#606:BLLK

[sixosix]

just say it | nagi seishiro

angst to fluff, confessions!!, friends to lovers, time skip, 2k words

you’re not sure, exactly, but seeing nagi seishiro sprawled like a cat on your couch, looking all too much like your home is his, leaves almost a strange feeling in your stomach. it festers, ugly and clinging.

and stupid nagi continues to lay there, oblivious to how your fingers clench to block out the beat of your heart.

“oi,” you throw a towel on his head, grimacing at the sight of sweat clinging to the back of his neck and sticking onto your headrest. “what are you doing in my house?” and did he travel by foot all the way here? under the scorching sun?

nagi cranes his neck, all slow and lazy, eyes wide. “oh,” he says. “you left your notebook,” he points at the table, without looking at it, “on my desk.”

“well, thanks, i guess.” you push his long legs away from the side of the couch and fall back onto it, sighing deeply. “you could’ve just given it to me tomorrow.”

he seems to pause for a second, thumbs hovering awkwardly on his phone screen. when you face him with a questioning look, he returns as if nothing happened. “reo said i could visit you.”

you hate it. you always hate when nagi does this.

when for a split second, he hesitates, shuffles a bit too close, his fingers tremble to reach for you, or his eyes flicker to your lips, but he never does anything about it.

he pulls away at the last second, and time seems to flow back normally in a snap. as if he wasn’t just about to ruin the friendship you’ve been picking scabs on just to get him to peel it off and make a move already.

and knowing nagi, he never does. he never does. (and he never will.)

“reo, huh,” you murmur, giving him a doubtful look. nagi doesn’t react visibly, but you can tell he’s starting to get uncomfortable under your scrutiny, burying his chin into the towel.

when you stretch your legs over his lap, he lets you. he doesn’t question it, doesn’t react, just keeps playing on his phone, and it’s almost infuriating how little you have an effect on him.

and knowing you, you’ll keep letting him drag this out. because underneath that frustration is fear, vulnerable and thin, ready to crumble faster than butterfly wings with the wrong move.

if you confess, and he pulls away, it can still be back to normal. that’s what everyone says, and those people don’t talk to their forgotten ones anymore. they wouldn’t understand.

but it will never be the same with nagi, because you know that you love him and will keep loving him. it will not be okay if he doesn’t feel the same, no matter how hard you try to fool yourself. it will hurt and claw out your heart, chew, and spit it out like it wasn’t someone’s soul.

it will hurt to know that you would peel yourself open and offer your heart to him, and he wouldn’t even accept it because he’ll say he doesn’t love you back. he shouldn’t deserve your dedication. it will hurt even more to know that nagi will bleed out for someone else someday, despite the longing glances and lingering touches he keeps giving your way.

“you know, you should be asking me permission, not literally anyone else who doesn’t live here.”

nagi hums, and the round finishes with a final slash of his weapon. the boss crumbles, and you kind of feel for it. he spares you a glance. “you don’t mind.”

you don’t.

even if you don’t say it out loud, the ghost of a smile on nagi’s lips says he knows.

it should be enough that you could be under the same sky as him. someone like nagi. but you are selfish and obsessed, keening like a tamed lion when his attention is focused your way.

with an almost personal jab on the number button of the vending machine, you watch the juice box tumble out.

you bend down to pluck it out but almost drop it back down again when you feel a warm body press against your back as you stand straight.

with a chin propped up on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist, and a phone right in front of you, you nearly choke on your spit realizing who it is.

“fuck’s sake, nagi,” you breathe, pressing a hand on your chest as if that would somehow strangle it to quiet down.

when nagi huffs an amused laugh, your traitorous heart goes wilder.

“let me free so i can also buy you your lemon tea,” you grumble, wriggling in his grasp.

nagi continues fiddling with his phone, skillfully defeating virtual enemies. “no,” he says after a while. “you’re warm.”

“i’ll strangle you.”

nagi hums in acknowledgment.

with a defeated sigh, you press the number of nagi’s favorite drink, packed in a bright yellow box. hoping to piss him off, you abruptly squat down to grab the lemon tea, but nagi follows, unbothered.

he follows after you, and again when you rise back up. and he’s still unbothered.

“you are so annoying,” you grumble, tucking your juice box under your arm to unwrap nagi’s. you poke the straw in, scowling.

you twist in his grasp to face him, holding the straw up to his mouth. “here. you haven’t drunk anything recently.”

but nagi’s face is too surprised, his eyes flicking down to where your hand is on his chest, then to where his arms are still snug around you. if you still had any hope left in you, you’d say there’s a flush in his cheeks.

it makes you realize how this position must look to other people, pressed against each other like this.

“thanks,” nagi murmurs, sipping happily on the straw. the moment shatters once again, and he doesn’t fucking do anything about it. even later and tomorrow, and the day after that, you two won’t talk about it.

from behind you, his character makes a grunt of pain, and you notice nagi isn’t looking at his phone, but somewhere on your face.

down, his phone says.

down, indeed.

when nagi and reo have to leave for this thing called blue lock, you say to yourself that you’re relieved.

you’ll miss reo a lot. he is one of your best friends, and you’re proud to watch him grow and become the person he wants to be. at least he doesn’t drive you fucking crazy.

nagi is an entirely different story.

the goodbye wasn’t anything remotely close to heartfelt. it felt like they weren’t even leaving, just taking a trip to the bathroom, but they had to make everything dramatic for no reason. and you’re fine with that. it will soften the blow.

but stupid nagi doesn’t allow just a gentle wound when he leaves.

[reo 6:43] don’t miss us too much y/n or else i might have to come running out :(

[y/n 6:50] don’t baby me and go play soccer, loser

[y/n 6:50] you better text me as soon as you can and tell me everything

[reo 6:52] i will i will

[reo 6:52] (sends an attachment of him and nagi on bus seats. reo has an arm thrown over nagi’s shoulder with his tongue stuck out, while nagi is frowning at the window.

[y/n 6:53] dumbasses. i love you.

[reo 6:53] we love you too

[nagi 7:35] i miss you.

you bury your phone face-first on your bed, as if that’ll spit out nagi’s message and let you cut it in pieces and throw it out of existence. you hate it. you hate it.

what was it about distance making the heart grow fonder?

fuck.

you bite your pillow and steer your mind clear of anything else.

nagi will probably forget about you after this whole blue lock thing anyway. it’s better to get used to being on your own now.

“a match?”

“yes,” reo’s voice says over the phone. there’s a cheer of teen boys echoing, and reo apologizes, saying he’ll leave the locker room. “you’ve seen the news, right?”

no, you haven’t. “that’s… cool!” you don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. “with who?”

“come watch us play, idiot,” reo chuckles; he knows you’ll say yes sooner or later, and you hate that you know he’s right. “didn’t you miss us?”

it’s only today that you and reo started talking again. he says he’s been busy, and you tell him it’s fine because so were you. but meeting him again tomorrow when it’s been so long since you’ve even spoken? you’re not sure if that’s fine.

“i… don’t know.” you glance at the date displayed on your screen, considering. “tomorrow, was it?”

you really have been busy. you’re not sure if you can take it if the stress of life adds up to the stress upon seeing nagi’s stupidly handsome face.

“yup. you should see nagi, man; he’s been really awesome lately.”

just the mention is enough to seize your heart and sway you. you scowl, and judging by the smile you can hear from reo, he did it on purpose.

“i’ll see if i’m free, i suppose,” you sigh, falling on your mattress to frown at the ceiling. “how have you been, reo?”

when reo launches into a ramble about all the events that went down, you let him. you smile and freely admit that you did miss them more than you can bring yourself to admit. it’s a bandage for a bullet wound.

“fuck.”

you weave through the crowd and halls with as much speed as possible. your ankles ache and protest with each step, but you ignore it. your heart beats and echoes in your ears, berating you for this stupid decision, but you ignore it.

the crowd erupts into deafening cheers, and you wince, scrambling to pick up your pace. the speakers from the corners of the wall announce the winners, and they scream and howl again.

“fuck, fuck.”

you’re late.

the worst part is, you can’t make them treat you to dinner for the stress this is giving you because they’re the ones who won.

when you finally reach the door, there’s already a string of people leaving, talking among themselves animatedly. you hear names, straining your ear when someone mentions reo, nagi, nagi, nagi.

the stadium is slowly filling out, and guilt eats you right up for missing even the winning shot. but you were too busy being indecisive not to be late when ( eventually ) leaving the house.

it’s fine. if nagi won’t care about you, then at least reo is there. he invited you, and you won’t lie that you also came to watch your best friend. ( you ignore the bitterness in your chest. )

“y/n!”

you perk up at the sound of reo’s voice, unable to fight the smile off your face when he comes running straight your way.

“come down here!” he calls out, grinning wide. there’s something different about it, though you’re not sure what it is exactly. was it the confidence he’s exuding? the sureness of himself?

you make your way to where he can reach you and gasp when his sweaty ass comes to hug you.

“gross, gross,” you hiss, trying to slap his arms away. “don’t slobber all over me.”

reo laughs, “you’re also all sweaty. did you just arrive?”

you grimace. “sorry. i was being an idiot overthinking again.” you smile at him, and hope you can convey that you really are happy seeing him again. “congrats on winning, reo. i’m proud.”

he sighs, shaking his head fondly. “well, whatever. at least you still visited. we missed you.”

we, huh? 

reo smirks, noticing immediately when you try to search for a certain white-haired boy discreetly.

panic fills you when reo cups his hands around his mouth. “wait, don’t call him—”

“oi, nagi!” reo turns to his left, and your eyes immediately find a home in nagi’s.

your breath catches in your throat when nagi’s eyes widen ever-so-slightly. strands of hair are sticking out from his head, and his nose is all burnt from the heat. his lips part to speak, but he shakes his head instead.

then, he’s jogging towards you.

nagi seishiro is jogging towards you. christ, that’s kind of terrifying.

“hey.” you hold your hands up protectively over your body. “hey, hey, don’t—”

nagi hugs you, trapping you in his embrace, and the words die on your tongue. you don’t know what’s worse: registering the cackle reo is letting out or the fact that nagi doesn’t actually smell, and you find comfort in his warmth.

“you came,” he breathes.

you blink up at him, wilting under his stare. “well. reo said i could.”

nagi’s brows knit together subtly, and you almost grin in victory. 

“i missed you,” nagi says, squeezing you in his grasp, “a lot.”

you look at him, and realize that it’s not just reo who’s changed. nagi is staring straight at you, in your eyes, and he isn’t wavering or shying away when you stare back. his eyes are alight with conviction.

suddenly, your mouth goes dry. “i—i missed you, too, nagi.”

something in nagi’s eyes shift.

this is what you wanted: for nagi to be forward, to take what he wants, say what is on his mind, but you weren’t expecting it to melt you in a puddle like this.

“hey,” you tug his arm, face in flames, “i think your teammates are calling you—”

“you came for reo,” nagi murmurs, inching closer, “you’ll stay for me.”

and, wow, okay. you need a bit to process that.

before you can respond, though, his lips meet yours and keep you there.

your heart lurches in your throat. for a second, you could only stare wide-eyed, frozen, but upon seeing the flush on nagi’s ears and the hesitant press of his lips; you let yourself melt into him. his arms tighten around you when you sling your arms over his neck.

when you start to feel a little lightheaded, you pull away, and he chases after you, pouting slightly.

“why did—” you heave, catching your breath. “why did you just kiss me like that?”

“you don’t mind,” nagi says, kissing the side of your mouth as if to coax you back into kissing him again.

“i don’t,” you agree. and frown. “why do you think so?”

this kiss will mean nothing until you can hear him say it.

“because you like me,” nagi says; there’s a dangerous glint in his eye.

“you don’t mind?”

“i don’t.” nagi smiles against your mouth. “because i like you, too.”

sorry if this is a mess!!!!!! this was supposed to be like 500 words (and was supposed to end on a bad note) but it kept flowing out of me so i just let it be 😭😭🙏

[sixosix]

'cat' the son | itoshi rin

( a/n ) when i came back the poll was 50/50 so i got bribed and it’s now decided that rin is the winner + little highschool au bc we all know they dropped out:/ idk what to title this im ngl

there’s a cat on the sidewalk.

you have about six dollars in your hand, a faltering mission to treat yourself to a cold drink, and an aching heart at the sight of the little animal seated like a king on concrete, looking up at you with blank eyes.

its dark fur and near-teal eyes remind you of someone. of a back facing your seat, dark hair always kept neat and looking like it’s conditioned meticulously, and the sharpest eyes you have ever seen on a high schooler.

it has been a long day, long enough for you to have stormed out of the room as soon as classes ended to rush to the nearest shop that would sell what you’re craving. alas, there is a cat on the sidewalk, and you can’t just ignore it.

