almost-blondee

[almost-blondee]

I probably will get hated on for this 😭🙏

it is NOT okay to sexualise minor characters , yes , they are fictional so it won’t change anything irl but they are still MINORS fictional or not, ageing up is not an excuse to sexualise them !! again , at the end of the day they aren’t adults !

(this goes for many fandoms , it’s not everyone who is like this…some of yall are normal…)

[almost-blondee]

Cupcake

opla!Sanji x gn!reader

Summary: During some late night baking, your flirty crewmate decides to keep you company.

WC: 1.9k

Warnings/tags: traditionally feminine adjectives (pretty, gorgeous, beautiful) but no gender is explicitly stated, fluff, self deprecation, lots of compliments, self indulgent

Note: first attempt at a Sanji fic because branching out is important

Night has overtaken the ship. It's calm, and stars blink in the sky, twinkling for the world to see. The soft rocking of the water has lulled nearly everyone aboard into a sweet, lovely sleep.

You were the only one awake, settled in the kitchen, a pile of various ingredients surrounding you as you prepared to bake. There was no reason behind your choice of late night activity. No anniversary or debt in need of repaying or any special event that required baked goods. It was just a calm enough night, and you couldn't sleep, so it seemed like a proper course of action.

As you began to measure out the ingredients, separating them into bowls for organisation, you heard a creak, followed by footsteps. Somebody else was awake, and was coming closer.

You watched as the door opened, revealing Sanji, yawning, before noticing you, and stopping dead in his tracks, surprised at the sight of you, hard at work this late at night.

"Well, good morning." He gave you a quick smile before stretching a little bit. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Kind of." You watch as he approaches you, inspecting the counter and your little process. "What are you doing?"

"Making cupcakes." You answered simply, dropping the flour into the bowl, a cloud of white rising as the flour settled.

"So late at night?" "Maybe I'm really early. How about you?"

He smiled. "I was going to get a glass of water." You gestured behind you. "Go on, I won't stop you."

He passed by you to grab a glass. "So, baking all alone?"

"Yeah. I find it relaxes me." He nodded, then took a careful step towards the door. "Well, if I'm bothering you-"

"You're not."

The words came out quick, and you had hoped you hadn't sounded desperate. You doubted the chef could ever be a bother to you, and you truly hoped he would stay to accompany you while you worked.

"Oh. Well then, could I stay? And watch you bake?" He moved back to the side of the island, standing opposite you, looking hopeful that you would say yes to his request. "Only if you promise to stay out of the way." You said, trying to push back a little after your small outburst earlier.

He nodded and pulled up a char, sitting down to watch you work. You moved swiftly, pouring the ingredients into their proper bowls, making sure the measurements were just right.

"So," he broke the silence between you. "Do you bake often?"

"I used to. It was quite the hobby back at home, but I haven't had the chance to do it here yet." Sanji nodded. "What do you like to make?"

You smiled, thinking back to the copious recipes you had backed up in your brain. "Where do I start? Cookies, breads, pastries, pies, anything really. And cakes." You gestured at your handiwork. "Cakes, of course."

"Are they your favourite to make?" Sanji asked. "Oh yeah. Used to spend all day decorating them with my mom. Icing them with my favourite colours and absolutely drenching them with sprinkles." You smiled at the memory. "Sounds nice." Sanji smiled back. "She'd like you." You said suddenly.

"She would?" He asked, a little taken aback.

The look on his face told you that you might have messed up again, possibly treading a little too close to the knowledge that you liked him. But it was too late to backpedal.

"Yeah. She'd probably call you a sweetie, invite you to dinner, and insist that you leave the house with a pair of newly knit socks."

"Your mother sounds lovely." You nodded. "She is. I hope she's not lonely without me to keep her company." "I'm sure the people of your village take good care of her." Sanji comforted.

"I'm sure too. Maybe I'll write her a letter sometime. Maybe she'll even write back. One can hope."

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see you sharing your talents with your crew."

You nodded your head in thanks. "Oh, you flatter me."

"You are quite worth it." He smiled at you, something you had taken a liking to. He reminded you a little of what you imagined princes looked like in fairy tales. Handsome, charming.

The conversation went cold as you continued working, focused on the process ahead of you.

You stirred the batter, carefully adding the dry ingredients to the mixture, combining the two.

You were focused, making sure not to spill anything as you worked carefully.

"You're really pretty when you're focused."

The words slipped out without warning. Even Sanji seemed a little surprised at his comment. He'd flirted with you before, but it had always been so worked up. An act. Over dramatic and at least to you, unserious.

You had never taken his compliments seriously. At best, you thought he was trying to make you feel better about yourself. You figured it was just an act he put on to humour you, and you enjoyed it, even if it didn't boost your confidence all that much.

Admittedly, you liked Sanji. Far more than any of your other crewmates. If he were to feel the same, you would be delighted, but you were almost entirely sure he wasn't. He also flirted with Nami, and so many others who would likely be much better matches for him.

You could stand having his pity flirts to tide you over while he found someone he truly liked.

However, this was no typical flirt. There was no quick wink or smirk on his face. Just honesty. And that was so unexpected you nearly dropped your bowl.

You managed to set the bowl of dry ingredients down without spillage, trying to calm down the incessant fluttering in your chest.

"I mean, you, uh, I was going to say, I only meant that..." he was unable to say anything coherent. A man with a thousand lines backed up in his brain, suddenly rendered speechless.

You backed away from the counter, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. Your jaw went slack as you watched him try to come up with something, anything, to save himself.

"I'm sorry, I should just go." Sanji was as red as a tomato, taking his glass and shuffling towards the door.

"Wait." Your voice commanded him, and he turned around to face you again, looking rather ashamed of himself.

"Did you mean that?" "It just slipped out, don't be uncomfortable, I just-" "You really think I'm pretty?" You didn't believe it, but maybe you could humour him for once.

He almost laughed in disbelief. "Of course I do! Who wouldn't?"

"Plenty of people. Lots of men. And I mean lots." Sanji scoffed. "Forget them. They're nothing but trouble. You're gorgeous."

