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rindreamery · 6 months ago

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like a fever, i ache for you.

how intensely the blue lock men yearn for you. featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, michael kaiser ─ content: suggestive

note. drove myself insane while writing this actually 🧍🏻‍♀️WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

itoshi rin sees you in every daydream.

every time rin closes his eyes, you’re there— it’s as if the image of you is permanently burned into the space behind his eyelids, like a never ending dream. (yet, he never wants to wake up from it.) the mere sight of you makes his heart burn and his head spin, and that desperate feeling of wanting you bleeds into his fingertips that makes him reach for you in his sleep. you trap him in his own mind. it feels as if you consume his every thought and occupy the space of every moment he’s awake. you’re a distraction, but one he can’t seem to get enough of.

when he blinks, you’re there, and everything blurs together. he starts to lose sense of where you end and he begins— you’ve become a part of him.

the concept of you even begins to seep into his passions, into his goals. rin thinks of you when he’s on the field, and he can’t deny the rush of adrenaline that shoots through his body at the thought of you cheering for him. he’s hooked to the feeling, he needs more. the thought that you’re only thinking of him too at that exact moment— watching him, holding his dreams close to your heart— that you’re both thinking of each other. connected. it’s a dream that drives him to try even harder.

because you’re not just a distraction anymore; you’ve become his sole focus.

during his next game, he plays with the image of you patiently waiting for him at the entrance of the tunnel. so when he catches his breath after a hard match, his body on the brink of collapsing and covered in sweat, it’s not the sweet taste of victory that revives him. it’s not the cheers of the crowd, praises of his name falling from their lips, that brings him back to life. no— it’s the thought of you. close and real, hand pressed against his chest as you lean in, with your warm skin pressing against his own as you whisper into his ear, “i knew you could do it.”

he knows he'll dream of that feeling from now on too, of your breath against his ear. he can’t escape you— but he doesn’t think he’ll ever want to.

itoshi sae searches for you in the crowd.

without fail, sae’s eyes will always gravitate towards you— even in the chaos of the stadium, even when you think you’re lost in the blur of the people surrounding you. his eyes always seem to find yours. when he finally catches sight of you in his jersey, it’s hard to miss the way his gaze sharpens with intensity, his eyes darkening in a way you’ve never seen before. it’s electric; the only word that could describe the feeling he gets when he sees that you’re staring back at him with the same intensity.

something about you— the way you proudly wear his jersey, and the look of pride that swims in your eyes as you look at him— awakens something deep in him.

sae feels a satisfaction he's never quite felt before you. it’s a possessive and all-consuming feeling. like his ego is inflated to its limits and makes him uncharacteristically greedy for you. his thoughts become filled with the need to become the center of your world, to stake some sort of claim on you so no one else can. (he wants his teammates to see what he comes home to every night.) this feeling that makes him want to throw away all rationale, and before he realizes it, it's this feeling that has him walking over to you before the match even begins.

he doesn't care for the alarmed look on your face as he rips your (his) ring off your finger. around the two of you, shocked gasps fill the stadium, as he loops your ring into his necklace. but they become lost in the background, and his focus is on you. "look at me," and when he brings his necklace up to his lips, your ring now dangling by the string, his eyes never leave yours. there’s an almost dangerous edge to it now— his eyes gleaming possessively at you.

he wants you to think of this moment, to embed it in your thoughts, and crave for him the same way he craves for you.

nagi seishiro can't stop staring at your lips.

light pink lip gloss looks the best on you. it’s a thought that clouds nagi’s mind every time he sees them. the way its glossiness catches the light, making the soft pink of your lips stand out and give it a subtle, irresistible fullness. they’re so plump, inviting, that it becomes dangerously intoxicating. (it must be on purpose, he often thinks, because you smile every time you're applying it on.) he doesn’t care if you notice the fact that he’s unable to fight the urge when his eyes flicker towards them— like it’s impossible to tear his eyes away from them— he wants you to notice.

they’re just so alluring, yet troubling, the way it gets his heart pumping in excitement.

the jealous part of him wants to be the only one to see you like this. because there’s just something about the way you react to him, something about the look in your eyes when you catch on to his wandering gaze. he’s entirely drawn to the way your breath hitches just a little when his eyes flick down to your lips, and then back to your eyes. and the way the corner of your lips pulls into a little smirk at this, eyes focused on his, as your tongue teasingly drags across the gloss to get a taste. his mind becomes overcome with thoughts of you— what would they taste like? would it be something fruity, like strawberry? or maybe something even sweeter, like birthday cake?

but you never give him the satisfaction of knowing, and it pulls him in even deeper. you push away from him, every time, and it’s maddening. it’s always with the same sweet smile and playful glint in your eyes, that you tell him, “it was nice talking to you.” then you’re turning around, leaving him behind.

nagi’s left wondering what it would be like, to see if that sweetness on your lips tastes as inviting as it looks.

mikage reo thinks of you in every song.

with every beat, every lyric, with every tune that floods reo’s ears— there you are, vivid in his mind, as if you were woven deep into the addicting melody. it’s as if the lyrics were written with you in mind, and he’s forever stuck thinking of you. his heart burns for you in the songs that you send, and he clings to every playlist you share. he imagines you in these lovesick songs— having you in his arms, intertwining his fingers with yours as you dance slowly to the tune— like his mind is desperately trying to tell him something he’s still too afraid to say out loud. it’s a silent confession, words he can never bring himself to say out loud, spilling from the speakers instead.

he plays the same song on repeat; he wants to keep hearing your name in the lyrics, and to feel the ghost of your presence as if you’re right there with him.

but as silent as his affections are, reo doesn’t want his desperate longing to be one-sided. he wants to worm his way into your every thought, invade your mind, the same exact way you had done with his. he wants you to see flashes of him when you hear a familiar tune, to smile to yourself whenever you realize it’s his favorite song playing in the background of a random store.

so reo pours his heart into a playlist for you. "these songs remind me of you," and to him, it’s enough. he hopes you can hear everything he feels in the space between the lyrics, to read between the lines of the words as they dance across your screen. every song is a dedication to his love for you. to him, it’s a love letter he can never bring himself to write but can’t help and send. he doesn’t want to speak it out loud— this playlist, with a strange mix of soft longing and quiet desire, does the work for him.

it’s a playlist of his soul’s quietest confessions, and he hopes you can hear how much his heart longs for you.

michael kaiser is haunted by thoughts of your touch.

kaiser doesn’t know when it started— the obsession, the craving for you, the fervent need to feel your skin on his. maybe it was when your fingertips grazed his hand as you passed him a water bottle, lasting for a second at most, but sending sparks flying across his skin where you touched. or maybe it was when you put your hand against his back, palms pressed firmly into the planes of his muscles, as you guided him out of the way (because he was blocking you, but he chooses to ignore that detail.) you’re his manager; you’re simply doing your job.

but he’s started to find himself stuck in the fantasy of your touch— imagining the way your fingers would trace over his tattoos, or having them run through his hair as you brush it out of his face.

and his breath always catches in his throat as he imagines the sensation, having to swallow at how dry and constricted his throat becomes. he thinks of the warmth of your hands, the way your fingers would subtly dance on his skin, and he shivers. he imagines that you wouldn’t rush—no, you’d take it slow. you would let it linger, and maybe he would press his hands over yours to trap it there. just to savor the feeling.

his fantasies of you could never compare to the real thing, though, he realizes one day.

he’s sat on the bench in front of you, tense with heightened sensitivity. the surface of his skin feels like it's on flames from your words, “your tattoos are so pretty,” and from the way your index finger trace over the inked vines that wrap around his arms. his stomach starts to form tight coils as your fingers travel up and up— at the feeling of your thumbs grazing his jaw as you brush his hair out of the way to look at the blue rose — and he’s sucking in a harsh breath as he tries to keep himself grounded. to keep himself from losing his mind. and when you pull away, he can't ignore the emptiness the washes over him.

his heart is greedy and insatiable; he's never satisfied. now that he’s gotten a taste of what it feels like, he finds himself wanting even more of you.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #mikage reo #mikage reo x reader #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader

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kxsagi · 1 month ago

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I remember seeing this TikTok about a woman shopping with her husband, but then she went down an aisle and began to run away from him (AS A JOKE OFC) and when he noticed he ran after her and complained that he was a "husband in distress" when he caught up to her 😂

Anyway, I thought that was funny so I'm very curious to see how the Blue lock guys would react if their S/O suddenly ran from them when they're shopping (I know for a fact Bachira and Shidou would chase them down 💀)

“𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬”

a/n: i lowkey wanna do this to someone 😭

(art credits go to fiialuth)

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu

itoshi rin

you take off without a word and he just goes “... what the fuck.”

stands frozen in the pasta aisle, staring at your shrinking figure like you just personally offended the concept of logic.

does not chase you. he just slowly pushes the cart, finds you hiding behind the cereal, and stops in front of you like the grim reaper.

“are you done?”

you’re laughing. he’s not.

grabs a box of oatmeal and goes, “you’re not even good at hiding.”

BUT… when you start walking back like nothing happened, he bumps his shoulder into yours and mumbles, “next time, at least tell me the direction so i can block your path.”

that’s rin’s way of saying “i’ll play next time, idiot.”

isagi yoichi

you speed off while he’s scanning items in the cart like a responsible boyfriend.

“huh?? wait– love?? where are you going???”

immediately thinks something’s wrong. “is she okay??? is there a rat?? fire?? someone threatening her?!”

doesn’t hesitate. full jog. passing grannies and toddlers to find you.

sees you peeking out from behind the soda display and just STANDS there, exasperated.

“you scared me. i thought you were being kidnapped or something!”

and then you show him your phone with the tik tok trend and he just stares at it like: “i can’t believe i almost sprinted into a child for this.”

forgives you in like 0.2 seconds and buys you your favorite snack anyway.

bachira meguru

you’re holding his hand, all sweet and soft, walking past the cereal aisle when you suddenly drop it and bolt like you're in the olympics.

“huh? huh??”

bachira legit does a full body spin before registering what just happened.

and then it’s over. he is OFF.

pushes the cart like it’s a getaway vehicle, swerving down aisles, screaming: “STOP THAT WOMAN!!! SHE STOLE MY HEART AND MY PUDDING!!”

knocks over an entire display of granola bars. winks at a crying toddler.

he finally catches up, dramatically grabs you from behind like you’re in a movie and whispers, “you can run, but you can’t hide from love.”

gives you a snack as a peace offering. it’s crushed but it’s the thought.

itoshi sae

you run away without warning. he just blinks.

slowly pulls out his phone and starts recording like, “this is what i deal with. this is my life.”

literally no one believes he has a girlfriend until moments like this

does not chase you but does silently appear behind you and scare the hell out of you mid-laugh.

“really? in a grocery store?”

sighs and pulls you back to the cart by your sleeve.

“you act like this and still call me the emotionally unavailable one.”

buys you ice cream and says nothing else for the rest of the trip. he secretly enjoyed it.

kaiser michael

you make eye contact, smirk, and sprint away like a menace.

kaiser, still holding a $32 bottle of imported olive oil, yells: “NOT YOU LEAVING ME FOR DEAD IN THIS CAPITALIST JUNGLE.”

then sighs like a man betrayed.

“first you run, then you’ll probably make me push the cart too.”

despite the dramatics, he casually power-walks after you with his designer sneakers squeaking on the floor.

finds you two aisles down, crouched behind the paper towels giggling.

leans over and whispers in your ear, “you think this is cute? wait till i run away and leave you to pay the bill.”

(he wouldn’t. he’s just salty that you’re lowkey faster.)

shidou ryusei

he’s not even surprised. you run away and he just grins.

“oh? trying to make it interesting, huh?”

takes off after you like a maniac, not even using the main path – he cuts through displays, crawls under the bakery racks, and uses the employee doors.

turns it into his game: “catch the bratty princess.”

almost tackles you into the bread section but misses and hits a baguette stand.

comes out holding one like a sword: “your reign ends here, my liege.”

employees are on the verge of calling security.

kisses your forehead while you're hiding behind a fridge and says, “next time, run faster. i almost got bored.”

nagi seishiro

you bolt. he doesn’t move. just stares blankly.

“huh.”

stares at your fading figure for a solid 10 seconds before deciding it’s too much effort.

he wanders off to the snack aisle instead.

you come back out of breath and find him leaning on the cart, scrolling on his phone like nothing happened.

“didn’t feel like chasing you. you’d come back eventually.”

hands you a chip. “here. salty. like you.”

says next time he’ll bring a leash. you can’t tell if he’s serious or lazy flirting.

mikage reo

watches you run away, hand dramatically to his chest.

“my love… why must you flee?”

this man starts reciting a fake monologue in the middle of the store.

“all these riches and i still cannot keep you. alas.”

follows after you at a light jog, waving to passing customers like you’re filming a commercial.

finds you crouched down and just sits beside you with a bag of goldfish snacks.

“you have thirty seconds to explain before i start tickling you in front of these strangers.”

you're wheezing and he just smiles like, "mission accomplished."

karasu tabito

you run. he laughs like a proud dad watching his toddler escape a bath.

“there she goes… my little maniac.”

chases you down like he’s in a spy movie. ducks under signs, jumps over a mop bucket.

yells “CODE RED!! CODE RED!! GIRLFRIEND ON THE RUN!!”

finds you and goes full dramatic: “the fugitive has been apprehended.”

spins you into his arms and dips you like you’re ballroom dancing.

two kids watching him like he’s a real-life superhero.

“don’t try that again unless you’re ready to be tackled, princess.”

yukimiya kenyu

you sprint away with no warning. he’s holding two cartons of milk.

just blinks and sighs, “oh no…”

puts the milk in the cart and walks after you, more tired than mad.

mutters to himself, “why is she like this. why do i love it.”

eventually finds you hiding and leans casually on the shelf.

“you know, the more you run, the longer we have to stay here.”

helps you up and adjusts your hair like nothing happened.

“next time, at least wear shoes with proper grip. you almost slipped.”

kisses your cheek and pushes the cart like the loyal soft king he is.

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ph4ngz · 2 years ago

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i need isagi, bachira, nagi, reo, chigiri, kunigami, shidou, sae, rin & barou x fem! reader (all separate) doing it raw for the first time?? pls pls pls pls pls

DOING IT RAW || BLUE LOCK

MMMMMM *feral noises.*

ISAGI YOICHI

"You're... y-you're on the pill, right baby?" he asks as soon as his tip meets the soft, slick outline of your entrance. His eyes are clenched shut, nose scrunched up as he does everything in his power to focus on the unfamiliar sensation of real pleasure, no bullshit condom, just pure skin on skin with his favourite girl. "Oh, shit..." he moans out loud, his features twitching and contorting in ecstasy. He's loving every second, finally able to experience every detail with his jolting, excited cock. "G-God, I-... oh~ t-tight!" he cries out quietly, attempting to control his volume as his head rolls back. Every so often, he repeatedly slides his sensitive cockhead back and forth over your puffy clit, relishing in the way it feels to mix each other's arousal together before recklessly jostling it inside once more. "Why... how... are you so fucking good?~ ah-"

BACHIRA MEGURU

"Wait, I thought it felt good already... now it's gonna be even more delicious?~ oh, wow. You're tooooooo good to me, my girl~" he'd cooed against your soft lips when you'd suddenly told him to fuck you without protection. Bachira couldn't care less if he's got a condom on or not. As long as you're having fun, he'll cum his brains out anyway. Even untouched. "Soooo, ya like it? What gets you off, huh? Is it that you can feel it pulse inside you?~" he asks playfully and oh so shamelessly, poking his tongue out as he rests your legs on his shoulders. "Bachira Meguru~ d-don't be so... so lewd..." you whimper towards the end of your sentence, the way his pelvis grinds against your gooey pussy to drive his cock in deeper making your eyes roll back. "Huh~ what, you embarrassed? Hehehe, oh— mmmh, don't be silly, you're the one who's getting my dick wetter by the second."

