・❥・sfw whatever could a pretty boy be doing all by himself so late at night? it's best you keep him company. maybe you'll both even learn a thing or two <3
the field was empty except for him.
you noticed that first, before you noticed anything else. the absence of other people, the way the space felt almost private despite being a public training ground. then you noticed the ball. then you noticed the person kicking it.
then you stopped noticing anything else entirely.
he was running a solo drill at the far end, something precise and repetitive that looked deceptively simple until you watched it long enough to realise that no, actually, it was not simple at all. every touch landed exactly where he seemed to intend it. every pass he sent against the rebound board returned to his foot like it owed him something. he had reddish-brown hair pushed back from his face by exertion, slim eyes that caught the low afternoon light even from this distance, and the kind of lean build that looked almost too elegant to be athletic until he moved.
when he moved, he looked like he had been assembled specifically for this purpose.
you sat down on the low wall running along the pitch's edge, crossed your arms, and watched for a solid two minutes before deciding this was the most productive use of your afternoon you'd encountered all week.
eventually your conscience, such as it was, suggested that staring at a man from a distance without his knowledge was a little weird.
you were, as usual, only half convinced.
"hey," you called out.
he didn't stop. didn't even look up.
"hey, football guy."
the ball hit the rebound board. he received it, pivoted, sent it again.
you cupped your hands around your mouth. "i'm talking to you."
he finally paused. turned his head. looked at you with an expression that could most charitably be described as deeply unimpressed, and less charitably as, why is this person existing near me.
"i'm practising," he said. his japanese was clean, almost formal.
"i can see that." you hopped off the wall and walked toward him at a pace you hoped read as casual rather than purposeful, because you had absolutely no business walking onto this field. "i was wondering if you wanted company."
"no."
"right." you stopped a few feet away, close enough to get a better look at him and immediately understand that the distance had been underselling it. up close he was, frankly, a lot. the teal eyes were striking, framed by long underlashes that softened what was otherwise a very cool, very composed face. he was watching you with something that was not quite irritation, not quite curiosity, hovering somewhere between the two. "do you want to play a match?"
there was a beat of silence.
"with you," he said.
"with me."
he looked at you for a moment the way a person might look at a pigeon that had just confidently walked into a restaurant. "can you play?"
you tilted your head to one side, considering. "define play."
his jaw shifted slightly. "have you ever kicked a football with intention?"
"i've kicked a lot of things with intention. footballs specifically…" you gestured vaguely. "the intention was always there. the result was more of a surprise every time."
something moved through his expression too quickly for you to catch. he turned back toward the rebound board. "no."
"come on." you fell into step beside him, matching his pace to the board even though he had not invited you to. "i'm not asking you to go easy on me. i'm asking for a match. whatever happens, happens."
"what happens would be that it's a waste of my time."
"your time," you said pleasantly, "is currently being spent passing a ball at a wall by yourself. i'm not sure the bar for waste is that high."
he stopped walking.
you kept going, picked up the ball from where it had come to rest near the board, and turned back to face him with it tucked under your arm. he was staring at you with an expression that seemed to be recalibrating something.
"give me the ball," he said.
"come play a match with me and i will."
the silence stretched long enough that you genuinely thought he might just leave. walk off the field, collect whatever he had come with, disappear. he looked like a man who had done exactly that to people before.
instead he said, "one half. fifteen minutes."
you smiled. "i mean, i would've accepted ten. but sure, fifteen, let's really commit."
"you're going to lose."
"obviously." you tossed him the ball. "but at least i'll have something to think about later."
he caught it without looking at it, eyes still on you. there it was again, that expression, the slight recalibration. like you'd said something in a language he hadn't expected to encounter.
the match was, in every technical sense, a disaster.
not a humiliating disaster. you had enough coordination to chase the ball, to occasionally redirect it, to throw yourself in front of a pass with enough enthusiasm that it counted for something. but he was operating on a completely different plane of existence. his movement was frictionless. the way he controlled the ball felt almost like cheating, like the physics of it bent slightly in his favour. you watched him pivot once with the ball moving faster than your eyes entirely tracked and made a noise that was, objectively, involuntary.
"that's…" you stopped chasing and stood with your hands on your knees, catching your breath. "that's honestly kind of obscene."
he had the ball. he looked at you. "what?"
