acideathr

[acideathr]

⟢ all eyes on us

♯┆ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟱: 𝗨𝗟𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘 .ᐟ ‧₊˚. ☆

work count: 2.0k | chapter logs (masterlist) taglist: @shinning-stars, @stfusatoru, @mikemsmm, @monicaswrld, @bonzirella, @beepbopzlorp, @guwinnie

the clinic’s exam room was quiet, save for the soft hum of machines and the faint tapping of the nurse prepping the ultrasound wand. you were lying on the cushioned table, shirt rolled up, the faint chill of gel about to touch your skin making you shiver.

oliver was beside you, a hand tucked casually into his pocket, the other resting firmly in yours. he looked calm, too calm, but the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles again and again gave him away.

“you look like you’re about to play in a championship game,” you teased, squeezing his hand.

he tilted his head, lips quirking into that familiar smug grin. “championships don’t make me nervous. this does.”

your chest tightened, affection flooding through you, but before you could reply, the technician smiled politely. “we’ll get started now. this might feel a little cold.”

the gel hit your skin and you hissed softly at the coolness. oliver winced like he’d felt it himself. “damn, babe, they trying to freeze the kid out already?”

the technician chuckled lightly. “it’s standard, i promise.”

and then the wand pressed gently against your belly, the screen flickered, and for a moment it was just static and shadows. then, suddenly, the outline of something unmistakably tiny filled the monitor.

oliver froze. the smug look drained instantly, replaced by something raw and unguarded. his mouth fell open slightly, eyes wide, lashes blinking once, twice. “...that’s them?” his voice was low, reverent, almost disbelieving.

the technician smiled, nodding. “that’s your baby.”

you turned your head toward him, tears already pricking your eyes. “we’re really doing this.”

he let out a slow breath, lowering himself into the chair next to you. his hand, still holding yours, tightened slightly, then he leaned closer, eyes glued to the screen like if he blinked, he’d miss something.

“look at that,” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft. “our little troublemaker. not even born yet and already stealing the spotlight.”

you laughed shakily, tears slipping free. “they’re perfect.”

oliver’s gaze flicked to you then, catching your tear before it slid down your cheek. he brushed it away with his thumb, his usual smirk tugging faintly at his lips again. “of course they are. they’ve got your genes.”

the steady thump-thump-thump of the heartbeat filled the room, quick and strong. oliver visibly stiffened, like the sound had knocked the air out of his lungs. for a long moment, he just listened, his jaw tight, his eyes suspiciously glossy.

“that’s…” he cleared his throat, looking away briefly like he was embarrassed to be caught slipping. “that’s insane. that’s our kid.”

the technician printed out the image, handing you the little strip of black and white photos. you held them carefully, as if they were glass. oliver reached over, plucking one between his long fingers. he stared at it silently, then chuckled under his breath.

“tiny as hell, huh? fits in my wallet easy.”

you nudged him, amused through your tears. “you’re actually gonna carry it around?”

“damn right,” he said simply. he leaned over, pressing a kiss against your temple, lingering there for a moment longer than usual. “gotta keep proof of the best play i ever made.”

you swallowed hard, touched in a way words couldn’t cover.

as the appointment wrapped up, oliver helped you down from the table, one arm instinctively wrapping around your waist to steady you. he pocketed the ultrasound picture like it was worth more than gold.

and on the way out, with his usual cocky grin sliding back into place, he muttered under his breath, “can’t wait to see the idiots try and bet on this. i already know, we hit the jackpot.”

♡♡♡

the drive back was quiet, the kind of silence that felt warm rather than heavy. you held the ultrasound printout against your chest like it was a holy relic, oliver keeping one hand lazily on the wheel and the other draped across the console to occasionally brush against your thigh. every so often, you caught him sneaking glances at the picture tucked in your lap.

“don’t pretend you’re not obsessed already,” you teased.

he smirked, eyes still on the road. “obsessed? nah. just… making sure our kid doesn’t come out with your nose.”

you swatted him with the photo strip, both of you laughing. it was calm, it was domestic, it was perfect.

which is why you weren’t prepared at all when you opened your front door.

“SO???”

the word hit you like a brick wall. your eyes darted up and froze.

your living room was full.

isagi was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rin leaning stiffly against the wall with his arms crossed, chigiri perched on the arm of the couch like he owned the place. bachira was upside down on the sofa cushions, grinning, while reo had his laptop out, a fresh spreadsheet already glowing on the screen.

and that wasn’t even the half of it. shidou was sprawled across your coffee table like it was his throne, waving a half-eaten bag of chips. kaiser and ness were lounging together in the corner, barou was scowling by the doorway like a guard dog, and nagi was passed out in your recliner with a blanket he’d clearly stolen from your bedroom.

oliver blinked once. twice. then deadpanned: “…what the actual f-”

“DID YOU GET THE PICTURES???” shidou cut him off, practically leaping to his feet.

bachira sat up, eyes sparkling. “yeah, c’mon, don’t leave us hanging! was it tiny? round? weird alien head???”

“why-” oliver started, voice rising. he set the ultrasound envelope high on a shelf immediately, away from grabby hands. “why the hell are you all in my house?”

sendou piped up sheepishly from where he sat on the rug with kunigami: “uh, the door wasn’t locked?”

your jaw dropped. “so you just… invited yourselves in?!”

reo adjusted his glasses, completely unbothered. “don’t blame us. we had to be here in person to record the official reveal. spreadsheets need live updates.”

oliver pinched the bridge of his nose. “i’m surrounded by lunatics.”

“bet it’s got your eyes,” kaiser drawled smugly from the corner, smirk sharp. “no way genetics blessed you with another heterochromia miracle.”

ness nodded enthusiastically. “but if they do have it, it’ll be beautiful! a living art piece!”

barou snorted. “tch. kids are loud and messy. waste of time.” but his gaze flicked curiously toward the hidden envelope anyway.

“wait, wait, wait-” bachira shot his hand up like a kid in class. “what if they’ve got, like, one of your eyes and one of hers? then it’s like… a combo meal!”

“you already made the bets!” you yell.

“that’s not how genetics works,” rin muttered flatly, rubbing his temple.

“shut up, fun police,” shidou barked, grinning wide. “alright, c’mon, cough it up. show us the alien nugget.”

oliver squared his shoulders, slipping an arm around your waist like a shield. his expression was the perfect blend of smug and annoyed, his usual armor against chaos. “newsflash, dumbasses: you don’t get to see. this is family-only.”

shidou gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “we are family!”

“like hell you are,” oliver shot back, deadpan.

you pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the scene. the entire blue lock roster crammed into your house, waiting like a pack of vultures for scraps of baby info. you glanced up at oliver, who was already glaring at them like he could will them out of existence.

“...do we kick them out?” you whispered.

he sighed heavily, pulling you closer, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “nah. let ‘em rot in here. they’ll get bored before we do.”

shidou immediately leapt back onto the coffee table, pointing at the shelf. “OR- we could just grab it ourselves.”

half the room groaned. bachira cheered. nagi snored louder.

shidou lunged first. naturally.

“give it here, captain!” he cackled, diving for the envelope in your hands. oliver was quicker, snatching the envelope just before shidou’s fingers grazed it. he pivoted easily, tall frame blocking the mad striker like it was second nature.

“back the hell off, psycho.”

“not until i see the alien bean!”

before oliver could retort, bachira joined the chaos, springing over the back of the couch like a cat. “tag team!” he yelled, trying to swipe the photo mid-air.

oliver ducked, grumbling, “this isn’t a fucking scrimmage, you animals!”

in an instant, the living room turned into a full-blown match.

isagi grabbed shidou around the waist to stop him, but shidou just dragged him along like dead weight. reo, exasperated but still glued to his spreadsheet, shouted play-by-play like a commentator: “shidou with the opening attack, denied by aiku’s world-class defense!”

chigiri blurred past the couch, his hair whipping as he tried to flank oliver from the side. “got it-!”

but oliver’s arm shot out like a wall, palm smacking chigiri’s forehead to hold him at bay. “not a chance, princess.”

“HEY!” chigiri snapped, batting at his hand.

barou, scowling, finally stood from his post by the door. “tch. you’re all pathetic. just grab it already.” and then he joined in, muscling straight toward oliver with brute force.

“are you serious?!” you yelped from the couch, clutching a pillow to your chest as players tumbled dangerously close to your coffee table.

oliver’s eyes flicked to you for half a second, soft, reassuring, but it cost him. in that split second, niko darted in low, almost swiping the envelope from his hand.

“nice try, kid,” oliver growled, twisting his body so the paper was out of reach.

kaiser whistled mockingly from his corner, arms crossed. “all that footwork for a scrap of paper. should’ve saved it for the pitch.” ness giggled beside him like this was peak entertainment television.

then sendou shouted over the mess: “GUYS, CAREFUL! IF YOU RIP IT, I’M NOT PAYING FOR A REPRINT!”

that somehow only fueled shidou more. he tackled oliver’s midsection like a wild animal, grinning. “i’ll frame it for you, captain!”

oliver grunted, staggering but still holding the envelope aloft. “over my dead body!”

the struggle piled up, literally. bachira clinging to oliver’s back, isagi wrapped around shidou’s legs, chigiri trying to pry oliver’s arm open, reo calling fouls nobody cared about. the entire room buzzed with shouting, laughter, and the occasional curse word.

through it all, oliver stood firm, muscles tense, jaw clenched. he looked like he was holding his ground in the last thirty seconds of a world cup final, except this time, the prize was a blurry photo of his kid.

and then-

“gotcha.”

the room froze.

everyone turned toward the calm, accented voice that had cut through the chaos. and there, standing by the corner with perfect composure, was bunny iglesias.

holding the ultrasound photo between two fingers.

your jaw dropped. “WAIT- when did you even get here?!”

oliver blinked, sweat on his temple, bachira still hanging off his back like a koala. “who are you again?”

bunny shrugged, expression unreadable, as if breaking into your home unnoticed was a tuesday activity. “you were all distracted. it was easy.”

the boys erupted.

“NO WAY!” bachira screamed, bouncing off oliver to run over.

“bullshit- he cheated!” shidou barked, still half-pinned by isagi.

reo frantically typed into his spreadsheet. “new record, bunny steals the prize without breaking a sweat!”

oliver dragged a hand down his face, muttering, “i hate all of you.”

bunny calmly inspected the photo, tilting it like he was analyzing game footage. “…it has your nose.”

you blinked, startled. “you can’t even see that yet!”

he just raised an eyebrow. “i see enough.”

the rest of the room immediately swarmed him, everyone demanding their own peek, the air turning into a frenzy of “LET ME SEE-” “DON’T BEND IT-” “OI, PASS IT OVER-”

meanwhile, oliver slumped into the nearest chair, utterly done. his broad frame sagged against the cushions, one hand covering his eyes. “should’ve just left you all outside to rot.”

you sat beside him, leaning into his shoulder with a little smile. “you did good, though. almost lasted the whole match.”

he peeked at you through his fingers, exhaling a laugh. “…yeah. guess i’m ready for fatherhood after all.”

then shidou tripped over the coffee table, sending crisps flying everywhere, and oliver groaned like his soul was leaving his body.

[acideathr]

⟢ all eyes on us

♯┆ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟰: 𝗙𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗖𝗥𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚�� .ᐟ ‧₊˚. ☆

work count: 1.1k | chapter logs (masterlist) taglist: @shinning-stars, @stfusatoru, @mikemsmm, @monicaswrld, @bonzirella, @beepbopzlorp, @guwinnie

week 13. supposedly the start of the “easy trimester.” at least, that’s what every baby blog oliver had skimmed while half-asleep insisted. morning sickness was finally easing up, your energy was creeping back, and oliver figured, naively, that things were smoothing out.

until the cravings hit.

“alright,” oliver said slowly, leaning one elbow against the kitchen counter with his signature lazy posture. “let me get this straight. you want…?” he gestured to the counter like a detective at a crime scene.

you nodded enthusiastically, already mid-bite. “shin ramen… drizzled  nutella on top with shredded cheese.”

oliver blinked. “…babe.”

“what?”

“that’s not food.” he dragged a hand down his face dramatically. “that’s a hate crime. not the cheese but the nutella.”

you chewed happily, licking chocolate off your fingers. “don’t knock it till you try it.”

he groaned, tipping his head back. “i’d rather mark kaiser for ninety minutes straight than put that in my mouth.”

you arched an eyebrow. “really? so the big bad defender of japan is scared of a little snack?”

his eyes narrowed, lazy smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. “don’t start.”

but it only got worse. by the time he’d finished sulking, you were already putting together your next invention: pasta (dry, uncooked) dipped in strawberry milk.

oliver froze halfway through sipping his beer, staring at you in horrified silence. “…you’re actually insane.”

you shrugged innocently, crunching down on a noodle. “the baby wants what the baby wants.”

he snorted, propping his chin on his hand with that smug grin that always made you want to smack him. “nah. don’t put this on the baby. this one’s on you, princess.”

still, when you started pouting, he sighed, shoved his chair back, and stood. “alright, fine. what’s next on the hit list? better tell me now before i get comfortable.”

“…spicy fried chicken. with maple syrup.”

he stared. “…spicy? at midnight?”

you gave him the look.

he muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse, grabbed his keys, and slouched toward the door. “if anyone sees buying this crap, i’m retiring from football. that’s it. career over.”

you called after him sweetly: “love you!”

“yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, waving a lazy hand without turning back. but there was the faintest smile tugging at his mouth.

♡♡♡

later, near 12:30 a.m, oliver kicked the door shut with his foot, juggling two greasy bags of fried chicken and a bottle of maple syrup, along with some other little condiments he’s sure you’ll ask for later. he dumped them on the table with a flourish, smirk already cocky. “there. happy? you’re dating a world-class defender, and i just defended your honour against the cashier who looked me dead in the eye while i bought this garbage.”

you ignored his complaining, already drizzling syrup over a drumstick. “you’re a hero.”

