#nijimido

[imlateagainarenti]

nijimido again what did you guys expect from me really

[imlateagainarenti]

I MISS THEM SO SO MUCH 😭😭

[imlateagainarenti]

I might or might not has been starving of NijiMido content

[imlateagainarenti]

I saw a cute dj and now I'm cooked. I can't get over the fact that there are barely any works for this ship and I'm sooooooo mad 😭💔💔

[stephanericherthanyou]

loneliness (nijimido, 150)

“Was it lonely? Living by yourself that young?”

It’s the prying sort of question that Midorima is usually too uninterested or shy or polite to ask, but a long enough day of being this intimate has made him bolder. Nijimura kisses an open spot on his neck, letting him know that it’s okay to ask (because he still looks so uncertain) before gathering his answer.

“Yeah. Doing the same routines I usually did without my family there…that part sucked. But I was kind of a loner for a bit when I was younger than that, and I had you kids to look after every day.”

He grins, but Midorima still looks troubled. He draws Nijimura into his arms (how he has the nerve being this much taller Nijimura’s still trying to figure out) and hugs him close around the waist.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Nijimura says. “I’m not lonely now.”

[uruhayojis]

(source)

[stephanericherthanyou]

Your writing is amazing! Could you please write a longer piece about NijiMido? That 140 drabble you wrote gave me so much feels. Thank you!

451 good?

Shuuzou is not terribly fond of opera—he can’t sit still for so long, especially when it has to do with a story in a language he can’t understand. Some of the music is nice, but some of it just isn’t to his taste (it’s not like he hates classical music but he’s not big on the vocal style) and then, of course, there’s dressing up. Again, it’s not something he can’t handle but he feels a little bit out of place in this kind of a tuxedo. He sighs, pushing at his hair to get it to stay down.

And then there’s the tie—he’d worn one all through middle school, but even so it never felt right and he always kind of looked delinquent-ish (as one classmate had put it) what with the way it always managed to lean to one side and flap in the slightest breeze—he’d always looked sharp, but not quite sharp enough.

“Are you ready?”

“Does it look like I am?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he intends it, but Shintarou doesn’t flinch. He strides across the room (damn, his legs are long) and peers down at Shuuzou’s tie through his lenses. And then his fingers are at Shuuzou’s throat, through the loop in his tie, undoing it. He pulls at it gently several times and then reknots it, too quickly for Shuuzou to see exactly what he’s doing (it’s definitely some fancy shit that he’s never seen before, though).

“There.”

Shuuzou looks in the mirror. He still feels kind of ridiculous but he definitely looks presentable.

“Thanks.”

Shintarou inclines his head slightly, and Shuuzou offers out his arm. Shintarou takes it cautiously. (Shuuzou’s probably doing it all wrong, in the wrong room facing Shintarou at the wrong angle but this high society shit is just endless and even Shintarou will admit that the ritual is maybe a little bit too much. But this part is fun as hell, even if they’re just walking down the stairs and to the door like this before waiting for a cab.)

*

Shuuzou spends the whole show watching Shintarou tilted forward in his seat, eyes flickering across the stage. He is gorgeous and bright and so connected to whatever the hell is going on that it takes on almost a magical kind of quality, if Shuuzou was feeling particularly cheesy. Shintarou asks him afterward which part he liked the best and Shuuzou shrugs and says he liked everything.

Shintarou frowns.

“Okay, fine. You were the best part.”

One thing these society people got right were the tiny private opera boxes. That way Shuuzou has Shintarou’s blush (and his lips) all to himself for this moment.

[stephanericherthanyou]

ocean (nijimido, 140, t)

“I bet you’ve been told you have eyes like the ocean a lot,” says Nijimura—he’s too buzzed to care how corny he sounds but he just wants Midorima to know he cares, really.

Midorima’s ocean-eyes are sharp; he’s been nursing half a glass of beer all night (Nijimura would expect no less, of course), and he leans closer to answer.

“I haven’t, actually.”

He’s telling the truth—damn. Poor kid; he’s retreated so far into his shell that he hasn’t gotten to experience the rush of learning dumb cliches before they’re hackneyed.

“Well, you do. You know, green, sparling, pretty.”

“Thank you.”

He’s blushing. It’s not the alcohol. Nijimura grins and leans in even closer. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Midorima swallows. Nijimura presses his lips to Midorima’s mouth—he’s not a great kisser, but they’ll work on that.