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"mm-ngh! Niji, fuck" your small whines were quickly silenced by Nijiro's hand covering your mouth. He had previously swept you away from the set, you weren't acting in the Tokyo Revengers movie but since your boyfriend was, you watched from behind the camera with the rest of the crew. It was so cool seeing your boyfriend in his element, you usually weren't allowed to be with the crew since you don't actually work for them, but the TR production was pretty laid back and let you stay to watch. Which is what you were doing, until about 5 minutes ago.

Nijiro was frustrated with the way they were filming. Usually they'd film a single characters scenes all at once, so they wouldn't have their actors coming on and off constantly, but for some reason they changed it for tonight. The night where Nijiro had to film his biggest fight scene.

It was really pissing him off, the way he'd get fully committed to the character, and then be told to go off and take 5 because they needed to shoot someone else. Why would they change the formula? It was perfect the way it was, now the production will suffer.

And above all else, Nijiro was told to take 5 right when his adrenaline would reach its peak. Naturally, he needed an outlet, a way to keep his energy up. Luckily, his favourite thing to put his energy into was standing right infront of him.

"keep quiet f'me baby.." he whispered, gently covering your mouth with his hand. The only lighting in the bathroom being from the dim street lamps outside, increasing the secretive atmosphere. You were pinned against the bathroom wall as Niji buried himself in your cunt, practically imprinting his shape into your walls. Your eyes travelled down to his arms, fuck. You mentally thank the costume team for finally getting Nijiro to wear a singlet, he never wore shirts that showed off his arms, so you made sure to remember this session over the rest. His sweat gleamed in the faint warm light, decorating his neck and collarbones, your eyes fixated on his fake neck tattoo. Fuck, you'd have to convince him to cosplay or something after this, the sight mixed with the pleasure he gave you was making your head spin.

His arms and shoulders flexed with each thrust as he held you up by your thighs, fucking into you like this was the last time he'd ever get. It took everything in you not to scream out his name, along with a nicely crafted string of cuss words, letting everyone hear how good he fucks you. Small whimpers were the most you could let out, not wanting Niji to get punished for having a quickie mid set.

"You're so good f'me... fuck baby" His voice was intoxicating, his touch made you feel ways you've never felt before. Your arms rested over his shoulders, not that they needed to — his strong hold kept you up with no issue. You were sure that if he fucked you any harder, you'd end up bringing down the wall you were currently pinned up against. He felt the need to groan louder, feeling it build — his mouth soon found your neck, sucking on your sweet spots, only bringing you closer to the edge.

You felt Nijiro's hips stutter, followed by his teeth digging into your skin a little harder than before.

"m-mmh cum, cum with me baby" His hot breath laced your jawline as he rutted into you faster than ever. Feeling that familiar knot in your stomach about to snap, you couldn't stay silent anymore.

"mmh- cumming.. cummingcummingcummi- ahh!" You cried into his neck. Shortly met with the feeling of your walls being painted by Niji's hot white seed, filling you up, keeping you warm. You could swear you saw heaven for a second, his touch made you drunk, reaching a state of euphoria you could never get anywhere else.

His arms gently let you back down, still keeping you steady with your bodies pressed together as you could barely stand. Whispering sweet praises in your ear as his hand went down to fuck his cum back into you, not letting any leak out. You smiled weakly as his words laced your eardrums, almost forgetting he was in the middle of his job.

"Nijiro! Wherever you are, you're back on in two." The director shouted.

"Fuck, 'm sorry baby. I'll take care of you when we're home ok? I love you" He said, getting his pants back on at the speed of light. Not bothering to wash his hands, but instead resorting to licking your combined juices off his fingers, and with a quick kiss to your cheek, he was gone.

You knew he'd keep his word, now all you'd have to do was wait till you got home to recieve his aftercare.

Your days were busier than ever since you started college. Studying to be a teacher, which many often pouted their lips and expressed their sympathies when you told them, was not actually as easy as people thought. You had to complete a few hundred hours of your externship on top of classes and your part-time job to pay for said classes.

The work would be fulfilling, eventually. When you finally finished shadowing Mr. Sato, the biggest pain in your ass, you could be free to begin your first official year of teaching and quit your miserable job as a bartender. Contrasting fields, yes, but the tips paid the bills well.

Each night, your shift ended at around two in the morning and you went straight from the bar and to your apartment, passing out and waking up bright and early at seven for your weekday classes. Luckily, most shifts at the bar were on Thursdays and weekends, while all classes and externship hours were during weekdays. After class, it was typically back to the bar to open.

You couldn't complain too much. Besides having a non-existent social life beyond a classroom of fourth-graders and classrooms of college students, you flew under the radar pretty well. No one had it out for you, nor you for them, but any off days you rarely had were not spent in the company of friends or even friendly coworkers, just by yourself in your little apartment waiting for time to pass. A boring and uneventful life. Sometimes you wondered what it was all for, and you had yet to find your answer. You told yourself that after graduation it would all turn out perfect, and you'd live normally while balancing your social life better, maybe even get married after a few years of healthy stability. But that itch was still on the back of your mind, asking, ‘for what?’