NAGI SEISHIRO

Oh, he's all for it. All you had to do was mention the mere concept of it and he was hauling you into his lap with that pretty, blank stare of his. "Wanna do that now." he's murmuring into your ear with all the focus he can conjure up going toward the strength of his big hands, already trying to remove your pants without ripping them. "Ohooooo," Nagi whines deeply into your shoulder once his fingers get wet whilst slipping your panties aside, "you're so wet, I wanna stick it in. Can I please...?" he asks lazily, dragging his lips across your skin so sensually, slowly. "Knock yourself out." you grant him permission with a shared dreamy stare, not entirely knowing what you're getting into until he's slipping himself in immediately, balls deep within seconds. "Hhhhh... hhh- I love youuuu~" he's moaning and sighing so slowly and it's almost making your ears twitch to hear more. "Condoms are such a hassle, o-oh... never wanna go back~"

MIKAGE REO

"We can do it raw, right? Can we do it raw?" a few strands of purple fall in front of his eager eyes as he holds an unopened condom between his fingers, already so worked up by the mere thought of pushing his needy cock in without some stupid condom preventing him from feeling the thrill he needs. Reo is ready to toss it behind his shoulder at the drop of a hat, and you don't think he even saw you nodding until a split second after he threw it away... "Fuck yeah, I'm so ready for this right now... you ready sweetheart?" he doesn't even wait for you to answer before he's spreading your cute cunt with his thumbs, intently watching his pink tip squeeze past your slicked up folds. "Oh my fucking godddd-... been waitin' for so long~" you hear him groan as he squeezes your thighs tightly. Every inch of his hard dick feels like it's on fire due to the way your hot arousal is coating his sensitive skin more and more, no pesky condom in the way.

CHIGIRI HYOMA

The little smirk on his gorgeous face when you tell him... hehe. "You're being for real, yeah? Okay, just... just c'mere, I'm not waiting around." he drags your body into his, grinding his clothed cock into your ass from behind, huffing impatiently like a spoiled brat. "You're letting me bang you raw..." a pearly white smile graces his face, he looks proud that you're finally letting him do this. Eyebrows bowed in pleasure, he watches his perfect tip squish between your folds and gather some of his sparkling precum on the way inside. His eyes are rolling back every five seconds, so sensitive and vulnerable under the influence of your wet cunt, especially now that there's no protection. "W-Woah, I'm— hhhhholy shit. Don't move, I might cum on the spot~" he warns you with a pornographic whine, pushing his hair back so he can get a clear view of your pussy trying to keep him all inside. "...I can go as fast as I want to as well, mm?~"

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

Ugh, he's doing his best to act like he doesn't give a shit. "Yeah... fuckin' sure, we can do that. Won't make much difference." he said. "Again... I need more- more~" he growls and sighs now. So stubborn, but you love it. How his hair somehow becomes more messy due to how fucking turned on he is, how he keeps trying to stop his frown from faltering every time you clench on his ruthless huge cock. He's already fucked his cum further into you twice, clearly not able to get enough of the amplified pleasure that comes with being allowed to release all up inside your velvety pussy for the first time. "Did you get even t-tighter or something...? Fuck, fuck— ugh~" he pounds into you hard enough to bruise, his huge breeder balls smacking against your ass whilst a growing streak of white dribbles from your abused hole each time he bottoms out. "Jesus, fuck! H-Hah~" he's almost got tears in his eyes, the sheer euphoria seeming to be strong enough to puncture his pride.

SHIDOU RYUSEI

This guy wants it. He fucking loves it. He pressured you into this, after all, knowing well that you were rather paranoid about unprotected sex no matter how bad you wanted to experience him raw. "Oh, baby... please? C'mon, you gotsta' loosen up a little to have more fun with me~" he roughly placed a hand over your forehead to thoroughly stroke your hair back, making sure you felt like you had nowhere else to look besides his own, unnerving eyes. "Or you could let this big, raw fucking cock do that for you..." he'd offered lowly, a certain seriousness in his tone that you just couldn't shake as his nose almost touched yours. And so here you are, his unforgiving length buried deep within your guts. You swear you can feel his heartbeat inside of you, his erratic breathing and whining almost confirming your suspicions. "Gonna let me do this, yeah?~ ah, this feeling is fucking perfect I swearrr..." Shidou groans with a twisted, dirty grin when he makes you nod eagerly for him, "oh my god... can feel all of you, hah, ah- shit."

ITOSHI SAE

"I won't refuse." is what he responds with when you snatch the condom wrapper from his hand and toss it to the bedroom floor. "Mm." Sae grunts softly when his bare and pulsating cockhead squeezes its way past your glistening, pretty entrance as both of his hands massage the flesh of your ass. If it were any other girl he was slowly dipping his cock into right now, they wouldn't think he could notice any difference at all. But you're not any other girl, you can sense him preventing his blunt nails from damaging your asscheeks, hear the sound of his throat closing up to prevent an outright whine, feel his fat dick trying to jump within the sultry contracting of your walls. "G-Go, all of it~" you demand sweetly, reaching your hands back to hold his own and tug him in. His breath shakes once his tensing balls touch your clit, the sensation of his solid length pressing the very limits of your insides without a layer of latex separating you causing a hardly controlled "yeahhh..." to escape from behind his gritted teeth.

ITOSHI RIN

God, he's trying way too hard. Acting as if he's not falling to bits right before your misty eyes, as if he's not on the verge of fucking drooling like a rabid animal at the way your hot slick connects the very end of his perfect cock to your throbbing entrance with a clear string. "...'re you ready?" he asks in that breathy, addictive voice of his whilst impatiently sliding his tip up and down between your soft, slippery lower lips. Please, please, please is what he's chanting inside. "Green light." you respond with a strained and sexy moan muffled by your forearm, feeling him trace a circle around your clit, a cooling drop of pre-cum latching onto it once he pulls back to position himself. It's when the first few inches of him are surrounded by your heat that he struggles to let go of his breath without holding it again. "Whew- Alright, fuck..." Rin pants slowly, his tough guy act starting to crack uncontrollably under the power of your perfect cunt.

BAROU SHOUEI

He said nothing when you agreed. Just pulled you in for the roughest kiss you've ever had. And suddenly, you're being bounced like a rag doll on his horse cock, every vein as prominent as ever along your fleshy, sticky walls. "Never show me a condom again." he grunts into your neck, his big hands gripping your perfect body with a steel grip like he could lose you if he let go. "I wanna fill you up... wanna fill you up with my cum- agh~ hhhnnggh..." his voice is deep and grumbly, vibrating against your skin as he bites a little to show some restraint. The manner in which your walls are spasming around his raw, long cock is making it increasingly difficult to keep himself in check. "Damn it, please... don't make me lose control of myself..." he pleads lowly, his huge arms holding you in position and bouncing you harder on his fat dick. "H-oh my-... good, good girl."

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kaisentine · 3 months ago

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this tiktok video made me unwell.

“itoshi, did you see my—“ “. . . oh.”

that was probably the first and last time you will ever see itoshi sae almost shirtless—alive, at least. he’s quick to react, dropping the hem of his shirt and ultimately covering his back again. God his back muscles . . . his back muscles were . . . “ever learn how to fucking knock?”

you weren’t really anything to him. maybe a friend of a friend but not someone who should even be seeing a slither of his back underneath his shirt, especially not in a freaking house party one of his teammates probably forced him into coming.

“shit—fuck, sorry!” you shout over the blasting music but all you can really focus on is the blaring sound of impending death. wasting no more than a millisecond longer, you slam the door shut like how it was in the beginning and start booking it downstairs and back to where your friends were. guess you wouldn’t be getting your power bank anytime soon—if ever.

you aren’t anything to him. not someone who should even be seeing a slither of his back underneath his sure—certainly not fully underneath his shirt.

aaaaaaaand, he’s shirtless. obviously, you covered your eyes the moment he even started talking and the only reason you knew his shirt was off was because of the soft thud that hit the ground when he dropped his shirt on the floor. “why are you taking off your shirt!?” you screech, facing away from this monster. when he doesn’t respond, you just fill the silence with your own complaints.

“are you not shameless?” “i don’t think strangers should be doing this!” “am i gonna go through the cracks of this floor and straight into lava?” “is this legal?” “should i be concerned?” “i’m really concerned.” “can you just put your shirt back on?” “this is gonna ruin my reputation!” “you better not tell anyone!”

“all i hear is a lot of bullshit—do you ever shut the fuck up?” he isn’t amused after your 63rd ramble about why he shouldn’t be doing this in the first place. “you haven’t turned around once.” he says as he rolls his eyes in annoyance—what the fuck is he talking about—why the fuck is he doing this? it’s going to make you dizzy!

“why should i?!” you angrily sulk in your position. “because you didn’t see it.”

didn’t see what? him shirtless, of course!

there’s a scarily eery presence standing behind you and you don’t want to turn around—nor should you anyway. “can you just look?” he’s spinning you around with your eyes still covered, mind you. “we don’t know each other!” you protest but it’s no use when his hands grip your wrist. “thought i’d give you the chance to see it fully before you die.”

“you two know each other?” oliver aiku questions.

“. . . no.”

wait . . . you forgot your power bank.

sticky note. whats with me and this concept . . . i’ll dig my own grave, thanks . . .

#ᥫ᭡ love note #i rushed this so bad #THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD #i refuse to proofread this #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #blue lock x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader

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ethereal-moonglitter · 2 months ago

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Blue lock men and their soulmate aus

This piece is for the Soulmate au writing collab! All writers are free to join <3 Just check out this post. (here)

Characters included: Sae Itoshi, Rin Itsohi, and Isagi Yoichi (I'll add more characters if people like it)

Through every lifetime, it is you I seek, a whispered longing my soul speaks.

Sae Itoshi - Colors upon first touch

❥︎ Pre-spain! Sae was excited to see who his soulmate was. He always wanted to see colors. He wondered if he would be better at football if he does.

❥︎ He absolutely adores the concept of someone waiting for him. Someone who will complete him.

❥︎ After this trip to Spain though? Things changed. He thinks the whole thing is stupid. Why bother go to lengths to find someone anyway?

❥︎ His only goal is to be the best in football. Soulmates are just distractions. He didn't need that at all!

❥︎ His would was colorless, as it had always been, why would he desire to see color when he can see just fine?

❥︎ Sometimes he finds himself wondering if he is able to find his. Especially since Rin found his first. (that damn brat)

❥︎ Sae was curious, yes. But he never tried looking or genuinely care about it because he has football.

❥︎ He didn't want to meet his soulmate... Or so he thought.

Right after the U-20 Japan vs. Blue Lock match, Sae Itoshi couldn't deny the surprise twisting in his chest. Losing to a bunch of rookies? Unbelievable. He scoffed, shaking his head as he stepped out of the locker room. If those rookies had managed to get past him, then he needed to train harder. That was all there was to it.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed when he collided with someone. But then—everything shifted. His dull, monochrome world flickered—no, exploded—into color. He gasped softly at the sudden appearance of color. The dull world he lived in suddenly appeared alive, it felt worth living for.

His gaze snapped around, sharp and searching. Who was it? Who the hell just bumped into him? He had to find them. Now. Because whether he liked it or not, he knew exactly what had just happened.

He’d found his soulmate.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of you—just as lost, scanning the crowd. His pulse slowed, the noise around him fading into nothing. For a moment, it was just the two of you, locked in place like the universe had forced a pause.

His lips curled into the faintest smirk.

"Tch. Found you… you brat."

Rin Itoshi - Dream walking

❥︎ He really didn't understand the importance of soulmates, even when he was younger.

❥︎ He saw how his brother used to fantasize about finding his soulmate. And at first, he too wanted to meet them. But as he grew older, he also found it to be a distraction.

❥︎ He thought he didn't have one at first. Cause he can see color, unlike his brother.

❥︎ It was until he turned 15 did it start happening. He fell asleep once day then he saw you. Well... somewhat of you.

❥︎ He can see you! But once he wakes up, he forgets what you look like. And people say that was normal. That you forget what they look like when you wake up but once you see them you know.

❥︎ He was standoff-ish at first. When you first appeared, he didn't bother talking to you. You were a distraction!

❥︎ But slowly, he finds himself genuinely enjoying your company and he feels as if he is falling in love with the human blob in his dreams

❥︎ Then he blurted out that he was having a huge match. That they should met there. He didn't think they would actually agree.

"I have a match soon. You should come," Rin said, his tone flat, almost like it didn’t matter.

"Come? To where?" you asked, stepping closer. The two of you stood in your usual spot—a football field, because of course, even in his sleep, football was the only thing on his mind.

"You know my name. Just come," he replied, as if that was enough explanation.

You couldn’t help but laugh. But before you could say anything else—

He jolted awake. Dammit... You were so slow to answer.

The U-20 Japan vs. Blue Lock match hadn’t started yet. But that didn’t mean Rin would stop training. Not yet. He was in the gym, body tense with focus, warming up for the game ahead. He barely noticed anything else. It was just him and his equipment. But then..

"Hello"

A voice. One he knew. One that had engraved itself in his mind whether he was awake or asleep. He knew that voice from anywhere.

"So this is where you’ve been?"

His muscles locked up mid-movement. His breath caught. He knew that voice. He’d always known it. He slowly put down the weights he was holding. And slowly, he turned.

And this time, it wasn’t some blurry, half-forgotten figure in the back of his mind. It wasn't some human blob that he can't for the life of him make out the details. It was you. Like really you.

"You’re here," he muttered, almost like he didn’t believe it.

Yoichi Isagi - First words tattoo

❥︎ One day he woke up with a "Oh my god? Your eyes are so pretty" written on his wrist.

❥︎ His first reaction was to fangirl, cause what? the first thing his soulmate says to him is he is so pretty? What?

❥︎ If his soulmate finds him pretty, that means they'll have smth good right? Oh please let that be!

❥︎ Next, he finds himself staring at anyone and everyone, hoping to find that one person that finds his eyes pretty.

❥︎ When he was in middle school, he made sure that everyone can see his eyes! He wants to find his love as soon as possible.

