itoshiabi

[itoshiabi]

♥️I studied your uterus, now eat this♥️

Rin taking care of you during your

♥️period♥️

You had barely gotten ten minutes into your nap when the smell hit you.

A strange mix of ginger, something leafy, something burning—and Rin's unmistakable brand of stress.

Your eyes snap open. The ceiling fan above you spin lazily, mocking your peace.

Oh no.

Not again.

You groan, sitting up slowly as warmth pool in your lower abdomen. You already feel like someone is wringing your uterus out like a dish towel, and now, on top of that, he is cooking again.Dragging your blanket with you, you pad toward the kitchen. The sound of something furiously boiling only deepens your dread.

There he is.

Rin Itoshi.

Japan's midfield genius.

Your boyfriend.

And currently... your worst nightmare in the kitchen.

He stands by the stove like he is defending a World Cup trophy. His iPad is propped up on the dusty microwave, displaying a detailed medical article titled:

"Anti-inflammatory Nutrition for Menstrual Cramps: A Clinical Overview."

His phone had four tabs open—searches like "natural estrogen regulation," "what does cramping feel like," and "is kale good or bad for periods."

You blink at the scene.

"What the hell are you making?" you ask flatly.

"Turmeric ginger soup," he replies without looking up. "Ginger helps with cramps. Turmeric reduces inflammation. I added kale. Supposed to help regulate estrogen."

You narrow your eyes. "Rin......."

"I didn't know what estrogen did exactly, so I read four research papers last night."

"Rin!"

He finally turns, holding a spoon like a surgeon holding a scalpel. "I also downloaded a period tracking app. It asks weird questions. Like 'Have you cried for no reason?' or 'Do you want to eat chocolate?' I said yes for both."

You just… stare. "You're… tracking my cycle?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Obviously. You weren't giving me your start and end dates, so I calculated them myself."

You nearly choke. "You're not serious..."

Rin calmly walks over to the table and picks up a handwritten chart.

Color-coded.

Labeled with phrases like "ovulation window," "emotional dip expected," and "high pain zone." He even written little notes in the margins like "remind her to hydrate" and "do NOT make insensitive jokes on day 1–3."

"I'm not letting you suffer alone anymore," he says simply.

Your mouth fall open.

"Rin..."

"And I'm looking into acupressure points next," he adds like a man on a mission. "There's one behind the knee that supposedly helps with cramps. I'll practice on myself first. Then I'll....."

"You're not stabbing my leg with needles!"

"It's not stabbing," he says seriously. "It's pressure. I'll press, not stab. I even drew a diagram."

You cover your face with your hands, already laughing. "You're insane."

"I just don't like to see you suffer." he says quietly.You freeze.

When you peek through your fingers, he looks calm. Determined, even. His eyes meet yours without wavering.

"If your body hurts," Rin says, voice low and firm, "then I'm going to do something. I don't care how normal it is. You shouldn't have to be used to this. If I'm in your life, then so is your pain. I'll deal with it. I'll learn it. I'll beat it, if I can."

Your heart hurts—in the best way.And then, like it wasn't the most heart-shattering thing anyone had ever said to you, he lifts a thermos.

"Hibiscus tea," he says. "Helps with bloating. Tastes like hell."

You reac for it, smiled. "Thank you for studying my uterus."

He flushes. "I didn't say it like that."

"You literally said, 'I studied your uterus.'"

"I was focused."

"You're a nerd. A lovable, protective, terrifying nerd."

You stand on your toes and kiss his cheek. He tenses, just slightly, then relaxes into your touch with a quiet sigh.

He pulls you gently into his arms, chin resting atop your head.

"Now drink the tea," he mumbles into your hair, "and sit down. I'm putting the soup in a thermos. We're going to your house."

You blink. "My… what?"

"Your family home," he clarifies, already sealing the soup like a man with a mission. "I'm explaining your food plan to your mom."

You recoil like he has slapped you. "You're WHAT?!"

"She deserves to know you're in pain."

"Rin!"

"She's your mother," he says, dead serious. "She'll understand. And if she's cooking for you, she should know what ingredients to avoid."

"Are you giving my mom a hormonal food presentation?!"

"Yes. I made a list too, just in case."

You stare at him like he has grown a second head.

"You're terrifying."

"I'm in love," he says flatly.

"Same thing."

