airybcby

[airybcby]

જ⁀✦Wishin' I Was Anybody Else

( regto x fem! reader )

✩ a/n — does this count as manga spoilers? ( i havent watched the anime ) oh well, i'll say manga-spoilers just in case. also! i told myself i wasn't gonna write for gachiakuta until i caught up with it but i miss regto like a mf (im literally on chapter 8) sooo yeah. if this is stupid pls leave me to live in my delusion.

✩ word count — 1.5k

✩ content — regto x fem! reader, found family trope goes hard, made it where you're like a mother figure to rudo :3, i do want everyone to know - i wrote this on a whim and bc i had the idea. i'm sorry if i got any story/literally anything wrong. , not proofread

✩ synopsis — Every morning you wake up hoping to see Regto and Rudo one more time. And every morning, you're met with an ache in your chest.

── .✦ what am i gonna be when you're just a memory ?

Your home isn’t big, but it’s always full.

The kind of full that means there are socks left on the couch and someone's toothbrush accidentally ends up in your cup. 

The kind of full where laughter echoes against the chipped walls and the pan on the stove always has a little extra “just in case” Rudo’s hungry. 

The kind of full where love shows up in odd places—like the way Regto folds your coat over the chair even though you’ll just wear it again, or the way Rudo always waits for you to taste dinner first like your approval means something. (It does.)

You wake up to Regto already halfway dressed, standing by the window with a cup of bitter tea. His hair is still wild from sleep, and his eyes crinkle as he notices you watching him.

“Morning, love,” he murmurs, voice rough.

“Morning,” you yawn, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “Did you let Rudo sleep in again?”

He grins guiltily. “You try telling that kid no when he’s snoring like an animal.”

“You’re both soft,” you tease.

He walks over and kisses your forehead. “Only for you.”

Breakfast is always a mess.

“Don’t put jam on your egg!” you exclaim, scandalized, as Rudo commits the culinary crime right in front of you.

“It’s good!”

Regto leans over. “Try it before you knock it.”

You glare at him. “You’re supposed to back me up.”

He shrugs. “I’m backing flavor.”

You throw your napkin at him. Rudo howls with laughter.

They fight over dishes. Regto ends up with soap on his shirt. You pretend to be mad. Rudo offers to clean the floor and accidentally breaks a plate.

You let out an exhausted sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “You two are going to be the death of me.”

But you smile.

Because even if you have to sweep up ten plates a week—this is the kind of life you begged for.

It starts in the golden hours of a life you didn't know was ending.

The smell of old tools and soap clung to the walls of your home—humble, mismatched furniture, cracked windows mended with tape, and a little potted plant that Regto insisted would “bring the room together.” (It never really did. You kept it anyway.)

You were washing dishes when you heard them.

"—she smiled at me, y’know?! What was I supposed to do?!"

"Did you smile back?" Regto's voice was amused, light.

"I—uh, I think so? But then I... I panicked, okay?!"

You glanced over your shoulder from the sink just in time to see your boyfriend doubled over laughing. Rudo stood stiffly, ears red, arms crossed like he was trying to physically contain his embarrassment.

You dried your hands and leaned against the doorframe with a fond smile. “What’s going on in here?”

“Rudo’s in love,” Regto said dramatically, wiping a tear from his eye.

“I didn’t say that!”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh no? Then why are you bright red, huh?”

Regto slung an arm around Rudo’s shoulder. “He wants advice from a lady’s perspective. Right, kid?”

Rudo grumbled something unintelligible. Regto looked to you, suddenly a little more serious. “What would you say to a girl, if you were in his shoes?”

You looked at Rudo, his nervous fidgeting, the protective way he held his bag like a shield.

“I’d say,” you began softly, “don’t make it about winning her over. Just… be kind. Be honest. Tell her the toy reminded you of her—warm, soft, something you like. You don’t have to be smooth. You just have to be you.”

Rudo blinked up at you.

“Got that?” Regto nodded sagely, before grinning devilishly. “So basically—if you don’t give her that damn stuffy, another guy will, and she’ll be off before you can say ‘wait!’ ”

“Regto!”

You laughed—really laughed—as Rudo tried to tackle him, and Regto yelped like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

They rolled around the floor like idiots, knocking over a stool, and you didn’t even mind.

This was your family.

This tiny, ridiculous, beautiful little life.

You were out that morning.

Grocery run. Eggs, rice, and the little treats Rudo liked to pretend he didn’t get excited about.

You’d promised to make stew that night, even though you were tired, because Regto had been working too much and Rudo had been quieter than usual.

You remember thinking—just as you walked home—how lucky you were.

Arms full of groceries, humming a song Regto always mangled the lyrics to. 

The street was quiet. Sunlight through the cracks in the rooftops. 

You were thinking about your boys.

Then you saw them.

A cluster of uniforms.

Two officers gripping Rudo’s arms like he was dangerous. 

His face was pale—blood smeared on his clothes. Not his. You knew it instantly. 

Not his.

“Hey!” you yelled, dropping everything. Apples rolled down the street. A carton of eggs cracked beneath your heel. “What are you doing?! That’s my—let him go!”

“Step back, miss,” one officer warned.

You didn’t listen. You pushed forward, reaching for Rudo. “Rudo?! What happened—are you hurt? Did someone—?!”

You never finished your sentence.

Because the door was open.

And you saw it.

Regto’s body.

Collapsed inside the threshold like discarded cloth. Blood. So much blood. 

You couldn’t tell where it was coming from. His eyes were closed. His chest—wasn’t moving.

You dropped to your knees.

A sound tore out of you—maybe a scream, maybe a sob, maybe both.

You weren’t sure. 

You’d never heard yourself sound like that before.