"the way you move with that thing." you straightened up. "nobody should be allowed to be that smooth. it's indecent."
a pause. "it's technique."
"right." you started jogging back toward him. "is that what you call it. technique."
"what would you call it?"
you looked at him with great sincerity. "i'd call it foreplay, but i wasn't sure you'd know what that was."
the expression that crossed his face was, without question, the most entertaining thing you had witnessed in recent memory. it was not a blush, nothing so uncool as that. it was more a very brief, very controlled moment where his composure gathered itself like a cat that had slipped off a counter and needed a second to pretend it meant to do that.
he said nothing.
you grinned and made a run for the ball. he let you have it, which you understood even in the moment was an act of deliberate mercy, and you sent it sailing in a direction that had very little to do with any goal.
"you're not focusing," he said.
"i'm very focused," you said. "just not on the ball."
he retrieved it. when he came back, there was something different in the way he was watching you, a small shift from the total blankness of before. not warmth, exactly. more like attention. the real kind, the kind that notices.
"who are you," he said. it wasn't entirely a question.
"someone who sat on a wall and saw a guy being impressive by himself and thought, that seems like a waste." you shrugged. "you?"
he was quiet for a moment. "itoshi sae."
the name meant nothing to you. you nodded. "i'm going to tell you right now that i'm terrible with names so i'm going to call you 'football guy' in my head for at least the next week."
"don't."
"it's affectionate."
"it's wrong."
"so correct me when i use it out loud." you tilted your head. "which means you're planning on us talking again."
he looked at you for a long, steady moment. the late light was doing something generous to his face, pulling out the warmth in his hair, making those pale eyes seem almost soft. he was so composed, so deliberately contained, that the small thing that happened next felt enormous.
he picked up the ball. turned it once in his hands. then, without quite meeting your eyes, said, "your footwork needs work."
"my footwork needs a miracle."
"i could…" he stopped. seemed to decide something. "you hold the ball wrong when you receive it."
you blinked. "are you offering to teach me?"
"i'm telling you what's wrong."
"right, but in a way that implies you'd like to fix it."
another long pause. "maybe."
you let that sit in the air between you, resisting the urge to press. he was, you understood already, a person who would close a door if you pushed it too hard. you had gotten further than he had intended to let anyone get in fifteen minutes on a public training ground, and there was something almost careful in how he was standing now, the closed posture cracked open just a fraction.
"that sounds like a reason to come back," you said finally.
he bounced the ball once against the pitch, a single clean sound in the quiet air. not agreement, not refusal.
just a door, left slightly open.
you picked up your bag from the wall where you'd dropped it, pulled out your phone, and held it toward him. "give me your number, football guy."
he took the phone. typed something. handed it back.
the contact read: itoshi sae. not football guy.
you laughed, quiet and genuine, and he was already turning back toward the rebound board as if the whole exchange hadn't happened. but you caught it anyway, in the last second before he moved, the almost-invisible curve at the corner of his mouth, there and gone so quickly you could have convinced yourself you imagined it.
you didn't imagine it.
you walked home with that small, stubborn almost-smile living in your chest, warm and unhurried, the way things feel when you don't yet know how large they're going to grow.
an: not even gonna lie i had so much fun writing this. change from the usual smut but ts has me giggling like i got a crush for the first time :p expect a pt 2 <3
Rin Itoshi and the way he shows affection through your favorite food or drink. Just sliding a specific snack across the table without a word, his expression cold and bored, muttering a lie about it being a "mistake" because he'd rather die than admit that he stood in the store aisle for minutes just to find the exact one you like.
Rin Itoshi and the way he stiffens the moment you lean against him, his entire body going rigid. He always complains about you being clingy, but he never moves away. Instead, he subconsciously tilts his head toward you, letting himself be soft only for you.
Rin Itoshi and the way he walks beside you always half a step ahead, acting like he's in a rush. The moment you lag behind he stops dead in his tracks and waits silently for you, unable to move forward unless you're with him.
Rin Itoshi and the way he pulls you into his insane routines. Forcing you to do yoga or stretch with him under the guise that your posture is terrible and it annoys him. Pushing you down gently but firmly by your shoulders, his hands lingering a bit too long on your skin and his breathing rough against your ear as he guides your movements. That may lead to something else..
