• Instead of Fake dating, everyone is convinced you aren't dating.
• Itoshi Sae x Influencer Chaotic Reader
• Sorry, I don't really know how this will goes, probably gonna be confusing and all, I just put whatever is on my mind.
"You know how some people say their life is a rom-com? Yeah, no. Mine is more like a chaos-com. I wake up tangled in bedsheets like a burrito, burn half my breakfasts, and trip over absolutely nothing at least once a day. But hey, at least I make it look cute. Or so my fans say."
"You've probably seen me online."
"The loud, over-the-top influencer with an obsession for bubble tea, oversized hoodies, and singing off-key on live streams. Yeah, that's me. Sunshine's personality is a human disaster, and I'm proud of it. My life is like an endless string of events, collaborations, photoshoots, and the occasional scandal where people assume I'm dating half the industry just because I smiled too wide in a selfie."
"But... plot twist. The rumors were all wrong. The truth? I've been dating Sae Itoshi."
"The national heartthrob, soccer prodigy, king of the resting deadpan face. The man who kicks balls for a living and somehow looks like he invented the concept of "too cool to care." That's my boyfriend."
"Shocking, right? I know, I know. You're probably making the same face my best friend did when I told her."
"Mouth open, brain error, blue screen."
"But!—ah, ah, ah—before I spill the tea on how that happened... let's rewind."
"It wasn't on a fancy red carpet or an exclusive afterparty."
"Nope. The universe had something more... clumsy planned."
"It was just another Tuesday. I was running late, of course, because of punctuality and I have never been on speaking terms. Sunglasses perched on my head, iced coffee in one hand, and phone in the other, trying to post a "good morning" selfie to my feed without walking into traffic. Multitasking: my toxic trait."
"Literally. I slammed right into someone."
"My coffee went flying, my phone almost joined it, and I stumbled back like a cartoon character. I looked up, ready to apologize to whoever the poor soul was and there he stood."
"Tall. Cool. Expression flat enough to rival the moon’s surface."
"A guy in casual clothes, baseball cap pulled low, hands stuffed in his pockets like he’d rather be anywhere else."
"And me? The clueless fool who thought. Huh. Cute stranger."
"I had no idea I'd just bumped into Itoshi Sae himself. And him? Oh, he definitely thought I was just another random, overly smiley girl with zero spatial awareness."
"But, I'm getting ahead of myself again. You want the real story, don't you? The how, the why, the wait, really? moments."
"Well... hold tight. Because that, my lovely little chaos crew, is a story for another day."
"And speaking of stories, my livestream timer's blinking at me. Time to hit the "Go Live" button and let the circus begin."
"Story starts now: me, my camera, my fans, and one accidental love story I never saw coming."
You swatted your alarm clock like it had personally insulted your family name, groaning into your pillow. Five more minutes. Just five more, universe, please. But the sun was already slapping you across the face through your curtains like it had a personal vendetta.
Reluctantly, you peeled yourself from your cozy blanket cocoon and rolled out of bed emphasis on rolled because grace was never part of your brand. You did a little zombie shuffle toward the bathroom, catching sight of your bedhead in the mirror.
"Wow. A masterpiece." you mumbled to yourself, finger-combing your tangled mess like it would magically fix anything. Spoiler: it didn't.
Your morning routine was a wild mix of chaos and caffeine. Face wash? Check. Skincare? Check—uhhhhhh—mostly. Coffee? Priority number one. You fired up your machine and did a little dance while waiting, humming off-key to whatever pop song was stuck in your head. You were halfway through pouring your coffee when your phone buzzed.
[Your BFF]: 𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲??
You grinned, sending back: 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗹𝘆. 𝗖𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁, 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱.
You flopped onto the couch with your mug and pulled out your phone, opening your livestream app. Your followers were already leaving comments on your last post:
"You're late today, queen!"
"She lives!! What's the chaos plan for today?"
You snorted into your coffee, holding up your phone for a quick selfie.
"Good morning, chaos crew!" you chirped to your camera. "Guess who overslept again? Spoiler: it's me. But plot twist, today I have a story. And it's about a certain someone."
You paused, flashing your most dramatic grin.
"But before that, let's talk about the day I met him. Because wow. Absolute definition of 'meet-cute,' minus the cute, mostly just me being a hazard to society."
You leaned back, letting the memory replay in your head.
