: ๑ : “SHE WANTS ME SO BAD!” CH. 6
synopsis : you end up receiving a text message from an unknown number , which later you decide to mess with him a bit after realizing he was a famous soccer player.
characters : otoya , karasu , yukimiya , hiori , others
warnings : jokes , smut , f slurs , underaged smoking and drinking , toxic relationships, etc
a/n: guess whos bavk… back again… okay pls don’t attack me… I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! sibling bond with sae is here 😳😳 okay enjoy your happiness while it lasts
Your alarm blasted through the room in the morning, and with a groan, you immediately slapped a hand over the snooze button, giving yourself ten more minutes of sleep without even thinking about it.
A thin strip of sunlight slipped through a gap in your curtain and landed right across your face. You frowned, pulling the blanket higher over your head.
A few seconds later, the alarm went off again.
You ignored it this time too, hoping that if you just stayed perfectly still and pretended the world did not exist, it would somehow stop on its own.
It did not. You sighed, rolled over twice, then finally sat up with your hair a mess and your eyes half shut. Reaching for your phone, you angrily turned the alarm off and squinted at the screen.
10:36. You scoffed and flopped back onto the bed. “Still early…” you muttered, already sinking back into the mattress. A little bit of drool had escaped the corner of your mouth, but you were far too tired to care. You were this close to falling back asleep too. So close. Then your phone started ringing with your favorite song.
You groaned and stabbed a finger at the screen. “Who the fuck is calling me?”
The contact name made you roll your eyes immediately. Of course. You answered, barely lifting the phone to your ear.
“Hey, good morning, beautiful—”
“What could you possibly want, Eita!?” you shouted, cutting him off before he could get comfortable. “I’m trying to fucking sleep.”
There was a pause on the other end. Then Otoya laughed nervously. “…I am sorry? But it’s almost eleven.”
“No one should be waking up this late when they have plans,” he said, like that should have made sense to you.
That made you freeze for a second. Plans?Your brain took a moment to process the word. Then it hit you all at once. “…Oh my god.”
You shot upright so fast your blanket slid off the bed. “Sae!”
You practically threw your phone onto the mattress and immediately started digging through your closet like a woman possessed. Clothes were yanked off hangers, tossed onto the floor, and shoved into piles all over your room. You were already forgetting what you were even looking for because your entire brain had gone blank with panic.
From your bed, Otoya’s muffled voice kept coming through the phone.
“Hello? Y/n? Hey—what’s going on? Did you die?”
“Shut up!” you yelled back over your shoulder while half-buried in your wardrobe.
You grabbed your phone again just long enough to speak into it. “God, you’re a lifesaver. I’ll call you when I’m back! Thanks!”
You hung up before he could finish.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” In less than two minutes, your room looked like a tornado had ripped through it. Clothes were on your chair, your bed, your floor, and somehow one sock had ended up across the room. Your phone buzzed again and again, and you assumed it was Sae, probably wondering why you weren’t answering.
You had completely forgotten about your hangout with him.
The plan had been simple. You and Sae were supposed to go to the mall, walk around, shop a little, and maybe eat somewhere while he acted like buying your stuff was no big deal. He had insisted on paying as a thank-you, and you had never bothered asking him why. You figured he’d explain in person.
Now there was no time to think about that.
You grabbed a matching set of underwear, a lace bra, and rushed into the bathroom. By then, the hot water had started running, filling the room with steam. You set everything down on the counter in a hurry. Your brush, hairdryer, makeup, jeans, studded belt, and the jacket Otoya had gotten for you. That jacket had become one of your favorites.
You stripped off your sleep clothes, tossed them into the laundry basket, and stepped into the shower with a sigh. You knew you were on a time limit, so naturally your brain decided that meant absolutely nothing.
You still spent too long washing your hair. You still took your time rinsing off. You even brushed your teeth in the shower because, at this point, you didn’t want to be late.
By the time you got out, you were still moving fast, drying off completely before slipping into your undergarments. Then you blow-dried your hair, deciding to put on your clothes first and do your makeup after.
That turned out to be the better choice, because once you were dressed, you could actually see what you were doing.
You pulled on your jeans, fixed the studded belt around your waist, and slipped into the cropped top you’d picked earlier. Then you sectioned your hair into two pigtails, leaving the rest loose around your shoulders. A few final touches with your makeup later, and you were finally standing in front of the mirror again, catching your breath.
You gave yourself a small twirl. Then your eyes landed on the jacket. “Right—” You snatched it from the bed and threw it on over your outfit.
