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I don't want Qifrey to become a Brimmed Hat, but if he did, this is the design that would cause me the most emotional damage. My headcanon is that Olly made the tassel glow to keep Qifrey warm, despite it all...
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you were in the middle of slicing fruit for your son’s lunch box when you heard the faint sound of his tiny feet padding across the floor. it was early, the sun barely peeking through the curtains, and nagi was still half-asleep on the couch, one arm hanging off the side like he’d melted there overnight.
you hummed to yourself as you packed the small bento—apple slices shaped like stars, his favorite sandwich, and one of those cute little yogurt drinks. your son peeked in from the hallway, rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking up just like nagi’s when he wakes up. you swore sometimes they were carbon copies, down to the sleepy pout and stubborn bedhead.
you turned when your phone buzzed and picked it up. “hello? yes, this is for a prenatal check-up… uh-huh, around seven weeks along, yes.”
you didn’t notice your son standing by the corner, clutching his plush shark tightly. he frowned, confusion crossing his face. prenatal? seven weeks? check-up? his little brain did the math—well, not really math, more like a gut feeling—and came to one tragic conclusion.
mama was getting another baby.
he blinked, betrayed. his grip on the plush shark tightened. no way. she already has me. and papa. why would she want another one?
he stomped off, face scrunched in indignation, nearly tripping over nagi’s sneakers that were just randomly lying in the middle of the floor. nagi snorted softly in his sleep, muttering, “mmm… five more minutes, babe…” completely oblivious to the emotional crisis happening ten feet away.
by the time you were ready to drop your son off at preschool, he was oddly quiet. no whining about socks. no rambling about dinosaurs. no asking if nagi was gonna pick him up after practice. you crouched down to fix his collar. “hey, baby, where’s my morning kiss?”
he just crossed his little arms and turned away.
“baby?”
“don’t wanna.”
you blinked. “don’t wanna what?”
he refused to answer, clutching his plush shark tighter as if it could protect him from you.
you smiled awkwardly at his teacher, who gave you a sympathetic look as she led him inside. your heart sank a bit. maybe he was tired? or maybe he had a fight with his classmate again? you brushed it off, heading to your appointment while mentally noting to talk to him later.
after your appointment, you couldn’t stop smiling. hearing the faint little heartbeat made your eyes sting with happy tears—you were already imagining how to surprise nagi and your son tonight. maybe a little dinner at home, something simple and sweet. you even bought a small white onesie that said player two loading… because, well, nagi would get a kick out of that.
you picked your son up from preschool in the afternoon. he climbed into his seat silently, staring out the window with that same little pout.
“hey, baby,” you said softly. “did something happen at school?”
“no.”
“then why so quiet?”
he kicked his legs lightly, clearly torn between keeping the secret and exploding. finally, his bottom lip trembled. “i don’t want it.”
“don’t want what, sweetheart?”
“the baby!” he blurted out, eyes filling with tears. “i don’t want it! you already have me!”
you froze. “...oh.” so that’s what this was.
his tiny fists balled up in his lap. “you’re gonna love the baby more and forget about me! and papa already steals you all the time—he hugs you too much!”
you had to bite back a laugh at that. so it’s both jealousy and seishiro-related trauma.
you pulled over and turned to face him, gently brushing his hair back. “hey, listen to me, okay? i’m always gonna love you. nothing’s gonna change that. you’ll still get my hugs, my kisses, my bedtime stories—everything. you’ll just have someone new to share them with.”
“but… what if you love them more?” he whispered.
you smiled and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “not possible. my heart just gets bigger, that’s all.”
“you promise?”
“i promise.”
he sniffled, finally letting you hug him tight. he mumbled something like “okay” into your shirt, and you couldn’t help but smile into his hair.
when you got home, nagi was sitting on the couch again, half-wrapped in a blanket, scrolling on his phone with that lazy posture that somehow screamed both “professional athlete” and “permanent couch ornament.”
“yo,” he greeted, eyes still on his screen. “you’re back.”
“mhm. and so is someone’s attitude,” you said, glancing at your son.
nagi peered up lazily. “huh? what’d he do this time?”
before you could answer, your son suddenly blurted out, “mama’s having a baby!”
you froze mid-step. nagi blinked slowly, phone lowering. “…huh?”
you looked at your son, who instantly realized what he said and gasped, slapping both hands over his mouth.
nagi’s brows lifted. “wait, for real?” he turned to you, expression brightening. “we’re having another one?”
you sighed, placing a hand on your hip. “so much for the surprise.”
his lips curled into a lazy grin as he pushed himself off the couch. “that’s crazy, babe. guess i gotta train harder now. more mouths to feed.”
you laughed softly. “you already complain about training every day.”
“yeah, but now i’ll complain with purpose,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you. “we’re seriously having another one? that’s kinda wild.”
“mhmm.”
“can i tell reo?”
“after dinner.”
your son, still sulking, muttered, “see? he’s already taking your attention again.”
nagi looked down at him, smirking. “jealous of your old man, huh?”
“you always take mama’s hugs!”
“well, that’s because she loves me the most.” nagi said it so casually that your son’s gasp was audible.
“no, she doesn’t!” he stomped his foot. “she loves me!”
you pressed your fingers to your temples. “you’re both ridiculous.”
“see?” nagi leaned down, whispering conspiratorially to the boy. “she didn’t deny it.”
you rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead. “don’t teach him your nonsense.”
nagi just grinned and hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “so who’s it gonna be? another me or another you?”
“hopefully not another you,” you said, deadpan.
“ouch.”
your son, meanwhile, latched onto your leg, pouting. “but mama loves me the most, right?”
you knelt down and cupped his cheeks. “i love both of you equally. and i’ll love the baby just as much.”
nagi made a fake offended sound. “both? what about me? am i chopped liver?”
you gave him a look. “you’re an oversized baby. you’re included.”
he grinned, clearly satisfied. “nice. family ranking secured.”
you snorted, shaking your head as your son wriggled between you two, yelling, “nooo! papa’s stealing again!”
nagi laughed, scooping him up and tossing him gently in the air. “guess i’ll just keep stealing you both then.”
you stood there watching your two boys—your sleepy, overgrown one and your clingy, jealous little one—filling the living room with laughter. your heart felt full.
later that night, after what could only be described as controlled chaos, the house was finally quiet. nagi had just barely survived bath time—which included him accidentally squirting half a bottle of baby shampoo on both himself and your son (“it’s fine, babe, at least we’re clean and smell nice,” he’d said, looking like a sad bubble creature)—and your son was still giggling about it even as you helped him brush his teeth.
“two stories tonight, okay?” you reminded him once he was tucked into his little bed.
“three,” he negotiated, holding up three fingers with the confidence of a seasoned lawyer.
“two,” you said firmly, though the corners of your lips betrayed you.
he sighed dramatically, flopping back against his pillow. “fine. but they have to be good ones.”
you read the very hungry caterpillar and the little prince, his favorite combo. by the time you closed the second book, his eyelids were heavy, his plush shark tucked under his chin. you leaned down, kissed his forehead, and whispered, “goodnight, baby. stay in your room, okay? promise?”
he nodded sleepily, murmuring, “promise.”
you smiled, turning off the lamp and tiptoeing out of the room. peace at last.
you slipped into bed beside nagi, who was sprawled diagonally like he was trying to claim every inch of space available. his hair was messy, his phone screen dimly lighting his face. he was half-awake, scrolling through videos with that lazy focus unique to him.
“you’re still up?” you mumbled, crawling under the blanket.
“couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, yawning halfway through. “reo sent another compilation of cats knocking things over. kinda relatable.”
you rolled your eyes, curling up beside him. “go to sleep, sei.”
“’m trying,” he mumbled, putting his phone face-down. “you’re too comfy though. distracting.”
you gave him a light kick under the blanket. “goodnight.”
for about ten blissful minutes, the room was quiet—until you heard it. a faint creak. then the soft patter of tiny feet.
before you could even lift your head, the blanket rustled and something small wedged itself between you and nagi.
“mama,” your son whispered, voice sleepy and small. “can i sleep here?”
you blinked, staring down at his tiny form as he burrowed between you two with his plush shark in tow. “baby, you promised you’d stay in your room tonight.”
“i changed my mind,” he said simply, already half-asleep again.
you sighed, brushing his hair back. “sei,” you whispered toward nagi’s side of the bed, “did you leave the door unlocked again?”
there was a pause, followed by nagi’s low, drowsy mumble. “mm… maybe.”
“you always ‘maybe,’” you whispered accusingly.
“’cause i knew he’d come anyway,” he said, voice muffled by the pillow. one long arm lazily reached out and wrapped around both you and your son, pulling you close until you were all in a warm, sleepy tangle.
“you’re both warm,” nagi murmured, clearly pleased with himself. “perfect blanket combo.”
“you’re hopeless,” you sighed.
“you love it,” he countered softly.
you were about to respond when your son, voice faint and thick with sleep, mumbled, “mama… we need a bigger bed.”
you froze, biting back a laugh. “a bigger bed?”
“mhm,” he hummed. “so when my baby sibling comes… they can sleep here too. i want them to feel your love too.”
you blinked, heart doing that melty thing that always happened when he said something unexpectedly sweet.
nagi let out a sleepy chuckle behind you, breath warm against your neck. “he’s got a point, though. we’re running outta space.”
“you don’t even stay on your side of the bed,” you whispered.
“that’s ‘cause my side’s wherever you are.”
“corny,” you muttered, even as your lips curved into a smile.
nagi hummed lazily. “you like it.”
you reached down to smooth your son’s hair, and he instinctively grabbed your hand, snuggling closer. nagi’s hand joined yours soon after, his fingers brushing yours as he idly caressed your son’s soft hair. for a moment, it was quiet again, just the hum of the night and the soft rhythm of your breathing.
then your son started mumbling in his sleep.
“i’ll… share my toys…” he whispered, voice slurred with dreams. “and my snacks… but not the gummy bears… maybe one…”
you pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh.
“he’s bargaining in his sleep,” nagi said in amusement, his tone soft.
“just like you when i ask you to share your chips,” you teased.
nagi huffed a small laugh. “see? he’s my mini-me.”
“mm. let’s hope he doesn’t inherit your energy levels too,” you whispered.
“hey,” nagi murmured, feigning offense. “i have energy. i just save it for important things.”
“like what?”
“like hugging you.”
you rolled your eyes, cheeks warming despite yourself. “you’re ridiculous.”
“efficient,” he corrected, his voice getting sleepier. “big difference.”
your son stirred again, mumbling softly, “i’ll protect the baby… from monsters… and papa’s snoring…”
you and nagi both froze before quietly snickering.
“traitor,” nagi whispered.
“he’s not wrong,” you whispered back, grinning.
nagi leaned in close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “you snore too, y’know.”
you gasped quietly. “i do not.”
“yeah, you do,” he murmured. “tiny ones. like… pffft pffft.”
you smacked his chest lightly, trying not to laugh too loud and wake your son. “stop—”
he chuckled lazily, arm tightening around you both. “can’t. too comfy.”
you sighed, giving up as you snuggled closer, your son squished safely between the two of you like the warmest little burrito.
“sei,” you whispered softly. “we really might need a bigger bed soon.”
“mm,” he mumbled. “king size… family upgrade.”
“that’s what you said when we got a cat.”
“yeah, but this time i mean it,” he said, voice fading into drowsy warmth.
you smiled in the dark, fingers tracing little circles on your son’s back. his breathing was even now, peaceful, and every once in a while, he’d mumble something adorable like, “baby can borrow my crayons… but not the blue one…”
you met nagi’s gaze in the dim light, both of you fighting back laughs.
“he’s gonna be the sweetest big brother,” you whispered.
nagi hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “he’s got your heart. your softness. my looks. unbeatable combo.”
“your arrogance too,” you teased.
“can’t be perfect without flaws,” he murmured, grin audible in his tone.
you rolled your eyes, but your chest felt warm—so full it almost ached. you leaned back into him, your little family tucked safely between the sheets, the room filled with the sound of gentle breaths and occasional sleepy mumbling about gummy bears.
“goodnight, sei,” you whispered.