It was an ordinary day. Well, as ordinary as your life ever got. You had a brand meeting to rush to, and as usual, you were running late because you couldn't pick an outfit. One minute you were posing for mirror selfies in your oversized hoodie, the next you were panicking because your Uber was two streets away and you couldn't find your left shoe. Classic you.
With only two brain cells firing on pure iced coffee and hope, you dashed out of your apartment, phone in one hand, drink in the other, and zero focus on the sidewalk ahead. You were too busy typing a caption for your next post, something about the universe always testing your time management skills, when the world decided to humble you.
You slammed chest-first into someone.
Your iced coffee did an Olympic-level flip, your phone wobbled dangerously in your hand, and you stumbled back two steps, blinking like a deer in ring light.
"Whoa—sorry, I wasn't looking!" you blurted out, brushing imaginary dust off your clothes and finally daring to look up.
Tall, and lean, hoodie, cap pulled low, and hands in his pockets like life was just a long waiting room. His expression? A mix of boredom and 'Why is this human in my personal space?'
At the time, you didn't recognize him. To you, he was just another person having the misfortune of existing on the same chaotic sidewalk as you.
But him? Oh, he definitely looked at you like you were just another hyper, overcaffeinated civilian with no spatial awareness. Probably filed you away as background noise and kept walking.
You, being the ray of unbothered sunshine you were, had just smiled wide and waved, as if you hadn't nearly caused a traffic accident with your face.
"Have a good day, mystery man!" you chirped before bouncing off, completely unaware that you'd just met Sae Itoshi.
The soccer prodigy. The media darling. The human iceberg.
And soon-to-be... your boyfriend.
You grinned at the memory, shaking your head as your chat flooded with emojis and question marks
"But—ah, ah, ah—that's just the beginning," you teased, sipping your coffee dramatically. "You thought I’d spill all the tea in one sitting? Pfft. Stay tuned, chaos crew. You know I live for the plot twists."
You winked at your camera, stretching your arms with a happy little hum.
"So, where were we? Right—me, being a disaster, and the world's most unexpected love story. But that's for the next stream."
And with that, you ended the live, leaving your fans screaming in the chat for more.
You sort of love it when your fans suffer.
You were lounging on your bed, blanket wrapped around your legs like a burrito, phone propped up against a water bottle, livestream running full blast. The chat was already exploding with:
"You left us hanging last time!!"
"Tell us about the first REAL conversation!!"
"DID YOU FALL OR DID YOU FLY?? Spill!!"
You laughed, cheeks hurting from smiling.
"Okay, okay, okay, calm down, gremlins." You raised your hands like you were surrendering to the internet police. "So last time, I told you about the day I bumped into him. Literally. But you thought the universe would let me off with one accidental meeting? Oh, honey. No, no."
You shifted to lie on your stomach, kicking your feet behind you.
"It kept happening. Like, a lot. I thought I was the main character in a bad rom-com."
You tilted your head back, replaying the memories like your own private highlight reel.
The second time was the most random. You'd been at that cute little coffee shop you loved, the one that did those overly fancy heart-shaped lattes you always pretended to hate but secretly adored. You were waiting for your order, nose buried in your phone, when someone brushed past you.
You looked up, and there he was again. Mystery Man. Hoodie, cap, same blank expression. For a second, you thought your brain had glitched. Wasn't this the guy you’d run into like, a week ago?
He didn't recognize you, or at least, if he did, he was very committed to pretending he didn't. You'd watched him leave with his black coffee like some kind of aesthetic Pinterest post, and you'd stood there clutching your caramel frappé like, Huh. Weird.
But it didn't stop there.
A few days later, different place, the same weird coincidence. You'd been out at the park, earbuds in, walking your snack-fueled guilt off when you spotted him again, sitting on a bench, casually scrolling his phone as if he belonged in the background.
At first, you thought, Okay, world, nice try. People exist. Whatever. But by the fourth time, when you ran into him at that tiny sushi place you swore no one else but you and your bestie knew about. You couldn't take it anymore.
You'd straight-up stared at him across the room, your mouth half full of rice, eyebrows raised so high they nearly left your forehead.
And the moment your eyes met? He raised his brow right back.
So you did what any reasonable, mature adult would do.
You marched right up to his table, planted your hands on your hips, tilted your head, and blurted out:
"Are you stalking me or do I just have main character syndrome?"
Silence. Dead silence. The poor waiter passing by almost choked on air.