Rin Itoshi and the way he forces you to rest the moment he decides you've been working too hard. Ignoring your protests and pushing your head down onto his lap as his pretty fingers tangle into your hair to keep you pinned there.
Rin Itoshi and the way he guides you through a crowd by resting his hand on the back of your neck, fingers digging slightly into your skin. Steering you through the rush, his eyes glaring at anyone who dares to get too close to you.
Rin Itoshi and the way he gets angry when you say something bad about yourself, like you said the stupidest thing in the world. He'll just stare you down and tell you that his standards are high and the fact that he chose you means you're perfect.
Rin Itoshi and the way he uses his sharp tongue to hide his worry for you. Snapping at you for being careless or frowning deeply the second you look tired. Instead, he may shove a drink in your hand with an annoyed look, refusing to look away until your color comes back. He acts like your weakness irritates him but your well-being is the only thing he's truly focused on.
Rin Itoshi and the way he reacts when you compliment him. His eyes widening before he quickly turns his head, an angry flush creeping up his neck and ears. Scowling at you or calling you an idiot for stating the obvious. A single compliment from you is all it takes to completely shatter his composure.
Rin Itoshi and the way he lingers by the door when he needs to leave, staring down at you with an intense, irritated look until you finally take the hint and go to kiss him goodbye, only for him to grip your chin and deepen the kiss aggressively because he hates the thought of leaving you for a long period of time.
Rin Itoshi and the way he acts jealous by stepping right into your space as his shoulder is blocking you from their view. Glaring at them and holding your fingers tight. He's claiming you as his without ever having to say a word.
Rin Itoshi and the way he cuddles you at night, holding you against his chest the second you try to move away. His grip tight even in his sleep, locking you against him like you might vanish. Holding you this close is his only security.
Rin Itoshi and the way he invades your space. Kicking your feet out of the way on the couch only to rest his own heavy legs over yours, leaving you no room to move away from him. Acting like he's taking up space when he really just makes sure every part of him is touching you.
Rin Itoshi and the way he gets competitive over your attention. He will narrow his eyes the moment you start mentioning someone else, interrupting you to desperately pull your focus back to him. He needs to be the only thing you ever think about.
Rin Itoshi and the way he claims your things. Taking your keys or your phone out of your hands and casually dropping them into his own pockets when you're out together. Acting like it's just because you're careless and might lose them, when really he just likes the subtle control of carrying your world around in his jacket.
When the two of you found out you were having a daughter you were beyond excited even if Sae didn't show it.
Sae was an excellent provider, allowing you to stay home and grow your child while he took care of all of the logistics. You even noticed how he'd come home earlier to be there for you through all your moods.
And right now you were sitting on the couch with your laptop on your belly and a bowl of strawberries topped with whipped cream next to you while you shopped for items to put in the nursery.
Sae had just gotten out the shower and moved to sit behind me, pulling me in his lap.
You saw him eye the bowl with a hint of dissapointment but you trained him early in your pregnancy to not comment on your dietary choices, something that was very difficult for the professional athlete.
He rubbed your belly as he looked at the laptop screen, "find anything you like?"
"I like this changing table, but it's $350," you said, showing him a white and gold ornate changing table which was handmade with real wood and iron. "But there's another one from Walmart that's only $50." I switched the tab.
"Money's no issue, we aren't getting something cheap for our daughter." Sae fed you one of the God-forsaken strawberries and reached over to add it to the cart.
"Put some stuff in the cart for yourself too, you know I love to see you treat yourself." And when you hesitated he reached around you and added some things on your wishlist to the cart and bought it.
"Sae, you know I don't need all this."
"What's the point of me working if my wife can't treat herself?"
Sae Itoshi, a wonderful husband and you knew he'd be an even better father.
2k followers event, request no. 15: While cleaning Rin's room, you accidentally discover a hidden folder filled with his childhood photos and suddenly, the cold, intimidating striker becomes the cutest thing you've ever seen.
You were not supposed to find that folder.
Actually according to Rin, it was supposed to stay buried, locked, sealed, burned and thrown off the edge of the earth.
