Mikage X Reader - Tumblr Posts

your tequila lips is my idea of luxury

pairing. mikage reo x gn!reader

genre. fluff & university/college rom :D 

warnings/content. 4.1k+ wc | soccer team captain!reo (giggles) | mentions of alcohol, drinking, and drunken state | public kissing (don’t ask) | minimal proofread | me and my poor attempt of banter

in which: last night left you with three hazy memories — a dare, a kiss, and the name reo mikage

If college has managed to drill one thing into your head, it’s the gospel of abstaining from weekday drinking. After all, who in their right mind willingly marches to class with a pounding headache? Certainly not you.

But if there’s also one thing college didn't prepare you for, that is ignoring that one advice it drilled into you, and the golden rule of never, ever going against your own wisdom. 

If it did, then maybe you wouldn’t find yourself seated at the table of your kitchen dorm, your elbows resting heavily on its surface and your hands cradling your throbbing head, with your fingers pressed against your temples in a feeble attempt to alleviate the pounding sensation that is making you feel like it’s your last day on earth.

And to add a splash of more chaos to the mix, you feel like your headache intensified by tenfold at the absurdity of what your roommate just told you.

“I did fucking what now?”

“You kissed Reo at the party last night! Reo freaking Mikage!”

Yup, it’s definitely your last day on earth.

“ —and we squealed so loud! We never thought you had it in you to pull shit like that!” 

Well, you didn’t either.

“Hold on, talk slowly! I kissed him?!” 

Furrowing your brows, you attempt to process the bombshell your roommate just dropped on you. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot what happened last night!”

To say that your roommate did a poor job of filling you in on what atrocity happened last night is an understatement. The only thing you managed to register from the weirdly sequenced story were two things: kiss and Reo. 

And from there, the memories of last night came rushing back to you. 

Fucking hell.

You are damned, no doubt. Of all people, it had to be Reo Mikage. Are you even allowed to say that name so casually, even in your mind? That name drips gold and glory in every letter. He’s probably the richest guy on campus, the most famous (for sure), and on top of that, he’s the captain of the goddamn soccer team. Talk about a boring and plain college life he’s living. 

And to kiss that said man in a party for a dare? You’re doomed. You’re done for. You did the worst thing imaginable. 

You should’ve known better that nothing good comes out of college parties and dumb drinking games.

You made a lot of questionable decisions in your life, that you admit. But this one probably takes the top spot.

And it all started innocently enough – with a dare. 

The kind of dare that only seems like a great idea after a few too many shots. You had been the reigning champion of beer pong for as long as you could remember, and your friends decided it was high time to knock you down a peg. The stakes were set: a dare for a dare, and you were handed the ultimatum. Win the game or face the consequences.

But as fate would have it, your well-practiced skills crumbled under the pressure, and you found yourself facing the ultimate punishment—eight shots of tequila, back-to-back, in quick succession. 

Under typical circumstances, you could easily handle that quantity, but regular situations don't account for having a crucial presentation the following day. Eight shots? It's a nightmare, considering you've reached your limit.

And so, you found yourself stumbling through the crowd with only one goal in mind: redemption.

Or maybe it was the tequila that whispered that goal into your ear, urging you to prove yourself. It was hard to tell. 

And in that hazy state, your eyes had locked onto a figure that seemed to glow amidst the dim lights of the party. Reo Mikage, a name that resonated through campus like a melody, stood there, his presence magnetic and his smile dangerously alluring.

Without much thought, you approached the poseur table he was located at.

“Are you single?” you asked him the second you got close enough for him to hear. Fortunately, he wasn't surrounded by his usual crowd.

Now, what happened to ‘hello’? To ‘are you having fun?’ That question is too straightforward for a conversation starter, isn't it? 

“Yeah? Yes, I mean.” Reo replied, confusion evident in his tone.

“Okay good, listen.” Stepping closer, you caught him off guard, and he instinctively took a step back. His movement prompted a questioning look from you, tinged with a hint of concern because it was one step, yet he backed away for three. Little did you know, your proximity was affecting him more than the alcohol he'd consumed.

Undeterred and tequila-fueled, you continued. “I really don't want to drink those abominations in liquid form my friends dared me, so may you find it in your good heart to let me kiss the shit out of you so I’m saved.”

What the hell did he just hear? “Kiss the shit out of me…?”