“’night, mama,” he mumbled automatically.
nagi’s voice followed, low and lazy. “’night, my girl. and my guys.”
“sei,” you whispered again, amused, “you’re not allowed to call the baby ‘my guy’ before we even know.”
“too late,” he said softly, already drifting off. “called dibs.”
and somewhere between his drowsy chuckles and your son’s sleepy murmurs about protecting his “mini baby,” you realized you didn’t actually need a bigger bed—because somehow, even in the tiniest space, there was always enough room for all the love in the world.
although it might be unexpected, nagi is a complete freak. he’ll complain about how it’s annoying to get messy during sex, whining that it’ll be a hassle to clean up, but he absolutely loves when you’re drooling beneath him, stuffed so full of him with thick ropes of his cum everywhere on your body.
his cum is dripping out of your swollen pussy in sticky trails, smeared along your thighs and pooling beneath you on the sheets. you’re shaking, mouth parted as you try to catch your breath, but nagi? he’s jerking his cock lazily on top of you while his half lidded eyes roam over the mess he made. there’s cum leaking from your pussy, some drying against your stomach, and even some on your chest and collarbones from when he’d finished there the first time.
“look so good like this, angel,” he breathes out, like he’s hypnotized. “s’fucking everywhere…”
he grabs his phone off the mattress, taking photos of your pussy that's all stretched out and dripping. his voice drops into a whisper, thumb tapping the screen while he breathes out, “g’nna cum again just lookin’ at you like this.”
you whimper softly, and he hums like he’s soothed by it, thumb swiping across his phone lazily before tossing it aside. “wanna fuck it back in,” he mumbles, voice quiet but certain as he shifts closer again, cock pressing against your entrance as he nudges it in, groaning against your neck.
“still so full,” he says, almost to himself. “but it’s spilling out... wasting it…”
he’s already lazily pumping his cock in and out of you again, your pussy puffy and overstimulated. “feels even better messy,” he breathes out, head tipping as he watches his cock disappear into your soaked hole. “just one more time, baby, wanna cum on your stomach again. maybe your face too…”
and when he cums again, filling your pussy up to the brim as you let out the most high pitched whimpers of “seishiro.. mmh— so good..”, he lets out a low whine, “fuck, angel… s’pretty. wanna stay like this forever.”
you can’t even respond, eyes barely being kept open, your body already so tired as you fight the urge to fall asleep. that is, until you hear nagi mutter a low grumble as his thumb smears the cum around your swollen cunt sloppily, “shit, i need more pictures..”
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꒰ day 19 ⋆ nagi seishiro ⋆ lazy sex + cum stuffing ꒱
one thing you learned from this relationship was to not underestimate nagi seishiro’s laziness. because he’s soooo lazy to the point where he doesn’t even put in effort to fuck you right. yet somehow, he always has you in shambles, crying his name as he’s balls deep inside you, even when he barely does anything.
you’re both curled on your sides, nagi’s arm wrapped around your body, trapping you while he pushed in from behind, chest flush against your back. he didn’t bother to set a rhythm or pace, hardly even moving. his plan was to just keep himself buried to the hilt, deep enough for his blunt head to press right on your cervix, where the slightest shift of his hips would have you screaming. “sei—too deep—it hurts..” you whined, fingers digging into the sheets while he continued keeping himself there, his lips making contact with your shoulders before murmuring against your skin, “just give it a second, baby. gonna make you feel good soon.” he pulled his lips away with a wet smack, strings of saliva still clinging onto your skin where a mark bloomed, pulling his hips back a minuscule amount before grinding against your cervix again.
you squirmed in his arms, a cry slipping out of your mouth as both pain and pleasure swirled inside you. it hurt, but it hurt so good, making your body twitch as it ached for more. nagi hummed watching the way you grinded against him, your ass backing up into his pelvis desperately. “so needy..” he mumbled before pulling back slightly then sinking in — actually moving this time, though still with a lack of effort — just barely giving you the friction that you craved. would it be wrong to be a little more greedy?
“more, sei.. haah—want more..” you were restless now, desire accumulating into something your couldn’t resist, frantically fucking yourself on his length, moving independently. “hm, need it that bad, baby?” he whispered into your ear, arms sliding in between your thighs. “i’ll help you out, ‘kay?” he said as he massaged your bundle of nerves, rubbing lazy circles while you did all the work, whimpers endlessly slipping out of your mouth.
your body jolted when he added pressure to your clit, thighs trembling as the pleasure got overwhelming, heat surging through your whole body. he occasionally bucked into you when you clenched too hard, groaning into your ear as your walls dragged themselves on his length, producing loud squelches with every piston of his cock inside you. he was throbbing hard, and so were you — walls fluttering when you reached your limit, feeling the coil in your stomach snapping. “shit—squeezin’ me so tight—“ nagi grunted, unable to move. so instead, he pulled you down on his cock, burying himself deep inside as he spilled inside, filling you up with thick, hot spurts of cum.
the bedsheets were soaked, and you were spent despite not moving much. he had already pulled out, but still, he wasn’t done — stuffing his cum back in with his fingers when they leaked out. “‘s not staying in, baby.” he muttered, pausing for a moment before lining himself up against your entrance again. “sei, what’re you—“
“gotta keep it in.” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “wanna keep you full of me.”
nagi slowly processed what just happened, sighing at the cum that messily covered his hand and abs. he was far too lazy and way too distracted to clean it up right now.
he knew very well himself that he hadn't misheard your sweet voice moan out his name in the shower. nagi was a very attentive person, despite what most people thought, and when he glanced through the crack of the bathroom door, his eyes darkened a bit. it was hard to see clearly due to the hot water fogging up the glass, but by the way your body was positioned, he could tell you weren't showering in there anymore. he silently cursed as he grew hard again, imagination running wild at what exactly you could be doing in there to yourself.
'might as well find out.'
he thought to himself as he pushed off the mattress, not even bothering to put his shorts or boxers back on.
you were caught off guard by the door suddenly swinging open, and you immediately removed your hand from your cunt. your cheeks flushed furiously, did he hear you? were you gonna get kicked out and banished from his home?! anxiety coursed through your veins as you tried to play it off.
"h-hey nagi! i'm still showering, get out!"
"are you now? didn't sound like it."
he scoffed quietly, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. without any warning, nagi opened the shower door, stepping inside with you. all anxiety you were once feeling disappeared as he moved close to you, your pussy fluttering with anticipation and nervousness; yet still shocked by the lazy boy's boldness. there was a look in his eyes that was abnormal- unlike his usual sleepy and bored one. you couldn't help but have your focus shift on his nude body in front of you, hot water pouring down on the both of you. his dick was big- like..huge. it made your legs tremble just thinking about him forcing it into your little hole.
nagi grabbed your waist, pinning you against the cold shower wall. it made you hiss, arching your back off of it to get away from the uncomfortable temperature change. he stared down at you, drinking up the sight of all your features that he had only fantasized about for months.
he deserved this. he deserved to be given this golden opportunity after being patient for so long. finally.. he didn't have to hold back, since it was clear you wanted him too.
"do you even realize what you do to me, baby? it was such a fucking hassle waiting to touch you however i pleased- had to resort to fucking my fist instead, wishing it was you i was inside."
you whimpered at his words, suddenly feeling much smaller than him. nagi was usually so lazy and catlike, it made you forget how physically strong he was and how much larger he was compared to you. his hands roamed down to the back of your thighs, grabbing them and hoisting you against the wall, letting you wrap your legs around his waist.
"you don't have to wait anymore.."
he grunted at your words, messily pressing his lips to yours. your hands went to grip at his biceps as your tongue clashed with his, although he easily overpowered you. nagi was truly a different man with the right motivation, and right now he was motivated to fuck you good. he held you up with one arm, the other grabbing his hard dick and guiding it to your cunt, rubbing it between your folds to elicit a moan from you.
"you're kind of a slut, don't you think?" nagi grumbled as he slowly pushed the tip into you, beginning to stretch you out with each inch. "leaving the door open by a crack so i could see you showering, touching yourself in the shower and moaning my name.."
you cried out as he pushed more of his delicious cock inside of you, filling you up in ways you had only dreamed of- only now, it was reality.
"i-i didn't realize the door was open!"
"bullshit. even if that was true, what about all those little skirts you wore around me? how you bent down in front of me? or what about the times your hand just 'accidentally' brushed against my crotch?"
nagi moved to your neck, biting and licking the wet skin harshly as he began thrusting in and out at a brutal pace, a loud gasp escaping your throat.
"f-fuck! mmh, nagiii.." you moaned out, squirming slightly in his arms from the pain and pleasure. "t-too big.."
he kissed the pout on your lips away, fingernails digging into your hips as he pressed you against the wall, fucking you full with his thick cock. it simply wasn't fair how large he was. unnaturally talented, unnaturally attractive.. and now, unnaturally big in size. he was perfect without even trying, and it almost made you mad. his tip kissed your cervix with each thrust inside your gummy walls, making you lose your breath every time. you were so happy, finally getting dicked down by the guy you had been touching yourself to at night for months.
don't worry, he's been doing the same.
"imagined this so many times.."
he admitted, eyes glazed with lust as he deeply stared at your face, watching every single expression that came onto it. pleasure, embarrassment- he loved it all. nagi thought you were so cute, especially on his cock like this. he sped up his pace, determined to make you gush all over him.
"wanted to fuck you so hard every time we were alone.." the snowy haired man rambled on, which was completely unlike him. "and here you are, such a good girl f'me.. taking me perfectly. knew you would- just knew you would be incredible."
the sound of skin slapping echoed off the walls in the bathroom, water dripping down your bodies and providing a lubricant for nagi to slide in and out easily. tears rolled down your cheeks, choked sobs and loud moans shamelessly left your lips as you were totally drunk on cock with a blank mind. the only thing you could think about was how amazing your best friend was fucking you, and your tears only made nagi go harder on you.
only he could get you like this. only he could fuck you so good to the point you cry. only he could make you feel like you were in heaven just by being on his cock.
him, only him.
"mine.. all mine." he groaned as he licked your tears away, thrusts getting sloppier. nagi was getting close, and by the way your walls were tightening around him, he could tell you were close, too.
"uhh huhh.. all yours, 'm all yours nagi! aah.."
"such a cute thing. how can your little body even take me?"
his dick throbbed inside of you as he saw a bulge form in your tummy each time he pushed deep inside. you were so small, so easy to manhandle and throw into any position he'd like. nagi fucking loved that about you.
"s-shit, i'm gonna cum."
he warned, pushing you more against the wall as his eyebrows furrowed, jaw tightening.
"inside! want it inside, please! n-need it so, so bad!"
"fuck-!"
you both moaned out, unable to hold back anymore. you clenched down on him, teary eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came on his dick, making a mess. nagi came immediately after you, pressing his tip against your womb and shooting his load deep inside. the feeling was incredible- you had never experienced such an intense orgasm in your life.
"so good f'me, baby.."
nagi murmured, pressing a kiss to your eyebrow as he slowly pulled out of you. for a moment, he just held you in his arms, coming down from the best sex either of you had ever had. carefully, he set you down but kept his arms around you, sleepily burying his face into your wet hair. right now, his thoughts were pure. he was happy to have you in his embrace, in a way that meant more than friendship.
"think i'm in love with you." he spoke so bluntly per usual, yet it still made your cheeks warm.
"i love you, too.."
"really?"
you tilted your head up, looking at nagi like he was stupid. he pouted once he met your gaze, flicking your forehead in retort.
"what's with that look?"
you couldn't help but huff, but turned to face him and hugged him properly. he was so cute without trying, even after rearranging your guts just minutes prior. a soft giggle escaped your lips, smiling at the handsome man.
"i just let you fuck me and you're asking if i really love you?"
"dunno.." his cheeks warmed a bit, "maybe you still didn't like me. but if you do..does that mean we're dating now?"
"don't be silly, of course we are!"
with a quick rinse, you both finally stepped out of the shower, albeit your legs were shaking. you reentered the bedroom and dressed yourselves before crawling onto the bed with an exhausted sigh. nagi pulled you into his arms, reaching for his phone that sat on the nightstand with the intentions of playing a youtube video for you both to watch. just as you were getting ready to doze off on your now-boyfriend's chest, the heavy sigh that left his lips caught your attention.
