If You Feel Like Falling (catch Me On The Way Down) | TWO

if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | TWO

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn’t get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn’t just a pro soccer player, but also your ex’s rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

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pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 5.9k chapter synopsis the busier your schedule, the less time you can spend thinking about rin. the only problem is, you see something you can't unsee. nothing a bottle of tequila can't fix, right? (spoiler: tequila isn't fixing a broken heart) chapter contains partying and drinking to cope, diet culture author’s notes i have nothing to insightful to add rn, but send me any asks discussing this fic and i will have a lot to say LOL

From: fumiko.gima@apextalentgroup.com To: [USER EMAIL HIDDEN] Cc: wfitch@everlanefitch.com, mai.sasaki@apextalentgroup.com, hideakitakeda@titansecuritysolutions.com, benji1968@gmail.com + 3 others Subject: 6/19 — [NAME] [SURNAME] AGENDA Attachments: 📎 [6.19 AGENDA.pdf]

All —

Attached is the PDF copy of [Name]’s itinerary for today. Reminder that these times are STRICT. Stay on schedule.

Fumiko Gima

Get Outlook for IOS

Your first alarm goes off at 4:50 AM to what you assume is the noise they play on repeat in hell (By the Seaside, an Apple classic). After waking up, you roll over in your king size bed (the problem with always choosing to go big instead of just going home is the fact that when you’re all alone, the luxury of extra space just becomes empty space) to promptly hit the snooze button. You’ll allow yourself five more minutes of sleep (as a treat). When the second alarm you set up goes off at 4:53 AM (By the Seaside, once again), you scream into your pillow, and shut it off for real this time. You knew you weren’t going to give yourself the full five minutes, but it felt really good to trick yourself into believing that you would. You always start the day with this tiny disappointment; that way, no one has the privilege of being the first person to piss you off.

At 4:54 AM, you slide your feet into your Ugg slippers, readjust the loose straps of your silk camisole, and shuffle into your marble-floored bathroom. You rub the sleep from your eyes, brush your teeth with your pink electric toothbrush, and wash your face. By the time you’re done with your morning skincare, it’s 5:06 AM. You honestly can’t remember the last time you did your own makeup, but you bring your makeup bag with you anyway. If there’s downtime between shoots, you’ll post a faux-GRWM TikTok where you apply three miniscule dots of concealer on your seemingly already flawless skin and add a fresh layer of the brand new, limited edition Rhode peptide lip treatment that Hailey Bieber’s team gifted you. They also gave you twenty grand to do so, with a personal “hey girlie, would love to catch up with you one of these days!! life has been so hectic, sorry for not keeping in touch x btw, i just came out with a new shade of my…” text from Hailey herself. (You replied back with a “yessss, we need to meet up soon!! Also, LOVE LOVE LOVE the new shade omg 😍” — neither of you have any intention for planning a meet-up, and you don’t “LOVE LOVE LOVE” the new shade as much as you “LOVE LOVE LOVE” to deposit a fat check.)

You’re sliding into the backseat of the glossy black SUV parked in front of your driveway at 5:14 AM. Your chauffeur, Benji, holds open the door for you.

“Good morning, Ms. [Surname],” Benji never drops the formalities with you, except for when he’s lecturing you. Thank God he doesn’t own a smartphone; if he saw half the things Daily Mail wrote about you, his voice would be gone from scolding you so much. Even if he’s technically on your parents’ payroll and is paid to make sure you get to and from places safely, it still feels nice to have someone who cares about you enough to call you out on your shit.

The first stop is an exclusive, members-only pilates studio. If you’re home, you have to work out in the morning, no matter what. You like your routine. Out of all the things online magazines put out about you, it’s kind of embarrassing how the most accurate one is revealing how you stay “fit ‘n flawless even after going out every night.” Most people didn’t believe it. Rin got it, though. Rin would actually work out with you, when the two of your schedules aligned, and— Time to start your workout early! Nothing takes your mind off of matters more than focusing on the burn of your core and arms.

By the time you finish your private session, you’re walking out the studio with your puffy tote bag slung over your shoulders. Your body is still a bit damp from taking a quick shower but not drying off properly, and Benji drops you off at your first business stop of the day — ELLE Japan.

You smile brightly as the team of makeup artists surrounding you shower you with compliments. One of the girls brushing on your foundation tells you that you have really nice skin. When she goes in for a second layer, you almost consider rescinding the thanks you gave her.

The set is hectic, as expected. No matter how long these people have been in the industry, no matter how big the host is, something always seems to be going wrong. Apparently, there’s been a mishap over in wardrobe, and ELLE’s people are not very happy with how this is going to delay everything. With your hair and makeup done, there’s nothing for you to do besides sit down, be quiet, and look pretty.

Downtime is the last thing you want. You’re used to a busy schedule, but you convinced Fumiko to accept as many projects as possible. If you have to rank at the top of the list for celebrities who emit the most CO2, then so be it. You’ll pollute the whole damn planet if it means you won’t have a single second to be alone with your thoughts.

At 9:00 AM sharp, you go on your phone to inform your manager that the agenda is fucked. ELLE Japan is definitely going to push back this session with you for at least a good hour, which means Fumiko is going to have to explain to Your Style (the YouTube channel name for a famous fashion commentator who’s amassed nearly twenty million subscribers) why you’re going to be late for the Zoom debrief on what you two are going to talk about in an upcoming video. At 9:02 AM, you receive a text.

juli ᡣ𐭩: u know i love u

It’s two in the morning in Paris. When Juliette said she was going to visit her father, she said it was going to be a much-needed vacation — just something chill and lowkey, like going to all the designer stores and eating croissants on a balcony. Those were her exact words.

juli ᡣ𐭩: [photo attachment]

Somehow, from the neon strobe lights, bodies pressed against one another’s, and the way the image is blurry because she couldn’t get her phone to focus, it feels like Juliette’s “something chill and lowkey” morphed into club-hopping all over France. You roll your eyes with affection. You should’ve known her vacation was going to turn into this; as if Juliette would eat bread for pleasure — she’s been quoted for claiming that carbs are a necessary evil. She probably hasn’t even touched a croissant for the past week she’s been there.

juli ᡣ𐭩: showing u before TMZ posts it juli ᡣ𐭩: [video attachment] juli ᡣ𐭩: do not freak out. not worth it. juli ᡣ𐭩: ugh i knew this club sucked ass for a reason

You wait for the video to load. It’s almost as blurry and unfocused as the original image she sent, but you can tell she had to zoom in pretty hard to capture what she wanted. It’s two figures with a minimal amount of space between them. One of them is definitely a girl; she has the build of the usual French models. A thin, leggy brunette who has mastered the intricate art of Just Had Sex hair. Perfectly messy, but could never be considered sloppy. She’s wearing a sparkly, tight minidress. The fabric shimmers when the strobe lights pass by her body. The person she’s practically pressed up against is a man. Tall, lean. He’s leaning down, presumably so he can hear her better. When the video clip ends abruptly (someone bumped into Juliette, and the video ends with shaky footage and a loud “putain!”), you replay it. And replay it. And then you play it again, just for good measure.

Each time you watch the stupid video, you find something new to notice. Her red lips brushing against his ear. The way his hand hovers near her hip. The way you’re certain she’s smiling when she speaks, like the smirk of a victor. The exact same self-satisfied, smug grin you sport whenever you get a guy right where you want him. Upon every rewatch, though, one thing remains the same: you’re constantly fixated on him.

Right now, it’s two in the morning in Paris. You know that when you weren’t in this fucked up headspace you’re in right now, you’d be in bed, snuggled underneath your blankets, by 11:30 PM. You know that when you felt your best, you could be in bed, whispering in the dark to the person you felt safest with, at 10:00 PM (at the latest, because you both would have a busy day ahead and needed the rest). He likes sleeping early because he likes being well-rested.

So why the hell is Rin Itoshi at a club right now?

At 9:39 AM, ELLE Japan gets right back on track. Before your editorial shoot for a special anniversary edition of the magazine, they get you to sit down to do a video interview that they plan on posting all over their social media.

