Ninani

The day we've met under that cherry tree, I wonder...

[ninani06]

Oh to live this life...

Ninani, she ﾉ her ❃ Mao's producer and lover (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ daily life with Isara Mao writing blog, for eiighteen+ audiences only.

masterlist ❃ fluff content ❃ nsfw and sfw content ❃ minors

Will you still look at me like the way I look at you?

[ninani06]

— Might as well do something cute.

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Fluff, casual romance.

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The door clicked shut behind him.

Mao let out a quiet sigh as he stepped into the familiar warmth of home. The soft scent of clean linen and faint traces of your perfume greeted him like a hug. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to know he was finally home.

After countless performances and back-to-back events, Yumenosaki Academy had finally declared a week-long break. A rare mercy. A well-earned breath.

Not just for the idols, but for the producers too. For you.

You, who had been running around nonstop, handling paperwork, adjusting stage setups, tailoring last-minute costume fixes, managing schedules, and still finding time to cheer from the sidelines. Even when your legs were shaking with exhaustion, you pushed forward without complaint.

And Mao noticed.

He always noticed.

Just like he poured his heart into every stage, you gave your all behind the scenes, tending to every detail with quiet determination. Different roles, different schedules, different pressures… but both of you were always in motion. Always pushing forward. Always trying.

So when Mao heard you’d be stopping by his house tonight, he took a small detour on the way home, heading into the convenience store without a second thought. He knew your weakness all too well.

Snacks.

You always craved them, especially after a long day. And more than once, he’d forgotten to bring them. He could still remember the way you’d puff your cheeks in disappointment, pouting like an abandoned kitten. Every time, he felt a little guilty. So tonight, he made sure not to forget.

Arms full of your favorites, Mao finally reached the front door. He let out a tired sigh, eyes drifting down to the convenience bag as he crouched to untie his shoes, only to pause.

There was another pair sitting neatly by the step.

Smaller than his.

He blinked, then smiled faintly. You were already here.

His parents had known you for a while now. They trusted you enough to give you your own key. Somehow, that fact still made something flutter softly in his chest.

But then his eyes narrowed slightly.

Your shoes weren’t lined up properly. A small sign, but one that spoke volumes. You were exhausted too.

With a quiet sigh, Mao reached out and gently straightened your shoes beside his own, fingers brushing the worn soles. It was a small gesture but for someone like him, small moments said the most.

“Seriously…” he murmured under his breath, voice barely above a whisper. “You push yourself too much sometimes.”

He wandered through the quiet house, scanning each room with calm curiosity. You weren’t in the living room, and the kitchen lights were still off. That left only one possibility.

With a gentle sigh, Mao balanced the plate in one hand, he’d brought you a small treat, something warm he thought you’d like and made his way toward his bedroom.

He stopped in front of the door, hesitating just for a moment before lifting his hand.

Knock knock.

Silence.

He tried again, this time a little firmer. Still no answer.

Mao raised an eyebrow, concern flickering briefly across his face. "Is she asleep already…?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Carefully, he turned the knob and pushed the door open with slow, quiet ease, just enough to peek inside.

The familiar scent of his room wafting out to meet him, a subtle mix of clean laundry, old paper, and the faint trace of your favorite fabric softener clinging to the pillow he often used.

The room itself was neat, simple, and cozy sunlight still lingering through the pale green curtains, casting a warm glow across the soft blue tones of the bedspread. A modest desk stood by the window, stacked neatly with books, a calendar pinned to the wall just beside it.

Post-it notes dotted the corkboard, a little chaotic but clearly filled with reminders and ideas. A few colorful pillows added charm to the bed, while his favorite mustard-yellow shirt hung from the wooden rack on the wall, swaying faintly in the air-conditioned breeze.

And then... his gaze landed on you.

You were sitting on the floor beside the bed, head resting sideways on the mattress, eyes closed. Your hands were still gently holding your phone, but it had slipped into your lap, long forgotten. The slight furrow in your brows softened now in sleep, like whatever stress you had carried into the room had melted away the moment you sat down.

Mao stood in the doorway for a quiet moment, his heart squeezing a little.

He let out a quiet sigh, stepping softly into the room with the kind of care only someone who truly cherished another could show. The plastic of the snack bag crinkled faintly in his hand, but he barely noticed—his gaze was fixed entirely on you.

He gently set the plate and the snack bag down on the desk without a sound, then knelt down beside you. The room was bathed in the soft afternoon light spilling through the window, casting warm shadows across the tidy space.

Your face came into view, peaceful, but clearly exhausted. Your hair was tousled, strands falling over your eyes. The dark circles beneath them told a quiet story of sleepless nights, long hours, and unwavering dedication.

Mao couldn’t help but smile to himself. You looked so natural here, as if his room was just another one of your safe places. And as endearing as the sight was, he couldn’t help but think "she better not fall asleep like this in any other guy’s room. That’d be too dangerous."

With a soft breath, he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek as he gently tucked the stray strands of hair behind your ear. The motion revealed your face more clearly now, so familiar and beautiful that he felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

He froze for a moment, stunned by how fast his heart was racing.

"Calm down... geez," he told himself, shutting his eyes and willing his heartbeat to slow.

But as he opened them again and glanced down at your hair, something clicked in his mind.

An idea began to form—something playful. Something gentle.

A small smile curved on his lips.

“…Well, since she’s already out like a light,” he murmured under his breath, “might as well do something cute.”

He stood up quietly and went over to his desk drawer, rummaging through it until he found a small hair tie probably one you'd left behind the last time you visited. Returning to your side, he knelt down again and gently gathered a few locks of your hair between his fingers.

With the careful focus of someone handling something precious, Mao began braiding your hair. His fingers were a little clumsy at first, after all, this wasn’t something idols were trained to do but he soon found a rhythm. A soft smile played on his lips the entire time.

When he was done, he admired his handiwork: a simple, slightly uneven braid tied loosely with the little elastic. It wasn’t perfect—but it was made with care. Just like everything he ever did for you.

Mao rested his chin on the edge of the bed, gazing at your sleeping face, letting the quiet fill the space between heartbeats.

Then you stirred with a small groan, shifting slightly as your brow twitched. Mao blinked, straightening up a little. Uh-oh—she’s waking up.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the soft light. The first thing you saw was Mao’s familiar face, watching you with that gentle smile of his.

“Hi there, sleepyhead,” he greeted softly.

You blinked once, then twice, your mind catching up with reality. “You’re already here?” you asked groggily, stretching your arms overhead before pushing yourself into a proper sitting position.

Mao gave a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “I’d say... I’ve been here for about thirty minutes or so.”

Your jaw dropped slightly in shock. “Wait—seriously? I knocked out that long?”

You ran a hand through your hair—and paused. Something felt… off.

Your fingers brushed against an unfamiliar braid, and your eyes widened. “Wait—did you…?” you looked at him, brows furrowed in playful suspicion.

Mao tried to keep a straight face, but the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed him. “What? It looked messy. I was just… fixing it,” he said innocently, though his eyes glinted with mischief.

You groaned and lightly swatted his arm. “You braided my hair while I was asleep?!”

“You should be thanking me,” he grinned, clearly proud of himself.

You huffed, folding your arms but the corner of your mouth curled in amusement. “Idol by day, hair stylist by night?”

“Only for you,” Mao replied, voice softer this time, his smile more sincere.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his sweet remark, warmth blooming in your chest. Stretching a little, you got to your feet and walked over to grab the small mirror resting on his shelf. Turning slightly to get a better look at the back of your head, your eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

His braiding was actually… really good.

Neat, gentle, not too tight—clearly done with care.

You smiled to yourself, a soft blush dusting your cheeks. Of course he’d be good at this. With a younger sister like he has, he must’ve practiced more than a few times.

Admiring your reflection, you tilted your head and gave him a playful glance over your shoulder. “Well then… next time, it’s your turn. I’m gonna braid your hair.”

Mao froze for a beat, clearly caught off guard, before he chuckled and shook his head, feigning surrender. “Alright, alright… I’m all yours.”

You laughed, cheeks still warm as you reached over to the desk and grabbed the bag of snacks he’d brought for you. Tearing it open, you popped one in your mouth and hummed in delight. “You remembered my favorite this time.”

“Of course I did,” he said, walking over and plopping down beside you. “I didn’t want to deal with your tragic ‘forgot my snack’ face again.”

You nudged him with your shoulder, and he laughed, the sound light and easy. The two of you sat there, legs touching, sharing snacks and swapping stories about your days—the chaos of work, funny little moments, and the simple joy of finally having time to just… breathe.

____________________________________________

[ninani06]

— I miss you so much

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

Warning : 18+ only, No minors!!! ♡ Tags: Fluff, casual romance, smut, top!Mao.

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You lay on the bed, hugging the plushie close while scrolling through the latest news on your phone. The night had already settled in, and you could hear the faint sound of water running from the bathroom as Mao finished his shower.

A small smile tugged at your lips. It had been so long since you last got to properly cuddle with him, his busy schedule always kept him away, and even when he was home, exhaustion often took over. But tonight, you finally had him all to yourself.

Sighing softly, you shook your head and continued browsing on your phone, your fingers lazily swiping across the screen.

You were so focused that you didn't notice the subtle shift in the bed, nor the warmth that crept closer.

It wasn’t until your phone was suddenly plucked from your hands that you blinked in surprise, looking up, only to find Mao looming over you, holding your phone in one hand while his damp red-violet hair clung to his forehead.

You pouted as Mao effortlessly took your phone from your hands, holding it just out of reach. “Maooo, give it back,” you whined, reaching for it, only for him to sigh in amusement.

“It’s time to sleep, Y/n,” he said, running a hand through his damp red-violet hair.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Ehh? But it’s still early!”

Mao raised an eyebrow before glancing at the time. “Yeah, sure, because 11 PM is so early for you,” he deadpanned, shaking his head as he sat down beside you, towel in hand to finish drying his hair.

You patiently waited as Mao dried his hair, your eyes idly following his movements. As he ran the towel through his damp red-violet strands, a few stray droplets of water trailed down his neck, slipping over the defined lines of his shoulders and back. The dim lighting of the room only accentuated his toned muscles, making the sight even more distracting.

You hadn’t even realized you were staring until Mao suddenly turned back, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Like what you see?”

Your face instantly burned with embarrassment. Letting out a small squeak, you quickly buried your face into the plushie, refusing to meet his gaze.

Mao frowned, clearly unimpressed as you clung to the plushie again. With a playful pout, he reached over and snatched it from your arms, placing it on the bedside table.

Your eyes widened. “H-Hey!” you protested, reaching out.

Before you could grab it back, Mao pinned you gently against the bed, his face close to yours. “Stop clinging to the plushie,” he whispered.

Your breath caught in your throat. His sudden boldness made your heart race, it wasn’t often Mao acted this way.

“I-It’s just a plushie… What’s wrong with it?” you stammered, hugging the soft toy tighter to your chest, your eyes darting anywhere but him.

Mao let out a quiet breath—not annoyed, just… vulnerable. Slowly, he knelt in front of you, his green eyes locking with yours for a second before he leaned forward, resting his head gently against your shoulder. His arms slipped around your waist, drawing you into the warmth of him.

“I’m jealous,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m right here… and yet you’re still holding that thing instead of me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words laced with something tender, raw. You could feel the way his fingers curled just a little tighter around the fabric of your shirt, like he needed to be sure you were real.

Your cheeks flushed hot, but your heart softened. Slowly, you let go of the plushie and brought your hand up to rest gently on his back, your fingers brushing the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“Dummy…” you murmured, your voice fond, “you could’ve just said you wanted me to hold you.”

He chuckled under his breath, and you felt it against your skin quiet, shy, and completely honest.

Mao shifted his weight, eyes never leaving yours, and before you could ask what he was doing, he leaned in closer, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to the curve of your neck.

You gasped quietly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his yellow coat. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips trailing slowly along your pulse point, gentle and possessive all at once.

“Mao…” you murmured, voice barely a whisper.

“I’m finally here,” he said lowly, lips brushing your skin between words. “But you’re still clinging to that plushie like I’m not real.”

Mao suck your neck making you jolt.

Savoring each delicate inch with quiet devotion, Mao treated every breath against your skin like a sacred ritual. His lips trailed along the elegant curve of your neck, reverent and possessive, coaxing your body to yield with nothing more than his touch.

The first breath he drew against your throat sent a shiver cascading down your spine—an unspoken promise wrapped in heat. And then came the suction—tender at first, then deepening—each pull deliberate, each kiss a silent brand of desire.

With every passing second, his hunger grew, lips pressing with purpose, leaving behind blooming marks, rosy tokens of passion etched into your skin like ink on parchment. A quiet moan slipped from him, lost in the stillness between you, as he poured himself into each touch, each kiss, tracing a map of intimacy only he could read… and claiming you as his own.

He finally pulled away, his breath still mingling with yours in the fragile space between. His gaze lingered, taking in every detail. The way your (h/c) hair clung to your flushed cheeks, how your (e/c) eyes glistened with a vulnerability you rarely let show. You looked utterly unraveled, caught somewhere between surprise and something far more dangerous desire.

Mao stared for a beat longer than necessary, then smiled to himself, almost in disbelief.

“Already this affected…?” he whispered, voice low and teasing, yet laced with awe.

Your face went crimson. You turned your head in protest, flustered beyond words. The heat blooming beneath your skin wasn’t just from his words, it was from the way he looked at you, like you were something precious, something claimed.

He let out a soft, amused chuckle, a single drop of sweat sliding down his temple. “You’re really something else,” he murmured.

But then he moved again, slower this time, more deliberate. His fingers reached for your jaw, the touch featherlight, almost reverent. He guided your face back toward him, and your breath caught when you saw the way his green eyes shimmered, lids heavy with emotion. His blush mirrored yours, but there was a weight behind his gaze now… like he was holding back an entire universe.

His lips barely brushed your ear as he leaned in, and his voice came out hoarse, laced with meaning.

“This night… it’s only just beginning.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. His words weren't just a promise, they were a confession. A vow wrapped in intimacy. And yet before you could even react, before your thoughts could settle, he closed the distance again.

His lips crashed against yours with a fervor that stole your breath, like a wave crashing against fragile shorelines. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a surge of everything he had held back for so long. His need, his fear, his devotion. All of it poured into you, leaving your thoughts scattering like petals in the wind.

There was no space for words, only heat, only him.

His hand found the side of your face, fingers threading gently through strands of your (h/c) hair, grounding himself in the reality that you were here. Real. Warm. His. The other hand slid to the curve of your back, holding you close enough to feel the thunder of his heartbeat against your chest.

Then came the soft, deliberate press of his tongue against your lips, asking silently, reverently, for more.

You hesitated only for a breath, heart pounding in your ears… and then, you parted your lips.

The second you opened to him, everything changed. He deepened the kiss, slowly, like he wanted to memorize you from the inside out. His tongue met yours in a dance that was tender yet full of hunger, like he needed to taste the very soul of you. Every movement was deliberate, exploring you, savoring you—until even the air around you felt heavy with want.

You whimpered into the kiss, hands tightening in the fabric of his shirt. He responded with a low sound from deep in his throat, the kind of sound that made your knees weak, that said without words: I need you. Not in haste, but in meaning. Fully, truly, endlessly.

His forehead rested against yours as he finally broke the kiss, both of you gasping softly, breath mingling in the narrow space between.

Your lips were swollen, your eyes glassy and when you dared to look at him, you found him just as shaken. Mao’s blush reached to the tips of his ears, his chest rising and falling with unspoken emotion. And yet… he smiled.

A soft, reverent thing.

“Still with me…?” he murmured, voice rough with feeling, as if the depth of what just passed between you had shaken him to the core too.

You nodded slowly, lips still tingling, chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breath. The moment your eyes met his again, those green irises darkened with unspoken emotion, he smiled.

“Good,” Mao murmured, almost in a whisper. Then he leaned in and captured your lips once more.

This time, the kiss was different. Slower. More deliberate. Like he was savoring the feel of you. Like this was something sacred.

His hands didn’t rush. One stayed at the side of your face, thumb gently brushing along your cheekbone, while the other trailed down with a feather-light touch over your arm, your side, until his fingers found the hem of your shirt.

You shivered at the warmth of his palm as it slipped beneath the fabric, moving slowly, cautiously. His touch was reverent, as if asking for permission with every inch he explored. And when his hand finally cupped you through the lace of your bra, it wasn’t rough or hurried, it was delicate. Cradling. As though he understood the weight of the trust you placed in him.

He broke the kiss, just for a moment, his lips brushing against your jaw as he whispered your name like a prayer. “Tell me if it’s too much… if I go too fast.”

His voice was hoarse, trembling slightly with restraint. But more than anything, it was full of care.

You looked up at him,your chest fluttering, your skin burning under his touch and nodded once more, lips parting with soft breath.

“I want this,” you whispered. “I want you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was thick with emotion, wrapped in the kind of vulnerability that few ever shared.

At first, Mao took his time exploring, tracing the curve of your breast with his thumb, circling your nipple until it grew hard. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips, encouraging him to go further. He did.

He increased the pressure, rolling your nipple between his fingers until you gasped, heat pooling between your legs. His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. Mao’s hand slid down from your breast, tracing a burning path down your stomach. He paused at the waistband of your pants, looking up at you for confirmation.

You nodded, breath hitching as his fingers deftly unbuttoned them, pushing them down along with your underwear. He paused for a moment, his breath hot on your inner thigh.

You could feel his hesitation, his need for reassurance. You spread your legs wider, an invitation. His fingers brushed against your pussy, gently parting your lips. He moaned against your skin, a sound of pure reverence.

He slid a finger inside you, slow and deep, his thumb circling your clit. You bucked against his hand, your body already tensing with anticipation. "The way your body feels... the way you look." Mao's voice shook, he was taking his time, he was lost in you.

