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♬.ᐟ hoodie ft. itoshi rin
♬.ᐟ blue lock boys vs fangirl gf ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, nagi seishiro
♬.ᐟ blue lock boys vs love ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, otoya eita, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito
♬.ᐟ worth it satoru x reader
synopsis; itoshi rin is failing his art class. in order to graduate his senior year of high school, he needs to pass the class with at least a b grade. you're assigned to tutor the hot-headed football athlete—kind and eccentric, you throw rin's entire world off axis.
a/n; i wrote this as a *private* commission for one of my followers some time ago but they said they'd like for me to post it here so yaaaaah !! they had it posted on their account so if u recognize this from somewhere else pls know it is mine and not stolen lol :) ALSO THIS IS ONE OF MY FAV RIN PIECES EVER HAHA SO IM GLAD TO SHARE IT HERE!!!!
pairing: rin itoshi x reader
word count: 5.0k words
itoshi rin didn't have any friends, and it's a fact all his teachers know by now. he's a stoic student, one that doesn't participate in group projects and eats his lunch alone in the library. normally, this type of behavior exhibited by students should have been concerning to his teachers and counselors. but rin was well behaved and had straight a's in most of his classes—so, nobody took much notice of him.
he felt like a ghost, drifting through the walls of his high school without a single person by his side. it was his first day of senior year, and itoshi rin had no expectations for something good.
the phantom ache in his chest is harder to ignore nowadays. he doesn't realize he's been spacing out again until the bell rings, signaling the start of the next class period, and rin is snapped violently out of his daze. he glances at the blank canvas in front of him before realizing he's spent the past fifty five minutes doing absolutely nothing. the students around him file out of the classroom—chatting and laughing as he sits there a bit dumbfounded with how this class seemed to suck the life out of him like no other.
when rin was little, he loved drawing. his imagination would run wild, and sometimes—he couldn't always act out the magnificent battles he wanted his toys to perform. dragons and princes and volcanos—his medium of choice used to be these scratchy crayons his brother, sae, would get for rin from the corner store.
rin remembers how his parents had to force him to stop drawing just to make him eat dinner. and now, he can't even manage to put a single mark on a canvas.
during his teacher's instructions at the beginning of class, he was, quite vaguely told at that, to use whatever colors and styles he wanted to on a 12 by 12 canvas to reflect his soul. bitterly, rin thinks his canvas reflects him perfectly. he'll turn this in tomorrow, he decides. a blank canvas—no feelings, no purpose, nothing. just like him.
he'll take the shitty grade and move on with his life. rin wonders if there's even a language that exists to put his feelings into something other people can comprehend. he doesn't think there is. if he wants anyone to understand how he feels, they'll have to tear his ribs out one by one to reach the barely alive beat lying inside his chest to try and figure him out.
"do you need some help cleaning up?"
itoshi rin is seventeen years old when he falls in love.
rin glances away from his blank canvas, looking up to meet who it is speaking. the class is empty now. his art teacher is busying herself in the back of the classroom, unboxing a new pack of paintbrushes when rin swallows the lump in his throat.
"i'm fine."
your smile is hesitant. understanding, almost, as you look at rin's canvas and the tubes of unopened acrylic paint surrounding him. the window panes hanging high towards the ceiling welcome in the rising sun outside, and rin can see the light shimmering in your eyes—glittering shards of gold gleam like morning stars in your irises as you wordlessly pick up the neglected paint and brushes on his desk—carrying them over to the back of the classroom and putting them away for him as rin watches silently.
slowly, he picks up his own canvas—and he stares at his classmates' drying ones with an almost envious kind of sadness as he places his untouched canvas beside theirs. where they had explosions of colors, reds and yellows and greens and blues blending and combining into the most wonderful art—rin did not. he had nothing.
rin turns around to where he'd seen you last in the back of the classroom, before clearing his throat. he doesn't lift his gaze from the tiled floor beneath him, pressing his hand flat against the surface of a nearby table to steady himself before speaking up
"thanks..." he begins, but his voice trails off when he realizes you've already left.
