blanchetteminxia

[blanchetteminxia]

six months. six months since sae itoshi had last seen you, last heard your voice, last felt the quiet, steady presence that had once anchored his tumultuous world. the breakup had been clean, brutal in its efficiency. he’d told himself it was for the best, that you were too much of a distraction, that his singular focus on football demanded absolute purity. he’d buried the ache deep, beneath layers of training and ambition.

he’d unfollowed you on everything. cut all ties. he was a professional, after all. no room for sentimentality.

but sometimes, late at night, a stray memory would surface: the way you’d hummed off-key while cooking, the soft curve of your smile, the infuriatingly patient way you’d explain something he deemed illogical. he’d push them down, dismiss them as irrelevant.

then came the notification.

it wasn't from you. it was from one of your old friends, someone he’d vaguely tolerated at social gatherings. a photo. a group shot. and in the center, unmistakable, was you.

but it wasn't the you he remembered.

your face was softer, fuller. your eyes held a new kind of glow. and your stomach… it was undeniably, profoundly swollen. a baby bump. a very large baby bump. you looked like you were ready to burst.

the caption read: "so excited for our girl and her little one! almost here! can't wait for baby cutiepie! #expecting #countdown"

sae’s phone clattered to the floor.

the stadium lights, the roar of the crowd, the precise calculations of the game – all of it vanished, replaced by a deafening silence in his ears. his vision narrowed, the world around him blurring into an indistinct haze. all he could see was that photo. your radiant, pregnant face.

baby?

his mind reeled. six months. you’d broken up half a year ago. that meant… that meant you had been pregnant when you left. or very, very soon after. it meant you had carried this secret, this monumental truth, through your separation, through the months he’d spent meticulously erasing you from his life.

a cold dread seeped into his bones, followed by a searing, unfamiliar heat. rage. confusion. a gut-wrenching sense of betrayal. why hadn't you told him? was it even his? the thought was a venomous snake, coiling in his gut.

he picked up his phone, his fingers trembling as he zoomed in on the picture. your smile. it was genuine. unburdened. you looked happy. happier than he’d ever seen you, perhaps.

and he, sae itoshi, the man who prided himself on control, on foresight, on understanding every variable, had been utterly, spectacularly blind.

he paced his apartment, the sleek, minimalist space suddenly feeling suffocating. every corner seemed to mock him with its emptiness. no baby clothes. no tiny shoes. no sound of a heartbeat other than his own, hammering against his ribs.

he thought of the arguments, the cold words, the way he’d pushed you away. had you known then? had you carried that secret burden while he’d coldly dismissed you?

the relief he’d felt after the breakup, the sense of being "unleashed," now felt like a cruel joke. he hadn't been freed; he'd been abandoned by a future he hadn't even known existed.

he collapsed onto his sofa, staring at the blank wall. the silence of his apartment, once a comfort, was now a torment. it screamed of what he didn't have, of what he hadn't known, of what he might have lost.

he was sae itoshi. he was a genius. he was disciplined. he was focused.

but he was also, undeniably, completely blindsided. and for the first time in a long time, the future felt terrifyingly uncertain, a vast, unknowable void where a tiny, unseen life was about to begin.

he wastes no time calling your number.

[blanchetteminxia]

bllk boys when u call them after your car breaks down (u changed the oil yourself with olive oil)

michael kaiser

kaiser answered your call on the third ring, voice full of smug confidence. “miss me already?” he teased.

you hesitated. “so… the car kinda died.” his tone immediately changed. “what do you mean died?” “i changed the oil myself,” you said proudly. “wait, you changed the oil?” “yeah! all by myself.” “…okay, wait—what kind of oil did you use?” you smiled nervously. “olive.” silence. “what?” “extra virgin,” you added quickly, like that would help.

you could hear the sharp inhale through the phone. “you mean to tell me you deep-fried your engine like it’s schnitzel?” “i panicked!” he let out the longest sigh in recorded history. “you cooked your car. congratulations, it’s officially a gourmet tragedy.”

thirty minutes later, he pulled up with sunglasses, iced coffee, and the most insufferable smirk. “smells like italy in here,” he said, poking your smoking engine. “are you going to help or not?” “oh, i’ll help. but i will be roasting you about this at your wedding toast.”

_________________

 rin itoshi

you knew rin would be annoyed. you also knew he was your only option. “rin… can you come get me?” you asked over the phone. “what happened?” “i changed the oil… and now the car won’t move.” there was a pause. “what kind of oil?” you swallowed. “…olive.” click. he hung up.

you stared at your phone. “oh my god.”

a few minutes later, it rang again. “drop your location.” “so you are coming?” “i’m coming to rescue your dumb ass, not the car. it’s probably in a coma.”

he arrived stone-faced. looked under the hood. “…it smells like focaccia.” “are you mad?” you asked. “i don’t have the energy to be mad. i’m trying to comprehend how you thought cooking oil would help a vehicle.” you shrugged. “it said oil. i got confused.” he muttered something about getting your vision checked and helping you pick a new car. one he maintained. for everyone’s safety.

