yoichew

[yoichew]

— the sun has set ; michael kaiser.

starring :: michael kaiser x reader

wc :: 800

tags :: hurt/comfort, reverse comfort, nightmares, implied self harm and abuse, kaisers backstory (brief)

synopsis :: michael kaiser often times has nightmares about his past, and you’re the only one who seems to not mind his outbursts.

when michael kaiser has days where the weight of his life seems to overcome his resolve, there will be no doubt that on that night, scenes of his past come and haunt him. agonizing nightmares keeping him pinned onto nothing but illusion as he chokes on awaiting tears in his sleep. it’s unbearable, really: constant tossing and turning without his consciousness, harsh clutching of his blanket, and the straining furrow of his eyebrows–and it hasn’t changed ever since.

well, perhaps it’s been bearable from the moment you’ve been by his side when he sleeps.

“mihya,” you call softly, “come on, wake up.” 

drenched in sweat, kaiser gasps as his eyes open to darkness. he reaches out for what’s closest to him, and to his advantage, it’s you. “you’re with me.” you mumble, fingers combing through his hair–not stopping until you feel his body’s tension loosen up, even for a little bit. “i’m with you.” from his head that’s buried on your abdomen, he looks up; breath still undeniably trembling with frustration and anxiety.

“you- what time is it?” it’s too quiet around you both, the busy streets outside sounding empty–only the sound of light rain echoing is out. “it doesn’t matter, rest up again. i’m right here.” when kaiser realizes he’s overslept from the initial nap he took many, many hours ago, he feels around for his phone.

12:39am. 

“liebling, sorry- you should be the one asleep. i’ve had plenty already.” suddenly, kaiser rushes off the bed, slightly stumbling as he does so. the abrupt loss of his presence creates a frown on your face. knowing his usual ways when facing a nightmare of such level, kaiser isolates himself. 

“mihya,” you call out, voice still kind as ever, yet he doesn’t look back.

“mihya,” you call once more, and you’re standing up from the bed, going after him.

“michael!” now, he looks at you: eyes in disbelief when you tug on his arm with force. “let me go. i’m going for a walk.” he pulls back, but you don’t let him. “not tonight, stay inside.” although you knew what to be expecting, the sheer anger and pain in his voice has you wincing. “it’s too fucking suffocating here right now- damn it, don’t touch me!” as kaiser hears his own words when you reluctantly let go of his arm, his body slumps down to the floor.

his back is against the doorframe, legs tucked onto his chest like a pitiful child as his head is hung low. looking down at him, your breath shudders for a moment. you assume–rather you’re fairly certain that kaiser’s nightmare still lingers in his eyes. him mistaking you for someone that would hurt him is most likely. 

so you take his pace, sitting down in front of him on the cold ground even if he doesn’t dare look at you. “out of all people, why you?” kaiser tiredly whispers, arms muffling his voice. “me?” you whisper back, copying the way he’s sitting, although it only differs as your eyes are locked on him. “why did i think you were him? you’re not him.” kaiser’s voice is small, hands tentatively tapping on his skin as he trembles. “mn. i’m not. it was just a nightmare, mihya.” once more, his breath is uneven, and it’s bothering you more.

“it’s not about that! why am i always thinking about that bastard, even though there’s no reason? even in my fucking sleep, i see him! what the fuck is up with that?” you only hum, feeling sorrow come undone from kaiser’s body. “am i not free? despite everything i’ve done to leave that shitty place?” when you see kaiser’s hand itch to grasp at his neck, you quickly intervene. concern washes over you when you notice just how glossy kaiser’s cheeks are, its faint shine is reflecting under the dim light. 

“mihya, you’re with me. are you not? that should answer everything.”

you gently lean your body towards his, and kaiser’s head rests itself on the warmth of your neck. “but-” his frustrated sobs are getting covered up by you. “no. nothing more, nothing less, mihya. i’m with you, and you’re with me.” his arms heavily grip on your shirt, fingers trembling as he tightly embraces you. “it was only a bad day,” you whisper in his hair, lovingly hushing him to only listen to your lone voice. “mihya, it’s okay.” kaiser’s body is still shivering under your hold, tears dampening your collarbone as it seems to not give in anytime soon. but that’s fine.

“we can stay here like this, or maybe go back to sleep if you’d like that instead.” the palms of your hand gently pry his face from your shoulder, and it continues to caress it as kaiser sniffles. “what do you think?” the burden in kaiser’s mind dissipates to your palm, its weight getting heavier as he pushes his head onto it. 

“stay,” and you will. with a tender thumb that wipes away his tears, it consoles him, making kaiser feel the most humane as he’s ever felt.

“okay.” you smile at him, before pulling him back into an embrace that kaiser will never take for granted.   

© zenokei | do not repost, copy, or use my works.

[yoichew]

Meet Cute

Micheal Kaiser x GN! Reader

No warnings, just pure fluff! Reader is in college and from America. Reader is an anxious mess and a football fan. Apologies if the german is shit, I did my best. This fic is kinda scuffed but I wanted it to be done lol

“S–Sind Sie Michael Kaiser?” You blurt out, before mentally face palming at the stupidity of your own question. He laughs again, a slightly smug look on his face at being recognized before responding. “Ja, ich bin Michael Kaiser.”

A shiver runs down your spine as you peruse the selection of the ice cream tucked away in the freezer section, but you can’t help but smile to yourself at the welcome sight.

Yes, it was that time again, that familiar time in every college student’s life, the time to eat away your feelings after struggling your way through midterms.

Fuck midterms.

And fuck proper societal conventions as well.

Because here you are, in your pajamas, doing a late night grocery run and regretting it with every strange look served your way.

Sometimes you forget that you aren’t in America anymore, and your people-of-Walmart activities will inevitably lead to your downfall, but at least that day isn’t today.

Well, it was a small mercy that no matter where you were in the world, whether in Germany or America, that at least ice cream was a true constant that remained in your life.

You analyze the see-through fridges with slight disappointment as you realize the selection you have to work with is slightly smaller than what you’re used to, although maybe upon further inspection you’d find it refreshing not being swung at visually by 15 brands in one shelf, all desperately vying for your attention.

Either way, you find yourself drawn to the same flavor you always pick, a true creature of habit, and you pull open the fridge door to grasp at the item of your choosing.

At least you are until you find your hand colliding with another, a silent gasp parting your lips before you pull your hand back in surprise.

“Sorry!” You blurt out before realizing your mistake. “...err, I mean– entschuldigung!”

(Your German is hardly passable to be frank, but you figure you should at least try speaking the language of the country hosting you for the semester.)

Anyway, the sound of your stilted dialect is enough to bring out a light chuckle from the person, the man judging by the timbre of the voice, next to you and you finally look over to see…

Holy shit.

Is that Micheal fucking Kaiser?

You stare shell shocked at the blond superstar soccer (football, you correct in your head) player next to you, as he begins to speak.

“Kein Problem.” He says smoothly, and you have to make a conscious effort to shut your slightly parted mouth as you continue to stare at him with widened eyes.

At this point, the best thing you could do for yourself would be to grab your ice cream, pay and leave before you embarrassed yourself, but unfortunately for you, your mouth didn’t catch the memo.

“S–Sind Sie Michael Kaiser?” You blurt out, before mentally face palming at the stupidity of your own question.

He laughs again, a slightly smug look on his face at being recognized before responding. “Ja, ich bin Michael Kaiser.”

You feel your cheeks start to burn in embarrassment as the realization dawns on you that you’re standing in front of a world class athlete in the middle of a grocery store in a wrinkly, old, oversized t-shirt and shorts.

“Sie möchte ein Autogramm?” He asks amusedly, giving you a subtle once over that you normally would have missed had you not been so self conscious.

“Ja, bitte.” You say, fishing for a pen and paper in your bag.

“...I don’t normally look like this, I swear.” You can’t help but add as you find your paper and pen, switching over to English out of a combination of embarrassment and lack of language knowledge.

“You don’t?” He asks lightly, humoring you and switching over to English before taking the pen and paper out of your hands. “I would have thought you looked like this everyday.”

“What, messy?” You ask in a light tone despite being slightly offended as he scribbles his name on the paper.

“No.” He says with a smirk as he finishes, handing you the paper. “Gorgeous.”

You blink at him for a moment before you feel your cheeks warm up again, averting your eyes to the side to avoid his gaze as you try to process the fact that a celebrity, more importantly, an attractive celebrity is flirting with you.

“Ah– um, well I– uh, thank you.” You eventually get out before willing yourself to look back at him, your stomach doing a flip as you see the same smirk on his lips that you’re used to seeing on TV.

