❝ TAKE MY BREATH AWAY! — various! blue lock x reader
summary : you post a photo of yourself and end up getting some.. well unsolicited freakily supportive comments. how does your bf react?
featuring .. isagi yoichi , itoshi rin , itoshi sae , michael kaiser
cw/tw: no warnings! alot of freaky comments because you're fyne shyt so scroll if you arent comfortable with things like that! vaguely, very vaguely connected to my other smau but you dont need to read it to understand
→ isagi yoichi
→ itoshi rin
→ itoshi sae
→ michael kaiser
a/n : ANYTHING but writign the next chapter bro im crine uni done took my motivation, also every post has lyrics as the captions, so here are the songs in that order if you like!
isagi yoichi - tell all his friends and go delusional. everytime you walk by he’s a blushing mess and they’re all whispering. the first time he even talks to you he gets shoved into you and word-vomits his name, an apology, and that he likes your necklace at the same time.
rin itoshi - he’ll stare you down like he hates you. when you furrow your eyebrows at him and serve attitude back he’s astonished, but he just mumbles and looks away. he bumps into you in the hallway and tells you to watch where you’re going. the first time you guys talk is when you are in class together and you’re complaining about being hungry and he just quietly pulls out your favorite snack and hands it over to you without saying anything.
sae itoshi - quietly watches you and you just get familiar with him, you both don’t even know how. the first time you actually spoke was when you were both in trouble, sitting in someone’s office waiting, and since you were hungry he walked out to get you chips when you begged hard enough.
bachira meguru - legit will just follow you around. he defined you guys as friends a long time before you were even familiar with him and at some point you just got used to him.
bunny iglesias - big tease. he will poke fun at embarrassing things that happen to you when nobody was paying attention. he already knows he’s the shit and you feel embarrassed to be around him because he always is watching when something goes wrong but when you’re like aurafarming he’s suddenly busy, too much to notice you. your going back insane.
hugo - he sees you at a coffee shop and is entranced, he picks a coin up and says you dropped it, your knees are weak already. do you even have coins in your purse? no. were you paying attention to the coin? no. now you’re all giggly around your friends and everytime you come in and he’s reading in that one seat you’re always trying to get him to notice somehow. little do you know he already noticed you before you even saw him.
julian loki - he’ll see you after a few games wearing his jersey and will be blushing profusely each time. when you look at him after he had won against bastard munchen, he calmly waves and comes over. asks you how you liked the match and your already mentally kicking your feet and giggling. he kindly invites you to a smaller charity match and you immediately agree and tell him you’ll be there. he doesn’t like how nervous you make him feel, he’s supposed to be the best and untouchable.
hiori yo - stalk you prolly
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check out my masterlist!!
guys i scored a volley today which im kinda proud of myself for especially against pretty much all boys so like yeah and i just got a rin chibigurumi he’s so stupid i wanna put him on my backpack but anime isn’t cool in my classes and i hate everyone so ✌🏻🐐🔥
the apartment is quiet except for the soft sizzling coming from the pan in front of you.
you hum quietly to yourself, stirring dinner absentmindedly while the smell of garlic and soy sauce fills the kitchen. outside, rain taps gently against the windows, soft enough to be calming rather than annoying.
then, the front door opens.
you glance toward the hallway automatically, hearing the familiar sound of shoes being kicked off near the entrance.
“welcome home,” you call out.
there’s no immediate response. just footsteps, slow ones.
you barely have enough time to look over your shoulder before arms wrap around your waist from behind, warm and heavy, pulling you backward against a solid chest.
you laugh softly. “hello to you too.”
sae buries his face into the crook of your neck without saying anything, his grip tightening slightly around you.
and immediately, you know.
long day.
“training bad?” you ask gently.
he exhales against your skin, tired and warm. “…mhm.”
that’s all you get at first.
sae wasn’t usually clingy.
affectionate, yes. quietly so. a hand on your thigh during drives, fingers brushing yours under tables, lingering touches whenever the two of you passed each other around the apartment.
but after difficult training days, he got like this. silent, clingy and needy in the softest possible way.
you lower the heat on the stove before resting your hand over his where it sits against your stomach.
