#bluelock fanfiction

[the-lazyyy-artist]

i saw you in a dream a two-part Karasu Tabito x Filipina!reader story part two

Synopsis: The dreams of a distant war led you to believe that he could exist now. Maybe he did.

Word Count: 2.3K

Content Warning: Discussions of history (especially with how Japan teaches it), reincarnation au, reoccurring dreams, fluff, a little ooc (sighs again i know), mentions of Karasu's childhood experiences (lmao huhu)

Author's Note: Now, I know that the discussions of Japan's way of teaching their people about the history of WW II are quite different from how the rest of the world tells it and how it's still controversial, I dabbled lightly around this sensitive topic just to give an insight of how the reader and the other characters dealt with it. I just wanna give you a heads-up on that. If you have any insights about it, please let's discuss it together through replies, reblogs, dms, or asks. I want everyone who reads this part to have an open mind and be willing to give out their points in terms of writing and history. Thank you so much for reading the first part.

Read part one here!

@mininji @wannabepoeticischiya @x3nafix ✨

You were 8 years old.

The dream was always blurry like a camera lens that needed some wiping. The voices sounded underwater; only its tone was familiar to you. The song from the record player was oddly clear to you, but you never figured out what the song was. You can feel the grief in it... because, in the dream, you were the woman left behind by... what was his name again?

At a young age, you'd always read the story of the Japanese Occupation in the Philippines in your History Book almost every week, memorizing the events. However, to your knowledge, you know that there's something more than just the important date of when the Bataan Death March started and where the destination was or what McArthur said when he fled the Philippines for safety. 

You asked your teacher to tell you more when the class reached the lesson, being the only one awake and active in such a boring class. She was more than willing to tell you more after classes for a one-on-one session, further increasing your excitement. She warned you as you sat comfortably beside her desk that the deeper event of the colonization wasn't for children, to which you only responded, "I'm a big girl, teacher! I'm sure I can handle it." 

You did not.

Because who even knew that there were abuses against women, forcing them to bring men comfort? Who even knew that the Philippines suffered the most because of the battles between Japan and America? Who knew the country was almost erased from the map because of the war? Who knew that it was a bloody part of the country's history?

You struggled to sleep that night, and the dream didn't help you much.

By age 12, your parents took you to Japan as they worked there. It was better for everyone to be together; they told you to comfort you as you cried and cried not to let you leave your grandparents' house. They promised a complete family if you just go with them this time. The plane ride in a foreign country, the country that did so much damage to your homeland, made you feel nauseous. You didn't want to be with these people, you thought, as you sat in your seat, unable to understand anyone in class. It was a sad sight. You were thankful that your dad was patient enough to teach you basic phrases and Hiragana. "You'll get better when you make friends. That way, you can talk and learn from them," he told you one night after your nightly tutoring session.

Easier said than done. Until someone did approach you.

He was nice, at least. He didn't care much that you were different and quiet. He sat beside you one day and said, "Otoya." You replied with your last name, and he nodded. Then he started to talk. You tried to understand what he said, and he was patient enough to let you process what he said before saying more. He was so chill around you that you brought him home to introduce him to your parents, saying, "Ma, Pa, Otoya," then turning to Otoya, saying, "Otoya, Ma, Pa."

It was a weird sight that your parents talked to him more than you did to him, your parents translating what they just said in your native tongue. Slowly, he became a frequent visitor in your home, being around whenever your father gave you your daily language lessons. When you started to get the hang of the language, you finally had a proper conversation with him without writing your questions and responses on paper. There would be times that Otoya would correct you, and you'd roll your eyes at him at which he'd just shrug.

You told him about the dream, how it's connected to history, and how your country suffered. You and Otoya had a silent argument about what version of history was right, almost causing both of you to almost break off your friendship.

You decided to say sorry and to just drop the history thing. But Otoya was still intrigued by your dream.

"Might be reincarnation," he said as you two were taking a break from studying, lying on the hardwood floor of your living room. His silvery hair shone from the sunlight streaming through the window. You sighed and started to fidget on the hem of your shirt. "That would be weird. Why would I be a reincarnation of a sad lady?" you asked quietly. Otoya turned to look at you, his slanted eyes looking bored yet interested. "Maybe you'd grow into one," he teased, his tone unchanging. He always spoke nonchalantly, but you always picked up the intention of his words through the little quirks of his voice. You grabbed your notebook and slapped his head with it, earning a little "ow" from him. "And you'd grow up into a miserable old man who will never get a girlfriend."

Otoya laughed softly and shook his head. "You're wrong. I'm already on my sixth girlfriend this year," he said, his laughter fizzled into a small smile on his lips. "Eugh, we're in our second year of middle school and you had 6 girlfriends already? Gross." 

"If you aren't so hung up with your dreamscape husband, maybe you'd enjoy dating too," he replied, sitting up. The ends of his silver hair dropped on his forehead, then he fixed the green streak in front. "Are you really gonna grow your hair out?" you asked, ignoring his comment from earlier. Otoya nodded and messed his hair up a little. "I read somewhere that girls are into guys with longer hair. Might wanna try that out."

You let out another gagging noise before you sat back up. "Enough with the dating talk. You disgust me."

You noticed that the dreams were becoming clearer yearly, revealing more events. The conversations were a little audible, the faces of your dreamscape siblings were no longer a blur, and the song... you were finally able to figure out the tune of the song. The moment you woke up one day, you quickly hummed the song through your phone's voice recorder, hoping one day you'd find the title. 

By the time you reach the age of 17, you realize you've been having the dream more frequently than before, sometimes five times every couple of months. By now, you know how deep the man's voice was, comforting and warm despite the situation. He was caring, he was kind. You wondered if Otoya's guess years ago of this being a reincarnation was true because now, you only wanted to find someone like the man in your dreams. How much of a coincidence would it be when you find the same person as him?

Five years have passed, and you have slowly forgotten about the dream. Maybe it was just your busy life that made you forget how you had it for the past year. Now, it's just an afterthought, a memory of how you experienced a love story every time you closed your eyes at night. 

The classroom door opened, revealing Otoya and the security guard following behind him. "Eita! It's class hours, what are you doing here?" You asked, pushing him out of the room. The kids inside the room gasped and giggled, hushed conversations between them. "You're attracting too much attention now," you scolded him silently. Otoya shrugged and replied, "Come with me this weekend." Typical Otoya, not acknowledging the commotion he's causing. Now kids are lurking by the door, looking at the star footballer and wondering what he's doing with their beloved English teacher. You smiled at them and asked them to get inside, your sweet voice filling the hallways. The kids giggled and hid behind the door. "Eita," you said, returning your focus to your childhood friend, "you could've texted me that you're back in town."

"You could've been busy, and this is easier. I've invited some soccer friends to visit and take them around the city. Plus, they don't believe I have a best friend, so come with me," Otoya replied, his voice a little sing-song tune, but when he sounds like that, he's annoyed. You scoffed, reaching out to tug his green-streaked hair gently. "Alright, I'll accompany you and your friends. Just text me the details so I can clear my schedule, but only on the weekend. Okay?" 

As soon as Otoya nodded, you started to push him out of the hallway. "Now you have to leave. The kids might not be able to stop themselves from seeing more of you." Otoya nodded and waved at the kids peeking through the door, watching him leave. The moment you turned to tell the kids to get back inside, they started to bombard you with questions about your relationship with Otoya and how you knew him. You sighed, knowing that the lessons would be put aside for this.

The moment Karasu heard Otoya mention your name in the locker room after their last match, he knew.

The dreams, he knew this is what it meant. He knew that he was going to meet you one day. "Who?" he asked.

"Oh, interested?" Otoya replied, "Too bad 'cause she's in love with someone else."

He must be interesting, Karasu thought, but meeting you might change everything. Maybe. Chigiri chimed in, saying he doesn't believe that Otoya has a best friend when all he talks about are girls and how to pick them up. "How about we visit each other's hometowns while off-season?" Otoya suggested, throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder, and waiting for Karasu and Chigiri to finish up. Chigiri shrugged, saying he was okay with it. Karasu agreed too, saying it would be interesting to look around.

Your name has been on his mind for years, it's crazy. He has never told anyone about his dreams, how he sees himself as a soldier in high ranks, marrying a girl in a country he has studied so much about, learning as much as he could, even the parts he cannot accept at first but kept his mind open for the possibility that it might be true. It was crazy enough that people might start making fun of him for it, so he kept it to himself, kept it in his heart, and swore to find you, even if the possibility of meeting you were low. He believed that in his ordinary life, this dream made it extraordinary.

The dreams started when he was 8. Every night, it’s always so clear. Karasu could see the face of the lady, the way she smiled, the way she cried when he left, the way she looked when he danced with her. The sad lady, he once called her, became his favorite dream. Maybe that's why he rejected Marisa. He was too in love with her. 

It was sad when he dreamt of the lady less and less as he aged. He could remember her name, her face, and her voice. Karasu knew that this might have meant something.

He read about reincarnation in other religions and how it works. He read about it in fairytales and watched it in romance movies his sister loved to watch. Karasu knew he could be reaching, but if he kept dreaming of a certain woman, this might be it.

Now it seemed fate was working overtime as he and Chigiri waited for Otoya to pick them up at the station. It was a lovely day, too. The breeze was gentle and cool, and the sky was as blue as ever. 

He knew this would be the day he’d meet the sad lady.

"Sup," Otoya greeted as he arrived, walking towards the two. "Where's your best friend?" Chigiri asked, looking around, "You said your 'best friend' would be here."

"She will be here. She has some school things to do," Otoya responded.

"Student?" Chigiri asked.

"Nah, teacher."

The day went on as Otoya took Karasu and Chigiri to local spots to avoid a surge of tourists that day. Otoya was good at playing tour guide for the two, taking pictures of each other, noting places with great deals, and buying souvenirs for their families. It was not long before Otoya took Chigiri and Karasu to Sakae District, awaiting your arrival.

And Karasu knew you before you even spoke.

God, you looked exactly like how you did in his dream. The kind eyes, a smile that could take every worry away, and your hair, though longer, was the same. But you weren’t as sad as you were in his dreams. "Is that her?" Karasu asked, his eyes glued on you as you walked towards them. "Yep."

"Hi, guys! I'm sorry I joined you so late! Had to grade the kids' essay papers," you said, your cheerful voice somehow lifting their exhaustion. Otoya threw his arm over your shoulder, pulling you to him. "It's alright. We had fun without you anyway."

"Rude," you scoffed, nudging his rib with your elbow. "Are you gonna introduce me to your soccer friends, Eita?"

"Ah, right. Karasu, Chigiri, Y/n. Y/n, Karasu, Chigiri."

Your mind somehow sparked at the name. Karasu. Where have you heard that name again? 

His eyes met yours, pretty blues that reminded you of something distant. A memory? His smirk reminded you so much of someone you met before. He was familiar yet a stranger, someone you want to know more and get close to. What was this feeling?

You held out your hand for Chigiri, which he was happy to shake, and turned to Karasu who held your hand firmly, and for a split-second...

You were taken back to the conversations in the dream about the war and the soldier telling you he loved you, how he told you he wanted you as his wife, and how his name was...

"Tabito?"

Karasu smiled at you as he stepped closer, meeting your gaze once more.

"So, it really is you, Y/n. I've been waiting to meet you for years."

[manias-wordcount]

Can u do a fanfic or headcanon for Rin itoshi. Reader has a calm collected personality like him. However she is not a full fledged introvert like him, she ismore of an ambivert typically. he is a brooding guy with a cold, aloof and aggressive personality while she is slightly opposite because she is more kind, friendly, gentle, soft spoken and rarely expresses anger. Sometimes she is a bit overly nice to Rin. He keeps on expressing annoyance to her but she continues being kind and gentle to him.

Focus (Rin Itoshi x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗰 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗴𝘂𝘆 𝗟𝗠𝗔𝗢 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

It doesn’t happen all the time. But it happens enough.

  It happens enough that others are starting to take notice when he’s lost in thought. It happens enough that others are starting to predict when it will occur. When he’s in one of his moods. When he’s in one of his funks. When his ears refuse to listen to what he needs it to. When his body refuses to do what he tells it to do. When his mind refuses to think about what he wants it to think about. When his mind refuses to do anything. Absolutely anything- but think of you. 

  Hi, Itoshi!  Let me know if you need anything, Itoshi!  Everything okay, Itoshi?  Hey, Itoshi!  How are you, Itoshi?

  You’re awful for him.