It was now 12:02 PM, so you were still good. You grabbed your phone and checked Sae’s message.
You stared at it for half a second. “Fuck.”
No time for a proper selfie, which annoyed you for a whole separate reason. So instead, you quickly posed in front of your mirror about ten different ways, snapping photos like your life depended on it. One of them HAD to come out decent. You were already halfway down the stairs when your phone buzzed again, but you ignored it for the moment and raced outside.
A car honked from down the street.
Then again AND again… You barely made it to the curb before Sae rolled the window down and shouted, “Hurry the fuck up! I’ve got people staring at me here.”
You rushed over and practically threw yourself into the passenger seat. The second you were in, you slammed the door shut and fastened your seatbelt.
“Jeez,” you huffed, catching your breath. “So impatient.”
“Hey,” he said, starting to drive, “I’m the one picking you up. You don’t get to complain.”
“Whateveerrr.” You leaned back with a dramatic sigh.
Then he glanced over at you. “Nice jacket.”
You looked at him and smiled a little. “Thanks. Some guy bought it for me.”
Sae’s eyes shifted toward you. “Guy? Since when do you have a boyfriend?”
“Not my boyfriend.” you said immediately. “We’re just friends.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “His name is Otoya. He’s in the same program as your brother.”
At that, Sae’s expression changed just slightly. He knew exactly who Otoya was. Rin had complained about nearly everyone in Blue Lock, and Otoya’s name had definitely come up before. Sae could have said something, but he decided not to ruin the moment.
Instead, he just gave a small, stiff nod. “Mm. Nice.”
You turned your head toward him. “What?”
“Nothing.” Then, a beat later, his mouth twitched. “Speaking of Rin, he contacted me last night.”
Your face brightened. “Aw, that’s really good, Sae.”
He gave a small laugh, but it sounded more relieved than amused. “Yeah. Which is why I’m taking you shopping as a thank-you. He told me about his conversation with you yesterday. I honestly thought we’d never speak again.”
“Don’t start crying now,” you teased.
He let out a breath through his nose. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“It was a little bit of a deal,” you corrected gently. “But it’s fine. I just think siblings should talk things out.”
Sae looked away for a second. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Hard to believe he’s in a relationship now. I really didn’t think he was into men.”
You laughed. “Really? I don’t know. Being locked up with a bunch of guys changes people.”
Sae rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.
Then you looked back at him. “What about you?”
He blinked. “What about me?”
“Don’t you have a partner?”
Sae's grip on the steering wheel tightened almost imperceptibly. "No…" He was getting traumatizing flashbacks from his previous relationship.
"I see," you said, drawing out the words with obvious amusement.
He shot you that flat, unimpressed stare he'd perfected over years of dealing with reporters and fans. "Can we drop this?”
"Fine, fine." You held up your hands in mock surrender. "But I'm gonna remember this." You filed the information away for later, tucking it into the growing collection of ammunition you had against him. "Okay, I won't ask any more questions—oh, by the way, is it safe to be in public?"
Sae nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly now that the conversation had shifted. "It should be fine." He paused. "I hope," he added, and there was a dry edge to his voice that made you snort.
He pulled into the mall's sprawling parking lot, the overhead lights casting long shadows across the rows of cars. The evening crowd was thinning, but there were still plenty of people milling about. You spotted a prime spot that was close to the entrance, wide enough that Sae's car wouldn't get dinged, practically glowing with parking lot real estate energy.
"Oh, there should be a spot right there—" You pointed, your voice bright with victory. And then, like a goddamn villain from a movie, a blue sports car roared past you, engine screaming, and slid into the spot.
"Fucking asshole." You leaned forward in your seat, your eyes fixed on the obnoxious vehicle. "Can this fucker not see us—!?"
Sae sighed, the sound long-suffering and resigned. He reached into the center console, pulling out a cigarette and pressing it between his lips without lighting it. "The windows are tinted... please don't do something stupid—"
But you were already unbuckling your seatbelt. "Sit tight," you said, your voice deceptively calm.
"Wait—" The door slammed shut behind you, cutting off whatever sentence he was about to make. The evening air was cool against your skin, carrying the faint scent of exhaust and fried food from the food court vents. Your shoes clicked against the asphalt as you marched toward the blue car.
It was a nice car, you'd give them that. Some kind of modified import, matte blue with racing stripes and aftermarket rims that probably cost more than your outfit. The kind of car that screamed look at me in the most desperate way possible. God. How annoying.