“sae,” you laugh quietly, “the food’s gonna burn.”
“then let it burn.”
you actually snort at that.
because only sae would say something so serious over slightly overcooked dinner.
he shifts closer somehow, forehead now resting against your shoulder while his fingers curl tighter into the fabric of your shirt.
“missed you,” he mutters after a moment.
your expression softens instantly.
there it is. underneath the exhaustion. underneath the quietness, just him wanting you close.
you turn slightly in his hold, enough to brush your fingers through his hair. it’s still slightly damp from his shower at training.
“i missed you too.”
his eyes close briefly at the feeling of your hand in his hair.
“come sit down for a bit,” you murmur. “i’ll finish cooking.”
he shakes his head immediately.
“no.”
“sae-”
“wanna stay here.”
you can’t help smiling again.
because this terrifying midfielder, this cold and composed genius everyone else seems intimidated by, is currently acting like an oversized cat refusing to let you move.
“you’re clingy today.”
he finally lifts his head slightly, enough to look at you.
“…is that bad?”
the quietness in his voice makes your chest ache a little.
you turn fully this time despite his arms still around you, reaching up to cup his face gently between your hands.
“no,” you say softly. “never.”
something in his expression relaxes immediately.
his shoulders loosen, his eyes soften.
and before you can say anything else, he leans down, pressing a slow kiss against your forehead before hiding his face against your neck again.
“…okay,” he whispers.
the food nearly burns anyway, but neither of you really care.
a/n : made this cuz im flopping send in reqs and other than that theres nothing more to add.
synopsis : rin has been slowly neglecting your relationship — missed dates, forgotten calls, emotionally distant. you try to be patient, understanding his goals. but it all builds up until a fight breaks out. he leaves, thinking you'll cool off like always.
but this time... you don't wait.
a/n : im so unwell help :(
wc : 3.7k
he wasn’t always like this.
there was a time he’d text you after every match — not long messages, but enough. a blurry picture of the field, a quiet “wish you were here,” or just your name followed by a heart emoji. simple things. things that reminded you he was still thinking of you, even from miles away.
now?
now you’re not even sure he remembers you exist.
you started memorizing his schedule just to feel close to him.
you stopped asking when you could see him — because you hated hearing, “i’ll let you know.”
you live together.
but it doesn’t feel like it.
he leaves early, comes home late, and when he’s here, he’s not really here.
you pass each other in the hallway. sleep on opposite sides of the bed.
sometimes he says goodnight. most nights, he doesn’t.
you stopped keeping track of the missed dates after the fifth one.
first it was the café you used to love.
then the ramen shop across town.
then your apartment— just a text that came in after midnight. “sorry. practice ran long.”
you told yourself he was trying.
that he was just tired. focused. under pressure.
but deep down, you knew better.
because trying looks like effort.
like calling when he’s late.
like remembering what day it is.
like showing up.
the phone calls were the next thing to go.
he used to call you between drills. send quick updates, blurry pictures, tired voice notes. now it’s just silence.
you text him “are you okay?”
he replies four hours later with “fine.”
he doesn’t ask about your day. doesn’t notice when you start staying later at work.
doesn’t ask why you’ve stopped sitting beside him on the couch.
he’s always staring at the screen — game replays, strategy breakdowns, footage of sae.
never at you.
and the thing is — you don’t want everything. you never did.
you just wanted to feel like he still chose you. like you still mattered. like love didn’t have to come second to ambition.
but every missed call, every cold dinner, every barely-there glance feels like a quiet reminder:
you’re not his priority anymore.
you live together.
but it doesn’t feel like home.
just two people breathing the same air in a space that used to feel warm and now just feels like waiting.
you try to be patient. you always have.
you know who he is. what he wants.
you knew even before the late nights and the missed calls, that rin itoshi wasn’t the type to love loudly.
he’s focused, intense. private.
you never asked him to be anything else. so you try.
you try to understand the pressure he’s under.
you try not to take it personally when he forgets to text back.
you try to be enough — quiet support, steady presence, a home he doesn’t have to think about too hard.