—
rin was sitting in english class when he heard your voice again. to be completely honest, he had no idea you were in this course with him. rin didn't talk to anyone in all of his classes, so hearing the sound of your voice was a surprise. and where he sat in the back of the classroom, you sat towards the front. you're asking the teacher a question on last night's homework, and rin takes his chance to watch you freely.
you have a tote bag slung over your shoulder. there's a landscape painted on it, with little pins placed all over. you have your hair down today compared to the updo you wore yesterday. it's only when you turn towards your seat that rin finally makes eye contact with you.
time slows, and the conversation around him drowns to nothing as if he's ducked his head underwater. his brain is nothing but white static for that one second you look into his eyes.
truly, you didn't even hold his gaze for a full second, it was more like a fraction of one—but rin's heart rate didn't calm until the bell rang, and he was the first student out the door. he left class that day with clammy palms and pink-tinted cheeks.
today, rin didn't have art class, but he was called down regardless during study hall to meet his art teacher—an old woman with a wrinkly smile who always wore colorful cardigans. rin enters the room, moving through the empty desks and chairs before he stops in front of her with a quiet greeting.
"itoshi rin! it's so nice of you to come so quickly, students aren't usually so courteous! please, have a seat," she says warmly, and rin eyes the blank canvas—his blank canvas—laying beside her on the desk.
rin takes a seat, fading in and out of the conversation as she talks. he already knew what to expect, and of course, his assumptions were right. akamatsu sensei had the type of voice rin imagines story tellers have, or lullaby singers do. she tells him that she's having trouble seeing signs of progress in his art and wanted him to be doing better. but her last sentence is what catches rin off gaurd. this he did not predict.
"i'm failing?"
akamatsu sensei nods her head slowly, folding her hands in her lap before she begins talking about a possible tutor. she watches his delicate brows pinch together in discomfort, soft lips pulled into a small frown filled with silent frustration. rin didn't understand why he had to get another person to tutor him—he thought art was subjective.
"i promise you, rin, i have just the perfect person in mind. they're my best student—i think if anyone can get your imagination flowing again, it's them."
—
akamatsu sensei introduces you and rin to each other the following morning—and rin's learns that your name is y/n. he repeats it in his head a few times, committing it to memory before you speak his name in the sweetest voice he'll ever have the pleasure of hearing.
"itoshi-san, i think we're going to get along well! we can sit together in class and work on assignments with each other, but we'll also have to meet after school. which day are you free?" you question, and rin's heart positively plummets to his feet when you grab his hand and lead him towards his seat—you occupy the usually empty chair beside him, and he follows your lead.
"that's fine. i'm free every friday. every other day of the week i have football practice."
rin's hands grip his knees tightly under the desk when you pull your hand out of his, a fruitless attempt to try and calm himself after you so casually held his hand. your fingers curved around his perfectly. and while the gesture might not have meant anything to you, it meant so much to rin. he doesn't hold hands, he can't even hold a conversation—but you're bubbly and bright in a way that has him submitting in one second flat.
"football? that sounds like fun! i'm sorry, i'm not very well versed with sports. do you like it?" you ask, organizing the paints in front of you as rin nods wordlessly, staring at the gentle manner in which you treat the art materials. you smile at his confirmation, grabbing a tube of a radiant midnight blue and placing a dollop of it on rin's blank canvas with a grin
"when we're in doubt, it's like our minds subconsciously pull away from conflict. we shut down and sorta refuse to do anything sometimes, right? i want to push you out of your comfort zone and give you a blue canvas to work with rather than a white one. we'll see what you do with that, okay?"
rin nods, fingers moving to take the paintbrush you hand him before he turns to the awaiting paint in front of him. his brushstrokes are slow and a little messy, but five minutes later—the canvas is entirely blue.
"what do you see?" you question softly as rin stares at his canvas. he stays silent for a heartbeat, two heartbeats, and then—
"i don't see anything."
rin's inner turmoil is a storm. was he supposed to be seeing something? all he sees is blue. there's nothing coming to his mind, no connection being made—his bites the inside of his cheek, angry at himself and his clear lack of creativity.
"that's okay. let's think together, okay? what do you think of when you think of the color blue? it can be the simplest thing of all, itoshi-san. anything at all," you assure, gently scooting your chair closer to his as he nods, clenching his jaw as he thinks. blue. blue. blue. what the hell is blue?
"the sky."
you're silent a for a few moments before he hears it. it's soft and muffled with the back of your hand, but you're laughing at him. his cheeks burn in an instant, and his lips transform into a scowl immediately
"whatever, i know it's stupid—"
"no, no! i was thinking the same thing, that's why i laughed! now, the sky is a painting all in its own! think about it—it's orange and pink during sunrise, like a fruity drink on the beach. it can be a misty, pale haze during snow storms. but, i want you to think of a time you saw the sky like this—an inky void, like a dark blue veil's been put over the world. can you do that?"
rin doesn't respond. he stares at the sea of blue in front of him—blue blue blue.