“stay here, kitty,” you say before rushing off with the six dollars in hand and a new goal to head straight to the nearest sign with an animal cardboard cutout printed on it.

eventually, you find one; eventually, you come out of the store holding cat food and a tiny cat bowl because you were worried about letting the cat eat straight from the can. it’s baby blue with little fishes added as design, though you think it’s rather gruesome to put that there, considering the canned food you bought is made from fish. still, you hope the cat will appreciate it.

the cat is still there as if it’s understood and blessed you with patience. the unimpressed look it has on its face says otherwise, though. grateful, you kneel beside it, slightly mesmerized by the fact that it hasn’t run away yet.

maybe other people are feeding it, too? it doesn’t look worryingly thin. needs a little cleaning, but looks well-fed. you’re relieved.

“here you go,” you coo, ignoring the strange looks of the passersby. you place the bowl down and crack open the can. the smell has the cat walking over, meowing all crankily. “i know, i know.”

the cat doesn’t dig in until you’ve finished shaking off its contents, staring at you in the same way the itoshi guy in your class would. the resemblance is uncanny.

you spend the rest of your afternoon keeping the cat company. its face speaks as if it’s far from amused, but the way it rubs against your ankle contradicts it.

cute. the cat is cute.

another student comes to visit the cat, carrying two cans of cat food. it’s been sitting in the plastic for a little while because as he had been going in the same routine he usually has, he spots you, his classmate, bent to the knees next to his cat, and paused.

rin thinks you’re scared of him because everyone in the class is. he lets you have your moment, choosing to come back later when you’ve finished so you don’t freak out and scare the cat. he thinks he can strike up a conversation tomorrow where there are no cats to frighten.

the cat walks up to him, instantly familiar. he doesn’t even meow up at rin impatiently, which confirms rin’s suspicions.

“y/n fed you well,” he mumbles. “i guess you can have this tomorrow.”

you’re suddenly all too aware that rin sits in front of you. he’s right there, uniform stretched over his broad back, most likely because he’s the prodigy of soccer in your school.

the neatness of his hair reminds you of the cat from yesterday, with its silky dark fur despite being a stray. you resist the urge to touch it, missing the cat already. you make a mental note to refill your water bottle so the cat can drink after.

while left thinking about the fact that you’re three dollars shorter than yesterday's budget, you fail to notice that class has ended and rin has his arm slung over the top of his chair to turn to look at you.

rin’s eyes flicker down to the paper bag next to your feet. “what’s that for?”

startled by the smoothness of his voice directed at you, you choke out a: “t-this?” you gesture lamely at the bag containing the gruesome bowl.

“what else am i referring to?”

you scrunch your nose. “okay, no need to be so rude. maybe i won’t tell you what it is.”

rin stares, and you’re intensely reminded of piercing eyes looking up at you, patiently waiting for the canned tuna.

“it’s a cat bowl,” you murmur, defeated.

“cat bowl,” he repeats, a gleam in his eye. he probably thinks you’re weirder than he already thinks you are.

“for a stray. i don’t want to bring it around because some other cat owner might steal it. i can’t have that.”

“show me,” he demands.

a little terrified by the fact that the class grump is actively maintaining a conversation with you; you obediently show him the bowl, spinning it around to show all sides. rin hums, contemplative. your classmates are starting to stare. “it’s weird, right? fishes for the print and fishes for dinner. do you like it?”

“lukewarm.”

“what does that even mean?”

“it’s too small. buy a new one.”

“...you think?”

rin nods, standing up. the chair screeches while he says, “i’ll come with you.”

this is how you end up in the same pet supply store with a companion this time. rin picks the most expensive one for the bowl and the canned cat food, which makes you think he must really like cats a lot.

but as you two leave the store, you belatedly realize he’s leading the way even though you never told him anything about the stray you meet.

it doesn’t hit you until the same cat meows and purrs at rin, rubbing against his pants with its entire body.

“hi,” rin says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you gape. “wait, the cat’s yours?”

rin bends down, knees to his chest while he sets the bowl down and cracks the can open with one finger. “no. dad’s allergic. he doesn’t follow me back home anyway.” while he does that, the cat comes to greet you, and your heart aches on rin’s behalf.

so he just comes to feed him every day, huh… you muse, gently scratching the cat who purrs at your attention but still looks as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“do you have a name for him?”

rin pauses, having finished pouring everything. “...no.” he squints at you as if you’ve just asked him the exact coordinates of his birthplace: sincerely confused.

“what do you call him, then?” you watch as the unnamed cat starts digging down on the food, content. you wonder why no one else has already kept this cat to themselves. he’s so cute and polite.

“cat.”

“ah, of course.”

you two watch ‘cat’ eat, content with the silence. it starts to drizzle moments later, but rin is quick to pull out an umbrella and cover all three of you. the cat grumbles unhappily at the splatter of rain hitting him.

“do you always visit him?”

“yes.”

“do you like cats?”

“yes.”

a shame that allergies are the only thing keeping itoshi rin from getting a cat.

while you’re distracted, the cat goes back to rin. rin wastes no time bending down to pick him up, looking awfully domestic in the middle of a sidewalk in front of a busy coffee shop. your hands twitch to reach for your phone, but you’re too stunned to do anything but stare. they look so much alike.

cute, you think, horrified, rin looks so cute holding the cat.

while engulfed in rin’s arms, the cat meows at you. and you, with a too-tender heart, can’t resist.

“i’ll keep him,” you declare with newfound determination. “i’ll take care of him. if you let me keep the bowl you bought.”

rin’s eyes light up, though it wouldn’t have been evident if you hadn’t been his classmate and witnessed his varying expressions of death. (as if it was varying in the first place.)

“i’ll buy everything else he’ll like,” he says, like a true cat mom, his face glowing with barely concealed excitement.

since then, rin accompanies you home. you tell him that you’ve saved up three dollars from yesterday and now you have more than enough to buy a nice, cold drink and maybe catnip for the cat, but rin insists that he’ll pay for everything, including your beverage.

“you feed our son.”

“our son?” he repeats curiously.

“yes. he lives with me. he looks like you,” you explain absentmindedly, setting up the water dispenser on the new food bowl rin ended up buying. it no longer has fish for design or the painful lime green he bought the second time—instead, it’s a nice blue that compliments the cat’s eyes.

“and what are you implying is going on between us?”

you nearly spill water all over the floor. “i…” you honestly did not think about that, “—nevermind. don’t make it weird, itoshi!”

you think you heard rin chuckling, but you’re too busy being embarrassed to bother.

(during class, you will find that rin is far from intimidating. in fact, he’s actually a little bitch to deal with. you’re starting to think that he’s more of a pain to deal with than an actual grumpy cat.

“don’t forget to buy food for our son,” rin says after class, in front of students who gossip like there is no tomorrow.

“what?”

“for our son,” rin says, nonplussed at the sight of your haunted expression.

someone who has overheard the conversation pipes up, “you two have a son?”

“we don’t!” you hiss, face burning with embarrassment at the sudden influx of attention from your classmates.

rin frowns. “don’t lie.”

“you two are starting to act like a married couple recently…” another comments offhandedly.

“itoshi walks y/n home, i saw!”

“we have a son,” rin agrees, and you’re starting to think that he’s doing it on purpose.

“stop saying that!”)

thank u art aanobrain for giving me the idea of rin just naming the cat ‘cat’. that idea is so special to me.

anyway. RIN IS SO HARD TO WRITE HELPPPP. this was an excruciating process i genuinely did not know if i did anything right but WHAT’S DONE IS DONE. thx for reading <3

[sixosix]

(not just a) one night something | itoshi sae

rumors spread, and your friendship with sae gets complicated enough to help you fix your problem

( ? ) itoshi sae x fem!reader

( ! ) probably ooc sae, supposed unrequited pining, time skips, meet again, failed date shenanigans, getting together, CHILDHOOD FRIENDS!!! this is so. terrible actually omfg.

“i think i like itoshi.”

kamiko pauses mid-lick on her popsicle as she follows where your eyes are intently focused: a nimble boy with pale brown-red hair, swerving a soccer ball around like it’s one with him, just another limb.

“sae-kun?” kamiko asks, brows furrowing. “aren’t you friends with him?”

“mhm.” you nod, watching him play with a bright smile. your view of his play isn’t hindered even from behind the fence.

the ball drifts past right in front of where you and kamiko are situated side-by-side on the grass; then, a gust of wind howls past and flaps your hair, and the culprit is in the form of itoshi sae, who looks as if he’s barely moving with how seamless he moves across the field of heaving boys.

there’s something entrancing about how he handles the ball—ruthless and decisive. in class, he’d just be sitting by himself, bored, while people flock around him like moths to a flame. but here, he’s thriving, nearly smiling if you know itoshi sae well enough. and you do.

even under where the sun is too high, and you’re feeling too warm in this light shirt, sae is untouched.

“he’s really cool,” you continue after a beat, and kamiko harrumphs.

“i like sae-kun, too,” she declares.

“oh,” you blink. you suppose best friends don’t have a free pass. “should we rock, paper, scissors it?”

you do rock, and she does scissors. you let out a little, woo! because you don’t get to win this often. rock, paper, scissors is always the easiest way to settle things.

“this is stupid!” kamiko fumes, her ears red from embarrassment.

you laugh, waving it off. “sorry, miko-chan. d’you want my candy as truce?”

kamiko pouts and takes it from you, still huffy and pouty.

when you turn back to watch the game, there’s a second where sae catches your eye, wiping sweat off his forehead. it spears into you, as sharp as how he sent the soccer ball straight in the net moments ago.

yells, cheers, the ball falls back onto the grass, sae quirks an eyebrow, waving once— victory—! your pulse jumps, and you barely have a moment to wave back.

blinking again, he’s already turning away, leaving you lost like you just lost a goal to him.

“hey,” kamiko nudges you, “you okay?”

you stare after sae’s back, heart racing. “it’s nothing,” you finally say, and kamiko’s brows are furrowed as she looks at you.

the day starts as usual, and it makes you feel off.

nothing seems out of place. your bed is exactly where it’s supposed to be; breakfast is your favorite, served precisely how you like it. you even arrived on time for class. nothing seems wrong, and it’s making you nervous because there’s a clawing feeling in your chest for no reason.

there seems to be nothing but clear skies, sunny with bright blue. birds singing, leaves fluttering and crunching under your feet, and the way to school is just smooth sailing. there is nothing out of place.

but the moment you step onto your classroom, everyone’s gazes cut into you. there’s a gleam in all of them, making you seize up, glancing around warily.

“what?” you ask defensively, scowling.

“hey, y/n-chan, is it true that you like sae?” one of your classmates asks, wearing a smile that spells out nothing but trouble.

“what…?” you stare at him, bewildered. “where did you get that?”

“from everyone, really. it was a hot topic earlier, didn’t you hear?”

it shouldn’t make you feel as shameful as it is, but the way everyone in the room is giggling and the way their eyes feel like they’re everywhere—in each corner of the room, on the floor, groping your body—makes you want to leave the room right and there, yet your feet are glued to the floor.

“you’re crushing on your friend? that’s so awkward!”

“way to ruin your friendship with someone like sae-kun…”

“haha! you think you have a chance, y/n?” someone else whispers from the sides. “that’s so brave of you.”

mortification boils in your stomach, and you feel it in the way your throat constricts, and your hands shake. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” why do they care? do they have to stare this much?

“you’re so nervous!” she laughs, leering cruelly. “so it’s true!”

“leave me alone,” you snarl, fuming. with anger or humiliation? you don’t know.

all you know is that you only told one person about it, which can only mean one thing. you catch her eye, and at least, kamiko has the decency to look guilty.

you don’t know what went down earlier and what you did to make kamiko spill your confession, but what’s done is done, and there’s no use denying it when you’ve already lashed out.

you push past the students crowding around you and tune all their mocking sneers out, wishing the day would just end already.

you could get out right now, leave the room and pretend you were sick to not face any more of their suffocating scrutiny. but that is admitting defeat over petty gossip, and you will not have them winning over you just because of a stupid crush.

the door creaks open again, and the whispers increase with fervor and strength. a chair screeches against the tiles before it pauses, and suddenly everyone shuts up. you can feel someone’s stare drilling craters on the back of your head, but you don’t trust yourself to be able to look back, knowing who it is without even trying.

“y/n.”

you bury your face in your arms.

sae tries again. “who did this to you?”

“not now, itoshi. leave me alone.”