You could sense it returning. The typical flirting. His overdramatic way of trying to comfort you.

"Oh please, like you haven't been playing with me all this time too." You swatted your hand at him. "You and your over the top flirting, I know what you think of me."

Sanji frowned, confused. "And what do I think of you?"

"Not much. You notice me and don't want to hurt my feelings by ignoring me so you flirt anyways. I know you don't truly think I'm pretty-" he practically gasped at your statement. "-but I promise I don't hold it against you. It's nice that you try to get me to think I'm pretty, but I know I'm not. That's okay. I have other skills."

"How could you possibly think that?" Sanji looked more than horrified. "I have never flirted with anyone I have found less than stunning."

You laughed, getting back to your baking, mixing the dry ingredients with the wet. "There's a first time for everything."

Sanji looked absolutely distraught. "You don't seriously think I say everything I do to you as a joke? As consolation?"

You shrugged. "I mean, yeah? You just always put so much effort into your flirting, I thought it was a joke. I never knew if you meant it or not. I figured you didn't."

He walked forward, looking you in the eye from across the island, trying to convey how truthful he was being.

"I promise you, you are beautiful. Any old fool could see that. You are pretty when you're focused and I have never been more enchanted by someone in my life. And I mean that."

You laughed awkwardly, face still blazing hot. "Okay, you don't have to prove it. You can stop it, Sanji."

He circled the room until he was stood right next to you. The last of the dry ingredients fell into your batter and you set the bowl down, not mixing it yet.

"If you do not believe it tonight, I will tell you tomorrow, and the day after it, and the day after that, for however long it takes for you to believe it."

You chuckled softly. "Okay. I gotta finish these cupcakes." Sanji gently reached out a hand, resting it on your shoulder so that you would look at him.

"You are pretty, whether you believe it or not." You gently shrugged him off, though treasuring the feeling of his hand touching you. "Okay, whatever you say."

The two of you did not speak after that. He returned to his spot on the other side of the island, and the two of you spent the rest of the baking process in silence, until the last batch of cupcakes were removed from the oven.

"I'm gonna get a bit of sleep before the sun rises." You said quietly, waking up your companion, who had been napping on the countertop.

"Of course, cupcake." He said, clearly tired and a little delirious. The mix-up was clear, and yet, it had sounded like a pet name. And you giggled. The second the noise left your mouth, you turned red, and ran from the room, scurrying back to your bedroom to get a few blinks of sleep before the next day's adventures.

When you awoke, you did not feel well rested at all, but at the very least, you could sneak a tasty cupcake in at breakfast, as long as Luffy hadn't found and finished them all as soon as he saw them.

The kitchen was lively with early morning chatter, and you noticed a plate of neatly decorated cupcakes on the counter. Iced with your favourite colour, drizzled in sprinkles. Each one prettier than the last.

You looked over at the chef, who was caught between two pans of scrambled eggs and bacon, trying to see if it was him who had decorated them.

He looked up from his work briefly and smiled at you.

"Good morning cupcake." Your face burned under his eyes. Of course he had heard your giggle, and of course he was holding it against you.

"Did you do this?" You asked, pointing at the cupcakes. "Yes, I'm sorry but I figured you'd like them nice and iced. Like you said earlier. I left most of the rest for you to decorate, if you want."

"I didn't know you knew my favourite colour." You said, picking up a cupcake, admiring it.

"Of course I do. Someone so pretty deserves to have things remembered." You rolled your eyes at his not-so-sneaky attempt at flattering you. "Nice try, Sanji, but I'm not a fool." You took a bite from your cupcake.

He sighed. "I'll have to try harder next time."

"You don't have to do this. I'm fine, I promise you."

"I'm not doing this because I have to, cupcake." He grinned at the flustered look on your face. "I'm doing this because you deserve it."

[almost-blondee]

So cute!!!!

apron makeover

sanji x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: sanji's apron looked a little plain... w/c: 0.9k c/w: a little bit suggestive (it's literally sanji), reader referred to as 'my lady'.

"Is it to your liking, my love?"

Humming, you nod. "It's perfect. Thank you, baby."

Sanji's cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson as he turns back to the sink, scrubbing at a pan. The galley is empty, with the rest of the crew on the deck celebrating another successful fight. The Sunny breaks through waves slower than usual, and the constant threat from the world is a distant thought for the night.

The only sounds are the ding of the spoon in your hand on the ceramic plate, the slosh of the water in the sink, and the faraway laughter of your friends.

The delicate sweetness of the dessert your boyfriend prepared you fills your body with a warmness only he can elicit. You're content, and with that comes the overwhelming appreciation you have for your cook.

"I love you," You say, the words tumbling from your lips as you stare at his back. Sanji glances over his shoulder, his cheeks pink and mouth pulled into a wide grin.

"I love you more, my darling."

Your cheeks warm, and you smile shyly at him. Sanji chuckles lightly and places the clean pan on the side of the sink. He turns to face you and leans against the counter.

As you lick your spoon clean, an idea pops into your head. The apron he wears looks a little plain with its all-white material, and although Sanji thinks it exudes professionalism, you think differently.

Giggling, you slide from the bar stool and rush to the storage cupboard. Sanji calls your name as you rummage through the stuff, but when you find what you're looking for, you slam the door shut and lunge for the plain apron the cook wears.

"What are you doing?" Sanji mutters, his voice light and airy at how close you are. Your gaze is wide with excitement, and Sanji would be lying if he said it didn't excite him, too (not that he ever lied about such things when it comes to you).

With a pot of black paint and a small paintbrush from Usopp's stash, you decide against taking the apron directly from his body, and sit on a dining chair. "Come here."

Sanji raises an eyebrow but complies, standing between your thighs.

He'd let you do anything to him.

Dipping the paintbrush into the paint, you lean up slightly to start the lettering at the top of the apron. And when the first line of paint contacts the material, Sanji throws all previous opinions on professionalism out of his mind.

Paint whatever you want, he thinks, I'm your canvas.

"Hold still," You mumble, splaying your free hand on his stomach to flatten the fabric of his apron. The cook freezes, his body tingling everywhere you touch him over his clothes.