They were saying things.

Accusing things.

“He murdered him.”

“He stabbed him.”

“Trash always returns to trash.”

“No!” you screamed. You stood, trembling. “That’s not true! He—he loved Regto! We—we were a family. He would never—!”

But they didn’t care.

They pulled Rudo away.

You chased them. 

You didn’t care about your shoes or the bruises on your knees. 

You didn’t care about the tears blinding you.

“Rudo!”

He looked back at you. His eyes wide, terrified—like a boy who just lost everything.

And then one of the officers shoved you.

You hit the ground. Hard. 

Your palm scraped against the pavement. 

Your mouth filled with the taste of copper and dirt and grief.

You watched them disappear down the street.

And the silence that followed…

It was the kind that doesn’t end.

They took everything in five minutes.

You sat on the floor of your kitchen that night, surrounded by grocery bags that never made it to the fridge. 

The eggs had gone bad. The rice spilled across the tile like ash.

Regto’s blood was still under your nails.

Long after his body had been taken away and you were forced to scrub the floor clean of his blood.

Scrub away the only thing you had left of your love.

Even the slight stain left…you couldn’t bear to look at it.

You didn’t move for hours.

Didn’t cry. Not anymore. You’d already done that.

Screamed until your throat gave out.

Cursed gods you didn’t even believe in.

Now?

You sat.

And sat.

And sat.

They called Rudo a killer.

You refused to believe it.

Not just because he was your boy. But because you knew. 

You saw his face. That wasn’t the face of someone who took a life.

That was the face of a boy who’d just lost his father.

Just like you had.

Every night, you light the stove.

Every night, you set three cups.

Every night, you talk to them like they’re still here.

“Regto,” you whisper, “I miss your laugh. God, I’d do anything to hear it again.”

“Rudo,” you murmur, eyes watering, “please, please be alive. I don’t care where you are. I just need you to be okay. You didn’t do it. I know you didn’t.”

You stare at the empty seats across from you.

The silence is cruel.

The house is colder now.

You’d give anything to go back.

To burn the stew again.

To scold Rudo for eating too fast.

To kiss Regto goodnight, only for him to pull you in and say, “Just one more minute.”

But all you have now—

Is a ghost of a family no one else believes in.

They say grief makes you forget.

But you remember everything.

The smell of Regto’s shirt.

The way Rudo used to call out your name like it was home.

The softness of three bodies in one small space, curled in warmth and care and light.

You remember it all.

Even if the world doesn’t.

Even if they think Rudo is gone.

Even if Regto never walks through that door again.

You stay.

Because love doesn’t end just because they’re gone.

And because someday—

If the pit didn’t kill him—

If some miracle kept your boy breathing—

He might come back.

And when he does?

You’ll be waiting.

Stew on the stove.

Three cups on the table.

And a whisper in your chest:

“I miss you.”

જ⁀✦ ©airybcby ✩ masterlists

✩ likes ✩ comments ✩ and reblogs are appreciated

[airybcby]

i’ve decided to start reading gachiakuta. seen too many cute posts and i wanna be included (it also looks cool)

[airybcby]

i’ve decided…i wanna be cool like everyone else and write asks separately from the ask and be like “here it is” and add a link

ty to everyone who inspired me to do this. mwah

[airybcby]

i wanna make cupcakes.

(aka: airy’s gonna raid her kitchen for stuff to make cupcakes)

[airybcby]

everything has changed.

sfw, fem reader

sae proposed to you near the lake— it was unexpected, he asked you out on a random day and next thing you know is that he’s on one knee with a box that contains a ring.

“[name],” he held your hand as the two of you walked down the cobblestone road, the area was dry caused by the autumn season— the only thing lighting your area was the placed fairy lights and the moon’s shine.

“hm?” you glanced at him and smiled, “what is it?” he looked more anxious than usual; and you’ve been noticing it since he took you out for dinner.

as the two of you stopped near the edge of the lake, he turned to you— letting go of your hand; your head slightly tilted, and he spoke, “how long has it been since we dated?”

five years— you recalled; the first time you met was at the match where you wanted to meet rin but saw him first, and the two of you became official after three months before the u-20 world cup at this very same place.

“five years, i believe.” he nodded, “why? is the reason we came here cause you forgot when we dated?” you feigned offense and he let out a small huff with a small smile plastered over.

“not exactly.” you raised your eyebrow and blinked a few times looking at the distance on the lake, private dinner; suddenly taking you to the place where he first asked you to be his— and then it hits you.

when your head turned back to where he was; the tears threatened to drop when you saw him on one knee and automatically your right hand raised to closed your open mouth.

“[name],” he took your left hand, kissing on it— as his gaze averted to you, “if our love is true; i’m willing to lower myself and give you my life, but i don’t want it as your boyfriend.” his left hand took out a small box and popped the top, “i want it as your husband.” the other hand still holding yours.

“[name] itoshi, please allow me to stand by your side until we grow old.” and from there you all you could do was nod, you can’t even let out any words— he slid the ring that perfectly fits in your finger and stood up; pulling you by the waist and gave you a kiss as your arms crossed his shoulder.

and from there the years changed, and in those years, you were blessed with three children— miya, ren, and ayaka; the lights in your life, and the two of you decided to take them somewhere special.

“mamaa, papaa— where are we going?” miya whined, she’s the oldest that’s currently seven years old. “just somewhere.” the spring breeze hits the face of the three year old next to her, “owaaaahhhh!”

