౨ৎ sleeping is my hobby

multiple characters:

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! (kind of a series)

Game night with the NEL teams!

Romantic moments caught by fans with the BLLK boys! (short series)

Random trend w the BLLK boys! — trend 1 ; trend 2

You can clearly tell who’s the attractive sibling here

What’s his apartment like? — part 1 ; part 2

Variety shows with the BLLK boys!

He’s just an ordinary boy~

Cross court ft. Haikyuu boys (kinda series)

BLLK boys as high school crush types

Blue Lock boys as the 5 love languages (mini series)

k. tabito:

Random moments w bf!Karasu

Haunted

m. kaiser:

Friends with benefits — part 1 ; part 2 ; part 3

Twinkle, twinkle, little star

The Rosa Duology — Rosa Caerulea ; Rosa Rubrum

i. rin:

Awo, jumpscare ft; Sae — part 1 ; part 2

I’ll be there trend w Sae and Rin

s. barou:

Spice up your life — short series

a. ness:

Heat in the Cold

⟡ ⌢ . about me: Kiki, she/her, im legal i swear, carat, big back (i love food), ALL CHALLENGES ARE ON MY SIDE BLOG @potatophile28

⟡ ⌢ . dm+inbox are open 24/7, I don’t bite I swear so ask away, currently I don’t take reqs maybe in the future ty

DUH WHO DOESNT WANT U? Anyways DADDYS HOME~

part one.—isagi y., karasu t., nanase n., alexis n., and yukimiya k.

part two.—rin i., niko i., hiori y., kiyora j. and nagi s.

part three.—barou s., chigiri h., kunigami r., and gagamaru g.

part four.—michael k., reo m., and bachira m.

part five.—shidou r., kurona r., otoya e., oliver a., and i. sae

PHYSICAL TOUCH

synopsis: Being loved can take many forms, known as love languages. This series breaks down the five main ones, showcasing the different ways they can appear and highlighting how the BLLK boys express their primary love language.

❤️ a/n: final part! ty for sticking around

🎞️ characters: shidou r., kurona r., otoya e., oliver a., and i. sae

🎼 inspired by the song: JVKE—this is what slow dancing feels like

Shidou Ryusei

He’s all about making sure you know, without a single doubt, that he loves you to the moon and back.

He’s basically a walking koala, constantly attached to you in some way. His hand always on your waist, firm and secure, fingers absentmindedly rubbing small circles like it’s a grounding habit for both of you.

Whether you’re nervous, distracted, or just standing around, he’ll always find a way to touch you—an arm around your shoulders, fingers tracing along your arm, chin resting on the top of your head or against your shoulder.

Public affection doesn’t scare him in the slightest. If anything, he thrives on it. Hand in hand down the street, random kisses pressed to your cheek or temple, pulling you close for no reason other than because he can. The paparazzi probably get bored of the two of you after a month.

He’s loud and proud of his feelings, intense in a way that’s impossible to miss, because he’s never been the type to hide them.

One time you’re fighting your way through the crowd after a match when you start shrinking yourself a little, shoulders curling in, seeing all the cameras and people staring. Shidou notices immediately and without saying anything, his hand slides from your waist to the middle of your back and gently presses there.

“Shoulders up,” he says lowly.

You fix your posture and he laughs softly.

“Good. You’re too pretty to shrink.”

Kurona Ranze

Love for him is in the small, lingering touches that most people wouldn’t even notice. Nothing loud or overly dramatic, just quiet affection that’s always there if you pay close attention.

When you walk together, your pinkies are usually hooked. He likes it that way, simple and playful, sometimes letting your hands clasp together like kids rather than fully interlacing fingers. It feels cuter, and easier to swing whenever you two decide to hop and skip down the street like children.

He’s also the type to casually ruffle your hair whenever he passes by or gently rest his head on your shoulder when you’re sitting together. His hands always seem to find their way to the top of your head, lightly patting it with a gentle smile.

If you zone out mid-conversation, he’ll poke your cheek—or worse, give you a quick playful bite that makes you snap back to reality while he quietly laughs. Love bites are definitely a thing with him, though he treats them more like small, mischievous reminders that you’re his.

When he’s bored he’ll twist a strand of your hair, or start to braid them, and whenever your hair falls in your face, Kurona will automatically reach over and tuck the strands behind your ear without even thinking.

His love is always within reach and there’s nothing you would ever do to change that.

Otoya Eita

Otoya is the type who’s constantly finding excuses to be close to you. If it’s cold, your hand is already in his, tucked straight into his jacket pocket so it stays warm.

He’s also very guilty of using you as his personal armrest. Your shoulder, your head—perfect places for him to rest his chin or casually drape an arm over while he grins in victory and satisfaction.

Cheek kisses? Endless. He’ll press one, then another, then another until you’re physically pushing him away while he cackles, clearly proud of himself.

Otoya’s also great at making sure you’re comfortable without making a big deal out of it. Adjusting the blanket when you’re cold, moving you closer when the couch is crowded, small things like that.

At home he’s even worse. The second you lie down on the bed, he’ll pretend to dramatically jump on you, pinning you there just long enough to pepper your face with kisses before it turns into a tickle fight.

And yes, he’s absolutely the cringe romantic type too. Drawing little hearts on fogged-up windows, leaving dumb doodles on notes, even doing hearts with his arms outside your window just to make you laugh before he heads off to train.

His affection is silly, chaotic, and impossible to ignore.

Oliver Aiku

He knows exactly how to make his partner feel seen and validated—*cough* experience speaks for itself. He’ll wrap you in a hug from behind, pulling your shoulders close, or give the kind of bear hug that makes all the tension in your body melt away when you’re feeling down.

He loves holding you close, rocking or cuddling you until you drift off to sleep, occasionally nudging your shoulder and whispering, “Are you okay?” whenever he senses stress or anxiety. Small gestures like that feel effortless with him, but they mean everything.

You have princess treatment at its finest with this man.

He’ll carry you in a bridal position without hesitation, walk in heels if you want to swap shoes, and even let you test out your new makeup products on him while laughing at his “misery.”

Oliver’s love language is constant and deeply physical—a mix of gentle reassurance, protectiveness, and playful intimacy that makes you feel cherished every single day.

Itoshi Sae

He barely has a moment to himself, which makes every moment with you feel precious. That’s probably why the second his plane lands, he’s glued to you—hands intertwined, pressing soft kisses to the back of your hand, or absentmindedly brushing his fingers over your face.

Then there’s his little “habit,” the move he always pulls out when he’s feeling sentimental or extra soft—piggybacks. It’s easily his favorite, and he tries (and fails) to hide the smirk on his face as he carries you—from the convenience store to his apartment, or from the living room up to your shared bedroom—your arms looped around his neck, face buried against his shoulder.

He also does small gestures of care when you’re overthinking. Sitting beside you, he’ll quietly brush your hair back or rest his hand on your head, grounding you without a word.

With him, love is a reminder that whenever he’s with you, he’s truly there.

GIFT GIVING

synopsis: Being loved can take many forms, known as love languages. This series breaks down the five main ones, showcasing the different ways they can appear and highlighting how the BLLK boys express their primary love language.

🩵 a/n: do tell me which love language do u think Kaiser has as a main bc I couldn’t really decide. p.s. im a firm believer that bachira would love clay

🎞️ characters: michael k., reo m., and bachira m.

🎼 inspired by the songs: JVKE, Jeon Somi—moonboy + JVKE—golden hour and her

Michael Kaiser

I know, I know, he’s such a physical touch or acts of service type of guy, and I agree, but those only come out once he’s truly comfortable with someone. Before that, when he’s still figuring things out or meeting someone for the first time, he tends to fall back on something safer: gifts.

Even if it’s just out of politeness or because he’s unsure what else to do, he’ll always show up with something either way. Sometimes grand, sometimes incredibly small wrapped in royal blue and a gold bow like a trademark. It’s just how he communicates care or interest.

And that’s exactly how he tries to express his love for you, too.

Your favorite books start appearing on the shelf beside his. A fresh bouquet of flowers shows up every week like clockwork. If he’s away and can’t have dinner with you, you’ll suddenly get a message saying your fast food order has already been paid for.