"I-I don't think we should do this in the galley—"

"Sanji," You giggle, pausing your painting to look up at him. The lovesick expression on his face makes your heart melt. "I'm just writing something, okay? It is of utmost importance that this be done right here and now."

Your boyfriend nods, fists balling at his sides. He's trying his best not to distract you from your very important work, but how your eyebrows furrow and the tip of your tongue pokes out the corner of your mouth has his chest hurting with restraint.

The paintbrush moves from the top of the garment to the middle and then lower. Your hand moves across his torso and down to his hip bone, the words taking up more space than you anticipated.

Sanji is so very clearly struggling with his sharp inhales and jerking abdomen, and you decide you've tortured him enough.

"Baby—"

"Done!" You say, leaning back to admire your work. "You look so hot."

Sanji splutters, his eyes turning into literal hearts at your words. "I would never disagree with a lady, my love, but I'd say that you—"

"Sanji," You smile, standing from the chair. Your hands find his clammy ones, and you tug him to the window. His reflection stares back at him, and a laugh tumbles from his lips, his ears turning a concerning shade of red.

Mr. Good Lookin' is Cookin'

You brush his hair from his eyes and kiss his cheek. "It's perfect, don't you think?"

Sanji opens his mouth to answer when the door slams into the wall.

"Oh, please," Comes Zoro's voice from the doorway. He has a disgusted, pained expression on his face that makes you giggle. "What curse has he put on you?"

You laugh, and Sanji sighs, turning toward the swordsman. "Just admit you're jealous and walk away, mosshead."

Rolling his eyes, Zoro stalks into the kitchen and pokes through the cupboard for a beer. He shrugs at its warm temperature and cracks it open. "Would love a cold one."

Sanji's eyes narrow. "And I would love it if you pissed off."

Before he leaves, Zoro looks the cook up and down and shakes his head disapprovingly.

Smiling, you grab your boyfriend's hand as he lunges. "Goodnight, Zoro."

The swordsman throws his hand up as he exits, the door swinging closed behind him.

Sanji scoffs and turns back to you, his gaze immediately melting at the sight of you. His hands grip your waist firmly. "What do you say we head to the back of the ship? I've heard it's pretty empty this time of night."

Tilting your head, you circle your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his hair. "I'd say that's a perfect idea, Mr. Good Lookin'."

[almost-blondee]

going out of your way to search up [insert character] ANGST and all you get is smut

[almost-blondee]

isagi's the type of guy to tell u he'll score a goal for u and fucking miss

[almost-blondee]

the person i like...

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi rin x gn! reader.

⤷ inspired loosely by horimiya, 5.2k words, angst/comfort + u-20 spoilers.

the person i like can’t be explained in simple terms.

sucking in a deep breath, rin lays on the ground, heaving in a frustrated sigh. the sun has long passed the horizon, retiring after a long day of work. throwing his arm over his eyes, the crisp air feels like acid on his hoarse throat. his leg was twisting in all sorts of ways. the muscles that wrap around his skeleton threatening to snap under his pressure. his body hurts in ways he can’t describe. so much so that he barely missed how a handkerchief came to wipe the drool left on the edge of his lips.

“if you keep pushing yourself like this, is football even fun anymore?” looking down at him, a smile engulfs your expression, starkly contrasting your shallow and frigid words. in your hands was a bottle of water filled with electrolytes. at the same time, a towel hangs over your shoulder, a cute embroidered owl staring back at him. 

slapping away your handkerchief, rin takes the bottle for himself, taking a large gulp before wiping the corners of his mouth. despite the unkind and wordless exchange, you don’t look surprised. on the contrary, you were expecting this reaction. it’s been like this for years for you to know the kind of person he is.

“you’re mean, rin,” you say.

he turns his head away from you, “and yet you’re still here.”

he’s as childish as ever. you remember when he was younger, he would take your toys and smash them together, playing pretend a little too hard (on some rare occasions, he might have drooled over them.) you can’t count how many godzilla toys he’s been through before he noticed his destruction. even after he pushes you to your very last button with his sour personality, he expects you to stay. its abundantly more clear whenever you have to stay after school with another classmate that this side of him comes out. 

it’s this kind of ego that keeps him from being tied down by everyone else around him.

“of course, i am, no one else is here to put up with your bad attitude.” a laugh escapes from you. as you kneel beside him, you reach out to touch his cheek, noting the warm air that exudes from his skin, “as your student council president, i can’t let my favorite person hurt themselves.” 

“i’m your favorite? you’re joking.”

“nope,” raising your finger, you press it between the space of his eyebrows, leading to him staring at you with an unamused look, “you’re my favorite person, rin.” 

✦

the person i like can be kind.

on cold december nights, he’s the first person to show up at your house to wish you a merry christmas. with the allowance his parents give him, he buys the same strawberry shortcake from a bakery across the street. he remembers when you were younger, this was the thing that cheered you up. whether it be from a bad grade on a test, or the stress of being number one in his class, something as simple as shortcake is enough to make you smile. his parents tell him he’s sweet. he thinks it is logical. 

hes not fond of children, however, he’ll make an exception for your younger siblings (one boy and girl). he gets many presents from his family (none of which are from sae) so he understands how rowdy they can get during the holidays. he comes prepared with small trinkets, other times he offers to play football with them. though, it’s more of a mercy on his part for you. he gives you enough time to set up the dining table and prepare dinner without any distractions. 

sitting beside him, you realize spending christmas with rin was beginning to be a tradition. while you don’t have the money to afford lavish gifts or a tree, being with him lights up your year. it’s nice having him around. it’s nice seeing him spend time with your small family. even nicer when you see him picking bones out of your mackerel, trying his hardest not to make it obvious he’s making your life easier. it’s sweet how he pretends not to care.

when its time for your siblings to sleep, rin makes it clear he wants to watch a horror movie. it’s almost frame one after you close the door, he’s standing next to you, holding up two DVDs. one is his favorite movie, the shining, the other is another classic, the thing. although christmas is the time to see cheesy, family hallmark movies, every year, he’ll ask you to watch the shining with him, even though he knows you’ve seen it a hundred times by now.

laying in bed beside him, you shift your weight onto your side, observing the way rin licks the bottom of his lips, concentrating on the events in the movie. in the background, the two of you are watching the sadness, a terrifyingly well written apocalyptic movie that would send shivers down any adults spine. its endearing to see him focused on something that wasn’t football. you know that despite being a fan of horror movies, he doesn’t like cheap jumpscares or gore. he likes the quiet kind of evil. the one that lurks underneath your bed when you don’t know it. he likes the way writers play with human emotions and fear. cgi blood and screams are too lukewarm for him.

after a while, he notices your stare and turns to look at you. he takes this time to lean back against your soft, plush mattress, his elbows creating a dip. he’s facing the same way as you now, carefully monitoring your expressions.