because you love him.
and love, you tell yourself, means compromise.
but lately, it feels like you’re the only one bending.
you wait through the silence.
you cook for two and eat alone.
you fall asleep to the sound of the front door opening, not knowing whether to feel relief or resentment.
and every time you think about saying something — really saying something — a voice in your head whispers:
he’s tired.
he’s trying.
don’t make it harder for him.
so you shrink.
you soften your tone.
you smile when he walks in, even when your chest aches.
you try to be patient.
but patience shouldn’t feel like abandonment and love shouldn’t feel like waiting in an empty room for someone who forgets you’re there.
you’ve made dinner. again.
the apartment smells like garlic and rosemary, the scent drifting softly into every corner. the same way it used to when he was here on time, the way it used to mean something. you set the table carefully for two, placing the plates side by side, the silverware aligned just right. there’s a glass of water for each of you and a bottle of wine you’d bought last weekend because you thought maybe, just maybe, you’d get to open it together.
the clock ticks past seven.
you tell yourself to wait.
rin is probably running late. it’s normal — games, training, unexpected calls. you tell yourself he’s tired, stressed, working harder than ever to reach those impossible goals that seem to swallow him whole. you’ve learned to be patient. to understand. to remind yourself that he’s not doing this to hurt you.
but the silence is heavy.
your phone vibrates on the counter. you glance at the screen, hope catching in your throat.
rin.
you pick it up slowly, heart hammering in your chest.
you open the message.
“something came up. sorry.”
forty minutes late.
no explanation. no promise to make it up. no “i miss you,” no “i’m sorry i keep letting you down.”
just those four words.
you set your phone down, the warmth fading from your hands.
you stare at the plate you made for him, the food still steaming, untouched. it looks perfect. but it tastes like disappointment.
you want to hate him. to scream. to tell him how much it hurts.
but the tears sting behind your eyes, and all you feel is tired.
you remember the early days, the way he would always be on time, how his smile would light up the room when he saw you waiting. how he used to brush a stray hair behind your ear and say, “i’ve got you.”
you look at your phone again.
no new messages.
you wonder if he remembers you’re here.
if he remembers the small rituals you held onto — the dinners you cooked just for him, the soft music you played in the background, the way you tried to make this place a home.
because it feels less like a home now and more like a waiting room.
waiting for someone who might never come back.
you push the plate away and stand, moving to the window. the city lights stretch before you like stars on earth—bright, distant, unreachable.
you think about calling him. about telling him how lonely you feel. about saying the words you’ve bottled up for weeks.
“i miss you.”“please don’t forget me.”“i’m scared you don’t want this anymore.”
but the words catch in your throat.
because you don’t want to sound desperate.
you don’t want to be the one who begs for attention.
you don’t want to be the one who’s always waiting. so you stay silent.
and the silence feels like a wound that won’t heal.
you think about the nights spent curled on the couch, the glow of the TV screen a poor substitute for his presence. the mornings waking up on the cold side of the bed, the sheets empty where he should be.
you think about the way you’ve started sleeping with the lights on, afraid of the dark and the loneliness it brings.
you think about how you used to be enough — how his eyes used to light up when he saw you. how his hands would find yours like they belonged there.
and now, you don’t recognize the space between you.
you wipe a tear from your cheek and sit back down at the table.
the food has gone cold.
you don’t eat.
you don’t even want to.
because tonight, you’re not just hungry for food.
you’re hungry for him.
for the man who used to say your name like it was a promise.
for the warmth of his touch.
for the sound of his voice saying, “i’m sorry.”
for his love.
the front door clicks open softly then shuts behind him.
rin’s footsteps echo down the hallway—slow, deliberate, unfamiliar.
you don’t move from the couch, wrapped in a blanket that smells like you. the dim light from the living room lamp casts long shadows, and you can see the exhaustion etched into his face,
the way his shoulders slump just a little more than usual.
he stops in the doorway, watching you.
you don’t look up.
“you’re still awake,” he says quietly.
your voice is barely more than a whisper.
