*ੈ✩‧₊˚ wearing his jersey to his match ˚₊‧✩ੈ
blue lock boys x gn!reader
featuring. isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, barou shouei, shidou ryusei.
warnings. none, just fluff ♡
you show up to one of his matches wearing his name across your back. he is completely normal about it. obviously.
── .✦
Isagi Yoichi.
Isagi notices you before he means to.
It happens somewhere in the middle of the first half, when the ball has been pushed out of bounds and the game pauses for barely a few seconds.
His eyes move automatically.
The field. His teammates. The opposing formation.
For a moment, you almost blend into the sea of people dressed in blue and white. Then someone beside you says something and you turn to answer them, giving Isagi a perfect view of your back.
His name is written across your shoulders.
His number underneath it.
Not enough for anyone watching to notice, probably, but enough that his entire thought process falls apart for one incredibly embarrassing second.
You're wearing his jersey.
You've come to his matches before. You've cheered for him, hugged him afterward, listened to him ramble endlessly about plays and goals until he realizes it's nearly two in the morning.
But this feels different.
There is something about seeing his name on you that makes his chest tighten painfully.
Then you turn back toward the field.
It's immediate, bright and impossibly warm, and Isagi has to look away because his face is suddenly burning.
“Isagi.” He blinks. One of his teammates is staring at him.
Isagi forces himself back into the match...
Because every time he scores, every time he manages to create an opening, he finds himself glancing toward your section.
Standing when everyone else stands. Clapping. Shouting his name even though he can barely hear you from the field.
It shouldn't matter this much.
After the match, you barely make it a few steps down the VIP hallway before someone wraps their arms around you from behind.
He's showered already, his hair still slightly damp, but his body is warm against your back as he presses his face into the side of your neck.
“Sorry” he repeats. Still no actual regret.
You laugh softly and turn in his arms.
His hands settle naturally at your waist.
“You played really well.”
Isagi is looking at you strangely.
You glance down at yourself.
His ears turn pink again.
“You didn't tell me you bought one.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
You laugh, reaching up to push a few damp strands of hair away from his forehead.
His expression softens immediately.
“I like watching you play,” you tell him. “And I wanted to support you properly.”
“You always support me properly.”
Your fingers brush his cheek.
“But I wanted everyone else to know who I was cheering for too.”
You barely get the chance to wonder whether you've embarrassed him again before he's pulling you into his chest.
You smile against his shirt.
“You can't say things like that right after a match,” he mumbles.
“My heart's already working hard enough.”
You laugh, and Isagi presses a small kiss to the top of your head.
He is quiet for a moment.
Then, very softly, he says:
“Wear it again next time?”
You look up. He's trying to sound casual.
The look on his face makes the jersey completely worth it.
── .✦
Itoshi Sae
Sae notices everything. You know this. He has an irritating ability to pick apart the smallest changes in your appearance without ever making it obvious that he's paying attention.
New earrings. A different perfume. The fact that you've started stealing his shampoo whenever you stay over.
So when you arrive at the stadium wearing his jersey, you know there's no chance he won't see it.
The real question is whether he'll react.
For the majority of the first half, you think you've miscalculated. Sae doesn't look toward you once.
He moves across the pitch with the same disinterested expression he always wears, like every other player is merely another mildly inconvenient obstacle between him and victory.
Then the game pauses. Sae lifts his head. His eyes move across the stands... and then they stop.
You smile. Slowly, deliberately, you open your jacket a little more.
His eyes narrow and you almost laugh.
Then the whistle blows and he turns away.
No smile. No visible embarrassment.
Still, you spend the rest of the match wondering whether he liked it.
The answer arrives after the game.
You are standing near one of the restricted hallways, scrolling through your phone, when a familiar hand takes it from you.
Instead, his eyes move down your body.
You follow his glance at your shirt.
You stare at him. Sae stares back.
You reach for your phone. He lifts it away.
“Do you always ask this many questions?”
“Only when my boyfriend starts giving me suspicious instructions.”
For the briefest moment, something amused flickers in his eyes. You turn anyway. There is silence behind you. Then Sae's fingers brush the fabric between your shoulder blades.
The touch is so light you almost miss it.
You don't turn. His hand stays there.
His fingers move to your waist, gathering some of the fabric.
“It's definitely too big.”
Then his arm slides around your waist and he pulls you backward against him. Your breath catches. His mouth is near your ear.
The answer is so simple that warmth immediately spreads through your chest.
You turn your head slightly.
“Fine, you look gorgeous," he finally says.
You laugh. Sae's hold on you tightens slightly. Then he lowers his head and presses a slow kiss beneath your ear. Your smile falters.
His mouth brushes your skin again.
You can practically hear the smugness in his voice.
“I wanted you to say you liked the shirt.”
Sae finally lets you turn around. His hand stays on your waist. You reach up, smoothing your thumb over his cheek.
“You really played well today.”