His fingers moved in and out of your soaked folds, and he bowed his head, starting to kiss the soft skin of your inner thigh, gradually pushing your legs open. It was sensitive, and a gasp escaped your lips and it took him a second, but he understood your movements and came back to his previous trail, getting a bit closer.

He needed your approval. He looked up at you, his eyes glazed with lust, and pushed you legs open a bit more. He bowed his head, and stroked his tongue along your slit, tasting you.

He started slow, licking and sucking gently, building the heat. You writhed against his mouth, your hands fisting in his hair. He slipped his fingers back inside you, curling them to hit that spot deep inside that made you cry out.

His tongue flicked against your clit, the sensation almost too much. You were breathing heavily, your body tensing as he pushed you closer to the edge.

Mao’s voice hitched, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. “I missed this,” he confessed, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your clit. “Missed the way you taste, the way you feel. Sometimes at work, I'd lock myself in the supply closet, just to touch myself thinking of you. To feel even a fraction of this.” His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, his confession raw and honest.

You whimpered, your hips lifting to meet his mouth, encouraging him to take more. To give more. He obliged, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers pumping deeper. The dual sensation sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins.

His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you open, exposing you completely to his devouring mouth. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Mao’s eyes flickered up to yours, green irises dark with lust and something more primal.

He wanted to watch you come undone. Wanted to see the effect he had on you. You could feel it building, the pressure in your core, the heat spreading through your limbs. His tongue moved faster, his fingers curled deeper, hitting that spot over and over again.

You were panting now, your body trembling on the edge. “Mao,” you gasped, his name a plea on your lips. He responded with a low growl, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your back arched, your body tensing as the orgasm crashed over you.

You cried out, your hands gripping his hair, holding him to you as your body shook with the force of your release. Mao lapped at you gently, his touch softening as he coaxed every last shudder from your body.

He looked up at you, his chin glistening, his eyes filled with a hunger that matched your own. He stood, his body towering over yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Mao groaned as he took his time sliding off his sleepwear, his cock already hard and throbbing. He stroked himself once, twice, his eyes never leaving yours.

He then lifted your legs, placing them over his shoulders, opening you up completely to him. He leaned down, his body pressing against yours, his cock aligning with your pussy, hot and ready. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, tasting you.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Tell me if it hurts," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. He wanted this to be perfect, wanted to give you as much pleasure as possible. You nodded, your body already aching with anticipation.

He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with the tip. You bucked your hips, trying to take more of him, but he held back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Patience," he murmured, before pushing in slowly, inch by inch, filling you completely.

You gasped as he stretched you, the sensation almost too much. He paused, giving you time to adjust, his eyes never leaving yours. He started to move, slow and steady, his hips rolling against yours.

He reached down, his thumb finding your clit, circling it gently, building the heat once more. He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a deep, passionate kiss. The pace of his hips increased, his cock thrusting in and out of you, his thumb working your clit in perfect rhythm.

You were panting now, your body tense, and ready to be pushed over the edge. He increased his pace, his body slamming against yours, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. You could feel it building, the pressure in your core, the heat spreading through your limbs.

Mao moaned, his body tensing, his thrusts becoming erratic. He was close, and he wanted you to come with him. "Come for me." he growled, his voice hoarse with need. His teeth grazed your neck, and you gasped, your body convulsing as another orgasm ripped through you.

Mao thrust deep one last time, his body shuddering as he came, his cock pulsing inside you.

He collapsed gently onto you, his breath warm against your shoulder, body still trembling with the aftershocks of what you'd just shared. The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your soft breathing and the steady thump of his heartbeat pressed against your chest.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, grounding both of you in the moment.

Mao lifted his head slightly to check on you, his messy hair falling into his eyes. When he noticed your closed eyes and the slight tension in your brow, concern immediately flashed across his face. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, voice low, tinged with worry.

You blinked your eyes open, your lips forming a faint pout. Instead of answering right away, you raised a hand and gave his chest a light, playful smack.

He winced dramatically. “Oof! Okay, okay, I deserved that.”

You couldn't help but smile despite yourself. “You always overthink,” you murmured, brushing a few strands of his hair away from his eyes. “I’m fine, just a little… overwhelmed.”

Mao exhaled, a soft chuckle escaping him as he let his forehead fall gently against yours. “Seeing you like this… I guess that means I didn’t completely mess up.”

You let out a breathless laugh, then sighed as you tried—and failed—to lift your arm. “Ugh… I don’t think I can move.”

Mao, who was still catching his breath, sat up with surprising ease. You stared at him in disbelief. “Wait—how do you still have the strength to sit up?”

He chuckled, glancing down at you with a teasing grin. “Don’t forget, I’m an idol. I go through brutal practice routines almost every day. Endurance is kind of my thing.”

Before you could argue, he effortlessly scooped you into his arms, cradling you close against his chest. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll collapse properly and sleep like logs.”

You gave him a tired smirk. “Alright, Mister Jealous Boyfriend.”

He visibly stiffened at the nickname, his eyes narrowing. “Keep talking and I will drop you.”

“Please don’t,” you said quickly, clinging to him like a koala.

He sighed dramatically but smiled as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. “You’re lucky I’m weak to you.”

____________________________________________

I almost fainted while writing this…

[ninani06]

— How about you imagine me as your bride?

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Fluff, casual romance.

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"What does it feel like… to be married to someone?"

That question had been lingering in Isara Mao's mind all day, clinging to the edges of his thoughts like a song stuck on repeat.

It wasn’t like him to daydream during like this, but today was different. He had just been assigned to a new event a wedding-themed one, of all things. It was the first time he’d been given that kind of concept, and although he tried to approach it like any other assignment, the theme felt oddly personal.

So here he was, siting on the floor, arms crossed, his expression caught between curiosity and unease.

Earlier that afternoon, he had run into Midori by chance on the street. The two of them had decided to catch up for a bit when their attention was drawn to a familiar scene inside a nearby store. Through the glass, they spotted you talking and laughing with Anzu.

That should’ve been normal. Comforting, even.

But what made Mao stop in his tracks was the sight of the magazine you held. A wedding magazine.

Midori noticed it too and blinked in surprise, nudging Mao with a confused look. But Mao didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on you, your fingers flipping through pages filled with white dresses, soft pastels, and delicate flower arrangements.

You always liked romantic videos, he knew that. Sometimes you’d send him clips of wedding dances or dreamy ceremony edits. But something about seeing you actually holding that magazine stirred something in him.

Confusion. Discomfort. Maybe even a little fear.

Was it just casual curiosity? Or… were you imagining a future? One that might not include him?

He knew you were his girlfriend. And that fact alone brought him more joy than he could ever put into words.

But even so… sometimes doubts crept in.

Do I deserve you? Have I done enough? Am I loving you the way you truly deserve?

Mao Isara, the student council president, the ever-confident idol on stage was quietly, deeply afraid. Afraid of the possibility that one day you might slip away. That you might wake up and realize he wasn’t enough. It was a fear that lingered in the quiet moments, when he wasn’t wearing the mask of leadership or the smile of an idol.

How ironic, really. That someone like him, used to applause and attention, could still feel so unsure when it came to love.

Then came today.

Out of curiosity - no, let’s be honest, insecurity, he and Midori had somehow ‘accidentally’ dragged Leo into a little mission: to ask you and Anzu if… if there was any truth to what they'd seen.

Were you really thinking about getting married?

The question had tumbled out, awkward and too blunt, as Leo, obliviously loud as ever, posed it with all the grace of a marching band.

You and Anzu stared back in complete confusion.

And that’s when Mao saw it, the realization on your face, the raised brows, the puzzled glance you shared with Anzu, and the slow dawn of truth in his heart.

He’d been fooled.

Eichi. Of course. It had been a setup. Probably a test of character or just one of Eichi’s twisted sense of humor. And Mao had walked right into it.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or bury his face in his hands.

The rest of the day, he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eyes. Not when his face burned with embarrassment, not when his heart thudded from the echo of his own fears.

Now, surrounded by his fellow groupmates in the studio, Mao sat among them. blushing, flustered, and far too distracted to focus. They were supposed to be brainstorming proposal ideas for the upcoming wedding-themed event, but his thoughts kept drifting elsewhere.

He let out a soft sigh, his gaze lifting to the ceiling above.

Marriage, huh…?

It was more than just romance. Marriage was a promise, a commitment to spend the rest of your life with someone. A stage far beyond dating deeper, heavier, yet beautiful.

But the more he thought about it, the more uncertain he felt.

He had so much on his plate, idol duties, club responsibilities, student council work. The future ahead felt like a maze of challenges, unpredictable and relentless. He didn’t even know how much time he'd be able to spend with you in the long run.

That thought stung the most.

Another sigh escaped him as he lowered his head, burying his face into his knees.

A wedding… He pictured it clearly in his mind. You, in a stunning white gown, radiating elegance. A delicate veil draped over your beautiful hair, a bouquet in your hands. Everything about the image was breathtaking.

Everything… except for the man standing beside you.

Because it wasn’t him.

His heart clenched.

Wait! what the hell was that thought?!

Mao jolted upright and shook his head in disbelief, trying to erase the vision from his mind. Just then, Midori called out to him, snapping him back to reality.

Right… they were supposed to be working on the proposal idea, something Naru had suggested as a unique way to make the event more memorable.

In the end, the shuffle unit agreed to take on the challenge. They would each create a personal proposal to be featured in the promotional video… and eventually turn it into a heartfelt performance through song.

He thank god that this discusion is finally over. But what make him headache that he need to make his own proposal. That's the hardest part.

Now he's sit on the couch in his house. Hand crossing as he watch some proposal scene to get some idea.

Without him noticing, you quietly placed a cup of tea on the table before settling down beside him on the couch. It was a rare sight seeing Mao this absorbed in something, especially a topic like marriage. His eyes were fixed on the television, where a romantic drama played softly, no doubt looking for inspiration.

You watched him for a moment, amused by how serious he looked. He hadn’t even noticed your presence.

With a soft smile, you leaned in and gently hugged his arm, resting your head on his shoulder.

The sudden touch made him jolt in surprise but the moment he saw it was you, his tense expression eased. He gave a small sigh of relief, allowing himself to relax into your warmth.

You looked up at him, voice gentle. “Something’s on your mind, isn’t it?” you asked. “Is it that proposal assignment you’ve been worrying about?”

Hearing your question, Mao let out a groan and immediately buried his face in both hands, clearly overwhelmed. You released his arm and let out a soft chuckle, your eyes drifting to the small mountain of wedding magazines scattered across the table. It was clear—your boyfriend had been pouring over every detail, trying to craft the perfect proposal for the upcoming promotional video.

“Why is proposing so hard…?” he muttered, voice muffled through his hands.

You blinked, tilting your head in amusement. “Hmm? I thought you were good at confessions?”

At your words, Mao visibly froze. His face turned a shade deeper than his usual red-violet hair, and even the tips of his ears were flushed. You could hardly hold back your laugh, it was adorable seeing him this flustered.

“…This time it’s different…” he mumbled almost inaudibly.

“Oh? But I still remember how smooth you were with your first confession,” you teased, leaning a bit closer. “Something like—‘You’re the one who always—’”

Before you could finish, his hand gently covered your mouth, his expression a mix of horror and embarrassment as he shot you a pleading look.

“Don’t you dare say another word,” he whispered, voice tight but his lips tugging into a sheepish smile.

You giggled softly against his palm, mischief dancing in your eyes. Mao sighed in quiet defeat, then let his hands fall as he leaned into you, resting his head gently on your shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, holding you a little tighter, as if trying to ground himself.

You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze. His green eyes, usually calm and composed, now shimmered with a mix of affection and vulnerability. Curious, you tilted your head, voice light with teasing.

“Hmm... How about you imagine me as your bride?”

The words had barely left your lips when Mao jolted upright as if struck by lightning.

“W-What?!” he stammered, voice high with panic. His entire face turned crimson, and even his ears glowed red. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his reaction, clutching your chest dramatically. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack, you know!”

Mao groaned and buried his face in his hands again. “You can’t just say stuff like that out of nowhere... I’ll take it seriously.”

Because that’s who Mao is he kind of guy who doesn’t just brush off those words. The kind of guy who’d treat the idea of you in a wedding dress not as a joke, but as a vision of a future he quietly dreams of.

You shake your head as you can't help at he easily get red face, you grab his hand as you interwined with him "Relax, just think this is a practice."

Practice... as you said, Mao think as he laugh sheepishly, he can't help think again the scenery you with someone else. He can't talk about it with you. He frown at that idea.

You gently took his hand in both of yours, your touch warm and steady. Then, with tender care, you cupped his cheek and guided his gaze to meet yours.

“Mao,” you began softly, your voice calm but firm with meaning “A proposal isn’t just about making someone happy. It’s more than a grand gesture.”

He blinked, watching you with those vivid green eyes, so open and unsure.

“A proposal...” you continued, “...is a promise. It’s the result of everything you've been through together… and the beginning of everything you’re still willing to face together. It’s telling the person you love that no matter how uncertain the future is, you want them in it.”

Mao’s eyes widened slightly, his breath catching. Your words struck something deep within him, something he hadn’t been able to put into words himself.

You smiled softly “It’s not about perfection. It’s about sincerity.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Mao just stared at you, the storm in his chest quieting with every second, your words anchoring him softening the doubt, replacing it with something steady. Something certain. Something real.

Then, as the silence lingered, a faint blush crept up your cheeks. You looked away, flustered “Ehem… I-I kinda embarrassed myself saying all that out loud,” you mumbled.

Mao blinked once, then twice, before a soft laugh escaped him “No, not at all. That was… just like you,” he said, a fond glint in his eyes. “Exactly what I needed to hear from the girl who always reads those cheesy romance stories.”

You let out a dramatic gasp and gave him a playful punch on the arm. “Hey! I take pride in those stories, thank you very much.”

He chuckled, rubbing his arm with exaggerated pain before reaching out to take your hand again. “But really…” he said, voice lower now, more sincere. “Thank you, Y/n.”

His gaze lingered on yours gentle, warm, and full of something unspoken yet unmistakably clear.

In that moment, it was more than just gratitude in his eyes.

It was love.

●・○・●・○・●

Mao sighed tiredly as he finally wrapped up the filming for his proposal video. The process had gone smoother than he expected, and a small sense of relief settled in his chest.

He glanced down at the outfit he wore today, a crisp white suit adorned with gold and black accents. Elegant embroidery curled along one side of the jacket like ivy, and fine gold chains draped neatly at his waist. Everything about it screamed formality and charm, fitting for the wedding-themed event… and strangely, it made his heart beat just a little faster.

“…Kinda looks like I’m actually getting married,” he muttered under his breath, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

The red-violet haired boy jolted slightly at the sudden cool sensation on his cheek. He turned his head, only to see you beside him, pressing a chilled water bottle against his skin.

“Good work out there, Mao,” you said with a warm smile, handing him the bottle as you took a seat next to him.

He laughed sheepishly and gave a small nod. “Thanks. Honestly, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You grinned, your eyes sparkling. “Looks like my advice actually worked, huh?” You clapped your hands softly in delight.

Mao chuckled, watching your playful expression. It was moments like this that reminded him, no matter how serious you were as a producer, you still had a childish charm that melted his heart.

His thoughts wandered back to the shoot. Holding the bouquet under the wide, open sky, dressed in the elegant suit... it felt like more than just acting. In that moment, with the gentle breeze and the quiet hum of the world around him, he didn’t think about the cameras.

He only looked at you.

And now, just sitting beside you, he pictured it again this time, you standing in a white, beautiful wedding dress. The image made his heart ache, soft and full.

Ah... how beautiful it would be.

“By the way...” Your voice gently pulled Mao back to reality. He blinked and turned to you, a soft hum of curiosity in his throat.

“I didn’t know you had such a talent for making proposals so romantic,” you teased, your smile playful. Mao chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. “Oh? Sounds like my teacher approves of my performance.”

You nodded with mock seriousness. “It felt like... a real proposal.”

That made him pause.

Then, without a word, he gently took your hand. The sudden tenderness caught you off guard, your smile faltering as you looked at him in confusion.

“What if I told you...” he began, voice low, eyes steady on yours, “...that proposal was meant for you?” You blinked. “Wait, what—?”

Before you could finish, Mao moved. He bowed slightly, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your ring finger. His voice trembled with quiet emotion as he spoke.

"Since I met you, before I even realize it, I've been surronded by overflowing happiness...

If I hadn't met you, I would missed all these precious moments I'd cherished for the rest of my life."

He paused, then looked up, his green eyes filled with sincerity.

"At this moment, I really wish I could say something cool, like "Rest assured and take my hand.

But I'm the one who get supported all the time. I'm still not qualified enought to say something like that. It's so overreaching.

So... I hope we can keep walking down this road before us, hand in hand. Let's walk together into our future. Side by side, step by step."

His voice softened, his tone almost a whisper. "Even if we have to go seperate ways at some moments, that doesn't matter. We will hold each other's hand, right?

No matter how many times it may takes, I will take your hands again and again so that we don't lose each other. Let's walk toward to the future forever.

So... what I mean is...

I love you...

So please! Allow me to share the rest of my life with you."

You stood frozen, stunned and unsure of what to say. Your heart screamed that you loved him too but reality pulled you back. After all… you were both still in school. It felt too soon, too big, even though your feelings were real.

Mao noticed the hesitation in your eyes. The flicker of confusion. And he understood.

He gently rose to his feet, grabbing the bouquet resting on the chair beside him. Then, with quiet affection, he stepped closer and leaned in his forehead softly resting against yours.

“Don’t worry about answering right now,” he whispered, his voice warm. “Just think of it as… practice.”

He smiled, the same gentle, reassuring smile that always made your heart flutter.

Then, he placed the bouquet in your hands, wrapping your fingers around the stems with his.

