Her hands rested on top of one another on the table, with her cheek against them like cherry on top. This caused her left cheek to be squished, giving her a sort of childish adorableness. Her stare was fixated at the man hunched over the table, working with a mixture of chemicals and taking occasional notes from a book. Her gaze was fond, loving even. This affectionate staring did not go unnoticed either.
He didn't even lift his gaze from the book as his voice rang out. "What are you doing?"
"Just admiring."
"I'm working."
"But you're pretty."
"I'm aware."
"Die."
"I can't."
She sighed and just quietly continued staring at him. But there was a small smile at the corner of her mouth - her heart filling up with warmth. Just talking to him made her day better. Likewise, his face had relaxed too. That slightly taut expression from earlier was gone and instead, there was a slight twitch tugging at the corner of his lips. Under her gaze, how could he not soften? After all, she was his home.
The reason for his happiness.
His reason for waking up every morning.
His reason for searching after the Blue Spider Lily.
The reason for his wish to be truly immortal.
His wish to be powerful. His motivation for living.
Who else, but his lover of four centuries?
Just something I made up literally in the middle of my national exam lmaooo. I wrote it out a lot later so I remember it sounding better in my head. After almost three months of it sitting in my drafts, my results are out and so is the fic :P
Picture and divider from pinterest!
you were seven years old when you first met the piece of trash named michael kaiser.
sitting on the swings alone with a busted violet lip and ripped jeans and scratched up, bloody knees wasn’t considered the ideal invitation for a friendship. but you had mindlessly approached him, sitting on the swing next to him before waving to him.
subhuman garbage looked up, wondering why such a nice girl would be looking at him, talking to him. but he didn’t question it and instead listened to you talk, introducing himself.
“but i don’t like to be called michael, so don’t call me that.”
“got it! you’re mihya then!”
subhuman shit—no, newly named mihya felt his heart skip a beat. no one was ever affectionate enough to give him a nickname, so such an experience made mihya strangely ecstatic. he nodded, a small smile slowly making way onto his swollen lips. “right. im mihya.”
the second time you saw mihya was only a few days later.
he had been sitting on the swings, crying his eyes out. this time he had a nosebleed, angry red marks on his neck, and his hands were nearly purple. you had approached him, your eyebrows knit together.
“mihya? what’s wrong?”
mihya had sniffled before looking up at you. “will you get mad at me…?” he choked out weakly. your jaw dropped, grasping both of his hands.
“mihya, i would never get mad at you!” you exclaimed. “you’re my friend!”
mihya muttered something incoherent before sighing. “…my dad. he gets mad a lot.”
you blinked a few times, your seven year old mind not quite comprehending the situation. but you frowned, looking up at the sky. “oh, i really hate it whenever mama and dad get mad at me. your dad is always mad? that sounds so bad. im so sorry, mihya.”
mihya nodded. “it’s…don’t worry about it.”
one day, after many encounters and at eight years old, you finally spoke your thoughts.
“i think your house is haunted.”
mihya, who had been chewing on garlic and sugar flavored bread from the bakery, stopped mid chew. “why?”
“well, your dad is always mad, and you’re always crying. you’re outside as much as you possibly can, and you don’t wanna be there. that sounds haunted to me. and when you are, you hide from him.” you muttered. “i don’t like that. i don’t like how you’re always crying and hiding.”
mihya hummed, quick to respond. “well, i guess i really got no other choice. i wanna avoid getting hit as much as i can.”
your chest tightened to the point where it hurt, a frown making way onto your face. “i love you, you know that? to the moon and saturn, i really do love you.”
mihya’s heart stopped.
and eight years old, having such a crush probably won’t end good for him. but no one had ever told him that they loved him before, and yet you say it out of nowhere, and to the moon and saturn? he might just die of happiness.
heat spread throughout his cheeks before he squeaked out. “i-i love you…too?” you gave him a toothy grin and gave him a high-five.
at ten years old, you’re on the swings once more, this time with a blue raspberry popsicle in between your lips. mihya has a strawberry flavored one, bought using your money.
“you know, mihya. we should move away forever. or maybe we could be pirates or something. y’know, like from one piece.” you said dreamily.
“that came out of nowhere. why?” mihya replied, tossing his now empty stick into the trash can of the park.
“so that we could get away from your damn father and you won’t have to cry anymore.” you muttered, pouting. “i’ve never even met the guy, and yet i hate him.” you chomped down on the popsicle stick, breaking it in half.
mihya laughed. “yeah? i want to leave too. and it sounds nice to leave with you.”
at fourteen, the news arrived.
you sat on the swings, sobbing into your hands. mihya had come from behind you, his heart aching when he saw your tears. you were the love of his life (you just didn’t know it yet), and your tears hurt him.
“mihya, im moving.”
three words, and yet it wasn’t the usual three words that was like music to mihya’s ears.
he swallowed, tears stinging his own eyes. “to where…?”
“japan. apparently it’s supposed to be a safer environment there or something like that. i have to learn the language and the customs and everything.” you sniffled. “but i don’t want to. i don’t want to leave everything i know. but i mostly don’t want to leave you, mihya.”
mihya wanted to go to your family and interrogate them and to beg them to let you stay. he couldn’t live without you, he wouldn’t be able to survive without the light of his life. you would leave and forget him within a month or two because you have all new friends, and he’ll just be another piece of your forgotten childhood. but you would still be his whole life; you were his first friend, his only real friend.
the only person who he will ever love and the only person who will ever love him.
“right. got it.” mihya replied, his throat dry.
two weeks later, mihya became subhuman piece of shit again.
however, at fifteen, the subhuman was arrested and eventually scouted.
subhuman became kaiser.
at nineteen, kaiser traveled to japan to participate in the still fairly recent blue lock program. although he was interested in blue lock’s new rising player isagi yoichi, he wondered if he could coincidentally see you.
nothing was impossible, after all.
—
for the past five years, you’ve been lonely.
the language barrier was resolved within three years of hard work, but unknown customs and a personality that didn’t match the japanese status quo just made everything worse. for years, you had no friends, you spent lunchtime alone, and worst of all?
you didn’t have mihya in your life.
there were nights when you felt so alone that you would just curl up with your pillow and remember mihya. your mihya. those beautiful seven years spent with him, years that you will never forget.
there was a night where you forgot what he looked like.
panicked and crying, you had opened up your phone immediately too look at a picture of him. after a few minutes of staring, your tears stopped as you memorized his face once more. you never wanted to forget him, not a single bit.
at nineteen and in desperation of college credit and money, you volunteered to be a manager of the blue lock program. ego jinpachi was a strange man, but everything was worth it for the money.
and you couldn’t help but think of your mihya, who you remembered bought a soccer ball for his twelfth birthday and adored it.
for years, you’ve refused to check soccer news out of heartbreak.
after blue lock won against the japanese u20 team, you were given a two week break, and was afterwards immediately shoved into the hell of the neo egoist league.
responsible for helping bastard münchen (“for it’s undeniable potential” said ego, although you really couldn’t care less.), you had walked to the germany wing expecting to have the rest the next few months surrounded by the company of isagi, kurona, yukimiya, hiori, and the others.
and yet when you entered, the first thing you saw was pale blonde hair.
the same that mihya had.
kaiser turned to you, as did the other blue lockers and bastard münchen members.
the day you left michael kaiser was the day you died.
you didn’t lose your life, but you surely lost your heart. too many pieces of it had been left fragmented and taken by kaiser for you to be able to fix it ever again. you were only seventeen, and yet it felt like you’ve gone through a lifetime of heartbreak. leaving kaiser was both the most divine gift you have ever given yourself, but also the greatest mistake you have ever committed.
you had met him when you were five. round, rosy cheeks from the frosty winter air were covered in fat tears. you had gotten lost, and you couldn’t find you parents. eventually, you reached the neighborhood park. crouching in the wood chips, with grime and bruises littering his body, was a young michael kaiser of the same age.
he had never spoken to anyone his age, let alone a girl. when you shoved yourself down onto the near frozen swing, still sobbing and sniffling like a baby, kaiser didn’t know what to do. in the end, with his broken grammar and rude words, kaiser wanted to comfort you. he want to try to stop you from crying; after all, it reminded him of himself whenever his father beat and choked him. “what the fuck are you crying about? you look disgusting.”
if kaiser knew gentle words, he would have spoken them. if he knew a lullaby, he would have hummed it. if he knew how to comfort someone, he would have done so. but at age five, he didn’t know anything but swear words. after all, those were the only things that he father ever communicated to him in. at his words, you only sobbed harder. “s-shut up!” kaiser exclaimed. however, you quickly stopped crying once the realization hit you: he wasn’t angry at you.
“i-i’m sorry. i just can’t find my mama and dad.” you whimpered. kaiser nodded. you wiped your tears away, teardrops nearly frozen from the cold. kaiser pointed to a large building next to a collection of houses.
“there’s a shitty station there. a useless piece of shit like you should go there.” kaiser muttered, his voice peculiarly calm for someone who is uttering the nastiest of words. you only blinked a few times in confusion at his vulgarity before grinning brightly, your tears having all been wiped away, and thanked him.
at that moment, you both fell in love with the other. it was only supposed to be a stupid childhood crush that would last a month or two; it wasn’t supposed to be serious. it was just supposed to be cute and temporary.
if only that was the case.
after that day, you continued to visit kaiser every day at the park with a bag of bread from the neighborhood bakery. bread made from garlic salt and sugar and buttery, still warm and soft. for years, you never dared to ask why kaiser was always having fresh new wounds painted on his every day. only years later, at thirteen, did he finally tell you about his family life. you wanted to tell the police, but kaiser swore that he would rather die than end up as an orphan.
when he was fifteen, he got arrested. you knew that it wasn’t him; it wasn’t his fault. he would never steal from a jewelry store. you knew he stole, but he didn’t care about superficial riches like jewels and gold. you waited outside of the police department for two whole days without food and sleep, waiting for kaiser to have his name cleared. finally, some soccer scouter managed to bail him out.
that was the day you started dating kaiser.
he began playing for bastard münchen only a week after his release. you stood by his side, always supporting him, and being next to him, always loving him, always making sure that he knew you love him. at first, kaiser was almost the same, although much more rude to his new teammates. but he still remained as soft as he could with you, never raising his voice or a hand with you.
he began to change at sixteen.
he was cold; distant, even. he still loved you, you knew that for a fact. but soccer was always the only thing on his mind. you knew that he was justified; after all, soccer brought him self-satisfaction and love. he felt human if he played soccer, and you could understand why he was so obsessed with soccer. but not to the point where it was detrimental to his health.
kaiser choked himself.
you always knew that he hurt himself, but you always stopped him the moment you caught him, always begging for him to stop, and that he mustn’t do something like that. you begged for him to take therapy sessions, go to a psychiatrist, something, anything. kaiser only shrugged off your concerns and told you that you worried too much. but the moment you caught kaiser’s fingers wrapped tightly around his throat, unable to breathe and saliva escaping from his lips, you knew that he’s gone too far.
