yoichew - Tumblr blog

[yoichew]

what makes it special

…. rogo acheki finally embraces the gay panic ….

… and here are the fav frames as always

[yoichew]

calling your friend a pet name in front of your boyfriend MIKAGE REO

cw: possessive reo, fem!reader, guy friend wc: 651 itoshi rin version soon!

you were strolling enthusiastically through the crowded mall with your boyfriend, your eyes darting excitedly from one window display to another in hopes of finding the perfect present for your best friend’s upcoming birthday. you really appreciated reo’s offer to tag along because it was no secret to you, or to anyone else for that matter, that the mikage corporation heir is one heck of a stylish man.

as you continue impatiently scanning the endless storefronts with all the dazzling fashion trends on display, your frustration begins to gnaw at you. despite looking around nearly every corner of the mall, the dress that your friend had wanted for a long time was nowhere to be seen. sensing your annoyance, reo softly chuckles, his hand finding its way to your waist as he calmly guides you to a very elegant-looking store, “y/n, is that the soft pink coquette dress you were lookin—”

“—oh my god, this is it, reo!” you blurt out, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you grab his wrist and drag him away from the window display and into the store, “you found it, thank you!” you kiss his cheek, a bright grin spreading across your face as you hurry down to the appropriate aisle. your embarrassed boyfriend awkwardly follows behind as he rubs the back of his neck, “anything for my princess.” he softly murmurs.

while your boyfriend was distracted with the gold jewelry on the wall, your hands browsed through the colourful assortment of dresses on the rack, searching for the one you had seen outside. finally spotting the only pink dress, your hand reached out to grab it only to unexpectedly brush your fingers against someone else’s hand—someone who wanted the same dress.

“oh, sugar,” you laugh, patting your guy friend with a cheeky grin, “you came here to buy your girlfriend the dress she loves?” your friend rolls his eyes playfully, gently pushing your hand away, “heh. i wanted to. but now—”

“sugar? who’s sugar? who’s he?” your boyfriend strides over to you quickly, his arm encircling your waist protectively as he shoots a belittling glare at the man. upon hearing your pet-name, he reasonably assumed you were beckoning him over, however his gentle smile quickly faded into an irritated scowl as he saw the strange man talking to you with such familiarity.

you glance up at reo with a soft giggle, intertwining your fingers with his, “he’s f/n’s boyfriend and my close friend. i guess we both thought of buying her this dress,” you explained, lifting the garment by its hanger.

“wow, you never mentioned me to your boyfriend?” he jokes, his finger about to playfully poke your shoulder, before he hesitates, sensing the billionaire’s jealousy, “i’m hurt, y/n,” he adds with a pout. he looks at your boyfriend and extends his hand for a handshake, “nice to meet you, reo—”

“it’s mikage for you,” your boyfriend hisses, the tone of his voice had an unmistakable hint of annoyance that he put no effort to mask. he hands you his card and pats your back in the direction of the checkout area, “here, sweetheart. go buy the dress,”

“thanks,” you give one last apologetic glance at your friend before scurrying away to the cashier.

“man, i really wanted to buy f/n that dress,” the guy muttered awkwardly, a failed attempt at a joke. he was trying to ease the tense atmosphere, but reo was not helping at all.

reo simply scoffs, turning around as he crosses his arms together, “my girlfriend found the dress first, so you better hurry and find something else while you still have the time, fool.” he adds with a disgusted expression before walking away, leaving your poor friend bewildered.

“oh, sweetheart, you’re back!” you smile and hold his hand, “what were you tal—”

“sugar,” he sulked.

your brows furrowed in confusion, “what?”

“call me sugar.”

comments appreciated, thank you!!

[yoichew]

what do i do when i have writing block? write a drabble for reo of course, the cure for my halt and depression, a man that i need in my life

reo knew this is a bad idea.

maybe if he had a little piece of mind and considered the fact that you will end up inebriated to the point where you were wiggling around like a spaghetti, leaping joyfully every short second you got. even chanting a random melody, handing him a non-existence microphone as if you were in a karaoke, 一a place he grew to love because of you一

don't get him wrong, reo loved a lot of things about you, most of seeing you carefree, like a free bird. shuffling around the street for all what you cared for the world, he couldn't feel anything but the universe thumping in his ribcage.

it was you two engagement celebration. nevertheless, he scored nothing more then be enclosed by other reeking riches bastard, he spent the whole night seething at whoever laid an eye on you. violet hues filled with cold acquisitive greed. that left him drying sober, he just couldn't drift away his eyes of you. and if it wasn't for the cockblooker 一aka his parents一 crawling his way to guests that he bet reading a newspaper would have been more fun than keeping a chat with them, he would've been spent the whole night glued to your figure.

before he knew it, you were all drunk and barely able to walk two steps straight. reo wanted any reason to leave early anyway, so he take off your shoes ever so mildly, caressing his fingers cautiously beyond the pained parts, mainly the heel to the achilles tendon. you mumbled something about the pairs suffocating you throughout the whole night. so now they were hung by his two fingers.

all what he had of despair glided into ashes the moment it was only you and him, it may be left uncharted, but reo always felt like it was only the two of you in this world, a world where he doesn't have to carry the burden of being judged, where he can spin you around without worrying about slamming flatly onto the floor, where he can slow dance with you in his arms without feeling like an idiot every time he stepped on your feet 一out of nervousness, not his fault that your face was too much of a distraction.

