+ In Love With Kaiser !

+ in love with kaiser !

cw: slightly nsfw, mentioned words like sex and cum, everyone is aged up to 20+ in here, not proofread

istg im so in love with this man

"hey, you dropped this."

your eyes immediately shone at your missing photo card case with a picture of the famous german prodigy, michael kaiser, in it. "thank you so much! i thought i've lost it. Thank you!" you exclaimed, looking up to your savior. your eyes met with the none other than isagi yoichi himself. "thanks again, isagi." you smiled at him as he nodded. you walked away, leaving the man and his heart who ached more of your sweet voice.

he sighed as he walked to the opposite direction. maybe if he wasn't too fixated on football, he could've still called you as his. maybe if he were to spend his free time with you other than practice, you would've still be by his side. but all those precious moments together were all drained into the dumps, and there's nothing he could do about it. you're already with someone else. someone who he believes would treat you so much better than he did. and that someone is-

"KAISERRR!"

you yelled across the train station. your current boyfriend just came back from his latest match is now finally back home. you ran towards him, snuggling into his chest as he wrapped his hands around your smaller frame. "you missed me that much, huh?" he smiled at your teary reaction as you nodded aggressively as an answer. "look! i even have you as a photo card in case if i miss you," you quipped, giddily holding up your photo card case. kaiser chuckled at your antics and patted your head.

as you were walking back to your apartment, kaiser told stories about his match and complained about his lousy teammates. "i'm sure isagi isn't that bad, right?" you asked, while opening your shared apartment door. kaiser raised an eyebrow at your question. "what do you mean, princess? how do you know that he isn't that bad? mind you, he's actually annoying," he slightly pouted. you only laughed at his sudden change in behaviour. "kaiser, are you perhaps jealous?" you giggled while hiding your cheeky grin.

kaiser closed the apartment door and walked towards you. you immediately stopped laughing when you saw his darkened eyes. "kaiser, my love, i was just joking," you gulped, slowly backing up as your back hits the wall behind you, trapping yourself between his. his sharp eyes looked down towards you, making you feel small. you looked down to your feet, afraid at what's going to happen next. suddenly, a strong pair of arms wrapped around your sides and lifted you up. you gasped at the sudden change of height and felt yourself being laid down onto the couch.

"HABSHSHSJAHAHAH KAISER STOP!"

you laughed as kaiser continued to tickle your sides. you tossed and turned, laughing crazily while kaiser's fingers kept on doing his magic towards you. "kaiser please," you heaved as your hands hold his face. your eyes looked into his and saw the loving way he looked at yours. you couldn't help but lost yourself in those gorgeous eyes of his. slowly, your hands went to the back of his head and brought his face closer to yours, closing the gap between you.

your lips moved in sync together. it's funny how your lips and his were like perfectly made for each other. kaiser bit your bottom lip and deepened the kiss. you sighed into the kiss. oh how you miss his scent and his warmth being this close to you. a groaned came from kaiser as you felt something poking at your thigh. "kaiser," you panted as his lips went down to jaw and to your neck, biting a spot along the process. he only hummed in response. your hands roamed his broad and muscular chest as your finger pads across the toned clothed skin. "your shirt is in the way," you said as you pulled his shirt above his head. kaiser smirked at your eagerness.

"you really do miss me," he said as he goes down on you, unbuttoning your white dress shirt. "kaiser, wait!" you halted. the man above you looked at you with a puzzled look on his face. "we've never done this before," you said in low voice, looking anywhere but him. truth be told, you only had sex once with isagi in your past relationship, well it wasn't really sex, it was just a heated make out session since you were both in a argument. but if you were going to really do it with kaiser, you wanted it to be special. you love him more than anything in the world and doing this-

"i'll make sure to go slow, okay princess? i'll try to not hurt you,"

he said with a small smile plastered across his face. you felt your eyes nearly tearing up as you nodded.

after a series of reciting kaiser's name like a prayer and cumming multiple times, kaiser finally lets go of his high, his cum painting your walls white. you smiled as he drops onto your now tired body. "you felt so good. i'm so happy that you're mine." he said as he laid his head onto your chest, hearing your heartbeat. "i love you." he whispers as he closed his eyes in slumber. you chuckled at his antics and stared into the ceiling. starting a new life with kaiser, didn't made you regret anything at all. he was really sweet and nice, he even makes sure to always spend his free time by taking you out on small dates. even though he isn't always at home, you appreciate that he always sends goodnight texts and keeps on checking in on you. even though he can be really ego-ish and a pain in the ass towards his teammates, but whenever he's with you, he's a whole different person. you sometimes wish he would go feral on you (yk what i mean) but you can't help but fall in love with this kaiser.

"i love you too," you whispered, kissing his forehead.

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐆𝐎

↳ a foul-mouthed, aggressive, pro-soccer player on the verge of being disqualified from the biggest game of his life, is tossed into a fake relationship with a spoiled heiress to salvage their bad public reputation. what exactly could go wrong?

𖨆♡𖨆 itoshi rin x fem!reader

cw. mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, sexual tension, mean!rin, fake dating, language

masterlist | playlist

#1: BLACK OUT DAYS

The silence in the room fell prey to the steely glint in Rin Itoshi’s eye. 

Mugs of coffee started to run cold from the increasingly stretched out minutes; nails scraped the lacquered wooden table in short intermittents, and the nervous PR manager before him started to stutter. “I-It will only be for a few months—”

“Why?” 

Rin noticed a brown stain on his collar. It reminded him of tonkatsu sauce, and he inwardly sneered at how little this man cared for his personal hygiene.

The younger Itoshi brother wasn’t exactly the neatest person in his whole team if they were to compare him with Barou, but at least his outward appearance didn’t have such a damning dot. He sat back in the leather chair, a migraine beginning to fester in his right temple.

“L/N Y/N is a philanthropist and well-loved on social media. She’ll help boost your popularity vote before the big playoff season and get you a bigger cut—”

“She was seen puking on the street after a night of clubbing.” He recalled the glossy pages filled with an over-the-top glittery dress, heels delicately hooked in a lax grasp and one intoxicated woman slumped against the wall. Rin was hard-pressed to understand how a person like that could be one of Japan’s most popular influencers.