“Kein Problem.” He repeats again, that same amused lilt in his voice. 

“I mean–” You start again and you feel yourself regretting the fact that you decided to speak again. “For both uhm, the autograph and the compliment.”

You pause for a bit, unbelievably flustered, before you blurt out. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m so awkward, I’m just gonna leave now.”

He laughs at this, his eyes seeming to soften a bit before he speaks in a quieter tone, almost as if he’s afraid to scare you off. “No you’re fine… it’s cute.”

Your heart thumps in your chest rapidly, like you’ve just gotten done running a marathon, and you feel the heat rush to your face along with a fluttering feeling in your stomach. All these sensations combine to force a rather undignified sound from deep within yourself, sounding equivalent to a mouse caught in a glue trap.

You feel your face heat up further from the strangled sound that emitted from your very being and scrunch your eyes shut for just a moment away from Kaiser’s prying gaze.

When he laughs, you feel the embarrassment return tenfold, although the fluttering feeling in your heart might just be also because of the rich timbre of his chuckle.

“Hey, look at me.” He says after a few seconds, and despite your longing to keep your eyes closed you can’t help but obey his command.

So, slowly you open your eyes, taking in the sight of his handsome visage, his lips quirked up in a smile and it almost feels painful how your heart thuds.

“...what?” You question weakly.

“Just needed your eyes on me for a second while I do this.” He says before leaning over ever so slightly to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand lingering at the apex of where your ear meets your cheek before finally pulling away.

“...” You can’t help the way you gape at him, momentarily speechless as he takes in your facial expression with his signature smirk.

“Sorry Liebling, your hair was bothering me.” He offers up as an explanation, but you can tell from the delighted gleam in his eye that he’s lying.

“Y–yeah, right.” You stutter out despite your best efforts to remain unphased and straighten up. “Anyways, it was nice meeting you, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“No, it was a pleasure.” He says smoothly, and you can’t help the twinge of jealousy that runs through you at his composed demeanor. “Take care, would you?”

“Of course, y-you too.” You manage to get out, and he smirks at you one last time before confidently striding away from you, leaving you slightly shell shocked in the ice cream aisle.

It would be a while before you fully collected your thoughts after you paid and exited the store, and that’s why perhaps you didn’t notice three things in particular.

One, that you forgot to pick up the goddamn ice cream that you were so looking forward to getting. 

Two, that your beloved celebrity had also forgotten to get his ice cream that he was reaching for because he was also that flustered despite his confident demeanor.

And three, the little number written next to your autograph with the small written letters next to it “Ruf mich an <3”.

---

Taglist: @gigiiiiislife

[yoichew]

LOOKING OUT FOR YOU — KARASU TABITO

SYNOPSIS: karasu tabito has always looked out for you. when you meet his best friend, otoya, that fact still does not change.

note: lol sorry guys i felt a little silly

wc ;; 2.5k

You have known Karasu Tabito since you have been in diapers.

It's always been a known fact. Your mothers met each other at the hospital, became friends, and eventually, you two met. That fateful day, you met Karasu Tabito and your life has never been void of him since.

At age three, you two went out to a waterpark and that was the first time he kissed you.

(It wasn't really a kiss—you accidentally fell on top of him after sliding down a waterslide, he promised he'd catch you, and he did—his mouth just happened to land on yours). You were so disgusted you started to cry—he gagged and ran away.

At age five and a half, you both had your first sleepover. He had a big scary dog that was almost as big as you were and scared you half to death. You were so terrified of the thing you refused to let go of the bottom of his stupid purple Megatron shirt.

You spent the entire night sleeping by his side, and he never once softened his grip on you—it was the only thing that lulled you to sleep. Your mom still had photos of you clinging onto him like it was life or death.

At age twelve, you two entered middle school together. You've never spent a day without him—so it was quite strange when you were forced to enter a strange, new class—and even weirder when your female classmates gave you both googly eyes and always giggled whenever you were around. You never really understood what they meant by this—and to this day, you still don't.

You and Karasu Tabito have known each other since you two were able to walk, and because of this fact, you've never once noticed the way he looks at you.

The soft stares, small smiles (not those stupid, cocky smirks that he holds when he's out on the field—but rather, a grin that curls up on his lips and makes his cheeks grow pink), and the thoughtful, almost unnoticeable actions he takes only for you.

You've never seen it—not now, not never, is what he's hoping. If there is one thing Karasu Tabito shall never do, is tell you what he's done. He'll wait, maybe for a day he will see you stare at him with just as much fondness, or when your touch will linger on his upper arm for a minute too long.

He's always been good at analyzing people—and when he's known you for so long, you've surely become no exception. It was a habit you hated so much, but one he never seemed to be able to get rid of—only able to hide, for the sake of your wellbeing. He's grown soft, he thinks, every single night after he's lying alone in his bed and staring blankly up at the ceiling. He has grown soft for you, his best friend since childhood. But that isn't so much of a bad thing, he thinks again.

He doesn't mind all that much. 

The crow, once wild and rowdy, is content with the preening it receives from its owner—and learns to love its life trapped inside the golden cage. He will wait, patiently, for the day you would fall for him—at least, that is what he was originally planning to do.

At age eighteen, he introduced you to his best friend, Otoya Eita. A notorious football player, playboy, and womanizer. There is a good reason Karasu had waited so long to introduce his two closest friends together, and that is because Otoya had quite a history with all of Karasu's female friends. 

He's told him to quit it, to stop—but it's never been as serious as it is now.

"Seriously man, don't with her." Karasu sits beside his friend with narrowed eyes and a frown. Otoya's expression is nonchalant as ever, except with a singular brow raised in question.

"What's got you so pissed? I didn't even say anything."

"I know you. Don't, dude. She's different, okay? I don't care about whatever happened with the others, but you seriously need to lay off."

Otoya raises his hands in mock defence, half-lidded eyes widening ever-so-slightly. "Alright. Promise. I won't do anything."

Karasu raises a brow, staring at his whistling buddy from the corner of his eye—he couldn't help but doubt him. Still, he was his closest friend from Blue Lock, and he should do well to trust that said friend—even if Karasu Tabito should know better.

He really should've known better.

As soon as Otoya caught sight of you—he slid next to you, ever so casually—with his phone stuck out and a small smile playing on his lips—asking for your number. You were shocked, of course, and Tabito had no shortage of criticism regarding his green-striped friend to speak to you—still, he was pretty cute, and pretty charming, with that grin.

So, despite your better judgement, and to Karasu's horror—you momentarily forget his words and nod—still in shocked silence—and pass him your phone. 

Karasu doesn't think he's ever seen Otoya that happy. Still, you don't look uncomfortable—even with that gross, stupid man pressed right to your side—so Karasu holds his tongue and simply chews down, hard, on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from cursing his friend out.

The crow introduces the both of you together, and it does not take long at all before, he, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table from you two, becomes the so-called third wheel.

Karasu Tabito could only stare in silence as you and Otoya, surprisingly, held a decent conversation.

Tabito nearly socked Eita in the face when he slid his arm around you and winked—a cheesy, stupid action that could make even the most romantic author gag in horror.

Even so, you smile—and Tabito's heart drops to his stomach.

...

Karasu had mostly forgotten about this moment for a good week—choosing to just enjoy your presence after that. However, after that week of peace, he was rudely reminded just how persistent Otoya could be with girls.

"Otoya... is a nice guy." You point at your phone, showing it to your best friend with a smile. Your cheeks are flushed pink as you type back a response to his message—but it's half-written and unsent when Karasu snatches the device out of your hands.

He's never seen something so disgusting. It's vile. It's horrible. It's so gross.

"What the fuck?" He curses absentmindedly, eyes wide with disgusted shock as he reads over your conversations. At first, it was about Karasu and both your friendships with him—but those conversations soon turned into deeper, personal talks that you'd never shared with anybody but him. 

You try and grab at your device—he pulls that stupid move where he holds it up higher than you can reach—you practically fall into his arms trying to grab the phone, "Tabito!! Give it back!!"

"Are you serious?" He looks down at you with furrowed brows and lips pulled taut downwards. He steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, eyes narrowed sharply. "I told you not to fall for this. Didn't I tell you about what he does to girls? I told you not to talk to him!"

Before this, you've never gotten truly angry at him. Sure, you'd fight—but not even an hour later, either one of you would come back and apologise for whatever petty thing had transpired in the fight. That was just how your friendship was, and he never thought it would change.

Not until now, that is.

You look up at him with a deep frown and an angry stare—not the kittenish one that makes him laugh and ruffle your hair, but a different type of stare—where you are trying to dig knives into his skull and he thinks all the breath has been stolen from his lungs, "Why do you always do this? You always act like this whenever I try and talk to a guy—but this time, you're really acting like a fool! He's your friend, shouldn't you approve more than the past, oh I don't know, seven?!"