“This is a very special edition that will be coming out, and you are not only having the biggest spread dedicated to you, but you’re also going to be on the cover. Knowing this, how are you feeling right now, [Name]? This might be the most high-profile photoshoot you’ve done so far in your career, and that’s saying something. You have quite the impressive resume.”

The ring lights are shining directly in your eye. The stool they have you sitting on for this interview is uncomfortable, and you have to focus on remaining balanced. Your back is perfectly straight, and your hands are folded in your lap. You blink, and you see the video playing in your mind. You have God knows how much makeup caked on right now, and you still have a long day ahead of you. Rin is at a club right now. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl, and they’re basically grinding against each other, and he might just have forgotten all about you.

You smile brightly. At 9:40 AM in Japan, you let everyone know,

“I honestly think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been before in my life! This is a great way to establish a sort of, I guess, new era of my life and my career.”

You turn to face the camera directly, giving them a dazzling view of your pearly whites. “Not trying to rush the process or anything, but I am definitely looking forward to seeing how this will all play out in the future.”

You’re operating on autopilot for the rest of the day. The ELLE shoot wraps up close to noon. You forgo lunch, but knowing you and your tendency to skip meals, Benji refuses to start the car until you eat the lunch his wife packed for you. It’s light and refreshing — they want you to eat well, but they’re not cruel. Even if they want to bring you a feast of a nice, hot, home cooked meal, you’ll eat it out of obligation and then suffer the consequences on set when everyone asks why you’re so bloated. You don’t even taste what you’re consuming.

At 12:30 PM, you hop on the Zoom call and pretend to care about discussing matters such as the lack of personal style affecting the younger generations. Every topic is a trivial topic to you. The only thing worth dissecting is that damn video. You should’ve asked those twenty million subscribers to help you analyze that, instead of nodding along when the YouTuber starts going on a rant about how Shein and other fast fashion brands are ruining everything.

Late in the afternoon, you get another text.

kenyu: So the team wants to host a belated birthday party for me lmao. Team’s planning on having it at 10 tonight kenyu: Sending you the address right now

A party is exactly what you need right now. Endless drinks, no need for rational thinking, and you’ll be (mostly) surrounded by people who think models are all vain and vapid. No one there is going to expect a decent conversation from you, and with the state you’re in, it’s a wonder how all your sentences are even making sense.

You give Kenyu’s next message a like in response. You were expecting a club, but when you click on the address, Maps reveals that it’s residential. Rin is gallivanting around European nightclubs, and meanwhile, the best you can do are house parties. This is how the future is playing out?

At least even at your worst, people still think you’re on top of the world.

Maybe life without a man dragging you down and invading your space is for the best. After all, once you got done with all your professional obligations, it’s only eight at night. You’re used to going out with whatever makeup they did for you on set at your last shoot of the day, which is a shame. You have shelves full of makeup that’s been sent to you by different brands, and one of these nights, you plan on just messing around at your vanity.

You like living alone, you decide. You can leave all the lights on if you want, and no one complains about it hurting their eyes. You have full control of the thermostat. You don’t have to fight for counter space in the bathroom. Plus, no one can see how you’re living.

At 9:13 PM, you’re sprawled on the cool marble floor of your bathroom (squeaky clean thanks to the housekeeper you have come once a week), and instead of rewatching that dreadful video and subsequently crying, you had a quick retail therapy session. Your new Prada heels should be coming within the next two days.

You don’t get Benji to drive you. Nobody bats an eye at a rich girl having a driver, but it does seem kind of weird to have him drop you off at a party as if you're a tween girl getting taken to the mall. If the house is owned by one of Yukimiya’s teammates, surely it won’t be too awkward if you had to leave it there because you got too drunk to drive yourself back home?

Because — no offense to Yuki, you’re happy he’s getting another birthday celebration — the whole point of even going to this party is to get fucked up. You already know that Juliette had a point — if not TMZ, then at least Daily Mail will be all over Rin and that girl in the club. If that gets leaked, then you might as well have your own headline to combat his. Sure, lately you’ve been out partying, but that was with other models so it doesn’t raise too many eyebrows. Rin being caught at a club is basically him hard launching the breakup. You need to raise some speculation on your side of things, too.

you: can you get someone to pick up my car from this address tomorrow morning? you: please :)

When you see three dots appear, you smile for real. You can practically hear her sigh and see the shake of her head.

Fumiko Gima: Yes. Fumiko Gima: Be safe.

Aw, maybe your manager does have a heart. Right before you can send her a heart, she adds:

Fumiko Gima: Don’t stay out too late. You have your first shoot at 8 AM.

This is the message you give a heart reaction to. Maybe everything really is just business with her.

You suppose you can’t fault Fumiko for always seeming cold. She’s your manager, not your best friend.

In this industry, her honesty is refreshing. You normally find this to be the case, but you really feel it now when you step into the mansion and hear a cacophony of laughter swarming you from all sides. At every turn, there’s a celebrity with a drink in hand. Everyone’s leaning towards each other, as if they’re so captivated with the other’s words.

You see an actor leading a stumbling model up the spiral staircase. To your side, you see a baseball player chatting up the daughter of one of the baseball league’s board members. Upstairs, someone’s probably snorting a line off Yukimiya’s teammate’s bathroom counter. There are only three reasons why people in your social circle attend these parties: to get fucked, to get fucked up, or to make business deals. Considering the fact that you’ve been here for nearly five minutes and have yet to see a birthday cake — or the belated birthday boy himself — you’re pretty sure everyone here has lot the damn plot for the original celebration.

When you venture some more, you end up in the massive backyard. Some people are drunkenly making out in the pool, some people are watching them, and in a table in the corner, you spot a group of girls giggling and cheering as they all do shots. Perfect. This is exactly where you need to be.

One’s a model; you’ve seen her on a couple pages you flipped through in Harper’s Bazaar. You go up to the table and give her a bright smile.

“Hey, girl! Or should I say Miss Bazaar?” You greet her like how you think people would tease a friend. She’s not your friend; you don’t even know her name. You know she knows your name — everyone here does. And it’s because of the fact that everyone knows you that she lights up when she realizes you’re speaking to her.

A photo op with you guarantees that even if the headline coming out tomorrow is centered on you, she’ll still be in the frame. Daily Mail will add a caption naming everybody from left to right, and she’s planning on being the one captured right next to you.

“[Name]!” She squeals, giving you a quick side hug. “How have you been?”

All your friends, the grand total of exactly two people, know how you’ve been. You grin, pointing to the bottle of tequila they have on their table.

“After how this day has been, I honestly just need a shot.” You play it off like a joke, and as someone pours you one, you add, “Or maybe like five.” They all giggle before throwing back the tequila straight. They might think you’re joking, but this table full of strangers are the first people you’ve been honest with all day.

At 12:15 AM, they aren’t strangers anymore. In fact, you think they might be your best friends in the whole world. You don’t know the lyrics to the rap song blaring through the bass boosted speakers, but you’re laughing as you take another shot. The Harper’s Bazaar girl is doing another shot with you, but she has her phone in her other hand. She makes sure that the both of you are in the frame together, and a second later, she’s tagging you in an Instagram story you don’t bother to view. You’re not even following her.

“Okay, so out of all the guys here, who looks the most fuckable?” One of the girls leans on the table for support as she asks this question. You can’t help but notice how glittery her lipgloss is. Wow, even after all the shots she’s taken, there’s no transfer. Impressive. “I say Theo Sachs.”

“Who the fuck is Theo Sachs?” Harper’s Bazaar asks, and the whole entire table giggles. Honestly, at parties like these, laughing comes easy. In fact, you’re giggling right with them, even though you also have no fucking clue who Theo is. There’s just something so freeing in tequila-induced joy.

“Um, the host of this party?” Glittery Lipgloss says. “Oh my God, girl, he’s like, one of the players for Bastard.”

“The fuck is Bastard?” Another girl asks, adjusting her blue minidress.