“I promise I’ll give you an even better proposal one day.” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

Before you could reply, he leaned in, pressing a brief, tender kiss to your lips just enough to leave your heart racing. Then, without another word, he turned and walked back toward his team, waving casually over his shoulder.

You were left sitting there, flushed and flustered, your face buried behind the bouquet in a desperate attempt to hide your burning cheeks.

Ugh… he’s absolutely the king of charm. How unfair.

____________________________________________

[ninani06]

— Breath with me.

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Fluff, scolding, casual romance.

____________________________________________

You leaned back in your chair, arms stretching above your head as a tired but satisfied sigh escaped your lips, the last of your producer paperwork finally complete.

Sunlight streamed lazily through the window, casting warm, golden stripes across your desk. The afternoon had ripened into that quiet hour where everything felt just a little slower, a little softer. You blinked away the heaviness in your eyes, realizing how long you'd been sitting in the same spot.

Deciding it was time to clean up, you began straightening your scattered notes and folders. As you reached under a stack near the edge of your desk, your fingers brushed against something unexpectedly flat and stiff.

You tilted your head and carefully slid it out, it was a letter. Unmarked, plain, and just slightly creased from being tucked away. You turned it over curiously, but there was no name, no seal, nothing to give away who it was from.

Your brows lifted in quiet surprise as a small smile tugged at your lips. Wait... could this be one of those letters? Like in the cheesy romance stories where someone confesses their feelings through a secret note?

You held it up to the sunlight, heart skipping just a little. Is this really meant for me...?

●・○・●・○・●

"You've been staring at that letter for ages, Y/n..."

You glanced up from the mysterious envelope, only to meet the mildly unimpressed expression of your boyfriend, Isara Mao. A playful grin curled on your lips as you held up the letter teasingly.

“Fufu, looks like I have a secret admirer~ Even producers can have fans, y’know.”

Mao huffed as he loosened his tie, giving you a side glance that was somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You’re acting like it’s a love letter, but you haven’t even opened it yet.” He pointed at the untouched flap.

With a dramatic flair, you brought the letter up to hide your smirk, eyes peeking over it mischievously. “Mmm… But wouldn’t it be more fun to read it together? With my boyfriend?”

That one word hit its mark.

Mao froze midmotion, ears turning a vibrant shade of red before he quickly turned his back to you, clearly flustered. “Geez…” he muttered, defeated, and plopped down on the bed with a sigh.

You grinned in triumph, the victory sweet and satisfying.

“You really know how to mess with me…”

You giggled softly, setting the letter in hand as you shifted closer, crawling across the bed until you were beside him. “Maybe,” you whispered, voice light, “but you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Mao let out a long sigh, finally turning to face you with a defeated smile. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, content with the warmth between you both. “I know,” you murmured, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, “but I like you more.”

You finally decided to open the letter, carefully breaking the neat seal as a soft, floral scent drifted into the air.

“Lavender…?” you murmured, bringing it closer to your nose.

Mao, now lounging beside you on the bed, sniffed lightly in the air and tilted his head. “Seems like someone really put effort into this.”

You gave a thoughtful nod, unfolding the paper with gentle fingers. The handwriting inside was neat, delicate, yet clearly written with a sense of urgency. Your eyes scanned over the lines, your curiosity slowly turning into surprise.

To the producer who shines more brightly than any spotlight, You probably don’t know who I am. I’ve admired you from afar for what feels like forever now. I know you’re always busy, always working hard behind the scenes, but even from the shadows, you shine. I don’t mean just your talent or how organized you are during events… I mean you. The way you carry yourself with quiet grace, how your eyes light up when you're focused, how you smile gently even when you're tired… You’re beautiful. Genuinely, effortlessly beautiful. Sometimes I wonder if you know how mesmerizing you are. The way your (h/c) hair falls over your shoulders when you’re concentrating, or how your (e/c) eyes seem to hold a whole galaxy when you’re deep in thought, it’s unfair, honestly. You make it so hard not to fall for you. So… if it’s not too sudden, and if you don’t already have someone important in your heart… Would you meet me at the top of school tomorrow after classes? —Someone who’s been looking your way for a long time now.

Mao let out a low whistle, clearly impressed, as you sat frozen, eyes still scanning the letter in disbelief. He tilted his head, watching you curiously, trying to read your expression.

"Somehow... I don't know..." you mumbled, blinking a few times before glancing at him, cheeks tinged pink. "Should I feel embarrassed?"

That caught him off guard. Mao blinked once—then let out a quiet, breathless laugh, shoulders shaking as he tried to hold it in.

"Why... are you asking me that?" he said between chuckles, raising an eyebrow with playful disbelief.

You pouted slightly, still clutching the letter in your hands. “Well, it’s just... no one’s ever written something like that to me before. It’s kind of flattering. And weird. But mostly flattering.”

Mao leaned back on his hands, giving you a look that was somewhere between amused and mock-offended. “Flattering, huh? Should I be worried?” His lips quirked into a crooked grin, but you could tell there was a hint of real curiosity behind the teasing.

You rolled your eyes, crawling a little closer to him on the bed. “No, you absolute dummy. I’m yours. Obviously.”

He let out a content sigh at that, but then leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. “You’d better be. ‘Cause if someone else thinks they can have you just by writing a sweet letter and spraying it with perfume, they’ve clearly never seen the way you look when you’re focused on your work… or how cute you get when you're sleepy… or—”

“Okay, okay!” you laughed, pushing lightly at his shoulder, flustered but grinning. “No need to get poetic about it now.”

Mao laughed too, letting himself fall back onto the bed dramatically. “I’m just saying… he’s got taste, sure. But he’s late to the party.”

You looked down at the letter again, now resting loosely in your lap, the scent of lavender still faintly lingering.

“…Do you think I should go meet him?” you asked, half joking, but still curious.

Mao shot up like a spring, his expression scandalized. “What?!”

You burst into laughter, leaning forward to nudge his side. “I’m kidding! Kidding! I just meant—maybe I should go and, I don’t know, gently tell him I’m already taken. Like a responsible, emotionally mature adult.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “And I’m just supposed to let my super-pretty producer girlfriend go meet a lovesick admirer on top the school alone?”

You smirked. “What, are you volunteering to come with me, jealous boyfriend?”

“…I might,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Just in case he needs a reminder.”

You giggled again and leaned your head on his shoulder, voice softening. “Don’t worry. I already made my choice, remember?”

He relaxed a little, his eyes soft as they lingered on you.

“Yeah… I remember,” he said gently.

But as the silence settled, Mao's gaze drifted down to the letter still in your lap. You were smiling at it, an innocent, almost dreamy expression that made you look like a girl about to walk into her first confession. Something about that pulled uncomfortably at his chest.

Without a word, he shifted closer and wrapped his arms around your waist from the side, pulling you gently toward him. The sudden warmth made you jump a little.

“Huh? What’s this about?” you asked, twisting slightly to look at him.

“What’s what?” Mao replied, feigning innocence, though his voice betrayed a hint of something else, something a little sulky.

You raised a brow at him, smirking knowingly as you noticed how his face was buried in your shoulder. “You’re definitely doing something on purpose.”

“Maybe I am,” he murmured, then lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes. “Maybe I’m not.”

His face was suddenly close, too close and the intensity in his gaze made your heart flutter. You leaned back instinctively, your cheeks burning. “So... is that a yes or a no?” you mumbled, flustered.

Mao’s eyes narrowed playfully, and his grin turned a little smug. “You’re the one who said you’re mine, remember? I’m just making sure you don’t forget.”

You covered your face with one hand, groaning through a shy laugh. “Ugh, you’re such a handful…”

“But I’m your handful,” he added, tugging you gently back into his arms with a chuckle.

You didn’t protest this time. Letting yourself melt into him, the letter now long forgotten, you simply rested in the comfort of his embrace—because the warmth of his arms said more than words ever could.

But just when you thought things were settling down, Mao suddenly shifted, gently pulling you down with him until you were lying across his chest. The motion made you blink in surprise, your head lifting slightly as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“…What now?” you asked, your tone half-suspicious, half-amused.

Mao simply smiled, far too smug for someone pretending to be innocent, and reached up to softly pat your hair. “What? Can’t I just hold my girlfriend?” he replied, putting deliberate emphasis on the last word.

The moment that word left his lips, you felt your face heat up instantly. You weren’t sure if it was the way he said it so casually—or the way he was clearly enjoying how flustered you got—but either way, you knew he was doing this on purpose.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” you muttered, burying your face against his shirt to hide the red blooming across your cheeks.

You felt his chest shake with quiet laughter. “Maybe I am,” he whispered, echoing his earlier words with that same teasing lilt. “But you’re cute when you’re like this.”

You let out a soft groan, tapping his shoulder with a playful pout. “You’re so annoying sometimes,” you muttered, though the fond smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Mao just laughed, his voice a low, warm rumble that vibrated in his chest. Without warning, he gently shifted you off him, only to pull you close again, this time lying side by side. He reached over to set the letter down on the bedside table, as if it no longer mattered. “Let’s just stay like this for a while,” he murmured, voice softer now, like a secret only meant for the two of you.

You couldn’t help but giggle, fingers reaching up to tug the little yellow clip from his hair. “You’re so jealous, it’s adorable.”

He rolled his eyes, but the light dusting of pink across his cheeks gave him away. “Shut up and get some rest,” he grumbled, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yes, yes, Mr. Popular Idol,” you teased again, twirling his hair clip in your fingers like a prize.

“Mmhm,” he mumbled, tightening his arms around you. “Keep talking and I’m never letting you go.”

You laughed quietly, nestling even closer, your noses just barely brushing. His warmth, his scent, the way his heartbeat matched yours—everything about this moment felt like a warm cup of tea on a rainy day.

And as you lay there, wrapped up in his arms, the world felt so quiet. So gentle. So safe.

●・○・●・○・●

The sun was slowly sinking beyond the horizon, casting golden streaks across the rooftop as you stood there, the breeze gently ruffling your hair. In front of you stood the boy who had written the lavender scented letter, his hands fidgeting nervously, fingers tangled together as he avoided your gaze.

It had started earlier in class, when you were just about to pack up for the day. He’d approached you quietly, almost hesitantly, and asked if he could speak to you in private. You already had a good idea of what this was about.

You followed him up to the rooftop, your phone buzzing slightly in your pocket as you secretly texted Mao and Ritsu a quick update “It’s the letter guy. Rooftop. Wish me luck.”

Now, here you were. The boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, cheeks flushed red, clearly working up the courage to say something. You offered a polite smile, though a nervous sweatdrop slid down the side of your face.

This was the part you weren’t looking forward to, waiting for him to speak, just so you could gently let him down. You didn’t like hurting anyone, especially someone who had put their heart on the line.

Still, your thoughts drifted momentarily to Mao’s goofy grin and the way he had hugged you so tightly earlier. The warmth of that memory gave you strength. You took a quiet breath, bracing yourself with kindness.

“Y/n-san!”

His voice pulled you back to the moment. You looked up to see him standing a little closer now, his fingers fidgeting nervously at his sides.

“I’m really happy that you read my letter!” he blurted out, cheeks flushed. “Really, really happy!”

You offered a small, polite smile, nodding gently. “Thank you… It was a lovely letter.”

Encouraged, he straightened up and took a shaky breath. You could already feel where this was going, and despite the lightness in the air, a soft weight settled on your chest.

Then, he bowed low, hand extended awkwardly but earnestly toward you.

“Please… be my girlfriend, Y/n!”

You paused for a second, then let out a quiet sigh—more of sympathy than surprise. With a soft expression, you mirrored a small bow of your own, folding your hands in front of you.

“I’m really flattered,” you began gently, voice steady but kind. “And I think you’re very brave for saying this. But… I don’t think I’m in a place right now to be in a relationship.”

You gave him a small, apologetic smile. “There’s a lot on my plate right now, with work and responsibilities, and I just wouldn’t be able to give someone the attention they deserve.”

You weren’t lying. Just… not telling the whole truth either. Because saying it out loud—admitting that you were already with someone—wasn’t an option. Not when that someone was Isara Mao, and every whisper about his private life could become a headline.

You knew how fragile an idol’s career could be, how a single rumor could turn into a storm. Thankfully, no one had found out yet. And the few close friends who did know? They had kept their lips sealed like a vault.

You were more grateful than words could ever say, for their trust, and for protecting something so precious.

"You're a liar."

The sudden accusation made you snap your head up, eyes wide in confusion. "What…?"

"You said you're too focused on your work to date, but you already have a guy!" His voice rose, sharp with frustration and disbelief.

You blinked, taken aback, then frowned slightly. "I am telling the truth. And really, why would a producer like me date an idol? That’d be a complete mess."

But he wasn’t having it. "Then explain why that guy, Ritsu, was sleeping on your lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world!"

You froze. Wait. Ritsu?

A sweatdrop formed as you blinked at him in disbelief. "Wait, are you seriously saying… you think Ritsu and I are dating?"

He folded his arms, wearing a smug look, clearly thinking he had you cornered. "Isn’t that proof enough? No normal coworker would let someone nap on them like that."

You stared at him for a long moment, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the laugh bubbling in your throat. You shouldn’t laugh. No, you really shouldn’t…

But come on. Ritsu?

You pressed your lips together, trying your hardest not to let the laugh slip out. Not now, Y/n. Don’t laugh, even if it’s Ritsu we’re talking about.

Taking a calming breath, you placed your hands on your hips and looked at him evenly. “Look… I can understand how that might’ve looked weird to you, but Ritsu and I are just close friends. That’s it. He naps on anything that breathes.”

The boy still looked unconvinced. His brows furrowed, arms still crossed tightly.

You sighed again, softer this time. “I’m not lying to you, okay? I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, so I tried to be gentle about it. But the truth is… I can’t say yes to your confession. Not because of someone else. Because I’m not in the place for that kind of relationship with anyone. My job comes first, and I have responsibilities that I take seriously.”

You truly thought your words gentle, honest, careful, might soothe his temper. But instead, something in his gaze shifted. His hands clenched into trembling fists, jaw tight with something more than frustration. You took an unconscious step back as he moved forward, the air suddenly too heavy to breathe.

Then his hand lifted.

Your breath caught.

You froze, heart lurching. Your eyes squeezed shut on instinct, bracing for pain that never came.

But in the stillness, there was warmth.

A familiar presence, firm, protective, slid between you and the blow. Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. Shielding you.

When you dared to open your eyes, all you could see was Mao’s back, tense but unwavering. His hand was locked around the other boy’s wrist, stopping him inches away from where you stood.

"Mao..." you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

“I-Isara-san?!”

The boy stumbled back, panic flooding his face the moment he recognized Mao. Of course he’d be afraid—after all, Isara Mao wasn’t just any student. He was the student council president, and his authority wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

“H-How are you even here—?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Mao interrupted, voice cool and sharp like a blade. His usual warmth was nowhere to be found, replaced by a calm fury that sent chills down your spine. “What does matter is what I just witnessed. Do you have any idea what kind of consequences you’d face if you’d gone any further?”

The boy’s face drained of color. Without another word, he recoiled, eyes wide with shame and fear before he turned and bolted down the stairs, running away from the weight of his actions.

A moment later, the soft sound of footsteps echoed behind you.

“Got the whole thing,” Ritsu said casually, holding up his phone as he approached. “I’ll report it to the school board, Maa-kun.”

Then, as if nothing had happened, Ritsu reached out and gently ruffled your hair, his sleepy smile oddly reassuring. With a wave, he turned and disappeared just as effortlessly as he’d come.

Mao exhaled a heavy breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… thanks, Ritsu.”

Then he turned to you, and his hardened expression melted instantly. Concern replaced anger as he reached for you, eyes searching your face. “Are you okay?”

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The world blurred around the edges as the fear crashed over you like a wave, numbing your limbs and freezing the breath in your lungs. Your hands trembled at your sides, your eyes locked on the cold floor beneath your feet—because looking up meant facing the truth of what had almost happened.

You had almost been hurt.

Almost struck.

And that truth hollowed something out inside you.

Then—warmth.

Not just physical. A warmth that wrapped around your shaken body like a lifeline, grounding you before the spiral could take you completely. Two hands, steady and careful, came to rest on your shoulders. You knew that touch.

“Hey,” Mao’s voice cut through the fog, soft, steady, filled with that unwavering care only he gave you. He crouched down, lowering himself until his gaze could meet yours. “Hey, sweetheart… it’s me. Look at me.”

Your eyes flickered, glassy and unsure, until they slowly rose to meet his. The moment you did, his expression crumpled just a little not from panic, but from quiet, aching concern.

“It’s okay now,” he whispered. “He’s gone. You’re safe. I promise, I’ve got you.”

You tried to breathe, but it caught in your throat again. You couldn’t stop shaking.

So Mao leaned in, forehead nearly brushing yours, speaking low, like a secret meant only for you. “Just breathe with me, okay? One breath at a time. In through your nose…”

He inhaled slowly, and you tried to follow. Your chest hitched, but you managed it.

“Good… now out,” he exhaled, guiding you gently. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”

He stayed right there with you his presence a steady flame in the dark, his touch never wavering as you clung to the rhythm of his voice and breath until the trembling dulled. Until the fear receded, just a little.

Until the only thing you could feel was him.

You finally looked up at him, and—ah… you had missed those green eyes. There was a warmth in them that melted straight into your chest, wrapping around your heart like the safest place in the world. You gave a small, sheepish smile, tilting your head slightly. “Ah… so much for the legendary confession I thought I’d experience one day,” you joked quietly, trying to lighten the air.

Mao let out a soft, breathy laugh, though a sweatdrop formed on his temple as he gently poked your forehead. “And that’s the first thing you say after almost getting hurt?”

You let out a tiny huff and pretended to wince at the poke, but even you weren’t in the mood to play for long. The smile you wore faltered slightly, replaced by a quiet honesty as you rubbed your arm.