“couldn’t sleep.”
there’s a pause, heavy with things unsaid.
he steps closer, but not close enough to touch.
you don’t yell.
you don’t scream.
but after all the quiet waiting, the missed calls, the empty chairs, the cold dinners, the silence stretching between you like an ocean, you finally say it.
you look at rin, eyes steady but heavy.
“i feel like i’m dating a ghost,” you say softly. “you’re here, but never really here.”
the words hang in the air like a fragile glass ornament teetering on the edge.
rin blinks, taken aback for a moment.
then something shifts in him.
his jaw tightens, and defensiveness flickers in his eyes.
“a ghost?” he repeats, voice low but sharp. “is that what you think of me?”
you nod, the hurt spilling through your quiet tone.
“you’re so caught up in everything else—training, matches, your goals—that i barely get a glimpse of who you really are anymore.”
“i’m busy, you know that.”
you swallow hard, steadying yourself.
“being busy doesn’t mean forgetting about me.”
he shakes his head, frustration bubbling under his skin.
“not everything is about you.”
the words hit you harder than any yell could.
you blink, pain flickering in your chest.
“it’s not about me,” you say, voice shaking but firm. “it’s about us. this distance between us is killing me.”
rin crosses his arms, looking away.
“i’m doing everything i can. training, matches... it’s not like i’m ignoring you on purpose.”
“then why does it feel like you’re gone?” you ask, taking a step closer.
he sighs sharply.
“because sometimes, there’s more important things than sitting at a table waiting for dinner.”
your throat tightens.
“i’m not asking for much. just for you to show up. to be present.”
rin’s jaw clenches.
“i can’t drop everything every time you want my attention. i have goals, responsibilities.”
“and what about this?” you gesture between you.
“this isn’t a responsibility, rin. it’s supposed to be something we share.”
he’s quiet for a moment, eyes flickering with conflict.
“i’m tired, rin,” you say, your voice low but shaking. “tired of feeling like i’m invisible. like i’m waiting for someone who’s already gone.”
rin’s eyes snap to you, his jaw tightening. “so what? you want me to drop everything? just forget my goals, my future?” his voice is sharp, cutting through the stillness.
you flare, the frustration that’s been building for weeks exploding out. “maybe i do! maybe i’m sick of being second place to your dreams, of pretending that your ‘busy’ is enough!”
“busy?” rin scoffs, stepping toward you, anger flickering behind his eyes. “i’m fighting every day just to get to where i want to be. you think i want to hurt you? i’m doing this for us!”
“for us?” you laugh bitterly, tears stinging. “it doesn’t feel like ‘us’ anymore. it feels like me alone—waiting, hoping, getting nothing.”
“that’s not fair!” he yells, voice rising. “you don’t know what it’s like to carry all this pressure. to have everyone depending on me!”
you shake your head, your voice breaking. “maybe not. but i’m carrying something too—loneliness, doubt, the fear that i’m just a placeholder until you’ve ‘made it.’”
his eyes flash, hurt and frustration mingling. “i’m trying! you think i dont miss you? you think i want to disappoint you? i can’t just stop everything because you’re lonely.”
“and what about me?” you snap, stepping closer so your voices are the only thing filling the room. “what about how lonely i feel every time you choose your goals over me? how invisible i am when you’re here but not really here?”
the air between you crackles. his fists clench, and his voice drops, a harsh whisper. “you don’t get it. if i lose focus, everything falls apart. this isn’t just about me—it’s about the future i’m fighting for. our future.”
your throat tightens, tears spilling over. “and if you lose me, what good is all that?”
rin’s eyes harden, the softness gone like it never existed. “maybe you’re just not strong enough to be part of it,” he spits, voice cold. “maybe you don’t deserve this life i’m fighting for.”
his words cut deeper than you expected. shock and hurt crash into you all at once.
“what are you saying?” you whisper, voice breaking.
“i’m saying this isn’t a game for people who can’t keep up,” rin snaps, stepping closer, his gaze piercing. “if you can’t handle me being busy, being focused, then maybe you’re the one who’s the problem.”
you want to scream, to tell him he’s wrong, but the pain in his eyes—mixed with that cruel distance—leaves you breathless.