You pulled up to the driver's side window and started knocking aggressively. Each rap of your knuckles against the glass was a punctuation mark in your growing irritation.
The window rolled down with a smooth electric hum, revealing the driver—a man with half-dyed blonde and blue hair that looked like it had seen better days, rose tattoo on his neck and a general air of exhaustion that didn't quite match his flashy vehicle. He wasn't even looking at you directly, his gaze fixed somewhere on the dashboard.
"Can I help you...?" he muttered, his voice flat.
"Yeah, you can." You planted your hands on your hips. "Matter of fact, get the fuck out of the car."
The man finally turned to look at you, blinking slowly like he was processing your words through a thick fog of fatigue. "Look, I have places to go... I am sorry for taking your parking spot, but I needed this more than you two, okay?"
He sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. There was something about the gesture that seemed almost... pathetic. Like he was running on fumes and spite.
You scoffed, your temper flaring. "Look, I don't give a fuck—" And then two hundred-dollar bills appeared in front of your face, held between his fingers like a peace offering.
"Look, why don't you take this and buy something nice for yourself, huh?" He scratched at his half-dyed hair again, the gesture desperate and almost endearing in a sad sort of way. "Okay, sweetheart? A little trade?"
You stared at the money. Two. Hundred. Dollars. For a parking spot. Your brain short-circuited. The anger drained out of you like someone had pulled a plug, replaced by a wave of pure, unadulterated greed. You snatched the bills out of his hand with the speed of a striking cobra, and when you spoke, your voice had gone from furious to saccharine sweet in the span of a heartbeat.
"Ahaha... you could've just said so... have a good day!"
The blonde man gave you a weak thumbs-up, his expression still dazed. The window rolled back up, and you practically skipped back to Sae's car, the two hundred dollars clutched in your hand like a trophy. You slid back into the passenger seat, grinning like a cat who'd swallowed a canary.
Sae was staring at you, his cigarette holder unlit and forgotten in his mouth. His expression was one of pure, unfiltered judgment. "Why the fuck are you so jolly?"
"Oh, nothing!" You waved a hand airily. "Go ahead and drive!"
Sae squinted at you, clearly debating whether he wanted to know the details. He decided against it and pulled the car forward, circling the lot for what felt like an eternity before finally finding a spot three levels up in the parking garage.
It took him twenty minutes to find a parking spot.
But you were too busy with your phone to care, scrolling through your camera roll to find the perfect selfie.
You tagged Otoya in it, because of course you did. Part of you wanted to see his reaction. Wanted him to see you looking good in his jacket. But when you checked your phone a few minutes later, all you got was a like. Just a like. Bummer.
You huffed, locking your phone and slipping it into your pocket. Whatever. You weren't going to let his lack of response ruin your day. You had shopping to do, and Sae's wallet was ripe for the picking.
The mall was alive with the usual evening crowd—groups of teenagers clustered around the food court, couples walking hand in hand, mothers wrangling screaming children. The fluorescent lights cast a warm glow over everything, and the ambient noise of chatter and music filled the air.
You and Sae walked side by side, a comfortable rhythm settling between you. He was quiet, as usual, but there was a relaxed set to his shoulders that hadn't been there before. Every now and then, a fan would approach—usually someone who recognized him from soccer coverage or magazine spreads.
"Excuse me, are you Itoshi Sae?"
"Your last match was incredible—"
Each time, Sae would nod stiffly, pose for the photo, and then move on without engaging further. It was efficient and you watched him navigate the attention with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
And then, to your surprise, a couple of girls approached you.
"Oh my god, are you on Instagram? You look exactly like a model—"
"Can we get a picture with you?"
You blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "Uh... sure?" They snapped a few photos, complimented your jacket, and scampered off, giggling. You stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened.
"Wow," Sae said, a hint of smugness creeping into his voice. "You look the part."
"I didn't even do anything," you muttered, but there was a smile tugging at your lips.
"So, I was thinking," you said, practically bouncing on your shoes as you came to a stop in front of the mall directory. "You said go for it, right? No limits?"
Sae's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Caution or regret. (LOL) "Yeah, go for it. It's not like I have anything to do with this money."
Inside your head, an alarm went off. Sirens and lights and confetti raining down because holy shit, he actually said that out loud.
"Oh, Sae." You grinned, the expression sharp and predatory. "You really shouldn't have said that."
The next three hours were a blur of shopping bags, credit card swipes, and the slow, agonizing death of Sae's dignity.
