PART THREE

𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 PART THREE

The work of a pantie thief!

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Yandere Creep!Scaramouche/Wanderer x Fem!reader

Scaramouche and his disturbing— unhealthy obsession towards you, his gorgeous little classmate. (Soon to be more)

Yandere, creepy, obsessive and disturbing behaviour, character death, strangulation, pantie sniffing/stealing, masturbation, mentions of cum, everyone is 18+, dark content ahead! modern/collage au, mdni, afab reader. Around 3k words or something who knows, Not me.

Live laugh love obsessive creep scara 🫶 uhm,, I’m not happy how this turned out tbh, sorry I still don’t know how to word stuff properly l m a o. Also, I was about to shed tears of frustration bc I’ve been sitting here trying to fix this for over two hours, I’ve been to Wattpad, a word document, google docs to try and cnp this and IT KEEPS DELETING AND COPYING PARAGRAPHS. 😒 was about to give up fr

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche's eyes are locked solely onto your almost comically glowing figure, and he's one hundred percent sure that if he were to squint his eyelids hard enough— there would be a pair of Angel white wings sprouting from your back, and a golden halo floating above your head. You looked so god damn ethereal, he thought. The harsh blaze of the sun shining against your face so elegantly that it made you look almost unreal, and how your skirt blew softly along with the breeze. He has to quickly swipe the back of his hand over his mouth and make sure he's not drooling at the sight— humming in annoyed amusement when the feeling of his saliva leaves a small, wet spot on his skin. Ignoring the weird stares he gets from the other students around him, Scaramouche rises up from his spot on the grass and walks over to annoyingly insert himself in the group conversation you and your friends were having.

He doesn't care about the glares he receives from them, because he's more focused on the way you turn and smile at him welcome-ly, greeting him with that same soothing voice of yours that has his mind spinning in circles. He nods back at you in response, his eyes slightly dropping in rapture at how he's finally close enough to you where he could do (what he liked to call) intimate stuff like this. Everybody who was conversing with each other before he arrived, had stopped talking so freely— instead they choose to whisper their words because of the abrupt, awkward atmosphere that he had unintentionally brought over. No one there likes him, not one bit. His behaviour is creepy, not only in general— but directed towards you. Sometimes, his obsession towards you unknowingly breaks through his grumpy stature and slips up that he's not sane. How his lips turn to a snarl when you mention hanging out with a certain friend, or how you're coincidentally always paired up with him for assessments. Strange... yeah, they've noticed, and he's noticed their more passive aggression towards him.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who bites down on his own tongue to muffle his heavy breathing when he hears your friends voice their concern about his relationship with you, as he's stationed behind the wall to the women's restroom— listening intently to their annoying voice. Oh how badly he wanted to pounce on and bash their skulls into the ground— but then that would really scare you off, so he dismisses it and continues to harshly scratch at the now growing scab on his thigh. You wouldn't abandon him, would you? You did agree to be his 'friend' for life, even though you were drowsy from a two hour mid term test and probably had no idea what he was asking, you still agreed. Scaramouche straightens up and feels his heart swell love when your sounds of disagreement enter his ears— wow, you're sticking up for him? Arguing that he's just a misunderstood and lonely boy, Saying he's not as weird as everyone thinks? That you think he's quite... cute? That last one allows a bright, red hue to spread across his face, as well as his eyes pretty much dilating into hearts— a flush on his face which quickly rushes down his pants and to his dick, making it painfully prod against his now tight underwear. Though he of course wants to hear more of your silky voice echo though his ears with praise, directed at him, he hurries off to the male bathrooms so no one will catch him with a boner outside of the girls. That would definitely raise more alarms.

While Scaramouche is angrily pumping the shaft of his cock and rutting his hips up into his palm, gripping onto the tile wall of the stall he crammed himself into— he's thinking of ways to rid of those wretched vermin you declared were friends. When the first wave of cum sprays from his dick and spreads jolts of pleasure throughout his body— he decides that they should no longer study at the same university as the both of you, and plans to fake an incident so they'll be kicked out. When he's moaning out your name in a shallow, pathetic whimper, squirting his fourth round of sticky cum up and all over the stall door— he thinks that, that wasn't punishment enough. For trying to get in the way of your love, they should be gone entirely. Erased from existence with absolutely no way to interact with you, ever again. Hastily tugging up his pants, patting down his shirt and ruffling with his purple locks— Scaramouche exits the stall he had just orgasmed in and strides straight past the sinks, dismissing the thought of cleaning his hands and instead heads off to his next destination. Not caring about the cum he had painted all over the wall. In fact— he was more than smug about the thought of someone seeing the mess that he had left. (Because he's yucky like that)