A wild child.

A socialite.

Some immature woman partying around on daddy’s money. 

Definitely not a woman he would think of dating without a metaphorical gun to his head.

The PR rookie’s shoulders tightened underneath his silk grey shirt and he plastered on a big, unnerving smile. “Itoshi-san, ever since you butted heads with one of Italy’s defenders, your ranking has—”

“Your ranking has tanked and if it goes any lower, you can kiss the playoffs goodbye.” 

Everyone spun around to find Ego Jinpanchi walking into the room, his signature bolo tie fitted snugly under his clavicle and a frown on his froggy face. Rin never liked his previous Blue Lock mentor, and the sentiment lasted till his adult years.

At the age of 25, he knew better than to pick a fight with the legendary egoist himself, and remained mute, sulking in his seat. 

Those crazy dark eyes which Rin hated to admit haunted most of his career back in the faculty’s selection sparked with another insane idea.

“I think we should let them date for six months, huh?” 

The mug by his right hand was starting to look wildly appealing as ammo aimed right for Ego’s horrible bowl cut. But, in a show of restraint to not call his ex-mentor’s idea lukewarm, Rin sat up straighter. 

“Four months. Take it or leave it.”

Ego turned to face him with a downward tilt of his mouth, and the cogworks in his brain were turning a little too loud. Uh-oh. 

Best player in Japan or not, he still had to work on his manners which were sorely lacking. Sometimes, Rin wondered why he even tried to be civil when it would blow up in his face.

Am I cursed? 

The older man glanced at him up and down, uttering the final words which would seal his fate to be connected to a ditzy socialite for an alarming period of time.

“Five months. Get your stuff and move to the penthouse we rented for you two.”

You rocked back in your seat, completely stunned into an unnerving silence when you heard what your father had told you.

His salt and pepper brows were lowered, as if the idea of his daughter becoming some soccer jock’s plaything was physically repulsive. If it was, why didn’t he stop it? 

Sure, the L/N name was at stake with the soccer club close to going under from a lack of investors, but surely—hopefully—your father could do something to turn the tides around. 

“It’s for the best. Itoshi is a good man and his influence will help to create a good PR rep for both our club and your past incident—”

“No,” your voice broke, and you tighten your grip on your Birkin to give you strength. “What do you mean, tou-chan? I don’t want to stay with some weird basketball player. Why do I even have to go through this?” 

Tears glimmered in your eyes, exacerbating your father’s guilt. “He’s a soccer player, dove. And it’s just for five months until we can prove the club has good connections to attract more—”

“But, I don’t want to leave my own home!” 

You pursed your glossy lips and upped the antics, sniffling loudly. “What about my walk-in closet? My bags? Where will they go?” Imagining the fate of your precious Chanels, LVs, and Bottegas without your tender care to make sure each stitch was lovingly preserved nearly made you throw up from fear. 

Daichi sighed and slipped his glasses off the bridge of his nose, pinching it with his thumb and forefinger to ward off an impending headache. 

“Darling, I will get the movers to bring you everything you want and need, alright? In this pretend relationship, Itoshi Rin has also agreed to give you a cut of his monthly salary to support you as you have no… career prospects, as of now.” He pursed his lips, aching for a glass of whiskey despite it being ten in the morning. “Anything else you want, you can just text me and I’ll personally deliver it to you.”

You could tell your father’s mind was made up. Daichi was notoriously hard to convince once had come to a decision, and as much as you begged, pleaded or pouted, it was settled.

Standing up with a sniff, you turned on your heels and stormed out of his office, hitching your purse higher up your shoulder. The maids stopped to bow low to you when you walked past them, and you ignored their fleeting glances; the silent conversations they were having with a quirk of their brows. No doubt they had heard about what happened; news did travel fast across the L/N estate.

They were probably glad they no longer had to steam iron your dresses to perfection or deal with another one of your meltdowns from the outfits in your closet not colour-coded the way you wanted it to. 

It made you even angrier that you could not confront them, not when the therapist your father urged you to see advised you to stop snapping at the help and start channelling that anger to something productive.

Like the thought of your pay cut once this little charade was over.

¥2 million just from pretending to be Itoshi’s arm candy wherever he went. You had little knowledge of business, but it seemed a deal too good to be true. 

So, you endured the dehumanisation of your precious designer goods as the maids packed them up into water-proof boxes; bore the idea of your purses being destroyed through the transit to Akasaka where your new residential penthouse was located. 

You even nodded to the old chauffeur your father hired to send you to your doom, unused to having a help smile brightly at such a simple gesture. The wheels of your luggage bag squealed loudly on the pristine floor, and you paused in front of the elevator, wondering which button to press before it hit you. Duh, penthouse means the highest floor, dummy, you scolded yourself, and reached out to touch the button when someone roughly shoved your arm in his hurry to get to the lobby.

“Hey—!”  

You spun to find a tall, dark-haired young man appraising you coolly, not apologising for his rude manners. His frigid demeanour made you shrink back, and you gaped at those aloof teal blue eyes that slid from your shocked figure to a point past your shoulder; resuming towards his destination without a second glance at your indignant glare. 

Rude asshole. You shook off the interruption and pressed the button on the highest floor, summoning a silver, sleek elevator that took you to the penthouse you were to spend the rest of your punishment in. A feeling of anticipation soured the moment you reached the top floor and there was no one there to welcome you.

Daichi had informed you that Ego was busy with some soccer club deals and could not formally induct you into your new home. Hence, the burden of that awkward first meeting fell onto your new boyfriend’s shoulders. 

Evidently, said boyfriend was not here. 

You whipped out your phone, about to leave your father a frustrated voicemail when the door of the elevator dinged, signalling someone coming up into the wide living room. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

The same man who had rudely shoved into you was staring at you with a cold expression. You could not help how your mouth popped open with unconcealed consternation.

“Wait—you’re Itoshi Rin?” 

Said fake other half lifted his shoulders. “Mhm.” He walked past you, not even bothering to ask for your name or how was your journey to this part of Tokyo. Anti-social weirdo, much? You trailed behind him with an uneasy glare stuck to your face, your Bottega slides slapping loudly on the floor. 