He takes gift-giving strangely seriously. None of them are random—every single one has some sort of meaning or intention behind it.

Yours, especially, took a lot of thought and effort.

A lot of observing, remembering little details you mentioned once in passing and, admittedly, a tiny bit of stalking to make sure he got it right.

He’s not really the type to buy expensive jewelry or flashy things. He doesn’t see much meaning in that, but if you ever mention wanting something—like his new merch, a hoodie, or anything that makes your eyes sparkle—he won’t hesitate for a second.

To him, giving gifts aren’t about the price. (most of the time or at least with you)

They’re just his way of saying that he noticed, remembered and thought about you.

Mikage Reo

Now this guy radiates gift-giving energy, no doubt about it. Yes, he’s filthy rich, but more importantly, he has incredible taste and an even better memory. That’s what makes every gift card, nicely wrapped box, and carefully chosen paper bag feel special instead of excessive.

Reo doesn’t just throw money at things. He has to be 100% convinced whether you’ll truly like it for him to even think about opening his wallet. Sometimes he’ll straight up ask what you want. Other times he’s more subtle—asking little questions about your preferences or even sending Nagi on a mission to figure out what might inspire your next gift.

You genuinely appreciate that he chooses gifts that matter, things you can actually use, instead of wasting money.

Furthermore, the fact that he gets you something for almost every occasion makes you feel spoiled, but it just shows that his love isn’t limited to special days only. Your nameday, a good grade on a test, because you mentioned liking something once, or simply because you looked especially pretty that day all come with a little box or bag of secret stuff.

With him, every moment feels worth celebrating.

Your birthdays, though, are on a completely different level. That’s when he goes all out—carefully planned surprises, gifts that somehow hit every single thing you’ve ever stared at longer than 5 seconds, and the kind of effort that makes you feel both incredibly loved and slightly embarrassed by how much attention he’s putting on you.

And whenever he buys you jewelry, he never just hands it over. He’ll step closer, brushing your hair aside so he can clasp the necklace himself or gently slide the bracelet onto your wrist. It’s a small moment, but the way he does it—focused entirely on you—somehow makes the gift feel even more special.

Meguru Bachira

Lowkey excels in every love language, but he probably leans about 1% more toward gift giving than anything else.

His mom is an artist, so he definitely knows a thing or two about handmade things. DIY gifts, colorful paper, glitter, bold letters—anything creative immediately makes him wanna do something for you.

As silly and chaotic as he looks most of the time, the moment he locks in to present something for you, your boyfriend can create literal masterpieces. Paintings based on a random selfie the two of you took years ago, insanely detailed origami animals, little sketches of moments you don’t even remember happening.

He’s the type to randomly hand you a gift like it’s no big deal, even though it clearly took him hours.

Bachira firmly believes that if he makes something with his own hands, a piece of him stays with you. That’s why his gifts always feel a little more personal than store-bought ones.

Over the years together, he’s made you countless little bead bracelets, threading each one with care and a grin, often combining your names into some silly ship name. And once he slides one onto your wrist, he beams proudly, and you can’t help but laugh at the messy little masterpiece. It’s cute, definitely one of a kind gem that makes your heart swell every time you look at it.

And of course, he can’t help adding physical affection to it. Half the time he’s handing you a drawing while leaning over your shoulder, hugging you from behind, or pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, because he’s just as excited about the gift as you are.

ACTS OF SERVICE

synopsis: Being loved can take many forms, known as love languages. This series breaks down the five main ones, showcasing the different ways they can appear and highlighting how the BLLK boys express their primary love language.

🩶 a/n: how’s the series so far? also, im a firm believer that chigiri will have a drivers license bc this man would love speeding

🎞️ characters: barou s., chigiri h., kunigami r., and gagamaru g.

🎼 song: JVKE—i can’t help it + JVKE—moon and back

Barou Shoei

He’s the literal embodiment of an acts-of-service man. (you CANNOT convince me otherwise)

Comes home before you after literally flying in from the other side of the world for international matches? This man doesn’t suffer from jet lag—he suffers from the urge to clean. By the time you finish work and walk through the door, the laundry is folded, the apartment smells fresh, and the bedsheets have already been changed.

Feeling a little down or stressed? He can cook. He can bake (and has a massive cake). He can absolutely throw together a full meal without blinking. But more often than not, he’ll just slide a plate of warm baked goodies toward you while a pot of soup simmers on the stove as he replays his match footage in the background.

He’s also the type to silently cut fruit for you (without the garlicky aftertaste) while you’re hunched over the kitchen table, studying or working, placing the bowl next to your elbow without saying a word.

He makes sure to serve you well since you’re his queen after all.

Chigiri Hyoma

He’s your boyfriend, but also your emergency contact whenever life goes sideways. Need a ride after your shift? He’s there. Heading out to a girls night? He’ll insist on driving you, no questions asked. Craving a late-night snack? You best believe he’ll take you to the McDonald’s drive-through without hesitation.

His care doesn’t stop there and acts of service come naturally to him. If you fall asleep with makeup on, he’s the one gently wiping it off with cotton pads before tucking you in. Sometimes you’ll even wake up with a facemask on because he decided your skin “looked tired.” Were you about to forget sunscreen before leaving the house? Fret not, he won’t let you take another step without applying it for you first.

Chigiri keeps a small pouch for you in his duffel bag with little things you might need—hair ties, lip balm, tissues, things he’s noticed you asking for before. If you ever hand him your bag, he just carries it effortlessly, bc this man ain’t shameful for slaying while holding his partner’s purse.

Sometimes he takes the nail polish from you and insists on doing them himself, carefully holding your hand so the polish doesn’t smudge. Other times he’s gently drying your hair after a shower, quietly humming while his fingers move through the strands. It’s oddly calming, sitting close together while he works with surprising patience.

For him, love is found in small gestures, quiet attentions, and the effort of caring for you every day.

Kunigami Rensuke

As much as he has changed after the Wild Card, I still firmly believe that if he ever has a partner, he would care deeply about their overall well-being—both mentally and physically. He’s the type who shows it quietly, through routine and consistency.

Before heading out in the morning, he’ll leave a small note on the table with a simple smiley face scribbled at the bottom, your vitamins or medication neatly placed beside it so you don’t forget. Your water bottle is always filled, your bag waiting by the door. He automatically takes on your least favorite chores as well without you even mentioning it—washing dishes or taking out the trash like it’s just another part of his training discipline.

Kunigami also has a habit of hovering around you in small ways. Peeling tangerines and handing you the slices one by one while you talk, carrying your bag like it’s second nature, placing his jacket on your shoulder the moment it gets chilly. If you’re sore or exhausted, he’ll force you to sit beside him and start massaging your shoulders or legs, strong hands careful but firm.

He’s protective, but not in a suffocating way—more like someone who wants to make life just a little easier for you wherever he can.

He’s not flashy about it, but he’s always aware of you. If you’re walking together, he positions himself closer to the pavement. If you’re on a crowded bus, he quietly checks for available seats or immediately tells you to come closer. It’s little, every day things that make you feel extremely cared for.

Gagamaru Gin

Living with him sometimes feels like having a very attentive forest spirit around the house. If something’s broken, he fixes it in an instant. If you’re struggling to reach something, he silently grabs it for you. If you’re tired, he’ll wordlessly pull you to sit next to him so you can rest for a bit.

When you’re sick to the core, that’s when his love language shows the most. The fluffiest blankets appear around you, warm tea shows up on the table that he brew himself with berries that he picked himself 😭, and he’ll sit nearby 24/7 just to make sure you’re okay, even if all he does is quietly staring into the void.

When he’s away, he always reminds you to take great care of the teddy bear he gave you upon your first date, making sure you have a substitute mini maru.

He’ll insist on you dying his hair just for fun, or agree to exploring abandoned houses for shits and giggles if that’s what you want, but he always tries to make sure everything’s safe and taken care of during the activities as his way to look out for you.

And the sweetest part? He never expects praise for it. When you thank him, he just scratches the back of his neck with a shy little nod like it’s nothing.