_________________

sae itoshi

“don’t laugh,” you said immediately as sae answered. “that’s never a good start,” he muttered. “my car broke down after i changed the oil.” “…okay. what kind did you use?” you whispered, “olive.” “…come again?” “extra virgin olive oil. cold-pressed.” there was a long pause. then a quiet, “you absolute dumbass.”

he showed up in record time. no music, no expression. just sae and an overwhelming sense of judgement. he stared at your engine for a long while. “it’s marinating in there.” “i thought it was fine!” you defended. “it says oil!” “babe, if i drink gasoline, can i call that a smoothie?” you pouted. “you’re being mean.” “i just watched you murder a car with salad dressing. you don’t get to play victim right now.”

he called a tow truck and said nothing the entire ride back—except to quietly ask, “so balsamic next time?”

_________________

shidou ryusei

you: “so… funny story.” shidou: “this better be stupid.” you: “my car broke down and i think i know why.” shidou: “go on.” “i changed the oil with olive oil.” "NO. SHUT UP. THATS METAL"

he showed up not with tools, but with snacks and a camera. “holy hell. you actually did it. you fried a car like a tempura shrimp.” you pouted. “i thought i was doing something cool.” “you did. you committed vehicular culinary homicide.”

he popped the hood, gagged theatrically, and took a selfie with it. “caption: 'girlfriend cooked her car. send help and seasoning.’” you slapped his arm. he winked. “next time, let’s just bake cookies and call it a day.”

_________________

nagi seishiro

you called him with a whisper. “babe…” “mmh.” “the car’s dead.” “what’d you do?” “i changed the oil… with olive oil.” “…why.” “i thought it was the same thing…” another long sigh. “do you want me to come get you?” “yes please.”

he took forever to show up because he stopped for snacks. when he finally arrived, he just stared at your car like it personally offended him. “too much effort,” he muttered. “for me or the car?” “yes.”

he opened the hood, smelled it, and simply said, “this car is a crouton now.” you whined. “you’re not gonna make fun of me?” he shrugged. “i’m too lazy to even be surprised. next time, call a mechanic. or me. or anyone who doesn’t cook.”

then he gave you half his melon bread and let you rest your head on his shoulder while waiting for the tow.

[blanchetteminxia]

bllk boys when u call them after your car breaks down (u changed the oil yourself with olive oil)

michael kaiser

kaiser answered your call on the third ring, voice full of smug confidence. “miss me already?” he teased.

you hesitated. “so… the car kinda died.” his tone immediately changed. “what do you mean died?” “i changed the oil myself,” you said proudly. “wait, you changed the oil?” “yeah! all by myself.” “…okay, wait—what kind of oil did you use?” you smiled nervously. “olive.” silence. “what?” “extra virgin,” you added quickly, like that would help.

you could hear the sharp inhale through the phone. “you mean to tell me you deep-fried your engine like it’s schnitzel?” “i panicked!” he let out the longest sigh in recorded history. “you cooked your car. congratulations, it’s officially a gourmet tragedy.”

thirty minutes later, he pulled up with sunglasses, iced coffee, and the most insufferable smirk. “smells like italy in here,” he said, poking your smoking engine. “are you going to help or not?” “oh, i’ll help. but i will be roasting you about this at your wedding toast.”

_________________

 rin itoshi

you knew rin would be annoyed. you also knew he was your only option. “rin… can you come get me?” you asked over the phone. “what happened?” “i changed the oil… and now the car won’t move.” there was a pause. “what kind of oil?” you swallowed. “…olive.” click. he hung up.

you stared at your phone. “oh my god.”

a few minutes later, it rang again. “drop your location.” “so you are coming?” “i’m coming to rescue your dumb ass, not the car. it’s probably in a coma.”

he arrived stone-faced. looked under the hood. “…it smells like focaccia.” “are you mad?” you asked. “i don’t have the energy to be mad. i’m trying to comprehend how you thought cooking oil would help a vehicle.” you shrugged. “it said oil. i got confused.” he muttered something about getting your vision checked and helping you pick a new car. one he maintained. for everyone’s safety.

_________________

sae itoshi

“don’t laugh,” you said immediately as sae answered. “that’s never a good start,” he muttered. “my car broke down after i changed the oil.” “…okay. what kind did you use?” you whispered, “olive.” “…come again?” “extra virgin olive oil. cold-pressed.” there was a long pause. then a quiet, “you absolute dumbass.”

he showed up in record time. no music, no expression. just sae and an overwhelming sense of judgement. he stared at your engine for a long while. “it’s marinating in there.” “i thought it was fine!” you defended. “it says oil!” “babe, if i drink gasoline, can i call that a smoothie?” you pouted. “you’re being mean.” “i just watched you murder a car with salad dressing. you don’t get to play victim right now.”

he called a tow truck and said nothing the entire ride back—except to quietly ask, “so balsamic next time?”

_________________

shidou ryusei

you: “so… funny story.” shidou: “this better be stupid.” you: “my car broke down and i think i know why.” shidou: “go on.” “i changed the oil with olive oil.” "NO. SHUT UP. THATS METAL"

he showed up not with tools, but with snacks and a camera. “holy hell. you actually did it. you fried a car like a tempura shrimp.” you pouted. “i thought i was doing something cool.” “you did. you committed vehicular culinary homicide.”

he popped the hood, gagged theatrically, and took a selfie with it. “caption: 'girlfriend cooked her car. send help and seasoning.’” you slapped his arm. he winked. “next time, let’s just bake cookies and call it a day.”