“ren, don’t get too close from the window.” you warned and he nodded, “sorry mama!” you look at the baby in your arms; the five months old girl let out a small sneeze and sae just let a small chuckle out.

sae reached his left hand to yours, kissing the top of it— and a “bleh” escaped from miya which you just responded with a laugh, miya also took her little brother from taking his head out from the window.

when the car parked, you and sae took the two kids from the backseat, the stroller, the camera and the stand, at the trunk— walking through the paved brick road.

the scenery changed, as the once dried area filled with greenery— “i don’t understand, where are we going?” miya pouted, as ren was at his father’s back; your husband carrying the camera stand and it’s bag.

at the end of the road, was the same lake— while the kids might not feel the nostalgia, you and sae did; “so at the end it’s back to the same place, hm?” he started and you nodded, “it has been a few years anyways, and i wanted to take the first family picture with our little baby there.”

“really? our first family picture in years and it’s here?” miya was unimpressed, “i don’t know, i kinda like it.” ren said as his father puts him down, “cause you’re at papa’s back, you didn’t had to walk, lil bro.” the two of them bickered.

“the two of you, stop that.” their father’s stern voice said as he prepared the camera, and they went quiet— you checked over the stroller as the baby opened her eyes, giggling at her mother.

“hello to you too, baby.” you picked her up as the two kids went to you, and greeted their little sibling. “hii ayakaa,” “ayaa!!” “really? aya?” “you got a better nickname for her?”

“come on the two of you,” they looked at their mother and switched to their father that just finished setting the camera, clicking on the timer, he walked over to the four of you— “camera’s counting down.”

ren and miya smiled for the picture as you and sae just chuckled at the two’s immediate switch up— and at the end, the photo was perfect, not cause of the scenery.

but because the five of you are there, complete.

— author’s note : inspired by this tiktok— please its so cute omfgdbjdnddnbs

©chevxyn — thank you for your support.

[airybcby]

✩ Airy's Pocket Dictionary ! ! ✩

a fanfic series by airy ✩

There are words for every feeling. Even the ones we try not to name.

This series is a collection of standalone fics, each one centered around a single word that captures something specific and oh so human.

Love that burns slow. Goodbyes that hurt. Laughter in messy kitchens. Late-night confessions.

The ache of almosts. The warmth of finally.

These are the words we live by.

The ones that linger. The ones that almost explain it all.

tldr: airy wants to expand her vocab and this is a fun way to do it

find the series under the cut!!

⋆｡°✩┊ Blue Lock

⋆｡° coming soon...

⋆｡°✩┊ Haikyuu

⋆｡° coming soon...

⋆｡°✩┊ Wind Breaker

⋆｡° coming soon...

⋆｡°✩┊Jujutsu Kaisen

⋆｡° coming soon...

જ⁀✦ ©airybcby ✩ masterlists

✩ likes ✩ comments ✩ and reblogs are appreciated

[airybcby]

no you guys don’t understand i’m in tears. is it bc im emotional? yeah. is it also bc he deserved more time? yeah. additionally, is it bc nagis ass is somehow still relevant and i’m mad? uh yeah.

got reminded tokimitsu got eliminated. i’m distraught. fell to my knees in agony. i can’t

[airybcby]

got reminded tokimitsu got eliminated. i’m distraught. fell to my knees in agony. i can’t

[airybcby]

i think today is a “put on headphones, listen to phoebe bridgers, and stare at the ceiling” type of day

[airybcby]

ness, my love.

ah yes, my two favorite adorable but slightly unhinged babies ✨

[airybcby]

lowkey don’t know if i’m gonna post tmrw i have ideas just no motivation rn :3 if i do it won’t be at my usual times!!

[airybcby]

SOBBING THIS IS SO CUTE!!!

greatest goal

a star on the field but tender at home, yoichi isagi learns that the greatest goal he’s ever scored is the quiet, everyday love he shares with his family.

starring. isagi yoichi x fem!reader

genre. fluff, romance, aged up!isagi, domestic!isagi

wc. 2k

author's note: i love domestic isagi sm he just fits fatherhood so much <333

The roar of the crowd was deafening, swelling around the stadium like a tidal wave of adoration and pride. Cameras flashed from every corner, flags were waving high, and yet—up in the VIP box—you could only hear the sound of your daughter’s tiny voice chirping with glee.

“Goal, Papa!” she shouted, standing on her little tiptoes with her arms thrown up as if she herself had scored the point. Her dark hair bounced with every jump, her toothy grin pure sunshine.

Your son, ever the quieter one, simply clapped his hands with a soft smile on his lips. A small, reserved gesture—but his eyes shimmered with the same pride. You gently rubbed his back while watching the man down on the pitch, who had just turned toward the stands and raised his hand.

Isagi Yoichi—your husband, the face of Japanese football, and now the Best Player, Best Goal, and Best Playmaker all in one glorious season—was waving up at you three. The stadium buzzed with even more energy as the jumbotron captured the precious moment: a father celebrating not just with his teammates, but with his family watching from above.

Your heart swelled.

The ceremony followed with flashbulbs, thunderous applause, and three trophies in Isagi’s arms. One by one, his name echoed through the stadium as he accepted each award, his smile humble but unmistakably joyful. You began to make your way down to the side of the field with the kids in tow—press and fans respectfully parting as staff helped you navigate toward him.

And just as the post-match interview began, your daughter wriggled free from your hold and dashed toward her father.

“Papa!!”

The reporter laughed as the crowd let out a unanimous chorus of awe. Isagi immediately turned from the mic, crouching down and catching her mid-run, lifting her with ease as she squealed.

“She’s the real MVP today,” he chuckled into the mic, nuzzling her cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Guess she couldn’t wait.”

He stood with her on his hip, calm despite the storm of cameras, answering a few more questions with his daughter babbling happily in the background. You and your son stood just a few feet behind, the latter hugging your leg shyly as he looked up at his dad with big, starry eyes.