"oh.."
"huh? what is it?"
curiously, you lifted your head to see what he was looking at on his phone. two mintues ago, someone had texted him...
reo: dude, i'm still in the kitchen.. are u two serious rn??
reo: i'm coming up with the food in 5 mins. please stop fucking each other so we can eat, thanks! hope u had fun though even if it was kinda awkward hearing :P
"oh."
AN: KEKW I LOVE THE END >.< it's not as pervert!nagi as before but i hope its still good! i had like 3 requests for part two as well as a lot of comments so here u go!! reqs are still open but i'm getting a lot now which is soo crazy (srsly tysm!) so i'm really sorry if yours isn't done right away. i got super busy this week so i apologize for slow posts! exams are eating me right now.. also for some reason the photos are fucked up again on laptop IDK WHY IT KEEPS DOING THIS ITS SOO ANNOYING so please ignore that
||| SUMMARY: nagi doesn't understand his strange feelings for you, but he knows it isn't platonic anymore. rather than trying to ignore them, he finds it less of a hassle to just fully indulge in them.
part two: here
ᯓ☆
nagi who at first looked at you normally; a typical girl his age who happened to be his friend now. however, as time went on, his feelings changed.
nagi who noticed tents that began forming in his pants around you at the most random times- like the time you asked to borrow his shirt since yours got soaked in the rain. he gladly gave you it but once you came out and he saw how you were practically drowning in the larger clothing, he shifted awkwardly to hide his boner from you.
or the time you had worn a shorter skirt to your college campus. the way your thighs were fully on display so deliciously and the cute stockings you had paired with it had his cock throbbing like crazy.
and even the flashback to when you had accidentally fallen asleep at his house, snuggled so adorably against his bedsheets. your vulnerable, sleeping form and your sweet scent that was transferring to his bed left him antsy to fuck you silly.
he had never felt this way about someone before, it was all very new. a small voice of reason in his mind yelled at him to somehow shut down these fantasies before they got too crazy, but avoiding you would be a pain. so, naturally, nagi became deeply invested in these thoughts.
"ah.. y/n.."
nagi moaned softly as he gripped his dick through his shorts, trying to stay quiet. he leaned his head down and took a deep inhale of your scent that faintly lingered on the pillow you had once been cuddling, shakily exhaling. it smelled just like you, and the fact it did made his head spin. the lazy boy pulled his aching length out from his boxers and wrapped his large hand around it, slowly beginning to pump it. a groan escaped his lips at the feeling, biting his bottom lip to silence himself from awakening the pretty girl on the other side of the bed.
"s-shit.."
nagi stared at your resting face in the dark, the sight only making his cock throb harder. he hissed quietly and laid back, tugging at his erection that was already leaking with precum. the feeling felt so, so good..but what made it better was imagining his hand was yours instead. nagi's droopy eyes glazed in lust, locked on your sleeping body and letting his dark fantasies go wild. he would give anything to strip off your shorts, yank your panties to the side and fuck you right there and then- but he knew he couldn't.
so, he kept thrusting into his hand until eventually he came with a pathetic moan, cumming all over his hand and abs as he buried his face into the pillow to muffle the noises. panting, he glanced back at you to make sure you hadn't woken up, and somehow you were still asleep. how naive and innocent you were.
nagi didn't do anything for a while after that. at first, he felt guilty for doing something so dirty when you could've so easily stirred awake and saw what he was doing; but slowly, it faded and he grew impatient again. if he was already in this deep, what was the point in tapping out?
from then on, he acted freely. nagi became more touchy with you; holding your waist and pulling you closer for no reason, cuddling you, 'accidentally' knocking over your belongings to watch you bend down and pick them up, letting his hand linger dangerously low when he hugged you.. from your perspective, the tiny inappropriate actions from the white haired boy were accidents. there was no way the nagi seishiro was trying to be a perv, it just wasn't possible.
to nagi, it was totally different.
each time he pushed further and further, he was trying to get on a deeper level with you. he realized how badly he wanted you to be his, and only his. the guys you had been texting? suddenly, their numbers are off your phone and blocked. the random no-name accounts following your tiktok and stalking your reposts? maybe it was just an ex. your panties that suddenly went missing? oh, you must have misplaced them.
the album nagi had hidden on his phone, dedicated to you and only you? well, he would never tell you about it. they ranged from innocent things like a selfie from a hangout you both were at, or some photos from your instagram he had screenshotted. some other pictures..not so innocent. you could only imagine.
it was your fault, he thought. you shouldn't be teasing him with your cute little body and your sweet affection. you probably didn't mean to do this, but it still drove him crazy.
and now- the present time.
"nagi! is it okay if i shower here? i feel so yucky after having to run to the bus stop." your pout made nagi's heart warm- you were such a cutie.
"sure, i don't care." he shrugged, "just use the bathroom connected to my bedroom. shower is way better than the one down the hallway."
"alright. thanks, nagi!"
he watched as you walked off towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. nagi was about to open up a shooting game on his phone, but he noticed something in the corner of his eye, first. you didn't fully shut the door to the bathroom.. probably by mistake. still, it was enough to peak his interest, and he slowly placed his electronic down.
"i should tell her."
that was the first thought that ran through his head. however, that idea went out the window right away once he was suddenly met with a small peek of your body inside, beginning to strip your clothing off. his breath caught in his throat.
"i should really tell her.. but i don't want to."
his eyes focused a bit more as each clothing piece dropped to the floor, revealing more and more of the body he had been fantasizing about for months now. his perverted dreams were coming true, and once you were fully naked..he felt very lightheaded. the door was opened by only a little, so he couldn't see as well as he wanted to, but it was definitely enough for him to immediately grow hard at the sight. he grunted quietly to himself, watching you enter the glass shower as his eyes shamelessly trailed the parts of your body he could see, soaking in the moment.
he couldn't take it anymore.
nagi palmed himself through his sweatpants as he continued to perv on your privacy, breathing growing heavier by the moment. his mind was clouded with lust and heat, stopping any rational thoughts from coming in. his hand reached down and tugged his boxers and pants down to his knees in one movement, freeing his aching thick cock. he was sure this was the most turned on he had been in his entire life.
"fuck, y/n.. y'look so good."
he grumbled, spitting on his hand before moving it up and down his long length. the sight of your bare chest and cunt was permanently engraved in his mind, and 100% wouldn't be leaving. nagi watched as you showered through the crack of the door, fucking his fist as he tried to stop himself from making a sudden noise that would alert you. the pure restrain the muscular man had to have just to stop himself from bursting into that room and splitting you open with his fat cock was truly astonishing- not even he knew what was holding him back.
"m'sexy baby. ugh.."
nagi moaned low as he sat on his bed, beating his dick to his best friend without any shame. he was getting more and more lost in the moment, eyes fluttering shut as he focused on his upcoming orgasm. it was too foggy to see your body in the shower clearly anymore, and he had gotten the beautiful sight already so he was okay with putting attention to his problem.
what he didn't know was the fact you were releasing some tension as well, blissfully unaware of the opened door.
nagi felt himself growing closer by the second, biting against his shirt to silence his moans and groans that got louder unintentionally. in the midst of his session, his ears perked up once he heard your sweet voice moan something softly in the shower.
"ah, n-nagi.."
he instantly came.
AN: LOL IM SO SLEEP DEPRIVED RNNN so i was like..ig i could write >.< HAHAHA ANYWAYY REQS ARE OPEN I HAVE A COUPLE MORE TO COMPLETE SO FOR THOSE WHO HAVE REQUESTED DW IT'S COMING!!
when the boy who always calls you "angel" refuses to admit his feelings, you're left with no choice but to say yes to someone else—forcing him to realize too late that losing you was never part of the game.
starring. nagi seishiro x fem!reader ft. mikage reo
genre: fluff, romance, mild angst, cupid!reo, reo is stressed, nagi's so dense
wc: 10.3k
You first met Nagi Seishiro through your best friend, Mikage Reo — Hakuho High School’s golden boy.
If there was anyone who could juggle soccer captaincy, straight A’s, an overflowing social life, and still find time to tease you before homeroom, it was Reo. He had the kind of smile that made people trust him too easily and the kind of confidence that made teachers both adore and resent him.
Everyone adored him.
But you never did — not like that.
You and Reo had known each other since you were five, since he’d tried to share his pudding at daycare and got it smeared across his designer uniform when you slapped it away. From then on, it was chaos and camaraderie: late-night calls for math homework, popcorn fights during cram sessions, and long car rides in the Mikage family limo with your knees knocking under shared blankets.
You were like siblings — something even Reo’s fangirls at school refused to believe.
“Why would I date Reo?” you’d asked once, horrified. “That’s like dating my cousin.”
Reo, overhearing it from across the hall, only shrugged. “That’s her way of saying I’m the more attractive one.”
It was all harmless teasing — always had been.
But then came him.
The day Reo introduced you to Nagi, you had no expectations. You were just tagging along to another of his after-practice hangouts, this time near the gym’s side benches, where he said a “new recruit” was waiting.
You weren’t prepared for the tall, white-haired boy who barely spared you a glance when you arrived.
“This is Nagi Seishiro,” Reo had said with a proud grin, clapping a hand on the stranger’s shoulder. “Monster on the field. Zero social skills. Doesn’t care about anything except games.”
Nagi looked up from his phone — not because he wanted to, but because Reo had nudged him. His eyes were dull, like nothing around him sparked much interest. The only life in him came from the game lighting up his screen.
Reo gestured to you. “This is Angel.”
You blinked. “Excuse me—”
“It’s what I call her. Don’t question it.”
Nagi’s gaze lingered for a second. “Angel, huh.”
His voice was flat, disinterested. But oddly enough… he repeated the name like it mattered.
That was all he said before looking back down at his phone.
You’d never met someone so unimpressed with the world.
And yet — somehow — you found yourself drawn to him anyway.
Maybe it was the way he moved like everything was too much trouble, yet still found his way next to you. Or maybe it was the quiet comfort of his presence, how even in silence, he never made you feel alone. There was something hypnotic about his stillness — as if chaos couldn’t touch him. And when you were around him, it couldn’t touch you either.
It started subtly.
Nagi never called you by your name. Just Angel.
Not once had he asked if it was okay. He just picked it up the way someone picks up a new favorite song — without effort, without question. It was like a default setting in his brain. Automatic. Natural. Like he couldn’t imagine calling you anything else.
It didn’t help, though. Not when he kept giving you mixed signals.
Nagi might’ve looked distracted all the time, his gaze often glued to his phone or drifting to the clouds during class — but he always paid attention to you. He remembered the details you told him: your favorite snack during exam season, the exact way you liked your tea, the movie you wanted to watch next. Once, you’d casually mentioned how your feet always got cold in the library, and the next time you studied together, he brought an extra pair of fuzzy socks like it was no big deal.
He didn’t say much. Never did. But he showed up in ways that made your heart ache.
Like the way he’d always wander over to you after hours of football practice, the sky fading pink above Hakuho High’s rooftop or the sun casting long shadows on the back field. Sweaty and slow-moving, he’d drop his duffle bag beside you with a grunt, flopping onto the grass like gravity had finally won.
Sometimes he’d tug at your sleeve in that lazy, silent way of asking for attention — head resting on your thigh as if it were the most obvious pillow in the world. No warning. No asking. Just trust.
And you always let him.
You’d card your fingers through his soft white hair, and he’d hum, quiet and content, almost like a cat purring. The world seemed to dull when he was like that — when his breathing evened out and his body melted into yours like he belonged there.
Sometimes, he’d shift closer, burying his face into the crook of your neck, voice barely a whisper.
“Sleepy, Angel.”
Just two words. But you’d feel them for hours after.
You’d sit there frozen, breath caught in your throat, heart thundering like it was trying to break out of your ribs. And he — unbothered, eyes half-lidded and heavy — would fall asleep to the sound of your racing pulse.
He didn’t realize what he was doing to you.
Or maybe he did. You could never really tell.