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who— two weeks later, walks into his next class and takes his rightful seat beside you without a care in the world. As if he had not broke into one of your friends house during the middle of the night and strangled them in their sleep, just the night before. It's was a slow and merciless process— one that he had relished in tremendously. The sight still vividly remains in his mind, how she had gasped and struggled around under the weight of his body. How his hands— tenuous as they were, wrapped around her throat and squeezed with all his strength. His eyes were downcast and luxuriating in the way her own had slowly started to loose their life, as her disgusting hands— which he knew had countlessly touched all over your graceful ones— had, inchmeal, lost their grip and fell from his arms that they were so desperately clawing onto for dear life. He hopes that they would forever remember the sinister smile he had on his lips the entire time during their suffering, because god does he wish that his face will haunt them for the rest of eternity.

He's your shoulder to cry on when you hear of the news, when you had flung your head into the crease of his neck to weep your worries— he's grinning like a mad man into your hair while patting your back lovingly, taking the thrilling opportunity to draw in a long and deep breath of your aroma which had fogged up into his nose. Your delicate hands are gripping onto his sleeve as you shed tears of sadness over the loss of your dear friend, all while he's smugly lavishing in the tender warmth of your touch. Just as he had visioned, having his beloved in such a distressed state where she can hardly form coherent words, he takes this chance to voice out his words of so called solace. "Truely such an unfortunate end for them to face... if you would like, we can leave class early and I'll walk you home. It's not a good idea to stay here while you're in such a... vulnerable state." And take you home he does. From collecting your belongings and leaving the room, to whisking you away from nuisances who tried to console you themselves, Scaramouche holds your hand tightly while you both walk the path to your house. You were so wrapped up in your head that you don't notice how he had known the exact direction without having to ask you.

The first thing Yandere Creep!Scaramouche does when he trails behind you through your front door, is rack his eyes over every wall in the entrance way for sighs of other males. Wether family photographs or shoes that he knows aren't yours. He sighs out in relief when there is nothing for him to fret over— So he tightens his grip on your hand and trudges in the direction to your living room, right next to your bedroom. Your... bedroom... he's almost foaming at the mouth. He's just mere meters away from entering your bedroom for the first time ever. A place which you sleep, where you study, where you... masturbate. He pauses his steps, eyes slightly widening in realisation at the thought. You would definitely touch yourself at night, right? Maybe you grip onto your bed sheets in desperation as you're plunging your fingers into your tight and wet pussy. Do you muffle your bonny moans with your hands out of embarrassment? Or do you let loose and allow them to echo of the walls of your room. He's hoping option number one, for he does not want anyone other then himself to hear those cute little noises you let out. Scaramouche snaps out of his day dream when the feeling of your hand leaves his, and unconsciously, he reaches out to grip onto it because he's already missing your warmth.

He excuses his actions of needfulness as a way to console you further, because he 'does not want you to feel alone in this time of need.' And encourages you to sit down and rest away your worries, as he's by your side the entire time and tending to your needs. When you have tears leaking out from your beautiful eyes, and snot dripping from your nose— Scaramouche is extending a tissue into your hand and hovering his palm over your knee. When he notices the way your racked sobs slowly start to level with your now calmer breathing, he's finding his way around your house and to the kitchen, searching each and every cabinet for a glass and filling it with water— back by your side before you even had the chance to notice his brief absence and handing it towards you. (Not before he keenly rummaged through your fridge and took a mental note of the foods you like to eat.) Scaramouche, with one hand, lifts the cup of liquid to your lips, while his other lands on the back of your head to tilt it upwards— and god does he feel like your boyfriend in this very moment.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who twiddles with his thumbs expectantly when you excuse yourself to the bathroom to freshen up, saying you'll just quickly try and shower off your disturbance and be out within minutes. He nods quickly, and waves you off, muttering that he'll wait right here on the couch for you, and watches as you waddle off in the direction he assumes is the bathroom. And he does stay put— for the first couple of minutes. Because when the sound of water rushing through the pipes, enters his hearing— he's jumping up from his seat on the couch and making a beeline straight for your bedroom. His mouth slightly parts when he's in the doorway, and his eyes dart around the room in excitement. Your dresser... your desk... your bed. His stare is dead set on your bed, and he's about to start waking over to it until he accidentally steps on something soft that was lying on the floor.