“you’re damn right i am.” he collapsed into the chair across from you, long legs sprawling, chin in his palm as he watched you eat with a mix of fascination and disgust. and then, softer, his expression shifted. his hand slid across the table, brushing yours where it rested near the syrup bottle. “as long as you’re happy,” he muttered, eyes steady on you.

you paused mid-bite, cheeks warming. “…even if i’m eating crimes against humanity?”

he chuckled lowly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “exactly. that’s love, babe. get used to it.”

and for all his whining and sarcasm, he didn’t look away, not once, as if watching you enjoy yourself was more satisfying than any meal.

the fried chicken with syrup didn’t even stand a chance, you’d polished off two drumsticks and were eyeing a third when oliver’s phone buzzed on the counter.

he glanced at the caller id, groaned under his breath. “…you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

you licked syrup off your fingers. “who is it?”

“shidou,” he muttered, already debating whether to ignore it. but the phone kept buzzing, and with a resigned sigh, he swiped to answer. “what do you want?”

“OI, AIKU!” shidou’s voice exploded through the speaker so loud you winced from across the table. “saw your location, what the hell are you doing at the store past midnight? don’t tell me the missus started her cravings already?!”

oliver dragged a hand over his face, groaning. “…why are you even checking my location, freak?”

“don’t dodge, old man!” shidou barked, practically bouncing through the phone. “c’mon, spill! what’s she craving? is it sour? sweet? meat? blood? wait, no, not blood- but that’d be metal as hell-”

oliver pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back in his chair with that lazy, fed-up posture. 

“IS IT ICE CREAM?!” shidou cut in before he could say anything. “nah, wait, not ice cream, that’s boring. oooh, is it like… spicy ramen with chocolate sauce?!”

from the table, you muffled a laugh into your sleeve.

oliver’s gaze snapped to you, deadpan. “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

“totally,” you whispered.

shidou kept going like a man possessed. “don’t tell me it’s pickles. or onions. or- or like- TUNA with JAM. that’s sick. in a good way. you gotta tell me, dude, c’mon!”

oliver sighed, running his tongue over his teeth before finally muttering, “…maple syrup chicken.”

silence. for about half a second.

then: “BAHAHAHAHAHA!” shidou’s laugh echoed so loud oliver had to hold the phone away from his ear. “that’s not even that bad! what, i was expected pickles and opinions type shit!”

oliver rolled his eyes, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. “glad you’re so entertained. you footing the bill next time?”

“HELL YEAH, I’LL EVEN DELIVER IT MYSELF,” shidou roared, still laughing. “man, this baby’s already the mvp and they’re not even born yet. missus, you’re a legend!”

you called out from the table, giggling: “thanks, shidou!”

oliver shook his head, muttering into the receiver, “great. now you’ve got her encouraging you too.”

“damn right!” shidou cackled. “this kid’s gonna come out with elite taste buds. just wait. they’re gonna be a menace like me!”

“…that’s exactly what i’m afraid of,” oliver muttered, hanging up before shidou could keep going.

he tossed the phone onto the counter, groaning. “if our kid turns out anything like him, i’m filing for divine intervention.”

you smirked, licking syrup from your thumb. “admit it, you love him a little.”

oliver shot you a flat look, then reached across the table to steal one of your syrup-drenched drumsticks. “not a chance.”

and yet, he didn’t hesitate to take a bite.

oliver tossed his phone onto the counter with a sigh, muttering under his breath, “finally, peace.”

it lasted exactly three seconds.

ping.

ping. ping. ping.

and then a flood of notifications, one after the other, rapid-fire, until the whole counter buzzed with the vibration. you peeked over, curious. “what’s that?”

oliver gave it a flat look, like he already knew. “hell itself.” he picked the phone back up, screen lighting his face with the harsh glow of chaos.

oliver groaned and slapped a hand over his face. “i’m surrounded by idiots.”

you couldn’t help laughing, covering your mouth. “you knew this was coming the second you told shidou.”

he shot you a glare, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “i didn’t tell him, he dragged it out of me.” he scrolled further down, seeing his name spammed in all caps.

the phone buzzed again in his hand, nearly vibrating off the counter. oliver slammed it face-down with a groan, muttering: “not tonight. not ever.”

you giggled, resting your chin in your hand. “they’re not gonna let it go.”

“i know,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. then he looked over at you, at the empty chicken bones and the satisfied little smile on your face, and his expression softened instantly.

without another word, he reached over and pressed the phone’s side button, holding it until the screen went black. then he slid it away, out of sight. “screw ‘em. they can scream into the void for all i care.”

you raised a brow. “that bad, huh?”

“babe,” he said seriously, pushing himself up from his chair with that effortless, lazy stretch of his long frame. “if i read one more shidou text tonight, i’m filing for witness protection.” you snorted, but before you could tease him, he walked over and gently tugged you up from your seat. “c’mon.”

“what, bedtime already?”

“yeah.” he wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you down the hall with surprising care. his voice dropped low, softer than his usual cocky drawl. “you’ve had your fun. now you’re gonna rest.”

you leaned into his chest, the smell of his cologne warm and familiar. “you’re just scared the group chat’s gonna drag you until morning.”

he smirked faintly, kissing the top of your head as he ushered you into bed. “maybe. but mostly? i don’t care about them. just you.”

and as he slid under the blankets beside you, pulling you against him, the steady beat of his heart drowning out the faint buzz of another ping from the abandoned phone, it was hard not to believe him.

[acideathr]

♧ gun to the head?

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟴: 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗣𝗢𝗜𝗡𝗧 🪻ㆍ₊⊹

work count: 1.5k | chapter logs (masterlist) taglist: @the-lazyyy-artist, @idontevenknow129, @guwinnie, @x3nafix this whole series is inspired by this post made by @the-lazyyy-artist

you could tell something was off the second you stepped through the front door.

the house wasn’t noisy the way it usually was when shuto and oliver hung around. no blaring tv, no laughter echoing from the living room, no rustle of chip bags being demolished. just… silence.

and in that silence, you heard voices.

low. tense.

your bag slid off your shoulder as you froze by the genkan. you couldn’t make out every word, but you caught your name. not once, not twice, more than that.

your stomach twisted.

you should’ve just gone upstairs. pretended you didn’t hear a thing. but your legs carried you toward the living room anyway, steps light, breath caught somewhere in your throat.

when you peeked around the corner, shuto was sprawled across the couch, arms crossed, a frown creasing his usually unserious face. aiku leaned against the wall, arms folded too, but his posture was sharper. on edge.

“…i’m serious,” shuto muttered. “you’re making things complicated.”

oliver gave a short laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “complicated? i’m not the one overreacting here.”

“overreacting? people are talking, oliver. about you and my sister.”

the words landed like a stone in your chest.

aiku’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t back down. “people are always talking. you know that better than anyone.”

shuto sat up, scowling. “this isn’t the same. you’re-”

but before he could finish, you made a noise. a sharp inhale, too loud in the silence. both their heads snapped toward the doorway.

you straightened, heart pounding. “don’t stop on my account.”

shuto blinked, startled, then groaned and scrubbed his face. “great. just great.” he muttered something about homework and stormed past you, up the stairs, leaving you alone with aiku.

the quiet that followed was heavier than before.

aiku stayed where he was, gaze fixed on you now. you hated how steady it was, how unreadable, like he’d been waiting for this.

you folded your arms, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your pulse hammered in your ears. “so. you’ve been talking about me behind my back?”

his lips curved, not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. something darker. “only because he brought it up.”

“right.” you rolled your eyes, but your chest was tight. “because nothing’s ever your fault, huh?”

he pushed off the wall, taking a step closer. “you really want to start this now?”

and there it was. the shift. the spark catching.

you could feel it: the weight of everything unsaid, everything building. all the teasing, the rumors, the late-night walks, the almosts. all of it pressing against the surface, begging to shatter.

for a moment, you almost wanted to run. but instead, you stood your ground.

the storm was coming. and this time, neither of you were going to swerve.

the second shuto’s door slammed upstairs, the silence between you and oliver snapped like a live wire.

he took another step toward you, and you matched it with one backwards. your heart was in your throat, but your words came sharp anyway.

“you really don’t see the problem, do you?”

his brows flicked up, incredulous. “the problem?” he gave a dry laugh. “you mean the fact that people can’t mind their own business?”

you crossed your arms tighter, fingers digging into your sides. “no, the problem is you. acting like this doesn’t mean anything. like you can just-” you gestured wildly, heat flushing your face. “-flirt and smirk and look at me like that and it’s all just a joke to you.”

something flickered in his eyes. he dropped the smirk, jaw clenching. “you think i’m joking?”

“aren’t you?” you snapped. “that’s what you do, right? you go through girls like it’s some kind of sport. you’re in a relationship with a girl then you cheat on her after three months with another. i know this, everyone in school knows this. why would i think i’m any different?”

his breath came out sharp, like you’d hit a nerve. “that’s what you think of me? just some asshole who doesn’t care?”

you threw your hands up. “isn’t that exactly what you are?”

the words landed heavy. for a second, he just stared at you, and you almost wished he’d laugh it off. make another smooth comment, dodge the weight of it. but he didn’t.

instead, he stepped closer, voice low and rough around the edges. “you have no idea what i want,”

your chest tightened. “then tell me.”

the tension cracked between you, sparking into something dangerously raw. his hands flexed at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them. “you think it’s fun for me? getting under your skin, watching you fight me off like i’m some disease? you think i don’t notice the way you look at me?”

your face burned hot. “you’re imagining things.”

“i’m not,” he shot back instantly. ���you don’t hate me as much as you pretend to.”

that stung, because it was true. and he knew it.

your throat went tight, but you forced the words out anyway. “even if i didn’t, what’s the point? you’ll just get bored. move on. that’s who you are, oliver.”

he froze, like you’d driven a blade straight through him.

for a long beat, neither of you spoke. his eyes searched yours, sharp and stormy, but beneath it something else bled through, something rawer, almost vulnerable.

then his voice dropped, quieter, but more cutting than anything else he’d said. “maybe you’re just scared you want me back.”

the air between you went molten, heavy with things you couldn’t take back.

your pulse thundered in your ears. your body screamed at you to react, yell, shove him, close the space between you, but you did none of those things. you stood frozen, every nerve stretched thin, knowing this wasn’t just another spat.

this was the line.

and you weren’t sure what would happen once either of you crossed it.

the air was hot with anger, every word still hanging like smoke in the living room.

you hadn’t moved, but aiku had. the distance between you had shrunk, inch by inch, until you could feel the heat radiating off him. your back brushed the wall before you even realized you’d been backing up.

“scared i want you back?” your voice shook, not with fear, but with a thousand things you refused to name. “you’re out of your mind.”

oliver’s laugh was short, bitter. “am i? because you can’t even look at me right now without turning red.”

“that’s anger.” you spat the word like it burned your tongue. “not whatever fantasy you’ve cooked up in your head.”

but your body betrayed you. your chest was heaving, your pulse racing. and oliver saw it, of course he did. his eyes dragged over your face, sharp and unrelenting, as if every twitch of your lips and every flicker of your gaze was proof he was right.

and then he stepped in closer. so close your breath caught.

“anger, huh?” his voice was low, rough, dangerous. “funny how it feels a hell of a lot like this.”

before you could demand what this was supposed to mean, his hand braced against the wall beside your head, caging you in. the sudden shift of his body made your whole body light up in warning.

“oliver-”

but his name came out softer than you meant. too soft. and in that tiny crack of hesitation, he moved, his lips crashing onto yours.

the kiss wasn’t sweet. it wasn’t careful. it was wildfire, fierce, urgent, too much and not enough all at once. his mouth crashed against yours like he’d been holding it back for years, and for a split second your world tilted.

your hands shot up instinctively to push him away, but instead they caught the fabric of his shirt, clutching it tight as though bracing yourself. he tasted like heat and adrenaline, the ghost of his earlier laugh, the fury that had twisted into something messier.

the wall pressed into your back, his chest into your front, and the world narrowed to nothing but the searing pressure of his lips and the furious beat of your heart.

you pulled back with a gasp, shoving lightly at him, not enough to really push him away, but enough to catch your breath. your lips tingled, your mind a blur of static.

“what the hell was that?” your voice cracked halfway through, more shaken than you wanted it to be.

oliver’s forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged. his eyes were dark, unreadable. “exactly what you think it was.”

the silence after was brutal. your heart still hadn’t slowed, and his proximity wasn’t helping.

finally, you managed to shove him back, harder this time. your hands trembled as you wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve, as if that could erase the way your lips still burned.

“you’re insane,” you muttered, voice hoarse. “you don’t get to do that.”

aiku opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but for once, nothing came out. he only stared, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile, like he was just as shaken as you.

and that was somehow worse.

[acideathr]

♡ all-star training: hearts in play

˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮𝟯: 𝗖𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗥𝗥𝗢𝗥 ‼

work count: 3.3k | chapter logs (masterlist) summary: drills turn chaotic when nagi lets slip that ego’s planning a rare day off, and reo seizes the chance to announce a full-blown party. with otoya hyping himself up, bachira and isagi hollering across the pitch, and reo casually flexing his wealth by buying a beach house on the spot, the news spreads like wildfire. taglist: @mmondiz, @rainychi2, @roseqtee, @ninaceylan, @shinning-stars, @pookiei-bookie if you would like your oc to be added to the series: click this link (under the title: "˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 ‼")

you’re half out of breath, palms stinging from the repeated impacts, when nagi lets out a groan that could probably rival a dying animal.

“ughhh, what a pain…” he drags his feet across the turf, ball loosely tucked under one arm as if it weighs a ton. “why do we have to do so many of these drills? it’s such a hassle.”

you shoot him an incredulous look. “because we’re supposed to be getting better? and because ego will eat us alive if we don’t?”

nagi just shrugs, yawning like this is all beneath him. “yeah, but still… repetition, repetition, repetition. so boring. if i wanted to waste my energy, i’d… i dunno… play video games instead.”

you laugh despite yourself, resetting your stance as the whistle blows again. “pretty sure those aren’t less of a waste of energy.”