Because when the sun dipped low enough, and the rest of the team started filing out, Nagi would lift his head, yawn, and walk off like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just cracked your heart open with one word, one look, one casual lean into your shoulder.
It wasn’t fair — how someone so unattached could still have that kind of power over you.
It wasn’t fair that you started hoping he’d do it again.
Because every time he touched you like that — every time he called you Angel in that soft, half-asleep tone — it felt like a dream you weren’t allowed to wake up from.
And yet, you never stopped waiting for the next time.
Oh, but it didn’t stop with lazy afternoons and fleeting moments of closeness. Not even close.
There were other moments — quieter ones, tucked between school and soccer practice, when it was just you, Reo, and Nagi heading off-campus for food. Reo would always act like he was treating royalty, leading you both with swagger and flair, his platinum card practically flashing in the sunlight.
He’d announce, “My treat, obviously,” before you even stepped into the restaurant. Mikage Reo: Hakuho High’s golden boy, heir to the building you were sitting in, and yet still the same loud, dramatic idiot you grew up with.
But your focus was never on him.
Because Nagi, without fail, would always slide into the seat beside you. Even if Reo sat next to you first, Nagi would stand there, towering, blinking once before saying, “Move.” And Reo — used to his antics — would just sigh and scoot without complaint.
He didn’t even try to hide it anymore.
And every time Nagi settled beside you, your heart did that stupid thing again — tripped over itself, stumbled into your ribs, and reminded you that you were already too far gone.
It always happened the same way.
You’d be mid-bite or mid-conversation when suddenly, his fingers would find yours beneath the table. Not a brush. Not an accidental touch. A full-on interlock. As if your hand was made to fit into his.
Sometimes, his grip was light, absent-minded — his thumb rubbing lazy circles against your palm while he focused on his rice bowl. Sometimes, it was firmer, grounding. Like he needed to hold on to something, and for some reason, that something was always you.
One time, he caught your hand before you could even sit down, pulling it into his lap casually.
“Your hand’s warm,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded with that usual drowsy calm. “And soft.”
Like it was the most obvious observation in the world. Like it meant nothing.
But it didn’t mean nothing to you.
It never did.
Because every time he said something like that—quiet and thoughtless, like a dream slipping through your fingers—it burrowed deeper into your heart. And left you wondering: Does he even know what he’s doing to me?
Across the table, Reo would catch your eye with a smirk.
He’d rest his chin in his hand, grinning like a fox. “You two should just date already,” he’d say one afternoon, loud enough for Nagi to hear.
You choked on your drink.
Nagi didn’t even flinch. “Too much work,” he replied without missing a beat—but his grip on your hand didn’t loosen.
Your stomach twisted. And Reo? He looked at you knowingly, as if he could see the spiral in your mind before you even admitted it to yourself.
You wanted to believe there was something there. That the touches meant something. That the nickname wasn’t just a habit. That the way he leaned into your shoulder and closed his eyes wasn’t just comfort—it was you.
But Nagi never said anything.
And you were too scared to ask.
Because what if it really was just who he was? What if the closeness you treasured so deeply… wasn’t special to him at all?
You hated how much the uncertainty hurt.
Hated how you still looked for his name on your phone screen.
Hated how your heart reacted to every small thing he did—like it hadn’t learned how to protect itself.
Because no matter how casual he made it seem… holding Nagi’s hand always felt like the closest thing to home.
And maybe that was the most dangerous part.
Because when something starts to feel like home, you forget it was never promised to you. You start expecting it—counting on it—imagining things that were never said out loud. You start building a future in the quiet spaces between words he never meant for you to read into.
You told yourself you were fine with the silence. That you could live in the in-between. But your heart knew better. It ached louder every time Nagi pulled you a little closer… and said nothing at all.
So now—suffocating in feelings you never meant to have—you were sprawled like a corpse on the oversized couch in Reo’s ridiculous penthouse living room.
Hakuho High’s golden boy, born with a silver spoon and a rooftop garden, was currently snacking on something that cost more than your weekly lunch allowance and watching you fall apart with the patience of someone used to your drama.
“Fuck it!” you screamed into one of his designer pillows, muffled but heartfelt. “I hate him. I hate his stupid hair, and his lazy slouch, and the way he breathes like the world is boring and calls me angel like he didn’t just short-circuit my entire central nervous system.”
Reo didn’t even flinch. “So,” he said casually, tossing another popcorn kernel into his mouth, “you’re saying you’re fine.”
You let out a long, wounded groan into the cushions. “You ruined my life, Mikage.”
“Oh, is that what I did?” he said, utterly unfazed. “You were so normal before Nagi, huh? Always emotionally stable, never crying over how ‘his voice sounds like fresh snow falling on a winter night.’”
Your head snapped up. “I never said that.”
He smirked. “You did. Last week. When he called you at midnight to ask what time practice was and you replayed the voicemail six times.”
Your cheeks burned. “That’s… not the point!”
“No, you’re right. The point is, I introduced you two. I should get matchmaking royalties.”
You sat up, dramatically throwing off his fancy blanket. “You should’ve never introduced him to me, Reo!”
Reo gave you a shit-eating grin. “Why? Because he’s hot, mysterious, emotionally unavailable, and clearly soft for you? Yeah, sorry. That’s on me.”
You groaned and flopped back onto the couch. “He’s not soft for me.”
“Oh, right. My bad,” he said, mock-serious. “He just randomly holds your hand during lunch, naps with his head in your lap, and only calls you angel. Totally meaningless.”
“It feels meaningless when he never says anything about it!”
Reo got up, made his way to the mini fridge, and tossed you a can of something carbonated and unnecessarily expensive. “Sei’s weird,” he said, plopping back into his seat. “He doesn’t talk much, but he doesn’t exactly do all that with everyone.”
You cracked open the drink and took a long sip, sighing. “I feel like I’m going insane.”
“No, this is just karma for every time you made fun of me in middle school when I had a crush.”
You threw a cushion at him.
He caught it easily. “Look. You and Nagi? It’s a slow burn. Like, glacial. Like, two rocks eroding in a riverbed over several centuries.”
You gave him a look. “You’re not helping.”
“I am helping,” he said smugly. “I’m listening to your crisis, offering top-tier beverages, and reminding you that he called you angel during conditioning drills, which means even when he’s sweating to death, you’re still on his mind.”
You paused. “You think?”
Reo leaned back, his expression softer now. “I know.”
You stared at the ceiling. “Then why hasn’t he said anything? Why hasn’t he… done anything?”
Reo hesitated for a beat, then shrugged. “He probably doesn’t know what he’s feeling yet.”
You blinked. “How do you not know you like someone?”
Reo looked at you knowingly. “Have you met Nagi?”
“…Fair.”
The two of you sat in silence for a bit, the city lights from the floor-to-ceiling windows spilling across the marble floors. The penthouse was too fancy, too big—but in this moment, it felt oddly safe.
Then, quietly, you said, “I think I like him.”
Reo didn’t tease you that night. He just smiled—crooked and quiet—and let the weight of your words settle in the silence between you.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
And for one brief moment, you felt lighter. Like something in your chest had finally been named, and now you could breathe around it.
But that peace didn’t last.
Because after that night at his penthouse, Reo didn’t just return to being your best friend.
He became your personal tormentor.
Not in the mean-spirited way—not really. But in that classic Mikage Reo fashion, he took your emotional meltdown, filed it under “important best friend information,” and proceeded to use it for sport.
Subtle at first.
A comment here. A smirk there.
“Your boyfriend’s under the tree again,” he’d say casually during soccer practice, flinging his towel over his shoulder and pointing across the field with his chin. “Probably waiting for you to come fan him or something.”
You didn’t even bother responding the first few times. But Reo? He thrived on reactions. So the quieter you were, the more relentless he became.
“He’s literally using your hoodie as a pillow right now,” he snorted during one break. “What is he, a stray cat? Did you feed him once and now he won’t leave?”
You tried to ignore him, really, you did.
But it was hard to play it cool when Nagi Seishiro—cool, aloof, half-asleep Nagi—kept gravitating toward you like you were the only person on the planet worth orbiting.
When he’d wander over during water breaks, barely say anything, and drop to the grass beside you with a heavy sigh.
When he’d tug at the hem of your sleeve like a child, muttering, “Move a little, Angel,” so he could comfortably lay his head on your lap.
The first time he did it, you froze.
You had no idea what to do with your hands, with your face, with the ridiculous tempo your heart had launched into.
And when he nuzzled into the crook of your neck and whispered, “Warm. ’M comfy here,” you were sure you’d ascended into another dimension.
Reo, from several feet away, didn’t miss a beat.
“Are you serious right now?” he called out, deadpan. “You’re using her as a human mattress? Sei, we’re in the middle of practice.”
Nagi, eyes still closed, responded with a half-lidded shrug. “We’re on break.”
Reo turned to you, hands on hips like a disappointed parent. “Why do you let him do that?”
You glared at him. “Do I look like I can stop him?”
Reo opened his mouth, then paused, expression flickering to something amused and oddly fond. “You don’t, actually. Which is kinda impressive.”
From then on, he only got worse.
During lunch, he made a habit of sliding Nagi’s bento closer to you before anyone sat down.
“Feed him,” Reo would say, like a waiter taking your order. “Or he won’t eat. Apparently your hands make everything taste better.”
Nagi, seated beside you like it was law, didn’t even look up from his game.
“True,” he said flatly, holding out his chopsticks expectantly. “Angel feeds me better.”
Your face combusted.
Reo nearly fell off his seat from laughing.
And somehow—somehow—this became routine.
If Nagi didn’t get to sit next to you, he’d just drag his chair over. If you were holding your phone, he’d take it and lean against your shoulder while scrolling aimlessly. If you were quiet, he’d lean into you, cheek against your hair, and murmur, “Tell me something. I like hearing your voice.”
Every small thing turned sacred. Every tiny touch set you on fire.
And Reo? He stoked the flames.
It was like living in a dream you weren’t allowed to name. A day-by-day slow burn that left you suspended in something warm and fragile. You didn’t know if Nagi meant any of it the way you hoped he did. He never said anything. Never changed his expression. Just kept calling you Angel and reaching for you like you belonged to him.
And the worst part?
You kept letting him.
You wanted to believe it meant something.
You needed to believe it did.
But the not knowing—it festered. The what-ifs, the maybe-he-does, maybe-he-doesn’t… they turned every smile into a battlefield, every silence into a storm.
You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from hoping until it all came to a head on a regular, sleepy afternoon at Hakuho High.
The sky was bluer than usual. The breeze was soft. You had a bottle of your favorite drink in hand after a long lecture, your thoughts drifting—mostly about how quiet Nagi had been lately. Distant, even.
You were behind the gym, just starting to unscrew the cap of your drink, when someone approached you.
“Hey.”
You blinked up, surprised. He was a third-year—tall, broad-shouldered, sharp features softened by the slight smile he wore. You recognized him vaguely. Vice-captain of the basketball team. The type girls whispered about in the corridors.
“I know this is sudden,” he started, scratching the back of his neck, “but… are you dating Nagi Seishiro?”
Your grip tightened around your drink. The question hit harder than it should have.
You blinked. “Huh?”
“You guys are always together,” he said, shrugging. “It kinda looks like it. I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, so I figured I’d ask first.”
You didn’t know how to answer.
Because no—he never asked you out. But yes—he held your hand like it meant something. He napped on your lap. Called you Angel. Looked for you in crowds.
But that wasn’t love, was it? At least… not the kind that gets voiced.
So you shook your head.
“No,” you said softly. “We’re not.”
The word sat heavy on your tongue, like something bitter you were finally forced to swallow. Even saying it aloud—confirming that there was nothing between you and Nagi—hurt more than you thought it would.
The boy blinked, surprised. “Oh. Then… Reo?”
You blinked back, caught off guard. “What?”
He laughed nervously, raising both hands in surrender. “Sorry—just, the way you and Mikage always bicker. I figured maybe you two were, you know… childhood friends-to-lovers or whatever.”
You stared at him like he’d just grown a second head.
Then came the deadpan: “Heck no.”
It was more disgust than denial, and it left your mouth before you could filter it.