“stupid,” sae grumbles under his breath.

that day, when you shove past everyone and ignore kamiko and sae calling after you, is the day any affection towards sae is buried by disgust towards yourself.

your prayers are answered when news spreads out that sae is off to spain the next day.

it is sudden, despite his younger brother answering questions saying that yes, he’s already been planning to for a while; no, this is not sudden. and you know it, too, because sae told you about it before; you were just not expecting it to be this soon.

however, coincidence or not, you’re just relieved to know that you don’t have to embarrass yourself in front of your best friend ever again.

someone jokes that you scared him away, and you tell them that you’re grateful you did before you punch someone in front of him.

he never said goodbye.

whatever. he’s probably disgusted at you anyway.

(he becomes a star; you forget about itoshi sae for years.)

YEARS LATER.

“ahhh—finally!” kamiko wails, stretching her arms over her head at what looks to be a painful angle.

you groan, nearly losing balance and passing out on the floor, but unfortunately, kamiko is quick enough to tip you back. “ugh, that felt like ages. what if i just drop out? i could just do that now.”

“don’t,” kamiko laughs, patting your head lightly, pinky high and everything, “you’ll die worse than before if you give up now.”

you swat her hand away.

it took a while before you and kamiko got along again.

years, even. you think you still can’t accept her apology, but eventually, you got over your crush, people stopped talking about the incident, and your bitterness towards her left along with it. not like you could even try getting rid of her when she trails after you like a lost puppy, anyway.

so now here you are, in a reluctant friendship with kamiko, despite everything. it’s not worth losing a friendship over some boy, whether or not it’s itoshi sae.

so long as she knows what she did was wrong, she’s fine, you suppose. she hasn’t done anything else after that, so you let it be.

“you’re right. i can’t drop out when finals just ended,” you sigh, slumping. “i’ll do it when the next term starts so i don’t put myself through that again.”

“so dramatic,” kamiko giggles. “i’ll support whatever you do, okay?”

you roll your eyes, hip-checking her. “i know.”

like every poisoned teenager in the modern age, you reach for your phone and mindlessly scroll through as kamiko lists off her plans for the entire school break. something about flying out of the country for vacation, and you should consider coming. (the answer is no, obviously.)

“don’t hole yourself up in your room, y/n-chan!” kamiko scolds; it reminds you of a fretting mother hen. “that’s not healthy. we don’t get breaks often—have fun with it as much as you can.”

“okay,” you murmur, only half-heartedly listening in lieu of searching for a new series to binge over break. there’s nothing interesting. you scowl.

“hey, look,” kamiko remarks, tapping at your screen to pause at one article. “my feed has been all about soccer lately, too. i never even liked anything about sports!”

“weird,” you agree, but you don’t think too much about it. the familiar view of your neighborhood washes over your eyes, and you pause, . “hey, my stop is here. see you after break?”

kamiko pecks your cheek, “see you, then!”

you bid goodbyes, and the day should end just like that: on a high note, free from the shackles of student torture. when you reach your home, though, the weariness is overshadowed by sudden restlessness.

“ugh,” you say again because you already know what to do to cool off.

a school break is exactly what you need.

a school break should be spent at home, probably lying on the bed sleeping, and if not dozing off, then just lying somewhere with music blasting to muffle any thoughts in your head. it is meant to relax, waste time away, and regret it the next day because you never did anything you wanted to.

but the weather is still perfect; the setting sun isn’t smothered by gray clouds, nor is the wind sipping warmth off of your body. it’s not every day your mood matches the weather, so you get up, dress nice enough to not look like a zombie who had to take a math exam, and head out.

“stupid kamiko and her romanticized lifestyle,” you gripe, hugging your arms when your pace picks up speed. “’s starting to get to me, too.”

the theaters could be a good place to start, you muse, scanning the posters on the walls.

superhero action? eh. cheesy romcom? maybe not when you’re still reeling from finals. horror? might scare the stress away, sure, but the movie doesn’t look appealing.

you move to the next, when out of the blue, a body pushes up against you, almost shoving you to the screen.

“hey, back up a little, would you?” you hiss under your breath, spinning around to face a man that makes you pause for a moment out of surprise. he’s crowding behind you like he wants something, and he is suspiciously familiar—you just can’t put a finger on it.

he lifts an eyebrow. “you talking to me?”

your face scrunches, curiosity shattering instantly. “who else is there?”

“no.” the man shakes his head, staring right at you. “you talking to me like that?”

“okay, you don’t have to be a little—”

he scoffs, and that constipated, dead-inside face he’s making clicks puzzle to its empty slots.

that aggravating attitude, exuding confidence and arrogance with every word; two thick strands of hair framing the sides of his face, and that biting stare in green eyes—

“itoshi?” you blabber, dumbfounded.

you’re not sure why you didn’t recognize him instantly, but now that you are, you almost want to let your jaw hang open with how much he’s grown into his features, all spiky strands and soft skin.

the years have been treating him a little too well, it seems.

sae’s eyes sharpen at you before he quickly looks around, surveying the oblivious crowd—utterly unaware of japan’s golden boy cornering a helpless little you in front of a movie poster.

you follow his gaze and snort at his wary expression. “are you hiding from someone?”

sae’s gaze swivels back, and suddenly, your laughter dies down. “come watch the movie with me.”

you turn behind you, gazing at the poster featuring a boy jumping high up in the air, reaching for a ball, then back to itoshi sae, who looks like he’d rather bury himself on his bed than be here.

“we haven’t even seen each other for so long.”

sae looks at you with an expression that speaks: so?

“this is…” you slowly say, “a volleyball movie.”

again, with the look: and i care, because…?

you splutter, hands raised in defense. “well, isn’t soccer your whole shebang?”

“you like it,” he says, unblinking, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the poster, “we will watch it.”

“i didn’t even say anything about liking it—”

seemingly having enough of your stalling, he tugs on your wrist and leads you to where the movie you “chose” is showing. you keep talking in hopes of scaring him off to spain once again, but he seems determined to ignore you, and it’s not in the way you need at the moment.

since when did he even get tickets?

“at least take me to dinner first, jeez,” you grumble when he leads you to two seats in the far corner.

“it’s not like i’m asking you to sleep with me. and aren’t movies counted as dates?” sae counters easily, plopping down on the seat next to you, as if he didn’t just drag you into this just to hide from god knows who.

“okay, genius, answer me this: who are you even running from?”

sae isn’t the type to squirm, but the face he makes might as well be the closest you can get out of him. “i don’t want to do stupid photoshoots.”

although your friendship with sae felt mostly one-sided because of how inexpressive he is, you’re glad you can read him more easily than anyone else. it makes you feel giddy, even if you know that he never explained why he didn’t say goodbye, and your last interaction was, to be frank, mortifying.

but right now, he isn’t saying anything about it. he isn’t even looking at you’re a pebble he kicked off the side of the road, like he usually does to everyone else. so this might be good—maybe sae actually has a heart in there, willing to spare you from embarrassment just to continue this friendship.

even when here, he’s a celebrity, and you’re just a childhood friend who had a crush on him.

you might have liked him because of that—a star the world can’t handle just yet in the body of one boy. he lets you stay by his side, even if you could never follow after him. he’s always there; if he’s not, he comes back somehow, a pull of gravity bringing you together.

with a long, dragged-out sigh at that thought and this situation, you lean against the headrest. “i’m on school break. i wish you just chose some pretty girl to drag into your undercover mission.”

“i did.”

you turn to face him with a grimace, but he’s looking right at you without a hint of amusement. just faint confusion, as if he’s wondering why you’re even wishing for something like that.

deciding to ignore his comment, you continue, “i feel like i’m about to get handcuffed the moment someone sees us together. not the best way to spend my break, itoshi.”

“you won’t,” sae huffs, and it almost sounds like a laugh. “just watch the damn movie.”

stunned at the slight upturn of his lips, you wordlessly watch the screen in front of you, but nothing about it is on your mind and is instead on the boy who you never thought you would see again.

(as always, even with blaring signs and butterflies in your stomach, you choose not to overthink it.)

“i can’t believe you sat through the entire movie,” you remark as soon as the credits roll, chuckling from disbelief.

sae usually leaves halfway through and doesn’t remember anything about it the moment he steps out. that is, if he even bothers watching in theaters in the first place. it’s soccer, soccer, soccer for him, and there is no hope in getting him out of it.

he faces you with a blank stare. “if you wanted to leave, you could’ve just told me.”

“and do that to you when you looked so captivated by a volleyball movie?” you snort, recalling the near-starstruck expression on his face you caught a glimpse of during the climax of the movie. “i’m no monster, itoshi.”

sae blinks, turning away with a scowl. “you were seeing things.”

you give him a helpless, fond smile and thank the heavens he doesn’t see it.

abruptly, he stands up and begins walking away, taking your hand along with it. his hand is warm, and your face is getting warmer, borderline hot, the more he continues doing literally anything.

for someone hiding from a photoshoot, he sure is roaming around with someone else in tow too freely.

“let’s eat dinner.”

“what? stop taking me hostage,” you whine, wriggling in his grip. onlookers give you glances before double-taking when their eyes catch a glimpse of an itoshi sae out in the wild. “i know you missed me and all, but if you keep dragging me everywhere, i’ll start screaming for help.”

“y/n,” he warns, with a slight glare.

you’re pretty sure your eyebrows reach your hairline hearing that from him. a pause, then: “you still remember my name.”

sae frowns. “what do you take me for?”

“an asshole.”

he shrugs and doesn’t deny it. “we were best friends.”

right, your gaze rips away from his, frowning at the floor. best friends. were best friends, ex-friend, classmate from years ago—that’s what you are to sae right now, and who are you to force yourself any more into his life again? look at how that ended up last time.

“actually,” you rip your wrist away from his grasp, trying to hide the hurt that is probably flashing across your face, “i don’t know if i want to eat dinner here, itoshi…”

sae’s frown deepens, but thankfully doesn’t push. “then, give me your number.”

“my number…?”

“you didn’t have a phone before i left,” he explains, with a hand patiently stretched out. “give me your number.”

you reluctantly grant him your phone to show the screen where a series of digits are displayed. dutifully, sae types it down on his own phone, which is probably the latest brand of the most expensive one you can think of.

“what is that for?” you ask, belatedly, once sae’s handed your phone back to you.

“you said you’re on school break. i’m taking you out tomorrow.”

“take me out?”

sae quirks a brow, amused. “are you complaining? didn’t you used to have a crush on me?”

you feel your face go up in flames, mortified. “had. had! that was ages ago. i don’t—”

of course. of course sae didn’t forget! he wouldn’t bring it up early to scare you off into spain, and now he’s cornered you right where he wants you. damn him!

sae tilts his head, inching closer, “you don’t?”

the whiff of his cologne and the dizzying proximity kills off the lies you were about to spew.

with a cough, you glower, “didn’t know you were so obsessed with me that you still remember something as stupid as that.”

he huffs a short laugh and lets you reel from assumptions by staying silent.

god, does he have to be so infuriating? you can almost feel your collar looming over your pulse the more those sharp green pierce straight right at where it hurts the most.

fuck.

this is the part where you realize that even after all this time, sae is still infuriatingly handsome. and even now that you’re mature and can tell right from wrong, you’re still attracted to him. gravity pulling, tugging right back into his palm.

(he is a star; how could you even think of forgetting about the same person you orbit around?)

you slam your hands on the counter, startling your friend into nearly dropping her phone straight onto the marble floor. “i like itoshi sae,” you declare, and recoil at saying that out loud.

kamiko perks up in confusion, blinking owlishly. “what?”

“i like itoshi sae,” you repeat, horrified. “again!” as if once wasn’t traumatizing enough.

she realizes she heard it right the first time and her jaw drops to the floor. “wait, how? what happened? what the hell did i miss? break just started yesterday—”

“he’s back in japan!” you weep, clutching your head with a grip strong enough to rip skin. “and i ran into him…?”

“is that a question or a statement?”

“shut up! he, like, roped me into watching a movie with him, and we spent the entire night together—”

“you had a one-night stand with itoshi sae?”

“not like that!” you shriek, heart bursting so wildly that blood rushes to your cheeks instantly. the implications of that are something you want to ignore. “i was just his… one-night girlfriend. except we didn’t do anything, it was barely even a date.” admitting it aloud makes you realize how stupid it sounds.

“y/n-chan!” kamiko gasps, eyes sparkling so bright you’d think she’s trying to blind you from excitement. she ambles over and grabs both of your hands. “y/n-chan, that is so incredibly stupid of you; you have to tell me everything that happened!”

“hey.” you frown, scandalized. “didn’t you like itoshi, too? and we fought over him through rock, paper, and scissors.”

kamiko’s eyes widen comically, slapping a hand over your mouth. “don’t say that!” she hisses, looking around as if you two aren’t the only ones in her kitchen. “my boyfriend might beat up your boyfriend before he even gets to be your boyfriend!”

the thought of kamiko’s spindly-built boyfriend fighting against soccer genius itoshi sae is a hilarious visual image.