QUALITY TIME

synopsis: Being loved can take many forms, known as love languages. This series breaks down the five main ones, showcasing the different ways they can appear and highlighting how the BLLK boys express their primary love language.

🩷 a/n: back to writing and tumblr says i can’t put dividers from my phone >:(

🎞️ characters: rin i., niko i., hiori y., kiyora j. and nagi s.

🎼 song: JVKE, Nick Jonas—this is what forever feels like + JVKE—next to you

Itoshi Rin

Being one of Japan’s best football players means strict diets, rigid routines, and a hectic schedule where he can barely squeeze in time to catch his breath.

In short, your boyfriend is a busy person—constantly training, planning, chasing the next goal. But every two or three weeks, he clears out his calendar entirely for a day or two. No negotiations or last-minute changes and once he’s home, his phone stays untouched.

That’s when the following around starts.

He’ll trail behind you to the kitchen, pretending he’s just grabbing a snack while you cook. He’ll stand a little too close while you guys brush your teeth and do your skincare. If you move rooms, he moves too. If you sit down, he’s there within seconds, letting you rest your head against his chest while the TV plays in the background.

He doesn’t say much.

He just sticks around.

And he’s always prepared. Date ideas lined up in advance for his next free day—horror movie marathons, quiet walks around town, late-night market visits. Other times, he’ll simply text you:

plan something

followed by the exact date he’s cleared just for you.

For Rin, every second is meticulously planned.

Not because he’s controlling, but because he refuses to waste a single one of them when it comes to you.

Niko Ikki

He’s a homebody. An introvert. The perfect partner to binge-watch series and movies until the crack of dawn.

The moment he comes home, he’s all yours.

Want to lie on the couch with face masks on, comfortable in each other’s silence? He’s in.

Midnight ice cream run? He’ll grab his hoodie before you even finish asking.

Spend the entire day in bed or the couch when you’re both free, anime playing in the background while munching on snacks?

“Feels like a reward,” he mumbles, popping a chip into his mouth while one of his favorite series runs and you sit beside him, shoulders squished with his.

He doesn’t need big plans or crowded dates. He simply likes being in the same space as you—sharing a blanket, commentary, and the other’s presence.

He also takes genuine interest in your favorite movies too, yes, even the cheesy ones. He’ll sit through dating shows with you, pretending he’s only watching it because you forced him to, only to get way too invested later on.

Being with Niko makes you realize the only thing you really need is the right person to feel truly at peace, even when nothing is happening.

Hiori Yo

Even on the very first date, he wanted to truly get to know you. Phones were set aside, distractions ignored and his attention was fully on you and the time you spent together. Effort mattered to him more than you realized.

Hiori definitely values someone who actually wants to be with him without ridiculous expectations, and he gives the same in return.

Your relationship is effortless, but in a good way. He can play games for hours, lounge doing absolutely nothing, cuddle endlessly, or even build an elaborate fort in the living room just for fun if you wish to do that.

Favorite activities? Probably swinging at the nearby playground late at night, eating ice cream under the stars, laughing until your stomach hurts, and talking about everything and nothing at all.

Most of all, he loves doing things you enjoy the most—trying out different hobbies, food, sport, silly adventures, or even visiting places. Things his parents never really let him explore when he was younger and every time he gets to do something you wanted to share with him, his whole demeanor softens, and you can see how much he’s savoring it.

Great observer, he notices the little things too—the way you tilt your head when you think, the way your hands fidget when you’re nervous, the time you take to focus on him entirely. Every shared moment, no matter how small, feels deliberate and meaningful.

It’s the simple joy of discovering freedom and comfort in each other that makes time with him feel so special.

Kiyora Jin

Your boyfriend isn’t loud about his feelings. He won’t shower you with dramatic compliments or make a spectacle out of affection. No grand speeches or overly sweet nicknames.

That’s just not him.

Kiyora tends to be more subtle than that.

Instead, he shows it in the way he chooses to spend his time with you. Random late-night trips to arcades, dragging you along to underground dancing rings he somehow always knows about, or casually suggesting one of your favorite spots like it was just an afterthought. “C’mon,” he mutters, already grabbing his jacket. “Thought you liked this place.”

And you do.

Sometimes though, his favorite moments are the quiet ones. Staying home, laying on the bed while you read your favorite book and he scrolls through music playlists, one earbud in while the other hangs loose. Your fingers are laced together between the two of you without either of you really acknowledging it.

He doesn’t say much, but every once in a while he squeezes your hand slightly, just to check you’re still there.

Kiyora shows his love by weaving you into every ordinary part of his life, turning the mundane into something meaningful.

Nagi Seishiro

Always insists on eating meals together, no matter what. Even if it’s just instant noodles at midnight or reheated leftovers after a long day. He likes the quiet of it—the warmth of the food, the comfortable silence, the lazy conversations that follow when both of you are too tired to do anything else.

Sometimes he’ll just sit beside you while you study, stretched out on the couch or the floor like a cat, scrolling on his phone or playing a game in the meantime. He doesn’t really talk much, but the moment you sigh too loudly or start complaining about an assignment, he’ll lazily glance over.

“Already giving up?” he mumbles, nudging your leg with his foot.

Despite acting like everything is a hassle, he tries his best to take interest in your hobbies. Struggling with your crocheting patterns? He’ll sit there holding the yarn for you or watching tutorials with you like it’s the most serious mission in the world. Board game night? He refuses to quit until one of you wins, even if it drags past midnight. Puzzles, crafts, random little projects—you name it, he’s there.

Half the time he’s fighting to stay awake, head slowly dropping onto your shoulder while you two try to finish something together. (cut him some slack)

Being with Nagi is like finding a pause button in a chaotic world. Nothing needs to happen, because just sitting together, letting the day pass, is enough.

UR ACC JOKING BRO MARK NOOOO NEO DONT GOT MY BACK

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

synopsis: Being loved can take many forms, known as love languages. This series breaks down the five main ones, showcasing the different ways they can appear and highlighting how the BLLK boys express their primary love language.

💛 a/n: not a very exciting topic, but i thought it was a nice post/series to start my comeback with, so enjoy :) also, Happy Extremely Late Valentine’s, my loves!

🎞️ characters: isagi y., karasu t., nanase n., alexis n., and yukimiya k.

🎼 song: JVKE—pretty

Isagi Yoichi

Overanalyzing your feelings just to make sure you’re happy is basically his daily quest. He checks your mood before he even says good morning, carefully adjusting his tone like it matters more than anything else. He’s always thinking about the right words, the right timing and the right way to entertain you.

The other thing your boyfriend is incredibly good at, besides soccer ofc, is encouraging you through the little struggles of everyday life like having no ice cream in the freezer for a snack, long workdays or even the simple act of getting out of bed early in the morning.

“Look at you, babe,” he says with that million-watt smile as his antennas are sticking up in all directions while he gently brushes your cheek. “Up before your third alarm. I’m really proud of you.”

Another thing to mention is that you can’t even argue with him properly, because he actually wants to talk things through. Actively listens, asks questions, tries to understand your point of view before offering a solution, and always, i repeat always apologizes.

He’s present when it matters the most, filling the void with soft reassurances and his stupid phrases that make everything feel lighter.

And when it’s Valentine’s Day, you realize this is his love language. (besides verbally abusing his opponents on the field)

No big displays, just constant little reminders that he cares.

Karasu Tabito

He has a way with words, instinctively knowing exactly what to say when you need reassurance or advice, and whenever he starts one of his little motivational speeches, the natural leader in him shines through.

Nicknames come effortlessly, too: babe, smartass, my pretty girl—he drops them all so casually, yet even after years of being together, each one still manages to make your heart flutter.

It usually shows up when you need it the most as well…

“I’m literally gonna fail, Karasu, I’M COOKED!” you groan, panic creeping into your voice as he gently takes your hands in his, thumbs brushing over your knuckles.

“Baby, every time ya say that, ya pass with flyin’ colors. I swear on both our lives I’ve never met someone who’s the literal definition of beauty and brains until ya crashed into my life.”

Rolling your eyes, you push him away, lips quirking up. “You just say that.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he smirks. “Ya gotta admit that it works like a charm tho. So relax, sweetheart. Ya got this.”