you had come up to him, begged him to stop. pulled his fingers away from his throat by force. after an hour of coaxing and coddling, he finally stopped for a week before continuing again. you knew that it wasn’t your problem to deal with, but you still felt so guilty about it.
kaiser told you that he loved you that night.
you dealt with him for another year. he was still so superficially obsessed with soccer; obsessed with crushing and destroying his opponents like the opposing teams on a chessboard. but you couldn’t bear it, he was nothing short of cruel to ness, and he was just like a monster when he was playing against another team. he smiled when someone on the opposing team started crying. he never treated you like that, but you didn’t want to take any chances. you knew that he would treat you just like that soon enough.
that day, you broke it off with him.
you knew that it would hurt you both, you knew that this decision would haunt your days forever. but you couldn’t deal with this anymore. you couldn’t continue to see the boy you loved spiral into insanity, with all of your efforts and begs going to waste. you were too horrified to tell him in person, so you only left a note.
over half of your once shared apartment’s furniture was destroyed that night after kaiser read the note.
he truly went insane. the one person who he ever truly loved, the one person who ever loved him, the only person who comforted him through his shitty childhood, gone and only leaving him a note. he went insane trying to find you; he texted you millions of times, called you and facetimed you thousands of times, but you never responded.
and now, at age twenty, kaiser still never moved on from you.
during matches, his eyes always scan the stands, thinking that maybe you’d come. maybe you got bored, or maybe you wanted to mock him, maybe you wanted him back, or maybe you just wanted to beat the crap out of him after drinking a bit too much. whatever the reason, kaiser just wants to see you happy. he wants to see you laughing. he doesn’t care if you don’t take him back; as long as you’re safe and happy and healthy, then he’ll be fine.
you weren’t fine. college was killing you, and you were still a virgin who never went out to parties. you still silently watched over kaiser; searching up his name often, reading news articles about him, and watching clips and videos of him on youtube. seeing him healthy made you happy, even if he wasn’t constantly in the best emotional state, especially in that strange blue lock facility that he went to when he was nineteen.
january twenty-sixth.
not only was bastard münchen playing against fc barcha today, but it also marked the fifteenth anniversary of when you and kaiser first met when you were both only five. today was the day where you decided that for the first time in three years, you would go see kaiser play. just as a physical to see if he was okay, and for no other reason. no, this because you missed him. no, this wasn’t because you were still in love with him and just wanted to see him again and wanted to know if he still loved you. surely, he wouldn’t even see you. nope, nope, not at all.
at least, that was what you hoped.
you sat in your plastic blue seat of the stadium, waiting to see kaiser again. you weren’t used to this; you were always in vip seats at his game, and this was the first time you weren’t. oh well, it was still watching the same game at the end of the day. plus, vip seating would only make it easier for kaiser to see you.
as kaiser stepped out and onto the plastic green grass, his eyes scanned the crowd once again. this would be the last time he will ever do this; if you’re not even going to be here today, then he’s sure that you’ll truly never attend any of his games. he knows you best and you know him best, after all.
left to middle. no sign of a goddess like beauty anywhere, so you weren’t there. middle section. no sign of an angel anywhere either, so you weren’t there. finally, there was only the right left. please, kaiser begged that you would be there. even if you were on your phone the entire match, kaiser couldn’t care less.
one by one, his eyes drifted through the crowd as he nearly reached the end. his eyes slowly dimmed; were you really not there? was he really never going to see the love of his life again? but then he reached the end, and his eyes widened, glimmering underneath the sunlight. and despite the fact that it was a harsh winter, the warmth and love in his eyes could melt all of the ice and snow outside.
it was you.
your eyes locked for a moment, and in that moment, there was no one else. for a moment, soccer didn’t even matter. it was just you and him. he mouthed your name, your eyes widening a fraction, before you turned red and looked away. kaiser almost laughed out loud before walking away to the center of the stadium, feeling as if he could score fifty goals. you really came; he really got to see you again.
during the match, every damn time kaiser scored a goal, he always made some sort of gesture to you, whether it’d be blowing a kiss to you or waving to you or just staring intently at you, the media went crazy over it—because it was just so obvious that those gestures were meant for you.
after the match, you walked through the stadium as quickly as you could, wanting to leave and not wanting to get bombarded by the media. you completed your task; you came to see if kaiser was okay. and he clearly was perfectly fine, so you had nothing to worry about.
that was until you felt the calloused grasp of a hand on yours.
it’s been three years, but you could recognize that feeling anywhere. the exact same way of lacing your fingers together, the exact same warmth and same feeling. the exact same hand.
mihya’s hand.
you turned around in a flash, tears brimming at your eyes unknowingly. why were you crying? you weren’t supposed to get emotional over seeing him again. not until you saw the tears stinging mihya’s eyes, tears glossing over his eyes like the most expensive and yet beautiful porcelain china.
your mihya.
“mihya…?” you mumbled, your voice the hum of a lullaby. you expected yells if this were to happen, you expected interrogations and questions and threats, you expected blackmail, you even expected to get hit by him.
but none of that came.
only the feeling of another hand tilting your chin up before cerulean eyes glimpsed into yours, looking at you as if you were the most precious and beautiful thing in the world.
“you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.”
a/n: YES A HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON REFERENCE EEEEEE
he wanted unconditional, ethereal, and never ending love. he wanted to always be supported, that no matter what he did, he will always and still be loved. he wanted the constant feeling of being supported no matter what, that he’s a lovable creature, that he isn’t subhuman like his father had once told him.
soccer brought that to kaiser.
with soccer came satisfaction. he would crush his rivals, his enemies, and each time, he felt a little bit more human, a little bit more loved. it got to the point where that feeling of pleasure and accomplishment became addictive for kaiser, and his sole purpose for playing soccer was to crush his opponents and receiving more and more love.
he became so obsessed with the glory that came from soccer that he began neglecting his own health and harming himself whenever things didn’t go his way when it came to soccer. his fingers wrapped tightly around his throat was once an action of his father, although it now carried on to him. bruises on his body was something that carried on from his childhood to his adult life, even though he had managed to escape his father when he was 15 after having been recruited from the prison.
whenever he lost a soccer match, he would go back to his room and cut off his airflow with his tattooed hand pressing right above the base of his neck as he struggled for oxygen, coughs constantly escaping him. it was only natural; after all, he lost a soccer match. he lost a bit of his humanity and love. he was just becoming subhuman again.
kaiser became so obsessed with soccer that he didn’t even realize that someone who loved him unconditionally was right there, right in front of him this whole time, and yet he was so caught up in his own life that he never even realized.
you and kaiser were childhood best friends. he was your mihya, not michael, no kaiser. he was small, weak, and couldn’t stand up to his father. he didn’t know how to speak to people in a kind manner. he bled when he fell on concrete, and yet he never cried. his face was always covered in grime and dried blood, his body was always littered in bruises, and yet he never cried in front of you. it took months after meeting you for him to finally even smile in front of you.
the first time kaiser ever cried in front of you was when you had gotten him a gift for his birthday.
kaiser never knew how to react to gifts, so he didn’t enjoy receiving them. but it was his eighth birthday, you were obviously going to get your best friend a gift. it was just a simple keychain of a blue rose, a flower you knew he liked. when you handed it to him with a cheerful “happy birthday, mihya!”, tears had sprung to his eyes.
he asked you why you were willing to give him a gift, why you were willing to spend time with him. when you just answered with a worried look and quiet “well, you’re my best friend, of course i would”, kaiser knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.
maybe that was why his descent into madness and obsession hit you harder than it did kaiser.
you had indeed stuck with him, even now, at nineteen. twelve years after your initial meeting. you’ve had a crush on him for exactly as long as you had both met, spiraling from a small childhood crush to being deeply and hopeless in love and attached to him. and yet you had no idea whether kaiser liked you or not; he was too obsessed with soccer to show any signs.
whenever kaiser lost a match, you knew that he was going to commit to a session of harming himself for at least an hour so again. somehow, you felt more pain that kaiser did when he did so, always outside of his door, banging for him to stop and begging him to not do this to himself every time while tears escaped your eyes. you loved him; you didn’t want the boy you loved to be so willing and constant with hurting himself.
he ignored you every time, occasionally telling you to go away or mind your own business.
you had enough with it one day. you were sick of it, constantly hearing his choked noises from his bedroom every time he lost a match. finally, one day, when kaiser lost a match, he stormed off to his room again. but before he could slam the door shut, you shoved your entire body weight against the door, trying to stop it from shutting.
“what the fuck are you doing?” kaiser hissed, trying to push the door shut. “mind your own business. i’ll be done soon enough.” but no avail; you continued your weak attempts of pushing the door open. kaiser scoffed from the other side. he usually avoided getting mad at you, although it was hard for him to do so in the first place. but now you were starting to piss him off. can’t he offer himself a therapeutic session in peace?
“no! mihya, stop it and just open the door.” you were beginning to get pushed back from the door, before you used your final backup plan and shoved your arm in between the open space left from the door. you yelped from the pain, and kaiser instantly lost all anger at that moment, pulling open the door immediately when he heard your yelp. you stepped into the room stiffly.
“are you stupid? what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kaiser exclaimed, wide eyed as you clutched your arm, which was beginning to turn into the color of a rotting plum. you turned to glare at him, angry tears springing to your eyes.
“i’ll do this shit every fucking time for as long as you keep doing this to yourself every damn time you lost a match, you idiot.” you replied. you sighed before looking down somberly. “how long are you going to keep doing this to yourself, mihya? you’re obsessed with fame. you’re obsessed with all of this. you’re enjoying ruining the lives of other people for love. mihya, that’s not worth it. that’s not worth your body. that’s not worth your mentality.”
kaiser felt anger bubbling up inside of him again, and before he realized his, his voice raised to a level that he would usually never dare to use with you, although he would be fine using this tone with anyone else. “you don’t fucking understand! your father never called you a subhuman! he never choked you for no reason! your mother never left you! your father never beat you every day no particular reason! your father didn’t require you to steal every fucking day because his fatass can’t move two meters from the couch and his precious beer! soccer makes me feel loved! soccer makes me feel human! soccer is with me!”
for a moment, you stood there silently. you stared at him as he huffed, his breathing shallow from the loud rant. his eyes were sharp, and in that moment, only one thought ran through your head.
this was still your mihya.
he was yelling at you, you knew that. but he has every right to say all of this, to be mad at the world, at you. he has every right to be upset, to be angry. he has every right to rant about his trauma. he has every right to trauma dump. but at the same time, he’s missing a key component here.
“well, would soccer still be with you if you were nobody?! would all of those fans and self-satisfying thoughts still love you if you were no one?!” you shouted. your eyebrows knit together; did he not realize how fabricating this all was? how shallow this all was?