Sae catches your wrist before you can lower your hand. His lips press briefly against your palm. The gesture is so unexpectedly gentle that you become completely still.
His eyes remain on yours.
“Only because you asked so nicely.”
This time, when Sae kisses you, you can feel the faint curve of his smile against your mouth.
You know Rin has seen you. Mostly because he has been actively refusing to look toward your side of the stadium for the past thirty minutes.
It started when you arrived.
You'd barely found your seat when Rin's eyes moved toward the stands. He saw you. Saw the dark jersey. Saw his name across your chest and...
Then Rin plays like someone had deeply and personally offended him. By halftime, you are beginning to suspect the jersey may have triggered some kind of psychological crisis. He scores twice but doesn't celebrate.
He looks toward you once after the second goal. Just once.
Rin nearly walks into one of his own teammates.
You spend the rest of the match feeling incredibly pleased with yourself. Afterward, however, Rin avoids you. You wait near the players' exit.
So you send him a message.
You stare at the reply on the screen.
The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again.
Finally, you see the reply:
Ten minutes later, Rin walks out of the hallway.
His hair is still damp from his shower and there's a bag thrown over one shoulder. He stops when he sees you.
Rin looks at your shirt. Then your face.
“I haven't done anything.”
“You know what you did.” You glance down.
“The jersey?” His jaw tightens. Your smile grows.
You step closer. He doesn't move away.
“You looked at me after your second goal.”
“I was looking at the crowd.”
“You almost tripped when I blew you a kiss.”
Rin clicks his tongue. You are close enough now to reach for him. Your fingers lightly catch the sleeve of his jacket. His eyes immediately drop to the movement.
“I wanted to wear your jersey,” you say, quieter now. The teasing disappears from your voice.
“I thought you'd like seeing me support you.”
His expression changes. Barely. But you know him. You see the way the tension leaves his shoulders. The way his eyes soften even though he would probably rather die than admit it.
“You already support me,” he says.
“Then you don't have to do stupid things.”
Your hand slides down from his sleeve until your fingers brush his. For a second, he doesn't react.
“You really didn't like it?” you ask.
His thumb moves once over your knuckles.
“…I didn't say that.” Your heart melts.
Rin pulls you closer by your joined hands. You bump gently into his chest. Before you can tease him again, he lowers his head. His forehead rests against yours. The gesture is quiet.
“I saw you immediately,” he admits. Your smile becomes softer.
Rin's eyes close. You kiss the corner of his mouth. For once, he doesn't complain.
Instead, his free hand settles against the back of your neck and pulls you back when you try to move away.
The second kiss lasts much longer.
When you finally separate, Rin looks at your jersey again.
His expression turns slightly red.
“Don't wear anyone else's.”
“Rin, are you jealous of hypothetical jerseys?”
Yet he doesn't let go of your hand.
The first person to notice is Reo.
Nagi is standing on the field, lazily stretching one leg behind him, when Reo suddenly nudges his shoulder.
Reo nods toward the stands. Nagi follows his gaze.
You are sitting a few rows from the front. His jersey is draped over your body, much too large, the sleeves nearly reaching your elbows.
Reo looks at him. Then at you. Then back at him.
Nagi doesn't answer. You catch him looking, so you immediately smile and lift both hands in an excited little wave.
You point toward your jersey.
His chest feels strange. Not bad. Just warm. Heavy.
“You could at least smile at them.”
Nagi looks back toward you. You are still smiling. He lifts one hand. A tiny wave.
Your expression brightens so dramatically that Nagi feels the strange warmth again.
The game starts. Nagi thinks about your jersey four separate times during the first half. It is incredibly distracting.
After the match, you find him sitting alone on a bench in one of the stadium hallways.
His head is tilted back against the wall.
“Seishiro?” One eye opens. “There you are.”
“You were looking for me?”
“You could've texted me, my phone's in my bag.”
“And your bag is?” Nagi lazily points beside him.
You stare. He stares back.
You laugh and step between his knees. Nagi's hands immediately find your waist, he presses his face against your stomach.
“Hi.” His voice is muffled against the jersey. Your fingers move into his hair and he visibly relaxes.
“You played really well today.”
“That goal in the second half was incredible.”
“You think I'm incredible.” You lightly pull his hair, Nagi makes a quiet sound of complaint.
“That is not what I said.”
“Close enough.” His fingers curl into the fabric around your waist, then he lifts his head. His eyes settle on your shirt.
“Because you're my boyfriend?” Nagi blinks slowly.
“So I wanted to wear your name.” He becomes quiet. You tilt your head.
“Seishiro?” His hands slide around you completely. Then, without warning, he pulls you closer and buries his face against you again. You almost lose your balance.
“Don't say things like that.” You look down at him.
Your heart nearly bursts.
You laugh and gently scratch your nails over his scalp. His arms tighten.
“You look cute,” he mutters. Your teasing stops. “In my jersey.”