And for the first time, the guy cracked the tiniest, barely-there smile like you'd just told a joke only he got. He tilted his head, lazily resting his chin on his hand and replied, "Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing."
You had stared at him, blinked, and then dramatically pointed a finger at him like some bootleg detective.
Your chat was going insane by now, spamming.
"SHE LITERALLY SAID ‘STALKER’ LMAO"
"HE SMILED?!? That's a world record!"
"He was so calm too, I'm wheezing."
You grinned at your phone.
"Yeah, I know right? The man was so calm like his entire personality was set to 'unbothered.' Meanwhile, I'm the one flailing through life like a caffeinated pigeon."
You sipped your drink, shaking your head at the memory.
"At that point, I didn't even know who he was, not really. Just thought he was some suspiciously attractive stranger who clearly had a talent for showing up wherever I existed. Turns out... well, you guys know the plot twist already."
You let out a dreamy little sigh, flopping onto your back.
"But that was just the start. You think that's the cute part? Oh, no, no, no, chaos crew. The universe was just warming up."
You flashed a wink at the camera.
"Next stream, I'll tell you the part where I found out the truth. About who he really was."
You raised your glass like a toast.
"And spoiler alert: my jaw hit the floor. See you next time!"
You ended the live, still smiling like an idiot, heart full of those silly, sweet memories.
You tug your hoodie over your head, slumping deeper into the cold, unforgiving airport chair while the distant hum of suitcase wheels and boarding calls blend into background noise. One earbud dangles loose, the other blasting your "waiting-around" playlist at a volume slightly unhealthy for your eardrums.
Your phone rests against your knee, the livestream chat already buzzing like a hive of nosy bees.
"WHERE are you going?? Stop gatekeeping."
"Tell us, tell us! Your airport fit is 10/10 tho."
"Are you going somewhere or is this Kidnapping??!! Blink twice if you need help!!"
"Airport fit check pls??"
You chuckle under your breath, stretching your legs out until your sneakers nudge your suitcase.
"Yeah, yeah. I know you're all dying to know, but I'm not telling you yet. Let's just say... it's gonna be a long few hours, and the flight's not boarding anytime soon."
You leaned back, stretching your legs out, sneakers tapping against the floor.
"So I figured, since we're all here, stuck together in digital purgatory, why not tell you the rest of the story? The full, uncut, slightly embarrassing tale of how I ended up with Sae Itoshi."
The chat exploded again, and you snorted, holding up a hand.
"Calm down, calm down! You already know about the 'Are you stalking me?' moment." You grinned at the memory. "But that wasn't the last time we crossed paths. Oh no, the universe was playing the long game."
You licked your lips, settling in like you were about to spill ancient gossip.
"Turns out, I was working on this brand deal, you know, usual influencer stuff, smile, wave, pretend I don’t trip over my own feet in front of professional cameras. My manager told me there was this promotional event, super casual, nothing fancy. Show up, look cute, shake hands, snap photos. Easy."
"What she forgot to mention was that it wasn't just some small event. No, no, it was one of those 'shared space' promo collabs. You know, influencers meet athletes, actors, streamers, the whole 'everyone's famous except you' type vibe. I was barely surviving the social anxiety."
You gestured at your own face, chuckling.
"And then, guess who walks in. The same guy I called a stalker—Sae. Freaking. Itoshi."
You paused for dramatic silence, watching the chat spam screaming emojis and caps-lock confessions of second-hand embarrassment.
"And the worst part? I still didn't know his full name. Not until the event started, and the host announced it like it was some royal entrance. 'Football star Itoshi Sae, everyone!' And I just—I swear my soul left my body."
You covered your face, laughing into your hands.
"I was standing there holding a plate of free desserts and staring at him like I'd seen a ghost. He? Oh, he was perfectly fine. Cool, calm, like this was just Tuesday for him."
You shift in your seat, tugging your hood lower, and let the memory pull you under.
The sky had been that weird, in-between colour, not quite sunny, not quite cloudy, just hanging there like it couldn’t commit to a mood. You were half-jogging, half-power-walking toward your favourite café, craving something sugary and caffeinated to survive your schedule.
Just five minutes of peace, you'd thought, before the next shoot, the next meeting, the next 'smile for the camera.'
The second you pushed the café door open, the little bell above the frame jingled and there he was. The same guy. Cool expression, soccer-star hair, the casual posture of someone who was definitely not expecting you either.
