“for you, angel” Reo holds out a bouquet of flowers, your favourite. Of course he knows your favourite.
he looks so handsome in his button up shirt- sleeves rolled up revealing his forearms, with a few veins running up them that makes your knees weak, and dress pants perfectly tailored to fit him.
“thank you, baby. You spoil me too much” you smile, he hands them to you, fingers momentarily brushing against yours. He ruffles your hair “you deserve it” he cups your cheeks as he moves closer to you, expensive cologne filling your nostrils.
His lips find the tip of your nose, pressing a few light kisses. “i love you” he whispers, eyes locking with yours.
“i love you too” you whisper back, your mouth finding his. His lips are soft and gentle, tasting faintly of mint. your hands rest on his chest, moving closer to him so his body melted against yours.
No matter how much you insist you don’t need spoiling, he cant help but constantly splash out on his pretty partner.
————-
{nsfw warning!}
————-
“fuck, thats it.” Reo groans, lips latching onto your jaw as his cock slides in and out of you at a delicious pace that makes your back arch off the bed.
his hands don’t leave your body once, they touch over every curve of you before resting on your hips as leverage. “haah- feels so good..!”
he grins “yeah? you like that, baby?” you hum in acknowledgement. his lips start to trail down your neck, sucking at the skin to mark you up.
his eyes meet yours, holding eye contact as he grinds his hips against yours, hitting all your right spots that he knows like the back of his hand. you moan as pleasure builds up inside you, and Reo knows your close. of course he does.
you start to squirm from the overwhelming pleasure, and its not long before his hand wraps around your wrists, pinning them above your head to keep you still.
I would like to request the reaction of the bllk boys to their s/o feeling insecure because they are getting shipped with hot supermodels / celebrities online .
itoshi rin
rin doesn’t say much online. he doesn’t have to. he’s all cold eyes, perfect stats, that stupidly sharp jawline that the internet eats up like candy. and you knew it came with the territory— the attention, the edits, the shipping.
but one night, you’re just scrolling. seeing “rin x model” edits plastered everywhere. perfect lighting. perfect faces.
and suddenly, you just feel… replaceable.
you don’t even realize rin’s been watching you from across the room, leaning on the doorframe.
“what’re you looking at?”
you lock your screen fast. “nothing.”
rin raises a brow. he’s not dumb— he’s just emotionally constipated. he crosses the room in three long steps, takes your phone right out of your hand (you protest but he’s stronger).
his eyes flick over the screen, and his face drops.
he doesn’t say anything for a moment. then, quiet and low,
“you think i’d ever want anyone else?”
you try to laugh it off, to shrug like it’s nothing, but your throat’s tight. he exhales, frustrated— not at you, but at the whole damn situation.
“they don’t even know me,” he mutters. “they see a picture and think they can put me next to anyone. they don’t know what i eat when i’m tired. they don’t know how you talk when you’re half-asleep.”
he looks up, eyes soft and serious all at once.
“they can ship me with whoever. i’m still yours.”
and he says it like a promise. like a line in a song only you get to hear.
nagi seishiro
you’re lying on the couch, scrolling aimlessly. nagi’s next to you, sprawled like a starfish, head on your thigh. he’s half-asleep until you sigh— that long, quiet, heart-heavy kind of sigh.
he blinks up at you through his messy hair.
“huh? what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” you mumble. he squints, spots your phone. “eh, are people still shipping me with that model?”
you nod slightly, trying to look unbothered.
nagi just snorts. “she looks like she takes too long to text back.”
you laugh, but it dies too quickly. nagi’s lazy eyes narrow just a bit. he props his chin on your knee.
“you don’t gotta compare yourself to them,” he says, quiet now. “you’re the one i actually like hanging out with.”
you blink down at him, and he yawns, stretching his arms around you like a cat wrapping around its favorite blanket.
“you’re comfy,” he mumbles into your shirt. “warm. i don’t need some shiny person who’d get bored of me.”
you can feel his heartbeat against your side, slow and calm.
and suddenly, it’s like all that noise from the internet fades out. it’s just him— your sleepy gamer boyfriend, half on your lap, half melting into you— and the world can wait.
itoshi sae
the thing with sae is— he’s used to being watched. idolized. people project whatever fantasy they want onto him, and he lets them. it doesn’t touch him.
but it touches you.
it’s the headlines: “sae itoshi rumored to be dating rising model,”
or the fan edits that blow up with millions of likes. and even though your rational brain knows it’s fake, the little insecure voice whispers, but she’s perfect.
so when sae comes home and sees you scrolling like your heart’s breaking in silence, he just… sighs softly.
“again?” he says, setting his keys down. his tone’s calm, but there’s that undercurrent of protectiveness.