He pointed at the door where a shoe rack was, a silent order for you to remove your shoes. You warmed with resentment, wheeling your suitcase and removing your shoes with more attitude than necessary; slapping it onto the top rack with a huff.

Unbeknownst to you, Rin Itoshi himself was not exactly leaping for joy at the thought of this arrangement. 

Earlier when he had accidentally bumped into you, he had half a mind to go down to the lobby and request to live in an empty unit for the time being while Ego and L/N Daichi worked out whatever the fuck they needed to work out with the future of the Silver Strikers club and his soccer career before the World Cup started. 

But, as luck would have it, there were no empty units he could hide out until this five month contract came to a close. The manager who told him that didn’t even blink or offer up a condolence. So much for a good start to the next season.

He eyed this woman who was supposed to play-act as his girlfriend with open distaste. First off, she was most definitely not his type because who in their right mind would tote around a huge neon pink bag while wearing pink sunglasses indoors? 

Secondly, with her perfectly coiffed hair and pouty glossy lips, she was no different from the spoiled brats Reo brought into their old house when they were starting out in their careers post-Blue Lock. Even the strawberry hair clip holding her hair back from her face annoyed him to no end. 

Rin scoffed at your little tantrum and turned around before he could be goaded to make fun of your ditzy appearance.

“So, where’s our room?” 

He bristled at such casualness you exuded. According to the report Ego had given him, you were just shy off your 24th birthday and was a whole year younger than him. The casual manner you regarded him, together with a lack of politeness and embarrassment, made him want to roll his eyes. 

Annoyance radiated off him in waves and he continued walking. 

The squeaking of your suitcase on the floor was loud and grating, and he actually had to grit his teeth to not comment on how the bag was clearly broken and needed a wheel change and could you not afford to get another suitcase when you were obviously born with more money than he had ever seen in his life—

“You’re not one for much talk, huh?”

In answer, Rin gave you another shrug. Schooling his expression impassively, he led you to the large bedroom in long strides, not even bothering to check if you could keep up with him.

He pushed aside a large door, and it fell open to reveal a spacious California king bed with canopy curtains surrounding it. 

“Oh.” 

The squeaky wheels and complaints had stopped. It didn’t take a genius for him to discover you liked the room.

Lush silk and cashmere blankets draped the sleeping abode with a radiating luxury he still wasn’t used to. While you were still marvelling at the decor, he strode over to the bed and plucked a plush pillow and one buttery soft blanket in his grip.

He did not offer you an explanation when he breezed past, his 6’4 frame looming over your shell-shocked one.

“H-hey, wasn’t it in the agreement clause that we had to share a room—”

The door closed behind his figure with a tremendous thud and your complaints died on the tip of your tongue. Staring at the large barrier which kept you apart, you huffed, cheeks puffing with distaste.

“Dick,” you said loud enough, hoping your insult would travel past the thick wood. Predictably, there was no reply.

At least he gave me the bed. It would mean that Rin chose the L-shape couch in the living room over sharing a huge California king with you. 

Despite the craziness which transpired over the past 24 hours, you could not help but think it was in direct violation of the agreement your father laid out together with Ego-san.

Living Requirements

2.4.1 The parties of this arrangement are to share a room or a roof with each other to solidify perceptions of a healthy relationship.

Well, the roof part was still applicable. You thought it over. Even if Rin Itoshi was a rude and insufferable jackass, he remained true to one aspect of the contract which was to stay under the same roof as you did. 

You could not fault him for finding a loophole in this shitty situation when you weren’t smart enough to think about it. Your annoyance fractured a little to give way to remorse. 

Itoshi is a good man and his influence will help to create a good PR rep for both our club and your past incident. 

Said incident flashed in your mind and you shuddered. 

Removing your cardigan and parking your suitcase at the foot of the bed, you sank onto the comfortable mattress and expelled a loud sigh.

It was not your fault the paparazzi had stormed the club and found you snorting a line on the table. You were stressed from the next fashion week in Milan and had to blow some steam off before you would debut your designs to a crowd of vultures waiting to pick apart your creations with their bitchy articles.

However, in Daichi’s straight-laced eyes, the singular occurrence was enough for your father to put his foot down and get you the help you needed.

In came Rin fucking Itoshi. 

He was as straight-laced as they came—a gym rat, a jock and a nutcase who lived for nothing but soccer. The asshole breathed, ate and thrived on the game for a living, and Daichi thought he would be a good influence on you to finally get your act right.

You snorted. If there was one thing your father did not anticipate, it was how brooding and anti-social Itoshi Rin actually was.

How were you supposed to build a relationship—albeit a fake one—with a man who would not even speak two words to you? Paparazzi was already a nightmare, and you could not fathom the gossip tabloids waiting to dissect every interaction and declare this arrangement a sham which would put the L/N name at risk again.

You could not live to disappoint your father, even if he was the one who had forced you into this predicament.

I have to at least try. You made the decision in a split second. 

Come sunshine or highwater, you would try to at least be Itoshi Rin’s friend so the both of you could convince the world Blue Lock and the Silver Strikers were prospering.

It was the least you could do after letting your father down for the nth time.

You took a deep breath. 

Here goes nothing.

Rin spent as much time as he could away from the penthouse. 

Between his rigorous training schedule, team meetings and content creation for Blue Lock’s social media, it was easy enough for him to delay the journey back home.

But, no matter how much he glared at Ego or muttered under his breath that this fake relationship was the dumbest idea his manager could concoct, the vile man was adamant on him returning back to his pretend girlfriend.

Just take it as an ice-breaking session before the interviews and TV appearances start for the playoff season.

The cherry on top of this fucking cake was the fact his home life had to be invaded for some stupid television show where he had to pretend to be a doting boyfriend. Two hours. He had to endure a whole 120 minutes of filming and smiling for the camera when he wanted to kill himself. 

Rin actually had to stop mid-dribble to kick the ball as far as it would go with every burst of energy from his well-trained leg. 

The ball arched high overhead, colliding into a fluorescent lamp and shattering the bulb before bouncing off into fuck-knows where. He lifted his shoulders and shrugged them to loosen his muscles. A tired sigh left his lips.

“You’ll have to pay for that, y’know.”

