Chapter Text
Isagi Yoichi had always been a creature of habit, and his sleep, for the most part, was no exception. He’d drift off in his bed, a familiar comfort, and awaken, more often than not, with his face pressed against the cool, unforgiving linoleum of his bedroom floor. It was a quirk, a minor inconvenience, perhaps even a testament to the sheer chaos that simmered beneath his otherwise composed exterior. But it was his chaos, confined to his space, and therefore, entirely manageable. He’d simply push himself up, brush off imaginary dust, and carry on with his day, barely registering the oddity.
However, this nocturnal habit took a mortifying turn after his arrival at Blue Lock. The privacy of his individual room was replaced with shared quarters, and his unconscious wanderings found new, undeniably human destinations. It began subtly: a strange warmth, an unfamiliar scent, a gentle weight that wasn't the hard floor. Then, with a jolt, he'd open his eyes to find himself entangled in a teammate's sheets, not his own bed. Each subsequent morning brought fresh, deeper plunges into unwanted intimacy, as his sleepwalking thrust him into someone else’s personal space—a profound source of utter humiliation for Isagi. The problem was no longer just waking up on the floor; it was waking up in someone else’s bed, an unwitting invasion.
The first time came Chigiri. Isagi awoke to a soft, wave of floral sweetness, like a freshly bloomed rose, gently assailing his senses, pulling him from the depths of sleep. His eyes fluttered open, at first seeing only a blur of vibrant red. As his vision cleared, he found himself face-to-face with Chigiri Hyoma, whose crimson hair fanned out like a silken halo across the pillow, contrasting beautifully with the soft white sheets. Chigiri's head was nestled just below Isagi's chin, a slender arm draped lightly over his waist, a gentle, almost hesitant weight. His breathing was soft, shallow, a rhythmic sigh against Isagi’s collarbone. His face, usually a canvas of elegant disdain or fierce determination on the field, was utterly relaxed in sleep, a picture of serene beauty that made Isagi's heart flutter in an entirely new way.
As if sensing Isagi’s awakening, Chigiri stirred, his long eyelashes fluttering open to reveal startlingly bright, ruby-red eyes. They blinked slowly, focusing on Isagi with a sleepy, almost vulnerable expression. A small, almost imperceptible smile, soft and uncharacteristic, touched Chigiri’s lips.
"Morning, Isagi," Chigiri murmured, his voice a little husky with sleep, yet still possessing that melodious quality. His arm tightened almost imperceptibly around Isagi. "You're surprisingly warm."
Isagi's face, already flushed from the unexpected intimacy of the situation, ignited further. "Ch-Chigiri! What are you doing?" he squeaked, his voice cracking with mortification, the question tumbling out before he could properly process his thoughts.
Chigiri chuckled, a soft, pleasant sound that resonated deep within Isagi. "You, my dear Isagi," he began, a teasing lilt in his voice, "apparently found my bed irresistible last night. Not that I'm complaining, of course. It was quite... cozy." He snuggled a little closer, burrowing his face deeper into the curve of Isagi's neck. A strange, dizzying rush enveloped Isagi, a confusing mix of embarrassment and an undeniable, almost intoxicating pleasure.
"I-I'm so sorry!" Isagi stammered, trying to pull away, but Chigiri's arm tightened almost imperceptibly. "I don't know how I ended up here, I really didn't mean to—"
Chigiri gently pressed a finger to Isagi's lips, silencing him. "It's fine, Isagi," he murmured, his voice softer now, devoid of its usual playful challenge. He then leaned in, pressing a soft, warm kiss to Isagi's forehead. "Don't worry about it. Accidents happen."
Isagi felt trapped once more, but this time, it was a gentle, almost delicate captivity, a silken thread he found himself utterly unwilling to break. The unexpected tenderness from the normally aloof, often arrogant Chigiri was a potent, intoxicating force, a surprising warmth that seeped into every part of him. But as the warmth settled, so did a fresh wave of mortification.
With a sudden burst of energy, Isagi managed to wriggle free from Chigiri's embrace. "I really have to go!" he blurted out, scrambling off the bed with a speed that belied his earlier paralysis. He practically tripped over his own feet as he fumbled for his clothes, his cheeks burning a furious red. He didn't dare meet Chigiri's eyes as he dressed, his hands shaking slightly.