“maybe not,” nagi mutters, lazily flicking the ball toward you with a touch that’s infuriatingly perfect despite the fact that he’s barely trying. “but at least i’d be lying down while doing it.”

you set the ball back to him, watching it glide into his control like it’s magnetized to his foot. he doesn’t even flinch. typical nagi. effortless.

“anyway,” he says suddenly, as if remembering something. “i heard ego’s gonna give us a day off soon. like… the day after tomorrow. we can actually leave blue lock and do whatever.”

you nearly fumble the ball. “wait, what? ego? giving us a day off? that sounds like the biggest lie i’ve ever heard.”

nagi scratches the back of his head, looking unbothered as ever. “mm, dunno. that’s just what i heard. reo mentioned it this morning. guess ego thinks even his little soldiers need… what’s it called… a morale boost?”

you’re still reeling. “ego? a morale boost? that’s-” you shake your head, a disbelieving laugh bubbling out. “that doesn’t sound like him at all. but if it’s true…”

“then we’re free,” nagi finishes for you, yawning again. he flicks the ball back with another perfect touch, almost lazy enough to annoy you on purpose. “i mean, not free-free. but free enough.”

the idea sinks in slowly, but it makes your chest feel lighter. a day outside of blue lock. fresh air, actual freedom, the world beyond these walls. for the first time in weeks, it feels possible.

“so,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips, “what are you gonna do with your day off then?”

nagi pauses mid-step, clearly having not thought about it. “…i dunno.”

you arch an eyebrow. “you’ve got the chance to do literally anything you want for a whole day, and you don’t know?”

he lifts a hand, half-heartedly rubbing at his eye. “probably sleep. that’s what i’d do. sleep’s nice. no drills, no running, no hassle. just… quiet.”

you sigh, shaking your head with a laugh. “that’s your plan? out of everything you could possibly do? sleep?”

nagi shrugs again, utterly unbothered. “why not? it’s easy. and i like easy.”

there’s something almost enviable about the way he says it, like he doesn’t feel pressured to overthink or overplan, just existing in the moment without a care. still, you can’t help but groan.

“you’re impossible, nagi.”

“mm. thanks,” he says, like it’s the highest compliment in the world.

you’re about to call nagi hopeless when another voice cuts across the pitch, smooth and confident.

“don’t let him fool you. he’ll sleep all day if no one gives him a reason to do anything else.”

you glance over your shoulder to see reo jogging toward you, his hair slightly damp with sweat from his own drills, but his smile as bright as ever.

“reo,” nagi drawls, like the name alone is an effort. “you done already?”

“done enough.” reo waves a hand, then folds his arms as he stops in front of you both. “besides, i couldn’t help but overhear your riveting plans for the day off.”

“plans,” you say dryly. “that’s generous. his plan is to sleep.”

reo sighs, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “of course it is. that’s nagi for you. give him freedom and he’ll spend it unconscious.”

“sleeping’s not bad,” nagi mutters, not even pretending to be offended.

reo rolls his eyes before turning to you, his tone brightening instantly. “but that’s why i’m stepping in. i’m going to host a party the night before. music, food, games, the whole deal. that way even lazybones here has no excuse to bail.”

you blink. “wait… you’re planning a party? here? in blue lock?”

reo nods, grin widening. “why not? we’ve got the space, we’ve got the people, and let’s be real, everyone’s been on edge lately. we need a break before this whole thing ends. might as well make it a night to remember.”

nagi lets out a low groan, slouching where he stands. “sounds like a lot of noise.”

“exactly,” reo fires back immediately, eyes narrowing playfully. “noise. laughter. fun. you know, the things normal people enjoy?”

nagi stretches his arms above his head, mumbling, “doesn’t sound very restful…”

you laugh, covering your mouth. “he’s impossible, reo. you’re gonna have to drag him there.”

“oh, i will,” reo says, smirking. then, softer, he adds, “and i’ll make sure everyone else comes too. it’s not just about partying, it’s about… i dunno. feeling like more than just players in ego’s game for one night.”

that sentiment makes you pause. there’s something sincere behind his words, a kind of warmth that stands in sharp contrast to nagi’s indifference.

you tilt your head. “you’ve really thought about this, huh?”

reo shrugs, though his smile softens. “someone has to. if i don’t, who will?”

beside you, nagi finally opens one eye to glance at him. “…guess you really want it, huh?”

“yeah,” reo replies simply. “i do.”

“so,” you say with a small smile, “send out the details later?”

reo’s grin returns, sharp and certain. “you bet. don’t worry, the party’s gonna be worth it.”

nagi groans again, already trudging back to his mark on the field. “such a pain…”

you and reo share a look, and both of you can’t help laughing over nagi’s groaning when a voice suddenly cuts through the air from behind you.

“a party, huh? now that’s what i like to hear.”

you nearly jump out of your skin as otoya appears seemingly out of nowhere, leaning casually against the goalpost like he’s been there the whole time.

you clutch at your chest. “otoya! where did you even come from?”

he smirks, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder. “ninja art technique. you wouldn’t understand.”

reo raises a brow. “right. more like you were eavesdropping.”

“semantics,” otoya replies smoothly, walking over. “but really, a party? perfect chance to finally showcase my legendary skills.”

you narrow your eyes suspiciously. “skills?”

he points both thumbs at himself, striking a ridiculous pose. “the art of stealth. the way of the shinobi. my ninja art technique! it’s about time i unveiled it to a wider audience. i’ve been perfecting it, you know.”

you can’t help but groan. “oh yeah, i forgot about that…”

otoya’s grin only widens. “dead serious. just imagine it, dim lights, music in the background, and me, slipping in and out of the crowd so smoothly that no one even notices until i’m right behind them.” he wiggles his fingers like he’s casting a spell. “the ultimate party trick.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, memories flooding back. “you tried that on me a few weeks ago, remember? and let me just say, i did not like it.”

reo tilts his head curiously. “what happened?”

you cross your arms, glaring at otoya. “he literally pinned me against the wall and did some weird thing with his tongue.”

reo bursts into laughter, clapping his hands together. “oh my god, i wish i’d seen that.”

“it wasn’t funny!” you protest. 

“classic,” otoya says proudly, unrepentant. “that’s how you know it worked.”

nagi, who’s been listening in silence, finally speaks up, voice flat and unimpressed. “sounds like a hassle.”

otoya gasps dramatically, pointing at him like he’s just committed a grave offense. “a hassle? nagi, my man, it’s called flair. you wouldn’t understand.”

“i don’t want to,” nagi mumbles, already wandering back toward the cones set up for drills.

reo sighs, but there’s an amused smile tugging at his lips. “just… don’t scare half the room, otoya. if you want to show off, fine. but remember, this party’s supposed to bring people together.”

otoya winks, striking another ridiculous pose. “relax, reo. i’ll be the star of the show, but i won’t ruin it. besides-” his eyes flick to you, “-i’d never pull the same trick on you twice. gotta keep things fresh, right?”

you groan again, but your lips twitch upward despite yourself. “you’re impossible.”

“that’s what makes me unforgettable,” otoya says, practically glowing under the afternoon light.

reo wipes the last of his laughter from otoya’s “ninja art” story before giving him a curious look.

“anyway, since we’re all talking about the day off,” reo says, “what are you planning to do, otoya? besides… terrifying people in hallways.”

otoya’s grin widens instantly, like he’s been waiting for that question all along. “glad you asked. i was thinking… bowling.”

“bowling?” you repeat, caught off guard.

“yeah.” he leans back on his heels, hands tucked behind his head, smirk as smooth as ever. “me, sendou, and karasu. we’ll crush some pins, crush some snacks, and maybe, just maybe…” he waggles his eyebrows, “crush some hearts.”

you blink at him. “so in other words… you’re going to pick up chicks.”

“exactly.” otoya snaps his fingers, pointing at you like you just solved a riddle. “you get me.”

reo groans, rubbing his forehead. “unbelievable. only you would think of using a rare day off to hit on strangers.”

“hey,” otoya protests, holding up his hands. “it’s a classic strategy. team bonding and flirting. two birds, one stone.”

you shake your head, deciding not to encourage him further. instead, you answer honestly when he throws the question your way.

“what about you, huh? what’s your big plan?” otoya asks, eyes gleaming with mischief.

you pause, then smile a little. “if the weather’s good… i might go to the beach. haven’t seen the ocean in forever.”

reo perks up instantly, eyes practically sparkling. “the beach, huh? that’s actually brilliant!”

you tilt your head. “what do you mean?”

“think about it,” reo says, suddenly animated. “a party at blue lock is fine and all, but a party at a beach house? with the ocean, fresh air, and actual space? that’s a million times better.”

you let out a short laugh. “yeah, it would be. if we had one.”

reo waves a hand like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “that’s fine. i’ll just buy one.”

you stop in your tracks, staring at him. “…you’ll what?”

“buy one.” his tone is matter-of-fact, like he just said he’d pick up a bag of crisps on the way home. “i’ll have my people handle it. no problem.”

you gape at him. “reo… you’re sixteen. how can a teenager just buy a beach house?”

before reo can answer, nagi, who you thought had tuned out entirely, chimes in without missing a beat. “because he’s filthy rich.”

otoya places a hand to his chin, as if in thought. “oh, this is too good. of course you’d just casually own a beach house for a one-day party.”

you look between the two of them, still stunned. “wait, wait, wait. are you actually serious right now? you can just… do that?”

reo shrugs, his grin impossibly casual. “why not? money’s just a tool. if it makes everyone happy, it’s worth it.”

you groan, throwing your hands up. “unbelievable. i’m surrounded by lunatics.”

“correction,” otoya says, still grinning ear to ear, “you’re surrounded by lunatics who know how to party.”

nagi, slouching further into his own world, adds lazily, “and one who’d rather be sleeping.”

you’re still shaking your head in disbelief at reo’s “beach house declaration” when he suddenly pulls out his phone, tapping away with a focused look.

“…what are you doing?” you ask suspiciously.

“making arrangements,” reo answers smoothly, thumb flying across the screen.

otoya leans closer. “what, calling your butler to prep the champagne?”

“not champagne,” reo says without looking up. “i’m underage. drinks will do.”

nagi yawns beside you. “ugh, fizzy drinks are too fizzy. just get melon bread.”

you sigh. “seriously, reo. you can’t just… text someone and poof, have a beach house set up for around fifty people.”

“watch me.”

as if on cue, your phone buzzes violently in your pocket. at the exact same time, a chorus of vibrations and notification pings echo around the pitch. players mid-drill glance down at their devices, frowning, then pulling them out with confusion.

you blink, pulling yours out too. and sure enough-

your jaw drops. “reo… what the hell?!”

across the field, you hear startled voices:

“wait, what?!”

“did everyone just get the same message?”

“beach house…? what beach house?”

“…bro, i didn’t even give him my number.”

you turn back to him, utterly bewildered. “how did you even-? we were just talking about this two seconds ago!”

reo finally looks up from his phone, flashing that smug, satisfied grin. “what can i say? efficiency is key.”

otoya looks at him startled but slightly impressed. “oh my god. you actually did it. this is insane. you’re insane.”

“i told you,” reo replies casually, “if i want something done, it gets done. end of story.”

you point an accusing finger at him. “but how did you send it to everyone?!”

reo shrugs, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “connections. systems. money. pick one.”

nagi scratches his head, eyes still half-lidded. “i didn’t even sign up for this. but… huh. my phone buzzed anyway.”

“see? you can’t escape, even if you wanted to. the reo party net has ensnared you.”

you groan, pressing your palm to your forehead. “this isn’t normal. none of this is normal. i swear, reo, you scare me sometimes.”

he chuckles, tilting his head slightly, that mischievous spark dancing in his eyes. “scared? or impressed?”

“…both,” you admit grudgingly.

“good.”

around you, more players are murmuring among themselves, some already sounding hyped, others clearly skeptical. a few are typing furiously, probably rsvp-ing, while others are grumbling about drills being interrupted by party notifications.

otoya grins and slaps reo’s shoulder. “this is legendary. two seconds from idea to full broadcast invite. respect.”

nagi yawns again. “i’m still not rsvp-ing unless there’s melon bread.”

you groan, shoving your phone back into your pocket. “i can’t believe this. one second we’re talking about drills, and the next, half the facility is planning a beach house party. only at blue lock.”

reo smirks, walking backward with a smug swagger. “correction: only with me.”

“REEEEEEOOOOOO!”

you flinch at the sheer volume, turning to see Bachira and Isagi jogging in from the far side, hands cupped around their mouths like human megaphones.

“IS THIS FOR REAL?!” bachira yells, his voice cracking with excitement.

“YEAH!” isagi echoes, his expression somewhere between disbelief and amazement. “YOU’RE ACTUALLY HOSTING A PARTY?!”

reo, without hesitation, plants his hands on his hips, puffs his chest out, and bellows back across the field: “HELL YEAH, TWO DAYS FROM NOW! BEACH HOUSE PARTY AT NIGHT! BRING YOUR A-GAME!”

the sound carries so far you’re half-convinced the walls of blue lock rattled a little. a few players practicing nearby stop mid-pass just to watch the shouting match unfold, wide-eyed.

bachira practically vibrates with energy, bouncing on his toes. “NO WAY! BEACH HOUSE?! LIKE- WITH SAND AND STUFF?!”

isagi yells beside him, “WHO EVEN OWNS A BEACH HOUSE?!”

reo cups his hands around his mouth and screams back, “ME! OBVIOUSLY!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU?!” isagi shouts, looking like his brain is trying to crawl out of his skull.

“I BOUGHT IT FIVE MINUTES AGO!” reo roars proudly.

the entire pitch goes silent for a beat, heads whipping toward him in disbelief. then, almost in unison, voices erupt around you:

“WHAT?!”

“you can’t just BUY a beach house like it’s a bag of crisps!”

“this dude’s insane…”

bachira doubles over laughing, hands slapping his knees. “YOU’RE SO COOL, REO! I’M COMING, COUNT ME IN!”