“no one loved me when i was no one!” kaiser hollered back. “no one loved me when i was just some stupid brat who spent most of his time outside of his house wandering on the streets! no one loved me when my father still used to beat me every day like some fucking punching back! no one loved me when i was still just a subhuman!”
and at that moment, a tear leaked from the corner of your eye. shit, this wasn’t even your problem, and yet angry tears were still flowing. your fists clenched, before finally, you screamed. “i loved you were you were no one!” finally, you finally finally finally got it out. kaiser froze, but you kept on going. “i loved you when you still wore dirty clothes every day! i loved you when you didn’t even know how to say a polite word to anyone! i loved you when you were still small and stupid and you!”
your lips quivered, more tears threatening to fall. you wiped your eyes. “before the ‘love’. before the fame. before soccer. and mihya,” you placed a hand on your swelling arm, that was going from rotting plum purple to the blue of kaiser’s eyes. “i still love you. i love you. but if you just can’t accept it and you’ll continue to wallow in that stupid destructive self-pity of yours where you think that no one loves you, then don’t come crawling back to me!”
you turned around to leave the room, your hand on the door knob, until a warm pair of arms wrapped around your waist. your felt tears begin to soak through your shirt from your shoulder, and your eyes widened. he’s crying?
“goddamn it, i don’t know why im fucking crying. i shouldn’t be. but what the fuck…” kaiser whispered into your shoulder. “i—i-“ he gulped, and your could see his hands interlock together as they squeezed the other like a lifeline. “i love you too.”
finally.
you turned around, separating his hands from the other and intertwining your fingers with his. you smiled softly at him, a small sniffle escaping you. “you said it. im so proud of you, mihya.” you knew how much trouble he had saying those words. how hard it was to say something that you had never heard before. “and i love you.”
silently, you got on your tip-toes, your lips almost touching his, before a few quiet words escaped you. “is this okay?”
kaiser huffed quietly. “way to ruin to moment. you’re this far into the process, and now you’re asking? but fuck yes.” you laughed before you softly planted your lips onto his.
the kiss wasn’t rough in the least, but it spoke of years of pent up emotion and unspoken pain. kaiser untangled his fingers from your and cupped your face so strangely gently, which he silently swore in his heart at that moment that he would never hold someone else like this, like the love of his life.
and when kaiser pulled away from the kiss, just a bit out of breath but just right, that’s when he saw it. deep in your eyes, and also in his.
the look of love.
word count: 1.8k (1878)
a/n: i watched shark tale for the first time the other day, and it had NO RIGHT being that good. the angie and oscar argument changed me forever, and it inspired me to make this. i was originally going to make this for isagi before i realized that isagi is AWARE that his parents love him, and that this prompt also matches with kaiser better.
kaiser has always been uncomfortable when other people touched him.
he couldn’t help but feel like that same little kid who always had tears leaking out of his eyes every time his father laid hands on him. he can’t help but feel weak; vulnerable, even. it’s pure reflex for kaiser to slap whoever is touching him away. whether it’s a child, a woman, or a teammate. it’s all the same to him; why are they laying their hands on him?
he shows no ounce of regret when he slaps them away too harshly, when they yelp out in pain. many times, they didn’t mean to touch him. it was just an accident, they would say. well they should have just been more careful; such a stupid accident to occur, in his opinion.
but kaiser had no problem touching someone else as long as it caused some sort of discomfort to the other person.
he couldn’t care less; it made him feel…strong. powerful, even. if he was the one causing harm, then he couldn’t be hurt anymore. he wasn’t the little kid who curled up in the corner and hugging a soccer ball, he was the one making the other person curled up in the corner. and it was satisfying, it really was.
but the same discomfort comes to him whenever he’s touching someone in a way that isn’t harmful. hugs—even the ones his teammates give to him after he scores—make him feel nauseous. only after he goes to the bathroom to place his fingers and palms tightly around his neck does he finally feel better. even when he sleeps, and you accidentally touch him in the middle of his rest, he wakes up instantly, in a ready position to kick you away.
so imagine how stiff you become when kaiser lays his head on your chest, his arms around your waist, silent snores escaping him.
you don’t move in the least, your arms awkwardly at your side, and your palms turning sweaty on the couch. you slow down your breathing nearly instantly. please don’t wake up, please please please please don’t wake up.
—
sunlight cascades down on kaiser’s face as he pushes his eyes open. he yawns, but doesn’t get on. his mattress is too soft, too comfortable to—
wait, his mattress?
his bulging open, kaiser looks up and sees you asleep, a small line of drool leaking down the corner of your mouth and incoherent mumbling escaping your lips. his entire body is atop of yours, hands placed on your back as if it were meant to be placed on your body. strangely, the nausea doesn’t come. only the faint flush on his face and the tip of his ears, and the feeling of someone tugging on his heartstrings.
that someone being you, like you always do.
whether you’re cooking him something when he wakes up, or telling him about how much you love him, his heartstrings always seem to be getting pulled on when you’re around. and his eyes, they never seem to be looking anywhere but you whenever you’re around. how many goals has he silently dedicated to you at a match? how many times has he caught himself subconsciously smiling when you’re around?
and when kaiser feels himself gently brushing your hair away from your face without an ounce of discomfort his eyes fixated on your sleeping face, that’s when he knows.
kaiser had been laying in bed for the past three hours.
he tossed and turned in his bed, fresh white sheets rumpling under his body. kaiser’s phone was on the hotel room counter, dirty with fingerprints.
he reached over, eyes locked onto the phone screen. it was a picture of you and him, both holding peace signs. your grin in the picture alone was enough to make kaiser melt.
kaiser unlocked his phone, almost instinctively tapping on the “call” app. he typed in your number, before he froze. you were probably taking your afternoon nap right now, across the globe.
he slid off the bed, pacing around. should he call you, relieve the knot in his chest, but risk waking you up, or should he just wait a few hours until you woke up and suffer alone?
kaiser groaned. “i’m so fucking pathetic…” how could he just let you control his life like this? for gods sake, he hasn’t seen you in a week. yet you still dominated every thought, and with every smile of yours he remembered, his heart felt like jumping out of his chest.
kaiser bit the inside of his cheek. self-control. but just when he was about to close the “call” app, his phone buzzed.
you were calling him!
within milliseconds, kaiser instantly picked up, forgetting every single bit of his earlier shame. “i thought you were asleep.” he said immediately, trying to bury his words with hostility, but he just sounded like a puppy.
“nope, couldn’t sleep. it’s too cold. it’s cute that you know i usually take my nap right now though.” you teased. kaiser felt blood rush to his cheeks.
“no, it’s because i always have to deal with your shit, so now i know your schedule.” he retorted. you rolled your eyes.
“sure.” a beat of silence. “i miss you, mihya. come back soon.”
keep talking like that, and kaiser might actually die of a heart attack.
kaiser could hear his own heart beating. “i can’t change the day of the match, idiot.” yet still, he found himself on safari, searching up the next flight back to germany. “coach is calling. bye.”
“it’s literally midnight for y—“ but kaiser had already hung up.
of course, his coach wasn’t really calling. but anymore of hearing your voice and not being able to touch you, and kaiser might genuinely die this time.
missing you was like missing a part of himself: his heart.
maybe one or two am; each night star glittered above the urban sky, skyscrapers and tall buildings surrounding the small hotel room kaiser stayed in.
the door to the balcony was open, and you stood outside, coat draped over your shoulders, simply leaning on the railing and watching the city underneath your feet.
you had made love earlier, if kaiser could even call it that. it was simply physical intimacy; there was no love. he knew your name, your number, and how you looked like.
he didn’t even know how old you were, only that you were old enough to not give him any legal trouble but not so old that he was fucking somebody’s grandma.
kaiser hated affection. hated it when others tried to follow him around or give him soft, honey-covered words. hated it when people tried to wrap their grimy arms around him. hated getting close to people without any sort of taunting involved.
but you didn’t offer him any affection. only intimacy.
and perhaps that unfamiliarity is precisely why you remain the only person kaiser has ever spent the night with.
he was shirtless, a fresh pair of boxers over his thighs, hidden under the thick white comforter. kaiser hung his head back, hitting the pillow with a soft thud. he gazed at you from the corner of his eye, the night breeze tangling into your hair.
you weren’t friends. barely acquaintances who simply shared a few meals and multiple nights with each other. someone he met after losing a match, and released all his frustrations onto.
kaiser was no different than his father. he was fully aware; one wrong move, and you might accidentally end up pregnant. not out of love—out of emptiness.
he stood up, slipping on his bastard münchen sweater, and stepped onto the balcony, next to you. your hotel room was the only one with the lights still on. you stayed silent, merely observing each passing car on the street.
kaiser’s gaze remained fixated on you. “you feeling okay?” he was being uncharacteristically soft. but then again, objectively speaking, you are truly the closest kaiser has ever been with anyone. the question was less out of concern and more out of necessity.
“i’m alright.” you didn’t even look at him. “you should sleep. don’t you have practice tomorrow?” your voice was quiet, yet it rang louder than a bell in kaiser’s ears.
“i don’t sleep much anyway.” another quiet settled between you two, and kaiser looked at you. really looked at you—your features, the color of your hair, the length of your lashes.
you were beautiful.
of course, kaiser always knew you were attractive. he wouldn’t have bothered with you in the first place if you weren’t. to call you merely “attractive” felt insulting; the wind in your hair, stray strands brushing your forehead. your nose turning red from the autumn air. the flutter of your lashes when you blinked.
kaiser never noticed them. not until now.
“you’re staring.” you pointed out.
“yes, i am. we just had sex; is staring suddenly too much?” he retorted, blue eyes narrowing. you shook your head.
for the first time that night, you finally looked at him. “apologies. it’s weird; you usually sleep with me, ghost me for the rest of the night, and the next morning you’re gone. then you’re back at the hotel room in the evening.” you give him a small, nearly unnoticeable smile. “it’s strange to see you truly looking at me.”
the way you looked at him—it unnerved kaiser. his stomach twisted and turned; there was something about it that he just didn’t like. it was deeply uncomfortable.
the corners of your eyes softened just slightly, and a small gleam was now noticeable. kaiser, for the first time in his life, couldn’t hold eye contact for too long. “i guess so.”
it was as if you cared about him. as if you cared about a piece of shit like him. someone who could impregnate and leave you at any time, like his shitty mother had done. someone who couldn’t even bother to know your favorite color.
“why are you looking at me like that?” kaiser demanded, voice suddenly rougher than it was just moments ago.
“like what?” you asked, genuinely puzzled. he furrowed his eyebrows, a strained noise erupting from his chest.