“your lower eyelashes are long,” you comment, reaching out to brush away part of his bangs. his hair was always soft to the touch. what kind of conditioner does he use to make it so luxuriously smooth? this act leads to a hum to escape his parted lips, his body relaxing into your bedding, “what is your secret to having them look so nice? you look like a girl, you know.”

“shut up. there is no secret.” 

“so you don’t deny the girl part? itoshi rin you drooly—”

“shut up.” 

he holds your hand, the beads on his wrist fumbling and clattering loosely together, his gaze lingers on you. from the corner of your eye, you could make out the shared bracelet you made for each other last christmas, colorfully lit because of your cheap tv screen. when you first proposed the idea of making matching bracelets, he scoffed in typical rin fashion but still compiled. 

his fingers slipped through the cracks of your hand, squeezing your muscles with enough force to draw your focus to a thin thread. he can be a total ass whenever he wants your attention.

“are you going to watch my football game next week?���

“do i have a choice?”

a scowl makes its way onto his face as his grip tightens.

“no.”

✦

the person i like has a cute side to him.

“here,” you say, holding out a box of chocolates. dressed in your usual school uniform, the two of you meet each other in the hall. as you stand in front of the student council room, a small crowd forms as whispers echo through the tight space. while it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to be seen together, people couldn’t hold back their noses.

rin gets a lot of valentines day chocolates. since the day you’ve known him in preschool, he’s been popular with the girls. despite being unfriendly, his good looks are enough to attract a lot of attention, even from boys alike. the last part being a long-running joke you’ve had with him since middle school.

“you got me valentines day chocolate? were you bored and had nothing to do?” he takes the gift into his hands, rubbing his thumb against the crisp material of the wrapper. he notes that the color of the ribbon is the same as his eyes, a clear blue, just like water. he also sees that you’ve written your name on the small tag, surrounded by hearts and stars.

“i made you chocolate,” correcting him with a huff, you rest your hand on your hip. “and i made it specifically for you. i know how picky you are.” 

this isn’t the first time you’ve made chocolate for him. every year, you make special ‘friend’ chocolate to give out. when it comes to sweets, rin can be a very childish and picky person. he doesn’t like it if chocolate is too sweet or bitter. he has a terrible habit of sticking out his tongue if it’s not tasty. it might be one of many reasons he rejected other charming girls. 

you used to think the real reason was that he hatred chocolate, though this was quickly disproven one afternoon when he greedily ate half of your pocky from your cupboard. he even dared to complain you didn’t have enough candy for movie nights, leading to him coming over with more snacks to fill your cabinet.

“is that so?” he tucks the box into one of his bag pockets, “did you make it for anyone else?”

“i had extras for everyone in the student council. they got icebox cookies. though, they’re not as cute as the ones i made for you,” wagging your finger, you smile eagerly, “the convenience store nearby had these cute chocolate molds. i got them on sale too. they’re owl-shaped, isn’t that cute?”

“super cute,” he says with a deadpan expression.

a beat passes before you stifle a laugh behind your hand.

“rin, you’re funny.”

“am i?”

“you are!” 

you stop teasing him to interlace your fingers behind your back, peering up at the taller male. in a rare turn of events, rin’s expression changes. there is this soft look in his eyes, the lowering of his upper lid and slow blinks that communicate to you something otherworldly.

before he turns around to leave, he leans forward, whispering in your ear a phrase that leaves you scrambling in suspicion. 

i’ll pay you back.

when white day comes, you are reassured by the sight of a neatly wrapped box, tied with your favorite color ribbon. inside was another strawberry shortcake, curtsey of rin. he might not have known, but from the corner of your eye, you saw the reddening tips of his ears give away his appearance. how cute.

✦

the person i like can be incredibly sensitive.

opening the door, you were met with an unexpected sight. dressed in his usual football uniform, rin had his gym bag slung over his back. snaking his arms around your waist, he elicits a surprised chirp out of you.

he pulls you tightly to his chest, squeezing as hard as he can to steal your breath. despite pushing him with enough force to tip an elephant, he remains still, holding onto you tightly as if you could disappear anytime. 

“rin?”

bringing your arms around him, he finally lets go a sigh of relief, almost as if he was waiting for this moment all day. 

before you could say anything else, he blindly guides the two of you back into your room. swiftly taking off his bag and shoes, you awkwardly stumble over his foot, noticing the sharp inhale he takes. once making it past the wooden door, the two of you collapsed onto your mattress, tumbling like lopsided jenga blocks.

still quiet and reclusive, he loosens his grip, giving you ample time to breathe normally.

you’re left laying beneath him, getting a small glimpse of the way his expression becomes crestfallen and still. perking up your ears, you swore you heard him say something.

“... movies.”

“huh?”