But too bad for him... you were cleaning his drawers. And when you opened a random drawer in his room, you found a neatly labeled USB drive.
Rin 0–10
Your eyes widen.
"...No way," you whisper and plug it in your computer.
A folder pops up.
Inside hundreds, hundreds of baby, toddler, and little kid Rin pictures.
That's when it happens.
You actually clutch your chest like you've been stabbed by cuteness.
"OH. MY. GOD. RIN. ITOSHI. YOU WERE A WHOLE MOCHI BALL—WHAT THE HELL—LOOK AT THIS FACE—LOOK AT YOU—YOU WERE BITEABLE!!!"
On the other hand Rin has just come out of shower, with towel around his neck, totally worried.
"Why are you screaming?"
Then he sees it, the screen, his baby face, and you violently pointing at the monitor like you've just discovered the meaning of life.
Rin freezes.
"No"
You whip around so fast the chair nearly tips over.
"RIN!"
His eye twitches.
You point at the screen with trembling fingers.
"YOU WERE A BABY."
"...Everyone was."
"NOT THIS CUTE."
You click another picture.
Tiny Rin sitting on a blanket in the grass, his cheeks so round they look VERY squeezable. His dark hair sticks up in every direction while he stares into the camera with a confused expression.
You gasp so loudly Rin physically flinches.
"Oh my God. YOU LOOK LIKE A LITTLE DUMPLING."
Rin immediately turns around.
"You sound insane."
"I AM FEELING LIKE I'M GOING INSANE." You clutch your chest dramatically. " BECAUSE LOOK AT YOUR FACE."
Rin groans and covers his ears, "Stop screaming."
But totally ignoring him, you click through another picture.
And another and another.
Tiny Rin holding a toy fox, tiny Rin wearing a dinosaur shirt, tiny Rin asleep in a car seat, tiny Rin covered in cake frosting, tiny Rin laughing.
Just tiny Rin being genuinely happy.
You feel tears gathering in your eyes as you point at the screen. "He smiled, he was happy, he had joy."
Rin immediately reaches for the mouse.
You yank it away.
"NO."
"Give it."
"NEVER."
"Give me the mouse."
Rin grabs the armrest of your chair but you cling to the desk.
A brief struggle begins, one that would probably look ridiculous to anyone watching.
An elite striker worth millions wrestling his girlfriend over childhood photos.
Eventually you win through sheer insanity and Rin loses because he's afraid you'll hurt yourself and break the computer, so he lets go.
You grin victoriously. "I am keeping these."
"They're mine."
"They're mine now."
"They are absolutely not yours."
"They became mine when I fell in love with you."
"That's not how ownership works.
""It does, for ne."
Rin stares as you smile sweetly at him. He hates how often that smile works.
Anyways, ignoring his glare you click another picture.
In this picture baby Rin is fast asleep. His one tiny fist tucked against his cheek, his lips slightly parted, his blanket is tangled around him.
Completely defenseless, completely adorable.
You stare and point at the screen again, you hand is shaking.
Rin just closes his eyes.
"Look at him."
"No."
"I said LOOK!"
Against his better judgment, Rin glances, for one brief second, and immediately looks away again.
Because even he can admit, he had been a cute kid.
Rin sighs heavily but then you say the words that nearly stop his heart.
"I want our babies to look exactly like you."
Rin freezes because his brain has short-circuited. His ears are red too.
The kind of red he absolutely hates because you always notice.
And of course to his horror, you notice again.
"Oh my God."
"Don't."
"You're blushing."
"I'm not."
"Rin, you are literally red."
Rin turns away, which only confirms it.
You grin wickedly and walk toward him like a determined menace.
By the time you reach him, he's backed himself into the side of the bed.
You poke his cheek softly and his face immediately hardens.
But he doesn't move away.
"At least two."
His eyes widen.
"...What?"
"Children."
Rin nearly chokes and you laugh so hard that you nearly fall over again.
Rin watches you and despite all his complaints, all the embarrassment, his chest feels warm.
Because you're looking at those photos like they're priceless, like every version of him matters. Like not just the player, the striker, the version the world knows of him is only important.
Your laughter slowly quiets down as you lean against him, still smiling.
Still holding the mouse like a weapon.