“like you care.” his voice cracked. “like you care about me.”
your eyes widened slightly before you laughed. “wow, you really are dense.” kaiser stared at you with wide eyes, standing stiffly. “of course i care about you. i’d go as far as to say that i like you.”
kaiser unwillingly stayed silent. he didn’t even know how to respond. “it’s just…when you lose your v-card to someone, it’s important.” you muttered. “y’know? and you’re interesting. you might not realize it, but you’re theatrical in daily life. all of the expressions you make are incredibly amusing. the way you speak is dramatic, but in a funny way.”
you glanced at him with impossibly gentle eyes. “i like you a lot. i know we don’t talk a lot, and you don’t have to like me back.”
kaiser felt like throwing up.
how could you—with the eyes of an angel and the appearance of a deity—like someone like him? he’s a piece of shit. he doesn’t even talk to you that much. he doesn’t even know your last name.
yet he wants to hold onto you. he wants to hold onto someone who can love him so unconditionally.
you’re no more than strangers, yet no less than lovers all the same.
kaiser’s fingers itch to reach out, to graze your skin. yet he suddenly feels all too horrified at the thought of touching you—as if he had never been the closest anyone had ever been with you. as if he hadn’t reached parts of you that no one else had.
and suddenly, all he can manage is a quiet “okay” as he watches you leave the balcony and slip into your bed.
hugo needs to take care of his pretty face as well !
it’s 5:32 am when you open your eyes, eyes forced open and limbs still heavy. you can still feel the exhaust in your chest, the fog in your mind, and the desperate want for sleep. except there was one problem:
hugo wasn’t with you in the bed.
you were usually always fast asleep with his arms circled tightly around your torso, his nose buried in your hair. but hugo was nowhere to be found, and his side of the bed was cold, meaning he had likely been gone for a while now.
your blood ran cold as millions of horrific possibilities ran around your mind. was he kidnapped in his sleep? did he run away from you while you were vulnerable? did you forget something he told you? did he have early morning practice today and he didn’t tell you?
unable to sleep without hugo’s warmth, you slid off the bed languidly, half rubbing your eyes. you searched the apartment with slouched shoulders until you heard a faint noise from the bathroom.
the blow dryer.
what the hell was hugo doing, showering at 5 am?
you pushed open the door, fully expecting a naked hugo in front of you, but instead you found him fully clothed and awake, a hair dryer at his eyes.
“vivien, what the hell are you doing…?” you asked with the most amount of energy you could muster.
“i was originally going to the bathroom, nature’s calling. but then i looked into the mirror and saw just how messed up my lashes were. they were crooked, see?” hugo pointed at a rather curled lash that pointed upwards. “so i wet them and i’m now blow drying them.”
“it’s five in the morning.”
“i came here at four thirty.”
“so for an hour,” you accused. “you were just standing here taking care of your lashes like a pretty little princess?” you dragged a hand down your face. “did you even take your piss?”
“no. my destiny told me that my lashes came first,” hugo debated. you glared at him.
“vivien. take your fucking piss. i’m not planning on washing our sheets anytime before next week.” you drawled. “just come back to bed when you’re done. it’s freezing without you.”
hugo jumped up, intent on following you back. “it’s quite alright. i can hold it in—“
“shut the fuck up.”
THANK YOU SO MUCH TO @kaitoshi-myloves FOR THE LOVELY IDEA ! THE PREMISE OF THIS FIC IS THEIR IDEA ! go hit em a follow and a heart😛
Michael Kaiser had never looked smaller. Not because of his body, after all he was still lean muscle and tense lines beneath you, but because of the way he fought against the inevitable. Wrists pinned above his head, teeth gritted, eyes burning with the last embers of defiance.
“Don’t think this makes me your toy,” he hissed. A bluff from his side.
You only tilted your head, pressing down harder until his hips twitched upward. “You sure? You’re already shaking.”
He scoffed, a sharp exhale meant to sound cruel. But when your palm dragged down his chest, lingering over his ribs, his stomach tensed. You wrapped your hand around his cock and squeezed, and the mask he wore cracked for the first time.
A choke, then a stutter of breath. “Don’t,” he growled. “I don’t—”
You stroked him once, so teasingly slow, watching his head fall back against the pillow. He bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to give you the satisfaction of a sound, but his hips betrayed him with a helpless thrust into your hand.
Did he know how beautiful he looked like this? His blond hair spread over the pillow, cheeks flushed and eyes blown. Delicious.
“Don’t what?” you asked, tone mocking as your thumb swept across the tip, smearing precum. “Don’t make you moan like this?”
His chest rose fast and uneven. “I don’t mo—” the word broke into a whimper as you twisted your wrist, dragging another pulse of heat through his body. He clenched his jaw so hard it trembled.
“Pathetic,” you whispered and his cock jerked in your hand.
The first orgasm was ripped from him, violent and unwilling, a bitten off groan spilling out as his back arched. Hot and messy across your hand, his release painted his stomach.
He went rigid, shuddering, eyes glazed with disbelief that you’d broken him so quickly.
“Scheiße, wait. Stop, I can’t,” he gasped, but your strokes never faltered.
“Yes, you can,” you purred, tightening your grip, dragging him through the oversensitivity until his thighs shook.
He sobbed, the sound catching in his throat, a single tear sliding down his temple. “Please, it’s too much, please, I—”
You ignored him, pumping him back to hardness. So fucking cruel. Each stroke had him writhing, torn between pushing up into your hand and squirming away from the unbearable pleasure. When you leaned down to bite along his rose tattoo, he finally broke with a loud, desperate moan. One hand tugging at the sheets, the other trapped in your hold.
“Say it,” you demanded against his skin.
His lip trembled, pride still clinging. “Say what?”
You squeezed, sharp and firm. His body jerked. “That you’re mine,” you said.
He shook his head, eyes wet. “N-no, I—” you dragged your thumb over his slit, edging him with slow torture. His hips bucked, a sob choking out of him. “Scheiße, scheiße. Yours, please—”
He came again, messy and ruined, crying through it, begging for it to stop even as his cock twitched greedily in your hand.
You didn’t stop. You stroked him raw, over and over, until he was shaking so hard he could barely breathe, until his voice was hoarse from crying, until the proud striker laid beneath you nothing more than a sobbing, overstimulated mess.
When you finally let him go, kissing his sweat slicked forehead, his chest heaved against yours. His voice was a broken whisper.
“Pathetic,” he repeated your word back at himself, choking on a half-sob, half-moan.
You kissed the corner of his wet mouth, murmuring, “No, not pathetic. You’re perfect, micha.”
the soft clack of your heels echoed throughout you and sae’s shared apartment. you had just come from your girls night out at a well-rounded fancy restaurant. from the high-quality wooden tables with silky, pearl, hand stitched fabrics draped across and a crystalline chandelier that hung above you, it was perfect for a date night.
you made a mental note to ask sae to go with you one day—if he hadn’t already planned to take you—that is.
speaking of sae, you wondered if he was still awake at an ungodly hour like this. the last time you’d spoken to him was over text when you asked him for money for your bill, which he sent without question. it was pocket change to him, really. of course, due to his carefully curated sleep schedule that included a one hour nap and eight hours of sleep at night, you knew he wouldn’t be. he was an athlete after all, rest was one of his top priorities.
crouching down, you slipped off your sleek red bottoms and placed them down right beside sae’s cleats. it kind of described your relationship, in a way.
you carefully tiptoed across the hardwood floors, making your way toward the bedroom. slowly, you reached for the doorknob, twisting it with a definite determination to not awake your sleeping boyfriend.
as the door creaked opened, you peeked your head through the door to the cutest sight you’d ever seen. although you could only see a sliver of sae’s maroon tufts through the small opening you’d created, you saw something in his hand.
a pillow, your pillow.
opening the door a little wider and letting yourself sneak past all the creaks that you’d memorized in the floorboards, you finally made your way toward the bed.
you smiled to yourself.
he was even cuter up close.
his hair was disheveled, his bangs still clinging on to some of the leftover gel that rested in his locks. he was dressed in his casual clothing, his white-collared shirt had a few buttons that were unbuttoned that revealed his toned collarbone that you had a weird attraction to, and you could spot the soft flutter of his lashes against his skin.
but what really got you was the way he was grasping onto your pillow for dear life. even in his sleep he never failed to show off just how much training he really did, because his muscles were involuntary flexing around the soft cushion.
leaning down as best as you could because you were still dressed in your fancy attire, you just watched him, quietly. the slow rise and fall of his chest as he slept, the softness of his features, especially his pinkish lips.
you don’t know what it was, but a strange feeling arose in your chest as your eyes darted back to the pillow in irritation. maybe, just maybe, you were a little jealous that some piece of plush fabric was getting more attention than you. like, why was he cuddling with anything that wasn’t you? let alone an inanimate object full of feathers.
actually, never mind. that’s stupid.
even so, you still tried to maneuver your way through sae’s arms. your hand had begun to lift sae’s arm up and away from the pillow so it could be you there instead. snaking one of sae’s arms around your waist, you climbed on to the bed, throwing the pillow to… wherever as it landed with a soft thud.
mission accomplished.
“really?”
a deep, sleepy voice broke the silence of the room. you froze like a deer in headlights. you almost looked like a petulant child that was getting caught doing something they shouldn’t.
you felt sae’s hands snake around your waist as he wedged his nose into the crook of your neck.
his voice was muffled against your shoulder. “where’ve you been..?” leisurely, you felt small kisses being pressed wherever sae could reach. the column of your neck, the underside of your jaw, and the sensitive spot behind your ear.
gosh, you folded so easily. no pressure whatsoever.
“i come back and you’re cuddling my pillow.” if sae could feel your glare, it would be burning through him right now, even if it was a failed attempt at being threatening. with the way his kisses were getting sloppier by the second, you couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him.
you felt a low scoff against your neck as it slipped past his lips. “it smelled like you.” he admitted, continuing to leave marks against the column of your throat.
he’s so clingy at night.
a flustered you flicked his forehead.
“don’t say stuff like that…”
whatever, he thought.
after taking a deep inhale of your scent, he realized you were wearing the perfume he’d bought for you on your one-year anniversary, among other gifts. the same perfume that had him cuddling with a pillow because it reminded him of you.
he nestled deeper into your neck before whispering,
contents / warnings : just pre-relationship!rin being awkward ig
word count : 222
you and rin sat at one of the school benches. it had started with a casual offer from you, but slowly turned into a quiet routine — sitting together during breaks, talking or just… existing beside each other.
today was the quiet kind. no mindless rants from you, no half-nods from him. the silence felt heavier than usual. awkward.
usually you were the one talking. about anything, really — dumb stories, random thoughts, whatever crossed your mind. he’d listen anyway.
but today he was quieter than usual.
you started wondering if maybe he was just… tired of it.
you fidgeted with your sleeves, glancing at your shoes. “so... how was your day so far?”
“okay,” he replied, barely turning his head. short. dry. typical rin.
you hummed softly, already bracing for the silence to stretch again — but when you glanced up, his eyes were on you. steady, unreadable. like he was memorizing you in real time. his gaze landed on you like you were the eighth wonder of the world. and for a second, it felt like he wasn’t just looking at you. he was holding something sacred in his gaze. as if he were admiring your mere existence.
then — he blinked. slow, like it took effort to pull his eyes away from you.
a/n : Inspired by the World Cup (obviouslyyy) and also inspired by he fact I worked a month in a perfume shop and I became obsessed with smelling each perfume lmao x) I suck at describing football because I don't know anything about it lmao (shame on me). I had a really great time writing this and I really enjoyed myself, so I hope you like it! I did not proofread since I'm working and I don't have time, so I apologise if there's any grammar mistake or inconsistency! Also I didn't know how to end this so the end is a bit messyyyy
wc : 5.7k
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀★ likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated 𖹭 ★˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀
Today’s shift has been a nightmare for you. The independent perfumery you were working for was desert. Not a soul in sight. You sighed, laying your hands on the cash register, silently hoping for someone to stop by. Sure, your location wasn’t ideal : in a small–but cute– pedestrian-only alley in the heart of the town. Almost nobody walked by here, since all the interesting things were on the opposite side of the city. It was a wonder this perfumery was still alive and well. Loyal–and wealthy– customers were probably the reason for it.