“let’s watch a movie.”

raising your eyebrow, you tilt your head to the side, “you came all this way just to watch a movie with me? couldn’t you have waited until this weekend? rin–”

“yeah.”

letting out a defeated groan, you don’t say anything when he leans his weight against you, effectively crushing you between himself and your cushions. you have to ignore the way your heart is beating ten times faster than an olympic athlete and how your face turns hot every time you feel his warm breath graze your ears. 

if it was anyone other than rin, you might have gotten the bright idea of hitting him over the head with your bedside lamp. however, because he is your favorite football player in the world (his words, not yours), you had to endure his strange, clingy habits that he denies so quickly.

lifting your arms above his head, you let them rest against the nape of his neck, grazing over his spine slowly and carefully. you make a mental note of the way his muscles tense up in certain areas. football practice must have been hard on his body. you could feel knots all over his body.

an impish grin makes its way onto your face, your fingers drawing smiley faces and hearts on the surface of his back, causing him to exhale audibly into your neck, muttering about how ticklish he is.

a comfortable blanket of silence drapes over you, tiredness creeping up on you like a bedside monster. blaming it on rin’s warmth, you sink your head back onto your mattress. for someone who describes himself as unfriendly and cold, he was starting to melt in your arms like putty. he was like a personal heater at this point.

finally, after a little while, you feel his lips graze across your neck, “do you think i’d be the best striker?” his question slips through your mind, dancing across your neurons and flickering. 

“why wouldn’t you be?”

“i don’t know. sometimes i don’t feel like i’m the best.”

“you’ve worked the hardest out of everyone i know. there isn’t another guy this obsessed with football and his brother.”

you wince at the sudden pain in your side, realizing he had used his index and thumb to harshly pinch your abdomen. he’s such a total ass.

“do you think i’ll be as good as sae?”

“probably not as good—” he elbows your stomach, making sure to hit you in the same spot he pinched you earlier. “let me finish my sentence!”

in return, you force one knee against his lower torso, a surprised gasp leaving his throat at your sudden retaliation. as his guard is lowered, you push yourself up, flipping your positions. 

laying beneath you, he is left in awe by your boldness. taking his face into your hands, you squeeze his cheeks, bringing him closer to you until you can barely feel his nose graze yours. there was this strange look in your eyes. it was incredibly warm, almost as if it had been lit up by some kind of fire. it has him gripping at the reigns of his emotions, riding out what feels to be adrenaline.

“if there is anyone as good as sae, hell, even better, it would be you, rin.” this comment sent rin’s heart jumping through hoops. 

“there isn’t anyone else i’d dream with but you.” 

✦

the person i like can be cruel and selfish.

sitting at the center of a snowy field, rin digs his head into his gloved hands. hes on his knees, gasping heavily as he choked on a sob. his mind is racing in indescribable ways, dragged from end to end, he’s stretched thin. perhaps it’s the air itself that is thin because he’s struggling to breathe properly. despite wearing a black scarf, nothing could have braced him for the storm. 

his brother truly was amazing. he surpassed his record four years ago. he’s playing for the most famous team in spain. he’s a renowned football player not only in japan but in every other country. he’s everything rin has ever dreamed of. the only thing that was falling behind was himself. all the time he spent training was for nothing. his throat was constricting on itself. the world was growing darker and foggier. he could feel his nerves coiling around his lungs, a deafening boom of his own heart tuning the sound of crunching snow.

“rin?” your voice trails off, unsure of what to make of this sight.

you’ve never seen him look so defeated in your life, and you’ve known him for years. the prideful man you’ve grown so fond of looks like he was on the verge of crying like a child. you’re at a lost for words as you squeeze your hands together. 

just a few minutes ago, you saw his older brother drag his suitcase across the snow, wielding a stone-cold expression that grazed over you. what sort of fight did they have?

“are you here to laugh?”

“what?”

“you heard me,” he holds his fingers up to his face, withdrawing air from his lungs carefully, “you’re here to call me lukewarm, aren’t you? just because i lost to sae.” cradling himself, he tries to block out the pained expression written across your face.

“why else would you be here? at such a perfect time too. were you just waiting for him to leave? so you can see me like this? and laugh?” 

“why would you think that?”

your words come out shakier than you expect and despite that, he still doesn’t look up at you, not even with the small amount of sympathy you hoped he would spare. hell, it feels like he’s avoiding your gaze altogether, on purpose. now that stings.

“why are you here?” he chokes, “leave me alone.”

you don’t know what hurts more: hearing his voice in shambles or your heart falling apart.

“you know i can’t.”

“why?”

“because—we’re friends.”

he tightly bundles the snow under his fingertips, squeezing it until it forms a hard ball. “just leave me alone!”

keeping his head low, he blindly throws a snowball at you, nearly missing your cheek by a hair. shock was an icy force slowly creeping up on you. “leave me, (name), get the hell away from me. i don’t need you,” he huffs, struggling to catch his breath as his body droops forward, “i don’t need anyone!”

“you don’t mean that—”

“shut up—shut, i don’t need you, i never–” biting the tip of his tongue, he lets himself slip through the cracks. for a fraction of a second, he looks up to you. 

illuminated underneath the moon’s light, you see a nameless ball of hatred seethes through those familiar irises. it bleeds through the cracks and down his long eyelashes, trailing down like damned tears. this type of loathing didn’t just appear out of nowhere. it was born eons ago, quelled by a supernatural force whose spell broke.

“i never liked you. not one bit.” he says, “you’re a stupid, know-it-all, student council president, who thinks you can fix me—but,” he heaves, “you can’t—i’m not some kind of charity case. i’m not someone you can just use to feel better about you—and your sad, lukewarm life.” 

“i don’t understand why we became friends—i’d never—you’re terrible at football, and worse of all, you try to lecture me about it as if you know more than me, but you don’t. you’d never know what it is like to be enough. you got two loving siblings who care about you even if you do a shit job. everyone in the student council glazes you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to them, and it’s honestly so sickening.” 

“god you make me so fucking sick (name). you’re so lukewarm that it hurts. it’s so boring to be around you sometimes,” he continues digging into your skin, twisting the knife so far you find yourself clutching your stomach, “you really have nothing to do but wait on me. it’s annoying.”  

“you don’t mean that,” you knew rin could be cruel but never merciless. you swore he was sweet inside. sweeter than candy even. so why—

“i don’t need you in my life.” 

“rin,” using the back of your hand to wipe away at the loose tears that threaten to spill over, you refuse to lower your gaze, “tell me, you didn’t mean that. you really don’t mean it.” 

the wind blows over, both your scarves bellowing alongside the frigid cold. he’s tightening the grip he has on the ground, lips pressed tightly against each other as he thinks about the next string of words he could piece together. something he could say that will hurt you.

like a broken record, you ask again: “do you mean it, rin?”

and this time, he didn’t hesitate to answer.