  It’s the conclusion he comes to while he’s sitting on a bench on the side of the soccer field. It’s off-season right now. That means no one is here with him. No one is here to get stronger with him. No one is here to get faster with him. No one is here to get better with him. Not right now. And not ever, really. Because no one wants to rise to the top as much as much as he does. No one trains as much as he does. No one wants it as much as he does. Not even the second most dedicated player on his high school soccer team. Not even him. And yet…

  Hi, Itoshi!  Let me know if you need anything, Itoshi!  Everything okay, Itoshi? Hey, Itoshi!  How are you, Itoshi?

  He can’t focus. He can’t focus because his mind is busy. Because his mind is reeling. Because his mind is on you.

  Truth is, you’re not one special. You’re supposed to be no one special. You’re little more than the prettiest, most sensible girl in the class. You’re little more than the girl who faithfully checks in on him, every now and then. The girl who watches from the sidelines for a couple minutes of each of his games. The girl who will sometimes help out at his practices because everyone thinks you’re pretty.

  But you’re the girl who smiles so softly at him, even when he snaps back so coldly. You’re the girl who never shouts back at him when he lets his ego get the best of him. The girl who never fails to greet him with the same sickenly sweetness she turns onto others, even when he’s obviously not in the mood. The girl who never pushes him too far socially. Never piled every hope, dream, and pressure onto his back. The girl who never fought for his attention or for the chance to get close to his brother. But most of all?

  You’re the girl who keeps enough distance from him to stay. But not enough to keep him from wanting more. 

  Hi, Itoshi!  Let me know if you need anything, Itoshi!  Everything okay, Itoshi? Hey, Itoshi!  How are you, Itoshi?

  He can’t focus. Not with you around. But not while you’re far either. Not while his mind is pulling itself away from the ball resting near his feet. You’re a distraction. That’s just what you are to him- a distraction. A distraction was a pretty voice, sure. A distraction that never fails to bring color to his cheeks and a cloudiness to his mind, yeah. But that’s all you are to him. A classmate who distracts him. A classmate who hinders his progress. Keeps him from reaching his potential. His fullest potential. 

  But…

  Rin looks out and in front of him, eyeing the open, empty space of the pitch. Before long, one of the home games from this past season enters his mind. And he’s able to perfectly imagine a particular scene- a kickoff that happened halfway through the game. A kickoff that was going to sail the ball perfectly in front of his awaiting frame. Just like he trained his teammates to do.

  A kickoff he almost missed because he swore the moment he heard his teammate’s foot make contact with the ball, he saw you.

  He cringes at that memory. At the reminder of how far he still has to go. Of how human he is. But it was your fault. It was all your fault. You told him good luck before his game. You told him you’d try to watch part of his game before you left school for the day. You told him. You promised him.

  And you did. But your presence- even now, it plagues him.  Or rather, your existence does. The thought of you being near. The thought of you being far. He hasn’t been able to escape it ever since you joined his class. He hasn’t been able to escape it since he first saw you. But you’re supposed to be no one. You are no one. No one to him. 

  So why does he want so badly to greet you as you do to him? Why does he want so badly to be the only one who feels special when you talk to them? Why does he want so badly to have you at his every practice and at his every game so you can watch him become great? And so that he could be the one that walks you home. The one that gets to hold your hand. The one that gets to keep you by their side. The one that gets all your attention. 

  The one that gets all of you.

Hi, Itoshi!  Let me know if you need anything, Itoshi!  Everything okay, Itoshi? Hey, Itoshi!  How are you, Itoshi?

  He drops his head and closes his eyes. With a heavy head hung low, he takes a deep breath in as he pulls his shoulders back. It only takes a couple seconds for him to hear and feel it: the satisfying pop of a stretch done properly. He then releases the breath he held slowly, minding every single second it passes through his lips. And then he sighs, once more.

  He thinks he hates you. He thinks, at least. Sometimes, he’s not sure. It’s not so simple. But more than anything, he wishes it was. He wishes it was simple.

  Because if it was, maybe he’d have the guts to do more than just send you a glare as you pass him just now. Because if it was, maybe he’d grow a pair and call out to you. He’d tell you that he’d walk you home. He’d talk to you properly. And he’d enjoy your smile and your voice and all those things you share freely with the world. He’d enjoy them all.

  But it’s not simple. So he doesn’t do any of that. And you don’t break your stride as you pass by him as he sits on the bench, going home with nobody to accompany you. You don’t need him. And he doesn’t need you.

  At least, he’ll tell himself that for as long as it takes to get off his feet and back onto the pitch. So he can focus on what's important. So he can focus on his future.

  So he can focus on something that just isn't you.

[itlogricky]

~ 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

~ 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐑𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

You were having a high fever, this is quickly seen by Rin, who sets his computer aside and gets up. He approaches you and gets down on his lower legs. The question "How are you feeling?" He asks this with genuine compassion and a soft voice. Given that you were visibly shaking, it doesn't take him long to comprehend how horrible your current position is.

"Im not really feeling well today." you spoke, he acknowledges what you're going through with a nod. Rin goes past you as he takes some water from the refrigerator and a bottle of medicine from a nearby shelf. He says in a calm voice, "Take these,sit up and stay still for a while." "Mhm, alright." Rin then delicately puts the water bottle next to the pills on your tongue. "Don't move your tongue."

Before settling down on the bed next to you, he whispers. Still softly gazing over you, he envelops you in his arms and places his head on your shoulder. "Im really glad to have you Rinrin." as you call his nickname, even though Rin has heard you say this numerous times, he still finds it amusing. He gave you the opportunity to see him at his most vulnerable.

After that, Rin continues to smile but stays silent for an extended period as the room becomes silent. He appears to be a different person than the one who is typically so solemn and stern all the time since his countenance is softer and more gentle. Rin notices your shivering and sense of cold. He decides to say a sweet word to you after considering it some thought. He sits on the edge of your bed and whispers softly. "Cuddle with me?" You are asked this by him, which strikes you as an odd and unexpected question from someone of his type.

"Mhm,okay.." you softly whisper to him.

The moment you accept his offer, Rin smiled warmly. In order to keep you warm, he covers blankets around your body. He then moves forward and wraps his arms around you before enclosing you in a tight hug. He leans in close and begins to stroke your hair with his control. He mutters, "Comfortable?" When he sees how you've let yourself relaxing in front of him, Rin smiles as he watches you fall asleep. He begins to hold you close and stroke your hair before moving on to kiss your forehead and settling down next to you. He covers the two of you and wraps himself in the blankets before eventually dozing out as well.

[daebraeksan]

Scared to talk to Bachira about him hurting your feelings (but then you do it and he apologizes and you forgive him)

Genre: comfort, established relationship, pro player Bachira

Contents: anxiety, insecurity, implied trauma, trust issues, fear of confrontation

Wc: 1289

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

You’re in a little bit of a catastrophic spiral. You feel really tender and sensitive and like anything could send you over the edge. You feel like you’ve done everything wrong (what specifically? Everything. What more explanation could you possibly want?) and you feel like everything is going to be taken away from you.

You get like this sometimes. You try not to. But it’s hard to outrun a childhood. And you aren’t really trying to outrun it. You just want to be happy despite it.

Having Bachira in your life is one thing you have tried to remove from the list of things you have periodic freak outs about. You want to work on your trust issues, and you have, and you know Bachira is trustworthy. He has never done anything to prove otherwise. Logic doesn’t really help your anxieties or insecurities but you still feel the need to point out the facts.

You’ve been off kilter for a few days in a row, situations not going your way, some major, some minor, and you hate it. You hate that you can’t just coping-strategy all of this away—all of these feelings away. You pace around your house. You sit down at the dining table and rock yourself. You curl up on the couch in an incredibly uncomfortable position and don’t move. 

Normally, you are pretty good at feeling secure in your relationships with people. You’ve worked hard to get to this point. You don’t have to second guess their motives, when you’ve known them for a long time, and they’ve demonstrated nothing but respect and kindness towards you. But this week has been crazy for Bachira, too, or something—regardless of the reason, you felt ignored one too many times, felt like you were snapped at, and felt like you were expendable. You don’t blame him at all since it’s your interpretation but at the same time you know from experience that invalidating your emotions isn’t going to make any of this go away.

And then you’ve gone and wrapped yourself up in your old habits of being afraid to talk about something. Your classic fear rears its head: you’re too much trouble, way more trouble than you’re worth, and everyone is going to leave you.

Bachira comes home, drops his stuff off haphazardly in the front doorway, and makes a beeline straight towards you. He ruffles your hair and presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I’m home,” he sings.

You smile at him, but you feel crazy. He must notice something is off—how could he not?—because he cups your cheek. It has the intended effect—you indeed feel soothed. You nuzzle your cheek into his palm. You want to be completely engulfed in his touch. You hate everything you’re feeling right now. It’s too hard. 

“What do you want to do tonight?”

You know sometimes he asks this as a formality. He always likes having something to do—but he is content to “compromise” with you and create an “event” for something very normal and calm and low-key that you also want to do (at home. Definitely at home.) (You hate that word because it still feels like both people lose something but whatever the word is for both people are happy with the outcome lol.) 

“I don’t know,” you half-lie—at the very least, you know you have to talk to him. The words coagulate like mucus in your throat. You’re so stupid. This shouldn't be that hard.  Bachira loves you and he’s going to listen to you and nothing is going to be wrong.

You can tell yourself these things. And it won’t help. But to be fair, being mean to yourself won’t help either, but. Yknow. You aren’t going to win every battle. Definitely not this one today.

Not that you want this conversation with  Bachira to seem like a battle. You don’t. 

He studies you for a bit. “We could…just relax together until we think of something?”

You like having a specifically-designated task, something delineated, and can make you feel like you aren’t a failure and aren’t causing a fuss or scene or trouble. You aren’t ruining everyone’s night, this still “counts” as “successful”—you give in to all your old habits, all your rigid, self-scaring habits. Why not? When it rains it pours, or whatever. Let the dam break. Etc. 

You hear him heating up food in the kitchen and he spreads everything out on the coffee table in the living room. You look at him adoringly. He knows you don't eat when you’re like this. That bastard. Loving you and taking care of you. 

How dare he?

You both start on your food, him digging in, and you nibbling. 

“Can we talk?” you ask. 

“Always,” he says, and a few pieces of rice fly out of his mouth onto the table. He picks them up and tries to feed them to you.

“No!” you bark jokingly as you twist your head away, scrunching up your face, trying not to laugh because then he will put the rice in your mouth.

“Don’t waste food!” he admonishes seriously.

“Stop!” you finally let out a giggle. He eats the rice himself and settles back down. 

You stare at him and he stares at you.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s your turn again.”

“Thank you,” you say. You figure you might as well ease yourself into it. You don’t have to accuse yourself of manipulation or lying or whatever—you just need to let yourself be. You’re trying your best. You start off with talking about some random topics that were bothering you this week to set the scene. You explain the headspace you’ve been in and how you’ve been feeling.

He puts down his food. “I’m sorry that happened,” he says. “Can I hug you?”

You nod. You put down your food just as he throws his arms around you and squeezes you tight. He kisses your cheek. ���I don’t mean for those actions to make you feel those ways.  Is there anything I can do to show you that  I didn’t mean any of that, and that I love you so much?”

You are very embarrassed. You hate to ask for anything—even normal boring stuff, and now, this feels like you are being asked to ask for something extra special. Asking someone to make amends to you feels so wrong. It feels like you’re not supposed to cause other people trouble. But anything you say, Bachira probably has already done before, and is okay with it, and some, he’s even done on his own volition before, and you  might not have even known it was what you liked or wanted before him.

You make your requests of how you want to spend some time with him doing your favorite activities and he happily acquiesces.  

“I’ve been wanting that, too,” he says. He peppers kisses all over your face. “I’m sorry you had a bad week,” he says. “That’s so stupid.”

“It was really stupid,” you say sadly. 

He shakes you. “Do you want me to beat them up?” he asks in the most chipper tone.

You sigh and shake your head. “No. Let’s just watch tv.”

He grabs blankets, and you finish the rest of your food while watching your comfort show, snuggled up next to Bachira, who waits patiently until you’re done eating so he can hold your hand. 

Nothing can make the bad events of this week less bad—but you also don’t have to carry your insecure energy into next week. You know you can do what you need to do and you know it’s okay to feel this way sometimes. And if there’s anyone who believes in you the most, it’s Bachira.

