#writing this for you made my soft spot for isagi a whole lot softer 😭

[saerins]

𝖇𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖉-𝖆-𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊: isagi yoichi + @yoichiris <3

+ isagi yoichi x f!reader | wc 1.1k

notes: omg my hand slipped :’) sorry this took a while !! didn’t want to disappoint isagi’s girl <3 hehe hope you like this date + a lil bonus with your man ^_<

isagi’s… stunned, really. he doesn’t actually know what to do.

age seventeen, multiple chances at valentines’, watching most of his friends get gifts or love notes without getting any himself—yet today, 14 february, he sees a little folded-up note on his desk, along with a small heart-shaped box of chocolates.

he’s beginning to think he’s hallucinating. is this for real? part of him thinks it’s a gag.

when he opens the love note, he’s relieved to find out it’s actually addressed to him; i’ll always be cheering you on, isagi-kun :)

what makes him even more relieved is the fact that he realises whose handwriting it is—yours. how can he not, when he’s been admiring you silently from afar, thinking he could never get someone as beautiful, as kind as you are.

does that mean he can ask you out for valentines’? no, the more important question is: how does he ask you out without sounding like a creep for knowing exactly what your handwriting looks like?

shit.

later that day, once classes are over and done with, isagi steels his resolve; he’s seen you getting several confessions yourself, from other guys in your grade, other guys from his own damn soccer team, even. he’s pretty sure he’s the only one you gave anything to, though, so he gets a little bit of a confidence boost from that.

when he finally catches up to you near the bus stop afterwards, he calls out your name, and when you turn around he’s hit with the sudden realisation that god, you’re so pretty he could just melt right here and it’d be worth it.

“yes, isagi-kun?”

through your eyes, he looks kind of a mess, if you’re being honest; his uniform is buttoned wrongly, his hair is sticking out a little at the side, his cheeks are flushed red as though he’s just run a marathon. but he’s still handsome, that determined look in his eyes that he wears during his matches is apparent now, and you wonder what for.

isagi doesn’t know how to do this, he doesn’t know what he should say that would be best, but what he does know is that he wants you. wants to be able to hold you close, to lace his fingers through yours, to be able to dedicate goals to you.

with a shaky voice, he chokes out, “this weekend! y-you wanna go on a date?”

you giggle, and isagi feels even more flustered.

“a date with me,” he clarifies, as though he even needs to. that just makes you giggle more, and isagi already has that sound saved into his brain—it’s his favourite sound now. you’re giving him new favourites just by being alive.

that saturday when he’s actually out with you, he finds himself being even more attracted to you—is that even possible? when you’re telling him about your morning and all he can do is stare at you from across the table, appreciating the slope of your nose, and the way your eyes beam at him, and the curve of your lips. he chastises himself internally for thinking of kissing you already.

you make him feel more selfish; isagi has been fine with watching by the sidelines until now, until he actually gets to know you. he wants to keep your laugh for himself, wants that smile to stay on your face and curse anyone who dares to take it from you. your fingers, he wants to hold them, wants to kiss your palm if you ever place them near his lips.

it’s all he can think about all day—you, what kissing you might feel like, how pretty you are in your casual wear, how he nearly gets a heart attack when you pull him into a photo booth and ask him to take pictures together, sitting as close as you did with him, feeling your bare skin against his; it’s new, it’s electrifying, it scares him (in a fucking good way).

after knowing you, he can’t go back to the way he was. can’t go back to sitting quietly at the side in silent admiration. can’t risk anyone getting to have you, and he wonders if you feel the same about him too.

“thanks for today,” you mutter shyly as he walks you home, your house now just a few feet away.

isagi still hasn’t mustered the courage to hold your hand, but he figures he has time. he doesn’t think this is the last date you’ll have.

“see you on monday, isagi-kun,” you tell him, and he feels like a part of you didn’t want this date to end, but neither did he.

“yoichi,” he corrects you, and you blink at him. “i want you to call me yoichi.”

because he doesn’t want you to call him anything less intimate than that.

you smile and say his name, “yoichi,” and then again he has a new favourite sound—in the way you say his name.

and before this, his favourite sensation was the way the ball leaps off his feet right before he scores a goal—but you’re overwriting everything and now he can’t seem to remember what anything else felt like after he presses his lips on your cheek.

(what he doesn’t know is that it’s the same for you.)

his feelings for you hold the same, even five years into the future and he’s won his first championship game, scoring the winning goal that sealed the deal.

you’re at the bleachers, in the front row, cheering wildly next to your best friend, and isagi spots you without fail. he beams at you from the field, and you know that it’s for you—it’s always for you.

everything isagi is, his goals, his dreams, it’s always shared with you. for someone who didn’t think he’d make a good boyfriend (quoting his own lack of experience), he’s pretty darn perfect.

isagi constantly reminds you that he’s yours and yours alone, no matter how many girls try to shoot their shot. “you’re special to me,” he tells you, cupping your face in his hands, “no one can ever replace you. you’re my girl, okay? my only one.”

he doesn’t want anyone else but you. forever, for life.

“so isagi, what’s it like being the top striker in japan at such a young age?” the reporter asks, and isagi chuckles. now that the game is over, it feels all too surreal.

“fucking awesome, actually,” he answers, earnest.

“what’s next on your list? what’s your next dream, next goal?”

isagi doesn’t hesitate, pointing straight at you with that same determined glint in his eyes you remember from way back then. “i’m gonna marry her.”