Today was booked with all three. After your unpaid shift with Mr. Hana's class and your ‘School and Classroom Culture’ class, you headed to work.

The club was crowded at the end of the week. Friday had brought in a chill every time the door opened, leaving the sweaty atmosphere to be momentarily paused as groups flitted in and stumbled out. You were working on your umpteenth round of the cheapest vodka shots the establishment offered, enjoying the chill despite the brash complaints around you about it. Sliding the shots onto a tray, you nodded for Hana to serve her table.

“Thanks, babe!” She chirped with a wink and shouldered the tray off to the table of cheering ladies.

Onto the next.

A man with jet black hair hovering just over his shoulders and a middle part framing his face sat right at the bar. He seemed jittery and slightly nervous, as if you might say ‘no’ to any request he may have. He was in work uniform, an office you guessed, looking beyond him to see a group of guys dressed the same and gawking at the girls dancing.

“Excuse me?” He began, glancing over his shoulder.

“What can I get you?” You perked up, putting on your best customer service place. Nervous guys were a million times better than the cocky ones who thought they were entitled to seeing more skin or even a dance from you, despite the readily available shows up front. The thrill of what they could not have, you supposed. Guys like this were a blessing, despite their eyes giving away their desires.

He licked his lips shortly, glancing down at your own chest on view through your black tank top before shooting his eyes quickly back up. “Three—no, nine, probably— sake shots.” He stumbled.

You raised a brow, counting him as the sixth. “Is that it?” You asked, moving to pull the bottle from its shelf and a multitude of glasses.

“I'm driving everyone home.” He explained with a slight flush. The men in the back chortled at one another's jokes while he seemed in no rush at all to join them again. After you poured the triple round tray, she handed it off to the guy.

You hadn't even made another full drink for the lady next to him before he was back, tray under his arm and the guys at a table downing their shots behind him. “Here,” he mumbled, politely placing the tray on the sticky counter.

You nodded appreciatively, topping the mojito off with some mint leaves on the rim. The lady smiled and thanked you before rejoining her group of friends, leaving the man standing in front of the bar awkwardly alone.

Seeing as he was the only one, you allowed yourself a brief break to wipe the counter. “Not going to join your coworkers?” You asked curiously.

He squeezed his hands together, shaking his head with pursed lips. “Co-workers.” He corrected.

You nodded understandingly, knowing he must have been coerced into being a DD for some coworkers who didn't want to spend their time sober. “How about a soda?” You offered with a small smile.

Hours passed quickly, customer's faces all bleeding together. The man eventually left with his intoxicated group after lingering around the bar and watching his co-workers and the girls both from a safe distance. You didn't think much about him after, focusing on cleaning your station and heading the hell home.

Hana brushed against you behind the bar, helping herself to a generous double shot of a lemon drop cocktail-her absolute favorite despite your sour face whenever she offers one to you-and leans against the counter to sip on it while you finish up.

"Doing anything tomorrow? I was thinking of getting dinner with some girlfriends and barhopping afterward." She suggested with a lift of her glass.

"I can't." You sighed. "Got a project to finish, then work again tomorrow night."

Hana leaned her head back as if she were wounded. "You alwaysss 'can't'. Come on, babes, live a little. You're only twenty-two, and you live like an old hermit."

You couldn't disagree. "Next time, Hana. I promise."

She sends you a sympathetic smile. "If you ever need anything, you got my number."

"I know. Thanks," you offer weakly.

Despite the chill on the walk to the train, you still felt the residue of the club on your skin and clothes. You smelled like beer and liquor over old perfume, something you'd unfortunately grown used to. Although your own insensitivity didn't stop others from giving you disgusted glances passerbys gave you as if you were stumbling around the streets of Tokyo begging for cash.

Relaxing into a seat, you felt the grogginess of the day wash over you. As much as you fought against it, you fell asleep in your empty train car.

Jerking awake at the dinging of the last stop call, you promptly collected your belongings. You jumped up and off the train, climbing the stairs and out onto the dark streets. Completely empty and nearly pitch black, you were stopped in your tracks. No people being outside at 3 a.m wasn't a crazy thing in this part of town, but the streetlights being down? You clutched your bag tight, wondering if you'd stepped into a horror movie shooting.

As you continued down the path towards your apartment, you brought up your phone to glimpse at the local news and electrical issues.

When the phone wouldn't even turn on, you began to panic. Shoving your things into your bag, you started to briskly walk home. The way was only lit up by the full moon, making reflective street signs possible to navigate around with.

When the first firework ‘popped!’ in the skies and whined all the way down, you jumped. “Fireworks?” You muttered aloud, stepping off the sidewalk to get a better view in the street. Abandoned cars littered it, but you forced yourself to ignore them in favor of this all being a high-budget movie scene. That hope could only last so long.

If the streets were really being rented out, then why wasn't the skyline of Tokyo at least still lit? It was virtually impossible to clear an entire city for a piece of media, no matter the budget.

