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airybcby · 1 day ago

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જ⁀♡⊹｡° i wanna feel guilty, i wanna feel that it's wrong

♡ a/n — for my frat boy! bllk drabbles :)

♡ word count — 885

♡ content — shidou ryusei x fem! reader, fratboy! shidou, sorority president! reader, forbidden love(?), situationship(no real relationship mentioned), kind of angst?, mention of drinking(like once), not proofread

♡ synopsis — Ryusei Shidou knows the feeling of shame all too well. So well that he knows he should feel it when sneaking into your room. But also enough to know he doesn't feel it when you open that window for him.

Ryusei Shidou knows the feeling of shame all too well.

He swears he felt it on the day he was born, when his parents were given the news he was a boy instead of a girl.

He felt it when he first started playing soccer when he was five years old when he got told he played "too rough" for the other kids.

He felt it when he graduated high school and decided to go to college instead of taking an offer from a minor league soccer team.

Ever since entering college, though, Shidou has never had the feeling of shame- actually he's beginning to think he's forgetting what it feels like.

He's on the university soccer team, he's in the best fraternity, he gets to stand on the table and kick people out at parties...

Shidou Ryusei hasn't felt shame in years.

Until right now, when he's climbing up a tree to get to your window.

He can't walk through the door like a normal person because you're president of the most stuck-up sorority on campus.

No parties.

No dating.

Must maintain a 3.8 GPA.

And...Absolutely no fraternizing with one specific frat- that may or may not happen to be the one Shidou is in.

Shidou Ryusei likes to believe shame has become a stranger to him, but as he's tapping on your window his ears suddenly feel hot, his neck itches, and he swears it feels like someone is staring at him.

That all fades whenever you open your window, your face illuminated by the pink led lights you keep on at all times.

Your brows furrow when you see him clinging to the tree branch like some overgrown delinquent raccoon. “You’re gonna fall,” you whisper, glancing over your shoulder like someone might’ve heard your window creak open.

As if any of your sisters would be awake at a time like this.

“I’ll die happy,” Shidou mutters back, swinging a leg over the sill with more confidence than balance. He tumbles in, shoulder hitting your floor with a loud thump.

You wince. “Shidou—”

“Babe,” he cuts in, grinning through the pain, “tell me that wasn’t a sick entrance.” He smiles as he puts his arms out and mimics a gymnasts dismount.

You don’t answer.

You just shut the window and draw the curtain.

He watches you, sprawled out on your rug like a reckless golden retriever, his bleached hair all static and his cheek flushed from the impact.

“You know, if anyone sees you—”

“They won’t.” He sits up, eyes scanning your room like it’s the first time he’s seeing it, even though it’s not. Not really.

“You always light those candles when you’re nervous,” he adds, nodding toward the one burning near your desk.

You bite your cheek. “You smell like beer.”

“Only a little,” he shrugs, eyes flicking toward your legs where your pajama shorts end.

“I didn’t drink. Swear. Just… got dared to shotgun one and didn’t want to seem lame.”

You roll your eyes but don’t push him away when he stands, closing the space between you like it’s natural.

Like he belongs here, in this room he’s not supposed to be in, in this secret you’ve been hiding between textbooks and all those stupid rules your sorority drilled into your head.

“Why are you really here, Shidou?”

He hesitates—something he never does. “I dunno. Just wanted to see you.”

Your arms cross. “You climbed a tree because you just wanted to see me?”

He grins, then drops it. “I missed you.”

That hits differently.

Because Shidou Ryusei doesn’t say stuff like that.

He doesn’t do vulnerability.

He does chaos and cocky grins and starting fights at soccer practice just to feel something.

But right now, in the soft pink light of your room, with his shoulders hunched and his hair falling into his eyes, he looks like the boy he used to be—

the one who played too rough,

who always got in trouble,

who never thought he was enough.

Your hands fall to your sides. “You know this can’t...be something.”

“I know.”

“They’ll kick me out.”

“You're the president.”

“And I’ll probably still let you in tomorrow.”

His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile too wide, like he knows he shouldn’t be happy about that, but he is anyway. “Good,” he borderline giggles , brushing a hand against yours.

“As long as I can see you. I don't care if it's in the library or here.” He smiles like he just had the best idea. "Or- you could just come to my frat-"

"Ew. Absolutely not."

"Yeah, okay, I should've expected that." He laughed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

You look at him then, really look at him. Not the frat boy persona. Not the university’s golden player.

Just Shidou—equal parts mess and magic.

You sigh, tugging him toward the bed. “At least take your shoes off this time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirks, kicking them off like a rebellious kid caught sneaking in after curfew. He flops down beside you, head sinking into your pillow.

And for a moment, the world fades—the rules, the reputations, the shame.

For a moment, it’s just you and him, in a room that smells like vanilla and bad decisions.