You froze mid-step, recognizing that sharp jawline and those ocean-glass eyes.
And he glanced up from his drink, raising one eyebrow like he'd just spotted a UFO. No fanboy moment, no awkwardness, just that signature, unimpressed Sae Itoshi stare.
You blinked, too stunned to even remember your coffee craving. "You again?" you blurted, before your brain could filter the words.
He sipped his drink like you weren't real. "Should I be asking you that?"
The universe clearly had jokes, because this wasn't the last time either. After that café, you saw him at a restaurant, same casual lean against the counter, the same unreadable face. Then at the park. Then at a bookstore. Every time you locked eyes, it was the same little pause, like both of you were waiting for the punchline.
The fourth or fifth accidental meetup, you'd finally folded your arms, tilting your head at him, amusement bubbling out before you could stop yourself.
"Alright, are YOU stalking me?" you'd asked, deadpan but half-laughing.
For the first time, his lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smirk.
"No." he'd replied, gaze flicking to you and back. "If I were, you'd never catch me."
And you had stood there, flustered, annoyingly charmed, and wondering if he'd always been this infuriatingly smooth.
But the real twist came later, your manager dropped the bomb about the upcoming event.
"A crossover gig." she'd said, breezy like it wasn't life-ruining. "You're going to meet some athletes and shoot some promo stuff. Super chill."
You'd thought nothing of it, until you showed up at the venue, makeup barely set, nerves barely managed, and there he was. Again.
This time, his name wasn't a mystery. The host's voice boomed through the speakers like an announcement in some royal court.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome Itoshi Sae!"
And you? Standing there like an absolute clown, holding some candies you snuck into your bag without your manager looking. Staring at the man you'd mistaken for a random guy for weeks.
I am going to dig a hole right here and move in.
The worst part wasn't even the reveal, it was how unbothered he looked. Smooth, sharp, camera-ready. Until the event wrapped, the photos were done, and he passed you in the hallway, hands in his pockets.
"Still think I’m stalking you?" he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear.
Your heart had done a perfect backflip right into your stomach.
I'm doomed, you'd thought, completely doomed.
The airport speakers crackle, calling out some other flight and the chat floods your screen like you'd just dropped the juiciest scandal.
"OMG stop, the candy part got me dead."
"YOU MET HIM SO MANY TIMES AND DIDN'T KNOW??? Girl."
"How are you not married to him already, I'm crying."
You snort, flipping your phone so the camera only catches your eyes, full of fake dramatic regret.
"Yup, that's the story. The universe was practically waving a red flag in my face, and I still didn't get it. But hey, I never said I was smart."
You grin, voice going soft.
"That was the beginning of the mess, though. Things only got weirder, funnier, and... well, better from there."
You glance at the flight board, the 'Delayed' sign still glowing. Plenty of time to keep the story going.
"Should I tell you what happened after that event?" You tilt your head, teasing. "You might wanna grab snacks for this one."
You rested your chin on your palm, the corners of your lips twitching upward at the memory.
"But noooope. Plot twist, we kept running into each other even after that. Like, the universe wasn't done embarrassing me."
It started with the afterparty.
You weren't even supposed to stay long. Your manager had warned you: "Just smile, mingle, and leave before anyone asks awkward questions." But you'd stayed for the free food. Because of priorities.
You were swiping the last mini cupcake from a passing tray when you noticed him, standing alone by the balcony doors, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Same suit, same cool stare, but there was something... so normal about him when he wasn't surrounded by flashing cameras and interviews.
You hadn't meant to walk over. Honestly. Your feet just moved.
"Hey, stalker." you'd greeted, cupcake half-raised to your mouth.
He glanced your way, eyebrows lifting slightly.
"You've got the roles reversed." he murmured, sipping his drink, "I was here first."
You'd grinned around the cupcake. "Pfft. Technicality."
It was small, that first conversation. You talked about nothing, the music, the cheap wine, how awkward those ‘stand here and smile’ photos were. And when you'd finally left the party, you were sure that was the last of it.
But then came the run-ins. Again.
At the bookstore. At the same street-side ramen place. At the stupid laundromat of all places.
Each time, the same exchange.
You: "Okay, this is getting suspicious."
Him: Deadpan. "I live here. You're the one following me."
The universe was clearly shipping you two harder than your entire fanbase ever could.
But the real kicker came a week later when your manager ambushed you mid-photoshoot with a new assignment.