When the interview ended, Isagi walked straight to you. His expression softened even more—if that was possible—as he reached you, giving you a warm kiss first, then leaning down to press one to your son’s forehead.

“You were amazing,” you whispered, brushing a stray curl from your daughter's face. She responded by planting a wet kiss on Isagi’s cheek.

“I love you,” he murmured, eyes only for you before turning to both your kids. “All three of you.”

What followed was more chaotic joy than you’d expected. The Blue Lock alumni—Isagi’s teammates, friends, brothers in every way but blood—gravitated toward you like moths to light.

Bachira Meguru was the first to appear, his grin wild as ever. “Oi, oi, oi! Look at you guys! Mini Isagis!”

Your daughter let out a gleeful squeal as he crouched down and wiggled his fingers at her. “Hey, wanna play with Uncle Meguru?”

She immediately nodded, reaching out to him without hesitation.

Meanwhile, your son clung a little closer to you, but his gaze flicked to a familiar figure.

“Yoichi Jr.!” Barou bellowed from a short distance away, striding toward your group with a rare smirk. The nickname made Isagi groan, but your son’s eyes lit up. Barou, despite his rough image, had always had a soft spot for your boy—maybe because they were both more serious than the rest.

Chigiri crouched beside your daughter, offering her a small ball and a soft smile. “Wanna race, little comet?”

“Raaaace!” she echoed, jumping up and down. You couldn’t help laughing as Chigiri pretended to struggle keeping up with her, deliberately losing just to make her shriek in triumph.

Nagi sat down beside your son with a yawn, watching the field with his usual lazy air. “Wanna sit with me for a bit?” he offered without pressure. Slowly, your boy nodded and settled beside him—no words needed.

Rin gave your daughter a rare pat on the head as he passed, pretending not to smile when she shouted “Green Uncle!”

Moments later, the ball rolled away from Chigiri’s foot toward Bachira and your daughter, who stood a little ways off. Bachira crouched again, holding the ball gently in front of her.

“Wanna try and score like Papa did?” he encouraged, eyes wide and animated. “I bet you can do it!”

Your daughter hesitated—just for a second—before puffing up her chest. She looked around, then cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled.

“Papa! Watch me!”

Isagi turned around immediately, still holding the awards, and gave her his full attention. The crowd hadn’t dispersed yet—and seeing the little girl on the field made them collectively hold their breath.

With Bachira guiding her, she took a few steps back. Then, with all the might her tiny legs could muster, she kicked the ball forward.

It wasn’t fast, it wasn’t precise—but it rolled past the cones Bachira had arranged as makeshift defenders and landed in the small corner of the goal Chigiri had set up earlier.

The stadium roared.

Your daughter’s eyes went wide as her lips curled into a shy smile. For a moment she froze, overwhelmed—but then she turned and sprinted toward Isagi, who had already dropped the trophies to his teammates and knelt with open arms.

She tackled into his chest with the force of a comet.

“You saw it, Papa?”

“I saw everything,” he whispered into her hair. “You were perfect.”

You watched them from a few steps away, your son’s hand in yours as he leaned his head against your side. Your eyes misted—not just from pride, but from the sheer, quiet beauty of the scene.

Night had settled over the city like a velvet curtain dusted with stars, Tokyo’s skyline twinkling beyond the glass windows of your penthouse—your home. From this high up, the world below looked like a miniature diorama, but inside, everything was warm, lived-in, and entirely yours.

The penthouse, luxurious by every standard, carried the unmistakable elegance of Isagi’s success. Polished floors gleamed beneath soft lights, tall ceilings made space for laughter, and sleek designer furniture filled the wide living area. But despite its opulence, the place didn’t feel like a cold showroom. It felt like family. The walls bore framed memories—candid shots of the four of you smiling on vacations, your daughter’s chaotic crayon masterpiece from preschool encased in a pristine white frame, your son’s first goal certificate from soccer club tucked beside one of Isagi’s earliest professional awards. Even the scent of the place was familiar: a subtle blend of chamomile from your diffuser and the faint trace of your husband’s cologne that lingered no matter how often he changed clothes.

The kids had long since eaten—the whole team had been treated to dinner by Reo that evening, which gave you a rare break from meal prep. By the time you all returned home, the two little ones were already halfway to dreamland, heads bobbing sleepily in the backseat. They were growing fast, but some things remained the same—like their nightly rituals.

You took charge of bath time, fingers gently scrubbing shampoo into your daughter’s hair as she chattered away about her day at kindergarten—how her teacher praised her drawing, how her best friend said she ran the fastest in their game of tag. Your son, quieter as always, nodded solemnly beside her, occasionally mumbling his agreement or adding his own quiet bits in between yawns.

After you dried them and helped them into matching pajamas, Isagi was already waiting by the door to their shared playroom. He scooped them up with that familiar warmth in his eyes, carrying them one by one into their rooms. His voice dropped to a soft hush, reading aloud from their favorite bedtime story, pausing only to kiss each of their foreheads goodnight. You watched for a moment from the doorway, heart full. Watching him as a father had been one of life’s most unexpected, beautiful surprises.

The penthouse grew quieter after that—the sounds of cartoons faded from the background, and soft breathing took their place. You padded barefoot into the hallway, cradling a warm cup of tea between your palms. You didn’t need the caffeine, not this late, but the routine of it was comforting. You stood there in the hallway, eyes lingering on a particular photograph: you and Isagi, arms wrapped around each other under a cherry blossom tree. He was in his early twenties then, still fresh off the Blue Lock program, cheeks fuller, eyes hungrier. It was the spring after he returned home to take a break, the time you first met—just a quiet girl who had moved into the neighborhood near his parents’ house. You became close to them before you even met him, often chatting over fences and bringing leftovers they swore reminded them of his favorite meals. They used to tell you stories about their son—how determined he was, how he never cried as a baby, how the fire in his eyes never dimmed. You had smiled politely back then, not realizing that fate would bind you so tightly to the very boy they were so proud of.