"...sometimes, football practice gets cut short on rainy days. the sky sorta looks like this blue on those days. dark. blurry—but it's still...i can see some stars. and the moon peaking out from behind the clouds, too. i guess it kind of looks like that."
rin's brows furrow together in concentration as he stares at the canvas after speaking. he turns away from it and towards you after another moment—and he's met with your curious gaze. he blinks rapidly a few times to confirm the sight of your subdued awe struck expression in front of him is real, not something his imagination made up, before you break into a breathtaking smile.
"well then, let's get some black to add some darker shading to the sky! and some white—for the stars and moon...come, come..."
—
itoshi rin is attentive. it's something you would come to learn soon enough. you're an avid artist—truly, it was your passion. rin can watch you scribble away in your sketchbook from where he sits in the back of the classroom. english class is droning on, and for once, he's not paying attention.
you tilt your head over your notebook, staring at your drawing before you erase something and redraw it. rin watches the way your hair shifts and moves around you as you look at your sketchbook from different angles, perfecting your art. his lips twitch at the sight of your pout when the tip of your pencil breaks. you're restless, quickly sharpening it and continuing your drawing when the teacher's voice breaks him out of his daze.
"all right class, partner up! i'll let you chose your partners this time. please don't make me regret it," she sighs, and the excited chatter of the students quickly fills the once silent room.
rin straightens in his seat. he had absolutely no idea what the assignment was since he wasn't paying attention—but, right now, he didn't care. his eyes stayed glued on you, waiting to see who you would partner up with. rin has to crane his neck a bit as his classmates moved around and shifted seats—effectively blocking his view. once everyone settled down with their partners, rin was able to see you again.
and... you're sitting by yourself.
he doesn't know what urged him so strongly to walk towards you. he can hear his heart pounding, and if feels like there's an invisible thread tugging him closer and closer towards where you sat. he swallows the lump in his throat, standing behind you silently before he taps your shoulder
you turn around, obviously not expecting him—because your eyes widen a bit when you see rin. and rin just...stares. he doesn't say anything, and it's like the two of you were sucked into a bubble, separating you from everyone else—you both stare at each other, blinking blankly and staying absolutely silent
"do you want to—"
"are you—"
rin wants to crawl into a hole and promptly pass away. he shakes his head, pressing his lips into a firm line before speaking again. the flush of embarrassment in your cheeks was making him feel flustered.
"sorry. i was asking if you wanted to be partners with me," he speaks. rin places an awkward palm on the nape of his neck, silently questioning where he got the sudden boost of confidence to approach you from, because it had suddenly, and very inconveniently, vanished into thin air—leaving him defenseless. you smile warmly at him, quickly moving over and beckoning to the open seat beside yours.
"yes! i'd love to be partners," you say, quickly closing your sketchbook and putting it away as he nods gratefully, taking the seat beside you.
"thank you," rin says. and then, it's quiet again. the tension is as thick as butter, and you look around awkwardly before laughing, nervously.
"so...do you know what we're supposed to be doing, itoshi-san?"
this was the first time you saw rin smile. and laugh. well, not laugh, per say. but he snorts, and it's almost as if he was surprised by his own reaction as he shakes his head with a soft grin.
"not a clue."
the rest of class consisted of the two of you leaning towards each other with bowed heads, you soft giggles and rin's low voice filling the void between you two.
—
itoshi rin has a friend.
this is what friends are, he decides. people who smile at you when they see you, people who help you with your homework and work with you on projects. slowly, but surely, fall turned into winter, and winter turned into spring. friendship is a blossoming thing, he decides, because it felt like every day that passed, you and rin became closer.
your guidance is what rin needs. direction and kindness—you helped rin navigate his own mind through art, a language he could use to spill his heart's deepest secrets. every stroke of his brush came straight from the core of his soul.
charcoal was his current medium of choice this friday afternoon. every harsh fingertip pressed into rin's paper and ever gentle brush of his knuckles against the page has its own meaning—its own purpose. his tongue is poked out in concentration, and you watch rin work quietly as the quiet sound of akamatsu sensei's record player filled the silence. rin thinks of the way your delicate fingers transverse and move when you make art, and he mimics your movements—your gentle voice reassuring him.
"beautiful," you breathe breathlessly, tentative hands carefully taking the thick paper rin hands you as you stare at the art piece he'd just created. a battle field—it's set up like a football field, but instead of players, there were towering presences instead. swords and shields, a storm in the background, long blades of grass and a constellation of stars—rin's spark and love for art had been rekindled.
"thank you, y/n. i...i couldn't have done any of this without you. you're the only reason i'm not failing right now, and the only reason i even got back into art." he says softly, voice almost sheepish as your eyes flit towards his—welling with pride.