"Big commercial gig. Big brands, crossover style, you'll be working with athletes again."
You didn't even flinch this time. Please let it be someone normal, you'd prayed silently, half-joking.
Spoiler alert: it wasn't.
The day of the shoot, you arrived early, coffee in hand, only to find him sitting on the armrest of the studio sofa, completely at ease, scrolling through his phone like he owned the place.
The second your eyes met, he locked his phone and gave you the faintest nod, almost amused.
"Guess you're stuck with me again." he muttered.
You'd raised your cup like it was a toast. "Could be worse."
And honestly? It could've. The more you worked together that day, the more the weirdness of ‘Itoshi Sae the world-class footballer’ faded away. He was sharp, calm, and maddeningly good at making your heart do cartwheels with a single glance. But also... surprisingly soft-spoken, and just the right amount of sarcastic to match your chaos.
When the cameras weren't rolling, the two of you sat on the studio floor, sharing a pack of sour candies you’d stashed in your bag, the conversation flipping between random nonsense and quiet silences.
At some point, you caught yourself thinking.
Huh. This isn't so bad. Actually... it’s kinda nice.
You blinked, pulling yourself out of the memory, stretching your arms overhead like the story had physically weighed on you.
"Yeah." you muttered into the mic, "That's when things got... complicated. After that shoot, we started texting. Then hanging out. Not the usual ‘post it on Instagram and make it obvious’ kind of way. Just... quiet."
Your thumb swiped the chat, watching your fans lose their collective minds.
"I KNEW IT. Texting is the gateway to the heart."
"You two were so private, we thought you were single fr."
"So you're telling me this was a soft slow burn all along?!"
You smiled to yourself, your heart swelling just a little as you stared at the screen.
"Yup. No fancy announcements, no PDA, no hints on social media. Just... us. And honestly, I liked it that way."
You leaned back, glancing at the flight board again.
"But I'm getting ahead of myself." you teased. "If you want the full tea—the real ‘how we actually got together’ story—you're gonna need snacks, drinks, maybe a pillow, because that part?"
You tilted your head toward the camera, grinning wide.
"That's a whole saga on its own."
You leaned your head against the cold airport window, watching planes blink through the foggy glass while your phone rested comfortably against your knee, still live, your chat buzzing like a beehive.
You were mid-sentence, rambling about the "friendly" phase, when your brain hit that memory, the moment things stopped being just friendly.
Your lips twitched into a soft, secret smile.
"Alright, alright, so here's the part everyone wants." you chuckled, stretching your legs out in front of you. "You've all been dying to know how it went from texting, hanging out, to... official, right?"
The chat exploded with caps and emojis.
You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.
"Yeah, the thing is... he never actually asked. Like—no ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ no rom-com confession under the rain, no dramatic gestures. It was just... Sae being Sae."
Months of quiet coffee shop meetups, walking side by side with your hands brushing but never quite touching, late-night texts about the dumbest things, and his deadpan humor paired perfectly with your endless chaos.
And then one ordinary night, the two of you were sitting on his apartment balcony, the Tokyo skyline stretched out before you like an endless string of stars. You were bundled in his oversized hoodie—correction: permanently borrowed hoodie, sipping canned peach soda, while Sae scrolled through something on his phone, utterly relaxed.
The silence wasn't awkward. It never was with him.
Out of nowhere, without even looking up, he spoke:
"You know my schedule, right? Next season's gonna be worse."
You glanced over, raising a brow. "Yeah, your manager already sent me the doomsday calendar."
His lips curved into a faint smirk. "Then you'll have to deal with it."
You blinked. "Deal with what?"
"You. Being stuck with me." He finally tilted his head, looking at you sideways, eyes soft but so unreadable. "You're already here all the time, anyway."
The soda can slipped slightly in your hands.
Wait... is this... is he... asking?
You tilted your head, squinting suspiciously. "Are you... asking me to be your girlfriend without asking me to be your girlfriend?"
His expression didn't even flinch. "If you need me to spell it out, you're dumber than I thought."
You gasped, mock-offended, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Excuse me?!"
But before you could launch into a dramatic fake argument, he reached over, pulling you back gently by the sleeve of his hoodie. His hand stayed there, warm and steady against your arm, anchoring you in place.
"That wasn't a question," he added, voice low but steady.
And just like that, that was it. No grand announcement, no perfect moment. Just simple, real, and entirely him.