“The soccer team!” Glittery Lipgloss is too drunk to be fed up, but you’re sure she would be rolling her eyes if she could.

“I didn’t know we had soccer players here. I only saw baseball players.” Blue Minidress frowns, before adding, “I would totally fuck one of the baseball boys, though. No preference whatsoever. Matter of fact, I could take the whole team.”

Harper’s Bazaar laughs. “What about you, [Name]? Who are you taking home tonight?”

Before you can think of something to say, Glittery Lipgloss groans. “Oh my God, she has a boyfriend.” She looks at you for confirmation. You don’t give her any, but thankfully Blue Minidress has her own insight to add to this conversation.

“So what the fuck does that have to do with her question? [Name], who are you taking home tonight?”

Nobody. Out of every party you’ve gone to this past month, you went back home, completely and utterly alone each and every time. It’s not even because nobody offered — they have — but because no matter how lonely you may get or feel, you don’t like strangers in your space. It took you three months of dating Rin to let him into the penthouse you were originally staying in, and that was with you being in love with him.

Once again, you’re saved from answering when someone behind you goes, “[Name]?”

You turn around, only to come face to face with Yoichi Isagi. On second thought, maybe this isn’t the rescue you thought it was. Drunk You can’t hold back your frown when you see him. He’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and chinos. He looks perfectly business casual and could pass off as an off-the-clock investment banker instead of the world class athlete you’ve heard he is. Then you let out a little snort of laughter, which only makes him look more confused. You don’t want to tell him that it’s kind of funny how normal he looks.

Not in a bad way. You’re surrounded by models for practically the whole day. Looking unattainably hot or having ethereal beauty is the one non-negotiable job requirement. Even Rin, with his stupidly long lower lashes and impossibly high cheekbones and his pretty boy resting sulking face, is serving standards some male models can’t achieve. Isagi looks like the type of guy you would have a crush on if the two of you were completely normal and attended regular high school together.

But that’s not the reality you’re living in. Right now, you’re getting drunk with girls you don’t know, and every night, you’re making headlines. He’s a professional athlete that everyone at this table would gladly fuck just for a chance to be declared social media’s favorite WAG of the Week. The both of you could have your pick of anyone at this party, but you refuse to let anyone in, and you think Isagi might be one of those intense athletes who only care about their sport.

If that’s the case, he’s doing every girl a favor by not pretending he can commit to anything but soccer. You know someone who could use a few pointers.

“Hi,” you mumble, and then you want to slap yourself because why the fuck are you acting like you’re nervous? But for some reason, you feel like you're a kid caught with their grimy hand in the cookie jar, like you’re doing something wrong.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Well, it’s Kenny’s birthday party. Of course, I’d be here.” You cross your arms against your chest, feeling like you have something to prove. Before Yukimiya became his teammate, Kenyu was your friend first. Like, real friend, not just someone you leave supportive comments on their Instagram post type of friend.

Isagi actually smiles when he hears that. “Funny. I think everyone but Yukimiya actually wants to be here.”

You sober up a bit when you hear that. “Yeah, I couldn’t find him anywhere.” Not that you looked very hard. The minute you found this table of girls, you didn’t bother exploring the rest of the mansion.

“He was upstairs with some of the guys. You know that he, uh, doesn’t really like these types of parties.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You don’t seem like the type to like these parties either.” If he was anyone else, you’d be saying this to flirt. You’re honestly not sure what your intention behind this comment was, either. You’re too drunk to decide if you wanted it to be an insult (some way to defend Yukimiya’s behavior?) or just you trying to make conversation for once (you’re not normally one for small talk).

“Caught me.” Isagi smiles easily. From now and thinking back to Yukimiya’s birthday lunch, Isagi is rarely not smiling. You wonder if he means it. Surrounded by people who only let you drink with them because being seen with you elevates their own status, you decide that the answer to that is a probably not. “I was about to head out before I thought I saw you, and I wanted to come by and…” For a second, he pauses to choose the right words to say. “Just wanted to see if it really was you.”

“Well, you saw me. Guess your business is done here.” Then you swiftly turn your back to him, as if to abruptly end the conversation. Instead, you’re drunker than you realize, and your heel ends up being wedged deeper into the grass than you expected, and you lose your balance. You think you might fall, which would be so embarrassing, but maybe not as embarrassing as what actually ends up happening.

What actually ends up happening is that Isagi is quick to wrap his arm around your abdomen, pulling you close to him as he attempts to keep you steady and upright. The girls looked shocked, but then they burst into another round of giggles, and since you’re not joining in the laughter, all you can think about is how annoying they are. You squirm around in his grasp, ignoring the whiff of fresh laundry you get from being all up in his personal space (not by choice!!!; he’s the one that pulled you in, after all!), and he releases you.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks you. It’s hard to glare at him when he looks so genuinely concerned.

“Never better.”

“Do you have a ride home?”

What does it matter to you? Is what you want to say.

“I’ll call an Uber.” You lie, hoping that this will end the conversation once and for all. Seriously, Isagi just killed the whole vibe of the party for you. You want to go back to drinking.

“But I thought you didn’t do Ubers.” When Isagi calls you out on your bullshit, you soften momentarily. You almost forgot that he heard about your weird thing of having strangers know your home address. Then, you go back to giving him the cold shoulder. Sometimes, it’s a warm and gooey feeling to be known. Right now, you want to drown your sorrows in tequila and be showered with fake affection by girls who probably don’t even like you sober. You didn’t come to this party to be known. You came here for revenge.

(You’re not going to acknowledge how drinking your sadness away isn’t necessarily showing up Rin, but for nearly an hour straight, you hadn’t thought about him, and that’s good enough.)

When you have no response to that (wit doesn’t come easy when you’re in the condition you’re in right now), Isagi looks at you imploringly.

“Let me take you home.”

You shake your head childishly, almost saying nuh-uh. “Just because you don’t like this party doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I’m staying right here.”

He finally frowns. “Fine. I’ll wait for you to finish up here, then I’ll take you home.”

“I’m with my friends right now. Leave me alone.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Which friend is going to make sure you get home safely? Yukimiya already left early.” Despite the two of you not knowing what the other is thinking, you both give wry smiles about that statement for the same reason. The party is still going on strong, despite the guest of honor not wanting to show his face and leaving early.

“These are my best friends.” You gesture to the trio of girls you know nothing about, besides the fact that they can keep up with your drinking habits. They all smile at Isagi, who waves back before turning his attention back to you.

“Really?” He asks. “What’re their names again?”

No one has anything to say to that, especially you. When the silence gets too awkward, Isagi clears his throat and also puts his foot down.

“I’m taking you home, [Name].”

You look at the trio of strangers you just spent hours with. Harper’s Bazaar shrugs, and the other two look away. The sting of not knowing who they are, despite them obviously having enough notoriety to be invited, makes your “best friends” not your friends anymore. Whatever.

“Fine.” You grumble, following Isagi to his car.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Is what he asks you as he signals to make a turn. The clicking of the turn signal is the only thing that fills the silence in the car.

No.

Sometimes, it’s fun in the moment, but that’s only when you’re drunk enough to trick yourself into thinking you’re having a good time. You’re more like Yukimiya (and — gross — Isagi) than they know; the whole “It Girl dominates the party scene” vibe you’ve got going on… It’s just bullshit that your PR team mixes together to get people talking. The high of being adored by everyone in a room vanishes almost immediately the minute you go home and wash off your makeup. In the bright lights of your bathroom, you stare at the sad, lonely girl in the mirror. It’s too dark outside for you to see anything out the window, but you lean your head against the cool glass, and before you know it, you’re waking up…

To Isagi groping you?

You’re groggy and confused and trying to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes, but Yoichi Isagi is definitely all up on you. You’re shocked, honestly. He looks like such a sweet guy! No wonder he was so pushy in getting you home.

He’s holding you in some awkward side hug, and he’s patting down your waist, trying to slip his fingers through the fabric of your dress, and finally, because he must be a novice-level pervert who doesn’t know the first thing about female anatomy, you speak up.