When he looks down— he can basically feel his heart stop beating, because under his foot, is a cute little pair of pink underwear. Your underwear... Scaramouche doesn't even register what his body is doing out of his control until he unconsciously drops down to his knees, in front of the item, hands cautiously reaching out to grab them as if they would try and run away. "Holy shit..." he mutters the moment his hand curls around the fabric, pinching it between his fingers and raising it up to his face. He swears he can still smell the scent of your pussy lingering on them, and he's imagining the way your slick folds rub against the cotton with each step you take.

Scaramouche gulps down the lump in his throat, his grip tightening around the cloth as he slowly inches it closer to his face. And as much as he wants to saviour this moment, he knows that time is limited and he has to act, fast. So without a second left to waste— his hand is thrusting the material right up against his nose and taking a deep inhale. He moans, a loud and needy moan falls out his mouth and thankfully, muffles into your panties so you have no chance of hearing it. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels a jolt of electricity flow throughout his body. He hunches forward— his free hand planting on the ground to stabilise his trembling body. "Mhm god, so...fucking good." He mewls, unaware that he had started drooling all over the fabric like some sort of feral animal.

God your scent smelled so good— way better then he had envisioned in his mind. Way, way better that it has his mind running fucking haywire. And although he doesn't want to, he pulls them away from his nose to take a breather. His breaths are erratic, tongue lolling out from his lips while his eyes blink rapidly in desperation to try and rid of the black spots around his vision. He's just in a complete state of pure euphoria as he hurriedly stuffs his face back into your underwear, his teeth clamping shut over them.

He's wasn't aware how long he had hunched over the floor with your panties basically shoved up his nose until he hears the faint sound of the shower turning off from the bathroom. He pauses, eyes anxiously darting up and racking around the room in a panic. Of course— just as his hand was slithering down his stomach and towards his aching dick, he knew time was up. So with all his remaining strength, he lifts up from the floor and tries to steady his shaking legs. He's so dizzy and there's a line of drool leaking down his chin, his eyes are drooping in pleasure.

Scaramouche tries so hard to steady his breathing, he really does— and he's one hundred percent sure he looks like some sort of crazy person with the way he stumbles around the room. So with one last whiff into the fabric, he quickly stuffs your underwear into his back pocket and stumbles his way towards the door, grabbing onto walls and shelves to ensure he doesn't topple over in his drunken state. Thankfully, by the time he's back in the lounge room and hunched over the couch— you emerge from the bathroom with damp hair and new clothes, an elegant scent of strawberry's lingering off your body. (He'll have to ask what soap you use one day.)

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche, for the next ten minutes, tries so hard to cover his boner from your gaze— he's cupping it with his hand and grabbing a couch cushion to shield it away from you— all while he's nodding along to whatever you say. It's so painful, as he occasionally takes deep, shaking breaths (which he blames on the sadness he feels for your friend) while he keeps shifting around in his seat to try and ease the tension. By the end of the day— as the sun slowly starts to set, you decide to call it a night, thank him for his time and walk with him to the front door. He nods at you, eyes cast to the ground and saying to email him if you ever need anything. anything.

‘Did you notice his boner? Or the pink fabric that slightly peeked out from his back pocket? God he hopes not’

When he gets home, Scaramouche stumbles into his bedroom and impatiently turns the lock on his door before leaning his head against it. He's in a state of shock— like he was the whole walk back to his house. Though he vividly remembers the way when by-passers would stare at him with weirded out looks as he walked by. And honestly— he doesn't blame them, because when he turns around to walk to his bed, he catches sight of himself through a mirror next to it. Where he's hunched forward with his arms hanging loosely by his side, his hair damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead. How his eyes are blinking more then normally, and his mouth, opening and closing like a fish as he has to keep trying to catch his breath. In short— he looked like a fucking mess, and he felt like one too.

Tiredly, he walks to his bed and takes a seat, planting his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands. He's so tired, he's still in disbelief, and he's very, very horny. Slowly he lifts his head up and turns towards the doll that sat up right against his pillows— staring lifelessly at the wall in front of it. His grunt turns into a small smile as he turns around on his knees and crawls closer to it, hand reaching out to grip onto one of its silicone arms before rubbing his thumb over its skin. "You look so pretty, [name]..." he whispers, bringing up its hand and planting a long lasting kiss to the knuckles. "I have a— a gift for you."