“Truthfully…” you murmured, “I’m scared. I think that moment’s going to keep playing in my head… over and over again.”

Mao’s expression softened even more, concern flickering across his features. “Even in your dreams?” he asked gently.

You hesitated, then forced another smile, this one fragile, but meant to ease his worry. “Maybe… but I’ll be okay.”

Mao could tell—you weren’t going to be okay. Not completely. Not tonight. Maybe not for a while. He knew that look in your eyes, the way your fingers trembled just slightly, and how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Without another word, he stood up and gently took your hands in his. His grip was warm, steady.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s do something today. Just the two of us.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard. “Huh? What’s with the sudden idea?”

He gave you that familiar, lopsided smile and guided you down the rooftop stairs, his hand never leaving yours. “I’m just in the mood, that’s all. I thought we could go eat something special.”

You chuckled, teasing, “Let me guess, ramen again?”

But Mao shook his head and looked over at you, sincerity in his voice. “Nope. Today, I want your favorite. I want to hear what you’re craving.”

You stopped in your tracks for a second, taken aback by his words. He was doing this for you, you could tell. He wasn’t trying to fix everything. He just wanted to be beside you, to fill the silence with warmth instead of fear, to remind you that you weren’t alone.

Mao didn't reply immediately. Instead, he turned toward you, his gaze searching yours as though trying to memorize every flicker of emotion behind your eyes. Then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed you not rushed or teasing this time, but slow and full of meaning.

It took your breath away. Your heart fluttered in your chest as the world seemed to still around you. The warmth of his lips chased away the lingering chill of what had almost happened earlier. You kissed him back, gently, as if telling him thank you without saying a word.

When he pulled away, there was a soft smile on his face, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. You flushed and looked away quickly, mumbling, “You’re lucky no one’s around this time of day…”

He chuckled, voice light but filled with affection. “I know.”

Then, just as the silence settled again between you, he spoke soft and certain. “I love you, Y/n.”

Your breath caught.

It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but somehow this moment, after everything made it land differently. The way he looked at you, like you were the one constant in a world that kept shifting.

You turned your face to him, eyes shining just a little as your fingers curled tighter around his. “I love you too, Mao.”

And as you walked together, hand in hand through the golden light of the fading afternoon, the weight in your chest finally began to lift replaced by something tender and grounding. Safe.

With him by your side, it felt like you could start breathing again.

____________________________________________

Hi~ miss me?

Anyway...

Happy 10th anniversary, Ensemble Star!!

[ninani06]

— I don't deserve him {Epilogue}

Before

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Fluff, Casual romance. Author notes : Wow... what a night, release 8 chapter in a night.

____________________________________________

The night sky hung like a velvet curtain, deep and dark, sprinkled with a few faint stars peeking through the canopy of leaves. A gentle breeze rustled the streetlights, their soft golden glow casting mottled shadows of tree branches onto the pavement. The world had quieted—no more of the day's rush or chatter, only the soft sound of footsteps echoing…

Two young souls walking side by side.

Your hand was enveloped in Mao's warm one. He wasn’t holding it too tightly—it didn’t hurt or weigh you down. But it was firm enough to make you feel that even if you trembled or hesitated… he would still hold on. He wouldn’t let you fall from his grasp again.

You had stayed in the storage room for nearly an hour and a half. It was already late. When the two of you finally tiptoed out, the tired but kind security guard simply gave a pointed look and opened the gate without a word.

You bowed quickly, mumbling a quiet thank-you, while Mao just scratched his head and let out an awkward laugh—but even then, your hands never parted.

As you walked down the familiar road back home, you glanced sideways at Mao beside you.

He looked the same as always—his soft pink hair tousled slightly by the wind, his eyes fixed forward like he always knew exactly where he was going, and that carefree, bright expression that had drawn you in ever since the day you met him… back during his very first vocal audition.

But now… he wasn’t just someone you had feelings for in secret anymore.

He was your boyfriend.

The thought made your heart flutter again, wild and uncertain. You tightened your grip on his hand just a little, as if to check that this wasn’t a dream. Mao noticed and turned toward you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

“Cold?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, voice barely above a whisper, “No… it’s just… I still can’t believe it.”

He chuckled. The sound rang out in the quiet night like a bell—soft, sweet, and full of light. Tilting his head, he met your eyes with a look so gentle it nearly made you melt.

“Then let me hold your hand again. And again… until you do.”

Your face instantly flushed, glowing red from cheek to ear as you quickly looked away, trying (and failing) to hide the silly grin spreading across your lips. You knew things wouldn’t always be this peaceful.

Mao was an idol—his schedule would be packed, and eyes from the world would constantly be watching. You were a producer—there were lines you couldn’t cross, even if your heart wanted to.

But for now, here in the quiet of the night, under the hazy golden lights and the soft chill of the breeze… none of that mattered.

You were still caught in a hazy swirl of emotions when you felt it— That warmth. That tenderness brushing lightly against your lips.

Your heart stopped.

Eyes wide, breath caught in your throat.

It was just a kiss—barely a whisper. Not rushed, not demanding. Like the wings of a butterfly gliding across a petal.

But for you, it was everything.

It was a spark igniting in your chest, spreading like fire through your whole body. Your cheeks burned a deep crimson, ears tingling, and your legs nearly gave out from how fast your heart was racing.

Time slowed. The world held its breath. And you knew…

Mao pulled back slightly, but stayed close, a teasing yet gentle glint in his eyes.

“...Kisses are good for warming someone up,” he said with a smirk, mischief still lingering on his lips.

You blinked, completely stunned, needing a full second to process what he had just done.

“Y-You… you jerk!!” you stammered, your face turning as red as a ripe tomato. Without thinking, you nudged his shin with your foot—a light kick, more flustered defense than actual punishment. The kind of reaction only someone kissed for the first time by the person they loved would have.

“Ow—! Oi~ Y/n-chan~ So scary when you get like this, how’s anyone supposed to survive~?” Mao whined dramatically, though his laughter betrayed him. He didn’t look hurt at all—if anything, he looked like he’d just won the most impossible game of his life.

You turned your face away quickly, covering your mouth to stifle the giddy smile spreading across your lips. You were going to explode. Your heart was racing, your lips still tingled, and your head was spinning like a top.

Just one kiss. A simple, fleeting touch.

But you knew—that was the first door opening. To something soft, something deep, and something impossible to forget.

[ninani06]

— I don't deserve him {chap 7}

Before Next

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Angst, Casual.

____________________________________________

Your eyelids twitched slightly.

Faint light slipped through the small window, casting pale streaks on the ceiling. The first sensation you felt upon waking… was a gentle weight resting on your knees. Warm. Tender. Not the usual coldness that clung to this silent storage room.

You opened your eyes slightly, brows furrowing faintly.

A school uniform jacket. Not yours. Not your scent. This one… carried a faint minty smell, so familiar it made your heart tighten.

At the same moment, you noticed a calm, steady breathing next to you.

No…

You had tried to run away…

A voice called out—low and warm, not loud, but cutting through the silence with clarity.

"You’re awake, huh?"

Your entire body froze.

Slowly, you turned your head to the right, as if moving too fast would make the world crumble.

And there he was… Mao, sitting right beside you, eyes soft as they looked at you. He wasn’t smiling like usual. He was just… looking at you with the same gentleness and warmth you once knew so well.

But to you now, that look felt like a knife gently slicing through the deepest part of your heart.

You didn’t deserve this.

Didn’t deserve to see him care. Didn’t deserve his kindness after everything you’d said… after everything you’d done.

You turned your face away, avoiding his gaze, lowering your eyes, as if trying to hide your torment in the fists clenched tightly on your lap.

“…Why are you here…?” your voice came out hoarse, tired.

Mao stayed silent for a few seconds, then replied, softly like the wind, "I should be the one asking you that."

You bit your lip, shoulders trembling. Your (e/c) eyes were now clouded, weighed down by heavy emotions. So many questions, so many apologies tangled in your chest, unable to come out.

“Why…” you whispered, too quiet to be a true complaint, “Why do you keep looking for me…?”

You didn’t look up. You couldn’t.

Because if you did, you were afraid you’d fall apart.

“Because I want to see you.”

Just six simple words. No demands, no blame, no accusations.

Yet somehow… they wrapped tightly around your heart.

You raised your head a little, and for just a moment, you let yourself look into those eyes. No hiding. No barriers.

His gaze was still warm, like always. But within it now were worry, longing, and a kind of confusion he had hidden so well all this time.

Mao reached out, as if to pull the jacket closer around you—but paused midway.

“You ran away, you’re avoiding me… but you’re not a bad person, (Y/n).” He said gently. “I know you must have your reasons. But if you keep shutting me out, I won’t be able to reach you anymore.”

You felt the tears threatening to fall.

You once thought you were strong enough to bury your feelings. You thought the best way to protect your heart was to push him away. But right now, as he sat beside you without doing anything more than being there… your heart trembled, crying out to be saved.

“I’m so tired, Mao…” you said in your mind, though your lips remained tightly sealed.

You couldn’t say it aloud. But your eyes were beginning to shine.

“Did I… do something wrong?”

His question pierced the stillness, quiet… yet it shattered the wall you had tried so hard to build these past days.

Your (e/c) eyes widened in shock. Slowly, you lifted your head to look straight at him.

He was looking at you.

Not with anger, not with frustration… but with trembling eyes full of hurt, uncertainty, and a sorrow so raw it felt suffocating.

His brows were drawn together, as if even asking that question pained him.

“W-what? No, you didn’t—” you quickly denied, your voice cracking.

“I just… I just wanted to see you. I just wanted to be near you… Why is that so hard?”

Each word that left his mouth was no longer calm and light like before. This was Mao—your cheerful friend who always made things feel easy—now facing you with raw, unfiltered emotion.

You were silent.

Your throat tightened. You could feel your heartbeat racing uncontrollably, pounding against your chest, drowning out all other sounds.

“A…”

That was all you could say. A broken sound, incomplete—just like the mess inside you.

You lowered your head again, hands clenched tightly on your skirt, nails digging into your skin until it turned pale. You couldn’t look at Mao. You just couldn’t. Because if you did, you knew the tears would fall.

“I just wanted to talk a little…” — his voice dropped, trembling softly “Was that too much to ask?”

A long silence followed.

A gentle breeze drifted into the storage room, making the thin curtain sway. But inside you, it felt like a storm was raging.

You had thought silence was enough, that avoiding him would make things better. That if you stepped away, Mao wouldn’t get hurt. But now, in his eyes—those sorrowful eyes meeting yours—you finally understood.

You had hurt him.

Not through harsh actions, but through silence and cold distance. Through the way you left him alone during all those days he tried to figure out what was going on.

You bit down hard on your lower lip, eyes starting to blur.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered—so soft, it was barely a sound.

But Mao heard it.

He didn’t say anything. He just quietly sat there, waiting for you. No pressure, no rush. Just being there—as he always had—waiting until you were ready.

And in that moment, the world seemed to slow down. All outside noise faded away, leaving only Mao’s steady breathing beside you and the chaotic rhythm of your own heartbeat.

A small crack formed in the tough shell you had forced over yourself. It didn’t burst open, didn’t make a sound. But it spread slowly, like a fracture in glass—fragile and irreversible.

The mask you had worn for too long, the mask of stability, of fake smiles whenever someone asked… finally began to crumble piece by piece.

Your shoulders trembled. Your head lowered even more, as if if you bowed low enough, you could hide this weak, vulnerable version of yourself forever. But then… you felt something warm sliding down your cheek.

Tears.

No sobbing, no gasping. Just silent drops, falling from eyes that had held back too much for far too long.

And then you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I… I don’t even know anymore…” — your voice cracked, choked with a quiet sob. “I’m scared that one day… you’ll leave me…”

Your breath hitched, like something invisible was squeezing your lungs. The words tumbled out from your mouth one after another, no longer able to stop.

“I’m scared that someday… you won’t look at me like this anymore… won’t call my name… won’t stay by my side like right now…”

You raised a hand to cover part of your face, as if hiding your tears would make them less real. But the emotions wouldn’t let go.

“My heart… it can’t take it anymore…” your voice broke into sobs. “I’ve been pretending I’m okay… trying so hard… but the more I pretend, the further away I feel from you…”

The fear you had buried deep inside—fear of losing Mao, fear of breaking the one bond you cherished more than anything—was now laid bare. There was no strength left to cling to. No excuse left to hide behind.

And while you were breaking apart, you realized something…

Mao didn’t leave. He stayed.

He stayed, quietly listening, without judgment, without panic.

He let you cry. Let you speak. Never once interrupting.

There was only his gaze—that gentle, profound gaze—watching over you like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire world.

You quietly raised your hand to wipe away the first tear that had rolled down your cheek. You didn’t want him to see. You hated the feeling of being weak. Hated yourself for not being able to hold up the wall you had worked so hard to build. But… those trembling fingers couldn’t stop the wave of emotion rising inside you.

In the instant you turned away to hastily wipe your tears, you felt a movement.

Mao gently wrapped his arms around you.

Before you could react, he softly pulled you closer, resting your head on his shoulder. No warning. No questions.

Just a hug. But it was enough to make your world collapse.

He didn’t use force. He didn’t push. He just held you—like he was trying to share a bit of strength, a bit of warmth, a bit of courage so you didn’t have to keep holding yourself together anymore.

Then, he reached down to pick up the jacket that had fallen on the floor and gently draped it over your head, as if protecting something fragile.

“If you want to cry, then cry. I’m right here.”

Those words, soft as spring wind, blew away all your pride, all your reasons, all the masks you had clung to.

You froze. Your heart felt like it was both constricting and bursting at once. Your cheeks burned—not just from the tears, but from the feelings you had kept hidden for so long, now impossible to contain.

“When you do stuff like this… how am I supposed to hide my feelings anymore…” you choked out, your voice trembling.

You were angry at him. Angry because he was too kind. Angry because he didn’t let go when you tried to push him away. Angry because one single embrace like that… had shattered you.

And then finally, you broke down.

Not the quiet, silent tears. You sobbed—loud and unrestrained, like a child, with no more strength to hold it back. The room filled with the sound of your broken cries, and your tears soaked through his white shirt.

Mao still didn’t let go. He let you cry. Let you pour out every bit of pain, exhaustion, confusion, and heartache you had kept locked away.

He knew you were strong. But he also knew… you didn’t always have to be.

“I’ve been here from the beginning, you know…” Mao whispered, his head resting gently against your (h/c) hair. “And I’m still here. You don’t have to force yourself to smile anymore. Just be you.”

In his arms, between those endless tears, your heart was finally allowed to breathe.

You sobbed, each sound ripping through your fragile chest. You buried your face in Mao’s shirt, letting your tears soak through the fabric. But you didn’t care anymore. You were tired. Tired of hiding, of running, of emotions you could no longer control.

“I avoided you… didn’t message you, didn’t even look at you… So why… why are you still doing this for me?”

The question escaped your lips—not to blame, but as a quiet scream from a heart full of confusion. You didn’t understand. You didn’t want to believe it. Because if you believed it, the walls you had tried so hard to keep up would crumble completely.

Mao let out a soft breath, like a breeze, and answered in a voice firm and without hesitation:

“It’s simple… Because I like you.”

Your whole body froze. Your heart stopped for a moment.

You slowly lifted your head, red eyes staring at Mao, voice shaking with disbelief. “You’re lying…”

Mao gave a small smile—part helpless, part aching.

“That hurts, you know… Why would I lie to you?” His voice was still gentle, still calm like always, but this time, his gaze held something real—something clear and impossible to deny.

He reached up, his thumb gently brushing your tear-streaked cheek, wiping away the falling drops like he was touching something more precious than anything in the world. “I have no reason to lie to you.”

But you shook your head. Once, twice—frantic and desperate. You tried to push his hand away, tears flooding your eyes again, full of fear.

“No… You can’t… You can’t like me.”

“You’re an idol, Mao… You’re someone’s light, someone’s dream. You’re on a path toward greatness. You shouldn’t care about someone like me.”

“I’m just a producer working behind the scenes. Someone with nothing special. Someone who’s not worthy of you at all…”

Your voice cracked, breaking apart like a dam giving way. You didn’t cry anymore, but each word that came out was soaked in insecurity, in wounds you had buried for years.

You turned your face away, unable to meet his gaze. You were scared. If you looked any longer, you’d fall apart. If you believed those words, you’d never be able to go back.

But Mao didn’t pull his hand back. Not at all. He just shook his head gently, his gaze more serious and warm than ever. “Then let me say this clearly, one last time.”

“I don’t like you because you’re a good producer, or because you’ve done so much for Trickstar.”

“I like you… because you’re you.”

“The one who always stands behind the scenes, quietly watching everything. The one who silently hands me a bottle of water when I’m tired. The one who, even when you’re anxious, always puts others’ peace of mind before your own.”

He reached out and lightly touched your messy (h/c) hair—still tousled from sleep—as if trying to hold all your trembling, wounded pieces together. “I like those little things about you, even if you never realize how precious they are.”

Mao paused for a moment, then leaned in slightly closer, voice soft but firm “So if you try to run away again… then I’m sorry, but this time, I’ll be the one pulling you back.”

You froze. Mao’s words echoed in your mind like distant bells—so unreal, so far away.

You couldn’t believe it.

The boy you had secretly watched, who made your heart skip with every smile, the one who made you retreat into your shell because you felt unworthy—was now standing right in front of you, saying things that felt like a dream.

A swirl of emotions tangled inside you: fear, disbelief, vulnerability, and… a flicker of hope.

Your (e/c) eyes still wavered, unsure. You didn’t respond. Mao let out a quiet sigh—like the first breeze of spring—but within it was a hint of pain.

He knew. He knew that accepting love wasn’t easy for you. Not because you didn’t feel the same… But because your heart had grown too used to denying happiness.