“i thought you cared,” you choke out. “i thought i mattered.”
rin scoffs, voice dripping with bitterness. “caring won’t get you anywhere if you slow me down. this is bigger than you, than us.”
your world feels like it’s crumbling. the man you love—the one you believed in—is gone, replaced by someone you barely recognize.
you shake your head, voice barely audible. “i’m not slowing you down. i’m asking you to see me.”
rin’s expression hardens further. “maybe you should stop asking, and start accepting.”
the silence after is suffocating, the distance between you wider than ever.
you swallow the lump in your throat, voice trembling but steady as you say, “you don’t treat me like someone you love anymore.”
rin’s eyes flash with anger and something unreadable. without another word, he storms past you toward the door.
the slam echoes through the apartment like a thunderclap, leaving you standing alone in the cold silence, heart pounding in the emptiness he left behind.
you stare at the door for a long time. the air still trembles from how hard he slammed it, but the apartment is quiet now—so quiet it almost hurts.
your eyes burn, chest hollow. you wait—maybe for footsteps, for the sound of him coming back, for anything. but nothing comes.
you exhale, soft and broken. then you whisper,
“i’m done.”
not in anger. not even in pain. just the quiet truth of someone who’s finally had enough.
you pack your things. not everything. just enough.
a duffel bag. your charger. a few changes of clothes. your toothbrush.
you move slowly, methodically, like if you think too hard you might fall apart.
you leave the sweater he gave you hanging in the closet.
you don’t take the photo on the nightstand.
you glance at the bed—the one you shared, the one that’s felt cold for weeks.
you leave the spare key on the counter, the metal cold and final beneath your fingertips.
next to it, a folded piece of paper—your handwriting small but certain.
“you don't have to choose between me and soccer. i already made the choice for both of us.”
no anger. no pleading. just quiet closure.
you glance around the apartment one last time—your shoes by the door, the empty dinner plates in the sink, the framed photo still turned face down on the shelf.
then you walk out, closing the door gently behind you.
this time, it doesn’t slam.
you go back to your apartment— the one you barely visit anymore, the one you never unpacked from when you moved in with rin.
you unlock the door with a key that still fits. the air is stale, the lights dim. everything’s just as you left it months ago, like the version of you that used to live here never really left.
you set your bag down by the door and kick off your shoes slowly, quietly, like you’re afraid to wake the silence. it’s too quiet.
you walk through the small space, brushing dust off the counter, your fingertips ghosting over the couch, the sink, the light switch—things that once felt normal, now strange.
then it hits you.
everything.
you sit on the edge of your old bed, your breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat.
and you cry.
not because of rin slamming the door.
not because of the cold dinners or the missed calls or the things he didn’t say.
you cry because you loved him. deeply. quietly. fully.
and it still wasn’t enough.
and now you’re here alone again, starting over and wishing you didn’t still want to go back.
pause
it’s late when rin returns.
the apartment is dim, silent, like it’s holding its breath. he pushes open the door, expecting the same tension that always follows a fight—strained silence, maybe the flicker of the tv in the background, the faint clinking of dishes as you clean even when you’re upset.
he expects you to be curled up on the couch with your back to him.
or maybe locked in the bedroom, door closed, waiting for him to say something that resembles sorry—waiting to make up, like always.
because that’s the pattern, isn’t it?
rin screws up. you get quiet. he leaves to cool off. then comes home and finds you still here. always still here.
he kicks off his shoes, glancing toward the living room. empty.
no blanket tossed on the couch, no quiet sniffles he pretends not to hear.
his brow furrows.
he walks toward the hallway, slower now. maybe you're already in bed. maybe the fight wore you out. maybe you're pretending to sleep, letting him stew in the guilt you’re sure he won’t admit to.
he pushes open the bedroom door.
the light is off.
the bed is made.
and untouched.
his hand hovers over the light switch, hesitating before flicking it on. the room is still. the air hangs heavy. something feels… off.
he crosses to the closet.
opens it.
some of your things are still there—but not all.
the hanger that always held your favorite jacket is empty.
the little travel bag you used to keep under the bed is gone.
he blinks, confused, stomach starting to knot in a way he doesn’t like.
he walks back to the kitchen. looks at the counter.
the mug you always left out is gone. the vase you kept flowers in—empty. no signs of you cooking or cleaning or eating after he left.
something’s wrong.
really wrong.
he moves faster now, checking the bathroom. the sink is dry. your toothbrush is missing.
he checks the entryway—your shoes, the ones you always kick off without untying, the coat you wore today—gone.
his pulse stutters.