_________________

nagi seishiro

you called him with a whisper. “babe…” “mmh.” “the car’s dead.” “what’d you do?” “i changed the oil… with olive oil.” “…why.” “i thought it was the same thing…” another long sigh. “do you want me to come get you?” “yes please.”

he took forever to show up because he stopped for snacks. when he finally arrived, he just stared at your car like it personally offended him. “too much effort,” he muttered. “for me or the car?” “yes.”

he opened the hood, smelled it, and simply said, “this car is a crouton now.” you whined. “you’re not gonna make fun of me?” he shrugged. “i’m too lazy to even be surprised. next time, call a mechanic. or me. or anyone who doesn’t cook.”

then he gave you half his melon bread and let you rest your head on his shoulder while waiting for the tow.

[blanchetteminxia]

sae itoshi  hated your hair.

not you. never you. but the bright, impossible color that bled everywhere.

he'd wake up, and there it would be. a faint blue smear on his pristine white pillowcase. he'd try to ignore it, to pretend it wasn't there, but it always caught his eye. a tiny, defiant mark.

the bathroom was worse. every time you washed your hair, the sink became a swirling mess of color. he'd scrub, his jaw tight, trying to get it clean. but the stain always lingered.

and the towel... the towel was a lost cause. somehow, it was always a shade of blue, no matter how many times he washed it.

he complained, of course. he'd tell you, his voice flat, "it's staining everything. it's messy." he'd sound annoyed, distant. but inside, a small part of him... it was a strange kind of comfort. it was you. a messy, vibrant, undeniable part of you, marking his space.

he'd never admit that.

not until you left.

and the white was blinding.

the pillowcases were perfect, untouched. the sink gleamed, spotless. the towel was, finally, white.

and he hated it.

he hated the clean, empty perfection. he hated the lack of that messy, vibrant blue. he hated how the silence screamed your absence.

he'd find himself staring at the pristine white, a hollow ache in his chest. he missed the faint, stubborn stains. he missed the way your hair, that impossible color, had somehow managed to leave its mark on his life.

he missed you.

he missed the mess.

[blanchetteminxia]

nagi didn't get excited about much. football? a mild interest. food? only when it was easy to eat. but video games... video games were almost interesting. and his new girlfriend, was almost interesting, too.

both of you had been dating for a week. a week of quiet smiles, shared snacks, and the occasional, almost hesitant, hand-holding. you were... cute. shy. obsessed with sanrio. nagi found it all mildly amusing, in a way that didn't require much effort.

"want to... play valorant?" he'd asked, the suggestion feeling almost strenuous.

"oh. sure. i... i play sometimes." you meekly replied.

sometimes turned out to be a gross understatement.

thirty minutes into your first-ever gaming session at nagi's place, nagi was frozen. petrified. utterly and completely dumbfounded.

you, his sweet, timid, sanrio-loving girlfriend, was not the same person.

your voice, usually a soft murmur, was now a roaring, guttural shout. words nagi hadn't even heard rin use were flying out of your mouth, aimed at your unfortunate opponents.

"GET F***ING REKT, YOU MOUTHBREATHER! ARE YOU BLIND? OPEN YOUR EYES, YOU PIECE OF SH**!"

your fingers, usually delicate and hesitant when you held his hand, were now a blur, a whirlwind of furious clicking and mousing. your face, normally flushed with shy blushes, was contorted in a mask of intense, bloodthirsty concentration.

nagi stared, slack-jawed, at the transformation. the gentle, pastel-colored room, filled with your plushies, seemed to vibrate with the sheer intensity of your…. rage.

he watched, horrified, as you clutched your headset, your face inches from the screen, screaming obscenities that would make rin blush. every kill was met with a triumphant roar, every death with a string of curses that nagi didn't even know existed.

he'd expected... well, he hadn't really expected anything. but certainly not this. not this... berserker mode.

he felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. this was the same girl who had squeaked in delight when he'd won her a hello kitty keychain at the arcade. this was the same girl who had blushed crimson when he'd accidentally brushed her hand.

who was this person?

the match ended. you ripped off her headset, chest heaving, a wild, triumphant grin spreading across her face.

"yes! we f***ing won! that's what you get, asshat!"

you turned to nagi, eyes still blazing with adrenaline. and then, your expression softened, the wildness fading, replaced by a sheepish smile.

"oh. nagi. sorry. did i... did i get a little loud?"

nagi could only stare, his mind blank. he was pretty sure his brain had just short-circuited.