“Yeah.” So, he heard you right. He’s not making it up. Good, he thinks.

“What do I get in return?”

“Lunch? My treat.” 

Did you just offer a multimillionaire heir a lunch and promise it's on you? At this point, you're not drunk — you're certifiably crazy.

“Hmm, sounds good. Alright, please do show me how the shit out of me can be kissed by you.”

In the face of his agreement, you rolled your eyes at his mocking tone. But there was no time for second-guessing; this was your moment.

Grasping the front of his shirt, you tugged him closer. You saw how his eyes widened at what you did before it broke out to a boyish grin. A breath passed, and then — the two of you collided.

In the electrified space between heartbeats, your lips found each other hungrily. His breath mingled with yours, a shared exchange of anticipation as your mouths moved in sync, exploring each other with an urgency that defied logic.

The taste of tequila still lingered, a faint reminder of the daring choice that had led you here. But it was the heat, the fervor, that consumed you both. Your bodies pressed together, the proximity sparking flames of need that danced through your veins.

His fingers found purchase at your waist, the touch igniting a trail of sensation that sent shivers down your spine. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, and a moan rose out of your throat as he drew your bottom lip between his teeth, a delicious tug that blurred the lines between who was kissing whom.

You pulled back from the kiss first, and a protest almost climbed Reo’s throat. But he knew better than to step in unwarranted, instead, he settled with savoring the image of your flushed state. Even in these neon blaring lights, Reo could discern your state with your heavy panting. Was it because of the alcohol? Or him? He hopes it’s the latter.

“That was… fuck. Thank your friends for the dare for me, yeah?”

And that’s how it all ended — with a kiss far from innocent.

Now here you are, nursing a splitting headache as you trudged across campus, textbooks clutched to your chest, trying to shake off the remnants of last night's debauchery. The taste of regret was heavy on your tongue—not just from the hangover, but from the events that led up to it.

In your slightly inebriated mind, the plan made sense. Kiss the hottest guy at the party, and you'd show your friends that you were up to the challenge. It was akin to hitting two birds with one stone: escaping the impending liquor onslaught and salvaging your pride. 

At the time, it sounded good – sounded like a winning strategy. But now? You want to bang your head against the wall for even thinking it made sense. And you’d do it if it weren’t for your phone buzzing in your pocket interrupting your self-loathing.

Last night for Reo was enchanting, to say the least. 

It was like a spark in the darkness, an unexpected surge of joy that he found himself smirking at the memory, reliving the sensation of your lips in his.

Last night might have been the spark, but it wasn't where it all began for Reo. 

Before you approached him at the party, he remembered you from freshman year. It was hard not to—especially when he recalled the exact moment. He perfectly remembers how you looked him dead in the eye and quipped,“Why waste your time on that sport if your aim is as off as a blindfolded archer? The goal's over there, genius. Not me.” after his supposed goal went astray and hit you in the back.

Well, he took that personally— word for word. And within a year, he had risen to become the best player on the team.

Now add that memory to the daring kiss you shared last night? There was no way Reo would be forgetting you anytime soon. He was now on a mission to make sure that you remembered him as vividly as he remembered you.

Good thing you owe him lunch, and an even better thing that he spotted you just now on a bench near the field he was on. He chuckled to himself at the coincidence, he wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. 

Reo, with his pragmatic and business-oriented mindset, was perhaps one of the last people on earth to put faith in notions like fate. But maybe he can make an exception to that philosophy if it’s you. 

Because right now, this whole thing felt like a mischievous wink from the cosmos, giving Reo a shot at something he had only dared to imagine. Wasting no more chances, he pulled out his phone.

[Today, 8:32 AM]

Is this Y/N?  This is Reo, by the way.

From his vantage point, he saw you reach for your phone immediately after he hit send. The widening of your eyes and the hint of surprise as you read his message didn't go unnoticed.

Cute. Peering down to his phone, he snorted with laughter at your response.

y/n: No. You’ve got the wrong number. [8:33 AM] Your friend confirmed it’s yours, though :P [8:33 AM] Also, I can see you typing. [8:34 AM]

Your eyes immediately scanned the whole field in search of the possible source of your college life’s impending doom. After a few seconds of looking with furrowed brows and a crinkled nose, there – you saw him, with his head slightly cocked to the side and his arms crossed over his chest, grinning at your display of reaction to his messages.