[itoshiabi]

Final Match Up! Sae vs Rin

Blue lock S2E14

[itoshiabi]

i imagine the reveal goes something like

jinshi: “maomao im actually the…. im the emperor’s—“

maomao: “son. yeah i know”

jinshi: “-brother”

maomao:

jinshi: “im the WHAT”

[itoshiabi]

Nagi and Hiori are just so cute that it makes me want to bite them (Not Reo)....

[itoshiabi]

thinking about your boyfriend rin who has a painfully obvious size kink and just loves to deny that he has one. he thinks it’s vulgar you’d even suggest such a thing!

he’ll say this, then take a second too long staring at your shorter stature when he’s towering over you, or when he purposefully makes you stand on your tip toes just so you can try to reach him for a kiss.

he even does this thing sometimes where he’ll just pick you up with such ease so you can reach the top shelf. it’s a casual flex that he makes out is no big deal, but you’re definitely sure you felt a graze of his boner on your ass.

then comes him ‘unintentionally’ manhandling you during play fights, his larger build and insane strength giving him the upper hand every time and ultimately leads to him having you lead down on your bed with his bare cock lined up on your stomach, reaching way past your belly button, talking about just how small you are compared to him and wondering how he’s gonna make it fit.

but he’ll have you completely under him nonetheless, his broad frame engulfing yours while his tip alone is already making you a whimpering mess, completely stretching you out and rin feels like he’s experiencing pure bliss.

he also has this habit during sex where he’ll press down on your stomach, feeling how much of him you’re taking, whispering dirty praises in your ear about how pretty you look under him, taking his huge cock like a champ.

so, when you lay this all out to him, his ears and cheeks insanely red from embarrassment, he just might realise he actually does have a painfully obvious size kink. but he won’t ever admit that to you. as if he’d give you the satisfaction.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[itoshiabi]

After reading your sakura's protective with fem reader, I'm curious what wbk writing you will upload 👀 after that

Next Oneshot will be about shy-introverted-reader x Saviour Haruka Sakura. It was requested by @kimura-uzuri

I've recently ran out of ideas about what I should write about Haruka... So I'm relying on the requests since I don't have anything on my head now lmao.

[itoshiabi]

nobody ever talk to me again kaiser spoke

[itoshiabi]

Barou will pick u up with one hand and throw you over his shoulder while flexing his strength to you

You'll be in the middle of yelling at him — voice high, hands flailing, absolutely fuming — and he won't say a word.

Instead, he'll take one slow, deliberate step forward.

And before you can finish your rant, he'll grab you with one arm and throw you over his shoulder like it's the easiest thing he has ever done.

"BAROU—!"

"Too loud," he'll mutter, flexing a little more than necessary as you kick and scream from your new upside-down view of the world.

"PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW, YOU ABSOLUTE CAVEMAN!"

"No," he'll say flatly, one large hand gripping the back of your thigh like he owns it. "You'll just start yelling again."

"I'M ALREADY YELLING—!"

"And you'll keep yelling from there."

Your fists will pound his back uselessly. He'll keep walking like you're weightless.

And the worst part?

You'll hear the smug little chuckle he'll try to hide — because he'll know exactly what he's doing.

And he'll love that you're blushing harder than you're yelling.

[itoshiabi]

Maomao the lab rat

[itoshiabi]

She's my girlfriend, ok?

Haruka gets jealous seeing you with Kiryu and blurts out that you’re his girlfriend. Flustered, he holds your hand and warns you not to talk to other guys again.

You had no idea what to expect when Haruka finally invited you to meet the rest of Bofurin.

"I'll be there too," he said coolly, barely glancing up—but his ears betrayed him, red and flaring. "So… don't be weird."

You blinked. "Weird? I'm literally the most normal person in your life."

"Exactly," he muttered.

Still, no matter how awkwardly he delivered it, you know it's a big deal. Haruka Sakura doesn't just bring people in. He doesn't share his world. But now he is.

And so—here you are.

Standing awkwardly near the edge of a sunlit rooftop training space, the faint smell of turf and sweat in the air, a group of delinquent boys are adjusting flower pots—yes, actual flower pots.

You blink at the bizarre contrast. "What the hell…?"

One of the boys— with purple hair and a cute smile— suddenly speaks when he spots you. "They're Umemiya's babies"

You freeze, then look at him with shock.

"Umemiya, as in the leader of bofurin?"

He walks over casually, hands in his pockets. "Yeah," he says excitedly. "Anyways, you must be the girl Sakura's always staring at his phone over."