His wide-eyed shock is an opening for you to grab your phone back—so you do, and take a good few steps back.

I'm just... trying to look out for you... However, his thoughts go unspoken in his stupor.

Your voice is quieter now—arms folded underneath your chest and clearly avoiding his gaze, "I think you should go... Tabito. I'll talk to you later."

You murmur and walk away—with each step you take, he thinks he hears his heart shatter a little more inside his chest.

...

He slumps down on his desk with his head in his hands. He doesn't know what to do. He feels so stupid. He hadn't even realised it himself—had he really been so disapproving of all those guys that you'd stopped talking to them completely? And he didn't even know?

He feels more selfish than ever.

He feels sick, actually.

"Hey."

This voice is not one he'd like to hear right now. The source of his problems and pain—Otoya. Karasu groans and doesn't raise his gaze—his chest starts to hurt. "Go away."

He doesn't hear footsteps, so Karasu assumes he does not follow his demand. His thoughts are proven correct when Otoya speaks again, "She told me about whatever happened before."

Karasu clenches his jaw hard to stop himself from speaking. He feels like even more of a piece of shit. He just had to bring it up, didn't he? If he didn't introduce you two, this wouldn't have even happened, anyway. Maybe he should keep his lives separate next time—in whatever life he would live next.

"I know she's your friend and all, and you're super worried about her because of that—but I promise I won't do anything."

Those words make Karasu lift his gaze—tired eyes from the lack of sleep he got last night make his despair abundantly obvious. Still, Otoya's nonchalant expression that he always has plastered on his face does not budge an inch. "I promise you before, too. I won't do anything. I swear. I really like her. Like a lot. I swear, I won't hurt her. If I do, you can beat my ass, and I'll take it. So don't be petty like this, okay?"

The words don't soothe the ache in his chest.

Those words he spoke before, just before Otoya had met you—Karasu was worried about this exact scenario happening. But thinking back on it now—was he even worried about you?

He finds himself doubting it. In fact, it feels so much more natural to say that he was worried about himself. That he'd get hurt like this if this happened.

The lack of response from Karasu gives Otoya the answer he was looking for—the last thing he hears as Otoya walks away is an annoyed sigh.

Karasu is, once again, left alone in his room. 

He really wants to collapse and just never wake up. He hates this.

Karasu Tabito really is a selfish man. He wants you all to himself yet never tells you—he truly is the worst man alive.

I... just want you.

That's all. That's all he knows.

His chest aches even more and he thinks his heart may just go beating out of his chest. He grits his teeth, hard, and clenches his fists over his face. 

The crow in the golden cage is afraid to let go—so in such an act of desperation, it grabs onto its owner's arm—clinging and screeching before they can possibly move away.

He is selfish. You're all his heart has ever known—and you are all he wants. He thought he could wait and everything would turn out fine—but now, he sees that he was so, so wrong.

...

He'd made up his mind. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to tell you. Otherwise, these feelings would rot away in the back of his mind forever and whatever was left after that—and Karasu would die, simply unfulfilled and empty, lacking the love that is you.

The lingering stares, the small touches a bit too close to be friends, the words whispered into your ears late at night when you come to him in tears—all of that can't be for naught. 

This couldn't all be for nothing.

He has to tell you. It's now, or never. 

He finds himself running down the street in low-hanging pyjama pants and a black tank top—it's cold, really cold on his tanned skin—but he can hardly feel the snow pricking at his skin as his slippers make contact with the damp concrete ground.

He has to tell you.

He has to tell you.

Otherwise—

He looks around frantically for the spare key your parents keep outside your house. Underneath the potted plant. Right.

He effortlessly lifts the giant pot of aloe vera, and cracks open your door, silently—the first thing he hears is the loud blasting of corny Christmas music, and the sound of your voice laughing along to a song sung by the Whoville residents.

He has to tell you.

His breathing picks up, and he runs forward—however, Tabito is stopped in his tracks, by another voice.

It is Otoya.

If this is truly what heartbreak feels like, then Karasu Tabito is not sure why humans even bother to fall in love. Maybe it is a primal, instinctual reaction that has no logical explanation or meaning to look into—it is simply a blessing, or curse, of nature that cannot be stopped or ignored.

Love is an unexplainable thing. 

It makes you feel so many strange things. Foreign, unnatural, and most of all—weird. Love is really, really weird.

It makes you wish to cry, then smile as far as you possible can. It makes your stomach twist with butterflies and makes you have the inexplicable urge to press your lips together with another person. An act of love only shown by humans. An act of love that the crow could never have.

Love makes you selfish, soft, and weak.

But love can also make you giving, tough, and strong.

Love makes Karasu Tabito walk away.

Love makes Karasu Tabito leave you, with the words silent and dead in his mouth.

Even as the cold winter air nips at his nose and he feels like his stomach is trying to collapse in on itself, Karasu Tabito still feels love. This sort of love is so inexplicably strong and all-consuming—a love that he has always felt for you.

The kind of love that will set you free.

Perhaps the crow had dug his talons too deep into its owner—and now, it was left, stuck alone in that golden cage with blood shining on its claws and silent.

Now, it must fly away.

Karasu's always looked out for you—this time, he thinks, maybe, this is the best for both of you.

You looked so happy. You've never looked that happy with him. The thought makes his heart ache and his thoughts jumble up. He stands in the snow—his loose, ungelled hair falls down his neck and snowflakes look like glitter in his deep purple hair.

He really does love you, and that's why he lets you go.

[yoichew]

∑ foolish fondness ➛ reo.m

reo was definitely, absolutely, entirely, not jealous.

not when you called this guy ‘cute' 一sure he clenched his fist into an aggressive ball shade, but nothing crazy. not when you dubbed him as you 'bodyguard’一as if reo can't secure you a whole army to watch over you like hawks 24/7. 

and definitely not when you called that ‘mister x’ handsome.

Maybe his looks were enough to kill an entire generation, but no, he wasn't jealous.

to be accurate, he was burning alive.

yet reo forced himself to smile, despite the flames eating him to bits, it was all worth it for you. swallowing the lump that was clogging his throat, trying so desperately to not let out a piercing cry when you keep up on ranting about him when he一your boyfriend, was right there!

“he seems fun to be around, I guess.” uttering ever so bitterly, the words left stains of venom on his tongue.

“very, I also feel safe anywhere near him.” you went off giggling, while reo was on the edge of letting the earth swell him down, because witnessing hell freeze over with everyone dancing flamenco would've been something he could cope with more than hearing you say that another man was making you feel safe一and no. he wasn't being dramatic, at all.

“He even scared a bunch of creeps off my back yesterday, isn't he just the best?”

that's all? well, reo could easily ban them from 12 countries. ‘mister x’ has to get his games up.

He also has a large backyard, but that's for another story.

“Sure he is. ‘mister x’ seems like the most interesting guy to ever exist.” he spat out, hands shaking deep in his pockets. At this rate, he thinks he's all ready to cease a running train with one hand. 

“just because you refuse to acknowledge his name doesn't mean you can call him ‘mister x’, it's mr fuji.” you pointed out, as if reo had offended you with his misspelling. oh now you were defending him? just marry once and for all一please don't. 

“Anyway, I gotta meet him for lunchtime. you wanna tag along?” 

to be bland, reo was infuriated. he wanted to be mad at you, but oh一how could he when you looked so happy? with the most enthusiastic smile and he swore he could define preciousness underneath it alone. Unlike him, you never liked to swim between a myriad of people, always drawing a line when it came to your own personal space. so it's safe to say that reo, aside from being your boyfriend, was the first one to be this adjacent, the one that tackled your personal space wholly. then he wouldn't have to worry about sharing you一all for him to love and cherish. 

even if it hurts seeing someone mimicking his steps to your warmth, where he wanted to be the one and only there. Even if it meant wounding himself, reo didn't have the strength to stand up against your glee for his own gluttony of your attention. 

“of course,” reo would utter undertone, concealing what he had of dreads with a tight smile.

and yet, reo can feel your glances of doubt on him. He wasn't trying hard enough to hide his grimace when the first thing you snatched was a warped up raw meat, was he taking reo’s spot of being the first one on your mind?一and seriously, raw meat? what kind of epoch did this man colonize? when cannibalism was normalized?一 Still, he acted nonchalant. including two warped up sandwiches and just paid with his lips pressed on to a thin line. 

