mikiruie

[mikiruie]

MISS DEMEANOR!

❤︎‬ a small thing ends up with nanase in the doghouse, so he has to use your plushies and get creative to win back your good graces. ❤︎‬ nanase nijiro x gn! reader ‪ ❤︎‬ wc: 2k ❤︎‬ content warning(s): reader and nanase are newlyweds/aged up, one (1) suggestive line at the end, inspired by this cute instagram reel

One of the first things Nanase gave to you when you started dating him was a piglet plushie he painstakingly won at an arcade. You still remember what it was like to stand there in the arcade next to him, watching the sweat bead on his forehead as he carefully maneuvered the joystick, angling it perfectly over the little plushie smiling back at you as if taunting your new boyfriend’s lack of expertise with these rigged machines.

But with a little bit of effort, some time, and many coins dumped from poor Nanase’s wallet, he triumphantly held the piglet plushie out towards you. You’ve cherished it ever since, and as if to thank him, you got him a puppy plushie so Nanase could have a companion of his own.

Many years had passed, and now that you’ve gotten married to Nanase, the two plushies were also naturally reunited. They found their home in the living room of your shared home, witness to the happy newlywed life you shared with Nanase.

For better or for worse. 

“I’m sorry. The number you are trying to contact is not available. Please leave a voicemail after the beep.”

Your heart plunged into your stomach as you quickly ended the call. You paced your living room anxiously, and worry gnaws almost like a spiraling hunger somewhere deep inside of your stomach. Your aged plushies, hands positioned above one another as if they were holding hands, watched you as panic began to grip at you.

Why wasn’t Nanase picking up? It had grown dark outside a long time ago, and there wasn’t any correspondence from him. None of your texts were going through, you couldn’t call him, and there wasn’t any word from his manager or his clubhouse for anything out of the ordinary that might have caused this. While you tried your best not to jump to any drastic conclusions, as the minutes ticked by into hours, the anxiety inside of you kept bubbling over like a shaken soda can.

Just when you were debating calling emergency services, you heard the lock to your front door click open. “I’m home!”

Your heart jumped to your throat. “N-Nanase Nijiro! Do you know how worried sick I’ve been!”

Your husband looked like a deer caught in headlights as you stormed over, and tears began pooling in your eyes. He stayed standing there in the doorway as you ran straight into him, half-hugging him half-punching his chest. 

Your hands trembled as you gripped at Nanase’s jersey, not caring if it was still slightly damp with all of his sweat. “I thought something had happened since your number kept going to voicemail! Had you come even just a few minutes later, I would have called the police- Seriously, ‘Jiro- I was… I was scared that you had gotten hurt!” 

“I’m sorry, lovely… I must have forgotten to charge my phone last night. It died in the middle of practice, and since I was headed straight home, I figured it should be alright,” he swallowed nervously. He grabs at your hands gently, trying to pry your death grip off of him. “I’m really sorry… I won’t do it again. I-I should have used the clubhouse’s landline to give you a call or borrow a teammate’s phone…”

You grit your teeth, and despite not wanting to come across as distraught and hysteric, your voice shook frantically. “...I just- Ever since you’ve gone pro, it feels like everything around our life has gotten so intense. I see the comments people make about you online. Most are nice, but- not everyone wishes well. When I couldn’t reach you for hours, I couldn’t help but- but think about what if one of those people had gotten to you-”

“Oh, sweetheart… It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m here… Let’s just go to bed, okay? I’m alright. I’ll be more careful in the future and make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.”

Your heart felt heavy despite Nanase’s big hands holding you gently, and a shaky sigh escaped from your lips. You let him guide you to your shared bedroom despite the fear and anger still swirling somewhere deep in your heart. You knew Nanase always meant well and would never do anything to purposefully upset you, but you just wished he wouldn’t be so careless with his personal safety sometimes, especially now that he had what was essentially the entire world watching his every movement.

He stayed stuck by your side as you mindlessly went through the steps of your nightly routine. While you were relieved beyond belief that your mind had gone to the extremes and that nothing had happened to Nanase, you were still mad that someone of his caliber could be so careless about his personal safety. Maybe you overreacted just a little bit by yelling at him the moment he got home, but at the same time, if the situation had been reversed, you’re certain that Nanase would have done the same—if not, escalated things even more in his desperation to try to get ahold of you.

You didn’t want to dwell on it too much anymore now that it was behind you. You trusted Nanase’s word that he would take better care of his safety, and you closed your eyes and listened to Nanase rustling around in the bathroom as if to console yourself that your husband was safe and sound at home, a few feet away from you, and nothing had happened at all. 

A bit later, your body was as heavy as an anchor as you slipped into bed next to him, and Nanase whispered his apologies while letting you cling to him for as long as you wanted. You didn’t want to let him go, even though fatigue crept through your veins once the initial panic wore off and the gentle whispers of your husband served as the most fitting lullaby for such a tiring day. 

“I’m sorry for what happened today,” he murmured as you drifted off. “I love you more than anyone else.”

…

…

…

Nanase was gone by the time you woke up, and from the sunlight peeking from around the edges of your bedroom’s curtains, he must have left for early morning practice quite a while ago. You groggily patted around your bed for your phone, and when you lifted it to your face, you noticed a handful of notifications from none other than Nanase himself. You tapped at them, only to be greeted by a flurry of texts from him. Most of them were greetings and updates from him, following through on his promise to take better care of his communications. He had even left you a voicemail, which you clicked on.

“Good morning, sweetheart! Hope you had a good night’s rest. I just wanted to leave you a quick voicemail to tell you I love you! I made sure to charge my phone today, so I’ll do my best to reach out to you when I can. Love you so, so, so much! Make sure to eat and drink well!”

You couldn’t help but let a small grin sneak onto your face as you kicked the sheets off. Your footsteps lead you to the living room, where you normally would have passed by like any other day without another care in the world had it not been for something that caught your eye.

Nanase’s little puppy plushie is bent over with its butt in the air, and your piglet plushie is posed to look as if it’s going to spank the little puppy. Is this Nanase’s way of saying that he’s sorry and willing to take any punishment you’re going to give him? You didn’t have any intention of punishing him given that he was a grown man and all, but it’s enough to bring a smile to your face. He was still the same boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago, willing to do anything to make you happy and earn your good graces again.

You took a picture of the two plushies as a keepsake and went about your day. Some chores, a few errands, and a little bit of relaxation time for yourself meant that evening rolled around quickly. Nanase eagerly talked about his day to you over dinner, and while he cleaned up, you enjoyed a quick shower. It didn’t take long before you stepped out of the bathroom, yelling to him that he was free to use it, only for Nanase to come scrambling out of the living room with a grin plastered on his face as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t.

You raised an eyebrow as he raced past you and locked himself into the bathroom, but you chose not to question now that he physically distanced himself. Instead, you crept into the living room and peered around, and your attention landed on your two plushies again.

This time, Nanase imprisoned the puppy plushie inside of a clear plastic container. The puppy pitifully looked towards the outside, only to meet the gaze of the piglet plushie keeping it locked inside. Maybe it was just your imagination running wild, but for whatever reason, the piglet plushie’s expression appeared far more smug than it ever had in the many years you had kept it under your possession.

Nanase played dumb as he sauntered out of the bathroom. “Ready for bed? It’s been such a long day… I really need some sleep so I can go at it early again tomorrow. Come cuddle with me?”

You followed him, but as you rolled into bed again with him, you made sure to keep him firmly in your arms so that he couldn’t play innocent anymore. “Are you the one messing with our plushies in the living room? Is this your way of trying to make up to me for upsetting me yesterday?”

Judging from the expression Nanase made, you had caught him red-handed. “Ha! Knew it. You’re so cute, Jiro. If you want to apologize, you know you can just do it in person.”

“I already did…” He stuck his lips out into a small, boyish pout. He avoided your gaze slightly, suddenly unable to meet your eyes properly. “And… Y’know, I figured something like this would lift your mood better than me begging for your forgiveness on my knees.”

“If you phrase it like that, you’ll tempt me. Seeing you on your knees crying and begging isn’t half bad,” you chuckled. “Besides, I wasn’t intending on staying mad. I just… I get a little extreme when I get worried. I’m sorry if I was too much.”

“No! You have nothing to apologize for! C’mon, I’m the one in the wrong.” He pulled you towards him with his strong arms, keeping you close to his chest. He was rewarded with one of your pleased laughs as he snuck a kiss, two kisses onto your lips. “But if seeing my puppy plushie punished isn’t enough for you, then you can always punish me instead. I’m a big boy! I promise I can take it, no matter how rough you get-”

“Gross. Weren’t you the one that said you wanted sleep so you could get up early tomorrow? Let’s be good and get some rest.” You shove your hands into his face, pushing yourself away from him playfully. It was impossible not to end up in a good mood when around him. Something about his energy was infectious, and from a young high schooler all the way to becoming your one and only, his dedication to you has never changed. 

…

…

…

Your morning started the same way as it did yesterday, with you waking up alone to the welcoming sunlight. You rubbed your eyes, stretching out your stiff limbs before instinctively reaching for your phone. Nanase’s standard good morning texts and voicemail helped you stir back to life, and you eagerly headed towards the living room to see what scene would greet you today.

Your plushies are back to normal, all mimicry of punishments gone, but they’re holding each other tightly, faces pressed together in what you can only assume to be a passionate kiss.

You rolled your eyes, but you’re unable to fight back the sheepish smile that tickles the corners of your lips. 

That Nanase…

x

[mikiruie]

𝐋𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 𝐈𝐒…

@𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 (closes apr 3, idec what timezone)

psst… i heard there’s a hole-in-the-wall place that opened up recently! the drinks they serve might not be top tier, but they’ll definitely be of the intoxicating variety…

so what are you waiting for? order up!

𝟏) 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒/𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐒 (pick ONE of each: no more, no less)

𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐔 {kinks/smutty tropes, pick ONE min/max}

༘⋆ long island iced tea {size} ༘⋆ jägermeister {sensory deprivation} ༘⋆ margarita {semi-public sex} ༘⋆ screwdriver {bondage} ༘⋆ aperol spritz {edging/orgasm denial} ༘⋆ cosmopolitan {overstimulation} ༘⋆ red wine {age difference (older!character only)} ༘⋆ mojito {photography/filming} ༘⋆ whiskey sour {cuckolding/sharing}  ༘⋆ martini {dacryphilia}

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐔 {additional non-smut tropes, pick ONE min/max}

༘⋆ water {roommates} ༘⋆ sparkling water {opposites attract} ༘⋆ ginger ale {pro athlete x manager} ༘⋆ soda {brother's best friend} ༘⋆ beer {academic rivals}

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?