[moechies]

Ur fav guy fucking his mom pls pls

౨ৎ ⋆ take it, mommy ! ꨄ shidou ryusei ꒰ DARK CONTENT ꒱

sypnosis: grimy shidou fuckin' his mommy :(

content warnings 𝜚 𓈒 1.4k words ꒱ ince$t, yandere themes, pwop, tons of kissing, groping, no prep, creampie, whiny needy ryu, name usage including . . mommy, mama

“ryusei ! get off me!”

“no.. i love you, love y’so much mommy. missed you soo much.” he purrs against your warm skin. his heavy body lays atop of you, keeping you still below him as he grabs at your face and pressing sloppy kisses anywhere he deems possible; like a bunny in heat.

“n-not now, ryusei, mommy’s got things to do, okay?”

“y’really can’t spend some quality time with your son?” he pouts, a sight you’re never used to seeing. it makes your heart ache, and you sigh.

“b-but, i have to cook—“

“i can help you with that later, ‘kay? jus’ miss you mama, don’t leave me.”

you shrivel under his touch, finding it hard to respond with anything other than your usual ‘yes, of course i won’t .’ he attempts to read into your expression, looking for any sign of reassurance. he sighs with relief when you smile, burying himself in the crook of your collarbone when you run a hand through the soft of his fluffy hair. because he knows, knows that you’ve fallen into his trap once again.

. . ♡

ryusei only loves you. maybe it’s the fact that you’re the only one out of thousands of individuals that he’s ever met, that has shown him unconditional love. spending the last 20 years of your life grooming him, nurturing him, regardless of anything that has happened within the span of his fucked up life, he’s never found another like his own mother.

he can’t help but love you more than a son should love his mother, clinging onto you at any moment given possible when he isn’t out solely to play soccer for his profession.

the brat almost always gets into dangerous situations after a bad game, rushing home to find comfort in his mothers presence, as well as in her sloppy cunt. you attempt to scold him, but everything simply goes in one ear and out the next when he’s desperate for some lovin’ from his mother.

“i know.. i know already, okay? jus’ missed you so much. couldn’t wait to come home..” he mumbles, pressing his hot lips against yours. it’s overwhelming, his soft hands roaming your body and groping the flesh of your tits from under your shirt, the soft fat of them falling in between his fingers. “really just missed you s’much mama. forgive me, ‘kay?”

how heartless would you be if you didn’t ?

♡ . .

“w’na make you feel good. can i , mommy ? please ? w’na have you so bad.” he whines, fingers tugging at your shirt, quickly pulling them above your tits causing you to squeal. he wastes no time listening to your complaints, whining about how he’s too crude, and how he needs to be patient, instead he quickly latches onto your swollen bud. his strained cock unwittingly humps into the sheets, the wet sticky patch that leaks from his cock head dirtying his boxers.

ones you’d have to wash later, and look back on the ‘guilt‘ of your two’s doings.

he’s messy, and his spit coats not only your puffy areola but the fat of your tit. he gropes at your tit simultaneously, causing you to arch your back away from the rough sensation.

“r-ryusei hnn— too rough.”

“sorryyy. . didn’t mean t’mommy.” he mumbles, catching your lips in a heated kiss.

meanwhile, his hand travels below, pulling himself out of the confinement of his boxers. he sighs into your mouth out of relief, the warmth of his shaft unintentionally rubbing against your naked thigh. it makes you whine, squeezing your eyes tight.

“ryusei..” you mumble into the kiss , catching his attention. “you’re such a good boy f’mommy baby.” you coo with a light smile. his gaze softens, an ill-intentioned grin that spreads across his face. he yearns for your free hand, intertwining his bigger fingers with yours.

“can i fuck you now ? please, can’t wait anymore. it hurts , mommy.” he whines, leading your gaze down below where he fervidly attempts to rub out the ache in his cock. it’s a sight you’ve seen many times before, but one that you’re never able to get used to.

he’s heavy, and thick, the rotund tip leaking of creamy pre. his balls swell with need, desperate for any sort of release. he’s thickest around the middle, veins bulging across the entirety of his fat shaft. you find yourself salivating at the sight, quickly tidying your appearance before he has time to make fun of your expression.

“such a pretty sight, baby.” you coo, hoisting yourself onto your forearms to press a soft kiss against his cheek.

“t-thank you, mommy.” he mumbles, a light blush of pink painting over his cheeks. he’s unable to look into you, embarrassed, but doesn’t waste time to press a kiss on the tip of your nose to show his appreciation.

he rubs the swollen head against the pudgy slit of your cunt waiting for approval, shivering when he feels his pre mix into the slick of your arousal. his grip on your hand grows tighter, attempting to press further into your silky cunt.

“mommy, please—“

“mhm, be good for mommy, okay? go ahead, p-put it in, ryusei.”

you find yourself barely able to breathe throughout the the desperation, watching as his pupils grow into large black voids, shaped into hearts.

he wastes no time, quickly guiding his cock into the depths of your cunt. the arousal caused upon his teasing causes a slip, his creamy head accidently nudging over your puffy clit, making you jolt against him. he mumbles out insincere apologies, head empty other than the thought of getting in his mother’s cunt.

he nearly cums when he successfully fucks into you, your tight walls pulsating and gripping around him like no other. you squeal at the stretch, free hand coming up to push at his chest in an attempt to slow his movements.

“wait— ryu !”

“mommy,” he whines, on the brink of tears. if his eyes hadn’t been rolled back into his fucking skull, you’d very obviously see tears beading in the socket of his rosy irises.

“r-ryu,” you cry. “feels s’ good. y-you’re making mommy feel so good..”

his chest swells with pride, yearning to hear more of your honey-like praises.

he humps into you lazily, his breaths heavy and to be heard from rooms away. minimal sweat beads across the crown of his forehead, his gaze pacing back and forth from your frenzied state to down below where you two connect.

your cunt accommodates his girth perfectly, fat folds stretching to painful limits just enough to fit his cock. every thrust leaves a coat of pearlescent cream around him forming a ring, slow dribbles of cum spilling down and coating the tight rim below.

“l-love you, only you, love your pussy s’much, i— thankyouthankyouthank—“ his rambles are stopped by a kiss, but to no avail as he continues chanting against your lips. his hands rub up on every inch of your skin desperately, roughly fondling your messy tits, eager to feel more.

“wan’ you to cum, please, cum ‘round me mama. please—“ he mumbles meekly into your neck, bodies held together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

his thrusts become heavy and sloppy, leaving no room for you to squirm away as he holds tight. “hnn— r-ryu, it hurts— think ‘m g-gonna cum,” you cry, shimmery tears dragging along your dewy cheek. red painful streaks paint the back of the football player, but he pays no mind.

“cum, mommy, cum on it.” he moans breathlessly.

you’d never miss a chance to. your cunt convulses around him violently, pushing him over the edge at the given moment. creamy cum coats the insides, painting your walls white as his fat load seems to be never ending, filling your little cunt to the brim.

“ryusei, t-too much! wait !”

“take i-it, pleasee hnn—, just be still and take it f’me—“

he holds you tight, hindering your attempt to scramble away from the feeling, being sure you feel every inch, every drop of his heavy load.

he withdraws his limp cock from you unwillingly, whining at the sensitivity when your cunt clenches around his swelled tip.

he light smile spreads across his lips as he watches his load leak out of you involuntarily, painting the sheets white. he does nothing to prevent the mess, simply watching from afar dreaming of doing it again.

“love you, mommy.” he speaks quietly, gently grabbing your face on both sides to pucker your swollen lips before pressing a heavy kiss. he adores your fucked out expression, barely awoke but still conscious enough to shoot him a smile, and a honeyed, “i love you too, ryusei. ♡”

“goodnight, mommy. sleep tight. ♡”

[rinsthighsweat]

The time they find out they have a crush on you

Rin, Sae and Shidou | masterlist

Word count: 3.1k in total, 1k each

g!n reader, fluff ... and that's it, I guess

۶ৎ Rin Itoshi

Rin Itoshi wasn’t the type to get distracted. His focus was razor-sharp, honed by years of relentless training and a desire to surpass his brother. He kept his circle small, rarely spoke unless necessary, and always had his eyes on the next goal. But lately, something, or rather, someone, was throwing him off balance.

That someone was you.

It started subtly, almost imperceptibly, with Rin catching himself glancing your way during training breaks. You were always talking to the others, your laugh easy and light in contrast to the tension that usually hung over Blue Lock. Rin had convinced himself it was simply because your energy was loud, too loud to ignore. But the more time he spent near you, the more he realized it wasn’t about the volume. It was about you.

He hated it.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

The turning point came during a routine strategy meeting. You sat beside him, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his when you shifted in your seat. Normally, Rin would have ignored it without a second thought. But this time, he was hyperaware of every small movement, the warmth of your proximity unsettling in a way he couldn’t explain.

“You’re quiet today” you said, tilting your head toward him.

“I’m always quiet” he replied curtly, eyes fixed firmly on the field diagram.

You chuckled softly. “Fair point. But you seem extra broody.”

“I’m not brooding.”

“If you say so.” Your voice carried amusement, but you let it drop, sensing his mood. Still, that lingering warmth from your brief attention stayed with Rin long after the meeting ended.

Later that evening, Rin found himself alone in the locker room, replaying the conversation in his mind. It wasn’t significant by any means, just small talk, a blip in the day. Yet it clung to his thoughts like static, and he couldn’t shake the way his chest had tightened when you laughed.

He gritted his teeth. This is stupid.

But the more he tried to push the thoughts away, the more they crept back. Images of you smiling, laughing, standing close enough that your presence filled his senses, none of it left him alone. The realization struck him like a jarring collision on the field: I like them.

The very idea made Rin scowl. He didn’t have time for this, didn’t want to have time for this. But denying it was pointless. His heart raced whenever you were near, and for the first time in a long while, Rin felt unsure of himself.

When he stepped outside, hoping the cool air would clear his head, there you were, sitting on the steps by the entrance. You looked up and smiled when you saw him, your expression soft and inviting.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” you asked.

“Something like that” Rin muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hesitated for a moment, then sat beside you.

The silence stretched between you, comfortable and easy. For once, Rin didn’t feel the need to fill it, or push you away.

“You’re not as scary as everyone thinks, you know” you said, breaking the quiet.

He raised an eyebrow. “Who thinks I’m scary?”

“Pretty much everyone.” Your grin widened. “But I don’t.”

Rin’s heart did that annoying skip again, and he looked away, hoping the night would hide the faint heat creeping up his neck.

“You’re different from what people see on the surface,” you continued. “I like that.”

Your words hung in the air, and Rin knew he should respond, but the weight of his newfound feelings made it impossible to speak. Instead, he glanced at you, taking in the sincerity in your expression.

“Thanks” he finally managed, his voice quieter than usual.

You nudged him lightly with your shoulder. “See? Not scary at all.”

Rin let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Maybe this wasn’t something he could control, but for the first time, he didn’t entirely mind. And as you both sat in the quiet night, Rin found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, liking you wasn’t so bad after all.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Sae Itoshi

Sae Itoshi was not a man accustomed to losing control. Whether on or off the field, he prided himself on maintaining an air of effortless composure. His charisma, the cool indifference that wrapped around him like a second skin, it was all calculated. He didn’t need anyone’s approval. He didn’t want anyone too close.

But lately, there was one person who seemed to shatter that carefully crafted barrier, without even trying. You.

It started innocently enough, with casual conversations after practice. Sae would spot you laughing with the others, always so effortless and bright, your smile something that seemed to stay with him long after the day ended. He didn’t understand why it bothered him. It was just you, after all, someone who didn’t seem to need anything from him.

But then, the subtle shifts began. The way your gaze lingered a little longer when you caught his eye, the way your presence didn’t feel like just another part of the background anymore. Sae caught himself looking for you in the crowds, listening for the sound of your voice in the mornings.

That’s when he realized, he was waiting for you.

It was infuriating.

One night, after a particularly grueling training session, Sae found himself walking back to his room, his mind preoccupied with the usual thoughts of what he could do to continue surpassing everyone. But then, there you were, sitting on the bench by the field, reading something on your phone. The faint glow illuminated your face, and for a moment, Sae simply watched you.

Without thinking, he approached.

“Still here?” he asked, his voice a little colder than intended.

You looked up, a smile forming on your lips when you saw him. “Can’t sleep, I guess.” You shrugged nonchalantly, then tilted your head curiously. “What about you? Done with practice already?”

Sae didn’t answer right away. He simply leaned against the bench, looking down at you. He couldn’t explain the knot that had suddenly formed in his stomach, the way his usual self-assurance seemed to falter under your gaze.