❥︎ But once he entered Blue lock? he practically forgot about it. Suddenly his entire attention was driven away..

❥︎ He was so focused on his career that his desire to find his soulmate lessened. He needed to be the best striker!

❥︎ He was so focused in fact that even in his break, he was thinking about football when..

Isagi was on his way to hang out with his friends, finally getting a rare chance to rest and relax without the pressure of constant competition. He let out a small sigh of relief, enjoying the thought of just unwinding for once.

But, as usual, football was still on his mind. His thoughts drifted to the practice match he had later—strategies, plays, how he could improve. So lost in thought, he barely paid attention to his surroundings.

That was until he walked straight into someone.

Snapped out of his daze, Isagi blinked as he locked eyes with the person in front of him. They stared at each other for a moment. The stranger seemed so entranced by his eyes for some reason. But then the stranger suddenly blurted out, "Oh my god, your eyes are so pretty."

Isagi stiffened, caught completely off guard. "Hah?" His mind scrambled for a response—why was that the first thing they said? He blinked a few times, trying to comprehend what the stranger had said

Then it clicked.

His expression shifted as realization dawned. His eyes widened slightly before a small grin tugged at his lips. "It’s you!"

Time and time again, I fall into your embrace, No fate nor distance can ever erase.

209 notes · View notes

st3f13ily · 27 days ago

Text

Dating The Impossible

• Reverse Romance Trope

• Instead of Fake dating, everyone is convinced you aren't dating.

• Itoshi Sae x Influencer Chaotic Reader

• Sorry, I don't really know how this will goes, probably gonna be confusing and all, I just put whatever is on my mind.

"You know how some people say their life is a rom-com? Yeah, no. Mine is more like a chaos-com. I wake up tangled in bedsheets like a burrito, burn half my breakfasts, and trip over absolutely nothing at least once a day. But hey, at least I make it look cute. Or so my fans say."

"You've probably seen me online."

"The loud, over-the-top influencer with an obsession for bubble tea, oversized hoodies, and singing off-key on live streams. Yeah, that's me. Sunshine's personality is a human disaster, and I'm proud of it. My life is like an endless string of events, collaborations, photoshoots, and the occasional scandal where people assume I'm dating half the industry just because I smiled too wide in a selfie."

"But... plot twist. The rumors were all wrong. The truth? I've been dating Sae Itoshi."

"Yes. That Sae Itoshi."

"The national heartthrob, soccer prodigy, king of the resting deadpan face. The man who kicks balls for a living and somehow looks like he invented the concept of "too cool to care." That's my boyfriend."

"Shocking, right? I know, I know. You're probably making the same face my best friend did when I told her."

"Mouth open, brain error, blue screen."

"But!—ah, ah, ah—before I spill the tea on how that happened... let's rewind."

"It wasn't on a fancy red carpet or an exclusive afterparty."

"Nope. The universe had something more... clumsy planned."

"It was just another Tuesday. I was running late, of course, because of punctuality and I have never been on speaking terms. Sunglasses perched on my head, iced coffee in one hand, and phone in the other, trying to post a "good morning" selfie to my feed without walking into traffic. Multitasking: my toxic trait."

"And then, boom."

"Literally. I slammed right into someone."

"My coffee went flying, my phone almost joined it, and I stumbled back like a cartoon character. I looked up, ready to apologize to whoever the poor soul was and there he stood."

"Tall. Cool. Expression flat enough to rival the moon’s surface."

"A guy in casual clothes, baseball cap pulled low, hands stuffed in his pockets like he’d rather be anywhere else."

"And me? The clueless fool who thought. Huh. Cute stranger."

"I had no idea I'd just bumped into Itoshi Sae himself. And him? Oh, he definitely thought I was just another random, overly smiley girl with zero spatial awareness."

"Funny, right?"

"But, I'm getting ahead of myself again. You want the real story, don't you? The how, the why, the wait, really? moments."

"Well... hold tight. Because that, my lovely little chaos crew, is a story for another day."

"And speaking of stories, my livestream timer's blinking at me. Time to hit the "Go Live" button and let the circus begin."

"Story starts now: me, my camera, my fans, and one accidental love story I never saw coming."

.....

Beep.

BEEEEEP.

You swatted your alarm clock like it had personally insulted your family name, groaning into your pillow. Five more minutes. Just five more, universe, please. But the sun was already slapping you across the face through your curtains like it had a personal vendetta.

Reluctantly, you peeled yourself from your cozy blanket cocoon and rolled out of bed emphasis on rolled because grace was never part of your brand. You did a little zombie shuffle toward the bathroom, catching sight of your bedhead in the mirror.

"Wow. A masterpiece." you mumbled to yourself, finger-combing your tangled mess like it would magically fix anything. Spoiler: it didn't.

Your morning routine was a wild mix of chaos and caffeine. Face wash? Check. Skincare? Check—uhhhhhh—mostly. Coffee? Priority number one. You fired up your machine and did a little dance while waiting, humming off-key to whatever pop song was stuck in your head. You were halfway through pouring your coffee when your phone buzzed.

[Your BFF]: 𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲??

You grinned, sending back: 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗹𝘆. 𝗖𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁, 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱.

You flopped onto the couch with your mug and pulled out your phone, opening your livestream app. Your followers were already leaving comments on your last post:

"You're late today, queen!"

"She lives!! What's the chaos plan for today?"

You snorted into your coffee, holding up your phone for a quick selfie.

"Good morning, chaos crew!" you chirped to your camera. "Guess who overslept again? Spoiler: it's me. But plot twist, today I have a story. And it's about a certain someone."

You paused, flashing your most dramatic grin.

"But before that, let's talk about the day I met him. Because wow. Absolute definition of 'meet-cute,' minus the cute, mostly just me being a hazard to society."

You leaned back, letting the memory replay in your head.

It was an ordinary day. Well, as ordinary as your life ever got. You had a brand meeting to rush to, and as usual, you were running late because you couldn't pick an outfit. One minute you were posing for mirror selfies in your oversized hoodie, the next you were panicking because your Uber was two streets away and you couldn't find your left shoe. Classic you.

With only two brain cells firing on pure iced coffee and hope, you dashed out of your apartment, phone in one hand, drink in the other, and zero focus on the sidewalk ahead. You were too busy typing a caption for your next post, something about the universe always testing your time management skills, when the world decided to humble you.

Crash.

You slammed chest-first into someone.

Your iced coffee did an Olympic-level flip, your phone wobbled dangerously in your hand, and you stumbled back two steps, blinking like a deer in ring light.

"Whoa—sorry, I wasn't looking!" you blurted out, brushing imaginary dust off your clothes and finally daring to look up.

And there he was.

The stranger.

Tall, and lean, hoodie, cap pulled low, and hands in his pockets like life was just a long waiting room. His expression? A mix of boredom and 'Why is this human in my personal space?'

At the time, you didn't recognize him. To you, he was just another person having the misfortune of existing on the same chaotic sidewalk as you.

But him? Oh, he definitely looked at you like you were just another hyper, overcaffeinated civilian with no spatial awareness. Probably filed you away as background noise and kept walking.

You, being the ray of unbothered sunshine you were, had just smiled wide and waved, as if you hadn't nearly caused a traffic accident with your face.

"Have a good day, mystery man!" you chirped before bouncing off, completely unaware that you'd just met Sae Itoshi.

The Sae Itoshi.

The soccer prodigy. The media darling. The human iceberg.

And soon-to-be... your boyfriend.

You grinned at the memory, shaking your head as your chat flooded with emojis and question marks

"But—ah, ah, ah—that's just the beginning," you teased, sipping your coffee dramatically. "You thought I’d spill all the tea in one sitting? Pfft. Stay tuned, chaos crew. You know I live for the plot twists."

You winked at your camera, stretching your arms with a happy little hum.

"So, where were we? Right—me, being a disaster, and the world's most unexpected love story. But that's for the next stream."

And with that, you ended the live, leaving your fans screaming in the chat for more.

You sort of love it when your fans suffer.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

You were lounging on your bed, blanket wrapped around your legs like a burrito, phone propped up against a water bottle, livestream running full blast. The chat was already exploding with:

"You left us hanging last time!!"

"Tell us about the first REAL conversation!!"

"DID YOU FALL OR DID YOU FLY?? Spill!!"

You laughed, cheeks hurting from smiling.

"Okay, okay, okay, calm down, gremlins." You raised your hands like you were surrendering to the internet police. "So last time, I told you about the day I bumped into him. Literally. But you thought the universe would let me off with one accidental meeting? Oh, honey. No, no."

You shifted to lie on your stomach, kicking your feet behind you.

"It kept happening. Like, a lot. I thought I was the main character in a bad rom-com."

You tilted your head back, replaying the memories like your own private highlight reel.

The second time was the most random. You'd been at that cute little coffee shop you loved, the one that did those overly fancy heart-shaped lattes you always pretended to hate but secretly adored. You were waiting for your order, nose buried in your phone, when someone brushed past you.

You looked up, and there he was again. Mystery Man. Hoodie, cap, same blank expression. For a second, you thought your brain had glitched. Wasn't this the guy you’d run into like, a week ago?

He didn't recognize you, or at least, if he did, he was very committed to pretending he didn't. You'd watched him leave with his black coffee like some kind of aesthetic Pinterest post, and you'd stood there clutching your caramel frappé like, Huh. Weird.

But it didn't stop there.

A few days later, different place, the same weird coincidence. You'd been out at the park, earbuds in, walking your snack-fueled guilt off when you spotted him again, sitting on a bench, casually scrolling his phone as if he belonged in the background.

At first, you thought, Okay, world, nice try. People exist. Whatever. But by the fourth time, when you ran into him at that tiny sushi place you swore no one else but you and your bestie knew about. You couldn't take it anymore.

You'd straight-up stared at him across the room, your mouth half full of rice, eyebrows raised so high they nearly left your forehead.

And the moment your eyes met? He raised his brow right back.

So you did what any reasonable, mature adult would do.

You marched right up to his table, planted your hands on your hips, tilted your head, and blurted out:

"Are you stalking me or do I just have main character syndrome?"

Silence. Dead silence. The poor waiter passing by almost choked on air.

And for the first time, the guy cracked the tiniest, barely-there smile like you'd just told a joke only he got. He tilted his head, lazily resting his chin on his hand and replied, "Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing."

You had stared at him, blinked, and then dramatically pointed a finger at him like some bootleg detective.

"Hah! Suspicious!"

Your chat was going insane by now, spamming.

"SHE LITERALLY SAID ‘STALKER’ LMAO"

"HE SMILED?!? That's a world record!"

"He was so calm too, I'm wheezing."

You grinned at your phone.

"Yeah, I know right? The man was so calm like his entire personality was set to 'unbothered.' Meanwhile, I'm the one flailing through life like a caffeinated pigeon."

You sipped your drink, shaking your head at the memory.

"At that point, I didn't even know who he was, not really. Just thought he was some suspiciously attractive stranger who clearly had a talent for showing up wherever I existed. Turns out... well, you guys know the plot twist already."

You let out a dreamy little sigh, flopping onto your back.

"But that was just the start. You think that's the cute part? Oh, no, no, no, chaos crew. The universe was just warming up."

You flashed a wink at the camera.

"Next stream, I'll tell you the part where I found out the truth. About who he really was."

You raised your glass like a toast.

"And spoiler alert: my jaw hit the floor. See you next time!"

You ended the live, still smiling like an idiot, heart full of those silly, sweet memories.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

You tug your hoodie over your head, slumping deeper into the cold, unforgiving airport chair while the distant hum of suitcase wheels and boarding calls blend into background noise. One earbud dangles loose, the other blasting your "waiting-around" playlist at a volume slightly unhealthy for your eardrums.

Your phone rests against your knee, the livestream chat already buzzing like a hive of nosy bees.

"WHERE are you going?? Stop gatekeeping."

"Tell us, tell us! Your airport fit is 10/10 tho."

"Are you going somewhere or is this Kidnapping??!! Blink twice if you need help!!"

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING??"

"Airport fit check pls??"

You chuckle under your breath, stretching your legs out until your sneakers nudge your suitcase.

"Yeah, yeah. I know you're all dying to know, but I'm not telling you yet. Let's just say... it's gonna be a long few hours, and the flight's not boarding anytime soon."

You leaned back, stretching your legs out, sneakers tapping against the floor.

"So I figured, since we're all here, stuck together in digital purgatory, why not tell you the rest of the story? The full, uncut, slightly embarrassing tale of how I ended up with Sae Itoshi."

The chat exploded again, and you snorted, holding up a hand.

"Calm down, calm down! You already know about the 'Are you stalking me?' moment." You grinned at the memory. "But that wasn't the last time we crossed paths. Oh no, the universe was playing the long game."

You licked your lips, settling in like you were about to spill ancient gossip.

"Turns out, I was working on this brand deal, you know, usual influencer stuff, smile, wave, pretend I don’t trip over my own feet in front of professional cameras. My manager told me there was this promotional event, super casual, nothing fancy. Show up, look cute, shake hands, snap photos. Easy."

"What she forgot to mention was that it wasn't just some small event. No, no, it was one of those 'shared space' promo collabs. You know, influencers meet athletes, actors, streamers, the whole 'everyone's famous except you' type vibe. I was barely surviving the social anxiety."

You gestured at your own face, chuckling.

"And then, guess who walks in. The same guy I called a stalker—Sae. Freaking. Itoshi."

You paused for dramatic silence, watching the chat spam screaming emojis and caps-lock confessions of second-hand embarrassment.

"And the worst part? I still didn't know his full name. Not until the event started, and the host announced it like it was some royal entrance. 'Football star Itoshi Sae, everyone!' And I just—I swear my soul left my body."

You covered your face, laughing into your hands.

"I was standing there holding a plate of free desserts and staring at him like I'd seen a ghost. He? Oh, he was perfectly fine. Cool, calm, like this was just Tuesday for him."

You shift in your seat, tugging your hood lower, and let the memory pull you under.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

The sky had been that weird, in-between colour, not quite sunny, not quite cloudy, just hanging there like it couldn’t commit to a mood. You were half-jogging, half-power-walking toward your favourite café, craving something sugary and caffeinated to survive your schedule.

Just five minutes of peace, you'd thought, before the next shoot, the next meeting, the next 'smile for the camera.'

The second you pushed the café door open, the little bell above the frame jingled and there he was. The same guy. Cool expression, soccer-star hair, the casual posture of someone who was definitely not expecting you either.

You froze mid-step, recognizing that sharp jawline and those ocean-glass eyes.

No way. No freaking way.

And he glanced up from his drink, raising one eyebrow like he'd just spotted a UFO. No fanboy moment, no awkwardness, just that signature, unimpressed Sae Itoshi stare.

You blinked, too stunned to even remember your coffee craving. "You again?" you blurted, before your brain could filter the words.

He sipped his drink like you weren't real. "Should I be asking you that?"

The universe clearly had jokes, because this wasn't the last time either. After that café, you saw him at a restaurant, same casual lean against the counter, the same unreadable face. Then at the park. Then at a bookstore. Every time you locked eyes, it was the same little pause, like both of you were waiting for the punchline.