Even when the grip on the card was unyielding to the point he might just twist it if it wasn't for your hand to pat him up on the arm一he found himself easing up. just a little. and maybe his heart skipping a beat for the shortest time possible.

halfway walking, reo had to fight the urge to turn around and take a step back. Perhaps cry himself to sleep while he's at it. although, he found it in himself to straighten up. walk by your side with a stiffened shoulders and a heavy heart.

and when you two stopped, a nearby ditch, he figured that you two were in the place一the place his greatest nemesis of all time settled in. 

unwittingly, he asks, “Can he fight?”

“what?”

“I asked, can he fight?”

you shot him a look, tilting your head to the side in confusion. “You can say his name, y’know?” 

“only if he won.” 

you had to palm your mouth, suffocating your laughter. your boyfriend narrows his eyes at you, “what? you think I'd lose?” reo ranted, now you had both hands to stifle your chortle. and he could feel neck crimson sheepishly to a shade of red, whatever it was embarrassment or pure bashfulness under the tune of your laugh.

“Since when were you after someone's blood?” you managed to let out, wiping your fake tears. leaving reo to wonder how you directed to shone like clockwork一 glistening a smile he’d go to war for一dammit, this wasn't the time to act like his usual lovelorn self. 

“I am not. but if he wanted to dig a hole for himself, I'd be the last thing he'd see.” 

and before you could make out a witty response, a low bark echoes throughout the ditch. deliberate steps of an old dog come to view一if reo may guess, it was a Newfoundland dog breed. 

he sees you leaping up to the senile dog as if he was your longtime aibou. ruffling the feather black fur, the animal leaning lazily against your affection. reo almost awed at the sight.

“reo, this is mr fuji. mr fuji, this reo. my boyfriend.”

reo blinks. 

“it's.. a dog?” he slips out, ever so hesitant.

“not just any dog, the cutest, most handsome dog in the world.” 

Suddenly, he's able to breathe again. He felt like the world's burden just lifted off his chest. He inactively watched as you unfold the raw meat and fed the aged dog. giving it a gentle pat in his head before standing back up to your boyfriend’s side. 

“So it was a dog all along.” he acknowledged once again, a relief chuckle came from him as a soothing spring’s breeze. 

by his side, you lean onto him till your arms are touching, reo could feel your warmth against him一or maybe that was just his body heating unintentionally. “Is that why you were jealous earlier?” you asked, sloping your head to the side as you observed him. his face painted in the slightest hints of red. 

“I wasn't.” he tried objecting, tipping his head to the opposite direction of you. 

“you were.”

“woof.”

“see? even mr fuji agrees.” 

you knew he was a terrible liar when he was around you, it's always his cheekbones, ears and neck betraying him to unfold the chaste truth. with you squeezing the flesh of his arm gently, eyes keening on him. you were so unfair, you can't pull the ultimatum cunning he cannot find it in his heart to turn a blind eye on.

“So what if I was? Is it bad that I ache to be the only person you could consider?” 

there it was, it was a mythical pull一with all his three spies flushing out. “you know that's almost impossible, right?” 

“ the only man then.”

“go easy.”

“fine, the only man that'll get eulogized by you.”

“only if it's mutual.”

“trust, it has been biased for a while now.”

with that, you take his hands in yours. weaving farewells to mr fuji, with reo just side-eyed him while muttering something along the lines ‘geezer’ leaving you to question if it was your own mirages playing tricks on you. dog or not, reo will still count him as his rival of all time.

yet when you tend towards him, interlocking your hands as you walk side by side. from the corner of his lilac hues, he could tone your affluent reddish skin when tucking a lost lock of your hair behind your ear. his knuckles would linger on your cheekbones to flavor the warmth till you had to force him away.

reo would observe you for a while before saying, “I won.” circulating to the world, and to himself. with the stupidest, lovesick smile glued to his lips. you ought to kick his leg slightly, while he would let out a long, fake whine. asking you to kiss it better.

and you would, despite the grimacing peers around you two. it was hard to tell the one who fell harder.

[yoichew]

what makes it special

…. rogo acheki finally embraces the gay panic ….

… and here are the fav frames as always

[yoichew]

calling your friend a pet name in front of your boyfriend MIKAGE REO

cw: possessive reo, fem!reader, guy friend wc: 651 itoshi rin version soon!

you were strolling enthusiastically through the crowded mall with your boyfriend, your eyes darting excitedly from one window display to another in hopes of finding the perfect present for your best friend’s upcoming birthday. you really appreciated reo’s offer to tag along because it was no secret to you, or to anyone else for that matter, that the mikage corporation heir is one heck of a stylish man.

as you continue impatiently scanning the endless storefronts with all the dazzling fashion trends on display, your frustration begins to gnaw at you. despite looking around nearly every corner of the mall, the dress that your friend had wanted for a long time was nowhere to be seen. sensing your annoyance, reo softly chuckles, his hand finding its way to your waist as he calmly guides you to a very elegant-looking store, “y/n, is that the soft pink coquette dress you were lookin—”

“—oh my god, this is it, reo!” you blurt out, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you grab his wrist and drag him away from the window display and into the store, “you found it, thank you!” you kiss his cheek, a bright grin spreading across your face as you hurry down to the appropriate aisle. your embarrassed boyfriend awkwardly follows behind as he rubs the back of his neck, “anything for my princess.” he softly murmurs.

while your boyfriend was distracted with the gold jewelry on the wall, your hands browsed through the colourful assortment of dresses on the rack, searching for the one you had seen outside. finally spotting the only pink dress, your hand reached out to grab it only to unexpectedly brush your fingers against someone else’s hand—someone who wanted the same dress.

“oh, sugar,” you laugh, patting your guy friend with a cheeky grin, “you came here to buy your girlfriend the dress she loves?” your friend rolls his eyes playfully, gently pushing your hand away, “heh. i wanted to. but now—”

“sugar? who’s sugar? who’s he?” your boyfriend strides over to you quickly, his arm encircling your waist protectively as he shoots a belittling glare at the man. upon hearing your pet-name, he reasonably assumed you were beckoning him over, however his gentle smile quickly faded into an irritated scowl as he saw the strange man talking to you with such familiarity.

you glance up at reo with a soft giggle, intertwining your fingers with his, “he’s f/n’s boyfriend and my close friend. i guess we both thought of buying her this dress,” you explained, lifting the garment by its hanger.

“wow, you never mentioned me to your boyfriend?” he jokes, his finger about to playfully poke your shoulder, before he hesitates, sensing the billionaire’s jealousy, “i’m hurt, y/n,” he adds with a pout. he looks at your boyfriend and extends his hand for a handshake, “nice to meet you, reo—”

“it’s mikage for you,” your boyfriend hisses, the tone of his voice had an unmistakable hint of annoyance that he put no effort to mask. he hands you his card and pats your back in the direction of the checkout area, “here, sweetheart. go buy the dress,”

“thanks,” you give one last apologetic glance at your friend before scurrying away to the cashier.

“man, i really wanted to buy f/n that dress,” the guy muttered awkwardly, a failed attempt at a joke. he was trying to ease the tense atmosphere, but reo was not helping at all.

reo simply scoffs, turning around as he crosses his arms together, “my girlfriend found the dress first, so you better hurry and find something else while you still have the time, fool.” he adds with a disgusted expression before walking away, leaving your poor friend bewildered.

“oh, sweetheart, you’re back!” you smile and hold his hand, “what were you tal—”

“sugar,” he sulked.

your brows furrowed in confusion, “what?”

“call me sugar.”

comments appreciated, thank you!!

[yoichew]

what do i do when i have writing block? write a drabble for reo of course, the cure for my halt and depression, a man that i need in my life

reo knew this is a bad idea.

maybe if he had a little piece of mind and considered the fact that you will end up inebriated to the point where you were wiggling around like a spaghetti, leaping joyfully every short second you got. even chanting a random melody, handing him a non-existence microphone as if you were in a karaoke, 一a place he grew to love because of you一

don't get him wrong, reo loved a lot of things about you, most of seeing you carefree, like a free bird. shuffling around the street for all what you cared for the world, he couldn't feel anything but the universe thumping in his ribcage.

it was you two engagement celebration. nevertheless, he scored nothing more then be enclosed by other reeking riches bastard, he spent the whole night seething at whoever laid an eye on you. violet hues filled with cold acquisitive greed. that left him drying sober, he just couldn't drift away his eyes of you. and if it wasn't for the cockblooker 一aka his parents一 crawling his way to guests that he bet reading a newspaper would have been more fun than keeping a chat with them, he would've been spent the whole night glued to your figure.

before he knew it, you were all drunk and barely able to walk two steps straight. reo wanted any reason to leave early anyway, so he take off your shoes ever so mildly, caressing his fingers cautiously beyond the pained parts, mainly the heel to the achilles tendon. you mumbled something about the pairs suffocating you throughout the whole night. so now they were hung by his two fingers.

all what he had of despair glided into ashes the moment it was only you and him, it may be left uncharted, but reo always felt like it was only the two of you in this world, a world where he doesn't have to carry the burden of being judged, where he can spin you around without worrying about slamming flatly onto the floor, where he can slow dance with you in his arms without feeling like an idiot every time he stepped on your feet 一out of nervousness, not his fault that your face was too much of a distraction.