“Gross! You can’t even feel up a girl properly! No wonder you take advantage of drunk, vulnerable girls!”

“Ah!” He jerks back, shocked that you’re awake. Serves the pervert right. He should be backing up. You took a month of kickboxing classes (your modeling agency thought it would be the next big thing, since all the Victoria Secret models kickbox — they were wrong). “I-I wasn’t feeling you up!”

“Then why were your hands all over me?”

“I was looking for your key! You were asleep, and you looked like you needed it, so I just carried you to your door, but it’s locked.”

Oh. Likely story. You’re not letting him off the hook just yet.

“Obviously my front door would be locked, dumbass. Who doesn’t lock their house?” You point to the perfectly trimmed hedges by your door. “Key’s in the bushes.”

Since you’re making no moves to get down on your knees and rifle through the bushes, Isagi sighs and does it himself. When he holds up the key, you nod in thanks, take it, and then proceed to unlock the door using your fingerprint.

He blinks. “What?”

“What?” You repeat back, innocently.

“You didn’t even need the key to unlock the door!”

“Yes, Isagi. Modern technology is something, isn’t it?” And because you feel kind of bad, you offer him the chance to wash up before driving back.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Isagi says from the kitchen sink. You’re sitting on a stool by the counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing bad.” He clarifies. “It’s just… Rin’s a pretty private person. We always wondered what his girlfriend must be like. Sorry.” He shuts off the faucet, dries his hands. “Ex-girlfriend, I guess.”

“How do you know that?” You’ve been racking your brain, wondering if Yuki spilled your secret accidentally. Or — even worse — Rin himself confirmed it. Rin never even told anyone explicitly that the two of you were dating, so it’s not plausible that he would go blab about the breakup.

“Well, I didn’t really know for sure until I drove you home that first time.” He admits. “I just thought you made a weird face when I mentioned Rin during lunch, and then you started acting funny afterwards. Just had a hunch, that’s all.”

Great. So, Isagi, who’s basically a stranger to you, could read you to filth. Is there anyone else that you haven’t been fooling? How embarrassing. Being perceived sucks.

You don’t say anything else. You can hear Isagi mumbling about something, and you make a half-hearted noise in reply, but you’re sleepy and drunk and coming to the realization that you can’t keep fooling everyone around for long. There’s no point in dancing around the topic of your breakup. It’s getting tiring, anyway.

It is pretty exhausting to be pining after someone who’s not coming back.

Because that’s why you’re trying so hard to keep the breakup a secret. Partly for pride, but mostly because… You’re hoping that after learning everything there is to know about you, Rin Itoshi wouldn’t go so far to cut you so deeply by leaving you. Right? He understood your level of loneliness like no one else, and he related to it. For the first time in both of your lives, the two of you suddenly found the right person to fill in all the empty spaces.

And then he left, and the emptiness just continues to grow in infinite amounts.

You groan as you move around, only to find that you’re moving on top of your bed. You’re tucked into your sheets, and your hair is splayed across your pillow. You turn your head and see a shadowy figure exiting out your bedroom door.

“You’re leaving, too?”

Your throat is dry, and the words come out small. You hate this feeling of hopelessness and vulnerability, and the figure pauses in his steps.

He hushes you gently. “You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long night.”

“Fine. Don’t stay. I don’t care.” You burrow yourself further into your blankets.

“Do you really want me to stay?”

At one in the morning, covered in the darkness of your bedroom, you turn every shadow into Rin Itoshi. You don’t know what you mumble in response, but you know that whatever you said, it’s directed towards him.

Blue Lock characters and you living rent-free in their mind

Featuring: Isagi, Rin & Reo

Warnings: OOC? Probably. Cursing in Rin's.

-----------------------------------

Blue Lock Characters And You Living Rent-free In Their Mind

Isagi Yoichi

Lowkey goes crazy because he can't think about anything or anyone else. Every little thing is somehow tied to you. It's as if getting to know Isagi can't go without knowing you.

As with most things, it started small.

Like when Isagi went out for lunch with his trusted friends, and he saw a certain dish on the menu he knew you'd like.

Or when he'd bypass a shop, see a shawl, and remember that you'd mentioned you liked it in passing.

Then, his thoughts started to... change.

He started to wonder if you'd like a certain shirt he'd bought, or what you'd think about a tactic he came up with in football.

Those were all innocent things, just small matters he liked to ponder about. But it didn't stay that way.

But at some point, he began to feel more... conscious of himself when you were near. His fingers would rake through his hair, wondering if you liked the more roguish or put-together style.

He would stand in front of the mirror a bit longer, nervously straighten out any wrinkles, trying to look his utter best.

Although it was difficult, he tried to temper his football enthusiasm with you. He knew he could ramble on and on about tactics, plays, and chemical reactions, but he was scared he would drive you away with his overwhelming zealousness.

But well, he stayed a football geek, and reeling himself in wasn't really something he excelled at. But when you reassured him with a gentle voice and a sparkle in your eyes, after he abashedly and profusely apologised for droning on about football that it was okay, he could've sworn he could feel his heart beat out of his chest.

If there was any moment in time, in which he could exactly pin-point when he'd fallen for you, he would most definitely say that the moment you indulged him in his football freakiness, and even proffered some excitement yourself, was the exact moment.

Because from there on out, his thoughts took a deep, deep dive.

At random moments during the day, he'd think about how your hands felt in his, or how ethereal you looked like in the setting sun. He'd zone out, the faint ringing of your laughter playing in his ears like a broken record.

Even during training, you would invade his mind. Even sometimes resulting in him messing up a goal opportunity or pass. Then his teammates would snicker loudly and claim that he was too head over heels to get his head in the game.

Well, they weren't wrong.

At night, when he was worn-down from training or an interview, his thoughts would drift to you again.

He'd think about the satisfied noise you made when you ate something you liked, or when he returned from training and your eyes would light up, a sight that never really got boring.

He'd think about how your lips looked like when your mouth stretched into a big smile, or when you were annoyed and your lips frowned in that particular adorable way.

Or how your lips would feel like on his.

How soft they would feel, against the curve of his bottom lip, how they would part when his mouth moved, kissing you more deeply, more passionately, more fervently, until those hums would leave your throat that made his head reel, and then he'd move to your jaw, peppering kisses along the slope of it, inching slowly and slowly towards your neck, a sigh leaving your mout--

Isagi sat up. Heart in his chest and pounding a hundred miles a minute. His eyes were wide open, but the image of you pressed against him was still seared in his mind.

He touched his lips. The phantom touch of your lips lingering there. He swallowed, feeling a strange sense of loss.

He blinked a few times, still trying to come to terms with what the hell he was just thinking about.

What did this mean?

Was he disrespecting you in this way?

Knowing this, what if you didn't want to see him anymore?

His heart halted, his pacing coming to an abrupt standstill.

He frowned. He wasn't the best with emotions, but even he knew how he felt about you by now. But what should he do? Tell you? And risk rejection?

At the thought of you rejecting him, his chest contracted painfully together, as if a freight train had crashed into him.

No, no. He should just suck it up. Think about... about... football! Yeah, that would nicely take his mind off of you. He'd just ignore all the bodily reactions he got and keep a reasonable distance for friends.

He tried to ignore his heart sinking in his chest at the word friends.

But well, he'd deny any allegation about him sleeping terribly that night was due to something as silly as thoughts.

He was fucked, wasn't he?

The next day, you met up again, right before he would hang out with his friends.

When he saw you in the distance, waving sweetly at him with a big grin stretched across your face, his pulse sped up, and his cheeks flushed.

Alright, you can do this. Isagi hyped himself up, a grin of his own forming on his face.

Then, you gave him a hug, arms around his waist, body pressing flush against him.

His brain short-circuited.

You pulled away, and he caught himself reaching out to you again. He quickly clenched his hands at his sides, his lips slightly downturned, lamenting the loss of your warmth.

"Yoi, is something wrong?" You searched his eyes, a frown tugging at your lips.

Isagi swallowed, his gaze flicking momentarily to your lips and then hastily to your eyes.