“i know, i know. i shouldn’t care,” you whisper.
he walks over, takes your phone, sets it face down on the table, and tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze.
“you know who I text goodnight, right?”
you nod, but it’s hesitant. he leans closer, voice dropping to a whisper.
“you know who i fly home to.”
he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, slow and deliberate.
“the rest of them? they’re noise. you’re real.”
and then— in the most sae way possible— he goes,
“if i ever cared about what strangers online think, i’d be retired already.”
you roll your eyes through a small laugh, but it helps. it always does.
isagi yoichi
isagi’s the type to panic when he senses your mood shift.
you’re quiet, scrolling too fast, eyes too glossy. he peeks over your shoulder and sees the comments: “isagi’s way out of her league,” “he should be with ___ instead.”
and his stomach drops.
“wait— what? who said that??”
you tell him it’s fine, but your voice cracks just slightly. and oh no. oh no no. isagi.exe has stopped functioning
he immediately starts babbling, hands waving, “no no no— they’re wrong, okay? they don’t even know you! or me! i don’t even talk to that actress!”
you’re like “yoichi calm down ” but he’s already pulling you into a hug so tight it knocks the air out of you.
“listen,” he says against your shoulder, “you think any of them make me feel the way you do? they don’t. they can’t. you’re my home base, okay?”
and then he does something extra embarrassing— he posts a photo of your hands together on his story with a caption like
“don’t care what anyone says, she’s the one ”
you threaten to delete it but he just grins like, “too late. internet knows now.”
shidou ryusei
ohhhh shidou. that man’s a menace to society until it comes to you.
he’s scrolling through his mentions, smirking at the chaos— until he sees your name pop up under a thread.
“‘shidou should leave his girl for ___’? the hell?” he mutters. then he glances up— you’re sitting nearby, expression distant. oh. that’s what’s bothering you.
he tosses his phone aside and prowls toward you, grin fading into something serious.
“you jealous, baby?” he teases lightly, but your eyes don’t lift. his chest tightens.
he crouches in front of you, hands resting gently on your knees.
“hey. look at me.”
you finally do, and he sees that little flicker of doubt— and it kills him a bit.
he exhales, presses his forehead to yours.
“they can have the photos, the gossip, whatever. but only you get me like this. only you know the parts i don’t show.”
then, with that trademark devilish grin returning,
“besides, no one kisses me like you do. i’d go insane without it.”
he laughs, but the sincerity lingers, heavy and warm. later, he’ll literally post a pic of you two holding hands with the caption "mi pookie" just to shut everyone up.
reo mikage
reo’s used to people talking. being rich, charming, athletic— people always have opinions. but when he realizes the noise online is getting under your skin? oh, he’s done.
he’s sitting next to you on the couch, watching your expression dim as you scroll.
“angel,” he says softly. “don’t tell me you’re reading those again.”
you shrug. “they just… look good together.”
reo actually frowns, which is rare for him.
“hey. don’t do that.”
he takes your phone, locks it, and sets it far away. then, without a word, pulls you into his lap.
“you know why i fell for you?” he murmurs against your hair. “because you’re real with me. no masks. no posing.”
you let out a small laugh, but he’s serious now.
“they can post pictures. they can wear designer everything. but none of that feels like home the way you do.”
and then he smiles, that warm, bright reo smile that could power a city.
“also, let’s be honest— none of them would survive my family dinners. you? you’re perfect.”
he’ll spend the rest of the night proving it— cooking for you, playing your playlist, spoiling you like it’s his personal mission. because for reo mikage, love means reassurance through action.
✧ ミヒャエル・カイザー + 御影 玲王 ﹒﹒ 𖹭 you get into a stupid fight with the blue lock boys, and later, when they’re dressed for an event, they show up with their ties undone—dramatically demanding you fix it for them as their way of making up ― michael kaiser + mikage reo x reader (separate) ⋆ incl. fluff, a little crack if you squint, very, very dramatic men, sort of ooc (like all my works) 𝜗ৎ wc: 824 for kaiser, 770 for reo
𐔌 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑꒱
The fight had been stupid. Really stupid. You told him he takes too long getting ready. “No one cares if your hair is styled at a perfect 37 degree angle.”
He shot back. “Of course you’d say that, your hair has never looked as good as mine.”
Now you weren't speaking to him. It was silly, ridiculous even, because his words were true. Kaiser was infuriatingly flawless. Every strand of his stupid platinum hair was in place, gleaming under the lights like it had its own telenovela. Even the fuckass rattail he had somehow worked for him, like the universe had conspired to make sure he could pull off the one haircut no other man alive should dare attempt.