"heyyyy, reoo, look at me! don't i look enlightened under the sunlight." you sluggish, a hand under your chin as you posed, feeling yourself as you blow your fiancé's a kiss. reo cold feel an arrow keening throughout his heart, and somehow he still managed to gather himself to not collapse on the dirty ground.

"dearest. as much as you look astonishing as ever, this is a street light, and it's almost midnight."

your face fell off onto a sulk, flipping your thumb downward at reo. "booo, haterr." you say as you stick out your tongue at your soon to be husband beaming back playfully, he wasn't even bothered.

"I assure you, my love. no hater is willing to carry these pair of shoes. they hella stinky." says reo, shoving your pairs away as possible, even blocking his nose holes merrily. and he couldn't be happier when you gasped dramatically, slamming your palm on your chest where your poor, fragile heart shattered at such painful words.

"nonsense! i will not take such a fails accusation! these twins of mine will remain memorized forever," you say heedlessly, whirling around in circles to prove your pointlessness.

reo says something about being careful, but you keep spinning yourself until your vision becomes blurry and your eyes were drifting in different directions. you were dizzy, so dizzy your feet were betraying you, you couldn't keep your balance, and before you meet the ground, a firm arm caught you midway.

"hey! i told you to be careful," reo's hand made it way to your waist, keeping you in shape. you almost felt like a slimy baby in his grip, he wanted to scold you more, for being reckless, for smiling broadly and making him gush, for holding his soul hostage, but he was far, far a goner to be rescued.

"haha, i did it because i knew you'd catch me." your chuckles overcome him any sense of life within him, the amethyst eyes of his only sees you, only felt the wreck of yearning pouring on you, reo's heart was pinning under your spell.

"yeah?" he asked, a stupid lovesick smile on his face.

"mhm! you'd always come to catch me when i fall." you were right, he'd jog his way to the end of the world for you. to make sure your save and sound.

"always," he assures you, tightening his hand to pull you even closer that no such thing as personal space exists between him and you, your light cologne blending with his heavy one. he snuggled his nose against the skin of your neck, drinking on your scents, as if it was the only air that bloomed his lungs. it was ticklish that it made you laugh inwardly, which was a balm on his chest. presses a quick peck on your warm cheek along the way. then carrying you with one hand like a lightweight tool to him.

"let's go home my prince charming, i need to take a looong bath." you babbled, fondling him a sloppy kiss just an inch away from his lips. a little dumbfounded, he still drags you alongside with him, you were a farther goner to notice the struck expression he had glued to his face, a faint reddish hue across his cheekbones and tip-ears.

"I'm already embracing it." maybe you were too drunk to hear that, maybe he didn't say it out too loud, maybe he's too in love to care, who knows.

[yoichew]

ding!

. . . mikage reo. the language of gifts.

note. noo needs a reo :(( if your name is mikage reo, please slide into my inbox, thank you <33

“what’s this?”

reo’s curious as he scans the box you’ve given him. it’s wrapped in plain white wrapping paper, though he could tell that the patterns visible on it were hand drawn.

“it’s uhm . . . a small gift i made for you,” you answer him with a nervous chuckle. “consider it a thank-you gift for tutoring me in chem; i aced it because of you.”

his heart flutters at the sentiment, and he can’t help but pull you close to him with one hand, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead. he knew how kisses on the lips startled you and made you feel embarrassed whenever he saw your reaction, so reo settled for the next best thing.

you can’t be doing this to him. it must be illegal to be this sweet, right?

“thanks, love,” he smiled. “i already know i’m going to love it.”

“you haven’t even seen it—“

“hush, i’m going to love it,” reo says. “you could give me a rock and i’d have it displayed on a podium.”

“dramatic,” you giggle. “but same, though. i kept every gift and trinket you gave me.”

“really?”

you happily nod. “i was so careful to remove the wrappers on some of them too, and i could only salvage a few from the wrath of my clammy fingers.”

he chuckled.

“but you didn’t have to get me a gift, though.”

“i wanted to.”

“you didn’t have to.”

“but when you give me gifts, you always say you wanted to, and wouldn’t take rejection for an answer!” you counter, playfully pinching his arm, eliciting a small yelp from your boyfriend.

“ow! that’s different.”

“no, it’s not.”

“it is!”

“you’re soo,” you drag out the “o” as you softly pinch reo’s cheeks, and his vacant hand holds onto your arm by instinct, “stubborn.”

“but you love me!”

“unfortunately,” you jokingly replied.

“hey!”

“kidding! of course, i love you so much. because there’s no way in my whole life that i’d ever put in that much effort for a gift for my chem tutor.”