Your searching eyes transformed into bewilderment the instant he stood up, making his way toward you. Realizing that the two of you couldn’t be seen together under any circumstances to avoid igniting unnecessary gossip, your fingers danced over the screen of your phone, rapidly firing off messages that inundated his notifications.

y/n: what do you need are you trying to approach me stop right there stop walking!!!! everyone's looking i swear to god [8:37 AM]

Your frantic typing, however, seemed to make no impact. As if on a mission, Reo continued walking closer to you with the most annoyingly confident grin on his lips. His gaze was locked onto you, unwavering and undeterred.

Even from the distance that separates you two, you could make out what he was wearing. And you were damn sure, it was the sluttiest piece of clothing a man could wear.

The divine must really have its favorites, it seems. Because while you looked like hell had taken up residence on your head from last night’s festivities, he looked too sinful for a sunny morning in his compression shirt. 

No one should look that damn good at 8 AM—it's practically criminal and a slap in the face to regular college students like you.

As Reo closed the distance between you, you could practically feel the weight of all those curious eyes fixated on the scene. Were they looking at him? You? Or both? The thought alone made you want to sink into the ground and disappear.

“Hi.” 

Hi? You’re hyperventilating from the attention the two of you are getting and he quips a hi? 

“What do you need?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice steady amid the prying gazes of onlookers.

Reo's grin remained stubbornly intact, seemingly oblivious to the audience around you. “I’m here to collect a favor you owe me!” he declared with an enthusiasm that felt almost out of place in this surreal moment.

He can’t be seriously asking you to buy him lunch, right? What does he even eat? A5 Wagyu steak? There’s no way your student budget can afford that.

“I don’t remember owing you anything.”

“Really? I’ll remind you then, you offered to buy me lunch last night before you grabbed my collar and kissed m–”

“Finish that sentence, and lunch is not the only thing you’ll get from me.”

Your threat hung heavy in the air, your words loaded with a blend of annoyance and embarrassment that had settled on your cheeks.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” and yet, ever undeterred from your hostility, Reo's voice took on a smug, teasing tone that matched the twinkle in his eye.

This guy. “You're a bit annoying, don’t you think?”

“No, I don't think I am,” he countered, “And I also don't think that's how you should speak to someone who, and I quote, found it in their good heart to kiss you and save you from eight shots of tequila, though.”

Reo was on a mission, that much was clear. And quoting your exact words from last night seemed to be one of his tactics to ensure you remembered him and that kiss you shared. 

And lucky him, it looks like it’s working like a charm in which the telltale warmth in your cheeks revealed. Unfortunately for you, your simmering frustration combined with a throbbing headache could either launch you into a one-way ticket to expulsion or earn you a potential criminal record.

May the universe and all the saints grant you patience, because the overwhelming urge to wipe that damn grin off his face is slowly overtaking your senses.

You glanced at your watch, calculating whether you had enough time to wrap up your presentation before considering lunch. “Fine. Text me the location,” you conceded, your tone reluctantly agreeable. “I have a presentation to do first. I'll meet you there before noon.”

It might turn out to be a questionable financial decision to let him choose the lunch spot, but you were sticking to your word. You still owed him, after all.

“Sure. Good luck on your presentation. I’m sure you’ll devour the shit out of it.” 

His playful tone, quoting your own words again back at you, made your eyes roll in a mix of annoyance and flustered embarrassment.

Reo, on the other hand, seems like he’s having the time of his life with your reactions.

Someone can’t wait for lunch time, it seems. And clearly, that’s not you but a certain purple-haired.

If anyone were to observe Reo in this moment, they might easily mistake his fidgeting for the anxious prelude to a first Tinder meet up. Of course, that would be utterly absurd, considering he was simply awaiting someone's arrival, who happened to owe him a wholesome meal.

The little bell above the restaurant's entrance jingled, drawing Reo's attention like a magnet. 

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you walk in, much to his surprise. Seemingly fresh and put-together now, you appeared quite different from the disarrayed figure he had spotted on the field earlier. 

Your smile, which now adorned your face as you exchanged pleasantries with the hostess, seemed to hint that your presentation had gone well, and perhaps the remnants of last night’s headache were subsiding.