And the thing is, his skills don’t stop in person. He’s a great texter, too—checking in during class, sending encouragement when you least expect it, and somehow making a few words on a screen feel just as reassuring as him right beside you.

He’s scary good at reading you as well, picking up on your mood instantly just from your tone.

Your boyfriend is a stream of small, perfectly timed affirmations that make you feel seen, supported, and definitely adored.

Nanase Nijiro

To be honest, he’s the best person to yap or vent to. Your boyfriend feels it in his bones when to give you the most sincere words without even trying.

No judgment, no hidden meaning, just pure, genuine comfort. His voice is always soft, his tone sweet, the kind that makes you feel understood and heard.

“We will get through this together,” he whispers when you finally open up about something that’s been bothering you for a long time. He never interrupts or rushes you. Only listens, quietly reassuring you with nods and whispering sweet nothings until the tension in your chest loosens and you finally sigh in relief.

Your boyfriend also has this ability to switch into boy-best-friend mode when you have gossip or randomly start asking the most unhinged questions throughout the day. And instead of brushing them off, he actually thinks about them.

“Yes, I would still love you if you were a worm,” he says after a moment of consideration. “I think we’d hang out pretty well.”

A few seconds later he adds, completely serious, “I’d probably build you a little worm house.” And when you hit him with yet another random scenario, he hums thoughtfully.

“I’d rather burp butterflies,” he decides after carefully weighing the options. “Farting glitter sounds like a lot of cleaning.” He pauses a little before continuing, now fully invested in the topic. “But…glitter could be useful against opponents…kinda like a distraction, ya know?”

With that final blow, you’re laughing instead of stressing.

That’s his charm.

He doesn’t try to fix everything, because talking to him alone already makes things feel a lot less complicated.

Alexis Ness

He’s a yearner in and out (you can’t tell me otherwise), and he’s ain’t afraid to show it even after being together for a long time.

Poet by heart, he writes you letters in the middle of the night, perfect handwriting spilling every thought like a medieval knight confessing to his chosen maiden even if he’s just traveling for a match and you couldn’t come.

His words reach you every day, and he never misses a chance to admire you, but the letters he writes, neatly stacked in a wooden box by your bed, feel different, special.

You turn to them when you’re feeling low, when he’s asleep and you don’t want to bother him, or when life just gets overwhelming.

Some days you talk endlessly, and he’s mesmerized by every word. Other days, you don’t say a thing and that’s fine too, because years of dealing with Kaiser has taught him patience and high emotional intelligence so he won’t force conversations.

Also, Ness 100% knows you like the back of his hand. When your day drags or your FYP is just straight up bullying you, he takes matters into his own hands. Midnight venting? He attentively listens, even though he has early training the next day. Random ahh questions? He already has an answer prepared etc.

“Sometimes I seriously can’t understand how you put up with my mood swings,” you mutter once, pouting on the couch.

“You’re entertaining when you yap…or when you glare at me for simply existing, meine Liebe,” he says, settling on top of you because somehow, even your most foul moods feel like the most fun he’s ever had.

Yukimiya Kenyu

Yknow that feeling when you’re at rock bottom, watching everyone else’s lives and picking yourself apart just to make the comparison worse? Or when you try to encourage yourself in the mirror without it sounding cringe?

That’s when you thank the gods that they sent your boyfriend—someone who has gone through the same experiences, and can deal with both effortlessly. He’s run through hundreds, no, thousands, of pep talks with himself, always with the perfect words and a reassuring smile.

So when he finds you curled up on the bed, doomscrolling or just dissolving into the sheets, he doesn’t hesitate to take action.

“You look oddly beautiful for someone who’s been lying here for the past three hours,” he starts, voice gentle but with a hint of teasing. “Come on now, let’s rot in the living room instead. I ordered food already,” he adds, tugging the blanket off you as you grunt in protest.

He doesn’t simply say things to make you feel better. He watches you, notices the little details that make you feel insecure, and gently dismantles them one by one. Every line, every gesture, every nickname (be it Princess, beautiful, love) works like a soft shield against your own doubts.

Even on days when you say nothing, he knows how to fill the silence with care. By the time you’re sprawled in the living room with snacks in hand and his warmth beside you, the weight of self-doubt eases.

In a way, with him, your insecurities don’t feel like anchors, but things you can talk about and let go of, even if only for a little while.

a/n: half of these aren’t even crush types but oh well. lemme know which one u can relate to 😏

characters: i. sae, s. ryusei, m. reo, k. tabito, i. rin, i. yoichi, s. nagi, o. aiku, b. meguru and y. kenyu

THE SENIOR

Everybody has their senior.

For some, it’s their older siblings, clubmates, tutors, acquaintances. For you…well, it’s obvious.

The senior crush case.

Yours specifically?

Sae Itoshi.

He wasn’t sweet or approachable, nor was he there to hold anyone’s hand or hand out advice. No, this man was cold, confident, untouchable, and he knew it.

The kind of senior who walked through classrooms and grabbed everyone’s attention without even knowing, head high, shoulders relaxed, not a smile at the world.

People knew him within the first week of freshman year. Some admired, others feared him.

You saw him in different ways—passing by during club activities, showing up at school events, or gliding into parties you somehow ended up at as well. Parties where his gaze caught yours for a second and then moved on. Those fleeting moments that made your chest tighten without warning, which to him were probably weren’t even worth noticing.

THE DELINQUENT

Fierce spirit, insane moves and a punch that could drop anyone stupid enough to provoke him.

You learned early not to cross him.

Everyone did, especially after he beat up a senior for insulting his eyeliner, which was awfully perfect, by the way. The story spread fast, exaggerated with every retelling, until Shidou Ryusei became less of a student and more of a legend.

And then there was you.

His classmate, background character, sitting last row, right next to the empty desk he was assigned to but almost never used. On the rare days he showed up, he’d sprawl into the chair like he owned the room, legs stretched out, grin sharp and dangerous.

You never really spoke.

Barely even exchanged looks.

You didn’t really know him, only seeing tiny pieces. Still, something about him drew you in.

Maybe it was admiration, perhaps curiosity…or maybe you just liked watching chaos from a safe distance.

ACADEMIC RIVAL

Just like the book tropes you pretended not to like, you had your own academic rival.

The name was Mikage Reo—heir, millionaire, handsome and somehow disgustingly talented at everything he touched. Not that you were lacking—you were good, really good. Which made it even worse when you kept landing in second place.

One point behind.

Half a point.

Close enough to taste.

It drove you insane.

Especially because Reo never rubbed it in. He didn’t need to. He had a habit of leaning just a little too close when grades were handed back, eyes flicking to yours before the paper even touched his desk. “Close one,” he’d remark, like it wasn’t a calculated strike.

Sometimes he’d ask questions he already knew the answer to, just to hear you explain it—head tilted, smile lazy, clearly enjoying how worked up you got at his intense, judgmental gaze. Every reaction from you felt intentional on his part.

And he never even denied it. Reo would just stand there with that stupid grin and those knowing looks, like he was perfectly aware of the tension crackling between you—waiting to see who would fall first.

PROJECT PARTNER

You know what the worst thing in high school is?

Group projects.

And worse than that?

Projects where partners are assigned by some stupid online wheel, spinning your fate like it’s a joke.

You’ve never been a fan. Too many things can go wrong like getting stuck with someone who doesn’t give a flying fig or worse…a notorious ghoster who never replies and somehow still expects credit.

So imagine your shock as the wheel slowly lands on Karasu Tabito, your stomach immediately doing a small, inconvenient flip.

You’d noticed him before. Everyone had. It wasn’t a big deal—just a small, unimportant crush you kept tucked away. He was sharp, athletic, always one step ahead in class. The kind of person who looked like he had his life together, down to the way his hair never seemed out of place.

The kind of guy who always seemed a little out of reach…until fate decided to spin the wheel your way.

THE NEW CLASSMATE

Living in a village had its perks—you knew every street like the back of your hand, every neighbor and their family tree, and the air actually smelled like something alive. But to be frank…life was boring.

Predictable.

The occasional drama barely left a mark.

That’s exactly when Isagi Yoichi transferred.