Your fingers absentmindedly fidgeted with the zipper of your jacket, the memory lingering like warmth in your chest.
"Yeah... that’s how it happened," you told your audience, your grin softening. "No dramatic confessions, no fairytale scenes. Just him deciding we were already together without me even realizing it."
The chat blew up in every direction.
"HE JUST CLAIMED YOU LIKE THAT???"
"Sae Itoshi pulled the ‘you're mine, you just don’t know it’ move?? I'm screaming."
"Girl that wasn't even a question. That was a declaration!!"
You laughed, stretching out your legs again, letting the warmth of that night sink in all over again.
"Yeah," you whispered, half to yourself, half to the stream. "That's just... him."
The airport speakers crackled with another delay announcement, and you groaned, flopping back against the chair like your soul had just left your body.
"Guess I've got plenty of time to spill the rest now," you told your phone, your live stream still going strong, chat still wild, even though you were only halfway through your long-winded, slightly embarrassing love story.
You twisted your fingers into your hoodie strings, eyes flicking toward the camera, a little mischievous spark dancing behind your smile.
"So, here's the fun part. When we finally decided to tell people... no one believed us." You let the words hang for dramatic effect.
You flopped face-first onto your bed, phone dangling from your hand, notifications still blowing up your screen like a mini firework show. Your social feed was chaos—memes, clips, conspiracy theories, fan edits— and all for the same ridiculous reason.
The public didn't believe you and Sae were actually dating.
You groaned into your pillow.
"Why. Why is the world like this?"
Just earlier that week, you finally decided to post that one photo, the soft, cozy one of you wearing his hoodie, feet propped up on his coffee table, his unmistakable blue-and-white game jersey draped on the back of the couch in the background.
"Soft launch? Nah. Full send."
And Sae, the man of zero social media energy, actually liked it.
But instead of hearts and celebration, the media? The fans? The blogs?
𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚝?
They refused to believe it. Your chaotic, sunshine personality, the influencer who couldn't sit still for five seconds, with Japan's most stone-faced, deadpan soccer prince? They weren't buying it.
Truth was, you avoided his matches like the plague.
Sure, you loved seeing him play, but you didn't love the VIP section. You hated the constant camera pans, the forced smiles, and the announcers awkwardly mentioning you every five minutes like you were the main event instead of him.
And even if you could handle that, the crowd wasn’t much better.
"Why do you even go, if all you do is get stared at?" you remembered Sae asking, poking the straw in your drink lazily as the two of you hid in a quiet little ramen shop once.
"Exactly! I don't," you shot back. "You wanna know how awkward it is to sit there, every second feeling like I should wave or pose for the camera? I'm not tryna be the soccer wife template, okay?"
And as usual, Sae just nodded, no offense taken, no guilt tripped, just casually accepting your boundaries without blinking.
And the interviews? His manager probably sent him a dozen pre-approved questions about you every week, and he still answered the same way:
"Private life's got nothing to do with the field."
You loved him for that. But the world? They took it as proof you were all for show.
You rolled onto your back, clutching your phone to your chest dramatically.
"I want everyone to know you're mine, damn it!" you whined out loud, even though Sae wasn't even in the room.
Your phone buzzed, and speak of the devil, his name flashed across your screen.
Sae: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?
You typed back furiously, thumbs moving like you were fighting for your life.
You: 𝐘𝐄𝐒. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦! 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐈𝐦 𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐞-𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮! 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬? 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬!!
Sae: 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞.
You let out the most dramatic gasp, holding your chest like you’d been mortally wounded.
He doesn't care. He's so... him.
But even in the middle of your whiny pout, your phone vibrated once more, and his last message made your stomach flip
Sae: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬.
Your lips twitched into a defeated smile.
Bonus: Later that week, you caught him scrolling past some article about your "fake" relationship. His only reaction?
And then he slid his phone back into his pocket, grabbed your hand, and squeezed it liked the whole world could fall away and he'd still be fine, as long as you were beside him.
It wasn't just the media.
Even your own best friend.
You sat cross-legged on your couch, phone balanced on your knee, holding back a groan while your bestie's voice played through the speaker like the most supportive but suspicious customer service rep on Earth.
"So… Sae Itoshi, huh?" they hummed, voice full of that polite, careful tone people use when they think you’re about to tell them you joined a pyramid scheme. "You're really serious about this?"