Isagi’s familiar voice knocked him out of his reverie, and Rin steeled himself for more smirks and ribbing on the quote on quote hot piece of ass he had waiting for him back home. Of course that comment came from no other than Aiku himself.

He didn’t bother to reply, crossing his arms and stewing in rebellious silence.

The one thing about Isagi is that he gave Rin the space when he needed it. The taller man could pinpoint his teammate’s hesitation when he approached closer towards his personal space, close enough to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, I know your situation isn’t ideal—”

Rin shrugged off Isagi’s touch and good intentions, trailing his glare onto the ground.

“What do you know?” 

As much as the men have matured since their Blue Lock days, Rin would find it hard to accept any comfort from his teammates—understanding they had better things to do than make space for his weaknesses. The singular feeling made him feel warm under his collar like he was standing in front of a crowd in nothing but his underwear and he hated it. 

In the heat of the moment, he clamped himself down into his angry shell; there was no mistaking the anger churning in his tone, or the storminess in his teal eyes.

Isagi took one step back, his dark eyes probing. The tips of his ebony hair were damp from his shower, and his gym bag was slung across his broad chest. 

Rin could still remember like it was just yesterday when Isagi was a head shorter than him. Now, the media-proclaimed genius striker was almost at his height of 6’3. Tall freak, Rin thought with a shade of fondness he would never show for one of his oldest friends from Blue Lock. No one could beat Nagi, though. The white-haired dumbass was pushing 6’5 and he still insisted on Reo carrying him when he was exhausted after a night out of drinks.

“I know you don’t really like this very much, but try to see the bright side of it,” Isagi offered in his hopelessly pathetic optimism. “For once, you’d actually know how to talk to girls and not scare them away into tears during fansigns.”

His cheeks warmed from the memory of how the team had taunted him for rejecting a teenage girl’s confession. After that, Rin made it a team-wide ban to stop any young girl with a box of chocolates in hand from ever approaching them again. 

A scoff left his thin lips and he grimaced. “Whatever.”

From somewhere on the side of the field, Bachira waved at him, his sing-song voice grating his every nerve. “Be nice to your new girlfriend, Rin-chan!”

He picked up his gym bag, about to say fuck it to Ego and his stupid ideas and just head to a hotel after his shower when Isagi stopped him with his next words.

“Are you nervous about going toe-to-toe with Sae-san in France?” 

Rin hated how his stomach dropped at his brother’s name. How he froze mid-stride and set his foot down a second too slow. His senses zeroed in on the ache spreading in his chest, the one which he desperately tried to smother with the roaring head of his ego; begging to destroy the last vestiges of any fondness he felt for his older brother, pushing him forward to do nothing but take and take and take—

“No.” 

It was the truth. 

If there is anyone who should be afraid, it would be Sae. 

Rin continued walking, ignoring how Isagi’s frown burned hotly into his back, wanting nothing more than to drown himself in more strategy and training so when the inevitable happened—when he met Sae directly on the field—he would be prepared.

He drove back in a mental haze of replaying his brother’s moves on the field in his head.

Many of his teammates didn’t know, but Rin kept the playbacks of his brother’s greatest scores in a simple USB. He reasoned that it was because he wanted to sand down every tactic Sae used (no doubt his brother would be doing the same thing with his replays) and figure out his weak spot; the exact nick in Itoshi Sae’s heel which would make him crumble. 

It was all he ever wanted. 

Crushing Sae. Making him regret ever thinking he was better than him; that he deserved to be treated like a king when he was nothing but talent walking on a pair of extremely lucky legs; instilling in a seed of remorse on how easily he left for Spain without saying goodbye—

Rin felt his thoughts slipping back into dangerous waters and he drew them back to safer shores. He focused his mind on the hatred he nurtured for his brother, drowning out any smidgen of regret or the sensation of loss. 

He was a man of 25; Sae’s departure shouldn’t rattle him any longer.

His thoughts bubbled and simmered loudly in his mind that he did not notice he had accidentally driven back to the penthouse. Rin blinked when he found himself parked in the lobby, perturbed by how easily he let the rich world of his thoughts overwhelm his waking reality. 

It’s no use finding a hotel now.

He stepped out from his Honda NSX and locked the car, his pensive expression shining back from the pristine inky black paint job. His steps were laborious for his usual swift movements, and the moment he stepped into the penthouse, the scent of green tea, rice and grilled fish hit his nose.

For a second, Rin panicked and thought his mother had made a trip from their hometown in Kamakura for a surprise visit. Shit—Y/N. He could not let his mother see you. She would tear him a new one for living with a girl before marriage or whatever fuck sin he would commit which would incur the wrath of God upon him.

He was about to call out for her when he rounded the corner and found you standing by the stove. 

A frilly pink apron clung to your hips, and you moved with an ease he did not expect a spoiled brat to have in the kitchen; flipping the bream, boiling the tea and clicking open the rice cooker to see if it was done steaming the fluffy bed of white grains. All while humming under your breath. 

You must not have heard him because you jumped the moment he set his gym bag down.

“Oh!” your glossy lips stretched into a smile, and his tummy did a weird flip when you gestured at the food, warmth suffusing your cheeks as you sheepishly said, “I made dinner. I hope you don’t mind.” 

As if his stomach was a paid actor, it rumbled after your words, loud enough for the two of you to hear. Blood rushed to his cheeks and he ducked his head down so his bangs would cast shadows to hide his ruddy expression. Menace—a lukewarm menace. 

It wasn’t enough that you would be invading his space, but you had to act like a wife while you were at it? 

Rin’s lips twitched, his impassive expression veiling his disgust. Just who does this daddy’s girl think she is? 

He walked past the kitchen, straight into the training room without saying another word to you.

Instead of taking the hint, you were thick-headed enough to run after him, holding onto his bicep and tugging him back.

“Hey—do you have to be so rude, you dickhead?” 

Rin paused. 

Dickhead. 

Huh, that was a new insult a girl had given him.

He was used to ‘asshole’, ‘son of a bitch’ or, his personal favourite—’emotionless psychopath’. Never a dickhead. He had to give you props for your creativity.

You shrunk back in fear when he turned around, fixing those placid blue eyes straight onto yours.

“What?” 