Casually dressed yet carrying an air of understated confidence, you navigated the room with ease. His eyes followed you as you moved, taking in the subtle sway of your hair, the way your lips curved into polite smiles for familiar faces. He observed this scene unfolding before him, almost as if he were watching a scene from one of those romcom movies.

When your gaze finally settled on him, Reo could feel the heat making its way to his neck that he hoped his collar was hiding well.

The moment you settled into your seat, you wasted no time in addressing the metaphorical elephant in the room. “I’m sorry I put you in that position last night,” you blurted out.

Conversation starters were not your strong suit, Reo noted with an inward chuckle. Last night's shameless question was understandable, given the influence of alcohol, but in the clear light of day, your choice of conversation openers left much to be desired.

“It’s fine,” he replied with a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a faint smile of reassurance. He raised his left hand to catch the waiter's attention, subtly signaling for the menu. “Glad it was me, actually,” he mumbled more to himself than to you, his own unfiltered thought taking him by surprise.

“What?”

“What?”

Before you could even attempt to untangle the verbal knot, the waiter arrived with the menus, saving Reo from any further explanations. He observed as the waiter acknowledged you, a smile exchanged between you two. It seemed you were a regular here, and he found himself intrigued by yet another layer of your personality.

“You know him?” Reo inquired, nodding toward the departing waiter.

“Oh, I'm a regular here. It's my favorite place,” you explained with a hint of fondness.

“What are the chances? It's mine too.” 

Your eyes narrowed in playful disbelief, seemingly not buying the idea of someone like Reo enjoying a meal at a diner like this. “You?”

You admit you were surprised when he texted you of this place being his choice of dining. You were totally gearing up for him to suggest some fancy French or Italian joint where you'd need to take out a loan just to cover the bill. After all, people like him should be dining on caviar and foie gras. But then he texted you this choice, and maybe he's more down-to-earth than you thought. Or maybe he just knows where the good food is. It's hard to believe either, though.

Challenged, Reo insisted, “Yes. Me.”

“Alright, what are you having then? I’m ordering their famous pesto pasta—surely you know what that is, right?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips. 

“Of course, I do.” Reo was basically lying through his teeth, at this point. But he couldn’t back down from his claim. And what? Admit that it's his first time here and the only reason he chose this was because he often sees you eating here? Not a chance.

“Why don’t you order for us then?”

With no turning back, he quipped, “Sure thing,” before signaling for a server. He sensed your amused gaze on him, and a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

“We’ll have two orders of your pesto pasta, please.”

“Uhm sir, we don’t serve pasta here.”

You let out a laugh, and Reo swears he could almost hear the birds chirping in the background.

Maybe a bit of embarrassment was a fair trade for that sound, he mused.

Lunch, for you, was not so bad and not quite the disaster you initially imagined.

Not until, out of nowhere, Reo brought up your embarrassing escapade from last night, “Was it because of that incident in freshman year that you approached me last night?”

“Freshman year?” you echoed, momentarily thrown off track. “Did we ever have a class together? Because I genuinely can't picture myself willingly signing up for economics or any finance-related course.”

“No, we didn't share any classes. And what's wrong with those courses? They're actually quite enjoyable.”

Yeah, if your idea of fun is spending hours deciphering graphs and balancing budgets. Enjoyable if you think that analyzing the stock market is the pinnacle of excitement.

“I don’t remember you from freshman year, though.” you admitted.

Reo's disbelief was palpable as he leaned back in his chair, a smug grin settling in. “You told me I suck at soccer a couple of years ago. Ring any bells? It was on the field.”

“I did fucking what now again?” You briefly questioned your past choices – or the lack of recollection thereof. Were you perpetually in a tipsy daze during your time at university? How could you miss every brash choice you made? Your brazen mouth could indeed get you into unforeseen trouble one day, that much is very clear.

“And here I was, thinking you kissed me on that dare as payback for me accidentally hitting you with a soccer ball.” Reo chuckled at your surprise, leaning back further.

“No,” you retorted, shaking your head slightly. “I did it because the dare was to kiss someone we found hot at the party.”

Oh. “So you think I’m hot?”

“My drunk self sure did.”

“Well, and what does your sober self think now?”

Clearly, this banter was a game both of you were more than willing to play. With a pointed gaze, you focused on Reo, a slow grin tugging at your lips. The effect on Reo was almost instantaneous—his throat cleared awkwardly, and his confident grin faltering.