"i wish i could frame this! it's beautiful...akamatsu sensei is going to be so proud of you, itoshi-san! this talent has always been with you. i just got the wheels rolling. you're very talented, i hope you understand." you smile softly, eyes crinkling with the motion as rin's heart rate spikes at the sight
"rin," he whispers, and you blink in confusion before he clarifies himself
"call me rin, please."
"oh! okay... okay, rin," you correct yourself with a smile, the familiar flush returning to your cheeks
if rin were to move even an inch closer to you, his knee would bump against yours under the table. rin is suddenly hyper aware of the space between you two. the music playing in the back ground fades to nothing, just like the world did when rin stares at you. your eyes soften, and rin's positive his heart is going to burst right out of his chest and fall into your hands if you keep looking at him.
friends don't want to kiss their friends. the realization is chilling, and rin's eyes dart towards your lips for a split second—he couldn't stop himself, and the sight makes his breath hitch. soft, pink, plump—he wants to kiss you. rin really wants to kiss you.
the screeching sound of his chair against the floor shatters the serene moment of peace. you blink rapidly from the loud interruption as rin wordlessly picks his bag off the floor, slinging it over his shoulder in a single, fluid motion before exiting the classroom with fast, purposeful steps. you're left stunned and alone, smile fading as he leaves without saying goodbye
alone again.
—
rin is not familiar with love, you have to understand this. you must.
in his eyes—love was a transaction. a give or take scenario, and if you can't give something useful—you get your heart trampled on. a certain brother taught rin that. he leaves school that day sullen and empty, his chest physically hurting as he walked home.
rin started ignoring you after that day.
he didn't show up to your after school tutoring sessions on friday anymore (no need to now that he's passing, right?), he stopped turning towards you when your english teacher told the class to partner up—and your seat in art class beside him was now occupied by his backpack, a clear message telling you he didn't want you sitting near him.
you have to understand—rin didn't have anything to give. he'd taken your kindness, your love, your guidance—but what did he have to offer? he's not very gentle, and as graceful as his movements may be on the field, he can't always control the bite in his words. and he's oddly sensitive. his humor borderlines between dry and downright crude, and he's not used to having a friend, forget a lover—so, itoshi rin will ignore you. he will love you from afar, but he won't so much as glance in your direction anymore, because he cares too much, and rin thinks you deserve better from someone who could love you gently. he doesn't thrive like you do, he destroys. and if there were one thing in the entire world rin wished to never taint with his darkness, it would be you.
"y/n,"
you glance away from rin's retreating figure. once again, he didn't bother to look at you all day or say goodbye—he simply left class. akamatsu sensei's voice pulls you away from rin as you quickly approach her desk, bowing your head in greeting.
"sensei," you greet with a small smile as her gaze softens. she hands you a slip of paper, her voice gentle as she speaks
"rin has been leaving class far too quickly for me to catch up with! would you be a dear and give this to him for me, please? it's a permission slip he must sign for our upcoming field trip,"
the words otsuka museum of art were printed neatly at the top. you'd been looking forward to this trip for months—you vaguely remember mentioning your excitement for it to rin at some point when he still spoke to you.
the otsuka museum of art scaled five floors—three underground and two above—of the richest art history ever. there were reportedly over a thousand paintings, masterpieces ranging from ancient times to the present day from all over the world. it was your dream to have your own art in a museum like the otsuka museum one day.
"okay! that's not a problem at all, akamatsu sensei," you reply softly, bidding her goodbye as she waves enthusiastically to you. you manage a meek wave, offering a weary smile as you exit the classroom.
this was your chance to talk to rin. determined to find him before he left school for the day, you move swiftly through the crowded hallways—keeping a firm grip on your tote bag and the slip of paper between your fingertips as you push open the front doors of the school—and there he is. his strides are long and leisurely as he walks on the sidewalk about a dozen meters away from you. your feet hit the pavement as you quickly make your way towards him. he doesn't look up from his path to the school's football field, hands remaining shoved deep in his pockets and completely unaware of your approaching steps.
"rin! rin, wait up!"
rin pauses mid step, and you watch every muscle in his back tense the moment your voice reached his ears. he swallows the lump forming in his throat, closing his eyes for a moment before reluctantly turning around. his eyes are round in an almost childlike manner as you approach him.
you take a deep breath before grabbing his hand—and rin is startled for a moment before you place the field trip slip in his hand. he blinks down at it in confusion, squinting at the small text before they widen a bit in realization
"akamatsu sensei couldn't give it to you earlier, so, uh, she asked me to," you quickly say, wringing your hands together nervously as rin stays silent, blinking at the paper in his hand.