“correction—chem tutor who’s also your super-duper-loving boyfriend. get it right, please.”

“oh, of course. how could i mistaken? my super-duperloving, handsome boyfriend, who’s also my chem tutor. pretty smat and funny, too.”

that made him swoon.

“better?”

“definitely.”

[yoichew]

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ masterlist… prev… a new light. ENTRY TWO: WHERE DID IT ALL GO WRONG? next … personal problems.

ᡣ𐭩 . even after all these years, detective itoshi rin has never gotten over the murder of his wife. he swore that he'd find the killer and figure out what really happened to you that night. the case ended up getting out up as a cold case, however. one day, though, he happened to stumble upon your diary while clearing up the attic to move to a new house. as he went through it, he realised that maybe it wasn't murder, perhaps something else. now with new leads, he manages to open the case  again, with a new hope to find out what happened to you, but personal matters start getting in his way. 

series : detective! itoshi rin! x dead! fem! reader, mentions of death, marriage, angst, rich! rin, mystery au, abuse, violence, black mail, unrequited love, threats, widowed rin, yn and rin have child named “mai” stalking ﾉ 2.5k wc. ﾉ mentions of eating disorder, yn has shitty parents, reader is said to be a personal trainer and described to have strong arms and abs.. (more could be added.)

He knew he shouldn’t have left the diary on the counter—not where Emi was, at least. He left for two minutes as he went to the bathroom.

Emi was eyeing it even before he left and wasted no time opening it. She knew she didn’t have long, so she quickly skimmed through the book, starting from the middle.

Her eyes seemed to widen at something, though—that was what Rin walked in on.

"Hey, don’t touch that,“ he cut himself off the second his eyes landed on the page she was reading.

Diary entry???? 26/11/2018 I was walking home today from work since my car was getting fixed, Rin couldn’t get me since he was at work, and Mai was sleeping at her grandparents house. (Of course Rin's parents, like I’d let her sleep over at my parents.) I felt someone following me—steps, light—the guy—or she—was light on their feet. I could barely hear it until they stepped on a stick. I also felt like I was being watched from all sides. I don’t know; should I tell Rin? I think I shouldn’t; he’ll overreact.

“Do you think... maybe, you know?” Emi averted her eyes from the boy, scratching the back of her neck.

“No, I don’t know.”

He gulped at the thought. It was only a few minutes ago that he thought—for a moment—that you had maybe committed and made it look like murder—but now, it hinted that possibly—you had been murdered.

He was confused; he wanted answers; he wanted to get revenge on whoever did that to you.

He never told anyone what he walked into that day. His daughter sat happily in front of the TV in their living room. He thought today was just like any other day; he thought it was normal.

Until he walked into the master bedroom. You were on the floor, laying like you were sleeping in a wedding dress—it was drowning in blood, so he couldn’t quite tell if it was yours or another.

It looked like yours, though.

He remembers hearing the sirens, but it was too late. He walked in too late. He made sure his daughter wouldn’t see anything, but it wasn’t like the two-year-old would remember this.

He didn’t even get to hear your last words; no one did. Maybe the murder did.

You thought you had time to play with her, but you didn’t. You thought she wouldn’t see it coming and that you would have fun. But you didn’t; she found out. You had to kill her—they told you too; you had no choice; she’d tell her husband; she’d out your plan; you’d all go to prison; or maybe only you would. Following her wasn’t as easy as it was at first. You smiled at the sight of her in the wedding dress, all lifeless. You were a physcopath; you all were. They honked, and they told you to get out. Yet again, you didn’t get to have your fun. But it didn’t matter; another one would come soon; she’d be easier, you would have more time, and no one would know.

It took a couple weeks for him to reopen the case, but he managed.

“You think you could take care of Mai again, Emi?” He asked; she was the only person he trusted around his child; his other friends would probably teach her things she definitely didn’t need to know at the age of eight. “If you don’t have anything to do, of course.”

She nodded her head. “I know how important this is to you. And I want to know what happened to my best friend,” she smiled.

He may not like her much, but she was a big help when he needed it.

And yet again, he found himself in his precinct, staring at your case. It was late; he wished to be with his daughter, but he wanted his daughter to grow up knowing what happened to her mother and knowing the killer was locked up, serving his sentence in prison. 26-year-old female, suspected of murder. She was found on the floor in a wedding dress, drowning in her own blood. Signs of struggle. Stabbed in the chest numerous times, hand marks on the neck.

He grabbed the grey leather diary, skipping to the last few pages.

Diary entry??? 27/11/2018. I was being followed again! I don’t know, am I imagining it? I don't know. I think I caught a glimpse of the guy. I could see much since a few people kept walking past, and when he realised I knew he was following me, he disappeared, but I remember he had green eyes, slim lips, and curly hair. It seems familiar. Like that dude I dated back in sophomore year? At least before I kind of cheated on him when I kissed Rin... What was his name again? Something that starts with an S... Seiji? Seiji Takahashi? Maybe it’s not him—maybe just someone who looked like him.