He had an event, and you made it very clear you weren’t going. Crowds, fans, lights, paparazzi—you hated all of it. And you most certainly didn’t want to deal with all that when you were pouty and upset at him. So, when he strutted out of the bedroom in his immaculate suit and made his way into the kitchen, his tie hanging loose around his neck, you didn’t even bother looking up.
“Schatzzzzz,” he groans, placing his hands on the counter and caging you in like he was trying to get you to put money in his Ponzi scheme. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to me? Two days, two whole days, without holding your hand and now.. now.. my fingers.. they’re useless! Lifeless. I can’t tie my tie. I can’t breathe properly. I can barely… exist.”
He whispers that last part, getting close to you for dramatic effect with his pretty face. “This, Schatzi, is on you. You ruined me. So now..” He leans in even further, lips inches from yours, eyes darting down to your lips before up to your eyes and glinting with an exaggerated tragedy. "...You’ll have to take responsibility,” he murmurs.
Your breath hitches, and you look like the human equivalent of a shocked lemur.
The corner of his mouth curls as he studies your wide-eyed face, and a low chuckle escapes him. “Gott. You’re so fuckin’ cute when you’re flustered,” he drawls, amusement dripping from every word. Yet, there’s an intensity in his eyes that’s reserved only for you. He looks at you like you’re his moon and stars, as if you’re the angel that saved him from his own misfortune. Then softer, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it, he huffs. “Makes me want to forget the event and just stay here with you instead..”
Meanwhile, you’re trying to recover from the lethal visual attack he just gave you. Your face is red, your heart is beating out of your chest, and you’re certain you rank lower than a prokaryote on the visually attractive scale right now. So naturally, you blurt. “Can’t you just tie your tie yourself? Don’t be dramatic!”
You don’t want him to see you right now, because Kaiser is a man who loves teasing—and your reactions are like a drug for him. However, Kaiser, ever the opportunist, notices the higher pitch of your voice, your eyes avoiding his, your throat bobbing as you turn the color of a tomato. He smirks. “But it’s not the same if you don’t,” he whines smoothly (how is that even possible??), leaning in again with that infuriating smile that makes your knees weak. You groan, spin on your heel, press your palms against the cold counter behind you, and take one deep breath before turning back to face him.
You give him the glare of the century and he throws his hands up in mock surrender. With a groan dramatic enough to rival a dying opera singer, you loop the fabric around his collar. To be extra petty, you yank on it to bring him down to your level. Unfortunately for you, Kaiser seems to like that. He looks at you with half-lidded eyes. "Don’t be so rough, Häschen. I might get turned on~” You try to focus on the tie instead of the way his breath fans across your skin. He doesn't make it easy though. Kaiser leans in closer than necessary, his eyes fix on you like he’s drinking in your every move. When you finish and try to pull back, his hands fly to your waist and keep you there effortlessly.
He dips his head into the crook of your neck and inhales softly. His cologne wraps around you, something woody and cold. “Perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, softly nipping it. You yelp and tug on his hair, but he doesn’t move. He soothes the area with his tongue, and his voice takes on a lower, more sincere edge. “You’re perfect. Don’t ever let anything I say make you think otherwise.”
The moment is soft, almost unbearably tender—until he ruins it in true Kaiser fashion, lips brushing your cheek as he adds, “Now hurry up and put on your lipstick. The outfit’s incomplete without your kiss as the finishing touch.”
𐔌 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎 ꒱
The argument had been over snacks. Not just any snacks—imported specialty chocolate bars he had flown in from Switzerland because he’d caught you looking them up once after watching a TikTok. And yes, maybe that’s part of why you’re extra salty about it. Reo eats the last one without asking, and you accuse him of never respecting the sanctity of the kitchen stash.
He swears up and down he’ll buy more, that he can literally have a private jet bring them by tomorrow morning, but that isn’t the point. The point is that you’re pouting at him, and he hates it. Operation: Turn-That-Frown-Upside-Down begins, and Reo is determined to see it through like he’s starring in his own Mission Impossible spin-off.
He comes downstairs in a suit worth more than the rent he pays for that stupid formal soccer event he’s supposed to attend later. His tie hangs loose around his neck, his grin nervous and boyish. You’re sprawled across the sheepskin couch with a book, deliberately ignoring him. You turn your head away.
“My princess pumpkin pie sweetie bell sugar sapppppp,” Reo whines, dragging out the syllables like he’s been sentenced to death. Then he flops—yes, the six-foot-tall pro athlete actually flops—onto you and nearly crushes you. You curse. Maybe attempt to hit him once. He dodges, laughs, and props his chin on your chest with eyes wide and pitiful. “I need help with my tie.”