"i...i'd be really happy if you came. of course, it's not a required trip, but..."
even though rin won't look at you, resorting to burning a hole through the paper slip in his hands again, so you continue with your words.
"rin, i don't know if i did something wrong to upset you, or if i said something you didn't like—but...i'm sorry."
rin's jaw clenches, and a frown digs its way onto his face as he stares at you. he shakes his head as if to say no, and just when he opens his mouth to say something in hopes to ease you—a loud voice comes barreling towards the two of you.
"itoshi! you're late! get onto the field now!"
rin's coach's voice is booming and demanding of everyone's attention—and you're startled enough to flinch. rin exhales sharply through his nose, a vein threatening to pop on his forehead as he fights to keep himself from cursing out his coach—something he has done many times before—for startling you.
"...we'll, uh, talk another time, all right?"
he doesn't seem to want to leave until he gets your confirmation, and you quickly nod
"i...okay."
rin frowns at your hesitance, taking a half hearted step back, sparing you one last glance, before walking away. his shoulders are slumping just the slightest bit with defeat, and you don't have the strength to keep watching. you begin the walk home, thoughts scattered and heart hurt.
—
thankfully, rin did show up the day of the trip.
your breath hitched when you saw him board the bus—his dark, inky strands mused from the wind outside as he huffed, handing akamatsu sensei his field trip form before he turned towards the open seats. yes, there was one right beside you—but rin took the seat on the other side of the aisle.
doing this, he kept himself both near you and faraway—you heart sinks at the silent rejection. you spend the bus ride sketching in your notebook, trying your best to not look at rin.
—
you fell asleep on the two hour drive there. rin thinks you look a lot like a baby when you sleep. your face is composed entirely of peace. your sketchbook lays idly in your lap, and rin frowns when he notices it's slipping from your grasp.
he waits for the bus to approach a red light before slipping into the vacant spot beside you. he grabs your sketchbook, prepared to close it and put it safely away into your tote bag, when he sees what you were drawing
it was him.
—
everyone arrives to the museum after another half an hour, and after going through security, your classmates and akamatsu sensei stand in the foyer—buzzing with excitement. you leave the group the second you're given the green light. everyone is given ninety minutes to explore the museum on their own before you all have to regroup and grab lunch. you slip away as quietly as you can, moving through the crowd of people in search of some much needed solitude.
you let out a breath of relief once you escape rin's presence. now, you can't see him at all—all you can see is the hundreds of art pieces and hallways waiting to be explored. your first step is hesitant as you remember how much you wanted to explore this beautiful building with rin just a month ago, but you take it anyway.
you move through the museum slowly, allowing your body to sink into the moment and absorb the entirely new world around you. the domed ceilings themselves have art painted on them, and you twirl and waltz through the halls, taking it all in.
your heartbeat calms. your nerves, fears, sadness—it fades to nothing as you take it all in. unbeknownst to you, rin follows you the entire time.
his movements are absolutely precise. he can duck behind a nearby family or statue the moment he anticipates your gaze nearing his vicinity. he keeps a healthy distance, his eyes never leaving your form.
there's a soft smile on your face as you explore the museum. rin can't help but watch the way you excitedly chat to the security guards posted by the arts and explain each piece's history. he watches your animated gestures to the enormous structures as you explain the myths and stories behind them.
you're far too kind. truthfully, rin thinks your heart is bigger than the entire museum—bigger than the entire world. you give, and you give, and you give—but you don't ask for anything in return. you're selfless, offering your sweet smiles to passerbys and dorky art facts to anyone willing to hear.
rin would soon learn the love you offered was unconditional.
you're moving from exhibit to exhibit before you finally enter an empty one. he stands by the entrance where your back is facing him. rin is nervous beyond belief, but he takes the step inside, anyway. you don't notice him at first, too busy staring at a painting much larger than you with a feverish type of awe.
he steps beside you, not meeting your gaze as he peers up at the painting with you. a man and a woman sit at a piano, playing together in harmony. they're in a ballroom of some sort, both dressed in formal wear. rin can tell they're in love with the way they look at each other.