Finally, you spotted a faint light coming from a distant building. You sprinted towards it, seeing it as your only chance for answers or other people. Let it be a prank, you silently pleaded.

When you reached the place, you read the lit sign, humming at the frank realization that this place was something like an office building. It was tall and skinny, with a logo you didn't recognize on it. Another building sat parallel to it with a bridge connecting it but it stayed unlit. Gingerly, you stepped into it and flinched as a robotic voice called out.

“One player registered. Waiting for others. Please take one phone per person.”

It was then she realized there was a silver table with a bunch of lines neatly lined up. When she grabbed one, it spoke again. “Reading facial I.D.” When you saw your name written across the white screen in bold black letters, your heart dropped to your stomach.

There was no time to dwell when another person wandered into the building. You turned to them, hoping that this person might be the one who revealed any answers, but were only met with a mirrored face. A woman, slightly taller than you with pajamas on but an alert expression. “What's going on?” She asked, voice small.

You looked behind her, seeing a foreign man enter with a disciplined calmness. “I don't know. You're the first people I've seen.” You told her, earning a frown. You both seemed to have the same idea by looking at the older man. He shrugged, glancing around.

“I was wonderin’ why all those fireworks was goin’ off.” He said tiredly.

More people entered, and a familiar face finally showed up. The man from the bar, who immediately also perked up upon seeing your face. You found each other quickly, standing side by side after everyone picked up a phone. Even if you didn't know each other, the slight comfort was like grasping at straws.

He whispered to you, suspiciously looking at all of the other strangers. “Do you know what the hell is going on?”

With a hopeless shake of your head, the man sighed and melted into the wall. Cutting off the scared murmurs, the robotic female voice spoke again. “Registration closed. There are fifteen players.”

A white screen lit up at the top of the elevator.

Displayed on it as well as being read out loud: “Game: Fishbowl. Difficulty: Three of Diamonds.”

“Diamond?” You asked, getting no answer from anyone else.

“Objective: Find the exit to the mazes on each floor. There are 10 levels total. Clear conditions: Make it to the roof before the timer runs out.”

“That sounds easy enough.” A teenager's voice broke through the silence.

“Yet it doesn't explain why we're doing a game in the first place. I'm going home, fuck this.” Another guy grumbled, obviously too irritated to continue playing the random game. When he turned his back and went through the entranceway doors, the small red-lined lasers shot through him like knives.

The room erupted in panic and screams. No one was silent or still, and you stood next to the wall with warm splatters of blood on your face and clothes. With a trembling hand, you reached up to wipe a bit off, revealing the same red that touched everything else in the lobby.

“Game start. Time: Three hours.”

“Is that all we have?” You whispered, the taller man beside you eyeing the scene and the dead man silently. He seemed to straighten from his slouched and nervous posture, eyebrows knitting together like he just solved something. Without a word, he brushed past you and to the stairwell.

It let him open the door, and he disappeared up the stairs whilst everyone still flurried about.

You were quick to follow, not wanting to meet the same grizzly fate as the dead man. There would be time to figure out whats and hows and whos later—when you were safe at home.

Up the first floor of stairs, the second level's door opening and displaying a big ‘1’ on it.

The man opens it, and you are surprised to see office-like cubicle walls climbing to the top in wide rows. It was like the real office was gone and changed out with an entirely new structure. Along the white walls were some paintings still hung up and some plants somehow decorating the ugly carpet in a few corners.

He took the lead, stepping with a newfound confidence. “Wait!” You urged. “What if there's more lasers?”

He looked over his shoulder, shrugging. “Maybe, but we'll just have to find out.”

Slightly irked, you followed still. After about ten minutes, you were both utterly lost. Others had joined and started to play as little ducklings following their mother, but you supposed it would be hypocritical to judge when you had done the very same.

“We've been around the floor a hundred times!” He exaggerated, brushing his hands through his hair.

“Have some patience.” You bit. “You're freaking me out.”

Going back to the stairwell, you retraced your steps and started again.

Using the method of right-hand-to-wall as you typically followed in video games, you began to lead in front.

More minutes passed and more dead ends appeared. The windows where the main walls of the building showed the empty night sky and the next door building reflecting the moon light still. You checked your phone, seeing a flashing ‘2:32: left on your timer. Thirty minutes had passed and floor one wasn't even completed.

“Shit.” You started to run back to the start, practically having it memorized by now. You ran into the stairwell again, wincing when you half-expected the doorway to laser you down but continuing in your rush when it hadn't. The doorway to the third floor was locked, as expected, but different from the second floor, it had a small pin pad on its knob.

How obvious. All fourteen of you had spent over thirty minutes looking for a door when it was behind you all along. “We need digits!” You yelled into the doorway.

A few stragglers waited at the doorway, not having any use while most continued their search. “Look for any numbers!” The man shouted louder in your echo, leaving the room to burst into murmurs and leave plants and paintings tossed around.

The teenager came running to the door, panting but with a satisfied smile on her face. “Look! It has a ‘4’ on the back!”

