccer games have you attended by now? How many hours have you spent in the sweltering heat, watching your brothers run up and down a field kicking a ball around? And despite all that, they have yet to deem one of your music events as worth their time. You’re half sure the reason they neglected to arrive was because neither one would be caught dead sitting in the same room as the other. It’s always a competition with those two – a test to see who could be the better soccer player, the worse brother – and you’re simply caught in the crossfire as you pursue your own wholly different passions.

But now, unfortunately, there’s only one thing to do: go out on stage, play your heart out, and hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a scrap of recognition from one of the fools who shared your last name.

“Break a leg. And don’t let your shitty brothers get to you,” Yuki says, nudging you out onto the stage as the previous performer exited past you.

When you walk onstage there is no announcement of your name, no applause. There never is. Just a silence so thick it could be cut with a knife as the audience watches with judging eyes, anticipating eyes, and… hopeful eyes? The stage feels different today, fresh and pleasantly cool, as if the crushing expectations are lifted ever so slightly.

Then you see him. It’s just a glance, an impression of an individual, a hint of green and black in your periphery. But when he sees you it’s earth-shattering. He can breathe again – but only one barely-muffled gasp, because you’re quick to steal the air from his lungs as his heart begins to inexplicably race. Isagi has been in the same audience seat many times by now – the same seat every time, for his favorite view – yet every time he sees you walk out onto that stage it’s like rebirth, a preparation for the waves of joy and sadness and admiration and, dare he say it, love, that would wash over him as you played. All he has to hope is that you know he’s there, watching like he always is. And for the first time, you know – you deeply, truly, know – someone is out there watching you.

For this competition, you chose Liszt’s Un Sospiro. After mastering the technique, you spent hours of practice imbuing the piece with a thousand emotions, a thousand ways to sigh, and yet none of them felt quite right. So in the ten seconds before your fingers hit the keys, you have a decision to make.

Yoichi.

Of course, how could you forget?

Without a moment’s hesitation, you begin to play, the notes dancing with the image in your mind. Simply the thought of him makes your heart race in time with the arpeggios, your measured breaths falling out of time as you let the music wash over you. The emotion flows so naturally you’re not sure if you’re pushing them into the music or if the music is pulling them out of you, a different one for each phrase, the joy and fear and longing and hope and desperation. You could practically see them, figures of light in every color dancing together across the stage and out into the audience, seeking out their target.

They more than find their target: they crash into him like unceasing waves. Each one slightly different than the last, yet all so familiar; a language without words, yet each phrase he understands clearly.

Is it five minutes, one, or thirty? Time begins to blur, everything fading to soft pink and green and orange and blue, colors and sounds existing independently of earthly constraints. It’s transcendental, almost, the room immersed in a lovestruck state of reverie until the final notes echo through the auditorium.

By the end of the piece his chest is aching, and yours is aching too. The exhilaration hardly makes sense – were you not full of worry only minutes ago? Or had it been an eternity since anything other than Yoichi was on your mind? Adrenaline pulsing through your veins makes your head spin as you attempt to process your own performance. Oh, how unreal it felt. It had been a long time since you last felt so moved by your own playing… yes, truly a long time.

The audience applauds with the required politeness, if not a bit louder than usual. None of it falls on your ears, though. You’re too busy staring at Isagi’s distant face as he gazes back at you with sparkling cobalt eyes. He nearly forgets to clap, sitting so unblinkingly still that those in the seats next to him wonder if he’s alright. He’s more than alright – his mind is racing in the same way it does when he scores a goal, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep him from running to you now.

As soon as you’re backstage, Yuki barrels into you, earning a few miffed glares from the last few performers preparing to go on. “Oh my god, that was amazing!” She whisper-yells, “I’ve never heard you play like that! See, I knew you’d do just fine without them in the audience.”

Right. Them. You had forgotten about them while onstage.

“I think I’ve found someone else worth playing for,” You murmur, half to yourself. For the first time, you didn’t really mind that your brothers hadn’t been there. Of course, it would’ve been nice, but without them… without them, you had made magic. You can make magic.

Yuki smiles brightly, the way she always does. “You’ve gotta tell me everything. And quickly, so as soon as this shindig is over you can head out and see your loverboy.”

“How’d you know that’s what it was?”

“Trust me, it was obvious. I’m pretty sure everyone knew.”

So, of course, you tell her everything. And as soon as the final round of applause echoes down the hallway, you’re getting pushed toward the door, standing nervously in the auditorium lobby until a familiar face emerges from the exit doors.

You see him first, which means you get to watch in real-time as he sees you and immediately lights up like a kid in a candy store. It’s his third epiphany of the day, and the only thing he can think to do is run toward you, frantically apologizing to strangers as he weaves through the crowd. Before you can even greet him or thank him for coming, he thrusts a large bouquet of flowers into your hands.

“You did amazing! Your music is like magic and I think I might be in love with you!” Isagi blurts out.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, that was probably tactless. No, it was definitely tactless. I’m sorry. It’s just, I saw you up there and I heard you play and it was like the music was talking to me and it was saying, oh, by the way, you have feelings for them and it’s actually ridiculous that you didn’t notice earlier because you’re absolutely whipped, y’know? Is that weird?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his unrestrained reaction, the genuineness in his tone. “No, it’s not weird at all.”