You freeze. "Huh?! He stares at his phone?!"

"Yeah," the guy hums, rocking. "All the time. Doesn't even try to hide it."

You gape. "That doesn't sound like him."

"Oh, he pretends to be subtle," the boy says, grinning friendly. "But it's obvious. Especially when he starts smiling like a lovesick idiot."

You don't know whether to melt or combust. "Seriously…?"

"Dead serious. I'm Kiryu, by the way."

You nod, cheeks warm. "Nice to meet you."

Kiryu gestures to the shady part of the rooftop where a bench is tucked beside some flowerpots. "Wanna sit and watch for a bit? Safer over there."

You hesitate—but he's polite, and honestly, you do want to see what Sakura's life looks like from the inside.

"Sure," you say.

The moment your back is turned, Sakura sees you.

He's been talking with Suo and Nirei about the recent fight, expression unreadable. But the second his eyes land on you—you, standing beside Kiryu, laughing, looking too comfortable—he stops cold.

Something ugly and unfamiliar lurches in his chest.

He sees Kiryu lean closer.

He sees you smile back.

And he loses it.

"Sakura?" Suo looks at him cautiously, raising a brow. "What's up?"

Sakura doesn't answer. His jaw tightens. He storms off without a word.

He moves like a shadow—silent, sharp, fast. His presence shifts the whole atmosphere.

You glance up when you hear the footsteps. "Oh hey! You're done already?"

He doesn't even look at you.

Just stops directly in front of you and Kiryu, voice cutting through the rooftop air like a blade.

"She's my girlfriend."

Silence.

Every conversation nearby screeches to a halt.

Even Kaji, who's halfway through a drink, chokes on it.

You stare at Sakura. "Wait—what?"

Sakura's eyes flick to yours, then away again, ears going crimson.

"I mean—you said yes the other night, right?" he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "So what's the big deal?"

Kiryu raises both hands, amused, grinning, as if he didn't just tell you that Sakura blushes while reading your texts. "My bad. Didn't know she was taken."

Suo cackles from the corner. "Damn, Sakura. Didn't peg you for the type to claim it loud."

Sakura glares at him. "Shut up."

You quickly tug his sleeve, trying to pull him aside before he burns a hole through someone's skull. "Hey. Come here."

He lets you drag him away from the group, lips pressed in a firm line, face crimson, breathing heavy.

"Haruka," you say quietly. "You okay?"

"No," he mumbles.

You blink. "Because of Kiryu?"

He doesn't answer, but the way his brows pinch together says it all.

You try not to smile. "You got jealous."

"I didn't."

"You totally did."

"Did not."

"You marched over and declared your love like we were in a drama."

"I didn't declare anything," he grumbles.

"You said She's my girlfriend."

"Because you are," he snaps—then immediately looks away, face practically glowing. "Right?"

You step closer. "Of course I am."

His shoulders relax just a little—but then his eyes flick to Kiryu again, and he scowls.

You tilt your head. "You really didn't like me talking to him, huh?"

"He was leaning in," he mutters. "And you were laughing."

"I laugh with you all the time."

"That's different. That's mine."

Your breath catches.

Before you can respond, Sakura mutters, "Don't talk to other guys like that again. I'll lose my mind."

You soften, stepping into his space, whispering against the shell of his ear. "You looked kinda hot when you said I was your girlfriend, though."

His whole body stiffens.

"You—stop. Don't—say shit like that," he hisses, completely red again. "You're doing it on purpose."

You giggle. "Doing what?"

"Driving me crazy."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to be weird."

"This is worse than weird."

Despite his words, his hand finds yours. He laces your fingers together tightly, tugging you with him like he's shielding you from the entire damn rooftop.

Meanwhile, across the way, the rest of Bofurin watches the scene unfold.

Tsugeura whistles low. "I give it a week before Sakura loses it and starts walking her to class like a golden retriever."

Kiryu smirks. "I give it three days before he punches someone just for breathing in her direction."

Suo shrugs. "Two days."

Umemiya waters his plants. "We'll need to install a bench nearby. For the Haruka meltdown show."

Sakura doesn't hear any of it.

He's too focused on you.

Too aware of how your hand fits in his, how your smile undoes him, how one comment from someone else can send his self-control spiraling.

"Thanks for coming," he says quietly, not meeting your eyes, blushing as always.

You glance at him, smiling. "Thanks for letting me in."