Your throat moved with a swallow and you bunched your hands into fists, squaring your shoulders and returning his stare with a mutinous glare. 

Brave, yet stupid.

“I said, I made dinner. I want you to sit with me so we can talk. We—well, we haven’t introduced ourselves to each other yet and I want to know exactly who I am getting into this mess with.”

For a moment, he was silent. You assumed you had broken through his tough shell and in that split second, you hoped—marvelled—at your tenacity in revealing a softer side of Rin Itoshi. The media called him heartless; the rumours surrounding him spoke of how he had no interest in girls or relationships. Nothing but soccer and winning on his mind. 

But, you should’ve known to not hinge your hopes on a man who could not reciprocate emotions in a way you expected. Rin’s eyes clouded over again, and he walked away, shoulders tense and jaw ticking.

The frustration seized you by the throat, and you spoke without thinking through your words.

“Itoshi Rin, we need to help each other.” 

He stopped and stood rooted in the middle of the living room. You did not take in his rigid form or the mutinous silence denouncing your casual approach with him, and yet, he did not say a word. Waiting for you to speak. 

“My father’s soccer stadium is on the brink of bankruptcy and your team is struggling to get into the World Cup because your attitude is not popular overseas. I think we can really help each other, don’t you? I could show the world what a perfectly normal, caring Rin looks like and you could bring more attention for investors. We could solve each other’s problems. I know you must want to go down to France and meet your big brother—”

The words were barely out of your mouth when he dropped his gym bag loudly. You stared at the broadness of his back, the towering physique of one of Japan’s finest soccer products since Itoshi Sae himself and it clicked for you. 

His unfriendliness. The cruel remarks he often departed on the people closest around him. How he could never respect anyone.

Holy shit. You’d heard the rumours, but you did not know it was true: that the Itoshi brothers were fractured from the hip since their teenage years.

You swallowed and crossed your arms, unable to apologise for stepping over a perceived line. Rin did bother scolding you, nor did he pay you any attention. After a beat of silence where you sensed he was debating if he should turn around and speak to you, Rin picked up his bag again and stalked into the bedroom. Locking the door shut with a resolute click. I guess it’s my turn to sleep on the couch tonight. 

You stared at the spread of food you had prepared for him on the dining table; the perfectly grilled fish, the fluffy rice and bowls of high quality green tea you actually went to the grocers to buy. From this distance, it looked small and awkward; like a picture titled to the side no matter how many times you tried to straighten it.

Impossible.

The word flashed in your mind, your mouth tightening into a grimace.

Ego and your father had given you a labour not even Hercules could overcome. Growing up, you had loved the heroic tales of his epic quest and how he journeyed through the dangerous 12 trials to earn back Olympus’ favour. Standing here, in the middle of a penthouse in a swanky city, you weren’t exactly slaying Stymphalians, but the entire mission felt—

Impossible.

There was no way a man like Itoshi Rin and a person like you could get along.

Disappointment curled in your chest like a disconsolate kitten, and you sniffed softly, removing your apron with a huff and bundling it up; throwing it across the room where it fell behind the large couch which was your bed for the night.

Come next week, you would just have to tell your father and Ego that their stupid plan did not work out—that you had tried your best in creating a civil bond with Rin. Even your best was not good enough and you conceded defeat.

Throwing the green tea down the sink and packing up the fish and rice, you cleaned up, mind a million miles away, locked in the anxiety of your father realising once again, that he could never trust you with anything that wasn’t clothes or draining his money. 

Rin awoke the next morning to an empty penthouse. 

The sun shining across the lacquered wood warmed the soles of his feet when he padded down the hallway towards the kitchen, Tokyo unfurling herself like a gem beyond the high windows, greeting him with a smirk. Beyond the shimmering silhouette of the city, the light also illuminated a mysterious bundle on the couch, and he squinted, wondering what it was when it started to move. 

Panic laced through him, and he almost backed towards his soccer boot to use it as a weapon to smash the unsuspecting perpetrator’s head in when a soft exhale reached his ears. Surrounded by his blankets and using his pillow to prop your head up, you were still asleep, brow smoothened out and mouth parted to emit whistling snores.

Rin was rarely a guy who let guilt catch up to him (it reminded him too much of lost years spent wondering how he could bring his brother back), but in this weak morning light, he could not tear his eyes from your sleeping figure dressed in a silk nightie.

You must've used the guest bathroom to wash up before you crashed on the sofa.

Feeling a small twinge of regret for how he had iced you out last night, Rin moved slowly and quietly towards the Keurig coffee maker and started a brew of Argentinian blend which he favoured for casual days when he was not rushing around the field. The smell of coffee bloomed around the house, wonderful and warm, and it woke you up.

You groaned softly, flopping onto your belly to hide your face from the bright light, and wedged the pillow over your head. It’s far too early to be awake. 

Soft footsteps registered in your fuzzy mind, and you heard something clicking crisply onto the glass table. The scent of fresh brew grew too tantalising to ignore, and you sluggishly emerged from your pillow cavern, sitting up. Adjusting your nighties’ bra cup, your vision focused on Rin sitting opposite of you, sipping on his mug of coffee while he scrolled through his phone.

Panic flashed through you, your thoughts ringing with confusion of where you were and you yelped, snatching the blanket to hold it right in front of your scantily-clad body.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed.

In answer, he lifted his gaze towards you, blue eyes calm and lucid. “I live here.”

Your brain was struggling to understand the connection of why Itoshi Rin was currently lounging in your presence with the frigid and cruel man who had dismissed you so easily yesterday. At the reminder of his callous actions, you grew more subdued, crossing your legs and wondering how you could bring up your decision.

Rin and you weren’t even friends; you couldn't go down the emotional path of declaring your true sentiments to him. At best, he would ignore you and walk away. At worst, he would ignore you and walk away. There was no winning with his taciturn and grumpy demeanour.

You settled for opening your mouth when you noticed the still steaming mug of coffee on the table.

“Did you make this?” 

“Hmm.” You would take that as a yes.

“Why?” 

Rin stopped in the middle of lifting the cup to his lips. He raised a brow and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Felt like it.”

Okay. That definitely was more than three words he had spoken to you in the span of an hour which was more than what you dared hope to receive from him.