“YEAH, I’M IN TOO!” isagi hollers, though he still looks scandalized. “BUT THIS IS TOTALLY RIDICULOUS!”

reo beams, pointing dramatically across the pitch like a victorious general. “GOOD! RSVP OR YOU DON’T GET A SEAT!”

“you already texted all of us!” you yell at him, exasperated. “everyone has the invite, you don’t need to scream it again!”

“I’M MAKING SURE THEY HEARD IT!” Reo screams back.

even nagi, usually half-asleep, pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “too loud… my head hurts.”

“THIS IS HISTORY!” otoya declares, hands in the air like he’s cheering a rock concert. “AN OFFICIAL BLUE LOCK BEACH HOUSE PARTY!”

someone from the sidelines mutters, “this place is less a training facility and more a madhouse…”

you groan, but you can’t stop the small laugh that slips out. watching bachira and isagi practically hop with excitement while reo hollers like he’s leading a festival is too absurd.

bachira points across the field again, voice giddy. “I’M BRINGING FLOATIES!”

isagi adds, “I’M BRINGING SNACKS!”

reo cups his mouth and yells back, “BRING WHATEVER YOU WANT, JUST DON’T BE LATE!”

the back-and-forth shouting match keeps echoing through the pitch, but soon enough, bachira and isagi jog closer, their voices dropping with every step.

“REEEOOO!” bachira keeps yelling even though he’s barely ten meters away now.

“you don’t have to scream anymore!” isagi groans, smacking him lightly on the arm as they slow to a jog.

finally, they stop just short of you, reo, nagi, and otoya, both of them slightly out of breath but grinning like they’ve just run through a carnival.

“so…” isagi says, catching his breath, “is this really happening? like, for real? everyone’s actually going?”

reo folds his arms, looking smug as ever. “of course it’s happening. you think i’d waste my time making a fake announcement?”

“yes,” you say flatly.

nagi hums in agreement. “mmm. wouldn’t be surprised. he does weird stuff when he’s bored.”

reo shoots both of you a betrayed look. “et tu, you two?”

bachira hops in, his smile mischievous. “but really, is everyone coming? like, not just blue lock?” he leans forward, eyes glittering. “because if it’s just reo dancing on the sand by himself, it’ll be kinda sad.”

otoya cackles. “don’t worry, i’ll bring the party moves. my ninja art dance technique will blow your mind.”

you groan. “not this again.”

“that just means you couldn’t handle the genius,” otoya shoots back proudly.

isagi shakes his head, ignoring otoya completely. “seriously, though. people are really going to show up?” he glances at you, then at nagi, as if expecting one of you to shut the whole idea down.

nagi scratches his head lazily. “too much effort… but i’ll probably go. free food, right?”

reo immediately perks up, slapping nagi’s shoulder. “that’s the spirit!”

you shrug. “i mean, why not? it’s not like we get many days off here. if reo wants to flex his money, we might as well enjoy it.”

bachira claps his hands together, practically bouncing. “yes! i knew you were cool! okay, if you’re going, then everyone else is definitely gonna go.”

isagi frowns. “that’s not how logic works.”

“it is in blue lock logic,” bachira shoots back, still buzzing with energy.

reo smirks, tilting his head. “see? the rsvp list is practically writing itself. by the time the sun sets, everyone’ll be begging me for a spot.”

you narrow your eyes. “you literally already forced everyone into rsvp-ing with that mass text.”

reo just grins wider. “details, details.”

bachira leans in closer, lowering his voice in mock-conspiracy. “so, who’s actually brave enough to swim in front of everyone? ’cause i’m totally doing it. cannonballs all day.”

isagi groans, already looking resigned to his fate. “this is going to get out of hand, isn’t it?”

you don’t even hesitate. “absolutely.”

and judging by the sparkle in reo’s eyes and bachira’s infectious grin, you’re not wrong.

♡♡♡

[acideathr]

⟢ all eyes on us

♯┆ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟯: 𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦 .ᐟ ‧₊˚. ☆

work count: 0.8k | chapter logs (masterlist) taglist: @shinning-stars, @stfusatoru, @mikemsmm, @monicaswrld, @bonzirella, @beepbopzlorp, @guwinnie

you grip the edge of the bathroom sink like it’s your lifeline. the cold porcelain presses into your palms as another wave of nausea crashes over you. a week since bets were finalised, three weeks into oliver’s smug parade of “dad-to-be” antics, and still your mornings start the same way.

behind you, there’s the soft sound of footsteps, followed by oliver’s low, half-awake drawl. “…again?”

you glare weakly at his reflection in the mirror. “good morning to you too.”

he scratches at the back of his neck, yawning so wide it almost looks painful. his hair’s sticking up in every possible direction, and he hasn’t even bothered to put on a shirt. for a professional athlete, oliver aiku is alarmingly bad at looking put together before noon.

still, when he notices how pale you look, his expression softens. he pads over, big hands settling gently on your shoulders. “easy, baby. you’re gonna hurt yourself gripping it like that.”

you manage to stand up straight, leaning against him for balance. “i thought this was supposed to be morning sickness, not all-day sickness.”

oliver’s lips twitch, like he’s fighting between sympathy and the urge to crack a joke. “google says it’s supposed to end after week seven.”

you tilt your head to squint at him. “you googled it?”

“of course i did.” he smirks, leaning down so his chin rests on your shoulder. “you think i’m gonna let my girl suffer without at least pretending i know what i’m doing?”

there’s a cockiness in his tone, but his hand rubs soft circles against your arm, grounding you. he’s trying, awkwardly, maybe, but trying all the same.

you sigh, resting your head against him. “and what does google recommend, oh wise one?”

“crackers. ginger tea. staying hydrated.” he rattles it off too quickly, like he memorized a list at 3 a.m. “also says you shouldn’t stress too much. stress is bad for the baby.”

you glance up at him with a small smile. “look at you, mr. responsible.”

“don’t get used to it,” he quips immediately, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that betrays him. he gently nudges you back toward the bedroom. “come on. i’ll grab water and those dry-ass crackers you like.”

as he leaves, you hear him muttering under his breath. “last week of morning sickness, my ass. if google’s lying, i’m suing.”

by the time he returns, carrying a glass of water in one hand and a pathetic little plate of crackers in the other, you’re curled up on the bed with his pillow. he sets the plate down carefully, then flops onto the mattress beside you with zero grace.

you take a cracker, crunching slowly. “…thanks.”

he shifts closer, an arm sliding around your waist. “don’t thank me. thank google.”

you laugh despite yourself, pressing into his side. his lips brush the top of your head, and for a rare moment, there’s no teasing, no smirk, just oliver, quiet and steady.

“…last week,” he murmurs again, more to himself than you. “we’ll get through it. promise.”

and somehow, even if google is wrong, you believe him.

♡♡♡

the clock on the nightstand blinked lazily toward midnight, its soft glow the only light in the room besides the faint illumination from aiku’s phone. you were already out cold, breathing steady, curled against his chest with a hand resting absentmindedly against his side.

aiku hadn’t moved in over an hour. not because he couldn’t, his arm was falling asleep under the weight of you, but because he wouldn’t. he liked this too much. the quiet. the warmth. the way your hair tickled his chin every time you shifted in your sleep.

“…tch. you’re lucky i love you,” he murmured, thumb brushing against your arm, though his eyes were glued to the familiar blue glow of his screen.

twitter. instagram. sports updates. half-heartedly scrolling with that lazy slouch of his shoulders. occasionally, his gaze would flick down to your sleeping face, a subtle smile tugging at his lips before he quickly schooled it away.

then-

bzzt.

a notification slid down across the screen.

aiku squinted. “…the hell is this?”

he tapped it open, expecting maybe some sponsorship group chat or another blue lock pr stunt. what he got instead was a cascade of unread messages. his brows furrowed, eyes darting over familiar names. 

all of them.

every single idiot he knew.

talking about his baby.

aiku stared at the screen for a long moment, silent. then, careful not to wake you, he sighed through his nose, low and dangerous. “…unbelievable.”

he adjusted slightly, tightening his arm around you protectively even though you were asleep and blissfully unaware of the chaos about to unfold. his phone buzzed again, and another, and another, notifications stacking one after another as the groupchat exploded with activity.

his jaw ticked, but there was a glint of amusement in his eye despite himself. “…reo’s dead.”

with one last glance at you, safe, peaceful, curled up against him, he opened the chat.

and just like that, he was pulled straight into the madness.

[acideathr]

♧ gun to the head?

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟳: 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦𝗘 🪻ㆍ₊⊹

work count: 1.3k | chapter logs (masterlist) taglist: @the-lazyyy-artist, @idontevenknow129, @guwinnie, @x3nafix this whole series is inspired by this post made by @the-lazyyy-artist

you should’ve known the peace wouldn’t last.

the next morning, the first words out of your best friend’s mouth weren’t “good morning” or “did you finish the math homework?”

they were: “so… what’s going on between you and aiku?”

you nearly choked on your juice box. “what?”

she smirked, leaning across the desk. “don’t ‘what’ me. you two walked home together after the festival, right? and then last night i heard from mari, whose cousin lives near you, that she saw you out at the park with him. at, like, midnight.”

you sputtered. “she’s lying.”

“she said she literally saw you on the swings with him.”

okay, maybe she wasn’t lying. but that didn’t mean she was right.

“it’s not like that,” you snap, maybe a little too defensive. “he’s my brother’s best friend. we just… ran into each other. that’s it.”

your friend narrows her eyes, unconvinced. “mm-hm.”

and just like that, the whispers start.

♡♡♡

by lunchtime, it feels like half the school is staring.

you’re just trying to enjoy your sandwich in peace when two girls from the volleyball team stroll by, giggling.

“hey,” one of them calls. “tell us the truth, is aiku-san your type after all?”

you choke. “excuse me?”

they laugh, waving you off before disappearing down the hall, leaving you fuming.

as if on cue, your brother plops his tray down across from you, completely oblivious. “why’s everyone looking at you?”

you glare at him. “don’t you have your own life to ruin?”

he blinks, chewing his food. “that’s a weird way to say ‘thank you’ for sitting with you.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. if shuto found out what people were saying, you’d never hear the end of it.

unfortunately, you don’t have to worry about him.

because oliver shows up.

he slides into the seat beside shuto, grin already plastered across his face, as if he’s been waiting for this moment.

“morning, sweetheart.” he says it loud enough for the whole table to hear.

shuto blinks between you two. “sweetheart?”

you slam your water bottle down. “if you weren’t so dense you’d realise that he’s been calling me that for ages. also, don’t call me that here.”

oliver just smirks, leaning his chin on his hand. “what? i’m just being nice. don’t look so defensive. people will start to think you’ve got something to hide.”

you want to throw your sandwich at him. “you are insufferable.”

“guilty as charged,” he drawls.

shuto looks confused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “wait. why does it sound like you two actually have-”

“we don’t!” you snap before he can finish. your voice comes out louder than intended, making heads turn from nearby tables. heat crawls up your neck as you sink down in your seat.

oliver just laughs, unbothered, sipping his drink like he didn’t just set your reputation on fire.

the rest of lunch is torture. every glance, every whisper feels like it’s about you.

by the time the bell rings, you storm out of the cafeteria, shoving your tray back into the bin. of course, oliver follows, long strides catching up to yours easily.

“you’re welcome, by the way,” he says casually.

you whirl on him. “for what? ruining my life?”

he raises a brow. “for making you interesting.”

you gape at him. “i don’t want to be interesting.”

“too late.” his smirk softens into something more sly, more dangerous. “besides… you should see how cute you look when you’re flustered.”

your heart lurches in your chest, but you squash it down, glaring at him like you could burn a hole through his forehead.

“try that again, and i’ll-”

“cut my dick off?” he finishes for you, grinning. “yeah, yeah. i’ve heard that one before. but you keep saying it, and yet… here i am.”

you grit your teeth, storming off before he can see the flush creeping up your cheeks.

behind you, oliver chuckles to himself, hands shoved in his pockets.

♡♡♡

by the time the last bell rings, you’re fried. the whispers hadn’t stopped all day, in the hallways, between classes, even whispered not-so-subtly behind you in chemistry. if you hear one more “aiku-san and her, huh?” you might commit a felony.

so, naturally, when you step outside the school gates, who do you see leaning against the fence like he owns the place?

oliver.

one hand shoved in his pocket, the other casually scrolling his phone, posture infuriatingly relaxed. he looks up as if sensing your glare before you even open your mouth.

“sweetheart.” he grins, like he’s been waiting hours just to say it.

you stop dead in your tracks. “what are you doing here?”

“waiting for shuto.” he slides his phone away, stretching like a cat in the sun. “and maybe… you.”

“god, you’re disgusting.”

“you’re still talking to me, though.” he tilts his head, smirk widening. “that’s progress.”

before you can fire back, shuto barrels out of the building, waving dramatically like he’s in some kind of soap opera. “yo! my two favourite people!”

you and oliver both look at him like he’s grown another head.

shuto slings an arm around both your shoulders, completely oblivious to the daggers you’re shooting him. “what a beautiful day, huh? wanna grab some snacks on the way home?”

“i’d rather die,” you mutter.

oliver chuckles. “i’m in.”

shuto steers you both toward the convenience store down the street, chatting about his latest “crush” - some junior who apparently smiled at him once and now he’s convinced they’re soulmates. you roast him half-heartedly, but your attention keeps flicking toward oliver.

he doesn’t miss it.

♡♡♡

inside the store, you peel away from them to grab a bottle of coke and a bag of crisps. when you circle back, oliver’s leaning against the fridge case, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you.

“quit stalking me.” you snap.

“observation skills,” he corrects smoothly. “big difference.”

“uh-huh.”

he leans closer, lowering his voice so shuto doesn’t overhear from the candy aisle. “you’ve been avoiding me all day.”

you snort. “can you blame me? thanks to you, half the school thinks we’re-”

“together?” his smirk sharpens. “yeah, i noticed.”

you glare at him. “you think this is funny?”

“not funny.” he tilts his head, eyes glinting. “interesting.”