The fourth or fifth accidental meetup, you'd finally folded your arms, tilting your head at him, amusement bubbling out before you could stop yourself.

"Alright, are YOU stalking me?" you'd asked, deadpan but half-laughing.

For the first time, his lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smirk.

"No." he'd replied, gaze flicking to you and back. "If I were, you'd never catch me."

And you had stood there, flustered, annoyingly charmed, and wondering if he'd always been this infuriatingly smooth.

But the real twist came later, your manager dropped the bomb about the upcoming event.

"A crossover gig." she'd said, breezy like it wasn't life-ruining. "You're going to meet some athletes and shoot some promo stuff. Super chill."

You'd thought nothing of it, until you showed up at the venue, makeup barely set, nerves barely managed, and there he was. Again.

This time, his name wasn't a mystery. The host's voice boomed through the speakers like an announcement in some royal court.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome Itoshi Sae!"

And you? Standing there like an absolute clown, holding some candies you snuck into your bag without your manager looking. Staring at the man you'd mistaken for a random guy for weeks.

I am going to dig a hole right here and move in.

The worst part wasn't even the reveal, it was how unbothered he looked. Smooth, sharp, camera-ready. Until the event wrapped, the photos were done, and he passed you in the hallway, hands in his pockets.

"Still think I’m stalking you?" he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear.

Your heart had done a perfect backflip right into your stomach.

I'm doomed, you'd thought, completely doomed.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

The airport speakers crackle, calling out some other flight and the chat floods your screen like you'd just dropped the juiciest scandal.

"OMG stop, the candy part got me dead."

"YOU MET HIM SO MANY TIMES AND DIDN'T KNOW??? Girl."

"How are you not married to him already, I'm crying."

You snort, flipping your phone so the camera only catches your eyes, full of fake dramatic regret.

"Yup, that's the story. The universe was practically waving a red flag in my face, and I still didn't get it. But hey, I never said I was smart."

You grin, voice going soft.

"That was the beginning of the mess, though. Things only got weirder, funnier, and... well, better from there."

You glance at the flight board, the 'Delayed' sign still glowing. Plenty of time to keep the story going.

"Should I tell you what happened after that event?" You tilt your head, teasing. "You might wanna grab snacks for this one."

You rested your chin on your palm, the corners of your lips twitching upward at the memory.

"But noooope. Plot twist, we kept running into each other even after that. Like, the universe wasn't done embarrassing me."

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

It started with the afterparty.

You weren't even supposed to stay long. Your manager had warned you: "Just smile, mingle, and leave before anyone asks awkward questions." But you'd stayed for the free food. Because of priorities.

You were swiping the last mini cupcake from a passing tray when you noticed him, standing alone by the balcony doors, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Same suit, same cool stare, but there was something... so normal about him when he wasn't surrounded by flashing cameras and interviews.

You hadn't meant to walk over. Honestly. Your feet just moved.

"Hey, stalker." you'd greeted, cupcake half-raised to your mouth.

He glanced your way, eyebrows lifting slightly.

"You've got the roles reversed." he murmured, sipping his drink, "I was here first."

You'd grinned around the cupcake. "Pfft. Technicality."

It was small, that first conversation. You talked about nothing, the music, the cheap wine, how awkward those ‘stand here and smile’ photos were. And when you'd finally left the party, you were sure that was the last of it.

But then came the run-ins. Again.

At the bookstore. At the same street-side ramen place. At the stupid laundromat of all places.

Each time, the same exchange.

You: "Okay, this is getting suspicious."

Him: Deadpan. "I live here. You're the one following me."

The universe was clearly shipping you two harder than your entire fanbase ever could.

But the real kicker came a week later when your manager ambushed you mid-photoshoot with a new assignment.

"Big commercial gig. Big brands, crossover style, you'll be working with athletes again."

You didn't even flinch this time. Please let it be someone normal, you'd prayed silently, half-joking.

Spoiler alert: it wasn't.

The day of the shoot, you arrived early, coffee in hand, only to find him sitting on the armrest of the studio sofa, completely at ease, scrolling through his phone like he owned the place.

The second your eyes met, he locked his phone and gave you the faintest nod, almost amused.

"Guess you're stuck with me again." he muttered.

You'd raised your cup like it was a toast. "Could be worse."

And honestly? It could've. The more you worked together that day, the more the weirdness of ‘Itoshi Sae the world-class footballer’ faded away. He was sharp, calm, and maddeningly good at making your heart do cartwheels with a single glance. But also... surprisingly soft-spoken, and just the right amount of sarcastic to match your chaos.

When the cameras weren't rolling, the two of you sat on the studio floor, sharing a pack of sour candies you’d stashed in your bag, the conversation flipping between random nonsense and quiet silences.

At some point, you caught yourself thinking.

Huh. This isn't so bad. Actually... it’s kinda nice.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

You blinked, pulling yourself out of the memory, stretching your arms overhead like the story had physically weighed on you.

"Yeah." you muttered into the mic, "That's when things got... complicated. After that shoot, we started texting. Then hanging out. Not the usual ‘post it on Instagram and make it obvious’ kind of way. Just... quiet."

Your thumb swiped the chat, watching your fans lose their collective minds.

"I KNEW IT. Texting is the gateway to the heart."

"You two were so private, we thought you were single fr."

"So you're telling me this was a soft slow burn all along?!"

You smiled to yourself, your heart swelling just a little as you stared at the screen.

"Yup. No fancy announcements, no PDA, no hints on social media. Just... us. And honestly, I liked it that way."

You leaned back, glancing at the flight board again.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself." you teased. "If you want the full tea—the real ‘how we actually got together’ story—you're gonna need snacks, drinks, maybe a pillow, because that part?"

You tilted your head toward the camera, grinning wide.

"That's a whole saga on its own."

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

You leaned your head against the cold airport window, watching planes blink through the foggy glass while your phone rested comfortably against your knee, still live, your chat buzzing like a beehive.

You were mid-sentence, rambling about the "friendly" phase, when your brain hit that memory, the moment things stopped being just friendly.

Your lips twitched into a soft, secret smile.

"Alright, alright, so here's the part everyone wants." you chuckled, stretching your legs out in front of you. "You've all been dying to know how it went from texting, hanging out, to... official, right?"

The chat exploded with caps and emojis.

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

"Yeah, the thing is... he never actually asked. Like—no ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ no rom-com confession under the rain, no dramatic gestures. It was just... Sae being Sae."

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

It had been months.

Months of quiet coffee shop meetups, walking side by side with your hands brushing but never quite touching, late-night texts about the dumbest things, and his deadpan humor paired perfectly with your endless chaos.

And then one ordinary night, the two of you were sitting on his apartment balcony, the Tokyo skyline stretched out before you like an endless string of stars. You were bundled in his oversized hoodie—correction: permanently borrowed hoodie, sipping canned peach soda, while Sae scrolled through something on his phone, utterly relaxed.

The silence wasn't awkward. It never was with him.

Out of nowhere, without even looking up, he spoke:

"You know my schedule, right? Next season's gonna be worse."

You glanced over, raising a brow. "Yeah, your manager already sent me the doomsday calendar."

His lips curved into a faint smirk. "Then you'll have to deal with it."

You blinked. "Deal with what?"

"You. Being stuck with me." He finally tilted his head, looking at you sideways, eyes soft but so unreadable. "You're already here all the time, anyway."

The soda can slipped slightly in your hands.

Wait... is this... is he... asking?

You tilted your head, squinting suspiciously. "Are you... asking me to be your girlfriend without asking me to be your girlfriend?"

His expression didn't even flinch. "If you need me to spell it out, you're dumber than I thought."

You gasped, mock-offended, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Excuse me?!"

But before you could launch into a dramatic fake argument, he reached over, pulling you back gently by the sleeve of his hoodie. His hand stayed there, warm and steady against your arm, anchoring you in place.

"That wasn't a question," he added, voice low but steady.

And just like that, that was it. No grand announcement, no perfect moment. Just simple, real, and entirely him.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

Your fingers absentmindedly fidgeted with the zipper of your jacket, the memory lingering like warmth in your chest.

"Yeah... that’s how it happened," you told your audience, your grin softening. "No dramatic confessions, no fairytale scenes. Just him deciding we were already together without me even realizing it."

The chat blew up in every direction.

"HE JUST CLAIMED YOU LIKE THAT???"

"Sae Itoshi pulled the ‘you're mine, you just don’t know it’ move?? I'm screaming."

"Girl that wasn't even a question. That was a declaration!!"

You laughed, stretching out your legs again, letting the warmth of that night sink in all over again.

"Yeah," you whispered, half to yourself, half to the stream. "That's just... him."

The airport speakers crackled with another delay announcement, and you groaned, flopping back against the chair like your soul had just left your body.

"Guess I've got plenty of time to spill the rest now," you told your phone, your live stream still going strong, chat still wild, even though you were only halfway through your long-winded, slightly embarrassing love story.

You twisted your fingers into your hoodie strings, eyes flicking toward the camera, a little mischievous spark dancing behind your smile.

"So, here's the fun part. When we finally decided to tell people... no one believed us." You let the words hang for dramatic effect.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

You flopped face-first onto your bed, phone dangling from your hand, notifications still blowing up your screen like a mini firework show. Your social feed was chaos—memes, clips, conspiracy theories, fan edits— and all for the same ridiculous reason.

The public didn't believe you and Sae were actually dating.

You groaned into your pillow.

"Why. Why is the world like this?"

Just earlier that week, you finally decided to post that one photo, the soft, cozy one of you wearing his hoodie, feet propped up on his coffee table, his unmistakable blue-and-white game jersey draped on the back of the couch in the background.

The caption was simple:

"Soft launch? Nah. Full send."

And Sae, the man of zero social media energy, actually liked it.

But instead of hearts and celebration, the media? The fans? The blogs?

𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌?

𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚝?

𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚝?

They refused to believe it. Your chaotic, sunshine personality, the influencer who couldn't sit still for five seconds, with Japan's most stone-faced, deadpan soccer prince? They weren't buying it.

Truth was, you avoided his matches like the plague.

Sure, you loved seeing him play, but you didn't love the VIP section. You hated the constant camera pans, the forced smiles, and the announcers awkwardly mentioning you every five minutes like you were the main event instead of him.

And even if you could handle that, the crowd wasn’t much better.

"Why do you even go, if all you do is get stared at?" you remembered Sae asking, poking the straw in your drink lazily as the two of you hid in a quiet little ramen shop once.

"Exactly! I don't," you shot back. "You wanna know how awkward it is to sit there, every second feeling like I should wave or pose for the camera? I'm not tryna be the soccer wife template, okay?"

And as usual, Sae just nodded, no offense taken, no guilt tripped, just casually accepting your boundaries without blinking.

And the interviews? His manager probably sent him a dozen pre-approved questions about you every week, and he still answered the same way:

"Private life's got nothing to do with the field."

"Next question."

"No comment."

You loved him for that. But the world? They took it as proof you were all for show.

You rolled onto your back, clutching your phone to your chest dramatically.

"I want everyone to know you're mine, damn it!" you whined out loud, even though Sae wasn't even in the room.

Your phone buzzed, and speak of the devil, his name flashed across your screen.

A text, short as always.

Sae: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?

You typed back furiously, thumbs moving like you were fighting for your life.

You: 𝐘𝐄𝐒. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦! 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐈𝐦 𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐞-𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮! 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬? 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬!!

A few seconds passed.

Another buzz.

Sae: 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞.

You let out the most dramatic gasp, holding your chest like you’d been mortally wounded.

He doesn't care. He's so... him.

But even in the middle of your whiny pout, your phone vibrated once more, and his last message made your stomach flip

Sae: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬.

Your lips twitched into a defeated smile.

Yeah. That's true.

Bonus: Later that week, you caught him scrolling past some article about your "fake" relationship. His only reaction?

"Tch. They're dumb."

And then he slid his phone back into his pocket, grabbed your hand, and squeezed it liked the whole world could fall away and he'd still be fine, as long as you were beside him.

It wasn't just the fans.

It wasn't just the media.

It was everyone.

Even your own best friend.

You sat cross-legged on your couch, phone balanced on your knee, holding back a groan while your bestie's voice played through the speaker like the most supportive but suspicious customer service rep on Earth.

"So… Sae Itoshi, huh?" they hummed, voice full of that polite, careful tone people use when they think you’re about to tell them you joined a pyramid scheme. "You're really serious about this?"

You flopped onto your back dramatically, one arm tossed over your face.

"Yes, I'm serious! Why does nobody ever believe me?!"

Your best friend laughed, soft but teasing.

"It's just... you only post about him once or twice a week then it's just you with your routine. You're always hanging out with me or working. And he doesn't mention you in interviews either, so…"

You sat up and grabbed a throw pillow, clutching it like a lifeline.

"Because we like being private! You know how insane people are about celeb couples. We don't need the world crawling up our noses."

Your best friend didn't sound mean about it, or even doubtful in a harsh way, just unconvinced in that "I love you, but I’m side-eyeing this" way.

"Well, if it's real, I'm happy for you. But I'll believe it when I see him at a family dinner or something."

You froze.

Family dinner. Right. That wasn't helping your case either.

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

Your family was no better.

Every group call, every visit, every holiday, someone always asked the same thing:

"Are you still seeing that soccer guy?"

"Yes, I am!"

And always, the same suspicious, supportive-but-totally-judging smile.

"Mhm. Must be hard, dating a busy man like that. You two probably don't see each other much, huh?"

You wanted to yeet your phone across the room every time.

It wasn't their fault.

They weren’t being cruel, or bitter, in fact, they were probably trying to avoid sounding jealous.

But they hadn't seen Sae show up at birthdays, or in your Insta stories, or on the group vacations.

And every time you'd try to explain the situation, the words sounded faker and faker even to your own ears.

"He's busy with training."

"He doesn't like social media."

"We like keeping things private."

"It's not that serious to everyone else, but it is to us."

You knew it was true. You knew Sae wasn't some trophy boyfriend for display. But you also knew how invisible your relationship looked to the outside world.

The meet-and-greet was in full swing. Flashing lights, smiles so wide your cheeks hurt, laughter so loud it made your ears ring — you were in your natural habitat, bouncing from fan to fan like a hyper, overcaffeinated puppy.

You signed merch, posed for selfies, gave out warm hugs, and listened to all the sweet things your fans had to say.

"You're literally the best person ever."

"You make my day so much brighter."

"You're my comfort streamer, always."

And then, the classic.

"So… are you really dating Sae Itoshi?"

You smiled, the same smile you'd mastered over the past few months. The yes-it's-true-but-nobody-believes-me-anyway smile.

"Yup! Totally. 100%."

Cue the polite giggles.

They didn't mean it in a mean way. In fact, you loved how playful your fans were about it. But deep down, it still poked at you like an itch you couldn't scratch.

They were so sure it was fake.