“y/n?”
he calls out, louder this time.
the apartment doesn’t answer.
his voice fades into the heavy silence, swallowed up by the empty rooms. his chest tightens, breath catching in a way that’s unfamiliar—like the air itself has turned heavy.
he moves to the bathroom, every step slower, heavier.
his eyes scan the sink, looking for something, anything—
but your toothbrush isn’t there.
not misplaced, not hidden, just… gone.
his throat tightens as a cold knot forms in his stomach.
he stares at the empty spot where it used to rest, memories flashing—your tired smile in the morning, the soft hum you made while brushing your teeth, the way you’d always lean into him when you thought no one was watching.
he blinks away the sting in his eyes and turns away.
in the kitchen, the dim light casts long shadows.
there, on the counter, something glints—a small silver shape catching the light.
his heart lurches when he sees it.
your spare key.
and beneath it, a folded note.
his hands tremble as he picks it up, unfolding the paper slowly, as if the words might shatter if he’s too rough.
his eyes skim the familiar handwriting.
“you don’t have to choose between me and soccer. i already made the choice for both of us.”
the words hit him harder than he expected. a quiet ache blooms in his chest, spreading like wildfire.
he drops the note onto the counter, but it doesn’t fall—his fingers clutch it as if it’s the last thing holding him together.
he sinks onto the kitchen floor, the weight of everything crashing down— the missed calls, the forgotten dinners, the silences that filled the spaces between them.
and now this.
this final goodbye.
his throat tightens.
tears sting the corners of his eyes, hot and sudden.
he wishes he could rewind time.
wishes he’d held you tighter, said the words you needed to hear, been the person you deserved.
but wishes don’t fix broken things.
he closes his eyes, the apartment feeling emptier than ever.
he’s alone.
and so are you.
and that’s the hardest part.
he calls your phone. straight to voicemail.
his thumb hovers over the screen, heart sinking deeper with every silent ring. no buzz, no vibration, no sign that you even heard it.
he tries again. and again. each unanswered call like another crack in his chest.
the cold silence of the apartment presses in on him, louder than any words he could say.
he lets the phone fall to the floor, staring at the cracked screen as tears blur his vision. the weight of your absence is crushing, and for the first time, he feels the full force of what he’s lost.
you stare at your phone, the screen lighting up with rin’s name flashing over and over. dozens of missed calls.
your heart twists—part of you wants to pick up, hear his voice, maybe fix things.
but the heavier part, the one that’s been growing for weeks, keeps you frozen.
you press your lips together, swallowing the lump in your throat.
a part of you aches, but another part feels numb, like you’re already halfway out the door. you hesitate.
a flurry of messages flood your screen, one after another, relentless.
rinnie<3: y/n. please.
rinnie<3: i’m not giving up on you.
rinnie<3: tell me what to do.
rinnie<3: i can fix this.
rinnie<3: please just say something.
rinnie<3: don’t shut me out.
rinnie<3: i messed up but i need you.
rinnie<3: answer me.
rinnie<3: please.
rinnie<3: i love you.
your fingers hover over the screen, heart pounding, tears threatening to spill.
the noise from his texts feels overwhelming—like drowning in a storm of words you’re not sure you’re ready to respond to.
you close your eyes, needing the quiet, needing space.
for now, you stay silent.
rinnie<3: i’m here.
rinnie<3: just say the word and i’ll come over.
rinnie<3: don’t make me wait.
rinnie<3: you’re the only thing that matters.
rinnie<3: i’m sorry for everything.
rinnie<3: please don’t let this be the end.
rinnie<3: i’ll prove it to you.
rinnie<3: whatever it takes.