Rin wraps an arm around your waist without thinking.
You immediately notice and grin."You love me."
"...Unfortunately."
The answer comes so quickly that you burst out laughing again making him roll his eyes.
Then you glance at the screen again and your eyes sparkle with dangerous ideas.
Rin recognizes that look instantly and immediately feels fear.
"Don't."
You look innocent. "I didn't say anything."
"Don't."
"What if Sae—"
"Absolutely not."
"But, he deserves to see—"
"No."
"The world deserves to see—"
"No."
"The future children—"
"NO."
You laugh so hard tears gather in your eyes.
And before you can continue your evil plans, Rin lunges forward. And the next thing you know, you're both tumbling onto the bed.
You squeal as he steals the mouse.
You try grabbing it back and he catches both your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head.
A few strands of his hair fall into his eyes, which is still slightly damp from the shower, as his face hovers inches from yours.
"Listen carefully."
You immediately start smiling, because whenever Rin gets serious like this, he's usually about to lose.
"I am not cute."
You snort.
"And I definitely was not a dumpling."
You completely lose it and laughter explodes out of you.
Rin's expression darkens, embarrassed.
Because he knows you're never letting this go, ever.
Years from now you'll still be talking about it. You'll probably show them to your children. You'll probably make albums heck you'll probably frame one and the thought alone makes him want to disappear.
But at the same time—
The image of you showing those photos to your future kids while laughing together settles somewhere warm inside his chest.
A future, a home a family. With you.
His grip softens.
You smile up at him and brush a strand of hair away from his face. "You're precious, you know that?"
Rin's throat tightens as his eyes flick away.
"...Shut up."
But there's no bite behind the words. Only embarrassment and the quiet vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see.
You lean forward and kiss his cheek.
His ears immediately turn red again.
And when you laugh softly, he buries his face against your shoulder in defeat.
"...You're impossible."
You wrap both arms around him, holding him close, smiling into his hair."Maybe."
Rin lets out a long sigh, the kind that says he's accepted his fate.
Because the photos aren't getting deleted, the folder isn't staying hidden anymore.
And for the rest of his life, you're probably going to remind him that he was once an absurdly cute little boy with round cheeks and with a stuffed owl.
A horrifying future, truly.
Yet as he quietly folds himself closer against you, listening to your happy laughter fill the room, Rin finds that he doesn't really mind.
you don’t realize how important lunch is until you’re wandering around thinking about how unloveable and untalented and uniquely cursed you are and then it’s 4pm and you finally eat lunch and you go Oh. oh right.
wow dude jts so awesome that your car is loud as fuck and smells worse when it drives past. thags fucking epic man. i really like how it hurts to listen to you drive past and it scares people. thats awesome man. i really like your car that makes a loud as fuck fart sound. fucking epic dude
The chapel smelled like lilies and expensive perfume. Too clean. Too polished. Like someone had scrubbed every ugly feeling from the room and hidden it beneath white satin ribbons and decided that was enough
Shoko Ieiri sat in front of the mirror while makeup artists fluttered around her like anxious birds. Someone adjusted the veil in her hair. Someone else asked if the lipstick was too dark.
Shoko barely heard them.
All she could hear was the thoughts pounding in her head. The words that kept repeating in the back of her mind.
'You're not gonna like it'
'You're gonna destroy yourself'
'Please Ieiri.'
Low. Warm. Familiar enough to hurt.
“You okay?” one of the stylists asked gently, fixing her hair. Making a few adjustments
“Perfect,” she answered automatically, lighting another cigarette before three horrified assistants immediately begged her not to smoke in the bridal suite.
Right. Bridal suite. Wedding day.
She stared at herself in the mirror again.
White dress. Diamond earrings. A woman about to marry Kiyotaka Ijichi.
A woman who had spent years insisting she was normal.
The word tasted rotten now.
—
“You ever think you’re avoiding something?”
The memory hit her suddenly.
It had been two years ago. The moonlight spilling through the windows while the city drowned in neon outside. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing one of her old hoodies and looking at her with that infuriatingly gentle expression.
Shoko had hated that look.
Because it made her honest.
“No,” she’d muttered, exhaling smoke as she leaned against the railing of the balcony.