“yes, you’ve said…” your pulse kicks up despite yourself. he’s too close, too casual, like he doesn’t realize how the air shifts when he looks at you like that. or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing.

before you can retort, shuto reappears, arms full of candy bars. “okay! i got enough sugar to last the week. let’s go!”

you shove past oliver toward the register, muttering, “thank god,” under your breath.

but you feel it, his gaze lingering, heavy and unreadable, like he’s just decided something.

on the walk home, shuto rambles about some upcoming practice match. you tune him out, but oliver doesn’t. he listens, nodding, chiming in here and there, and somehow still finds ways to needle you.

“hey,” he says suddenly, halfway down the block. “weren’t people saying you were gonna join cheer last year? what happened with that?”

you squint at him. “i didn’t want to. why?”

he smirks. “just wondering how you’d look in the uniform.”

you nearly trip over your own feet. “what?”

shuto bursts out laughing. “oh my god. he’s right, though. that would be hilarious-”

“shut up!” you kick your brother in the shin, hard enough to make him yelp. “both of you are actual trash.”

oliver just grins wider, hands behind his head like he’s enjoying the show. “you make it too easy, sweetheart.”

you groan, marching ahead of them. but even as you put distance between you, the heat in your chest betrays you, equal parts rage and something you refuse to name.

[acideathr]

♡ all-star training: hearts in play

˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮𝟮: 𝗥𝗨𝗠𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗥𝗘𝗙𝗟𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 ‼

work count: 3.3k | chapter logs (masterlist) summary: lunch takes an unexpected turn when shidou plops down across from you, sae joins the table for the first time, and even aiku tags along with his usual teasing. with chaotic banter, quiet glances, and talk of fleeting romances, you find yourself caught between laughter and moments that feel like they mean something more. taglist: @mmondiz, @rainychi2, @roseqtee, @ninaceylan, @shinning-stars, @pookiei-bookie if you would like your oc to be added to the series: click this link (under the title: "˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 ‼")

yuko nishida: @artistickidddo

ego doesn’t even give the group time to rally back.

his chopsticks clack against the empty bowl as he sets it down with a sharp snap. “if that’s all, then leave. i don’t run a daycare, and i don’t babysit egos too fragile to handle reality. out. now.”

his voice slices through the room like a guillotine. no yelling. no raised tone. just sharp, merciless finality.

no one moves at first. dozens of eyes shift toward one another, searching for a crack in the tension, a sign that maybe someone else will speak up. but ego’s stare is unrelenting, like every second you stay in his presence is proof you’re wasting his oxygen.

finally, barou clicks his tongue, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “tch. whatever. knew this was a waste of time.” he turns on his heel, shoulders stiff, and pushes past the others toward the hall.

karasu follows with a faint shrug, his expression somewhere between smug and tired. “told you so,” he mutters, brushing by yuko as if the outcome had been obvious all along.

that opens the floodgates. mutters rise like a low tide, irritation bubbling but collapsing in on itself. some curse under their breath, some scoff, some shake their heads as if they’d known this was how it would end. one by one, they peel away from the group, feet dragging against the sterile tile as they shuffle back out into the hallway.

the further they go, the more the anger unravels into resignation. the mob energy that had driven them here fizzles like smoke in the open air.

you glance at yuko. she’s still standing near the front, arms folded, jaw tight, staring at the empty space where ego had been sitting, though you know he’s still watching, probably smirking behind those monitors as he tracks every camera feed.

“c’mon,” you say softly, touching her elbow.

her eyes flick toward you, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “he really just brushed us off. like it’s nothing. like we’re nothing.”

you exhale, keeping your voice level. “honestly? this is what i expected. it’s ego. if it’s not football, he doesn’t care. and if it is football, then the answer’s always the same: survive it or get left behind.”

for a moment, you think she’s going to snap back, but instead, her shoulders sag, the tension bleeding out of her frame. she laughs once, bitterly. “guess i should’ve known better, huh?”

you shake your head. “no. you weren’t wrong to say something. it was brave, and most of them wouldn’t have moved without you. but… if he’s not going to act, then the only thing left is us getting back to work.”

yuko lets out a heavy sigh, staring down the hallway as the last of the group disperses, voices echoing and fading. finally, she nods, though it’s reluctant. “yeah. back to drills. better than standing around stewing.”

the two of you fall into step together, weaving back through the maze of sterile corridors. the hum of the facility surrounds you again, the air colder after the heated confrontation.

as you near the training grounds, yuko shakes her head once more, muttering just loud enough for you to hear. “still feels wrong. like he wants us to be numb to it.”

you glance at her, but don’t have an answer. all you can do is match her pace, the two of you walking shoulder-to-shoulder until the sound of whistles and drills filters through the air again, a reminder that no matter what just happened, blue lock doesn’t stop moving.

♡♡♡

the cafeteria is loud as always, chatter bouncing off the walls and the clatter of trays ringing in your ears. after the morning’s disaster with ego, you’re more drained than hungry, so you pick at your food in relative silence, letting the voices of other groups blend into background noise.

that peace doesn’t last long.

a tray slams down in front of you, rattling your drink. you jolt, and then freeze when you see who just plopped into the seat across from you.

shidou.

“so,” he says, dragging the word out like he’s savoring it. “i heard you losers tried to pull a coup on old man ego this morning.”

you blink, caught between alarm and disbelief. “…you heard about that already?”

he throws his head back and cackles, loud enough that a few nearby tables turn to stare. “of course i did! place like this? word travels fast when people decide to storm the king’s throne room.” his grin widens, teeth flashing. “man, i wish i’d been there. bet he roasted you alive, huh?”

you grimace, stabbing at your food. “…you could say that.”

“don’t get so sulky about it!” shidou leans forward on his elbows, still smirking. “that’s peak comedy. marching into his little command center like you’re gonna overthrow him, only to get squashed like bugs? hilarious. pure entertainment.”

you watch him laugh again, his shoulders shaking with the kind of manic glee that makes you wonder if the cafeteria staff should be worried. and yet… despite the way his words cut, there’s no malice in them. just raw amusement, like someone watching their favorite tv show hit a plot twist.

and that’s when it strikes you — for all his chaos, for all his teeth-baring and wild energy, shidou isn’t exactly a bad lunch companion. he’s intense, sure, unpredictable as hell, but he’s not sitting here scheming or trying to drag you down. he’s just… enjoying himself.

“honestly,” you say before you can stop yourself, “you’re way more chill to hang out with than you are on the pitch.”

that makes him pause mid-cackle. his grin sharpens, turning sly. “ohhh? so you have been watching me, huh?”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “kind of hard not to when you’re screaming like a banshee and trying to score even if it kills you.”

“hell yeah i am,” he fires back instantly, pointing a finger at you like it’s a gun. “that’s what football’s all about, tearing through everyone and everything until the goal’s mine. out there, i don’t need to be chill. i just need to be a monster.”

for a second, his words hang in the air, darker than his usual banter. but then he leans back, snatching a fry off his tray and popping it into his mouth. “but here?” he shrugs. “food, gossip, watching everyone scramble around like headless chickens? chill’s fine. keeps things from getting boring.”

you let out a quiet laugh despite yourself. “you’re insane.”

he grins again, unbothered. “takes one to know one.”

the conversation shifts, shidou leaning back in his chair, casually tossing out sharp one-liners about the other players in the room, mocking their quirks and habits with ruthless precision but somehow without venom. and though half of what he says makes you want to bury your face in your hands, there’s something almost refreshing about how shamelessly honest he is.

by the time you’ve picked halfway through your lunch, you realize you’re actually… not dreading this interaction. in fact, you’re even a little entertained.

which, considering it’s shidou ryusei, feels like its own kind of madness.

shidou’s still chuckling when he snatches another fry off your tray without asking, popping it into his mouth like it belongs to him. then his eyes flick up to you, glinting sharper now, curiosity replacing mischief.

“so,” he drawls, “gotta ask, what made you dive into this freakshow? don’t tell me you’re here for the food.”

you blink, caught off-guard by the sudden shift. “what?”

he leans forward, resting his chin on one palm, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “everyone’s got a reason. some wanna be the best. some wanna show off. some just don’t wanna fade into nothing. but you…” he pauses, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to peel you open. “you don’t strike me as the type who signed up just for the bloodbath. so what’s your deal?”

the question lingers between you, heavier than his usual antics. you shift in your seat, suddenly very aware of the noise around you, the clatter of cutlery, the laughter of other tables, the faint hum of the vents.

finally, you answer, slow. “i… guess i did it for the vibes. it was better than staying in school, it’s like a month off of homework. also, apparently i’m one of the best u-20s in japan for volleyball. it’s kinda like proof that i made it.”

shidou’s grin doesn’t fade, but his eyes sharpen with something that almost looks like respect. almost. “hah! not bad. better than some half-assed ‘i wanna be a hero’ speech.”

you snort. “you’d laugh me off the table if i said something like that.”

“damn right i would.”

the banter pulls a small smile out of you, but then your mind flickers back, to something far less funny. you tilt your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “speaking of, why are you sitting with me? you do realize your little kerfuffle with rin on day four almost took me out, right?”

shidou’s grin falters for half a beat. “…kerfuffle?”

“you two were going at it like wild animals,” you remind him, tapping your temple for emphasis. “and then, wham. a flask flies out of nowhere and hits me square on the head. nearly knocked me out cold.”

for a moment, shidou just stares. then, to your absolute horror, he bursts out laughing again, this time doubled over, clutching his stomach. “pffft-! that was you?! holy shit, i thought it hit the wall or something!”

“it did not hit the wall,” you say flatly, rubbing your forehead just at the memory. “it hit me. i passed out!”

tears prick the corners of his eyes from how hard he’s laughing. “god, that’s gold. here i was thinking it was just another rin tantrum, but nah, i beaned some poor soul instead. and it was you.”

you cross your arms, unimpressed. “you’re not even sorry, are you?”

shidou wipes at his eyes, grin wide and wicked. “hell no. if anything, i’m impressed you’re still here after that. most people would’ve packed up and gone home after getting ko’d by friendly fire.”

“it wasn’t friendly,” you mutter. “it was careless.”

he grins, leaning across the table again, elbows propped up like he’s closing in on a secret. “careless, yeah. but you didn’t back down. you’re still sitting here, talking to me. that’s what i care about. people who can take a hit, literal or not, and keep going.”

the way he says it, it doesn’t feel like a backhanded compliment. it feels genuine, in shidou’s own feral, chaotic language.

you glance down at your food, hiding a smile. “…you’re insane, you know that?”

he shrugs, smirking. “again, takes one to know one.”

you and shidou are still in the middle of your back-and-forth, when the bench beside you dips slightly.

at first you don’t think anything of it. probably someone looking for a seat in the crowded cafeteria. but then you glance over… and freeze.

it’s sae. sitting right next to you. quiet, calm, like this is the most normal thing in the world.

your brain short-circuits.

across from you, shidou’s eyes bug out of his head. for once, he’s not grinning. he actually looks stunned. the two of you whip your heads back and forth, staring at each other, then at sae, then back again, like this is some historic event you’ll have to carve into stone later.

you lean ever so slightly toward shidou and whisper, “is this… actually happening?”

he whispers back, loud enough for people three tables away to hear, “bro, this is a moment of history. the king left his throne.”

sae doesn’t react. he just sets down his tray, simple, efficient, like he couldn’t care less about the seismic shift he’s caused in the cafeteria’s social order.

your mouth opens, then closes. you blink a few times before leaning toward him. “uh… you do know this isn’t your table, right? usually you sit-” you wave your hand in front of his face as if testing whether he’s sleepwalking. “-over there. by yourself. unless shidou’s bugging you.”

shidou cackles, instantly recovering. “oh, this is rich. he chose to sit with us? maybe i should sit here more often.”

“please don’t.”

sae’s gaze flicks up to him, sharp enough to cut glass. “shut up and eat.”

the sheer bluntness of it makes you snort out a laugh before you can stop yourself. shidou, of course, throws his head back and howls. “pffft-! god, i love it when he gets all pissy. hey you still haven’t given me your phone number~ ”

sae doesn’t rise to the bait. he calmly takes a sip of his drink, ignoring both of you like he’s been training for this exact moment.

you can’t help but lean your chin into your hand, still staring at him. “so… you meant to sit here? like, on purpose?”

sae’s eyes flick toward you, unreadable. “…is that a problem?”

“no, no problem!” you say quickly, raising your hands in mock surrender. “just making sure you didn’t accidentally get lost and end up in enemy territory.”

shidou snickers. “enemy territory? nah, this is prime seating, baby. history in the making.”

the three of you sit there for a beat, shidou vibrating with energy, you still half in disbelief, and sae eating his food with the serenity of someone who couldn’t care less about the spectacle he’s creating.

and from the way people at other tables keep glancing over, whispering to each other, you know you’re not the only one thinking it: what the hell just happened?

the silence doesn’t last long, not with shidou at the table.

he slams his palms down and leans forward, grin feral. “so tell me, sae-baby, what’s the deal? you finally get sick of eating alone like some tragic prince in a tower? decided to grace us peasants with your presence?”

sae doesn’t even look up, calmly breaking apart his chopsticks. “no.”

“pffft, that’s it? no?” shidou howls, throwing himself back dramatically. “you’re killing me here, man. at least give me something juicy. tell me you were drawn over by-” he jerks a thumb at you with a wicked grin, “this person’s radiant energy or something.”

your face warms instantly. “shidou-!”

but sae finally glances up from his food, and for half a heartbeat, his eyes flick toward you. a calm, steady look, but there’s something softer in it, a tiny spark just for you before he goes back to eating like nothing happened.

your chest does a weird little flip.

shidou, of course, misses it completely. he’s too busy laughing at his own joke. “see, this is why i love him. cold as ice. untouchable.”

you try to refocus, stabbing at your lunch. “or maybe he just wanted a different view today. not everything’s about you, shidou.”