“It’s not?” He asks, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Of course not. It means you heard what I was trying to tell you.”

It’s his turn to be surprised, and he lets out a soft, confused, “Eh?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to confess to you directly, so I did it the only way I knew how. Yoichi, will you go out with me?”

“Yes! Absolutely!” He beams, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen him smile before; little wrinkles appear next to his eyes and his slightly crooked teeth are on full display. Shyly, he asks: “Could I hug you?”

“Please do,” you say, opening your arms to let him wrap his tightly around you. For a moment you stand in silence (not true silence, of course, because the room is full of people) and feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest. He feels your heartbeat too, he swears he can hear it over the noise.

“Thank you for coming, Yoichi,” You whisper, gripping the flower bouquet tightly, “It means a lot to me that you could be here.”

He hugs you tighter, so tight it feels like your ribs might crack in his grip. “Of course. You always come to my big games, there’s no way I’d let myself miss one of your big events. Speaking of that, do you know when the results come out?”

Though you’d like to keep hugging him forever, you let go and check the time.

“They’ll let us back into the auditorium in an hour, though they never seem to announce the winners on time.”

“In that case, can I take you out on a date while we wait? Unless you already made plans to wait with someone else… ahh, I really should’ve thought this out more.” Isagi scratches the back of his neck with an awkward smile, a nervous habit of his that never seems to lose its charm.

“Oh, no, I don’t have plans. I’m sure Yuki’s already gone off with her boyfriend, and you’re the only person I really know who showed up to watch. Spending the hour with you is a serious step up from waiting alone.”

“Let’s go then! There’s a cute café just down the road if you’re hungry, or we could go walk around the mall if you’d prefer.”

Isagi lets you lead for the hour, making it a bit of an early celebration. Because while the results aren’t out just yet, he’s entirely sure that your performance is worth a hundred gold medals and more. Anything you want to do is good enough for him, even if it’s something as simple as window shopping in formal wear, and he does everything in his power to make sure he’s the best new boyfriend possible. After all, he’s won at life, hasn’t he? Because now he gets to date you – he gets to give you flowers and cheer for you and hold your hand and make you smile.

As you sit in the adjacent seats waiting for the results to be announced, he rubs his finger affectionately over your thumb.

“See, I told you they’d start late,” You whisper with a laugh.

“They must’ve realized their trophy wasn’t big enough to properly congratulate you,” He whispers back.

“Hey, don’t say things like that! I haven’t won yet.”

“I don’t think you witnessed yourself perform. You did amazing.”

“And you’re not a musician, so you’re not qualified to decide who won.”

“Even an untrained ear can tell you were the best up there. Trust me.”

Before you can come up with a witty reply, the head judge steps up to the podium on stage, holding a single sheet of paper in her hand. She gives a short speech – something about appreciating the hard work of the competitors – but neither you nor Isagi hear half of what she says. The room is silent waiting for the top three to be announced.

“In third place,” The Judge calmly says into the microphone, “Matsuoka Yuki.”

Immediately you burst into cheers, hastily untangling your hand from Isagi’s so you can applaud your friend. Her performance had been stunning, and she’s more than deserving of the prestigious accomplishment.

“In second place,” The Judge continues, once the applause quiets down, “Watanabe Shigeru.”

Another talented performer, of course. He had won his fair share of competitions, and the two of you had stood together on the winner’s stage more than once. As soon as you finish applauding, Isagi grabs your hand and squeezes tightly, as if to say the Judge will call your name next, I just know she will.

The moment you spent months waiting for is here. Either your hours of rehearsal and stress and aching hands paid off, or they didn’t. And the only thing between you and knowing was one sentence from the Head Judge’s mouth.

“Finally, in first place, winner of the Japan National Piano Competition, Itoshi Y/n.”

I’ve won. It’s as if you’re up on that stage once more, the way that the room explodes into applause like thunder. Isagi is shouting and shaking you by the shoulders – he really couldn’t be prouder of you. He knew all along, it seems, that your indirect confession was worth a gold medal from the organization and a thousand more in his heart.

The head judge invites the winners up to the stage, and Isagi nearly pushes you out of your seat to receive your award. Yuki meets you onstage, whispering her polite but excited congratulations to you. You return them hurriedly before taking your place on stage to be presented with your trophy. The process of handshakes and photographs feels like it takes forever when all you and Isagi want is to spend the rest of the afternoon together in celebration.

Isagi meets you in the auditorium lobby again, and he presents you with the same bouquet of flowers a second time. “You won! You actually won! I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you, Yoichi,” You say, grasping his hand with your free one, “Thank you for being here to inspire me. Now c’mon, let’s go celebrate!”

The rest of the afternoon is blissful, almost unreal, just you and Isagi enjoying the sweetness of victory and love. When your phone begins receiving text message after text message you can hardly be bothered to reply immediately, even when you get the message you nearly spent the whole day waiting for.

rin: good job on the competition or wtv

isagi 💚

#imagine ⋆｡°✩#isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x gn reader #isagi x gender neutral reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi x you #isagi x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x gender neutral reader

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