You stare at him flatly. Reo Mikage, heir to the Mikage Corporation, can’t tie his own tie? Puh-lease. He was practically born in one, probably swaddled in silk at the hospital. You try to push him off again, but he clings like Velcro.
“You can do it yourself,” you mutter, tilting your book higher to block him from view.
He plucks it neatly from your hands, folds the page corner, and sets it on the table with infuriating care. Gentleman, even when being a pest. “It’s not the same if you don’t!” he insists, voice dipping into a whine as he buries his face into your chest like a puppy demanding attention. Then, because he’s dramatic, he slides off the couch and kneels beside you. The spoiled Mikage heir, on his knees, staring up at you with those devastating violet eyes like you’ve just told him that his private jet emissions are fucking the entire world over.
You groan, sitting up and giving him a pout that could rival his. He pouts harder. You try, but fail. Reo Mikage wins.
“You’re impossible.” You huff, but your hands already betray you, reaching for his tie. Reo’s grin blooms wide, triumphant before you’ve even begun. He leans closer than necessary, his cologne, something expensive that smells like cedar cut with citrus, curls around you until your chest feels too warm.
“You know,” he says softly, his breath brushing your cheek as you work the knot, “I could hire a hundred stylists to tie this for me. But…” He tilts his head, lips quirking upward. “None of them are you.” You roll your eyes so hard you nearly see the inside of your skull, but the twitch of your lips betrays you anyway.
When you finish, you try to lean back, but Reo catches your wrist. His fingers are warm, gentle but firm. “Hey,” his voice drops lower now, stripped of theatrics, “thanks.” Before you can retort, he lifts your hand and presses a slow, lingering kiss to your wrist, right above your pulse point. He then brings your wrist to his forehead, lashes brushing your skin as his eyes stay locked on yours. His lips find every single finger and knuckle on your hand even as he maintains eye contact with you. They all get a kiss, slow and devoted. The grin fades into something softer, something so private it feels like it belongs only to you.
And then, before you can even process it, he tugs you forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath is hot, uneven, his voice cracked with boyish desperation. “Don’t stay mad at me,” he whispers, “I can’t stand it, baby.” Your chest tightens, your breath hitches, and the fight over candy bars dissolves into nothing.
When he finally straightens, adjusting his suit jacket like nothing happened, the smirk slides back into place. “By the way, I already ordered more of your stash. Five boxes. Private shipment. First-class cargo.” He brushes his thumb over your knuckles before letting you go. “So technically, I win.” But then, quieter, almost sulky, he adds, “And if you’re still mad, I’ll cancel the whole event and stay here until you forgive me.”
✶⋆.˚ Reo’s proposal to you is extra…to say the least!
based on this!
Date nights with Reo were a common occurrence in your relationship. At least three times a month he’d take you out for the weekend, to a place of your choice or come up with something out of the box for you two to do — Fancy restaurants, impromptu beach vacations, even going to pottery classes, you’ve done it all.
So when he takes you to just another one of your date nights, you’re expecting the usual. You’ll probably eat at your favourite spot in town, might go for a walk after or go on a spontaneous activity like mini golf or rent a bike to ride around downtown.
But no, instead Reo is dragging you around to some new spot he claimed to have found while planning this date of yours, and for some reason he won’t tell you where you’re going tonight.
“Reo, what’s with all the secrecy today?” you’ve been walking for a while at this point. If Reo wanted to go for a 10k walk then why the hell did he not tell you to wear something more comfortable? Your feet are killing you…
“You’ll see, stop being nosy for like 10 seconds, will you?” How are you meant to not be nosy? He made you walk so far away from all the spots you knew so of course you’re going to be desperate to know what he has planned.
“Do we need to walk any further? Can’t you just call a taxi—”
“No need to, we’re here.” Finally…you’re sure that if you kept on walking you’ve lost your shit with him.
You’re standing in front of some bougie rooftop terrace and you’re more confused than you were before. Was there really a need to be so secretive about coming here?
“Wait, before we go in,” he hands you a…blindfold? “I need you to wear this, or else it will ruin the surprise.”
“...Just what are you planning, Reo?”
“No time to talk, let’s go in. Your surprise is waiting for you,”You might as well go with what he’s planning and put it on. As soon as the blindfold is covering your eyes, he’s holding your hand, guiding you into the building. Even though you can’t see anything, you know the inside of the building is just as lavish as the outside by the sound of heels clicking against marble floors and by the way the people around you laugh so exaggeratedly and with that air of pretentiousness.
The ding of the elevator announced the end of all your wondering. You’ll finally get some answers…You wonder if he’s planning some sort of party for you? But for what? It’s not your birthday or anything? But Reo is also the kind of person to just throw you a party just because he can.