He turned the page to realise that that was the last one. His last lead. He’d bring the guy in and find something out. They’re has to me something. You always recognised faces, never wrong; even from afar, it was highly unlikely you were wrong, or at least he hoped.

Yet he wondered, Who ripped out those pages? Who murdered you? Why were you in a wedding dress? Who was stalking you?

With the number of cases he’s worked on, he knew there was a possibility it was multiple people.

He continued to stare at the empty page that came after the one he’d just read. He turned it against it, being met with the hard-back cover of the diary. He noticed there was unfamiliar handwriting on it, followed by an initial.

You should’ve told him sooner. — S.

It seems like he missed a page. Now, he could bring Seiji in and put him under investigation.

For a moment, he thought about how stupid he was last year—how could he not have found this out—how did he not find your diary?

But even with those thoughts that it would be easy, he couldn’t get his hopes up. Especially because he didn’t know what awaited him soon.

He looked at the other pile of cases on his desk, then at the half-empty precinct barley filled with the try-hard officers who wanted to make detectives.

He seemed like one of them, trying to become a police lieutenant or something.

The captain would kill him if he realised that he was completely abandoning all of the cases he just to investigate one from six years ago.

“What do you want to watch, Mai?” Emi asked the little girl, the remote in her hand.

The house was empty, filled with boxes—not only that, but she was sitting on the floor since the couches were in the new house.

They only had a carpet and two layers of blankets to cushion themselves with some pillows. It was comforting—kind of.

The kid hugged, so she opted for what she always saw her watching, Bluey. Which she had to admit was a lighthearted show that entertained her in a way. She even caught Rin watching it even after Mai went to sleep.

Before she knew it, the kid dozed off.

She gutted up, fixing her pink hoodie, which she’d owned for many years now; it had stains, but she didn’t mind. It was a shirt that she got to match with you; she loved it and held an attachment to it.

Even if part of her was mad that you got everything she wanted, she knew there were things she stole from you. And you were still her best friend; she loved you. Even if you drifted apart for a while,.

She picked up the child, who, for her age, was quite heavy, or maybe she was just weak.

She stepped into her room, which still has that smell of paint after Ron painted the walls back to white after they were a pretty shade of purple for a while.

She placed her on the medication and tucked her in, walking away, leaving the light on since Mai couldn’t sleep without it.

She was just like you. She was spitting, even when it came to her fears. The dark, clowns, and loud sounds.

She really was her mother’s daughter. You’d be proud. You’d be so happy to see her like this—the same hair, nose, and fears.

In a way, she didn’t like it, but that was the bitch side of her talking, because that side of her wished to be the one with Rin's child, not you.

But her, the real her, the one that wasn’t clouded by jealousy but only love for you, she loved the fact Mai was just like you, just like how you always wanted your child to be.

She dragged her feat to the kitchen, the voices of children coming from the television since she forgot to pause it.

She scanned the half-empty fridge, looking for something to fill her hunger.

She straightened her posture. “You really have to get new groceries, Rin. Are you sure your daughter isn’t starving?” The blonde-haired girl muttered to herself, pushing back the loose strand of her bangs behind her ear.

Suddenly she heard a bunch of ruckus coming from the Rins office.

She raised her brow, grabbing a small knife from the utensil drawer. She steadily made her way to the dark wooden door as she pulled the handle down.

The room was dark, with a bunch of empty bookshelves and a stack of papers on the desk; some made their home on the floor. There were a few pens in the pen holder, and the white curtains were open, as was the window.

… It was odd; Rin wouldn’t leave it open like that. She turned her head, but a glimmering hand made its way to her mouth.

She couldn’t see, not at all. Her back was pressed against the man’s chest. She was trapped; the man was overpowering her.

His free hand grabbed the small knife from her as he began to speak. “Where’s Itoshi Rin?” He asked. His voice was muffled by the mask that covered his face. “I don’t know!” She lied. Who knows what would happen if the man were to find out where Rin was? Rin was strong, but if the man had a weapon...

… She didn’t want to think about it. The strange man released his hold of her and backed away, opening the office door and shutting it. It wasn’t long before she heard the front door unlock. She wanted to leave, but she was paralysed; she was too busy processing what just happened.

SIX YEARS AGO...

“I’m home, love.” He announced his presence, but he got no response. He assumed you took a nap. You were a personal trainer after all, always at the gym exercising. At first, it was never a career you wanted to pursue; it never even crossed your mind. But after struggling with your eating disorder, you wanted to help people achieve the body they wanted without starving themselves.

And you gained strong arms, which he found extremely attractive. 

You were quite a popular one. Mostly among women, since you were always encouraging and helpful. Some of your friends were even your clients.

His daughter ran up to him, a bright smile on her face. "Where is mom?” He asked, squaring down to reach his daughter’s height. “She’s in her room,” she responded, and he gave her a pat on the head.

Mai had recently started forming full sentences that actually made more sense.

He entered the room with a rare smile on his face. Yet it quickly disappeared, his face expression morphing into one of horror; his eyes widened at the awful sight.