He doesn't say anything else.

But he walks with you the rest of the afternoon, hand never leaving yours, glaring at any boy who so much as breathes in your direction.

And when you look up at him, all sharp jaw and stormy eyes and ears still blushing red—

You realize Haruka Sakura might lose his mind over you.

But he'd do it again.

And again.

And again.

[itoshiabi]

awwww, like me or smth?

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, yukimiya kenyu, chigiri hyoma, baro shoei, oliver aiku and isagi yoichi (f!reader) [THATS A HUGE ROSTER LMAO]

— healthy relationships 'n healthy convos >:))))

genre(s). fluff!!!

cw. swearing; possibly triggering phrases or jokes (please dont hesitate to tell me if u spot any of these!!)

note. i love healthy relationships (thank you so much pinterest for the inspo)

tagging: @whatisnureotypical, @itoshivy, @lalaufey, @levihanmyotp (AYRA IDK IF U STILL WANNA GET TAGGED BUT IM TAGGING U ANW JS TELL ME IF DONT WANNA LUV U MWWAWMAWMAWM)

🐈‍⬛: thank you for reading! reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!

if you'd like to be part of my taglist, please access the gform below! thank you and hope to see you there <3

© sheyfu on tumblr

[itoshiabi]

💞Summoned by Sae Itoshi💞

(Pt.2 of stain)

Pt.1- here, Pt.3- coming soon

You spill coffee on Itoshi Sae, thinking it's a one-time disaster—until the internet makes you his "mystery girl." When you see him again, everything gets more complicated… and more personal.

Madrid. Finally.

After all the begging, budgeting, bargaining and borderline blackmailing, you made it. You—alone. A working-class girl with more dreams than money and more fire than luck. Seven days. One foreign city. Your own itinerary. Your own rules.

Today was day two. And it was perfect.

Well—aside from spilling coffee on a very expensive man.

But honestly? Whatever. So what if the man in question is Itoshi Sae? So what if you panicked and grabbed a napkin with the energy of a dying gremlin while apologizing in two and a half languages?

It's not like you're going to see him again. It's a blip. A ridiculous, unfortunate, very sexy blip.

You're still glowing when you collapse into your Airbnb bed, freshly showered and smelling like lavender soap and freedom. You call your mother, like a good daughter. Gush about the weather, the streets, the food, the sky. Tell her you're safe. Happy.

Then, half-asleep, you open Instagram to post a few stories — the kind with dramatic captions and sparkly filters, maybe a black-and-white skyline shot to look artsy.

That's when you see it. The notification. And then another. And another.

Message requests. Dozens. Strangers. Girls. Some writing in languages you can't read. Most of them saying one name:

Itoshi Sae.

Your stomach sinks.

You check Twitter. Search his name. Your fingers tremble. And there it is.

A photo.

You — hunched over, clutching a napkin, eyes wide in horror — trying to clean the stain off his designer shirt. And Sae? Sitting there like a goddamn renaissance statue. The internet has exploded.

A fan account posted it. Captioned:

Who's the mystery girl with Sae Itoshi? Secret girlfriend?!

You groan into your pillow.

How the hell did they even find your Instagram?

Your account is private. You're not famous.

But apparently, being next to someone famous is enough.

You console yourself with logic. It's fine. This will pass. The internet will get distracted by something else — maybe another celebrity scandal or a weird football transfer rumor. You're nobody. They'll forget.

So you force yourself to breathe. Roll onto your back. And eventually, drift off to sleep.

➽──────────────❥

The next morning, you swear you're not going back to that café. Absolutely not.

But then… you remember the prices. The almond milk. The divine bitter roast that costs less than a subway ride.

Madrid is beautiful, yes — but expensive. You're budgeting. Surviving. Thriving, even, if you don't count the social media disaster currently haunting your soul.

And it's not like Sae Itoshi will come back to that place. He probably stumbled in once by accident. Or because it was quiet.

So you step inside.

The bell above the café door chimes, sweet and innocent.

And there he is.

Same seat. Same face. Same stupid aura of divine indifference. Like a marble sculpture come to life just to ruin your day.

Your entire body tenses.

You could still turn around. Pretend you forgot your wallet. Or decided you were fasting. Or just bolt into the street screaming.

But the barista spots you. Smiles. Waves.

Damn it.

You sigh. Take a step in. Another.

He sees you. Lifts a single finger.