“You should go inside and rest. You’ve been working hard” you said, voice soft but firm. There was no agenda, no hidden meaning in your words, just a simple suggestion.

Sae hesitated. There it was again, that feeling. The one that made him feel like he was actually being seen for once, beyond the famous Itoshi name, beyond the expectations and pressure. It was... strange. Unfamiliar.

He sat down beside you without saying anything, staring ahead at the empty field. The night air was cool, but it didn’t matter. The silence between you wasn’t awkward, though, it felt... comfortable.

“Can I ask you something?” Sae broke the quiet, his voice more vulnerable than usual.

“Sure” you replied, glancing at him curiously.

“Why are you always so... you?” He couldn’t find a better way to phrase it, but he didn’t need to.

You tilted your head, a little smile playing at the corner of your lips. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t care about all the crap everyone else thinks about. You don’t... try so hard to be someone you’re not.” His words were sharper than intended, but they weren’t meant to hurt. He was just... confused.

For a moment, you were silent, looking out at the field as if thinking about what to say. “I don’t see the point in pretending,” you said simply, your voice calm. “People are going to judge you no matter what you do, so I’d rather just be me.”

Sae’s chest tightened at your words, something in them resonating with him more than he cared to admit. He leaned back slightly, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“You’re different,” he said quietly, his tone shifting. “And I don’t know if I like it or hate it.”

Your gaze shifted back to him, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. “You don’t like it?”

Sae ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh escaping him. “I don’t know. Maybe... maybe I like it more than I should.”

The words hung in the air between you, thick with unspoken tension. Sae didn’t look at you, too caught up in his own confusion to face what he was really feeling.

“Maybe you’re not as indifferent as you think you are” you said, a playful edge to your voice.

Sae’s head snapped toward you, his heart skipping a beat at the light teasing in your tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? Talking to me when you could be anywhere else. You’re not exactly the picture of indifference.”

His breath caught in his throat, the words echoing in his mind as if you’d just thrown down a challenge. But Sae didn’t know how to respond. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that his feelings for you had become more than just a passing thought. They were something deeper, something he didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t deny.

“You’re... frustrating,” he muttered, though the frustration wasn’t with you, it was with himself.

You laughed softly, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “I could say the same about you.”

Sae’s heart pounded in his chest, the quiet warmth between you suddenly feeling too much, too overwhelming. He wanted to push you away, needed to keep his distance, but for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure if he wanted that.

“I’m not good at this kind of thing,” he admitted, his voice softening for the first time that night.

“I’m not either.” you responded, offering him a small smile. “But it’s okay. You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

Sae’s chest tightened at your words. The truth was, he didn’t know what this was, what you were doing to him. But for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like pushing it away. Maybe he didn’t need to have everything figured out. Maybe, just maybe, it was enough to sit there next to you, and let the warmth of the moment speak for itself.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Shidou Ryusei

Shidou Ryusei wasn’t the type to get flustered. His confidence was his trademark, as unmistakable as his chaotic energy on and off the field. He had his charm, his loud, domineering personality that demanded attention, and he was used to having everyone in the room focus on him. So when he found himself thinking about you, and more importantly, finding himself thinking about you more than he’d ever cared to admit, it was a problem.

The whole thing started out of nowhere, as it always did with Shidou. At first, he barely noticed it,just a passing glance when you laughed, the way your smile had this warmth that caught his attention for a second too long. But after that, it was like something inside him snapped. Suddenly, he was aware of every little thing you did.

The way you’d scold him playfully when he took things too far. The way you made sure to give everyone in the room attention, but there was always something in the way your eyes lingered on him that made him feel… different. He couldn’t explain it.

One night, after a particularly grueling session on the field, Shidou found himself walking back to the locker room, and as usual, you were there. Leaning against the wall near the entrance, scrolling through your phone as if the world wasn’t moving a million miles an hour around you. Shidou paused for a moment, noticing how easily you blended in with the background yet somehow managed to stand out to him.

"You're always lurking around, huh?" he called out, voice loud and unbothered.

You looked up, your face lighting up with a small smile. "I’m not lurking. Just, you know, existing."

Shidou smirked, pushing off the doorframe to approach you. He’d always enjoyed getting under people’s skin, but this... this felt different. "You’re good at existing," he teased, walking closer with that cocky swagger of his. "But I didn’t know you were into the whole ‘looking at me’ thing."

You raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "You wish."

“Is that so?” His gaze was playful, teasing, but there was a sharpness to it, something different in his tone that caught you off guard.

It had been a while since Shidou’s attention had ever really stayed on one person for long. People were either in his way, or they were irrelevant. But for some reason, you weren’t either of those things. You were different. And it was driving him crazy.

“So, what’s up?” you asked, pushing yourself off the wall, walking toward him. “Done tormenting everyone else for the day?”

"Someone has to keep them on their toes." he grinned, crossing his arms. But the grin faltered for a moment, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "But you? You’ve been acting weird around me lately."

You stopped in your tracks, tilting your head slightly, genuinely curious. "Weird? How so?"

Shidou couldn’t hide the glint of annoyance mixed with something else in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being so disoriented, especially when it came to someone like you. "You’ve been… paying too much attention. Normally, you just brush me off like everyone else. But now? You’re always there, watching me."

There was a brief silence between you two. Shidou’s eyes were searching yours, and despite the usual cocky attitude he wore like armor, you saw something more vulnerable beneath the surface,a hint of insecurity that he would never admit to anyone else.

“Well, I guess you’re a little… hard to ignore,” you finally said, your voice light but your eyes serious. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

Shidou’s face twitched. "You think I’m loud, huh?"

"A little bit..." you shrugged, trying to keep the teasing tone light.

Shidou scoffed, but his eyes softened slightly. He couldn’t help but laugh at your bluntness, even if it irritated him. "Tch, you’re not making this easy, are you?"

You smiled, taking a small step forward, and for the first time, you could see a flicker of something unguarded in his eyes, a quiet, unexpected softness that didn’t match the usual fire of his personality. "Not everything is easy, Shidou."

For a moment, he stood frozen. The usual arrogant and fiery Shidou Ryusei, the one who never let anyone in, was suddenly unsure, vulnerable even. He couldn’t quite figure out what was happening, but the way you stood there, calm and patient, was making him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he muttered under his breath, his voice gruff.

You took another step closer, tilting your head slightly as you watched him, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. "You want me to stop?"

“No.” Shidou’s response was immediate, almost too quick. His gaze dropped to the ground for a split second, before snapping back to you. “You don’t get to mess with my head like this, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow. "Mess with your head?"

“Yeah...” he grumbled, looking anywhere but at you. “You’ve got me thinking about shit I don’t want to.”

The words hung between you, heavy with something unspoken. You could sense it now, the way his usual cocky exterior had cracked just enough to reveal the truth he hadn’t been able to face: he liked you.

Shidou let out an exaggerated sigh, his usual bravado coming back, but it was clear something had shifted. "You better not start acting all innocent now, alright?"

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. "I’m not the one acting weird, remember?"

“Yeah, yeah” he muttered, rolling his eyes but still looking at you. For once, the grin on his face didn’t reach his eyes, he was still trying to sort out everything he was feeling. But at least now, he wasn’t pushing you away. He wasn’t sure what this was, or where it was going, but for the first time in a long time, Shidou wasn’t willing to walk away.

“I guess you’re stuck with me for now” you said lightly, smiling as you stepped back, preparing to leave.

Shidou watched you go, his chest tight with something unfamiliar but undeniably strong. For once, he didn’t want to chase you away. He didn’t want you to leave.

And as you disappeared into the distance, he muttered under his breath, his smirk returning but a spark of something real in his eyes. “Tch, you’ve got no idea what you’re getting yourself into, huh?”

© 2025 rinsthighsweat — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform!

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: You swore grief followed you like a cloud. Losing those who you loved at every turn, but there was one positive at least you had Bachira to turn to for comfort. But you were soon to find out the mysterious deaths surrounding you werent such a mystery afterall. 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗: Meguru Bachira (Blue Lock) 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.9k 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘: Fem!Reader x Yandere!Bachira. ⚠️NSFW Dark Content⚠️. 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Knife play, stalking, NONCON, mentions of voyeurism, gas lighting, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, blood, oral (fem!receiving), pussy slapping, degrading, mind break.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: WE DID IT YALL! We have officially made it to the end of Kinktober!! This was my first time taking a stab (hehe) at this challenge and we may have had a few hiccups along the way, but we got here! I really wanted to end this month with a bang! So this is probably the most intense of the ones on this list. For this one more than all of the others, please be mindful of the tags. This is the most intense and dark fic I’ve done this month. You are responsible for the content you consume, if this is not for you please have a look at my complete masterlist for Kinktober here. This is also my second submission for the "No, You Hang Up" Ghostface server collab that I'm hosting with our other server owner @rindous-starlight I really hope you enjoy and thank you for sticking with me through it! Merry Samhein/Happy Halloween my loves!

Bachira’s eyes were locked on you, unblinking. His gaze was so intense he was surprised that you didn’t feel it through the glass of your window. You were so trusting, but oh so naïve. Not thinking for a moment that your sweet, ditzy, neighbor had such a deep-seated obsession with you. Couldn’t imagine that nearly nightly he sat by his window, the same one that was directly across from yours, eyes locked on your frame. As you changed, danced around, scrolled through your phone, and especially late at night when you let your hands roam your body. To Bachira, in his twisted mind, this was all intentional. Because for what other reason would you, in clear view with your blinds open, let your fingers sink into your delicious cunt? To Bachira he took it as you simply teasing him. Aching for him to make the first move.

You had moved to this neighborhood nearly a year ago. And you would be lying if you said it had been an easy year. The past year had tested you to the extreme. Within only a month your long-term boyfriend went missing. You and Reo had been together for almost ten years, high school sweethearts. You didn’t know what you would do, he had been all you’ve ever known. After spending weeks worried sick, never stopping looking for him, his body had turned up in the middle of the woods. Murdered. You couldn’t imagine who could do such a thing. Bachira had happened to return to his home when you were just wrapping up talking to the police, offering you a kind smile and a warm hug.

Bachira.

You don’t know what you would have done without him this past year. He had been there for you all through your grief, comforting you every step along the way. Despite what anyone said, you were eternally grateful for the sweet man. You best friend, Karasu, hadn’t liked him. Claiming something about “the guy’s vibe being off” and that he “seemed happy with your boyfriend out of the picture”. You two had gotten into an argument that night, after telling Bachira about your squabble the next day you were certain he was right.

Karasu had never liked Reo, claiming you could do so much better. That he and his best friend Nagi’s relationship was weird. But, no, Bachira was right he was projecting. Projecting that Bachira was the one happy Re was out of the picture when it was really him. That didn’t mean that he deserved what happened to him, however. You spent too many nights lying awake relaying the last conversation you both had on repeat. Screaming back and forth before he stormed out. Sure he had been so nasty to Bachira, who all he wanted was to be there for you, but he didn’t deserve…

He didn’t deserve to die.

Enough time had passed since Reo’s passing that you had begun to consider moving on. After Reo, and now Karasu, your late boyfriend’s best friend had begun checking on you more frequently. You weren't sure how it happened, maybe because you were missing Reo and being with Nagi felt like there was still a piece of him left behind. The both of you seek comfort in each other, eventually escalating, blossoming into a bit of an arrangement. The both of you weren't dating by any means, more seeking a body to keep the bed (and your cunt) warm. And it was working, going so well. It was nice having Nagi around, a familiar face you had known for so many years. Not having to rely on Bachira so much.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy the sweet man’s presence, but you were starting to feel guilt for leaning on him so heavily. Bachira had been there for you through both tragedies this past year, now being your only friend in the world with the recent developments in you and Nagi’s relationship. When you had moved here, it was a distance away from your family. Having moved here to be closer to Reo’s work. Karasu was a good enough friend that he had found an apartment nearby, not wanting you to be so far away with no one. But, with him gone now too, it seemed like all you had was Bachira and Nagi. You were so grateful for Bachira’s presence, so lucky to have him in your life.

But oh how wrong had you been.

You wished you had listened to Karasu, that you had never moved here in the first place. Not as your feet slammed against the hardwood of the spacious home left to you in Reo’s absence. Not as you had come home that day to see your couch stained in his blood, his lifeless body being hovered over by the mysterious masked killer. And certainly not as the same man chased you throughout your home, his manic laughter seeming all too familiar. Once you were sure you had put enough distance between you both you ran toward your bedroom, slipping inside your closet.