༘⋆ hit me with everything you got! {rough sex} ༘⋆ go a little easy on me, wouldja? {soft sex} ༘⋆ something in between…

𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞:

rape/noncon, dubcon, incest/stepcest, vore, scat, piss, any life-threatening behaviour/kinks/fetishes. will add on to list as i see fit; non-negotiable.

𝟐) 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐘 (only m!character x afab!reader, will be aged up if applicable)

༘⋆ any bllk character except for:

aryu, tokimitsu (SORRY), gagamaru (does he even know what sex is), ego, don fuckass lorenzo, world five, niko, the nel coaches (haha julian loki go brrrr AGAIN), literally all of the u20 squad EXCEPT my wasian king oliver

༘⋆ any jjk character except for:

the women (im sorry), mahito, gojo (sorry), geto (SORRY), nanami (I AM SO SORRY), all the kyoto students, panda (does this even have to be said atp…)

༘⋆ any hq character except for:

nobuyuki, kenma, yamaguchi, tanaka, noya (sorry), asahi, konoha (does anyone even like this guy), kita (sorry 😓), aran, the coaches (sorry takeda and ukai fuckers)

note: if you picked the item whiskey sour {cuckolding/sharing}, do specify which two characters are accompanying you tonight. do tell me who’s paying for the drinks (established relationship/w reader) and who’s just along for the ride (the 'other' party)

𝟑) 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 follow this format and you're all good to go!

could i get a slightly milder margarita {kink + intensity} followed by a beer {add. prompt}? i'm drinking with kei tsukishima {character} tonight!

for whiskey sour {cuckolding/sharing}:

could i get a strong cosmopolitan {kink + intensity} along with a soda {add. prompt} to chase that? i'm drinking with rin {character 1}, who's paying, and isagi {character 2}, who's tagging along tonight!

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒:

༘⋆ asks sent on/off anon are both okay! ༘⋆ one request per person... anons i'm trusting you on this ༘⋆ minors should NOT be here, so if you've read this far, please leave (i literally beg of you)

sorry for the long read... anyway, just drop your order off in my askbox and you're all set! your order might come out in the form of headcanons, a drabble if you're lucky, and most likely, disorganised horny rambling. i'll do my best with it though!

© thegreatgatslin || ✦ M.LIST ✦

[mikiruie]

PITTER-PATTER-LOVE!

❤︎‬ bits from their official trivia reimagined with you ❤︎‬ itoshi rin, barou shouei, nanase nijiro, michael kaiser x gn reader ‪ ❤︎‬ wc: 2k/~500 words per character

ITOSHI RIN!

valentine’s day: he declined everything he received and sent them back

Rin, before dating you, thought Valentine’s Day was a waste of time. It wasn’t a holiday meant for him nor did he find anything particularly exciting about watching couples drive themselves insane doing insane things in the name of romance. The hoards of chocolates and gifts that would arrive at his clubhouse were nothing but a pain in the ass, and each year, without fail, he’d turn away any gift that hoped to win his favor and send them all back without so much as a second thought.

Now that he’s with you, his thoughts have changed bit by bit. He still thinks Valentine’s Day is stupid. He still thinks couples trying to one-up each other and spending exorbitant amounts of money and time to woo their lover is stupid. He still thinks his fans are wasting their time sending chocolates to him.

And that’s because he’s already fulfilled eating your chocolates. 

“Are you sure your nutritionist won’t get mad at me? Are you sure you’re allowed to have these?” You fret over him, eyes flickering between his stoic face and the tiny chocolates you’ve popped out of the mold, presented plainly on a small plate. Even still, you hold up one piece towards him, like you’re too scared to take the last step to close the gap between yourself and him but still want to pamper him somehow.

If there’s one thing Rin takes seriously, it’s his dedication to his craft. Every waking moment is dedicated to bettering himself, all to topple his brother. His diet is no exception to his strict lifestyle. 

But it’s one day out of the year. It’s one treat out of the endless days of nothing but power foods prepared specially just to augment his performance. One piece of chocolate that you painstakingly made for him, as a gesture of your unwavering love for him. It’s quiet. It’s homey. It’s the exact kind of love that Rin himself didn’t even know he craved.

“Why do you care about what they think so much?” It looks like you still need one last push for him. That’s fine. He can close that distance easily. “One chocolate isn’t going to kill me.”

You hold your breath as he grabs your wrist, lifting the chocolate and your hand towards his lips. His mouth closes gently around your fingers, and the sweet taste of chocolate and sugar coats his tongue. It spreads across his mouth like a warm hug, and it disappears down his throat to leave behind only the thought that he wants more. It’s a shame that he’s such a strong-willed man.

“...Not bad. It’s delicious.” This is his way of praising you. This is his way of marking you as someone special in his life, someone different from the monotony of average and forgettable human beings. This is his way of telling you that he wants to keep you by his side, even if it means that he has to break the rules every now and then to make it work. 

BAROU SHOUEI!

favorite season: end of rainy season

“I’m so glad it’s finally stopped raining,” you happily remark, carefully tiptoeing around a puddle on the ground. “As much as I love doing at-home dates, nothing beats getting to go out with you! And the sun just feels so nice on my skin…”

It’s nothing spectacular, but it tickles Barou just a little bit to see you get this excited over a walk in the park with him. It’s a no-brainer that you’re the sweet and friendly one between the two of you, but it’s hard to not be endeared to how thrilled you are to do something so mundane with him. The sunlight that peeks through the soaked trees seems to twinkle in agreement, and like the gentleman he is when he’s off the field, he offers you an arm.

“You better have put on sunscreen before you left the house. The sun’s nice, but it’ll fry your skin otherwise.” His voice is gruff, but the well-natured intention of his words are easy to pick up. You smile at him as you wrap your arm around his, falling in pace with his steps. It’s heartwarming to see the different way he’s adjusted to life with you, even if it’s something as miniscule as adjusting his walking speed so that you can walk comfortably side-by-side, arm-in-arm with him.

“I have you to take care of me if I get sunburnt. And it’s just a walk in the park. I’m not planning on tanning or anything.” You shrug nonchalantly, clearly without a care in the world. “Spare me the lecture. I know it’s important to put on sunscreen no matter how long or whatever you plan on doing in the sun.”

“I’ll spare you the lecture when you actually take the lecture to heart,” Barou grumbles loudly. He uses his free hand to rummage the small fanny pack slung over his chest, momentarily stopping the walk before pulling out a travel-sized tube of sunscreen. “Here, stay still.”

He lets go of your hand so he can squirt some sunscreen onto your palms. You hold your face out in his direction expectantly, and with a gentleness so dissimilar to his selfish playstyle and intimidating appearance, he gingerly rubs it into your skin. A giggle threatens to break out across your face when you can feel his fingertips go over the apples of your cheeks and the thin skin of your eyelids.

“There. Now I won’t have to worry about you so much.” He huffs. You flutter your eyes open before rewarding him with a smile that’s just as bright as the sunlight you’ve missed so much.

“This is what I mean, Shouei,” you laugh, finding your place by his side once more. Your presence is warm and light, like a breath of fresh air in the spring, the parting of rain clouds to reveal a sparkling rainbow. “Life is so much easier when I’m around you.”

It goes without saying that Barou feels the same way too. 

NANASE NIJIRO!

hobby: karaoke with friends

Nanase can’t remember the last time he’s felt this nervous. Nothing in his life could have prepared him for this moment. He might feel less foolish if it was something worth getting this nervous for, like a big exam or a career-changing game. But instead, he’s sweating like a sinner through his clothes and fidgeting like an unruly toddler all because he’s somehow been invited to tag along to group karaoke with you. 

You, the oblivious recipient of his hopeless affections for what felt like a lifetime to him. He can never tell what you’re thinking, but you look nothing short of radiant as you flip through the worn down catalogue, tongue caught in between your lips in concentration as you carefully scan the song offerings for the perfect tune to showcase your upcoming performance.

It’s so dumb. You’re smart and kind and so patient with him, whereas he feels like a newborn puppy tripping over his own feet in a futile attempt to endear himself to you. Knowing his luck, he’ll be in the midst of trying to blow you away with his singing skills only for the audio to cut off or for his pants to fall down in the middle of the song or for his voice to break like he’s a teenager hitting puberty for the first time or drop his mic and accidentally blow the speakers out-

“‘Jiro-,” a gentle voice rouses him from his nonstop worrying. “Are you listening to me?”

He gasps dramatically as he jolts to life, practically jumping in his seat, only to be scared out of his wits again when he realizes that your face is nothing more than a breath away from his. Any closer and you’d be physically touching him. The tension suddenly roots itself in the room’s atmosphere, and Nanase thinks he might be actually setting a world record for the universe’s fastest heart rate in that instant. 

The karaoke room’s lights flutter all throughout the enclosed space’s walls like the light of many stars holding their breath in anticipation, and judging from the excited murmurs of his observant friends, your close proximity doesn’t go unnoticed. They are absolutely going to tease him to hell later for his horrendous crush on you.

“D-Did you ask me something?” He blinks up at you, his widened eyes the size of saucers. You swear you might be able to make out your reflection in his irises if it weren’t for how dim the room was. 

You expectantly hold out a second mic. He takes it gingerly, clueless, only for realization to dawn on his innocent face when you also hold your hand out to him. You beam towards the lovestruck boy as a vibrant blush claims his face. 

“I’m in the mood for a love song, Nijiro,” you offer. “So why don’t you join me for a duet?”

MICHAEL KAISER!

fetish: faces twisted in despair

Kaiser lives for the thrill of uprooting those underneath him, a cruel grin stretching out across his face as the rush hits his brain. There’s something about seeing his opponents and teammates alike with tears smeared across their eyes, their cries echoing in his eardrums as they cursed and spat his name, becoming the perfect tyrannical villain in those nobodies’ eyes. 

It’s a bit different when it comes to you. As much as he hates to admit it, he hates the thought of you being so sad that your face contorts the same way those trampled athletes once did. But there’s something cute about you when you get frustrated or fed up with something minor: being unable to open a tough jar, accidentally dropping part of your food on the floor, or keeping up with his constant teasing.

“What’s with the long face, darling?” His voice is sickeningly sweet as he wraps an arm around your waist. He yanks at your body, trying to sidle closer to where you’re sitting on the couch. You’re adorable, he can’t help but think, with your arms crossed firmly over your chest. You’re practically glowering at him, and your soft lips are stuck out in a solid pout. 