"i'm sorry."
rin can feel you go rigid beside him—he can hear the silent hitch in your breath as you keep your gaze glued to the painting, your fingers tensing at your sides as rin looks away from the painting, turning towards you.
he takes a moment to admire you. your lips, your lashes, the slope of your nose and the curve of your neck—before speaking
"i'm not good with my emotions. i push people away before they get to close, but it was like you slipped through the gaps—i thought i'd hurt you if i stayed. but i think hurt you more by leaving. i like you, y/n. i like you more than any person i've ever known—and i...i think i might even love you,"
the words fall from his lips in a broken whisper, and he wants to reach out and play with your fingers—have something to fidget with as he awaits your response. he wasn't going to shy away from admitting his feelings anymore, that just wasn't him. the only reason he messed up with you the first time was because he's never been in love before. but, he was willing to learn everything about it with you—he didn't want to do it with anyone else.
this moment would forever be engraved into his heart, brain, and soul—rin is sure of it, because the sight of your face when you finally look at him steals the air from his lungs.
your lip trembles slightly in disbelief for a moment before you let out a soft laugh, the sound a melody all in its own to rin's ears as you smile with all your teeth.
his mouth slots over yours a moment later. soft and so, so sweet—itoshi rin's kiss was like pressing your mouth against the petal of a flower. his hands cradle your face, his breathing coming out uneven and quick—he kisses you hard, and you laugh into his mouth as your hands wrap around his neck. he tugs you infinitely closer, molding his form against yours.
"i love you too, rin!"
rin's eyes crinkle with a rare show of genuine joy. his gaze doesn't leave yours for even a moment as he watches your thumb gently caress his cheek, because in a room full of art—itoshi rin would rather look at you.
DO WE PREFER small text or big text. my recent post is small text but they're mostly in the bigger text...lmk if its hard to. read i kind of prefer the small now
you post the selfie on your story mindlessly. its one of those macbook photobooth pictures, the hoodie and tiny shorts you’re wearing scarcely cover your bare legs. wait. the hoodie.
you remember now. this hoodie that you’ve worn so many times it may as well be yours, except its not. and your ex, itoshi rin, would definitely recognize it as his. it’s the same stupidly perfect teal color as his eyes. the zipper at the bottom has been long broken, and the sleeves are a little burnt from the cigarette butts he would extinguish. the cotton is perfectly sun-faded, and if you close your eyes, it still smells like a little of mint and smoke. like him.
you vaguely wonder if you should take your story down. it’s a little too late though. your friends have already liked and commented, and over two hundred people have viewed it. it actually occurs to you that you should keep it posted, because what if he sees it? rin still follows you after all. would he swipe up and ask for his hoodie back? would he even care?
the only thing you can do now is sit and wait. you stalk your own story like a psycho. if rin wants his damn hoodie back, he’ll have to come and take it.
you’re lost in a memory of him when your phone buzzes. loud.
evil ex (i miss him): what the fuck is that my hoodie?
you: no “hello i missed you” ?
evil ex (i miss him): you’re insane.
you: and?
evil ex (i miss him): maybe i miss being driven crazy all the time?
hook, line, and sinker.
you: so like…if u want this hoodie back u gotta come take it off me :3
evil ex (i miss him): i hate you.
evil ex (i miss him): be ready in 10
a/n: let’s just say that rin got his hoodie back only temporarily. you took it from him again the next morning.
ılılılılılılı now playing: hoodie by hey violet
masterlist!
your face is a bit different, though, but satoru doesn’t care. he’ll take anything that resembles suguru.
you’re not quite like the person suguru used to be. maybe a little more fucked, given that you smoke with shoko all night. that’s all fine by satoru though. your eyes carry the same sparkle that suguru’s once did. you don’t say satoru’s name quite the same as suguru used to either, missing the softness at the first syllable, but it’s fine. maybe you’re what satoru wants this time.
above it all, you’re far too pretty, just like him. satoru couldn’t possibly stay only friends with someone like you for too long.
somewhere deep down inside of him, satoru knows that this isn’t right. it’s wrong. you’re wrong. but it’s worth it to him. he loves suguru you.
ılılılılılılı now playing: worth it by beabadoobee
pov ur name is tiff and u write some angsty bs everytime u listen to bea.
I found ur bllk boys in love hcs very yummy and awesomesauce ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
I don't really request often so this might not make sense (,,>﹏<,,)
I would like to request some hcs to how the bllk boys would react if the reader just so happened to be a HUGEEE Otaku/fangirl for them.