The players all cheered, and you held the painting backwards to inspect. “How do we know what order to place them in?” You muttered to yourself. In a matter of minutes all of the paintings that carried numbers were laid in front of the doorway.

‘4’ ‘2’ ‘3’ ‘1’

“There's way too many options.” An old man with a hunched back spoke up darkly. “There's no time to do this for every floor.”

“Flip them.” Your club companion said.

On the fronts were simple but quite beautiful paintings of scenery. A pond, a park, a forest, and a beach.

An idea shot into your mind as you inspected the order of them. Kneeling in front of them, you arranged the paintings in the order of their backgrounds. Sunset, to noon, to afternoon, and finally to dusk. “Read them out to me in this order.” You told the man, who nodded as his eyes lit up in realization.

At the keypad, you fingered the digits he yelled out to you. “Three, two, four, one!”

It clicked open. You cheered and beckoned for the rest. After the first puzzle was solved, eight more went by smoothly. It was the same concept, only getting slightly harder as it went up. Stages of a frog, generations of a family, technological ages of humanity, and so forth until the 10th door was unlocked. Only one more door and you would be out.

When the door opened, you were stunned to see that all the walls were glass. The entire room was see-through, including the outer walls and the view from the height was nearly nauseating from all the clarity. “Everyone…” Someone called out in fear. They stood on one of the last steps behind the group. “Water is rising.” They lifted their feet up, revealing sopping wet shoes and ends of her pant legs. She scrambled to the upper steps, and everyone followed suit to get away from the water. This time, there was a clear red door on the other side of the room.

You swallowed harshly at the rapidly rising water, realizing that even closing the door behind you didn't make it any slower as it seemed to ooze out of the very walls themselves. Cubicles showed themselves, lighting up on the floor in a blinding white. “One player per room. All living players must solve their puzzles before the time runs out.”

The buzzer went off and doors opened to allow all fourteen of them into the rooms. The man and her were parallel, eyes meeting with you showing signs of nerve and him seemingly gaining confidence on his own.

A screen rose in front of you, sticking out of the water and coming to life with a riddle on its screen. “What does everyone's screen say?” You asked, hoping to collectively solve it.

“Something about two birds.” The teen replied with a desperate look to you.

“Mine is a math equation.” Another said.

The old man piped up, beginning to read off his own question though he was easily drowned out in all of the noise.

You looked to your own, which seemed daunting on its own. What happens when you get it wrong?

Your answer came in a nightmare. The old man had selected a random option in hopes of guessing correctly, and everyone could only watch on as his cube was immediately flooded to the brim with water. His lights turned bright red and you turned your gaze away and covered your ears to prevent the sight and sounds from implanting themselves in your head forever.

When it all got quiet, you checked your phone again.

‘0:08’

Eight more minutes. Your cube's water was already to your waistline and climbing still. You focused on your own question although the urge to answer other's pleas for assistance and confusion nagged at you insistently. The sound of more water and more screams and choked gargling was all that was left in the room as your water rose above your head, too.

‘What is the last number in the sequence?

895371’

You scanned over the sequence repeatedly, seeing flashes of white lights turning red around your peripherals and one turning green.

Entering a sloppy, ‘1’ in the keypad, you kicked up to the top of the cube to gasp in what little air was left at the top. Looking around you saw no one except for the club man. Your own cube's lights flashed green, and the click of the doors could vaguely be heard above the sound of rushing water. You both dived under, pushing at your doors.

His budged open immediately and he swam up and towards the exit door that lead up. You kept pushing at your own, heart racing and running out of air, but nothing made it open. Going topside again, you shouted out. “My door is jammed!”

He stopped in place, the few inches left of water between him and the ceiling showing his wet lashes looking down his nose at you. Clenching his jaw, he looked rapidly between the door and you. Finally, he clicked his tongue and pushed off the glass to your area.

In sync, you held your breaths for the last time and swam down to the door. You nodded, signaling for him to pull and you to push. After a few tries, the water-jammed door pried open and you swam together towards the red door.

You tried your hardest to ignore the lifeless floating bodies that were at the top of each cube.

It opened outwards, the two of you being flung against the wall by the water that rushed down the stairwell. A shout of pain left his lips below you and you scrambled up, panting out and apologizing for cornering him and possibly bruising his ribs.

The water didn't stop there, following you both as you ran up more stairs and onto the roof. Hands on your knees, you coughed up the remaining water from your throat and lungs and sat down, elbows shakily supporting your body. What had happened in the last three hours? You had just witnessed thirteen people die in one night when you hadn't seen a single death in your life prior.

Who put you here, and for what purpose were you playing these games?

Your phone chimed. “Game cleared. Visa days added: 3 days remaining.”

You and the man stood alone on the roof, not a single other survivor from the game alive. You weren't sure if there was any person in this world left alive, either, besides from you and him.

“You owe me.” He said with an ominous one. “Don't forget that.”

“I won't.” You promised. Then after a long pause, you added your name in a smaller tone.