A soft rustle stirred behind you before you felt his presence. Warm arms snaked around your waist, pulling you gently into him. Isagi’s chin rested on your shoulder, and he swayed you side to side with quiet affection, as if to a melody only the two of you could hear.

“Still up?” he murmured against your ear.

“Just thinking,” you said, leaning back into him, your hand reaching to thread with his.

You stood there together for a long moment, soaking in the silence of your shared life. The lights cast a soft glow over the hallway, illuminating the tender timeline of your love etched into every photo, every framed school paper, every little scribble that had earned a proud spot on the wall.

When your tea had gone cold and the weight of the day finally settled into your bones, Isagi tugged your hand gently and led you toward your shared bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the sheets already turned down, the faint breeze from the balcony ruffling the curtains.

You slipped beneath the covers together, his arm instinctively finding your waist. There was no rush to sleep. You stayed like that, exchanging whispered memories—about your first house in the suburbs, about how nervous he was the first time he introduced you as his girlfriend to his teammates, how his parents cried on your wedding day. He told you again how he used to imagine this—this quiet, steady kind of love—back when he was in the Blue Lock facility, and you confessed how surreal it still felt sometimes, being the one he came home to.

Eventually, your voices faded into sleepy murmurs, and then silence. The steady beat of his heart against your back lulled you to sleep, his hand still curled around yours beneath the sheets.

Outside, Tokyo glowed into the night. And inside your home—be it the grand penthouse or the quiet house by the suburbs—the real light had always been each other.

You had built this life together. And even in the hush of midnight, it pulsed with love.

© 2025 yukkiji ☾ creations by yukkiji — please do not repost, copy, or translate without permission.

[airybcby]

જ⁀✦ Think I Was Born Already Missing You

( bunny iglesias x fem! reader )

✩ a/n — uh, pls keep in mind this is written before we know much abt bunny's past or personality!! if we get a deeper dive, don't come back here and hate me❤️

✩ word count — 920

✩ content — bunny iglesias x fem! reader, bullying (bunny), cruel words, yes i opted out of explaining why bunny has his scar bc...well we don't know, trainer! reader, fluff(?), i gave bunny a sad backstory, not proofread

✩ synopsis — Bunny Iglesias knows how to fake a smile. Until he meets you, and suddenly he feels like you can see right through him.

── .✦ i think i was born wanting more

Bunny Iglesias knows how to fake a smile.

He’s been doing it since he was eight years old—since the first time someone scrunched their nose at his name and barked out a laugh in the middle of roll call.

“Bunny? Seriously?”

The scar on his cheek hadn’t helped either. 

No one knew where it came from—he never told. Some said it made him look dangerous, others said it looked dumb. Either way, it made him different. 

And when you're different, kids always find a reason to chew you up and spit you out.

So he learned quickly: smile. Smile and nod, laugh along even when it stings. Let them think you're okay. Let them think nothing bothers you.

If they think you’re fine, they’ll leave you alone.

He kept that smile on like armor—thin, glossy, practiced. 

His lips could curl with ease, even when his chest ached and his throat threatened to close. 

He wore it so well, even his parents stopped asking him if something was wrong.

And then came soccer.

The first time his foot met the ball in a scrappy after-school match on a sun-drenched dirt lot, something clicked. 

It was like a switch flipped inside him—light breaking through fog. For once, the smile on his face wasn’t forced. 

He was laughing, yelling, running—living. 

For a few hours at a time, he was just Bunny. 

Not “what kind of name is that?” or “what’s with your face?” 

Just a kid who could outrun everyone and keep the ball like it belonged to him.

Soccer became everything. It was the only thing that made sense. 

It made him feel… enough.

And now, standing in the fluorescent-lit medical room of FC Barcha’s training facility, that smile is back—tight, polite, and completely fake.

His thigh had started acting up after practice, and despite his insistence that he could walk it off, the coaching staff practically dragged him to get it checked. 

Trainers were his least favorite part of professional life—always poking and prodding, all too nosy with their clipboards and their cold fingers.

He didn’t like being touched. He didn’t like being seen.

So when the door opened and he saw you step in, his first instinct was to brace himself. 

Another stranger. 

Another set of hands. 

Another set of eyes that might linger on the scar or flinch at his name.

But you paused.

Your brows knitted, your mouth opened just slightly.

And Bunny waited for it—the laugh, the hesitation, the discomfort. It always came.

“Bunny…” you said softly.

His stomach turned, lips already pulling into that easy smile. “Yeah,” he said, tone breezy. “It’s weird, I know. My mom picked it.”

You blinked. No laugh. No wobble in your voice. Just a quiet stillness.

“You look-”

“Scary? Ugly? It’s the scar, promise.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m not-”

“Are you okay?”

His smile faltered.

“What?”

Silence.

The world shrank for a second, like someone pulled a plug and drained all the noise from the room. 

Bunny stared at you, wide-eyed. 

He’d been asked a million things in his life—rude things, weird things, things that dug under his skin and left him raw—but never that.

No one had ever said that before. No one had seen him before.

“I—” he started, then stopped, blinking rapidly. “I’m not hurt or anything—”

“I meant you,” you said, gentle. “Not your leg.”

“You just… look sad.”

And suddenly, it felt like something cracked. 

Not loudly. Not dramatically. 

Just a quiet, hairline fracture down the middle of his practiced smile.