Without a word, Mao slowly reached into the pocket of his jacket. You noticed, confused, but said nothing.

He gently took your trembling hand—shaking with doubt—and placed something familiar into your palm. Then he let go. No pressure. No expectation. Just left the object in your grasp—as if handing you his whole heart.

You slowly opened your hand.

Inside… was a keychain. A chibi keychain of Mao—the one you used to treasure so much. The one that used to dangle from your phone every day.

The one that vanished after you ran off in a panic… And you hadn’t even remembered where you lost it.

You stared, stunned, eyes fixed on that tiny item.

He had picked it up.

Held onto it.

And now… returned it to you, at the very moment your heart was at its most fragile.

Mao’s voice came again, deeper this time, warmer than ever. As if to confirm everything once and for all—so you couldn’t keep running.

“(Y/N)… I really like you.”

He paused, locking eyes with you. His sapphire gaze was full of tenderness. The smile on his lips gentler than you had ever seen—not playful, not distant like on stage.

It was real. Honest.

“No…” He tilted his head slightly, determination shining in his eyes. “I should say… I love you.”

Your tears fell again, quiet as spring rain. But every drop carried years of silence, of pain, of bottled-up emotion.

You didn’t sob this time. You just stayed still, letting the tears fall down your cheeks, tracing your jaw, and landing on the hand clutching the tiny keychain.

The keychain touched your chest.

Your heart pounded beneath your shirt.

You held it close, like letting go would make his feelings disappear.

“...Why…” you choked out, lips trembling like they had more to say—but your throat was too tight.

Mao’s body stiffened. He hadn’t expected you to cry again. He opened his mouth, as if to say something—but then bit his lip, lost.

His eyes were filled with worry, his feet shifting like he wanted to rush over and hold you… but was afraid. Afraid if he touched you, you’d push him away again.

“Are you… okay?” Mao asked softly, voice laced with uncertainty, his chest tightening at the sight of your pain. “I’m sorry… I don’t know what I should do anymore…” he whispered, almost like a confession from the very bottom of his heart.

You didn’t respond. You only held the keychain tighter—gripping it like you were holding onto him. You didn’t look at him, but your small shoulders trembled, and Mao couldn’t stay still anymore.

He lowered himself slowly, sitting across from you. His hand reached out—very gently, very patiently. He didn’t touch you right away, only placed his hand on the floor, right next to yours.

Waiting.

“Y/N…” His voice was warm and sincere, filled with quiet emotion. “Did you know? Every time you smile, every time you furrow your brows while focusing on work, every time you gently remind everyone backstage… I notice it all.”

You lifted your head, tearful (e/c) eyes wide with surprise.

“And I can’t help but care. I can’t stop myself from thinking about you. I love the way you always try so hard for others… but forget about yourself.”

Mao scooted closer, his voice dropping even lower, like a secret just for you. “So if you’d let me… I want to be the one who thinks about you. Just this once. That’s all I ask.”

In the stillness, your heart felt like it shattered open. You broke down with a sob, no longer trying to hold anything in, no longer pretending to be strong.

Your small hand loosened, letting the keychain rest softly against your chest. The other hand slowly reached out… and gently clutched Mao’s hand—for the first time, you were the one who took his.

He froze.

“...I… I like you too…” Your voice shook with emotion, but every word struck straight to Mao’s heart. “It’s just… I was scared. So scared…”

Mao didn’t wait another second. He reached forward and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, like letting go would mean losing you forever.

“Don’t be scared anymore,” he whispered, voice trembling slightly. “I’m here.”

He let out a soft breath, deep and full of everything he’d held in. That confession—those words—had been a gamble, a leap of faith born from everything he’d kept inside for so long. And now, with your answer… he should’ve felt relief.

But instead, as he held you—trembling, your face wet with tears, caught somewhere between fear and happiness—his heart tightened.

It wasn’t disappointment.

It was the realization… of just how afraid you had been.

He couldn’t stand the thought that the person he liked had been fighting her own emotions alone for so long.

Mao leaned down, closing the distance between you two until there was nothing left—only a breath apart. And then, so gently, he rested his forehead against yours.

You flinched a little, eyes blinking in surprise. But you didn’t pull away. Your heart was beating so fast it felt like the sound echoed in the room.

His breath brushed against your lips, and his voice came again, soft as sunlight .

“Would you… like to be my girlfriend, Y/n?”

There was no pressure in his voice, no sugarcoated promises—only gentleness so real it could melt a heart. A simple question, but it carried all the sincerity in the world.

You went still. Time seemed to slow around you.

For a moment, your mind replayed everything, The long, exhausting days in the office, The unopened messages you were too afraid to read, The kind looks you purposely ignored, And the little keychain you once treated like a treasure.

Now, he was right in front of you. So close you could hear his heartbeat. Feel his warmth. And for the first time, after so many days of holding yourself together… you smiled.

Not the kind of smile you used to hide your pain. Not the kind you wore to reassure others. But a real smile—soft, emotional, and blooming from deep within your heart.

Your eyes were still red and puffy, but they shimmered with light. You closed them for a brief moment, as if soothing all the exhaustion away, then opened them again—looking directly into his eyes, calm and brave.

“…Yeah. I’d love to, Maa-kun.”

That “Maa-kun” slipped out so gently, so full of warmth—it was a quiet declaration: you weren’t afraid anymore. That finally, you were ready to love someone.

The boy in front of you smiled, eyes glistening with emotions he couldn’t hide even if he tried. He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he slowly reached out, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle, lingering hug. It wasn’t forceful, or rushed—just a warm embrace that said everything:

“I’m here. Always.”

In that tiny storage room, two young hearts had finally opened up—braving their fears, disregarding the line between idol and producer, and choosing love.

No spotlight. No stage. This… was their most radiant moment. Before Next

[ninani06]

— I don't deserve him {chap 6}

Before Next

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Angst, Casual.

____________________________________________

The sound of your footsteps echoed steadily down the empty hallway as you made your way toward the cafeteria. The ceiling lights cast elongated, broken shadows beneath you—just like the mess of feelings swirling in your heart.

In your hand was your wallet—an object that should feel familiar, yet strangely distant. How long had it been since you last used your own money to buy a bag of snacks, a can of soda, or something small just to treat yourself?

“It’s always him… quietly paying in advance, then smiling like ‘It’s no big deal~’...” you bit your lip, fingers tightening around the strap of your wallet. “I don’t even know how many times I should’ve thanked him…”

The guilt weighed heavily on your chest. You missed him. His smile, his familiar voice. You missed the messages he sent—hesitant yet filled with sincerity. You had read them all. But never replied.

“He tried so hard… and all I did was run away.”

A light headache came over you—a reminder that the ever-growing workload wasn’t giving you any room to breathe. Your shoulders ached under the burden of deadlines, responsibilities, emotions... and the things you still couldn’t bring yourself to say.

You furrowed your brows, feet moving on autopilot until you suddenly realized you were nearing the staircase.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit you, and your foot missed a step. Everything tilted in an instant.

“Y/N!!”

A shout rang out—urgent, panicked.

Before you could react, a warm hand grabbed you and yanked you back. Your body stumbled from the momentum, crashing backward, both of you falling to the ground.

Thud!

It wasn’t a hard fall, but your heart pounded wildly.

Your chest rose and fell with panic—not from the fall, but from the knowledge that if that voice hadn’t called out, if that hand hadn’t caught you… you would’ve tumbled down those cold, unforgiving stairs.

You lay still for a moment, trying to catch your breath. You were enveloped in a warm, trembling, and achingly real embrace.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and turned your head—and your heart stopped when you saw Mao's face just inches from yours.

His reddish-pink hair was a mess from the wind and his rush to reach you. His green eyes were filled with unbearable worry.

“Are you… are you okay?!” Mao asked, his voice trembling slightly.

You wanted to say “I’m fine,” that there was nothing to worry about, that he didn’t need to look at you like that anymore. But your throat tightened like a dam holding back floodwaters. Not a single word could slip past the invisible wall crushing your chest.

Mao’s eyes… They were no longer carefree or playful. In them swirled a storm of concern, fear, pain, and something else—something unspoken.

That embrace… it wasn’t just to stop you from falling. It was an admission: he had always been watching you, caring for you in a way deeper than his usual jokes and casual smiles.

And that very gentleness terrified you more than anything.

You clenched your hands tightly, as if it was the only way to keep yourself from giving in. The emotional wall you had built over the past three days—with every avoided glance, every silence, every time you convinced yourself “this much is enough”—was starting to crack.

You knew you couldn’t let it fall.

You couldn’t.

Your hand automatically reached up and gently removed Mao’s from your shoulder. The motion was light… but carried a weight that made him freeze.

“Don’t touch me…” your voice came out small, hoarse, like a plea.

Mao frowned, confused. “Huh...? What are you saying, Y/—”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!”

Your scream pierced the stillness between you like an arrow.

Mao flinched as if struck. He pulled back a little, hand hovering in midair, eyes wide with shock. You stood frozen too, as if you couldn’t believe that voice had come from your own throat.

“I…” You stared at your trembling hands, your voice cracking. You bowed your head low, shoulders shaking as though you were holding back a storm about to break inside your chest. Your lips pressed tightly together, as if even whispering an apology would shatter everything you were desperately trying to protect.

The distance. The silence. A heart strangled by its own emotions.

Mao, still unsure what was happening, slowly reached out again, hand hesitating in the air. “Wait, Y/n—!”

But you had already gotten to your feet, faster than even you expected, as if running from yourself. Your footsteps echoed, hurried, and not once did you look back.

You ran.

Mao stood there, alone, his hand still reaching out into empty space.

Just like he always had—reaching out, waiting for someone to take his hand.

Mao’s brows furrowed, confusion flashing in his eyes before giving way to determination. He couldn’t let this moment slip by again. Not this time. Not after seeing the pain in your eyes so clearly.

He was about to get up when something small caught his eye, lying quietly on the floor.

Something… familiar.

He bent down and picked it up.

It was a small chibi keychain of himself—with that bright smile and iconic pinkish-red hair, the version of him often seen on stage. No mistaking it.

This was the keychain you always kept on your phone. Small, but cherished. He had seen you carefully clean it with your sleeve when dust gathered. He had seen the way you smiled faintly whenever you looked at it.

And now, it lay forgotten on the ground in the hallway—like a delicate trace of a heart breaking in silence.

Mao clenched the keychain tightly, holding it as if it were a piece of you.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t hesitate.

He ran.

—

Elsewhere, you stumbled into an old, unused storage room.

No one followed. No one saw you. And that was the only thing you wanted right now.

The room was dim, but not suffocating. A small window high above let in a sliver of light, just enough to make the dust in the air shimmer faintly. No one came here often—a quiet, forgotten corner of a noisy school.

You closed the door, leaned your back against the wall, and slid down to the floor.

Your body was exhausted, but your mind even more so.

Breathing ragged, every inhale heavy, like your heart didn’t want to beat anymore. You pulled your knees close and wrapped your arms around them, burying your face. A familiar gesture since childhood—something you always did when you felt lost, when the world became too much.

You couldn’t cry.

You couldn’t scream.

You couldn’t say a word.

It was like a fog wrapped around your throat, squeezing every last breath.

Inside, you screamed. You wanted to shout that you were sorry, that you never meant to push him away, that you were only trying… to protect the fragile emotions you didn’t even understand yourself.

But it all stayed trapped in your mind, never reaching your lips.

“I’m selfish…”

“I hurt him…”

“I don’t deserve to stay by his side…”

Those thoughts repeated over and over, each like a needle driving into your chest. You felt like you were sinking into a bottomless pit where no light could reach—where you were completely alone.

Too exhausted to keep screaming in silence, your body eventually gave in.

“Just a quick nap…” you told yourself, even though deep down, you knew it was just another way to escape reality a little longer.

In that quiet room, you curled up like a child, drifting into uneasy sleep surrounded by darkness and lingering guilt.

You didn’t know… that someone was running through the hallways with frantic steps, tightly gripping the tiny item you left behind.

Someone who had no intention of letting you run forever.

Before Next

[ninani06]

— I don't deserve him {chap 5}

Before Next

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Angst, casual.

____________________________________________

Just like that… three quiet days passed. Three long, dragging days, and for you, every single minute felt like an endless tug-of-war with your own heart.

You still went to school, still did your job, still smiled and chatted with everyone like usual. No one suspected a thing—because you’d always been good at hiding your feelings. For a long time, you had learned how to use your smile to cover the chaos inside, to make people believe you were fine, that nothing had changed.

But in truth, everything had changed—from the moment your eyes met Mao’s in the studio that day.

Since then, you began to plan out your every move—each hallway, each class, each break—just to make sure you wouldn’t run into him.

Every time that familiar pink-red hair passed by from afar, your chest would tighten, and you'd quickly turn into a different direction.

Every time a message popped up in the group chat between the three of you, you'd read it and react halfheartedly, but never said a word.

And every time someone mentioned Mao’s name—even just in passing—your fingers would instinctively tighten, only for you to quickly smile, as if that name had never made your heart waver.

"It’s okay… I just need to smile."

A simple phrase, echoing in your mind like a fixed mask—both a shield and a weight pressing down on your weary soul.

With each passing day, your heart felt a little more crushed. You wondered if Mao had noticed something—if he was confused by the way you had changed.

You wondered if he blamed you. If it hurt him.

But you also knew… if you kept staying close to him, if you kept seeing that smile, those eyes, the way he said your name with that same familiar warmth—then you would be the one who couldn’t take it anymore.

"Just a little more… just a little more and I’ll forget these feelings." That’s what you kept telling yourself every night before falling asleep.

And yet… every morning, when the sunlight gently slipped through your window, when the sound of a message notification chimed—you couldn’t help but hope.

Hope for a message from him. A little check-in. Something—anything—to prove he was still there, even when you were trying your best to push him away.

And once again, you smiled. Softly. Lightly. Faintly like mist. A smile for the world… but never for yourself.

Mao wasn’t someone slow to notice emotions—especially not when it came to the people closest to him. Especially not when it came to you.

At first, he thought it was coincidence. That you were just arriving at school earlier than usual. That you weren’t replying much because you were busy. That you always had something to do during breaks.

But after three days, those little things added up. And together, they formed a blaring alarm in his mind.

"She’s avoiding me."

Mao realized it when Trickstar had just finished a photoshoot—and you, despite being the main producer that day, had disappeared before the session even ended.

You’d messaged another staff member to handle clean-up, saying you had an “urgent task in the production room.”

He’d rushed there after the shoot, only to be met with a cold answer from another producer. You had already left. Ten minutes ago.

And that night, he sent you a private message.

[Mao]: Y/n, have you been really busy lately? I haven’t seen you around much…

The message was “read.” But no reply ever came.

Mao stared at the screen, a strange emptiness growing inside him. He didn’t know what had happened.

Did he say something wrong? Did he do something that hurt you? Or… was it what he feared most? Was it really happening?

"I told her once… if something’s wrong, she can always talk to me. And now… she chooses silence."

That silence hurt more than any accusation ever could.

The next morning, he woke up earlier than usual. Not for training. Not for work. But to wait.

He stood outside the producers’ classroom building as students slowly trickled in, eyes searching through the crowd—hoping to catch a glimpse of that familiar (h/c) hair, that clipboard always in your hands.

Time passed. His anxiety grew.

Finally, when class was almost about to start—you appeared. But you weren’t walking alone like you usually did. Two other producers were beside you, chatting casually. Your eyes stayed fixed forward.

Mao bit his lip. He knew he couldn’t just stand there anymore.

He stepped forward, raising a hand slightly and calling out, “Y/n!"

You froze. Just for a second.

Just a brief moment—but he saw it clearly. The hesitation in your eyes.

And then—like a well-practiced reflex—you smiled. Faintly. Dipped your head ever so slightly, as if he was nothing more than a passing acquaintance.

“Good morning, Mao.”

Your voice was calm. Too calm. And it made his heart sink.

No more “Maa-kun.” No more soft, familiar tone he used to hear every single day.

You turned away after that greeting. You didn’t stop. Didn’t meet his eyes.

In that moment, Mao knew. He couldn’t just stay still anymore.

He didn’t know what you were thinking. Didn’t know the real reason behind the coldness.

But he knew one thing for sure: if he did nothing, he wouldn’t just lose you as someone he liked—

He’d lose you.

The person who had always been beside him all these years.

"I have to see her. Talk to her. No matter what it takes."

Even if the truth might hurt him, Mao couldn’t let you keep suffering alone.

And he couldn’t pretend not to notice— Not when his heart was still calling your name with every hour, every minute.

Before Next

[ninani06]

— I don't deserve him {chap 4}

Before Next

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Casual. Author note: Lmao, i'm sorry for this chapter is short.

____________________________________________

The girl with (h/c) hair stood frozen in the hallway bathed in golden light from the tall windows. She had calculated everything so carefully, reminded herself time and again to keep a safe distance—to protect her heart. And yet… the universe always had a way of playing tricks on her.

You let out a quiet sigh, blaming yourself. You should’ve declined today’s photoshoot schedule. You should’ve remembered clearly that Trickstar… was Mao’s unit.

Lifting your gaze, you looked around, telling yourself to check the equipment in another corner—anything to distract your thoughts. But just as you took a step forward, something made you turn your head—and your (e/c) eyes locked with a familiar gaze.

Those green eyes… still clear and warm, just like always. But this time, it wasn’t a fleeting glance. They were fixed on you—like the whole world had disappeared, and you were the only one left.

You stood there, frozen in place, as if time itself had come to a halt.

Your heart began to race—fast, uneven, and out of control. It wasn’t that pleasant fluttering from the past anymore. Now it tightened your chest, made each breath feel sharp and difficult.

Across the hallway, Mao was smiling. A gentle, sincere smile. His eyes lit up like he had just found something precious in the crowd. No trace of anger. No suspicion. Just pure joy at seeing you again.