However, when you’re guided out the elevator, it is way too quiet for it to be the set up of a party. So that hypothesis is scrapped and you’re officially out of ideas of what the hell this all could be.
“Okay,” he sounds uncharacteristically nervous. “You can take the blindfold off"
When you take the blindfold off, you think your eyes are deceiving you.
There’s a whole display of drones in the night sky, spelling your initials…Reo was never a stranger to big displays of affection, but this? Shutting down a whole street just so he could do this is crazy. Rich boyfriend privileges you guess. “Oh wow…”
“You like it?” He asks, standing a short distance next to you, just admiring your stunned expression.
“Of course I like it, this is crazy Reo…how did you do this?”
“Doesn’t matter how. You know for you I'd anything for you,” That much is true and this whole thing proved it even more. You really are lost for words, but you really need to know one thing.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love this…but why do this today of all days?”
“Because I love [Name] [Last Name], that’s why...and I want to keep on loving you forever, if you let me.”
“What do you mean by tha—” He’s already on one knee when you turn sideways and your jaw drops.
“[Name] [Last Name], will you marry me?”
The word yes slips out your lips before you can even register this whole moment, and as soon as that ring is around your finger, where it belongs, you fall into your now fiancé’s arms and just cry to your hearts content.
You always expected Reo to go extra with his proposal to you…but this certainly exceeded your expectations.
೯⠀⁺ 𖥻 multi bllk men x gn reader ! ⁺ ᰋ .ᐟ sfw 𓏵 5.10.25 ! . . (새로운 감정) things blue lock men won’t admit !!
ㅤ( ୨୧ ) WARNINGS ! tooth rottening fluff !!
Itoshi Rin will never admit that he memorizes the sound of your laugh. Even when you think he isn’t listening, he notices when it changes—softer when you’re sleepy, sharper when you’re teasing, brighter when you’re genuinely happy. Sometimes you’ll giggle differently just to see if he notices, and he’ll freeze mid-step, eyes softening without you even realizing it.
Itoshi Rin will never admit that he sets a glass of water by your side every morning. He’ll linger for a moment just to watch you sip it, a tiny smile tugging at his lips because he likes starting your day taking care of you—even in the smallest ways.
Itoshi Rin will never admit that he notices every single one of your little habits, even the ones you think are stupid. How you tap your fingers when impatient, the way you tilt your head when thinking, even how you bite your lip when nervous—he notices it all, and it makes him love you just a little more each time.
Sae Itoshi will never admit that he turns off your alarm so you can sleep a little longer. He loves watching you wake up slowly, messy hair and soft yawns, and feels like the luckiest person alive just seeing you comfortable and happy.
Sae Itoshi will never admit that he holds the small of your back in large crowds. Sometimes you feel him there and look back, surprised, and he just smirks quietly—his way of keeping you close without making a scene.
Sae Itoshi will never admit that he notices the way your voice changes when you talk about something you love. He listens, rapt, letting it wash over him, secretly thinking your passion is one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.
Sae Itoshi will never admit that he slips a hair tie of yours into his pocket before soccer matches. When he twirls it around his fingers during practice, he’s thinking of you, of the small piece of comfort it gives him when he’s away.
Nagi Seishiro will never admit that he stares at your messages when he can’t sleep. He rereads every word, memorizing the way you joke, sigh, and make him feel warm from across the room—or the screen.
Nagi Seishiro will never admit that your eyes are his favorite thing. The way they sparkle when you’re happy can stop him mid-thought, leaving him just staring, quietly wishing he could hold that moment forever.
Nagi Seishiro will never admit that he forgets everything else except for you. Your little quirks, your favorite snacks, your bedtime routines—they’re all stuck in his head, perfect and permanent.
Nagi Seishiro will never admit that he shares playlists with you. He sneaks songs he thinks you’ll love or that remind him of you, grinning like a dork when you message him about them.
when hes just a little (very) jealous of someone else
bllk boys (nagi, rin, reo) x reader: insecurities, fluff!!!!!!!, established r/s except for rin (but you two get into one by the end!), nagis part was deleted and rewritten TT, not proof read + likes n reblog r appreciated <3
nagi seishiro:
“eh… you cleared this level already…? i thought you were struggling with it..?” nagi’s voice muffled against the pile of blankets his face was smushed in, looking up at you confusedly from your phone, displaying the game level cleared.
its not that he doesnt believe you cleared it all by yourself, if anything youre pretty good at this game despite only playing it for him. its simply because you were complaining on call with him about it, and all of the sudden youve finished it? he doesnt quite believe it, hes gone through that level too and he knows its pretty challenging, taking a little more energy than it really should have even for nagi himself.