You flopped onto your back dramatically, one arm tossed over your face.
"Yes, I'm serious! Why does nobody ever believe me?!"
Your best friend laughed, soft but teasing.
"It's just... you only post about him once or twice a week then it's just you with your routine. You're always hanging out with me or working. And he doesn't mention you in interviews either, so…"
You sat up and grabbed a throw pillow, clutching it like a lifeline.
"Because we like being private! You know how insane people are about celeb couples. We don't need the world crawling up our noses."
Your best friend didn't sound mean about it, or even doubtful in a harsh way, just unconvinced in that "I love you, but I’m side-eyeing this" way.
"Well, if it's real, I'm happy for you. But I'll believe it when I see him at a family dinner or something."
Family dinner. Right. That wasn't helping your case either.
Your family was no better.
Every group call, every visit, every holiday, someone always asked the same thing:
"Are you still seeing that soccer guy?"
And always, the same suspicious, supportive-but-totally-judging smile.
"Mhm. Must be hard, dating a busy man like that. You two probably don't see each other much, huh?"
You wanted to yeet your phone across the room every time.
They weren’t being cruel, or bitter, in fact, they were probably trying to avoid sounding jealous.
But they hadn't seen Sae show up at birthdays, or in your Insta stories, or on the group vacations.
And every time you'd try to explain the situation, the words sounded faker and faker even to your own ears.
"He's busy with training."
"He doesn't like social media."
"We like keeping things private."
"It's not that serious to everyone else, but it is to us."
You knew it was true. You knew Sae wasn't some trophy boyfriend for display. But you also knew how invisible your relationship looked to the outside world.
The meet-and-greet was in full swing. Flashing lights, smiles so wide your cheeks hurt, laughter so loud it made your ears ring — you were in your natural habitat, bouncing from fan to fan like a hyper, overcaffeinated puppy.
You signed merch, posed for selfies, gave out warm hugs, and listened to all the sweet things your fans had to say.
"You're literally the best person ever."
"You make my day so much brighter."
"You're my comfort streamer, always."
"So… are you really dating Sae Itoshi?"
You smiled, the same smile you'd mastered over the past few months. The yes-it's-true-but-nobody-believes-me-anyway smile.
They didn't mean it in a mean way. In fact, you loved how playful your fans were about it. But deep down, it still poked at you like an itch you couldn't scratch.
They were so sure it was fake.
Why wouldn't they be? You and Sae were barely ever seen together unless a manager forced it. You hated attending his matches. He hated social media. It all lined up too perfectly, like the plot of every fake celebrity romance scandal.
You'd whined about it to him just last night. Practically buried your face in his chest, grumbling like a five-year-old.
"Why won't anyone believe me? I want the whole world to know you're mine!"
And like always, he'd just ruffled your hair, kissed your forehead, and said.
"Let them think what they want. I know what’s real."
But apparently, Sae Itoshi had a limit, too.
Because while you were grinning at the next fan in line, mid-conversation, halfway through signing your name on a hoodie, the room shifted.
There were gasps, murmurs, and the kind of hush that only happens when someone so unexpected, so untouchable, walks into the room.
You lifted your head and froze.
Standing casually near the back, hands in his pockets like this was the most normal thing in the world, was Sae Itoshi himself.
Before you could even string a single thought together, he was walking toward you, eyes locked on yours like there was no one else in the world. And without stopping, without saying a word, without hesitation.
He leaned in and kissed you.
Soft but confident. No over-the-top drama, no staged posing. Just real. Simple. Certain.
When he pulled back, the silence was deafening. For once in your chaotic, noisy life, you were speechless.
Your fans were quiet, wide-eyed, some blinking like they’d just been hit by the plot twist of the century. But not in a bad way. No hate. Just pure, I-can't-believe-I-just-witnessed-that energy.
You blinked up at him, your voice breathless but happy, giddy from the surprise.
"What are you doing here??"
Sae tilted his head slightly, his signature deadpan expression softening at the corners.
"You kept whining about nobody believing you."
"I can't take it anymore. So here I am, making sure they're convinced we're together until the end."
You wanted to melt into the floor.
The fans, finally breaking out of their stunned silence, burst into soft claps and cheers. No screaming chaos, no wild frenzy, just a wave of warm, supportive acceptance like, "Well, damn. Guess it was real all along."
All your whining finally paid off.