You blink. "Are you—did you just summon me like a dog?"

He doesn't speak. Just tilts his head toward the chair across from him, like a king granting you audience.

"I hate you," you mutter as you storm over, grabbing your drink along the way and flopping into the chair with a dramatic sigh.

He says nothing. Just watches.

"You again. Great. Because I totally didn't come here to have ten minutes of peace without being reminded that my life is now a clickbait headline."

"You could've picked another café," he says, unbothered.

"Oh sure," you snap. "I'll just go pay seven euros for liquid disappointment because King Itoshi decided to haunt this one."

He doesn't even blink.

You point at him accusingly. "I looked you up."

"Obviously."

"Not because I was interested. It was because your fangirls were haunting me. Also, you have millions of followers."

"Yeah."

"Yeah," you mimic, full of sarcasm. "Are you not disturbed by how insane that is?"

A shrug. "Why would I be?"

You lean forward, eyes narrowing. "Because you're rude. You're emotionally constipated. You don't even smile. How do you have fangirls?"

"Maybe they like that."

You gag. "Are they okay? Do they need therapy? Should I start a GoFundMe for group counseling?"

He says nothing. Just takes another sip.

"And don't think I didn't notice," you add, voice rising. "That photo. You knew. Didn't you?"

He pauses.

"I saw it this morning," he admits. "It's everywhere now."

"You let it happen?!"

Your hand hits the table. A sharp thud. "You could've stopped it! Celebrities do that! Send DMs, issue statements, call your PR people!"

"They wouldn't have stopped," he replies, maddeningly calm. "Not with that angle."

You stare at him. "Oh my God. Are you being vain right now?"

He blinks. "It was a good angle."

Your head hits the table. "I hate you."

Silence.

"I really, really do."

"I know," he says quietly.

You look up, exhausted, furious, vaguely humiliated.

"They found my private Instagram," you mutter. "I don't even know how."

"You're noticeable," he says.

You frown. "What does that mean?"

"Petite. Round face. Foreign. Angry."

Your jaw drops. "So I'm a mad cartoon character and that makes me easy to stalk. Awesome. Great."

You take an aggressive sip of your coffee.

He watches you, silent.

Then suddenly—

"You're fun to argue with."

You stare. "That's not a compliment. That's a cry for help."

A beat of silence.

"You're the first person who's ever told me they hate me."

"Yeah, and I meant it."

His eyes soften. Just a little. Barely enough to notice.

"Do you always talk this much when you're mad?"

You huff. "Only when I'm being stalked, mistaken for a celebrity girlfriend, and cursed to run into some arrogant football god who looks like he chews emotions and spits out apathy."

He says nothing.

And then, softly — quieter than before:

"I don't like the attention either."

You snort. "Oh please. Must be so hard, being rich and adored."

"It is."

You stop. The tone isn't sarcastic. It's just… flat.

Empty.

Something in your chest shifts.

"I don't like people looking at me unless they know me," you whisper. "I'm not used to being invisible. I'm used to being me. Loud, blunt, dramatic, annoying. But not this. Not… someone's shadow."

His eyes meet yours. Steady. Quiet.

"It won't last forever," he says.

You laugh. Bitter and light. "Famous last words."

You take another long sip, straw rattling.

Then mutter through your drink:

"I still hate you."

Sae just nods.

"I know."

[itoshiabi]

→ darling, you're my lover ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ v2

synopsis. ꨄ︎ a series of random texts you send to your bllk boyfriend

featuring. ꨄ︎ fem!reader x yukimiya, rin, aiku, isagi, shidou, ness (separate)

includes. ꨄ︎ established relationship, NSFW for shidou's, ass talk in aiku’s, cursing, fluff, reader just messing with the bllk guys, mentions of violence, MENTIONS OF BUGS AND SPIDERS (yukki's)

notes. ꨄ︎ i know this is a bit of an odd lineup... anywho, i do apologize if i wrote ness wrong. it's been a bit since i last read the manga, and during the entire NEL arc, i was just a tad bit (very) focused on kaiser

♪ track. ꨄ︎ lover by taylor swift

ver 1. sae, kaiser, otoya, karasu, bachira, reo, nagi

end notes. ꨄ︎ creds to my wife (straightest woman i know) for coming up with yukki's. i was running out of creativity juice

join my taglist

bllk masterlist | general masterlist

[itoshiabi]

💚The storm that led me home💚

Caught in the rain, you find comfort in Rin's arms and warmth in his quiet love. A stormy night becomes something unforgettable.