Keeping the balcony door open so she could hear the same conversation you guys had multiple times again.
You smiled sadly. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You won’t even hold my hand in public.”
The room had gone quiet after that.
Shoko remembered the ache in her chest. The panic. The awful, suffocating feeling clawing up her throat every time someone looked at the two of you for too long.
Because loving you had felt natural.
Too natural.
And that terrified her.
She had spent her whole life understanding bodies. Flesh. Bones. Blood. She could split a human being open and name every wound without flinching.
But herself?
She couldn’t dissect that.
Couldn’t name the thing she felt when you smiled at her.
Couldn’t survive what it might mean.
“You should date someone better,” she’d said finally.
Your face had fallen instantly. “Ieiri—”
“I’m serious.”
“You love me.”
"I swear i don't."
—
“Ms. Shoko?”
Someone touched her shoulder, pulling her back to the present.
“It’s time.”
Right.
Of course it was.
Shoko stood slowly, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her dress. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked toward the chapel doors.
Every step felt mechanical.
Outside, music swelled softly from the orchestra. Guests smiled. Candles flickered gold against stained glass.
Beautiful.
Dead.
When the doors opened, everyone turned toward her.
Shoko’s eyes instinctively searched the crowd.
And there you were.
Back row.
Like a knife straight through her ribs.
You looked devastating, beautiful, so perfect.
Not because of the dress you wore. Not because your hair was perfect or your expression carefully blank.
But because you looked like someone who had finally learned how to survive heartbreak.
That was new.
You used to look at Shoko like she hung the moon.
Now you looked tired. Polite. Done.
Like someone who was sick of the constant back and forth you both would do. Tired of how Shoko would speak to Ichiji so sweetly as they were officially putting a label on themselves while at the same time crawling over to your place by night.
The realization nearly made her stumble.
At the altar, Ijichi smiled nervously the moment he saw her approaching. Sweet man. Reliable. Kind.
Safe.
That was why she chose him.
Because he loved her in a way that asked for nothing ugly. Nothing difficult. Nothing that forced her to peel herself open and confront the truth.
A husband was easy.
You were not.
As the officiant spoke, Shoko barely registered the words, her gaze kept drifting back to you.
You wouldn’t look at her anymore.
And suddenly she remembered last night.
Last night where she should've been in the same house as her husband. Her love. The one she chose.
Yet she was there at your place.
There under the excuse that it's bad luck to see her Fiancee before her wedding.
The sheets crumbled, clothes scattered on the floor, Your fingers on her chest while you whispered against her mouth.
“Tell me to stay.”
She had wanted to.
She had wanted to beg.
But fear had always arrived first.
Fear of being seen. Fear of needing you too much.
So she pushed you away instead.
Over. And over. And over.
Until eventually—
You left.
The officiant smiled warmly. “Do you, Shoko Ieiri, take Kiyotaka Ijichi to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
The chapel went silent.
Shoko opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because across the room, you finally looked at her.
Not angry. Not hopeful. Just disapointed
Like you already knew what she was about to do to herself.
"Good luck, babe!"
The words echoed in her skull like a curse.
The memory of how you both smiled and laughed at the song as you both listened to it, swearing you both would never end up like that.
Now she regretted every moment.
Good luck pretending.
Good luck convincing yourself this is enough.
Good luck spending the rest of your life waking beside someone safe while mourning someone real.
Her chest tightened violently.
Ijichi’s smile faltered. “Ieiri…?”
Everyone was staring now.
But all she could think about was you crying quietly in her apartment after the breakup while she stood there pretending not to care. How she almost ran after you. How she still dreamed about you.
How every cigarette since tasted wrong because your perfume no longer clung to her clothes.
Shoko inhaled shakily.
No one noticed the way Shoko’s fingers trembled inside her bouquet.
No one noticed how she couldn’t stop staring at you.
“Do you, Shoko Ieiri, take Kiyotaka Ijichi to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
The officiant’s voice echoed softly through the chapel as he asked again, a bit confused. everyone was.
Shoko should’ve looked at Ijichi.
Instead, her eyes found yours immediately.
There it was again. That awful ache. The same one she’d carried for years like a bullet lodged too deep to remove.
You didn’t smile at her.
Didn’t plead. Didn’t look angry anymore.
