#(aaaaugh)

Pick a character from the list below and Only use colors they’re assigned to draw them :P

Rules + Taglist from Discord under the cut!

Find part two here

Please tag me if you decide to post it!

a/n: i have came back with a sae x reader oneshot... Idk this oneshot idea just randomly came to my mind, sooo i randomly made this oneshot, its pretty cheesy hehe, but enjoyyy !

Itoshi Sae x Reader !

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“P.S. I Love You"

The mornings always started the same way. The smell of fresh coffee. The faint sound of a closing door. And a folded note on your nightstand, written in neat, sleepy handwriting.

Buenos días, cariño.

You looked too peaceful to wake up, so I didn’t. You kicked me in your sleep again, by the way. I think I bruised.

There’s breakfast in the fridge. Drink water. I love you.

—Sae

You smiled, pressing the paper to your chest, still wrapped in his blanket. He always left letters. Every morning. Without fail.

Sometimes they were just a few words, other times full of sleepy rambles about the dream he had (“we were fish… I don’t know either”) or small reminders like “Don’t forget your scarf, it’s cold today.” But always—always—signed with “I love you.”

You stretched and wandered into the kitchen. And there it was: another note.

Tucked behind the honey jar:

P.S. I’m watching you. Eat something. I mean it.

Inside the coffee mug:

P.S. This mug smells like you. I’m keeping it next time.

Under the potted plant on the windowsill:

P.S. I bet you didn’t expect one here. But now you’re smiling. Gotcha.

You giggled. “He’s such a nerd.”

Your phone buzzed.

Sae: Did you find the one in the sock drawer yet?

You gasped and ran back to the bedroom. Sure enough, buried under mismatched socks, was a tiny folded note.

P.S. I miss you already. Come visit me at practice later? You can pretend to be my manager. Or my wife. Or both.

Your cheeks burned as you fell back onto the bed, clutching the note.

~

That evening, when he got home and dropped his gym bag, you were waiting at the door with your own little folded letter.

He blinked. “What’s this?”

You leaned in, kissing his cheek. “P.S. I love you too.”

~

You had gotten used to Sae's morning letters.

Sometimes short, sometimes teasing, always left carefully by your pillow or the coffee pot or even inside your book, like little breadcrumbs leading you back to him.

But this morning felt… different.

There were no short notes on the counter. No hidden scribbles in the fridge or mug. Just one thing—an envelope. Thick, sealed with a little wax stamp you didn’t know he owned, resting on top of your folded blanket.

Your name was written across it in his handwriting. Not his rushed post-practice scribbles. This was slow, deliberate, careful.

You sat on the bed, the early sunlight casting gold across the page as you opened it.

~

Mi amor,

I know I leave you silly notes every day. Sometimes they’re not even full sentences. Sometimes I’m half-asleep while writing them, and I forget words. But I thought today I’d try something else. Something I’m not good at.

I wanted to write you a real letter. One I’d be proud to leave behind, even if I couldn’t write another one after.

I don’t talk much. You know that. I’ve always struggled to say what I feel in the moment. But when it comes to you, words get stuck somewhere between my chest and my throat. Like I’m trying to explain the feeling of morning sunlight, or the smell of rain. Like no word really fits.

You make this apartment feel like the only home I’ve ever wanted. You laugh at my bad coffee. You steal my hoodies. You fall asleep with your face in a book and wake up saying my name like it’s something soft.

You make it easy to love you, and terrifying to imagine a life where I don’t.

I used to think football was everything. That I had to choose between chasing the future and holding onto something real. But you’ve taught me that love isn’t the thing that slows you down—it’s what keeps you grounded while you fly.

Every time I kiss you, I think: I’m lucky. Every time I leave a note, I think: I want you to smile when I’m not there.

And every day, I fall more in love with the way you say my name, the way you touch my wrist like I’ll disappear, the way you make even silence feel like music.

So… this is my way of saying it.

I love you.

Completely. Quietly. Wildly. In every language I can’t speak.

Yours, always,

Sae.

~

You read the letter three times, hands shaking slightly, heart aching in the gentlest way.

And when he walked through the door that evening, sweaty and tired and freshly showered, you didn’t say anything.

You just kissed him—slow, sure, lingering—until he whispered, “Did you read it?”

You nodded, eyes warm. “Write me a million more.”

He smiled softly, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “Only if you keep reading them.”

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