“i’d like to see him try,” you laugh, pulling her hand away.

kamiko lifts one eyebrow, clearly wanting to point out that you didn’t deny anything about sae being your boyfriend. she pulls out her phone and starts researching, looking for any juicy information about japan’s golden boy. “i didn’t know itoshi-kun was back here. is that why my feed has been bombarded with soccer news?”

“i didn’t know either,” you wail, rolling your head to face heavenwards, ready to be taken in. “if i did, i never would’ve gotten out. i wouldn’t be in this mess, then. you’re leaving tomorrow, right? take me with you. i’ll start packing.”

kamiko shakes her head, drawing you back to her. “i’m sorry, y/n-chan. you have to face this like a real man!” with a free hand on your shoulder and fists pumping for effect.

you scowl. she’s betrayed you twice now. “weren’t you the one who wanted me to come!?”

kamiko turns back to her phone, curious. “hey, look. there was an interview earlier…”

sae texted you that same morning after that conversation with kamiko, telling you that he wanted to meet up and see you again. he said he still wanted to eat dinner and asked if you still didn’t want to, but after witnessing the car crash of an interview, you demand answers from him.

right now, though, you’re suddenly regretting not bringing a coat and scarf large enough to avoid any passerby glancing at you and wondering why you looked so familiar.

speaking of:

“hey, did you hear about itoshi’s interview?”

“what? what? itoshi the soccer kid?”

“yes! he said he’s seeing someone!”

“he can’t be! he hasn’t even met me yet!”

“was it the girl people saw with him last night?”

“wow, and here i thought his kind aren’t the type to be interested in romance…”

it’s that interview again. they haven’t stopped talking about it since the release. is that the easiest way to hook the entire population’s attention? stir romance and some celebrity in a pot, and suddenly, it’s pouring out money.

you want to muffle both your ears with your palms, but that would draw more unwanted attention, and you’re already running a bit late to your “date” with itoshi sae.

your heart is pounding. you want to get in there and hold it until it calms down.

“y/n.” a hand catches your arm, tugging you to a chest.

sae is holding you. “you almost ran past me.”

you blink, eyes round. “i was running?”

“from me, it almost seemed like,” he says, and pulls away only to take one good look at you. “you dressed up.”

“i did for you,” you nod, pleased, because you know he means that he thinks you look good. but no. first: “i might’ve been running because of that interview”

sae’s composed expression wavers, for a moment. he avoids your eye, glancing around with deeply furrowed brows. for anyone, he looks like he somehow got stomach cramps, but to you, this is easily translatable as sae being flustered.

“there is nothing to explain.”

“itoshi.” you grab him by the shoulders, heart racing and eyes wild. “you dragged me into a movie date last night. if it turns out you’re already in a relationship, i am going to kick your ass all the way to spain for playing with me—”

sae cups both of your cheeks in return. “i was talking about you, stupid. who else would be there? you think i’d look at anyone else?”

sae glowers at the ground when you try to meet his eyes, murmuring, “there are not a lot of things in japan that interest me. i have my own goals, but i am not immune to this. if you weren’t here, i wouldn’t bother staying— why are you crying?”

“itoshi!!!!” you hug him, sniffling. “i thought— i thought you left and didn’t care for me anymore! i thought i scared you off to spain when you heard about my massive crush on you!”

sae’s face is a mix of constipated and flabbergasted, but he doesn’t make any move to push you away. “what do you mean? you already knew about my feelings for you.”

“...when?” if sae confessed to you in any way, you definitely don’t remember anything, which means it never happened. if sae ever proclaimed his love for you, it’d be the only thing on your mind.

“we went on a date.” sae looks as confused as you are. “did you not know? it was obvious.”

“...what about your attitude made it obvious!?”

“you’re into my attitude.”

“shut up, itoshi.” you lightly hit his chest, overwhelmed by the flurry of emotions that keeps crashing over your soul, “promise me i’m not just a one-time thing?”

“never. you’re never just that.” much to your surprise, sae pulls you in by the waist and smiles. it’s small, barely visible, but it’s still there. “and it’s sae, dumbass. can we get on with the date now?”

“—another question, itoshi-kun,” the interview starts, sliding closer to the edge of her seat to inspect any of itoshi’s micro-expressions (not that she’d get any since sae can easily compose himself, and only those who can understand him well enough can look past that), “pictures from last night are spreading like wildfire! tell us, who were you with?”

sae doesn’t hesitate: “it’s none of your business.”

“hm, but you sure didn’t act that way when you let yourself be seen in public like that,” she says, and though her expression doesn’t give it away, she’s riling him up on purpose.

itoshi’s eyebrow twitches slightly. he looks impatient. “i’m not ashamed to be seen with her, so don’t fucking bother trying anything. what i have with her is out of your concern.”

“so, does that mean—”

“yes, i’m seeing someone,” he cuts her off smoothly, running thin, “and yes, who you saw is the one for me. are you going to keep asking questions unrelated to soccer? i’m going to leave.”

he does leave before the interview can even reply, checking his phone and typing:

sae

let’s meet again.

i want to see you.

a/n: just wanna say: i literally know NOTHING about this man and only based his characterization off of glimpses and scenes i saw from the manga (and for me to translate a soccer match to a romantic fic is torture). so the fact out of everyone in blue lock, a fic about sae has the highest word count is insanity. i need to balance it out with bachira and isagi fics asap.

[sixosix]

a secret established relationship with isagi yoichi goes like this:

you rouse to the sight (and feel) of isagi peacefully sleeping with his nose buried on your neck and his leg between yours. with the way isagi has his arms caged around your waist, you’d think he mistook you for a teddy bear, but that’s just how he is.

but once you get your senses together, you realize that you woke up because of something else. isagi’s phone is jostling against the bedside table, and though it’s not ringing because he probably muted it, it’s still annoying to hear.

“yoichi,” you whisper, scratchy and unprepared to speak. “yoichi, your alarm.”

he does not move—however, he does nestle his nose closer, grunting.

“yoichi, it’s noisy,” you whine. “at least free me so i can turn it off.”

isagi looks like he’s still sleeping, but his breathing has changed. you can tell he’s in the process of waking up entirely based on the furrow of his brows and the irritated flutter of his eyelashes.

you wriggle, and finally, his eyes snap open, nearly pouting.

the grating noises of the vibrations float to his ears, and isagi groans in annoyance. he squeezes you in his hold one last time before snaking his hands away in lieu of almost slamming his phone screen to make it shut up.

“hey,” you chide softly, smiling in amusement, “don’t break your phone. give me that.”

he hands it to you without question and then goes back to swathing his arms around your body to tug you to his chest. you pat his hair with a free hand, and he sighs, pleased, ready to fall asleep again.

isagi begins nodding off, eyelids getting heavier.

“hey, why did bachira text you that the team is coming over right now?” you ask, breaking the silence.

isagi goes still. “what.”

“that was an hour ago.”

you and isagi stare at each other for a beat before simultaneously stumbling out of bed.

ceremoniously, without fail, you two rummage and breeze through his room like you’ve been doing so since you were pushed out of the womb. seamless precision, flawless choreography.

you throw a nice polo of his behind your back, and isagi seizes it without glancing, digging for clothes in a different drawer. it’s his closet, but it’s filled to the brim with your clothes, occasionally mixed in with isagi’s oversized shirts and hoodies.

“give me the blue one,” you say, picking out his favored dark sweater.

isagi tosses a blue shirt you undoubtedly robbed from him, and you yank off the thin top you were wearing prior. isagi dutifully looks away, despite already having seen your body.

you try to decide between keeping the sweatpants you have on for a more presentable look, but isagi seems to read your mind and reminds you that your only pair of jeans available are in the laundry.

you sigh, ambling over to isagi to help him dress up.

you nearly stumble on isagi’s carpet, but he is swift enough to catch you and pull you back to his body, your breaths mingling with each other.

you blink up at him. “good morning, yoichi.”

isagi plants a long kiss on your forehead. “g’morning, baby.”

“i definitely look like i was busy last night,” you lament, lifting the sweater past his head. but you can’t blame your boyfriend because if it weren’t for bachira’s text, you would still be happily clinging to him like a love-drunk koala.

“don’t worry, you still look pretty,” isagi says, bending down for you to drag his sweater on. when his head pokes out, he’s smiling toothily, hair ruffled. you’re unable to resist kissing him again; he pulls you closer to chase it.

unfortunately, you have to leave quickly after that, because a car is pulling up on his doorstep not even minutes later. your scent is still in the air. isagi sighs to himself, smiling fondly.

“isagi!” bachira cheers, the first one to dash out of the vehicle and attack his best friend right on. they land on the floor in a messy heap. no fear, this one. “isagi! we’re here!”

isagi groans, clutching his head. “yeah, i can tell.”

chigiri waves, smiling lopsidedly. his sweater hangs off his shoulder at the lift of his arms, and a light pink shirt peeks out. “isagi, did you just wake up? you look like shit.”

isagi huffs. “i forgot you guys were coming over.” he pretends to check his phone, eyebrows raised. “oh, y/n’s coming over in a few minutes. mind if we wait?”

bachira chirps, “sure!”

chigiri gives him a strange glance but nods as well.

isagi breathes out in relief. he’s not too peeved by the surprise(?) visit because he’ll have you to himself again later evening. so he sucks it up, holds back his yawn, and grins at his best friends to start the day.

dude i wrote this in one sitting (an hour) bc i was so fueled after looking at one isagi panel its crazy out here

[sixosix]

Hi! I'm on a sae brainrot lately it's gonna consume me and your fics are soo good😫 can I req a sae with reader in love with him despite being friends with rin, I just love the idea of rin being annoyed with the two of them giving each other heart eyes when reader comes over to their house, thank you sooo much!

think of this as an au where the itoshi brothers aren’t as insane and strained ur welcome ALSO ANON HELPP this idea is so funny

rin doesn’t consider himself as someone who has homicidal urges. on a good day, at least.

but you are making it harder and harder not to just strangle you and yell out strings of profanity whenever you sigh dreamily over his brother.

his big brother, of all people. rin knows that he and sae are pretty popular, but for his best friend to be head over heels for his brother when you should be immune to the itoshi bloodline is a bit absurd.

“it’s the best friend’s brother thing,” bachira said. rin has no idea what that means, but apparently, it’s when people go crazy over the best friend’s brother. rin hopes that none of sae’s friends are giving him the same googly eyes you do whenever sae passes by—that would be horrifying.

“he’s so handsome,” you explained to him when he asked why you are so obsessed with his brother in blood. “so—! just soo fucking—” and then rin asked you to not finish that sentence because he might have to damage his eardrums by hand if you continue.

that’s not even the worst part, no.

a normal person (like rin) would think that, okay, pining isn’t that bad. crushes are normal. my friend’s weird obsession with wanting to kiss my brother stupid is normal, maybe. but no. it’s not that easy. rin cannot just coax you to move on or force to imply anything in case sae hunts him down.

because his big brother, itoshi sae, is in love with you.

rin doesn’t know when— how it started. he just found out when you had to come up to rin to ask for something and left like a frightened deer, and sae, dead-inside, doesn’t-give-a-fuck-about-you sae, kept staring at you until you were out of sight. there was a smile on his face—a fond one, if that makes it any better.

(it does not. rin didn’t even know what to say at this point. his hands are itching.)

“that’s just a little brother thing,” shidou remarked once when rin lamented about his worrying urge to throttle you and sae simultaneously. rin understands that one, at least.

you have to come over today.

it’s not a big deal since you’ve come to his room to hang out before. it’s not always voluntary on rin’s part; you just appear out of nowhere, carrying pillows and about three blankets, materializing out of nowhere and onto his doorstep.

the difference is that his brother is back in japan, and you’re coming over today.

why is this a problem?

well, for starters: rin is not fond of seeing you make a fool of yourself and cry about it to him later on. he sleeps through it, usually, but you smack his head when you meet again, and he is afraid he might get brain damage soon.

second, rin only stays in his room, so it is where you follow. if the time comes you leave, sae will interrogate the hell out of him and give the coldest glares out of sheer jealousy. rin cannot be bothered to explain that no, he doesn’t like you that way, and sae is free to take you.

he doesn’t want to expose you like that, though. he is not that much of an asshole. as horrible and hilarious it is to watch you trip over yourself to see him, rin knows you genuinely like sae.

rin sees it in the way you smile helplessly whenever anyone mentions him, and rin can tell that it’s serious. you’re still his friend; he still cares about how this will work out for you.