If you weren’t so mad, Kaiser would have bet on his luck and tried to swipe a kiss from you. But he knows all that’s going to net for him is the cold shoulder and you getting even more mad at him, so he’s left to try and appease you in other ways.

“Is teasing me that fun, Mihya?” You huff. Unlike his saccharine words, your tone is laced to the bone with poison. But he likes that part about you too. He just loves getting a rise out of you and watching the way you react to him, and he loves knowing that he has the power to get under your skin and drive you insane every single minute you spend with him. It’s just so much fun, and knowing that he can find a place in your everyday life like some kind of clingy parasite brings him as much pleasure as striking down his challengers does. 

The nefarious grin on his face only grows as he makes himself comfortable right next to you. Both of his arms are now wrapped snugly around you, pushing your form against his toned chest. You can feel his breath fan out against the shell of your ear, and you fight the shudder that runs down your spine.

“Oh, I think it’s the best. You’re just so irresistible when you’re mad at me.” One arm moves from your waist, and his hand squeezes at your cheeks. “Look at you, darling! Look at how cute you are! You’re the best when you’re pissed at me.”

“You’re the worst!” You grit your teeth, mustering up all your strength to wrench your face out of his hand. He lets out a loud laugh as you turn away from him fully. That face of yours, twisted into your own form of despair, is too good for him to pass up.

x

[mikiruie]

the insane urge i have to write a million manshine city trio fics rn is unbelievable

[mikiruie]

MANSAE!

dating nanase hcs

gender neutral reader

Nanase has to be one of the cutest boyfriends you could ever have. He’s so excited and enthusiastic about being with you that he sometimes forgets how to be a person. But he’s so cute about it, it doesn’t come off as cringy or inexperienced. You’re the first lover he’s ever had, so Nanase’s not only super nervous about being the best boyfriend he can be but also over the moon about the fact that the person he’s idolized for so long actually returns his feelings! He treats you like nothing short of royalty, practically jumping out of his seat whenever you need anything or running up to your side whenever you open your mouth.

Your dates consist mostly of commonplace little outings! He loves taking you to the mall and walking around, getting excited at all the cute couple sets in clothing stores and whatnot. He practically gets on his knees to beg you to try them on with him, and he gets so flustered at the fact that you two are wearing matching clothes that he comes up as red as a tomato in the pictures you snagged. Otherwise, he’ll invite you out to movies and spend the entire film mustering up the courage to hold your hand, cheering inwardly to himself when he finally slips his fingers in between yours. Then he’ll proceed to panic for the rest of the movie over whether or not his hands are too sweaty for you.

Nanase absolutely insists on walking you home no matter how early or late in the day it is. He complains that the way home is too short and that he wishes it was longer just so he can spend more time with you! But not to worry, he perks up when you bring up the prospect of another date soon, and he’ll get so hyped that he’ll start tripping over his own words. Don’t forget to give him a kiss as thanks for the fun date, or he’ll end up being even more clingy the next time you meet. 

The other Blue Lock boys have a total BLAST teasing Nanase. They’ll pester him for all sorts of details just so they can make fun of him for getting all blushy, and some of them will even pretend to wipe fake tears and moan that “their baby is all grown up!” Jokes aside though, everyone is happy that Nanase finally has someone that matches his positive energy, and the moment he needs advice with anything, they’re all lining up to give their two cents and make sure he’s as prepared as he can be! They probably did the cliché thing where they stalk some of his dates in shitty costumes just to see how things actually pan out between the two of you.

Nanase most definitely blows up your phone with messages. The moment he misses you, he’s nearly sobbing to you over text about how he wishes he could hold you and kiss you followed by thirteen messages about how he’s sorry for being so clingy but he still really, really wishes you were there with him! He’ll also send you any funny videos or posts he sees that he thinks you’d like, or even cute pictures of some stray cats cuddling with the caption “c’mon, even the cats are cuddling today :( we should be doing that too!” He most definitely has the biggest grin on his face whenever he’s texting you, and thanks to that, everyone knows when he’s texting you just from how lovestruck he looks.

He sometimes shyly gives you a few of his jerseys in hopes that you’ll wear it to his games and whatnot. He gets embarrassed at the thought of outright asking you, so he tends to beat around the bush a little. He knows he’s not the best player within Blue Lock, but you have full faith in him that he has the skill to rise to the top. Nothing would make him prouder than going out to a game and seeing you happily cheering him on in the stands, with his name blazoned onto the back of the jersey you’re wearing. He promises himself he’ll work up the guts to properly ask you to wear them someday, but until then, you’ll have to do your best to pick up the small hints he drops.

Nanase knows he’s getting way too ahead of himself, but he swears he’s ready to marry you right there and then whenever he sees you. He still can’t believe how he got someone so perfect to agree to date him, and he thanks his lucky stars that you adore him as much as he dotes on you! He’ll roll around on his bed with his cheeks the same color as a fire truck as he thinks about all the special things he’s gonna do with you and how much happier his life is now that you’ve taken up a big portion of his day-to-day life. You’re easily the best thing (and person) that could have walked into his life, and Nanase will do his best to make sure you know it well. 

“I could barely sleep because I was looking forward to our date! Don’t worry, I’m fine, I promise! I’m so happy I get to see you again! Is there something you have in mind to do today? If not, I know a suuuuuuuper yummy place where we can get some food! Here, I’ll take you there. My treat, as always!”

Keep reading

[mikiruie]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° what's meant to be will always find a way

( nanase nijiro x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — for my new childhood friends to lovers series :)

♡ word count — 1.9k

♡ content — nanase nijiro x fem! reader, fem! reader, coach's daughter! reader, reader's dad has been nanase's soccer coach basically his whole life, secret relationship, goes from when they're 8 to the U-20 game, let's pretend nanase played a bit in the U-20 game

♡ synopsis — All Nanase Nijirou ever wanted was to prove himself. Not just as a player but as the person who would always be worthy of your love.

Nanase Nijiro met you when he was just eight years old, all knobby knees and a crooked grin that didn’t quite match his quiet personality. Your dad was his little league soccer coach, and from the moment Nanase joined the team, your father’s voice seemed to boom louder whenever Nanase was around.

“This kid’s got potential,” your dad had said once, hands on his hips as he watched Nanase run drills. You were sitting nearby on the sidelines, clipboard balanced on your lap, dutifully helping keep score or jotting down notes like the perfect assistant.

Nanase thought you were intimidating, standing there like a miniature version of your father—sharp-eyed, quiet, and serious. He tried his best to avoid you at first, focusing on impressing the coach instead.

But fate had other plans.

During one particularly intense practice, Nanase tripped over the ball, tumbling hard onto the ground. The sting of scraped knees bit into his skin, and dirt clung to the fresh wounds. He bit back tears, willing himself to get back up before anyone noticed.

“Shake it off, Nanase!” your dad barked from across the field.

Before he could, though, you were already walking toward him, first-aid kit in hand.

“Sit down,” you ordered gently, kneeling beside him.

Nanase froze, unsure of what to say as you cleaned the dirt from his knees with an alcohol wipe. He flinched at the sting but tried to hide it, not wanting to seem weak in front of you.

“It’s not that bad,” he muttered.

You glanced up at him, unimpressed. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t play if you’re bleeding all over the field.”

Your hands worked quickly, applying bright, colorful bandages to his scraped knees. When you finished, you gave him a small smile.

“There. Now you’re good as new.”

Something shifted in that moment. Nanase stared at you, wide-eyed, as if seeing you for the first time. You weren’t as scary as he thought—just kind.

From then on, Nanase couldn’t help but gravitate toward you. During water breaks, he’d wander over to the sidelines, chatting with you about school, soccer, or whatever came to mind. He wasn’t naturally talkative, but around you, the words came easily.

You teased him about his growing habit. “You know, you’re supposed to practice during practice, right?”

“I’m taking a break,” he’d say, grinning sheepishly.

Somewhere between bandaged knees and quiet conversations, a friendship bloomed.

By the time you both reached junior high, you and Nanase were inseparable. He still played under your dad’s coaching, but now the practices were more intense, the stakes higher. Your dad pushed Nanase harder than ever, singling him out during drills and yelling at him to work harder.

“He’s only like this because he believes in you,” you’d remind Nanase after practice when he dragged himself to the bleachers, exhausted.

“I know,” he’d reply, his smile a little strained. “Doesn’t make it easier, though.”

You’d sit together for a while, watching the sunset paint the sky orange and pink. Sometimes, he’d lean over to peek at your notebook, curious about what you were sketching or writing.

“What’s this?” he’d ask, pointing at one of your doodles.

“Nothing important,” you’d say, closing the notebook quickly, but he’d grin, knowing you didn’t actually mind his nosiness.

By the time you both hit your final year of junior high, the lines of friendship had blurred into something more. It wasn’t sudden—more like a slow, inevitable shift. Lingering touches, the way his eyes lingered on you longer than before, the flutter in your chest when he smiled at you.

One evening after practice, while the rest of the team was packing up, Nanase pulled you aside behind the equipment shed.

“I, uh…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You tilted your head, curious. “What is it?”

“I like you,” he blurted out, his face red as he looked at the ground. “Like, really like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could overthink it, you leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I like you too,” you admitted softly, your face just as red as his.

That was how it started—your quiet, secret relationship.

Nanase respected your dad, a lot actually, but what your dad didn’t know was that Nanase had kissed you behind the equipment shed before almost every practice.

High school came with its own challenges. Your dad, still Nanase’s coach, watched him like a hawk.

“If you’re friends with my daughter, that’s fine,” your dad told him one day after practice, his tone firm. “But no dating. Got it?”

Nanase nodded obediently, but behind closed doors, nothing changed. If anything, your relationship only deepened.

One night during a particularly bad storm, you heard a faint tapping at your window. Nervously, you peeked out and saw Nanase standing there, drenched from head to toe.

“What are you doing?!” you whispered harshly as you opened the window, helping him climb inside.

“I figured you’d be scared,” he said, dripping water onto your floor.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as you tossed him a towel. “You’re insane, you know that?”

He changed into the spare clothes you kept hidden for him, and the two of you curled up under your blankets. When the thunder roared, you gripped his arm tightly, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

By morning, the storm had passed, but the real trouble came when your dad knocked on your door.

“Sweetie?” he called, opening the door before you could answer.

You stood by your closet, your face burning red. “H-Hi, Dad!”

He frowned. “You’re all sweaty. You sick?”

“Nope! Just… couldn’t sleep because of the storm,” you stammered.

He nodded, eyeing you for a moment before leaving. The second the door shut, you opened your closet, and Nanase tumbled out, laughing quietly.

“You gotta go,” you whispered, trying not to laugh yourself.