That had been your first mistake.

The hand you had clamped over your mouth must have not been doing its job well enough

“Come on out, honeybee. I just wanna talk. I promise I wont hurt you, I’d never hurt you. I love you.”

You froze in place where you were hidden, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. You knew that voice. It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be happening …Bachira?

You let out an audible gasp, in hindsight that was most likely what had led him to your hiding spot. You let out a scream as the closet door is thrown open, mask discarded from his face now, allowing you to take him in. Crazed look in those honey-colored eyes you had grown to feel so safe when looking into, now causing bile to rise in your throat. Blood staining his hands and smeared on his cheek. Knife tossed aside somewhere on the bed as he collects you into his arms. An embrace where you once felt safe, now making you feel trapped, fear creeping up your spine. You let out a full body shudder as his nose nuzzles into the side of your neck.

“There you are my honey bee. Are you done hiding from me now?” His words come out muffled against your skin, tears pricking the back of your eyes.

“Bachira…why?”

His grip tightens on your figure, surely displeased with your words. His hand coming to your face in a harsh grip, eyes narrowed when looking into yours.

“Meguru.” He nearly growls. “You call me Meguru. People who are in love call each other by their first names. Now say it.”

You let out a hush whimper of his name and that seems to snap him back into his bubbly personality. Before you could comprehend what was happening his lips collided with yours, his tongue invading your mouth. Walking you backward until your knees hit the back of the mattress, causing you to fall back your body hitting the plush mattress with hm still on top of you You whimper, low and in the back of your throat, weakly trying to push him off of you.

“Please… Meguru, stop.”

This seems to upset him one again, his fingers curling around the bladed weapon that lay discarded on your mattress. You felt the cold blade caress the side of your face, cold metal, sliding down the column of your throat. His lips pressed to your ear as he speaks.

“It’s a shame what happened to your boyfriend.” Bachira purred, hand still coated in Nagi’s blood, caressing the side of your face. “All those muscles didn’t help much.”

You feel sick to your stomach, the knife against your throat a reminder of what could happen if you continue to disobey him. You shudder as his hand moves swiftly, cutting through the fabric of your dress and bra, eyes locked on your now-exposed chest. Hearing is mumbled ‘so beautiful. Before he ducked down, capturing one of your nipples between his soft lips. The hand not still holding the knife thumbs your neglected bud to a peak before pinching it between blood-stained digits. With every touch to your skin, more of the evidence of what he had down stains your body. He pays attention to your sensitive buds, grinding his hips into your own. You know you should feel appalled, feel disgusted that the very man who had caused you so much grief was on top of you. Touching you.

So why did it feel so good?

Why did you crave more of his touch?

Why were your hips meeting his own?

Perhaps it had been because it had been a while since you had been touched like this. Nagi found most things to be a hassle, often falling asleep almost immediately after he came. Whatever the reason you were mortified to find yourself craving more. Allowing him to slip your clothes properly off of your body. Not fighting when his lips traveled down your frame. And certainly not when he used his index and middle fingers parted your folds so he cold duck his head down and lick a fat stripe up your soaked cunt. Bachira’s body had a visceral reaction to your taste, burying his face in your cunt, his tongue alternating between licking fat stripes against your clit to pointed circles tracing shapes against the bundle of nerves. His hips grind desperately against the mattress in search of friction to his achingly hard cock. But his head was too pussy drunk already, your taste having his eyes rolling back in his head, eating you like a man starved. Like his life depended on the sustenance of your juices.

He leans back after a moment, admiring you being so exposed for him, hand rearing back to slap your exposed cunt. You cry out, pain immediately being replaced with pleasure as he dives back down, burying this face into your folds once more. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue invades your entrance, curling inside you. He collects your juices on the wet muscle, withdrawing from inside you he pushes himself up. Tongue lolling out of his mouth, allowing your juices, mixed with his own saliva, to drip down on your neglected clit. You whine, the warmth contrasting to the cold of the room. You’re shaking, trying to hold the position he’s placed you in.

Hands gripping your waist tighter than before, which you were sure would leave imprints, if not bruises on your skin in the morning. Lips attach to your clit, tongue flicking rapidly, only pausing to occasionally bite or suck on the sensitive flesh. Your hips pick up speed, practically riding his tongue as your hips buck against his face. The familiar feeling of warmth spreads throughout your stomach, your body hurtling toward your orgasm at an alarming rate. Bachira feels your thighs spasm, both hands now gripping your ass, to pull your cunt down further onto his face, head bobbing to coax you into cumming for him. You release with a scream, thighs trapping his head between your legs, only releasing once you’ve come done from your high. Your chest rising and falling with heavy pats, not noticing Bachira throwing the cloak off of his body, freeing his cock from the confines of his underwear. Only snapping back into reality as you feel the drag of his cock between your folds, the tip of him nudging your entrance, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

“Now, be a good girl and scream for me, yeah?”

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖞 @/𝖈𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖊 & @/𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖐𝖆-𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @littleplantfreak @maruflix @umemiaa @stunies @eevees-hobbies @143-ilyuu @uzxotic @princesstiti14 (𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙/𝖉𝖒/𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

[kymerauwu]

My thoughts on bluelock ships based on all the fic/dj I've read

Rin x Isagi: they're so silly xd

Kaiser x Isagi: they're so silly xd

Kunigami x Chigiri: they're so silly xd

Hiori x Karasu: they're so silly xd

Nagi x Reo: The weight of human emotions is immeasurable; pure love is, indeed, the most potent curse to ever exist. Suffering is love, and love is suffering, and we, fragile beings, are so intoxicated by them that we shape our entire existence around the ceaseless pursuit of their fleeting sensations. It would be so simple to live without love, and yet, it would be so unbearably hollow...

Shindou x Sae: they're so silly xd

[ryyuziii]

ok.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Valentine's Day With Barou

♡ NSFW, fem reader, muscle kink??, spooning, headlocks, pet names (angel, princess, good girl), praise, unprotected sex, creampie, lowkey chubby reader but anyone can read because I don't go into too much detail ♡

note: if you couldn't tell, I've been on a bluelock kick for a minute and I really enjoy writing for the characters rn, also Happy Valentine's Day 🤭♥️ I love each and every one of you weirdos

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Your favorite holiday was always Valentine's Day, something about a whole day dedicated to love and togetherness just resonated with you, especially since you had your big, strong boyfriend — Barou, to spend it with.

Barou was always uncharacteristically sweet on Valentine's Day, spending the entire day spoiling you with gifts, flowers, and chocolates — and the entire night stuffing you full with his cum. His usual position was missionary so he could get as deep as possible, or letting you get on top for once so you could ride him...but tonight he wanted to try something different.

He had you in a spooning position, left hand holding up your leg and gripping the plush of your thigh, while his right arm cradled your head in a headlock. His girthy cock pummeled in and out of your sloppy cunt, the squelching noises echoing throughout your bedroom. The bed shook and squeaked with every rock of his hips against your ass, a cocky smirk forming on his face as he listened to your soft, breathy whines.

"Doing okay down there princess?" He teased. He knew damn well how much you were struggling to not soak the sheets just from him having you in a headlock, his thick tip pressing hard against the spot that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

"Y-yes...ngh~"

"You sure? Sounds like you're ready to burst."

"No...I'm okay."

"Y'know you can cum princess, I'm not gonna stop you." He trails kisses down the side of your face, nibbling on your earlobe as he feels you tighten around him. "That's it baby, just relax and let go. I need you to feel every inch."

He buries his face in your hair, muffling a deep groan as he feels you cum around his cock, a creamy, sticky ring forming at the base. "F-fuck! You're so warm angel, pretty pussy sucking me in so good."

He tightens his arm's grip around your neck as he thrusts up into you, spilling thick, hot cum into your pussy. "There we go...good girl. Did so good for me baby." He nuzzles his face against yours, his hand moving from your thigh to your stomach, gently rubbing it.

"Happy Valentine's Day angel."

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl

[aesterblaster]

Sleepin Demons

How Blue Lock characters wake up from nightmares/How you can comfort them [Gender neutral reader]

Tropes: Reverse Comfort, Fluff/Angst, Established Relationship, and general warnings for some gore and mentions of flashbacks along with implied sexual harassment

Characters: Almost All Of Them Lol

Songs: Insecure - Bren Joy // Coffee for Dinner - Orion Sun // Broken Clocks - SZA

The Silent Type + Actual Memories

It's the same one again. He's right back where he started. Unloved, unknown, left out of everything. The pangs of hunger run through him like a freight train as he desperately runs from room to room in his childhood home...But there's no nourishment. Someone calls his name but all he feels is fear at being recognized, he cowers as a figure rounds the corner and says his name again. "You think you could get away from me? Huh?" It could be anyone, a parent, someone he used to owe money to, an old abusive coach, all he knows is what comes next is going to hurt. "Are you fucking crying? You're so pathetic, soon everyone else will see that just like I always have!" The floor begins to sag and give way, everything creases in on itself. His brain feels like it's going to explode.

When he wakes up- his brain still feels as if it's too big for his skull, pushing against the edges like it's trying to find its way out. But he doesn't groan in pain, and he doesn't move. You're next to him after all, breathing softly. The moonlight grounds him, your hand against his side grounds him, he is safe now. The best thing you can do is stay asleep. He isn't ready to talk and admit that he's weak (or even worse...the fact that it is okay to be weak sometimes), not yet. For now he just snuggles against you and quietly brushes away any residual tears, thanking everything he believes in that he's here with you now.

Kaiser, Hiori, Naruhaya, Noa, Lorenzo

The Silent Type + More Abstract Fears

Slow. Everything was moving so fucking slow around him. His body was falling apart. Every sinew, every cell, every fucking atom of his being was breaking down and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Was this what he was truly destined for, dust to dust? Strangely enough, it didn't hurt, everything was calm. He was dying, so what? Every star burns out. And then, as sharp as a clap of thunder, the pain arrived. In his heart, not his body. Images of friends, family, trophies, all the things he hadn't done yet and you surged through his head. No, he couldn't die, not yet! He gripped his arm, but it was already turning to dust. Irrelevant and forgotten.

He's almost surprised when he wakes up, remembers that that would be impossible. Wants to scoff at himself for being afraid of something that could never happen. But the truth is, he is going to die someday, no matter how big of a star he is. He watches you twitch in your sleep, obviously disturbed by how he jerked awake, and curls his arms around you. He presses his face to the top of your head and breathes you in, silently begging you to drift back into a deeper sleep. He just needs to savor every moment with you and stop worrying, he tells himself.

Snuffy, Nagi, Ego, Aryu, Reo, Kuon, Chris, Jin

Wakes Up Screaming + Needs Reassurance

Why was this happening? You were in his arms, covered in blood, he was covered in blood; It was everywhere. The cheering from the fans turned into screaming, that's when he should've stopped and had the damn sense to look around. Instead, he kept running and dribbling down the field, confused why nobody was stopping him. He didn't see you falling from the stands until you were right in front of him. Your arm twisted first, then your neck, the rest of you followed. Why was this happening? "No, no, no, no...(Y/N). Get help! What the fuck are you all standing around for?!" He took off his jersey and tried to stop the bleeding but it wasn't enough, you were already going cold. He was powerless.

"I said get help-!!" he roared. "Oh..oh fuck." He suddenly wasn't holding your limp body anymore, he was in his- your room. The smell of blood disappeared. He glanced over and made eye contact with you. "Are you okay? You're shaking like a leaf!" "No..can you, can you just come here?" He crushes you in a bear hug as soon as you do. Even when he lets up, he opts to hold your hand instead. He makes you tell him about your day, because he got in late when you were already asleep. He tells you how much he loves you and recounts the day you two met just to stop his heart from bursting. "S-sorry I woke you up, I just- I needed that."

Ness, Niko, Aoshi, Sendo, Gagumaru, Igaguri, Kurona

Wakes Up Screaming + Needs Some Space

The first thing he notices is that he can't breathe. The second thing he notices is that he is in a hospital. "No, I don't think he will ever be able to speak or move again." a voice he doesn't recognize claims. Someone is choking him and he can't stop them. It's himself, rabid, foaming at the mouth. The doppelganger realizes he's been caught and tightens his grip. "That's right, that's what you fucking get for ignoring yourself. You don't even fucking eat enough and you want to be a star, huh? You keep betraying yourself." His neck is lifted from the cold pillow. "And betraying yourself!" It's slammed back down. He wants to tell him to stop, to say anything, but he can't.