You caught it too, because you quickly shook your head, waving your hands. “Oh! I’m sorry! That was too personal, huh? You don’t have to answer, really.”

Bunny sat on the exam table, suddenly unsure where to put his hands. “No, it’s… fine. Just not used to that.”

You gave a small smile, sincere but soft, as you pulled your gloves on. “Okay. Well—let’s start with your quad.”

He let you work—asked about tightness, range of motion, any tenderness. 

You were efficient, professional, but careful. You didn’t hover. 

You didn’t look at him like he was strange.

The whole time, his mind kept playing back your words like a broken record.

You look sad.

And for the first time in years, someone said it and didn’t sound cruel. You sounded concerned.

When the assessment was over and you were packing up your things, stuffing wraps and sprays back into your bag, Bunny hesitated.

His foot tapped against the floor.

“Uh,” he said, clearing his throat. “Can I—ask you something?”

You looked up, surprised. “Sure?”

He hesitated again. He never did this. 

He never did this.

“Can I… have your number?”

Your eyes widened slightly. 

You didn’t answer right away, and his stomach started to curl in that dangerous, self-destructive way it used to in middle school, when rejection came like clockwork.

But then you smiled. And it wasn’t the polite kind. It was warm. Curious. Real.

“Yeah,” you said, reaching for your phone. “Here. You can just put it in.”

He took it with steady hands, thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before he typed in his contact.

When you handed it back, he gave a short, breathless laugh—quiet, but bright.

And as he left the room, stepping out into the hall with nothing but your number saved and your voice still echoing in his chest, Bunny Iglesias smiled.

Really smiled.

And this time, it wasn’t to hide anything.

It was because he really wanted to.

જ⁀✦ ©airybcby ✩ masterlists

✩ likes ✩ comments ✩ and reblogs are appreciated

✦ tags ✦ @irethepotato ✦ @kiyy0mei ✦ @x3nafix ✦ @sugacor3 ✦ @virgothesimp ✦ @werfiedeii ✦ @chiieni ✦ @syleepy ✦ @academiq ✦ @peachysaki116 ✦ @manjirosanosgirlfriend ✦ @anqelkoz ✦ @silverwings920 ✦ @nishinoyaismycutie ✦ @sunathetuna ✦ @alexiaray ✦ @megumismyhusband ✦ @yutamy1beloved ✦ @luvlynabi ✦ @scoosh4you ✦ join the taglist here!

[airybcby]

WOOO OBSESSED W THIS‼️

i’ll just say sae itoshi x "what if the current version of you met the future version of you?"

angst start but a happy ending <3 TRUST ME GUYS TRUST

The fights weren’t the end of the world — you knew that perfectly well. You’d been together for almost two years, and you’d argued a million times before, but this time you felt a heavier weight on your heart. Maybe it was because things hadn’t been easy for either of you lately. He had just come back home from a tour in Italy — one that had exhausted him more than usual, dragging him through some of the most remote places in the country for nearly three months — and most importantly, far from you. You, on the other hand, had just failed an university exam. You’d get the chance to retake it in a few weeks, but all the stress had been for nothing

Three months apart, the tension you both carried, and Sae’s return home had sparked one of the biggest arguments you’d had in a long time — all just a few days after he got back

For four days now, the house had been completely silent. You only spoke when necessary: he would go out to train even when he didn’t need to, and you preferred eating at the restaurant downstairs rather than sitting across from him. The words you had thrown at each other had been harsh — definitely not true, but absolutely devastating for both of you

You still shared the same bed, but it wasn’t the same anymore: Sae no longer pulled you close, no longer kissed the back of your neck, no longer showed you affection — and neither did you. It felt like he was still thousands of kilometres away — only this time, you saw him in real life, not through a phone screen. By the second day, you had already planned to talk to him and clear things up, but his stubborn pride, mixed with your own, kept you silent. You knew things would get better eventually — probably in just a few more days — but by now, you felt so overwhelmed that you didn’t know what else to do except cry in silence. You knew he was in pain too like you, but why was it so hard for him to speak about this?

It wasn’t the end of your relationship — and yet, it felt like the beginning of the downfall. What if all of this was actually the beginning of your breakup? Why now, just when you had started talking about more serious things, like marriage?

It’s just around dinnertime when you hear something crash in the living room — like the entire bookshelf had fallen over. There hadn’t been any tremors or earthquakes in the past few minutes… so how could that have happened?

You rush into the living room, noticing Sae stepping out of the bedroom — probably with the same question on his mind. You exchange a brief glance, but you’re the first to look away, turning toward the center of the room, where the bookshelf is, in fact, perfectly intact. Except… lying on the floor are an older version of your boyfriend — is he still your boyfriend? — and an older version of yourself. You take a step back, covering your mouth with both hands as you stare at the scene in front of you. The older version of Sae is the first to stand, reaching out a hand to help the older you to her feet. She rises and steps to his side, and he wraps an arm around her waist — only then seeming to realize where they’ve ended up

"I can’t believe it actually worked. That bastard from Bastard München really is a magician"

"That’s why they call him the Magician! Although, umh… it’s weird seeing you this young"

"Are you saying I’ve aged?"