The rain doesn't stop you.

It comes down in torrents, drenching your jacket, soaking through to your skin. Your hood is useless. Your shoes are waterlogged. But you keep walking—drawn forward by something deeper than logic. Something pulsing beneath your ribs like instinct.

You miss him.

Painfully. Desperately.

You haven't seen Rin in days. No arguments. No silence. Just life—pulling the two of you into opposite currents. But the ache of his absence coils in your chest like a storm of its own.

So you come.

No umbrella. No warning.

Just your soaked sneakers tapping down the quiet streets until they reach the apartment you've come to think of as part of him.

When the door opens, he's there.

His hair is tousled. Hoodie half-zipped. Sweatpants sitting low on his hips, and feet bare against polished floors. He blinks at you, bleary and confused, but beneath that—relief. Immediate, unspoken relief.

"You're soaked."

"I walked."

"Why didn't you call—?"

You bite your lip. "I just… wanted to see you."

He stares at you for one long beat.

Then steps forward and pulls you into his arms.

Your body folds into him without hesitation, like this is where you've always belonged. Your arms wrap around his back, and your fingers clutch the soft fabric of his hoodie, anchoring yourself there.

He smells like detergent and warmth. Like safety. Like home.

You don't let go.

Neither does he.

Minutes pass. The storm rages on outside, thunder grumbling against the windows, but inside, time loses its grip. You breathe in sync, pressed chest to chest, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear grounding you more than any words ever could.

He holds you like you might vanish.

You aren't sure how long you stay like that—clinging, wordless, suspended in the hush between heartbeats.

Until—

Your phone buzzes against your thigh.

You flinch. "O-Oh no… Mom—"

You pull back just enough to look up at him, alarm flashing in your eyes. "She's gonna be mad!"

Rin's eyes don't waver. "Give it to me."

Your hands are shaking when you pass the phone to him. He takes it without hesitation, thumb pressing the green button.

"Hello. This is Rin Itoshi."

You freeze. The phone isn't on speaker, but your mother's rage still bleeds through.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?! WHY IS MY DAUGHTER IN A MAN'S HOUSE?!"

Rin doesn't flinch. "She was caught in the storm. I brought her here so she wouldn't get sick."

"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT A BOY WOULD SAY—"

"I'm not just a boy." His tone sharpens, just slightly. "I'm here boyfriend."

Your breath catches.

There's a pause. Then—

"She's safe here. I'll sleep on the couch if that makes you feel better. But she's not leaving until the storm's over."

A tense silence follows. Then, your mother's voice, lower. Cautious.

"Put her on."

Rin hands you the phone like it weighs nothing.

"Mom?"

A sigh. "Fine. Stay. But I'm calling you first thing in the morning."

"Thank you," you whisper, and end the call before she can change her mind.

Rin raises an eyebrow. "Told you."

"You just tamed my mom."

"She's not that scary."

"She terrifies me."

A flicker of a smile touches the corner of his mouth.

Then—

You sneeze.

Rin's expression turns immediately serious. "You're still wet."

"I'm fine—"

"You're not."

"It's not that cold—"

"You're going to catch something."

"You sound like my dad—"

"Shower. Now."

You arch a brow. "Are you going to throw me in yourself?"

"I might."

You blink at him. "I don't have anything to wear."

"Wear mine," he says, like it's the most obvious answer in the world.

Your eyes widen. "Really?"

Your smile is too quick, too open—and Rin immediately turns his back, ears visibly red.

"I'll get something," he mutters, disappearing into his room.

➽──────────────❥

While he rummages for clothes, you glance around the space.

His apartment is sleek. Minimalist. Every surface spotless. Marble countertops. Designer light fixtures. Hardwood floors that probably cost more than your parent's earnings.

"You're rich," you mumble.

He looks over his shoulder. "What?"

"You're rich."

"So?"

"So it's annoying. I get jealous."

"Of what?"

You gesture vaguely. "The furniture. The giant fridge. That stupid marble sink."

He stares at you, deadpan. "If it's mine, it's yours too."

Your heart stutters.

You look away, flustered. "Don't say that. I'm too proud for handouts."

He's quiet. Then, softly—

"I'm not giving you anything."

"I want to share it with you."

You say nothing.

But when he offers you a shirt and a pair of soft shorts, you take them.