“i do.” 

✦

that was the last time you saw rin. 

despite waiting on christmas day with his favorite food, patiently waiting for him at the table, he never showed up. it stung knowing he was still mad at you. your heart was twisting in uncomfortable ways every time you stared at his empty seat. it took everything within you to restrain the sobs that bode over your bottom lids, to choke down the cold rice you’ve made. your younger brother slid himself closer to you, patting your back as you struggled to hold back your tears, a wail escaping from the cracks and seeping through the walls. 

you want to convince yourself that a small fight like this won’t be the end of your friendship, but considering how vindictive and punishing rin could be, your wish is less likely to be heard. maybe you should have listened to your friends when they said he would be a bad influence on you. you knew him as an incredibly petty and childish person, a trait that is further amplified when it comes to his older brother

he can take and take, but never give. he can get mad at any boy who tries to give you their jacket but scoffs in your face if you suggest the same. he can push you around as many times as he wants, and expect you to be okay with it. that’s how selfish he is. 

when you heard about japan’s newest program, blue lock, a meticulous yet ambitious plan to create the country’s best football team, you could only imagine how quickly rin signed up. to this day, you still don’t know what they talked about or what led to the explosion. your younger brother called you stupid for mauling over a guy who didn’t give you a second thought. 

and perhaps you were stupid. you were stupid over the worst guy.

you still think of those sleepless nights, the ones where it was you and him against the world. still thinking about the dream he shared that one christmas, when he rested his head on your shoulder, speaking in a low whisper, his warm breath tickling your ear. you believed in his dream of becoming the world’s best striker, his name placed neatly beside sae’s. those sleepless nights watching horror movies, having your side pinched by a bumbling idiot you called your best friend.

all of it felt like a fantasy you created in your head. when you scream into your pillow, you wish he could hear it.

months would go by without a single message. your family meals have resumed to being a three-person activity. no more strawberry shortcakes and movie nights on christmas. your life was completely devoid of anything football-related (your siblings decided to call it quits and move on to another sport. whether or not it was out of respect for you, or because they got bored, you aren’t sure.) all you knew was that instead of having a checkerboard ball in your backyard, your brother replaced it with a pure white volleyball.

it wasn’t until you awoke with a fated breath that you saw three tickets placed neatly on your lap. the two rowdy children you called brother and sister jumped excitedly on your deflated mattress, having waited supposedly hours to surprise you. they had ripped open your mail early, pulling out vip tickets to the next u-20 game. they were fairly expensive as well, being seated extremely close to the railing and pitch.

after confronting your siblings about the dangers of opening suspicious mail, you finally decided to check the name on the return address. when examining the letter, you notice the sender was a familiar name: itoshi.

✦

although he should have been proud, he couldn’t be more angry at himself. giving isagi the final goal was the last thing he wanted. even if it was luck, it simply wasn’t in his favor. clutching his forehead with the palm of his hand, rin drew in a heavy-hearted breath. his muscles were screaming at him, clawing up from the bottom of his ankles to the top of his knees. his tongue felt numb with a slight metallic taste following the cold texture. how many times has he seen this happen already?

“i thought japan could never produce a proper striker,” with a hand on his hip, sae stares off into space, eyes trailing the crowd. at his words, rin peeked his head upwards, a smile he hadn’t felt in a long time rushing to his face excitedly. 

“the one who drew out your instincts and will change japanese football is yoichi isagi. he might be the one to do it.”

what?

a pitiful expression quickly washes over rin’s enthusiastic expression. the dream he thought he reignited in his brother faded away pathetically, and the realization that he’ll never be acknowledged for his efforts dampened his ego severely. out of all the people he could have said, it had to be the one person he dreaded the most. and as if his mood couldn’t get any worse, he watches as isagi jogs his way towards his direction.

prepared for the inevitable gloat, he—

“what is that look on your face, get up rin!” screaming at the top of your lungs, you squeeze the edge of the railing tightly, leaning forward as you press your entire weight onto the tip of your toes. one wrong move, you might accidentally tip over and fall into the pitch. your siblings raise their homemade banner as high as they can, puffing out their cheeks as wave the heavy flag. 

“do they know the game is over?”

“maybe they’re cheering for someone else.” 

“that sounds embarrassing.” 

with reddening cheeks, you close your eyes, blindly calling out to the wind and hoping he’d hear you.

“rin, don’t give up! you still have time! i…” hiccuping, you hold your chin up high, “still believe in you!” 

“idiooooooooot!” 

there was a deafening minute of awkward silence before sae erupts in a fit of laughter, breaking rin out of his stupor spell. he quickly twists his head, facing the direction he heard your voice. only one person was willing to call him, blue lock’s number 1 striker, a complete idiot across the pitch for everyone to hear.

“god, i didn’t think they’d actually come,” sae brought one hand to rest on his ear, “and i thought your lukewarm personality drove them away for good.”

raising himself from the ground, rin hesitantly steps forward, meeting your gaze. you could feel your heart leap up to your throat, unable to contain the jittery feelings that once accompanied your former friend. underneath the shining, glimmering sun, you could make out the colorful bracelet adorned on his wrist, a symbol you were all too familiar with. he was still wearing it after all this time.

“i guess you just have those kinds of people.”

the kind that would still believe in your dreams.

without a second to waste, sae harshly slaps his back, propelling the young man forward, though, not before calling him a lukewarm fool.

despite the burning exhaustion he felt one minute ago, his legs felt as light as air right now. he sped through the interview crowds, weaving with ease to make it to the other side. this act caught the eye of isagi who stopped midway, watching in disbelief as the once stoic man clambered to his knees, fumbling over someone.

before you could catch your breath, your younger brother and sister shove you over the railing, forcing your body over the metal bars. hitting a firm, warm chest, you find yourself wrapped in a familiar tight embrace. 

ignoring the crowd’s whisper, rin kept you close to his heart, (literally and figuratively speaking.)