"I'm... uh, fine! Just thinking about uhm... a new football tactic."

You shook your head, a grin on your face. "You and football. That's all you can think about, huh?"

Isagi laughed awkwardly.

If only you'd know.

"So... uhm, should we go out for lunch? That restaurant you mentioned last week?" Isagi proffered, changing the subject.

"Yeah, sure! Let's go!"

You wrapped your hand around his, fingers interwoven, as you pulled him along.

Isagi's soul left his body.

"You know, I think Y/n would like that smoothie, it's her favourite flavour. You think I can order it and take it with me?" Isagi absentmindedly said.

"Y/n, huh?" Hiori echoed, a playful glint in his eyes. "Didn't ya have a date earlier this mornin' with her?"

"Mhm."

Then, realising what he said, Isagi shot up, face red, as he stammered, "Uh no. We just... hung out. Like perfectly good friends. Yeah. Friends. Perfect. Perfect? Did I say perfect? Well, yeah, she is perfect, but that's not the point, what I meant to say was--"

"Oh, you have it bad." Bachira mused, all the while Hiori and Kurona cackled in the background.

"What? I don't have it bad, I just... like her, okay?" Isagi huffed, crossing his arms petulantly.

"Oh yeah?" Bachira raised his eyebrows, tilting his head, amused. "Then please tell me how your thinking about her 25/7 and your embarrassing rambling can be compartmentalised underneath "liking"?"

"He's in love, your honour." Hiori snorted.

"He's been pining all this time, and he didn't even notice, notice." Kurona remarked, a glimmer in his eyes.

"What?! No! And it's not embarrassing! You're embarrassing!" Isagi huffed.

The three looked at him, identical looks of amusement on their faces.

That was too much for Isagi to handle. "Shut up, shut up!" His face was now full-blown on red.

Dismissing his outburst, Bachira asked, "so, what, are you going to ask her out?"

It became dead quiet.

"I... uh..."

"He's goin' to wuss out." Hiori observed.

"Menace on the field, loser in real life, life." Kurona nodded sagely.

"I want to, really, believe me..." Isagi said, a conflicted expression on his face.

Because the thought of you and him being official, did horrible, horrible things to his heart.

Waking up with you first thing in the morning, being the first person to see you in your unguarded state, or making breakfast together and snuggling together on the couch while watching football matches, holding hands and spending holidays together, just the two of you--

"Aaaand he's doin' it again."

"Earth to Isagi?" A hand aggressively waved in Isagi's face.

Isagu spluttered, taken aback, almost falling out of his chair.

"This!" Bachira pointed at his face, wearing a triumphant look, "This is what I meant! This dopey, lovesick look! There's no way you just like her!"

Isagi made a face. "I don't wear a "dopey, lovesick look"."

"I bet Y/n would like it, though."

Isagi visibly perked up. "Really?"

Then, realising he'd been baited, he groaned. "Shut up."

"We weren't saying anything." Bachira's eyes twinkled.

"You were thinking something."

"Yeah, 'bout how you should just ask her out!" Hiori cut in, "Don't know what the big deal is, when she'll say yes for sure!"

Bringing his hands away from his face, Isagi said, voice small, "You think?"

"..."

"...thanks guys."

"Well, we don't know for sure she'll say yes, but you're a great guy!" Bachira patted his back, exchanging pointed glances with Hiori and Kurona.

"But, what if she rejects me?" Isagi frowned, looking like a kicked puppy.

"Then ya will stay friends, right?" Hiori chimed in. "She wouldn't just cut contact with ya, right? I don't think she's that kind of person."

"No." Isagi sighed. "No, she's amazing. Of course she wouldn't. She'll probably just smile and reassure me, with her pretty eyes and pretty laugh, and her pretty face. Or she would ask me about football, because you know, she's thoughtful like that, or we would hang out together again, maybe go to that new arcade she's seen--"

"Yeah alright, that's enough, lover boy." Bachira snorted.

"He can't help it, he's too in loooveee." Hiori teased.

"Shut up!"

"I can't shut up, because I'm Isagi and I'm too head over heels to ever shut up about the girl I love, and I'm a total loser--"

Isagi groaned, covering his ears to muffle the incessant teasing of his friends.

But between you and me, Isagi knew his friends were totally right.

He was totally in love with you, and he was constantly thinking about you.

And maybe, just maybe, he would admit that to you one day.

----------------------------------------------------

Itoshi Rin

Mad denial. This man would literally say Isagi was a better striker than him than say that he had feelings. He'll literally distract himself, training thrice more than ever, just to avoid thinking about you. Because with feelings? He was utterly hopeless.

The first time Itoshi Rin caught himself thinking about you in a particular way, he immediately froze.

Woah, stop. His mind said. This isn't good.

So, Itoshi Rin went back to the gym after having already spent three hours in it and went back to his gruelling sets. All to just take his mind off of you.

Because you were a distraction.

It was not because he didn't know what to do, when his hands would turn up all clammy, or how his face would turn his embarrassing red. No. 'Course not. Pfft.

And when you'd meet up, and he saw you in your new clothes, his eyes would linger a second longer, cheeks flushing red.

It suits her, his mind unhelpfully supplied.

"You look like shit." Is what Itoshi Rin said instead.

When you showed up at his game, Rin almost choked.

There you were, wearing his jersey, cheering him on.

A warmth coated his chest.

Rin went still. Mortified.

"Tch. Lukewarm." He grumbled to no one in particular.

His teammates exchanged glances, wondering what they had done now to elicit Itoshi Rin's ire.

During the game, Itoshi Rin was focused. But when he scored, his eyes unconsciously slid over to you.

As you cheered exuberantly, a perceptive onlooker would have noticed the barest of hints of Itoshi Rin's lips quirking up.

Then, Rin caught himself, mouth immediately forming a scowl.

During break, Rin sipped his water, damp hair sticking to his temples.

As his teammates were recounting the first half and discussing tactics, his mind involuntarily went back to you.

The way his jersey hugged your figure, the way a genuine smile flitted over your face, and the way your eyes twinkled so zealously when he'd scored, like a child excited for Christmas.

"What are you thinking about, Rin?" Isagi asked him.

Rin was startled out of his thoughts. "Nothing."

"Ah, you sure?" Isagi teases.

Rin went really, really still. Before he exploded.

"Yes, I'm sure. Shut up! Play better! And don't get in my way! Better yet, just step off the field. You're an eyesore, and you're so damn bad, you're not even annoying anymore, you lukewarm NPC."

Stunned, Isagi's lips parted, but Rin had already strode away.

Did he go overboard there? Maybe.

Did he care? No.

But what he did care about was that a player of the opposing team approached you.

You just had to be friends with everyone else, right?

Of course you were. That's just the kind of amazing, kind person you were--

No. Nope. Nuh uh. Not today. Not ever. Think about anything else. Football. Crush Isagi Yoichi. Be the best striker, defeat Itoshi Sae. Not necessarily in that sequence, but enough to take his mind off--nooo. No.

Despite vowing to himself, he wouldn't look. He still occasionally glanced somewhere in that direction that you just happened to be in.

Rin's eyes narrowed as you chatted cheerily with the other player. A grin was on your face as you playfully shoved him.

Rin's heart sunk.

From disgust, obviously.

Scoffing, Rin threw his bottle away, uncaring about how the team's assistant scrambled to pick it up, apologising profusely to the people surrounding them.

"Fucking half-baked donkeys." He cursed.

The people around him were stunned.

"Itoshi Rin, yellow card."

Rin dusted himself off, standing up from the ground.

"What the hell, man?!" The player from the opposite team yelled out indignantly.

Tsking, Rin turned to him, his face impassive.

"Small fry like you don't deserve to play against me. So keep away from her."

Then, Rin stalked off.

"Wah, huh?" The player was flummoxed. "What the hell is he talking about?!"

No one knew.

"You're crazy!" He shouted at number ten.

But Itoshi Rin didn't hear it. He was too sunken in his thoughts, fists clenching when he recalled the gleeful look on your face, one that wasn't directed at him but at that worthless piece of shit.