"heyyyy, reoo, look at me! don't i look enlightened under the sunlight." you sluggish, a hand under your chin as you posed, feeling yourself as you blow your fiancé's a kiss. reo cold feel an arrow keening throughout his heart, and somehow he still managed to gather himself to not collapse on the dirty ground.

"dearest. as much as you look astonishing as ever, this is a street light, and it's almost midnight."

your face fell off onto a sulk, flipping your thumb downward at reo. "booo, haterr." you say as you stick out your tongue at your soon to be husband beaming back playfully, he wasn't even bothered.

"I assure you, my love. no hater is willing to carry these pair of shoes. they hella stinky." says reo, shoving your pairs away as possible, even blocking his nose holes merrily. and he couldn't be happier when you gasped dramatically, slamming your palm on your chest where your poor, fragile heart shattered at such painful words.

"nonsense! i will not take such a fails accusation! these twins of mine will remain memorized forever," you say heedlessly, whirling around in circles to prove your pointlessness.

reo says something about being careful, but you keep spinning yourself until your vision becomes blurry and your eyes were drifting in different directions. you were dizzy, so dizzy your feet were betraying you, you couldn't keep your balance, and before you meet the ground, a firm arm caught you midway.

"hey! i told you to be careful," reo's hand made it way to your waist, keeping you in shape. you almost felt like a slimy baby in his grip, he wanted to scold you more, for being reckless, for smiling broadly and making him gush, for holding his soul hostage, but he was far, far a goner to be rescued.

"haha, i did it because i knew you'd catch me." your chuckles overcome him any sense of life within him, the amethyst eyes of his only sees you, only felt the wreck of yearning pouring on you, reo's heart was pinning under your spell.

"yeah?" he asked, a stupid lovesick smile on his face.

"mhm! you'd always come to catch me when i fall." you were right, he'd jog his way to the end of the world for you. to make sure your save and sound.

"always," he assures you, tightening his hand to pull you even closer that no such thing as personal space exists between him and you, your light cologne blending with his heavy one. he snuggled his nose against the skin of your neck, drinking on your scents, as if it was the only air that bloomed his lungs. it was ticklish that it made you laugh inwardly, which was a balm on his chest. presses a quick peck on your warm cheek along the way. then carrying you with one hand like a lightweight tool to him.

"let's go home my prince charming, i need to take a looong bath." you babbled, fondling him a sloppy kiss just an inch away from his lips. a little dumbfounded, he still drags you alongside with him, you were a farther goner to notice the struck expression he had glued to his face, a faint reddish hue across his cheekbones and tip-ears.

"I'm already embracing it." maybe you were too drunk to hear that, maybe he didn't say it out too loud, maybe he's too in love to care, who knows.

[yoichew]

ding!

. . . mikage reo. the language of gifts.

note. noo needs a reo :(( if your name is mikage reo, please slide into my inbox, thank you <33

“what’s this?”

reo’s curious as he scans the box you’ve given him. it’s wrapped in plain white wrapping paper, though he could tell that the patterns visible on it were hand drawn.

“it’s uhm . . . a small gift i made for you,” you answer him with a nervous chuckle. “consider it a thank-you gift for tutoring me in chem; i aced it because of you.”

his heart flutters at the sentiment, and he can’t help but pull you close to him with one hand, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead. he knew how kisses on the lips startled you and made you feel embarrassed whenever he saw your reaction, so reo settled for the next best thing.

you can’t be doing this to him. it must be illegal to be this sweet, right?

“thanks, love,” he smiled. “i already know i’m going to love it.”

“you haven’t even seen it—“

“hush, i’m going to love it,” reo says. “you could give me a rock and i’d have it displayed on a podium.”

“dramatic,” you giggle. “but same, though. i kept every gift and trinket you gave me.”

“really?”

you happily nod. “i was so careful to remove the wrappers on some of them too, and i could only salvage a few from the wrath of my clammy fingers.”

he chuckled.

“but you didn’t have to get me a gift, though.”

“i wanted to.”

“you didn’t have to.”

“but when you give me gifts, you always say you wanted to, and wouldn’t take rejection for an answer!” you counter, playfully pinching his arm, eliciting a small yelp from your boyfriend.

“ow! that’s different.”

“no, it’s not.”

“it is!”

“you’re soo,” you drag out the “o” as you softly pinch reo’s cheeks, and his vacant hand holds onto your arm by instinct, “stubborn.”

“but you love me!”

“unfortunately,” you jokingly replied.

“hey!”

“kidding! of course, i love you so much. because there’s no way in my whole life that i’d ever put in that much effort for a gift for my chem tutor.”

“correction—chem tutor who’s also your super-duper-loving boyfriend. get it right, please.”

“oh, of course. how could i mistaken? my super-duperloving, handsome boyfriend, who’s also my chem tutor. pretty smat and funny, too.”

that made him swoon.

“better?”

“definitely.”

[yoichew]

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ masterlist… prev… a new light. ENTRY TWO: WHERE DID IT ALL GO WRONG? next … personal problems.

ᡣ𐭩 . even after all these years, detective itoshi rin has never gotten over the murder of his wife. he swore that he'd find the killer and figure out what really happened to you that night. the case ended up getting out up as a cold case, however. one day, though, he happened to stumble upon your diary while clearing up the attic to move to a new house. as he went through it, he realised that maybe it wasn't murder, perhaps something else. now with new leads, he manages to open the case  again, with a new hope to find out what happened to you, but personal matters start getting in his way. 

series : detective! itoshi rin! x dead! fem! reader, mentions of death, marriage, angst, rich! rin, mystery au, abuse, violence, black mail, unrequited love, threats, widowed rin, yn and rin have child named “mai” stalking ﾉ 2.5k wc. ﾉ mentions of eating disorder, yn has shitty parents, reader is said to be a personal trainer and described to have strong arms and abs.. (more could be added.)

He knew he shouldn’t have left the diary on the counter—not where Emi was, at least. He left for two minutes as he went to the bathroom.

Emi was eyeing it even before he left and wasted no time opening it. She knew she didn’t have long, so she quickly skimmed through the book, starting from the middle.

Her eyes seemed to widen at something, though—that was what Rin walked in on.

"Hey, don’t touch that,“ he cut himself off the second his eyes landed on the page she was reading.

Diary entry???? 26/11/2018 I was walking home today from work since my car was getting fixed, Rin couldn’t get me since he was at work, and Mai was sleeping at her grandparents house. (Of course Rin's parents, like I’d let her sleep over at my parents.) I felt someone following me—steps, light—the guy—or she—was light on their feet. I could barely hear it until they stepped on a stick. I also felt like I was being watched from all sides. I don’t know; should I tell Rin? I think I shouldn’t; he’ll overreact.

“Do you think... maybe, you know?” Emi averted her eyes from the boy, scratching the back of her neck.

“No, I don’t know.”

He gulped at the thought. It was only a few minutes ago that he thought—for a moment—that you had maybe committed and made it look like murder—but now, it hinted that possibly—you had been murdered.

He was confused; he wanted answers; he wanted to get revenge on whoever did that to you.

He never told anyone what he walked into that day. His daughter sat happily in front of the TV in their living room. He thought today was just like any other day; he thought it was normal.

Until he walked into the master bedroom. You were on the floor, laying like you were sleeping in a wedding dress—it was drowning in blood, so he couldn’t quite tell if it was yours or another.

It looked like yours, though.

He remembers hearing the sirens, but it was too late. He walked in too late. He made sure his daughter wouldn’t see anything, but it wasn’t like the two-year-old would remember this.

He didn’t even get to hear your last words; no one did. Maybe the murder did.

You thought you had time to play with her, but you didn’t. You thought she wouldn’t see it coming and that you would have fun. But you didn’t; she found out. You had to kill her—they told you too; you had no choice; she’d tell her husband; she’d out your plan; you’d all go to prison; or maybe only you would. Following her wasn’t as easy as it was at first. You smiled at the sight of her in the wedding dress, all lifeless. You were a physcopath; you all were. They honked, and they told you to get out. Yet again, you didn’t get to have your fun. But it didn’t matter; another one would come soon; she’d be easier, you would have more time, and no one would know.