You glanced at your watch, 3 more hours to go. The amount of sleep you got this night because you wouldn’t stop overthinking. You could do this. It’s not as if you already cleaned the floor thrice, reorganized the drawers and shelves twice and made sure you had stock for every perfume.
If only you’d known that in a couple minutes the trajectory of your life would be changed forever, you’d have never believed it. It happened as you were checking a drawer for a click and collect. L’Eau d’Eclipse by Pierre-Marie Manoury. Not a bad choice, it smelled good : a mixture of fresh and floral with notes of vanilla and ylang-ylang. If you had to be perfectly honest, it was a perfume for rather old ladies. You’d never wear that, too scared of coming across as someone with old-fashioned tastes.
You spiralled deeper into your thoughts about the fragrance when you heard the delicious echoing sound of the bell meaning someone had at last walked through the door. You straightened up, put on your best customer friendly smile and greeted the pink-haired guy. He looked familiar, though you couldn’t place a name on that face. The first thing that struck you was his teal eyes, deeply hypnotising. Then, how wealthy he appeared to be, that was always a good omen for the register.
“Hello! Welcome to Velinora, how can I help you?”
“Hello… I’m looking for perfume.” He replied flatly, glancing around at the very much empty shop, seemingly uninterested by you.
“Really? Never would’ve guessed.” Your sarcasm seeping through, you noticed the unamused look he gave you. You cleared your throat. “I mean I can definitely help you with that.”
You cringed internally, already thinking the approach to the customer was a flop. You sucked it up, it was just a bad moment to live through and then you would never be haunted by that tonight, wouldn’t you?
Seeing the guy wasn’t very willing to give more information on what he was looking for, you tried to get the goods out of him.
“What kind of perfume, fragrances, are you looking for?” You questioned, already scanning the shelves with the precision of a sharp chef’s knife.
“I don’t really know.” He replied bluntly, taking a tester in his hands and checking the bottle out before placing it back.
“Great. Very helpful.” You ignored the side eye he gave you. “Is it for you or is it a gift?”
“For me.”
“Alright, it’ll be a bit easier then. Do you already wear perfume? Or do you have a brand, a scent you like? That would be a good indication.”
He sighed, obviously annoyed. “Can’t you just… give me a random one? I don’t care about the brand or the scent. I just need one.”
You frowned, tilting your head as you stepped back. Sure, you had some brands to value more than others and this was the perfect occasion to sell a particularly difficult and niche perfume : Terra di Luce by Strapponelli, it was an oaky, spicy, with hints of lava rock fragrance which almost no one liked, including you. But what he said offended you on a personal level. You would never let that slide, not when you spent hours learning the notes of perfumes, the slight differences and the magic that rested behind the scents.
“Let me stop you right there.” You smiled politely, but you wanted to slap him. How could he say that?? If it was up to you and you didn’t have a business to run, the guy would already be kicked out. “You can’t just… pick a random one. Perfumes are personal.” You explained. “It has to be unique, it has to be you having an emotional link with it.”
The guy scoffed, staring at you. He barely even raised an eyebrow. His arrogance was testing your last nerves.
“You think that’s ridiculous? It’s not. Every perfume has a story that led to its creation. I won’t go down that path or I’ll ramble for hours. So to make it short : no. I can’t pick one for you. You have to smell, and like the perfume. So tell me, why are you buying perfume today?” You asked, trying hard to stay polite. If your boss heard your stern voice, he'd actually have a heart attack : you should never talk to a client this way— you heard his voice ringing in your head.
The teal eyed guy stared at you for a couple seconds, then resigned himself. He slid his hands in his pockets. “My manager told me it’ll be a good idea to have a recognizable scent. Marketing stunt. He gave me one but I don’t like it. Smells too sour.”
“Now we have something.” You smiled faintly. “See? Wasn’t too hard.” You taunted. Seeing he was still not going with the flow, you went on immediately. “May I ask what job you do?”
He stared at you, a hint of surprise flashing in his bright eyes. Then, he replied carefully, as if you were mocking him. “I’m a professional football player.”
“Okay so you need perfume that sticks, not something light.” You replied immediately, your brain working quickly and not catching on what he just told you. You were about to grab a bottle when you realized who was really standing in your shop. Sae Itoshi. One of the most—if not the most—trendy football player of the season. You weren’t a fanatic of that sport, but he was famous enough that you heard of him even in your small perfumery world.
You slowly turned to Sae Itoshi. You pointed at him and a playful smile appeared on your face. “I’m not giving you a discount of any type.”
The pink haired man frowned, seemingly taken aback. He had been certain he’d eventually get a reaction from you once you understood who he was. But that? It was unexpected. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re rich, aren’t you? Why should I make you pay less?” You scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, entertained.
“...Customer service perhaps?”
“Yeah but you’re not a customer, you’re a freaking star.” You countered. “I believe paying 350 for a bottle of perfume isn’t a financial crisis for you.”
“...fair.”
To be honest, it was the 3 hours of sleep that made you act this way. Sure you were naturally playful and blunt. However, you were certainly not this way with a stranger, a customer, and a famous one at that. It would only be later you realized how you treated him. It cost you 4 hours of sleep and overthinking that night.
“Okay so let’s get into this.” You started, turning around already searching for thee perfume for thee Sae Itoshi.
“Does it really have to be such a big deal? Just get me a cologne…”
You whipped around. “Cologne? That won’t stick on you. Not if you want to wear it during matches. The sweat won't mix well with the scent anyway.” You paused, taking a tester from the shelf and spraying the perfume on a piece of paper. “What you need is a pure perfume. Maybe even an elixir.”
You handed him the paper, watching his reaction as he smelled it. He nodded faintly in approval.
“Smells good.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Strong, blunt and enchanting. Yet, it still has a hint of vulnerability and tenderness to it while being fresh.Seems like a perfume for guys like you”
Sae stared at you, as if you just bared his heart and revealed the naked truth. A disturbing feeling settled between his ribs, he was definitely bothered by your words and your ability to read him so effortlessly, even if you knew nothing about him personally. The way you didn’t even realise you threw him off made him feel some kind of butterflies in his stomach.
“What’s inside?” He asked, his eyes still staring at you. His interest was picked, and now you were the center of his attention and will be for a while— meaning the rest of his life, but neither of you knew that yet.
“So, that’s Midnight Velvet by Hortense. Inside we have Bergamot, orange blossom, ginger and cardamom. The woody note comes from patchouli.” You told him. “Do you want to try another one?”
He nodded. You spent the next 10 minutes making him try other fragrances. He was paying unwavering attention to what you were rambling on. Some would even say he was more focused on what you were telling him about perfumes than what his coach was telling him during training. In reality, he was more focused on how your voice sounded and how your face seemed to lighten whenever he agreed to your words.
“Do you actually learn the ingredients in each perfume?” He asked.
“Well, I do try to remember all of them so I can help customers in the best way possible.” You admitted, suddenly feeling self-aware.
“That’s impressive.”
“Is it?” You chuckled nervously. It wasn’t every day that you were complimented by a world class football player. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and looked away, trying to find a way out of this. “So… which one do you like more?”
“The first one.” Sae replied. “Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He would never admit that for some unknown reason, having your opinion on the matter suddenly felt like the most important thing. And he would never admit he knew from the first second Midnight Velvet was the one for him, but if he had told you, you wouldn’t have rambled for 10 minutes, which would have made him feel bad.
“Midnight Velvet?”
“Yeah.”
“Well perfume is personal you have to choose. I can’t choose for you if you don’t—”
“I’m asking for your opinion, though. Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He repeated, holding eye contact.
You blinked, surprised. “Uhm… yeah. I think Midnight Velvet suits you best.” You smiled.
“Then I'll buy this one, if you don’t mind.”
“I obviously don’t mind.” You countered, finally recovering your playful side. “I mean that's my job, to make you buy things. The more the better.”
He let out a small amused huff, which felt like a victory. Taking the package of the said perfume, you led him to the register. As you scanned the fancy box, you caught him staring at your skilled hands.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how come you’re in Japan? I thought you were playing for Madrid.” You stated, making small talk.
Sae’s teal eyes snapped back to your face. He took in your features and the lines of your eyes, your nose and your mouth. He didn’t want to forget them. “Passeport business and Federation talk.” A beat. “You follow football?” He pondered.
“Not really, I just know the big names and watch the big games when I have time. My father is more of a fan.”
“I see…”
“You can pay, it’s over there.” You pointed to the device.
“You follow enough to know me.” He countered as he paid without checking the price.
You shrugged. “It’s not as if you’re an unknown anymore.”
Taking back his card, he agreed. “You know me, but I do not know you. What’s your name?”
Taken aback, you muttered your name without thinking. It felt odd in your mouth, but it was yours. Why the hell would he want to know your name?? You were just some stupid perfume seller. Compared to him, you were nobody.
“That's a pretty name. I like it.” He smirked before stepping out of the shop and leaving you to wonder if all this was just a hallucination. Your eyes stayed on his form until he was out of sight, far from the shop.
You ran your hand down your face, sighing heavily. You could already feel a headache forming. Out of all the weird things to ever happen in your life, this was definitely one of the weirdest.
Checking the register, you noticed he left a card. It wasn’t a credit one, more like a business one? You turned it around and saw a phone number. Could it be…? You quickly grabbed it and stuffed it in your pocket to avoid anyone seeing this. Looking around, you noticed no one was in the shop. Geez, you probably looked like a ridiculous shy mess.
The night was spent staring at the dark coloured card, with the golden outlines. Very fancy. Should you text the number to see the outcome? Definitely not. You’d only embarrass yourself…
So days passed by, and you slowly forgot about the unexpected events of that day. Well, forgetting is a strong word, you’d never forget it actually, more like it didn’t seem as important as it seemed back then. You focused on your cozy daily life, taking care of your cats, your perfumes and your small flat.
Approximately a month later, you found yourself in the same situation as the day you met Sae Itoshi. And as you noticed the similar setting while standing behind the counter, the pink haired man stepped into the shop. You froze, your brain trying to catch up with what was happening.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He flatly stated.
“Good morning to you too.” You countered, recovering from your previous choc.
A faint smile appeared on his handsome face. “Good morning.”
“What makes me worthy of your presence today?” You smirked.
“I used all the perfume. And you didn’t text me even though I left my business card.”
Your eyes widened slightly, impressed. “You finished the bottle already?”
“I did. Got many compliments about my scent with it. Thanks to you and your amazing advice.”
“Aw, you’re going to make me blush.” You chuckled.
“So I came back.” He leaned on the counter, his teal eyes fixated on you. “Here, just for you. To buy another bottle.”