“My sober self thinks my drunk self is absolutely right.” 

You infused the word ‘absolutely’ with a nonchalant drawl, noting the flush creeping up Reo’s cheeks. His composure seemed to waver, and he hastily reached for his drink, downing it within seconds. 

Satisfied that you managed to wipe his confident grin, you pressed on, “Are you blushing?”

“No,” Reo responded a bit too quickly, his voice a tad higher than usual. “It’s a bit hot in here.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” You chuckled at his flimsy excuse, your eyes catching the telltale shade of red tinting his ears and neck. Reo is easy to fluster as it is for him to do so, you noted. “Let’s get out of here, let me just pay.” 

Just as you were about to signal a waiter, Reo halted you with his words, “It’s done.”

“Done?”

“I gave them my card before you arrived.”

What the fuck. “But the favor…”

Reo's smirk reappeared, a gleam of triumph in those amethyst orbs. “Looks like you still owe me a date.”

“A lunch,” you corrected him, but Reo shrugged nonchalantly, a playful ‘same thing’ expression on his face.

“Sure, whatever you say,” he mimicked your tone, “Let me walk you to your next class.” He offered, rising from his seat as you did.

“Thank you, but absolutely no.”

“Why not?” 

Reo must be really oblivious to his fame, it seems. “Just because. Also, don’t you have practice?”

“I do, but ten more minutes with you sounds better.” 

You rolled your eyes at his attempt to charm you. “Are you slacking off, captain? Looks like my freshman self was right about your soccer skills after all.”

“I’m not slacking off, I just know my priorities.” and there it was again, that grin and that stare. Whether it was the tequila or just him, Reo really had a way of pulling you into his orbit.

Bashful, and at a loss for better retorts, you looked away. “Next time.”

“So there’s a next time, then?” he innocently asks, clearly fishing for another affirmation.

“Next time, I’m paying.” 

“Got that.” Reo mindlessly agreed. He’s just happy there’s a next time, honestly. “Let me walk you out, at least.”

Both of you left the restaurant, walking side by side in companionable silence. After a few moments, you decided to break the quietude that had settled between you.

“I guess we're parting ways here,” you remarked, your voice carrying a hint of finality.

Reo’s disappointment was evident, though he tried to mask it. “Sure. Thank you for the meal.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “What are you thanking me for? You paid for it.”

“Let me rephrase it then, thank you for introducing me to this place. I’ve clearly been missing out,” he beams.

“You're welcome, Mr. Fine Dining.”

As you walked a few steps ahead of Reo, you turned your head to look back at him, seemingly remembering something to tell him. “Oh, by the way,” you start, a teasing smile making its way to your lips, “I’m glad it was you too.”

With that, you took one last glance at his starstruck expression before parting ways, leaving him with a lingering smile.

Maybe something good does come out of stupid college parties and dumb drinking games – in the form of someone with enchanting smiles and magnetic purple eyes, that is.

And now, for sure, with or without the tequila haze, there’s not a single chance you’re forgetting Reo Mikage anytime soon. 

note. he makes me ill ( i love him very much and this is purely self-indulgent because i need him like air).

[ mikage reo ]

you sat across from the famous football player, staring at him blankly as he slurped the last few drop of his iced coffee obnoxiously, staring back at you almost as if he was trying to annoy you. after finally being done and letting out a loud annoying sigh, he blinked. “hi.”

you shut your eyes for a brief second, taking in a deep breath while trying not to come up with at least fifty ways to murder him as you attempted to fully register the situation. “nagi, it’s three in the morning.”

“mhm.”

“i haven’t spoken to you in years. why are you here?”

“i had a fight with reo.” he said bluntly, moving the straw around his cup. the ice moved inside loudly, only testing your patience further. he seemed as if he was done talking, but the sharp look you gave him made him pout and before he continued, finally stopping the noise. “we live together, i couldn’t stay with him.”

“and you decided that instead of staying with any of your friends, isagi, chigiri, barou, bachira— you decided to pack, somehow track me down and come over without notice?”

“i couldn’t stay at any of their homes,” he rolled his eyes as if you were the idiot. “let me explain this, [y/n]. when a kid has divorced parents and he fights with one of them, he goes to stay with the other.”

you needed a cigarette and you didn’t even fucking smoke.