Why wouldn't they be? You and Sae were barely ever seen together unless a manager forced it. You hated attending his matches. He hated social media. It all lined up too perfectly, like the plot of every fake celebrity romance scandal.

You'd whined about it to him just last night. Practically buried your face in his chest, grumbling like a five-year-old.

"Why won't anyone believe me? I want the whole world to know you're mine!"

And like always, he'd just ruffled your hair, kissed your forehead, and said.

"Let them think what they want. I know what’s real."

But apparently, Sae Itoshi had a limit, too.

Because while you were grinning at the next fan in line, mid-conversation, halfway through signing your name on a hoodie, the room shifted.

There were gasps, murmurs, and the kind of hush that only happens when someone so unexpected, so untouchable, walks into the room.

You lifted your head and froze.

Standing casually near the back, hands in his pockets like this was the most normal thing in the world, was Sae Itoshi himself.

Your jaw dropped.

Before you could even string a single thought together, he was walking toward you, eyes locked on yours like there was no one else in the world. And without stopping, without saying a word, without hesitation.

He leaned in and kissed you.

Soft but confident. No over-the-top drama, no staged posing. Just real. Simple. Certain.

When he pulled back, the silence was deafening. For once in your chaotic, noisy life, you were speechless.

Your fans were quiet, wide-eyed, some blinking like they’d just been hit by the plot twist of the century. But not in a bad way. No hate. Just pure, I-can't-believe-I-just-witnessed-that energy.

You blinked up at him, your voice breathless but happy, giddy from the surprise.

"What are you doing here??"

Sae tilted his head slightly, his signature deadpan expression softening at the corners.

"You kept whining about nobody believing you."

A pause.

"I can't take it anymore. So here I am, making sure they're convinced we're together until the end."

You wanted to melt into the floor.

The fans, finally breaking out of their stunned silence, burst into soft claps and cheers. No screaming chaos, no wild frenzy, just a wave of warm, supportive acceptance like, "Well, damn. Guess it was real all along."

And just like that...

All your whining finally paid off.

You couldn't stop smiling even as the meet-and-greet wrapped up, Sae waiting nearby like the world’s most casually overprotective boyfriend, hands tucked in his pockets, eyes glancing toward you every few minutes.

And this time, when you scrolled through your notifications later that night, the headlines weren't speculating with assumptions anymore.

Confirmed: Itoshi Sae And Our Influencer Queen Are Officially Together. For Real.

You stretch your arms above your head, rolling your neck side to side as the loudspeaker overhead calls out another delayed flight. Your phone, propped up against your coffee cup on the little table, is still going strong, the live stream timer blinking away.

The screen is flooded with hearts, emojis, and comment after comment, your fans practically vibrating through the chat.

You let out a small yawn, your voice light and teasing.

"—And that, my friends, is the full story. Yup. That’s how your favourite chaotic influencer and Mr Ice-Block Sae Itoshi became a thing." You grin at the camera, lifting your drink for a little toast. "No fake dating, no PR stunt, just real-deal feelings and a very stubborn soccer boy who took his sweet time making everyone believe me."

The comments start rolling in faster now that you finally stopped talking, and you lean closer, eyes flicking across the screen.

"OKAY OKAY I BELIEVE YOU NOW MY QUEEN I’M SORRY."

"THE WAY I DIDN'T BELIEVE YOU FOR MONTHS I FEEL SO DUMB."

"I KNEW IT! I FREAKING KNEW IT! You two are so real I'm crying."

"Plot twist: Sae is the softest boyfriend behind the scenes."

"Her telling the whole story at an airport like a rom-com main character."

You chuckle under your breath, heart swelling a little at the waves of support finally pouring in. The very people who doubted you for so long were now spamming apologies, excitement, and even edits waiting to be made the second this livestream ended.

You leaned back in the chair, looking out at the huge glass windows where planes rolled slowly across the runway. Your lips curl into a smile, fingers tapping against your cup.

"See?" you mutter under your breath, knowing full well Sae isn't here to hear it. "Told you they'd believe me eventually."

The screen blinks again with another message from a fan.

"Now tell us, where are you flying off to, Queen?"

You smirk playfully at the camera, pressing a finger to your lips.

"Ah, ah, ah—that's for me and a certain someone to know. Spoilers, you know?"

And just like that, the screen explodes with more theories, more hearts, and more love.

You close your eyes for a moment, listening to the soft airport hum, your mind wandering to the boy who'd flipped your world upside down without even trying, the boy who wasn't so icy, once the cameras stopped rolling.

You're still grinning at the endless flood of comments lighting up your phone screen, fans spamming:

"WHERE YOU GOING?"

"IS SAE PICKING YOU UP??"

"TELL USSSSS."

When suddenly—A voice from behind, smooth and slightly amused, cuts through the airport noise.

"So that's why you didn't greet me."

Your breath catches, and your whole body stiffens for half a second before you whip your head around. There he stands, casual as ever in a hoodie and cap, hands in his pockets, Itoshi Sae.

You blink like your brain short-circuited.

Oh.

He's here.

The chat explodes the moment the camera catches the hint of him standing behind you, leaning over slightly to glance at the screen. The comments spiral into full-blown chaos:

"IS THAT SAE?????"

"WHAT THE ACTUAL—"

"NO WAY NO WAY NO WAY."

"SAE APPEARED IN THE FLESH. CONFIRMED."

"I CAN'T BREATHE."

You laugh, cheeks heating up as you tilt the phone slightly toward him, watching as Sae raises a brow at the scrolling flood of reactions. He gives the camera the most casual glance, like he hadn't just walked into your live stream unannounced, and then looks back at you.

"You done?" he asks.

Because, of course, he knows you've been here talking about him for who-knows-how-long.

You roll your eyes playfully, bringing your hand up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Almost," you reply with a soft grin, turning your attention back to your fans, who are practically foaming at the mouth at this point.

You lift your left hand, casually wiggling your ring finger right in front of the camera, the glint of a sleek, simple ring catching the light. Your grin widens when you say, sweet as ever:

"Oh, right. Almost forgot to mention—we're engaged."

And with that, you reach over and hit the "End Stream" button, the last thing your fans see being your smug little wink and the chat blowing up so fast the app almost lags.

Phone off, you glance back at Sae, who—for once—lets out the softest huff of a laugh.

"You just had to drop that like a bomb, huh?" he mutters.

You sling your bag over your shoulder, nudging him lightly. "You didn't want me whining anymore, remember? Plus, I love it when I leave my fans with cliffhangers."

And without another word, he reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, as the two of you stroll off toward the gate, away from the flashing cameras, the exploding comments, and the doubters.

Just the two of you.

Till the end.

97 notes · View notes

ilguna · 8 months ago

Text

☼ lovestruck, lovesick, lovelorn pt3 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; it turns out finnick has a lot of pent up thoughts that he’s having a hard time showing properly. at first, it seems like he can’t get enough time with you, then he begins to retreat back to his original demeanor, the one you know the best.

warnings; swearing, death mention, torture and strangulation mention, prostitution mention.

wc; 4.5k

notes; highly requested!!

part one, part two.

While District Thirteen seemed to be perfect by the way it was described to you, it has got to be one of the more frustrating places you’ve had the displeasure of visiting. You understand their concept of total equality to ensure fairness, but with it being taken to this extreme—you’re being driven up a wall.

To start, there’s no such thing as individuality, it’s basically a crime to suggest it. And it’s becoming a difficult pill to swallow with each rejection. You come from a Career district, one that’s known for its diversity. As you were growing up, especially in your teenage years, you were taught how to stick out just enough to make heads turn.

You’ve been using it to your advantage for years now, mainly in the Capitol. You tend to tone it down at home, because there’s no reason to stir the pot and draw attention to yourself when you’d like peace and quiet. It’s almost crazy how quick people jump to conclusions when there’s nothing going on.

It’s almost the same here. With how secluded Thirteen is from the rest of the world, all it took was you and the three other victors arriving for conversation to begin. You can’t remember how many times you were stopped your first time out of the hospital by curious minds.

Anyway, in Thirteen, you’re not allowed to wear anything besides the grey jumpsuit they’ve provided. Unless, of course, you’re a patient in their hospital. Then, you get to wear one of their itchy white gowns you also can’t take off. It took hours of begging the nursing staff for them to finally relent on the rule. And the best they could do for you was the jumpsuit.

At this point, you’d give anything for a simple outfit. As well as a meal that isn’t pre-portioned based on your age, height, weight and muscle mass. There’s been countless times where you’ve asked Greasy Sae to give you a bigger portion on your tray, only to be told that what you have is what you get.

It doesn’t matter who you talk to, everyone refuses to believe you when you tell them you’re still hungry. They’re so set on trying to take away free will, they forget you’re not used to living this way. It’s not normal to have your entire day’s schedule printed on your forearm for you to follow by the hour. It’s weird.

They didn’t have you start with a schedule as soon as you arrived, though. After being rescued from the Capitol alongside Johanna, Annie and Peeta, you were immediately taken into the care of the hospital. Almost a month later, they still haven’t fully released you from their custody.

It might have something to do with your adjusting period, and the fact they’re comparing you to the other three. With Annie, she was able to communicate they didn’t harm her, so she was given the option to leave the hospital first. As for Johanna, she’s the same person she’s always been, the aggression just threw them off, so they kept her for a week longer than they should’ve.

As for Peeta, he’s on the extreme end. Upon seeing Katniss, he tried to kill her, which put the doctors under the impression that not everything is what they seem. That’s why they insisted on keeping Johanna until Haymitch could confirm that’s just her personality.

When it comes to you, the bright lights of Thirteen’s hospital were almost identical to the ones in the Tribute Center. They had you strapped to a chair underneath a big light in the middle of the room. It was shining directly into your eyes, all hours of the day. The only time you got a break from it was when you’d pass out from the lack of oxygen.

It took some convincing, but eventually the doctors got through to you that you are safe in their care. All lights in your room were promptly changed from white to yellow, and then they were either dimmed heavily or off completely from then on.

As soon as you started showing signs of normalcy, you were given the option to wander the hospital wing. And when they wanted to start implementing you into their way of life, they tried to give you one of those arm stamps. You followed it for… maybe the first three days before Katniss told you it’s a bunch of bullshit.

You didn’t care for it much after that.

Honestly, that might be one of the main reasons why they continue to keep you in the hospital, instead of moving you to one of their pods, like they did with Finnick and Katniss. Apparently, they were both kept here for a while following the arena rescue. Finnick couldn’t function properly from the shock, so he wasn’t in any shape to be making decisions about his care.

The same goes for Katniss, just worse. Haymitch caught you up on her behavior, because you were curious about how she was compared to Finnick. From the sounds of it, the weight of everything that had happened hit her hard. Including the fact Peeta was no longer around for her to fiercely protect, he was in the hands of the Capitol.

You can’t imagine how painful it was for her to get Peeta back, only for him to be unrecognizable. In the few times you’ve talked to him recently—because he doesn’t have a violent reaction when he sees you—you can tell by the way he holds himself that there is something severely broken in him.

He does not have the same softness he used to. The Capitol was successful in breaking him.

Peeta seems to be getting better over time, though. He’s not nearly as violent as he used to be when he talks about Katniss now, but it’s still nowhere near positive. It’s just tolerance. Plutarch has been working over calls with scientists in Three on ways they can reverse the hijacking.

Every time you sit in on a meeting in the Control room, he can’t help himself when he makes jabs at you when it comes to Beetee’s death. As if you were the one that missed blocking the knife, not Finnick. And you don’t say that to blame Finnick, you’re just confused on how that was your mistake, when you couldn’t have helped prevent it.

You never feel the need to defend yourself with Plutarch, he’s not worth your energy, you did everything they asked of you. Besides, if you’re sitting in on a meeting, so is Finnick. He’s jumped to your defense plenty of times, he has no issue shutting down Plutarch when he’s making shit up.

Speaking of Finnick, it’s a weird adjustment with him, too. If you had told yourself last year that Finnick would be defending you to other people, instead of helping them tear you down, you might’ve peed yourself from laughing so hard. Finnick swore to you, and Mags and everyone else who would listen that he would never change his mind about you. It’s funny how things have worked out.

You’re really glad you two have been able to move on from that point. You’ve known Finnick for a long time—ten whole years. If he hadn’t been so set on making you an enemy after your Games, you’re sure that the two of you would’ve been best friends. It makes you curious on how the Capitol would’ve perceived you in that case, would it have made your situation with Snow worse?

Either way, your feelings about Finnick have been the same for a while, even years before the Quarter Quell. You’ll admit there were times where you lost your patience, and dropped down to his level of disrespect. Which definitely didn’t help with the way he decided to treat you, only justified it.

All it took was Mags telling him the truth about how you’ve allowed the Capitol to treat you, something you confessed to her ages ago. You can still remember the look of horror on her face when you got into the details, and the way it smoothed over when you said you’d made an offer to Snow to take more nights for Finnick.

Mags was truly a sweetheart. Besides Finnick’s family, she was the only other person who was able to see things correctly. And she was incredibly wise when it came to important secrets. When you told her about the Capitol, you said she could do what she wanted with the information. You assumed she would go and tell Finnick when she got the chance, a part of you had hoped it would shake him.

Nothing came of it, of course, until a couple weeks ago when Finnick told you she’d finally told him your secret. You loathed Mags for at least a week, all you could think was, “A little too late, don’t you think?” But as soon as you had a conversion with Haymitch about it, he reminded you that she did it on purpose.

Mags waited for the perfect time to tell him, and you suspect it had to be on the night of the interviews, before you all went to bed. It would make him hesitate in the arena, see your opinion from a different angle. It made him trust you, despite the years of hatred that had been leading him prior.

What really sealed it for him was when you risked your life to make sure his family was safe in the Capitol. Finnick’s told you countless times since you started talking to him, that he’ll never be able to make it up to you. You don’t know how many times you’ve told him that you don’t want him to.

He’s doing enough now. In fact, he’s doing more than you expected from him. At first, it started with the two of you hanging around each other, going around District Thirteen, getting lunch and dinner together. You thought you’d be friends at most, until the two of you got caught in your feelings.

Johanna’s been making fun of you ever since she found out.

She’s currently laying backward on her hospital bed, using the pillows to keep her legs elevated and feet pressed against the wall. The hospital is beginning to drive her crazy, especially the nurses. It doesn’t help that the doctor she was assigned refuses to discharge her. She’s stuck here, like you.

Johanna’s gently rubbing her head, a habit she picked up recently. It’s not that she necessarily misses her hair, she just claims that it helps her think. She hasn’t been talking as much as she first did when you got here. It’s probably because she was able to get all of her thoughts out when she was talking to you while you were unable to respond. Everything she had kept bottled inside was let out over the course of three weeks.

It was actually fairly interesting to get inside of her head. She has good advice when it’s not clouded by anger. You’ve been meaning to ask her some questions, regarding Finnick. You’ve already picked the brains of Katniss and Haymitch, and they gave you answers that weren’t exactly thrilling to hear.