“You could’ve gone to any other shop, you know that?” You smiled, putting away the perfumes you were registering, to make more room for Sae’s arms.
“I know. But I wanted to buy it here. Makes it more special to me.” He paused, long enough for the weight of his words to land. “And I wanted to know why you didn’t text me.”
“Why didn't I text you? I can’t just text an international football star, can I?” You scoffed.
“The question is why couldn’t you? I gave you my personal phone number.”
You stuttered, completely flustered by his unexpected behaviour. You shrugged, talking out your phone and the business card he gave you back then. You texted him immediately. The sound of a notification from his pocket confirmed to you this wasn’t a fake number. Your knees almost gave out, but you fought your hardest to keep your composure. You barely remembered how that day even ended.
The following year felt like the beginning of a fever year. Sae and you would text each other regularly, messages seeping through different time zones whenever he was training in Spain. The pink haired man came back to Japan more often since you two met, and always found excuses to stop by the perfumery : broken bottle, Lost bottle, left behind in a five stars hotel… He would never miss an opportunity to luckily miss perfume and buy a new one with you.
One night, as you were about to go to sleep after a rough day of dealing with particularly annoying clients, your phone’s screen lit up to Sae’s notification. You knew it was mid-afternoon in Spain, meaning he would be busy training and not texting you.
You frowned, reading the message.
Sae : What are you doing this July?
You : Working, I guess. Why?
S : How about coming to the US with me?
Y : LMAOOOOO
S : I’m serious.
Y : I can’t afford a trip to the USA.
S : I’ll pay for everything, you don’t have to worry about anything.
Y : Why do you even want to go on a trip with me in July in the US?
S : It’s the World Cup, idiot.
Y : Wait wait wait
Y : Are you fucking serious? You want me to accompany you at the freaking World Cup ???
S : Are you coming or not? I have to tell my manager right now if I have people coming. For the visas.
Y : Sae, I can’t just leave for one month… I have to check with my boss if that’s possible…
S : Take it or leave it.
Y : … Okay I’m coming.
S : 👍
You put down your phone, taking a moment to pinch your arm to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The wincing pain confirmed that it was very much real. Thee Sae Itoshi was bringing you to the World Cup, aka the most important sports event in the whole world. How the hell were you going to announce your departure to your boss? There was no way he would agree to let you leave more than a week. But then again, it was a once in a life opportunity… You decided to let the night bring wisdom and sink in your well deserved mattress.
Things went so fast you barely had time to really understand how important you were in Sae’s eyes. Not even his parents were invited to the World Cup, but you were. You realized that weeks later. You had somehow managed to convince your boss to let you leave for a month. You merely threatened him to take him to court with the evidence of all the unpaid hours he made you do. Anyway, you had landed in the United States of America by Sae’s side.
You attended every single one of his games, and even showed up to his training sessions. What else could you do? Tabloids wondered who you were, asking Sae about you in interviews, but he would always dismiss the subject by saying you’re nothing more than an assistant. That label didn’t bother you at first, because you were mostly focused on the unreal nature of your presence here. Then, it started to annoy you since Sae’s behaviour towards you meant anything but just an assistant or a friend.
Then it struck you, Sae was oblivious. He didn’t even realize how he was acting towards you. The whole “bringing breakfast to you in the morning”, the “searching for you in the stands after a goal”, “asking if you’re proud of him after every match” and “making sure you’re okay because of the heat and the crowded place” isn’t exactly just friend material.
You realized that on the day of the tournament. Sae and Japan managed to reach the final, thus possibly winning the first World Cup for his native country. He was nervous, painfully so. Although, you didn’t mind the view : he was standing at the hotel’s kitchen counter in your room, shirtless, visibly frowning. You’d grown fond of the man and his emotionally constipated nature. You stood up from your bed to join him for breakfast. With a smug smile you sat in front of him.
“You look like hell.” You teased.
He gave you a half bothered half deadpan look. “I’m stressed.”
“Didn’t know the great Sae Itoshi could be stressed.” You countered.
“It’s the World Cup Final. Stakes are high. Of course I’m gonna be nervous.”
“Fair.” You pouted. “Do you plan on wearing your perfume?”
“Obviously, it’s my lucky charm. Why wouldn’t I want to be lucky on the biggest day of my life?”
“Fair once again.” You chuckled. “What’re you gonna do if you win?”
He shrugged. “Lift the trophy.”
You deadpanned him. “After, you idiot.”
“Sleep for two days straight.”
“That’s in no way fun.”
“Never said I was a fun man.” He munched on the bread.
You scoffed. “Still.” You gazed at him, trying to read his face. “Alright. If you win, I’ll tell you something.”
That caught his attention, his eyes landed on you. “Tell me what?”
“Well I’m not going to tell you now, silly.” You giggled. “I’ll tell you if you win. Otherwise you’ll never know. Or I’ll tell you next time you win a World Cup.”
“Then I have no choice but to win tonight, haven’t I?”
“That’s pretty much the deal.” You affirmed, locking your eyes in his.
The match was intense. Worthy of a World Cup Final. At multiple times, you really thought Japan was about to win. Unfortunately, their opponent was too strong, too organized as a team. They beat Japan’s team in extra time. 3-2.
You were far from Sae when the referee blew the whistle to end the match, though it was as if you were next to him. Your heart broke for him. Without surprise, his face showed nothing, but his eyes, oh his eyes spoke volumes. Empty, devastated and recalculating every minor mistake he made. You quickly went to the changing room to catch him before he went in. As he saw you, he tried to ignore you and avoid you out of shame.
“Don’t you dare ignore me, Itoshi.” You grabbed the side of his shirt. “I don’t care that you lost. I’m not disappointed. I’m proud you fought until the very last second, you hear me?”
He stared at you. Words couldn’t come out of his mouth, the fear of tears taking over him was way too overwhelming. At that moment, the hole he felt in his chest filled up with a warm flame as he realised how much you cared for him and how precious you were to him. However, it was above him to voice such a feeling. So he hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. He smelled your perfume, the same one you had for years, the one you had when you two met. It eased some of the tension in his muscles.
“I have to go..” He murmured. Indeed he had to change, listen to his coach’s assessment of the match and reply to journalists. “I’ll see you later.” He added as he kissed your forehead before disappearing into the changing room.
Your heart tightened. That World Cup ended on a note of unfulfilled potential : no world title for the Japanese players, and no love confessed. If you had to put all these emotions into a perfume, it would be a bittersweet one with orange blossom, almond and neroli. But then, who would buy a perfume to scent the bittersweetness of an unfinished story?
Years passed by. Your meetings with Sae were regular and love between you continued to grow as he continued to be oblivious to it. You still worked in the same perfume shop you two met. And he still travelled between Japan and Spain. He never told you, but deep down you sensed he never got over the loss of the last World Cup. He was working harder than ever, to come back stronger.
Sometimes, you wondered if it was worth it to wait for him to realise you were in love with each other. Or maybe he knew and refused to acknowledge it. Every option hurt more than the last, and doubt seeped into your heart. You were no Penelope, how could you rely on the untold feelings of an emotionally dumb man and wait years for him? So you were tempted to find someone else, to change your mind with whatever you could. But your heart belonged to him, and much to your despair, you always crawled back to him in the deepest hours of the night. You were also tempted to tell him, but you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you grew over the years, and what if he didn’t like you back? What if he didn’t love you more than football? Was it worth it, to unveil your love to him, to just become a couple for the sake of it? Moreover, it wasn’t like he was an unattractive man. Women were at his feet, famous ones, rich ones… You were no match with your small perfumery shop and knowledge. On paper, these women were a perfect match for him, so how could you not feel insecure? Many times you wondered if he gave in the temptation of these women. Your thoughts grew more and more venomous and rotten as you lost more and more sleep each night.
Sae knew. He knew he felt more for you than he did with other people. He loved to be around you as you made him feel at home, he loved your scent, your rants about perfumes, he adored the way sunlight would hit your skin at the end of the day. It made him want to hold you against him and never let go. Never would he have guessed he’d feel this way for someone who had nothing in common with him or football. Much to his despair, he faced another struggle : sharing his feelings to you. He wasn’t blind, he saw the way you looked at him and he wanted to tell you everything that’s laid on his heart for now five years. But it was above his strength. Each time he would gather the courage to do so, he would chicken out. What if he misread you? What if you were in love with another man? He couldn’t bear the idea so he kept it all to himself. Bittersweetness filled his heart as you were everything he could think of. There was nothing he was seeing everyday without thinking of you. To top it all, Hortense, the label of the perfume you chose for him made him their effigy. They even created a perfume for him, Sae Itoshi. They even named it Boy genius. He never wore it though, since you never recommended it to him. Still, he wondered if you liked the perfume, it somehow mattered to him. Though, he never asked you your opinion on it, too afraid of your judgement.
Without surprise, the following World Cup arrived. Five years have gone by since your first meeting. You joined him in Spain, country where it was organized. Without surprise, the same circus happened : tabloids wondered who you were again, fans started to get more heated towards you and paparazzis tried to get more pictures of you with Sae. You did your best to not let it upset you. You were not a public person, you were just Sae’s friend, right? You couldn’t understand all the attention you were getting, people were here for the sport, not the gossip, weren’t they?
You managed to survive through the month without being skinned alive by anyone. The mood was electric and magnificent. There was no denying that these kinds of events were magical. As a spectator, it was amazing, but you also saw the other side of it : players were under enormous pressure. Having the country’s weight and expectations on their shoulders wasn’t easy.
Sae, obviously, showed nothing. However after five years of knowing each other, you started to understand how he was working. You were by his side, often just sitting in silence on the couch as he was watching his next opponents matches to analyze their techniques. You knew your presence was soothing him, so you didn’t try to do too much. You were just there, by his side. And it was all that he needed.
The night before the finale, as you were both sitting on the couch, he paused the match and turned to you.
“If I win tomorrow…” He started.
“Mmh?” You hummed, listening to him but still focused on the video playing on your phone.
“Will you tell me what you planned to tell me four years ago?”
A pause.
You turned off your phone and glanced at him, thrown off by this request.
“You still remember that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, it was four years ago, it was a long time ago.”
“I’m curious about what you wanted to tell me back then.”
“That’s ridiculous…”
“It’s not ridiculous. It mattered to you back then, so it matters to me now.”
“...”
“Will you keep that promise and tell me if I win?”
You smiled faintly, looking away. “If that’s what you want.”
“I want that if you want that.”
“Then yeah, I want that.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I have no choice but to win now.”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m not winning for the country tomorrow. I’m winning for you.”
Your stomach dropped and butterflies blossomed in. Was he realising the weight of his words or was he just that dumb? The way he was gazing at your face proved he knew what he said and the effect it had on you. Nervously, you chuckled.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’ll be stupid for you.”
You scoffed. “Focus on the match tomorrow, don’t get distracted now.”
“Mmh.” He grabbed the TV remote and started to watch the match again.
You dismissed him not out of rudeness, but because it threw you off. How could one just drop a bomb like that on an evening before the biggest match of his life? You were almost having a heart attack. Damn. That man will be the death of you.