“ah.. my seatmate cleared it for me this morning when he saw me playing it!” its strange: your bright voice always wakes him up a little, bringing light into his otherwise dull and boring life. yet this time, he feels his heart pang a little.
its troublesome. he doesnt like feeling this way: his heart tightens at your words, he unconsciously grips your phone a little, only realising when the screen protector cuts him a little, and he feels as though hes getting all fired up strangely the same way he gets on the field. if anything, nagi doesnt even know who this mysterious seat partner is, and he sure doesnt want to know: its troublesome to socialise with others after all. and yet, if there’s anything he’s now set on doing as though his life depends on it, as though your relationship with him depends on it, as though his ego depends completely on this: he wants to confront this guy and challenge him in an actual game competition. he knows he’ll win, he has spent his entire life in bed playing mobile game or spending late hours of the night on grinding back to immortal on different variety of games from valorant to league of legends to overwatch. he’s covered his grounds he thinks, that maybe all those time wasn’t wasted at all other than the fact that you weren’t with him during those time: lending him your lap to lie down on when he plays his switch or phone, lending him your support when you sit on his lap on his chair squirming to keep it a challenge to win and carry his team still, even more lending him your accounts when he plays with you, helping carry you in any game you want or even just building your islands together on animal crossing or minecraft on more chill days.
nagi doesn’t get it - really, its the same ego that drives him in football, not wanting to lose. his eyes flicker with sudden fire and intensity that only burns whenever he plays games with you: whether that be when you die in a pvp game and him immediately straightening his back to avenge you, earning aces for rounds straight until the screen flashes with victory, or when someone talks bad about you in the voice channel and is immediately reacted with nagi’s voice that defends your honour as if he’s your knight in shining armour, or even simply the way his hands click on the mouse quickly whenever he sees a zombie go near you in the dark cave whilst playing something as chill as minecraft. if anything, nagi think it might just apply to real life too: his hands tugging at yours as though on instinct in record speed when you trip on another branch to prevent you from falling, his glare at others whenever they bother you too much that is visible through the awkward smile you give and your hands finding its way to fiddle with his shirt.
and the same ego is clear to him now: he doesn’t want anyone else to be yours, he wants to be the only one to help you. selfish maybe, but he’ll deliver - the way he tracks your figure in the map from valorant to minecraft to even genshin, the way he fights to protect you from the enemies, his hands animatedly clicking at his mouse and the other navigating his keyboard all at the same time in order to garner the best and most successful result that he knows will get you to smile oh so brightly that makes his heart pound, or even the way he charges his old switch just to help you play animal crossing on his own account, maintaining your village and neglecting his all to make a cute little house for you inspired by your pinterest board even though it takes him all night.
and to you, its clear: he’s upset at what you’ve done with the way he deflates even more than he already is. and it clicks. a routine and cycle you’ve unintentionally broken - you complaining about a level or rank you can’t get out of, he’ll listen and ask you about it the next day when youre back at his house, and he’ll fix it just as he always down: an unspoken agreement really.
“sorry sei… i still can’t clear the next level.. help me seiiii…” and suddenly he’s back lying right on your pillowy thighs: the way his eyes that was just seconds ago filled with intensity that you think simply doesn’t fit his face closes with comfort as you massage his scalp again with his fingers, the way his face smushes against your thighs comfortably rather than the weird feeling of him hovering on your thigh as though he wanted to get up, the way his hands no longer grip your phone tightly and instead holds your hand, fitting it right in perfectly.
“kay… its not bothersome with you..” he says, a confession of love from himself. he’ll never find it annoying if its you: he thinks he would play the dinosaur game from having no internet for hours on end if you liked watching him play it, he thinks he’d fight against the same boss for even days straight if you said you needed the materials for it for your character, and he knows he will most definitely help you finish any level you can’t. and something he wont say, a quiet confession springs in his mind: he loves you and most definitely he loves to play for you. and based on you willingly passing him your phone, maybe, just maybe, he wont give in to his impulses and actually find that guy - only shooting daggers at him that sends a shiver down his spine when he waits outside your class for you to release after school.
rin itoshi:
its not the first time rin felt this pang in his chest: he felt it when his older brother kicks the ball to any other member of the football team to shoot for the goal, he felt it when his teammates seems to be able to shoot he ball even more accurately than he does, he felt it when his brother praised yoichi instead of him. he’s always regarded that feeling as something football related: he’s never felt too much emotions outside of his passion and hobbies either way - but lately, he thinks he feels it a lot whenever he’s with you. perhaps, the seed from before blue lock has started blooming: the day you boarded the bus with him to the facility that was hours away from yours and his house that made his cheeks stain with pink as he sits right beside you, eating the filling breakfast you made for him, beaming at him so brightly as you wave him goodbye that makes him hesitate for the first time in his life.