"loud...?" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

you giggled, the sound almost... normal

"yeah. i get a little... competitive. when i play. sorry if i scared you."

scared him? scared him was an understatement. he was traumatized. he was questioning his entire reality. he was wondering if he'd accidentally wandered into some kind of alternate dimension.

he finally managed a weak, "it's... fine."

but it wasn't fine. it was terrifying. and fascinating. and... maybe, just a little bit... interesting.

nagi seishiro, the boy who found almost everything tedious, had just discovered that his girlfriend was a terrifying, foul-mouthed, gaming goddess.

and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

a/n: some fluff/crack after all that nagi depression bs in the manga

[blanchetteminxia]

the stadium roared. the crowd was a cacophony of cheers, jeers, and the rhythmic thumping of drums. sae itoshi, ever the consummate professional, remained focused. his. senses. were. fine-tuned.

he could hear the precise click of his cleats on the manicured grass, the whistle of the wind as the ball soared through the air, the synchronized chants of the ultras. what he did not expect to hear was you.

you were supposed to be the epitome of meekness. shy. reserved. the kind of girl who spoke in whispers and blushed at a strong breeze. you were, in his estimation, a calming presence in his otherwise chaotic world. a quiet harbor in the storm of his existence.

and then he heard it.

it started subtly enough. a slightly louder cheer than usual. he almost dismissed it as the general excitement of the game. but then it escalated.

"SAE! DO YOU SEE THIS?!"

Sae's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the crowd. Was that...? No, it couldn't be.

"YOUR PASSING IS DIVINE INTERVENTION!"

his eyebrow twitched. he was starting to recognize the... timbre.

"THAT’S THE FATHER OF MY UNBORN CHILDREN!"

okay, there was no mistaking it now. that was your voice.

sae's gaze landed on your section of the stands. you were... transformed. gone was the quiet, demure girl he was courting. in her place was a woman possessed.

you were standing, jumping, waving your arms with the ferocity of a conductor leading a heavy metal orchestra. your face was flushed, your eyes blazing with an intensity he'd never seen before. and you were... screaming.

sae's mind, usually a well-organized database of football strategies and opponent weaknesses, short-circuited. he saw you sandwiched between two equally... enthusiastic women. one was holding up a sign that read "SAE, OUR CHILDREN MISS YOU," and the other was yelling something about the structural integrity of her lower extremities.

and you were right there with them, a tiny, ferocious general in this army of passionate (and slightly unhinged) fans.

he watched, dumbfounded, as you launched into a detailed critique of the opposing team's defense, your voice surprisingly loud and carrying across the stadium with alarming clarity.

"WHO ARE THESE EXTRAS AND WHY ARE THEY BLOCKING MY GLORIOUS KING!"

sae stumbled, nearly losing possession of the ball. his teammates stared at him, concern etched on their faces. the opposing team looked equally bewildered, their concentration broken by the sheer... force of your cheering.

for the rest of the game, sae was... distracted. he kept glancing at you, his mind struggling to reconcile the image of the quiet girl he knew with the banshee-like creature in the stands. he made several uncharacteristic mistakes, his passes going astray, his tackles mistimed.

the opposing team scored. their captain pointed in your general direction and gave you a thumbs up. sae wanted to disappear.

by the time the final whistle blew, sae was a broken man. he trudged off the field, the cheers of the crowd fading into a distant buzz. he spotted you waiting for him near the players' tunnel, your face glowing with triumph.

"hey,…”  he croaked, his voice barely a whisper. "what... what was that?"

you beamed at him, your usual shyness returning as quickly as it had vanished. "oh, sae! did you see me? i was really getting into it! those girls were amazing! i think i made some new friends!"

sae stared at you, his brain refusing to process the words. he opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled, "yeah.. that was… new”

you tilted your head, confused. "oh yea.. when you're on the field, i just... i get a little passionate."

a little passionate.

sae replayed the events of the last ninety minutes in his head. the screaming, the yelling, the detailed anatomical commentary from your fellow fans...

somehow, he finds this new side of you amusing. so much so that now, four years later, he finds himself smiling as he hears your screams from the bleachers.

he has never felt so lucky to have such a devoted cheerleader.

[blanchetteminxia]

six months. six months since sae itoshi had last seen you, last heard your voice, last felt the quiet, steady presence that had once anchored his tumultuous world. the breakup had been clean, brutal in its efficiency. he’d told himself it was for the best, that you were too much of a distraction, that his singular focus on football demanded absolute purity. he’d buried the ache deep, beneath layers of training and ambition.

he’d unfollowed you on everything. cut all ties. he was a professional, after all. no room for sentimentality.

but sometimes, late at night, a stray memory would surface: the way you’d hummed off-key while cooking, the soft curve of your smile, the infuriatingly patient way you’d explain something he deemed illogical. he’d push them down, dismiss them as irrelevant.

then came the notification.

it wasn't from you. it was from one of your old friends, someone he’d vaguely tolerated at social gatherings. a photo. a group shot. and in the center, unmistakable, was you.

but it wasn't the you he remembered.

your face was softer, fuller. your eyes held a new kind of glow. and your stomach… it was undeniably, profoundly swollen. a baby bump. a very large baby bump. you looked like you were ready to burst.

the caption read: "so excited for our girl and her little one! almost here! can't wait for baby cutiepie! #expecting #countdown"

sae’s phone clattered to the floor.