"Only by, like… ten years"

You stare at both of them in complete shock, while Sae steps forward, placing himself slightly in front of you — shielding you, almost, as if concerned for your safety or simply overwhelmed by the situation unfolding before his eyes. The older versions of yourselves turn in your direction, and the older you walks forward, passing by your Sae and gently taking your hands in hers. You just stare at her, still stunned

"Oh my god, it’s so weird seeing myself this young! My hair looked really good like this, didn’t it, Sae?" the woman says, and both Saes turn to look at her — the older one nodding, while the younger casts a slightly jealous glance at his future self. The scene makes you chuckle a little, but your attention shifts back to the older version of yourself. She’s not that different from how you look now, but it’s clear she’s a few years older, with slightly more defined features. She smiles warmly, gently letting go of your hands and walking over to the couch, where she sits down. She alternates her gaze between you and your present-day Sae, genuinely curious

"What’s wrong? Did you sleep badly last night?" she asks, but her Sae comes closer, sitting beside her and sighing "I think we’ve landed in that phase when we used to fight all the time. Look how awkward they both are" he says, and you take a step forward "We don’t fight every day-" you mutter, embarrassed, but your Sae just shrugs "Almost" he says, and you turn to glare at him. The older you chuckles, curling up closer to her Sae "We haven’t changed at all" she says. You sigh, awkwardly

The more you look at them, the more they seem like the perfect couple — the kind you and your boyfriend aren’t right now. How can the same people be so different in such a short time? They’re just... stronger. You can see it in the way they simply sit next to each other, while you can barely speak to your Sae at all. The older Sae looks at you, slightly puzzled, then gestures for you to sit down. You do as he says — almost as if this weren’t your own home — and your Sae only sits when the older you takes his hand and gently places him beside you. It feels strange to have him this close again after days of silence… and yet, at the same time, it feels so good — like finally being able to breathe after holding your breath underwater for too long. You rest your hands on your lap, hesitant, but Sae doesn’t seem to hesitate at all — he places a hand on your thigh, a gesture he would never normally make unless the situation was something… unusual, like this

The older you chuckles softly while you try to collect yourself, clearing your throat "So… you’re us, but… adults?" you ask uncertainly, still struggling to understand how any of this is even possible. The older you nods "We’re the version of you from ten years in the future" she says, and her Sae nods in agreement "We’re thirty" he says it clearly and concisely — a trait that clearly hasn’t faded over the years. You notice how your Sae is watching them the same way he studies matches, like he’s trying to analyze something impossible "Are you still together?" he asks, and the question tightens something in your throat. If he asked that question, he probably doesn’t believe in your future together — and that just confirms your theory about the start of your decline. You lower your gaze, feeling a bit sad, when you hear the older Sae’s words "Are we still together? We’ve been married for years" he says

Both you and your Sae lift your heads, clearly surprised. You look at each other, and only then do you notice the beautiful ring encircling your ring finger — the same one that the older Sae is wearing. Your cheeks automatically flush as the older you seems to notice your surprise "What’s wrong? Are you surprised to be married?" she asks affectionately. You shake your head "It’s not that I’m surprised by that, it’s just — it’s strange to actually see it, not just imagine it or talk about it" you say awkwardly. The older you nods "It’s normal. It happened three years ago, so seven years from now… but it’s something we both wanted. I definitely didn’t put up with this stubborn head for years just to end up without a ring on my finger" she says, kissing her husband’s hand. You find yourself a little caught up in her playful tone — something that clearly hasn’t changed. Your Sae looks genuinely confused but shrugs "Married? Is that all? Isn’t there anything else to know about our future?" he asks, and his words hit you once again — so cold, somehow. The older Sae seems to notice this, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders "Well, it’s not just that. I’d avoid telling you about having three kids, winning the Champions League, and the Ballon d’Or, but if you want to know…" he says nonchalantly. This time, it’s Sae who’s left speechless, while you find yourself lingering on the part about having children. You instinctively look down at your stomach, shifting your gaze between it and Sae’s face, imagining what mini versions of him and you might hypothetically be like

You see how the smiles on their faces suddenly become more amused — even on adult Sae’s face. You swallow a lump in your throat, noticing that your Sae still hasn’t recovered "Kids?" you ask innocently, and the adult you nods "Three, two boys and a little girl we had recently. You’ll have to work a bit before getting there, but trust me, they’re wonderful" she says affectionately, and your heart warms a little. You’re about to speak when Sae interrupts you "Are they healthy? Are they okay?" he asks, and, surprised, the adult you nods happily "All three are doing well, in excellent health" she says

"There is anything else we should know?” you ask, pressing your lips together. The two of them look at each other for a few seconds, then turn back to you and shake their heads "Probably not. It wouldn’t make sense to tell you more and spoil a story you still have to live through" says the adult you, and you nod, though a bit thoughtfully. Her words are certainly true and reasonable, and yet you find yourself wanting to know the story ahead of time. It’s a bit of a difficult moment, and having some reassurance would help — but asking too much wouldn’t make sense. You know they’re standing here in front of you, but what truly confirms that it will actually turn out this way? That the arguments before won’t become too much, to the point where you can no longer bear each other’s presence? What can truly reassure you that you and your Sae will become the version standing here now?

"Excuse me for a second..." you say, getting up quickly and disappearing as you head toward the kitchen. You enter and close the door behind you, leaning against a cabinet as you hold your head: the doubts have been eating you alive for days — too many words thought but never spoken, slowly piling up in your mind, which is gradually becoming a crowded, overflowing space. You know that Sae loves you, but at the same time, you wonder — how much longer can he keep loving you? How much longer can you keep loving him before you finally break? How much time do you have left before you start to hate each other? You’ll never become those people…