It took a couple weeks for him to reopen the case, but he managed.

“You think you could take care of Mai again, Emi?” He asked; she was the only person he trusted around his child; his other friends would probably teach her things she definitely didn’t need to know at the age of eight. “If you don’t have anything to do, of course.”

She nodded her head. “I know how important this is to you. And I want to know what happened to my best friend,” she smiled.

He may not like her much, but she was a big help when he needed it.

And yet again, he found himself in his precinct, staring at your case. It was late; he wished to be with his daughter, but he wanted his daughter to grow up knowing what happened to her mother and knowing the killer was locked up, serving his sentence in prison. 26-year-old female, suspected of murder. She was found on the floor in a wedding dress, drowning in her own blood. Signs of struggle. Stabbed in the chest numerous times, hand marks on the neck.

He grabbed the grey leather diary, skipping to the last few pages.

Diary entry??? 27/11/2018. I was being followed again! I don’t know, am I imagining it? I don't know. I think I caught a glimpse of the guy. I could see much since a few people kept walking past, and when he realised I knew he was following me, he disappeared, but I remember he had green eyes, slim lips, and curly hair. It seems familiar. Like that dude I dated back in sophomore year? At least before I kind of cheated on him when I kissed Rin... What was his name again? Something that starts with an S... Seiji? Seiji Takahashi? Maybe it’s not him—maybe just someone who looked like him.

He turned the page to realise that that was the last one. His last lead. He’d bring the guy in and find something out. They’re has to me something. You always recognised faces, never wrong; even from afar, it was highly unlikely you were wrong, or at least he hoped.

Yet he wondered, Who ripped out those pages? Who murdered you? Why were you in a wedding dress? Who was stalking you?

With the number of cases he’s worked on, he knew there was a possibility it was multiple people.

He continued to stare at the empty page that came after the one he’d just read. He turned it against it, being met with the hard-back cover of the diary. He noticed there was unfamiliar handwriting on it, followed by an initial.

You should’ve told him sooner. — S.

It seems like he missed a page. Now, he could bring Seiji in and put him under investigation.

For a moment, he thought about how stupid he was last year—how could he not have found this out—how did he not find your diary?

But even with those thoughts that it would be easy, he couldn’t get his hopes up. Especially because he didn’t know what awaited him soon.

He looked at the other pile of cases on his desk, then at the half-empty precinct barley filled with the try-hard officers who wanted to make detectives.

He seemed like one of them, trying to become a police lieutenant or something.

The captain would kill him if he realised that he was completely abandoning all of the cases he just to investigate one from six years ago.

“What do you want to watch, Mai?” Emi asked the little girl, the remote in her hand.

The house was empty, filled with boxes—not only that, but she was sitting on the floor since the couches were in the new house.

They only had a carpet and two layers of blankets to cushion themselves with some pillows. It was comforting—kind of.

The kid hugged, so she opted for what she always saw her watching, Bluey. Which she had to admit was a lighthearted show that entertained her in a way. She even caught Rin watching it even after Mai went to sleep.

Before she knew it, the kid dozed off.

She gutted up, fixing her pink hoodie, which she’d owned for many years now; it had stains, but she didn’t mind. It was a shirt that she got to match with you; she loved it and held an attachment to it.

Even if part of her was mad that you got everything she wanted, she knew there were things she stole from you. And you were still her best friend; she loved you. Even if you drifted apart for a while,.

She picked up the child, who, for her age, was quite heavy, or maybe she was just weak.

She stepped into her room, which still has that smell of paint after Ron painted the walls back to white after they were a pretty shade of purple for a while.

She placed her on the medication and tucked her in, walking away, leaving the light on since Mai couldn’t sleep without it.

She was just like you. She was spitting, even when it came to her fears. The dark, clowns, and loud sounds.

She really was her mother’s daughter. You’d be proud. You’d be so happy to see her like this—the same hair, nose, and fears.

In a way, she didn’t like it, but that was the bitch side of her talking, because that side of her wished to be the one with Rin's child, not you.

But her, the real her, the one that wasn’t clouded by jealousy but only love for you, she loved the fact Mai was just like you, just like how you always wanted your child to be.

She dragged her feat to the kitchen, the voices of children coming from the television since she forgot to pause it.

She scanned the half-empty fridge, looking for something to fill her hunger.

She straightened her posture. “You really have to get new groceries, Rin. Are you sure your daughter isn’t starving?” The blonde-haired girl muttered to herself, pushing back the loose strand of her bangs behind her ear.

Suddenly she heard a bunch of ruckus coming from the Rins office.

She raised her brow, grabbing a small knife from the utensil drawer. She steadily made her way to the dark wooden door as she pulled the handle down.

The room was dark, with a bunch of empty bookshelves and a stack of papers on the desk; some made their home on the floor. There were a few pens in the pen holder, and the white curtains were open, as was the window.

… It was odd; Rin wouldn’t leave it open like that. She turned her head, but a glimmering hand made its way to her mouth.

She couldn’t see, not at all. Her back was pressed against the man’s chest. She was trapped; the man was overpowering her.

His free hand grabbed the small knife from her as he began to speak. “Where’s Itoshi Rin?” He asked. His voice was muffled by the mask that covered his face. “I don’t know!” She lied. Who knows what would happen if the man were to find out where Rin was? Rin was strong, but if the man had a weapon...

… She didn’t want to think about it. The strange man released his hold of her and backed away, opening the office door and shutting it. It wasn’t long before she heard the front door unlock. She wanted to leave, but she was paralysed; she was too busy processing what just happened.

SIX YEARS AGO...

“I’m home, love.” He announced his presence, but he got no response. He assumed you took a nap. You were a personal trainer after all, always at the gym exercising. At first, it was never a career you wanted to pursue; it never even crossed your mind. But after struggling with your eating disorder, you wanted to help people achieve the body they wanted without starving themselves.

And you gained strong arms, which he found extremely attractive. 

You were quite a popular one. Mostly among women, since you were always encouraging and helpful. Some of your friends were even your clients.

His daughter ran up to him, a bright smile on her face. "Where is mom?” He asked, squaring down to reach his daughter’s height. “She’s in her room,” she responded, and he gave her a pat on the head.

Mai had recently started forming full sentences that actually made more sense.

He entered the room with a rare smile on his face. Yet it quickly disappeared, his face expression morphing into one of horror; his eyes widened at the awful sight.

He ran over, the carpet stained with blood and the flowy white wedding dress stained with the dark red liquid. He gagged; he’d seen shit like this before, but it’s never been you.

It’s never been you with a wound on your stomach or your heart; it’s never been you with red hand marks on your neck; it’s never been you in this position.

Tears quickly weld up in his eyes. He knew that today would be the day he lost you.

He could only feel two emotions. Anger and sadness.

It wasn’t long before sirens were the only sound that filled the neighborhood. His daughter, tugging on his shirt with her small hands, said, “Dad, what happened to Mama? Will she be okay?" He sighed, trying to keep himself from breaking down and crying. He had to stay strong for his daughter. He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Why?” He hit his bottom lip in an attempt to stop it from trembling. “I don’t know, yet.”

He remembers how shy he became during the year that followed your death.

He fell into a state of alcoholism, constantly leaving his daughter in the care of his own parents. He couldn’t bear to look at her, not when she looked so much like you.

No one described how much he missed you. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if there would ever be a person to replace you.

He quickly snapped back from his thoughts, staring at the old pages of the diary, ones he’d not read yet.

Honestly, there really wasn’t anything of much importance there—other than your thoughts or how your days went.

Until he thought of something, assuming that you’d been stalked those following three weeks before your death, he realised that it matched some old cases.

All women from his old school, oddly. It was five cases, and he quickly went to the records room.

He grabbed one dated during one of the women’s deaths in 2017.

The case was solved; apparently, it was her ex-boyfriend, but now, with the things that matched your own case, he started to doubt it.

Hina Watanabe. She was reportedly stalked for three weeks, which they reported to the police, but they had done nothing since her stalker hadn’t done anything to her.

He took the case file and the other four that were left and headed back to his desk. He went through the cases, trying to catch any details that matched your file or anything you said in your diary.

In the process, however, he ignored the buzzing from his phone, not even bothering to check who was calling him.

taglist : @dummyf , @sereniteav , @catelismo , @chigiyoma , @y2kuromi , @aikuoliverswife , @syynnaaah , @cherriririn.