the stadium lights, the roar of the crowd, the precise calculations of the game – all of it vanished, replaced by a deafening silence in his ears. his vision narrowed, the world around him blurring into an indistinct haze. all he could see was that photo. your radiant, pregnant face.

baby?

his mind reeled. six months. you’d broken up half a year ago. that meant… that meant you had been pregnant when you left. or very, very soon after. it meant you had carried this secret, this monumental truth, through your separation, through the months he’d spent meticulously erasing you from his life.

a cold dread seeped into his bones, followed by a searing, unfamiliar heat. rage. confusion. a gut-wrenching sense of betrayal. why hadn't you told him? was it even his? the thought was a venomous snake, coiling in his gut.

he picked up his phone, his fingers trembling as he zoomed in on the picture. your smile. it was genuine. unburdened. you looked happy. happier than he’d ever seen you, perhaps.

and he, sae itoshi, the man who prided himself on control, on foresight, on understanding every variable, had been utterly, spectacularly blind.

he paced his apartment, the sleek, minimalist space suddenly feeling suffocating. every corner seemed to mock him with its emptiness. no baby clothes. no tiny shoes. no sound of a heartbeat other than his own, hammering against his ribs.

he thought of the arguments, the cold words, the way he’d pushed you away. had you known then? had you carried that secret burden while he’d coldly dismissed you?

the relief he’d felt after the breakup, the sense of being "unleashed," now felt like a cruel joke. he hadn't been freed; he'd been abandoned by a future he hadn't even known existed.

he collapsed onto his sofa, staring at the blank wall. the silence of his apartment, once a comfort, was now a torment. it screamed of what he didn't have, of what he hadn't known, of what he might have lost.

he was sae itoshi. he was a genius. he was disciplined. he was focused.

but he was also, undeniably, completely blindsided. and for the first time in a long time, the future felt terrifyingly uncertain, a vast, unknowable void where a tiny, unseen life was about to begin.

he wastes no time calling your number.

[blanchetteminxia]

telling the bllk boys that a man did your brazilian wax

michael kaiser you casually said, “yeah, the wax lady wasn’t available, so some guy did it.” kaiser paused mid-hair flip, mouth slightly open. “a guy…? a man?” you nodded, scrolling on your phone. “a grown man waxed my girlfriend’s—” he clutched his chest like he was about to faint. “he was super professional,” you added. “professional in touching your sacred lands?!” you rolled your eyes. “you sound like a victorian husband.” he immediately googled “how to become licensed wax technician.” “next time, i’m doing it myself. for science. and honor.”

____________________________

rin itoshi “he was actually super gentle,” you said without thinking. rin froze. “…he?” you blinked. “yeah, the regular girl was off, so a guy filled in.” his eye twitched. “he was professional,” you offered. “professional at seeing what’s mine?” he muttered. you smirked. “you jealous?” “i’m not jealous,” he said quickly. you patted his shoulder. “it’s okay. the guy saw it, but you own it.” “…you’re banned from waxing. forever. deal with it.”

___________________________

sae itoshi you told him in a painfully unbothered manner while folding laundry. “wait… a guy did your wax?” “yeah. why?” he blinked at you. “no reason. just wondering if i need to go fight a beautician.” you laughed. “oh my god, you’re not serious.” “i might be. depends. did he make eye contact?” “…i don’t know, sae. i wasn’t exactly staring into his soul while he was ripping hair off me.” sae just muttered, “we’re buying wax strips and doing this at home from now on. we suffer together.”

__________________________

shidou ryusei you said it mid-bite of your sandwich. “oh, by the way, the guy who did my wax was kind of cute—” he choked so hard he nearly died. “a dude did what?” you repeated it slowly, savoring the drama. “he touched your kitty? your real-life, god-tier, golden-glazed—sacred temple?” you cackled. “relax, it was medical. like surgery.” “nah, man. that’s foul. i’m calling the government.” you whispered, “jealous?” “jealous? i’ll wax myself and you. watch me.”

________________________

nagi seishiro you whispered, “babe… the wax lady wasn’t there so a guy did it instead.” nagi opened one eye. “okay.” “…you’re not mad?” “why would i be? sounds like a pain for both of you.” you blinked. “unless you liked it.” “i did not like it. it was awkward.” “exactly. let’s just shave next time. less drama. more sleep.” and he rolled over and hugged you like nothing happened.

a/n: cackling while writing this btw

[blanchetteminxia]

castes eremika is my passion

[blanchetteminxia]

Lost and Found

Ch. 3

"The new guy doesn't work today?" Aoi cringed at how forced the question sounded, but thankfully, her manager didn't seem to notice. Instead he snorted like a truffle pig and dabbed at his sweaty forehead with a sweatier kerchief, a harsh scowl creasing his doughy face.

"More like he didn't show up, again!" he retorted, "Two no-call, no-shows in a row is as good as a resignation letter to me! If he has the nerve to try to show up for his shift tomorrow, he's got another thing coming! A swift kick in the–"

Aoi tuned out the rest of the conversation and focused on stocking the shelves.

~♡~

Aoi was embarrassingly exhausted by the time she reached her building. The convenience store was just on the other side of the street, but on days like this it might as well be on the other side of the world.