“ohhh, defensive, are we?” shidou’s grin sharpens, eyes darting between you and sae. “interesting, very interesting.”

sae sets his chopsticks down, sighing through his nose like he’s already done with both of you. but under the table, you feel the faintest brush against your knee. it’s quick, so quick you wonder if you imagined it, but it’s enough to make you stiffen in your seat.

you glance sideways at him, but sae’s expression hasn’t changed. he’s eating with the same calm precision, as if he didn’t just send your heartbeat skittering into overdrive.

shidou leans forward again, practically vibrating. “man, this table’s got vibes. you feel that? like a storm’s about to hit. i’m telling you, this is history in the making. the day sae itoshi sat with the commoners!”

“shut up,” sae mutters, but his voice is quieter now, less sharp.

you catch the corner of his mouth twitch, just barely, like he’s suppressing something that could almost be a smile. no one else would notice. you barely do. but it’s enough.

shidou, oblivious as ever, throws his hands up. “fine, fine, don’t admit it. but i’m calling it now, this table’s where the fun’s at. you two can thank me later when this becomes a legendary hangout spot.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “god help us if that’s true.”

but even as you joke, you can’t ignore the quiet warmth lingering beside you, the silent reminder that, for some reason, sae chose to sit here. with you.

you barely manage to process sae’s surprising choice to sit with you when another voice cuts through the air.

“well, well, what do we have here?”

you groan inwardly, already recognizing it. sure enough, aiku slides into the seat beside shidou, leaning his elbows on the table like he’s got all the time in the world.

you blink at him, exasperation creeping into your tone. “seriously? how many people are just gonna plop down near me today?”

shidou cackles, delighted. “hah! right? you’re like a magnet. who knew?”

aiku smirks, resting his chin in his palm. “guess i couldn’t resist. had to see for myself why little genius over here-” he jerks his head toward sae “-is actually bothering to interact with people. didn’t think you had it in you, itoshi.”

sae doesn’t even look at him. “mind your business.”

“relax, man, relax,” aiku drawls. “i’m just impressed. usually you’re too busy pretending the rest of us don’t exist.”

you feel sae’s shoulder shift slightly beside yours, like he’s shrugging off aiku’s words without caring. but before you can jump in, shidou suddenly slaps the table.

“wait, wait, hold up. aiku, aren’t you supposed to be sitting with your girlfriend right about now? or are we stealing you away?”

aiku snorts, waving a hand. “ex-girlfriend, actually.”

that gets your attention. you tilt your head, curious. “ex? as in… what, recent?”

“eh.” he shrugs, casual as ever. “we broke it off like two days ago.”

shidou whistles, leaning back in his chair with a dramatic flair. “two days?! damn, man. cold-blooded.”

you frown, studying him. “okay, wait. how long were you even dating for?”

aiku grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “like… a week? maybe eight days, if we’re being generous.”

you can’t help it, you let out a loud sigh, slumping back in your seat. “seriously? that’s it?”

“hey, don’t look at me like that,” aiku says, raising his hands defensively. “it was fun while it lasted.”

“fun while it lasted?” you stare at him like he’s grown two heads. “that’s not dating, that’s… i don’t even know what that is.”

shidou bursts into laughter, practically wheezing. “ohhh, busted! aiku, you’re getting schooled!”

you shake your head, still baffled. “i don’t get how people can treat relationships like they’re disposable. if it were me… i’d want it to be real. with someone i love and trust. not just because they seem cool for a week.”

for once, shidou’s laughter quiets a little, though he’s still smirking. aiku tilts his head at you, a flicker of something more thoughtful passing through his eyes.

“huh,” he says softly, almost like he’s surprised. “didn’t think you were the type to think so seriously about that kind of stuff.”

you glance at him, then at sae beside you. sae hasn’t said a word this whole time, but you catch the subtle way his chopsticks pause in midair for half a second before continuing.

it’s nothing obvious. no smirk, no snide comment. just the faintest ripple of awareness that makes you wonder if he heard what you said, and maybe, just maybe, if it meant something to him.

shidou, of course, ruins the silence. he slams his palms on the table again, grinning ear to ear. “damn, this table’s better than reality tv. breakups, deep philosophies about love, and sae pretending not to care. i should’ve brought popcorn.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips anyway.

[acideathr]

⟢ all eyes on us

♯┆ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮: 𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗕𝗘𝗧𝗦 .ᐟ ‧₊˚. ☆

work count: 1.0k | chapter logs (masterlist) taglist: @shinning-stars, @stfusatoru, @mikemsmm, @monicaswrld, @bonzirella, @beepbopzlorp

lunch is easy, quiet, the kind of comfortable silence you’ve grown used to. oliver sits across from you at the kitchen table, chopsticks in one hand, his phone abandoned upside-down by his plate. he’s halfway through telling some half-serious story about barou’s “meathead routine” when both of your phones buzz at the exact same time.

you freeze. he stops mid-bite. slowly, you both glance at each other.

“that’s suspicious,” you murmur.

oliver raises a brow, already reaching for his phone. “suspicious usually means stupid.”

you swipe open your notifications first. the very top of your messages is a tag from reo’s private account. you click it-

you blink at the screen. then you start laughing. hard.

oliver notices immediately. “what?”

you spin your phone around to show him. “this.”

his eyes skim the post. at first, he just blinks. then his head tips back and he lets out a groan that’s more growl than anything. “…this little rich brat. this fucking-” he drops his phone back onto the table like it physically offended him. “he made it official? he really went and made a spreadsheet?”

“it’s not that bad,” you say. “it’s funny.”

oliver shoots you a flat look. “it’s funny my ass. that’s my kid they’re treating like a horse race.”

you’re still laughing, scrolling through the sheet that’s already filling up. nagi’s name is there (“green/green”), bachira’s spammed his emoji comments, rin’s typed in the most clinical bet possible, and sendou’s apparently tried to place multiple entries until reo deleted all but one.

“oh my god- look, shidou wrote ‘demon eyes’ in his row.”

oliver leans over, squints, then groans again, dragging a hand down his face. “why do i know that’s not even the dumbest thing in there…”

“barou put ‘normal human eyes.’” you choke on your rice, wheezing. “i can’t breathe.”

oliver pushes his plate away, crossing his arms. “this is harassment. actual harassment. my child hasn’t even got a heartbeat you can hear yet, and they’re already-” he cuts himself off, shaking his head, but there’s a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

you catch it immediately. “you like it.”

he gives you a look. “no, i don’t.”

“you do,” you sing-song, leaning back smugly. “you like that they care this much.”

“i like that they’re all idiots,” he fires back, but there’s amusement in his voice now. he reaches over, plucks the phone from your hand, and pretends to scroll. his expression twists into a smirk. “reo put blue/purple, huh? classy pick. but it’s still wrong.”

“wrong?” you echo.

he sets your phone back down, leans on his elbow, and smirks at you like he knows something you don’t. “yeah. ‘cause whatever eyes they get? they’ll look better than anyone else in the room. guaranteed.”

the confidence in his tone is so shamelessly oliver that you laugh again, shaking your head. “you’re impossible.”

he shrugs, stealing a bite of your lunch off your plate without hesitation. “hey, i’m not the one making spreadsheets.”

♡♡♡

the apartment is dark except for the soft glow of your phone screen. you’re curled up against oliver’s chest, his arm draped lazily around your waist. the sheets are warm, the city outside quiet, but your brain is still buzzing with the day’s nonsense.

oliver hums low in his throat, voice heavy with sleep. “why’re you still on your phone?” his words slur a little, gravelly in that way he always sounds when he’s on the edge of dozing off.

you glance up at him. his eyes are closed, but you can tell he’s awake enough to be paying attention. “just checking something…”

with a quick swipe, you pull up the spreadsheet again. the rows are filled now, every single name accounted for. 

but your focus isn’t on the bets themselves, it’s on the running total you’re calculating using the calculator app. you do the math twice, just to be sure. then once more for good measure.

“…no way,” you whisper.

oliver cracks one eye open, peering down at you with that lazy curiosity he’s perfected. “what now?”

you twist your phone so he can see the number. “the total pot. look.”

it takes him a second to adjust his gaze, but once the number registers, he bolts upright so fast you jolt with him. “¥21,700,000?!” his voice is louder than it should be for this hour. “you’re telling me these morons bet over twenty million yen on my kid’s eyeballs?!”

you bite your lip, trying not to laugh. “technically, our kid’s eyeballs.”

he stares at the screen like it just declared war on him. “that’s- what the hell- do you know how many zeros that is? reo could buy a helicopter with that!”

“or… a really fancy stroller,” you suggest, stifling your giggles.

oliver drops back against the headboard, dragging a hand down his face. “unbelievable. absolutely unbelievable. i’m busting my ass on the field, and these guys are throwing around millions like it’s monopoly money… over a damn color palette.”

you nudge him playfully. “you sound jealous.”

he shoots you a side-eye glare, though it’s weakened by the smile tugging at his lips. “jealous? no. i’m pissed. they should’ve at least cut me in on the action.”

you roll your eyes, nestling back against his chest. “imagine that. oliver aiku, betting on his own unborn child.”

“hey, it’d be a sure win,” he murmurs smugly, his hand settling over your stomach. his tone softens, warmth bleeding through the cockiness. “doesn’t matter the eyes, they’ll come out perfect.”

the sincerity in his voice makes you pause. for all his dramatic complaints and over-the-top bravado, there’s a raw edge of truth there. he is jealous, not of the money, but of the attention, the way everyone’s making a spectacle of something that feels so intimate to him.

you tilt your head up, studying him in the low light. “you’re really worried, aren’t you?”

he huffs out a small laugh, brushing a kiss against your temple. “of course i am. i’m gonna be a dad. kinda hard not to be.”

for a moment, the number on your phone fades into the background. all you feel is his arm tightening around you, his breath steady against your hair. and then, right as the mood settles…

oliver suddenly bursts out laughing. “twenty-one million yen… all for eyeballs. i swear, this kid’s gonna come out owing taxes.”

you groan, shoving at his chest. “go to sleep, idiot.”

but when he leans down to kiss you, smiling against your lips, you can’t help but laugh too.

[acideathr]

⟢ all eyes on us

♯┆ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟭: 𝗕𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗡𝗘𝗪𝗦 .ᐟ ‧₊˚. ☆

work count: 1.1k | chapter logs (masterlist) taglist: @shinning-stars, @stfusatoru, @mikemsmm, @monicaswrld, @bonzirella, @beepbopzlorp

after the chaos online dies down, your notifications buzzing nonstop with congratulations, memes, and, of course, shidou’s out-of-pocket jokes, your apartment finally settles into silence. you’re curled up on the couch, blanket draped over your legs, still scrolling through the endless replies to aiku’s post.

aiku, who has been pacing the room on and off pretending not to care about the internet’s obsession with his unborn child, eventually drops himself onto the couch beside you with a sigh. he stretches his arm across the backrest, pulling you gently against him.

“y’know,” he drawls, tilting his head so his hair falls into his eyes, “i post a picture of my girl, and suddenly the whole world’s acting like they’re the godfather. tch. where were all these well-wishers when i was carrying japan’s defence on my back, huh?”

you roll your eyes. “oh my god, oliver, it was literally a baby announcement. not your highlight reel.”

he smirks, leaning down to press his lips to your temple. “i am the highlight reel, babe.”

you’re about to argue back when he shifts suddenly, his hand sliding down to rest gently on your lower stomach. it’s barely even a bump yet, just a secret you two had carried quietly for four weeks until today, but his touch is reverent, almost hesitant, so unlike his usual easy confidence.

for once, he’s not putting on a show.

he bends down, pressing a slow kiss to your belly, his voice dropping into something quiet, private, like the whole world outside doesn’t exist. “our little one’s already famous, and they’re not even here yet…” he lingers, brushing his thumb in absent circles across your skin. “don’t worry, baby. daddy’s gonna protect you from all those idiots out there.”

you laugh softly, running your hand through his messy hair. “all those idiots include you too, y’know.”

he huffs against your stomach, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “rude. i’m the hot, responsible one in this relationship.” he tilts his chin up, giving you that signature cocky grin. “i’m everyone’s favourite senpai. best defender in japan. the sexiest dad alive-”

“-who’s scared out of his mind right now,” you finish for him.

the grin falters. for just a second, his sharp, confident gaze softens, like the mask slips, and you catch the real oliver aiku underneath. the one who overthinks at night. the one who worries about failing.

he exhales slowly, laying his head gently on your stomach, like he’s listening for something. “...yeah. maybe i am,” he admits, voice rougher now. “never thought i’d care about anything off the pitch this much. but you-” he glances up at you, eyes half-lidded, “-you and this little thing? you’re everything, babe. scares the hell outta me how much i want to get it right.”

you card your fingers through his hair again, softer this time. “you will.”

he doesn’t answer right away. just stays there, lips brushing your skin, breathing in like he’s grounding himself in the moment. finally, he chuckles, a little forced at first, then more natural, the familiar aiku swagger sliding back into place.

“damn,” he murmurs, voice lighter again, “never thought i’d retire from being a playboy this early.” he kisses your belly again, this time exaggerated, loud, playful. “hear that, kid? daddy’s officially off the market. you better appreciate the sacrifice.”

you shove at his shoulder, laughing. “oliver, you weren’t even on the market.”

he grins, pressing one last kiss before pulling himself up beside you. this time, when he drapes his arm around you and tugs you close, he doesn’t let go.

and even with his jokes, even with the smirk, his thumb stays brushing over your belly, protective, careful, like he knows the weight of what’s coming.

the apartment is finally quiet, the weight of the announcement sinking in. aiku’s still stretched across the couch, hand lazily splayed on your stomach, when your phone lights up.

incoming call: sendou shuto.

you glance at aiku. he doesn’t even look up. “don’t answer.”

you raise a brow. “he’s gonna keep spamming.”

“good. maybe his thumbs will fall off.”

you answer anyway. the second the line connects, sendou’s voice practically bursts out of the speaker:

“yoooooo! congratulations, you two!!”

you laugh, holding the phone away from your ear. aiku groans, dragging a hand over his face.

sendou’s rapid-fire words tumbling out without pause: “i saw the post and i was like, ‘no way!’ but then it was actually real?! oliver aiku, the playboy defender, finally tied down with a family?? this is insane. you guys are, like… couple goals now. legendary. i’m so happy for you- seriously!”

you beam, about to thank him, but sendou steamrolls on. “okay, okay, but hear me out. bachira’s comment actually got me thinking! what eye colour’s the baby gonna have? like… blue like you, green like aiku, or maybe purple? orange? bro, imagine heterochromia 2.0. iconic. instant celebrity baby. i’m calling it now.”

you clap a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter. aiku, however, finally snaps upright.

