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 injuries, angst, mentions of food, the itoshi brothers and their horrible communication skills, mentions of medication, arguments, shidou being a menace, language
masterlist | playlist
#6: HIS CONFESSIONS
Rin didn’t know what compelled him to open his mouth, or for those words to tumble freely from his loosened lips. He liked to think it was grief which compromised his unwavering pride for a split second. Or, the guilt for what he did and said to his brother when he exhaled—
“Teach me how to win her back.”
Sae’s expression betrayed a hint of surprise when those cold features morphed into begrudging curiosity.
His deadened stare sparked to life with a flicker of interest, and he regarded his younger brother for a long moment. When the silence got too much for Rin to bear and he wanted to walk away and play it off as the after effects of a mild concussion, Sae tilted his head to one side.
Another agonising moment later, he nodded.
“Fine,” his older brother mumbled. “On one condition.”
Rin waited for him to counter-offer something humiliating which his ego and pride would never consent to him doing. He anticipated the other shoe to drop, and tensed, shoulders squared and ready to take back his foolish question, replacing it with spat hatred into Sae’s face.
But, his nii-chan’s next words shook him to the core, and he thought he might actually be suffering from a concussion when Sae said: “Play soccer with me again.”
Rin’s shoulders slumped, and something achy and hot pressed in the back of his throat. It crept into his eyes, burning a stinging path which bubbled over into beads of tears forming right on his lash line. Sae, too, could not bear to look at him; like he was a mirage and if he stared too long at his little brother, Rin might vanish.
“Oh.” Rin spoke past the lump in his throat, ignoring Shidou who hovered in his periphery like a gnat, batting its wings and waiting to float back to Sae’s side. “... okay.”
Their moment was interrupted by Shidou’s loud gagging. “What is this? A fucking Hallmark movie? You both are corny as fuck. Lame.”
He jammed his large hands into his hoodie and rolled his vermillion eyes, stalking back towards whichever hell hole he came from. “See you later, Sae. Don’t get too weepy.”
“Man, fuck you,” Sae murmured mildly.
“I would if you gave me a chance.”
Rin’s disgusted grimace broke the fine film of tension between the two men and Sae shook his head absentmindedly. Looking back at his brother, he motioned to a nearby field which was empty this afternoon save for a shoddy goalpost and one discarded, almost deflated soccer ball.
“One on one?”
Unlike that wintry night when Sae challenged him to the same thing, Rin didn’t feel a sense of foreboding or dread. He welcomed the sunshine shimmering in his vision, almost blinded by the faintest glint of sincerity in his brother’s irises. Sae picked up the ball, and just like when they were both teenagers again, he shot his brother a challenging smirk.
“Ready?”
Rin nodded, stepping forward out of his shell and into the man he already was today; a champion and a worthy opponent. A man who had proven himself multiple times in the big field. A man enough to go against Itoshi Sae.
“Ready.”
It was time to put old ghosts to rest.
The thunderous applause echoing across the gilded palace rooms vibrated through your very soul.
Its ardour would’ve scared you if it was not directed towards your creations waltzing down the catwalk, validating your belief in your designing prowess. The spectators called you Japan’s next best underground fashion designer, and many heiresses, too, wanted you to dress them for their next event.
Your works encapsulated a mix between ornamental opulence and sleek simplicity; kimono-inspired suit sets made from spun golden silk, body-hugging cashmere and luxurious sleeves showcasing models of every ethnicity and body size as their godlier versions. A true spectacle considering the palace’s heavenly aesthetics which complimented your creative touch.
You took one shaky step up onto the stage, and the lights almost blinded you; you were wrapped in a simple black corset dress from your collection, its sleeves trailing down to your knees and almost covering your hands when you humbly clasped them in front of you, bowing lowly to the applause.
The fashion critics remained impassive, and you had no doubt they would try to find an opening to diss a relatively unknown fashion designer. They may call you a nepotism baby, never mind that your father was famous in the sports world and this was the first attempt for the L/N name to breach through the fashion industry.
You let the naysayers whisper behind your back, already feeling like you achieved something because you took the first step—trusted yourself to put your abilities forward when the whole world saw you as nothing but a spoiled rich brat. That was considered a win in your book.