“rin, i’m telling you,” you say, and in your excitement—or hysteria, really—you fail to notice that your voice is terribly loud. “shidou is out to get me. i have nightmares about him hunting me down because i beat him four times. he has a bat with nails on it.”

“let him win, then,” rin deadpans.

although it is his house, he’s the one trailing after you. mostly to make sure you don’t eat all the ice cream. again.

“i can’t lose to shidou, rin. that’s a stain on my resume.”

“then don’t dream about shidou with a bat with nails on it.”

“you’re the life of the party, itoshi.”

you yelp as you turn into a sharp corner on the way to his room. rin blinks at the sound and visibly deflates when he realizes who you’ve crashed into. he holds back a groan, knowing precisely what’s coming next.

cue: romantic guitar, doves flying, bells ringing.

“y/n,” sae says, holding you up by the shoulders.

“...sae,” you reply, belatedly. and then proceed to gape at him as if you forgot that he is rin’s brother and they live together for that reason.

“nii-chan,” rin says, too, because he really is not in the mood to witness this.

sae blinks up at rin. “where are you two going?”

rin hesitates. “my room.” you’re still steaming because sae is still holding you.

sae narrows his eyes.

“y-you can join us!” you blabber, refusing to meet sae’s eyes—which is horrible, really, because if you just took a single glance at sae, you’d see how his eyes softened impossibly.

“don’t say that.” rin scowls. he already has it rough having one lovesick freak in his room; he is not fit to handle two simultaneously, for each other, too.

“i’ll join,” sae decides instantly, staring right at you. rin wants to throw his hands in the air. “what did you say about shidou?”

thx for reading i had too much fun w this LMFAOOO

[sixosix]

indebted | mikage reo

( ? ) reo spends money on someone who refuses to be indebted to anyone, FLUFF I SWEAR

( A/N ) why are my bllk fics literally about meeting again i think i have some strange obsession with this trope. ANW THIS FIC IS SOOO CLICHE but i think reo is cheesy like that

the sky is a pretty shade of blue, birds are chirping sweet songs from where they’re perched on branches, and cherry blossom leaves are floating along the wind; some are even pooling around his feet. love is in the air, one could say. pluck out every element you could see in a high school-inspired love song music video, and you’ll get precisely what reo is experiencing.

but none of those are what reo is looking at right now.

no, not when you’re standing before him, and his pulse is unsteady. 

“i like you,” you say. “i want to go out with you.”

reo’s eyes go round, spluttering syllables that are strung together hastily. he settles with a: “w-whuuu…”

the small group of students who decided to tag along with reo all gasped and ooh?. reo doesn’t know why he’s the one feeling mortified, heat crawling up across his cheeks.

you’re staring at him with a fierce expression, refusing to back down and shy away despite the crowd. it’s like you don’t care what they think or say so long as you get your words across. he honestly respects it.

reo scratches the back of his neck, guilty for some unfamiliar reason. he’s gently rejected countless others before, so he’s unsure why he’s so reluctant this time. maybe it’s because you’re looking at him like you know what you want, and it’s making him feel flustered in a way he hasn’t felt before.

“don’t just stand there, reo!” someone butts in, as if it’s his business. as if he’s confessing or being confessed to.

you and reo turn to glare venom at the guy, who shrinks under both your gazes.

reo’s gaze finds yours once again, trying for a comforting smile.

“i’m sorry. i can’t accept your confession,” he murmurs and winces at the feigned cries of the people around him. his heart pangs painfully in his chest when he sees your crestfallen expression. “i really am sorry!” and he is. “i bet you’re nice—“

you hold up a hand, a universal sign to shut the hell up, you’re making it worse, idiot. “it’s fine. you don’t have to say anything else aside from a ‘no’, reo-san.” the smile you give him is pretty painful. or is it painfully pretty? “thank you for your time.”

reo blinks when you swivel around. he feels incredibly horrible, to be frank.

reo watches you leave until you’re out of sight, only snapping out of it when nagi shoulders him to tune back into the laughter of his classmates, teasing him relentlessly about the confession.

“man, are you always this nice to your fans?” one of them snickers. “you’re sick for leading the l/n y/n on.”

reo frowns. “i’m not leading them on, i’m just trying not to be an ass to people who admire me, unlike some people.”

“oooh…”

reo sighs, leaning against nagi’s terrifyingly solid figure. “y/n, huh?” he mumbles.

the hallways are unusually empty today. reo is usually swarmed by students from his class or even others, especially during the hour of lunch break.

there seems to be an influx of students crowding downstairs, though, judging by the faint cheers he can hear all the way from the fourth floor.

someone passes him, brushing his forearm, and reo almost ignores it.

“oh, hi, reo-san!” the voice says, and it snaps him right out of his wondering.

reo blinks, doing a double take. “ah, y/n.”

you skid to a halt, facing him over your shoulder with a pleasantly surprised expression. “you know my name already?”

reo feels caught, somehow. he doesn’t know what to say, so he nods and smoothly switches subjects. “where are you runnin’ off to?”

you don’t move from where you’ve stopped, and reo feels the need to catch up, so he jogs like an obedient dog. the nearly terrifying grin you shoot him does little to cover your amusement. “you’ve been spacing out during class, top of the class? there’s a parade going on right now for the school festival, i’m heading down to watch.”

oh. so that’s where everyone went.

in reo’s defense, he went to the bathroom minutes before break—most likely when the teacher announced anything regarding a parade. and nagi is nowhere to be seen to inform him about it. knowing nagi, he’s hiding away on some random floor’s stairs to play games on his phones quietly.

reo nudges you with an elbow and realizes halfway through that he never asked if you’re even okay with him doing that. he clears his throat, “let me come with you, then.”

“c’mon, pretty boy.” you pick up the pace, and he could’ve tripped on air hearing that. “don’t make me miss out on the fun waiting for a snail like you.”

reo makes a show of scoffing, but he can’t hide the smile in his voice.

you both make your way downstairs, chatting idly all the while. it’s small talk—mindless, almost, but reo finds himself relaxing quickly in your presence like he didn’t just meet you yesterday. like you didn’t just ask him out, and he rejected you yesterday.

“ahh, the stalls are up already?” you frown, scanning the area and onto the line of students swarming the field. “i thought they wouldn’t be serving anything this early.”

“if it’s what you’re worried about, it’ll be my treat,” reo finds himself offering without thinking.

“will it, now?”

minutes later, you two find yourselves walking out of the line of stalls with bags of snacks and street foods (even trinkets you weren’t planning to buy but reo wanted you to have). it was all a blur. reo didn’t know he could start from roaming the hallways to having a nearly empty wallet with you by his side.

blinking incredulously at the heap of bags slung over your forearms, you say, “i’ll pay next time.”

reo shrugs, pleased with himself but trying so hard not to show it. “it’s fine.”

“what? no, it’s not fine. i’ll pay you back,” you say, stern. there is no room for dispute.

“it’s really no big deal…” and it’s not. he gets enough money to fill up his wallet easily once more. upon seeing your glare, he concedes. “fine, do what you want.”

your bright smile at that response makes him realize something about you.

reo is ashamed to say it, but ever since yesterday, he’s been noticing you more and more often.

it’s embarrassing to admit that he hasn’t paid attention before, but it’s even more embarrassing to realize that he keeps finding you everywhere—it’s almost incredulous to think that he has never met you earlier.

what’s worse is that reo is excited when he does catch sight of you.

images of your moment with him come to him in a flash, and he almost fucks it all up by approaching you out of nowhere—he could, but he doesn’t know what you still think of him after that. he, for one, would feel as if he’s being pitied when the person he confessed his feelings to starts coming up to him without any good reason.

that’s the thing: reo can’t think of a good reason.

“stop overthinking,” is all nagi says to reo’s mindless rambling of his current crisis (read: above). “you shouldn’t look too deep into it, idiot. if y/n can confess to you just because, then y/n can tell you to screw off if you make things weird.”

that is surprisingly a piece of very reasonable and thought-provoking advice.

“okay,” reo says. it makes sense.

he doesn’t have to do anything, though, because nagi looks up from his phone, sees something, and tells him reo can just text him what happens because he’s heading straight home.

“what? what? where are you going, nagi?”

“reo-san—” reo jumps in surprise, “—sorry, did i scare you? haha, that was cute!” he turns and sees you grinning up at him, impudent like you hear precisely what is going in his head.

“y/n,” he says, horrified to feel sudden warmth crawling up his cheeks. how do you keep doing that? “when did you…”

“are you free? i still have to pay you back, don’t i?”

he wants to say that if you feel like you owe something, you don’t, and reo doesn’t care about the money he spent on you, seeing how much fun you had yesterday. yet the excitement evident in your voice kills off the rebuttal on the tip of his tongue.

reo finds himself laughing, mostly out of disbelief. “alright.”

you beam, his expression softens, and the sunset is beautiful this afternoon.

“come on, i know this really good place,” you tell him, reaching for his hand like it’s natural. reo’s eye catches on the charm dangling on your bag. his heart does something weird when he realizes it’s what he picked out for you. “you mentioned you like ichibo steak yesterday, right? you’re in luck.”

reo should really get checked up. he’s been feeling incredibly warm lately.

you two decide to ride a taxi. reo texts nagi that he is out on a platonic—emphasized platonic, in bold, italic, and even underlined—date with you, as friends, and all because you felt guilty. the sticker nagi sends in return says he does not care.

along the way, you two fall into easy conversation once again. reo feels so relaxed that he doesn’t realize until later how wide his grin is. and when he does, it’s when he starts to notice everything else, too.

“it’s weird! i just passed them, and they gave me weird looks. i wanted to square up and ask, what? you wanna fight? i would beat them, no doubt,” you say, huffing. reo chuckles a little. at the sound, you pout. “what’re you laughing at? you don’t believe me?”

“of course i believe you.”

you grin. “that’s right.”

the car stops, and you pay for the ride before reo could even blink and lead him outside. your enthusiasm is endearing, reo has to admit. it feels like you actually like him and like being with him.

the gentle hold you have on him, the way your fingers are absentmindedly rubbing circles on his skin, the way his brain is melting out of his ears—when did he get so soft like this? it’s insane.

it probably means he is happy to have you as a friend, right?

in a seat for four people, reo pointedly decides to sit next to you because sitting across would make it look weird—it will feel like an actual date, and reo is not sure how he can handle the thought of that.

you don’t question it, and reo feels embarrassed to think you probably think he’s so strange that you don’t blink at it. instead, you tug him closer by the sleeve, pointing at his favorite food with sparkling eyes. it’s adorable. you’re so damn excited that it’s rubbing off on him.

reo’s mouth again runs off before his brain can catch up. “are you alright with us hanging out like this? after…”

you understand immediately. reo can’t quite see your expression properly because you’re leaning down to study the menu; however, your answer seems unfazed: “i don’t mind. i like you, don’t i? you already knew that, so that’s a silly question.”

you turn to him, smiling. “of course i’d like being with you, too.”

“ah.” reo’s face is on fire. “so… why did you even like me?”

“hm.” you make a motion of rubbing your index finger and thumb together. “money.”

reo eyes you with a scrunched nose, speechless.

you laugh brightly. “kidding! kidding! kind of.” reo nudges your knee with his as a warning. “okay, okay. i thought you’re cute, alright?”

“really?”

“really.”

it’s almost enough to make him forget how your face fell when he rejected you. almost.

is it normal to think about that so much?

(no. the answer is no, obviously. but reo doesn’t want to think about the reason why it’s a no.)

reo slouches against the seat, his arm brushing against your side. “oh.”

“that was so good,” reo groans. he burps inelegantly afterward, laughing along with you. “fuck, you were right. i’m coming back here again.”

you snort, waving your fork around. “i told you! i’m never wrong, don’t doubt me about anything ever again.” there’s sauce on the side of your mouth; reo brushes it off with his thumb without thinking, as if in a trance.

you pause, going still. you’re staring at him wide-eyed, flustered, and reo finds himself thinking that he likes that look on you.

he snaps out of it the second after, blushing profusely. “sorry, i don’t—” to save himself from explaining, he calls for the waiter for the bill instead. real smooth, reo. did it like a real rich kid.

“hey, wait, why are you paying?” you ask, frowning.

“you already paid for the ride earlier, remember? you don’t owe me anything right now, so let me pay.”

“reo—”

the waiter comes, reo scans the receipt quickly, and slips money in. he also tells them to keep the change, to which the waiter starts bowing and thanking him for, which probably means he paid them more than he’s supposed to.

you slump, bottom lip jutted out. “now i’m indebted to you again.”

reo grins. “i know.”

you become something else to him entirely. more than friends, though not quite lovers. tip-toeing lines, ready to risk it all, but never crossing over.

reo laments this to nagi, who he realizes suddenly becomes an expert.