"See you around, Isagi," Chigiri's voice, still laced with a hint of amusement, followed him to the door.
Isagi practically bolted out of the room, not even pausing to reply. He practically flew down the hallway, his heart hammering against his ribs like a frantic drum. Each step felt like an escape, and with every footfall, the heat in his face intensified. He could still feel the phantom warmth of Chigiri's body, the soft brush of his lips on his forehead, and the teasing lilt in his voice. He felt a dizzying mix of emotions – embarrassment, confusion, and a strange, unfamiliar flutter in his chest. His mind raced, replaying the entire interaction, making him want to burrow into the floor. He was utterly, completely flustered, and the empty hallway seemed to echo with the silent thumping of his own mortified heart.
Next was Kunigami. Isagi’s next awakening was less delicate, more… solid. He was met with the distinct scent of sweat, muscle liniment, and something earthy, almost like fresh-cut grass after a rain. His eyes opened to the sight of a broad, muscled back, rising and falling with deep, even breaths. He was pressed flush against Kunigami Rensuke, whose formidable physique left little room for doubt about who he was. One of Kunigami’s arms, thick with muscle, was draped heavily over Isagi’s waist, while the other was tucked under his own pillow. Isagi's head was pillowed uncomfortably on Kunigami's bicep, and he could feel the steady thrum of Kunigami’s heartbeat against his ear, a slow, powerful rhythm. Kunigami's wild, orange hair was a spiky halo around his head, and his face, usually set in a determined scowl or a serious frown, was utterly relaxed in sleep, surprisingly soft without the usual intensity.
As if on cue, or perhaps disturbed by Isagi's internal turmoil, Kunigami stirred. A low groan rumbled in his chest before his golden-brown eyes slowly opened, focusing on Isagi with a sleepy, slightly confused gaze. A slow, almost embarrassed flush spread across Kunigami’s cheeks as he registered their position, and a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. Isagi, for his part, felt his own face heat up, a blush creeping all the way to his ears. He was acutely aware of every point of contact, every warm inch where their bodies pressed together.
"Morning," Kunigami grunted, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through Isagi's chest, sending another jolt through him. He didn't move, his arm remaining firmly around Isagi, pulling him subtly closer. "You're… quite the sleeper, aren't you?" There was a hint of a smirk playing on Kunigami’s lips, and his gaze lingered on Isagi’s flushed face, making Isagi’s heart thump erratically.
Isagi's face was scarlet, and he squirmed a little, a small, cute sound escaping him. "K-Kunigami! What are you doing in my bed? Or… am I in yours?" He tried to pull away, but Kunigami's arm was a solid, unyielding band around him, holding him captive.
Kunigami let out a short, somewhat awkward chuckle, his chest rumbling against Isagi's back. "Looks like you decided my bed was the safest place last night, Isagi. Not that I'm complaining, of course." He tightened his arm again, pulling Isagi a fraction closer, and Isagi felt a bewildering mix of mortification and a strange, comforting sense of security. The sheer, overwhelming masculinity of Kunigami was both intimidating and undeniably appealing in this intimate setting, and the tension between them was palpable, a silent hum that filled the space. Isagi found himself unconsciously nuzzling a little deeper into Kunigami’s side, a small, involuntary sigh escaping him.
"But… how?" Isagi mumbled, his voice muffled against Kunigami's shoulder. "I don't remember anything after… after the team meeting."
Kunigami chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through Isagi. "You were pretty out of it. Said you were exhausted and just wanted to 'collapse somewhere safe and strong.' Apparently, that translated to my bed." He squeezed Isagi gently. "And you weren't wrong. You fell asleep almost instantly."
Isagi felt his face burn hotter. "Oh. My. God. I did what?" He tried to push himself up again, feeling a surge of mortification. "I need to get up. This is… this is really embarrassing."
But as he tried to lift his head, Kunigami's arm tightened even further, pulling him back down against the warm, solid expanse of his chest. "Relax, Isagi," Kunigami murmured, his voice deeper, slightly less amused now, and more… possessive. "It's fine. Stay a little longer."