“Niragi.” Was all he offered, and you briefly wondered how just over three hours ago, this man was meek and clearly a pushover in every aspect of his life. Now, everything about him seemed straighter and more intimidating.

Sticking by him, you were unsure if it meant being thrown to the wolves at the first sight of danger or defended in a play of arrogance. Though your common sense urged you to leave at the first sign of his distraction, you stayed firmly planted by his side.

Perhaps there was some benefit to this strange and peculiar world, no more work and no more rent. Safety was in numbers, after all, and having a guy like Niragi might save your ass again.

it's irrational. it's irrational and a waste of time.

chishiya believed he had long ago lost all his will to live. he was barely capable of feeling simple human emotions after viewing firsthand how ruthless those same human beings can be to each other.

children die everyday due to the crazy prices of medicine their parents can't afford. women are abused and sexualized and after speaking up somehow it is their fault. lives are taken away only for the fact that others seem more valuable to the society. people choose money over their own loved ones. he's seen it all throughout his course of life, his job as a future doctor not helping the attempts he would make to distract himself from this reality. this is what made him so emotionally distant.

chishiya couldn't comprehend why people took their lives so seriously, trying their best to make it out alive of the deathly games they were condoned with. anyone could die at any given moment, doesn't matter if they are in the borderlands or not. after all, unless you have money and power, in a few years no one will remember who you were.

he considered altruism useless, prioritizing his own life instead of others. if he could help someone who was at the doors of death with no negative outcome, he'd choose not to interfere, knowing that same person would die sooner or later.

and in truth, you were the complete opposite of him. if he had to define altruism in a word, he would say your name.

you made no absolute sense in his mind. so why did he feel so attracted to your mindset? why did he want to constantly learn more about what you believed in? and why did he feel so different around you?

chishiya had never felt this way about anything. so when he realized how his heart fluttered when you looked his way, or how his smart head unlearned how to properly think when you both had a deep talk, he was nothing more and nothing less than afraid. afraid that what he was feeling for another human being was love, a big flaw in the borderlands.

sometimes at night he'd ponder about how things would have turned out if he had met you in the real world. if things would have been easier there, and if he wouldn't be as afraid.

"do you like them?" kuina asked, straightforward as usual, as he stared endlessly at your back from the other side of the main division of the beach. "if you like them, you should date."

"i don't like them." he replied sourly, not bothering to bat an eye towards kuina, knowing well she'd have an eyebrow raised to show her uncertainty to what he just affirmed. "i just think they're smart, is all."

chishiya knew deep down he was lying, but he couldn't get his mind wrapped around the fact he might be falling for someone, his only visible option at the moment being denial, denial and denial.

"they could die at any moment," kuina said, a hand moving to her dummy cigarette as she kept chewing on it, now her eyes were also on you. "you should tell them about your feelings already."

"i already told you i don't have feelings for them." chishiya rolled his eyes. kuina had always spoke what comes to mind and it wasn't something chishiya liked about her, especially when it was directed towards him.

but he couldn't help but stop for a while, as his mind betrayed him and let his heart take over. was it that obvious? he definitely didn't like you, he just resonated with your standards, that's it. or maybe it was a small crush, and something he didn't want to ponder a lot. he would get over it in about two weeks.

which obviously wasn't true. actually, his admiration grew stronger, but now not only honing on your mental capability, but also your physical features. you were exactly his type, he had to admit.

he could be planning something devious inside his mind, or imagining ways he could make the stupid militants shut up for once. but all it would take was a glance at those sweet eyes of yours, staring deeply right onto his, and that damned cute smile — which he learned to love hate — you give him when you both walk past each other in the halls, that his mind would completely fly elsewhere. all his deceitful schemes he spent so much time and effort coming up with late at night, now long forgotten. everything that occupied his mind being you.

before he could realize it, he was standing awkwardly on one of the halls for the hotel rooms. he was probably going to his own, until you showed up and flashed him a quick smile of sympathy, moving the opposite way from his and paying not too much mind.

it was such a simple activity, something he used to do with his colleagues on the real world, or even with strangers that were having a very nice day. yet his face felt like it was on fire, his heart about to leave his own body, and his legs couldn't work anymore. suddenly your voice was heard from behind, and he could only freeze completely.

"chishiya?" you sounded honest, a bit of worry present on your tone. "are you alright?"

shivers went down his spine as he, for once, didn't know what to say. typically, when someone has a crush, all they want to do is to spend time with them. but for some reason, all chishiya wanted you to do was get out of his way. perhaps it was due to the lack of care he received throughout his entire childhood, but he didn't like this feeling. being in love was terrifying.

but he guessed it had to happen someday. everyone falls in love, and it ended up being his turn. it wasn't something he was used to. love wasn't an exact thing, like maths or biology, that's based off of facts. it all depended. he couldn't predict the outcome by reading your body language or solving equations with an abacus. everything was subjective.

he took a deep breath and didn't move from his position, instead focusing on letting his voice come out as nonchalant as possible.

"mhm." he mumbled, immediately wanting to punch himself in the face.

he bit his lip in embarrassment. no one would ever answer someone with "mhm" after being asked about their doings, especially not him.