Nanase grinned, leaning down to kiss you. “I love you. See you at school.”

When the Blue Lock letter arrived, you were sitting on Nanase’s bed, textbooks spread out as you studied together.

He opened the envelope, his eyes widening as he read the words.

“What is it?” you asked, sitting up straighter.

He handed you the letter, and your jaw dropped. “Nanase, this is amazing!”

But he didn’t look as thrilled as you expected.

“What about you?” he asked quietly. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Your excitement faltered as the reality hit you. If he went, things would change.

“Oh,” you murmured.

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” he said quickly, his voice filled with worry.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “Don’t be stupid. This is your dream.”

“It’s not worth it if I lose you,” he whispered, his fingers brushing yours.

“You won’t,” you promised, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Blue Lock was unlike anything Nanase had ever experienced. The training was brutal, the pressure relentless, and the competition cutthroat. Yet, through all of it, he never took off the bracelet you made for him before he left—a simple cord with your favorite colors braided together.

At first, no one noticed it. But one day in the locker room, one of his teammates, a tall striker with a loud mouth and a knack for teasing, spotted it while Nanase was getting changed.

“Yo, Nanase,” the striker said, pointing at his wrist. “What’s with the bracelet? Got a girlfriend or something?”

Nanase froze for a moment, caught off guard. “Uh…”

The striker grinned, sensing an opportunity. “Oh, you do have a girlfriend. What, did she make that for you? That’s cute.”

Nanase turned red, instinctively pulling his wrist close to his chest. “It’s none of your business,” he mumbled.

But the striker wasn’t letting up. “Come on, man. Don’t be shy. What’s the deal? Is it like a good luck charm or something?”

Nanase tried to ignore him, but the teasing continued. Finally, something snapped.

“Yeah, she made it for me,” Nanase said, his voice louder than usual. “She spent hours on it, making sure it was perfect, even though I told her she didn’t have to. She’s the most supportive person I’ve ever known. She’s been there for me since we were kids—every practice, every game, cheering me on, even when I didn’t believe in myself. This bracelet reminds me of her and everything I’m fighting for here. So yeah, it’s important to me. You got a problem with that?”

The locker room went silent.

The striker blinked, stunned by the outburst, before muttering, “Damn, man. I wish I hadn’t asked.”

Nanase sighed, his face burning, but he didn’t regret a single word. Later that night, as he lay in his bunk, he twisted the bracelet around his wrist, a small smile tugging at his lips. Thinking of you gave him strength.

The U-20 match was the biggest stage Nanase had ever stepped onto. The stadium lights burned bright, illuminating the field where some of the best players in the country were battling it out. Nanase’s heart raced as he stood on the sidelines, watching the chaos unfold.

He didn’t get much playing time, and deep down, he felt a pang of disappointment. He wanted to prove himself—not just to the world but to you, the one who had always believed in him.

When the coach finally called his name, his pulse quickened. He stepped onto the field, taking his position.

The match was intense, every second a blur of movement, strategy, and noise. Nanase didn’t score a goal, but he played his heart out, assisting a crucial pass that led to one. The crowd roared, and though it wasn’t his name they were chanting, he felt a surge of pride.

When the final whistle blew, signaling Blue Lock’s victory, he stood on the field, chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly faded.

And then he saw you.

You were running onto the field, weaving through the crowd of players until you reached him. Without a second thought, you threw your arms around him, holding him tightly.

“You were amazing,” you said, your voice filled with pride.

Nanase hesitated. “I didn’t do much,” he said quietly, his eyes downcast. “I wasn’t even on the field for most of it.”

You pulled back, your hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t say that. You made a difference. You played your heart out. That’s what matters.”

He smiled, a little sheepishly, but his chest felt lighter.

“Nanase.”

The sound of your dad’s voice made both of you freeze. You turned, seeing him standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

“Sir,” Nanase said quickly, stepping back from you. “I’m glad you came.”

Your dad didn’t say anything at first, just stared at the two of you. Finally, he spoke. “I’m not stupid, boy.”

Nanase swallowed hard.

“But,” your dad continued, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “you’ve made me proud today. Just don’t forget what I said—don’t hurt her.”

Nanase nodded quickly, relief flooding his face. “I won’t. I promise.”

Your dad gave a short nod before walking away, leaving the two of you standing there.

Nanase turned to you, his hand finding yours. “Did that just happen?”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “I think he’s finally on your side.”

Nanase smiled, his heart swelling with gratitude and love. He might not have been the star of the match, but to you—and now, apparently, to your dad—he was more than enough.

As you walked off the field together, the stadium lights casting long shadows, Nanase tightened his grip on your hand, silently vowing to keep proving himself—not just as a player but as the person who would always be worthy of your love.

idc if he's underrated, i will write for him til the cows come home

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[mikiruie]

sometimes i feel like my writing is filled with too much purple prose and that’s why my fics end up overly long and detailed, tho i don’t rlly like writing shorter more simplistic fics cuz they feel too flat to me 😞

[mikiruie]

KOZUME KENMA hates playing online games with other people.

sure, he has his 'team' that he regularly plays with online—but it's not anybody he knows. he'd never even let kuroo or yaku play with him, much less lev. his team had given up asking already, knowing the answer before kenma would even open his mouth.

his excuse? that they would drag him down.

"i actually take this seriously," he would say.

so when you started dating, you never bothered to ask him to play.

it's not like you didn't want to; you would like nothing more than to know what kenma liked, what made him click. but after countless warnings from kuroo, you decided against it.

until the day you stayed over at kenma's.

when he walked over to the tv and picked up his console after dinner, you'd assumed he wanted to play alone.

but then—

"y/n?"

it was so quiet you'd sworn it was your imagination.

"yes, kenma?"

"would you like to play with me?"

internally, you were gloating at kuroo.

"i'd love to."

he's surprisingly patient when he teaches you the game. from what you'd heard, you were half-scared that he might find your lack of skill in the game awful. you were scared he might give up.

but he doesn't.

he leads you through every step of the game, and even though the progress is slow, he swears it's the most fun he's ever had playing a game.

and the next morning, when his parents see the two of you asleep in front of a still-on tv, they can't help but laugh.

hq m.list | gen m.list

[mikiruie]

not now kitten, daddy has to write strange self indulgent fan fiction.

[mikiruie]

what? i’m an angel!

── RANZE KURONA ﹕ 黒名 蘭世 ┊͙ BLUE LOCK ✩

  ❤︎   fem!reader. fluff + suggestive — mdni. skater!au. u-20!ensemble cameos. aged up kurona ( 19 ). established relationship. childhood friends -> lovers. bitemarks + hickies. making out. implied / referenced sex. referenced alcohol / drinking. petnames ( baby, angel, cutie, etc ) word count 7256 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ masterlist

( June 23 — 18:05 )

The familiar graffiti that lines the inner walls of your town’s skate rink has become a second home to you. Not because you skate though, roller blading is way more of your thing anyways as opposed to grinding rails on a board. However, it is very cool to watch.

Many a skater have left their mark on this park and bowl, evident from almost every square inch of its concrete surface having been painted on with spray cans, brushes and splatters of all shapes, sizes and colours. In some places you can even make out the faint brush strokes from decades ago that have now been permanently etched into the creations themselves.

The majority of the once new artistry and its lustre has faded over the years, yes— the colours that used to be brilliantly blinding hues of blue and green are now dulled and grey in tune with the concrete that surrounds it, not as vibrant as some of the much more recent artwork that has been laid down in the last few years by much more professional artists rather than the bored, rebellious teenagers in the bleak early hours of the morning from years past.

Though despite that, much of the original murals and wonderful lettering has still withstood the test of time itself. The bubble words are still completely legible after all these years in spite of hundreds of boards and wheels having skid and worn down the paint layers over time, and you have no doubt that a few particularly artistic individuals in your neighbourhood are definitely coming here to this rinky dink skate rink every so often to relay a fresh coat of paint in the old work’s place— possibly drawing on some even more legally questionable graffiti on while they were at it if you really thought hard enough.

This rink in particular was built for your small city with a population of less than a hundred thousand residents probably somewhere around the late 90’s, so around thirty or forty something years give or take has it been a sanctuary for skaters of several generations. A safe space for the little community that had formed over the many years, grown and passed down to the current generation for them to gather and have a late night skate sesh whenever they desired as the sun set just behind the patch of trees in the distance.

Nobody was barred from the skate park, even if you weren’t necessarily a skater yourself. Which is why you were perfectly content with having your legs hanging off the lip of the rink’s edge as you admired the artwork in it’s hull several feet below you, not needing to worry about someone kicking you out for hogging up the space that was meant for the “real skaters” to use.

At first it was scary hanging around the rink by yourself. For one, it’s pretty deep— nearly half the depth of the average backyard pool. And two, because you didn’t skateboard, though you quickly learned that sliding down the concrete dip is a lot of fun all on it’s own and that the users of your local rink didn’t care whether you actually skated or not.

In fact, they encouraged anybody to come and use the rink whenever and however they pleased, skater or not as long just as long as they didn’t vandalize the equipment the skaters used for their tricks like the rails and ramps, or damage the rink’s artwork. They even let beginner skaters use the bowl to their will as they learned how to master the art of the board, and many of the older and more experienced skaters were well known as go-to’s for skating advice as a newbie.

It was a good thing that this rink was inclusive to others, and especially to beginners. Oftentimes you’d see the regular skaters of the neighbourhood swing by, board tucked neatly underneath one arm with a younger sibling’s hand held in the other.

The smaller child would usually be decked out head to toe in safety gear too; a thick helmet with foam padding on the inside, knee and shoulder pads that were almost the size of their entire forearms, mostly forgotten about hand guards, the whole shabang— with all of their gear so obviously being hand-me-downs from their cool older brother or cousin who had either grown out of the sport or had gotten better equipment as the years passed.

It wasn’t unusual for children to play in the park nearby on their scooters or when just starting out how to roller skate or blade. It was closer in proximity to the local elementary school and had more surface area to ride around on after all. Though the really daring kids (or the ones that just pestered their older siblings enough) would be brought to the fifteen feet deep skate rink just a short five minute walk away, dragging their scooters along or slowly skating their way over hand in hand with their authority figure.

You sat and watched as they slowly eased into the rink, allowing themselves time to mentally prepare as they took their first deep in on their boards even if they were scared shitless. You’d always give an encouraging cheer of applause, paired with a megawatt smile and an accompanying encouraging compliment to go along with it.