He ran over, the carpet stained with blood and the flowy white wedding dress stained with the dark red liquid. He gagged; he’d seen shit like this before, but it’s never been you.

It’s never been you with a wound on your stomach or your heart; it’s never been you with red hand marks on your neck; it’s never been you in this position.

Tears quickly weld up in his eyes. He knew that today would be the day he lost you.

He could only feel two emotions. Anger and sadness.

It wasn’t long before sirens were the only sound that filled the neighborhood. His daughter, tugging on his shirt with her small hands, said, “Dad, what happened to Mama? Will she be okay?" He sighed, trying to keep himself from breaking down and crying. He had to stay strong for his daughter. He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Why?” He hit his bottom lip in an attempt to stop it from trembling. “I don’t know, yet.”

He remembers how shy he became during the year that followed your death.

He fell into a state of alcoholism, constantly leaving his daughter in the care of his own parents. He couldn’t bear to look at her, not when she looked so much like you.

No one described how much he missed you. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if there would ever be a person to replace you.

He quickly snapped back from his thoughts, staring at the old pages of the diary, ones he’d not read yet.

Honestly, there really wasn’t anything of much importance there—other than your thoughts or how your days went.

Until he thought of something, assuming that you’d been stalked those following three weeks before your death, he realised that it matched some old cases.

All women from his old school, oddly. It was five cases, and he quickly went to the records room.

He grabbed one dated during one of the women’s deaths in 2017.

The case was solved; apparently, it was her ex-boyfriend, but now, with the things that matched your own case, he started to doubt it.

Hina Watanabe. She was reportedly stalked for three weeks, which they reported to the police, but they had done nothing since her stalker hadn’t done anything to her.

He took the case file and the other four that were left and headed back to his desk. He went through the cases, trying to catch any details that matched your file or anything you said in your diary.

In the process, however, he ignored the buzzing from his phone, not even bothering to check who was calling him.

taglist : @dummyf , @sereniteav , @catelismo , @chigiyoma , @y2kuromi , @aikuoliverswife , @syynnaaah , @cherriririn.

[yoichew]

money - convincing sae to buy you something is like winning a lottery (gender neutral)

warning: none

note: this was so random but i just imagined sae being a rich guy

“mi amor… just what am i even looking at?”

to say that sae was confused was an understatement. oh boy, he was beyond confused here. he came home from practice like every normal tuesday. tired, he just wanted some dinner and watched the soccer highlights but you had other plans. 

you grabbed the tired boy and pushed him on the couch. telling him to sit tight, you ran into your room and came back with your computer. hooking it up with some cables, you connected it to the tv. before sae could even ask, you pulled up a presentation

“i made this and it’s very important! you better listen carefully or else!”, you threatened and gave him a smile

he shrugged since he was used to you being weird and doing questionable things already. making himself comfortable, he read the title of the so-called ‘important presentation’ you made 

“why you should buy me tickets to watch lesserafim… have i heard that name before?”, sae asked carefully to not make you upset 

“you don’t know lesserafim?? i’ve been talking- you know what it doesn’t matter. just hear my reasoning”, you grumbled and moved on to the slide 

“you remember when you told me i could get anything i wanted for my birthday”, you asked

“yeah i remember”, sae cautiously agreed 

“so i decided that i want lesserafim tickets for my birthday! as a broke university student, it is difficult for me to afford it”, you read off your slides 

“i just don’t see where this is my problem? this lesserafim thing is something you like so i don’t see why i have to buy tickets. that’s not counted as a birthday gift”, sae replied 

you facepalmed yourself as you stared at the pro player, who only shrugged his shoulders. it was gonna be difficult but were you going to quit? nope 

“you’re rich! where are you even gonna use this money?? it’s not even that expensive. the tickets are only around $2000 without the commission fees and stuff”, you argued 

“only $2000? mi amor that’s a literal scam. you’re just gonna watch some girls sing and dance so you could literally watch it at home for free!”, sae said 

well… he technically did have a fair point. you could watch it from home. keyword: could. you agreed that prices were crazy high but the experience and feeling of being there with the crowd live was something no money could replace. you looked at sae in a pleading way to hopefully change his mind. the soccer player sighed before reaching out for his wallet in his pocket 

“just this once i’ll buy you some lukewarm concert tickets. gosh, $2000 for just a performance that you’ll forget someday? why not just get a nice necklace or ring”, sae sighed in defeat 

you celebrated your victory as sae handed you his card to make your purchase. you quickly gave him a hug and constantly thanked him before giving him a kiss on the cheek. then you ran to your computer and began the booking process 

you were too engrossed to see the way how sae placed his hand on the same spot you kissed. a small trace of blush spread over his cheeks as he coughed to cover any embarrassment. watching you get this excited made every minute worth it.

he didn’t care how much money you asked. heck, you could even run your dream cat cafe if you wanted to with his money. he’d give up all his money just to see you smile- though he would never admit it and act all grumpy about it 

“i hope you made dinner or else i’ll take my card back”

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator

[yoichew]

birthday boy! ☀️🎂

[yoichew]

sesamemochi

[yoichew]