He wakes up like he's been jolted back to life by electricity, doesn't even realize he's screaming. "Baby, baby you're okay! It's okay." He feels your hands around him and feels ashamed instead of relieved. What the fuck was that?! "Just go back to sleep, I'll be back." You open your mouth to argue but he shakes his head. "Please." This is nothing you can help him with, he needs to take care of himself and he knows it. Can't keep relying on others to pull him out. He takes a cold shower and comes back to bed hours later, slipping next to you. "I'm sorry I scared you." is all he says as his hands glide over your back. It's best if you just accept his apology, you'll never fully understand the war he's having with himself.

Chigiri, Kenyu, Kunigami, Kira, Sae, Barou

You Wake Him Up + It's Not Okay

Of course he knows this is a fucking dream, how could it not be? The overwhelming lights, the strange woman putting her hands on his chest. He knows exactly what this is about too. The paparazzi have gotten way too comfortable following both you and him around, they keep asking invasive questions and posting up outside of your house. The lack of privacy should be illegal. "You're famous now, you should like this you ungrateful piece of shit." a voice hisses in his ear as another pair of hands massages his shoulders. He tenses and struggles, but more hands appear, grabbing at his clothes. They tear pieces away from him with no remorse and something deep inside of him wishes it could end- Scratch that, every part of him wishes this would end, the violation, the rumors, the-

"Hey! Are you alright? I think..I think that you were having a nightmare." He gasps, so the feeling of hands on his chest were yours. Everything that was tensed relaxes, it was just you. That doesn't stop all his feelings from welling up along with tears. "Can you not touch me right now?" God, he wishes you wouldn't look at him like that. "Are you crying?" "No." He slips out of bed and checks the curtains, he can't shake the feeling of foreign hands on every part of him, not just his chest. Disgust curls and uncurls in his stomach. Why couldn't he just fight back on his own in his own damn head? "There's no one out there-" "How do you know!? Huh?" he demands, a whole lot louder than he meant to. "Fuck wait..I'm sorry. This week has just been a lot." You two end up having a long and needed talk that night.

Lavinho, Reo, Oliver, Rin, Raichi, Tabito

You Wake Him Up + It's Okay

He has been walking in circles for hours. Each loop, though, something changes. At first it was funny, (someone's head would balloon to an impossible size or a sign would read a curse word instead of an actual street name, for example) but now he was just tired. He couldn't sit down though or this burning pain would shoot through him...Just like in the real world, if he ever stopped shining, if he ever stopped moving forward, he'd get this feeling like he wasn't doing enough. Even on vacations there would be a gnawing sense that he was running from his rightful title. All he needed was the spotlight, even if it took so much fucking effort to get there. Practicing the same kicks over and over again, walking in circles, looking for what would excite him next-

"Please stop kicking me..." you groan and he wakes up instantly. Honestly, he didn't realize how terrifying his dream was until he's lucid. "Was I kicking you? Sorry... I just had the weirdest dream, it was like I kept walking in circles and I couldn't stop." "Maybe that's your brain telling you to take a break and stop treating my shin like a soccer ball." You two continue to make light of it and the more he talks about it with you, the more relaxed he gets. He's going to be just fine, especially with you by his side. "Mnh, good night." you finally whisper, cuddling up against him and tangling your leg with his in a final attempt to prevent any future attacks. "Good night." He watches you fall asleep with love in his eyes and wonders how a job obsessed weirdo like him managed to land someone as perfect as you.

Bachira, Loki, Isagi, Shidou, Nanase, Otoya, Zantetsu,

[ryuzakistoe]

Conflicted (Michael Kaiser x Fem!reader)

angst, fem!reader, arguing, and uhhh basically all angst, childhood friends, swearing

a/n: after this I honestly have no idea who to do next. I'm kinda in between Isagi again or someone else🤷‍♀️

I also got this as inspiration

BTW IM SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE

(omg I finally got it to work omg)

——

Experiencing someone you love deeply suddenly transform into a stranger can feel like the ground has fallen away beneath you. The trust you placed in them, the cherished memories, the laughter shared—all of it can vanish in an instant, leaving you grappling with an unbearable emptiness.

In the face of such devastation, some cling desperately to hope, convinced that the past can be reclaimed. They construct fragile illusions to shield themselves from the harsh truth, believing that everything will somehow return to the way it was. But these comforting lies only deepen the wounds, which lie temporarily closed, waiting to reopen with even more agony.

How long could you endure this torment? Some carry this weight for a lifetime, while others crumble under the pressure far too soon. For you, how long will you hold on, waiting for that moment when you perhaps see him again? How long until the heaviness of his “explanation” crushes you? In the end, when the truth finally pierces through the lies you've built around your heart, how will you cope with the devastation and lies?

Thats up to you.

…🥀…

Frequent moves were a normal part of your life, given that your father, a businessman, was always busy either supporting or establishing new companies. Over time, you became accustomed to the constant change, no longer feeling as upset or frustrated about leaving behind new memories and friends.

With your mother having sadly passed away, your father was the only family you had. However, his demanding schedule often kept him away, leaving you with too much free time. You would often wander aimlessly, your father always worrying since you were still so young.

One day, during one of these aimless walks, you noticed a boy around your age dressed in dusty, worn clothes, playing with an old, worn out soccer ball. You found yourself standing there, captivated, as he skillfully shifted the ball from one foot to the other. The fluid motion of his dribbling drew you in, sparking a sense of fascination.

Eventually, the boy noticed your quiet admiration.

"Can I help you, gnädige Frau?" he asked, his thick German accent coloring his voice as he stopped the ball under his foot.

Since arriving in Germany a few months ago, you had made steady progress with the language. Your father insisted you familiarize yourself with the formalities and learn a good number of words, as speaking German would be essential for getting by.

"I was just watching you play," you replied, mirroring his language and matching the casual energy in his tone.

He regarded you for a moment, as though sizing you up, before speaking again. "Do you know how to play? Fußball, meine ich," he said, his expression unreadable.

You hesitated briefly. While you were familiar with the basics and rules of football, you'd never actually played it. Your most significant experience with the sport had been attending a game with your cousin—an exciting memory, but that was as far as it went.

"I'm not sure how to play, but I understand the basics and the rules," you admitted, glancing briefly at the soccer ball.

"Only the basics, huh?" he murmured, flicking the ball up with the same foot that had held it steady. It flew in the air before dropping neatly into his arms.

The blonde boy began to walk toward you, his gaze fixed on you the entire time. Stopping just a few feet away, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Y/n L/n," you answered softly.

"Y/n L/n…" he echoed, as if testing the sound of your name on his tongue. His eyes drifted to the side, and he repeated your name again, his tone thoughtful, as though trying to commit it to memory or decipher some hidden meaning within it.

“And what's your name?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at his peculiar behavior.

The blonde boy seemed to snap out of his thoughts, his eyes meeting yours again. "Michael Kaiser," he replied.

Without warning, he tossed the ball toward you, giving you no time to react. It landed between your feet, and you glanced down at it slowly.

"Kick the ball," he instructed.

You looked back up at Kaiser, processing his words. Kick the ball? That sounded simple enough. You positioned your foot carefully, recalling how professional players did it, and swung your leg forward.

The ball rolled back to Kaiser with surprising smoothness, considering you had little experience with football.

Catching it effortlessly with his foot, Kaiser smirked. "Not bad for someone who doesn't know how to play," he remarked.

You weren’t sure if he was being genuine or just mocking you. "Thanks," you mumbled quietly, watching as he shuffled the ball between his feet.

He suddenly paused, then said something that caught you off guard. "Play with me."

You raised an eyebrow. "But I told you, I don’t really know how to play."

"I'll teach you," he responded almost instantly, his tone carrying a hint of urgency. There was a longing in his voice, and you could understand why. It had clearly been a while since he'd had anyone to play with.

Kaiser was always alone. The other kids avoided him, seeing him as an oddball because of his scruffy clothes, unkempt hair, and the bruises that covered him—marks left by his father. They treated him like an outcast, believing there was something wrong with him.

While they ignored him, Kaiser watched from a distance, wishing he could join in, longing for the kind of companionship they took for granted.

He would often imagine himself in the place of one of the other kids, letting his mind create a vivid scene of joining in and having fun. It was as if his consciousness played alongside them while his real body stayed behind, observing from a distance.

But now, he had a real chance to play with someone, no longer just imagining the experience.

Kaiser began teaching you everything he knew about football. You didn’t become an instant expert, but you quickly gained a better understanding of the sport. It started simply, with the two of you passing the ball back and forth while he explained the basics. Gradually, he introduced more advanced moves, each one more challenging than the last.

Before long, you had learned almost everything he had to teach, and Kaiser was genuinely pleased. Finally, he had someone to share the game with—a real companion, not just a daydream.

Day after day, whenever your father was busy with work, you met up with Kaiser. The two of you would play quick soccer matches, though Kaiser usually came out on top. It didn’t matter to him who won; having someone to share his favorite pastime with was all he had ever wanted as of right now.

You found yourself enjoying his company too. Since moving here, you hadn’t had anyone to talk to, spending most of your free time wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar places. Meeting Kaiser changed that. He had become an important part of your life, and you could tell that he felt the same.

The time you spent together brought you happiness, and the bond you shared grew stronger with each passing day. But then, a few years later, everything began to change.

…🥀…

Kaiser was well aware of his growing feelings for you. He wasn’t oblivious; he knew all too well the risks of letting them show. But that didn't stop them from deepening. It only made it harder to ignore.

After years of hard work, he finally secured a spot on Bastard München’s football team—a dream realized, and you had been there through it all. You were always by his side, ready to support him whenever he needed it. You were the person he could lean on, and that meant everything to him.

Over time, he came to depend on you. There were days when it felt like you were the only one who truly understood him, when he found himself seeking you out for solace. Your presence brought him a sense of calm that no one else could.

He began to rely on you.

It was inevitable, really. Being around someone as steadfast and caring as you, his feelings naturally began to shift and grow into something more.

He started to notice the way his gaze lingered on you whenever you spoke, how his cheeks would flush at the sight of your smile. He noticed how much weight your words carried with him, how the sun seemed to light up your skin in a way that drew him in. He couldn’t ignore the warmth that bloomed inside him just from seeing you.

He began to notice everything. And as much as he loved these feelings, he hated them just as much.

This was exactly what he was afraid of—this so-called "love" that threatened to unravel him. The thought of being vulnerable, of exposing that side of himself, terrified him. As his reputation as the "Emperor" grew, so did his fear of appearing weak.

His skills, his ego, and you—they had all shaped who he was and brought him to this point. He couldn’t afford to risk that. It was only natural that he didn’t want to gamble away everything he had worked for. Throwing it all away over a feeling seemed like the height of foolishness.

But was all the arguing and shared anger really worth it?

No, not at all.

…

"Y/n, is it really that hard for you to just listen to me?”

"But why…? Why now?"

The look Kaiser gave you was unfamiliar, his eyes now cold and distant. It was a side of him you had never seen before.

How did it come to this?

…

In the past few days, something had changed in him. The warmth that once lit up his face whenever he saw you had vanished, replaced by a faint scowl. The way he looked at you now—like you were just another bothersome fan—stung in a way you couldn’t understand. Sometimes he would just ignore your presence entirely, leaving you in silence.

"Y/n, I won't say it again. Please, for once, just listen and go. I don’t want to see you right now."

"But Michael! You still haven't told me why!" The desperation in your voice hung in the air, unanswered.

But It was as if Kaiser had just… snapped. Was it your endless questions? Your desperate pleas? Or maybe it was the look in your eyes each time he tried to brush you off.

"You want the truth, Y/n? Fine. Just looking at you makes me sick!"

His words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. What did he mean? Had he always felt this way? If so, for how long? Were you too much for him?

A storm of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last, as you felt the sting of tears welling up.

"Michael… what…?" you whispered, your voice trembling and barely audible.

"You make me feel sick, Y/n. Nauseous." His tone was sharp, laced with irritation, as if the very act of saying it exhausted him.

A couple of tears managed to form in your eye sockets as you quietly murmured, “Michael…but why? Why do I make you feel like this? Was it something I did..—”

Kaiser clenched his jaw, frustration and bitterness seething beneath his words. How could you be so clueless?

“Yes, Y/N, you did do something—no, you did everything!” he burst out. “Every time you smile, I can’t look away. Your stupid hair falls just right and it’s distracting. Your annoying voice—it calms me, like some kind of spell. And your eyes, the way they look at me… I feel sick because of the warmth you put in my stomach. I hate that I look forward to your presence, that you’re all I think about, that I’ve developed these feelings for you—I hate it all!” His fists tightened, a mix of embarrassment and anger rising to his face.