The guy laughed again—this time, genuinely. “Alright, alright. Just checking.”
You rolled your eyes, cheeks flushing. “Reo’s like… my brother. That would be disgusting.”
“That clears things up.” He smiled, easing a little. “Then… maybe we could go for coffee this weekend?”
There was a pause.
And then, before you could give yourself a reason not to, you nodded.
“Sure,” you said. “Why not?”
It wasn’t a confession.
It wasn’t a first kiss.
But it was the first time you admitted—if only to yourself—that maybe you couldn’t wait around for Nagi forever.
What you didn’t know, standing there in the soft shadow of the school gym, was that someone had seen the entire thing. From the moment the boy asked if you were dating Nagi, down to the way you wrinkled your nose at the mention of Reo.
And that someone’s stomach dropped like a stone.
Because while you were saying no…
Nagi was across the path—hearing every word like it was a slap to the face.
He didn’t stick around to hear your answer to the guy’s next question. He didn’t want to. Couldn’t. Something in him recoiled the moment he saw you standing there—with him—smiling the way you usually smiled at him.
He walked away, fast and quiet.
The weight of his limbs was heavier than usual. His hoodie felt too warm against his skin, and his hands stayed shoved deep into the pockets like he was trying to bury the strange, twisting ache crawling up his chest.
He went back to the soccer field, eyes blank, lips pressed into a line.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t even look at Reo when the other boy offered him a water bottle.
He just stood in the grass, shoulders stiff, waiting for the whistle to blow.
Why would he feel like this?
You can date who you want. You’re your own person. You always were.
And besides—you were right.
You two weren’t together.
You weren’t his girlfriend.
You were just… his Angel.
His nap partner. His hand to hold. His favorite seat under the sakura tree after a long day of classes. The one who laughed at his flat jokes. The one who listened even when he didn’t respond. The one he could always find in the stands, no matter how far away.
His… friend.
That’s all it was, right?
Just a friend.
So why did the idea of someone else having your attention—the thought of you laughing at someone else’s bad jokes, someone else’s hand holding yours—make his throat tighten like this?
Why did he feel like his chest was full of static?
Why did practice suddenly feel impossible to focus on?
Why did everything burn?
He was Nagi Seishiro—apathetic, unbothered, uninterested in everything except convenience and quiet. He didn’t do emotions. Didn’t care about people.
And yet…
Why?
Why did it feel like he was about to lose something he didn’t even realize he was holding?
The thought wouldn’t leave him alone.
It echoed in his head, over and over, louder than the screech of cleats against the turf, louder than the whistle, louder than Reo yelling plays from the opposite end of the field.
You’d said it so clearly. So easily.
“No, we’re not.”
You weren’t lying. But something in your voice—he couldn’t forget it. It didn’t sound like relief. It sounded like… surrender.
Why did that hurt so damn much?
He pressed forward in the scrimmage, a pass skimming just past his foot because he moved a second too late. His reflexes were off. His instincts dulled. The field felt too narrow. His jersey clung to his back. The usual lightness in his body was gone, replaced by a heavy, dragging weight he couldn’t shake.
He missed another pass.
And another.
He shoved his hands into his hair in frustration, growling quietly, “Tch.”
A few teammates stared. They didn’t say anything, but the tension rippled.
Nagi didn’t care.
No, that was a lie.
He did care.
That was the worst part.
For the first time in a long time, he cared too much and didn’t know how to handle it.
Across the field, Reo watched carefully.
He had known Nagi since first year. Knew the way his best friend moved, the tempo of his rhythm on the field, the lazy but calculated precision of his mind. He’d watched Nagi play sick, play exhausted, even play pissed off—and still look good doing it.
But this?
This wasn’t the usual indifference.
This wasn’t fatigue.
This was Nagi unraveling.
Quietly. Subtly. But painfully.
He could see it in the way Nagi’s shoulders stiffened with every misstep. The way his hands balled into fists whenever the ball rolled too far. The way he didn’t even look toward the bleachers—where you usually sat watching, sometimes waving, always smiling.
You weren’t there today.
And Reo had a feeling Nagi knew exactly why.
But the worst part? He didn’t do anything about it.
Not the next day.
Not the day after that.
Not even when your eyes lingered on him longer than necessary—waiting, hoping, hurting.
Instead, Nagi distanced himself.
No explanation. No text. No lazy “Angel” in the hallway, no sudden weight of his head on your shoulder like he used to do after class. He didn’t take the seat next to you during lunch anymore, even when Reo subtly saved it. He didn’t offer you sips of his convenience store soda, or absentmindedly thread your fingers with his under the cafeteria table.
It was as if someone had pressed pause on everything that felt safe and familiar.
And you noticed. Of course you noticed.
How could you not?
The boy who once made you feel like the center of his world was now acting like you barely existed in it.
You tried to brush it off at first—told yourself he was just tired from soccer, or spacing out like he always did, or maybe he just needed time. You knew Nagi could be… detached. Aloof. He was never the type to chase or cling. That was just how he was.
But this? This was different.
He wasn’t just distracted.
He was avoiding you.
The realization settled in your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake off, especially when Reo—your oldest friend, your partner in chaos since grade school—confirmed the one thing you dreaded to hear.
It was late in the afternoon when it happened. You were at the Mikage penthouse again, your designated post-school escape on days that felt too heavy. You were lying on your back, legs tossed over the armrest of Reo’s imported Italian couch, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
Reo was scrolling through his phone beside you, one socked foot pressed against your shin lazily. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the central air and the occasional clink of ice in your untouched drinks.
“He knows the vice captain asked you out.”
Your stomach dropped.
You turned your head slowly toward Reo, your voice barely above a whisper. “Nagi?”
Reo nodded, still scrolling. “He was nearby when it happened. Didn’t say anything, but I saw his face after. He walked back to the field like he was ready to murder someone.”
You sat up fully now, heart pounding. “Is that why he’s been avoiding me?”
Reo sighed like it physically pained him to deal with the emotional incompetence of his best friend. “Most likely. I mean, it’s either that or he suddenly forgot how to function around people—which, okay, is also a possibility with him.”
You swallowed, the pieces falling into place too fast for comfort. “But… why would he avoid me?”
Reo finally looked at you, his expression unreadable for once.
The teasing had fallen from his features like snow off a rooftop—quiet, unexpected. His voice, when he finally spoke, came soft but firm.
“Because he’s a dumbass.”
You blinked. “I—what?”
He raised an eyebrow at you, like he couldn’t believe he had to spell it out.
“He likes you, idiot.”
The words hit you harder than they should have.
They knocked the air out of your lungs and left you staring at Reo like he’d just casually told you gravity stopped working.
“I—” Your mouth opened, then shut again. You shook your head. “No. No, he doesn’t.”
Reo let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Yes, he does. He just doesn’t realize it the way you want him to yet. That doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
You frowned, your voice quieter now. “Then why is he avoiding me?”
Reo studied you carefully. “Because he’s never felt this kind of thing before. He’s confused. Freaked out, probably. And when Sei gets overwhelmed, he doesn’t push forward—he hides. Retreats.”
You looked away, your fingers curling into the hem of your sweater. “It hurts.”
Reo’s gaze softened. “I know. And it’s killing me watching both of you act like this when it’s so obvious you mean the world to each other.”
You sighed, slumping back against the couch cushions. Your heart felt heavy, bruised in a way that wasn’t physical. Like something was wilting inside your chest—soft and unseen, but so achingly present. “What do I do, Reo?”
He didn’t answer right away. For once, he wasn’t being theatrical or smug. No exaggerated hand gestures or sarcastic comments. Just silence, and a look in his eyes that said he was weighing his words carefully.
Finally, Reo spoke. His voice was gentler than you expected.
“I’m not playing favorites here, but… you already did your part.”
You blinked. “What?”
“I mean, come on,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “You like him. You know it. I know it. Hell, half of Hakuho probably knows it. You’ve shown him in every way that counts. It’s not your responsibility to make him see that he likes you back.”
Your lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
Reo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on yours. “Sei’s not good with emotions. He feels things, yeah—but he doesn’t always know what he’s feeling. He zones out, pulls away, avoids it like it’s a hard level in a game he doesn’t want to clear.”
Your heart stung. “Then what if he never clears it?”
“Then that’s on him,” Reo said, and there was no hesitation in his voice this time. “Not you. You’ve been patient. You’ve been honest, even if you haven’t said the exact words. If he lets you walk away without realizing what you mean to him… that’s his loss.”
The words echoed in your chest, louder than you wanted them to.
Because deep down, you didn’t want to walk away. Not even a little. Not even when he made you feel invisible. But Reo was right—loving someone didn’t mean setting yourself on fire to light their path. And maybe… maybe it was time Nagi realized that.
You closed your eyes, trying to blink away the sting behind your lashes. “I hate this.”
Reo offered a soft laugh and nudged your knee with his. “I know. Love sucks sometimes. Especially when it comes with a six-foot-tall emotional brick wall.”
You cracked a smile, just barely. “Thanks for the reminder.”
He grinned. “Anytime, Angel.”
And despite the ache still lodged somewhere in your ribs, his words settled into your heart like a gentle promise.
That no matter how messy this all became, you weren’t completely alone in it.
Reo was there—annoying, overconfident, occasionally too invested—but always in your corner. He never let you spiral too far without yanking you back with a half-serious joke or a reality check disguised as sarcasm. And knowing that… made breathing a little easier.
You stayed in his penthouse longer than you meant to that night. He made you tea without asking, switched the mood lighting to a calmer tone, and played some playlist he called “Healing for the Emotionally Exhausted.” You didn’t even have the energy to roll your eyes.
You stared out the window while the city lights blinked back at you like stars—distant and quiet. Your thoughts drifted again to Nagi. To the way his hair fell into his eyes when he leaned over his phone. The weight of his head when he laid it in your lap after practice. The warmth in his voice when he murmured, “Sleepy, Angel.”
You clutched a pillow to your chest and sank deeper into Reo’s velvet couch.
Had it always been this one-sided?
Or was Nagi really just scared?
You didn’t know.
But tomorrow… you were going to try. Even if it wasn’t with him.
Then the day of the date came.
You didn’t wear anything flashy—just your usual clothes with a touch more care. Hair brushed out, light gloss on your lips, perfume you knew Reo teased you about for being too sweet. You stared at yourself in the mirror longer than usual before heading out, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Normal. Just a simple afternoon. Just… something new.
The vice captain was already waiting near the front gates of Hakuho, dressed neatly in the school’s after-hours uniform with a pleasant, easy smile. He wasn’t Nagi. His energy was steadier, more grounded. Not sleepy or unpredictable—but warm in his own right.
He greeted you with a polite, “You look nice,” and offered to carry your bag.
You smiled. Tried to mean it.
But something in your chest tugged.
You walked to the nearby café together, talked about classes, mutual friends, upcoming tournaments. He was kind. Charming, even. You knew girls at school talked about him a lot—and it wasn’t hard to see why. He was attentive without being overbearing, curious about your thoughts, laughing easily at your jokes.
But it wasn’t Nagi’s laugh.
It wasn’t Nagi’s quiet stare.
It wasn’t Nagi at all.
And the vice captain could see it.
Maybe not immediately—but somewhere between you pushing food around your plate and your gaze flickering toward the glass windows every time a white-haired figure passed, he figured it out.
He set his drink down gently and leaned back.
“You still like him, don’t you?”
You froze. The words landed softly, not like a confrontation, but like an observation. A truth laid bare.
You looked at your half-eaten dessert, then slowly nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I think I always have.”
He chuckled—low and not bitter. Just amused in a tired sort of way.
“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I kinda figured when you spent the first ten minutes watching the sidewalk instead of me.”
Your cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be.” He held up a hand, waving it off with a smile. “Seriously. I knew what I was walking into. Guess I hoped maybe you’d give me a chance to make you forget him.”
You looked at him—really looked at him—and saw no resentment in his expression. Just understanding.
“I really appreciate that you still came,” he added. “Even knowing your heart’s kind of… already somewhere else.”
You swallowed around the lump in your throat and nodded. “Thank you. For being kind.”