"Good thing tomorrow is the weekend," she grumbled under her breath, trying to rub the ache out of her throbbing neck.

The perpetually broken elevator mocked her with its "Be Fixed in a Jiffy!" sign and she stomped tiredly to the narrow, dusty stairwell that the landlord refused to keep clean or well lit since "the elevator will be fixed by tomorrow".

Halfway up the creaking stairs she heard the unmistakable sound of someone making their way down and pressed against the wall to make room for them. Thankfully, they were small and slipped by without issue, leaving behind the heavy scent of artificial cherries struggling against thick body odor

What do you think Aoi will find in the lost and found?

Tags: @kuronarnze @neeeooon @bubybubsters @levisgoonerr @tacharie @missmiyao @rainychi2 @kxsagi

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Intro | Pre. Ch | Nxt. Ch (coming soon)

©️pixelpancakes

Please don't copy, translate, or repost my content without my permission

Reblogs are welcome!

[blanchetteminxia]

"it's open!" I cried.

ANYWAYS, could I request that one trend where your bf leaves and you prank him by texting him "he's gone you can come over now" with the bllk boys please (doesn't matter who, as long as Reo is in it) 😋

"𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰"

a/n: YES HI

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, mikage reo, kaiser michael

itoshi sae

itoshi rin

shidou ryusei

nagi seishiro

isagi yoichi

mikage reo

kaiser michael

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[blanchetteminxia]

the stadium roared. the crowd was a cacophony of cheers, jeers, and the rhythmic thumping of drums. sae itoshi, ever the consummate professional, remained focused. his. senses. were. fine-tuned.

he could hear the precise click of his cleats on the manicured grass, the whistle of the wind as the ball soared through the air, the synchronized chants of the ultras. what he did not expect to hear was you.

you were supposed to be the epitome of meekness. shy. reserved. the kind of girl who spoke in whispers and blushed at a strong breeze. you were, in his estimation, a calming presence in his otherwise chaotic world. a quiet harbor in the storm of his existence.

and then he heard it.

it started subtly enough. a slightly louder cheer than usual. he almost dismissed it as the general excitement of the game. but then it escalated.

"SAE! DO YOU SEE THIS?!"

Sae's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the crowd. Was that...? No, it couldn't be.

"YOUR PASSING IS DIVINE INTERVENTION!"

his eyebrow twitched. he was starting to recognize the... timbre.

"THAT’S THE FATHER OF MY UNBORN CHILDREN!"

okay, there was no mistaking it now. that was your voice.

sae's gaze landed on your section of the stands. you were... transformed. gone was the quiet, demure girl he was courting. in her place was a woman possessed.

you were standing, jumping, waving your arms with the ferocity of a conductor leading a heavy metal orchestra. your face was flushed, your eyes blazing with an intensity he'd never seen before. and you were... screaming.

sae's mind, usually a well-organized database of football strategies and opponent weaknesses, short-circuited. he saw you sandwiched between two equally... enthusiastic women. one was holding up a sign that read "SAE, OUR CHILDREN MISS YOU," and the other was yelling something about the structural integrity of her lower extremities.

and you were right there with them, a tiny, ferocious general in this army of passionate (and slightly unhinged) fans.

he watched, dumbfounded, as you launched into a detailed critique of the opposing team's defense, your voice surprisingly loud and carrying across the stadium with alarming clarity.

"WHO ARE THESE EXTRAS AND WHY ARE THEY BLOCKING MY GLORIOUS KING!"

sae stumbled, nearly losing possession of the ball. his teammates stared at him, concern etched on their faces. the opposing team looked equally bewildered, their concentration broken by the sheer... force of your cheering.

for the rest of the game, sae was... distracted. he kept glancing at you, his mind struggling to reconcile the image of the quiet girl he knew with the banshee-like creature in the stands. he made several uncharacteristic mistakes, his passes going astray, his tackles mistimed.

the opposing team scored. their captain pointed in your general direction and gave you a thumbs up. sae wanted to disappear.

by the time the final whistle blew, sae was a broken man. he trudged off the field, the cheers of the crowd fading into a distant buzz. he spotted you waiting for him near the players' tunnel, your face glowing with triumph.

"hey,…”  he croaked, his voice barely a whisper. "what... what was that?"

you beamed at him, your usual shyness returning as quickly as it had vanished. "oh, sae! did you see me? i was really getting into it! those girls were amazing! i think i made some new friends!"

sae stared at you, his brain refusing to process the words. he opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled, "yeah.. that was… new”

you tilted your head, confused. "oh yea.. when you're on the field, i just... i get a little passionate."

a little passionate.

sae replayed the events of the last ninety minutes in his head. the screaming, the yelling, the detailed anatomical commentary from your fellow fans...

somehow, he finds this new side of you amusing. so much so that now, four years later, he finds himself smiling as he hears your screams from the bleachers.

he has never felt so lucky to have such a devoted cheerleader.