Your eyes widened. Was this a confession? Were these compliments or just veiled insults? What was he trying to say?

You stared at him, speechless, before managing to whisper, “Michael… you… you have feelings for me?”

Kaiser glanced away, reluctant to admit it. But there was no denying it—this was, in its own way, almost a confession.

Mind you, Almost, a confession.

"I wish I didn’t." His voice was low, almost resigned, and you couldn't help the frown that tugged at your lips. Why would he want to bury something as powerful as this? It didn’t make sense.

"Michael… " you spoke, your voice barely a whisper. "Why would you wish these feelings away? I… I could feel the same way about you, you know…"

He shook his head slowly, as if each movement was a struggle. When he spoke, his tone was firm but tinged with something that resembled sorrow. "It doesn't matter, Y/n. Even if you do, I can't accept it. I can’t accept us."

His words hit you like a cold gust of wind. "You mean… you wouldn't be able to return my feelings?" Your chest tightened as you forced out the question, though deep down, you already knew the answer.

Michael's silence was answer enough, but still, you couldn’t let it end there. "Well," you began, the words stumbling out before you could stop them, "I guess that’s just too bad because… I really do have feelings for you." Your voice wavered slightly, betraying how hard it was to admit, but the truth had taken root too deeply to be ignored.

You had begun to realize it months ago, maybe even longer. The symptoms of love crept in slowly, almost imperceptibly at first—the way his presence made you feel more alive, the longing to hear his voice even when he wasn’t around, the flutter in your chest with every small gesture. Now, standing in front of him, all those little moments coalesced into something undeniable. Yet, here you were, offering your heart to someone who refused to hold it.

You found yourself looking forward to every visit with him, craving the moments you could be near. Even though you saw each other regularly, it never felt like enough. You often caught yourself inventing excuses just to stay a little longer, clinging to each second as if it might be your last chance to be close.

Your gaze drifted toward him, hoping to catch his eye and find some sign of understanding there. But instead of meeting your gaze, he looked away, his expression guarded.

"As I said before, Y/n, I can't," he repeated, his voice steady but distant.

Frustration surged within you, a knot tightening in your chest. Why couldn’t he just explain? Why was he so determined to keep you at arm's length? "Michael, for heaven’s sake, just tell me why!" you demanded, your voice rising with a mix of irritation and desperation. "Why can’t you? We could figure this out… it doesn’t have to be this way."

You were exhausted—tired of the same vague answer, the same unyielding response. "I can’t" wasn’t good enough anymore. You needed the truth, a real reason to justify the wall he kept building between you.

Kaiser noticed the edge in your voice, and frustration flared in his eyes as he responded, his tone sharper than before. "Because I can't risk everything I’ve worked so hard for, Y/n! I’ve fought so hard to get where I am now, and I can't afford any distractions—not even love."

Distraction?

You blinked, his words hitting you like a slap. He thought this—whatever was between you—was just a distraction?

"H-huh…?" you breathed, the word barely audible as it slipped from your lips.

Kaiser tilted his head back, a bitter sigh escaping him as his jaw clenched in obvious irritation. "Did you not understand what I just said?" His voice dripped with exasperation, as though explaining himself was an exhausting chore.

You felt your brows draw together in a scowl, his words twisting in your mind. Of course, you heard him loud and clear, but all you could focus on was how cruel and dismissive he sounded. This whole "distraction" excuse felt like nothing but bullshit—a convenient shield to hide behind, rather than an honest reason.

"Is that what I am to you?" you said, your voice quivering with anger. It seems as if this was just another excuse of his.

His answer left you both hurt and furious, a bitter mix of emotions twisting inside you. Sure, you finally got the explanation you’d been pushing for, but this? This was what he had to say?

"Love… a distraction?" you echoed, your voice strained as you struggled to keep your composure. "Michael, are you serious right now?" You could barely recognize the man standing before you; this wasn’t the Michael Kaiser you thought you knew.

"Do I look like I'm making this up, Y/n?" he shot back, his tone icy and unyielding. "I can’t let anything interfere. I've worked too hard for what I have, and I won't risk losing it all just to chase after some fantasy. I can’t afford to be blinded by ‘love.’ I can’t afford to be weak. Not now." He took a step closer, his gaze piercing into yours.

You stared into those familiar blue eyes—eyes that once looked at you with warmth and admiration. Now, they were cold and hollow, carrying only frustration and something far more unsettling: emptiness. It was like staring into the eyes of a stranger, someone who had shed any trace of the person you thought you cared for.

"I want to be the best, and I can’t do that with emotions weighing me down," he said, his tone harsh and unyielding. "I need a clear path, free from distractions. Do you even realize how much I stand to lose if I let the smallest thing pull my focus? I could lose everything. I could end up weak… and that’s something I refuse to accept."

His words felt like a cold slap, each one slicing through you. "I’ve sacrificed so much just to get where I am today. So there it is, Y/n. I won’t let these emotions derail me. Not even for you."

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, a silent testament to the heartbreak squeezing your chest. Was this really it? Was he just going to leave you behind because you didn’t fit into his perfect, distraction-free life? It felt like the ground had fallen out from beneath you.

"This is bullshit, Michael," you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. "You’re just going to drop me like that? After everything? After all the times I’ve been there for you, stood by your side, supported you through every step of your soccer career—this is how you repay me? Do you even realize how messed up that is?"

Your voice rose, trembling with the frustration and betrayal burning inside you. "You can’t just cut me out because I don’t fit neatly into your plans. Do you even hear yourself right now?"

Anger flared in his eyes, and his voice rose, laced with frustration. "Yes, Y/n, I’m going to leave you! Didn’t you hear a word I just said? I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for. I’ve come too far to let ‘love’ make me weak—I’ll lose it all!"

"Why can’t you see that love won’t make you weak?" you cried out, your voice cracking with desperation.

"Tch. I already told you—it’s a distraction," he shot back, his tone cold and dismissive.

Each word felt like a dagger, piercing deeper as he repeated the same relentless argument, as if mocking the very idea of you. He was unyielding, his walls built so high that nothing you said could seem to reach him.

"So that’s it, then?" you murmured, your voice trembling as tears stung your eyes. "All of it? All of this—even me—it’s just a distraction?"

For a split second, something in his expression wavered. The guilt in his eyes betrayed him as he saw the hurt etched across your face. But just as quickly, he masked it, his pride and stubbornness locking him in place. He stayed silent, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out but refused to let himself.

The truth was, when you first told him how you felt, a spark of joy had flickered inside him—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. But now, with every pained word that left your lips, he buried that feeling deeper, forcing it down beneath the weight of his ambition. He couldn’t afford to let you see it. He couldn’t afford to let himself feel it.

It pained him to see you like this, knowing he was the cause. He never intended to hurt you like this—never imagined he’d be the one to break your heart.

Of course, his ambitions meant more to him than his "best friend." That was the cruel truth—his future outweighed everything, even you.

The silence stretched between you until you finally broke it, your voice trembling. "Is that a yes or a no, Michael? Please… just answer me."

His gaze softened at the sight of you, your face etched with desperation and pain. He truly felt bad—guilt clawed at him—but he couldn’t let it sway him. He believed this was necessary. He believed it was for the best.

"Yes," he said quietly.

The word hit you like a blow, and your head dropped, a broken breath escaping your lips. You never thought it would come to this—never imagined this was how the two of you would part ways.

Quiet sobs began to slip from you, growing louder with each passing second as tears streamed down your cheeks. Soon, the dam broke, and you were wailing into your hands, trying in vain to wipe away the endless flow of tears. Your heart ached with a hollow emptiness that spread through your chest—the same emptiness that Michael once filled, now torn wide open.

It felt as though a piece of you had been ripped away. You and Michael had been through hell and back together, always supporting and lifting each other up. Now, there was a cold, hollow place in your heart where he used to be, a void that felt unbearable.

After a moment, you forced yourself to look up, only to see him walking away, the distance between you growing with every step.

"Michael… mein Schatz… come back… please…" you whispered, your voice breaking. "I can't do this without you…" But he was already too far to hear, your pleas swallowed up by the empty space between you.

Kaiser kept his eyes on the ground, watching his own feet carry him further away. He didn’t dare look back. "Goodbye, meine Liebe…" he murmured softly, the words escaping like a breath.

a/n: so I actually kinda took my time with this so I hope its better 😐

Also I just rewatched aot, tell me why I forgot how FINE jean was in s4🤧😫 (and Levi)

ANDDD IM ROCKING WITH BLLK S2🤤

I'm going to lick his tattoos bro

[itlogricky]

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𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 Info drop!! :3 • Reqs open, Not fast at uploading because of personal matters, pls read rules !!

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Rules !!

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Masterlist !!

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[daebraeksan]

Nagi falls asleep before you because you’re hyped up from an exciting night

Genre: fluff, domestic, established relationship 

Wc: 809

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

You vibrate with excitement.

“Slow down,” Nagi says, as your foot gets heavier on the gas pedal as your favorite part of the song starts.

“Sorry,” you say, the normal anxiety you would get at criticism just a pinprick in the vast ocean of your joy.

“It’s okay,” he says easily. After all, he’s happy you’re happy. You think it comes few and far between. But he sees you. And he knows you. He knows you don’t have to be fake with him. It’s an honor he doesn’t take lightly. He knows how you feel happiness is hard to come by, and good memories feel few and far between. He loves seeing you like this. Duh. Of course he would hate to see you sad. But one of his favorite things about you is the expansive joy you feel from the (seemingly) littlest things. It makes life feel…larger than life. 

He also knows exactly how things are going to go down when you both get home. First, you’ll want a snack. If you don’t stop on the way home for drive through  or take out (and this time, you don’t) that means you have something in mind of what you want to eat already—probably something you’ve been thinking about for a while then, since you haven’t eaten in a bit. Far too caught up in the excitement, definitely. You’ll tell him he doesn’t have to stay up with you. You know he knows this. He knows you know. And if he’s left off at a good stopping place (if there is such a thing) in his game, he probably will stay up with you. He’s already half asleep on his feet, anyway. It’s not that he has a bedtime per se (he’s a gamer …so…) but his social battery gets used up a lot faster than yours. Also, you have a lot more energy and care so much more. He doesn’t know how you do it. But it’s all worth it of course. It always is with you.

After your snack, you’ll feel obligated to go to bed. You might even make it so far as to wriggle yourself under the covers with Nagi. By now, Nagi’s eyes will be closed and his head will be on the pillow, even if the lamp on your side of the bed is still on. If he’s not already asleep, he will be drifting into slumber. He’s only human—a very sleepy human to begin with, and now? It’s late. You both are cozy. Even if your energy is very often tangible, it’s still home to him. It’s still comforting, even if it’s electric and hyper and A Lot. You never ask him to stay up with you.  He wishes you would. He would try. He would at least cuddle with you while you watched a movie (and while he slept.) Galavanting on an adventure? At this hour? Maybe not. But hot cocoa and TV would be fine. He knows you don’t want the good days to end. He knows you never want to let go of happy feelings when you have them. He also knows that he’s always going to be there for you no matter what. You don’t have to be afraid of bad days anymore. You don’t have to be afraid of good days never coming back because they will. Nagi can’t “make” you happy—but you’re both happy together. You’re in this together and you’re here for each other. When you’re finally ready to let sleep claim you—and you will, eventually—it’s not as though it’s the night before Nagi goes abroad for a very, very long time and the scarcity mindset kicks in and isn’t technically necessarily wrong that time. That one time.

But now? Today? And tomorrow? You’ll both be here. You’ll both be together. You’ll wake up together—and we both know what that means is you will wake up first and he will wake up after—but you’ll be together, and that’s the point. 

On nights like this, sometimes Nagi falls asleep without telling you good night and that he loves you. He doesn't like doing that. He knows you know. You know. But he knows you like hearing it. He likes telling you. He knows you feel it coming off him in waves, always, enveloping you, enshrouding you, protecting you. Even if you know, it’s no excuse for him not to tell you, since he knows the doubts you’ve had in the past, with other people, and (when you first got to know each other) even with him.

So he will make it up to you in the morning, however you want. He is here for you always. He loves you so much. And that’s all there is to it. He might not always say good night, but he will be there tomorrow to say, “good morning, angel.” 

[marie098887]

💳 “The Runway walk.”