"are you sure?" you asked again, moving closer to him to check on his face.

as soon as he heard your steps, he started moving himself, his body betraying his heart. he tried hiding his face with the hood, as he walked slightly faster than you.

it didn't take long for you to notice he probably didn't want to talk, so instead you just stopped and watched his back move further and further from you.

"i'm..." he started, his face turning to the side to let you know he was speaking to you, his feet not stopping. "i'm getting something from my room. goodbye."

and with that you were left alone and confused on that same hall, after he made a turn at a corner and went who knows where. you had never seen chishiya this nervous, but didn't fret too much about it, instead planning on asking kuina what was going on later.

in truth, chishiya had rushed to his bedroom and closed himself inside with the key he created since locking doors wasn't allowed at the beach. his back stuck to the door, as he breathed in and out frantically. he had looked like an idiot and knowing he did it in front of you didn't help.

this was chishiya's first time being in love and according to his analysis, he hated it.

During one particularly intense practice, Nanase tripped over the ball, tumbling hard onto the ground. The sting of scraped knees bit into his skin, and dirt clung to the fresh wounds. He bit back tears, willing himself to get back up before anyone noticed.

“Shake it off, Nanase!” your dad barked from across the field.

Before he could, though, you were already walking toward him, first-aid kit in hand.

“Sit down,” you ordered gently, kneeling beside him.

Nanase froze, unsure of what to say as you cleaned the dirt from his knees with an alcohol wipe. He flinched at the sting but tried to hide it, not wanting to seem weak in front of you.

“It’s not that bad,” he muttered.

You glanced up at him, unimpressed. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t play if you’re bleeding all over the field.”

Your hands worked quickly, applying bright, colorful bandages to his scraped knees. When you finished, you gave him a small smile.

“There. Now you’re good as new.”

Something shifted in that moment. Nanase stared at you, wide-eyed, as if seeing you for the first time. You weren’t as scary as he thought—just kind.

From then on, Nanase couldn’t help but gravitate toward you. During water breaks, he’d wander over to the sidelines, chatting with you about school, soccer, or whatever came to mind. He wasn’t naturally talkative, but around you, the words came easily.

You teased him about his growing habit. “You know, you’re supposed to practice during practice, right?”

“I’m taking a break,” he’d say, grinning sheepishly.

Somewhere between bandaged knees and quiet conversations, a friendship bloomed.

By the time you both reached junior high, you and Nanase were inseparable. He still played under your dad’s coaching, but now the practices were more intense, the stakes higher. Your dad pushed Nanase harder than ever, singling him out during drills and yelling at him to work harder.

“He’s only like this because he believes in you,” you’d remind Nanase after practice when he dragged himself to the bleachers, exhausted.

“I know,” he’d reply, his smile a little strained. “Doesn’t make it easier, though.”

You’d sit together for a while, watching the sunset paint the sky orange and pink. Sometimes, he’d lean over to peek at your notebook, curious about what you were sketching or writing.

“What’s this?” he’d ask, pointing at one of your doodles.

“Nothing important,” you’d say, closing the notebook quickly, but he’d grin, knowing you didn’t actually mind his nosiness.

By the time you both hit your final year of junior high, the lines of friendship had blurred into something more. It wasn’t sudden—more like a slow, inevitable shift. Lingering touches, the way his eyes lingered on you longer than before, the flutter in your chest when he smiled at you.

One evening after practice, while the rest of the team was packing up, Nanase pulled you aside behind the equipment shed.

“I, uh…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You tilted your head, curious. “What is it?”

“I like you,” he blurted out, his face red as he looked at the ground. “Like, really like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could overthink it, you leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I like you too,” you admitted softly, your face just as red as his.

That was how it started—your quiet, secret relationship.

Nanase respected your dad, a lot actually, but what your dad didn’t know was that Nanase had kissed you behind the equipment shed before almost every practice.

High school came with its own challenges. Your dad, still Nanase’s coach, watched him like a hawk.

“If you’re friends with my daughter, that’s fine,” your dad told him one day after practice, his tone firm. “But no dating. Got it?”

Nanase nodded obediently, but behind closed doors, nothing changed. If anything, your relationship only deepened.

One night during a particularly bad storm, you heard a faint tapping at your window. Nervously, you peeked out and saw Nanase standing there, drenched from head to toe.

“What are you doing?!” you whispered harshly as you opened the window, helping him climb inside.

“I figured you’d be scared,” he said, dripping water onto your floor.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as you tossed him a towel. “You’re insane, you know that?”

He changed into the spare clothes you kept hidden for him, and the two of you curled up under your blankets. When the thunder roared, you gripped his arm tightly, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

By morning, the storm had passed, but the real trouble came when your dad knocked on your door.

“Sweetie?” he called, opening the door before you could answer.

You stood by your closet, your face burning red. “H-Hi, Dad!”

He frowned. “You’re all sweaty. You sick?”

“Nope! Just… couldn’t sleep because of the storm,” you stammered.