And that… made your heart ache.

You quickly turned your face away, dodging his gaze like someone caught red-handed. Your coldness now was no different from a blade you were driving into the bond you both had spent years building. But you couldn’t stop yourself.

“I’m sorry, Mao…” you whispered in your heart, fingers tightening around the clipboard in your hands.

“I’m scared… scared that if I stay close to you, I won’t be able to hide it anymore.”

Some people step into the spotlight to shine.

But you… you could only remain in the shadows backstage, quietly watching that light from afar—even if your heart was overflowing with the desire to reach out and touch it… just once.

Before Next

[ninani06]

— I don't deserve him {chap 3}

Before Next

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Casual.

____________________________________________

Outside the house gate, the morning sunlight had only just begun to touch the end of the alley. The pale blue sky still carried a hint of lingering mist. A boy with pinkish-red hair stood there, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his eyes fixed on the familiar house with an expression of anticipation mixed with a bit of excitement. He was used to this morning scenery—the cool air, the smell of freshly baked bread from the neighboring house, the chirping birds, and… waiting to walk to school with you.

Mao smiled and gently knocked on the old white-painted wooden door, its color faded with time. He hoped to see the familiar face peek out, like always—your (h/c) hair slightly messy from just waking up, your eyes still sleepy, though you always tried to hide it behind a calm expression.

But this time, it wasn’t you who opened the door. Instead, it was your mother, the gentle woman who always greeted him with a smile as warm as the morning sun.

“Oh? Isn’t this Mao-kun?” she said in surprise, still holding a kitchen towel.

Mao froze for a second, but out of habit, he quickly bowed his head politely and said, “Good morning, ma’am. I hope you’re having a nice morning.”

She chuckled softly, her laugh carrying the same warmth you had when you were genuinely happy. “You too, dear. You’re here early, huh?”

He scratched his neck a little awkwardly, his eyes subtly glancing into the house, a bit flustered. He didn’t want to bother anyone, but he couldn’t hide his concern.

“Um… may I ask, is [Y/N] still getting ready?”

Your mom looked momentarily surprised, resting a hand on the door frame. “Oh… I thought the two of you left earlier already?”

“…Huh?” Mao blinked.

His heart skipped a beat. Not walking together? Not getting ready? You hadn’t said anything. A strange feeling ran down his spine, like something no longer aligned the way it used to.

On the walk to school, Mao’s feet moved out of habit, but his mind spun with nameless thoughts. He was used to walking to school with you. Even though you didn’t talk much, your presence beside him was always a peaceful part of his mornings. Every step you took had its own quiet rhythm—gentle, silent… but familiar. And now, all he felt was the emptiness beside him.

He tried to come up with a reasonable explanation. Maybe you overslept? Or something urgent came up? But if that were the case, you usually sent a message in the group chat between the three of you. Today, though—nothing. Not a single word. As if intentional.

Did I do something wrong…?

Mao searched his memory, recalling how the two of you still talked normally yesterday. He even bought you a steamed bun, and you smiled, cheeks slightly flushed under the afternoon sun as you thanked him. Everything had seemed fine. And yet…

“Maa-kun!”

A familiar voice rang out from behind, snapping him out of his tangled thoughts.

“Huh?” He turned around, just in time to see a head of fluffy black hair brushing past his vision before feeling the familiar weight on his back.

“Something wrong?” Mao asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Ritsu had somehow climbed onto his back, resting his chin on Mao’s shoulder, his eyes half-closed like a lazy kitten enjoying the morning. One hand poked playfully at Mao’s cheek.

“You’re spacing out early in the morning, Maa-kun. Suspicious~” Ritsu teased with a grin, though his eyes sparkled with quiet curiosity.

Mao could only offer a sheepish smile, trying to mask the confusion inside him. “It’s nothing… I probably just didn’t sleep well.”

“Didn’t sleep well? Weird. You didn’t have a late practice yesterday, did you?” Ritsu murmured, eyes narrowing as if trying to read between the lines.

Mao said nothing. He couldn’t bring himself to say that his heart was in turmoil over one girl not walking with him this morning. Just because… one person said nothing, and his entire world suddenly felt like a mess.

Ritsu, the boy with black hair and blood-red eyes, watched him silently for a moment, then suddenly said in a light but firm tone:

“It’s about Y/N, isn’t it?”

Mao paused for a beat as if caught red-handed, then gave a small nod, shoulders slumping slightly.

“Did you two have a fight when I wasn’t around?” Ritsu continued, his tone still teasing but now his gaze had turned serious.

“No, nothing like that,” Mao sighed, his fingers unconsciously tightening around his bag strap. “I’ve been trying to remember… if I did something wrong…” His voice lowered, laced with fatigue, confusion, and a quiet worry.

He hung his head, overwhelmed by a tangled web of thoughts, unable to find the end. “Y/N has never acted like this before…” he thought to himself, a chill running through him as he remembered your recent avoidant glances and the strange silence in their group chat.

Ritsu sat quietly on Mao’s back, his eyes no longer bearing their usual lazy glint. He understood. He knew your emotional patterns well—how you were so good at hiding your feelings that most people wouldn’t even notice you were hurting.

“Maybe… you should go find Y/N?” Ritsu said softly, offering the idea with a subtle hint of meaning. His crimson eyes were filled with empathy, though he didn’t speak further on what he might’ve guessed.

Mao looked up, a faint spark of light returning to his eyes. “Yeah, I was thinking that too.” Though he didn’t know what was going on, he understood that silence wouldn’t solve anything. If you were hiding something in your heart, he wanted to be the first one to hear it.

Ritsu smiled—a vague, sleepy smile like always, but this time, it held a sense of reassurance. “Good.” He didn’t say more, because he believed those two would find their way back to each other—like always. But this time… maybe it wouldn’t be the same as before.

At first, Mao planned to find you early in the morning, before the bell rang for class. But things didn’t go as smoothly as he’d hoped. The school buildings for producers and idols were in completely opposite directions, and he didn’t have enough time to circle around and look for you. To make things worse, the bell signaling the start of first period was drawing near, looming like a threat. In the end, he had to grit his teeth and give up, sighing to himself, “I’ll try after class then…”

But “after class” wasn’t simple either.

Mao’s schedule today wasn’t as relaxed as usual. Right after the last period, he had to rush to a studio for a photoshoot with Trickstar—a session that had been scheduled since last week and couldn’t be postponed. While staff members were busy preparing the lighting, costumes, and props, Mao sat alone in the waiting room, idly scrolling through his phone.

He opened the staff and schedule management app, just intending to glance over the list of producers and assistants assigned for today. His eyes scanned the names absentmindedly… until one line made him freeze.

L/n Y/N.

His eyes widened. For a moment, he thought he was seeing things. But there it was—your name, clearly listed, unmistakable. His heart skipped a beat. He blinked several times and tapped on the entry, needing to confirm it wasn’t a mistake in the system.

L/n Y/N – Assistant Manager – Trickstar Photoshoot Session

Emotions burst inside him. He hadn’t expected that in a day that felt like it was falling apart, he’d be gifted a small but precious moment like this. A part of him wanted to leap up in joy, but instead, he just smiled—a bright smile filled with relief.

“So… I get to see you today after all, Y/N,” Mao whispered, his hand tightening around his phone. The heavy atmosphere of the upcoming shoot seemed to ease a little. That small joy became a spark, a lightness in his heart amidst all the confusion.

Even if it’s just a brief meeting, even if you don’t feel like talking to him… at the very least, this time, he wouldn’t miss the chance to understand your feelings. And if possible… he hoped he could be the one to make you open your heart again.

Before Next

[ninani06]

— I don't deserve him {chap 2}

Before Next

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Angst, casual.

____________________________________________

The (h/c) haired girl sat quietly on the sofa, the golden sunset spilling softly through the window, casting a hazy light over her like the tangle of emotions twisting inside.

The pillow in her arms was clutched tightly, as if it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart in the chaos within. The remote clicked endlessly in her hand, flipping from channel to channel, but nothing on the screen could make her laugh like she usually did. The sound of the TV faded into a dull background hum—her mind fixed on one image alone.

Your best friend—Mao—reaching out to gently wipe a crumb from your cheek.

It was such a simple gesture, yet it sent your heart racing. You could still see the look in his eyes—so gentle, so sincere, it made it hard to breathe. His finger had barely touched your skin, but it left behind a burning imprint.

“It was just… a crumb… You didn’t have to be that gentle,” you mumbled, voice thick in your throat.

You buried your face in the pillow, trying to hide your flushed cheeks. It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought about liking Mao before. You knew—deep down—for a long time. You just never let yourself face it. Because you were scared. Scared that if you said it out loud, everything would change.

That closeness, the walks home together, the way he quietly listened to your rants, the warm pastries he bought without ever asking for the money back… If all of that was just because he saw you as a "close friend", then what?

“But if we’re just friends… then why do you make my heart race like this, Mao…” In the fading light of day, you sat still, arms tight around the pillow, your small heart feeling too full with emotions left unspoken.

You curled up on the sofa, lazily pressing buttons on the TV remote. You flipped through channels like you were searching for something—something to take your mind off these tangled feelings. But your hand froze.

On the screen was a rerun of Trickstar’s performance. The four boys danced and sang with energy, the stage lights glittering like falling stars. Then, the camera panned to Mao.

That bright smile, those sparkling eyes—just one moment and it pierced right through your chest. Your brain short-circuited, your heart pounding like it might leap from your chest. He was… way too handsome for his own good…

But your face stayed blank. In the span of a second, you looked away and pressed the button to switch the channel without hesitation.

A soft chuckle came from the doorway. “Oh dear, I thought you were going to stare at him a bit longer?” your mom teased, covering her mouth dramatically. She shrugged and left the room, leaving you alone with the TV now playing the news.

You frowned, cheeks puffed out in embarrassment and irritation. “Seriously, Mom…” you grumbled, tossing the remote aside.

You lay back on the sofa, pulling the pillow close to your chest and curling up like a small cat. In your mind, Anzu’s words rang as clear as if it were yesterday

“Graduation’s coming up soon… Are you really planning to leave things like this forever?”

Back then, you could brush it off, nod with a nonchalant smile. But now, alone in the dim light of your room, your heart clenched. That question… wasn’t as easy to ignore as you thought.

Three years—or maybe more—you had always been the one standing behind Mao and Ritsu. You didn’t shine on stage, didn’t receive applause or bask in spotlights. You had grown used to playing the supporting role, silently cheering for the people you cared about most.

Then, all three of you enrolled at Yumenosaki. Their world suddenly grew bigger, brighter… and you started to feel yourself being left behind. Mao and Ritsu stepped into the spotlight, their names cheered by fans, while you stood at the edge, watching from afar, swallowing your emotions.

You raised a hand to half-cover your face, your (e/c) eyes heavy with thought.

The future… would you still hold onto these feelings? Or would they slowly fade, like everything else you buried so deeply inside? And if… if you confessed to Mao—would your friendship survive? Or would it shatter like a summer bubble?

That contradiction ate at you, little by little. On the outside, you were calm and gentle. But inside, a storm of emotions raged on, with Mao always at its center—the boy with the brightest smile you had ever known.

You sat up from the sofa, blanket and pillow slipping off like they were dropping a part of the weight from your chest. Strands of (h/c) hair fell over your face, but your (e/c) eyes shimmered with something deep, quiet, and unnamed.

You sat there for a moment, perfectly still as if time had paused. Then suddenly, a thought surfaced—gentle, yet piercing: “If I start avoiding him… would my heart finally settle down?”

The question whispered through your mind, but inside, it struck like a wave reaching the deepest part of the ocean. Avoiding him—not out of hate, but fear. Fear that more time together would only make it harder to hold back. Fear that one more kind gaze from Mao would awaken longings you didn’t dare admit.

You reached for your phone on the table beside the couch. The screen lit up in the warm golden glow of the room. Then the wallpaper appeared.

A photo from a while ago—Mao and Ritsu standing side by side under soft afternoon sunlight. Someone had called your names, and the camera had caught that moment when all three of you turned around, smiling brightly.

You stood in the middle, your right hand resting on Ritsu’s shoulder, your left hand nearly touching Mao’s. He was standing so close… if you tilted your head, you could’ve leaned on his shoulder.

Looking at the photo, your lips curled into a soft smile tinged with quiet sadness.

“Hiding my feelings… I’ve always been good at that, huh?” Your voice was barely a whisper, a confession meant for no one but yourself.

How many times had you buried your feelings, worn a harmless smile, and covered up sleepless nights with a simple “I’m fine”?

How many times had you forced your heart into silence, even as it screamed every time Mao looked at you with the same kindness he gave everyone else?

You didn’t hate being near him. In fact, it was your happiest place. But maybe that’s exactly why it hurt more with each passing day.

You set the phone down, covering half your face with your hand as if hiding yourself from the world. You didn’t cry—no tears fell. But perhaps the scariest thing of all… was a sadness too deep to even cry out loud.

In the silence of the night, only the dimming screen remained—and the quiet ache of a girl beginning to wonder.

Can you love someone so deeply… yet still choose to walk away, just to protect their smile?

Before Next

[ninani06]

— I don't deserve him {chap 1}

Next

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Fluff, casual romance. Author note : I'm kinda feel bored,tired and burnout so... I relase this short story for fun. I kinda brainstorm my other short story 'How have we met' but i promise i'll release new chapter. Have fun reading.

____________________________________________

The slanted rays of the afternoon sun filtered through the window, bathing the entire room in a warm, gentle golden glow. In the sunset-soaked space, two girls, a (h/c) and another with short, stylish brown hair, sat across from each other at a large work desk. Both of them were producers, and this evening was dedicated solely to planning the upcoming FES.

Piles of documents, stage plans, costume drafts, and scribbled notes covered the surface of the desk. Papers rustled as ideas were proposed, discussed, and debated. From performance schedules and stage themes to costume designs tailored to each idol’s image, everything was being considered with meticulous care.

The atmosphere, though hectic, brimmed with passion. This wasn’t just work—it was their shared devotion, their hope to create an unforgettable stage for the ones they believed in and supported.

But the dark circles under your eyes were growing more and more obvious. Your face showed exhaustion, as if you might fall asleep at any moment. With graduation season around the corner, the mountain of responsibilities pressing down on both producers made every moment of rest feel like a luxury.

Your hand barely managed to keep hold of your pen, your heavy eyelids slowly drifting shut. Only when you felt a gentle, warm presence touch your cheek did your tired blue eyes flutter open.

In your blurry field of vision, you caught sight of a familiar figure—a boy with reddish-pink hair and his signature yellow hair clip. Mao’s green eyes looked at you with gentle concern, laced with a tenderness he didn’t often show.

You jolted upright, heart thudding wildly, hand instinctively flying to your chest. “Y-You… What are you doing here?!”

Mao gave a small, sheepish smile and rubbed the back of his head. A faint blush colored his cheeks. “Sorry if I startled you. I came to pick you up. The school’s closing soon, you know.”

Ah, right… You and Anzu had been working since the afternoon without even realizing how much time had passed. You let out a long sigh, your gaze dropping to the mountain of papers in front of you. Maybe… it could wait until tomorrow.

“Alright,” you said, offering a soft smile. “Just give me a sec to tidy all this up.”

“I’ll help,” Mao offered, stepping forward.

But you gently stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Wait. I can’t let you help. This is my job, after all.”

“You sure you can handle it?” Mao asked with clear worry in his voice. “You look like you’re about to collapse…”

You flinched, but quickly shook your head and forced a small, determined smile. “I’m fine!” you said, gently pushing him toward the door. “Go wait outside for a bit. Anzu and I will be done soon.”

Seeing the unwavering resolve in your eyes, Mao could only sigh in defeat. He turned to leave, but before exiting, he looked back over his shoulder. “Alright, I’ll wait out there. Oh, do you want anything to eat? My treat today.”

“Huh? I—” Before you could say no, your stomach beat you to it, growling loud and clear. Your face turned bright red as you quickly hugged your belly and muttered in a voice barely above a whisper, “…Maybe just… a cheese bun…”

Mao laughed like he had been expecting that answer all along. He gave a cheerful nod, his warm smile lighting up his face. “Got it. I’ll wait for you outside.”

With a wave, he stepped out, leaving behind a lingering warmth in the room that made your heart flutter just a little more.

You let out a small sigh of relief, finally managing to “shoo” away your annoyingly thoughtful but ever-reliable best friend. You turned back to the desk and started sorting through the papers. But the moment you looked up, you were met with a teasing gaze.

“What?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm.

“So sweet I got a toothache just watching,” Anzu said, resting her chin on her hand, an amused smile playing on her lips. “You two looked just like a couple.”

Your face instantly burned, redder than a ripe tomato. You turned away, flustered, avoiding her gaze. “W-We’re just friends…”

Anzu sighed like this wasn’t the first time she’d heard that. “Friends, huh? What kind of ‘friend’ comes to pick you up, worries about you like a mom, and still insists on buying you food even when you turn it down? Especially at this age…”

Your hands tightened slightly around the file in your grasp, a pang tightening in your chest. You knew. You knew your feelings for Mao had long surpassed “just friends.” But… someone as ordinary as you—how could you ever be enough to stand beside someone as bright as him?

The room seemed to still under the soft golden glow filtering through the windows. The sound of rustling papers mixed with the quiet breaths of two young girls. Anzu glanced over at you, still diligently organizing the mess, even though your shoulders drooped and your eyes were heavy.

You were always like that—quiet, meticulous, hiding all your feelings behind a calm, easy smile. But Anzu knew you too well. She could see it. You weren’t as calm inside as you tried to appear. And because she understood that, she couldn’t help but feel a twist in her own heart.

“Graduation’s coming up soon…” Anzu said softly, her voice gentle but firm. “Are you really going to leave things like this?”