You couldn't stop smiling even as the meet-and-greet wrapped up, Sae waiting nearby like the world’s most casually overprotective boyfriend, hands tucked in his pockets, eyes glancing toward you every few minutes.
And this time, when you scrolled through your notifications later that night, the headlines weren't speculating with assumptions anymore.
Confirmed: Itoshi Sae And Our Influencer Queen Are Officially Together. For Real.
You stretch your arms above your head, rolling your neck side to side as the loudspeaker overhead calls out another delayed flight. Your phone, propped up against your coffee cup on the little table, is still going strong, the live stream timer blinking away.
The screen is flooded with hearts, emojis, and comment after comment, your fans practically vibrating through the chat.
You let out a small yawn, your voice light and teasing.
"—And that, my friends, is the full story. Yup. That’s how your favourite chaotic influencer and Mr Ice-Block Sae Itoshi became a thing." You grin at the camera, lifting your drink for a little toast. "No fake dating, no PR stunt, just real-deal feelings and a very stubborn soccer boy who took his sweet time making everyone believe me."
The comments start rolling in faster now that you finally stopped talking, and you lean closer, eyes flicking across the screen.
"OKAY OKAY I BELIEVE YOU NOW MY QUEEN I’M SORRY."
"THE WAY I DIDN'T BELIEVE YOU FOR MONTHS I FEEL SO DUMB."
"I KNEW IT! I FREAKING KNEW IT! You two are so real I'm crying."
"Plot twist: Sae is the softest boyfriend behind the scenes."
"Her telling the whole story at an airport like a rom-com main character."
You chuckle under your breath, heart swelling a little at the waves of support finally pouring in. The very people who doubted you for so long were now spamming apologies, excitement, and even edits waiting to be made the second this livestream ended.
You leaned back in the chair, looking out at the huge glass windows where planes rolled slowly across the runway. Your lips curl into a smile, fingers tapping against your cup.
"See?" you mutter under your breath, knowing full well Sae isn't here to hear it. "Told you they'd believe me eventually."
The screen blinks again with another message from a fan.
"Now tell us, where are you flying off to, Queen?"
You smirk playfully at the camera, pressing a finger to your lips.
"Ah, ah, ah—that's for me and a certain someone to know. Spoilers, you know?"
And just like that, the screen explodes with more theories, more hearts, and more love.
You close your eyes for a moment, listening to the soft airport hum, your mind wandering to the boy who'd flipped your world upside down without even trying, the boy who wasn't so icy, once the cameras stopped rolling.
You're still grinning at the endless flood of comments lighting up your phone screen, fans spamming:
"IS SAE PICKING YOU UP??"
When suddenly—A voice from behind, smooth and slightly amused, cuts through the airport noise.
"So that's why you didn't greet me."
Your breath catches, and your whole body stiffens for half a second before you whip your head around. There he stands, casual as ever in a hoodie and cap, hands in his pockets, Itoshi Sae.
You blink like your brain short-circuited.
The chat explodes the moment the camera catches the hint of him standing behind you, leaning over slightly to glance at the screen. The comments spiral into full-blown chaos:
"SAE APPEARED IN THE FLESH. CONFIRMED."
You laugh, cheeks heating up as you tilt the phone slightly toward him, watching as Sae raises a brow at the scrolling flood of reactions. He gives the camera the most casual glance, like he hadn't just walked into your live stream unannounced, and then looks back at you.
Because, of course, he knows you've been here talking about him for who-knows-how-long.
You roll your eyes playfully, bringing your hand up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Almost," you reply with a soft grin, turning your attention back to your fans, who are practically foaming at the mouth at this point.
You lift your left hand, casually wiggling your ring finger right in front of the camera, the glint of a sleek, simple ring catching the light. Your grin widens when you say, sweet as ever:
"Oh, right. Almost forgot to mention—we're engaged."
And with that, you reach over and hit the "End Stream" button, the last thing your fans see being your smug little wink and the chat blowing up so fast the app almost lags.
Phone off, you glance back at Sae, who—for once—lets out the softest huff of a laugh.
"You just had to drop that like a bomb, huh?" he mutters.
You sling your bag over your shoulder, nudging him lightly. "You didn't want me whining anymore, remember? Plus, I love it when I leave my fans with cliffhangers."
And without another word, he reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, as the two of you stroll off toward the gate, away from the flashing cameras, the exploding comments, and the doubters.
"𝑨𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒖𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔."