"But training!" Isagi protested weakly, though a part of him was already melting into the warmth.
"Training can wait five more minutes," Kunigami grumbled, nuzzling his chin into Isagi's wild hair. "You look comfortable. And you feel comfortable."
Isagi felt a shiver run down his spine at the unexpected intimacy. He was still acutely aware of the strange warmth spreading through him, and the powerful thrum of Kunigami’s heartbeat against his ear was surprisingly soothing. He found himself unable to resist the pull. The scent of sweat and muscle liniment, which had initially been a jolt, was now a strangely comforting aroma. He closed his eyes, a small, sleepy sigh escaping him as he unconsciously burrowed deeper into Kunigami's embrace.
Kunigami's breathing had evened out, a steady rhythm against Isagi's back. The arm around Isagi's waist tightened just a fraction, a subconscious act of possessiveness. The hint of a smile played on Kunigami’s lips as he felt Isagi relax completely against him.
The morning light, filtering softly through the curtains, cast a gentle glow on the two figures intertwined in the bed. Outside, the sounds of the facility were beginning to stir, but in this room, a peaceful silence reigned, broken only by the soft, synchronized breaths of two footballers who had, quite unexpectedly, found a moment of quiet solace in each other's arms. The world could wait. For now, there was only the warmth, the comfort, and the undeniable pull that had drawn them together, leading them both back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
One particular morning, Isagi's awakening was a confused jumble of sensations. A soft, persistent weight on his chest, a delicate pressure that, to his immense confusion, felt surprisingly pleasant. His eyes fluttered open, at first blurry, then focusing on the startling sight before him: Reo. Impeccably dressed even in sleep, his designer silk pajamas uncreased, his silver hair a pristine halo against the pillow. Reo's head was nestled comfortably on Isagi's shoulder, a possessive arm draped across his torso, pinning him gently but firmly to the bed.
The scent of Reo's expensive cologne, a sophisticated blend of crisp citrus and warm musk, was subtly intoxicating, filling Isagi’s senses and making his head swim a little. Reo’s breathing was even, deep, a soft rhythm against Isagi’s ear. His face, usually animated with a mischievous glint or a calculating stare, was utterly serene, devoid of any pretense or awareness of the sheer, unadulterated chaos he was causing in Isagi's already flustered mind.
Isagi felt a strange, dizzying flutter in his chest, a bewildering mix of mortification at their compromising position and something undeniably tender, a warmth that spread through him despite his initial shock. He was trapped, a willing prisoner in Reo's elegant, surprisingly strong embrace, and a part of him, a very small, very secret part, didn't want to escape.
As if on cue, or perhaps sensing Isagi's awakening, Reo stirred. His eyelashes, impossibly long, fluttered open, revealing eyes the color of amethyst that slowly focused on Isagi. A slow, languid stretch of his limbs followed, a movement that only served to tighten his hold on Isagi. A soft, knowing smile, edged with an almost predatory amusement, graced Reo’s lips as he registered their intimate position.
"Morning, Isagi," Reo purred, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent an unexpected shiver down Isagi's spine, raising goosebumps on his arms. "You seem to be quite comfortable."
Isagi's face flamed, the heat spreading rapidly from his neck to the tips of his ears.
Reo chuckled, a rich, melodic sound that resonated through Isagi's chest. "It seems you decided to grace my bed with your presence, Isagi. Not that I'm complaining, of course. You're surprisingly cuddly for someone who usually kicks so much in his sleep." He tightened his arm around Isagi, pulling him even closer, until their chests were flush, and Isagi found himself utterly unable to resist, melting into the unexpected warmth and the comforting weight of Reo's body. He could feel the strong, steady beat of Reo's heart against his own, a rhythm that was both grounding and deeply unsettling.
He eventually, after several minutes of internal debate and a futile attempt to regain some semblance of composure, managed to extricate himself from Reo's embrace. He mumbled a string of incoherent apologies, his cheeks still burning, and made a hasty, almost panicked retreat from the luxurious room. But the lingering warmth of Reo's arm, the phantom pressure on his chest, and the vivid memory of Reo’s amused, knowing gaze stayed with him. It was a new, unsettling, and undeniably alluring addition to his nocturnal adventures, a secret he wasn't sure he wanted to keep entirely to himself. The thought of Reo, soft and warm in his arms, was a powerful, insistent whisper in his mind, promising something more than just friendly comfort.