You should just look at him. Only at him. No one else. No one else was deserving of your gaze.

"Rin! What's up with you?!" Isagi, the pest, ran up to him.

"There's nothing wrong with me. You're the problem, you meddlesome bug." Rin spat.

Isagi's eyes narrowed. A thoughtful expression crossing his face. Sadly, he didn't take offence to Rin's insults.

"It's about her, isn't it?" His eyes subtly drifted over to where you were sitting in the VIP box.

Clenching his teeth, Rin stalked up to him, his hand sinking into Isagi's jersey as he lifted Isagi off the ground.

"No, it isn't about her!" Rin's eyes spat fire. "Shut your damn mouth and focus on the game already."

"Woah. Chill out, dude." Isagi's eyes widened.

"Tch."

But as Rin shot a sidelong glance at you, it was clear that his focus wasn't on the game at all.

Rin sucked in a sharp breath, willing his mind to focus.

The player he had accidentally tackled was taking a penalty right now.

He took a step back, brought his leg back, and shot.

"GOALLL!!"

Rin's jaw tensed.

From the corner of his periphery, he saw you clap your hands.

Tch. How annoying.

"Just look at me. Only me." He mumbled.

Cheer me on. No one else. No one else but me.

He would score more goals than the rest of them, just you wait. Just so you wouldn't look at anyone else.

The referee whistled.

Just wait. Just wait and see.

His feet thrummed over the ground, his focus sharpened and sharpened, until all he could see was the goal.

"Rin, what are you doing?!"

"Pass the ball!"

"Don't charge in alone!"

Rin ignored his teammates' calls, dribbling past players and tearing down their defence.

Four defenders. Three. Two.

Until it was just him and the keeper.

Rin shot.

He scored.

His eyes drifted to you. You clapped.

Harder than for that other goal, he noted with just the tiniest hints of vindication.

Nevertheless, it didn't his heart from quickening.

"Rin. Good job." Isagi commented, approaching him.

Rin turned to him, his face inflectionless.

"You're slow today. Try to keep up."

Having been used to his antics, Isagi only shook his head.

Then he gestured with his head at the stands, a Look in his eyes.

"There's no trying to keep up. There's only trying to take." He raised his eyebrows. "Shoot your shot. And stop being so stubborn. Anyone with eyes can see you love her. Do something about it. Your lovesick behaviour is detrimental to the team."

Rin's breathing involuntary sped up.

Do something about her...? Like what, like invite her to more games? Spend more time with her? Kiss her--

Rin's brain screeched to a halt. An embarrassing flush appeared on his neck.

It was from fury, obviously.

Naturally, he directed said fury at one Isagi Yoichi.

"Tch. Go away with your stupid puns. I don't need your dumb advice, you amateur." Rin said snidedly, crossing his arms.

Isagi sighed. "How long will you stay in denial?"

Bristling, Rin sneered, "I'm not in denial about anything."

"He said in denial." Isagi murmured, before walking off.

Tch. How annoying.

He'll show him who exactly was in denial.

After he would be done today, the only thing in denial would be Isagi's salary.

"GOALL!! ITOSHI RIN'S FIFTH GOAL! HE'S ON A ROLL TODAY, LADIES AND GENTS!"

Rin wiped the sweat off his face, heaving heavily.

Then, the whistle blew.

End of game.

Rin let out a relieved breath. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.

His muscles were straining, sweat was pooling off of him, and he was beginning to see black spots. Not at all concerning.

He pushed past people, their words falling on deaf ears.

"Rin." Rin let out a perfunctory sigh. Ah yes, the bane of his existence. Rin turned around.

"You really did well today." Isagi once again walked up to him, undeterred by the threatening looks Rin was shooting him.

"I guess I was wrong. You're not in denial. Anyone can see why you scored so many goals."

"What."

"Maybe it's about time you realise, too." Isagi nodded, his eyebrows raising expectantly. He looked over Rin's shoulder. Rin followed his gaze. He froze.

"Good luck."

Then, as the fucking traitor he was, he left.

Rin stared at you, lips slightly parted and eyes slightly widened.

"Rin, you did amazing." You complimented softly, stepping closer to him.

Rin took a step back, feeling heat crawling up his neck.

Your scent invaded his nostrils, and Rin could feel himself involuntary lean in.

Ah no. Nope.

Feeling himself stiffen up, Rin pushed you back, not too hard, but enough to give him free space.

His ears were tinted red, as he looked at you with narrowed eyes. "I don't love you."

He then turned around and stalked away.

Stunned, you looked at his retreating back, then at the jacket in your hands that he'd just shoved at you.

You smiled softly. He'd noticed. Of course he had.

It had been a windy day, extraordinarily cold on the stands. Rin must'e noticed this. Even while he was playing and metres apart, he still had noticed. He always did.

This man would literally say Isagi was a better striker than him, than say that he had feelings.

But this man would literally score five goals to show he loved you, then see you smile at another man.

If that wasn't love, then what was?

But well, he was still Itoshi Rin.

He was still in denial.

----------------------------------------------------

Mikage Reo

Once he notices how often you're on his mind, he'll come up with this big plan to woo you.

But Reo Mikage is kind of a perfectionist. He wants everything to go utterly perfect. So much so that he'll forget not everything goes according to plan.

The thing with Mikage Reo was, was that he was quite perceptive.

He could easily distinguish between the debilitating moods of his competitive teammates or notice the discrepancies between a client that was about to be won over or who'd absolutely throw in the towel.

So it came as no surprise that Reo would make sense of his emotions and feelings early on, too.

He'd notice how his thoughts would revolve more about you when he was sitting in tedious company meetings or when he'd pulled off another copy move during football, wondering what you'd think of it.

Or the way the residual embers of your touch on his skin lingered even hours after.

Or perhaps it was the simple way you treated him.

Not like the future CEO of Mikage Corporation. Not like the personal butler friend who'd get exploited in turn for companionship.

No. Just him. Reo.

You treated him as if the person underneath mattered more than the things he could offer. You'd surprise him by insisting you needn't go out to some fancy restaurant because you preferred his cooking and his company over that of a buzzing hub.

Or the way you didn't shy away when the responsibilities that came with the Mikage name threatened to put pressure on you, always staying with him during thick and thin.

You treated him as if he were a normal person for once, but it made him feel special all the same.

That's why he had made up this elaborate plan to properly court you and to win over your affections. So you'd know you were as special to him as he was special to you.

So, this plan had to be flawless.

Because Reo was nothing if not a perfectionist.

Reo had mentally stored a list of what you'd mentioned you liked. It ranged from favourite food to favourite countries and languages all the way to your preference of how you specifically wanted your coffee.

And well, somewhere on the list, stood amusement park.

So, he just had to rent it out. Easy peasy.

But what came after? Did he need to order some stalls to prepare your favourite food? Yes, totally. But what if your cravings differed that day? And what about the weather? What if it rained, or it was smoking hot, and you'd have a terrible time?

And what if you didn't even want to go to an amusement park? And if you did want to go to one, which one would you like better? Orlando? Legoland? Disneyland? Which Disneyland? In France, Japan, or America?

And the day mattered, too. Not Friday the Thirteenth, or on a Monday. Mondays are dreary. But Saturdays were for football games, and Sundays were a tricky bit with his company events and meetings.

And what... if you didn't even want to go with him?

Reo wanted to pull out his hair.

At last, he finally had finalised his plan.

First of, the date of the event would be on Friday the ninth of May. He'd taken a peek in both his and yours agendas, and you were both free, with him having no games that weekend and you being on a break from university.

He'd wake up at 8 am, then let his personal chef prepare your favourite breakfast. Around ten, you'd leave for Tokyo, where Disneyland was located.

During the trip, he'd prepared several board games and movies you could watch, including the newest ones that haven't been launched yet.

And when you'd arrive, at around twelve, the perfect time to eat lunch, he had found a commendable kaiseki restaurant nearby that should be up to your tastes.

In the meantime, his assistant would take care of checking in at the hotel for him, giving him ample time to explore the city with you.