“…did you just say that mikage and i are your divorced parents?” you asked, bewildered. he nodded casually, leaning his palm on one hand as he stared at you. you leaned back, massaging your temples in pure frustration. “are all football players this insane?”

“probably.” he shrugged. “i also forgot my phone and wallet, so you will have to pay for me until i decide to go back. oh, speaking off, can we order takeout? i’m really hungry.”

“nagi.”

“…yes?”

“get the fuck to bed.”

his eyes seemed to fill up with amusement despite the dramatic sigh he let out as he got up, staring at you expectantly. you gestured to the room at the end of the hallway and he nodded, poking his tongue out before he walked away.

you passed out at the kitchen table that day, wondering what the fuck to do with the man child in your guest room, and woke up the next morning by someone poking your cheek. “[y/n]. [y/n]. [y/n]. [y/n]. [y/—“

“say my name one more time and i am disowning you,” you muttered blankly, voice thick with sleep as you buried your face deeper into your arms. you heard him snort, but you ignored it, sighing. “what?”

“i ordered takeout because i can’t make breakfast and i didn’t want you to kill me if i woke you up to cook. where’s your wallet?”

you pushed yourself up with a light groan, looking around until your eyes fell on the backpack you usually took to your college. you gestured there vaguely and he immediately dragged himself towards it, pulling it open harshly before he grabbed your wallet, frowning. “this is an ugly wallet.”

“die.”

“you’re a very bad parent.” he hummed. you narrowed your eyes at him as he pulled the door open and paid, accepting two pizza boxes before he mumbled a ‘thank you’ and shut the door quietly, looking towards you after. “wanna join for breakfast?”

you sighed, pushing your aching body up. “why not?”

after you two silently ate while he intensely watched a full two-hour youtube video about all possible theories behind his favorite game, you finally turned to him. “i have three questions.”

he blinked. “only three? you’re a changed person. what are they?”

you rolled his eyes. “one, when are you planning to return?”

“you could at least pretend you’re happy to see your ex-boyfriend’s best friend after years.” he muttered, sulking, before sighing. “friday night, we have a match saturday morning.”

you nodded slowly, then paused. “how are you planning to piss mikage off if he doesn’t even know where you are?”

he blinked. “oh, i didn’t think about that. give me your phone, i’ll send him a photo of us together.”

“i don’t have his number.” you informed blankly. he raised his eyebrows, and you raised one in response. “what?”

“he still have your number saved in his favorites with, like, a million heart emojis. you’re cruel.” he muttered monotonously, snatching your phone either way. you watched closely as he opened instagram and logged into his private account before he leaned into you, poking his tongue out as he snapped a picture. you poked your tongue out as well just to humor him, both your faces blank, and you snorted when you saw his caption.

like parent like son.

“last question.” you hummed. he groaned loudly, and you raised an eyebrow. “just one and i’ll let you stay over without complaining for the next few days.”

“shoot.”

“what was the fight about?”

he paused for a second, two, three, then, “i don’t want to talk about it.”

you stared at him for a few seconds, then sighed, glancing at your watch. “okay. i have to get ready for college, so make yourself at home, i guess.”

he seemed surprised that you let go of it, but you didn’t overthink it, getting up and going to your room. god, you needed a hot, long shower. after getting everything ready and so, you walked back out into the living room, where nagi was watching another game analysis video on your TV. yet, he seemed to be sulking a little more, and you sighed at your own words in advance.

“hey, nagi, wanna sneak into my college and attend classes with me?”

“sounds like a hassle.” he deadpanned, glancing up. you hummed, turning around, before a thud echoed as he rolled off the couch, followed by a groan. “hold on, i’m in.”

you snorted.

before you realized, it was friday morning, and as much as you hated to admit, you were going to miss nagi. you two had gotten close when you were dating reo and tended to pull a lot of all nighters together playing nagi’s favorite games, which got you really close. however, after the breakup, reo had really pulled back and cut off all contact, which you guessed had included nagi as well when the taller player stopped talking to you.

“morning,” nagi yawned tiredly as he walked into the kitchen, where you sat on your phone, greeting him with a hum. “oh, did you pack your bags already?”

you blinked, pausing, before you looked up. “what?”

he blinked back. “did i forgot to tell you? you’re coming with me.”