“for someone who didn’t hesitate to reject y/n, you’re quick to regret it every day,” nagi remarks. “don’t be stupid, reo. the answer is right there— oh, i lost.” nagi is sad now, not that reo can see it because he’s having a crisis.

by the time reo realizes that what he feels for you is more than a simple crush, it’s far too late. he’s on the bus, your last message with him is a goodbye, and his life is flipped upside down.

TIMESKIP

reo sits alone on a bench in the middle of a public park, holding a popsicle and checking his watch occasionally. his knee bounces, impatient, but his last text will stay as: i’ll wait for you no matter how long.

he sighs, his head slowly tilting up to face the sky.

it’s as beautiful as he remembers it—the day he regrets more than anything. all that’s left is for birds to chirp and leaves to dance around his feet.

he had to reject his friends’ offer to go out, as it’s not often blue lock members are given off days. however, it’s a small price to pay if he gets to see you again.

“i’m here!”

reo nearly jolts in surprise, his whole body instinctively preening at the familiar melody of your voice. he turns, and his heart bursts.

it’s been so long. too long. yet every detail about you is still the same as he daydreams about when it gets a little too lonely: from your smile to the way you’re looking at him with overwhelming fondness. there’s no mistaking it—the happiness tickling his chest says more than words could.

he is so fucking in love.

you stand there, a little nervous and hesitant like you’re ready to run with one wrong move.

so reo won’t fuck this up. not anymore or ever.

“y/n,” he breathes, tugging you by the arm to pull you closer. “i missed you.”

“i missed you, too,” you say, melting in his grasp. “i didn’t think you’d— i didn’t expect you to still want to see me after high school.”

“don’t be stupid,” he chides, gently flicking your forehead. “of course i’d want to see you.” your gaze shifts to the plastic he’s holding in his other hand, and he almost smacks his face for forgetting. “right, here. i bought you ice cream because it’s a bit hot today. thought you’d like it.”

“so thoughtful,” you coo, poking his cheek before gratefully taking the popsicle from him.

he pats the vacant spot next to him. it took all his willpower and rationality to not gesture his lap.

“um,” you fidget, tongue darting out quickly to lick on the icy treat. reo is not getting distracted, he’s not. “what was the question you said you wanted to ask? that text almost made me want to chuck my phone across the room, you know? we haven’t talked for months, and that’s the first thing you send me.”

“sorry,” reo can’t help but chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “i just want to do this before i regret anything again.”

“you have regrets with me?” you frown, hurt.

reo nods, and fuck it, reaches out to cup your chin. there’s a smidge of melted ice cream; he swipes it away with a thumb. “the day we met,” he says distractedly.

there’s a moment where you can only look at him incredulously, a little offended. but understanding dawns on your face soon after. “that was the day i confessed.”

he nods, proud. “you’re still indebted to me, aren’t you?”

“yes? you made sure you were the last one to pay for anything when you won me that plushie at the arcade a week before you left,” you recall fondly.

“alright, then.” reo takes your free hand to pull you closer to him, stunning you to silence. the popsicle starts melting at the sides—it could be from the heat or from how intense reo is staring at you. “pay me back by going out with me. as your boyfriend.”

THIS IS SO RUSHED I KNOWWW but take it and appreciate it please i dont even kno where the reo brainworms came from

[sixosix]

bachira!!!! but jealous bachira…. and he’s very confused about it

( ! ) i haven’t read too far into the manga, so the characterization i have of him (and when this takes place) is from what i’ve seen so far in the anime 💞

you’ve seen bachira excited, contemplative, and pouty. you’ve seen the way his eyes brighten, hollow, and dilate. you know how his face casts a shadow when he’s thrilled, followed by the slow, terrifying grin spreading across his face. you know him.

but you’ve never seen bachira meguru frown the way he’s doing right now.

the unfamiliar furrow of his brows and the downturn of his lips is a far cry from his usual expression.

it’s a cold evening, and you’re being treated to free food because you’re a friend of the team, so why not take the offer, right? more time to spend with your friends—and bachira—and a warm meal to fill your stomach sounds like the perfect way to spend your time before you head off to bed.

from across the table, kunigami continues talking about something, and though you were genuinely giving him all your attention earlier, the sight of bachira is distracting you. you nod absentmindedly, and bachira looks like he’s pouting, so your patience wears out.

“sorry, kunigami, can we continue this later?” you ask, but you’re already standing up and turning away.

kunigami blinks up at you. “oh, sure—”

bachira is sitting on the grass. he’s still staring at you, deep in thought.

“hey,” you settle down on the ground to nudge him with a curious look. “did something happen?”

bachira looks at you, and it does not make you feel warm like his usual sunny disposition or shiver with dread when he feels excited about a match. it’s a frown, hopelessly lost, and it makes you feel for it. he still hasn’t said anything.

you hesitate. “meguru?”

bachira seems to trail off from his daze. “y/n-chan,” he says, and you haven’t even realized he snaked an arm around your waist until he pulls you closer, shoulders against each other, faces closer than ever, and bachira still frowning.

a little more worried about his lack of energy today, you cup your palm over his forehead. “are you alright? maybe you should eat more.” his temperature is fine.

bachira clasps a hand around your wrist, staring, contemplative. “y/n-chan, i’m not mad at you.”

you blink, placing your free hand on his shoulders to gently pull away. “i didn’t say you were.”

bachira looks frustrated. the pout he has going on is adorable, though, and you would’ve cooed if you weren’t so concerned. “i’m not mad at y/n,” he insists, staring past you and glaring at the ground as if he’s convincing someone else—rather, something else.

bachira’s eyes clear, all of a sudden. if you had looked any closer, perhaps you would’ve also heard the whisper that floats into his ears. with newfound clarity and determination, bachira pulls you closer again until you’re draped on his lap, befuddled.

“you won’t leave me, right?” he asks.

when you can only blankly stare at him, bachira huffs, leaning on the slope of your neck to nuzzle sweetly into you, as if that’ll entice you to reply with the answer he wants.

“i wouldn’t leave you ever,” you say, sighing. exasperated, fond. “what brought this up—”

bachira pulls away only to lean closer where your noses are touching. “you wouldn’t leave me for kunigami, would you?”

ah.

“meguru,” you laugh, “are you jealous?”

he blinks, as if he realized it simultaneously as you did. the arms around your waist tighten, and he relaxes like a pleased cat. “was that it? i was jealous? ahh, y/n-chan, you’re making me feel too many things i can’t even understand! i’m not mad at you, just jealous of him.”

“oi, lovebirds. if you’re done making out, help us clean up!”

bachira smiles at chigiri sweetly, pushing his cheek against yours when you both face the team, “does that mean we have to make out first?”

chigiri makes a face. “what—”

bachira laughs brightly. in one smooth swoop, he lifts you bridal style and starts to trot away. “too late, haha! see you tomorrow!”

his other teammates yell at him to come back, and you find yourself chuckling along bachira’s delighted giggles.

with a sharp turn of an alleyway, bachira spares you the shakiness of the free ride and sets you down, his eyes wide. “i don’t—” he breathes slowly, and as always, his arms somehow around you in an instant, “—i don’t like feeling jealous. so keep promising me that you’re mine, okay?”

you laugh, “okay, meguru.” you let him kiss your knuckles one by one, hopelessly fond. “i promise.”

a/n WOW A BLLK fic i don’t even have a masterlist AND THIS SUCKS?? but i want everyone to know that i adore bachira sooo much

[sixosix]

a/n both my latest fics r about cold can u tell that i’m trying to manifest it

warnings none! fluff, highschool au, ooc reo i think, wc 500

it is unfortunate that you are seated directly under the ceiling cassette aircon on the same day—the one day—you decided that bringing a jacket would be unnecessary. with the way you are trembling and feeling as though all your limbs have turned into ice speaks volumes of your deep regret.

you envy your classmates already borrowing hoodies from each other, eyeing them as they snuggle into their seats. specifically, your seatmate, who is making a clear point in sighing contentedly every time you glance at her sweater-clad way.

the squeak of nearly-dry markers scrawling on the whiteboard only serves to irritate your already sour mood—here you are, cold, pissed off, and dying.

“does anyone know the answer?” your teacher asks, and the hands raised give you a chance to peek at your phone and notice someone has messaged you.

reo come out rq

reo hi just peek outside please

it was sent ten minutes ago. you suddenly feel an impending sense of doom.

“that’s correct. can someone explain why we should not consider the claim— who is knocking?”

mikage reo’s head pops out from the door, a feigned sheepish smile on his face. “sorry to disturb you, ma’am, i just want to give this to y/n,” he says, showing off the thick jacket in his hand, and without even scanning the entire room, his eyes zero in on you immediately.

mortification settles in on you when everyone’s wide-eyed gazes shift over to your trembling figure.

standing up and feeling like you’re dying a little inside, you head over to the door, glaring at reo while your back is turned in on the baffled audience. with a swift turn, you pull reo by the sleeve and drag him outside of the classroom. the door slams shut.

“thank you, reo,” you dryly laugh, taking the jacket. then added in a frantic whisper, “in the middle of math class? really?”

reo smiles, all teeth and adorable sappiness. “in the middle of math class. really,” he affirms. “passed by your class and saw you shivering. and you weren’t replying, so me, wonderful as i am, did what i had to do.”

you’re not wearing it on your person yet, but with the way reo’s leaning closer, arms snaking around your waist, you feel the heat seep into your body like flames licking up your skin. it burns the most on your cheeks, and reo’s eyes hone in on it like a man on a mission.

belatedly, you realize the position you’re in—reo all but pinning you to the wall, arms on your waist, your back pressed up against the surface—and how this must look to bypassers. “don’t do this here! we’re literally in a hallway.”

“it’s fine,” reo grins sharply,  “everyone’s in class.”

“yeah, so why are you here?”

he huffs, nuzzling his face into your neck, his breath on your skin. you shiver, and you feel his smile. “you won’t like it when i say i missed you even though it’s the truth.”

“i’m glad you know me so well.”

and you know, that even when you go back inside the room without wearing his stupid little jacket, you’d still feel all warm inside, the ghost of his kiss burning deep.

[sixosix]

( a/n ) light angst, hurt/comfort, PROFANITY WARNING, guys im so sorry this is so short but its all im capable of rn

special mention TYSM @earthtooz for proofreading i owe u my soul

he’s always been a little sensitive to people caring for him. he’s used to taking care of others, to have his parents let him get away with everything, and he’s spent his life isolating himself from people who would see him past what he is but for who he is.

reo rolls his shoulder to shove your hand off of him, frowning at the wall. “you know me well enough already, don’t you? you know that i hate it when you get like this.”

“this isn’t good for you, reo. you’re destroying yourself,” you snarl, jabbing at his back. “i’m sick of seeing you like this. i’m not a babysitter, nor your therapist.”

“i’m not asking you to worry about me, am i?” he snaps, finally turning to meet your eyes.

anger boils in your chest, but you let it simmer with a few deep breaths. reo isn’t thinking properly right now, raving on and on about not working hard enough, and how he isn’t catching up. “there isn’t a professional boundary between us, i care for you because i love you. right now, when you say shit like that? i can barely give a fuck about you anymore.”

reo’s sharp scowl falters around the edges, giving way to confusion. “where are you going?” he demands when you make your way to the door.

“away,” you say, slipping your shoes on and refusing to look at him. “you said you need space, right? then i’ll give it to you. we’re over.”

“fine.” his tone is biting, but his voice sounds strange. “fine…”

he’s still lethargic, you tell yourself; he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and he’ll regret it later. but he doesn’t stop you.

maybe if you were to glance back at him one last time, you’d see the broken expression on his face hitting him right after.

from the start, reo’s always been expecting you would leave him. everyone does that to him, anyway. even nagi, who he still considers his best friend. it was a little too good to be true with you, so he tells himself that this was bound to happen. that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when it finally happens.

reo groans, shoving his face into his pillow. his friends snicker at his misery, so reo does what he needs to and flips them off with two hands. but as a groveling man with his face hidden by his sheets, it does not paint the intimidating picture he wanted.

“it hasn’t even been that long,” nagi remarks. he doesn’t spare reo a glance so unfortunately, he doesn’t get see reo flashing him with his middle finger.

“mmrgh,” reo says, still pressed against his bed.

isagi pats him on the shoulder, which doesn’t help anyone, but it’s the thought that counts.

“record him, record him, do it,” bachira says, clapping nagi on the back repeatedly, his strength enough to jostle him back and forth. obediently, nagi follows, pointing his phone camera right at a moping reo.