───── (boring,) loving, morning routines

cw. kaedehara kazuha x reader. gn reader. intentional lowercase. mornings w kazuha the loml (tho i hate waking up early.) not proofread. 190 wordcount.

early mornings with kazuha always feel nothing but like a rush of love. he never does fail to show utter devotion to the one he adores, you.

perhaps its the way he handles you with such tenderness— you're barely able to process what's happening, still half asleep, but if there's one thing you're aware of, it's the delicate, lingering, touch that you feel on your forehead, a hand that seems to be brushing off a few hair strands that cover the face he'd rather die than never see again.

or maybe it's when you've finally gotten enough energy to sit up, and see the love of your life (he likes to say,) sitting on your side of the bed, near your legs. as kazuha, lovingly, takes your hand into his, the feeling of chapped lips— a sign he's just woken up himself— softly pressing onto your fingers, as he mumbles something along the lines of "truly, you're a beauty. even when you're sprawled out on the sheets like our laundry."

and kazuha lets out a chuckle, because, truly, he knows that you'll soon have enough energy to hit him for that statement.

[yoichew]

am lovin dis’ persona 5 theme bloggie ! ! ૮꒰ྀི∩ ˃o˂ ∩꒱ྀིა hope it’s okay f’me to drop by ‘n say hi !

aww thank u sm ^^ !! of course it's alright, very cute blog u've got there urself ,,

[yoichew]

you're anti-pda. reo is pro-pda. a tale of bribery, greed. temptation, and love.

you had pretty clear views on pda. you thought it was super embarrassing and kinda weird to be all lovey-dovey whilst out and about, and that that kind of thing was much better behind closed doors. you were happy to give lots of affection to your boyfriend, reo, in the comfort of your shared home, just not so much while in public.

reo did not like your views. at all.

~

"but babyyyy," he whined, clinging onto you while you fought his hands off. "just one kiss. that's all im asking for. one kiss! just one!"

"first of all," you started, "we both know it wouldnt end in just one kiss." he pouted, knowing you were right. "secondly, no. we're in public."

"so?!" he whined. "pleaaaaase. don't you love me? how can you be so cruel?"

you rolled your eyes at his theatrics. "reo, no."

reo whined and sunk to the floor, fake crying. suddenly, though, he went silent, as if contemplating the meaning of his entire life.

"two weeks."

"...?"

"ill do all the chores for two whole weeks if you give me a kiss."

you gasped. this was a very tempting offer, indeed. one kiss, and you wouldnt have to do any cooking or cleaning for two whole weeks.

but then again, you were in public. it was embarrassing! indecent! plus, then he'd have the satisfaction of winning. you had a pettiness that rivaled reo's and you didn't want to give in.

reo knew all it would take was one little push and he'd get his kiss.

"please, my love?" he squeezed your hand and stared deep into your eyes, the way he knew made you flustered.

you groaned, knowing exactly what he was doing, but also at the fact that it was working. you grumbled, red-faced, and leaned in.

excited, reo crashed against you, kissing you with intensity and passion. you could practically feel the message he was trying to send silently: "i love you. i love you. i love you."

after a while, you both pulled away, breathless. you both started at each other in silence for a bit before you started leading him down the sidewalk.

"where are you going?" he asked, trailing behind you.

you smiled at him. "let's go home, hm?"

reo whooped, knowing exactly what that meant.

© 𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 please do not copy or repost my work on any other site. interactions appreciated! 🤍

[yoichew]

Your brothers are dumb, but Isagi is always your number one fan.

cw: gender neutral reader, 2.4k words, reader is rin & sae's musically gifted sibling, silly isagi, obscene amounts of pining, i don't know how music competitions work lol

@celestair it's here!!!! thank you so much for the fabulous prompt <3

“So, you’re on next, how do you feel?” Your friend Yuki asks, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. The performer before you is wrapping up his piece, and your turn on stage is approaching far too quickly.

“Were they there?” You whisper, completely ignoring her question. 

“Didn’t see ‘em,” Yuki sighs, “But hey, you can’t see anything from up on that stage, don’t give up just yet.”

Despite her attempts at encouragement, you both know the truth. They aren’t there. They never are. Even now, as you prepare to step onstage in the final round of a national piano competition, your two soccer-obsessed brothers are nowhere to be found. You should’ve expected that from the start when the most they could offer to your invitation was “ok.” 

How many soccer games have you attended by now? How many hours have you spent in the sweltering heat, watching your brothers run up and down a field kicking a ball around? And despite all that, they have yet to deem one of your music events as worth their time. You’re half sure the reason they neglected to arrive was because neither one would be caught dead sitting in the same room as the other. It’s always a competition with those two – a test to see who could be the better soccer player, the worse brother – and you’re simply caught in the crossfire as you pursue your own wholly different passions. 

But now, unfortunately, there’s only one thing to do: go out on stage, play your heart out, and hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a scrap of recognition from one of the fools who shared your last name. 

“Break a leg. And don’t let your shitty brothers get to you,” Yuki says, nudging you out onto the stage as the previous performer exited past you.