“sendou.” his voice is low, warning. the same tone he uses when he’s about to foul someone and doesn’t want the ref noticing.

but sendou’s not fazed. in true sendou fashion, he just laughs nervously and keeps going: “i’m just saying, man, if the baby has your green eyes and her purple? that kid’s already winning at life. like, that’s a cover-model combo. imagine the brand deals-”

aiku cuts him off, voice sharp. “sendou, the kid’s literally the size of a bean. stop fantasising about its sponsorships.”

“bean-chan’s gonna be iconic tho,” sendou insists. you can hear him grinning through the phone. “i’m putting money on purple. or maybe, nah, wait, green and purple. final answer.”

you’re laughing so hard now you can barely breathe. aiku snatches the phone from your hand, glaring down at it like he could strangle sendou through the screen.

“listen, dumbass,” he growls, “call us again when you’ve learned some basic biology. and if i hear you started a bet pool, i’ll block your number, your alt, and your mom’s account too.”

there’s a pause. then sendou’s voice, a little sheepish: “…so i shouldn’t tell you shidou already texted me about starting a betting group chat?”

“GOODBYE, SENDOU.” click.

aiku hangs up with enough force to rattle the phone. you’re doubled over in laughter, clutching your stomach. he glares, but it doesn’t stick, your joy softens his expression almost instantly.

finally, he sighs, sinking back onto the couch beside you, muttering into your shoulder. “they’re gonna drive me insane before this kid’s even born.”

you lean your head against his chest, still giggling. “better get used to it, dad.”

he groans dramatically, but the arm wrapping around you is firm, protective. and even as he complains, he’s smiling.

the room falls quiet again. you’re shaking with laughter; aiku’s scowling at the phone, but his hand instinctively goes back to your belly.

“they’re all idiots,” he mutters. then, softer. “but at least one of ‘em was right. our kid’s already a damn star.”

[acideathr]

♧ gun to the head?

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟲: 𝗔𝗟𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗧, 𝗔𝗟𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗧 🪻ㆍ₊⊹

work count: 1.4k | chapter logs (masterlist) taglist: @the-lazyyy-artist, @idontevenknow129, @guwinnie, @x3nafix this whole series is inspired by this post made by @the-lazyyy-artist

the neighborhood is quiet, blanketed in that heavy, velvety kind of darkness that only really settles after midnight. porch lights hum faintly, moths dancing in lazy circles around them, and the distant bark of a dog cuts through the silence every now and then. you breathe in, letting the cool air clear your head, glad to be away from the noise of your house.

peace. that’s all you wanted.

which, naturally, means it lasts all of two minutes.

because the rhythm of another pair of footsteps falls in beside yours, and before you even turn, you know who it is.

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter.

oliver smirks, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he keeps pace effortlessly. “what, can’t a guy take a walk in his best friend’s neighbourhood?”

“at the exact same time i happen to be out?” you give him a sidelong glare. “stalker.”

“don’t flatter yourself.” he chuckles under his breath. “i just couldn’t sleep.”

that makes you falter, just a little. you expected a cheeky comeback, not honesty. you mask it quickly with a scoff. “whatever. just- don’t walk with me.”

“sure thing,” oliver says. but he doesn’t slow down. he doesn’t veer off. he just keeps walking, shoulder brushing yours every few steps, humming low like the silence is his playlist.

you want to snap at him. you really do. but something about the stillness - the way his smirk isn’t so sharp under the streetlights - makes you let it slide.

you walk like that for a while, and it’s almost peaceful. almost.

then oliver ruins it.

“so…” he starts, drawl lazy, “you like him?”

your eyes narrow. “who?”

“the new kid. ren.”

you groan, throwing your head back. “are you seriously still on this?”

“what? you two have been joined at the hip all week. everyone’s noticed.”

“everyone? or just you?”

his smirk curves higher, but his tone stays deceptively casual. “just curious, sweetheart. didn’t know you liked the whole nice-boy-next-door thing.”

you kick a pebble down the sidewalk, irritation flaring. “he’s nice, okay? that’s it. not every boy i talk to is a crush. unlike some people, i don’t collect partners like they’re pokémon cards.”

oliver barks out a laugh, loud in the quiet street. “cold.”

“true,” you shoot back.

the walk eventually spits you both out at the little park at the corner. you’ve been here a million times, it’s nothing special, just a couple of rusty swings, an old slide, the faint smell of mulch, but under the glow of the streetlamp, it feels different. still. quiet.

oliver drops into one of the swings without asking, stretching out those long legs like he owns the place. you hover for a beat, then sit down beside him, more out of habit than desire. the chains creak as you rock lightly with your toes.

for a while, it’s just the crickets. the occasional car rolling by.

then oliver speaks again, and his voice is lower, softer. not the smirk this time.

“you ever think about what you want? like… really want. past all the school stuff. past what shuto wants for you. just you.”

the question blindsides you. you glance at him, expecting a grin, a wink, something cocky. but he’s staring ahead, face unreadable.

you chew your lip, then answer slowly. “i guess… i just want something that feels real. not shallow. not temporary. something that lasts.”

for a moment, oliver doesn’t respond. his jaw works, his hand tightens on the swing chain. when he finally speaks, it’s quieter than you’ve ever heard him.

“yeah. i know exactly what you mean.”

that makes you snort, sharp and bitter. “you? don’t make me laugh.”

his head whips toward you, brows raised. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“oh, come on.” you lean toward him, heat rising in your chest. “you go through girls like they’re disposable. one-night stands, short flings, cheating, don’t even try to deny it. and now you’re telling me you want something that lasts? forgive me if i don’t buy it.”

for once, oliver doesn’t smirk. his eyes flash, and the weight of his stare pins you in place.

“you think that’s who i am?” his voice is quiet, but it’s sharp. “that because i’ve screwed up, that’s all i’ll ever be?”

your throat tightens. you weren’t expecting him to bite back.

“i think,” you say carefully, “that people don’t change overnight. and you’ve never shown me otherwise.”

oliver exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair. he looks away, up at the stars. “you don’t get it.”

“then make me,” you snap. “explain it. because from where i’m standing, you don’t know what it means to want something real.”

the silence after that feels heavy, thick enough to choke on. then, finally, oliver laughs, not mocking, but bitter, under his breath.

“maybe you’re right,” he says. “but maybe i’m trying.”

the honesty in his tone shakes you. you don’t know what to say, so you just… sit there. the swings creak softly as you both rock, closer and closer until your knees almost touch.

the park has gone quiet again, except for the steady creak of the swings. you push at the dirt with the toe of your shoe, tracing half-circles. oliver doesn’t say anything for a long time, just stares up at the dark sky like he’s trying to read constellations that don’t exist.

eventually, you break the silence.

“so what now? you’re just gonna… keep trying? hoping someone believes you?”

oliver hums low in his throat. “something like that.”

you glance at him, eyebrows raised. “that’s not much of a plan.”

“better than having none.” his lips twitch into a grin. “besides, it worked well enough to get me on this swing with you, didn’t it?”

you roll your eyes. “please. you just invited yourself.”

“and you didn’t kick me out,” he shoots back.

you scoff, but there’s no heat behind it. “i should’ve.”

he grins at that, leaning back on the swing until it groans under his weight. his legs are stretched out, casual, like he could sit here all night.

then, without warning, he asks:

“you ever think about leaving? this town, this school, all of it?”

the question makes you pause. “sometimes,” you admit. “mostly when shuto’s being an idiot.”

that earns a soft laugh. “fair.”

“i don’t know,” you continue, more thoughtful now. “it’s… comfortable here. boring, sure, but safe. maybe that’s enough.”

oliver’s quiet for a beat. then: “safe’s not always enough.”

you frown at him. “you sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“maybe i am.” his smirk returns, but faint, almost distracted. “or maybe i just don’t want to get stuck. going through the motions until i wake up one day wondering where the hell my life went.”

that thought lingers in the air, heavier than you expect. you don’t know how to respond, so you just keep rocking the swing, chains rattling softly.

when you finally look back at him, he’s already watching you.

and that’s when it happens.

that shift.

not sudden, slow, creeping, like a tide coming in without you noticing until it’s already at your feet. the air between you changes, thicker, warmer. he doesn’t say anything, but he leans the smallest bit closer, his knee brushing against yours.

your breath catches.

his eyes flicker down, just for a second, before locking back on yours. he doesn’t move fast, doesn’t need to. the closeness alone is enough to make your pulse race.

and for a terrifying heartbeat, you think you might let it happen.

but then your spine stiffens. you lean back, putting space between you, and mutter under your breath, barely audible:

“i can’t.”

oliver freezes. he doesn’t ask why, doesn’t push. just searches your face for a long moment, like he’s looking for cracks in your resolve.

finally, he leans back too, expression unreadable, and smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“guess that’s my cue, huh?” his tone is light, but something under it stings.

you fold your arms, looking away. “don’t make this into a joke.”

he exhales, long and slow. “i wasn’t going to.”

silence again. uncomfortable this time. heavy with all the words neither of you will say.

eventually, oliver pushes himself up from the swing, brushing off his hands. “come on. it’s late. i’ll walk you back.”

you hesitate, then stand too. the walk home is quieter than before, no more teasing, no more banter. just footsteps echoing on pavement, and a tension so thick it follows you all the way to your front door.

when you slip inside, oliver gives you a nod, a smirk too carefully placed to be real.

“night, sweetheart.”

and then he’s gone.

you lean against the door after it clicks shut, heart hammering against your ribs.

almost.

always almost.

[acideathr]

♡ all-star training: hearts in play

˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮𝟭: 𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗪𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 ‼

work count: 3.5k | chapter logs (masterlist) summary: with whispers turning into outrage, a group of players storms ego’s control room to demand answers about the invasive photos. but instead of justice, they’re met with a brutal reminder: in blue lock, the world’s gaze never looks away, and only those strong enough to endure it can survive. taglist: @mmondiz, @rainychi2, @roseqtee, @ninaceylan, @shinning-stars, @pookiei-bookie if you would like your oc to be added to the series: click this link (under the title: "˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 ‼")

yuko nishida: @artistickidddo

your feet slam against the turf in rhythm, the sting of effort building in your calves as you push through another lap. the pitch is wide, open, but the sound that cuts through the steady beat of running isn’t your own breath; it’s voices just ahead of you.

“…i’m telling you, this is getting out of hand.”

the guy in front of you runs with a sharp tilt to his shoulders, words coming out between steady breaths. he’s not talking to himself. beside him, another player keeps pace, his voice low but edged with the same frustration.

“yeah, no kidding. first it was whispers, now there are pictures. i didn’t come here to have some creep snapping me like i’m a zoo exhibit.”

you blink, but your legs don’t falter. you stay just far enough behind that they don’t notice you listening. your pulse kicks faster, though not from running.

the first guy scoffs. “and what’s ego doing about it? nothing. just sitting up there in his little tower, watching like we’re test subjects. it’s messed up.”

your chest tightens.

“shouldn’t he care?” the second argues, his voice sharper now. “he’s got cameras on us twenty-four-seven. you think he doesn’t already know who’s doing this? if someone’s violating our privacy, that’s his job to stop it.”

the first one gives a short, bitter laugh. “stop it? please. to him, this probably is the training. let’s see who breaks first. let’s see who cracks under the gossip.”

their footsteps pound against the ground, syncing with yours. each word feels like it’s landing in your stomach, heavy and sharp.

the second voice lowers, though not enough for you to miss it. “…so what, we just take it? pretend it doesn’t bother us while someone digs through our lives?”

“no.” the first one’s reply is immediate, fierce. “i’m done. after drills, i’m going to ego. straight up. he’s gonna hear it from me.”

the second lets out a dry huff, half-disbelieving. “you? marching up to ego? what do you think he’ll do, pat you on the back? you’ll get that blank stare, the smirk, and some line about ‘mental fortitude.’ then you’ll walk out with nothing.”

“i don’t care,” the first spits back, jaw tight as his pace quickens. “at least i’ll know i didn’t just roll over while someone turned me into a damn joke.”

you grit your teeth and keep running, eyes locked forward. you don’t want to hear more, but the words cling to you like sweat, sticking to your skin, making every stride heavier.

you don’t dare open your mouth. if you say something, they’ll turn and see your face. and you’re not sure what you’d even say. that you already know more than you should? that the photos aren’t just whispers anymore, they’re sitting in your inbox?

no. you can’t.

so you just keep running, footsteps pounding, lungs burning, pretending the conversation isn’t clawing at you with every word.

you bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your focus back on the lap, when a familiar voice suddenly cuts through the heavy air beside you.

“ugh, did you hear all that?”

you glance over, startled, and find yuko jogging at your side, her ponytail bouncing with each stride. she must’ve picked up pace to catch you. she jerks her head toward the two players still talking in front of you.

“they’re not wrong, y’know,” she says, her voice low but energetic, like she can’t quite hold back the force of her thoughts. “this whole photo thing? it’s disgusting. creepy! and ego just sits there like it’s a science project.”

you don’t reply at first, the words you’d overheard are still echoing in your mind, and your throat feels tight. but yuko barrels on, breath quick but steady.