“Congratulations, Miss L/N!” Every designer and model you worked with bore a bright smile when you went backstage to speak to them.
Warmth suffused across your cheeks, and you shook your head, giving them back the credit. “No, it is all of you who deserve the recognition for bringing my designs to life.” Bowing low to each of them, you said, “Thank you for putting your trust in me.”
The talented individuals were touched by your acknowledgement, and it showed in their bright smiles and shiny eyes.
“Tonight, drinks are on me,” you announced to the whole room through your cupped palms. Everyone cheered and the legendary near frenzied post-party after a fashion show began with manic cleaning up and rapid-fire jokes going off across every room.
Someone touched your arm amidst the chaos, and you turned to find Damara, her light eyes twinkling with mirth.
“A gentleman is outside of the building and he’s requesting a one-on-one with you. Fair warning, he’s rather good-looking.”
You blinked, retracing in your mind who would have expressed interest in your works and stifled a gasp. Was it perhaps Itachibana-san himself who promised your father he would drop in for this show? Junni’s dad always did have a soft spot for you, and his contacts extended towards the top fashion conglomerates in the world. You pictured the mature, but still attractive man waiting for you with his carefree smile, and thanked Damara for sending the message.
Heart beating hard in your chest, you swiftly moved towards the backstage exit and out into the cool wind, forgetting to bring your jacket in your excitement. The streets were filled with activity, and you blended right into its motion, keeping your eyes peeled for your best friend’s father.
But, it wasn’t him standing underneath a pool of orange street lamp light, holding a rose bouquet.
Rin tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, teal eyes bright despite his impassive expression.
You faltered and took one step back when you noticed him.
The bruise around his eye was stark across his pale skin, and his smile was paper thin with nerves.
“Hey. C-Congratulations on the show. Here—” He walked over to you and handed you the arrangement. You gingerly took it by the hefty stem, cradling the burst of roses to your chest, your heart doubling in speed from how heartbreakingly handsome Itoshi Rin looked tonight.
Glossy dark green locks tinted black from the darkness were pushed from his face, stray bangs falling across his forehead and brushing his chiselled cheek. Even with a blooming black eye, it could not compare to the delicate jut of his nose bridge or the elegant curve of those thick lashes framing his beautiful eyes.
Your voice was stuck in the back of your throat, and you stared at him in silence for a few seconds.
“I… heard from your designer that the show went well.” Rin shoved his hands into his slack pockets, dropping his gaze towards the grey pavement shyly. “I’m—that is to say, I… you did good.”
You suddenly felt too hot around your neck, and like there were far too many eyes on you. Shifting your weight from one Louboutin heel to the other, you managed to exhale a small laugh.
“Thank you.” Glancing at the bouquet, you gestured to it. “And thank you for these. Red roses are my favourite.”
“Yeah, you told me that before.”
You blinked. Like a mirage, the memory of that conversation sparked in your mind; the both of you sitting across the table having a simple dinner of ochazuke and tempura—where it felt like aeons ago that you could sit in such casual affection with a man you once held such strong feelings for.
Feelings which were resurfacing back despite your efforts to keep a lid on them.
“I guess I did,” you mumbled, smiling weakly. A beat of awkward silence passed between you two, and you desperately wished he would say something. Do something rather than blink owlishly at you, as if he were trying to find the right words to say. You settled for wrapping this conversation up, deciding it was time to put an end to your contact with Itoshi Rin.
“Thank you for the flowers. I have to go back in. My colleagues are waiting for me,” your smile grew tighter. “I assume you’ll be heading off to France soon?”
It stung him how you still remembered despite everything. How his schedule was etched in your memory. When he didn't reply, your smile waned around the edges and you bowed your head forward slightly. “Good luck with your game, Rin. I’ll be rooting for your win against your brother.”
Your best efforts at hiding the wobble in your voice was masked by your bright smile and you almost turned around to leave when his choked rendition of your name stopped you short.
“W-Wait…”
Never in a million years did you anticipate Itoshi Rin wrapping his fingers around your wrist to anchor you to his side, a slight tremble in his grasp. The bouquet tumbled out of your arms in surprise, hitting the pavement in a rush of falling blooms, mimicking the blood roaring in your ears.