And maybe—just maybe—that’s enough.

can i write shidou without it being a little sad? no.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated

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⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

#★ · airybcbyy #airy posts #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #ryusei shidou #shidou x reader #ryusei x reader #bllk shidou #bllk shidou ryusei #blue lock shidou #blue lock shidou ryusei

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airybcby · 10 hours ago

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જ⁀♡⊹｡° what's misery without company?

♡ a/n — BIG SPOILERS FOR NEWEST CHAPTER IN THE MANGA!!!

♡ word count — 1.8k

♡ content — nagi seishiro x reader, made nagi's parents absent, set after he gets ( SPOILER!! ) 'locked off' , reader is his childhood best friend, unrequited love (?), angst, nagi is depressed, reader gets frustrated with him, kinda hopeful ending, not proofread.

♡ synopsis — even if nagi seishiro never got to play soccer again, at least he had you. but how long could you deal with who he's become?

once again; this fic contains heavy spoilers for the newest chapter of the manga. please do not read ahead if you don't want to be spoiled.

SPOILERS UNDER DIVIDER!!

They drop him off without even stepping inside.

His mom says, “The fridge is stocked.”

His dad mutters, “Let us know if you need anything.”

Then the car pulls away.

No hugs. No questions. No how are you holding up?

The apartment feels cold when he walks in. Sterile. Too clean for someone who's supposed to be living there. A box of fresh fruit sits on the table. A card taped to the front says “Cheer up!” in careful handwriting that isn’t either of his parents'.

Like disappointment is just a fever.

Like enough Vitamin C will fix it.

He stares at the basket for a full minute before moving it to the corner, out of sight.

Then he sinks into the couch, hoodie up, phone on silent, and disappears.

You show up the next morning, like always.

You don’t knock—you never have. You’ve had a key since you were fifteen and Nagi was too lazy to answer the door during summer breaks. Back then, it was a convenience. Now, it's a lifeline.

The door creaks open, and nothing greets you except the low hum of the TV and the faint scent of fabric softener.

He's curled up in the corner of the couch, knees to his chest, controller idle in his lap. He doesn’t look up.

“Hey,” you say, voice too loud in the silence. “I brought that strawberry soda you like. And a cactus.”

That gets a blink, barely. His gaze flicks to the little green plant in your hands. You walk over and set it beside the one already on the window ledge—tall, spindly, with a little blue card sticking out that reads You Did Your Best!

You glance at it. “That from your parents?”

He shrugs. “They sent a basket, too.”

“Fruit?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes, hands on your hips. “Of course.”

As if a basket of grapes, watermelon, and several other assorted fruits could fill the void that Nagi is experiencing right now.

When all Nagi really needs is a hug from his mom, a talk about how he’s still good enough for his dad.

He says nothing. You sigh, grab the remote, and sit beside him.

The silence stretches.

His mom texts you the next morning.

Can you check on Seishiro? He’s not answering again.

I checked on him yesterday, he’s no better than he was when he came home.

That’s what you want to say. That maybe if she’d just offered her son to come home instead of to that apartment they pay for- maybe she wouldn’t have to text you.

But everyone’s still too scared to say anything about soccer, even his mom.

But you’ve never really been scared of Nagi Seishiro. Not since he used to hide behind your backpack in elementary school when he was too shy to ask the teacher for a new pencil.

You walk past the untouched meal you left for him yesterday on the counter.

He doesn’t move when you drop onto the couch next to him.

"You smell like sock and despair," you mutter.

"Mm," he grunts. Which you take as a ‘welcome back.’

You stare at the side of his face, trying to find anything—a spark, irritation, something. But he’s just... blank.

"Alright," you say, standing up. "That’s it. We’re going out."

"No."

"Sei—"

"I said no."

There’s steel in his voice, the kind that’s not usually there. But you don’t flinch.

"I don’t care if you’re pissed or embarrassed or feel like shit, you’re not gonna rot in here like some forgotten leftover. That’s not you."

"You don’t know who I am anymore."

You freeze. The TV keeps playing.

For days, it goes on like this. You come over. You bring food, dumb movies, your presence. Nagi barely speaks. He doesn’t go out. Doesn’t text anyone. He watches you move around the apartment like you’re something distant, safe, unreal.

And maybe that’s why he lets you stay.

Everyone else is too scared to say the word. Soccer. Blue Lock. Twenty-fourth place.

Everyone walks on eggshells.

Except you.

“Sei,” you say one night, sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through takeout containers. “You know it’s okay to be mad, right?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You can punch a pillow or yell at the sky or tell Ego to shove it. You don’t have to act like this doesn’t suck.”

He shrugs. “It’s whatever.”

“No, it’s not. It’s everything.” Your voice cracks. “It was everything.”

Still, he doesn’t look at you.

And you hate how familiar this is—caring too much while he stays five steps removed. You’ve known him since childhood, and he’s always been like this. Unbothered. Aloof. Somewhere far away even when he’s sitting right next to you.