“what?” you hissed, eyes wide. “what do you— i’m not going with you.”

“i already have your ticket, don’t let me get a refund!” he whined, slumping across of you. “i got it when i booked mine.”

“and you are just telling me now?”

“i forgot.” he deadpanned. “now go pack.”

“i have college.”

“you told me you have a week-long break. go pack.”

“i’m not staying with you.”

“i’ll book a suite for you in the most expensive hotel, just please go pack!”

“…i fucking hate you.” you muttered, pushing yourself up before placing a plate in front of him. he took a huge bite as you walked away, and you could hear him hum at the taste before talking.

“love you too!” he yelled back.

that night, after you two got on the plane, he decided to inform you that he had also got you a vip ticket for the game the next day, and he was so lucky you couldn’t murder him with that much witnesses around.

you had the same feeling as you watched the players walk into the field on saturday night, sipping on your drink while waiting trying to calm your nerves. it had been years since you saw reo, and you were definitely not ready to see him again. you would be lying if you said you didn’t put effort into your appearance for the night, but who wouldn’t?

before you could completely prepare yourself, your eyes fell on an annoyingly familiar mop of purple hair, angrily whispering something to nagi. nagi gave him one of his famous blank looks before he turned around and met your eyes, and you immediately glared at him.

‘do not!’ you mouthed clearly, well aware that he could see it, and his lips only twitched up before he nonchalantly pointed in your direction, and you glared at him.

that fucking traitor.

reo turned around in an alarming speed, eyes wide as he did so, searching the crowd almost desperately before his eyes fell on you. you had managed to compose yourself enough to go back to looking bored, offering him a lazy wave when your eyes met, and he only turned back quickly towards nagi, waving around vaguely as he said something that caused his team members to all look at him, eyes wide.

chigiri asked something and nagi pointed back at you, and you swore you could cut his damn finger off if you could as almost the entire team turned to you in sync, eyes wide, and you offered a peace sign this time, face blank as you poked your tongue out.

the only one who saw the humor in this was nagi, who snorted and immediately got smacked by reo, who was sharply avoiding looking in your direction. they all offered bewildered waves and you turned back to sipping on your drink, waiting for the stupid match to end so you can get back to your hotel.

they won, fucking of course, and you immediately slipped out, shooting nagi a text once you made it back to the hotel congratulating him. you got a simple ‘:x’ back and snorted, decided to take a relaxing bath before going to grab a coffee for yourself.

and so, hours later, you were finally ready, dressed nicely and humming quietly as you grabbed your phone and wallet, pausing once a familiar voice echoed in the hallway. you walked towards the door, quietly pressing your ear against it, and heard someone suck in a sharp breath. “you can do it, you can do it. this will go okay, you can totally fucking do this, you can—“

you shut your eyes and breathed in deeply as an attempt to calm yourself down before opening the door, eyes immediately meeting widening purple ones as reo stilled. it was silent for a few seconds until reo took a step back, forcing on a practiced smile that you easily knew was fake.

“hi,” he spoke, voice smoother than you had remembered, and held a bouquet of white roses. you arched an eyebrow, face still blank as you accepted it, and he laughed awkwardly, shifting on his feet. “apology on nagi’s behalf.”

“it’s okay.” you responded calmly, carefully setting them aside. “couldn’t leave my child, after all.”

he cracked an awkward smile, but remained silent until you glanced back at him, and he gestured to your outfit. “going, uh, somewhere?”

“coffee.” you replied bluntly, and then internally grimaced, sighing before you spoke again, already regretting your words. “…would you like to tag along?”

“yes.” he agreed eagerly, then paused, skin tinting just the slightest. “i mean, uh, if you would like me to. i don’t mean i don’t want to, i do, but only if you—“

you would be a huge liar if you deny how you enjoyed being one of the very few people who can get reo to break his collected, charming rich boy filter. “reo?”

he immediately shut up, blinking, and you couldn’t help but think about how he resembled a lost puppy. “yeah?”

“let’s go.”

(you, later that night, shot nagi a reluctant ‘thank you’ text, one he responded with a ‘:p’ in reply for before casually informing you that there was no argument, just a small disagreement about reo being too much of a cowards to reach out and that he was just bored. you unsent your ‘thank you’, and he sent a ‘bad parenting :c’ back.)