He smiled. “He better realize what he has before someone else does.”
And somewhere across the city, under the molten streaks of the setting sun, Nagi Seishiro was pacing the length of Hakuho High’s empty soccer field. The sky above him glowed in soft orange and deep violet, but he didn’t look up once. His feet dragged across the turf like his body was moving on its own—slow, heavy, as if weighed down by something he couldn’t shake off.
Reo’s voice still echoed in his mind, sharp and impossible to ignore.
“You feel something, don’t you?”
Nagi hadn’t answered. He didn’t know how. Because how do you name a feeling you’ve never bothered to understand?
He wasn’t built for messy emotions. He preferred ease—predictable gameplay, soft pillows, long naps. But you? You weren’t easy. You were the one variable he hadn’t figured out. The one thing that made his chest ache when you smiled and made his head go silent when you laughed. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t try to.
Not until he saw it.
That day.
You were standing behind the gym, light bouncing off your hair as you spoke to the vice captain. Nagi hadn’t meant to linger. He was just walking by—heading to grab a juice box or waste a few more minutes before practice.
But then the vice captain asked you something. And Nagi stopped.
“Are you dating Nagi Seishiro?”
It was a simple question, harmless to anyone else. But to Nagi, it sounded like a pin being pulled from a grenade. His steps faltered. He didn’t turn around, didn’t breathe too loudly, just stood half-hidden behind the wall’s edge, frozen like a bug caught in amber.
You hesitated. Just for a beat.
Then your answer came, soft and unsteady. “No. We’re not.”
And Nagi couldn’t explain why that answer—the very truth he’d never had the guts to change—felt like a sucker punch to the chest.
He left before he could hear what came next. Because in his chest, a feeling he’d spent months ignoring had finally started screaming. And it didn’t sound like indifference. It sounded like jealousy. Like regret.
And maybe—just maybe—like heartbreak.
He never knew your answer.
Not from you.
But by the time lunch ended and the hallways quieted, he didn’t have to.
Whispers chased him like ghosts—fragments of your name laced with quiet gasps and knowing smirks.
“She said yes.”
“To the vice captain, right?”
“She finally gave up on Nagi, huh?”
Each word chipped at something inside him. Something he’d never named, never dared to look at too closely.
And now it was bleeding through the cracks.
Practice came like muscle memory. But there was no rhythm. No focus. His passes were too hard. His touches too sharp. A snap in his movements that wasn’t like him. He missed a shot he’d normally sink with his eyes closed.
Reo said his name—twice, maybe three times—but Nagi didn’t answer.
Eventually, they left him there. Even Reo.
The sun dipped lower, dragging shadows across the field, and still, Nagi didn’t move. His limbs sprawled carelessly across the grass, as if exhaustion had pinned him down and frustration had tied the knot. He stared at the sky, expression unreadable, fingers tangled in blades of green.
Everything felt wrong. Off.
His chest was tight again, like it had been all day. Like he’d swallowed something too big, and now it wouldn’t leave.
She said yes.
To someone else.
The thought circled like a vulture.
You found him alone on the soccer field, long after the others had packed up and left.
The lights from the school building flickered faintly in the distance, casting long shadows across the grass where Nagi lay stretched out like a boy made of bone-deep exhaustion. His jersey clung to his skin, a streak of sweat running down his temple. His eyes, however, were still wide open—staring up at the sky like it could answer the ache twisting in his chest.
He didn’t look at you when you approached. But you saw the way his hand twitched in the grass. Like he knew you were coming.
“Nagi.”
Your voice didn’t tremble, but it came out quieter than you’d expected. You stood above him for a moment, waiting, hoping—but he didn’t respond.
You slowly sat beside him, knees drawn up to your chest, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve.
“I said yes,” you said after a long silence, eyes on the horizon. “To someone else.”
He didn’t move. But his jaw shifted, the tiniest tick beneath his cheekbone.
“I said yes to a date because I was tired of wondering what this was,” you continued, voice starting to shake despite your best efforts. “Tired of waiting for you to say something. Anything.”
Still nothing. Only the sound of distant cicadas and the dull thud of your heartbeat in your ears.
“Do you even remember what you said the day we met?” you asked quietly. “You didn’t say my name once. Just called me Angel. Like it was automatic. Like it didn’t matter who I was, just that I was there.”
You laughed bitterly under your breath, your fingers clenching. “I tried not to let it mean anything. I tried not to hope. But then you’d rest your head on my shoulder and whisper like I was your safe place. You’d hold my hand and tell me it was soft, warm. You made me feel like I was… something.”
Your breath hitched. You turned to face him fully, and finally—finally—Nagi turned his head to look at you.
His expression was unreadable. But you could see it—the fear just beneath the surface. The conflict. The guilt.
Your voice cracked when you spoke again. “Do you like me, Nagi?”
The question hung between you like smoke.
He blinked. Once. Then again. And slowly, he sat up, arms bracing behind him.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Your chest caved in.
It wasn’t anger that flared in you. It was heartbreak. The slow, sinking realization that the boy you wanted so badly didn’t even know if he wanted you back.
“You don’t know,” you repeated, breathless, eyes burning.
He looked away, fingers digging into the grass. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” you said, voice shaking harder now. “It is that simple. You either feel something for me or you don’t. And if you don’t, that’s okay—” your voice broke. “—but you can’t keep treating me like I’m your world if you can’t even figure out your own heart.”
Nagi’s head snapped back toward you, eyes wide, as if your words had physically struck him.
“You can’t nuzzle into my neck and fall asleep on my lap and whisper ‘Angel’ like I’m the only one who matters—and then say you don’t know. That’s not fair.”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
You took a shaky step back. “I let myself believe you did. I let myself fall for you—slowly, painfully. Every time you remembered the little things I said, every time you showed up even in your quiet way, I thought maybe…”
You trailed off, swallowing hard. “But you never said it. You never gave me anything real to hold on to. And now I’m the idiot who said yes to someone else, but all I can think about is you.”
He was silent. Still. His silver hair caught in the breeze, eyes locked on yours like he wanted to say something—needed to—but couldn’t bring himself to cross that threshold.
You shook your head, blinking fast. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep waiting for someone who doesn’t even know if he wants me.”
You turned.
And this time, Nagi didn’t stop you.
But as your figure disappeared across the field—shoulders trembling, arms wrapped tightly around yourself—something inside him cracked like ice splitting under too much weight.
And for the first time, Nagi Seishiro wasn’t sure if he was tired…
Or if this was the first time he was finally awake.
Because something in your voice had snapped him out of the haze he’d been living in—the gentle fog of comfort he’d built around himself like a second skin. You were gone now, walking away from him, and yet your words still echoed in his ears louder than any stadium ever had.
You can’t treat me like I’m your world if you don’t even know your own heart.
It rang like a siren in his skull.
The soccer field felt too open after that. Too wide. Too cold. His limbs buzzed with restless energy he didn’t know what to do with. So he moved on instinct, feet dragging him away from the grass and the guilt and the silence you left behind.
The next time he blinked, he was standing in front of Reo’s building.
The Mikage Tower—an architectural flex of polished glass and inherited legacy—loomed above him like a monolith. Nagi hadn’t even realized where he was heading until the security at the front recognized him and let him through wordlessly, like he belonged there. Maybe he did. He came here often enough. But today, the elevator ride felt different. The music sounded too sharp. The walls too reflective. He could see himself in them—eyes unfocused, jaw clenched tight.
By the time he reached the penthouse, the door was already swinging open.
Reo looked like he’d been expecting him.
“Figured you’d show up eventually,” Reo said, arms crossed loosely over his chest, eyes sweeping over Nagi with a familiar, no-bullshit expression. “You looked like you were about to combust during practice.”
Nagi walked past him in silence, dropping onto the nearest couch like a sack of limbs. He stared at the ceiling as if the answers might be etched into the marble tiles.
Reo shut the door and followed, sitting across from him. “So… you wanna talk?”
“No,” Nagi muttered.
Reo leaned back, exhaling through his nose. “Alright. You wanna sulk here until you rot into the cushions, then?”
“Maybe.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and electric.
Then Nagi spoke again, voice low, like he hated even admitting it. “She went on the date.”
Reo blinked. “You mean you let her go on the date.”
Nagi’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t let her do anything. She can do what she wants.”
“She wanted you, dumbass,” Reo snapped, sitting forward now, arms braced on his knees. “She waited—waited—for you to pull your head out of your ass. You were the one who kept acting like she mattered and then saying nothing.”
Nagi ran a hand down his face, dragging his palm over his eyes like he could rub the thoughts away. “I didn’t know I liked her.”
Reo scoffed. “You knew. You just didn’t realize that’s what it was. You’ve never cared about anyone like that before, so you didn’t recognize it.”
“I felt…” Nagi trailed off, words catching in his throat. “Like something was ripping out of me when I saw him ask her. I wanted to hit something. Or sleep forever. I didn’t like it.”
“That’s what jealousy feels like, Sei,” Reo said quietly. “That’s what heartbreak feels like when you’re too late.”
Nagi let his head fall back, a low groan rumbling from his chest. “She said she liked me. And I told her… I told her I don’t know.”
Reo stared at him like he’d just confessed to committing a felony.
“The fuck?” he hissed, dragging a hand through his already-mussed hair. “Why did you say I don’t know, idiot?”
“I panicked,” Nagi muttered, his voice flat and low, like he hated himself for it. “She was standing there, looking at me like—like I meant something, and I just… froze.”
Reo scoffed, launching himself off the couch to pace across the penthouse. “Unbelievable. You—you lay in her lap. You call her angel. You hold her hand like it’s the only thing grounding you to this planet and then when she finally tells you she likes you, you give her I don’t know?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Nagi said, scrubbing a palm over his face again. “I didn’t think she liked me like that. I didn’t know I felt that way—until she walked away.”
“Bullshit,” Reo snapped, rounding back to face him. “You knew. You’ve always known. You just didn’t want to know because then you’d actually have to do something about it.”
Nagi flinched at that.
Reo’s voice softened just a little. “You think I didn’t notice? The way you’d act around her? You’re not subtle, man. You’d go quiet when she laughed with someone else. You’d light up when she brought you those caramel milk drinks from the vending machine. You’d look at her like she was the only goddamn person in a world full of people you couldn’t be bothered to care about.”
Nagi’s throat worked around something thick. He stared down at his hands like they were foreign to him. “I didn’t know I could feel like that,” he murmured. “I didn’t think I was built for it.”
Reo sighed again, slower this time, and sat back down beside him. “No one is. Not really. But when it’s her… when it’s someone like her… you figure it out. Or you lose her.”
And that—that—was what scared Nagi the most.
He could sleep through classes. He could ignore most people. He could drift through life half-awake.
But the idea of you walking away for good? That terrified him more than he knew how to admit.
Because it wasn’t indifference he felt.
It wasn’t confusion.
It was love.
And now—he might’ve already been too late.
You hadn’t spoken to him since the last time he left you with nothing but silence. Three days had passed, and the distance between you and Nagi had grown so vast, it may as well have been oceans. Not a glance. Not a breath shared. Not even the subtle magnetic pull that used to hum beneath your skin whenever he was near.
It was like he had vanished.
Or worse—you had learned how to exist without him.
You didn’t yell. You didn’t pout. You didn’t cry. But you also didn’t smile when he passed by. You didn’t look up when he walked into the room. And if you were forced to stand within arm’s reach, like during practice or at lunch, you kept yourself composed with a sort of numb grace that cut him deeper than any outburst ever could.
He had never known how much he craved your attention until it was gone.
And now, here he was—locked inside the clubroom with you because Reo, fed up with watching you both suffer in silence, decided to take matters into his own hands.
The door slammed shut behind you. A soft metallic click confirmed it was locked.
“Reo?” you said sharply, turning back.
“I’m not opening it,” came Reo’s smug reply from the other side. “Not until you idiots talk. Or make out. Either one.”
“Reo!” you growled, rushing to the handle. It didn’t budge. “This isn’t funny!”
“Not meant to be,” he said. “Consider this an intervention. Figure it out. I’ll be back… eventually.”
And then his footsteps faded.