[blanchetteminxia]

doing the "current boyfriend" trend with bllk boys

michael kaiser you were filming a cute little montage of him—posing shirtless in front of the mirror, fixing his perfect hair, and celebrating a goal—and the caption read: “my current boyfriend 💕💅” kaiser blinked. “current?” he echoed, peeking over your shoulder. “excuse me, current?” you tried to hold in your laughter. “who’s next, huh? rin? nagi? you think they can handle all this?” he gestured dramatically to himself. “please.” you snorted. “you’re so dramatic.” he scoffed, flipping his hair. “you’re just obsessed with me and it’s okay. i’d be devastated to lose me, too.”

_______________

rin itoshi you posted a photo of rin drinking tea with the caption: “my current boyfriend… he’s cute but emotionally constipated 🫶” you didn’t even realize he saw it until he texted you, “wtf is this” you turned to find him standing behind you, holding his phone, deadpan. “current boyfriend?” “rin, it’s a trend—” “you can’t even handle talking to people. who’s gonna replace me? your cat?” you were wheezing. he muttered, “not constipated,” under his breath as he stalked off.

_______________

sae itoshi you posted a candid of sae mid-yawn captioned: “my current boyfriend. he’s tired of me already 🥲” sae stared at it for a solid five minutes. “why would you say i’m tired of you?” you looked up, confused. “it’s a joke, babe.” “i’m not tired of you. i’m just tired.” you laughed, hugging him. “you’re cute when you take these things personally.” he kissed the top of your head. “i’m your last boyfriend. fix that caption.”

_______________

shidou ryusei your video had shidou shirtless, flexing in the mirror with dramatic zooms. caption: “my current boyfriend. he’s like a feral raccoon in a crop top ❤️” he loved it. “babe, you think i’m feral? that’s so hot,” he grinned. “wait—current? oh hell nah. who else is gonna call you sugar tits with this much love?” you doubled over laughing. “babe, if i’m current, does that mean you’re accepting applications?” he wiggled his brows. you just threw a pillow at him.

_______________

nagi seishiro you filmed nagi half-asleep on your lap, captioning: “my current boyfriend. he’s 90% blanket, 10% clingy baby 😌🩷” he cracked one eye open. “current?” you nodded. he blinked. “that sounds like work. finding a new boyfriend is gonna be annoying.” “…it’s not real, nagi.” “good. too lazy to be replaced.” he then went back to sleep, mumbling, “you are so stupid…”

a/n: this is so stupid

[blanchetteminxia]

not kaneshiro allocating a good THREE chapters centered on nagi’s demise.

Bro literally sat there and thought, yeah let’s make our fandom suffer by showing every angle of nagi’s suffering

[blanchetteminxia]

rin existed in a world of controlled variables. his training regimen was a precisely calibrated equation, his diet a fuel source optimized for peak performance, his interactions… minimal. he was a lone wolf, self-sufficient, driven by a singular, icy purpose.

then you came along.

you were a force of nature, a sunbeam that refused to be extinguished by his perpetual twilight. you fussed. you cared. you pampered. it was… infuriating.

every morning, a meticulously packed lunchbox would appear on his kitchen counter. "for later," you'd say, your voice annoyingly cheerful. he'd scowl, tell you he wasn't a child, that he could handle his own nutrition. and then, without fail, he'd eat every last bite.

you tried to regulate his sleep schedule, nagging him to rest, to not overexert himself. he'd snap, tell you to stay out of his business, that he knew his limits. and then, when exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, he'd find himself craving the quiet comfort of your presence, the gentle pressure of your hand on his forehead.

he was a paradox, a contradiction he couldn't reconcile. he resented your interference, yet he'd grown accustomed to the subtle ways you smoothed the jagged edges of his existence.

your anniversary was a fault line. you planned a quiet dinner, a rare concession to sentimentality. but rin had a crucial practice session. a chance to perfect a new technique, to push himself further.

"rin, it's our anniversary," you'd said, your voice pleading, the first crack in your usual cheerful facade.

"practice is more important," he retorted, the words clipped and cold. he saw the hurt in your eyes, the way your shoulders slumped, but he was too consumed by his own ambition to care.

you argued, your voice rising, a rare display of anger. he dismissed your concerns, his own stress and exhaustion twisting his words into weapons. he hadn't meant to be cruel, but the words had flown out, sharp and unforgiving.

"you're being ridiculous," he spat. "i have to do this."

and then he stormed out, the door slamming behind him, the sound echoing the finality of his decision. through his rage, he had completely forgotten about breakfast.

you thought about your exchange the entire morning.

later, the guilt gnawed at you. you, who always tried to understand, to smooth things over. you cooked his favorite meal, a peace offering, a silent apology. you took it to the gym, hoping to catch him after practice.

he was a whirlwind of fury. he hadn't seen you. he felt the familiar pressure of expectation, the weight of your concern, and it pushed him over the edge.