"Hey, am I interrupting?" asks a deeper-than-usual male voice. You look up to see the adult version of your boyfriend standing in the doorway, looking a little embarrassed. Wiping away the few tears that fell, you shake your head "No, go ahead. Sorry for the sorry state I’m in" you say, sounding a bit pathetic, but he closes the door behind him "I only find you pathetic when you doubt yourself. You were the most beautiful woman in the world, even drenched in sweat while giving birth to our son" he says, and though that moment hasn’t come yet, a warm feeling spreads in your heart. He seems aware of the weight of his words and clears his throat "Too much?" he asks, and you offer a small smile "Just surprised. Don’t worry" you say this, sitting down on the chair. He nods, looking around "Do you argue often?" he asks, and you reluctantly nod "Lately, yes. It’s like… like we don’t understand each other anymore, and then I look at you two and wonder how that’s even possible" you say innocently, resting your head on the table. He chuckles, sitting down across from you "I used to wonder the same thing back then, and I still do now. The more I see you, the more I wonder what you saw in me, this bundle of pride and inability to express his feelings" he says, and honestly, it makes you laugh a little

He looks relieved as he gazes at you more seriously "Listen, I know what you’re thinking. I used to think the same every time we argued back then, I was just less able to show it. It hurts me to see you so rarely, especially when the little time we have is spent not talking, but things have gotten better. When two people truly love each other, they find a way together. We’ve found it a million times before, and we still do now. You think we never argue in the future?" he asks, and you shake your head "It’s impossible that you fight, you’re so close. You’re really the opposite of what we are now" you say, despondent, and he shakes his head "We still argue, often more harshly. Everyone has their limits, their struggles, their provocations. We hate each other when we need to, but she, you, are always the woman I’ve chosen to spend the rest of my life with because I don’t think anyone could give me more than what you give me every day" he says it sincerely

"She saw something in me that no one else ever even tried to see, a version of me off the field, a Sae who loves falling asleep holding his wife whenever he gets the chance. She’s the one I live for, work for, the reason I can just be myself. I’ve probably gotten even worse since she became my wife, if I was protective before, now I even glare at Rin if he looks at her too long during family dinners" he says, and you chuckle "You and Rin… have you gotten better?" you ask, and he nods "We’re still brothers, off the field. Resentment turns into something else once you finally learn how to talk"

You stay silent for a moment, letting his words settle as you think them over. In the past, you always managed to find a way — through all kinds of situations — reaching compromises, but never breaking apart. You know how words can carry double meanings, shifting depending on context, and especially on the person hearing them. You’ve both changed since the day you met — grown as individuals, and as a couple — but the love has never changed. You look at the adult Sae, and in his eyes, you see the hundreds of nights where resentment slowly turned into deeper love after misunderstandings. The more you look at him, the more you realize that he is your Sae — just with more awareness

"The way forward… is it always there?" you ask one last time, and he nods "There hasn’t been a single time we didn’t find it. When it doesn’t exist, we create it. When you exist, I can create anything" he says, and a small tear slips down your cheek. You press your lips together, letting out a sigh "Even when we’re tired?" you ask, and he nods again "Especially when we’re tired" he says, and a weight on your shoulders lifts and fades away. You almost start to breathe again, wiping your face and searching for something to say — though, honestly, you think silence might be the best answer. You clear your throat after some time "Is there something you’ve always wanted to say to the younger me?" you ask, and he smiles at you "There is one thing. Small, but important. Thank you"

You stay in the kitchen for what feels like an eternity. The way is always there — always — and even in the past, you managed to create one when it seemed impossible to find. You found it when the matches took him far from home, you found it when your family wasn’t sure about Sae at first, and you found it in the shared desire to scream at each other as much as needed, but never, ever walk away. Your anxieties are valid — but impossible to truly hold onto, not when you have someone like him by your side. As much as he tries to show the world otherwise, Sae Itoshi would probably throw himself off a cliff if you asked him to. You’d do the same — without hesitation — if he were the one asking. The way was found, is found, and will always be found — even when you’re tired, even when you’re lost in the dark. You’ll always find it if you two are the result

When you lift your gaze, the adult Sae is gone. Your breath catches slightly in your throat as you glance around the room, searching for him — only to find your Sae standing in the doorway. Your breath catches in your throat, but you manage to stay calm, even as you notice the same tightness reflected in his expression "Hey" you say, breaking the silence that’s lingered for days. He walks closer and sits down across from you "You okay?" he asks gently, and you nod "Yeah. You?" you ask back, and he nods too "I’m okay if you are"

You both fall silent again, but his hands slowly reach out across the table until they gently wrap around yours. You let out a sigh of relief — one you’ve probably been holding in for far too many days, as your tense muscles begin to relax, slowly, naturally "I missed you" he says in a near whisper, but just loud enough to reach your heart and pull a smile from you "I missed you too. I hate it when we’re like this" you admit, and he nods "I hate not talking to you at all, especially after we’ve already spent so much time apart. But it’s okay… with you, I always want to find a way. It’s okay, even if we spend days in complete silence, as long as the outcome is what matters to me" he says, but his words echo those of the older Sae, but this time it’s your Sae sitting in front of you. You exhale and nod "Me too. Always. Even when we’re tired" you say, and he kisses your knuckles softly "Especially when we’re tired"

In the quiet of the kitchen, both you and Sae let a few tears slip alongside kisses and soft laughter. After days, the house fills with noise again, but the loudest thing of all is a framed photo in the living room: a young married couple kissing on a soccer field — probably right after a game, maybe the Champions League. Their emotions are raw and genuine like their long photographed kiss, especially like the love they share and that surrounds them, most of all coming from the three children at their feet, holding tightly to their legs

✶ beautiful dividers by @dollywons !!

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

[airybcby]

ty , ty, guys i’ll be here until something takes me out 😌

everyone a round of applause for @airybcby for surviving!

airy’s story is next guys!

[airybcby]

tell me why tf i wanna write for bunny igelesias?

[airybcby]

i haven’t seen any yet (i think?) but if i do👁️👁️👊🏼

Some of y'all have no shame in uploading chatgpt fanfics and it shows