Rin, however, was a different story entirely. The thought of waking up pressed against the perpetually surly and intensely private striker sent a cold shiver of dread down Isagi's spine, far colder than any previous mortification. It was a scenario he actively tried to suppress, a terrifying 'what if' that haunted his already troubled sleep. But fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor. He woke up not to a gentle hum or a knowing smirk, but to a sharp, indignant grunt, and the immediate, unmistakable sensation of a hard, unyielding body beneath him. His eyes shot open, instantly focusing on the furious emerald glare of Rin Itoshi, who was staring up at him with an expression that promised immediate, painful retribution. Isagi was practically sprawled on top of Rin, one leg thrown carelessly over the taller boy’s lean waist, his head nestled awkwardly in the crook of Rin’s neck. The air was thick with the scent of Rin's distinct, almost aggressive, cologne, a sharp, clean aroma that always seemed to precede his biting remarks. Rin’s arms, usually kept tightly to himself, were now pinned uncomfortably beneath Isagi, making the situation even more intimate, and undeniably tense.
"Get off me, you annoying bastard," Rin hissed, his voice low and dangerous, a barely contained growl that vibrated through Isagi. His eyes, usually cold, burned with an intensity that made Isagi’s blood run cold.
Isagi scrambled backward as if scalded, tumbling off the bed with an ungraceful thud. His face was a blazing inferno, a deep, painful blush spreading from his neck to the roots of his hair. "R-Rin! I... I swear, I didn't mean to!" he stammered, his mind racing for an explanation, any explanation, that didn't involve his increasingly embarrassing sleep habits.
Rin pushed himself up, rubbing his temples with an exasperated sigh, though Isagi caught a fleeting glimpse of something else in his eyes – a flicker of confusion, perhaps even a hint of something unreadable, before it was replaced by his usual disdain. "You're a menace, Isagi," he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. "First, you infest my mind, and now my bed. What's next? My soul?"
Isagi could only mumble incoherent apologies, bowing his head in utter humiliation. He fled Rin’s room in a blur, the image of Rin's furious, yet oddly captivating, gaze burned into his mind. This was truly the worst. Rin, of all people. The absolute, undeniable horror of it was almost enough to make him wish for a new set of teammates. Almost. But even in his mortification, a small, undeniable spark of something new and terrifyingly exhilarating ignited within him, a dangerous curiosity about the unreadable depths behind Rin’s emerald eyes.Isagi scrambled backward, a frantic effort to untangle himself from the bedsheets that seemed to have conspired against him. His limbs felt like they belonged to someone else, clumsy and uncoordinated. He was aiming for the cool solidity of the floor, a safe escape from the warmth that still clung to him, but his movements were all wrong. Instead of landing upright, he somehow twisted, his legs buckling beneath him with an awkward grace.
With a muffled grunt, more surprise than pain, he found himself tumbling forward. The world spun for a dizzying second before he landed with an unexpected thud. A jolt, electric and immediate, shot through him. He hadn't hit the floor. His eyes, wide with alarm, darted open.
He was squarely on Rin’s lap.
One hand, acting on instinct, braced against the solid expanse of Rin's chest, his fingers splaying against the soft fabric of his sleep shirt. The other hand, equally unthinking, landed flat against Rin's thigh, the warmth of the skin surprisingly present even through the thin material. The impact was soft, yet it sent a peculiar tremor through both of them, a silent acknowledgment of their sudden, close proximity.
Isagi's face was a blazing inferno, a deep, painful blush spreading from the tips of his ears, down his neck, and all the way to the roots of his hair. He could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks, a tangible manifestation of his mortification. "R-Rin! I... I swear, I didn't mean to!" he stammered, his voice a strained whisper, thick with embarrassment. His mind raced, a desperate scramble for an explanation, any explanation, that didn't involve his increasingly embarrassing sleep habits – the tossing, the turning, the inexplicable acrobatics – or, even worse, the sudden, unsettling flutter that had just erupted in his stomach. A flutter that felt entirely too much like something akin to panic, or perhaps, something far more complicated.