He nodded, eyeing you for a moment before leaving. The second the door shut, you opened your closet, and Nanase tumbled out, laughing quietly.

“You gotta go,” you whispered, trying not to laugh yourself.

Nanase grinned, leaning down to kiss you. “I love you. See you at school.”

When the Blue Lock letter arrived, you were sitting on Nanase’s bed, textbooks spread out as you studied together.

He opened the envelope, his eyes widening as he read the words.

“What is it?” you asked, sitting up straighter.

He handed you the letter, and your jaw dropped. “Nanase, this is amazing!”

But he didn’t look as thrilled as you expected.

“What about you?” he asked quietly. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Your excitement faltered as the reality hit you. If he went, things would change.

“Oh,” you murmured.

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” he said quickly, his voice filled with worry.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “Don’t be stupid. This is your dream.”

“It’s not worth it if I lose you,” he whispered, his fingers brushing yours.

“You won’t,” you promised, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Blue Lock was unlike anything Nanase had ever experienced. The training was brutal, the pressure relentless, and the competition cutthroat. Yet, through all of it, he never took off the bracelet you made for him before he left—a simple cord with your favorite colors braided together.

At first, no one noticed it. But one day in the locker room, one of his teammates, a tall striker with a loud mouth and a knack for teasing, spotted it while Nanase was getting changed.

“Yo, Nanase,” the striker said, pointing at his wrist. “What’s with the bracelet? Got a girlfriend or something?”

Nanase froze for a moment, caught off guard. “Uh…”

The striker grinned, sensing an opportunity. “Oh, you do have a girlfriend. What, did she make that for you? That’s cute.”

Nanase turned red, instinctively pulling his wrist close to his chest. “It’s none of your business,” he mumbled.

But the striker wasn’t letting up. “Come on, man. Don’t be shy. What’s the deal? Is it like a good luck charm or something?”

Nanase tried to ignore him, but the teasing continued. Finally, something snapped.

“Yeah, she made it for me,” Nanase said, his voice louder than usual. “She spent hours on it, making sure it was perfect, even though I told her she didn’t have to. She’s the most supportive person I’ve ever known. She’s been there for me since we were kids—every practice, every game, cheering me on, even when I didn’t believe in myself. This bracelet reminds me of her and everything I’m fighting for here. So yeah, it’s important to me. You got a problem with that?”

The locker room went silent.

The striker blinked, stunned by the outburst, before muttering, “Damn, man. I wish I hadn’t asked.”

Nanase sighed, his face burning, but he didn’t regret a single word. Later that night, as he lay in his bunk, he twisted the bracelet around his wrist, a small smile tugging at his lips. Thinking of you gave him strength.

The U-20 match was the biggest stage Nanase had ever stepped onto. The stadium lights burned bright, illuminating the field where some of the best players in the country were battling it out. Nanase’s heart raced as he stood on the sidelines, watching the chaos unfold.

He didn’t get much playing time, and deep down, he felt a pang of disappointment. He wanted to prove himself—not just to the world but to you, the one who had always believed in him.

When the coach finally called his name, his pulse quickened. He stepped onto the field, taking his position.

The match was intense, every second a blur of movement, strategy, and noise. Nanase didn’t score a goal, but he played his heart out, assisting a crucial pass that led to one. The crowd roared, and though it wasn’t his name they were chanting, he felt a surge of pride.

When the final whistle blew, signaling Blue Lock’s victory, he stood on the field, chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly faded.

And then he saw you.

You were running onto the field, weaving through the crowd of players until you reached him. Without a second thought, you threw your arms around him, holding him tightly.

“You were amazing,” you said, your voice filled with pride.

Nanase hesitated. “I didn’t do much,” he said quietly, his eyes downcast. “I wasn’t even on the field for most of it.”

You pulled back, your hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t say that. You made a difference. You played your heart out. That’s what matters.”

He smiled, a little sheepishly, but his chest felt lighter.

“Nanase.”

The sound of your dad’s voice made both of you freeze. You turned, seeing him standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

“Sir,” Nanase said quickly, stepping back from you. “I’m glad you came.”

Your dad didn’t say anything at first, just stared at the two of you. Finally, he spoke. “I’m not stupid, boy.”

Nanase swallowed hard.

“But,” your dad continued, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “you’ve made me proud today. Just don’t forget what I said—don’t hurt her.”

Nanase nodded quickly, relief flooding his face. “I won’t. I promise.”

Your dad gave a short nod before walking away, leaving the two of you standing there.

Nanase turned to you, his hand finding yours. “Did that just happen?”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “I think he’s finally on your side.”

Nanase smiled, his heart swelling with gratitude and love. He might not have been the star of the match, but to you—and now, apparently, to your dad—he was more than enough.