[yoichew]

money - convincing sae to buy you something is like winning a lottery (gender neutral)

warning: none

note: this was so random but i just imagined sae being a rich guy

“mi amor… just what am i even looking at?”

to say that sae was confused was an understatement. oh boy, he was beyond confused here. he came home from practice like every normal tuesday. tired, he just wanted some dinner and watched the soccer highlights but you had other plans. 

you grabbed the tired boy and pushed him on the couch. telling him to sit tight, you ran into your room and came back with your computer. hooking it up with some cables, you connected it to the tv. before sae could even ask, you pulled up a presentation

“i made this and it’s very important! you better listen carefully or else!”, you threatened and gave him a smile

he shrugged since he was used to you being weird and doing questionable things already. making himself comfortable, he read the title of the so-called ‘important presentation’ you made 

“why you should buy me tickets to watch lesserafim… have i heard that name before?”, sae asked carefully to not make you upset 

“you don’t know lesserafim?? i’ve been talking- you know what it doesn’t matter. just hear my reasoning”, you grumbled and moved on to the slide 

“you remember when you told me i could get anything i wanted for my birthday”, you asked

“yeah i remember”, sae cautiously agreed 

“so i decided that i want lesserafim tickets for my birthday! as a broke university student, it is difficult for me to afford it”, you read off your slides 

“i just don’t see where this is my problem? this lesserafim thing is something you like so i don’t see why i have to buy tickets. that’s not counted as a birthday gift”, sae replied 

you facepalmed yourself as you stared at the pro player, who only shrugged his shoulders. it was gonna be difficult but were you going to quit? nope 

“you’re rich! where are you even gonna use this money?? it’s not even that expensive. the tickets are only around $2000 without the commission fees and stuff”, you argued 

“only $2000? mi amor that’s a literal scam. you’re just gonna watch some girls sing and dance so you could literally watch it at home for free!”, sae said 

well… he technically did have a fair point. you could watch it from home. keyword: could. you agreed that prices were crazy high but the experience and feeling of being there with the crowd live was something no money could replace. you looked at sae in a pleading way to hopefully change his mind. the soccer player sighed before reaching out for his wallet in his pocket 

“just this once i’ll buy you some lukewarm concert tickets. gosh, $2000 for just a performance that you’ll forget someday? why not just get a nice necklace or ring”, sae sighed in defeat 

you celebrated your victory as sae handed you his card to make your purchase. you quickly gave him a hug and constantly thanked him before giving him a kiss on the cheek. then you ran to your computer and began the booking process 

you were too engrossed to see the way how sae placed his hand on the same spot you kissed. a small trace of blush spread over his cheeks as he coughed to cover any embarrassment. watching you get this excited made every minute worth it.

he didn’t care how much money you asked. heck, you could even run your dream cat cafe if you wanted to with his money. he’d give up all his money just to see you smile- though he would never admit it and act all grumpy about it 

“i hope you made dinner or else i’ll take my card back”

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator

[yoichew]

birthday boy! ☀️🎂

[yoichew]

sesamemochi

[yoichew]

───── (boring,) loving, morning routines

cw. kaedehara kazuha x reader. gn reader. intentional lowercase. mornings w kazuha the loml (tho i hate waking up early.) not proofread. 190 wordcount.

early mornings with kazuha always feel nothing but like a rush of love. he never does fail to show utter devotion to the one he adores, you.

perhaps its the way he handles you with such tenderness— you're barely able to process what's happening, still half asleep, but if there's one thing you're aware of, it's the delicate, lingering, touch that you feel on your forehead, a hand that seems to be brushing off a few hair strands that cover the face he'd rather die than never see again.

or maybe it's when you've finally gotten enough energy to sit up, and see the love of your life (he likes to say,) sitting on your side of the bed, near your legs. as kazuha, lovingly, takes your hand into his, the feeling of chapped lips— a sign he's just woken up himself— softly pressing onto your fingers, as he mumbles something along the lines of "truly, you're a beauty. even when you're sprawled out on the sheets like our laundry."

and kazuha lets out a chuckle, because, truly, he knows that you'll soon have enough energy to hit him for that statement.

[yoichew]

am lovin dis’ persona 5 theme bloggie ! ! ૮꒰ྀི∩ ˃o˂ ∩꒱ྀིა hope it’s okay f’me to drop by ‘n say hi !

aww thank u sm ^^ !! of course it's alright, very cute blog u've got there urself ,,

[yoichew]

you're anti-pda. reo is pro-pda. a tale of bribery, greed. temptation, and love.

you had pretty clear views on pda. you thought it was super embarrassing and kinda weird to be all lovey-dovey whilst out and about, and that that kind of thing was much better behind closed doors. you were happy to give lots of affection to your boyfriend, reo, in the comfort of your shared home, just not so much while in public.

reo did not like your views. at all.

~

"but babyyyy," he whined, clinging onto you while you fought his hands off. "just one kiss. that's all im asking for. one kiss! just one!"

"first of all," you started, "we both know it wouldnt end in just one kiss." he pouted, knowing you were right. "secondly, no. we're in public."

"so?!" he whined. "pleaaaaase. don't you love me? how can you be so cruel?"

you rolled your eyes at his theatrics. "reo, no."

reo whined and sunk to the floor, fake crying. suddenly, though, he went silent, as if contemplating the meaning of his entire life.

"two weeks."

"...?"

"ill do all the chores for two whole weeks if you give me a kiss."

you gasped. this was a very tempting offer, indeed. one kiss, and you wouldnt have to do any cooking or cleaning for two whole weeks.

but then again, you were in public. it was embarrassing! indecent! plus, then he'd have the satisfaction of winning. you had a pettiness that rivaled reo's and you didn't want to give in.

reo knew all it would take was one little push and he'd get his kiss.

"please, my love?" he squeezed your hand and stared deep into your eyes, the way he knew made you flustered.

you groaned, knowing exactly what he was doing, but also at the fact that it was working. you grumbled, red-faced, and leaned in.

excited, reo crashed against you, kissing you with intensity and passion. you could practically feel the message he was trying to send silently: "i love you. i love you. i love you."

after a while, you both pulled away, breathless. you both started at each other in silence for a bit before you started leading him down the sidewalk.

"where are you going?" he asked, trailing behind you.

you smiled at him. "let's go home, hm?"

reo whooped, knowing exactly what that meant.

© 𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 please do not copy or repost my work on any other site. interactions appreciated! 🤍

[yoichew]

Your brothers are dumb, but Isagi is always your number one fan.

cw: gender neutral reader, 2.4k words, reader is rin & sae's musically gifted sibling, silly isagi, obscene amounts of pining, i don't know how music competitions work lol

@celestair it's here!!!! thank you so much for the fabulous prompt <3

“So, you’re on next, how do you feel?” Your friend Yuki asks, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. The performer before you is wrapping up his piece, and your turn on stage is approaching far too quickly.

“Were they there?” You whisper, completely ignoring her question. 

“Didn’t see ‘em,” Yuki sighs, “But hey, you can’t see anything from up on that stage, don’t give up just yet.”

Despite her attempts at encouragement, you both know the truth. They aren’t there. They never are. Even now, as you prepare to step onstage in the final round of a national piano competition, your two soccer-obsessed brothers are nowhere to be found. You should’ve expected that from the start when the most they could offer to your invitation was “ok.” 

How many soccer games have you attended by now? How many hours have you spent in the sweltering heat, watching your brothers run up and down a field kicking a ball around? And despite all that, they have yet to deem one of your music events as worth their time. You’re half sure the reason they neglected to arrive was because neither one would be caught dead sitting in the same room as the other. It’s always a competition with those two – a test to see who could be the better soccer player, the worse brother – and you’re simply caught in the crossfire as you pursue your own wholly different passions. 

But now, unfortunately, there’s only one thing to do: go out on stage, play your heart out, and hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a scrap of recognition from one of the fools who shared your last name. 

“Break a leg. And don’t let your shitty brothers get to you,” Yuki says, nudging you out onto the stage as the previous performer exited past you.

When you walk onstage there is no announcement of your name, no applause. There never is. Just a silence so thick it could be cut with a knife as the audience watches with judging eyes, anticipating eyes, and… hopeful eyes? The stage feels different today, fresh and pleasantly cool, as if the crushing expectations are lifted ever so slightly.

Then you see him. It’s just a glance, an impression of an individual, a hint of green and black in your periphery. But when he sees you it’s earth-shattering. He can breathe again – but only one barely-muffled gasp, because you’re quick to steal the air from his lungs as his heart begins to inexplicably race. Isagi has been in the same audience seat many times by now – the same seat every time, for his favorite view – yet every time he sees you walk out onto that stage it’s like rebirth, a preparation for the waves of joy and sadness and admiration and, dare he say it, love, that would wash over him as you played. All he has to hope is that you know he’s there, watching like he always is. And for the first time, you know – you deeply, truly, know – someone is out there watching you.