At first, he was just another new face. Bright smile, awkward energy, soccer player, friendly. Normal, easy to like. You noticed him, sure, but it was harmless. Just curiosity.

But over time, he started showing up in your days more than anyone else. The way he laughed at small things, how he asked questions in class, how he somehow made even a normal day feel lighter. Little details, barely noticeable at first.

Then one afternoon, he offered to walk you home. You said yes without thinking.

The walk was quiet at first, easy. He talked about school, soccer, small plans. And then…his dreams.

Big ones. Really big ones.

He spoke about them with so much sincerity, so much hope, that you couldn’t help but listen closely. By the time you reached your street, the sun was low, painting the village in gold. You noticed how close your shoulders had brushed, how his laughter lingered in your ears, how your chest felt tighter than usual.

It wasn’t sudden.

You didn’t even notice the moment it started, but something about him…his energy, his hope, his laugh was slowly wrapping around you, sinking in, making ordinary days feel just a little extraordinary.

HALLWAY CRUSH

You always needed to find a fine shyt when you came to school—somebody you didn’t have classes with, never talked to, someone who was just really, really fcking fine when you passed them in the hallways.

That was Itoshi Rin.

Your target and eye candy from the first few weeks of high school. You spotted him standing by the lockers, and honestly…how could anyone not notice him? He moved through the chaos of the crowd without a single hair out of place, and those dark turquoise eyes of his—sharp, calm, unbothered—somehow made even the worst classes a little more bearable.

You saw him on certain days, passing by your classroom, maneuvering through the sea of students, leaning near the lockers, talking with someone. He had this effortless aura, like nothing in school could touch him, and maybe that’s why it was impossible not to watch.

Sometimes, it was just glances.

Sometimes, brief contact when your shoulders brushed on the stairs.

Small things, barely noticeable, but enough to make your chest do something weird. Enough to make you start looking forward to seeing him, even if it was only for a few seconds.

ASSIGNED DESKMATE

With every new school year came a new deskmate. Your homeroom teacher would scribble everyone’s names onto stupid little slips of paper, drop them into a jar, shake it, then pull them out one by one to decide where everyone sat for the next semester.

You’d had a crush on Seishiro Nagi for a while now.

Nothing worth mentioning, just one of those silly little crush things. The kind you barely acknowledged, thinking of it as passing boring time.

Freshman year, you sat two rows behind him. Sophomore year, you sat right in front of him, blocking his view of the board—not that he actually ever paid attention. Always close enough to notice him, never close enough for it to matter.

Then junior year happened.

Somehow, you ended up with him as your deskmate. At first, it felt the same. Casual, easy to ignore. He slept through lessons, gave you space, answered questions without batting an eyelash. The perfect deskmate. You told yourself that was all it was.

But sitting next to him every day changed things. The crush stopped being background noise and started demanding your attention. You noticed the way his snow-white hair fell into his eyes, the soft sounds he made when he slept, how warm his arm felt when it brushed yours. Moments that used to mean nothing suddenly lingered.

Not that he noticed.

He was usually too busy gaming or talking about soccer with his best friend.

THE STAR ATHLETE

Ah yes. The inevitable trope.

Liking Oliver Aiku meant watching more than participating. You knew him best from the benches, legs tucked in, cheering with everyone else while pretending you weren’t watching him specifically. Captain of the school soccer team, star athlete, always laughing like the world bent easily around him. From there, he looked untouchable.

In class, it wasn’t much different. You shared the same room, the same air, but not the same attention. He was popular, charming without trying, an effortless flirt.

You existed somewhere in the background, a familiar face he might recognize but never really notice. And still, you admired him. From the sidelines, from the crowd, from the quiet moments when he passed your desk or brushed by in the hallway. Little things you weren’t supposed to hold onto.

Aiku was the kind of crush that lived comfortably at a distance—one you carried quietly, from the benches to the classroom, knowing it was safer that way.

CLASS CLOWN

Every school has that trio.

The tallest one everyone agrees is the most handsome. The quiet, nerdy one. And then there’s your favorite—the goofball.

That was Bachira Meguru.

Class clown, loud laugh, zero shame. Always smiling like he had his own little sun following him around. His energy was infectious in the worst way, because once you noticed him, you couldn’t not.

His grin made your chest ache, his laughter stuck with you long after class ended, and whenever he leaned a little too close, your heart thumped embarrassingly loud. He didn’t even have to try. Just existing near you was enough.

And somehow, in all that chaos and laughter, you realized he wasn’t just funny anymore.

He was your favorite part of the day.

CLASS PRESIDENT

Being the class president’s assistant sounds impressive on paper.

In reality, it meant staying after class, organizing paperwork, sitting through meetings you barely spoke in, and spending an unreasonable amount of time next to Yukimiya Kenyu.

He took the role seriously. Too seriously.

Always thanking you, always apologizing when things ran long, always making sure you weren’t overwhelmed. He’d slide papers toward you neatly, lean just close enough to point things out, his voice low and calm like he wasn’t aware of the effect he had on other people.

“Are you okay with this?” he’d ask, earnest every time. “Let me know if it’s too much.” or “I really appreciate your help.”

It should’ve been nothin but professional mutualism.

Yet he remembered things like your schedule, which tasks you preferred, the way you liked your notes organized. Sometimes he’d bring you a drink without asking, already knowing what you liked. Sometimes he’d smile at you during meetings, small and private, like the two of you were sharing a secret.

You told yourself not to read into it.

He was kind to everyone. That’s just who he was. Still, when the room emptied and it was just the two of you, when he loosened his tie and sighed softly, thanking you again like it actually meant something—you felt it. That quiet, awful warmth in your chest.

Being his assistant wasn’t the problem.

i hope you’re doing well and staying healthy!! kinda late but happy new years mootie 💞

HIII BBG<3!!

Hey, I use this step-by-step method by @/pixxiesdust on my laptop, not sure if u can do it on ur phone too (i can’t sadly) but do give it a try!

Do you think you could write Niko x Reader hcs for swapping clothes? I barely see this baby written so it would mean a lot to me if you would! Thank youuu !!

Hiiii!!

YESYESYES I DO HAVE RECS! GAHH IM SO EXCITED TY FOR ASKING (so sry for the late reply, im back)

okay, again, the order is alphabetical + the world is big w many great twst writers who i haven’t came across yet so do explore the app.

APOLOGIES FOR TAGGING PEOPLE! 🗣️🙏

@akisteahouse: regularly checking out the posts once I come back on the app. like the variety, the writing, the stories are all perfect and I could stay and read them forever until I die. GOAT fr

@angxlblxxd: AMAZINGLY written, gimme 14 of them pls. aesthetic posts, great scenarios, u can feeel the baddie energy the moment u explore their account

@bouqskl: every. single. piece. issooofckinggoooood. the series’ w bunch of characters are my favs (meaning: all of them). really cute/soft aesthetic

@brbievivi: I CAN’T. every post is just so damn beautiful, I love the analysis’, the Barbie + TWST combos EAT EVERY TIME, and she just does this w a bunch of other series too like ex.: tinkerbell aaaaahhh

@cheapshrimpysheep: wanna rot in bed and just read great TWST fics all day? you’ve found ur blog—almost like a maze, the amount of GOOD content is insane, there’s smtg for everyone, take ur time

@egophiliac: not an author, but an artist and they do their job extremely well. the comics, panels, drawings mwah mwah chef’s kiss

@hanafubukki: another place to drown in. endless options, great variety from fluff to mature she got it all covered. + she’s SUPER SUPPORTIVE for everyone in the fandom it’s honestly the sweetest thing

@heartsiebyul: comfort place for me, i know my way around + lovely ideas that get me obsessed, adorable blog, gets me into the best mood every time

@himasgod: defo check it out bc AHHHHHHHH the writing style is so freaking good, amazing TWST content quality, emotions are perfectly depicted

@kanaria-a: when i tell u im far too gone, way too obsessed and deeply in love. i don’t lie. poetry w ancient vampire vibes, read one and you’ll get what i mean

@micocorie: RAHHHH I LOVE 1000X EVERYTHING. the scenarios are so good I don’t even know where to start + hilarious writing, relatable af