"fuck off!" he roared, his voice raw, his eyes blazing. he hadn't even looked at the food you held out. just the sight of you, the reminder of your constant, unwavering care, had been enough to trigger his volatile emotions.

you'd flinched, the hurt finally outweighing the understanding. you placed the container on a nearby bench, hand lingering for a moment, as if hoping he'd change his mind. then, you turned and walked away, your steps heavy with a sorrow that mirrored his own.

when he returned home, the silence was deafening. the apartment felt vast and empty, devoid of your presence. there was no lingering scent of your cooking, no soft hum of your voice, no gentle clutter of your belongings.

for the first time in months, he felt free- relieved of your attention.

he told himself he didn't care. he was free. he could finally breathe, exist without the constant, suffocating… care.

but then, practice became a hollow routine. he'd zone out, his movements sluggish, his focus fractured. he couldn't shake the phantom weight of your hand on his shoulder, the echo of your laughter.

he found himself inexplicably hungry. a gnawing, persistent hunger that no amount of protein bars could satisfy. he'd catch himself searching for the familiar aroma of your cooking, a scent that had once been a comforting backdrop to his solitary existence.

he'd come home, expecting the usual quiet. but now, the quiet was a vacuum, sucking the very life out of him. he'd wander through the empty rooms, his footsteps echoing in the stillness, a growing unease settling in his stomach.

he was alone. truly, utterly alone. and the relief he thought he felt was a cruel illusion, replaced by a desolation that stretched out before him, vast and unforgiving. he had pushed you away, and in doing so, he lost a part of himself he hadn't even realized existed.

[blanchetteminxia]

rin itoshi valued discipline. precision. the cold, calculated pursuit of victory. you were… none of those things.

you were a whirlwind of chaos and glitter, a social butterfly who flitted from party to party like a sugar-fueled hummingbird. you skipped classes with the enthusiasm of a seasoned truant, your diet consisted primarily of questionable street food, and your concept of "early night" involved returning home before sunrise.

rin, on the other hand, considered 10 pm a late night.

it was a mystery how you'd ended up together. he suspected it involved a pair of chatty women who just so happened to have a son and a daughter at the same age, and lived in the same neighborhood.

though somehow, despite practically growing up together, you and rin shared nothing in common.

however, amidst your glaring differences, rin couldn't deny there was something... compelling about you. beneath the layers of glitter and tequila, you possessed a genuine warmth, a contagious energy, and an uncanny ability to charm even the most cynical of souls. he saw it, even when he was glaring at you for the fifth time that week.

his life with you was a series of increasingly exasperated sighs and near-constant damage control.

"where were you last night?" he'd ask, his voice tight, as you stumbled into his apartment at noon, sunglasses perched precariously on your head.

"(your voice, muffled by a mountain of throw pillows) "hmm? oh, just... a small gathering. with, like, a hundred people. and a dj. and a llama. don't ask."

rin would pinch the bridge of his nose. "a llama?"

"it was a themed party! anyway, gotta dash! brunch with chigiri and bachira!"

and you'd be gone again, leaving rin to contemplate the sheer absurdity of his existence.

your social circle extended far beyond his. in fact, you were closer to the blue lock boys than he was. he'd walk into the training facility to find you surrounded by a gaggle of ridiculously talented strikers, all vying for your attention.

"hey, y/n-chan! wanna go clubbing tonight?"

"ooh,! let's try that new ramen place!"

"yo, y/n! you're the only one who can beat kunigami at mario kart!"

rin would stand there, seething internally, while you beamed and made plans with his annoying shithead teammates.

your health was another ongoing crisis.

"have you eaten anything today?" he'd inquire, his tone dangerously calm, as he watched you devour a greasy burger at 3 am.

"(your shrug, crumbs falling down your shirt) "yeah! this!"

"that's your dinner, not breakfast, lunch, and dinner combined."

he'd tried to implement a "three square meals a day" policy, but it usually ended with him cooking and you sneaking out the window to attend a spontaneous rave.

the worst was midterm season. rin, ever the diligent student, would be holed up in his apartment, surrounded by textbooks and caffeine. you, on the other hand, would be… anywhere but there.

"you have a test next week," he'd remind you, his voice strained, as you applied neon-pink eyeliner.

"relax, rin! i'll be fine! i'm, like, totally a genius at... winging it!"

rin would grab your arm before you could escape. "no. you are staying here. we are studying. and you are going to learn the difference between mitosis and meiosis if it's the last thing i do."

what followed was a week of forced confinement, endless lectures, and you attempting to bribe him with increasingly elaborate (and questionably sourced) snacks.

somehow, through it all, they survived. rin, against all odds, found himself drawn to your vibrant spirit, your infectious laughter, your ability to make even the most mundane situation an adventure. and you, beneath your party-girl facade, genuinely appreciated rin's unwavering support (and his surprisingly good cooking).

he was your anchor, your reluctant babysitter, your study buddy, and the one person who could convince you to eat a vegetable. and you were his escape from the rigid structure of his life, a reminder that sometimes, chaos could be... beautiful.

your relationship was a beautiful, messy, hilarious contradiction. yet somehow, rin can never imagine himself without it.

[blanchetteminxia]

fucking crying btw I MISS THEM SO MUCH

Idgaf whatever yall say abt ur plagiarism bs THIS WAS THE MANHWA THAT STARTED IT ALL 💯💯 nothing could ever make me hate you wmmap 🥹🥹

THIS FANDOM DIES WITH ME. AS LONG AS I AM ALIVE THERE IS NO WAY WMMAP WILL BE FORGOTTEN 😡💪🏻💪🏻