For this competition, you chose Liszt’s Un Sospiro. After mastering the technique, you spent hours of practice imbuing the piece with a thousand emotions, a thousand ways to sigh, and yet none of them felt quite right. So in the ten seconds before your fingers hit the keys, you have a decision to make.

Yoichi.

Of course, how could you forget? 

Without a moment’s hesitation, you begin to play, the notes dancing with the image in your mind. Simply the thought of him makes your heart race in time with the arpeggios, your measured breaths falling out of time as you let the music wash over you. The emotion flows so naturally you’re not sure if you’re pushing them into the music or if the music is pulling them out of you, a different one for each phrase, the joy and fear and longing and hope and desperation. You could practically see them, figures of light in every color dancing together across the stage and out into the audience, seeking out their target. 

They more than find their target: they crash into him like unceasing waves. Each one slightly different than the last, yet all so familiar; a language without words, yet each phrase he understands clearly. 

Is it five minutes, one, or thirty? Time begins to blur, everything fading to soft pink and green and orange and blue, colors and sounds existing independently of earthly constraints. It’s transcendental, almost, the room immersed in a lovestruck state of reverie until the final notes echo through the auditorium.  

By the end of the piece his chest is aching, and yours is aching too. The exhilaration hardly makes sense – were you not full of worry only minutes ago? Or had it been an eternity since anything other than Yoichi was on your mind? Adrenaline pulsing through your veins makes your head spin as you attempt to process your own performance. Oh, how unreal it felt. It had been a long time since you last felt so moved by your own playing… yes, truly a long time. 

The audience applauds with the required politeness, if not a bit louder than usual. None of it falls on your ears, though. You’re too busy staring at Isagi’s distant face as he gazes back at you with sparkling cobalt eyes. He nearly forgets to clap, sitting so unblinkingly still that those in the seats next to him wonder if he’s alright. He’s more than alright – his mind is racing in the same way it does when he scores a goal, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep him from running to you now. 

As soon as you’re backstage, Yuki barrels into you, earning a few miffed glares from the last few performers preparing to go on. “Oh my god, that was amazing!” She whisper-yells, “I’ve never heard you play like that! See, I knew you’d do just fine without them in the audience.” 

Right. Them. You had forgotten about them while onstage. 

“I think I’ve found someone else worth playing for,” You murmur, half to yourself. For the first time, you didn’t really mind that your brothers hadn’t been there. Of course, it would’ve been nice, but without them… without them, you had made magic. You can make magic.

Yuki smiles brightly, the way she always does. “You’ve gotta tell me everything. And quickly, so as soon as this shindig is over you can head out and see your loverboy.”

“How’d you know that’s what it was?”

“Trust me, it was obvious. I’m pretty sure everyone knew.”

So, of course, you tell her everything. And as soon as the final round of applause echoes down the hallway, you’re getting pushed toward the door, standing nervously in the auditorium lobby until a familiar face emerges from the exit doors.

You see him first, which means you get to watch in real-time as he sees you and immediately lights up like a kid in a candy store. It’s his third epiphany of the day, and the only thing he can think to do is run toward you, frantically apologizing to strangers as he weaves through the crowd. Before you can even greet him or thank him for coming, he thrusts a large bouquet of flowers into your hands.

“You did amazing! Your music is like magic and I think I might be in love with you!” Isagi blurts out.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, that was probably tactless. No, it was definitely tactless. I’m sorry. It’s just, I saw you up there and I heard you play and it was like the music was talking to me and it was saying, oh, by the way, you have feelings for them and it’s actually ridiculous that you didn’t notice earlier because you’re absolutely whipped, y’know? Is that weird?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his unrestrained reaction, the genuineness in his tone. “No, it’s not weird at all.”

“It’s not?” He asks, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Of course not. It means you heard what I was trying to tell you.”

It’s his turn to be surprised, and he lets out a soft, confused, “Eh?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to confess to you directly, so I did it the only way I knew how. Yoichi, will you go out with me?” 

“Yes! Absolutely!” He beams, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen him smile before; little wrinkles appear next to his eyes and his slightly crooked teeth are on full display. Shyly, he asks: “Could I hug you?”

“Please do,” you say, opening your arms to let him wrap his tightly around you. For a moment you stand in silence (not true silence, of course, because the room is full of people) and feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest. He feels your heartbeat too, he swears he can hear it over the noise.

“Thank you for coming, Yoichi,” You whisper, gripping the flower bouquet tightly, “It means a lot to me that you could be here.”

He hugs you tighter, so tight it feels like your ribs might crack in his grip. “Of course. You always come to my big games, there’s no way I’d let myself miss one of your big events. Speaking of that, do you know when the results come out?”

Though you’d like to keep hugging him forever, you let go and check the time.

“They’ll let us back into the auditorium in an hour, though they never seem to announce the winners on time.”

“In that case, can I take you out on a date while we wait? Unless you already made plans to wait with someone else… ahh, I really should’ve thought this out more.” Isagi scratches the back of his neck with an awkward smile, a nervous habit of his that never seems to lose its charm.

“Oh, no, I don’t have plans. I’m sure Yuki’s already gone off with her boyfriend, and you’re the only person I really know who showed up to watch. Spending the hour with you is a serious step up from waiting alone.” 

“Let’s go then! There’s a cute café just down the road if you’re hungry, or we could go walk around the mall if you’d prefer.” 

Isagi lets you lead for the hour, making it a bit of an early celebration. Because while the results aren’t out just yet, he’s entirely sure that your performance is worth a hundred gold medals and more. Anything you want to do is good enough for him, even if it’s something as simple as window shopping in formal wear, and he does everything in his power to make sure he’s the best new boyfriend possible. After all, he’s won at life, hasn’t he? Because now he gets to date you – he gets to give you flowers and cheer for you and hold your hand and make you smile. 

As you sit in the adjacent seats waiting for the results to be announced, he rubs his finger affectionately over your thumb. 

“See, I told you they’d start late,” You whisper with a laugh.

“They must’ve realized their trophy wasn’t big enough to properly congratulate you,” He whispers back.

“Hey, don’t say things like that! I haven’t won yet.” 

“I don’t think you witnessed yourself perform. You did amazing.”

“And you’re not a musician, so you’re not qualified to decide who won.”

“Even an untrained ear can tell you were the best up there. Trust me.”

Before you can come up with a witty reply, the head judge steps up to the podium on stage, holding a single sheet of paper in her hand. She gives a short speech – something about appreciating the hard work of the competitors – but neither you nor Isagi hear half of what she says. The room is silent waiting for the top three to be announced. 

“In third place,” The Judge calmly says into the microphone, “Matsuoka Yuki.”

Immediately you burst into cheers, hastily untangling your hand from Isagi’s so you can applaud your friend. Her performance had been stunning, and she’s more than deserving of the prestigious accomplishment. 

“In second place,” The Judge continues, once the applause quiets down, “Watanabe Shigeru.”

Another talented performer, of course. He had won his fair share of competitions, and the two of you had stood together on the winner’s stage more than once. As soon as you finish applauding, Isagi grabs your hand and squeezes tightly, as if to say the Judge will call your name next, I just know she will.

The moment you spent months waiting for is here. Either your hours of rehearsal and stress and aching hands paid off, or they didn’t. And the only thing between you and knowing was one sentence from the Head Judge’s mouth.

“Finally, in first place, winner of the Japan National Piano Competition, Itoshi Y/n.”

I’ve won. It’s as if you’re up on that stage once more, the way that the room explodes into applause like thunder. Isagi is shouting and shaking you by the shoulders – he really couldn’t be prouder of you. He knew all along, it seems, that your indirect confession was worth a gold medal from the organization and a thousand more in his heart.

The head judge invites the winners up to the stage, and Isagi nearly pushes you out of your seat to receive your award. Yuki meets you onstage, whispering her polite but excited congratulations to you. You return them hurriedly before taking your place on stage to be presented with your trophy. The process of handshakes and photographs feels like it takes forever when all you and Isagi want is to spend the rest of the afternoon together in celebration. 

Isagi meets you in the auditorium lobby again, and he presents you with the same bouquet of flowers a second time. “You won! You actually won! I’m so proud of you!” 

“Thank you, Yoichi,” You say, grasping his hand with your free one, “Thank you for being here to inspire me. Now c’mon, let’s go celebrate!”

The rest of the afternoon is blissful, almost unreal, just you and Isagi enjoying the sweetness of victory and love. When your phone begins receiving text message after text message you can hardly be bothered to reply immediately, even when you get the message you nearly spent the whole day waiting for.

rin: good job on the competition or wtv

isagi 💚