rinnie<3: i love you more than anything.
rinnie<3: please come back to me.
a fresh wave of messages floods your screen, relentless and urgent.
rinnie<3: y/n. answer.
rinnie<3: i screwed up. yeah, i know.
rinnie<3: i don’t care about excuses. i care about fixing this.
rinnie<3: don’t just disappear on me.
rinnie<3: tell me what you want, and i’ll do it.
rinnie<3: i’m not good at this crap, but i’m trying.
rinnie<3: don’t make me regret letting you go.
rinnie<3: i’m serious. don’t give up on us.
rinnie<3: just say something. anything.
rinnie<3: please.
you stare at your phone, the screen lighting up again and again with rin’s name.
each message cuts through the silence like a small stab, desperate, urgent, raw. your fingers tremble as you read and reread his words, feeling torn between the ache of missing him and the weight of all the hurt that led to this moment.
tears blur your vision, but you can’t bring yourself to reply. the flood of texts feels overwhelming, like drowning in a storm you don’t know how to escape. your heart pounds painfully as you press the phone to your chest, whispering to yourself that maybe someday, when things are different, you’ll find your way back.
Stepbrother!Rin Who still isn't used to living with a girl and having to call her sister. He hates how he's expected to look out for you and make sure you find some friends at school, how you take up the bathroom for hours and how annoyingly loud you whine whenever he wants to watch a football match and you your stupid trash TV. He never asked for a younger sibling, a fucking girl no less! As if his stupid brother wasn't enough to deal with already!
Stepbrother!Rin Who ignores you to the best of his abilities. He doesn't answer you in the hallways at school when you ask him what class he has next, walks past you in the cafeteria when you wave at him and rolls his eyes every time he comes downstairs for dinner and is greeted with your bright smile and shining eyes. He knows you're trying to be nice and play happy family, but he's not interested in it. He only cares about one thing and that's football.
Stepbrother!Rin Who has to carry you all the way home on his back after you sprained your ankle in PE. He's annoyed by your little sniffles right next to his ear and your tears staining his shirt as you cling to his shoulders with your face buried in the curve of his neck. Or at least he's annoyed until he sits you down on the large sofa in the living room area and wipes your tears away before bandaging up your foot carefully. You are kinda pretty...if you like the stupid bimbo type of girl that is—which he is completely immune to obviously.
Stepbrother!Rin Whose eyes flutter open in the middle of the night just to see you crawling into his bed. He wants to tell you off, but doesn't find it in himself when you start telling him about a very scary nightmare and how you can't fall asleep during the storm raging outside, how glad you are to have him here to protect you... He didn't ask or wanted to know, but now that you're here, he's pulling you closer by the waist and tells you to be quiet and go to sleep before he kicks you out.
Stepbrother!Rin Who tells himself he's just doing his job as an older brother to not get yelled at by his father when he scares off the guys approaching you with just one deadly stare or takes your hand into his to drag you after him so you don't get run over by a car on your way home because a stupid stray cat distracted you.
Stepbrother!Rin Who's stunned into silence, hands awkwardly hovering in the air near your hips, when you climb into his lap while he watches football and whine about switching channels for some stupid reality show you need to watch. What stuns him even more is the fact he puts it on for you without protest as his hands settle on your body and he pulls you into his chest. He even gets invested in the romantic drama displayed on TV, masking genuine curiosity behind petty questions and a click of his tongue.
Stepbrother!Rin Who first notices that something isn't right when he pops a huge boner after accidentally walking in on you changing. You had just taken a bath, standing in front of your closet and contemplating for the past 5 minutes if you should wear shorts or a skirt. The image of your luscious curves in barely any fabric is branded into the back of his mind when he takes care of his little problem in the bathroom—the cold shower wasn't nearly as satisfying as nutting it out later that evening.
Stepbrother!Rin Who does serious research in all things girls, boys and relationships in hopes to find any other explanation than physical attraction towards his stepsister as a reason for his desires to bend you over the kitchen counter, hike your skirt up and fuck that silly smile from your face. He can't bear it anymore, your pretty eyes and the echo of your stupid giggles has been replaying inside his head for days now.