His shaking hand reaches to his back pocket and pulls out your underwear in his tight grip, and dangles it in front of 'your' face. "Sorry... I'm sorry I stole them from you, my love. Please forgive me." He apologises, unfolding the fabric that had tangled in his hold, before reaching down to the dolls thighs and spreading them apart, slowly gliding your panties up it's legs as if he were clothing it.

"I knew it... I knew it! You look so— so beauti— no, so perfect. So god damn fucking perfect." He collapses into your chest, his hands rubbing up and down your skin and slowly inching lower. "Please... please, I'll make you feel so good. Promise, I promise." And as fast as he put them on— Scaramouche pulls your panties back down your legs and glides his fingers over the folds of your pussy. "I... promise."

look at my man he's so 🫴🏻💍

Kaiser <3

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ## jay hong layout! ✮✮

#I’VE BEEN WAITING SO LONG FOR A LOVE LIKE THIS🎶

In which Nagi seishirō confess his love for you.

They are 21yrs old, Y/N is in college, Seishirō a professional footballer.

I did not reread so there might be some grammatical/paragraphs errors sorry🙁

Seishirō the guy you met for the first time at your local arcade, he is your boyfriend today, the two of you are in the said arcade, at the photobooth taking pictures after playing there for a while, you and Nagi were on a date to celebrate your 8 month together since you’ve been dating. He was the one who planned the date here. Both of you hadn’t came to this arcade before a while, and you are wondering what Nagi have in mind. But at the moment you are recalling the memories of your meeting with him for the first time and also remember the day he confessed to you.

1 1 month ago

It was a Saturday afternoon of December, you wanted to play a game called street fighter you find it cool at the first glance, you took place to play it and then an handsome white haired guy was standing by your side, it was seishirō. Who was recommending you who you should play in the said game.

Seishirō: you should play ryu.

Y/N: hi… why through ?

Seishirō: idk I think he’ll suit you.

Y/N: …thanks?

Seishirō: For you to show me your gratitude let me watch you play.

Y/N: Do we even know each other ?!

Seishirō: No. But I find you interesting.

Y/N: *deadpans*

Seishirō: …I’ve never seen you here before and I am here everyday, plus the first game you choose is street fighter… I have the highest score here.

And this is how you met him, for the first time, and you wanted to know more about him, you didn’t know why but something in him attracted you to so, so you came in the arcade the next saturday.

Y/N: hi arcadeboy

Seishirō: *while playing, he glance at you* hi ryu player, wait arcadeboy ??

Y/N: yes I dont know your name so this is your iwaitforyoutotellmeyourname name.

Seishirō: oh I am seishirō.

Y/N: I am Y/N, nice to meet you seishirō.

Seishirō: yeah. Hum, what are you doing here btw? It’s been a while… since you know,you came in here.

Y/N: I came to watch you play.

Seishirō:…. If you want to.(he felt his heart flutter into something unknown to him)

For the first time seishirō, could have a gaming buddie, maybe this is too far but at least someone to share his passion of video games with, but this wasn’t the reason why his heart acted like that and he knew it, you were actually interested in him, you kept asking him questions like since when did he started to play/liked video games, that, that was the reason why.

After watching him play for a while, he asked you if you wanted to play a 2vs2 with him which you accepted.

It had been 3hrs of gaming, and you were hungry. It was 4pm when you came in here.

Y/N: *your belly started to growl*

Seishirō: looks like someone is hungry.

Y/N: indeed, are you gonna do something about it? *you asked teasingly*

Seishirō: yeah. There’s a restaurant near the arcade, I’ll pay so…wanna keep me company.

Y/N: I don’t refuse free food so… yeah

After eating, while discussing about trivial things. He proposed to keep you company during the way to your house.

Y/N: thanks for the ride.

Seishirō: you are welcome ,…good night.

Y/N: good night.

Seishirō was leaving the frame of your house, and you were about to open the door, remembering the peaceful journey you had in his company but seishirō had a greedy need turn back to you and ask you your number, so that’s what he did. He grabbed your wrist lightly, before you could close your door behind you he bended his phone in front of you, his phone was opened to the contact app. You flinched then met his eyes.