But this? This is worse.

Because back then, Nagi Seishiro was just unmotivated.

Now, he’s empty.

You used to be the loud one.

The pushy one.

Always dragging him around, always getting him to try just one more thing.

You were there when he picked up a soccer ball for the first time. When Reo showed up and everything changed.

And even when you lost him to Blue Lock, you told yourself you were okay with it. That he was chasing something real. That he'd come back stronger.

But the boy who came back isn’t stronger.

He’s not anything.

And day by day, you feel yourself dimming just to match the low-light gloom he lives in.

You start losing sleep.

Not because he asks you to stay, but because the idea of him being alone in that apartment feels wrong. Like maybe if you leave, he’ll forget to eat. Forget to move. Forget that he's still someone.

And the worst part? You’re forgetting too.

You start skipping hangouts, canceling plans. People stop asking. You stop explaining.

Your whole world shrinks to that quiet apartment and the boy slowly unraveling inside it.

One night, you catch your reflection in the microwave while reheating soup, and you don’t recognize yourself.

Your eyes are tired. Your mouth is tight. You’re wearing his hoodie.

You want to scream. Or cry. Or both.

Instead, you stir the soup and focus on the boy who you’re not sure you know anymore.

Weeks pass.

You keep showing up.

Bringing food.

Talking at him.

Sitting in silence when he doesn’t answer.

You water the plants.

You stop telling people you’re fine.

Because you’re not.

You love him.

You love him so much it feels like your chest might collapse when he won’t even look at you some days.

And it’s killing you.

Because how do you love someone who’s not really here anymore?

One night, you find him asleep on the floor. Just lying there, face down, controller nearby, game long since shut off. You kneel beside him and gently brush his hair from his forehead.

"Where’d you go Sei?" you whisper. "The real you."

His eyes open slowly. “Still here?”

“Yeah. Someone has to be.”

You pause. He’s looking at you now. Really looking. And it hurts.

"Why?" he asks, barely above a breath. "Why stay?"

You blink against the sting in your eyes. "Because I just-"

“I’m tired.” his yawn interrupts you.

"I know."

And you do. Because lately? You’re tired too.

Tired of carrying hope like a burden.

Tired of being the only one trying to pull him out of a place he doesn't want to leave.

“I don’t know if I can fix this,” you whisper.

He doesn’t answer.

Just looks at you with that empty, unreadable expression.

And for the first time, you wonder if loving him is going to be the thing that breaks you.

It happens on a Tuesday.

You show up late, soaked to the bone, and slam the door hard enough to shake the picture frames. Nagi doesn’t flinch. He’s on the couch again, hoodie up, controller in hand—pretending to be busy. Pretending like you don’t exist.

You drop the takeout bag on the counter. Hard. You don't bother plating it anymore.

"You’re unbelievable."

Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

"You know, I used to think you were just lazy," you say, voice rising as the words tumble out. "That you didn’t care because everything came easy to you. That was annoying, sure, but it was you. It was still something. But this?"

You gesture wildly around the room—the plants, the half-unpacked suitcase, the fading card in the cactus pot.

"This is pathetic, Sei."

Still nothing. Just that blank, empty stare at the screen.

And it breaks you.

"Say something!" you shout. "Get mad! Cry, scream, throw something—anything! Stop just sitting there!"

He finally turns his head, slowly, blinking like he’s trying to process the noise.

He finally glances over. “You’re yelling.”

“Yeah, I’m yelling!” you explode. “Because I love you, and you’re just sitting there letting everything fall apart!”

The words drop like a bomb.

You freeze.

He stares.

And then—softly, like a child asking a question he’s never been allowed to voice—he says:

“…Why?”

Your breath catches.

You stare at him, wide-eyed. He looks genuinely confused. Not cold. Not cruel. Just lost.

He’s looking at you now, really looking—but it’s not awe or fear or understanding in his eyes. It’s confusion. Like he’s genuinely asking. Like he doesn’t get why anyone would choose to love him like this.

You take a breath, then another, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Because,” you say, voice cracking, “someone has to. And no one else is doing it.”

Nagi blinks again. Something in his expression shifts—barely. A twitch. A flinch. Maybe.

"You think I’m gonna give up just because you did?" you continue, stepping closer. "You think I’m just gonna walk away and let you rot here while everything you are slips away?"

“I’m not gonna leave you, Sei,” you say, voice trembling. “Even if you don’t love me. Even if you never love me. I’m staying. Until you can breathe again. Until you can wake up and be okay. With or without me.”

He’s quiet for a long, long time.

Then he glances toward the cactus.

“My parents love me,” he says softly.

You follow his gaze.

The You Did Your Best card flutters in the breeze from the vent.

He points at it.

“They sent that.”

Something inside you breaks.

You laugh, wet and bitter. “That’s not love, Sei. That’s...”

An obligation

A way to tell their friends that he’s fine

It’s…