@nekonaps0: the way I gasped when I saw that she was a fellow Hungarian 😭 (NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I EXPECTED THAT) okay so I’m addicted to her writing, guys read everything, extremely good pieces, thank me later

@raven-at-the-writing-desk: starter point for everyone. u wanna be informed? wanna keep up, hear great analysis and opinions? wanna be a cultured Twst fella? yh so my point is just stop by

@rooksamoris: Rook’s arrow hit me, and I madly fell in love the moment I saw the blog. soo damn aesthetic and beautiful, perfect works to read

@smokesandsonatas: shameless in devouring these fics. like they are just soo mhhhmhmhmhhm + love how we’re being served JUICYLICIOUS smut occasionally

@solxamber: mirror, mirror on the wall, what’s my favorite (twst) blog of all? this one right here. humor+impeccable writing+endless options? sign me tf up. also. TRY. THE. INTERACTIVE. FIC. (fav thing ive ever discovered) + personal fav read is here

@un-fwuit-un-fwog: the ANGST in The Rain series is absolutely grut wrenching/if u need a good sob go read it type of fic. (also The Prefect Was Here is fcking amazing) + looovee sentimental/emotional rollercoaster posts

@wolfiesmoon: BLLK+JJK+TWST? this blog has it all, i loveee their concepts + how they write Yuu bc it’s so silly and fun. super beautiful blog too

synopsis: A surprise gift awaits you outside the club during Christmas night

a/n: merry rizzmass everyone! apologies for disappearing/ghosting i was genuinely going through some shit but im back. also why did a bunch of people leave guys 😭

characters: timeskip! alexis ness, brief mention of michael kaiser

Münich’s nightclub is loud.

Music bleeds through the walls in heavy bass, laughter spilling out every time the door opens. Inside, people are warm, buzzing and wrapped in lights and drinks, conquering the dance floor with the spirit of Dancer and Prancer, or whatever half-baked Christmas costume they’d thrown on for the night.

Outside, it’s quiet.

Snow clings to the pavement in half-melted patches, the air sharp enough to sting your lungs when you inhale too deeply.

Alexis Ness prefers this part.

After hours of partying with his teammates for the start of the seasonal break, he’s certain that if he doesn’t escape for a breath of fresh air soon, rest will be impossible—and the alcohol might actually finish him off first.

During moments like these, his thoughts always drift back to a certain blond. The two of them would occupy the corner of the room, yet somehow still be the center of attention. Kaiser never drank alcohol—so neither did he—surviving the night on endless cans of Coke instead. Not that it was much better, but at least it meant they never made the mistake of calling Noel Noa at one in the morning out of drunken confidence…unlike some of their teammates.

Leaning against the brick wall just beside the exit, his shoulders are slouched, wool coat hanging open, leaving his neck bare to the outside cold, because he forgot his scarf inside.

The cigarette between his fingers glows faintly, untouched for long seconds at a time. He takes one drag, then another, exhales slowly—like he’s trying to teach his body how to calm down.

It doesn’t really work to be fair.

But Alexis doesn’t smoke often. At least that’s what he tells himself every time when he’s out of everyone’s sight and reaches for the lighter inside his pocket.

He never even finishes a full pack.

Smoking is more like a reflex to him anyway, a coping mechanism of some sort, something to do with his hands when his chest feels too tight and his thoughts get too loud.

Therapy helps.

Routine helps.

But nights like this still crawl under his skin.

Snowflakes slowly land in his magenta-tipped hair.

He doesn’t bother to brush them away.

Then, his thoughts get interrupted as the door creaks open behind him once again.

Warm air spills out first, then an unexpected person in knee high boots, tights, and black skirt. Wrapping your coat tighter around yourself as you step outside, clearly just here for a breather as well.

You don’t notice him at first.

Too busy tilting your head back, letting the snow hit your face like a child discovering it for the first time.

Then you glance sideways.

His eyes, already on you, quickly avert—dropping to his shoes, then to the dark alley beside them.

“…Hey” you say while slowly approaching, brows knitting together. “Sorry, this might be weird, but didn’t we go to high school together?”

He straightens a little, instinctively.

“Yeah…w-we did.” Ness answers softly, his cheeks betraying him by turning red in an instant. That stupid, shy little crush he had on you years ago coming back all over again.

Recognition flickers across your face—not excitement, not awe. Just familiarity. Like recognizing an old song you used to listen to but haven’t heard in years.

“Huh,” you murmur. “Didn’t expect to run into you out here.”

“Clubbing is not my thing.” he admits, glancing down at the cigarette, flicking it a little.

There’s an awkward beat.

Not uncomfortable.

Just…unfilled.

Then you step closer, boots crunching softly in the snow. Close enough now that you can see the faint dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands slightly shake and keep adjusting their grip on nothing once he realizes you’re looking.

“It’s freezing,” you say, eyeing his open coat. “A world-class athlete trying to get sick?”

He huffs a quiet, awkward laugh. “Says the one standing in a skirt.”

Smiling, you try to defend yourself by showing him the thick socks you have hidden, or how the tights are warmer than they make it look.

Time starts to pass as old memories come back, and new conversations form under the weak glow of a flickering streetlight.

You don’t even notice how naturally you gravitated towards Alexis while talking, now standing just a few inches away from him. Then, hesitating only for a moment, you reach up, tugging at your scarf—long, thick, still warm from your skin.

“What are you-?” he starts, flustered.

But you’re already lifting it up, stepping into his space, and looping it over his head in one smooth motion. The world instantly shrinks as you pull him closer by the fabric—snow muffled, noise distant, just the shared warmth between you.

Ness freezes. (in both senses)

Your breath fogs between you.

His does too.

You’re close enough that he can smell your perfume, something sweet, clean and comforting mixing with his smoky, burnt exhales. His heart beats embarrassingly loud as well, because for half a second—he really thinks you’re going to kiss him.

Alexis’ breath hitches, eyes never quite leaving yours.

One hand drifts to your hip without thinking, a boldness even he didn’t know he had, while the other keeps a loose grip on the cigarette.

But instead of a kiss, you simply lean in just enough to gently boop your nose against his with a smirk.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper, smiling. “Not exactly what I asked from Santa, but…you’re not the worst surprise either.”

It takes him a second to react.

And regain consciousness.

His eyes close again, lips leaving a genuine, shaky exhale of relief. The tension in his shoulders finally eases, just a bit.

Yet his hand never fully leaves your body.

“Not bad at all.” he agrees, watching your happiness in teasing him.

Meanwhile, your arms slowly find their way around his neck, body relaxing against his for who-knows-how-long as his fingers tighten their grip, pulling you just a tad bit closer.

And as Ness admires you in silence, your gaze move to every inch of his face—memorizing each spot, lash, and minor detail like it’s the last time you’ll ever see the man in front of you.

By the time you remember your friends—and his teammates—are waiting, Germany’s harsh winter makes you step back. The scarf falls onto his shoulders, and you wrap it around his neck, enough to keep him warm.

“Head back soon, okay?” squeezing the fluffy fabric one last time, you give him a peck on the cheeks, leaving your lipstick mark on the player.

Ness nods, letting you go.

The smoke of the cigarette that has long burnt out between his fingers follows your figure until you’re out of sight.

He doesn’t light another.

Just watches the snow fall instead, feeling warmer than he has all night.

❄︎ @wensurr + we hit 567 followers guys ty (i need to touch grass)

❄︎ p.s.: just imagine the paparazzi capturing him walking out of the club with flushed cheeks, red nose, a pink scarf and a fucking lipstick mark on his cheek ahhhhhhh (drunk enhypen for reference iykyk)

❄︎ based on this small thought i randomly had: okay, we know Ness is lwk an obsessive person and gets easily attached and addicted to things or people. So imagine him years later in his mid 20s when his career is flying with a stable salary, and a team without a certain someone who he often thinks about. Like you can see on the media how he’s gained muscles, got healthier and is actively going to a therapist. Yet, the only thing he never tells anyone is that he smokes. Alexis Ness smokes. Not that often, and only one cigarette at a time. He actually barely manages to finish a box, but when he’s anxious? The first things he does after practice or wherever he’s at is actively searching through his bag for a cigarette.

synopsis: Your story continues. Despite fleeting joy, hidden pain, and moments of loss, you both learn one thing—love can bloom even in the darkest times.

a/n: is this even considered angst? yh, i don’t think so but ty for reading and check out part one. also, can we ignore my diagnosis bc ik ik it sucked -_-

I: welcome home, my rose

“Where are you staying?” the striker asked casually, though the tapping of his fingers on the wheel suggested otherwise.