“Wow! You’re so good,” or a “You’re much better with your skates than I was at your age, don’t worry,” you’d always tell them with a light hearted chuckle. It was heartwarming seeing the burning determination and passion that each skater, new and old, held in their eyes as they practiced for the first or the thousandth-time on the rink, and it was especially evident in the younger, beginner skaters.

A few groups come and go, but since the sun is setting the majority of the ones with younger kids in tow don’t stay long. You wave each group goodbye as they go about their merry way after their own sessions, and close your eyes as you take in the surrounding tranquility of the skate park’s sounds.

The timid rustling of tree leaves, occasional chirping of crickets in the bushes, and a melody carried by the wing’s song as it chimes all throughout the air around you.

You take it all in slowly, allowing yourself to still to a halt as you sink yourself into nature’s own symphony. You do enjoy the lively chatter of the bustling skating community despite not being a true member, but a moment of silence every now and again is welcome too.

The weather today is great for skateboarding, and as always earlier in the day you had spotted tons of them in this exact rink, socializing and enjoying the start of the summer months. Many came again with siblings of their own as they took advantage of school being out for the year and the clear blue skies to teach the younger ones a thing or two in skating.

Though now, the skate rink is unusually empty. You find it to be a little odd considering that this time of day is what many of the skaters in your area’s called the prime meeting window for a skate sesh, one that isn’t too late but not too early.

Even with the setting sun, it’s still quite hot outside. As expected though during the summer season.

The last handful of the rink’s regulars have already left by now, you overheard in passing conversation with their group that they headed to the Lawson down the street, leaving you alone to your whims as a brisk summer breeze sweeps by to cool your body’s steadily rising temperature.

The wind sends a shiver up your spine as it flies with ease through your baggy, lightweight clothes. It’s not the kind of a shudder you’d get from an artificially made breeze or flurry. Instead it’s a soothing, refreshing one. Your hand reaches involuntarily to rub at your exposed forearms to warm you back up, and you feel goosebumps form along the surface of your skin from the evening air’s chilly wisps.

You click the heels of your sneakers together in boredom. Tongue in cheek, you take notice of a shadow that creeps up from behind you. Though rather than being terrified, you’re filled with giddy excitement inside.

A dark green corduroy jacket soon floats down onto your shoulders and drapes over your figure, warming the sides of your arms back up again as the familiar scent of strawberries embedded within the fibers takes over your senses almost instantaneously, filling your mind and body as you take a deep inhale, being unable to help the cheesy grin that quickly spreads across your face upon recognition of the clothing’s owner.

“Ranze!”

Your boyfriend drops down on the rink’s edge right beside you, settling by your side and slugging an arm over your shoulder to pull you in closer, and you press your face into his chest with a content hum.

The scent of clean soap and shampoo still clinging to his hair mixes with the already overwhelming and intoxicating aroma of honey mixed in with the laundry detergent he uses (that he knows you love so much) from his jacket as you snuggle into the frame of his chest, squishing your cheek against his toned arm in glee.

“Where have you been, baby?” You ask, adding a playful pout and the drawl of a whine towards the end of your question. “Been waiting forever, y’know.”

Your boyfriend hums in response, the setting sun’s orange hues turn his ashy-pink hair to a more auburn burnt sunsietta. You notice that he took out the braid he usually does on the left side of his hair that he keeps in for skateboarding from earlier.

“Shower, shower. I went to go shower after the sesh,” a soft kiss is planted on the crown of your forehead at his words, “Didn’t want angel to hug me after I skated for three hours straight.”

Ranze skates a lot.

When you were both children he actually didn’t know how to skateboard. He instead picked up rollerblading around the same time as you did when you were both seven, doing weekend laps around your little cul de sac before ending the day off with a sweet treat from the convenience store.

And when you got to high school, Ranze mainly switched over to skateboarding, though if you asked he would still be down to rollerblade with you during the weekends, even if he was slightly rusty now.

The change seemed a little out of the blue at first, though it wasn’t until a few months ago that he admitted (shyly, might you add, and on video caught by his skater pals while he was drunk) that he had done so because he thought that you’d find him cooler if he knew how to skateboard.

While the reason was a silly attempt to impress you, ultimately you’re glad that he decided to pick up the hobby. Ranze, the boy you had known since childhood to be quite reserved and somewhat reclusive around others, soon found solace in the little skating community of your neighbourhood after he had made his first trip to the rink the same day he purchased his first skateboard, resulting in him opening up to others and gaining a whole new friend group whose bond was held together by the glue that was their love for late night skating.

Since getting together, you had met the lot of them on numerous occasions. They all got together regularly, normally during sunrise to hang out and skate to their heart’s content. They were nice people, and overall you were just relieved to find out that Ranze wasn’t fraternizing with any bad people.

They were welcoming, not judging your lack of skating expertise and instead asking you more about rollerblading when you found out a couple of them did skate or rollerblade as well when they were grinding or doing kickflips off the skate park’s stairs.

The guy who oddly reminded you of a honey bee due to his blond highlights (who also told you, very proudly, that he did them himself with help from his mom) actually asked if you could bring your skates to the next sesh, he’d bring his too so the two of you could skate together.

Needless to say, you spent a long time digging through your closet for those skates that night.

The group knew you. To them, you were Ranze’s girl, the girl he had known since before he could walk and who liked to sit back and watch her boyfriend do tricks with his friends at the rink late into the night.

And that special title of being Ranze’s girlfriend makes your chest feel heavy with wistful desire, your heart sing joyfully, and your normally polite and reserved smile stretch ear to ear in both appreciation and happiness.

Ranze’s friends learned two things the day he swung around with you hanging off his arm, unable to pull away like stickly sweet tree sap unless it was to watch him skate to his heart’s content in the park’s bowl.

One, You adore Ranze. And two, Ranze adores you.

“Aw, but you know I don’t mind, sweet boy . . .”

You blow a puff of hot air into the cusp of his ear to tease, and when he threatens to reel himself away from you with a loud whine you cling to him even more, watching as he hides his reddened face into the sleeve of his cotton weaved sweater with a satisfied grin.

“Ranze,” you call for him again, with a voice that teeters on the edge of seduction and playfulness. Even with his averted eyes you know he was all ears from the way his head perked up slightly at the sound of your voice,

Your boyfriend really likes the way you say his name.

Whenever you say it, it forces your mouth to break out into a big, toothy grin, something he always loves to see from you. Neither of you tend to smile with your teeth very often for differing reasons— Ranze for his subconscious insecurity of his jagged, shark-like enamel that stemmed from his childhood of dealing with his braces riddled crooked teeth, and you for never liking the way your smile comes out looking in photos or videos, no matter how many times you practiced in the mirror or tried to come to love it on it’s own terms.

Every childhood photo of the two of you is remembered with a closed mouth, simmered smile. Friends, family, schoolmates, they were greeted by it all the same.

But in only the pictures where it's the two of you together, you're both beaming brilliantly in each other’s presence. It became more apparent to him when you began dating, how your carefree cackles and open mouthed smiled were reserved for him, and him alone in the comfort of one another.

“Hm . . .”

Overcome with cuteness aggression, Ranze settles for simply pinching your cheek gently as a means to reprimand you. Not enough for it to hurt, but it definitely feels ticklish. You squirm around in his hold, hand clasped around his as you try to pry his hand off, the skin of your face only stinging lightly when he lets go.

“No, no. You wouldn’t like me when I’m all sweaty, angel,” he insists stubbornly, and you pout at that.

“You don’t smell that bad when you sweat, baby.”

He simply shrugs, letting his head rest atop yours, warm hand intertwining with your own. The cuticles at the ends of his fingers are dry and cracked from his incessant picking, despite your pleas and pouts for him to stop that god awful habit. “Reo told me I do, though.”

You playfully gasp at that sentiment. “Well he’s wrong!” You declare loudly, and Ranze is a bit taken aback, raising a brow at you quizzically.

“Why are you so hung up on this, angel?” He asks curiously, biting the inside of his cheek and tilting his head like a confused puppy. “Is there something wrong with me taking a shower?”

Giggling at his naivety, your grip on his forearm becomes tighter as you snuggle further into his hold, scooching closer to his side. The concrete scrapes at your denim shorts, fraying the hem as the frost-bitten air sweeps its way up the jacket that Ranze has pulled around your frame.

“No,” you shake your head affirmatively with a longing smile, “‘just . . . wanted to see you sooner.”

Your gaze drifts downwards while speaking, flickering from the skin between his eyes, down the slope of his nose and settling on his lightly chapped lips with a low timber in your voice. A chill nips at your heart, yearning to pull yourself closer into his embrace— itching for him to hold you tight as your thighs squeeze together in want.

A strained whimper of his name reaches his ears faintly, although muffled by the sleeve of his sweater. He leans down to your level, acting as if he didn’t hear you clearly enough as he holds your gaze with his own.

“Yeah, angel?”

Another whine rips from the back of your throat at that beloved pet name of yours, lips pushing out into a pout. Glossy and inviting, his mind wanders to endless nights that start with both of you tangled in messy sheets, where your lips become swollen and chapped by the time the sun rises, and he wonders if you’re really the angel he makes you out to be to his friends.

There’s a stark change in the air around the both of you, and Ranze seems to notice the shift in your demeanor too. He can tell from the way you press his arm further into the cleavage of your loosely form fitting shirt, tempting him to take a peek down past your nude coloured bra. Whether intentional or not, he inhales sharply at the sensation of your plush breasts pressed flush against his arm, separated only by the flimsy fabric of the home-tee you threw on without second thought before running over here and the jacket he gave you earlier.

Ranze knows that look in your eyes. Sultry without intending to be, when you avoid looking directly at him to save face but your body gives away your desires without a hint of a lie laced in your actions.

You do this all the time, pretending to be innocent and shying away in order to not be the one making the first move. He knows you want him to be the one to lead you into a kiss first, to take the lead more often because you enjoy the feeling of him taking charge even if the other ninety-percent of the time in the relationship you’re the one who holds the reigns.

So, he listens to your silent pleas, your unspoken cravings for his touch by crashing his lips into yours first. The startled squeak that erupts out of your throat slowly melts away, turning into pleased hums and indulgent murmurs as a satisfied smile settles on your face.

This song and dance is familiar to the both of you. You lead him right into the palm of your hands with fleeting touches and honeyed words of affection in order to get what you want. And it works like a charm without fail, lending it’s 100% success rate to the way that Ranze always manages to find himself succumbing to your whims and pleas each time as he carves his affections for you deep into his heart with each makeout you goad him into.

And despite being the first to initiate this time, Ranze lets you set and control the pace at your own will. Even though he’s definitely more assertive now than from earlier in the relationship, you’re still the one in control. He follows obediently, unwavering.