Lately, Finnick hasn’t been acting like the person he’s grown to be in Thirteen. In fact, he’s starting to revert back to how he used to be. The mean, distrustful man that could barely stand your presence in a room. But he’s inconsistent about it. Sometimes he’ll brush you off and make snide remarks, and others he’ll be kind and loving.

Haymitch wasn’t helpful, asking you if you were sure he wasn’t getting closer to Annie, like he’d been before the Quarter Quell. You told him that it couldn’t be possible because Finnick has never had feelings for Annie. It has something to do with the fact that she was too focused on her health to consider a relationship with anybody. Let alone Finnick, who had a number of problems from the Capitol. Not to mention, her parents are strict about her life.

Annie is out of the question.

Katniss had a better idea, mostly because she’s going through a similar situation with Peeta right now. She suggested that Finnick could be acting like that because he’s confused. He had a wave of euphoria when he saw you were okay, after sacrificing so much for him. He’s been given the opportunity to make things right, but now he’s confused because he’s not used to these types of feelings about you.

This could be why he’s acting out.

The only other person you want to hear from right now is Johanna. Finnick still talks to her as much as she talks to you, which is almost all hours of the day. You’re hoping he’s said something to her recently that might give you an idea of what’s going on in his head. Or even the answer entirely.

“Hey, Johanna?” You ask.

She hums, hand pausing. “(Y/n), if you try talking to me about breaking out of this place again, you better fall through with the plan this time.”

You roll your eyes. “In my defense, I asked Coin to clear us to go outside, but she said that only Katniss and Gale are allowed to go. They hunt.”

“Sure they do. I bet they think of ways to escape, too.”

“It’s Katniss.” You agree, playing with your shoe on the floor.

Thirteen’s shoes are unsurprisingly uncomfortable. If it were allowed, you’d walk around in your socks. You tried once, and then you got sent back to the hospital to get them. You were escorted the entire way here to make sure you wouldn’t disobey.

“What’s your question?” Johanna asks.

You press your lips together briefly. “Have you noticed that Finnick’s acting kinda weird lately?”

Johanna doesn’t move for a second. “Weird how?”

“I mean, he’s not acting like he normally does. I think…” Your face screws. “I think he’s going back to how he used to treat me.” You look up to see her. “Has he talked to you about how he feels at all?”

Johanna doesn’t respond, so you take this as her thinking.

“If it helps, Katniss said it could be because he’s confused.” You offer, shrugging. “Haymitch said it was Annie, but that can’t be true, right?”

She looks impressed, rubs her head once or twice, and then turns to look at you. “Of course brainless is smarter than the drunk.”

“Katniss is right?” You ask.

Johanna sighs, “No, she didn’t get it exactly.” She rolls her eyes. “Listen, I told Finnick that he’s being stupid about this, but he didn’t care. He’s caught up in his head.”

“What are you talking about?”

“(Y/n), he’s told me that he doesn’t think he deserves you after the way he treated you. He said that it’s clear that you’re the better person, and he’s nothing but an asshole.” She shakes her head. “He wants to end things with you.”

“What?” You ask, getting to your feet. “When did he tell you this?”

“Last week, I think.” Johanna stares blankly at the ceiling.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We see each other every day.”

“I thought he wasn’t going through with it. If he did, you’d bring it up to me.” She makes a face. “I’ve been trying to tell him to knock it off.”

“Johanna, what did he say exactly?” You sit back down on the stool, trying to calm down.

She sighs, closing her eyes. “He said it had something to do with your generosity. You know, the whole Capitol thing. He’s hearing a lot of good things about you from Haymitch, and I think that’s freaking him out.” She starts to pick at one of the scabs she refuses to let heal. “I think he said that he didn’t understand the way you worked, and now he feels stupid about it.”

“The way I worked?”

“Like your ulterior motives.” She explains. “How you do one thing and it benefits you later on, but it looks bad from the outside. Finnick said that you have a heart of gold and it took you getting tortured for him to feel that way. He feels selfish.”

Your eyes dart to the clock, wondering what time it is. The hospital’s curfew will go into effect in a couple of hours. They don’t like it when their patients are out past a certain time, they have a routine when it comes to gathering vitals.

“I’ve got to go.” You say suddenly, bending down to pull your shoes on.

“Where?” Johanna asks, twisting to sit up.

“I need to talk to Finnick, now.” You tell her, standing up. “I’ll see you later.”

You leave her room before she can stop you. You’re a few steps down the hall when you hear the automatic door swish shut. Finnick could be anywhere in the bunker, but he’s been hanging out in the Control Room a lot recently.

You go there first. Down the hospital hall, up six floors on the elevator, down a muggy hallway and up to the door. When you knock, no one answers. It isn’t until you’re pounding on the door, does it swing open, to a very irritated President Coin.

“Can I help you, miss (L/n)?” She asks, eyebrows turn down. “We’re in the middle of a meeting.”

“Is Finnick inside?” You ask. “It’s urgent.”

“No, I have not seen him. Try Heavensbee.” She goes to swing the door shut.

You place your foot in the crack before she can shut it entirely, and regret it almost instantly from how hard she was going to slam the door. Coin opens the door wider, lips pressed together.

“Where would I find him?” You ask.

“The basement. He was working in the weapons shop.”

She then kicks your foot out of the way, pulling the door shut. You roll your eyes at her behavior, she hasn’t been the kindest person to you since you arrived. You think Plutarch’s convinced her it’s your fault Beetee’s dead. One day you’ll give him a piece of your mind, but today won’t be it.

You leave the hallway, finding the elevator again. It’s old, which means it moves slowly. It takes almost fifteen minutes for it to go all the way down to the basement, because of the other people getting on and off.

By the time you get there, Plutarch’s locking the doors. “Have you seen Finnick?”

He looks over his shoulder to see it’s you, and then goes back to fixing the lock. “I haven’t. I’ve been on a call with a scientist for the past hour working on weapon plans because we don’t have any experts here.”

You suck in a breath, reminding yourself not to react. “Do you have any idea who might’ve seen him? It’s important.”

“Did you try Haymitch?” He suggests lamely.

“Where would he be?”

“The rehabilitation center. Where else?” He shakes his head.

You don’t say anything back to him, because all responses would be rude. You leave him there, heading back to the elevator. By the time you get it programmed for the rehab center, Plutarch is in sight. He holds out his hand to tell you to stop, but you press the button while looking away, pretending as if you didn’t see him.

Maybe he should be nicer to you.

The rehab center is closer, and their curfew is stricter. If Finnick is here, then he’s only in the visiting area. It’s a shame that Haymitch is still required to stay here instead of a pod, but he really pissed off Coin. He was joking about smuggling alcohol from Greasy Sae, and she was having none of it.

When the elevator stops, you program it to go up a few floors before being allowed to go back down. Anything you can do to inconvenience Plutarch. When you get inside of the center, they have you sign a sheet, and then they put you in the waiting room while they call out the person. As soon as they have you sit down, you know Finnick isn’t here, either, because they would’ve just directed you to the visiting area.

Haymitch comes out, as messy looking as ever, with a beanie pulled to his eyebrows. “Hey, kid. Curfew’s soon.”

“I know. Hey, has Finnick been here?”

He shakes his head. “Peeta’s a good guess. Finnick’s been trying to do exposure therapy.”

“At the hospital?” You ask. “I would’ve seen him.”

Haymitch blows air out from his cheeks. “Katniss?”

“That’s a better idea.” You nod, “I should’ve tried her first instead of Coin. I’m sorry I can’t stay, the hospital’s curfew is in an hour.”

Haymitch waves his hand. “Good luck.”

You wave, leaving out the waiting room door. The lady at the office bids you a goodnight, and then promptly shuts off the office lights. There’s a click that fills the air from the locking system, making you let out a quiet laugh. What a passive-aggressive way to tell you that you were overstaying your welcome.

On the elevator again, you take it up to where Katniss’s pod should be with her family. Just her, her mom, Primrose and their cat. When you get there, you knock on the door. It’s only a second before Katniss’s mother opens it with a warm smile.

“Oh, hello (Y/n).”

“Hi.” You smile, “Is Katniss here?”

“No, I believe she’s down in the cafeteria with Gale and Finnick.”

You hum, eyebrows drawing together. “Thank you.” You begin to back away. “Have a good night.”

“Is there a message you’d like to leave?”

“No, I’m actually looking for Finnick.” You shrug.

She nods. “Have a good night.”

The door shuts, you turn around and get back to the elevator, where you’re forced to wait twenty minutes. The clock on the wall isn’t helping the rising anxiety in your stomach, you’ve only got enough time to check the cafeteria before you have to get back to the hospital. He better be down there.

You guess you could try again tomorrow, but you want to have a conversation tonight. The longer you wait, the more it settles into his head. What if he spends the entire day dodging you?

The elevator arrives full of residents trying to get back home. You step on, and being the only one inside, you’re able to head straight down without any disruptions. It’s a quick trip down, but you have to go down the hallway to even get to the cafeteria.

You push the swinging door open with your hip. The room is illuminated by the few tv’s on the pillars, they’re stuck on the Capitol logo. In the daytime, Thirteen usually will let the Capitol broadcasts play. The people here see them as a comedy.

Sure enough, Katniss and Gale are inside, and they turn at the sound of the door. There is no Finnick in sight, but that doesn’t mean he’s not nearby.

“Hey, (Y/n).” Katniss adjusts her body to turn halfway so she doesn’t have to crane her neck. “Looking for Finnick?”

“Yes, actually.” You nod. “Have you seen him recently?”

“He just left and took the stairs up to the hospital to talk to Johanna before the curfew set.”

Your face twists. “Johanna?”

“If you take the elevator, you might be able to catch him.” She says.

“Right.” You agree, “Sorry for interrupting.”

Gale opens his mouth, Katniss speaks first. “It wasn’t even important. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” You wave, leaving the doorway.

You jog back down the hall to get to the elevator quicker. As soon as you press the button, the doors peel apart, allowing you to get inside. You’re briefly hopeful this trip won’t take longer than a minute, except you run into the same problem as earlier, with people stepping on with every passing floor.

By the time you get to the hospital, it’s past curfew. Finnick always leaves on time.

A wild goose chase for nothing. It’s like Finnick knew you were coming, so he avoided you at all costs. You don’t want to go back to how things used to be between you two. It was painful, knowing there was nothing you could do to fix it. You just had to let it go, like you will now. Except, you’re stuck in this stupid bunker with him, meaning you’ll never get away.

Tears appear in your eyes. You suck in a breath, holding it, tilting your head back to force the tears back to where they came. It doesn’t work, they slide down the sides of your eyes, traveling down your cheeks.

You let out the breath, and take in a shaky one. It isn’t long before the crying starts. You have to stop in the hallway before you enter the hospital wing, because if they see you upset, they’re going to put you on medical lockdown. This thought alone increases the hysteria.

You slide down the concrete wall, burying your face in your hands while you cry. Ten years you’ve waited just to be his friend, and he’s going to take it all away on the thought he’s not a good person? When it’s clearly not true? He’s sacrificed just as much as you have to get here.

You’ve told him this. Why won’t he listen?

“(Y/n)?” You whip your head up to see Finnick, a frown on his face. “Oh, honey.”

“You—” The word is strangled as another sob overcomes you at the sight of him, finally.

Finnick rushes over, coming to a crouch in front of you. You jerk forward, throwing your arms around him for a hug, squeezing him tightly. Finnick pulls you closer, placing a hand on the back of your head to keep your face in his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” He murmurs, shushing you gently. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” You protest through your tears. “You want to leave me!”

He doesn’t say anything, his grip only tightens.

“Finnick, I don’t care. I don’t care that you were mean to me in the past, because it didn’t bother me. I wouldn’t be talking to you if I didn’t want to be with you. How could you have known better if no one told you? It’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve seen the signs. If I had gotten to know you better, maybe I would’ve realized. I was so mean to you.”

“We were mean to each other.” You tell him, playing with his hair. “We did good things on our own time. You’re a good person, Finnick. You’re not bad for what’s happened between us in the past.”

You push him away from you to see his face, finding tears in his own eyes. You cup each side of his face, pulling him to your lips. Finnick’s hand slides its way to the back of your neck, holding you against him for a few seconds longer.

When you pull back, you wipe a tear from beneath his eye. “Let’s just focus on us right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

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alisdarkwrites · 2 months ago

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hey hey could you maybe make a part two for that yandere fic with shidou and sae? one where mc finally manages to escape and enjoy the freedom she has until they eventually find her and punish her.. i jst love the concept of mc running away from yanderes !

WAHHH!! YES OFC!! I wasn’t expecting people to like it very much since I don’t think I’m very good at writing

Also, sorry for taking so long to get back to ya anon I’m just not the most active person on tumblr

Tws: noncon, drugging, kidnapping

Run pt2

They were playing that cruel, cruel game again. The one where you had to hide and pray they wouldn’t find you, the one where they’d fuck you if you were found. You were so scared.

But this time you hadn’t turned and hid, you’d escaped through a window. Sae and Shidou never thought to lock the windows since you were usually cooped up in your tiny room. Plus, they never thought you’d think of escaping during this.

You gently pushed opened the window, making sure to not make any noise. If you made even a peep they’d figure out and catch you. You opened the parlour window, looking over your shoulder just before jumping out. The drop was only a foot, the window hadn’t been too high up so you made it easily.

You ran as fast as you could, running and running until the house was completely out of sight. You were overwhelmed in the city, you’d been stuck with them for so long that you weren’t used to all these people being around.

But you felt better here. You felt better being free, being able to do what you wanted when you wanted.

The police wouldn’t take you seriously. Those two were famous soccer stars and you were just some nobody they’d kept in a cabin. No one would ever believe you. You’d be written off as someone who just wanted to get fame off of their names. So you stayed quiet.

You got a job, and after a few months of living in a shelter you even got an apartment. Despite the apartment being small and cramped, having barely any room for even a couch in the living room you still felt better. You were free. You had escaped.

You hadn’t made any friends in the city yet, you weren’t ready to open up to people. You just wanted to lay low for a while, especially since those two still might be on your tail…

Despite not making many friends you enjoyed every second. You had even loved going to work at first, because it made you feel more free. Despite it just being your average grocery job it was better than being cooped up in a house and stuck with Sae and Shidou.

One night when getting out of your car after work something felt off. It was pitch black outside, and the closest light was a dim street lamp. Almost like someone was following you. It was pitch black outside, and the closest light was a dim street lamp. You wrote it off as just trauma from when you were kidnapped, thinking it was just lurking fear. But before you could get close to the door to your apartment building, someone grabbed you.

You were pulled away from the door and away from the light, whoever it was had pulled you into the alley way beside the apartment building. Then you saw him. His blonde and lick spiked hair, it was undeniably Shidou.

You kicked screamed and thrashed but you couldn’t do anything against him, and he just silently laughed at your kicks and punches. “Took you long enough to finally get back on our radar” Sae said; he’d practically emerged from the shadows, you hadn’t seen him at all. “We missed you a lot. Did you have fun out here in the wild, hm?” His voice was cold with a hint of anger.