As if on instinct, your body flinched from his, and you backed away, unable to look into his beautiful teal eyes which were brimming with such a sharp emotion, you feared one glance would cut you up for life.
“Don’t,” you managed to whisper, tightening your arms around your torso. “Don’t… don’t play with my heart like this, Rin.”
The pain in your hushed voice drew him up short.
Tell her you’re sorry, Sae’s voice echoed in his head. Apologise for what you said to her. Y/N’s feelings are hurt and if you try to make peace first, she will be open to hearing your words.
But, what came out of his mouth was completely different from the words Sae coached him to repeat.
“You did this to me.”
Amidst the twinkling lights of the Milanese streets and the adrenaline pumping in your veins, no one could fault you for taking a step back; wanting to preserve what sliver of inner peace you still had left.
Those that he hadn’t taken from you just yet.
You puffed your chest and squared your shoulders, meeting Itoshi Rin’s glare head-on even though you felt like dissolving into sniffling sobs. He truly was the bane of your existence—not even a few days ago, you were glad to be away from Tokyo; away from the man who had taken every inch of your thoughts, but did not reciprocate it.
“It’s all your fault.” You had never heard Rin sound this angry.
Your words were tripping over each other, spluttering out into indignant sentences which raced to fly off your acidic tongue when you suddenly stopped.
He had closed his eyes, pretty eyelashes casting shadows onto his chiselled cheekbones and took the final step so your chest was pressed to his.
“I hate you.”
He swept you into his arms, holding you fast to his heart while his face was buried in your hair. The anger you held for him died in the back of your throat, and you froze, unable to believe he was touching you on his own free will.
“Can’t stop thinking about you,” he continued to murmur into the softness of your hair. “Lost so many goals because of you. My pass rate dropped by 45%. I got a foul. I punched Isagi in the face.”
Your mind was blaring sirens of overwhelming response to his sudden touch and barrage of information. “Rin,” you gasped. “You did what to Isagi—?!”
“Stupid,” he growled, stopping your influx of words. Tall and imposing, his body heat was heady and made you want to curl up in his embrace forever. A sob bubbled from the roaring depths of your heart and you hiccuped it back, refusing to fall into his embrace and deception again. “You’re such a fucking pain, Y/N.”
You swore you would never be that same girl who cried on the plane to Italy while wearing the jersey you stole from his closet.
You swore you would never let Itoshi Rin kick your heart around as if it were a spare ball.
But, you couldn’t pull away, not even for one second.
“Yeah?” your voice quaked from disbelief. “If you hate me, then why are you here?”
His rough palms slid up the bodice of your dress, feeling the ridges of the corset you wore which barely concealed how your heartbeat was quickening; his lips touching the rapid pulse ticking under your jaw.
Itoshi Rin was never a man who minced his words, so what else did you expect when he exhaled—
“Told you. Can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Rin—”
“Y/N.”
He gave you no time to second-guess his intention when he leaned closer to you, one palm cupping your cheek to hold you in place. You could not look at him, not when the words he uttered behind your back still scarred your trust.
You had shown him, didn’t you?
Showed him how you finally found the courage to stand on your own two feet; how you did something crazy and stupid and took a chance on your dreams which landed you on one of Milan’s hottest runways.
He knew that, didn’t he?
“I thought you hated me,” you whispered, unable to look directly into his eyes; afraid of what you might find. The truth, perhaps, that your doubts were real. “Said I was nothing but a spoiled brat.”
“I’m sorry,” he finally muttered after a beat of silence. “I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. My ego—”
“Is fucking huge,” you quipped which earned you the softest glimmer in his teal eyes even if his expression remained impassive.
Eventually, he agreed.
“Yeah,” Rin muttered softly. “It is fucking huge. And it nearly cost me someone I care about.”
Were you hallucinating?
Did his team put him up to this so they could record your reaction and laugh at it later in the locker rooms?
Whatever hope you buoyed that Rin actually reciprocated your feelings curdled in your chest like sour milk from the bitter memories, and you stepped back from him, unable to look into his gorgeous aquamarine eyes which clouded over with confusion when he noticed the tremble in your lower lip.