As you walked off the field together, the stadium lights casting long shadows, Nanase tightened his grip on your hand, silently vowing to keep proving himself—not just as a player but as the person who would always be worthy of your love.

idc if he's underrated, i will write for him til the cows come home

He pulled you into his lap, securing his arms around you. The warmth of his frame pressed against yours only brought you a sense of comfort you were desperate for. “The thing about bondage and kinks darling is that they are supposed to be enjoyable, you can still be good and not be ready to try things that make you feel sad or uncomfortable. I would never expect you to do something that made you feel uncomfortable in a bad way.”

“I know you like it though.” You sniffled, your head resting against his collarbone. “I don’t like it when we can’t do the things you like because you’re so good to me, you take care of me and I want to do that for you too.”

“Doll, look at me.” He breathed, hand coming up to guide your chin, smiling when your gaze landed on him. “There’s an awful lot that you do for me, when you give me your trust during a scene you’re doing something for me, when you cheer me up on a bad day you’re doing a lot for me, your presence, your laugh, even our conversations does a lot for me. In the past, I wasn’t the best with my anger but having you here helped, I learned to be a better man because I had you. Don’t ever downplay what you’ve done or who you are because you can’t do one thing, one thing that, in comparison to all the other amazing things you’ve done, is nothing.”

“It’s just…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I want you to be happy with me, I don’t want you to think I’m incapable.”

He hummed, finger tapping against your leg. “Do you trust me, baby?”

You nodded instantly. “With my life.” You firmed your voice, wanting to show how much you meant the declaration.

“Lay down.” He motioned to the bed, helping you off his lap.

You laid the way he directed you, head on the pillow.

He gave you a smile. “Now hold your hands above your head and don’t let go of the headboard.”

You followed his request, gripping it tightly. “I won’t let go.”

You watched as he trailed his hands up and down your thighs, goosebumps forming over your skin. “So pretty, so good baby.”

You preened at the praise, letting your eyes flutter closed as he continued moving. You tensed your legs as his hand slid under your shirt, finger tracing your nipple. “Look at you staying still, don’t even need ropes when you’re so good at listening.”

His touch mixed with the praise only served to encourage your arousal, but still, you remained in place, wanting to show him just how well you could behave. “Feel s’ good.”

“Remember be still sweetheart.” He whispered, his finger moving down to trace your pussy from the outside of your underwear. “Who does this belong to?”

“Y-you.” You stuttered. “Only yours.”

He hummed, pleased with your response. Your grip on the headboard tightened as he pushed your underwear to the side, finger sliding up and down your folds before dipping inside of your hole. “Fuck.” You nibbled at your lip, resisting the urge to buck your hips for more.

“So wet for me, who knew my baby could get turned on so easily?” He teased, slipping another finger in.

“More-more p-please.” You whined, knuckles turning white.

“Whatever you say doll.” He chuckled, fingers picking up the pace as he slid them in and out, curving them up now and again to brush against your g-spot.

You kept still and he fucked your cunt with his fingers, your moans growing from a small whimper to throaty grand, your toes clenching and unclenching. “Gonna-gonna cum.” You blabbered out, words slurred.

He pumped his fingers into you a few more times, bringing your orgasm to the edge just one more and you’d-

Your eyes shot open as he removed his fingers, wiping them on a nearby cloth. “Wh-what?” You felt your orgasm slipping away, still not daring to move.”

“Relax darling, deep breaths. You’re going to sit there and not move, don’t touch, I’ll be right back.” You knew he wanted you to let your orgasm go, forgetting the idea of having one today. Despite how desperate you felt to just rub your thighs together, how easy it would be to reach down and find the pleasure you were slowly losing you didn’t. You stayed still.

You were sure it had been at least 10 minutes when he came back into the room, a bottle of water in hand. “You can let go now, come to me.”

You crawled over to him, he had sat on the edge of the bed making it easier for you. He uncapped the water bottle pushing it to you. “Drink.”

You accepted it, only realising how dry your throat had got once the cool water slid down it. “Thank you.”

“Do you know why I asked you to do that?” He raised an eyebrow, taking the water bottle back from you before closing it and placing it on the floor. “Do you know why I told you to stay there?”

You shook your head, you knew he had a reason but it wasn’t entirely clear. “I didn’t need a piece of rope to keep you still, you listened so well and you didn’t move, you made me so proud. Despite the fact you could have moved you didn’t, you still submitted and followed what I had instructed you to do. That’s a thousand times more satisfying than having you tied up.”

You let the words settle in your mind, he was right, somehow you understood the way it made him feel. “I really wanted to show you I could be good.” You explained, wanting to make up for your inability to be tied.

“You’re always good, when something pushes your limits I will never force you to do it. I will never force you into an uncomfortable situation for my own gain. There are always options and other things that can be tried.” It was moments like these, tired from playing, his hand running through your hair as you laid your head on his thigh where everything just felt right, felt perfect.

“You edged me.” You simplified. “You edged me, you gave me the ability to take what I wanted but you knew I wouldn’t.”

“Correct baby.” He laughed. “You did so good, I knew you’d listen.”

“How did you know I didn’t…you left the room.” You outed, turning to look up at him.

“I stayed by the doorway, I’d never leave you during a scene.” His smile turns a little more serious. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you.” You smile, tucking your face away against him.