Your hands paused for a moment before you quickly returned to organizing the papers, avoiding her gaze. “Mm… It’s fine like this…” Your voice was barely audible, more like you were trying to convince yourself than answering her.

“Even if your heart doesn’t agree?” she pressed, the question landing like a weight.

You clenched the papers a little tighter, your eyelids trembling slightly before you answered. “…Yes.”

A confession buried beneath a whisper.

Once everything was put away, the two of you stood up, exchanging quiet goodbyes. Though your smiles lingered, there was something unspoken in your eyes. You turned and walked in opposite directions. The fading sunlight stretched your shadows across the school hallway floor, slowly blurring them into the twilight.

At some point, Anzu looked back, watching your retreating figure with a spark of determination in her gaze. Even if you couldn’t admit your feelings yet, she would be the one to stay behind, the one to push you toward happiness—even if she had to “ship” you both with all her heart.

You walked slowly, each step blending into the soft twilight. The breeze brushed through your pink-tinged hair, carrying the scent of sunlight and fading school days.

When you reached the front gate, the first thing you saw was that familiar figure. Mao stood there, leaning against the gate post, hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie. He looked relaxed—but somehow always reassuring. His eyes lit up the moment he spotted you, like in a world rushing by, you were the one thing worth waiting for.

“All done?” he asked with a smile so gentle it made your heart ache a little.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you replied, your voice quiet as the wind, yet clear enough for him to hear.

You walked side by side, not saying much. Words didn’t seem necessary in that peaceful silence. On the way back, you both stopped by the familiar snack stand on the corner. The scent of freshly baked buns filled the air, comforting and nostalgic.

Just as promised, Mao bought you the cheese bun you'd mentioned earlier. You hesitated slightly before accepting it, your eyes wavering. You thought of turning him down—like always—but stopped. Because you knew, with someone like Mao, refusing something like this was the same as turning down the small kindnesses he poured into every gesture.

You took the bun with a grateful smile, saying thank you not with words but with your eyes. The two of you continued walking, the evening breeze a little warmer now, carrying the sweetness of melted cheese—and something unnamed swirling softly in your chest.

Mao walked quietly beside you, stealing glances. Every time you took a bite, frowned because it was too hot, and then smiled at the rich, gooey flavor, his heart would skip a beat.

Those small, fleeting expressions—maybe meaningless to others—were treasures to Mao. Moments he wanted to keep forever.

You didn’t need to try so hard. You didn’t need to be anyone else.Just you—smiling softly, blushing easily, eyes that said more than words ever could. The best friend he had loved silently for years… and the only one who made him feel like everything was going to be okay.

He tilted his head slightly, catching your expression as you tried (and failed) to hide your delight in the snack. And with a smile soft as dusk, he made a silent promise to himself

“As long as you’re by my side… everything will be alright.”

Next

[ninani06]

— How we have met? {chap 3}

Before Next

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

Warning : spoiler from scout!Song of the Hesitant Waning Moon ♡ Tags: Fluff, casual romance.

____________________________________________

The night blanketed the streets in a heavy darkness, the streetlamps flickering faintly above as if reluctant to shine. The two of you walked side by side, your small footsteps echoing in the quiet, cold air.

You held your breath each time the wind rustled through the trees. The stillness of the hour made every sound feel louder, every shadow deeper. Fear crawled under your skin, and you could feel it pressing against your spine. Beside you, Mao’s steps had slowed too. For once, even his usual chatter was missing.

Honestly… you hated this. Why did the adults always do this? Just because they couldn’t fix something themselves, they passed it off to the kids—like it wasn’t scary, like it wasn’t unfair.

Mao let out a sigh beside you. It was long, tired, and heavier than any words could be. You turned to look at him, startled.

This was the first time you’d seen him like this—shoulders hunched, eyes dull beneath the glow of the dim lights. Mao, who was always bright and full of energy, now looked like someone had quietly drained all the color from him.

You hesitated, unsure if you should speak. Your hand twitched at your side, unsure whether to reach out. But then, you slowly raised it and gently gripped the edge of his hoodie. The fabric was warm under your fingers, a small comfort in the cold.

His green eyes turned toward you at the touch, surprised.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly. Your voice came out softer than expected—small, like you were afraid your worry might shatter him.

He blinked at you for a moment. Then came the smile. Not his usual lopsided, excited grin—but a tired one. A smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh… I’m fine,” he said, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. But even you could tell it was forced. “It’s just… I don’t know why it always ends up like this.”

You didn’t reply right away. You just stood there with him in the dark, your fingers still clutching his hoodie gently.

Noticing your silence, Mao slowed his pace, his footsteps softer now against the pavement. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and laced with guilt.

“…Sorry for dragging you into this. You’re not supposed to be out here with me right now.”

You quickly looked up at him, shaking your head with urgency. “No, no—it’s okay. I don’t feel bothered at all. And… I’m actually thankful.”

Mao blinked, surprised.

You offered a small, honest smile. “Back then, when the adults suggested I should go with you just because we live next to each other… I saw how you tried to say no. You stood up for me. You didn’t want me to be dragged into something I didn’t choose. That… meant a lot.”

You remembered it clearly—the way Mao immediately rejected the idea, his voice firm despite being outnumbered by the adults. He wasn’t loud or disrespectful, just determined. But even someone as bright and brave as Mao couldn’t keep arguing forever. The grown-ups kept pushing, leaving him no room to speak back. In the end, you were the one who stepped forward and agreed to come, because you didn’t want him to bear it all alone.

Mao looked at you with a softness in his eyes, touched by your words. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he just gave a small nod and a quiet “…Thanks.”

You smiled and nodded gently, relieved to see the tension ease from Mao’s face, even if just a little. He let out a long sigh, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stared up at the night sky.

“I always try to be the good kid,” he said suddenly.

His words made you glance over at him, quietly listening.

“The teachers at school, the people from the Children’s Association, my dad, my mom, my friends… even my little sister.” His voice softened as he continued. “It’s like everyone just expects me to handle the tough stuff. Like, if something goes wrong, they just look at me.” His shoulders slumped. “Maybe it’s because I’m a kid, they think I don’t get a say… That I’m supposed to just do whatever they ask without question.”

You nodded slowly, understanding more than he probably realized. What he said wasn’t wrong. You’d seen it firsthand. Sometimes, when you came over to play at his house, it didn’t take long before his mom would call for him—asking him to help with chores or watch over his sister. Every time, he’d sigh, then smile like it was no big deal… but you always saw that small flicker of tiredness in his eyes.

You remembered one day clearly. You had asked, "Mrs. Isara, why do you always call Mao for everything?"

And she simply replied with a fond smile, “Because he’s the big brother in this house. And he’s always been such a responsible boy.”

Even now, those words lingered in your head.

Mao might’ve always been smiling, but being the “good kid” all the time—wasn’t that exhausting?

You glanced at him, his expression unreadable under the dim light, and your chest ached a little. He carried so much more than he let on.

You stayed quiet, your eyes fixed on the path ahead, the dim streetlights casting long shadows over the road.

You wanted to say something—anything—to comfort him. But the words just wouldn’t come.

Because you couldn’t pretend to understand.

You were the only child in your family. No younger siblings tugging on your sleeve. No constant expectations of being the “older one” who always had to do the right thing. You didn’t know what it felt like to be depended on like that, or to carry so much responsibility just because of your place in the family.

So instead of offering hollow sympathy, you tightened your grip on his hoodie.

You hoped he would understand what you meant through that small gesture—that even if you didn’t have the right words, you were still here.

Mao didn’t say anything at first. But after a moment, he glanced at you from the corner of his eye and gave a soft smile—not the usual cheerful one he always wore, but something quieter. Realer.

Mao, ever the optimist, tried to lift the mood again. “When I grow up, I’m gonna be a big shot who gets to push the work onto everyone else! Like, the boss of a huge company, or—”

His words abruptly cut off as something large and dark loomed in the path ahead.

Both of you froze. The streetlamp flickered above, barely casting enough light to make out the shape. Instinctively, the two of you leaned in toward each other, tense and wary. You could feel Mao’s sleeve trembling slightly against your arm.

Then, the shadow moved… and let out a soft bark.

“I-It’s just a dog…” Mao let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his voice shaking with both relief and leftover adrenaline.

You gave a small nod, your heart still pounding. “Yeah, but even a dog looks like a monster when it’s this dark… That’s creepy.”

Mao gave a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… no kidding.”

Without a second thought, he reached for your hand, his fingers curling gently around yours. “C’mon. Let’s stick close and finish this fast so we can head home.”

You looked up at him, surprised for a second, but then squeezed his hand back in silent agreement.

“The adults in the ‘Children’s Association’ said there’s someone living in our neighborhood named Sakuma-san…” you began, glancing over at Mao. “Do you know him?”

Mao shook his head. “Not really. I’ve never met him face to face. But if they’re talking about that Sakuma… there’s only one person that comes to mind.”

He looked at you seriously, a small crease forming between his brows.

“Remember that haunted house I showed you the other day?”

Your eyes widened slightly as the memory resurfaced—how the two of you had stopped by the edge of the forest, where the road curved, and he pointed out the eerie-looking house tucked between the trees. Even from a distance, the place gave off a strange, heavy feeling. Though the thick forest mostly hid it from view, the moss-covered roof still peeked through the branches like something watching from the shadows.

You nodded slowly, a shiver crawling down your spine. “That one…”

“Yeah,” Mao said quietly, confirming your unease. “That’s where Sakuma-san lives… But honestly, I always thought the guy who lived in that mansion was named Akuma or something.”

You let out a small laugh. “You make it sound like the house is haunted by actual demons.”

Before Mao could respond, a voice suddenly echoed from behind.

“Do you need something from our house?”

Both of you jumped in surprise. Mao instinctively moved in front of you, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. Your heart pounded as you slowly turned to see who it was.

The figure stepped into clearer view, a tall black-haired person with a slightly amused expression.

“Ahaha,” the teenager chuckled softly, clearly entertained. “What a reaction. You two are funny. Aren’t you the kids who live next door?”

You and Mao exchanged a nervous glance, and you instinctively took a small step behind him, gripping the back of his hoodie tightly.

The stranger tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. “Right, Isara, isn’t it? Since you’re a boy and I’m older, is it alright if I call you Mao?”

Mao opened his mouth but didn’t answer. The man’s eyes then turned to you, and you felt a chill crawl up your spine.

“Oh, and we’ve got a shy one here,” he said with a smirk. “You just moved in a few weeks ago, right? L/N, I believe? Can I call you Y/N, just like I call him Mao?”

Mao finally spoke up, voice tight with confusion and a touch of fear. “W-Who are you? And how do you know our names?”

The teenager smiled, unbothered by the tension in the air. “We live next door, don’t we? It’s not so strange. I’ve seen you around before, but I suppose this is the first time we’ve actually talked face to face.” He placed a hand on his chest, his tone light, as though this was a casual conversation. “I’ve just got a good memory, that’s all.”

Noticing the uneasy energy between you and Mao, he chuckled and continued, “Oh, don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you two or anything. But, I suppose it depends on your intentions.”

You leaned in close to Mao, whispering in his ear, “This guy’s strange…”

Mao gave you a side glance, his voice barely a murmur, “Yeah… definitely.”

The teenager’s laugh broke the tension again, his voice light and teasing. “Looks like you’ve been pacing around my house for a while. Something you need from me? Or is this some sort of test of courage? I thought you’d have learned your lesson after what happened to your sister, but it seems you’ve only gotten more curious. Boys really can’t resist this kind of thing, huh?”

His endless talking was starting to make your head spin, and you could feel the confusion rising in you.

Finally, he sighed, looking at the two of you with an almost amused expression. “Alright, alright. If you’re that determined, I’ll guide you through the ‘haunted’ mansion. I can’t have you wandering around aimlessly and getting yourself into trouble now, can I?”

The air felt heavier as he motioned for you to follow, his eerie calmness only adding to the strange atmosphere.

Before Next

[ninani06]

— How we have met? {chap 2}

Before Next

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

Warning : spoiler from scout!Song of the Hesitant Waning Moon ♡ Tags: Fluff, casual romance.

____________________________________________

And that’s how you ended up here—a new, unfamiliar place filled with unfamiliar faces. The lively chatter and bursts of laughter from other children surrounded you, making the space feel both overwhelming and strangely warm.

Your fingers instinctively tightened around the soft fabric of Mao’s hoodie as he guided you deeper into the fray. He didn’t seem to mind your grip, his confident stride unwavering, a steady anchor amidst the storm of noise.

“See?” he said, flashing a wide grin as he gestured toward a long table brimming with vibrant snacks and treats. “Told you it’d be fun.”

With that same easy charm, Mao led you toward the cluster of kids, his grin never faltering as he introduced you. You managed a shy nod, but before you could brace yourself, they swarmed around you like eager moths to a flame.

Questions flew at you from every direction.

“Where’d you move from?”

“How old are you?”

“What’s your favorite game?”

“Do you like candy?”

Their voices collided, a rising tide of curiosity that grew louder and faster until your head spun, dizzy from the onslaught.

Mao caught the flicker of panic in your eyes. Without missing a beat, he wove through the small crowd, his hand finding yours in an effortless, grounding grip. “Ah—sorry, guys! Some parents were looking for us,” he called out, tossing the excuse over his shoulder with a playful lilt before tugging you away.

You didn’t stop running until you reached a secluded spot beneath a sprawling tree, its branches casting dappled shadows over the grass. You sank onto the cool earth, a wave of relief washing over you as the noise faded into the distance. Mao dropped down beside you, rubbing the back of his neck, his green eyes glinting with a sheepish guilt.

“Sorry… I probably should’ve warned you those guys can be a little… intense.”

You shook your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Don’t apologize, Mao. It’s fine. I’m just… not used to being around so many people anymore.” Your soft chuckle brushed it off, but the weight of your words lingered in the air.

Mao tilted his head, studying you with a quiet curiosity. He’d always wondered about you—about the life you’d left behind, the story tucked beneath your guarded smiles. Why had your family uprooted everything? Was it a choice you’d welcomed, or one forced upon you? He’d nudged at the topic before, but you’d always danced around it with a skill he couldn’t help but admire. So he didn’t push. If you ever wanted to let him in, he’d be there, ready to listen.

Shaking off the heavier thoughts, he brightened. “Hey, you thirsty? I’ll grab you something.”

Before you could answer, he was already up, darting toward the snack table with that boundless energy of his.

You blinked after him, caught off guard by how swiftly he moved—like he’d decided your comfort was his mission before you’d even agreed. Watching him weave through the other kids, dodging their playful chaos with a natural grace, you couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly he belonged. Mao was sunlight—warm, magnetic, the kind of person who could strike up a conversation with anyone. You, on the other hand, still felt like a shadow lingering at the edges of this bright new place.

With a quiet sigh, you traced idle patterns in the dirt beneath the tree. The distant laughter mingled with the rustle of leaves overhead, a gentle hum that wasn’t unpleasant. It was… nice, even if a small part of you still felt like you were watching it all through a window.

Your reverie snapped when Mao reappeared, holding a juice box aloft like a trophy. “Here! They only had apple and orange, so I went with apple. Hope that’s cool!”

You accepted it, your fingers brushing his for a fleeting moment—a spark of warmth you didn’t expect. “Apple’s perfect. Thanks, Mao.”

He grinned, dropping down beside you with a playful huff. “No problem! Gotta keep you hydrated if you’re gonna survive this jungle of sugar-high gremlins.” He jerked his thumb toward the other kids, still tearing around in a blur of tag and giggles.

You laughed at his dramatics, the sound light and genuine as you sipped the cool juice. It was a small thing, but it steadied you, tethering you to the moment.

Mao leaned back against the tree, gazing up at the sky through the canopy of leaves. “Y’know, I was kinda nervous when I first started coming to these things too. Didn’t know a soul. My parents practically dragged me here, and I thought it’d be a total snooze. But… turns out, friends make it worth it.”

He slid a sidelong glance your way, his tone softening. “So, what I’m saying is… you’re not on your own here, okay? You’ve got me.”

His words landed gently, a quiet promise woven into the breeze. You nodded, feeling the sincerity behind them sink into you. It wasn’t just a throwaway line—Mao meant it, and that realization stirred something unfamiliar in your chest.

Suddenly shy, you ducked your head, your gaze skittering to the grass, the juice box, anything but him. There was something about Mao—his warmth, his steady presence—that set him apart from the others. He wasn’t just a friend offering empty comfort; he made you feel seen, safe in a way you hadn’t expected.

Beside you, Mao sipped his own drink, stealing quick glances your way. He caught the way you fidgeted, the faint flush of color on your cheeks, and a small, knowing smile curved his lips. He didn’t call it out, though. Instead, he leaned back against the tree, content to let the silence stretch between you—comfortable, warm, and charged with something unspoken.

You found yourself wishing this quiet moment could stretch on forever, suspended in the soft rustle of leaves and Mao’s easy presence. But the peace shattered as a tall shadow stretched across the grass, looming over you both.

You flinched, instinctively scooting closer to Mao, your shoulder brushing his as you both tilted your heads up. An adult stood there, her silhouette framed against the sunlight. She smiled down at you, her voice warm but edged with something that made your stomach twist.

“Oh, hello, Isara—and your new friend,” she said, her tone light but purposeful. “Mind if I ask you something?”

Mao’s posture stiffened beside you, though his expression stayed casual. You exchanged a quick glance, a silent question flickering between you. Whatever was coming, it felt like the air had shifted—something was brewing, and you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

Before Next

[ninani06]

— How we have met? {chap 1}

Next

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

Warning : spoiler from scout!Song of the Hesitant Waning Moon ♡ Tags: Fluff, casual romance.