You stood frozen for a moment, facing the door, before you slowly turned to face the boy across the room.
Nagi stood by the windows, bathed in fading sunlight, his white hair catching every bit of golden glow like a halo. But he didn’t look like an angel. Not now. He looked exhausted. Haunted. Like someone still trying to understand why the hell his chest wouldn’t stop aching.
He didn’t look at you.
So you stayed by the door, arms crossed. A wall of silence stretched between you, heavy and brittle, ready to snap.
“Say something,” you finally muttered, your voice tired, your throat sore from swallowing your feelings for days.
He flinched. You didn’t miss it.
“I didn’t ask him to do this,” he said quietly.
“But you’re not stopping it either.”
Another silence.
You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Then let’s get it over with.”
He finally turned. His eyes met yours.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.
You laughed—but it wasn’t amused. It was hollow. “But you did.”
He stepped forward, cautious. “When I said I didn’t know… it wasn’t because I don’t feel anything.”
You narrowed your eyes, but said nothing.
“It was because I felt too much,” he admitted, voice quieter now, almost like he was afraid it would break if he raised it any higher. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”
“And what, you thought silence would make it better?”
“No,” he whispered. “I thought if I said it out loud, it’d ruin everything. I was scared.”
You blinked at him, your heart aching all over again. “Scared of what? That I’d say it back?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. His jaw clenched.
“I liked it,” you said, voice cracking. “The attention. The nicknames. You holding my hand. Laying on my lap. Acting like I was the only person who mattered. I liked it—because I liked you. But you don’t get to do all that and then tell me you don’t know.”
You weren’t yelling. You weren’t crying. But your pain filled every word.
“You don’t get to act like I’m your whole world, Nagi, if you don’t even know what I am to you.”
That landed like a punch to the gut.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His voice was low, almost hoarse. “I do know now.”
You didn’t move.
He took another step. “I know I’m stupid. That I missed the moment I should’ve told you. That I let you walk away.”
Still, you didn’t say a word.
“I thought I was okay with being your friend,” he whispered, gaze dropping to the floor. “Until I saw someone else try to be more.”
He looked up then, and his eyes held the kind of desperation that only comes when you realize something too late.
“I heard people talking. Saying you said yes. That you were going out with him. And I swear—my chest hurt so bad I couldn’t even breathe.”
You finally moved. Just barely. Your fingers curled into the hem of your shirt, grounding yourself.
“I don’t want to be just your almost,” you said.
He froze.
“I don’t want to keep waiting for maybes. I confessed, and you froze. And that told me everything I needed to know.”
“I was wrong,” he said. “I was scared. But I’m not anymore.”
You looked at him, eyes searching. “Then prove it.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.
It was thick—full of history, full of missed chances, full of every time he called you angel like it meant everything and nothing all at once. Nagi stood there like he’d been thrown into the eye of a storm he created, a thousand unsaid words flashing behind those pale lashes and sleepy eyes.
But there was nothing sleepy about the way he looked at you now.
Slowly, like the weight of your words had finally dragged him back to earth, he took a step toward you. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes, checking—once, twice, maybe even a third time—for hesitation.
There was none.
So when he reached out, his fingers brushing the side of your face, it felt like the world tilted. His touch was tentative at first, like you were made of something he wasn’t sure he deserved to hold. And then—he kissed you.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t perfect either. His lips were warm, unsure at first, like he was still learning what it meant to feel everything he’d avoided. But the moment you leaned into him, he melted.
His other hand found your waist, sliding around to hold you steady as if he needed the anchor. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself in the heat of him.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed against your mouth. “I should’ve said something sooner.”
You kissed him back, just as soft. Just as broken.
“You didn’t,” you whispered. “You never do.”
Nagi pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were clearer than you’d ever seen them—open, raw, like the wall between you was finally cracking. “I didn’t know how,” he admitted, voice hoarse. “It was easier to pretend. That if I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t lose you.”
You blinked at him, chest tightening. “But you did.”
That broke something in him.
He kissed you again, harder this time—but not in a way that hurt. It was desperation, barely concealed by the tremble in his hands as they held you close. His lips moved with a kind of apology his voice couldn’t carry.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he muttered between kisses. “I swear, Angel… I’ll make it up to you.”
His forehead fell against yours, breaths mingling as his arms slid around your waist tighter, like you might disappear again if he loosened his grip.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered. “I just—every time I saw you with someone else, I felt like I was choking on my own heartbeat.”
Your eyes watered. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I thought I could live with just being your friend,” he confessed, voice cracking. “But I can’t. Not anymore. Not after hearing you say yes to someone else. Not after realizing that someone else might get to hold your hand. Kiss you. Call you theirs.”
You closed your eyes, tears clinging to your lashes.
“Do you still want me?” he asked, his voice suddenly small. Uncertain. Like a boy rather than the prodigy the school worshipped. Like someone afraid he’d ruined the one thing he wanted most.
You nodded.
And he kissed you again.
This time it was slower. Not desperate—but deliberate. Tender. Like he was tracing every inch of what he could’ve lost. His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his lips moving with careful reverence.
“You feel like home,” he whispered against your skin, voice breaking. “I didn’t realize it until I walked away from the one place I ever felt safe.”
You held him back just as tightly.
Then—
Click.
The door creaked open behind you, light spilling into the dimly lit clubroom. You both turned your heads slightly—breathless, lips pink, tangled in each other—only to find Reo leaning against the doorframe with a smug smirk plastered across his face.
“Well, shit,” he drawled, arms crossed. “I was joking when I said you two better kiss.”
Your face burned, and you turned toward the wall, hiding your expression in Nagi’s shoulder. Nagi didn’t even flinch. He simply pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head like he’d claimed you completely now—and didn’t care who saw.
Reo raised an eyebrow and backed out of the room with both hands lifted. “You’re welcome, by the way. That’s the last time I play matchmaker for emotionally repressed athletes.”
The door shut behind him with a soft click.
Silence settled again—but this time it was warm. Safe.
Nagi didn’t let go.
He just held you like he’d waited his whole life to.
And in the quiet that followed, with your heartbeat finally slowing, you whispered into the space between his collarbone and jaw, “Then don’t let me go again.”
His answer came in the form of another kiss—slow, aching, sure.
This time, it didn’t feel like the end of anything.
It felt like the very beginning.
Bonus scene.
Reo sauntered out of the kitchen with a plate of fruit and two croissants balanced in one hand, his expression so smug it bordered on criminal.
“Wow,” he said dramatically, flopping onto the couch like it was a throne. “So you finally confessed. In my clubroom. After months of the most agonizing, tension-filled friendship I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness. Honestly? About damn time.”
You sat curled up on the other end of the plush couch, mug of cocoa nestled in your hands, half-tucked into a throw blanket that definitely wasn’t yours. Your face flushed at the memory, and you ducked your head, hiding behind the steam. Nagi was sprawled across the floor with his head resting in your lap, white hair messy, fingers lazily interlaced with yours as if he refused to let you go even in sleep.
“Reo…” you muttered. “You’re never going to let us live it down, are you?”
He grinned over the rim of his juice glass. “Absolutely not. This is what I live for. I carried this friends-to-lovers campaign on my back like Atlas holding up the sky.”
Nagi grunted softly, shifting closer to your stomach and nuzzling in. “Too loud…”
Reo rolled his eyes, but fondness softened the motion. “Still a baby,” he said under his breath, before turning back to you. “Anyway. You’re welcome.”
“For what?” you asked warily.
Reo gestured with both hands like he was presenting fine art. “For being the only reason you two aren’t still stuck in the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ stage while making everyone else around you suffer.”
Your cheeks burned hotter.
Nagi, still barely awake, mumbled against the hem of your hoodie, “Didn’t wanna suffer anymore.”
Reo raised a brow. “Oh, so now you talk about your feelings?”
Another grunt. Nagi tugged on your hand and pulled it close to his chest. “Told her everything last night.”
Reo looked at you with mock horror. “Everything-everything?”
You laughed into your mug. “Reo.”
“I mean, I did say make out as a joke,” he continued, dramatically reclining back into the couch, “but you two took it as a challenge.”
Nagi tugged the blanket you were using, covering part of himself with it like a turtle burrowing deeper. “Didn’t hear you complaining when you left.”
“Oh, I was mentally high-fiving myself all the way to the vending machine,” Reo said smugly. “Finally. Emotional constipation, cured. You’re welcome.”
You gave him a dry look. “Should I get you a medal or something?”
He beamed. “Please do. Make it engraved. Cupid Mikage, or something with sparkles.”
Despite your embarrassment, you smiled. It was easy now. So much lighter than yesterday. Your shoulders didn’t feel weighed down by the what-ifs anymore. Just quiet, humming contentment.
Nagi stirred again, his hand slowly brushing circles against your palm. “Don’t leave today.”
Reo snorted from the other end. “Bro. She’s wearing my hoodie and holding your soul. She’s not going anywhere.”
You playfully kicked Reo’s foot. “You’re such a menace.”
“Hey,” he said, mock-wounded. “I locked you two in a room so you’d stop emotionally blue-balling yourselves. That’s love.”
Nagi pulled your hand to his chest again and mumbled, barely audible, “You’re mine.”
You blinked, glancing down at him.
“Hmm?” you murmured, brushing his bangs out of his face.
“Mine,” he said again, slower. “You’re… mine.”
Reo gagged from across the room. “I’m right here, guys. Show some mercy to the lonely rich kid who third-wheeled your entire relationship into existence.”
You laughed—fully this time. A soft, real, bright sound that filled the room and made Nagi shift to look up at you like it was his favorite melody. He pressed his face against your thigh and closed his eyes again, satisfied.
And for once, with Reo’s chaos and Nagi’s sleepy weight grounding you, everything just… clicked.
The tension was gone.
The fear, the doubt, the silence—it had all broken the night before.
Now, there was only this: morning light, your favorite people, a stupidly expensive penthouse, and a love that had finally found its way home.
you always thought nagi was clingy, but nothing could’ve prepared you for having a son who looked exactly like him—and somehow acted even worse.
your little boy had his own room, decorated perfectly with his favorite things. soft walls painted his favorite color, shelves lined with toys, a big plush bed with a comforter that matched his tiny personality. you thought he’d be excited to have his own space, finally able to call a room his own. but no matter how many times you tucked him in there, kissed him goodnight, and told him sweet dreams, he always ended up sneaking into your room in the middle of the night.
“baby, you have your own room,” you’d tell him, already half-asleep as he wriggled between you and nagi, clutching his stuffed toy and rubbing at his tired eyes.
“don’t like it,” he mumbled against your arm, voice muffled but determined. “smells better here. smells like mama.”
from behind you, nagi let out a sleepy chuckle, his voice low and raspy from just waking. “he’s got a point.”
“sei, you’re not helping,” you grumbled, carding your fingers through your son’s messy white hair.
“‘s true, though.” nagi’s arm lazily tightened around your waist, making sure he had his spot secured as well.
and just like that, your bed became home base for not one but two velcro boys. nagi’s long arm always thrown lazily over both you and your son, as if he was reclaiming his territory, while your son’s tiny hands refused to let go of your shirt, even in his sleep.
mornings weren’t much easier. you usually woke up pinned—your son starfished across your chest, drooling into your shirt and snoring softly, while nagi coiled around your waist like a human-sized snake, his face buried in your neck and his breathing steady.
“mamaaa, don’t go,” your son whined when you tried to sit up, still half-asleep but immediately aware of your movement.
“stay, babe,” nagi muttered in the exact same tone, tightening his hold without even opening his eyes.
you groaned, flopping your head back against the pillow. “if i don’t get up, who’s going to cook breakfast?”
“delivery…” nagi mumbled without missing a beat.
“delibewy!” your son chirped, copying his dad perfectly, lips curling into a sleepy grin.
you sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “i’ve basically got twins.”
in the kitchen, it wasn’t any better. nagi leaned against the counter, watching you cook with hooded eyes like it was entertainment, while your son clung to your leg like a koala, making it nearly impossible to move from one counter to another.
“hungryyy,” nagi dragged out the word, his voice pitched just enough to sound pathetic.