and right now, he doesn’t get it. its not like there’s a lack of chocolates at his desk, if anything its quite the opposite. there’s practically a mountain of chocolates of different variety that would surely fulfill his secret sweet tooth - from dark chocolate in a heart shape mold bought from a fancy shop, from milk chocolates in squares sprinkled with heart shaped sweet bits on top, or even strawberries dipped in white chocolate. and yet, if looks could kill, that guy who’s holding YOUR chocolate box would have died, guts spilled right on the classroom door like those cliche horror games he plays. rin doesn’t get it: its not as if youre close witht that guy,youre his seat partner for all the years you’ve spent together since kindergarten, and he’s sure that that guys no one special right? and its out of character when rin thinks harder about a nobody in his class: do you like band kids like that lame guy? (he did learn the guitar for fun when he was younger, should bring it out from under his bed again?) do you like guys who are a little better at math? (maybe he should study for this weeks math quiz he thinks) or do you like guys who have leadership roles? (he’ll ask to be captain of the football team, its obvious anyways, he’s the best in this dull football club in his school)
usually, when he feels this same pang in his chest, he ignores it, keep mum about it and just work harder instead until the glass shards leave his heart - and yet he can’t do that strangely despite the routine between you two staying: where you and him sit together at the back of the class, playing your phone at the back oops the class unbeknownst to the teacher, giggling and whispering about whatever, your feet kicking his occasionally from the lack of distance that makes his face a little pink. yet, here he is eyeing that last chocolate underneath your table, its unlike the others he noted - unlike the mini chocolate cup you passed to that guy who he wishes to punch simply because of the smug smirk that was plastered on his face, unlike the small chocolate bars you presented to the other girls in the class, and even more special definitely from the chocolate candies you sneak into both his and yours mouth during class. its heart-shaped, reminiscent of the other chocolate now angrily thrown into one plastic bag that he plans to eat whilst crying about this the second he reaches home, a ribbon tied messily clearly with much effort too, and even pasted mini heart papers.
and its not until recess when youre alone with rin in class as per routine, everyone leaving for lunch does he do something about it for the first time in his life about this nagging and tugging feeling that makes him feel like a little kid again. and it just might have been the universe way of telling the two of you how connected you two are: as you struggle to find the courage to give him the slightly burnt chocolate brownies inside the heart shaped box.
“i.. like you.” “f-for you rin..!”
its simultaneous, at the exact same time, where the clock struck 1:00pm.
the confession he’s kept all these years, since the first day he’s met you at kindergarten where you two practically were fixed at the hips ever since: seat partners since primary school all the way up until now where youre both now seventeen and about to go to university and him to become a professional football player soon. ten years - ten years of looking at you as if he’s so far away when youre with anyone but him as he feels the friendship bracelet around his wrist for reassurance, ten years of writing confession letters after confession letters and poetries only to rip them all apart, yelling into his pillow and kicking his feet like a maiden in love, ten years of looking at you pass chocolates every single time during valentines except to him. its unlike rin, he’s never been good at expressing himself, believing in action over words - the way he carries your files and extra bags after school, the way he always listens and remembers what you say and even buy things you’ve mentioned offhandedly with his own pocket money, the way he never hesitates to carry you back home even when his leg is all jelly from football practice that he doesn’t tell you.
and its the same for you. the valentine gift you’ve made for him all these years: spanning from chocolate chip cookies you’ve made, to macrons you bought for him from his favourite bakery, or even his favourite blueberry pie your mother bought you - and yet all left underneath the table, secretly placed back in your bag for you to eat it whilst crying about your cowardice. and you hate it: these ten years of watching him carry a plastic bag full of physical confessions without any interest, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even when youre staying over and opening a pack of these chocolates when you’re hungry, these ten years of looking bitterly at the friendship bracelet that is nothing more than a bitter reminder of how you’ll never be more because of your own cowardice, these ten years of looking at rin accept everyone’s chocolates but yours.
and for the first time in years, rin thinks it’s just right - when he places his lips on yours, melting into this sweet kiss with the brownie in his mouth. and he thinks you might just taste sweeter than the brownie melting between the two of yours mouth.