Maybe you were still dreaming. 

Quietly contemplating the disparities of his attitude, you lifted the coffee cup to your lips and blew the steam away. Sipping on the dark brew, the scene you were both in could not be concocted from your fever dream if you tried.

You had heard of Itoshi Rin from what the media said. He was brash, ruthless and turned down any woman who approached him. Some part of you wondered if he was gay (not that you would judge, it just made sense). While he wasn’t exactly unknown to you due to the circles you roamed in, there was little doubt you ever appeared on his radar.

Speaking of friends, your phone vibrated with a message and you unplugged it from the charging port on the console table behind the couch. A message from Junni, one of your oldest friends pulled a smile from your lips.

You texted her back to agree for an invitation to meet for lunch and continued to sip from your mug. 

“Let’s go for lunch today.”

Five words. You snapped your eyes up to find Rin staring at you impassive. Things were definitely getting weirder.

You swallowed and gestured to your phone. “I can’t. I have plans.”

This time, you were the one brushing him off. Rin blinked and you averted your eyes back to your phone, needing to fiddle with something to ease the sudden tension swirling around both of you.

“Oh.” He pursed his lips, dark bangs falling in his face which he casually brushed aside. “There’s a party tonight at the Morishi club. The press will be there.”

You brows knitted together, and you glanced down at your hands. What a weird way to invite someone to an event. It hit you a second too late. 

The press will be there. Seems like your pretend relationship would start today. 

“S-sure. I’ll come.”

He stood up, evidently done with this conversation. Your tongue was tied; the words lodged in the back of your throat.  

Junni texted you again and you almost spilled everything about this arrangement to her when you stopped yourself. 

Relationship Requirements

1.2.4 The parties of this arrangement are not to divulge to outside parties of their current arrangement to avoid bad news and sentiments from reaching/spreading across social media.

You heaved in a deep breath and decided to get ready for today. 

Needing to leave the penthouse before you could suffocate from the pressure of Rin’s sudden switch-up, you hopped into the shower, cleaned up, dressed in your favourite Dior mini with the applique flowers on your bust line and did your makeup a little lighter today. Since you were meeting Junni in a cafe, it was best to look as natural as possible and to avoid more attention on you.

Scrolling through your Instagram while you waited for your chauffeur to pick you up, you shot off answers to your fans, took a few selfies and updated the stats of your recent post to your father’s manager to measure the engagement rate of this sponsored ad. It was a video you had to do for a special tea which guaranteed overall better skin texture, and your followers loved it.

It started out with you smiling into the camera and a voice-over of how much the tea had helped with your digestion which gave you better skin (faked with the help of the golden hour sunset from yesterday), but everyone lapped it up. There were a few concerned health freaks in the comments who questioned the safety of drinking so many herbs in one go, and you rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses. 

Lunch with Junni was uneventful as always. She spoke at length about some new boytoy from Dubai she was seeing over the weekends and her father’s new yacht. 

You tuned her out, wondering how you should structure your next sponsored content when she broke your concentration with a giggle.

“So, I heard from a little birdie that you were spotted at Akasaka with that soccer player—what’s his name? Iroshi? Isoshi? I don’t know, but he’s cute.” Junni waggled her peroxide-dyed brows. “So, are you two together?” 

You forced yourself not to blanch and snorted loud enough for the next table to hear. Quieting down before the both of you could get kicked out of this pristine restaurant, you shook your head.

“Itoshi Rin? Nah, we just happened to stumble into each other.”

Junni pursed her over-lined lips and stared at you with unconcealed confusion. “Since when did you play around with soccer jocks?”

Since my father owns the Silver Strikers stadium, you wanted to retort, but held your tongue. Your best friend probably wouldn’t even remember your father’s avid hobby—one which was draining him off his money, but a hobby, nonetheless. You bit your tongue and shrugged.

“I think we met for a campaign or another. I honestly can’t remember. His brother is hotter, though.”

After that, Junni started to recount every single failed hookup she had with a pro-athlete (which was only twice, but with the sole heiress of Itachibana Department Stores, she could spin a tale out of a single line). You were glad to listen to her, removing your mind from the nervous possibility of tonight.

Where I will be debuting my relationship with Itoshi Rin. 

You had to get ready. 

Morishi was one of the hottest clubs around since Dragonfly closed down last year after a raid. Everyone who was anyone could be seen at Morishi; influencers, wannabe idols, super rich kids. 

It was a secular space where only the most financially prosperous of the public could play in their sandpit. 

You had no doubt his team would be present, and so would the paparazzis Ego probably tipped off to take candid photos of you and Rin. Come tomorrow, the whole of Japan would know you were dating the handsome but reclusive younger Itoshi brother—a direct descendant from the legendary God of soccer himself, Sae—and both your faces would be splattered across the tabloids.

The mere thought of it made you squirm. 

Though you were not a stranger to the limelight, something about dabbling into your first fake relationship which was concocted up as a PR stunt did not sit right. Suddenly, you regretted finishing that croissant during lunch and sat back into the buttery seats of the car your father sent to pick you up, wondering how tonight would play out with both your stomach and heart churning. 

The feeling persisted throughout the night, and you were halfway flaying yourself down with worry. Your makeup was tacked on, your dress figure-hugging, and you were soon on the way to Morishi. You were strategically ushered into the club through the side door, and once in the thrumming, pulsing belly of the beast, the fear clawed you by the throat. 

Standing to the side to take in a short breath, in a little black dress which clung to your body like a second skin, you were highly aware of the number of eyes on you. In a bid to regain your confidence, you summoned a small smile and headed straight for the VIP room. The bouncers let you in without a second thought, and you immediately spotted Rin.

It wasn’t hard to find him. He was dressed all in black and surrounded by 5 other men, drinking from his whiskey glass with a bored expression. The man of the hour—Mikage Reo—smiled when he noticed you approaching.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look who’s here.”

Your fake smile seemed to stretch a little too tight, threatening to crack from your face when Rin stood up with a crooked grin on his face, hand outstretched to you. The sight of his beam contrasted vividly with his tight grip on your palm, and you swallowed down the nerves to sit beside him, suddenly hyper aware of his body heat seeping through your thin dress.

“Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Isagi, Nagi, Bachira, Chigiri and of course, Reo.” Each man bobbed his head or raised his glass when their name was called out. You greeted them cordially with a small smile and a bow of your head. That was the perfect moment for the drinks to arrive, and once you had a few shots in you (courtesy of Reo, of course, who insisted that ladies go first), you were confident enough to laugh at Nagi’s banter with Isagi and quiz Bachira on his famous dribbling technique. 

You were unaware of Rin watching from the sidelines, silently impressed with how you were able to rattle off different positions and warm-up movements from the top of your mind. The group had heard of your affiliation to the Silver Strikers, but they had never seen someone else outside of Blue Lock who was this passionate about the game.

It was safe to hazard a guess that you had gotten their attention. 

Halfway through Chigiri’s story on how he tried to pressure Ego into giving them microfibre towels instead of the standard rough cotton ones so their skin wouldn’t chafe, Rin gripped your hand, standing up and tugging you along.

“Thanks for this, but we have to leave.”

You stole a look at your phone. A quarter to one in the morning. The paparazzi were ready. You half-wished you hadn’t drunk that last beer which sloshed uncomfortably in your belly as you mentally prepared yourself for the next agenda of the night. 

You tugged the hem of your muted dress down, knowing Rin found your bright hues and sparkles distasteful. No matter your pedigree, if you were to be seen with the Itoshi Rin, you had to look the part. 

His palm was clammy in yours, indicative of his true sentiments, though he didn’t look phased at all. You supposed that was his allure; how he never let the little things get to him.

“I’m going to kiss you the moment we step out of this club.” His words shocked you like ice water and you giggled nervously. 

“Oh. Um, okay.”

He didn’t comment on the tremble in your voice or the subtle fear flickering in your eyes. Rin was sure with himself, carrying on an air of nonchalance when he swung the club doors open. As if he had a switch on, his expression warmed and he shifted his body even closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. You took the hint and followed his movement, resting your head on his chest, pretending to stumble in your heels.

“You good, baby?” The nickname left you breathless and you lifted your sparkling eyes to his, inwardly surprised to find them melted like little turquoise pools. He appeared to you differently yet he was the same Rin, that it gave you whiplash to look at him for too long. You settled on another giggle and nodded, upping up your flirtation by brushing your hand along his firm pecs, bubbling with smiles and enthusiasm. 

In the heavy silence of the night where the promise of camera shutters were poised to click, Rin lifted your chin so your eyes could meet his. One second, his perfect face was hovering above yours, and the other, he was kissing you. Softly. Tenderly. The moment was framed perfectly by the rain-swollen clouds above, and a beam of moonlight slicing through the sky. His lips were slightly chapped and warm, moving like a wisping touch across your own. 

You almost sank into the kiss; almost believed this was real. 

Then, the camera clicks descended upon you both like vultures. 

You squeaked, genuinely taken off guard and hiding your face in his chest, his arm instinctively tightening around you.

“Itoshi-san! Itoshi-san! Is that your new girlfriend?” 

“Miss Y/N—how does it feel to date such a huge soccer star?” 

“Itoshi-san, could you tell us how you and Y/N met?” 

Rin scowled, pretending to be the pissed-off boyfriend whose sweet moment was interrupted by those ruthless vultures. Giving you the chance to step in and speak on behalf of the two of you, cooing up at Rin with innocence and scripted candour. 

“My boyfriend is not the open type, but we are very happy together. Thank you.”

He took it as both your cues to leave. The media personnel trailed after the two of you, but luckily, the Range Rover he drove was nearby and Rin easily led you through the crowd with his larger build while you meekly trailed behind him, fingers loosely linked with his.

The reporters continued to pester him for more details, even throwing the upcoming World Cup into his face and his current stats as Japan’s shining promise to bring back the golden medal.

He ignored them, unable to issue a statement without Ego’s consent, and slipped into the driver's seat while you sidled in the passenger one.

The both of you escaped the flashing lights, and you had no doubt the photos of you two were already sent to every tabloid magazine and lifestyle news portal out there. The hub eventually died down in your stirring gut, and for the first time in the evening, you could relax. 

“You did great.”

Your eyes fluttered wide open. A compliment? From Itoshi Rin himself? 

You were sure you were dreaming. 

The night continued with its strange note. Rin was friendlier, opening the door for you and letting you step out of the elevator first. He even offered to make some tea to sober you two up in his signature, nonchalant baritone.

You accepted it, and sat on the edge of the sofa, about to remove your shoes when he spoke up clearly.

“You take the bed. It’s my turn on the sofa.”

Little could be done but to agree with him; your aching back and shoulder muscles protesting for a softer place to lay your head for the night.

Rin set the cup of tea down on the glass table and took his same seat opposite of the couch. He stirred his drink and did not speak, so you tried to fill in the silence.

“Bachira is nice,” you hummed, lifting the cup to your lips. “His dribbling technique is amazing. I think I must’ve watched the replay clip a few times when it came to the Silver Strikers’ attention and I thought—“

“We don’t have to pretend to be friends.”

His curt interruption cut through your train of thought, leaving you visibly gaping with wide eyes trailed on his impassive face. He continued. “I don’t want to make this any harder for myself. Soccer has and always will be my passion. Don’t even think you’re worthy enough to be a distraction.”

You dropped your eyes to the cup in your hand, tightening it. The spoon you held was visibly trembling, but Rin did not notice.

He stood up and turned around, satisfied he had made his point clear when a weighty object crashed into the back of his head. Pain bloomed from where the blunt force had collided with his tender scalp, and he turned around, a look of minute shock on his expression as the metal spoon clattered noisily under the couch.

You set your cup down, unnervingly calm despite how you had blatantly just assaulted one of Japan’s most famous soccer stars.

“Do not speak to me like that, Itoshi.” Your voice was measured and cold, taking him aback. He had always viewed you as an airheaded heiress with no spine beyond the one made out of your father’s money. This woman before him had hard eyes and thinned lips, fuming silently. Each word you spouted next drew him into a reeling disbelief. “I am a soccer heiress. You’re a second grade player who can never measure up to Sae’s greatness. Know your place.”