When you walk onstage there is no announcement of your name, no applause. There never is. Just a silence so thick it could be cut with a knife as the audience watches with judging eyes, anticipating eyes, and… hopeful eyes? The stage feels different today, fresh and pleasantly cool, as if the crushing expectations are lifted ever so slightly.

Then you see him. It’s just a glance, an impression of an individual, a hint of green and black in your periphery. But when he sees you it’s earth-shattering. He can breathe again – but only one barely-muffled gasp, because you’re quick to steal the air from his lungs as his heart begins to inexplicably race. Isagi has been in the same audience seat many times by now – the same seat every time, for his favorite view – yet every time he sees you walk out onto that stage it’s like rebirth, a preparation for the waves of joy and sadness and admiration and, dare he say it, love, that would wash over him as you played. All he has to hope is that you know he’s there, watching like he always is. And for the first time, you know – you deeply, truly, know – someone is out there watching you.

For this competition, you chose Liszt’s Un Sospiro. After mastering the technique, you spent hours of practice imbuing the piece with a thousand emotions, a thousand ways to sigh, and yet none of them felt quite right. So in the ten seconds before your fingers hit the keys, you have a decision to make.

Yoichi.

Of course, how could you forget? 

Without a moment’s hesitation, you begin to play, the notes dancing with the image in your mind. Simply the thought of him makes your heart race in time with the arpeggios, your measured breaths falling out of time as you let the music wash over you. The emotion flows so naturally you’re not sure if you’re pushing them into the music or if the music is pulling them out of you, a different one for each phrase, the joy and fear and longing and hope and desperation. You could practically see them, figures of light in every color dancing together across the stage and out into the audience, seeking out their target. 

They more than find their target: they crash into him like unceasing waves. Each one slightly different than the last, yet all so familiar; a language without words, yet each phrase he understands clearly. 

Is it five minutes, one, or thirty? Time begins to blur, everything fading to soft pink and green and orange and blue, colors and sounds existing independently of earthly constraints. It’s transcendental, almost, the room immersed in a lovestruck state of reverie until the final notes echo through the auditorium.  

By the end of the piece his chest is aching, and yours is aching too. The exhilaration hardly makes sense – were you not full of worry only minutes ago? Or had it been an eternity since anything other than Yoichi was on your mind? Adrenaline pulsing through your veins makes your head spin as you attempt to process your own performance. Oh, how unreal it felt. It had been a long time since you last felt so moved by your own playing… yes, truly a long time. 

The audience applauds with the required politeness, if not a bit louder than usual. None of it falls on your ears, though. You’re too busy staring at Isagi’s distant face as he gazes back at you with sparkling cobalt eyes. He nearly forgets to clap, sitting so unblinkingly still that those in the seats next to him wonder if he’s alright. He’s more than alright – his mind is racing in the same way it does when he scores a goal, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep him from running to you now. 

As soon as you’re backstage, Yuki barrels into you, earning a few miffed glares from the last few performers preparing to go on. “Oh my god, that was amazing!” She whisper-yells, “I’ve never heard you play like that! See, I knew you’d do just fine without them in the audience.” 

Right. Them. You had forgotten about them while onstage. 

“I think I’ve found someone else worth playing for,” You murmur, half to yourself. For the first time, you didn’t really mind that your brothers hadn’t been there. Of course, it would’ve been nice, but without them… without them, you had made magic. You can make magic.

Yuki smiles brightly, the way she always does. “You’ve gotta tell me everything. And quickly, so as soon as this shindig is over you can head out and see your loverboy.”

“How’d you know that’s what it was?”

“Trust me, it was obvious. I’m pretty sure everyone knew.”

So, of course, you tell her everything. And as soon as the final round of applause echoes down the hallway, you’re getting pushed toward the door, standing nervously in the auditorium lobby until a familiar face emerges from the exit doors.

You see him first, which means you get to watch in real-time as he sees you and immediately lights up like a kid in a candy store. It’s his third epiphany of the day, and the only thing he can think to do is run toward you, frantically apologizing to strangers as he weaves through the crowd. Before you can even greet him or thank him for coming, he thrusts a large bouquet of flowers into your hands.

“You did amazing! Your music is like magic and I think I might be in love with you!” Isagi blurts out.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, that was probably tactless. No, it was definitely tactless. I’m sorry. It’s just, I saw you up there and I heard you play and it was like the music was talking to me and it was saying, oh, by the way, you have feelings for them and it’s actually ridiculous that you didn’t notice earlier because you’re absolutely whipped, y’know? Is that weird?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his unrestrained reaction, the genuineness in his tone. “No, it’s not weird at all.”

“It’s not?” He asks, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Of course not. It means you heard what I was trying to tell you.”

It’s his turn to be surprised, and he lets out a soft, confused, “Eh?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to confess to you directly, so I did it the only way I knew how. Yoichi, will you go out with me?” 

“Yes! Absolutely!” He beams, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen him smile before; little wrinkles appear next to his eyes and his slightly crooked teeth are on full display. Shyly, he asks: “Could I hug you?”