Not that it bothers you greatly, since it means that you get to have a little extra fun with him on top of that.

“Did you— mm, have to sneak out again?” you giggle in between kisses, tugging on the dog tag of his chain necklace to pull him in closer. Ranze lets out a sound akin to a groan, still too entranced in the kiss but audibly embarrassed by the desperation in his tone.

“No . . .” he admits reluctantly, pulling away from your lips momentarily to catch his breath. His chest rises and falls in sync with yours in a rhythm, perpetual and gentle just like him. “I snuck out again to see you.”

You scoff, biting the bottom of your lip to subside the giggle that nearly makes it’s way up your throat.

“Wow, okay you rebel,” you quip as a joke. “Your parents are gonna get mad at you again if you keep doing it.”

“Then stop making me want to see you all the time . . .” His pout deepens at your teasing, followed by a beautiful red blush that crawls its way up his neck and spreads across his cheeks. It’s so boyish the way he tries his best to conceal as much of it as he can, averting his gaze and bringing the sleeve of his shirt up to his face to hide behind.

You sit back satisfied as you dwell in the giddiness of the moment while you let him calm down his racing heart. Sometimes you have to resist grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him around like a chew toy. He gets so easily flustered when being teased by you, something his skater friends were quick to catch on to and poke fun of after having you hang around with their group for a few skate seshs so they could “see what Ranze’s girl was like.”

(“His eyes never leave you when he skates!” Isagi had huffed once while on a convenience store run with you, as the two of you purchased slushies and boxes of candy at the nearby 7/11 for the rest of the group. “I swear, he’s going to break his head open one day just because you’re watching him.”

You simply giggle at the observation, keen and intrigued about your boyfriend’s habits. “Is that true?” You ask him, the three extra large, overflowing slurpees in your arms starting to numb the bare skin they touched.

Isagi sighs, shaking his head. “Well, yeah. But we want you to stick around.”

“You’re good for Ranze, so it’d be a shame if you stopping coming around.”)

His flustered face is adorable you think as his sleeve drops and his lips draw closer to yours, the warmth from his breath ghosting over your lips invitingly. The hot air of both your breaths mixes with each other, and you can still make out a light pink reminiscent of his roaring blush from earlier that still dusts his cheeks.

The only difference now is that his eyes are more narrowed, glazed over and darkened with desire that swirls in his eyes— and a deep sense of want pools inside your tummy at the dreamy sight.

“And who made me like this, angel?”

The delicate skin around your lips is swollen now from his work as he tries not to bite down too hard on the fragile skin, cautious to not accidentally cause you to bleed with his sharpened teeth.

It’s happened before, you still remember the horrified look on his face when he pulled back and all he saw on your lips was scarlet red blood, the colour draining from his face before you knew what was happening as he quickly puller out a box of tissues from his bedside drawer.

(‘Baby, what’s wrong?’ You asked, confused at how your boyfriend’s mood could apparently flip on a dime, tongue darting out instinctually to lick away your spit before your eyes widen at the recognizable metallic taste in your mouth.

It wasn’t long until you had pulled out your phone’s camera app to check for sure, slightly surprised and maybe a little bit amused at the sight of bright red splotches staining your mouth as Ranze scrambled to grab a fistful of tissues for your bleeding lip.

“Wait— Ranze, I don’t need this many tissues!”

“Tissue, tissue!”)

The first couple of times it occurred he grew hesitant to make a move again, scared of kissing you again in fear of hurting you for a second time. His kisses for the next little while gentle and featherlight, akin to how he’d treat a priceless glass dove perched atop the mantle of his grandma’s fireplace. Meant to be out of his reach, for good reason lest he accidentally sent it tumbling to the floor, shattering it into a million pieces beneath him.

Little pecks here and there aren’t enough to satisfy you, though. They were sweet, and filled with the same innocent love he held in his heart for you that made you giggle relentlessly when you thought of him, but you simply craved more from your too timid and reserved boyfriend.

His pliancy towards you left a searing, aching fire in your heart that just couldn’t be contained, though Ranze hates to think about how he could hurt you in any capacity with his jagged enamel (and you’d hardly call a nipped lip an injury at all until you assure him that it was no big deal— slyly admitting to him that a part of you liked when he got so into the feeling of your warm mouth and pillowy lips that he bit down on the fragile skin, all while you pawed at the underside of his hoodie with a certain resolve twinkling in your eyes.

Your lips weren’t the only thing that went red that night, evidenced by the morning after you spent the night at his house while his parents were away and you woke up to a few red indentations of bite marks littering your shoulders and expanse of your skin, along with a very worried boyfriend whom you had to calm down repeatedly after he got an eyeful of the handiwork he had left on your body a few hours prior.)

Your head tilts in faux innocence and glee at his words, maintaining your facade of blissful ignorance.

“Me?”

Dusty pink gemstones for eyes sweep all along your face, studying your facial features intensely before landing on your soft, plump lips. They twitch up slightly at the ends, shiny and slick with both of your spit from earlier. Without a word, he wipes some of it’s remaining essence away with the pad of his thumb, and you pucker your lips to kiss it’s grooved surface as one final push over the edge before he tucks it under your chin swiftly.

A simmered “yeah, you” manages to barely escape past his lips before tilting your head upwards and encasing your mouth with his once more. Pleasantly surprised, you happily abide by his lead when his hand drifts to the side of your face, holding you close as the sunset behind you warms both your hearts full.

He drinks up all the delighted giggles and squeals that come from you with ease, the feel of your warm mouth molding and meshing with his own in perfect harmony. The familiar taste of strawberries on his tongue soon begins to coat yours too, and you hungrily pull him in closer by the hem of his sweater’s hoodie to taste the delicate flavour more carefully.

His hand presses lightly against your backside as he lets you reel him in further, and then there’s the sharp edges of his teeth too. You love it when he’s like this; lost in the sensation of your lips on his while still trying to keep himself in check, and while it is adorable how careful he is, you bite down on his lip as a tease, enabling him to groan into your mouth and push his limits further.

“Ranze,” you whisper his name in between kisses like a gentle melody to his ears, “Stop holding back.”

He makes a noise of dismay, muffled by you slipping your tongue into his mouth before he can protest. “Can’t, I can’t.” He surmises weakly, eyebrows knitting as he tries to pull away from your soft lips before being pulled back in by you.

You’re Ranze’s first girlfriend (and you intend to be the last, too) so everything about love he knows has been taught by you, for you.

His demeanor is akin to a little puppy who hasn’t been trained or taught any tricks yet. When you first became boyfriend & girlfriend, it was up to you to show him the ropes. Adjusting to PDA that wasn’t platonic (though honestly with him you don’t think it ever was), helping him build the courage to tell his parents you two were a thing now (they suspected it for years), and showing him what made you feel good.

It was a long winded and careful process. It felt . . . odd that the shy little boy you had known since childhood who kicked a soccer ball around with you when bored was now giving you featherlight kisses along your tummy before going down on you. It was strange that the friend who used to hide behind you in line when you corrected the cashier, saying “he asked for no pickles” was now sucking hickies so deep and noticeable onto your neck that you’d have to hide them later with thick layers of colour corrector and concealer while he muffled the sounds of your moans with two fingers slipped past your glossy lips.

It was scary knowing that the bite marks that littered and tainted the surface of your once untouched and smooth skin had been caused by the same guy who had practically pleaded with you to come with him to the pet store to buy a new pet once his parents had finally relented and given him permission. That same innocently delighted gaze you had grown to know and love through the years, one that filled with glee when he first laid eyes on a cute little hedgehog in the shop’s window now looked up at you, his eyes now hazed and clouded over with lust while he sucked on your clit like a baby to it’s bottle until you let out a loud, hiccupy cry as you came all over his tongue.

He keened into your perverted fantasies wordlessly without question or fear, letting you take him by the hand and dive head first into a scary new world of firsts that neither of you had ever experienced or encountered before.

Your first kiss? Stolen by him at the doorstep of your home after your first date, granted it was just a quick peck on the lips. His first time? Gave his virginity to you on his 18th birthday when he nervously admitted that was all he wanted as his present (and damn, you did not disappoint).

Everything is all so new, so raw to him. And he wants to experience as many new firsts as he can with you. So he’ll let you have his way with him, let you prod and poke around to test what he’s comfortable with.

And though he’s still a little hesitant each time (he still gets all nervous and red in the face if you so much as even smile at him while he’s with his friends), he’s much bolder now than he was a few months prior.

He takes control more often, something that delights you as he tries to push your lips away from his in order to bare himself from becoming too greedy, but you manage to reel him back in each time.

He knows you like it when his hand settles on your thigh when you make out, so he lets it trail downwards to hug you by the waist before letting it rest right above your shorts. Skimming the hem and threatening to slip his fingers underneath to palm at the soft, plush skin of your thighs.

Ranze knows you love when you can easily hold onto his hair when kissing, so he makes sure to guide your hand up the back of his head where he relishes in the feeling of your knuckles curling into the hair, grabbing fistfuls for your own enjoyment and pulling him closer and deeper into your embrace.

He hates to admit it but whenever you do tug a little on his hair, it turns him on just a bit.

Or maybe a whole lot if the bulge in his sweats has anything to do with it.

The sudden realization of his growing boner shocks him back into reality as he pulls away from you in a hurry out of sheer embarrassment, reeling backwards with his hands on your shoulders in the hopes that you didn’t feel the massive hard on of his that he’s now sporting against your thigh. Only this time when he detaches himself from your lips it’s a lot more forceful, pushing you away with his palms and shifting himself over to the side.

“House.” He breathes out, need dripping from his tongue. His face is flushed pink, matching the maroon in his hair. You have to resist biting his cheek from how cute he really is to you.

“House. Let’s go back to my house . . . please.”

“Sure thing, cutie.”

. . .

( August 24 — 13:35 )

Today, Ranze is out skating with his friends again. Only this time you’re not here, having a prior commitment to attend to— much to his dismay.

“Sorry, baby:((” You had texted him early this morning, this crisp, wonderful morning that he can’t share with you because you’re not with him. “My mom asked me to go grocery shopping this week, and it’s kindaa like a whole day affair so I won’t be able to see you today:( I’ll make up for it tho, kk?”

Although he responded with a heart reaction to your messages and a casual “sure. see you tmrw angel,” not being able to see you today was fucking with him in a lot more ways than he thought. Normally on the weekends he’d skate around the neighbourhood with you in tow for the majority of the day (slowly, so that you could keep up with his pace) before ending it off with a convenience store run and a quick make out on his living room couch before his parents came back home from work.