“idiot.” you whisper, squeezing his neck with as much force you can muster this time. “idiot—idiot—you idiot.” 

“i know.” 

“rin you’re the biggest—stupidest, most idiotic idiot–” 

“i know,” he repeats, murmuring in the crook of your neck, “i know.” 

“idiot!” words continue to spill out of your uncontrollable lips, “idiot, idiot, you are the worst!”

he doesn’t fight against you even when you punch his back as hard as you can. he doesn’t even flinch when you kick up your feet, wrapping them around his waist as you choke up a sob that’s been trapped in your throat for months. he doesn’t do anything. he only holds you. keeping you as close as possible so you could hear the way his heart beats. 

tucked in his arms, the world finally goes quiet, and its only the two of you.

“you’re so stupid rin.”

“i’ve heard that before.” he withdraws his expression following the crook of your neck, “i’m sorry.” 

“sorry isn’t going to cut it.” 

weakly raising your arms, you stow your fingers away in his slightly sweaty hair, withdrawing a comment about showering. he exhales carefully, closing his eyes, he melts in your body, “i understand. i don’t expect you to forgive me after what i said.” 

“and i won’t for a while.” 

“that's okay.”

his curt answer garners a huff from you, “is it?” 

“yeah, that’s okay with me.” 

“you’re not mad?”

“you didn’t do anything wrong.” he lets you pinch the back of his neck (even if it does really hurt, he doesn’t want to accidentally let go of you). “i said all of those things without thinking about it.”

“it sounded like you did for a long time. those words hurt, you know.” 

“... yeah. i thought about them for a long time. and i wish i never said them out loud. not because they were true, but—” like a clumsy child, he stutters over himself, “i wanted to give myself a reason to hate you.” 

“did you hate me?”

as quickly as your question came, so did his answer: “no.” 

“well,” you mutter, a pout drawing itself on your face, “i hate you just a little bit.” 

“is that why you’re still holding onto me?” with an irked expression, you pinch the surface of his skin even harder, trying to send a not-so-subtle telepathic message. he winces but doesn’t try to shove you off, this position he has you in is a little too comfortable for him to let go of right now.

“you give me no choice.” he has to pull himself together so he doesn’t instinctively reach out to squeeze your waist. he’s definitely heard this line from you before. 

slowly drawing in a breath, he lets his muscles relax. they loosen just slightly, allowing you to wrap your arms firmly around his body. his heart was still beating as fast as ever, you could feel it thump against his ribcage. it was just as fast as yours.

“...can i come over?”

“do you think after all this time i’d just let you come into my house?” you snorted, “who do you think you are?” 

“someone who wants to come over to your house.” 

a beat breezes through..

“...you’re the worst, rin.” 

the person i like the most is the biggest idiot. 

[almost-blondee]

Please read No Home by Wanan

[almost-blondee]

[almost-blondee]

Hello!

Could you do a social butterfly!Narancia (Jojo) and very introverted Reader?

Like Reader just spends their free time either at home or library. And Narancia is dragged to that library by Fugo, he's just there to grab some books and Narancia is not happy to be there until he sees Reader.

Have a good day!

Lucky Day

Narancia x introverted!reader

Fluff, Day at the library

Word count: 1.4k

So this is my first time doing requests, so hopefully this is okay. I’m worried that i kinda strayed off topic or it’s kinda too all over the place. but hopefully this is somewhat close to what you’d like

Also please don’t mind spelling or grammar error i tried to find them all but i may have missed some, Thank you and enjoy!!!

——————————————————————————

“You know Narancia you’re never going to get smarter if you don’t try” Fugo tries to somewhat encourage the other young male. “ugghhhh, i’ve heard this like a million times…” He responds while trudging along. It just so happens that they were on their way to the library to pick up some books for Fugo. However Fugo took it as a chance to pressure the boy to pick up his slack.

“i’m only coming with you cuz’ you promised me some snacks…” Narancia hesitantly added. They were now nearing the library and Narancia was dreading just sitting in there waiting for Fugo, never mind all the useless knowledge he would hear after Fugo picked up his books. Usually when this happened Narancia would sit somewhere in the library and wait while Fugo would find his books. Every so often he would lay his eyes on a certain someone. Narancia didn’t know anything about them, not even their name. He was just so enthralled with watching the way they were. As he was entering the library he caught himself wondering if you would happen to be there. After all it seemed you liked to spend most of your time at the library, you were there every time he was, and that was next to none.

“okay Narancia, just go sit where you usually do, i’ll try to be quick.”

“ yeah sure whatever you say that every time” Narancia mumbles under his breath while walking towards his usual table.

Just as he was about to slouch down into his usual chair, he had noticed that someone was sitting at his table. His first thought was to threaten this person to make them move, that was until you looked up from your book, to see him staring at you. As soon as he realized it was you, the intimidating look on his face disappeared being replaced with a softer one. Narancia thought to himself that he must be the luckiest man alive. He slyly walked to the chair across from you and sat down. You try your hardest to focus back on the book in front of you knowing that talking to strangers wasn’t really your thing. However, you could quite literally feel him staring at you. So, you’d have to look up at some point. So you did exactly that. You slowly brought your eyes up to see his face, shining so bright you’d almost reached for the blinds.

“Hi, I’m Narancia, Nice to meet you! I’ve seen you here lots!” He said almost immediately after you had looked up. Not really expecting him to be so forward you immediately averted your eyes to think of something to say. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t even let you get a thought in and continued talking.

“It seems like you like to come here, is that right? have you ever seen me around. I mean probably not. you’re always pretty focused on the books you’re reading” He borderline shouts at you.

you manage to compose your self.

“ um… yes i have seen you a couple times. Do you also like coming to the library?” You ask at an attempt to make conversation. Truth is, you have seen him around, how could you not, he was always so loud when coming to the library. Very vocally complaining about how long his friend was taking. so you sorta already knew the answer to your question.

“HAHAHA, good one…” Narancia says as he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “ I’m only here because my buddy Fugo apparently ‘needs someone to come pick up his books with him’. He obnoxiously says while using finger quotations. “oh, i see…” You say, not really knowing how else to respond.