Blue Lock Boys React to FemModel!Reader Part 1: Isagi, Chigiri, Rin, Bachira, Kunigami, Reo, Nagi 📝 Requests: OPEN

After a brutal, hard fought win in the final match of the season, the Blue Lock team was on a all time high. The kind of win that gets headlines, sponsorships, and cameras in their faces. Not even a full 24 hours after the match, Ego sent a rare, vaguely polite message about a “post-season opportunity.” A top fashion brand is hosting its annual runway show and wants the Blue Lock team front and center. PR stunt? Probably. But the event promises food, press, and a VIP afterparty, and that’s enough to get them into suits.

💙 Isagi Yoichi

He’s not thinking about fashion. He’s still wired from the win, high off it. He was half focused on picking at the fancy food in the front row and wondering how long the show would actually take.

Then the lights change. The music shifts. And you step onto the runway.

And his brain blanks.

The moment his eyes laid on you, something in him short circuits. The room’s full of lights, cameras, people, but suddenly it feels like it’s just him watching you. He sits up straight without realizing, eyebrows slightly raised, lips parted like he’s seeing something he wasn’t supposed to. Something unreal.

You look like you were built for this. Every step you take is calculated, yet elegant. It looks like you’ve been walking runways since birth. Your expression is unreadable, professional, cold, almost distant, and somehow that only adds to it. It throws him off.

He’s used to intense. He’s used to pressure. But this? Watching a complete stranger walk like they own the world? It knocks the breath out of him in a way he can’t explain. Not admiration. Not even attraction, really — it’s something deeper than that. Like he’s witnessing a moment he’s not supposed to forget.

You pass by without a glance in his direction, but it doesn’t matter. His brain’s already committed it to memory; the walk, the look, the way the room seemed to bend around you.

Later, when people are talking about standout models and best dressed, he’s quiet. Still thinking. Still picturing your silhouette under the lights.

You looked untouchable. And he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🌺 Chigiri Hyoma

He’s unimpressed.

Not annoyed, just disinterested. The kind of bored that shows in the way he crosses his legs and stares at the ceiling like the lights are more interesting than all the people in the room. He knows this type of event; high fashion, low authenticity. Everyone’s overdressed and overstimulated. Cameras flashing. Voices echoing off marble floors.

It’s loud without being fun. He could’ve stayed home. Could’ve been on the couch with a smoothie and Netflix. Could’ve been anywhere but here.

Then the lights dim.

And you step out.

There’s no introduction. No warning. Just the music shifting and suddenly, you. Alone under the bright spotlight.

Chigiri doesn’t move, but he sees you instantly. Feels it, actually, that shift in the air. You’re dressed in a way that demands attention, but it’s not just the clothes. It’s the way you walk. Every step purposeful, smooth, effortless.

There’s no hesitation. No searching for the cameras. You don’t even flinch under the pressure of a hundred stares. You just walk like you’ve done this a thousand times. Like the runway exists because you do.

His eyes follow you the entire way. Quietly. Carefully. Trying to decide what it is that makes you stand out. You’re beautiful, sure, that’s obvious. But it’s more than that.

It’s the control. The silence. It’s the way you don’t look at anyone but still hold every gaze in the room.

He’s irritated by how interested he suddenly is.

When you pass him, you don’t glance in his direction. Of course you don’t. You don’t need to. He’s already looking. Already wondering who you are, how long you’ve been doing this, and why the hell no one mentioned you earlier.

By the time you vanish behind the curtain, he’s still facing forward, but his thoughts are trailing behind you.

Someone next to him says, “She kinda stole the show.” He doesn’t argue. Just lets the corner of his mouth twitch upward for half a second, barely noticeable.

You caught his attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🐠 Rin Itoshi

He didn’t want to come.

The whole thing sounded pointless. Cameras. Interviews. Useless conversation. His suit’s tailored, his hair’s perfect, but his patience is thin. The only reason he’s here is because Ego said it’d be “good exposure.” Rin doesn’t care about exposure. He cares about results. And right now, this runway show is giving him none.

He sits stiffly in the front row, arms folded, legs planted wide like he’s still on the pitch. He doesn’t clap when the show starts. He doesn’t react. Just staring. Model after model walks. Nothing impresses him. It’s all just people walking in straight lines wearing overpriced fabric.

Until you show up.

He doesn’t recognize the shift at first. He’s still halfway zoned out when the music changes. But then there’s a pause, a collective breath in the room, and he looks up. And sees you.

You don’t walk. You move. Clean. Cold. Controlled. This is your element, and everyone else is just lucky to witness it.

His eyes narrow.

You don’t make eye contact with anyone. You don’t flirt with the crowd. You just hold your posture and glide forward like you’ve got somewhere better to be. The confidence isn’t loud. It’s quiet. Something that didn't need to be said.

It pisses him off a little. How unaffected you are. How unaffected he’s supposed to be.

But he watches. All the way down the runway. Eyes sharp. Jaw tight. Not blinking. Not breathing. He’s studying you like film.

When you disappear behind the curtain, he sits back slowly, no longer leaning forward. The irritation’s still there, but now it’s mixed with something else. Curiosity. Interest. Intrigue he doesn’t want to admit to.

He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the show. Doesn’t react when the crowd claps. Doesn’t even glance at the models that follow.

Because none of them walked like you. And now he can’t stop thinking about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🐝 Bachira Meguru

Bachira was having the time of his life.

He doesn’t care about fashion, doesn’t know the names of the designers, and couldn’t tell you the difference between a runway show and a music video, but he’s in it. The lights, the loud music, the weird outfits? It’s like sensory overload in the best way.

He claps for every model. Gasps dramatically when someone wears something especially wild. He’s practically bouncing in his seat, pointing at things, whispering to his teammates. “Look at those shoes! I need those shoes.” “Why’s his jacket shaped like a triangle? I love it.”

He’s just vibing.

And then you walk out.

Everything shuts off.

His hands drop. His mouth goes slightly open. Not comically — genuinely. He leans forward, slowly, like he’s trying to process what he’s seeing.

You walk like you didn't even notice the crowd, like none of it mattered. There’s no performance in your face, no obvious posing. You’re just moving with this calm, sharp confidence that commands attention.

He watches you like he’s seeing color for the first time.

You disappear behind the curtain. He’s still sitting forward.

Then, all at once—

“WHAT?!”

He turns to whoever’s closest. “Did you SEE that? Did you feel that? Was that a real person?!”

He can’t shut up. You’ve rewired something in his brain. He doesn’t even know your name and he’s already telling the others he just saw his soulmate. Starts making up nicknames for you on the spot.

Later that night, he’s still talking about you like he just watched a movie he needs everyone to see. “You remember that one model? The one with the eyes? The one who walked like she owned the place? Yeah. Her.”

You walked for twenty seconds. He’s gonna think about it for weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🧡 Kunigami Rensuke

Kunigami showed up like it’s game day.

Pressed suit. Polished shoes. His hair actually styled for once. He might not be big on fashion, but he understands presentation, and if Blue Lock’s name is attached to this event, then he’s representing it.

He gives the show his full attention. Back straight. Eyes forward. Quiet, but not out of boredom, out of focus. He watches every model walk with the same level of respect he’d give a rival team. Analyzing posture. Noticing patterns. Taking it seriously, even if the others around him are zoning out or joking around.

Then you appeared.

And everything clicks off.

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. His gaze locks on instinct.

You don’t just walk, you control. Every step you take is paced like you’ve got nothing to prove. There’s no performance in it. No desperation for attention. Just presence.

The kind that pulls his full attention without even trying.

You don’t smile. You don’t need to. You move like silence belongs to you. And the worst part?

He feels nervous.

Like he’s watching something he shouldn’t. Like you’ve stepped into the room to remind everyone what confidence actually looks like. He doesn’t even realize his jaw’s tight or that he’s been holding his breath for half your walk.

He was nervous, but he couldn't take his eyes off you.

When you finally disappear backstage, he sits back slowly. Exhales, long and quiet.

He’s not the type to fumble over appearances. He’s steady. Grounded. The guy who always knows what to say.

But right now, he doesn’t say anything at all.

Someone nudges him with a casual “She was pretty, huh?”

He nodded his head, just staring blankly at the stage where you once were.

But in his head? Yeah. He’ll be thinking about you for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💜 Mikage Reo

Reo knows this world all too well.

He’s been attending fashion shows since he was a kid. Sat front row in Paris, Milan, Tokyo. Wore suits that cost more than most people’s rent before he hit puberty. Nothing about luxury intimidates him. He knows the designers by name. Knows which models are up and coming. He’s used to seeing beautiful people in beautiful clothes doing beautiful things.

So when the show starts, he’s relaxed. Comfortable. Half focused, scrolling through his phone between looks, nodding to familiar faces in the crowd. while sipping on his mocktail. It’s all standard to him, impressive, sure, but expected.

Then the next model steps out.

And he freezes.

He doesn’t even pay attention to what you’re wearing at first, his brain’s still catching up to the fact that you exist. In his eyes, you were supernatural. That somehow, in all the fashion shows, private events, and magazine covers he’s ever seen, no one has moved like you.

All of it, like it was nothing.

That’s what throws him. The way you walk — like you’re not here to impress anyone. Like the spotlight found you, not the other way around. You hold yourself like you’re expensive and untouchable and know it.

And suddenly, Reo’s not relaxed anymore.

He sits up. Phone down. Elbows on knees. Mocktail down. Watching you like he’s seeing something rare. Something he doesn’t already have.

When you disappear behind the curtain, he’s still quiet. Not stunned, exactly, just calculating. Trying to figure out why you’re still in his head five minutes later. Why none of the models after you hit the same.

He’s not used to being surprised. But tonight? Yeah. You surprised him.

And now he’s wondering who you are, and more importantly, how soon he can find out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🤍 Nagi Seishiro

He didn’t really want to come.

Too many people. Too much noise. Too many flashing lights. He shows up late, barely got convinced to put on the suit, and now he’s slouched in his seat like he’s waiting for the show to be over before it even begins.

He was playing games on his phone in the middle of a fashion show.

He watches the first few models out of boredom, not interest. They're all nice to look at, sure, but nothing special. Everyone walks the same. Same vibe. Same blank expression.

So he starts zoning out.

Leaning his head back. Eyes half, lidded. Fingers tapping his thigh just to stay awake.

Then you walk out.

And something in his brain just… clicks.

No warning. No buildup. Just a shift in the energy. One second, he’s bored, next, he’s sitting up straighter, eyes locked on you like gravity pulled them there.

He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath.

You don’t look around. Don’t smile. Don’t give the crowd anything and yet, somehow, it feels like you’ve taken the whole room with you. Like your walk isn’t part of the show.

It is the show.

And Nagi can’t look away.

You move like you’re floating. No extra effort. No wasted motion. The kind of effortless perfection he’s always admired. The kind he tries to live by. And for the first time tonight, he's intrested.

When you disappear backstage, he stares at the spot you vanished through for a second too long.

Someone next to him says something, maybe a joke, maybe a compliment, he doesn’t even hear it. He’s still thinking about the way you walked. The look on your face. The weight of the silence that followed.

He slouches again, but it’s different now. Still quiet. Still lazy. But in his head?

He’s replaying every second of you on that runway. And wondering why it’s bothering him this much that he didn’t get your name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~author’s note: hi hii this is my first post on this acc! (lowkey nervous)

also feel free to send requests, thoughts, unhinged rambling, etc — I wanna write stuff you guys actually wanna read 💕 thanks for reading & if you liked it pls reblog, it helps a ton!!

[mochamichi]

Isagi as your boyfriend (｡•ᴗ•｡)♡

Isagi Yoichi is your boyfriend, and you both live together in a cozy space where he balances his intense passion for becoming the best striker with sweet, playful moments with you. He’s got that competitive edge on the field, but with you, he’s all about showing affection in the cutest ways whether it’s soft teasing, sweet compliments, or those little moments where he just can’t help but smile at you.

He loves to challenge you, whether it's in soccer or in playful banter, always keeping things exciting. Isagi’s confident and comfortable around you, and he enjoys making your connection feel deeper and more intimate, but it’s never without a sense of fun and comfort. You both know how to have a good time together, whether it's being a little cheeky or enjoying those quiet, cuddly moments where he can’t help but get close and whisper sweet things.

He’s got a naughty side, but always makes sure you feel cared for and safe. His drive to succeed and be the best doesn’t stop at soccer it extends into your relationship too, always looking for new ways to connect, tease, and show affection in just the right ways.