At around 6 pm, there was a light show scheduled at the outskirts of the city. He would order his assistants to bring out blankets and a comfortable stretcher.

It would be some sort of picnic, with Yakitori and Sukiyaki served. Really romantic if he said so himself. That was sure to make you swoon.

Afterwards, you would return to the hotel and turn in for the night, preparing for the flurry of activities he'd planned the day after in Disneyland.

Because Disneyland was such a hot commodity, queues were a given. And he hated queues. Obviously, he got VIP cards. He could then immediately showcase that he was capable and thoughtful, qualities any woman liked in a man, right?

The rest of the day would then be spent with enjoying the attractions, your smile, the shows, the food, your smile, and the parades.

And then... he'd rented out the ferris wheel at exactly 8 pm. The same time at which the firework show started.

Then, when your cabin had reached the highest point, he'd confess his feelings to you and ask you to be his girlfriend.

And then--

"Reo?"

Startled, Reo's dreamy smile was wiped off of his face. He quickly scrambled upright, eyes widening when he took note of all the papers of his grand plan strewn about his floor.

You knocked, worried voice sounding through the door. "Are you alright there, Reo? You've been there for quite a while."

"Oh, uh... I'm fine... just doing some cleaning!" Reo lied, straight through his teeth.

"Shit..." He cursed. There was no way he could clean this mess up without being suspicious.

"I'm coming in, alright? Ba-Ya made this delicious meal, and I'm sure you'll like it."

"Ah, uh... alright! Come on in!" Reo puffed, pushing his hair out of his face after practically speed cleaning his room.

You came in, peeking your head through the door opening.

"Ah, hi, Y/n!" Reo waved at you, beckoning you to come in.

You frowned. Noting his flushed deposition and his stiff posture. "Are you sure you're alright...? You look a bit... worked up."

"Me? What? I was just... doing some push-ups, you know, for training."

"For training." You raised an eyebrow.

"Yep! Ah, is that for me?" Reo pointed at the platter with steaming food in your hands. "Delicious, thank you!"

He took it from you, wincing underneath his breath when he almost burned his fingers.

You watched him with a pained face, debating whether or not you should help him.

Then, your eyes fell on a piece of paper, sticking out from underneath his desk.

"Hey... what's this?" You crouched down, pulling out the paper.

"What's what?" Reo turned to you, glancing at the paper in your hands.

His face turned pale.

Oh fuck.

"Disneyland?" You read aloud, a contemplative frown on your face. "Favourite foods and snacks. Five-star hotel and ferris wheel?" You looked at him, a questioning look in your eyes.

"What's this?"

"I... uh. Nothing! Here, let me take that from you." Reo nervously snatched the paper from your hands.

"Wait a second... Mikage Reo... are you planning a date?"

Reo went very, very still.

"Oh, you so are! So, who's the lucky person?"

"..."

"Come on, you can tell me! Is it one of your business dates? Or that heiress your father picked out? Or..." You wiggled your eyebrows. "Is it Nagi?"

Reo spluttered, "Wah? No, no! And it's also not Nagi... it's..." He trailed off, turning his head to hide his reddened cheeks.

Reo sighed, resigning himself to this terrible, terrible fate.

"You."

"Ha, ha, how funny--wait what?" The amusement faded out of your eyes, replaced by shock.

Reo's jaw tensed. "I planned this for you."

"For... me?! What for? Oh no, what did I do this time?" You joked.

"For being you." Reo shrugged.

"I wanted to tell you I liked you this way." Reo admitted, but then immediately cringed internally.

Great. He was supposed to be the charming and eloquent heir of Mikage Corporation, yet he couldn't even properly tell you he fancied you! Oh, this was just humiliating, no borderline mortifying--

And then, you laughed.

Your shoulders shook as a big grin stretched across your face. The clear chuckles streaming out of your mouth, making Reo's heart race.

"I... I can't be... believe you made up this plan!" You laughed.

Reo frowned, almost sulking.

"What do you mean with that? I... I thought I included everything you like!" Reo's face was now synonymous with a tomato.

You wiped a tear from your face. "Oh Reo, this sounds like a honeymoon."

"So?"

"For newlyweds."

"I still don't see your point."

You sighed, but it was good-natured. "Reo, if you like me, you can just say it. You don't have to come up with this whole plan."

"But... you deserve this! I wanted it to be special."

You shook your head. "Listen Reo, the plan's thoughtful and romantic. But I don't feel special because of that."

Reo opened his mouth to argue, but you trudged on.

"I feel special because you make me feel special. You continuously remind me of how highly you think of me, and this plan is only a testament to that."

Glancing at the paper, you were slightly taken aback at the sheer amount of activities planned, all up to detail and exact minute, too.

Your heart warmed at the thought of how much effort Reo must've poured into this, remembering all your likes and dislikes and planning it down to the very minute.

It was so Reo, but it was also over the top, and sometimes you would need to be the one to step in and reel him back in.

You looked up, eyes locking with Reo's hopeful ones. "You can just say you like me, and I'll feel special all the same."

You gently reminded him, taking his hand in yours. "You're enough on your own. You don't have to come up with a whole plan."

"Well... if you prefer it this way..." Reo exhaled deeply. Then, he looked up, his eyes gazing in yours as he stepped closer, hands coming to hold yours.

"Y/n, I think you're the most special, amazing girl in my life. You're kind, thoughtful, and you motivate me day and day to do my best and to live my life to its fullest. You continuously remind me that I'm not only the overachiever in school or the heir of Mikage, but that I'm also just me. Reo. Your Reo, if you'll have me."

A genuine smile spread over your face. "I like the sound of that." You nudged his shoulder. "My Reo. My boyfriend."

Reo's heart thrummed in his chest at the label, a zip going up his spine.

Yours.

"Then, as your boyfriend, allow me to spoil you."

You let out a chuckle. "Still holding on to the plan, huh?"

Reo sheepishly scratched his neck. "I kind of... already booked it?"

You shook your head, but this was just so Reo that you couldn't help but feel enamoured.

"Good, because I was already craving that kaiseki."

Reo rejoiced. "Knew you would like that one."

Reo Mikage is kind of a perfectionist. He wants everything to go utterly perfect. So much so that he'll forget not everything goes according to plan.

But well, maybe this time, that wasn't really a bad thing.

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jeonghannie4eva

2 months ago

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jeonghannie4eva

4 months ago

he actually my lil princess

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jeonghannie4eva

2 months ago

prettiest smile ‹𝟹 itoshi rin

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ in which, you finally experience his smile and his laughter for the first time.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ when you had first befriended rin all those months ago, you honestly hadn’t expected your friendship to flourish like this.

rin was quiet, snappy, and quite frankly, tended to be very rude. but for some reason, that never shook you off of him. why? he couldn’t fathom a reason. not even you could come up with a reason. just that you liked his mystery, his company, his presence, all of it.

maybe you liked it too much.

under the spring sunlight, you and rin walked back to your home as you yapped away. another thing you liked about rin was that he was a good listener. you could talk about any of your interests and he would be there beside you, nodding along, occasionally asking questions — and the best part? he remembered. he remembered things even you had forgotten.

“i don’t understand why he doesn’t just confess already.” you huffed, complaining about the male lead in your romance novel. “he has to understand he’s an attractive guy. i don’t think any girl would reject him!”

rin looked at you curiously. “what do you mean?”

“i mean that everybody likes pretty boys. even if they’re the worst person on the planet. rin, come on, back me up here. you can testify!”

“i still don’t understand.” rin replied.

you rolled your eyes. was he being serious? absolutely no way. “girls confess to you all the time.”

he looked at you completely cluelessly.

then it hit you.

oh my god.

rin was genuinely clueless.

he was utterly unaware of his own beauty.

how? he was one of your closest friends now, and one of the first things you had noticed about him was that he was rather beautiful. pretty teal eyes fringed by long dark lashes, a face sculpted by angels, dark hair that fell over his face perfectly, and come on. he was an athlete. anybody with eyes could see the carefully built muscle against the fabric of his clothes. rin was a pretty boy. it was no secret.

however, it seemed that everybody knew the secret but him.

he tilted his head just slightly to the side, sunlight streaming through the trees and pronouncing the deep green undertones of his hair. “so?”

you stopped walking, completely the dumbfounded. then the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “you’re pretty.”

oh, now you’ve done it. who the hell calls their male friends pretty?

rin raised an eyebrow. “i’m pretty?”