➽──────────────❥

The shower is heaven.

Steam fogs the mirror. Warm water slides down your back, soothing the chill that had sunk into your bones. You stay longer than you need to, just letting yourself feel warm again.

When you finally step out, the shirt hangs over your thighs, too big, too soft. It smells like Rin.

You stare at your reflection.

Hair a little damp. Eyes still tired. But your skin glows faintly from the heat.

You look small in his clothes.

But you feel... safe.

You pad down the hall barefoot.

Rin's in the kitchen, sipping from a glass. He turns when he hears you.

And freezes.

His fingers tense around the counter.

"You're done already?"

"Yep."

"That shirt's too short."

You tug it down. "It covers everything."

"That's not the point."

You tilt your head. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he says too quickly. His voice is rougher now, like he's trying not to look at your legs but failing miserably.

"I'm hungry," you say, breaking the silence.

"Let's cook something."

It becomes a disaster.

You nearly drop the rice. Spill half the water. Almost slice your finger open. Rin stays close the whole time, catching things before they fall, adjusting your grip, wordlessly stepping in.

His fingers brush yours more than once.

Each time, you both pause. Neither pulls away.

"Sorry," you mumble after the third spill.

"You don't have to apologize."

"I feel dumb."

"You're not."

"Just clumsy," you mutter.

He watches you as you stir the pot, damp hair falling across your cheek.

Then, almost too quietly—

"You're cute."

You blink. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You definitely said something."

"You misheard."

Your cheeks burn.

But you let it go.

➽──────────────❥

Dinner is quiet.

The rain has calmed to a hush, like the storm is finally tired. You sit across from him, watching the soft glow of the light play against his cheekbones. He doesn't say much. Just eats quietly, every so often glancing at you like he's checking that you're still there.

"Rin," you say softly.

He looks up.

"I love you."

He blinks. Breathes in. "You don't have to say that."

"I know," you reply. "I'm not saying it to make you feel something. I just need you to know. I love you. Not the image. Not the name. Just… you. The one who held me like I mattered. The one who makes me feel like I'm not alone."

His jaw clenches.

He doesn't speak right away.

Then, barely above a whisper—

"If you keep saying things like that… I'll break."

You reach across the table, brush your fingers over his.

His hand curls around yours like he's afraid to crush you.

"I love you," you say again.

And this time, he doesn't look away.

➽──────────────❥

Later, you yawn and stretch, finally feeling the fatigue hitting in

"Go to sleep," Rin says.

You wander into his bedroom and flop onto his bed without thinking.

When he follows and sees you there, he short-circuits.

"You're in my bed."

"It's warm."

"I'll sleep on the couch."

"No." You look at him. "Don't leave."

His eyes soften. "You sure?"

You nod.

He hesitates.

Then slowly, stiffly, climbs into bed beside you.

You shift closer. Rest your cheek against his chest.

He freezes. His heart pounds beneath your ear.

"It's cold," you whisper. "I like falling asleep to your heart."

His arms come around you—hesitant at first, then firm.

Like he's letting himself believe this is real.

And in the stillness of that moment, Rin Itoshi isn't a star or a prodigy or a public figure.

He's yours.

And you're his.

[itoshiabi]

Jinshi and Maomao Are Already Married and You Can't Change My Mind

I don't care what anyone says, Jinshi and Maomao are out here acting like a fully married couple and nobody's doing anything about it.

Tell me why Jinshi, after a long, soul-crushing shift of being political, and emotionally exhausted, walks into Maomao's space

AND THEN HE SLEEPS ON HER LAP.

Not beside her. Not near her. ON. HER. LAP.

Like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like he didn't just walk into A PLEASURE HOUSE!!!!!!

And Maomao?

Unbothered.

Just sitting there, making medicine like a perfect wife, letting this royal man nap on her thighs like he pays rent.

She doesn't push him off. She just vibes. Mixing herbs. Brewing potions. Being THAT girl.

I don't care if they haven't "officially" confessed.

I don't care if the plot says otherwise.

THIS. IS. HUSBAND-WIFE. BEHAVIOR.

You cannot convince me that Jinshi isn't already spiritually married to her. She's his emotional support gremlin and he is her deluxe drama prince.

They're locked in. Signed. Sealed. Stitched at the soul.

[itoshiabi]

The way jinshi looks at Maomao.... I'm going absolutely feral........

[itoshiabi]

The Apothecary Diaries s2, ep24