You just looked heartbroken in the quietest way possible, like you’d already accepted this.
Shoko thought that should’ve made things easier.
It didn’t.
Because suddenly she remembered everything all at once—
Your head in her lap while she smoked by the window.
Your laughter filling her apartment at 2 a.m.
The way you used to kiss the mole beneath her eye like it was something precious instead of ugly.
The night you whispered,
“You don’t have to be afraid of this.”
And how she responded by pulling away from you like your love was something dangerous.
Not because loving you was wrong, but because loving you felt irreversible.
She could survive monsters. Death. Blood. Autopsies. Curses.
But being known? Being loved by another woman so completely it unraveled her from the inside out?
Being out where everyone could see her? She felt the looks of judgement from a mile away.
That terrified her.
So she left first.
She told herself it was practical.
Temporary.
Necessary.
But when she heard you stopped asking about her—
That was when panic finally settled into her bones.
The officiant smiled patiently. “Shoko?”
The entire chapel waited.
And Shoko kept staring at you.
Your expression carefully blank, but your eyes—
Your eyes begged her not to do this. Not verbally.
You’d never humiliate her like that.
But she knew you too well.
Knew every tiny crack in your composure.
You were waiting for her to choose herself. Just once.
Shoko’s throat tightened.
If she said no now, everything would shatter.
The ceremony.
Her reputation.
The years she spent constructing this version of herself everyone understood.
The safe version.
The acceptable one.
A piece of her still wanted that safety.
Even now.
Even while looking directly at the person she loved most.
Her chest hurt so badly she thought she might collapse.
“I do.”
The words sliced clean through the room.
Through you. Through her.
Your face changed instantly.
It was subtle. Most people wouldn’t notice.
But Shoko noticed everything about you.
The way your mouth parted slightly.
The way your shoulders stiffened.
The way something in your eyes finally died.
Still—
You smiled.
A tiny, polite smile.
Like you were helping her pretend this didn’t hurt.
That nearly destroyed her right there at the altar.
The ceremony continued around her in muffled fragments.
More vows. More applause.
A ring sliding onto her finger that felt less like devotion and more like a handcuff.
Through all of it, she kept finding you in the crowd.
Like a wound she couldn’t stop pressing. Like a scab she wouldn't stop peeling and tearing at.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Ijichi leaned forward gently.
Kindly.
And Shoko let him kiss her.
Because that’s what brides were supposed to do.
She was a bride. For a man. How it was supposed to be.
The crowd cheered.
Someone cried.
Cameras flashed.
But over Ijichi’s shoulder, Shoko saw you stand from your seat before the applause even ended.
You didn’t stay for the reception.
Of course you didn’t.
You walked toward the chapel doors with your head high and your expression unreadable.
Shoko watched you leave while her husband held her hand.
This wasn’t relief.
This wasn’t safety.
It was grief. Pure, irreversible grief.
Because she had spent years convincing herself she could survive losing you.
But as the chapel doors closed behind your disappearing figure—
For the first time, Shoko Ieiri understood that she actually wouldn’t.
modern social media should stop offering "sync with your phone contacts to follow them" options and start offering "block all your phone contacts so they never see your account" options
a/n: not accurate bc you wouldn't get pregnant qifrey would
small hc's of qifrey w pregnant reader ^.^ (Afab reader)
--
-You found out at the hospital, coincidentally it was time for everyones check up. You couldn't believe it, since you both had been careful. Knowing Qifrey, he'd welcome the new addition to the family. But deep down you knew, he didn't want one.
-He found out by a sea foam green outfit neatly folded in his luandry.
"Ah, I think it's been shrunk my love" he said softly accompanied by a chuckle, "it doesn't any of the girls even less me"
"not yet at least"
"Not yet-?" he asked gently caressing the delicate fabric. "You, oh-" Qifrey put it together, his mouth tunring into an '0' and his fingers covering his mouth. "You-you're"
You nod, clasping your fingers together. The room goes silent, Olruggio took the girls out for breakfast so it was just you and him.
"I think it'd be a wonderful addition to the atelier" he smiled going to hug you.
That was before Coco joined the atelier, you were around 7 months when Coco joined. Planning for a small party to celebrate, when Qifrey arrived with a new apprentice.