“hungryyyyy,” your son echoed immediately, tugging at your shirt dramatically, as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
you pinched the bridge of your nose. honestly, you didn’t know who needed actual attention more—your real baby or your oversized one.
by the time you managed to herd them into the living room, you thought you’d get a break. wrong. the moment you sat on the couch, nagi sprawled across your lap, long legs dangling over the side, head pillowed comfortably on your stomach. then your son came toddling over, climbing up onto the little sliver of space left, determined to wedge himself in.
“mama’s lap is mine!” he huffed, pushing at nagi’s side with his tiny hands.
“hey, don’t copy me,” nagi muttered, refusing to move and tightening his grip around your waist like a stubborn child.
“i copy you,” your son shot back smugly, puffing his cheeks in victory.
you looked between the two of them, their matching pouts making your head spin. it was like staring at a smaller, louder version of nagi arguing with the original. “see what you’ve created?” you glared at nagi over your son’s head.
“pretty cute, though,” nagi replied, utterly unbothered, even as your lap circulation slowly began to suffer.
errands were a whole new battlefield. dragging nagi out of the house was already hard enough, but with your son, it became a parade of clinginess. nagi shuffled along beside you, dragging his feet with a bored look, while your son waddled on your other side, clinging tight to your hand and swinging it back and forth.
“do i have to go?” nagi whined.
“yes.”
“me too?” your son parroted, looking up at you with big pleading eyes.
“yes, you too,” you said firmly.
at the grocery store, it got worse. nagi leaned heavily against the cart like he might collapse if he had to stand on his own, while your son sat inside with his arms folded across his chest, mimicking his dad’s pout. both of them gave you identical lazy stares as if shopping was the most exhausting thing in the world. passersby gave you sympathetic (or amused) looks—like you were wrangling not one child but two.
finally, bedtime rolled around again. you tried once more to settle your son into his room, tucking him under his blanket with kisses on his forehead. he smiled sleepily, promised to stay this time, and even hugged his plush a little tighter like he meant it. but by 2 a.m. you felt the mattress dip and a tiny body crawl between you and nagi again.
you opened your eyes just in time to see nagi, half-asleep, lifting the blanket to let him in like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“sei,” you whispered, watching your son curl against you with his plushie, sighing as his small fingers immediately latched onto your shirt again. “you’re spoiling him.”
“he just wants you,” nagi shrugged, his voice thick with sleep as he pulled you both closer with one arm. “same as me.”
“mama’s mine,” your son murmured into your chest, already halfway back to dreamland.
“no, mine,” nagi countered softly, pressing his face into your neck with the faintest smirk.
you sighed, trapped between your two velcro babies—one small, one oversized, both equally stubborn. exhausting? yes. overwhelming? definitely. but as their warmth surrounded you and their breathing evened out in sync, you realized you wouldn’t trade this for anything.
your life now was full of clinginess, mimicry, and a whole lot of patience. and honestly? it was perfect.
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Summary: seishiro nagi starts to think you’re a hassle to deal with. Until you pull away.
A/n: dont rlly like it, not proofread either so there could be mistakes
The afternoon sun filtered lazily through the curtains of Nagi’s apartment, casting long shadows across the floor where you sat curled against his side on the couch. His latest match had ended hours ago, but he was still in that post-game haze—controller loose in his hands, eyes half-lidded as he ground through another level in some mobile game. You didn’t mind. You never minded.
You pressed closer, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm. “Nagi… you were amazing today. The way you trapped that ball mid-air? I couldn’t stop watching the replay.” Your voice was soft, almost reverent, the way it always got when you talked about him. You leaned in, brushing a kiss to his shoulder. “Can we order that peach tea you like? I’ll feed you the snacks this time. You don’t have to move.”
He hummed, a noncommittal sound that used to feel warm. Lately, it just felt… distant. “Eh. It’s whatever. Too much effort to get up anyway.”
You smiled anyway, ignoring the tiny sting. This was Nagi—your Nagi. The genius who could make miracles on the pitch but hated anything that required more energy than breathing. You were the one who made things easy for him. Who clung to him like a lifeline because being near him felt like the only thing that quieted the restless ache in your chest. “I love you,” you whispered, tightening your hold just a fraction.
He shifted slightly. Not away, exactly, but enough that your hand slipped. “Yeah. Love you too.”
Days blurred into the same rhythm. You’d show up after practice, arms full of his favorite things—energy drinks, that limited-edition game he’d mentioned once, your presence filling the quiet spaces he never seemed to mind before. You’d wrap your arms around him from behind while he cooked (or more accurately, while he watched you cook), resting your cheek against his back. “Missed you,” you’d murmur every single time, even if it had only been hours.
At first, he’d lean into it. A lazy arm draped over your shoulders, a mumbled “You’re warm.” But lately, his responses grew shorter. His body tensed under your touch. You’d catch him staring at his phone instead of meeting your eyes, or excusing himself to “take a nap” right when you started talking about your day.
One evening, it cracked.
You’d spent the whole day planning a quiet night in—his favorite ramen simmering, blankets piled on the couch, even downloading that new co-op game so you could play together. When he finally walked through the door, shoulders slumped from training, you practically bounced over, throwing your arms around his neck.
“Nagi! I made your—”
He sighed, longer and heavier than usual, gently but firmly prying your arms off. “Can you… not right now? It’s been a hassle all day. Everything’s a hassle.”
The words landed like ice. You froze, searching his face for the usual lazy affection, but it wasn’t there. Just exhaustion. Irritation, even. “Oh,” you said softly, stepping back. “Sorry. I just… wanted to make you feel better.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, not looking at you. “It’s fine. Just… give me space sometimes, yeah? You’re always on me. I can’t even think.”
You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. That night, you didn’t press. You ate in near-silence, cleaned up without asking him to help, and left earlier than usual with a quiet “Goodnight, Nagi.” No extra hug. No lingering kiss. No whispered I love you at the door.
The next few days, you pulled back.
Messages became shorter—Hope practice went well instead of paragraphs of praise and heart emojis. You stopped showing up unannounced. When you did see him, you kept your hands to yourself, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, smiling politely when he spoke but not filling the gaps. No more clinging. No more trying to anticipate his every whim.
It was supposed to help. Give him the space he wanted. But it felt like carving out pieces of yourself.
Nagi noticed immediately.
At first, he didn’t say anything. He told himself it was a relief—the quiet, the lack of constant input. He could game without your head on his shoulder. Nap without feeling your fingers in his hair. But the apartment felt… empty. Too empty. The peach tea in the fridge went untouched because opening it reminded him of your voice offering to pour it. The co-op game icon sat unopened on his screen, mocking him.
By the third night, the guilt gnawed at him like a bad loss on the pitch—sharp, persistent, impossible to ignore.
He found you at the usual spot near the training grounds after practice, sitting on a bench with your knees drawn up, staring at nothing. You didn’t light up when you saw him. Just a small, careful smile. “Hey.”
Nagi stood there, hands in his pockets, hair still damp from the shower. For once, the laziness in his posture felt forced. “You’ve been… different.”
You shrugged, looking away. “You said I was a hassle. I didn’t want to bother you anymore.”
The words hit harder than any tackle. He winced visibly, stepping closer but stopping short when you didn’t move to meet him halfway. “I didn’t… mean it like that.” His voice was quieter than usual, almost uncertain. “I was tired. The matches, the pressure—everything’s been too much. But when you stopped…”
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. Nagi Seishiro wasn’t good at this. Feelings. Effort. But the ache in his chest when he thought about your empty spot beside him was worse than any hassle.
“I miss you,” he admitted, blunt as ever. “The way you cling. The way you look at me like I’m not a pain in the ass for existing. It felt… good. I didn’t realize how much until it was gone.” He looked at you then, violet eyes unusually sharp with regret. “I’m sorry. Don’t pull away. Please. I don’t want space if it means losing you.”
You bit your lip, eyes glistening as the walls you’d built cracked. “I thought… if I was too much, you’d leave anyway.”
He closed the distance in a rare burst of initiative, pulling you into his arms—awkward at first, then tighter, burying his face in your hair. “You’re not a hassle. You’re the only thing that doesn’t feel like one.” His voice muffled against you. “Don’t stop. I need you… even if I suck at showing it.”
You clung back, finally, the familiar warmth rushing in. The angst lingered in the air, raw and unresolved, but his arms around you felt like the start of something steadier. Nagi wasn’t perfect. He was lazy, blunt, and sometimes blind to everything outside his own world. But in that moment, the guilt in his hold told you he was trying.
— summary; you thought you could handle nagi in bed. spoiler alert: YOU COULDN'T.
— notes; reblogs are appreciated and pls donate to my Ko-Fi if you like my stuff!
❋ Everyone clocks it the second you walk into the training room with Nagi.
❋ Not because he’s acting any differently.
❋ He's still slouched over, posture terrible, casually unbothered, hands shoved in his pockets like he’d rather be in bed.
❋ Which is typical Nagi behaviour.
❋ Fine.
❋ The problem, therein, lies with you.
❋ You’re walking as though your bones are made of glass and your skin is made of paper.
❋ Exhaustion radiates from every pore.
❋ The dead-eyed stare of a traumatised soldier returning from war.
❋ And most tellingly -
❋ You stop to glare at Nagi every few moments, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.
❋ (Ineffective. He is unbothered. Moisturised. Happy. In his lane. Focused. Flourishing.)
❋ Reo looks at you.
❋ Really looks.
❋ And almost drops his bottle.
❋ “. . . Oh my God.”
❋ Bachira perks up.
❋ “Hey, did you guys finally -”
❋ You flinch as though you’ve just been shot.
❋ Nagi just scratches the back of his head, and, without missing a beat, says, “Mmm. Yeah.”
❋ No shame.
❋ Just casual confirmation for all the Blue Lockers in a five-foot radius.
❋ And that’s when the room goes silent.
❋ DEAD SILENT.
❋ You would throw your clipboard at his face, except . . .
❋ It’s too far away, and you’d have to get up from the bench.
❋ And you . . .
❋ Literally can’t.
❋ Your legs haven’t recovered just yet.
❋ So you settle for glaring at Nagi. Again.
“Don’t say that in public!!”
“Why not? ‘S true . . .”
❋ And then, perhaps to add insult to injury, Nagi adds:
❋ “You said you could take it.”
❋ Somewhere in the distance, you hear someone choke on water.
❋ “. . .”
❋ You have no answer to that, because he’s technically right.
❋ You had been young.
❋ Cocky.
❋ Self-assured.
❋ And stupid.
❋ Because you’d taken one look at Nagi, at 190cm of a professional striker with absurd stamina and body control, and dared to think:
❋ Wow, Nagi's lazy and sleepy all the time. I can do this!
❋ Wrong.
❋ WRONG.
❋ Unfortunately for you, you’ve since learned that once he actually gets interested in something, he commits.
❋ You had to learn that the hard way.
❋ Several times.
❋ And that isn’t even the worst part.
❋ No.
❋ That would be how Nagi keeps wandering over to you in the middle of practice, all warm and clingy like an oversized cat.
❋ Arms looped around your waist.
❋ Fingers curling around your wrist.
❋ Resting his chin on your shoulder from behind while you’re trying to work.
❋ And -
❋ He keeps absentmindedly saying the filthiest things that make it painfully obvious to everyone in the vicinity just how thoroughly he’d managed to ruin your motor functions for 24-48 business hours.
“Did your hips stop hurting yet?”
“Are the bruises gone?”
“You were whining my name louder last night.”
“Wanna come over again later?”
❋ And every single time, the nearby Blue Lockers look like they just got flashbanged.
❋ Isagi especially suffers because he keeps accidentally overhearing things no man should ever have to hear.
❋ All he wants to do is focus on football, and suddenly he's hearing Nagi murmur:
❋ “You looked cute crying, though.”
❋ The poor guy can't catch a break.
❋ Even Rin looks disturbed.
❋ RIN.
❋ Which is saying a lot.
❋ And even though you're still mad at Nagi for temporarily ruining your ability to sit, stand, and bend over...
❋ Unfortunately . . .
❋ You’d absolutely let him fold you like his laundry again.
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