The next day, tension was at its strongest. The game was uptight. Fortunately, the outcome wasn’t the same as four years prior. In extra time, Japanese players managed to shoot a beautiful, well-deserved goal. The referee blew the whistle to end the match. You couldn’t believe your eyes, Sae was finally a World Champion, after all these years of hard work he finally made it.
You couldn’t help but let the tears overwhelm you, almost enough that you didn’t see him climbing the stands to get to you. Most people had gone on the field to celebrate, everyone but you and now Sae who joined you. He grabbed your cheeks and wiped your tears.
“Why are you crying?” He asked, almost concerned.
“For you, idiot.” You chuckled, cupping his jawline. “Because I’m proud of you. Because I’m so so very much happy for you.” You smiled through the tears.
A smile appeared on his face, a rare, real, precious smile. It made you tear up even more.
“I won for you, you know that.” He rested his forehead against yours. “So now you have to tell me the secret you’ve been keeping from me.”
You chuckled. “You’re not losing your bearings, are you?” You paused, trying to regain some composure.
Music was loud, people were cheering, Sae’s coach and teammates were celebrating and soon he’d have to go back down to lift the trophy and get his medal. And yet, at this very moment it was only you and him in your little bubble no one could burst. Time seemed to slow down. Emotions were powerful, heavy, overwhelming. You had to get it out your chest or you might just explode.
“I love you.” You finally admitted. After five years, the words stuck in your throat finally freed themselves. It felt so good to finally say it. “Fuck…I love you so much Sae… I love you so much it hurts.” Tears were flowing, out of relief and happiness.
He stared at you, realisation daunting him. Your words hit his heart in a way he would’ve never imagined. At that moment, he was at the top of the world.
“Idiot…” He breathed out, smiling contently. “I love you too…” He hugged you tightly.
The rest of the day happened in a blur. Excitation everywhere, congratulations flowing, celebrations with whoever was passing by… What else could you wish for? You had your man, who was a freaking World Champion.
Things calmed down the next day. You woke up next to Sae in tangled sheets. He was still sound asleep. Poor guy was probably exhausted from everything. He probably needed vacations. You grabbed your phone to scroll on social media for a bit. After a while, you found an extract from an interview Sae gave the day before.
“What are you feeling now that you have reached the rarest trophy? What are you planning now?”
“I have won more than just a trophy, I won everything I could wish for. For now, I plan on spending time with someone I care deeply for. We’ll see about my career later. But I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”
You smiled to yourself. Sae shifted, half-asleep, throwing an arm over your waist and burying his face in the back of your neck, making you the little spoon.
“Morning World Champion.” You teased.
You felt a small amused breath reach your skin. “Morning.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted. My limbs are sore. I want to spend the day in bed with you.”
You chuckled quietly. “That can be arranged.”
You put down your phone and turned around to mold into his body for a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you and making sure you couldn’t leave his embrace.
“You smell good.” He murmured, burying his nose in your hair.
“I’m not wearing any perfume though.”
“I know, I like your perfume and the scent of your skin.”
“How does it smell?” You asked him.
“Mmh…” He paused, thinking, still very much half-asleep. “Sweet and perfect. Just like you.”
You chuckled quietly. “You could be a great perfume seller.”
“Got that from you.” He countered, satisfied. He needed nothing more right now, just you, his gold medal and a calm day without any training, any journalist or paparazzis. At that moment, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life holding you like that every morning.
rin doesn’t like your relationship with his brother
best read after reading this fic but you don't need it to understand this one x
a/n: same couple as all my other sae ficsss, sorry for my disappearance writers block is a male
read on ao3
<3
Rin didn’t mean to end up at the same cafe as his brother and his girlfriend, but some things can’t be helped and he’s enjoying his dessert too much to leave (he shouldn’t really be having it in the first place but everything’s pissing him off more than usual so he thinks it’s okay to treat himself for once). The two of you don’t seem to notice him, so he’s content with staying in the vicinity and observing you from afar.
When Sae said he was bringing a date to his wedding, Rin thought he was bringing someone he knew: someone like Shidou, or even Oliver, maybe a model or someone else the brothers were familiar with. He wasn’t expecting you, a complete stranger, someone he’s never seen before and someone apparently Sae had only just recently met too. Unfortunately, Rin was too busy stressing about the wedding to care too much at the time, glossing over your name in Sae’s RSVP, until he saw you in the flesh on the day of his wedding.
You were wearing a dress that matched the colour of Sae’s suit, and despite the awkwardness between the two of you, even Rin could tell that Sae was absolutely smitten with you and you with him, if anything from just the sickly way you looked at each other. He honestly didn’t (and still doesn’t) care about you and Sae at all, but if there’s one thing that irks him about your relationship, it’s how too smitten he thinks his brother is.
Especially now at this cafe.
The way Sae looks at you as you take pictures of your pastries, helping you move the plates, posing when you ask him to, waiting patiently as you continue to take and retake any pictures; the way Sae then pulls his phone out to take pictures of you, eyes going soft as you pose, softly complimenting you with words like beautiful, gorgeous, perfect; the way Sae drags your chair closer to his once the two of you finish taking pictures, putting his arm around you so that you’re flush against his side; the way you start digging in, feeding each other, looking at each other, talking with each other, laughing with each other, wiping whipped cream on and off of each other-
It all makes Rin sick; this side of his brother isn’t one he sees often, and he wishes it would stay that way.
This can’t be the same brother who commands a whole team, has countries feeding out of his palms; the same brother who destroys dreams on a football pitch, regardless of blood; the same brother who he spent years hating, only recently becoming civil; the same brother who couldn’t know kindness or love even if it took form as a soccer ball, too full of resentment and self loathing that Rin still doesn’t understand fully to this day.
This isn’t the Itoshi Sae that Rin knows.
Reduced to whatever this even is by the hands of a mere girl, you have him completely by a leash. When you present your cheek to his brother, Sae complying with a kiss (a long one at that), Rin’s jaw actually drops, even further at the way Sae looks at you as you giggle up at him, eyes warm with something Rin doesn’t want to admit recognising (it’s the same way he looks at his wife). He doesn’t even realise how long he’s been staring at you two until you’re dragging Sae by his hand to leave, Sae just letting you, and the two of you are gone from Rin’s sight just like that.
Rin finishes his dessert with a harsh scrape on his plate, abruptly standing from his chair to leave without looking back. When he leaves the cafe, he immediately calls his wife for comfort.
-
“Hey, I think your brother was in that cafe just now as well.”
Sae looks down at you with a frown as the two of you walk.
“Really? The one we were just in?” He asks.
“Yeah, I swear I saw him looking at us. Does he still not like me, or something?”
“No, baby, Rin likes you just fine.”
You tug at Sae’s arm with a pout.
“He absolutely doesn’t like me. He’s always glaring at me. You know, one time he told me to stop making you so soft, and that it’s my fault you’re all ‘lovey-dovey’ now. He said I was ‘ruining your reputation’”. You make fake quotation marks with your fingers.
“When was that?”
“At New Years. He was so drunk, so maybe it was the alcohol, but, I don’t think you say that kind of stuff to someone you like…”
Sae can’t help but snort at your words, because he remembers how that night Rin had said something similar to him as well.
“You’re so down bad for her, it’s disgusting.”
Of course, Sae hadn’t taken it to heart (he never does with anything Rin says) but he’d found it funny how after stomping over to him to say that, Rin had immediately left to drape himself over his wife.
It takes one to know one, Sae had thought at the time.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. He’s just… Attached to the past. He’ll get over it one day.” Sae says, moving his arm from your grip to go around your waist instead. “Tell me when he says stuff like that to you, though. He shouldn’t be allowed to speak to you like that.”
You nod against his side, quickly changing the conversation topic to something else, and Sae can’t help but smile as he listens.
You have made him soft, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
<3
This was inspired by this one tiktok i cant remember. Lowkey idek what this is lowkey hate it but. Enjoy!
you were currently seated across sae in a worn down red booth, glaring at him with the most serious face you could muster. even you knew this entire act was foolish and that your efforts would be futile, but you still had to try.
“it won’t hurt, i promise.” you say, pinching the skinny, greasy potato and slowly inching it closer to his lips.
sae on the other hand, had his arms crossed against his chest, staring back at you as if you’d lost your head.
“i know it won’t hurt, it’s.. a fry.” he quirked an eyebrow at your statement, still mustering that deadpan look on his face before a small realization crossed his mind, “though, it might hurt a little. it’s definitely unhealthy.”
you let out a defeated huff, your elbow still in its position on the table and the fry still just inches away from his mouth.
“i know you like them sae, you told me so! what if they’re a little unhealthy? you train everyday so, technically you’re burning the calories you’re so scared of intaking..” you paused, not knowing if what you just said was correct. it sounded factual enough, enough for sae to eat the fry. “right?”
“.. there’s more to it than that.” he said, voice unwavering.
rolling your eyes, and relaxing your very failed attempt at a death glare, your arm hit the table as you dropped your head.
a beat passed before sae decided to speak again.
“what’s wrong?”
“.. you won’t eat the fry.” you slowly raised your head to meet sae’s eyes, of course they were showing zero emotion, which led you to wonder if he was even enjoying the time being spent right now.
“i know you have football and stuff and you’re a world-class athlete so you have to be in shape but..” you turned your head away, facing any direction that wouldn’t have sae’s teal eyes boring in your soul as you continued, “i kind of just wanted you to eat a basket of fries with me, you know?”
and for the first time today, sae’s eyes spoke louder than he ever could. he watched as a small pout started to form on your lips, as well as your face looking at anything but him.
he couldn’t stand it. for some odd reason, sae couldn’t bear to see even a hint of sadness prying at your features. that’s why he was about to go out of his way, just for you.
letting out a sigh, he smoothly made his way over to your side of the booth, grabbing a fry from the checkered plastic basket and brought it to his lips. though, he only centered the fry halfway into his mouth, the other half pointing in your direction.
as you felt the seat sink next to you with the added weight, you whipped your head around to see sae with a fry poking out of his mouth.
you looked at him in confusion before he spoke.
“so we can eat it together.” even with the restriction to some of the syllables as he continued to speak, you understood perfectly what he meant.
he watched your eyes light up with joy, the sparkle coming back just as quickly as it’d left. not to get cocky but,
he did that.
“really?”
he glared, but there was no real fire behind it. just… adoration. “yes, really. now take a bite, you’ve got me looking like an idiot.”
without another second to lose, you leaned in close enough that your lips brushed against his. you could feel the soft flutter of his lashes against your cheek as you two made eye contact for one brief moment before you pulled away, taking the other half of the fry between your teeth.
you slowly chewed on the fry, the perfect mixture of salt and grease gracing your taste buds. then you looked at sae.
“how’s it taste?” you truly couldn’t tell if it liked it or not. sure he told you, but you’d never really seen him eat one before.
“salty,
“uh huh…”
“greasy…”
“mm..”
“and.. like you.”
you stopped your chewing and instead focused all your energy into looking bewildered.