“I should go,” you mumbled, willing the tears not to break down your cheeks, and spinning around so he couldn’t see your expression. Gathering what was left of your composure, you dipped your head low and mumbled: “We don’t have to fake anything anymore, Rin. You can hate me out loud now. I won’t mind. It’s your sentiments. It’s just—”
I wished you didn’t.
But, you had no courage to tell it to his face.
In the end, you were as much of a coward with your emotions as he was, and your skin suddenly flashed hotly, goosebumps prickling your arms; the world was spinning slightly in your periphery, the lights too loud and the people rushing down the streets sounded like a roaring waterfall and you haven’t eaten anything yet this whole evening so you could fit into this stupid, vintage dress and you were so sure your curling iron was still switched on in your hotel room and—
His strong grip on your wrist nudged you back into his chest. Halting your thoughts right in their frenzied tracks.
You did not get to fight him off, not when he was fueled with desperation and contempt for his stupidly big ego.
Not when he gently spun you around, lifted your chin and fixed you with a look of hunger and yearning which softened the hard edges of his once diamond-like yes and definitely not when—
The world screeched to a stop.
Soft as a cushion, Itoshi Rin’s lips pressed onto yours, stealing the last of your protests and breath away.
Nothing in your existence mattered beyond the curve of his mouth rasping against your own; the hot press of his hands roaming up and down your back, bringing you closer to him—Rin’s courage solidifying from such an ensconced location away from the ruthless eyes of cameras, fangirls and Ego’s scheming.
Is this really happening?
Rin tilted his head to the right to slot the jut of his bottom lip in between your parted, panting mouth, and you almost shied away from the tip of his tongue touching yours, coaxing you to come out and meet him in a reciprocal dance of devotion.
He ruthlessly overpowered his opponents on the field as easily as he overwhelmed you with his tenacity on this dimly-lit street, and you did not protest when one hand came to cradle the nape of your neck, holding you in place while the other tentatively squeezed your waist, committing your curves back into his memory.
Ever a quiet gentleman, Rin let you break off the kiss first; a single strand of spit connecting both your lips together flashed like a silver thread from the hazy orange glow the streetlamps above casted over two uncertain lovers.
You licked your bottom lip, tasting his musk and something minty, breaking the final connection between both your parted mouths. A dust of pink glowed on his cheeks, and his azure eyes—usually boring into yours with sullen distaste—were almost overshadowed by his black pupils, only a thin ring of blue left.
It was endearing how he could not even meet your gaze, uncharacteristically timid for someone so sure on the field.
A smile burst forth onto your face, illuminating the scenery with a sweet luminosity which took his breath away.
“So,” you started, a teasing glint in your eye. “I take it this means you miss me and you want me to come back?”
Rin’s first instinct was to roll his eyes and scoff. But, strangely, the same contagious happiness stole the muscles on his face, curving his thin lips into a smile against his will.
There she goes again—making me act like a fool with no self-control.
He didn’t have to reply. That little grin was the only answer you needed.
The city lights continued to sparkle and a cool breeze nipped both your noses, but Rin’s hand in yours is as warm as ever.
“—and that’s another spectacular goal from Itoshi Rin!”
“He’s on fire this season!”
“The finest soccer legacy from Blue Lock is right here, ladies and gentlemen!”
You chanted his name along with the crowd, the cameras panning towards his impassive face with those fired-up teal eyes you knew and loved.
His number blazing across your chest, and pride overflowing in your soul—you were surprised when he lifted his head and noticed you right in the heart of the crowd.
Nothing could compare to how the entire stadium went wild when they saw his eyes softened infinitesimally in real time; their clamour rocking straight into your bones when it kicked up a notch from his small smirk and wave in your direction. You shyly waved back at him, and this time, it was your lovesick grin splashed over the huge LED screens for the world to see.
But, Rin and you didn’t care.
You were past faking anything, anyway.
He doubled back after the ball went careening into the opponent’s goal, jersey soaked with sweat, and he gave a small fistbump when the crowds roared his name. You leapt to your feet with the rest of Japan’s supporters, and clapped, pride blooming hotly in your chest.
As if you had him in a trance, Rin glanced up at you, and disregarding the pitch etiquette, he jogged over to where you were separated by the touchline barriers and pushed his bangs from his forehead in time for you to flounce closer, hands extended towards him.