“It wasn’t easy to find you either, that fake name only shared one letter and it wasn’t even the first one. So annoying…” shidou said, pulling you even closer into his chest. “Now it’s time your you to go to bed and come back to your real home…” *Shidou brought a cloth up to your face after saying it, the cloth was soaked in some sort of drug. You screamed and kicked and thrashed, but he didn’t let go. It didn’t take long for you to pass out.

“Goodnight sweetheart, we’ll see you in the morning.” Sae said, gently petting your hair. You could tell the sickly sweet tone of his was all a facade; that in reality he was fuming. You were in for hell when you woke up.

When you woke up you immediately felt it. The air was freezing cold but you could also feel warmth on either of your sides. Sae and Shidou were cuddling you. They had taken your clothes from you while you slept. Your tried to squirm, to get them off but all you did was wake Shidou up.

“Look who’s finally awake!” Shidou said poking you. He squished your face and poked your cheeks while giggling. “Now that you’re finally back, you know we have to punish you right…” he trailed off, he found more excited than remorseful.

His hands started to move lower and lower until he found your clit. He gave it a pinch beige shoving two fingers inside of you. He relished in the fact that you were in pain. You already started crying from it.

You were pathetically hitting his chest, trying to get him off of you. “Awh what’s wrong, don’t like it?” He laughed. “Your lucky dad isn’t awake yet, you’re lucky that I’m preparing you for what he has planned.” Shidou was cackling as if all of this was just a joke; as if he wasn’t torturing you.

He thrusted his fingers faster and faster until you came, but he didn’t stop. “Well that’s one point for me! Me and Sae are gonna fuck you until each of us have 25 points!” He was laughing while staring down at you, he could see the fear in your eyes. “Which means we’re going to make you cum 50 times.” His voice had changed; something deeper, something much more sinister.

“Don’t worry sweetheart! We’ll make it a bit easier on you for using a vibrator for 10 of them! The others will either he done with our cocks or something else, but I don’t wanna think about that right now…” The bastard was still laughing. You kept hitting his chest, pleading with him to stop. “Please! This is just heartless!” You begged. But you felt someone cover your mouth from behind. Sae had woken up.

“Did you really start without me? I thought we agreed that we’d decide who went first with a fair game.” Sae didn’t have any remorse in his voice, only anger. But you couldn’t tell if that anger was more directed at you are Shidou.

Sae reached his hand down, squeezing and rubbing your clit while Shidou finger fucked you. You were screaming but Sae’s hand was muffling it, you couldn’t even understand what you were trying to say. You came again, both of them snickering as you did. “So does that count as a point for you, or for me?” Sae asked, still rubbing your clit. “My point. You’re only rubbing her clit while my fingers are almost fully inside of her… so it’s mine!” Should sounded proud as he said it; proud of torturing you.

You could hear the squelching noises as shidou kept pumping his fingers in and out. It felt good but it was also so painful. You threw your head back and screamed as another orgasm was forced out of you. “Mine this time, I’d pull on her clip right before she came.” Sae left no room for argument.

“Fine, fine, I’ll let you have this one, but it’s still 3-1” Shidou said, sticking his tongue out at Sae. All you could do was pray that they’d stop early, that they’d have mercy on you. But deep down you knew that would never happen.

#yandere imagines #yandere #tw noncon #tw dark content #yandere x reader #poly yandere #yandere bllk #yandere shidou ryusei #yandere shidou #yandere sae #yandere blue lock

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m1ckeyb3rry · 1 year ago

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Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. “Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first.

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind.

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first.

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you.

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say.

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways.

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume.

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be.

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say.

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother says.

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter.

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky.

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding.

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by.

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say.

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says.

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.”

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently.

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up.

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality.

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you.

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized.

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn’t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

#kaiser x reader #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #michael kaiser #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #fake dating #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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narcjsistx · 1 month ago

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— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐒 ᡣ𐭩

all the information here ; PART FOUR

Evening was the most peaceful time of the day: Sae would come home, and so your responsibilities for the kid you loved so much would diminish. He would come back tired and you still had to feed the baby, but after putting him to bed at 8:30 pm you could go to your part of the house and completely relax. You loved to have a hot tea, put on some relaxing music or read some magazines you had bought online. But tonight was different, for your and Sae's misfortune

Tanzeku was in your arms, as you affectionately shook some rattles in front of him. Sae had recently returned home, but had disappeared into the bathroom probably to wash himself. You weren't calm, but talking to Sae about what had happened today was definitely out of your plans. It had shaken you, but you didn't want to make the situation even worse than it already was. Without realizing it, you notice Sae enter the living room, sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. He looks at his son, who will now be one year old in less than a few months. You've been working for him for a while now

"He’s grown quite a bit" he says, looking at his son. You nod, putting the rattle down "Yeah, he’ll be a year old soon" you say, but you see an emotion you've never seen before in his eyes, in the way he wants to speak but can't. You raise an eyebrow, and he sighs "He looks like me" he says, but you don't understand if he means it as a good or a bad thing. You look around, then focus on the face of the kid who is slowly falling asleep "True, he looks a lot like you. I've never seen his mother but he looks terribly like you" you say, but only afterwards do you realize that you have mentioned a very sensitive subject, that of the child's mother. You turn to Sae, but he doesn't seem particularly moved by the subject. He relaxes his muscles, looking straight ahead "Yeah. He doesn't look like his mother, not that I have a very clear memory of her. It was just a one-night stand" he says, and it's the first time the subject has come up between you. You were curious to know the truth, but asking him wouldn't have been appropriate. But now that you know the truth you're even less calm, not that it concerns you, but it's surprising how he said it without problems. You turn to him, Tanzeku now asleep

"I never wanted kids" he says, with a sincerity that is almost too much even for you. You look at him almost disgusted, but you remain silent: he doesn't pay you to be honest, but to take care of his son. His words, however, hurt you, especially considering what happened today and how much you love this kid. Sae seems to notice your discomfort, but it doesn't seem to push him back "Soccer is my career. I never even had the idea of having a family as a child... it was all an accident" he says, reducing his words to a simple, calm sentence, when he literally admitted that he didn't want his child. You knew he wasn't a big fan of the concept of family and Tanzeku, but comparing him to an accident?. The boy looks at his son in your arms, running a hand through his hair "But I couldn’t abandon him, right?" he says, and you can't help but tighten your lips so as not to speak "You don't pay me to tell you the truth" you say getting up from the sofa, and his look seems confused when he sees you leave "I'm going to put Tanzeku to bed and go to bed. Goodnight, Sae" you say walking towards the exit of the living room, going up the stairs to put the baby to sleep in his bed

His words echo in your head as you look at the peaceful face of the child you have been caring for for a long time. Tanzeku is so small and so adorable, yet his father cannot change even for his son. Maybe you hate that man, or maybe you are too emotional just because of what happened before. You walk out of the boy's room and head for the stairs to go back downstairs, but find Sae leaning against the wall. You get a little scared when you see him, but you quickly compose yourself "I'm about to go to the attic. Do you need anything else?" you ask, trying to sound at least polite, and he shakes his head "No. Are you going to bed, then?" he asks. Anger suddenly takes hold of you as you approach him "Yes, but let me say one last thing" you say looking at him seriously "Don't ever say something like that about Tanzeku in my presence again. Don't you dare, because I risk going crazy. You never realized in a year how much that child is a gift, such an adorable being who wants nothing but the love that he absolutely deserves. As long as that child is in my care, don't compare him to an accident, or you risk ending your fucking soccer career because of me. If you ever got engaged to a woman you actually love and who wanted children, what would you do? Would you say that they are accidents too?"

For the first time since you've been working for him, you notice surprise in his eyes, maybe even a little discomfort. You know perfectly well that no one has ever spoken to him like this, you know how this Japanese genius is treated very well by everyone around him, but his words had hurt you. You didn't care about being rude if the goal was to make him understand how perfect Tanzeku was, and that you loved him

You see him sigh, looking down for less than a few seconds "I get it" he says, and you heave a tired sigh. Maybe you were exaggerating, after all it wasn't a matter that concerned you that much. You couldn't say that Sae wasn't a decent father, certainly with problems, but it was the first time for him too. You were definitely caught up in the moment "Sorry... it's just that today..." you say looking down, playing with the edge of your sleeve. Sae looks up, tilting his head "What happened today?" he asks, and you purse your lips, a little uncomfortable

"Tanzeku called me mom, it was his first word"

TAGLIST: @lincqx ; @irethepotato ; @nevvynev ; @vaelils ; @levihanmyotp ; @lil-lia12 ; @princesssae ; @chuurinnie ; @llearlert ; @medd2005 ; @captainshindo ; @inojinieeee ; @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee ; @rroxii ; @heartbrii ; @cellephone ; @simp-for-wanderer ; @beepbopzlorp ; @sugurus-star ; @chiizuyu ; @tenjikusstuff4 ; @syleepy ; @saeris-world ; @s4-mmy ; @itsssyagurll ; @ar1sc0rn3r ; @tsukimoon-chan ; @90s-belladonna ; @kiokos ; @appl3-0rchard ; @linsay0 ; @certifiedyapperrrr ; @werfiedeii ; @mariaelizabeh21-blog1 ; @ann242629 ; @vashyuu ; @pjofics ; @dontmindtheevie ; @otakusimp1 ; @n0tbelle ; @kaikaidenkai ; @palegardenrebel ; @bubybubsters ; @xiavbi ; @3ve88 ; @imas1mpp ; @luvsymai ; @the-original-skipps ; @bruisedchickensoup ; @bogearts ; @zemiiinnee

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crossbowwwdotcom · 5 months ago

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camilo's bllk fic reccs pt 2 (as of december 24, 2024):

- are we dancing after death? by calmgeyama ... 9.5k words and 1/1 chapters. read tags! gantz tabiori au where they all die and have to fight monsters to continue living... so terrifyingly written!!

- laced drill bits to my pointe shoes by ethereally ... 4k words and 1/1 chapters. kunigiri as old men fighting for their right to be married in jp. GREAT formatting and story and i love this so much

- conception by missiletoe .., 1.8k words and 1/1 chapters. egonoa character study pre-blue lock. its cute and short and they are just so Interesting.

- never let you come apart by ethereally ... 9k words and 1/1 chapters. i cant believe i almost forgot this one omfg. its so good! bachisagi fic set post canon with aroace isagi again. i fw it so much ughhh

- the sweetest flower by lockedskies ... 20k words and 5/? chapters. allsagi bachelor au!!! all the interactions between everyone is so good. i never realized how interesting the bachelor au could be...

- what we stand to win by raindrops_0 ... 6k words and 1/1 chapters. gen fic centered around isagi when theyre starting at bastard munchen. its just great hurt/comfort with some very relatable themes. love!

- GHOST OPERATIVES by shiryurealest13 ... 41.5k words and 23/30 chapters (chapter cap fluctuates). read tags! chatfic and still currently updating. not central focus but rinsagi, shidousae, nagireo, and tabieita. its about part of the bllk cast who are assasins are given the mission to kill reos dad and have to infiltrate reos fg (the rest of bllk) to get close to him. SO funny and the plot is actually so engaging. someone pls talk to me ab this its one of my favs rn 😭

- finding passion by strawberrytiramisu3773 ... 100k and 11/? chapters. read tags! VERY interesting canon divergence rewrite! i fear im a huge angst and whump fan and reading this was soooo good for me lol

- spoiled by vett .. 5k words and 1/1 chapters. rinsagi future fic that had me GIGGLING OMG. rin being a clingy drunk and isagi being so embarrased was so funny and i was literally freaking out lol. second hand embarrassment almost killed me but its ok!

- the language of losing by raindrops_0 ... 10.4k and 2/3 chapters. socmed kaisagi fic staged in the nel where each team gets more of a social media presence. im such a sucker for socmed fics and this one is so funny lol

- three is a charm by mistresssleepless ... 6k words and 1/1 chapters. ahhhhh i love bachirinsagi and this was so good. them having sex is referenced a lot but it isnt explicitly written (still teen+ though). theyre so cute together and i love these three together

- six facts about lobsters by smallghosts ... 3.7k words and 1/1 chapters. bachisagi kinda character study fic written from second person pov. one of the most well written things ive ever read

- fixation by celestee (jenjaemrens) ... 5k words and 1/1 chapters. rinsagi fic where isagi lives in spain and is part of re al with sae. SUCH a cool concept and im so obsessed with it

- good luck rin! by cyberialyr1 ... 60k words and 12/18 chapters. rinsagi highschool au where isagi is the new kid and rins the football team captain. very cute with internalized homophobia and angsty backstory isagi! i havent caught up since like ch9 though but its really good

- like glass from sandy ground by ethereally ... 7k words and 1/1 chapters. such a GOOD bachisagi ff where isagi is aroace but loves bachira and bachira loves him anf theyre just. struggling to figure things out. wonderfully written to portray the love of someone aroace! if ure gonna read anything on this list then read this one Please

- oat milk (and other irredeemable vices) by caluette .., 26k words and 3/3 chapters. kaisagi coffee shop au where kaiser is the frustrating customer with a long and specific order and isagi is a struggling employee. banter and light hearted enemies to lovers!

- of intrusive thoughts and sickly sweet smiles by zhiruiii ... 14k words and 4/4 chapters. soft rinsagi with isagi being a social butterfly and rin being insecure about it. cute!!!

- pretrichor by flowersforaliens... 3k words and 1/1 chapters. i LOVE. karasu centric angst fic with tabiori about karasu having an injury and having to retire. so good!

- i cant stay on your morphine (cause its making me ill) by witchcoded ... 22k words and 4/6 chapters. FEM LESBIANS ryurin!!!! perhaps the best??? the emotional constipation of rin is so good and the intimacy of them is so well written (or^o). great side roles too!

- to lose yourself in the world by thecurrator .. 25k words and 21/? chapters. egonoa fic where ego is a daycare worker, noa is his roommate, and bllk are the kids. so funny and pretty fluffy!

- art of momentum by illicitly ... 4.9k words and 1/1 chapters. cute little nagireo oneshot w nagi being protective!

- kintsukoroi by laylayli ... 54k and 3/3 chapters. read tags! kaisagi fic set after nel where kaiser finds out his dad is dead. lots of interesting grieving and well-written character study! loved this and i swear by this author

- maybe it was ego swinging by sopenation ... 3k words and 1/1 chapters. kunigiri w protective bllk and kunigami over chigiri. yk i love to see it!

- invincible like ive never been by mkat1020 ... 2k and 1/1 chapters. gen and chigiri whump during the u20. i looooove this one and isagi is such a good friend in this and its just. Good

- love you like oxygen by sweetdreamers... 12k and 1/1 chapters. kaisagi breakup and makeup fic. they have a generally toxic relationship and isagi is super sad and pathetic in this but the rest of the bllk cast comforts him and they figure shit out

- l'amour est bleu by laylayli ... 40k words and 5/5 chapters. perhaps my FAVORITE kaisagi ff and one of my fav bllk fics oat. its about isagi starting to babysit for kaisers younger sister and them falling in love during it. isagi just cares so much for kaisers younger sister and kaiser slowly starts loving him so much for it and isagi cant help but fall for kaiser its just. so endearing and i love it <3.