“A friend. Until I get my own place.”

He hummed before it slipped out. “You can live with me.”

That sentence came out too fast.

Too confident to be casual, too well-said to be a fleeting thought just now.

It almost sounded like a command disguised as an undeniable offer that he practiced in the mirror for hours.

You froze mid-bite, burger halfway to your mouth. Then you gave him the most dramatic gag imaginable.

“Ew. No thanks.”

He quickly snapped his head toward you, confused, letting out the loudest offended scoff before muttering under his breath—something about your “horrible taste” and “not knowing what’s the best for you.”

Silence stretched for a minute.

Then he tried again.

This time more persuasive.

“It’s for convenience,” he started stiffly. “You can take the first floor. And make my morning coffee while you’re there.”

You rolled your eyes in response, chewing your burger without giving it much thought. Working with Michael Kaiser everyday (based on past experiences) was already a full-time emotional burden; waking up to his annoyingly perfect face too?

Absolutely not.

…Well. Maybe.

“Need help?” he asked as you dragged your suitcase over the threshold, fighting back a smug grin.

“Nope…” you shot back, cheeks warming as you tried not to scratch his marble floor.

Truth was, you really didn’t want to depend on your now-boss. But, of course, as luck would have it, your friend’s boyfriend had come back earlier than planned, and you didn’t want to be a nuisance, so here you were—temporarily homeless and stuck with Germany’s biggest ego.

Kaiser hummed in triumph at your defeated state, already heading up the stairs to the second floor—where his room was.

Directly above yours.

Obviously.

“I left a surprise for you in the kitchen,” he called over his shoulder before disappearing.

Leaving your stuff in the living room, you wandered in, curious and in need for a glass of water when you stopped in your tracks.

A black vase sat centered on the dining table.

Glossy. Minimalistic. Probably ridiculously expensive.

Inside it were roses.

Deep royal blue.

Perfectly arranged.

Wrapped with a gold bow.

A note rested against the vase. You stepped closer, picking up the card.

Welcome back—M.K.

Your heart did something funny.

You pretended it didn’t.

ll: birthday in bloom

The sound of distant cars and the calm hush of the city made the night walk far more peaceful than the chaotic daytime pace you were both used to. No disguises, masks or hiding. Just the two of you, feet crunching in the snow, almost in sync, your breath visible in thin white clouds.

“What’s the schedule for tomorrow?” Kaiser asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You stopped, staring at him with wide eyes before you burst out laughing, gripping his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Seriously?” you wheezed. “That’s all you got?”

His brow arched, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t know it…” he leaned down, teasing as you instinctively backed away.

Scoffing into your scarf, you crouched down, gathered a handful of snow, shaped it into a slightly lopsided football, and launched it directly onto the player’s coat.

A vein visibly popped on his forehead.

Then, he bent down too—grabbing a fistful of snow, accepting your challenge without a word.

“ ‘course I know your schedule,” you huffed, lifting your fingers one by one while smoothly dodging his aimed snowball at you. “Tomorrow includes: sleeping in, eating cake, blowing out candles, and—”

“Stop that.” his voice dropped like you had just said something out of line. “I didn’t ask you to do any of that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The playful fight you were about to ignite died instantly.

Stepping closer, you tightly grabbed his scarf, and tugged him down to your eye level—the tip of his nose red from the cold, his eyes darkening with confusion and irritation.

“You ignored it last year too,” you said softly but firmly. “Birthdays are meant to be celebrated, Michael. You deserve to be happy for at least one day. You won’t die, I promise.”

Then you let him go and turned, walking ahead through the white path.

He followed eventually—tensed and silent, clearly battling whatever your words had stirred up inside him.

He never wanted his birthday.

Not the memories that came with it.

Not the reminders.

Not the emptiness.

Training was easier.

Running was easier.

Ignoring the date entirely was easier.

So when dawn crept in, Kaiser—duffel bag hanging from his shoulder, keys between his fingers, training shoes packed—was already headed toward the door.

Until he noticed a soft glow coming from the living room.

Walking closer—thinking it was just the early sunlight creeping in—he stopped, a quiet breath escaping him.

You were curled up on the couch, fast asleep, phone still in hand—alarm unset, thumb halfway across the screen.

On the coffee table sat a tiny cake, one small lit candle and…

“…roses.” he murmured, crouching down.

Blue and booming. Perfectly arranged.

Exactly twenty-four of them.

A number he never wanted to celebrate.

A number you remembered anyway.

Kaiser dragged a hand through his hair—annoyed and touched, reaching over to adjust the blanket that had slipped from your shoulder, tugging it gently up to your chin. For a moment he hovered, then dipped down just enough to brush a quick, almost invisible kiss to your forehead.

“You’re a pain in the ass” he muttered under his breath, eyes drifting back to the card with your handwriting.

Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Micha <3

He read it over and over, then slipped the note into his pocket, almost irritated at himself for doing it.

Just as he was about to leave, Kaiser leaned down and with a soft exhale, quietly blew the candle out.

The flame died instantly.

The room darkened again, save for the soft glow of morning fighting through the curtains.

He stood, stared at your face for a moment longer than he should’ve, and walked out, leaving with a quiet sigh and a heaviness he didn’t bother to hide.

lll: thorns between us

“SIR! CAN YOU CONFIRM IT?”

“KAISER, LOOK THIS WAY!”

“ARE THE RUMORS TRUE?”

The wall of reporters closed in, camera flashes blinding you with each step. You pressed your clipboard up to Kaiser’s face, trying to shield him as the two of you pushed through the crowd.

“Keep moving,” you muttered, hand firm on his back.

He exhaled sharply, done and tired from all the attention he’s been getting for all the wrong reasons.

Finally reaching the car, he slid right in as you shut the door behind him before diving into the other side.

The striker loudly groaned, leaning back with a hand over his eyes.

You handed him some water. “I’ll have them release a statement—”

“Shut. the. fuck. up.” he grumbled, pushing the water away.

You swallowed hard.

It’s been two years since you’ve returned and agreed to being his personal manager, and by now you’d learned that…some things don’t change.

Not him.

Not easily, at least…

“Look, I know this situation is taking a toll on—”

“You know nothing.” he sat up fast, blue eyes blazing with fury. “All you ever do is talk. Talk about meaningless shit. Let a wannabe influencer run his mouth and drag my name through hell while you—”

He grabbed your jaw, fingers digging in hard as he angled your face toward him.

“—are doing nothing, but being a useless and an incompetent piece of shit.”

Your breath hitched, not from fear, but from the sheer sting of his words, the pain on your face secondary to the feeling of humiliation.

The past few weeks had been hard. Rumors exploding online. Fans fighting. Articles everywhere.

All because of someone with too much time and too much spite who wanted to watch Michael Kaiser crumble.

But what they didn’t know was that devils don’t fall.

They drag everyone else down.

“I’m sorry…l’ll fix—”

He gave you a deep sigh, mockingly chuckling at your promise before releasing your jaw and leaning back, ignoring you.

The car ride to his apartment was suffocatingly silent.

His chauffeur would give you sympathetic looks through the rearview mirror while you could only nod, hoping the striker’s anger to slowly fade.

Reaching his home, the chauffeur opened the door as Kaiser stepped out first, slamming the car door shut.

Then, the staff member approached you with yet another bouquet of roses hidden in the trunk.

Presumably what Kaiser ordered since they were in his signature color, tied with a gold ribbon.

Just the usual.

But he didn’t even touch them, let alone give it to you himself. Instead, he simply stared with disdain, forgetting the purpose of getting those flowers.

“Throw them out,” he ordered before adding, “Don’t mess this task up too.”

That was the moment something in you snapped.

Before the football player could take another step, you hurled the bouquet right at him.