“Are you hurt?” you said in dismay, recalling the ball which accidentally smashed into his face, leaving him a smear of dirt on his cheek which you wiped it away with your thumb. He beamed up at you, drawing a gaggle of surprised reactions from his teammates who had never seen this side of Rin before; his broad shoulders relaxed, brow smooth, Captain armband stretched across his defined bicep. He looked far too enticing for such a crowded area.
God, you wanted to kiss him so badly. But, you reined in your reactions, biting your lower lip to keep your face from splitting into a wide grin.
He took your hand and squeezed, nodding.
“After this game, baby, I’m bending you over the couch and I’m not going to go easy on you.”
You gaped at him, unsure if he said what you thought he said in the middle of the most important game of his life. He’s insane. Your heart flipped and your stomach exploded in a rush of butterflies when Rin grinned at your stumped silence and ran back into the action, kicking up dirt from his quick sprint, leaving your melted heart gooey with affection.
He’s insane and he’s all mine.
When Blue Lock scored 2-1 against Bastard Munchen, you swore you had never seen your boyfriend look this ecstatic; brows shooting up to his hairline, mouth parted in a raucous yell when he scored the final goal—his teammates lifting him up in the air as triumph blazed their happiness like a second skin.
A familiar bob of reddish-brown hair made its way to the field, and you couldn’t see what the older Itoshi was saying to his younger brother, but Rin wore a small smile, and nodded. You had faith it was something good.
Later when the frenzy died down, you were admitted into the premium lounge where you found him sitting on the edge of the plush leather sofa, conversing with Isagi in low tones. At the sight of you, he paused, raising a brow. Quietly asking for you to come over to him.
You did, and Isagi beamed when he noticed how easily you sat next to Rin, no longer tense nor fidgety. He took your hand and rubbed gentle circles onto the rise of your knuckles, and to everyone else in the Blue Lock, the sight must be completely alien for a few other players were smirking in your direction.
“Hey, Isagi, do you think I should get a girlfriend, too?” Bachira asked innocently from his perch on the floor, holding an isotonic drink pack in one hand. Ego was in the corner, speaking to a team of managers that he did not overhear Meguru’s innocent question which would land him in hot water.
Taken aback by his friend’s question, Isagi chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know. If it’s anyone you should ask, it would be Rin.”
To everyone’s surprise, the unsmiling, aloof and cold Itoshi Rin scoffed fondly, flitting his calm teal eyes towards you.
“Go for it,” he murmured while tightening his grip on your hand, secretly enjoying the feel of his fingers laced with yours, and the sight of his name and number on your chest. Everyone knew without a shadow of a doubt that you belonged to him.
The corners of your eyes crinkled from your wide grin which was so full of life and unaffected by anything else. Completely enamoured with the fact you could wake up everyday and call Rin Itoshi yours. But, no one could say you were still not the same teasing girl who had melted the ice-cold walls around his heart.
“Try it if you dare, Bachi. Rin should be able to give you some pointers off-field if you get stuck thanks to my training.”
Your charming quip was met with raised brows and surprised smiles, least of all from the one man who could make you melt into a puddle of your own glee when he scoffed a quiet laugh.
“Yeah, I’ll give you some real advice alright,” he grumbled to appease Bachira’s sudden onset of relationship questions.
He tuned his teammate out.
No one else existed in the room to Rin at this moment; not Ego calling for the team to regroup and debrief on the latest match, or Bachira who bravely thumped Isagi’s back to cajole him to help get me a girlfriend, Yoichi-kun! I wanna see what the hype is all about!
It was just you and Rin in this split second of time, and he could not stop those stupid muscles on his face from ticking upwards in a shy smile. Completely honest and truthful when he showed the world how much you had him head over heels in love.
After all, he was done pretending, too.
hihi this is finally done and though i admit my interest in bllk has waned, im happy i wrapped this up and this little story has made everyone feel good :'> im not so sure what my future in the bllk fandom would be but your support and love for my work will always be the highlight of my time here <;33
p.s: pls listen to this song as the closing credits for a little serotonin boost as much as i had when i wrote this hehe
xoxo dawnie
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