“so.. good?”
and it definitely seems like you were winning today, because you noticed a small twitch in the corner of sae’s lips.
he let out a small huff, his shoulders relaxing just a smidge. “yeah.. good.”
although sae didn’t finish the entire basket with you, he did let himself have a generous handful.
even if it may have costed him, if it made you smile, he’d indulge in your silly little antics. just this once. maybe for the rest of his life.
never in his life would he have thought to be that way. none of his friends, colleagues, or people who glance at him on the street would say that—no one can see hiori as being the greedy kind. no one.
never in his life did he have anything to be greedy for. everything he could ever have wanted was stripped away from him, for the sake of being number one.
in his life, his childhood, it was all blind obedience.
sure, he could have tiny, selfish impulses, but they were all cast away as unattainable anyways.
the only time he allowed himself to really want something, to be selfish, was when he wanted you. your love, your touch, your care, your smile.
he whispers it in his sleep, he tries to put as much of it in his kiss to replace his failed words, he tries to beam it to your head whenever your foreheads touch and whenever your voice hits his eardrums.
the two of you lay in his bed, another quiet night of just each other. another time of just soaking in the other's presence, soft music from hiori's favorite ost's playing in the background.
suddenly, he feels it all at once. he swear he isn't the type to get swayed by his emotions often—but not often does he think that life is perfect like this.
the gentle breeze through his open window, caressing his skin where it was wrapped around yours.
the sound of your exhale, the indication of your heart beating right next to his own.
the way the familiar music seems to make every single moment of this even more special, even more prized.
it almost seemed impossible that this was really his life. it didn't seem possible that it all his years of living, breathing, of wishing he wasn't living or breathing led up to this moment.
hiori chokes on his spit, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. they do, tiny streaks from the corner that gently darken the bedsheets.
"yo-chan?" you whisper, alarmed. but he shakes his head at you. don't worry, my lovely.
"sorry…" he smiles out, voice wavering with his tears. "i just…"
he didn't know how to process his emotions right now, how to put them into tangible words that you can grapple onto and feel the same as he's feeling. he didn't believe that life could really be this beautiful now that you're by his side. he didn't believe in anything anymore, just the presence of you next to him, a light in his darkness.
the tears start streaming down his face, not caring for the efforts hiori tried to prevent them. you panic a bit more, reaching over to touch your hands to his delicate face, wiping away his tears.
"don't cry…" you softly mutter, concerned.
he brings his hands to his face, holding onto your hands and stopping them from moving any further. you freeze—partly because he asked you to, partly because of the momentary shock of how cold his fingers were.
"y/n…" he mumbles through the new wave of tears about to glisten his cheek.
"i love you."
you blink, surprised at his teary confession. of course, it was already established, but this time—the way his hands shook as it grappled onto yours, the sweet way he was crying, the intonation of his voice—it made this one "i love you" seem more meaningful than any other ones that came out of his honest mouth.
you smile, relaxing your hands and dropping them, leaning in closer to hiori so that he can soak up your body warmth.
"i love you too."
hiori might be greedy after all, since he has your endless love.
tags: @kkan4 @maiyz
dividers by @/diviniyae @/doll-fairy || main m.list // bllk m.list
you had learned that dating sae itoshi meant living in a world where normal sentences could ruin your entire reputation.
not because you and sae were doing anything weird.
because your words, when dragged out of context by the wrong person at the wrong time, sounded absolutely criminal.
and the worst part was that sae never reacted the way a normal person would react. he would just stare at you, expression flat, ears maybe a little pink if he was tired enough, and keep talking like he had not just said something that made three people in the room go dead silent.
the first time, rin was on the phone.
you were in sae’s apartment, half curled up on the couch with a blanket over your legs, one sock missing because you had kicked it off at some point and now you had no idea where it went. sae stood in the kitchen with a glass of water, shirt sleeves pushed up, looking like he had stepped out of a magazine.
rin had called you because he wanted a second opinion on some dumb restaurant he was going to with a friend, which somehow turned into him asking you to read a menu over the phone because “you always act like you know what good food is.”
“you’re useless,” you told him, staring at the menu on your phone. “why are you making me do this.”
“because i’m trying to decide,” rin said. “just read the damn options.”
sae walked behind you and leaned one hand on the back of the couch, glancing at your screen. “that one,” he said, voice low.
without thinking, you tilted your head and said, “wait, no, i want to see if i can fit more.”
there was a pause on the line.
then rin went, very slowly, “...what?”
you blinked. “what.”
sae, still looking at the menu, said, “you said you wanted more.”
“more what?” rin asked, already sounding horrified.
you looked up at sae. “the fries.”
he was quiet for half a second.
then he said, “obviously.”
rin made a sound that was somewhere between choking and dying.
“the fries,” you repeated, narrowing your eyes at your brother. “why are you acting weird.”
“because i heard that from the other room,” rin snapped. “it sounded insane.”
sae finally looked up, expression completely blank. “that’s your problem.”
“my problem?” rin repeated.
“yes,” sae said. “your hearing is bad.”
you buried your face in the couch cushion because you could already feel the embarrassment setting in, and rin was still talking like his soul had been permanently damaged.
“i don’t like this,” he muttered. “i really don’t like the way either of you talk.”
“then stop listening,” sae said.
“you said it first.”
“and yet you’re still here.”
rin cursed under his breath, and you laughed so hard you nearly dropped the phone.
that should have been your first warning.
later that week, your friend drops by the apartment unannounced, the one who’s always teasing you about your “brooding midfielder boyfriend”. she’s sprawled on the armchair, flipping through her phone while you and sae are in the kitchen area sorting through takeout leftovers.
the conversation picks up naturally from the night before, when you’d both stayed up way too late binge watching that dumb documentary series.
“god, you kept me up so late again,” you complain lightly, poking at some cold noodles. “i was exhausted but you just kept going and going. didn’t even let me tap out for a break.”
sae leans against the fridge, arms crossed, his voice flat like he’s already over it. “you were the one begging for more rounds. said you could handle it if i went harder. ended up sweating everywhere by the end, sheets were a mess.”
your friend freezes mid scroll, eyes widening slowly as she stares between you two. the silence stretches for a beat before she clears her throat, voice pitching up. “uhhh… okay, wow. i think i just walked in on foreplay or something? do i need to leave? pretend i didn’t hear that?”
you turn, confused for a second, then it clicks and you burst out laughing, waving your hands. “no, no— we were talking about the documentary! the episodes were long as hell, and sae wouldn’t stop until we’d finished the whole season. there was sweating because the ac was broken!”
sae doesn’t even crack a smile, just gives her that signature deadpan stare, the one that says he’s already over this interruption. “exactly. normal conversation. your mind’s in the gutter.”
but your friend is already cackling, face flushed, fanning herself dramatically. “dude, the way you said ‘went harder’— i can’t unhear it. you two are dangerous without context.”
“i’m never coming over again,” she said.
“you say that every week,” you told her.
“and every week i’m right.”
the worst one, though, happened with shidou.
of course it did. because if anyone was going to turn a normal conversation into a public disaster, it was him.
he had shown up uninvited, as usual, claiming he was “in the neighborhood,” which meant he had probably gotten bored and wanted to bother people (specifically sae). he was sprawled on your couch with his shoes off like he paid rent there, eating pizza while you stood in the kitchen with sae, trying to figure out how to fix a shelf that had started leaning at a weird angle.
it was a stupid shelf. a cheap one, too. one of the screws had come loose, and every time you touched it, it looked like it was one second away from collapsing out of spite.
you had been crouched on the floor, trying to hold the side panel in place while sae knelt beside you with the screwdriver.
“hold it still,” he said.
“i am holding it still.”
“you’re shaking.”
“i’m not.”
“you are.”
“i’m getting pinned in a weird position here, sae.”
shidou, from the other room, called out with his mouth stuffed full, “what weird position?”
you froze.
sae didn’t. he just kept looking at the screw with the same dead calm he always had. “one where she keeps moving.”
shidou sat up so fast he nearly hit the coffee table. “excuse me?”
you turned your head slowly. “do not make that face.”
“what face?” shidou asked, grinning already. “i didn’t say anything.”
“your face is saying enough.”
sae clicked his tongue quietly. “stop talking.”
shidou pointed at him. “you stop talking. it sounds insane.”
you exhaled through your nose and tried to keep the shelf steady. “can you both be normal for thirty seconds?”
“no,” shidou and sae said immediately.
you looked between them. “why did you answer together.”
“because we’re both honest,” shidou said.
“that’s not what that means.”
sae glanced at you. “hold it tighter.”
“i am.”
“tighter.”
your face heated up instantly. “sae!”
shidou let out the loudest, most offended gasp known to man. “oh my god.”
“what is wrong with you?” you snapped your head toward him.
“you can’t just say it like that in front of me.”
“say what like what?”
he pointed at sae, then at you, then made a face like he had seen something deeply unholy. “you two are disgusting.”
sae, completely unbothered, set the screwdriver down. “we’re fixing a shelf.”
“that is not what it sounds like.”
you covered your face with one hand. “please stop talking.”
shidou stood up now, clearly delighted. “no, no, keep going. i want to hear this. what else are you gonna say? ‘push a little harder’? ‘don’t let it slip’?”
“you’re the one making it weird,” you muttered.
“it was already weird!”
sae finally looked at him with visible annoyance. “you’re loud.”
“you’re suspiciously calm,” shidou shot back.
“and you’re stupid.”
shidou laughed like that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him.
you sighed, still crouched on the floor, and sae finally took the shelf piece from your hands and adjusted it himself with annoying precision. he leaned in close enough that you could smell his cologne, faint and clean, and said in that low, matter of fact tone of his, “there. now stop moving.”
shidou slapped both hands over his mouth.
you stared at him. “shidou.”
he pointed at the air like he needed everyone to understand what had just happened. “i’m never unhearing that.”
“you imagined it.”
“no, you did.”
sae didn’t even blink. “you’re dramatic.”
“you’re worse,” shidou said, still grinning way too hard. “i see it now.”
“see what?”
he looked at you, then at sae, then slowly stepped backward like he was giving himself space to survive the revelation. “nothing. absolutely nothing. i respect my life.”
you threw a pillow at him, which he caught and immediately held over his chest like a shield.
by the time the shelf was finally fixed, shidou had spent the entire rest of the evening making terrible little comments under his breath every time you and sae spoke to each other.
“don’t move too fast.”
“yeah, keep going.”
“you always this rough?”
“wow, sae, didn’t know you liked it like that.”
at one point sae looked like he might actually kick him out of the apartment, which would have been deserved, but instead he just said, “you talk too much.”
shidou leans forward, elbows on knees, still grinning like a maniac. “you keep giving me material. gonna invite me next time or keep this private pounding session to yourselves?”
sae stands up abruptly, collecting his plate, his tone as cold and final as it gets. “conversation’s over. if you’re done being an idiot, eat your food and leave. some of us have actual things to do.”
but even as he says it, you catch the tiniest hint of exasperation mixed with something almost fond in the way he doesn’t fully kick shidou out right away.