With a decisive grunt, Rin pushed Isagi off his lap and onto the bed, the unexpected motion sending Isagi sprawling amidst the rumpled sheets. Rin then stood up abruptly, his movements stiff and deliberate. Isagi watched, mortified, as a deep crimson blush spread across Rin’s cheeks and the tips of his ears. Without another word, Rin turned and walked out of the room, leaving Isagi alone in the silent aftermath.
Isagi could only mumble incoherent apologies, bowing his head in utter humiliation, wishing the bed would swallow him whole. He practically leaped from the bed, stumbling backwards until he hit the wall, desperate for any solid barrier between them. He fled Rin’s room in a blur, the image of Rin's furious, yet oddly captivating, gaze burned into his mind. This was truly the worst. Rin, of all people. The absolute, undeniable horror of it was almost enough to make him wish for a new set of teammates. Almost. But even in his mortification, a small, undeniable spark of something new and terrifyingly exhilarating ignited within him, a dangerous curiosity about the unreadable depths behind Rin’s emerald eyes.
Then, there was Shidou. The very next night, as if drawn by some invisible, chaotic force, Isagi’s sleepwalking instincts led him to a room he instinctively knew was dangerous territory. The air in the Blue Lock facility seemed to hum with a different kind of energy around Shidou Ryusei, an untamed, almost feral aura that Isagi usually tried to avoid at all costs. Yet, here he was. He woke not to a gentle hum or a knowing smirk, nor to an exasperated sigh, but to a low, guttural, rumbling laugh that vibrated through his entire body, echoing in his very bones. His eyes snapped open, instantly met with the alarming sight of Shidou’s golden, reptilian eyes, wide with a manic glee that sent a jolt of pure panic through Isagi. Those unsettling eyes were mere inches from his own, observing him with an unnerving intensity. Shidou’s spiky, blonde hair, usually a testament to his flamboyant nature, was a chaotic halo around his head, even in sleep, and one muscular arm was thrown possessively over Isagi’s waist, pinning him against Shidou’s surprisingly warm and solid form. The bed, Isagi noted with a fresh wave of terror, felt far too soft, far too indulgent for Shidou’s usual rough-and-tumble demeanor. The air, however, was thick with the scent of something primal and sweet, like wildflowers crushed underfoot and raw, untamed energy – a scent that was uniquely, disturbingly Shidou.
Isagi’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the unexpected warmth of Shidou’s body. This was, without a doubt, the most terrifying awakening yet. "Sh-Shidou! What in the actual hell!" he yelped, his voice a panicked squeak. He tried to wriggle free, a desperate, flailing attempt to escape the confines of Shidou's embrace, but Shidou's grip, despite its seemingly casual placement, was surprisingly firm, like a viper coiling around its prey.
Shidou’s grin widened, a flash of sharp, predatory teeth illuminating the dim room. "Well, well, what do we have here? The little egoist has come to play in the demon's den, hm? Feeling a bit lost, little lamb?" He tightened his arm around Isagi, pulling him even closer, the playful growl in his chest vibrating through Isagi’s own. "Not that I'm complaining, of course. You're quite the little heat source, Isagi. Did the big bad world get too cold for you, baby?"
Isagi's face was a shade of crimson that would rival Chigiri's fiery red hair, a furious blush that spread rapidly from his neck to the tips of his ears. "I was sleepwalking, you pervert! Let me go!" he protested, pushing weakly against Shidou’s chest. The sheer audacity of Shidou’s words, combined with their utterly compromising position, was almost too much for Isagi’s sleep-addled brain to process.
Shidou merely chuckled, a low, throaty sound, his golden eyes gleaming with an almost unsettling amusement. "Sleepwalking, huh? Interesting. A little midnight wanderer, are we?" He lowered his head, his spiky hair tickling Isagi’s cheek. "But you seem quite comfortable wrapped around me, baby. Like a little stray cat who found its way home." His free hand, surprisingly gentle, playfully stroked Isagi’s hair, brushing it back from his forehead. Despite his panic, despite every logical part of his brain screaming at him to escape, Isagi felt a strange, unsettling warmth spread through him. Shidou’s chaotic energy was usually overwhelming, a maelstrom of unpredictability, yet there was a peculiar, almost innocent tenderness in his touch that was utterly disarming, completely throwing Isagi off balance. He was trapped, utterly and completely, physically by Shidou’s embrace and mentally by the bizarre turn of events, but a part of him, a deeply confused and bewildered part, found a strange, unexpected comfort in Shidou’s intense presence.