____________________________________________

The television flickered with bright colors, filling the cozy living room with the cheerful melodies of a children's cartoon. Mao sat comfortably on the couch, his little sister nestled against him, both lost in the animated world on the screen. He was warm, relaxed—until a familiar voice called out, pulling him back to reality.

"Mao!"

He blinked, tearing his eyes from the screen. "Yeah?" he called back lazily, not really wanting to move.

"Come out here for a second."

His mother’s tone left no room for argument. With a reluctant sigh, Mao pulled himself up from the couch, gently ruffling his sister’s hair before making his way to the front door. As he arrived, he spotted his mother speaking with someone—a woman he didn’t recognize.

His small fingers instinctively curled around the fabric of his mother’s sleeve, a habit from childhood whenever he felt uncertain. His green eyes darted up to the stranger with silent curiosity, observing her carefully.

Sensing his hesitation, his mother placed a reassuring hand on his head. "Mao, this is our new neighbor, M/n. She and her family just moved in next door."

The woman, M/n, smiled warmly, her eyes kind as she waved. "Hello there, Mao. It’s nice to meet you."

Mao hesitated for a brief second before nodding stiffly in response. He wasn’t shy, not really, but there was something about meeting new people that always made him a little cautious.

Then, M/n let out a soft chuckle and crouched down slightly. "Come on now, sweetheart. You don’t have to hide. Look, he’s about your age."

Mao’s eyebrows furrowed. "They?"

Before he could ask, M/n gently shifted to the side, revealing a small figure timidly clinging to her leg. A child, barely peeking out, with wide (e/c) eyes that flickered up to meet his for just a second before darting away again.

Mao blinked, taking a moment to fully take in your small, round figure. There was something about you—maybe it was the way you seemed to shrink under his gaze, or the way your (e/c) eyes flickered with uncertainty—that made him pause.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile. Without hesitation, he took a step forward and held out his hand.

You looked at it, then at him, confusion evident on your face.

"My name is Isara Mao! What about you?" he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

Your eyes darted downward, then nervously shifted to your mother before glancing back at him. It was clear you weren’t used to introductions like this. Mao noticed the hesitation, the way your fingers twitched slightly, but he didn’t lower his hand. He was patient.

After a few seconds of internal debate, you finally reached out, your small hand cautiously grasping his.

"My name is Y/n L/n… Nice to meet you." Your voice was quiet, uncertain, but genuine.

Mao’s grin widened as he gave your hand a firm yet gentle shake.

"Nice to meet you too! I hope we’ll be good neighbors."

●・○・●・○・●

After spending many days with Mao—or rather, after he continuously dragged you out of the house to play at the playground—you started to learn more about him.

One thing was certain, he was absolutely obsessed with manga. Sometimes, he would even quote lines from his favorite series, striking dramatic poses that made you roll your eyes. You weren’t really into manga the way he was, so a lot of it felt kind of lame to you. But that didn’t stop him. Every time he played with you, he’d bring a manga along, flipping through it excitedly and trying to explain the story. Even if you didn’t read them yourself, you still ended up knowing quite a bit just from listening to him ramble.

Another thing you quickly realized—Mao adored your baking. The first time you made cookies, he practically inhaled them, his eyes lighting up with pure joy. "I could eat your cookies every single day!" he had declared, stuffing another into his mouth without hesitation.

Unfortunately for him, baking took a lot of effort, and your hands had their limits. Still, you made him a promise whenever you did bake, he would always get the first taste. The way his face beamed at your words made it feel like a fair deal.

"Say, have you signed up for school yet?" Mao asked, pulling your attention away from your notebook. He was holding a manga in one hand, but his bright green eyes were fixed on you with curiosity.

You nodded. "Yeah, I have."

Mao tilted his head. "Which school are you going to?"

You hummed, trying to recall the name before pointing vaguely in a direction. "The one close to here."

For a moment, Mao just stared at you. Then, his eyes widened in excitement.

"Wait—really?!" He suddenly crawled closer, his enthusiasm making you jolt back in surprise. "That’s my school too!"

Your eyes blinked in surprise at his sudden excitement. "Oh? Really?"

Mao grinned, nodding eagerly. "Yeah! That means we'll see each other every day at school too!" He looked genuinely thrilled at the idea, his hands gripping the edge of his manga as if to contain his excitement.

You let out a small chuckle, a sound so light and genuine that it took even you by surprise. It wasn’t often that you laughed so freely—maybe you never really had, at least not around others.

Mao, who had been mid-motion, froze as if the world had suddenly gone quiet. His green eyes widened slightly, taking in the sight of you smiling, really smiling.

It wasn’t like he had never seen you happy before, but this—this was different.

His grin grew, bright and a little stunned. “Wow… You should laugh like that more,” he blurted out, his voice tinged with something warm and honest.

Your laughter faded as his words sank in, and you felt a warmth spread across your cheeks. No one had ever told you that before.

Mao must have noticed the change, because he suddenly backed away, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle. “Ah—sorry! I didn’t mean to make things weird or anything.”

You shook your head, still feeling the remnants of your smile lingering. “No… It’s okay. And… thanks, really.”

There was a quiet moment between you both, something unspoken settling in the air.

For the first time in a long time, you realized—you weren’t just playing together, weren’t just passing the time.

You had a friend. A real one.

Mao cleared his throat, trying to shake off the moment before looking at you again with a bright grin. “By the way, do you want to join the Children’s Association?”

You blinked, tilting your head slightly. “The what?”

“It’s a group run by the adults in town. Basically, all the kids get together to hang out, play games, and eat snacks,” he explained enthusiastically. “I always go with my little sister. It’s really fun!”

Your brows furrowed slightly as you processed his words. Now that he mentioned it, you hadn’t really interacted with many other kids since moving here—besides him, of course.

Mao must have noticed your hesitation because, in the next second, he reached out and took your hands in his own, his grip warm and firm. His green eyes sparkled with determination. “I promise it’ll be fun!”

You stared at him for a beat before a playful smirk tugged at your lips. “And what if you’re lying?”

Mao huffed dramatically, crossing his arms. “Then… I won’t eat your baking for a whole month!”

You gasped in mock shock. “A whole month? You’d actually survive without my cookies?”

He groaned, slumping forward like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “No, I wouldn’t… but I swear I’m not lying!”

Your soft laughter filled the space between you, and eventually, you nodded. “Alright, alright, I’ll go.”

Next

[ninani06]

— I’d rather be the only one who gets to see you like that.

[ Isara Mao x f!reader ]

♡ Tags: Fluff, casual romance.

____________________________________________

The door slammed shut behind you as both you and Mao stood in the entryway, panting heavily.

The rain outside poured relentlessly, drumming against the windows and roof in a steady rhythm. Neither of you had thought to bring an umbrella, so when the downpour started, the only choice was to run for cover.

Since Mao’s apartment was closer than yours, the two of you had instinctively dashed toward it without a second thought. Now, standing in the warmth of his home, both of you were drenched from head to toe.

Mao ran a hand through his soaked hair, flicking off droplets of water before letting out a breathless chuckle. "Well… that was a mess."

You shivered slightly, hugging your arms around yourself as you glanced at your dripping clothes. "Yeah… we really should’ve checked the weather forecast."

You exhaled softly, rubbing your arms in an attempt to warm yourself as you slipped off your soaked shoes and followed Mao into the living room. The warmth of the apartment was a welcome contrast to the cold rain outside, but it did little to stop your shivering.

Mao glanced over his shoulder, intending to tell you to dry off, but the words caught in his throat. He stiffened, his face instantly heating up as he quickly averted his gaze.

You frowned in confusion. "Mao? You okay?"

He snapped out of it when you waved a hand in front of his face, but instead of answering, he held up a hand to stop you from stepping any closer. His other hand shot up to cover his face, which was quickly turning an impressive shade of red.

"Wait, wait—just… stop there for a second," he stammered.

You blinked, tilting your head at his odd behavior. "Huh? Why—"

Then it hit you. A chill ran down your spine, and not just from the cold. Your soaked shirt clung tightly to your skin, making certain details a little too visible.

"Oh my—!" Your face burned as you quickly wrapped your arms around yourself.

Mao, still struggling to maintain what little dignity he had left, turned on his heel and cleared his throat. "L-Let's just… get you some dry clothes." He hesitated only for a second before gently placing a hand on your back, guiding you toward his room.

As Mao guided you toward his room, he kept his eyes locked straight ahead, desperately trying not to think about what he had just seen. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept replaying the image—your soaked clothes clinging to your skin, revealing more than he was prepared for.

His face burned hotter, and he groaned internally. I shouldn’t have looked. I shouldn’t have looked!

You, still flustered from the realization, peeked at him from the side. "Mao… your ears are red," you teased, trying to lighten the mood despite your own embarrassment.

Mao practically jolted, pulling his hand away from your back as if you had shocked him. "I-I don’t know what you’re talking about," he muttered, his voice slightly higher than usual. He covered his mouth with his sleeve, trying to hide his flustered expression.

You giggled, despite yourself. "Oh? So you weren’t staring just now?"

"I—! No! I mean—!" Mao sputtered, waving his hands frantically before groaning and ruffling his damp hair. "Okay, maybe I glanced—but only for a second! It’s not my fault, okay?! Y-you're the one walking around in a wet shirt!"

You gasped dramatically. "Are you blaming me for this?"

Mao sighed in defeat, rubbing his temple. "I'm not blaming you, I'm just saying—ah, never mind!" He hurriedly opened his closet, pulling out one of his hoodies and tossing it in your direction. "Just… just change into this before I combust!"

You caught the hoodie, unable to hide the amused smile creeping onto your face. Watching Mao, the ever-cool and laid-back boyfriend, turn into a stuttering mess was adorable.

"Fine, fine," you said, holding back a laugh. "But this means you'll have to lend me your sweatpants too, or should I just walk around in my—"

"OKAY, OKAY! I’LL GET YOU THE PANTS TOO, JUST STOP TALKING!" Mao yelped, covering his face again as he practically dived back into his closet.

You chuckled to yourself, clutching his hoodie to your chest. He's too easy to tease.

Mao practically shoved a pair of sweatpants into your hands before hastily pushing you toward the bathroom, his face burning with embarrassment. No more talking. No more teasing. Just go change before I lose my mind.

The door clicked shut behind you, and he let out a heavy sigh of relief, ruffling his damp hair. Crisis averted...

But just as he was about to turn away, he heard the sound of the shower turning on.

Mao froze.

His entire body tensed as his face grew impossibly hotter. His mind instantly betrayed him, flashing back to the sight of your rain-soaked clothes clinging to your skin, leaving little to the imagination.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest. What the hell was that?!

He groaned, sliding down to the floor, resting his forehead against the cool wooden door. This is bad. So bad. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to think of anything else, but the image was burned into his brain like a curse.

His fingers tangled into his damp hair as he let out a muffled whine. "Ughhh, what is wrong with me?" he muttered, shaking his head aggressively as if he could physically remove the thoughts from his mind.

He wasn’t a pervert—he wasn’t! But right now, it sure felt like his brain was working against him. He had seen you soaked by the rain plenty of times before, but this was different. Too different.

With a deep sigh, Mao dragged himself back to his room, trying to shake off the lingering warmth on his face. The moment he stepped inside, exhaustion hit him all at once. Slumping onto his bed, he threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the soft glow of the room.

His thoughts were still a mess, his heart still beating a little too fast. What’s wrong with me today…? he groaned internally. Maybe it was the long day, the sudden downpour, or the fact that you were just too cute without even trying. Whatever it was, he needed to clear his head.

You always took your time in the shower, so… maybe he could sneak in a short nap.

Yeah. That sounded like a great idea.

Within moments, the steady patter of rain outside and the warmth of the blankets pulled him under, his body finally giving in to the fatigue. His breathing evened out, and before he knew it, he had dozed off.

●・○・●・○・●

A slight dip in the mattress stirred him from his slumber.

Mao groaned softly, shifting slightly, but didn’t fully wake—at least, not until he felt a persistent poking on his cheek.

His brows furrowed. What the—

Blinking groggily, his sleepy green eyes cracked open, only to be met with a pair of mischievous ones staring right at him.

You.

Fresh out of the shower, dressed in the borrowed clothes he had shoved at you earlier, your damp hair draped over your shoulders as you grinned at him.

“Wow, you fell asleep fast,” you teased, continuing to poke his cheek. “Did I wear you out that much?”

Mao let out a groggy chuckle, swatting your hand away before rubbing his eyes. “I was tired, okay?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “Besides… you took forever.”

You stuck your tongue out playfully. “Well, excuse me for wanting to warm up after nearly freezing to death in the rain.”

Mao rolled his eyes but smiled. “Yeah, yeah…” He sat up, ruffling his already-messy hair before glancing at you. His sweatshirt was a bit oversized on you, hanging loosely around your frame.

His face heated up again.

Focus, Mao. Don’t get distracted again.

Before his thoughts could spiral any further, your voice snapped him out of it.

“It’s your turn now,” you said casually, tilting your head at him.

Mao blinked. Then, as if realizing something, he jolted upright, grabbed his clothes, and bolted toward the bathroom without another word.

You stood there, dumbfounded. “...What was that about?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow at his odd behavior. Shaking your head with a small chuckle, you decided to let it go.

Since there wasn’t much else to do, you wandered around Mao’s room, taking in the neatness that surprised you. For someone as laid-back as him, you expected at least some mess, but everything was tidy and well-organized.

Your gaze landed on a small shelf filled with manga. A fond smile crossed your lips as you traced your fingers along the spines of the books. Even though you weren’t into manga at first, Mao had slowly pulled you into his world, and now, you found yourself enjoying it just as much as he did.

As you reached for a new volume, the sudden weight pressing against your shoulder made you jolt. You turned your head, only to find Mao leaning against you, his posture as relaxed as ever—yet something about him felt off.

“Mao… your hair is still wet,” you pointed out with a chuckle, noticing the damp strands clinging to his skin.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he buried his face deeper against your shoulder, remaining unusually quiet. You frowned slightly, curiosity sparking as you gently turned toward him. Without hesitation, you cupped his cheek, lifting his face despite the damp spot now forming on your clothes.

His green eyes flickered away from yours, his lips pressed into a stubborn pout, and—was that a blush dusting his cheeks?

You blinked in surprise before a teasing smile crept onto your face. “No way… don’t tell me—”

Before you could finish, Mao’s hands flew up, gently covering your mouth. His flustered expression only deepened as he grumbled, “No. I won’t let you say it.”

You blinked at him, wide-eyed, before breaking into muffled giggles against his palm. Mao groaned, his blush deepening as he removed his hand from your mouth, only to cross his arms and look away.

You grabbed the towel draped over his shoulders and gently ruffled his damp red-violet hair. Mao sighed, his body relaxing under your touch as he leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against yours.

You tilted your head, amused by how quiet he had suddenly become. “Still thinking about earlier?” you mumbled, your fingers still running through his hair.

Mao bit his lip, his blush deepening as he hesitated for a moment before mumbling, “…I feel bad.”

“Bad?” You paused, pulling back slightly to look at him.

His green eyes flickered to the side, avoiding your gaze before finally meeting yours again. “I feel bad because…” He exhaled sharply, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t get the image of you all soaked out of my head.”

Your breath hitched, heat creeping up your own cheeks.

Mao groaned and buried his face against your shoulder, his voice muffled. “Ugh, see? This is why I didn’t want to say it…”

“Mao… I thought your head was already full of nothing but dirty thoughts,” you teased, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Mao shot you a glare, though the pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” he huffed, tightening his arms around you in a light embrace.

You chuckled, tilting your head as you met his gaze with a knowing grin. “What do you think?”

Mao let out a small scoff, glancing away as his fingers absentmindedly toyed with the edge of your sleeve. “I mean… I’ve come across plenty of those kinds of scenes in manga before,” he admitted, his voice low.

You blinked in surprise. The way he spoke so openly about it caught you off guard, but more than that, the sincerity in his tone made your heart skip a beat.

“But,” he continued, finally meeting your gaze. His green eyes held something deeper—something unspoken yet heavy with meaning. “No matter what, I still want to respect you. You’re my girlfriend, after all.”

Your lips curled into a playful smirk. “Just a girlfriend?” you teased, tilting your head.

For a moment, Mao didn’t respond. Instead, his gaze softened, and the smallest of smiles tugged at his lips. Then, he reached out, his fingertips brushing against yours before intertwining them together.

“No…” His voice was quiet, yet firm. “You’re more than that. You’re mine.”

This time, it was your turn to blush. Your fingers curled slightly against your lap as you mumbled, “Why’d you suddenly say that…?”

Mao only chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder again. His warmth seeped into your skin, comforting yet electrifying all at once. “I don’t know,” he murmured, voice laced with honesty. “I just want you to know how important you are to me.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, but before you could say anything, you suddenly felt something warm press against the side of your neck.

“M-Mao—!”

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed against your skin, a soft kiss turning into a slow, deliberate nibble. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, and your hands instinctively gripped his arms.

He hummed against your neck before his lips latched onto the delicate skin just below your jawline. His warm breath fanned over you, followed by a gentle yet lingering suck. The pressure built, leaving behind a tingling heat as his tongue grazed over the mark he was forming.

“M-Mao, wait—” You stammered, barely able to form words as warmth pooled in your chest.

He pulled back slightly, admiring his work with a satisfied smirk. His green eyes gleamed as he traced the fresh mark with his fingertip, his voice teasing yet affectionate. “There. Now everyone knows you’re mine.”

You gawked at him, flustered beyond words, as he simply chuckled and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

Then, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your lips—gentle, lingering, and filled with warmth. As he pulled away, his emerald eyes locked onto yours, a hint of mischief dancing within them.

"But seriously…" he murmured, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "Next time it rains, wait for me so we can walk together. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like that—completely drenched and looking… way too tempting."

His lips curled into a small smirk, but his words carried a genuine tone. “I’d rather be the only one who gets to see you like that.”