“yup, he always babbling on about how i need to get smarter and actually care about my education yata yata.” He readjusts the way he’s sitting. “ but you know it’s not so bad coming here if i get to see you.” he then throws in a wink, hoping that will win you over.

you were again taken aback by his forwardness and immediately you can feel your face heat up, you don’t do so well with compliments. Especially from someone who you’d like to say was attractive.

“i’m just teasing although i wouldn’t mind if we could meet here more often, just the two of us of course.”

Now thinking to yourself that he is relentless, you can’t help but chuckle at his attempt of flirting. You wouldn’t mind spending sometime with him if it meant getting to know each other better. you had been quite interested in him since you first saw him, wondering why he hated the library so much.

“Um, yeah i’ll have to think on that one. we have only just met.” you say quietly, unsure if he could even hear you.

“Well how about we talk a little more then you can tell me your answer, yeah?” he retorts looking at you like a puppy, if he had a tail you’re sure it would be wagging.

“Okay, sure” you simply say, looking down at your watch. Only now realizing that it was almost time for your shift to start. You say you had about 10 minutes give or take. So you decided to humour the boy sitting across from you.

You watched as he rambled on about something as simple as his favourite snacks, he was basically having a conversation with him self. Expect from the occasional “hmm” “i see” “nice” from you. By the time he was ready to ask you what your favourite snacks were you were slowly packing up and getting ready to leave. Narancia noticed this, and inquired. “ you have somewhere to be?” his eyebrow slightly raising. he was staring at you so intensely you were almost afraid to say yes.

you reluctantly told him that you had a shift at the café down the street and usually came here to kill sometime before clocking in.

“ ooohh, so you work at the café huh, That’s good to know” He now has a huge smile on his face, again you now are looking for the blinds. You had a feeling he was going to be up to no good. “ yes, so i’m sorry to cut our time short, maybe we could talk another time.” you say now starting the motion to get up. By the time you have stood up and slowly made your way to the door Narancia had followed you the whole way. “ So your saying if i see you here next time we could have another chat? Or even better, i could ask you out to someplace more fun?” usually you’d be apposed to such offers however, this boy in front of you seemed to genuinely want to get to know you. You couldn’t let him down now. “ i suppose so yes, that would be okay” you answered. “ i’ll be on my way now. Good bye Narancia.” you swiftly left with your bag in hand. Narancia watched your figure disappear, then realizing he hadn’t even got your name, nor your number. how was he supposed to contact you now? he sadly made his way back to his table, he did slouch down this time, upset that he got so excited he forgot the whole reason he went over to you. Feeling dejected. he rested his head in his hands and decided to wait for Fugo.

A couple minutes later He could hear footsteps, assuming them to be Fugo. He instinctively sighed loud on purpose so he’d ask ‘what’s wrong’.

low and behold Fugo could be heard asking “What’s wrong Narancia, it’s not like you to look so dejected.”

“i fumbled”

“what…” was all Fugo said back with a disgusted look on his face.

“Are you sure you fumbled, this piece of paper tells me differently” That was Fugo for you, quickly figuring out the scenario like nothing.

Narancia whips his head up wondering what paper Fugo is talking about. As he looked at Fugo his eyes flickered down to the paper in between Fugos pointer and middle finger. Clearly in the position to hand it to him.

Narancia grabbed the paper more desperately than he would have liked and Fugo just scoffed.

The note read

(xxx-xxx-xxxx)

My name is (y/n) by the way…

Narancia was over the moon, he couldn’t believe he managed to get the number of someone so enthralling. Now he was jumping and hugging Fugo, thanking him for bringing him to the library.

“ Hey Fugo next time can we go to the Café down the street?? what do you think?”

Let’s just say you gained a new regular that day, both at the Cafe and in your life.

almost-blondee

[almost-blondee]

Can’t believe someone would actually do this, how can you accept compliments when you know you didn’t write it lol, crazy to me.

DISCOURSE.

Damn people plagiarise reddit posts now. There's no credit or anything .

This is the reddit post (not sure but this in itself is a repost of another reddit post 💀 people love copying ig)

Here

Heres our fandom star! Bro didn't even gaf about changing the title. Yeaaa bestseller by copying <3

The notes???

here

Ps sorry to use the x reader tags but yall need to know that they are a pathetic plagiariser

[almost-blondee]

MASTERLIST ✧

ONLY SFW FOR NOW!!! (sorry to dissapoint)

i will organize it better when i have written more! Hopefully you enjoy my writing!

Thank you!!! ♡

JJBA x reader

Part 5

Narancia x reader

Thorfinn x reader

Green Monster

The Truth

Shit Disturber 

Sanji x reader

Running in Circles

[almost-blondee]

REQUESTS☆

Although i don’t have many followers, i was wondering if you guys would be interested in suggesting fics that i can write, i have not been inspired recently. I would appreciate if you are to request that you add a scenario or troupe in there that i can roughly go off, more detail the better!!

I can do a variety of anime’s, however if you suggest one that i’m not familiar with, they’d probably be out of character. Therefore, the anime’s i could confidently write about are the following:

Attack on titan, Blue lock, One piece, Vinland saga, JoJo’s, Jujutsu kaisen, possibly haikyu, death note, Demon slayer, and Monster

That’s probably it… Also i’m not super familiar with tumblr so i don’t really know how to go about requesting them, you could just comment, or DM me i guess…

Okay, thank you, i’m hoping to at least get some requests!

[almost-blondee]

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior. 

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself. 

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any. 

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that. 

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!” 

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting. 

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.” 

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind. 

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit. 

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for. 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you. 

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim. 

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

[almost-blondee]

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending).  You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is. 

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge. 

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.” 

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face. 

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate. 

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?” 

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap.  Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage. 

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected. 

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning. 

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted. 

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.” 

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea. 

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?” 

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty. 

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it. 

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.” 

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs. 

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter. 

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious. 

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.” 

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street. 

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser. 

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways. 

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

[almost-blondee]

twitch streamer toji

[almost-blondee]

[almost-blondee]

after a fight