“Please do,” you say, opening your arms to let him wrap his tightly around you. For a moment you stand in silence (not true silence, of course, because the room is full of people) and feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest. He feels your heartbeat too, he swears he can hear it over the noise.

“Thank you for coming, Yoichi,” You whisper, gripping the flower bouquet tightly, “It means a lot to me that you could be here.”

He hugs you tighter, so tight it feels like your ribs might crack in his grip. “Of course. You always come to my big games, there’s no way I’d let myself miss one of your big events. Speaking of that, do you know when the results come out?”

Though you’d like to keep hugging him forever, you let go and check the time.

“They’ll let us back into the auditorium in an hour, though they never seem to announce the winners on time.”

“In that case, can I take you out on a date while we wait? Unless you already made plans to wait with someone else… ahh, I really should’ve thought this out more.” Isagi scratches the back of his neck with an awkward smile, a nervous habit of his that never seems to lose its charm.

“Oh, no, I don’t have plans. I’m sure Yuki’s already gone off with her boyfriend, and you’re the only person I really know who showed up to watch. Spending the hour with you is a serious step up from waiting alone.” 

“Let’s go then! There’s a cute café just down the road if you’re hungry, or we could go walk around the mall if you’d prefer.” 

Isagi lets you lead for the hour, making it a bit of an early celebration. Because while the results aren’t out just yet, he’s entirely sure that your performance is worth a hundred gold medals and more. Anything you want to do is good enough for him, even if it’s something as simple as window shopping in formal wear, and he does everything in his power to make sure he’s the best new boyfriend possible. After all, he’s won at life, hasn’t he? Because now he gets to date you – he gets to give you flowers and cheer for you and hold your hand and make you smile. 

As you sit in the adjacent seats waiting for the results to be announced, he rubs his finger affectionately over your thumb. 

“See, I told you they’d start late,” You whisper with a laugh.

“They must’ve realized their trophy wasn’t big enough to properly congratulate you,” He whispers back.

“Hey, don’t say things like that! I haven’t won yet.” 

“I don’t think you witnessed yourself perform. You did amazing.”

“And you’re not a musician, so you’re not qualified to decide who won.”

“Even an untrained ear can tell you were the best up there. Trust me.”

Before you can come up with a witty reply, the head judge steps up to the podium on stage, holding a single sheet of paper in her hand. She gives a short speech – something about appreciating the hard work of the competitors – but neither you nor Isagi hear half of what she says. The room is silent waiting for the top three to be announced. 

“In third place,” The Judge calmly says into the microphone, “Matsuoka Yuki.”

Immediately you burst into cheers, hastily untangling your hand from Isagi’s so you can applaud your friend. Her performance had been stunning, and she’s more than deserving of the prestigious accomplishment. 

“In second place,” The Judge continues, once the applause quiets down, “Watanabe Shigeru.”

Another talented performer, of course. He had won his fair share of competitions, and the two of you had stood together on the winner’s stage more than once. As soon as you finish applauding, Isagi grabs your hand and squeezes tightly, as if to say the Judge will call your name next, I just know she will.

The moment you spent months waiting for is here. Either your hours of rehearsal and stress and aching hands paid off, or they didn’t. And the only thing between you and knowing was one sentence from the Head Judge’s mouth.

“Finally, in first place, winner of the Japan National Piano Competition, Itoshi Y/n.”

I’ve won. It’s as if you’re up on that stage once more, the way that the room explodes into applause like thunder. Isagi is shouting and shaking you by the shoulders – he really couldn’t be prouder of you. He knew all along, it seems, that your indirect confession was worth a gold medal from the organization and a thousand more in his heart.

The head judge invites the winners up to the stage, and Isagi nearly pushes you out of your seat to receive your award. Yuki meets you onstage, whispering her polite but excited congratulations to you. You return them hurriedly before taking your place on stage to be presented with your trophy. The process of handshakes and photographs feels like it takes forever when all you and Isagi want is to spend the rest of the afternoon together in celebration. 

Isagi meets you in the auditorium lobby again, and he presents you with the same bouquet of flowers a second time. “You won! You actually won! I’m so proud of you!” 

“Thank you, Yoichi,” You say, grasping his hand with your free one, “Thank you for being here to inspire me. Now c’mon, let’s go celebrate!”

The rest of the afternoon is blissful, almost unreal, just you and Isagi enjoying the sweetness of victory and love. When your phone begins receiving text message after text message you can hardly be bothered to reply immediately, even when you get the message you nearly spent the whole day waiting for.

rin: good job on the competition or wtv

isagi 💚

[yoichew]

Lookin cool joker !

[yoichew]

SIGH AKIREN SIGHHHHH AKIRA KURUSU SIGHH REN AMAMIYA SIGH

[yoichew]

He will be the last one in the series 😅😅😅🙏 I gotta focus on my comms now ‼️

[yoichew]

omg a persona 5 royal blog theme !! so so cute ^_^

omg thank uu ,, ur blog is soo very adorable as well <33