- world class hypocrite by aashimar ... 80.5k words and 9/10 chapters (EPILOGUE PLEASE PLEASE UPLOAD). read tags! explicit sex scenes throughout but its staged post-canon. this fic made me SICK. rinsagi au where isagi was outed as gay by rin before the wc and his life was basically ruined afterwards. the LONGING and RESENTMENT in this is the absolute peak of society. both rin and isagis characters are written so amazingly like theyre so flawed and theyre very messy people but theyre like really actually in love with each other. they say a lot of fucked up shit to each other but i still swear by this fic! the plot was SO SO intriguing and the way its written is really realistic. the chemistry is absolutely INSANE in this fic. my personal fav bllk fic and one of my fav fics ever! belongs in the hof tbh

see pt 1 here!

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gakukitty · 2 months ago

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onseshots + shorter pieces masterlist

DISCONTINUED. go here for new masterlist

sakadays ୭ ⁺˳

on the phone , with gaku — SMUT MDNI

sum . gaku loves his girl sooo much , and her sweet pussy ! but what he loves more is making her all restless and whiny :3

bf hcs with the sakamoto days guys

characters . shin asakura , kei uzuki , gaku , nagumo yoichi , heisuke mashimo , natsuki seba , shishiba

pre relationship shenanigans with the sakamoto days guys

characters . gaku , nagumo yoichi , shin asakura , heisuke mashimo , kei uzuki , natsuki seba , shishiba

1, 2, 3, smile! with the sakadays days guys — SMUT MDNI !!

characters . shin asakura , kei uzuki , nagumo yoichi , heisuke mashimo , shishiba , gaku , natsuki seba

shishiba smut

sum . shishiba’s aaaallll ready, tying up his hair and licking his lips ‘cause you just look so good !

pat, pat, touch, touch with gaku

sum . your boyfriend just cannot keep his hands off of you !

sweet dates with natsuki seba

sum . what does a typical date look like with your boyfriend, natsuki seba ?

blue lock ⋆.˚✩

almost there , with isagi yoichi — SMUT MDNI

sum . your boyfriend just loves ur thighs so much, thst he sometimes forgets about the rest of u !

hip dips . . . ? with itoshi sae — SUGGESTIVE MDNI

sum . itoshi sae has absolutely no idea what hip dips are, but he guesses they’re probably a stupid concept— why be ashamed of a part of you that he loves so much? tsk, tsk, tsk.

magic with alexis ness

sum . you were the most magical thing in his life :(

badass ! with itoshi sae

sum . just a nonchalant guy and his badass gf who he loves more than anything :3

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yuquinzel · 2 years ago

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— this is what love is.

feat. itoshi rin. f!reader. 2k+ wc. fluff and angst. rin concludes what love is, thanks to you.

THE HEAD: love — if you were to ever ask itoshi rin what love is to him, he would give you a scornful look, of brows knitted together and parted lips. it is uncertainty in disguise of a petty scowl. an elegant grimace on pretty features. he will not explain love with the understanding of it, but by the lack thereof. such a question is not for someone like him.

to rin, love is as simple as the acknowledgement of its existence.

it’s real — he has seen it enough times in enough depths to come to the conclusion that love is a little more than just a concept and a little less than a materialistic possession. many times in his life, his perception of love has changed. it was never a question of what it means to him, but more of whether he’s willing to let it mean something.

he ponder the countless i love you ’s he’s heard on midsummer nights in some cheap hotel. when limbs and tongues entangle and fingers run through disheveled hair, an ‘i love you’ is whispered like a scandalous secret. a small talk to fill in loud silences. like the off-brand soda cans he will find on the convenience store down the street: it’s a cheap rip-off of the real thing.

rin can never bring himself to say it back. he wonders if it would ever mean something if he did.

THE LUNGS: loneliness — at some point in his youth, rin came to the conclusion that love and loneliness are two sides of the same coin. they come hand in hand. if you are to long for love, loneliness will follow you like a hungry dog— like an uncanny companion stuck by your side.

rin likes to believe he understands loneliness much better than he could love. he thinks of it as often as one would think of breathing — which is to say never, unless he is actively reminded of it. it’s almost like an intricate part of his being, following him everywhere he goes like a second shadow.

he hasn’t been alone, no — that’s entirely different. he’s aware he’s not easy to be around — blunt, reserved, pretty boy with a sharp tongue — yet, people do it anyway. he’s grateful in ways, so by definition, he knows he’s not alone.

he thinks this is the best he can get.

THE HEART: you — you are a welcome contradiction to his thoughts. rin knows you. he sees you, after years. he had not expected to see you. but you and sae had always been close, so he isn’t particularly surprised to find you invited to his brother’s wedding.

you are too, something he does not understand.

he remembers being seven and you six, the first time he met you. you are the beginning — where the story starts: girl meets boy, boy meets trouble.

trouble— that’s what you are. seven years old itoshi rin can tell by the way you hide behind your mother as your and his talked away like old friends do. he sees you shrinking further behind her when he flashes you a smile, he was a nice kid back then. you smile back, it wasn’t anything genuine. he knew it was trouble then, that he wondered what your real smile would look like.

trouble, trouble, trouble — he thinks as he finds himself competing for sae’s attention. sae is always much nicer, much gentler to you. rin begins to thinks of you more than he wants to. it’s trouble when you move away just when he was finally getting used to your presence, it’s even more trouble when you come to visit and spend most of your time with sae. in retrospect — he knows at some point, he had made you feel unwelcomed, whether it was intentional or not.

when he sees you again now, rin holds his breath. he stutters twice. blinking thrice, he steals another glance. you, adorned in youth and elegance — you are beautiful, like a moment of conscious breathing. like seconds trapped in sunsets and sunrises alike. rin has to take a moment to let it settle in his mind and heart alike.

you are as beautiful as he remembers, and as much as his mother never lets him forget.

rin thinks of talking to you, he would be doing so after years. he does so before he can really convince him to do otherwise. why he makes such a baseless effort, he does not know. this was always the case with you. you made his heart and mind turn against one another. it was as terrifying as it was exciting. rin can not name the emotions he can trace on your features when you see him. he aches to know what you think of him. you don’t seem surprised, but your smile is a fond one.

you are still trouble, he reckons — with how easily you seem to coax words out of him, falling into a casual rhythm of conversation. it feels natural, he counts the number of heartbeats each of your smiles last for. he finds himself longing for something he knows he has lost, but never hoped to find again.

he does not see you nearly as often as he may be hoping for. you are something like a blurred memory, a lingering aftertaste, an unspoken word at the tip of his tongue.

lately, you have been on his mind. he surprises himself with his impulsivity of calling you whenever he remembers that he can do so, be it monday mornings or friday nights when both of your schedules overlap — rin calls you, just to stay on the line. even when you don’t say anything, he revels in the silence you share. it’s peaceful. the kind he can never find if he searches for it. he hears your hums and mumbles, adds his own, and he stays on line until you fall asleep.

“it was a boring day,” your voice is so, so gentle. he feels giddy. “but i had some ochazuke — i thought of you, i think you would’ve loved it.”

he hears you hum, and then feels his heart stall. he wonders of how often you think of him. not as much as he does, he believes. he aches to ask you, do you look for him in the mundane? and do you find him there? “make some for me next time.”

you are probably smiling, “i will.”

it is a little terrifying. how good you are at making him feel weak. but he thinks it couldn’t be half as threatening as he’s taking it to be if his teammates are telling him he’s been smiling more these days. he tells them to fuck off.

or maybe it is? for the exact same sentiment.

rin can not name this fondness he has for you. he is afraid to use the stronger word. but he wonders if fondness and resentment can be synonymous. he had thought he resented you, all those years back. he thinks maybe that resentment still lingers. he worries he may be secretly resenting you for always plaguing his mind.

he will let you have that sort of control over him, for now, at least. this resentment and fondness balance all the scales for now.

THE HANDS: time — time is a conscious being. it is as unassuming as love and as ever-present as loneliness. time is the ground love festers on like a disease, it is the sky loneliness spreads on beyond grasp.

time is something rin understands. it has hands that weave tales together slowly but surely before you can even begin to understand it, until you’re helplessly entangled in its plays. rin had known this comfort, the familiarity — the fondness he had found in your presence, it would only grow with time. he had seen it coming from miles away. it was as clear as the sky on the day he met you again, the way his loneliness got quiet whenever you were around.

you approached him like a thunderstorm, with your gentle disposition and longing smiles. shaking all of him to the core, and unlike much things in his life, rin let it come. if you leave him breathless and scattered, he figures, then breathless he’ll stand and wait for you to find him again. he had always been enamored of thunderstorms.

time is a funny thing. he had never quite gotten used to you in his youth no matter how long you were around. and once he did, time took you away. and then it took him all those years to realize that everything started had with you, that he had missed you in your absence and longed for you before he could realize it. and once he had gotten comfortable with this revelation, time brought him back to you, again.

it is with time he grows to acknowledge all the parts of himself he only ever sees when you’re around. like his impulsivity of purposely taking the wrong bus and finding himself in an unnamed town far from the city — with you. you tell him you believe this can either turn out to be the best memory of your lives, or simply the worst one.

“rin,” he likes the sound of your voice, “we can just start a new life here, can’t we?” you don’t look at him when you speak, but rin feels seen.

“i can work on the farms, i think i would be good at it.” he adds, you laugh. “and i could help you out. we could grow our crops and eat simple meals, lead simple lives.”

he thinks of this imagined life on the bus ride home, when your head falls to his shoulder and he finds himself unable to resist the desire to brush back the strands of hair over your ear. it is a treacherous thing to do. the simple act of brushing your hair over your ear. why? because he will soon find longing for more. to rest his palm on your cheeks and brush his thumb over your beauty mark.

in time, he grows surer of his feelings. the fondness of his gaze when it meets your, the softer side of him that you bring out when you try to teach him how to bake brownies. it is these minute little existences of the mundane, that he adores the most. he thinks you might just have the power to ruin him. a starry-eyed tragedy in which he’s the protagonist. but then again, love and tragedy often fall under the same umbrella.

you are the beginning, rin concludes, and there’s no reach beyond you.

THE BONES: love, again — rin thinks of love now. it resembles a sickly illness. he thinks of himself as an unfortunate and resigned victim. it must be a plague haunting his mind with the thoughts of you — he finds himself utterly helpless.

love is a carnivorous being, it feeds on his heart. why? because the heart is a muscle. it pumps and it bleeds and it loves.

love festers like an ugly disease rotting his flesh to his bones, and all he can do is let it come. there is a sort of beauty in peaceful resignation. it eats away at his hands, rin loses track of time. everything leads him to you. time doesn’t exist with you. every second with you is too short and never enough. yet it feels like an eternity before he can see you again. his hands are always seeking yours. love is a sickness. it spreads to his lungs, cruelly burning away any of the loneliness he had grown so comfortable in. it is uncomfortable and terrifying, it smokes his skin with uncertainty. but he can not do much here, he is helpless.

love is selfish and all-consuming, it slowly infests his head. determined to make it’s presence known somehow. determined to be understood in some way. determined to be found in everything.

rin thinks he had already known this. of course he did. you never made it easy to ignore his palpitating heart, the sweating of his palms and the flutter of butterflies — as romantics like to call it. he has always, always known it by heart. you made it so. everything had been love. the thousands of stolen glances. the late night calls. the impromptu visits. the moments that never lasted more than a few seconds, but felt like they trapped all the beauty of this world. all the times just hesitation and doubt and fear caused him to stop just short of confessing. of letting you decide what to do of his love.

it had been love, in its simplest form.

rin regrets not finding the words to express it sooner.

the room encompasses a heavy, suffocating silence. it seems to creep right into his skin like a catastrophe — spreading so slowly, rotting away every living cell it touches. it strips the air from his lungs. but he does not try to suck it back in. he does not want to feel alive right now. his eyes lose focus every second here and there. rin thinks his limbs can’t support him for long.

rin remembers that the heart is just a muscle. it bleeds and it pumps and it breaks and it dies. he feels it. he never should’ve let love become a part of him. it is much too cruel for him.

the room — the hospital room — feels ice cold. it is late may and it should be hot. yet he feels like his blood his frozen. the silence is no more. he hears the cries of your mother. he can not make sense of her words. he does not hear her properly, it is just white noise. everything is too white in the room. rin clamps a shaking hand over his mouth. why is he even here? had you really considered him close enough to let him be a presence in this room along with your family. he does not want to be here, he concludes. he can’t be here.

“y/n.” he calls out. he does not know why he does so. in all his consciousness, he’s aware you can’t hear him. you will never answer.

your sickly pale complexion, the darkening under your eyes — which are closed — and your body, covered in bruises all over, as if the bleeding was hard to stop. it is all the answer he needs.

“y/n, hey —” he tries again. because didn’t you always reply when he called? he feels the need to touch your skin, to feel you still with him. he recoils just as quickly when he feels the cold touch of your body. he feels nauseous. like something inside him is twisting and trying to break free.

he leaves the room next. it made him feel strangely alive. he wanted to feel anything but.

it has registered all too quickly. he wishes there was a time for delusions. for baseless hope. for the luxury of panic. there is nothing. it feels like being sucked in an endless void. he feels like he’s fighting for his every next breath. he does not really want to.

you’ve left him just as spontaneously and cruelly as when you met him.

he’s outside the hospital premises, going wherever his feet take him. only when a bench by the side of the road catches his eyes, does he realise how weak his knees feel. he drops down on it, unable to bear his weight anymore.

he does not pay attention to the time nor the people around him. this morning he’d received a call from your parents. something about an accident followed by your name. everything sort of blurred after that. now the sun has all but disappeared in the wistful evening blues. when it catches his eyes, he feels a painful strike at his chest — somewhere deeper than his ribcage and his lungs. it is a beautiful sight. it’s even more beautiful when it’s blurred by the tears collecting in his eyes.

he feels it again, that loneliness which had gotten quiet in your presence. he feels it stronger than ever — it is growling like some monster, its finger wrapping around his throat. a painful grunt leaves his lips then.

then he realises that it is not loneliness — loneliness was never a monster. it was kind. he was at peace with it. it would cradle him gently when he needed it and has been by his side longer than most.

it is love. love has always been cruel. it is a gruesome monster resembling childhood nightmares. its long-pointed canines, and fingers dressed in wrinkled, old skin — it has already infested his everything.

in its hauntingly sweet voice, it whispers an old lullaby, one rin tearfully sings along to. he feels it being carved onto his bones.

love will never be his. not anymore.

me when i can’t write confession scenes: fuck it, there will be no confession.

my deepest, most humblest apologies for this. then again, it was so fun writing. i love angst. i’m off to writing rin fluff for compensation now :> thank u !

#❛ ‧˚🪐 — the dusk renditions.#debating on whether this should be on my masterlist or not #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #rin x reader #rin itoshi #rin x you

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