You hit every store in the mall. Every single one. The high-end boutiques, the department stores, the little niche shops that sold handcrafted jewelry and alt clothing. You dragged Sae through racks of clothes, made him hold your purse while you tried on shoes, and forced him to give his opinion on at least seventeen different outfits.
"Is this cute?!" You held up a set of matching bra and underwear—lace, deep burgundy, delicate straps that looked expensive and felt even more so.
Sae stared at the lingerie, clearly uninterested. "Yeah." His voice was flat, his expression carefully blank. "Just get them all in the same color."
You cackled and threw three more sets into the cart. By the time you were done, Sae's arms were loaded with bags. Shopping bags dangled from every finger, hung from his wrists, threatened to topple over with every step. He looked like a pack mule in designer sneakers.
"Okay," he said, his voice strained, "we need to go back to the car."
"Already? But we haven't finished—"
"We need to go back to the car."
You relented, mostly because you couldn't carry any more bags either. The two of you made the road back to the parking garage, loading the trunk with your haul until it was packed to bursting. Then because you were a nice friend, you dragged him back inside.
Another hour passed. The mall was starting to empty out now, the stores dimming their lights as closing time approached. Sae had acquired another seven bags, and his expression had gone from neutral to something approaching existential despair.
"It's almost eight," he said, checking his watch. "We need to go."
"You said that three stores ago."
He sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. He didn't say it out loud, but you could see it his face that he wasn’t resisting.
After you'd finally exhausted the mall's supply of things to buy (and Sae's patience), you insisted on buying him dinner. With his money because you were a terrible person.
"Come on," you said, tugging him toward the food court. "I'm starving."
"You spent thousands of my dollars and you're taking me to the food court?"
"The sushi place here is actually good, I swear."
Sae looked at you like you'd grown a second head. But he followed anyway, settling into a plastic chair at a cheap table while you ordered two plates of the least expensive sushi on the menu. It was ridiculous, spending a fortune on clothes and then eating budget sushi. But the way Sae's lips twitched when he took his first bite told you he didn't mind.
"See?" you said, pointing at him with your chopsticks. "Told you it was good."
"Wowie!!" You said excitedly.
He sighed, “It’s as if I have a younger sister.”
It was 9:34 PM when Sae pulled up in front of your apartment building. The street was quiet, the porch light casting a warm glow over the front steps.
"Thanks for today," you said, unbuckling your seatbelt. "Seriously. I had a lot of fun."
Sae nodded, his hands still on the steering wheel. "Mm."
"And I promise I'll pay you back someday."
"I know. But I will." You paused, then added, "Maybe."
That earned you the ghost of a smile. "Get inside before I change my mind about the bags."
You laughed, gathering as many shopping bags as you could carry (which was not all of them—it took three trips to get everything inside). By the time you finally collapsed onto your bed, surrounded by your haul, Yuki was already there, perched on your pillow like a tiny, judgmental monarch.
"Yuki!! My baby!" You cooed, scooping him up and burying your face in his fur. He purred, kneading your chest with his paws.
Your phone buzzed. You unlocked it, still cuddling your cat, and checked Instagram.
You tapped on his story, and the screen filled with his face. Dear god. His face. The sharp jawline, the lazy smirk, the way the lighting caught his eyes just right. You felt your heart do a little flip-flop that was entirely unwarranted given the circumstances.
Holy glaze, you thought, and immediately felt embarrassed for it.
But then the irritation set in. He had time to post himself looking like that, but he couldn't reply to your text? The audacity. The sheer, unadulterated audacity. You decided, then and there, that you were going to be a problem.
You lit a small blunt, the familiar herbal aroma filling your bedroom. The smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling as you leaned back against your pillows, Yuki settling on your stomach like a weighted blanket. Posing and staring directly at the camera, you snapped a selfie and waited for him to also… reply.
To be even more petty you also decided to post the haul Sae got you… which he also immediately also replied to.
You snickered, locked your phone, and set it on the nightstand. You didn't mean to fall asleep… but the combination of the general exhaustion of the day pulled you under like a tide. The last thing you saw before your eyes closed was Otoya's chat, frozen on your screen. Sorry not sorry, Otoya!
@blu3-l0v3r @tecchouss @luvvcharxo @shimiyayshimiyaydrank @megameowsticmeat @redsandroses @snowymafui @k4ss11333 @ratg4n @pookiei-bookie @justanotherweeb666 @akaashiit @90s-belladonna @yayamrata @youdontneedtoknowlol