Babe! I Saw A Hottie On The Field 🙏🙏

Michael Kaiser has a habit of bending down to your level (if you're shorter than him), hands on his hips, sassying you whenever the two of you have an argument.

You can't help but leave the room everytime he does this. It leaves you weak in the knees and the score Michael 1 - You 0.

i think kaiser would get comically annoyed and pout all evening if you didn’t offer to brush his hair after he showers or put his night time face cream and hyaluronic acid on for him

he actually gets no game those are actually from mosquito bites, ness being an actual dog and their pet cat

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Face Injury

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Synopsis: you try to help Rin practice but it doesn't go so well...

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Warnings: reader gets pummeled in the face with a soccer ball, mentions of blood, reader gets a bloody nose, slightly ooc rin but fuck it we ball

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Contains: fluff, gn!reader, HEAVILY inspired by a scene in a book called "The Inheritance Games"!! GO READ THAT BOOK IS FANTASTIC!!

𓆩⚝𓆪 — A/N: i read this scene in the book and immediately was like "i should make a blue lock fanfiction out of this"

Oh god. Rin hadn’t meant for this to happen.

You had insisted on helping him practice, and to your surprise, he agreed. You were wondering if it was because he genuinely wanted to spend time with you, or if it was because you were basically on your knees begging and he just wanted you to shut up, the latter being more believable.

So, the two of you traveled to an empty outdoor soccer field in a nearby park. What could go wrong?

Well, a lot, as it turns out.

Neither of you were quite sure how you were going to help Rin, but you figured maybe you could toss him the ball and he would kick it…? You weren’t sure, but at least you were helping.

It was going swimmingly, too. You occasionally made remarks to tease Rin, which was pretty distracting.

That’s how it happened.

You shouted right as Rin was about to kick the ball, which threw him off. Of course, he still kicked it, and it was a phenomenal kick as usual, but… While you were shouting, you moved, and the ball hit you right in the face.

It wasn’t exactly a light hit either. Not the kind of hit that happened in gym class where you’d either go to the nurse for an ice pack or get back to work. The ball crashed into your face, almost dislocating your nose and sending you flying backwards.

And that’s where you are now, sitting in the bathroom. You’re sitting on the closed toilet, hunched over with a tissue to your nose to stop the blood.

“...You good? Need another tissue?” He asked.

“Um…No, I think I’m okay. I'm pretty sure it stopped.” You said.

Run nodded, running warm water over a washcloth. “Come here.” He commanded.

You stood and walked over to him. You stood against the sink. Rin put one hand on your cheek, the other holding the washcloth. He gently rubbed your face with the cloth, the warmth seeping into your skin. It stung for a second, but then stopped.

“...Sorry.” He muttered.

“You don't have to apologize. It's okay. It was an accident. I’m not mad.” You smiled.

“...Tch. Your face only had dirt on it.”

“That's good! It doesn't hurt that much anymore.”

There was silence for a second. “Rin?”

He ran the warm cloth over your face again, and you found yourself leaning into his touch.

You gently pushed him against the bathroom wall. Your lips drew closer to his. “Yes?” You asked, your fingers tracing his jaw.

“…Yes.” He replied.

Your lips touched each other, and he kissed you back harder than you'd anticipated. He grabbed your hair, tilting your head up.

He seemed to scrutinize your face.

“Um… is there something on my face?” You asked.

“...Not anymore. It's clean.”

“Good job.” You told him.

He went to kiss you again, and you let him.

“So, wanna get back to practice?” You teased.

“No.” He said bluntly, his hand tangling around yours. “We're going home.”

𓆩⚝𓆪 — thank you for reading!

𓆩⚝𓆪 — taglist (ask 2 be added): @mariaace , @stellas-starry-sillies13

𓆩⚝𓆪 — blue lock masterlist

Hello,

My name is Mohammad Ramzi, and I am a young Palestinian from Gaza. Before the war, my life was full of hope—my family, my home, my work, and my studies were everything to me. But everything changed when the conflict took everything we had. We were forced to flee our home and now live in a tent in the south of Gaza. We struggle daily just to find water, food, and basic medical care.

For over 400 days, we've had no job or source of income, and the money we had left has run out. I am now the one taking care of my family, including my father, who went to Egypt for heart surgery and can’t return.

I’m reaching out because we need help. Any contribution, no matter how small, will go directly to ensuring my family’s survival—whether it’s food, water, or medical supplies. Your support can make a life-changing difference.

Please consider helping us during this time of crisis. Your generosity means the world to us.