"I'm not comfortable!" Isagi protested again, though his voice lacked conviction, the heat in his cheeks a testament to his inner turmoil. He couldn't deny the strange sense of security, the raw, animal warmth emanating from Shidou’s body, a warmth that, against all odds, was beginning to feel... good.
"Oh, but you are," Shidou purred, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper that sent an unexpected shiver down Isagi's spine. "You just don't know it yet. We can dream of devouring goals together, baby. The best kind of dreams. The kind where we're unstoppable, a force of nature, crushing all who stand in our way." He squeezed Isagi, a surprisingly gentle embrace for someone so outwardly wild and unpredictable, and Isagi, against all reason and against his own conscious will, found himself relaxing into it. The chaos that was Shidou, in this intimate moment, felt strangely grounding, like clinging to a wild current that, for now, promised not to pull him under. He could feel the steady beat of Shidou's heart, a rhythm that was both exhilarating and strangely reassuring.
Then, with a sudden, mischievous glint in his golden eye, a look that promised a new level of chaos, Shidou leaned in. Isagi’s breath hitched in his throat, his eyes widening in alarm. Shidou’s lips, surprisingly soft and warm, brushed softly against Isagi's. It was a light, teasing kiss, a mere breath of contact that lasted only a fraction of a second, yet it sent a jolt through Isagi's entire body, a shockwave of unexpected sensation that left him breathless, utterly flustered, and profoundly confused. Shidou pulled back, a triumphant smirk on his face, his eyes sparkling with delight. "See? You like it, Yoi." The use of his given name, spoken in that low, playful purr, only added to Isagi’s internal meltdown.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of bewildered silence from Isagi and contented amusement from Shidou, with a final, lingering squeeze that was almost tender and a soft, almost wistful sigh that hinted at a fleeting moment of genuine connection, Shidou released him. He bounced out of bed, his earlier manic energy returning in full force, as if the intimate moment had never happened, or perhaps, as if it had only fueled his internal inferno. "Time to go devour some souls on the field, little Isagi! Don't be late!" He winked, then strode out of the room, leaving Isagi a flustered, confused, but undeniably warm mess.
But then, it just kept happening.
He woke up with Kaiser’s arm slung possessively around his waist, the German striker smirking as if he’d won a secret victory. He found himself tangled in Loki’s surprisingly soft sheets, the young prodigy just rolling his eyes with a sigh. Even Bunny, the quiet, observant forward, simply offered him a gentle pat on the head before going back to sleep. There were others too, a revolving door of Blue Lock’s most eccentric and formidable talents, and each morning brought a new bed, a new face, and a new wave of bewildered shame.
Initially, the shock and mortification were overwhelming. Isagi would stammer, apologize profusely, and flee as quickly as possible. But after a while, something shifted. The others, accustomed to Isagi's inexplicable nocturnal wanderings, started to just… accept it.
Chigiri would simply offer a languid stretch and a playful wink. Kunigami would grunt, move his arm, and go back to his heroic dreams. Reo would pull him closer, a contented hum rumbling in his chest. Rin would still snarl, but now it was a low, almost familiar growl that Isagi had learned to interpret as mild annoyance rather than genuine fury. Shidou would just cackle and offer a morning kiss to his forehead. Even Sae, after a few more instances, would merely open an eye, offer a detached nod, and continue reading his book.
Isagi, for his part, had stopped panicking quite so much. He still turned a shade of violent red each morning, still mumbled apologies, but the frantic energy had subsided. He'd simply sigh, untangle himself (or be untangled, depending on who he was with), and make his way back to his own bed, trying to scrub away the lingering scent of someone else’s sheets. It had become a bizarre, unspoken ritual within Blue Lock. Isagi, the sleepwalker. The boy who just inexplicably ended up in everyone’s beds.