BUT (HEAR ME OUT!!) by using their social influence as their gf, they somehow managed to flood the stadium on one of their match days with a bunch of other fan girls and then they all collective cheer them on with lightsticks and stuff and it just lowk like some sort of concert or something
THIS PROBABLY DOESN'T MAKE SENSE IN GHE SLIGHTEST SO I APOLOGISE (╥﹏╥) but at the same time m really curios so
>⩊< blue lock boys vs fangirl gf
“we’re soccer players, not idols!”
ft: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, nagi seishiro
note: this is still neo-egoist arc because i’m not caught up with manga…
itoshi rin didn’t think he’d ever see people with hoodies of him. as he stares at the crowd in the stadium, he’s not really sure how it got so out of hand. it looks like the audience is here for a k-pop concert; because why in the world were there neon green lightsticks in the sea of people? but then his teal eyes land on you, his adoring girlfriend, and it all clicks for him. you’re beaming down on him, far too happy wearing his jersey and…why are you holding an american flag with his face screen printed on it? rin bites back a smile. oh, he is going to kill you for that later.
the match is a blowout and rin scores a season high for goals. when the media begins to swarm him, rin elbows his way through the masses to you, but instantly regrets it. oh you little shit, you’re giggling and brandishing your hello kitty hairclips at him.
“no,” he deadpans.
“yes,” you shoot back. his resistance is very much futile: you have him clipped and flushed hot pink in less than sixty seconds. for good measure, you snap a picture of him in his current state.
“you’re dead,” rin warns.
he opens his phone later to find #SOFTRIN trending on all platforms.
itoshi sae loves his girlfriend very much. he’ll groan at but tolerate all of your little whims, from the cardboard cutout you have of him (you miss him while he’s away!) to the chibi plushies of him, but this is just insane. sae looks into the crowd and you’ve somehow managed to spell “I <3 SAE” with people. there are signs with his face and pink ribbons decorating them. there are elegant pink lightsticks that look like fairy wands. sae still has a couple minutes before he has to go on field, so he sends you a text.
sae: amor, what the hell am i seeing right now?
you: let’s just say i called in the itoshi sae fanclub…
sae: you're lucky you're cute
he’s sighing before he even realizes it.
michael kaiser is perplexed. flat-out confusion riddles his usually calculated expression.
“ness, what the fuck are those?” he asks, pointing at something in the stands. michael knows somehow that this is your doing, it has to be. “i think they call them pickets,” ness answers, frowning at the sight. the two glare at the hundreds of lace adorned pink fans with michael’s smirking face on them. “yeah, this is definitely something she would do,” ness concludes, jealousy tinting his voice. “i could do it better though.”
“you’re my dog, not my fangirl!” michael grimaces at the too-pink stadium. really, why did they have to put ribbons on his picture?
post-match and he’s greeted by you, smiling. he arches a brow. “baby, i know i’m the emperor, but this is too much.”
“you didn’t even enjoy it a little bit?” you tease, waving your own picket at him. michael winces when he sees that you’d put glitter all over it.
“i will allow you to tarnish my beautiful image with your little decorations,” he settles.
nagi seishiro blinks up wearily at the bright lights. too bright, the boy thinks. it’s so blinding that he doesn’t really register the fact that there’s cardboard cutouts of his face floating amongst the crowd. huh. as far as nagi could tell, there wasn’t really anything special about today. he has to blink again when he hears the chanting coming from the crowd.
“NA-GI SEI-SHI-RO!” it sounds like a fanchant, something he only knows from going to k-pop concerts with you. “WE LOVE YOU SEI!” he hears you yell. that gets him going, and he thinks that this might be the best he’s played all season.
come halftime, he hears “NAGI, DO YOUR AEGYO!” from you. the term aegyo rings a bell in seishiro’s mind. that was the finger heart stuff, right? he looks up and you’re already making the half heart with your hands. sei lazily throws up the other half, and the crowd goes wild. the big screen cuts between shots of you and him.
later that day, he’s napping when you wake him up. “sei, look!” you exclaim, thrusting your phone into his hands. seishiro is still sleepy but he obliges, squinting at the screen. there’s hundreds of edits of you and him with those darn finger hearts. “cute, right?” you ask, legs swinging from the edge of his bed.
“yep, now let’s go back to sleep,” he grumbles, dragging you into the blankets with him.
ılılılılılılı now playing: STYLE by hearts2hearts
masterlist!
a/n: thank u for the cute req! i saw this and i was like YESS hopefully this is right. i wasn't sure which characters you wanted so i hope this is okay :3 FOR VISUALIZATION PURPOSES HERE IS THE KAISER PICKET IN QUESTION:
he watches the clip over and over again—the blurry clip of you denying any sort of relationship you have with sae. the paparazzi had managed to force an answer out of you through consistent harassment and stalking.
“he’s my friend! please, just leave me alone. we’re really just friends.”
just friends his ass.
it’s a mistake on sae’s part; to go out in public with nothing but you by his side and not expect the paparazzi to catch on. but he doesn’t expect them to be this annoying.
sae doesn’t want to hide anything. he doesn’t want to hide how much he loves you, or that he’s taken. he’s sick and tired of opening twitter and seeing horny posts about him. he’s tired of parasocial fans acting like he’s their’s.
sae is yours. not anyone else’s.
which is why he arrives at your apartment uncalled for with no shame, taking your wrist and dragging you out. “c’mon, we’ve got stuff to do.”