Thank you so much,

Mohammad Ramzi

hi all! heres another palestinian family that could use your aid. reblogging and donations work wonders

long distance is hard on itoshi sae.

it’s late, more than usual, later than either of you should be awake. but neither ends have hung up.

sae is on his side, head resting against his pillow, phone propped up so you can see the way his lashes dip against his cheeks. his hair sticks up in odd places where he towel dried it and gave up. he’s still wearing his jersey, collar stretched from his tugging during the game. idle fingers toy with the edge of his phone case, thumb absently flicking at the worn out corners.

“you should sleep,” you yawn, tucking yourself deeper into your blanket. your phone’s overheating.

his lips press into a thin line. “not tired.”

“you’re always tired.” you laugh, laced with exhaustion as you reach offscreen, scuffling for the bottle on your nightstand — he hears the cap click up.

sae doesn’t argue, nor does he agree. his eyes float over the screen like he’s trying to memorize every pixel of you. he’s frustrated, you can tell.

rubbing at his eyes: itoshi sae’s number one method for avoiding eye contact. the silence stretches, comfortable but heavy, until he finally caves.

“I lost today.”

you already knew that. you’d watched from your screen, heart aching at the way his jaw clenched, how his fingers curled into fists every time a play didn’t go his way. and now, even from thousands of miles away, you can hear it in his voice. the disappointment.

“I saw,” you say softly, treading carefully. his thumbs still against his case. he watches you for a second, takes you in — quiet rustle of hotel sheets crackling through the speaker.

“I wanted to come home.”

he never lets the weight of his exhaustion or frustration spill over into words, into things that can’t be taken back. he’s always tucked his emotions neatly into the spaces between his ribs and kept them there, away from anyone else. but not tonight, it seemed.

tonight, he let it slip. you shift onto your side, mirroring him. “sae.”

he swallows, gaze dropping a second before meeting yours. his voice is recognizably rougher when he speaks next. “I just wanted to be with you.”

something coils in your chest.

“I know,” you whisper.

he sighs, drawing attention to the eyebags collecting on his face, tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep. “could you just.. talk, for a little bit? please?”

you nod. and you do. about nothing and everything — about today: the stupid, the mundane, and the minuscule. you talk until his grip goes numb, blinks slow down, and his breathing evens out.

when his screen goes dark, the call still connected, you stay. this is the closest you can be to holding him right now, and you’ll take anything you can get.

i can't say anything to your face (cause look at your face)

tags: established relationship, fluff

a/n: wrote this within a day in a burst of inspiration somehow,,, enjoy fellow kaiser lovers

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"are you trying to make me look stupid?" michael kaiser asks, barely an inch away from your hands.

automatically, before you can really think about it, you snap back. "that's not hard."

with an expression of dramatic hurt, he leans away from you. "excuse me?"

the eyeliner in your hand wobbles. only one of kaiser's eyes sports his signature red swoop.

he does kind of look stupid.

you bite back a smile.

unfortunately, kaiser is much more observant than he seems. his mismatched eyes narrow.

his hand snaps out to latch around your wrist, stopping you from bringing the eyeliner any closer.

"i don't trust you with this," your boyfriend snarks. "i have to go out with it on my face."

you weakly try to pull your hand out of his grasp. "you asked me to."

his eyes linger on yours. "that was when i thought you actually had hand-eye coordination."

you gasp with mock offense. "my coordination is perfectly fine, thank you. you haven't even seen what it looks like!"

he lets go of your hand, leaning back onto the wall. "i can already tell you're unsteady."

you glare at him. "it's a little hard to be steady when you're refusing to stay still."

he looks extremely unimpressed. it's a lot dumber with the mismatched liner.

an idea sparks in your head. before you can convince yourself otherwise, you .

"what-"

"stay still," you warn again, and shift yourself onto his lap.

kaiser stiffens like a rock. it's a little flattering.

"there you go," you whisper, smiling.

his eyes are dead-focused onto your own as you bring the pen closer. "careful," he mutters, voice low.

his hands lock themselves around your waist.

and in a single motion, you swoop the flash of red under his eye.

he blinks. you admire your handiwork.

"see?" you laugh. "only needed you to cooperate!"

you move to get up- his grip doesn't loosen.

kaiser tilts his head. from your proximity, you can trace every stroke of ink marked into his skin.

"you have places to be," you remind. "things to do."

he hums. "i'm fine where i am."

"you're really annoying, you know that?"

he flashes you a lazy smile. "i've heard worse. and better."

you roll your eyes. "whatever you say. can you let me go now?"

he shrugs. "you came here."

you shift your weight, still annoyingly trapped on his lap. the eyeliner pen falls to the floor, its purpose done.

"i think you need to stop arguing with me," you sigh. "it's annoying. just sit still and look pretty."

"i don't-"

you shut him up the only way you know how: pressing your lips onto his.

you can feel him grinning into the kiss- because it was obvious what he was going for from the start- and it only motivates you to press further.