Weekends are his favourite, but with you unavailable they’re not all that special. He’s fed and watched Pocari for quite a few hours now, and even though he loves the little hedgehog he adopted with you, there’s only so many hours he can sit and watch Pocari play with his nutrition ball on the floor of his bedroom until one grows tired of it.

So when his friends call him up spontaneously asking for another skate sesh at the park later on in the afternoon, Ranze agrees almost immediately, grabbing his deck propped up against his bed and bolting out the door and down to the park in an instant.

But it’s almost like as soon as he meets up with them and instead of dipping into the bowl he sits on it’s rim and stares at the graffiti art etched into the concrete (most of it was done courtesy of Bachira) that they can tell something is . . . off today about him.

Once they realize that a certain someone isn’t hanging off his arms today is when it all clicks for them.

It feels strange not having you around for once hanging out with him and his friends at the rink. The shift in character from both Ranze and the general atmosphere of the session is obvious, and the guys try not to point out the way Ranze is obviously not putting his all into his grinds like normal.

That is until Reo pipes up.

“. . . Sooo,” he decides to be the one to break the ice first, taking a swig from the beer bottle in his hand while he makes a huge show out of searching the rink for your lack of presence. It’s quite obnoxious how he puts a hand up to his head and scans the so obviously empty skate park for any signs of life while the rest of the group laughs along.

“Where’s your angel baby, Kurona?” He muses jokingly, plopping his skateboard onto the ground right beside him. “She seems to be missing right now.”

“Don’t call her that,” Ranze merely huffs in response, barely entertaining him and his antics.

“It’s really really weird when you call her angel.”

The other guys of the group stifle a giggle as Nagi elbows the billionaire just below his rib cage before he can open his mouth again. “Can you please keep your mouth shut for once?” He drawls, and their gazes shift towards Ranze, who simply spins the wheels on the underside of his board with a complacent but distant look on his face.

“He’s acting like his girlfriend went and died,” Bachira comments cheekily with a grin, to which Kunigami nods. “Yeah, it’s a little weird. It’s not like she left the country or even city either . . .”

“Geez, man. If you’re that miserable without her here, then go hang out with her instead of us.” Chigiri quips up wittily without thinking. The other guys protest in good fun, saying “Aw, Chigiri! Don’t be so mean to him!” and “Yeah Princess, Kurona’s just missing his angel baby so much right now!” paired with loud hollers and the sounds of kissy faces being made at him (probably by Bachira, if he’s being honest).

Ranze to their shock merely lets out a dejected sigh over their jeers, much to the group’s collective astonishment.

They raise their eyebrows at him, the silence that takes over urging him to explain or at least elaborate.

“Something, something. She said she had something to do today,” is all he mutters to them, groaning “But I’m so bored, bored without her here” and resting his face in the palm of his hand, gazing at the cracked concrete underneath his feet.

His friends purse their lips in response, glancing at each other with blank expressions that simply read ‘This guy is hopeless’.

Ranze pays no attention to them, ignoring their stares quietly. He knows what they're thinking, he’s not stupid. He just doesn’t have it in him to care, not when you’re absent from his presence.

Today is windy, and Ranze doesn’t like wind. It messes up his braid and it’s always such a hassle to redo it each time, but he knows you adore windy weather, and would do anything to fix his wind whipped hair in an instant.

If you were here with him, that is.

Eventually Ranze gets up and onto his feet and dons his skateboard, in spite of the numerous jokes and mentions of you that his friends throw his way. It’s a skate park, he might as well skate. Even if you’re not there to watch him.

A few hours pass by, full of obnoxiously boyish laughter from the group as they watch their friends repeatedly attempt and fail at several trickshots. Though busted up ankles and arm rashes aren’t anything new to them, just another aspect of skating one has to become accustomed to when they dive into the sport.

When it hits noon the gang dips the park and heads down to the nearby mall for a well needed break inside a heavily conditioned space. Chomping down on their grub for awhile, they’re back out onto the streets and skating back to the park in just under two hours because Isagi really wanted to show off a new kickflip he had been practicing.

Though the hottest time of the day has since passed, mother nature is wicked in the summer. It’s only been about an hour and a half since they’ve left the mall, but the sun’s rays are relentless as it continues to blast them with continuous heat throughout the rest of their sesh.

“Man, it’s getting hot again,” Bachira begins to whine, hastily unzipping his sweater to reveal the Zico, #10 jersey he wore underneath. “I thought when the sun sets it’s supposed to get colder! Isn’t that how it works, right?”

“The sun won’t be setting for another few hours,” Chigiri comments, whacking his friend’s helmet-ed head hard with the base of his water bottle.

One by one, the other guys follow in Bachira’s lead, each taking off various pieces of clothing in order to cool off from the sweltering summer sun. Kunigami wipes the sweat from his brows away with his forearm, Nagi pulls at the collar of his shirt repeatedly to fan himself, and Chigiri settles for tying his hair up in a loose bun for more air circulation at the nape of his neck.

(Even stuffy mister “I’m too cool to skateboard” Rin Itoshi eventually starts feeling the sun’s rays beat down on his head too, flipping his hoodie up over his head with a disgruntled groan.

“Aren’t you hot in that thing?” Isagi jests lightly, and Rin scowls in response before skating off with the older boy behind him in tow.

“Piss off, Isagi.”)

The heated summer’s itch soon gets to Ranze as well, panting from the scorching sun burning down on the nape of his neck he grabs at the ends of his hoodie and yanks upwards. His braid becomes tangled as he does so, struggling to pull it off of himself after a few seconds of discomfort.

It’s only when Ranze tosses it aside and breathes out a sigh of relief as the refreshing summer breeze blows into his shirt and cools him down does his friends’ conversations come to a standstill, quite abnormal for a group of rowdy and loud teenage boys.

���Uhhh . . .”

“Should we tell him . . .?”

“Ranze,” Reo is the first to call his attention to the matter, pointing at his own neck with a grin. “You got a little, uh. Something, there.”

“What, what?”

“Look down, man.”

Ranze tugs at his shirt’s collar, and his face near bursts into flames on the spot. Large splotches of hickies dot along the fair skin of his neck’s expanse, staining it all sorts of shades from angry reds to muted purples.

“I— I . . .”

His friends begin to chortle and tease him, further smothering him in embarrassment as he desperately tries to hide the bruises when Hiori joins in. “It’s not just your neck, Ranze,” He pipes with a coy smile, motioning to the bottom of his friend’s shirt.

Pulling up the hem, Ranze gets the fright of his life.

All along the skin of his tummy, the sides of his chest and the slopes of his abdomen are fresh bites and scratches, still tender and new, left behind from the last few nights this week. And no one in the group has a single doubt in their mind on who left them on his skin— they’re not just a sign of how insanely needy you are for your boyfriend, they’re a fucking mark of possession in his friend’s eyes.

Informing them that while you may be known as ‘Ranze’s Girlfriend’ to the rest of the group, you’re really the one who wears the pants in this relationship.

“Didn’t know Ranze had it in him to be so . . . active?”

“Me, personally— I think he’s a little bitch, letting his girlfriend use him like a scratching post.”

“Damn it, angel . . .”

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[mikiruie]

VVV!

❤︎‬ kaiser isn't entirely sure how to feel about your new office job. luckily for him, you're willing to push him in the right direction. ❤︎‬ michael kaiser x office worker! gn! reader ‪ ❤︎‬ wc: 2k ❤︎‬ content warning(s): implied future timeline, reader is an office worker, mentions of kaiser backstory

The first time you brought up the idea of getting a job to your boyfriend, Michael Kaiser frowned upon it. 

Why would you want to do something like that? It wasn’t like you or him were in dire need of money. That he had plenty of, both to provide for himself and for you and still have some. Did you think he wouldn’t be capable of taking care of you? Were you underestimating him in some way? You had sheepishly admitted something about “wanting to get out of the house more” and wishing that “you could contribute something to your shared household and society at large.”

Kaiser acted as childishly as you had steadily braced yourself for. But after a bit of huffy pouting, honeyed convincing, and countless promises that you wouldn’t miss out on any of his major games, he eventually relented. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why you wanted to do something as much as it was a fear that you had grown bored of the relationship and safehouse he had painstakingly created. You reassured him again and again that you weren’t doing this because you were sick of him but because you desperately needed a life of your own and to build a community that extended beyond him. 

You and your sickeningly healthy mindsets. It was admirable, just how hellbent you were on improving yourself. Kaiser knew he really ought to take a page out of your book, but why do any of that when he can simply grab you by the waist and drag you back into bed with him? Screw that boring office job, you should mess around with him some more while you’re still young and wild!

But you won’t budge. Your mind is set. So he got over it. 

He learned to have fun with it pretty soon. Your mind-numbing work days were often interrupted by him sending little gifts to your office just to get a rise out of you or finding openings during your lunch break to pester you with dumb jokes. He’d flirt with you over text, sending all kinds of distracting pictures in hope he could get your professional shell to waver and have you bounding back home to him as fast as possible. 

You were always such a hard nut to crack. 

He decided to tackle this whole thing from a different angle. There was something satisfying about picking you up after work by bringing out his expensive car and glamming himself up as if he was preparing to walk down some fancy gala’s runway. Anyone who caught a glimpse of him would instantly know that he wasn’t your average Joe. He was the Michael Kaiser. Soccer superstar and your very insistent boyfriend. 

The deadpan face you gave him as your coworkers all rushed to see what was transpiring outside the company building was nothing short of priceless to him.

“You’re so lucky, (Y/n)!”

“He’s so handsome!”

“I wish I could afford a car like that…”

While it was part of what Kaiser was initially going for, the cheap admiration of total strangers was a dime a dozen. It meant nothing to him; he had grown numb to all of that nonsense pretty quickly after catapulting himself into fame. What Kaiser was really aiming for was your flustered face as you tried your best to discreetly cram yourself into the passenger seat, both disbelief and embarrassment scrawled all over your face. 

You were just so cute. How could anyone blame him for wanting to torment you all the time when you rewarded him with such delectable expressions?

“Was that really necessary, Mihya?” You grumbled. You’re glad that despite how standoffish and clingy your boyfriend could be, he at least is smart enough to have the foresight to tint his windows. Dealing with both the paparazzi and your company’s HR department could be fended off for now, if you played your cards right.

God, his nickname sounded so good in your voice. He flashed you a dazzling smile, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t look so sour, darling. Aren’t I such a good boyfriend for going out of my way to pick you up? Don’t I deserve some thanks?”

You both knew that you could never stay mad at him for too long. You leaned over to the driver’s seat, and you puckered your lips to press a quick flurry of short kisses to his cheek. “C’mon, quit dallying. Before my coworkers get pictures to sell to the press or I end up getting fired for causing a scene. Maybe both.”