“day two without y/n,” nagi says to his future audience. “barely holding on.”

“i feel awful,” reo groans. “y/n blocked me.”

“do you regret what you said?” isagi asks.

“‘course i do,” reo hisses, offended that he would even ask that. “i was an asshole. y/n was right—y/n’s always right. i’m stupid.”

bachira snorts, “keep fighting, reo!” and barely manages to dodge the pillow thrown his way.

the camera pans back to reo, who’s looking red in the face, awfully pathetic. “fuck off. don’t post that. y/n’s gonna see it and make fun of me when we’re back again.”

nagi posts it anyway.

chigiri hums thoughtfully, waving a hand in front of your face. “you don’t look like you moved on to me.”

you splutter, shoving his phone back onto him. you feel your heart pound in your ears and with the way chigiri smiles knowingly, you almost wonder if he can hear it, too. “shut up! why did he say that? i hate him.”

“sure you do. say what?”

“‘when we’re back together again’ like he’s so sure about it,” you try to say it like you’re angry, but your expression resembles reo from that video. it doesn’t come out as you want it.

reo looks much better now. nagi says that reo religiously followed your advice right after and has been faring better, which is a real shame since you can’t even see it for yourself. he looks less pale and much brighter, but instead of the anger you last saw him with, he’s just become a carbon copy of a wet blanket.

“aren’t you?” chigiri watches the post again, just to torment you with your sniveling ex. “getting back together again, i mean.”

“i’m leaving.”

“yeah? and go where? reo’s bed?”

“i’ll strangle you!”

[sixosix]

. . . WISHING HE'S MINE !

masterlist series: next part + last part

summary you’re his manager, not some fan with a clipboard and a dream. you’re not supposed to have thoughts of wishing your client better by gently kissing his flushed cheeks— two weeks. you’ll give it two weeks, and then you’ll make a decision.

tags profanity, fluff, bit of angst maybe, pining, pre-relationship

“i can’t believe him,” you murmur, jerking the juke bag further up your arms before scanning your keycard onto sae’s door. the groceries keep sliding off because their weight and the sleeves of your windbreaker leave no room for friction. “i can’t believe him! can you believe this?”

no one answers. the door unlocks with a ding!. you kick it open, calling out, “hello? are you still alive in there?”

no one answers again. knowing him, he’s feeling too proud to admit he’s guilty that he’s been caught red-handed making his way to the gym when there may as well be hail plummeting onto an unsuspecting civilian’s head.

you place your shoes in their usual spot. (and to think you even have a usual spot in sae’s home.)

sae probably can’t hear you at all. he makes no noise from where he’s lying on the couch, cooling strip on his forehead.

you hurry to the kitchen, seeing sae in the same spot you left him before. he stirs at the sound of plates clinking, blinking at you as fast as his lethargic body is capable of.

“hm.” you stare at him for a while.

sae glares, though it looks milder than usual. “don’t make fun of me.”

you tip your chin in defiance, emboldened at the sight of your usually apathetic client red in the face and barely able to keep his eyes open. “you’re a professional; not only that, you’re an adult. you should know when you’re pushing your limits.”

shifting away, sae makes a noise. for someone like him, it’s close to a kid throwing a tantrum. you chuckle, padding over with a plate and a bowl in your hands.

“look at that, sick on the bed. and to think you wanted to lift dumbbells and sweat before jogging straight home when it’s freezing. stupid.” if he were feeling any better, he’d realize you’re mocking his nickname for you.

alas, he’s nowhere near better. he screws his eyes shut. “i’m not sick.”

“right, and i’m not your babysitter. sit up, drink this.” you set the plate on the glass tea table, nudging the bowl towards him.

he does sit up, however, looking constipated as he does so. you don’t take your hands away from the bowl, concerned that he’d burn himself out of surprise and make things messier than it’s supposed to be. surprisingly, he doesn’t comment on it; somehow, the fact that you can’t explain yourself makes it worse.

he fixes both his hands on top of yours, drinking quietly. you find that you’re unable to face him while he does that.

when you look back, he takes a glance at the plate.

“curry! you like it? i made sure i bought enough for tomorrow morning.” you smile, setting the bowl down to show him the dish. “smells good, doesn’t it?”

sae hesitates, but upon seeing your eager face, ends up admitting, “yeah.”

“you should finish this soup first, though. can i turn the lights on?”

sae makes a noncommittal noise, slowly sitting up.

when the lights flicker on, you only notice that his room looks strange. if it weren’t for the fact that you visited his place often enough to be able to tell if a fork has been moved inches to the left, you never would’ve realized how the mess looks so out of place. there are clothes draped over the couch, dishes left unclean, and takeout boxes hidden in corners.

you pick one of the carryout containers, peering at it with bemusement. “were you trying to hide these from me?”

sae’s brows furrow, refusing to make eye contact. “i thought they’d be here first.”

“i told the housekeepers i’m in charge for tonight; i wouldn’t want them sick.” sighing, you pick up the stray boxes and toss them into his tiny trash can. that, too, has been left unattended, brimming with bottles of kombucha tea.

your gaze sweeps over the mess, and you decide, “i’ll clean that tomorrow.”

sae hums after taking a small bite, pleased.

he looks up. “stop staring at me.”

“sorry! i’ve just… i’ve never seen you get sick before.” you don’t stop staring at him.

his face is pale, but less concerning than it was when you saw him outside, sweating like he’s out in the desert and not somewhere like antarctica. he didn’t give in so easily, too; he said that it was nothing he couldn’t handle before, and you worry for the days you weren’t there for him and he had no one to buy hot soup for him like this. he can’t even make his usual dead-inside face because he’s grimacing at every swing of his headache.

he says, ‘it’s nothing’ as if it isn’t like him to leave his house a mess without immediately calling for the housekeepers because he doesn't know how to do it himself. he must be so out of it for it to even slip his mind.

he says, ‘it’s nothing’ but he doesn’t complain when you tell him you’re buying food—maybe he was secretly hoping you’d disagree but doesn’t say it outright because of his dumb pride.

you return to the tea table silently, settling in front of him. there’s plenty of space, so you pull out your laptop and the stack of papers you’d hurriedly shoved in your bag in panic. more have flooded in, along with concerned texts from your boss. you can feel sae’s curious gaze on you.

the heater does barely anything. you shudder, and you’re not sure if it’s because you know sae is staring at you or because it’s still snowing.

nights like these, when you end up in his apartment alone, it gets stifling—as you know you’re somewhere you aren’t supposed to be. he keeps close to you, your heart races, and you pull away. rinse and repeat.

you’re his manager, not some fan with a clipboard and a dream. you’re not supposed to have thoughts of wishing your client better by gently kissing his flushed cheeks—

you fumble with the papers. sae quirks an eyebrow.

“i’m okay!” you insist.

“i didn’t say anything,” sae says, hiding a smile behind a spoon.

“you were saying it with your eyes, i saw it.”

“did you?” sae’s gaze is dangerous. even with an adorably red nose, he still manages to make you stutter around your words just with his face.

not good. not good. you’re familiar with phone calls, meetings, and staying in sae’s shadow, but not this. when he’s right in front of you, and it’s just the two of you, you can’t come up with an excuse to talk to someone else. you can’t hide behind professionalism knowing it’s the only wall keeping you from him. 

if it were someone else in your position, would they do the same? make a fool of themselves and reason that it’s anything but love? or would they be smart enough not to make the same mistakes as you did?

you wonder if sae would also brush his knuckles against that someone, and your heart aches a little.

you can chide and reprimand sae all you want, but your intemperance isn’t far off from each other. he’d work too hard for his career, falling feverish for his lack of self-restraint; you’d indulge too much in crossing lines, falling too fast and brutally because of it.

sae finishes his meal, leaning against the couch and looking pleased. at least, as pleased as sae’s expressions can get.

you get up to retrieve a glass of water, setting it in front of him. he drinks, eyes remaining shut, so you give yourself a bit of freedom to watch him, trailing over the strands of hair sticking to his forehead, looking dumb with a kid’s brand of cooling patch sticking onto it.

but it’s never too dumb enough to keep you from wanting to keep him to yourself and stay in moments like these forever, guarded closely to your chest and no one else’s.

“you should really lie down on your bed, sae,” you say, turning back to your laptop when one eye snaps back open. “you’re gonna get a headache if you sleep like that.”

“you don’t like it there.”

7:00, 10:30, 2:00, meetings, interviews—sae’s flushed face, half-lidded eyes, and what the fuck did he just say? you pause, fingers hovering awkwardly above the keyboard. 

“it’d be strange for your manager to enter your bedroom, you know….”

“i’m sick.”

“i can tell.” you’re sick of this, too.

the warm meal must’ve made him sleepier, lolling his head back and forth before blinking rapidly to keep himself awake. sae stares at you, groggily expectant.

you sigh. “at least lie on the couch? i’ll sit with you, if that’s what you want.”

he mulls it over for a moment, then wordlessly heaves himself up to sit on the couch. he doesn’t move again, waiting patiently, his sharp yet unfocused gaze trained on you.

“so damn spoiled,” you grumble under your breath. who knew he could get like this? craving attention like a needy cat, and then most likely pretending it never happened the next day, where he’ll ignore you and trot off wherever he wants.

as soon as you sit, he lays his head on your lap. sae doesn’t even give you any chance to react.

“that— you can’t just— i didn’t do the dishes yet.”

“worry about it later,” he murmurs.

you card your fingers through his hair. worry about it later. the tension in his body leaves as soon as you make contact with his head, sighing almost inaudibly. he seems dead to the world the next second, looking all too comfortable on your lap as if he’s meant to be there. worry about it later.

does he do this to anyone else? or has he never tried because you’re right there?

your face feels as warm as sae’s forehead. you inhale sharply, frustrated. you’ll worry about this later. perhaps tomorrow morning. it’ll go away. two weeks, maybe.

you’ll give it two weeks, and it’ll be back to normal.

( a/n ) OMG COLLAB SERIES! YIPEEEEE AWESOME so excited i love my mutuals and collaborating w earth and art will be so awesome!!

[sixosix]

hi!! happy to see requests are open again 😭😭 ik you said you don’t like heavy angst but i was wondering if you could do smthing about how it would be if nagi said smthing hurtful in an argument and what happened afterwards? it’s not exactly HEAVY angst just a little and ofc fluff at the end 🫡

I CAN’T WRITE ARGUMENT SCENES WITHOUT MAKING IT TOO MUCH BC I HAVE ISSUES but i pulled through i think (?)

there are no broken vases, shattered windows, or books splayed across the floor—the usual aftermath of an intense argument where it becomes too much. no worried neighbors are calling the cops or screaming that the entire city might as well be an audience to.

no. it’s you and nagi standing across each other, and him sighing: “you’re such a pain.”

somehow, it’s worse than a slap to the face. nagi says it all the time to the littlest things. he says it when getting out of bed; reaching for the remote when others ask him for it; and even interacting with anyone he feels uncomfortable with.

but he said it to you. like he wasn’t whispering sweet little: “you’re special to me, always.” the night before. he says it like he has to exert effort he doesn’t want to just to deal with you. 

he says it like you’re not special to him. not anymore, at least.

“wow,” you say, laughing in disbelief. “is that what i am to you now? a pain.”

and maybe the way your voice wavered snapped him back to his senses. maybe he saw the hurt that flashed across your expression, and it finally dawned on him what he said and what it meant to you.

nagi’s face crumbles. “y/n,” he says softly. “no, that’s not what i—”

“is that— am i just a bother to you now?” your voice cracks and your eyes sting. embarrassed, you move to wipe what might be a tear away. but he hurt you, and you can feel it in the way your chest aches, and it’s impossible to just shove it down. “sorry that i’m— i’m like this.”

nagi wordlessly hugs you tightly. “no, i didn’t mean that. don’t be sorry. it’s my fault.”

a hiccup tears its way out of your throat, pitiful and finally reaching the edge. “i don’t— i don’t like fighting, sei. i just want you to listen to me.”

“i know, i’m listening,” nagi says, uncharacteristically soft. you feel fingers brushing through your hair. “i’m sorry. i’m never saying that again.”

you sniffle in response. you’re still upset but can never be mad for too long.

nagi rests his forehead against yours. you pull your hands away from your eyes to look at him, and nagi seeing your face, must’ve broken him, too, because he wipes your tears and scowls. “i was mean, i’m sorry. can i still stay over tonight?”

you hit his chest, just for good measure. he takes it like a champ. “only if you give me breakfast in bed the next morning. order it, though. don’t cook.”

“i won’t, don’t worry.”