You stood up, frigid with anger and held your head high when you marched past him. But, a tug on your arm left you sprawling on the sofa, and you opened your mouth, about to tell him off when Rin’s lips crashed into yours.

It took you by complete surprise that you almost thought the alcohol was fogging up your brain with the fake memory of his lips never leaving yours from the club. Far closer to him this time, you could taste the liquor on his tongue, the intoxicating heat of his broad chest pressed to yours driving your thoughts down an incoherent road.

His hooded eyes hid the pretty glint of those teal blue hues which took your breath away when he pulled back, tip of his tongue tracing the curve of your Cupid’s bow. His hot breath puffed against your chin, and you almost flinched when he touched those warm, chapped lips to your throat. You didn’t know what possessed you to lift your palms to his chest, gliding down the smooth material to the hem of his black dress shirt. 

Rin let you tug it free from past the band of his pants, and you deliberately retraced the similar path you made earlier to the first button. You popped it open with shaky fingers, suddenly unable to look him right in the eye; those pretty, long lashes casting shadows onto his angular cheekbones; half-hooded teal eyes rapt on your trembling movements.

You managed to loosen three buttons before he shrugged off your touch and gripped the hem of his shirt to lift it over his head. The sight of his ripped torso stacked with abs, and shaded with varying hues of bruises—some fresh, some faded—made your breath catch in your throat.

Rin still hadn’t spoken a word, and your tongue was caught, too. You didn’t know what was going on in his head, though you supposed your pulse point jumping from your throat was too much of a telltale to this sudden overbearing tension. Your shoulders tensed when he reached out to touch them, gently running his nails down your arms until he reached for your hands.

Like you were both actually lovers, Rin twined his fingers with yours and brought them to his chest, where your palms splayed flat across his pecs, feeling his heartbeat and body heat bleed through your quivering touch. 

“Know my place?” You almost did not hear his soft words; how they parroted back your unexpected insolence. 

The world tilted for a second and you were flat on your back. This time, Rin hovered over you, handsome face inscrutable, his eyes not giving a tell of his true feelings; emotions fiercely hidden behind the stronghold of his aloofness. 

“And since when was it your right to determine that I am beneath you?” 

Forcing your thick tongue to move, you met his stare head on. “You look down on me. You think you’re better than me when it's so obvious your entire existence is hellbent on competing with Sae. I’m here to tell you that you’re—” your voice started to shake when his palm glided up your waist, resting dangerously underneath the swell of your heaving tit. You shook your head to force coherence back into your thoughts. “—you’re wrong. We’re in this shit together. At least treat me like a teammate if you can’t see me as a friend.”

Rin dipped his head closer, lips almost touching yours, and you couldn’t help it. Your eyes fluttered close, waiting for his kiss, waiting for his acceptance of your olive branch. But, the truce never came.

He leaned back, depriving you of his warmth. The anger bubbled upwards like a fog of poisonous gas and Rin’s sneer was downright terrifying if your brain was not fogged up with repressed lust. With a hungering which would prove to be your downfall. 

“Don’t—” Rin gripped your hips tightly, making you squeak. “—ever mention that name in front of me.”

Either you were incredibly or incredibly stupid to continue on with this topic. “You think you’re inferior to him,” you breathed out. “I don’t know what happened between you and Sae, but I can see it’s still hurting you. I heard the rumours so tell me,” you urged. “What did he do to you?” 

Rin did not reply; he wrenched his hot stare from your face and turned his glare to a point on your shoulder. You dared to touch his cheek, trying to get him to look at you. 

Who did you think you were? 

Just because he graced you with his presence did not mean you had the right to psychoanalyse him. He did not exist to be scrutinised by some girl with a saviour’s complex. 

Your unwavering stare remained on his blank expression, and with those devastating doe eyes, he almost gave in. Almost unburdened the decade-long grudge he held towards his older brother onto your unsuspecting shoulders. No distractions. Rin reminded himself at the last minute before his tongue could relinquish the truth. You are not a second-rate player compared to Sae. Don’t fall for her jabs.

“You are such an unnecessary presence,” he continued in his placid tone. “It annoys me.”

Your brows knitted together, lips parted to spout another virulent jab when he stopped you with the first line of surrender.

“Fine. We can be friends. But, don’t expect anything else.”

You had never realised how heavy his body was until he stood up and shrugged his shirt back on, the sudden absence of a smothering weight pinning you to the couch dissipating. Your foggy mind noticed a second too late that your dress was hitched up to your thighs and you quickly tugged it down, turning your warm cheeks away from his inscrutable expression.

“Trust me,” you managed to say after you found your voice. “I want nothing else to do with you after this deal ends.”

You would have expected to penetrate his thick shell; that perhaps Itoshi Rin would finally give you a peek of the soft underbelly he held tightly to his defences. Not as a measure that you were different from the other people who attempted the same thing. But, to prove he had a heart. That he was human.

Sadly, Rin would keep on disappointing you. 

“Fine by me.” He ran a hand through his hair, musing the glossy dark locks even further; those pretty eyes were hard as sapphires, boring down onto your prone form.

“I wanted nothing to do with you from the very start.”

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

NO FUCKING WAY WE'VE REACHED 1000 FOLLOWERS TODAY THANK YOU SM YALL I'M- too stun to speak

do stay tune i promise to write more after i'm done with highschool 😭🙏🏻

hey guys, i recently made a blue lock headcanon >:D (will be posted tmrw) and that will be my last post for this year before i go hiatus again for my exams^^ some might not care but y'all really made my year ever since i started this account, a big shout-out to my (new and old) moots for staying eventho some of them did leave tumblr 🙁and to those who read my writings pls thank you so much for reading them 😭😭 i didn't know there were people who'd enjoy them 🥹 i'll continue to write more (and improve more too^^) once my exams are done!! please do stay tune 🙏🏻 i love y'all sm and have a happy holiday!!! 🫶🏻

Can we please have some more sae x reader stories if you're taking requests 😭🙏

AHH i knew that writing a little too much for kaiser will be a problem sorry bae 😭 but i will be writing more for sae (+ taking requests) soon dw ^^

Jae Yeol Hong “Jay Hong, Qiguang Gu, Kоuki Shinomiya” (홍 재열) - Oemojisangjuui - Episode 2