Y/N: can I ask you why?

Seishirō: because I want to make sure to see you again.

Y/N: that’s it?

Seishirō: No, we could maybe be friends? (He did not want to be friends with you actually well, it’s both true and untrue, he craved for more of the affection and interest you gave him, so he wanted to be by your side even having you as a friend).

In the comfort of his house Nagi realised something or he started to feel something, it was his heart that in the trough of you started to began to grow something warm in him and you were the responsable. The something was nothing less than love.

After this weekend, you eventually had your course/work to follow/do so it’s what you did. For the second week after exanging your contacts, you two interacted daily, he kept texting you to get to know how you felt during the day, good morning/night texts, meme at 4-5am (his favourite, because he know that you are in your home safe). He even asked to go out with you someday, but because of you classes/work schedule you had to decline the invitation, so kept it for another day. It has been two month and two weeks since then, and during that time, the white haired boy was on your mind rent free but little did you know that you too kept his mind busy.

Seishrō: You keep ditching me for college, like DITCH college/work for US !!!! Like how could you it past against us!!!!🥀😔💔

Y/N:Read

Seishirō: don’t ignore me, wait I can’t keep distracting you now, reo is calling (yelling at) me to train with him, how about keep this conversation for later 😉

Y/N:🫥 you keep acting out of character.

You had him ranting complaining about his day to you, he told you about his carrer so did you and he was so interested in why you choosed this degree/work, now that you think of it Nagi seishirō was always interested in everything you did. Every time you talked about yourself he wanted to know more, and you had to admit, liked his consistency and curiosity toward you, besides his laziness and his child like persona.

Everything took a really fast pace, but it was like the two of you had clicked into each other.

But because you can’t rely on your feelings, seishirō knew he had to do something, he couldn’t keeping having you around like this, when he wanted to be yours, he wanted the two of you to be in a relationship, he knew he wanted a relationship with you, but he just wanted to make sure you were the one, actually it was an excuse of him because he was just too nervous to ask you out. Even though he knew what he wanted to be with you he didn’t knew how to ask you out nor confess his feelings.

Seishirō: hey I know it’s late but can we met up at (your local grocery store) I need to tell you something.(he thought about this moment all day and he finally had the courage to put it in action).

Y/N: (it was only 8pm so you accepted, and you knew that if Nagi seishirō was willing to go outside that late, something was up) yeah.

The two of you have met in the grocery store, he asked you if you wanted something but you had other things in mind (like why the two of you are here, so late) so you said no. You were quite intrigued by Nagi behaviour he was acting weirder than usual, he kept caressing his nape, and twirling around the lace up of his hoodie, you’ve never seen him like that before, you didn’t question him through. He took you wrist as an ask for your attention like always, seishirō kept his grey eyes on yours, but words couldn’t come out of his mouth, you looked at him with the eyes he loved the most, the what’s on your mind eyes, and you were there in front of him, you were so close, but so far he through, but seishirō knew well that if he wanted to have you by his side, he had to confess, he was actually so scared for his feelings not to reciprocated, but for a minute he just imagined how his future could be with you. He started to open his mouth but nothing, words couldn’t escape his mouth, as if words couldn’t describe his love for you, so he simply said a well known fact to him.

Seishirō: I-I love you so much.

Y/N: *standing there still processing what came out of seishirō’s mouth*

Seishirō’s heart started aching at your lack of answer to his confession, he finally let your wrist go, kept his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and looked at his feet. He was standing in front of you not wanting to go, till you gave him an answer. And he prayed that this answer would reciprocate his feelings and make you his.

Y/N: *you took one of hand, placed your on it* I want too to share my warmth with you.

He did not wasted time take you in his arms, hugging and whispering I love you’s and thank you.

Now, in october

Nagi looked at you and asked if I you were feeling good, you answer that yes you were just zoning out and you wanted to be in the comfort of his home now and then the two of you, were heading to his house to rest after this long and tiring day. But Seishirō had other plans for you two, something that’ll head you relationship to another level.

Seishirō: Can we quickly pass trough the park

But Seishirō had other plans for you two, something that’ll lead your relationship with him to another level, symbolised by a velvety little box.

Note: thank you all for your notes on my previous post 💓.

The picture in the middle on top is from Tumblr the rest Pinterest.

LOOK AT JAY YALL MY BOY HES SO FINE OMG

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.”

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