“no!” you exclaimed, your heart racing in your chest as he looked down at you, and oh god — you were blushing. then his eyes widened in surprise at your quick reaction, your heart beating so fast it could have collapsed inside your chest. “i mean i’m not saying you’re not, ‘cause you are. pretty, i mean. but i’m just saying-”

your rambling was definitely making this worse. you looked down at the ground, your cheeks flushing pink and your blood racing through your veins. then you heard something soft. the smallest sound.

laughter.

you raised your eyes to find his face, and your breath catches. he laughed louder, and your heart fluttered in your chest as you watched him with wide eyes. you didn’t think he could get prettier.

but here he was. the soft golden sunlight hitting his face and illuminating every breathtaking feature. his smile could have stopped wars, his laughter could have been mistaken for an angel’s. you had never seen him look prettier. it was almost too much for your poor heart to handle. he was smiling — laughing because of you.

you felt light. too light. as you watched him, lips parted in awe, you felt your heart fall. falling endlessly, effortlessly, as you looked at rin.

he giggled, and your stomach flipped, his smile radiant as he looked down at you. “so you think i’m pretty?”

you couldn’t even speak. you just nodded.

he laughed again, nodding to himself. “good. i think you’re pretty too.”

you might faint.

rin’s laughter was pure as his hands went to your face as you mumbled about feeling lightheaded ; his proximity, touch and laughter worsening it. rin could only giggle as he teasingly asked you if you were okay, delighted by your shy and soft responses.

oh, you’re so screwed. you’ve definitely fallen for itoshi rin.

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jeonghannie4eva

2 months ago

When They See You Wearing Their Jersey ♡♡

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Kaiser, Bachira, Shidou, and Rin

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐀/𝐍: Okay so idk why but when I thought of this it was originally gonna be for different characters but I’ll start of with the fine shyts first and I’ll do a second part to it though enjoy this !!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Your man walks in seeing you in his jersey number with his name on it, it’s the way you have it on that gets him happy and excited.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Slight touching (Kaiser, Shidou) & Slightly dirty talk.

Kaiser

The moment Kaiser sees you in his jersey—his name, his number sprawled across your back—his usual smug confidence skyrockets into something even more unbearable.

He leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, eyes drinking in the sight of you like a king admiring his crown.

“Well, aren’t you just a walking love letter?” His voice is dripping with amusement, but the way his gaze softens gives away how much he actually likes it.

You smirk, spinning around playfully to show off the back. “You like it?”

Kaiser steps closer, hands finding your waist as he pulls you against him. “Like it?” He chuckles, lips brushing against your ear. “I love it.”

One of his hands slides to the fabric, fingers tracing his last name like he’s memorizing the feeling of it on you. “I knew you were mine, but this? This just makes it obvious for everyone else.”

Before you can react, he’s lifting you off the ground in one fluid motion, spinning you around as laughter bubbles from your lips. “You’re never taking this off,” he declares. “Unless, of course…” He tilts his head, flashing a devilish grin. “You want me to help you out of it.”

Meguru

Bachira is ecstatic. The second he spots you in his jersey, his golden eyes widen, and then—he’s pouncing.

“OH MY GOD! YOU’RE WEARING IT!” He practically tackles you, wrapping his arms around you so tightly that you nearly lose your balance. “AHH, YOU LOOK SO GOOD IN IT, I’M GONNA CRY!”

You giggle as he leans back just enough to admire the sight again, eyes sparkling with pure joy. His fingers brush over his name on your back before he beams at you, dimples showing. “You’re my biggest fan now, huh?”

“I always was,” you tease, watching his grin widen.

“Well, duh!” He lifts you up effortlessly, spinning you around in excitement. “I’m your biggest fan too, y’know?”

When he finally sets you down, he cups your face, pressing a flurry of kisses all over it—your forehead, cheeks, nose—before finally planting a deep, lingering kiss on your lips.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against them, grinning. “And now, the whole world knows it.”

Shidou

Shidou freezes the second he walks into the room and sees you in his jersey. For a moment, he just stares, golden eyes darkening as his usual playful smirk stretches across his lips.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, stepping forward. “Look at you, all dolled up in my name.”

You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers, how his fingers twitch like he’s holding himself back from grabbing you right then and there. You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “You like it?”

Shidou huffs a laugh, but there’s something almost dangerous in his expression. “Like it?” He suddenly yanks you forward, hands gripping your hips as he presses himself against you. “Babe, you just made it impossible for me to keep my hands to myself.”

His fingers trail up your sides, ghosting over the fabric of his jersey before stopping at your waist. His lips brush against your ear, voice dropping to a husky whisper.

“You’re reppin’ my name now. That means you belong to me, yeah?”

You shiver as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes burning with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. “Shidou…”

He grins, leaning down until your noses brush. “Say it.”

You roll your eyes but humor him, whispering, “I belong to you.”

A growl of satisfaction rumbles from his chest before he crashes his lips onto yours, kissing you so fiercely that your knees nearly give out.

“Damn right you do.”

Rin

Rin wasn’t prepared.

He walks into the room, expecting a normal day—only to find you standing there in his jersey, his name and number sprawled across your back like it was meant to be there.

His breath catches in his throat, and for a second, he just stares. His mind short-circuits—his usually composed demeanor falters as he tries to process the overwhelming wave of possessiveness that crashes over him.

“…What are you doing?” His voice is quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

You turn, giving him a teasing smile. “Wearing your jersey. Do you not like it?”

Rin swallows hard, eyes flickering to the way the fabric drapes over you—his name, his number, his everything on you.

“I—” He clears his throat, looking away as the tips of his ears turn bright red. “…I like it.”

You step closer, reaching for his hand. “Then why do you look like you’re about to explode?”

Rin lets out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Because,” he mutters, squeezing your fingers, “you look… too good in it.”

A small smirk tugs at your lips. “Too good?”

He huffs, gaze flickering back to yours before finally giving in. In one swift motion, he pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His face buries into your shoulder, voice muffled but laced with sincerity.

“…Don’t wear this around anyone else,” he mumbles.

You chuckle, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head. “Jealous, Rin?”

He doesn’t answer, but the way he holds you closer says enough. You pressed your lips against his cheek only for him to hug you tighter.

@𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐲𝐱𝐝𝐩𝐩 ; 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬.

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jeonghannie4eva

4 months ago

Took a little break from asks to draw something extremely self indulgent

I’ve been rewatching FIM and since I’ve got Blue Lock on the brain, like always, the combo was inevitable. I also didn’t want to think super deeply about creature types so everyone’s a pony (I also never seen the newer seasons so I don’t know any of the new creatures they introduce)

I didn’t intend for them to look like fillies for the tiny ones but alas

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jeonghannie4eva

2 months ago

Lovesick! Itoshi Rin who started pushing you away the moment he felt you might become someone important to him.

Lovesick! Rin who was afraid of letting you in, of showing you his true self because he was afraid of you not loving him back and leaving him behind like his brother did.

Lovesick! Rin who despite trying his best not to fall for you couldn't help but curse his stupid heart as he found himself unable to live without you in his life.

Lovesick! Rin who finally gave in and accepted his love for you, after struggling to not fall for you all this time, knowing he failed miserably.

Lovesick! Rin who then found how much more he enjoyed life when with you, how much he loved the way you saw the world, how much he loved the way you saw him.

Lovesick! Rin who knew you were the one when he realised you had seen all of him, the good, the bad, the truly disgusting side which even he couldn't stomach, and still stayed, still loved him.

Just Lovesick! Rin who thought you would ruin him, but you ended up making him a better version of himself, something he now knows he wouldn't have become without you.

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