-The girls all found out when, it was time for the weekly visit to Kalhn. You and Qifrey wanted to go to the Baby boutique, questioning the motivation to buy baby clothes.
"Who are they for?" asked Richeh looking into the frilly bag, while Agott trailed behind Coco to prevent her from getting lost. Tetia was behind Qifrey nodding along, "I don't think any of the witches we know are gonna have a baby"
Qifrey smiled at them, "well no one knows yet, but someone very close to you is having one".
The a circle of sea foam green formed behind them as they discussed who it could be, "IT'S YOU" Tetia pointed at you. As soon as she said it, all of them realized what it meant. They all squealed in excitement, jumping and huggin you.
-The girls are always asking about the baby's growth and how you felt, trying to make new spells to help out.
Tetia would try to make a bed/bassinet from her clouds.
Richeh would make a mobile to calm.
Agott would make a spell of sparks and fire to entertain.
And Coco would sew them something
-Olruggio would turn this into a business opportunity trying to invent something to help as well.
-Qifrey would always make sure you were fed, and well dressed in maternity clothes
-He would carve wooden animals for the girls, and it only accelerated the out put when he found out you were expecting.
-Him and Olruggio would make the nursery, with the help of the girls painting details.
-His favorite thing to do would be to watch you knit while the girls studied, he cooked and Olruggio oversaw the girl's lesson.
-Or he liked going on picnics with you, seeing his apprentices play in the water- while agott scolded them and Olruggio stole their lunch
-If I said Qifrey didn't have a girl they'd take me to the back and shoot me, only bc he is SO girl dad coded.
-To me Qifrey would prefer a home birth but it'd be up to you.
-When he holds the baby, he doesn't cry- it feels surreal holding something he aided in making. And looks exactly like him, tufty white hair and pale skin. The little one was born at Sunset.
-He cries once it sets in that it's his child, when the midwife shows him how to bathe her.
-He loves dressing her up, and taking her out for strolls around the atelier and Kalhn.
-The girls love playing with her, and reading their homework out loud to the baby.
-Olruggio spoils her, buying new clothes, toys, blankets, and whatever cute stuff he can find on his missions in town.
-During the day it was fine, the baby was often occupied with the girls doting over her or napping.
-Qifrey often has headaches from the baby's cries, the high pitched whines triggered him.
-Luckily it wasn't often, the baby was often quiet and content.\
--
Qifrey said on the bed entertaining the infant with a plushie that Coco has sewn for her, softly humming and tickling her.
Soft coos and giggles from the baby, softened the mood. "She's very happy today"
"When is she not" you reply picking out her outfit for the day, he only smiled. Grabbing the bundle to nuzzle her belly, "I hope you don't end up like your father, I'll make sure you don't little one". He said, kissing her chubby cheek.
"Is she ready for the day?" you asked sitting beside him, while the girl whined for you.
"It seems so... Thank you"
"For?"
"For constantly making me anxious and giving me something for worry about" It keeps me alive, is the part he didn't say a loud. In the end, with so much joy in his life he still didn't forget the wriggling beneath his flesh.
Qifrey is the type of partner that does like….really small, quiet, chaste displays of affection that end up sticking with you all day.
He’ll kneel down and tie/clasp your shoe for you, and then his thumb will brush against the ball of your ankle once.
He’ll take your hand to help you out of a small space or across a creek or over a puddle and give a very small, very light kiss to your knuckles before letting go.
He’ll pluck something from your hair - a twig, a leaf, a feather, a small bit of fuzz - and brush his fingertips down your cheek gently.
He’ll inspect your palm if you’ve been writing or drawing for too long, and massage his thumbs into the muscles and joints of your hand to relieve tension.
He’ll kiss your forehead when he bids you goodnight and linger there for just a moment longer than is needed.
He’s not the kind of guy who’ll make out with you in a back alley, but the small touches he does always make your heart speed up and the air turn a little sharper between you. Building to something bigger in small bits.
btw it's so fucking stupid you can be anxious physically in your body even after you've decided mentally you don't care. I'm supposed to be in charge here
dededos
blakekathryn
areudirty
janainaart
snowghoul
baratheonpilled
kaledo-art
vaporwave