"you're so gonna be late," you grumble.

he only laughs into your mouth. "worth it."

in the next movement, you rip yourself away off of him. he blinks up at you. the remnants of your lip gloss have left a shine on his lips.

"and your eyeliner's uneven."

there's a pause. you turn on your heel.

"wait, what?"

compression shirts and itoshi rin needs to be listed as a cause for heart attacks.

some might say they’re a deadly duo.

and you most certainly could agree with that statement since you’ve experienced first hand.

rin walks past you and you notice from the blurry figure that he’s wearing an unfamiliar shirt that looks way tighter than what he usually opts for. as per usual, you call out to him, “where you goin’?” you ask, still not looking up from your phone screen.

he almost scoffs at the stupidly obvious question. “where you do you think?” he rolls his eyes, turning to face you—that’s where you get the full image and oh my word.

stupid ass grey sweatpants he always wears and that unfamiliar tight shirt that was on your mind—a freaking compression shirt!

“i—oh…” your mouth widens to an ‘o’ shape once you finally comprehend everything. it’s almost surreal but you could imagine him wearing it one day—but not this day! “what?” “when did you get that?” “it was just in my closet.”

he shrugs. HE SHRUGS.

like no big deal, he’s off to wherever.

you can’t help but roll around after he’s already left you alone with you thoughts—your thoughts of how him being a gym FREAK and an athletic fuck really has an impact on you.

oh yeah, you’re totally gonna die soon.

and why the fuck did he never tell you he had a black compression shirt in his closet.

sticky note. this man is a walking heart attack cause

GOD HELP ME

source: @BLUELOCK_EGOTEN on X

inspired by @kaislvves’s bastard post… ps: i acc love dior sauvage its my scent for when i go to school but its so strong HAHAHAHA

kaiser’s cologne has an overwhelming scent. not just in a way that two sprays could fill the entire bastard münchen cafeteria in his scent, but also in a way that lasts. his scent lasts on for a week before it finally wears off.

what’s his scent? dior sauvage, the scent of liars. kaiser likes the overwhelming presence of its’ scent; it’s as powerful as he is.

he loves to spray his cologne all over your closet and clothes, making sure that whatever you wear, and whatever perfume you try to wear to overpower it, you end up on the other side smelling of him.

it’s adorable how you spray on your 70 euro hermès perfume, checking out your outfit in the full-body mirror in your bedroom, before you’re coughing and choking on his overwhelming scent.

“mikka!” you shout out. “stop spraying your perfume on my clothes, it’s so strong!” you frown. his attention is finally raised away from his phone when he finally looks up to you, small circle-framed glasses starting to slide down his nose before he pushes it up with his middle finger.

“why should i? i like doing it.” he simply states. that’s just how he was; how he was raised— if he wants something, he must do everything to take it. likewise, if he wants to keep something, he has to make sure no one else steals it.

and with a job that forces him to almost always be out of country, he can’t help but worry about his rose. what if another piece of trash tries to flirt with you while you’re vulnerable? the overwhelming, almost sickly scent of citrus and pepper would be enough to tell them to back off; you’re already taken by another man.

“yeah; well, i don’t like it. it always lingers for too long.” you explain. and to kaiser, your explanation is moronic. “…that’s the point of a cologne; to linger.” he bluntly states. you roll your eyes at his smart-assed response, and scoff, “ugh— duh, but it stays on for days!”

kaiser only shrugs. “good. everyone knows you’re taken.” he’s quite adamant to telling the media what fragrance he uses. it’s odd, but he always encourages his interviewers to smell him in at least one point of the interview, giving him the chance to comment on his fragrance. it’s become a bit of a meme in his fandom that he wants to get sponsored by dior. but, no.

this isn’t about money.

it’s about everyone knowing his scent.

like a wolf marking his territory, kaiser leaves his scent on what he owns. and what he owns is you; your heart. it’s not enough that you love him with your heart as much as he cherishes you— he needs others to feel him spiritually when you’re nearby.

“this is stupid, mikka. none of my perfumes linger anymore cause of your dumb sauvage.” you scoff. and, kaiser stands up from his place in the bedroom, moving behind you. his overwhelming height makes for an awkward position when he rests his arms on your shoulders, and his jaw on your forehead. he stares at the reflection in the mirror, admiring of his and your beauty. the glint in his eyes is dangerous— as dangerous as the cheshire grin he proudly displays before he completely destroys an opponent in a match.

“would you want different kind of physical marking then?” he asks. his fingers delicately ghosting to touch the ticklish parts of your neck.

“…no.” you roll your eyes. kaiser sneers.

“then, you’ll have to stick with the cologne.”