[sixosix]

when was it? (when we fell in love)

isagi yoichi x gn!reader, fluff, 2 + 1 fic

you and isagi have been side-by-side for longer than you learned how to walk, and everyone just accepted that you two have been dating. wanting a more romantic approach to tell, you both begin reminiscing to pinpoint a moment in your lives that you two liked the other.

maybe it started when isagi bought a stuffed toy modeled after him.

he knocks, sweaty and smiling when you answer the door. satisfaction rolls off of him in waves, and it doesn’t take an eye like his to figure out who won.

isagi when he’s still riding the high of his adrenaline is a dangerous one. he doesn’t shy away from touch and his eyes are sharp enough to make a criminal freeze. when he pulls you in for a hug, his heavy breathing next to your ear, you ignore the flutter in your chest. he’s just excited, nothing else.

“good game?” you ask, using the towel draped over his shoulders to wipe sweat off his brow.

his eyes screw shut, smiling. “yeah.”

when he frees you from his grasp, you quickly dash back to the kitchen, hoping he didn’t hear the way your pulse jumped when his fingers brushed against your waist. the warmth lingers, enough to make you feel it on your face.

“sorry for the intrusion,” isagi says, and tugs his shoes off.

he always places it right next to your favorite pair of sneakers. on the left, close enough to each other for you to start feeling strange about the sight of it.

you watch him toss his backpack on the couch, and barely miss the moment his face lights up out of the blue.

“hey!” isagi calls out, scrambling back to get to his bag and rummaging through it.

“what’s wrong?”

he plucks out a cotton-stuffed little thing, holding it next to his face and matching the stern expression sewn on.

your jaw drops open a little. “is that an isagi plushie?”

his eyes twinkle. “yes.”

and then throws it straight to your face. with your hands held out from surprise, it collides gently on your nose and slides right off and into your palm. isagi laughs under his breath, apologizing insincerely.

“oh,” you breathe, holding the plushie up to your face.

its blue eyes are wide and innocent despite its expression, as if in awe of you holding it by its little torso. it fits snug in your palm, and you find yourself unable to toss it away.

with a smile you’re unable to keep off your mouth, you turn to face isagi, who’s wearing an unreadable expression on his face.

“you’re giving it to me?”

isagi freezes, cheeks bursting with color. “i bought it for you.”

oh.

“i promise to keep it safe and always with me.” and you’re very serious about it.

“i have no doubt about it,” isagi laughs, his voice soft in a way you’ve never heard before.

oh, you think. his eyes crinkle at the sides, grinning with all teeth and sunshine.

so this is what they mean.

isagi clears his throat, visibly flustered with the pink on his face. it’s near impossible to hide when he’s lying on your lap all comfortably like a cat. “that’s when you think it started?” he shakes his head. “that was only a few weeks ago.”

“w-well it wasn’t like i was that smart to realize,” you argue, huffing. petulantly: “when did you think yours happened?”

isagi’s nose scrunches in a way where you know he’s holding back from the truth. “when you… wore my jersey?”

you give him a blank stare. “don’t be lame, yoichi.”

isagi’s mouth twists, turning away. “when you gave me the ring.”

“i gave you a ring?”

isagi hides his face on your thigh, and keeps his face hidden there. “…when we were six. you found a ring on the bottom of your drawer and gave it to me because your mom said you should only give a ring to someone you love.”

“oh, i wish i don’t remember now,” you say, taken back.

“and i wore it every day because i was proud, but it stopped fitting any of my fingers, so i asked my mom to make it into a necklace for me instead,” isagi murmurs fondly, his fingers reaching out to pull a black string from under his collar and reveal a round little thing.

you laugh in disbelief. “oh, wow. you still kept it all this time?”

it’s tiny, not even a fit for either of your pinkies, proof of its old existence. although the color has washed out, it looks well-kept for a ring that age. like isagi cleaned it every day without fail.

“you can be so sweet sometimes,” you coo, pinching his cheek.

he huffs. “you’re saying i’m not sweet most of the time?”

but that could be a lie, isagi thinks, watching you laugh and continue to play with his hair, recalling more moments that you could have fallen for someone like him. like he deserves someone like you.

his head tips, chasing after your touch, and your smile is more rewarding.

maybe there wasn’t a grand moment one day, where he wanted to kiss you and put a ring on your finger (too) someday. it was just a gradual realization to the point where he could look back to those moments and think that yeah, he’s always been in love.

even before the plushie you keep beside your pillows, before the time his teammates pointed out that you are the most disgusting couple and they’re happy for him. even before when you wore his jersey and his heart skipped a few beats, or before the ring he refused to take off.

he was born into this world, and so were you. you two met, and puzzles just clicked into place.

isagi always looked at you and thought: “yes, this is the person i want to spend my life with.” not a single moment in time, but every day of his life.

isn’t that romantic enough?

yk those oikawa plushies that ppl love to torture for some reason (and i eat that up every time its so funny) on that godforsaken app??? YEAH. i like to think that y/n said to take care of it but they’re tossing it in the washing machine and recording the way it spins around in ridiculous speed 

[sixosix]

itoshi sae x gn!reader

( ? ) you’re not quite sure what sae wants from you. maybe sae doesn’t, either. but you two will figure it out someday. 700 words.

a warm gust of air blowing on your right ear startles you enough to nearly flip the table over.

thankfully, you didn’t, but you almost did, and that was enough for you to grab the fork delicately perched atop tissue paper and aim it at your assailant.

sae’s still a few inches from your ear, and when you’ve turned, you nearly kiss noses.

he quirks an eyebrow, leaning away when you splutter and jab the fork on his sleeve. the fork is dull from months of only using it to stab pastries. he remains blank-faced.

“what the hell,” you hiss, mostly embarrassed that you’ve been spacing out for so long that itoshi sae, of all people, noticed. just to be cautious, you place a hand over your ear. “why’d you do that?”

you’re not sure if you’ve been surprised badly enough that you can still feel a tingle in your ear or if it’s because sae had his mouth close to you in that particular spot.

“what are you doing here?” sae looks around, unfazed by the sight of some people looking over and squinting at this familiar face. he’s wearing a thick coat, and you’re sorely reminded of a failed attempt to make your date notice you’re feeling cold and drape his jacket over you.

note to self: don’t wear a thin top when you’re going out for a man, especially if the said man doesn’t show up in the end.

you’re shivering slightly, but your face is hot. “none of your business.”

“you got stood up.”

it’s supposed to sound like a question, you presume from the curious glint in his eye, but he phrases it like he might as well know the answers to all your problems—like he’s about to pull out a crystal ball and prattle about your constellations.

you must be making a face despite your lack of response because sae’s lips twitch into an almost smile. he pulls on the top rail of the chair in front of you and sits.

“i don’t want your pity.”

sae gestures for the waiter. “for what? i’m only hungry.”

the waitress who comes to serve you both is the same one who asked you three times if you’re going to order. she is delighted that you’re finally with someone because it seems like she pitied you waiting for someone who never came.

but sae is not like that to you. you’re something like friends, sure. you talk, text, and hang out. you have a big crush on him, but you don’t feel confident enough to start something by kissing him out of nowhere.

“he’s not—”

“i’ll pay,” sae says, and you shut right up and give him a dazzling smile. he rolls his eyes, turning back to the waitress to ask for water instead of soft drinks for him, then his gaze shifts to meet yours to wait for your order.

oh. you belatedly realize that he’s making you order first.

well, an hour waiting for a jackass was enough to have you scan the entire menu down to its extra descriptions.

“who stood you up?” sae asks after the waitress walks off, leaning against the chair.

“can you stop bringing that up?” you whine, sliding a hand over your face. eyeliner be damned, it’s not like the guy you’re supposed to be on a date with right now can see it anyway.

sae reaches out to stop you from rubbing your face, pulling it away from your face. he must find your frustrated expression amusing, based on the short chuckle that feels like he didn’t mean to let slip. he then takes off his coat and stands up to lean over and drape it around you. his warmth hits you like a truck.

you stare at his face for maybe a few minutes, a little stunned. you used to be closer to him—back when he was younger and had a brighter gleam in green eyes, never afraid to show affection, but he’s drifted off since he came back. maybe in his mind, he never left.

carefully, you lean away. not enough to startle him, because you don’t want it to stop. just… maybe not this fast. not when you’re not sure how to handle it. tomorrow, you might feel different. later, even.

right now, itoshi sae sits across you, keeping you company when someone has stood you up. the same guy who was supposed to help you move on from sae, to help call time-out from this constant push and pull. but it didn’t work.

perhaps it wasn’t made to work for the sole reason of keeping you and sae together like this.

“how was your match?” you ask instead. you’ll figure out fate’s punchline some other time.

[sixosix]

summary wc 500, bachira invites you over, but really, he just wants you around

your textbook slams shut the first ring of your alarm.

it continues ringing, and you faintly register it in the back of your head, still reeling from hours-long study sessions. the title splaying YOU CAN STOP NOW blinks off as you swipe it away.

then it rings again, brightening with a message.

bachira hey :3 come over ? <3

you what happened this time

bachira WHAT DO YOU MEAN let’s watch a movie please

you im studying

bachira no u arent i know every detail of your schedule

you who did you ask

bachira chigiri

you ill be there in 10

when you do arrive, bachira already has snacks ready on the table and a blanket draped over the couch. he looks up from where he’s been lazily hanging on the backrest—a miracle that it hasn’t tipped over and sent him a mess of limbs on the ground.

“y/n!” he beams, springing up from his position to tackle you.

without wasting any time—and without even letting you greet him back—he ushers you to the loveseat sofa, shoving various snacks into your arms. he nods proudly when you blink up at him, too confused to complain.

“what are we going to watch?”

bachira snuggles into your side, jostling the chips you tucked in your arm. “you decide.”

“you’re the one who invited me over.”

he pulls up the blanket and lets it settle over the both of you. “i trust your judgment!”

“of course, of course,” you chuckle.

you can’t even eat the food he provided with how he’s pressed up against you so insistently, so you toss them back onto the table, and bachira takes it as his chance to rest his head on your lap.

unfazed, you scroll past the selection, skimming through the summary and asking bachira if it’s good enough. he answers with a nod or a hum, but he stops replying eventually after a few minutes.

“bachira?” you murmur, tipping your head down only to see him with his eyes shut and his mouth parted, soft snores coming from it.

“let’s watch a movie, y/n,” you mock under your breath, running a hand through his hair and smiling when he nuzzles into your touch. “you're lucky you're cute.”

bachira shifts and frowns when your phone buzzes, but he doesn’t wake. you pick a random movie and let it play as you check, nothing but faint audio in the background that’s as soft as bachira’s breathing.

isagi hey y/n have you checked the gc?

you what happened this time

isagi can you please don’t assume something already happened…

bachira kept bugging everyone that he couldn’t sleep then he suddenly went offline

couldn’t sleep, huh?

your gaze travels back to the snoring bachira on your lap, completely dead to the world.

you he’s sleeping don’t worry

isagi how do you know that aired ???

a/n i wrote this in like 30 mins cus i had this idea as i was showering LMAO hope u enjoyed!!

[sixosix]

OMG i didnt notice you had requests open jsjsjw can i request getting together with isagi again?

YES YES thank you so much anon this is what i mean when i said i wanted these requests

getting back together with isagi yoichi is slightly awkward and tense for the first few days.

you had to take a break for a few months because your and isagi’s schedule got a bit too hectic, especially when his fame is blasting off straight to the top and people are demanding his presence like starving men. it was a mutual decision, no hard feelings. and—isagi emphasized this with hands on your shoulders like he’s about to shake you—if you still feel the same for him, you will try it again.

“what about if you don’t like me anymore?”

isagi shakes his head, quirking one brow. “i know myself. i would never get over you.”

time has passed, and his plans have cleared, calming down enough for him to text you as soon as possible, saying he missed you.

as soon as you two meet, isagi refuses to let you go. you tell him you’re free for the entire day, and he tells you he wants you with him for the year. he is a little insane and touch-deprived, i’m sorry. blue lock made him bolder and unafraid to express his desires out loud—and it shows.

he still is the same isagi in the end, though. caring and considerate.

it’s a little too easy to pull you closer by the waist when you’re close. a little too easy to bury his face on your neck and stay there, content like a cat. it’s too easy to watch you walk around in his house and just tug you to his chest and kiss you stupid.

but you just got back together, and he has to be patient until you two feel comfortable again.

and once those first few days are over, isagi will not hesitate to spoil you rotten with affection.

[sixosix]

( 1 ) isagi yoichi masterlist

( 2 ) bachira meguru masterlist

( 3 ) nagi seishiro masterlist

( 4 ) itoshi sae masterlist

( 5 ) mikage reo masterlist

( 6 ) itoshi rin masterlist