reo mikage:
he doesn’t get this tight feeling wrapping like thorns around his heart - seeing you so close with a classmate, smiling as he seems to be teaching you something through the windows of your classroom. it’s clearly not the exhaustion from climbing all the way from his class at the first level to yours at the fourth with this being the millionth time hes done this like a instinct every time the bell rings, its not the way your hands seems to linger so close to his practically touching someone’s else hands that gets reo sweating cold beads of sweat down his neck, and its not jealousy at how someone else might just be better than him. realistically he knows, you’re probably just having difficulties in your academics, a normal human thing but he can’t help the bitter bile that rises to his mouth - he can teach you too evident from the library dates where he helps you go through your homework and teach you the same concepts like hes made for it and hes definitely better than that classmate right? hes smarter, he tops the class every single exam without fail with his name always plastered on the results sheet as number one, he’s much more charming he would like to believe with your smile always reaching your eyes that he adores, and he’s much more useful with the way he can teach you whilst helping you with other things like while buying you food on his phone, fixing your broken pens, or something. he swallows the bitter bile, walking into the practically empty class with just you and that.. classmate, scruntising his every detail in his mind all whilst putting on the charming facade hes too used to having on - one that you can tell by the furrowing of your eyebrows at him as he grabs a chair and slides it beside you as though looking at your homework.
“haven’t i taught you this before?” its petty, he knows, its quite literally a new chapter, one that he knows your class just started on. but he thinks it does the job when he sees your classmate suddenly feel uncomfortable - perhaps its the tone of his voice that underlies irritation clearly meant for him, perhaps its the subtle passive aggressive smile aimed at him, or perhaps its the intimidation of having reo mikage right next to you clearly upset with you. he doesn’t really enjoy the title placed on him, if anything sometimes he loathes the reputation that comes with his family name, with people looking at him as only that and never as reo - but just this time does he thank the stars for his luck.
“huh?” he can tell, youre confused, and he thinks youre just so oblivious or maybe hes just weirdly jealous of something so insignificant that even your brain can’t comprehend him at all. but he doesn’t mind it as he glanced sideways at your classmate - awkwardly and quickly packing his bag, leaving just you and reo sitting at your desk.
and its awkward silence, with him looking at your homework that he just received just an hour ago and hasn’t started on too, and you looking confused at him. its not unfamiliar to see reo in your class, its practically routine at this point, except he usually just stands outside until youre done with packing your bag, taking it right from your hands the second you step out of your class.
“so.. who was that?” he cant help the way his voice suddenly sounds so soft, as though its about to crack, as if hes about to cry. he tries to clear his throat to even it out, and even so, he definitely sounded a little too out of character - out of character for how he presents himself: nothing short of perfect. and he knows youve caught it, the cats out of the bag, when he sees the sides of your mouth tug up a little as you zip your bag.
“just a classmate reo really…” your voice a little teasing, looking at him knowingly, as his hands tug at your bag, slinging it around his right shoulder where it should belong. and he thinks its alright: the way you ruffle his hair that feels just so right that he leans in even closer and even bends down a little like a dog desperate for a pat, the way you beam at him that he knows is meant only for him that shifts the rest of your class to be nothing more than just a blur, the way your bag fits snugly on his shoulder as it was meant to be.
“yeah? it better be!~” he chirps, jealousy no longer gripping onto him like a chain tugging at his neck, reminiscent of the feeling he feels in his stuffy and restrictive home. and he knows it’ll be that way until the end of time: the way your hands tugs at his tightly as though you never want to let go either, the way you look at him as though he’s your entire world, the way you understand him even through a few words. soulmates, maybe, and perhaps he has no reasons to ever feel this bitter feeling that burns his throat.
Reo could never understand why you weren’t fawning over his money and gifts, what more should he have to do to show you how he feels about you? You turn down his expensive jewelry, his invites to lavish restaurants, his offers to take you on shopping sprees. Girls usually want those kinds of things, don’t they?
“No, Reo, I don’t think you do like me.” You sigh, tears welling up in your eyes. It’s all too familiar to you, things being thrown at you, with no real love behind it. The truth is, you do like Reo, you always have. But you can’t let yourself get wrapped up in the lavish lifestyle he lives, it’ll only hurt you in the end.
“But- I do! You don’t like me?” Reo stands, stunned, gripping a bouquet of gorgeous roses in your favorite color.
You choke back tears. “Of course I do.” You smile, a pained smile.
It takes a while for him to understand what you mean, to realize that it’s not his money or influence that made you fall for him. It’s his beautiful smile, his kind eyes, how sweet he is toward you.
Reo never had to understand a love language that isn’t gift giving. Now, after falling for you, he’s learned how clingy he can truly be.
He wants to touch you constantly. From the moment he sees you until the moment he leaves, his hands rest on your hips, your shoulders, your cheeks. He gives you pats to the head, presses his chest against your back, leaves quick kisses to any part of you he can reach.
If you try to leave, he’ll pull you back to him, telling you over and over how much he loves feeling your body weight on top of him. He loves being touched too, after all, especially feeling you rake your fingers through his soft hair. He loves when you reach for his hand in public, wrapping all of your fingers around just his little pinky.
Reo loves physical touch, he doesn’t care if he has money and assets, as long as you’re holding his hand.