He let out a loud laugh but complied, the car roaring to life and leaving the murmuring gaggle of office workers behind in a cloud of smoky exhaust. He had grown to have fun with you being a regular member of society, blending in with the crowds of people working diligently at their jobs and walking their own paths of life. 

People like himself though, are the exception, rather than the norm. You’re the spitting image of the norm. You’re everything he isn’t. You’re kind and sweet. You’re able to meld right in with your coworkers, living that perfect cookie cutter 9-5 life. You’ve grown up like any normal kid should. You had friends your age. You went to school. You worked hard to be able to sport a normal life effortlessly. 

Because if there’s one thing Kaiser has learned, it’s that having a normal life is the most difficult thing of them all.

He remembered being a little kid, prowling the streets in search of his next meal. The dilapidated streets he once called home were teeming with beggars and petty criminals like himself, but if he wandered closer to the city, his child-self could recall seeing adults like who you are now. Businessmen with their crisp suits and sparkling watches who would chitchat into their phones and give that polished laugh that just reeked of money. Cleanly dressed women with sleek lipstick and perfectly poised professionalism who would sip their hot coffees and run their companies like the goddamn Navy. 

These adults would probably happily work their boring drab office jobs before going back home to their spouses and families. They’d eat dinner quietly and do the dishes quietly. They’d enjoy a bit of TV or read, draw a bath, maybe even daydream about taking a vacation to some nice place in the summer. They’d crawl into bed and wish each other goodnight before settling down in the warmth of their lover’s arms. They’d live their quaint little lives and die peacefully out in the countryside or somewhere equally restful, surrounded by family and prayers and lots of loving thoughts.

It was everything he couldn’t have. It was pure luck that provided him the first step out of the streets, and it was nothing but his own blood, sweat, and tears that got him to where he was today. Even now, as “accomplished” as he is with a beautiful partner and enough money to drive his younger self wild, there’s still a kind of restlessness that gnaws endlessly at his heart. It drove him crazy, to think that had fate smiled upon him just a little bit more, he could have had that life too. 

He could have been born to loving parents that clapped and cheered as he took his first steps, who sent him toddling to school, who showered him with praise as he sailed through the grades. Then he could become the same kind of person you would be, surrounded by love and the gentle security that the trivial everyday provided you. 

Unlike you, who could always retreat into the safety net that society had cast for ordinary people, one misstep could bring everything crumbling down for him. This was the cost of a slightly twisted fate, the extreme struggle he had to endure for just a sliver at having a life that wasn’t tainted consistently with misery.

He wasn’t sure how to process any of it, in all honesty. The emotions that he had bottled up and learned to live with were too complex to really extricate it out into words, but now that he’s face-to-face with it having become part of his everyday too, he wasn’t sure whether he should be dismissive or even mirthful.

“You know, would you hate me if I said we should eat something extra yummy for dinner?” Your careful voice, combined with your hand landing on his arm, invaded his swirling thoughts. He peeled his eyes off of the road for a split second to sneak a glance at you and your expectant gaze. “We should pick up groceries on the way back home and cook up something fun. We can make it a whole date, if you want.”

“Oh? What brings this on?” There was still some kind of bitter lump in the back of his throat. He shouldn’t pray that you wouldn’t notice it, but even after what felt like a lifetime of being in love with you, it took everything in him to be fully vulnerable around you. Or anyone for that matter.

You shrugged. “Just ‘cause I want to. Do I need a reason to have some harmless fun now? Besides, I want to spend time with you. Something about shopping for groceries and making dinner together feels so… so adult.”

He might understand what you mean. He didn’t know what he must have done to have someone as perfect as you step into his life. No matter how much he lashed out, acted like a child, cried and wailed and clawed at your body and soul for another droplet of love, you were more than happy to provide. 

It might hurt. It might be uncomfortable. It might not always be what he wants. But somehow, Kaiser’s convinced that this is what love is. Love is you beaming so kindly at him from the passenger seat. Love is the excitement in his chest, like he’s falling for you all over again, as he maneuvers the car en route to your favorite grocery store. Love is you browsing the web on your smartphone for recipes that catch your eye, boisterously talking out loud and making a mental list of all the dishes you want to try your hand with all  the desserts you absolutely need so you can top the night off. 

He might not ever get the white collar stable life he once envied and hated as child, but this might be a good alternative. He’s the one you choose to come home to at the end of the night. You’ll cook dinner with him and sneak bubbles onto his nose while doing the dishes, only managing to placate him after he splashes both of you with sudsy water, laughing until you’re on the floor and wheezing in surrender. A quick shower would be the overture to cuddling on the couch while replaying soccer videos, and once he notices you nodding off, he’ll usher you to bed so you can be well rested for another long workday tomorrow. You’d sleepily beg him for a kiss while fighting off sleep, not wanting to slip under before you could wrap your own arms around him and guide his ear to your comforting heartbeat. 

And wasn’t all of that what he wanted anyway? None of it seemed so daunting or unapproachable anymore. None of it made him feel like he was somehow undeserving of anything less than the happiness he had always converted. None of it was a pipe dream he kept tucked away as his only solace under the unforgiving moonlight. You were turning him all sappy and soft, making him reflect on his life and his future. 

He can barely fight back a smile when you excitedly drag him into the grocery store, both of your senses immediately flooded with the allure of delicious ingredients and the promise of a well-deserved night in. 

So this is love. 

Your stupid job wasn’t too bad.

x

[mikiruie]

it's been six hours so i looked at the theme, hope that's okay :3 it turned out so niiiceeee!!!! i am always in awe whenever i click on ur blog, u are so creative and talented!! <3

sweetest sua!! (your name autoed to ‘sun’ first time and honestly both are so fitting for you <33) thank you so much for your kind words !! literally giggling n kicking my feet as we speakkkk

i don’t think i’ve said this yet tho but your theme is also so so beautiful, i love the colours and everything that goes with it 💗 it’s so simple but nice aaaaa

[mikiruie]

do u think the first time you hold nanase's hand, he turns bright red and can't talk right for the next three hours

i beg your finest pardon?

[mikiruie]

your theme looked at me first jsyk /j

no but seriously i am in love with it 🩵💜

SHHH DONT LOOK AT THAT PART…. EYES AWAY!!

but also thank you sm cotton 🥹🥹���💗

[mikiruie]

NEW CHERIE THEME NEW CHERIE THEME GUYS WE CHEERED !!!!! its so pretty 🥹💙🩵

WAHHH THANJ YOU VESSA DEAREST!! we are matching w blue themes now hehe >_<

[mikiruie]

𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉

itoshi rin x reader ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ♡

Despite his hardened exterior, Rin’s features are quite delicate. There’s a softness to his face, in his jaw and in his cheeks. He looks younger, more innocent, when his eyes are closed and there’s no tension tugging at his eyebrows. It’s a sight only you are warranted, one you get to see every time he lays his head in your lap and lets your fingers run through dark, silky strands of hair.

Your eyes flit between his face and the tv — it’s playing a movie Rin puts on often. You’re sure that even though his eyes are closed, he can envision everything he’s hearing. You can’t say the same for yourself, your gaze fixated on Rin's relaxed expression rather than the screen ahead of you. The concentration of your stare reveals an imperfection on his otherwise flawless skin.

It’s a long, dark eyelash that has strayed from the rest and fallen to the plump of his cheek.

Strange — how this is the first time you’ve seen this, considering how distinctly the hairs frame his eyes. You don’t ponder on it too long, choosing to, instead, reach down from the top of his head to his cheek so that you collect the eyelash on the pad of your finger. You can feel his skin slightly twitch beneath you but he makes no effort to open his eyes.

You almost feel bad disrupting his peaceful moment but, before you truly know what you’re doing, you call out his name. “Rin.”

He hums and you can feel the low vibrations of it on your thighs. A second later, he lets his eyelids flutter open, revealing aqua irises. They stare up at you, question and curiosity swimming within them.

“One of your eyelashes fell off,” you tell him, holding your pointer finger near his face. He can’t see it unless he looks to the side, but you don’t want to risk losing the tiny hair.

He doesn’t—look, that is—and keeps his gaze focused on you. “So?”

“So,” you pinch his cheek with your free hand as punishment for him being petulant, “you can make a wish on it.”

It’s something you did a lot in your childhood, at least whenever you had the chance. It’s a bit silly now, knowing that it’s simply a superstition, but a little piece of you holds onto that child-like hope that maybe wishes do come true.

Rin must not share that optimism because his eyes drift shut as easily as they had earlier when he first got comfortable in your lap. Though, the words he speaks next are enough to tell you that you aren’t being completely ignored. “You do it.”

“No way. Your eyelash, your wish.” you poke his cheek this time in an attempt to get him to play along just this once.

It takes a little more of your prodding and some pleading for Rin to open his eyes again. The subtle pinch between his brows conveys his exasperation but there’s no maliciousness in his expression. In fact, the sigh that pushes past his lips is closer to one of defeat than anything else. He really can’t say no to you. You must know it, too. “What am I supposed to wish for?”

You shrug but there’s a smile pulling at your lips, courtesy of Rin's agreement. “A pony, to be able to fly—whatever your heart desires.”

He snorts at your suggestions—the first two, at least. He takes the last one a bit more seriously because, even though he doesn’t believe in wishes coming true, there is something that he desperately wants and he’ll do everything he can to make it a reality; even wishing on a meaningless eyelash.

“Okay, I’ve got my wish.” He blinks up at you. “What now?”

“Blow the eyelash off my finger,” you direct him, gently wiggling your finger to get his attention. He turns his head to the side and is greeted with your outstretched pointer. Sure enough, there’s a small, dark hair sitting atop your unique print. 

Rin doesn’t waste any time blowing a cool stream of air that sends the eyelash flying. He can’t follow its path but it surely ends up somewhere on the living room floor. With it out of his sight, Rin returns to his former position, letting his eyes fall shut before he nudges your hand in a silent gesture for you to pick up where you left off playing with his hair.

You do as he wishes and run your fingers through his locks, lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. The peaceful look you’ve grown accustomed to is back and its appearance puts a small smile on your face.

You’re sure it’s because you’ve started toying with his hair again, but the tranquility painted over Rin’s features has to do with something else this time — a promise he’s made to himself that, regardless of a wish, he’s going to spend as many nights as possible like this, with you.

sua here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[mikiruie]

i don’t write my fic ideas down ever , partially cuz i’m lazy but also cuz like. if god willed me not to write this fic ig i won’t!!