You feel your own face warm. Nagi looks up at you again. For once, his gaze is completely focused.
“You should wear it more.”
“At my place.” You raise an eyebrow. Nagi's expression remains innocent.
He rests his chin against your stomach.
“Like seeing my name on you.”
The honesty of it makes your chest ache. You lean down and kiss him. Nagi immediately pulls you closer, one hand moving up your back.
When you separate, he follows your lips for another tiny kiss.
“You're suddenly very energetic,” you whisper.
Barou sees you before the match starts. You know because his eyes move toward your seat during warm-ups and immediately narrow.
You smile. He looks away. Then looks back.
Your jacket is open, his jersey is underneath.
You give him a tiny wave. Barou's expression becomes unreadable. One of his teammates says something to him. Barou snaps at him.
You cover your mouth, laughing.
Barou is unbearable, he scores and looks directly toward you.
He scores again and looks directly toward you.
The third time, you are almost certain he adjusts the front of his jersey on purpose before walking back to position.
And you love him desperately.
After the match, Barou comes toward you with a towel around his neck.
“What are you wearing?” You look down.
“Clothes.” Barou glares and you laugh. “Your jersey.”
“You didn't tell me you were buying one.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” Barou clicks his tongue and you step closer.
“You looked at me every time you scored.”
“I was checking the scoreboard.”
“The scoreboard is on the opposite side.” Barou becomes silent but your smile turns unbearably smug.
“Were you showing off for me?”
“You scored a hat-trick.”
“I would've done that anyway.”
“Obviously.” Barou looks almost suspicious.
You smooth your hand over his chest.
“I know you're amazing.” His expression softens.
“I just like when you look for me after you score.”
Barou stares down at you, his large hand settles over yours.
“Every time.” He looks away.
You could cry from how endearing he is.
Instead, you gently tug on the towel around his neck, bringing him slightly closer.
“I wore your jersey because I'm proud of you.”
“And because I love you.”
His eyes widen. Just a little.
“You can't just say that here.”
“There are people around.”
Your heart squeezes painfully.
Barou grabs your waist. You squeak when he pulls you against him.
His glare becomes murderous.
Your hands settle against his shoulders. You look into his eyes.
His expression turns serious.
It's surprisingly gentle. Slow.
His thumb moves once over your waist as though he's smoothing the fabric of his own jersey beneath his hand. When he pulls away, his eyes fall toward the shirt again.
“Next time, tell me before you buy something.” You sigh.
“What does that mean?” Barou lifts his chin.
“One of mine.” You stare.
“You mean an actual jersey you've worn?”
“Yeah.” Your lips part, but before you can say anything, Barou continues. “You're the only one fit to reign by my side.”
Barou seems to realize exactly how romantic that sounds.
His expression darkens immediately.
Barou complains, the faintest hint of red creeping into his cheeks.
But he still wraps his arms around you.
── .✦
Shidou Ryusei.
Shidou sees you instantly. There is no subtlety involved. His eyes scan the crowd before the match, find you, and immediately drop to your jersey. Then he grins.
You know you're in trouble.
“Ryusei,” you whisper to yourself.
Several people nearby turn. You slowly cover your face with both hands.
From the field, Shidou laughs.
The match has not even started and you already regret everything.
Then Shidou scores. The stadium erupts.
You jump from your seat, shouting his name with everyone else.
Shidou turns toward your section. His eyes find you. He grabs the front of his own jersey.
You feel your entire face burn.
The people beside you start screaming louder.
“I'm going to kill him,” you mutter. You're smiling too much to sound convincing.
After the match, Shidou practically crashes into you.
“My gorgeous little fan.”
“Ryusei.” His arms wrap around your waist. He lifts you.
You are laughing by the time your feet touch the ground again. Shidou keeps his arms around you. His grin softens when he looks down.
“You really wore it.” Your smile becomes smaller.
“My name and everything.”
“That's generally how jerseys work.” Shidou ignores you.
His fingers trace the lettering across your chest.
The touch is innocent, surprisingly careful.
“Baby...” He looks at you like you've asked the stupidest question imaginable. “I almost exploded on the field.”
“You looked so fucking cute.”
“Standing there, screaming for me.”
Then he suddenly pulls you closer. His forehead bumps against yours. The playful energy fades slightly.
“You came.” Your expression softens.
“I know.” His thumb moves over your waist.
“But you came with me all over you.” You blink.
“Your jersey.” You correct him, a faint flush warming your cheeks.
“Ryusei.” His grin returns. You push lightly against his chest. Shidou catches your wrist.
Then he kisses your palm. The gesture surprises you.
“You really happy?” you ask. His eyes move back to yours.
Shidou bends down and kisses you.
Unlike the kiss to your palm, this one isn't gentle.
It is still sweet in its own strange way, though.
His hand stays carefully against your waist.
Your fingers curl into his shirt.
When he pulls back, Shidou is smiling.
Shidou immediately smiles wider.