“wah—sae!” you exclaimed. “we can’t be seen, the paparazzi are gonna—“
“that’s exactly why we’re going out, you idiot. just trust me.” he brings you to a fairly public area, with dozens of people around. as expected, sae already hears the click of cameras.
sae hates pda.
which is why you’re completely puzzled when his hand cups the back of your neck, and crashes his lips onto yours. no warning, no preparation.
the paparazzi look utterly horrified. a few passerby look ready to cry. meanwhile, sae only pulls away when his hands tangle your hair and your knees are almost giving out.
sae’s eyes find a paparazzi hidden within the crowd, and he sticks up his middle finger.
ITOSHI SAE IS TAKEN—WHAT THIS MEANS FOR THE FUTURE OF THE SPORTS INDUSTRY
ITOSHI SAE AND HIS BOLD DISPLAY OF PUBLIC AFFECTION
ITOSHI SAE FANS ARE HEARTBROKEN AFTER THE REVEAL OF HIS RELATIONSHIP
“sae, is this really okay? you just lost half your fanbase, and the other half is going to murder me.” you mutter, head on his shoulder.
“just don’t worry, cariño, i’ve got the rest handled.” sae hums. well, more like his manager, but the point still stands.
“but sae—“
“listen,” he cupped your face. “i don’t give two shits about what the paparazzi or my fans think. i don’t give two shits about how jealous they are. but don’t ever downgrade me to ‘just a friend’ ever again.”
he brought your hands to his lips, kissing each and every single knuckle. “because friends—
aka: how they act when whipped
ft: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, otoya eita, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito
itoshi rin refuses to say “i love you,” but it’s blatantly obvious when he allows you, and only you, to mess with his soft black locks, pushing back strays of his bangs. he’ll look at you with utter adoration as you pin one of your pink makeup clips to him, so he can “see better,” even if his teammates tease him later for it. when he inevitably scores the winning goal of a close and heated match, he’ll always glance over in your direction, to make sure you’re watching. and you always are, beaming with pride when rin kisses the toy kuromi ring he wears on his fourth finger—and of course a matching my melody one adorns your own hand.
itoshi sae doesn’t say “i love you,” but he might as well scream it to the entire world with how delicate he is when he clips the clasp of your necklace in place, adjusting it so it’s centered just the way you like it. near his own collarbone lays the other half of the set which he had custom made for you two. he’ll smile at you, filled with awe as he watches you apply the finishing touches of your makeup. sae’s not really sure what it does but he thinks you’re absolutely breathtaking either way. he think’s you’ll look even better with a ring on your finger. soon.
michael kaiser can’t say “i love you.” he truly cannot, no matter how much he wants to tell you—so he lets you do his eyeliner instead, pestering you not to smudge the pointed crimson edges. “liebe, the corners. they need to be sharp enough to slit the throats of my enemies,” he murmurs, staring at you whilst you work. you bite back with something about how ness could do his eyes instead, and michael shudders at the thought. ness? you’re the only one he’d ever let touch his face.
otoya eita won’t say “i love you,” but he makes sure you feel it. it’s not overnight, but his habits begin changing for the better. the girls in his phone slowly dissappear, until you’re the only one left. the flirting with randoms comes to a halt, and he finds himself thinking about you as his girlfriend, for real. your hand is the only one that eita will hold, your eyes the only ones he’ll stare into.
nagi seishiro isn’t really sure what it means to say “i love you.” he’s thought about it before, lazily wondering if the words are something he should say to you. he’s heard it in plenty of movies, after all. but, he thinks, as he’s nestled in your arms like a cat, maybe he doesn’t even need words to convey how he feels. the soft routine you’d fallen into, gentle touches and cozy evenings, they were worth an “i love you,” and more.
karasu tabito is scared to say “i love you.” having never seen himself as enough, he hesitates to believe that you could truthfully love him, with all his flaws, back. you’re a divine goddess and he’s just…a mediocre dude. but when he lets his walls down for you, when he finally stops pretending, the difference is louder than words. he’ll finally take you to his hometown in osaka, which he thought was mediocre as well–not touristy enough like tokyo. but, the the ordinary feels extraordinary with you.
masterlist!
a/n: hey...found this in my drafts and finished!! idrmb what inspired this anymore. when i say rin REFUSES to say ily i mean it in a way like he gets easily embarrassed and self conscious if he does.