Stepbrother!Rin Who questions if your clinginess and need of attention is stemming from the same filthy urges that he secretly craves. Would you sit in his lap if you didn't want to grind against his hard-on? Would you cuddle up to him every night if you didn't like the way his morning wood kept pressing between your ass cheeks? Why would you wear little to nothing around the house 24/7 if you didn't want him to stare at your perfect tits and make him imagine his teeth sinking into the perky mounts on each side?
Stepbrother!Rin Who has trouble looking into his father's eyes and only gives short, one word answers to direct questions during the rare occasion of family dinners, because he thinks his father will see right through him. His cold, distant behavior seems so perfectly normal to his father that he doesn't even notice a thing, but you do and he only stops brooding in self-pity when you hug him from behind and ask if he's okay.
Stepbrother!Rin Who's jerking it to the innocent pictures of you in his camera roll (like he does every night now). Tears burn in his eyes from the amount of shame he's feeling for being this disgusting, but the sheer desperation for you is growing stronger and stronger and his teeth clench down hard on the fabric of his pulled up shirt to stifle his pathetic noises.
Stepbrother!Rin Who didn't expect you to enter his room this early tonight as you caught him right in the act of cumming all over his stomach—panic sinks in immediately as he scrambles up and tries to explain himself.
Stepbrother!Rin Who goes completely silent when you lay down between his still spread legs, pushing his shirt out of the way and start to lick up the cum from his abdomen like it's cupcake frosting. It makes his cock spring into action again at the way you blink up and smile so cutely. He can't believe you're actually just as depraved and sick in the head as him and who is he to deny his little sister the one thing that they both have been craving from the start?!
i’m so obsessed with your writing, it’s not even funny. Especially the way you write sae, it has me on a chokehold ughh😊🙏
“𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐝, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫”
a/n: OH YOU LEMME SQUEEZE YOU IN A TIGHT HUG THROUGH THE SCREEN??? THANK YOUUU!!!
just for that, you’re getting this:
sae really thought that he was going to have a baby boy.
after all, he had a brother, and the rest of his family were mostly boys, too (a/n: not canon but wouldn’t be surprised if it was).
so when the OB/GYN hands over your newborn baby to him, his eyes almost pop out of his sockets and his pumping heart nearly breaks the sound barrier when he sees that he’s now the father of a girl. he has a daughter.
“awww were you hoping for a boy?” you joke, playfully teasing your husband.
“i was expecting a boy, but i’m not complaining.” you watch a small smile form onto his lips, a proud sign of an exciting new beginning.
a year has passed and your baby girl’s features are becoming more prominent.
her teal eyelids, very tired-like but still pretty, are framed by long bottom eyelashes, identical to her dad’s. everything else, from her skin to her hair, looks like you.
“sae-kun, she’s so pretty!” sae’s manager, girolan, exclaims, as he holds up your baby girl in his arms like that one scene from the lion king.
in response, sae only scoffs and side-eyes him. he can’t help it, he’s overprotective of his daughter and is getting uncomfortable by the second.
your baby girl just stares at girolan, before doing the same, exhaling a puff of air, turning her chubby face, and side-eyeing him.
girolan is baffled and immediately hands your daughter back to you. “did… did she just –”
you’re breaking out into laughter, cutting off the overthinking man who is now afraid to hold your daughter again.
your baby girl only scoffs, turns her head, and side-eyes him again, and you’re laughing harder than you have ever had in your entire life, your baby girl wondering why her mom is shaking like crazy.
“what?” sae asks you. “what’s so funny?”
“she’s doing the same thing you do!”
“huh?”
your baby girl notices the laughter and does the same thing to girolan for a third time.
“the scoff, head turn, and side-eye!” you laugh, holding your baby girl closely and nuzzling your nose with hers in a fit of giggles, contagiously spreading to her and now she’s doing the same.
“oh so she learned from sae…” girolan sighs. “so sassiness is a gene after all...”
sae gently pinches his daughter’s chubby cheeks. “picking up on my attitude already, princess? you really are my daughter, aren’t you?”