It hit his cheek hard, thorns scraping his delicate skin.

Kaiser frowned, small enough, just for a split second.

What came next was him slowly looking back at you with empty eyes, the disappointment and anger clearly evident. You simply stood there with clenched fists, breath shaking in the cold.

For a long moment he held your gaze, unreadable. Then, he turned around and left you without another word, walking ahead without looking back.

No words. No fury. Nothing.

He stepped on the bouquet you threw in his face, crushing the deep blue petals mixed with his own, crimson red blood under his heel.

IV: wilted petals

You two decided on not riding in the same car for a while.

Keeping professionalism and personal interest far apart, you took the public transport while he drove himself.

Some days you’d exchange tired glances.

Some days you’d slide his usual coffee onto his desk without a word.

Some days you’d both pretend the other didn’t exist.

You still had to speak to him of course—being his personal manager and all that—but even then he barely acknowledged you, opting to communicate through Ness or curt texts and nods.

You tolerated it for about week.

Then another.

But after apologizing to him hundreds of times, and even offering to fix things however you could, and he still acted like a fucking brick wall?

You had enough.

“How long are you going to keep up this childish act?” you hissed, stepping in front of him before his conference interview could start.

The blond looked back at you with that infuriatingly blank expression, shrugging one shoulder.

“Kaiser!” you grabbed his wrist, desperate for him to just react.

His reflex was still sharp, twisting your hand with a tight grip, jaw flexed.

“Don’t touch me.”

Despite his emotionless voice, there was something hiding behind his gaze.

Something he wasn’t letting himself feel.

You let him go.

You had to.

The staff ushered him inside the interview room, leaving you outside with your heart pounding and your hand aching.

When Kaiser finished, he headed straight toward his private changing room, ripping off the mic. His phone vibrated on the counter, flashing an unknown number.

He answered without thinking.

“Hallo?”

“Is this an acquaintance of Miss Y/N L/N?” the voice asked.

“…Yes,” Kaiser said, tone immediately dropping. “Why?”

“We’re contacting her listed emergency numbers. There’s been an accident near XX street. She has been brought to the hospital…”

The call continued, the striker’s heart sinking with every word. By the time he hit the red button, his mind was nowhere near the information he’d been given.

All he did was rush to the parking lot.

Kaiser didn’t remember the drive there. Didn’t care about the red lights he ignored or the fact he didn’t breathe until he was standing under the harsh fluorescent glow of the hospital ER.

“Are you here for Ms. L/N?” a nurse asked, recognition evident on her face as she gave him a mask. For protection. And privacy.

He nodded.

“Please wait here.”

So he sat down and waited, hands fidgeting as sweat dripped off his face, and legs that wouldn’t stop shaking.

Your last conversation replayed in his head like a punishment, a reminder.

“How long are you going to keep up this childish act?”

He pressed his palms over his face, breath shaky, head aching.

Fuck.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh on you. Probably should’ve said something—anything—when you walked away looking exhausted and defeated.

He’d been stubborn, proud, ego high up in the clouds.

And thanks to that, now you were somewhere behind those closed doors with tubes and wires, covered in blood that shouldn’t ever have been yours.

A nurse passed with a plastic evidence bag. He saw your cracked phone inside. Your jacket with a smear of blood, your jewelry bent out of shape…and caught between everything else were…blue petals.

Not many. Just enough to tell a story.

A few stuck to your cracked screen, others crushed flat against the fabric of your jacket—like they’d been held close.

Like they weren’t supposed to end up here.

Kaiser’s jaw clenched.

He didn’t need anyone to explain where you had been going or what you wanted to do with them.

He knew.

His stomach dropped.

His throat tightened painfully as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hand covering his mouth.

“Don’t you dare…” he whispered, voice breaking for the first time in years. “Don’t you dare leave like this.”

Kaiser cut himself off, chest burning. He’d rather you yelled at him again, rather you threw another bouquet at his face, rather you hate and loathe him for eternity. Anything was better than dying in this cold, sterile place without receiving a proper apology or goodbye.

Without noticing how much time had passed, the ER doors finally opened.

A doctor stepped out, scanning the chairs.

“Ms. L/N’s relative?” he called. Kaiser shot to his feet, pulling down his mask.

“Close acquaintance.”

The doctor nodded with a calm expression. “She’s stable.”

The striker nodded once.

“…but is currently unconscious. It was a close call, and her body is extremely bruised and exhausted. We can’t say when exactly she’ll wake up, but it might take a few days, even weeks. You’ll be able to visit her once her condition improves.”

Stunned, Kaiser stood silent for a few seconds, confirming what he just heard before he exhaled sharply as relief crashed through him so violently it hurt. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“…thank you.”

V: through the thorns

He sat back down in the stiff plastic chair, the same one he’d been glued to for hours—maybe days—hands trembling uncontrollably as he stared at your figure on the hospital bed.

The faint beeping of the heart monitor was the only thing trying to keep him sane—proof that you were still here even if you weren’t with him.

“Wake up…wake up…wake up.”

He whispered it like a mantra, forehead pressed to the edge of your mattress, fingers laced into the sheets as if he could anchor you back to him by force.

He barely slept. Barely moved. Barely breathed unless the monitor next to you did.

Every few minutes, his hand would twitch toward yours again.

And then he’d whisper it again, each time softer, more broken…

“Please…wake up.”

But as much as his mind was alert, his body refused to cooperate. He fought it at first, clinging to your bedside while nurses hovered, checking his vitals and insisting he needed rest. “You’ve been awake for hours. You’ll crash if you don’t lie down,” one nurse said gently, nudging him toward the couch in your room.

He dismissed it stubbornly. He couldn’t rest—not after the endless hours of waiting, the quiet ticking of the clock, the spiraling thoughts that refused to give him a moment’s peace.

How could he possibly sleep while you lay here, silently suffering, unconscious and in pain?

He would have stayed by your side indefinitely if his obligations as a football player—and the ever-watchful eyes of the media—hadn’t pulled him away as well. Grumbling, left with no other choice, he decided to call Alexis.

“Stay with her while I’m out” he instructed, voice tight with frustration. “Don’t let anyone near her room.” even as exhaustion tugged at his body, worry sharpened every word he spoke.

The next few days were a blur.

Training sessions, interviews, and public appearances—soon to be paused for a short break—did nothing to ease his mind. Every moment, his thoughts were with you, checking his phone each time, in hope for a single message, a single call that you’d woken.

Meanwhile, Alexis, ever the loyal dog to him, arrived promptly each day with a small bouquet of (according to Kaiser—unwanted) magenta flowers, to bring a bright splash of color against the pale hospital walls.

He reported every single change—your fingers twitching, a sigh in your sleep, a slight movement—and Kaiser’s chest ached with helplessness. He hated not being there with you, not being the one to watch over you.

Finally, the call came in the middle of training.

“She’s regained consciousness.”

Rushing to the hospital then to your room (which thanks to him was in the VIP section), the moment he stepped inside—relief washed over his body tangled with a sharp pang of jealousy.

Kaiser couldn’t help noticing how much time Alexis had spent with you while he’d been away—smoothing your blanket, keeping you company, and carefully tracking every little detail for him. How he sat close, kind and calm, while a nurse whispered something to a colleague in the hallway about Alexis’s attentiveness, a small approving smile on her face as he walked past them.

On the nightstand beside your bed, he noticed the small notebook where the brunette had been keeping track of your progress as well.

Someone else had been the one by your side when he’d been forced to step away.

He hated feeling like an outsider.

That felt like shit.

Still, clearing his throat, he stepped toward your bed, guilt tugging at his chest.

He should’ve been more present.

He should have been the one watching you.

Yet, at that moment, when your eyelids fluttered open, and recognition shone in your eyes, his heart began racing. “Kaiser…” you whispered, reaching for him.

“I’m here, mein Schatz…” he murmured instantly, voice low and rough, pressing his forehead against yours. For a second, he glanced at Alexis, who gave a small, apologetic smile, before his attention returned fully to you.

Everything else—the waiting, the exhaustion, the jealousy—melted away the moment you reached for him and gently wrapped your arms around his neck.

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