“no way this gets brushed off. people should demand answers. not just a couple of us either, but, like, a whole group. big enough that he can’t just give one of his smug little speeches and shrug us off.”

her tone sharpens, and for once, her extroverted energy doesn’t feel playful, it feels protective, burning hot.

you steal another look at her. “a group? you really think ego would listen to that?”

yuko snorts, rolling her eyes mid-stride. “he’d have to. imagine half of blue lock standing in front of him, saying ‘hey, someone’s spying on us.’ if he still does nothing? that’s not just cruel, that’s… insane.” she huffs, exhaling sharply through her nose. “i don’t care if it’s the last few days. whoever’s doing this should face consequences!”

yuko tilts her head, eyes narrowing as she studies you even while running. “what do you think? should we do it? rally people together and go to him?”

her question lands heavier than you expect. you can see the earnest fire in her eyes, the way she’s already imagining marching up to ego with an army of furious players at her back. the thought makes your pulse skip, but not entirely out of fear. you know she’s right, if nothing is done, the whole atmosphere of blue lock will rot.

“i think you’re right. it can’t just be ignored.”

yuko nods firmly, her ponytail whipping behind her as she pushes forward. “exactly. no one should have to feel watched every second, not like this. and if ego won’t act on his own, we’ll make him.”

her determination radiates like a flame, and even though part of you shrinks from it, another part finds it strangely grounding.

still, the unease doesn’t leave your chest. not when you know the fire she wants to spark would burn someone you’ve already confronted in silence.

and as you round the next corner of the pitch, the sound of yuko’s words stays with you, pounding in time with your heartbeat.

“hey!” yuko calls out suddenly, her voice sharp enough to cut through the steady rhythm of feet hitting turf.

both of them glance over their shoulders, surprised.

“you’re talking about the photos, right?” she says, jogging a little faster until she’s close enough that her words can’t be brushed off. her tone isn’t casual, it’s edged with fire. “you’re right. this can’t just keep happening.”

the taller of the two players, sweat dripping down his temple, snorts. “figures people heard. hard not to, huh?” he doesn’t sound embarrassed, only irritated.

the shorter one, though, eyes her carefully. “and what? you think whining about it’s going to make a difference? it’s ego. he doesn’t care.”

“not whining. acting,” yuko shoots back immediately, her voice firm. “if just one of you goes to him, sure, maybe he’ll shrug it off. but if a group goes, a large one, then he can’t ignore it! so let’s all go together and demand answers!”

the tall one barks a laugh, shaking his head. “demanding answers from ego? you really think that guy listens to anyone but himself?”

“he doesn’t have to ‘listen,’” yuko insists, quickening her stride to keep next to them. “he just has to realize this isn’t about football anymore. this is about privacy. about respect. if he wants us to train like pros, he should treat us like them too.”

the shorter one exhales hard, clearly unconvinced. “respect? in blue lock? you’ve seen the way this place runs. respect isn’t part of the program.”

yuko narrows her eyes, still keeping pace. “then maybe it should be.”

the taller one glances between the three of you, then shakes his head again, though his voice softens slightly. “look, i’m not against it. i’m just saying… ego won’t care. he’ll find some way to spin it, make it our problem. like, ‘if you’re strong enough, you wouldn’t care who’s watching.’ that’s the kind of garbage he lives for.”

yuko doesn’t flinch. “then let him spin it. but at least he’ll know we’re not blind to it. at least he’ll know we’re not just-” she gestures sharply with one hand as she runs, “-sheep he can herd around.”

the shorter one grimaces. “and if it backfires? if he twists it and says the fact that we’re distracted by this means we’re weak?”

“then we prove him wrong,” yuko shoots back. “we keep playing. keep training. but we make it clear that this, this,” she gestures vaguely, as though encompassing all the invisible cameras, the rumors, the photos, “isn’t something he gets to toy with.”

the taller one goes quiet for a moment, his mouth set in a line. finally, he grumbles, “…if enough people back it, i’ll go.”

the shorter one sighs, clearly conflicted, but his eyes flick to you, then back to yuko. “and if people don’t? what then?”

“then i’ll go alone,” yuko says flatly, without hesitation. “because even if ego laughs in my face, i’d rather speak up than sit here pretending it doesn’t matter.”

her words hang in the air between all of you, heavy and defiant, and for the first time, neither of the boys has a quick reply. their footsteps pound out a steady rhythm as they mull over her conviction.

you don’t say anything, your throat feels locked tight, the secret pressing against your ribs like a stone. but yuko’s voice carries strong enough for the both of you, blazing in the silence.

you don’t expect yuko to take it any further. she’s already rattled the two boys ahead of you, already made her point. but then she slows to a jog, plants her hands on her hips, and suddenly throws her voice across the pitch.

“everyone! stop running a sec! come here!”

her shout slices through the air like a referee’s whistle.

a handful of players falter mid-stride, exchanging looks. some keep going, either ignoring her or pretending they didn’t hear. but enough slow to a stop, circling back awkwardly, sweat dripping down their temples, eyes flicking between each other in confusion.

you stop too, catching your breath, feeling a prickling heat at the back of your neck.

when the crowd’s thick enough, maybe a dozen or so players, scattered but listening, yuko clears her throat. her voice comes out strong, unshaken.

“someone’s been taking pictures of us. not just sneaky snaps, but real, invasive stuff. and i don’t mean one or two people either, a lot of us have been caught. without our consent.”

murmurs ripple through the group immediately. some surprised, some already knowing, others looking uncomfortable.

yuko lifts a hand, cutting through the noise. “i’m planning to go to ego about it. face to face. i know he knows who’s doing it, and i’m not letting him pretend it’s part of his twisted program! who’s with me?”

the group shifts, glances traded, feet shuffling.

then karasu steps forward, his expression unreadable but his voice calm. “there’s no point.”

yuko narrows her eyes. “excuse me?”

karasu shrugs lightly, though there’s no humour in it. “think about it. you really believe it’s one of us? nah. i’d bet it’s not blue lock at all. it’s probably one of you guys, or some outside source they’re letting run free for ‘data collection.’ either way, in four days, you’re gone. the cameras, the photos, all of it, gone with you.”

his words strike the group like cold water. some players shift uncomfortably, nodding slightly, relief flickering in their eyes at the idea of ignoring the problem.

“so what?” yuko shoots back. “we just live with it for four days? pretend it doesn’t matter that someone’s been watching every move we make?”

karasu tilts his head. “what do you expect ego to say? ‘sorry, i’ll try and figure out who it is’? not happening. and in case you haven’t noticed, he doesn’t do ‘apologies.’”

that earns a low rumble of agreement from a few of the boys in the back. someone mutters, “he’s not wrong,” and another adds, “we’re wasting time.”

before yuko can retort, another voice cuts in, barou’s, sharp and commanding as ever.

“this is stupid.”

everyone swivels to look at him. barou’s arms are crossed, his glare leveled at the crowd. “you think wasting training time whining about this is gonna make you stronger? idiots. four days left. if you’ve got energy to complain, you should put it into drills.”

that draws a ripple of surprise, and a few quiet nods.

yuko takes the opening, stepping forward again. “it’s not about wasting time! it’s about not letting whoever’s doing this think they can walk over us. if we go together, if we show we care, maybe ego has to respond. and if he doesn’t? fine. at least we know we tried.”

the group stirs, whispers trading hands. a few of the athletes who’d been photographed, you recognize the tense expressions, the uncomfortable shifting, nod firmly. “i’ll go,” one says. “me too,” another echoes.

more voices join in, the momentum snowballing.

but not everyone. you notice the blue lock players hanging back, arms crossed, skeptical. their silence is as loud as any refusal. to them, maybe this will go away when you do. and they’re not wrong. 

still, when yuko glances around, the numbers are clear. most of those directly affected agree. a small cluster, maybe half the group, remain reluctant. but there’s enough for a confrontation, enough to make noise.

yuko exhales sharply, determination burning in her eyes. “good. then we’ll go. now.”

the crowd shifts again, uneasy but committed. some glance at you, some at karasu, others at barou, measuring the weight of the decision.

the decision doesn’t hang in the air for long. once yuko declares it, the restless energy of the crowd tips into motion.

“now?” someone asks, half-disbelieving.

“now,” yuko snaps, already turning on her heel. “if we wait until later, people will back out. or ego’ll find a way to spin it before we even get there. we go now.”

a wave of mutters ripples through the group, but no one moves to stop her. instead, the cluster of players fall into step behind her, their footsteps echoing off the turf as you all cut across the pitch and toward the nearest corridor.

your chest tightens as you jog to keep up. each turn of the hallway feels heavier, less familiar. normally, you stuck to the athlete wings, the dorms, the cafeteria, the training grounds. now, you’re headed deeper, into the labyrinth where only staff and cameras seemed to exist.

the further you go, the quieter the air gets. no chatter of athletes, no thud of footballs or sneakers squeaking on the floor. just the steady shuffle of dozens of feet, and the occasional sharp exhale from someone trying to mask their nerves.

yuko leads with her head high, though you notice her fists clench and unclench at her sides. karasu follows at the edge of the group, hands tucked in his pockets, expression unreadable. barou stomps near the back, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but refusing to leave.

finally, after a maze of sterile white corridors, you come to a large door unlike the others. heavier. marked only with a small placard that reads control.

the group halts. for a beat, no one moves.

“go on, knock,” someone mutters.

“i’m not knocking,” another hisses. “you knock.”

“cowards,” barou growls, shouldering past. but before he can pound on the door, another player, maybe too nervous to stop himself, raps his knuckles against it quickly, then hesitates before pushing it open.

the door creaks, and light spills out, the cold blue glow of monitors stacked floor to ceiling, rows of them stretching across the room like a command centre. every screen shows a different feed: the pitch, the weight room, the cafeteria, even corridors you’ve walked down dozens of times.

and at the centre of it all, swivelling slowly in his chair, is eg.

he doesn’t look startled. if anything, he looks faintly annoyed, chopsticks still poised mid-air.

and then you see what’s in his bowl.

noodles — drowned under a mountain of mayonnaise so thick it makes your stomach twist. he stabs into the mess casually, twirling it without shame as the group shuffles awkwardly into the room.

“well,” ego drawls, his voice as flat and cutting as ever, “this is new. a mutiny?”

the players bristle, some straightening their shoulders, others glancing nervously at one another. no one speaks at first. the weight of all those screens watching your every move presses down on the group like a hand around your throat.

yuko finally steps forward, jaw tight. “we’re here because someone’s been taking pictures of us. not training feeds. not security footage. personal stuff. and we know you know who it is.”

ego slurps his noodles loudly, mayo dripping down the side of the bowl. he doesn’t answer right away, just chews slowly, the sound grating in the silence.

your pulse hammers in your ears. around you, the others shift, some emboldened by yuko’s words, others shrinking back at ego’s unreadable stare.

when he finally swallows, ego tilts his head, eyes glinting behind his glasses. “and what exactly do you expect me to do about it?”

the room goes still.

the silence is shattered by the sound of ego’s chopsticks snapping through another clump of noodles. he slurps them with zero regard for the forty pairs of eyes glaring in his direction, then sets the bowl down on the edge of the console.

“you kids really don’t get it,” he says finally, voice smooth and cutting. “you come marching into my control room like this is some kind of democracy. it’s not. you’re wasting my time.”

yuko bristles, arms folding. “it’s not wasting time when people’s privacy is being violated. someone’s sneaking around taking photos of us outside of training, and you-”

ego’s laugh cuts her off. a sharp, nasally bark that echoes against the hum of the monitors. “privacy?” he leans back in his chair, hands steepled. “do you really think strikers destined for the world stage get privacy? every match, every move you make, every little breath, dissected. photographed. uploaded. criticized. you think the spotlight cares about your feelings?”

murmurs ripple through the crowd, unease mixing with anger. karasu scoffs quietly, as if he’d expected this.

someone’s jaw clenches. “tch. so your big solution is ‘deal with it’? that’s your genius plan?”

ego swivels his chair toward him, the glow of the monitors flashing against his glasses. “exactly. better to get practice now while the stakes are still in this sandbox. out there, one bad picture, one stupid rumour, it can ruin you. sponsors drop. coaches hesitate. fans turn. if you can’t handle a few candid shots in here, how will you handle the circus outside?”

someone from the back mutters, “that’s not the same thing…”

ego’s gaze snaps to the voice, sharp as a blade. “not the same? it’s worse out there. at least in blue lock, no one profits from your humiliation. outside, the world makes money off your failures. every photo becomes a weapon. and you’re telling me you’re scared of practice dummies?”

the group shifts uneasily. you feel the weight of his words pressing in, even if they taste bitter.

yuko’s eyes narrow. “so we’re just supposed to let it happen? pretend it’s fine while someone creeps around snapping pictures of us in our free time?”

ego smirks, picking up his bowl again. “if you’re distracted enough that a few snapshots break your focus, then congratulations, you’ve already lost. not a single sport out there waits for your comfort. neither does the world. if you can’t adapt, you’re useless to me.”

the room bristles at that, a low growl of dissent in the crowd.

barou steps forward, glaring down at him. “this is stupid. training’s one thing. football’s one thing. but this?” he jabs a finger toward the screens. “you’re letting someone cross the line.”

ego slurps another mouthful of mayo-drowned noodles, unbothered by the tension in the air. when he speaks again, his voice is flat, almost bored.

“lines are for people without ambition. if you’re worried about being liked, you’re in the wrong place. this is blue lock. you’re not here to protect your image, you’re here to sharpen your ego until nothing can touch it. not a defender. not a scandal. not a camera flash. if you can’t build that armour, you’ll crumble the moment the spotlight finds you.”

he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then smirks, leaning forward. “now. do you want to keep wasting my time with whining, or do you want to use that precious energy to train?”

the silence that follows is thick, heavy with frustration and the sting of powerlessness. some players shift uncomfortably, muttering under their breath. others look away, unwilling to meet ego’s gaze.

karasu exhales sharply, the corner of his mouth twitching in something like a bitter smile. “told you,” he says under his breath. “he’s not gonna do shit.”

ego hears it, you can tell by the slight curl of his lips. but he doesn’t answer. he just sits there, smug in his mayonnaise fortress, letting the weight of his words crush the room.

[acideathr]

♡ all-star training: hearts in play

˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮𝟬: 𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗜𝗥 ‼

work count: 3.5k | chapter logs (masterlist) summary: a stranger’s messages rattle your focus, every word echoing through training and quiet moments alike. what first seemed harmless now feels heavier, a shadow you can’t shake. taglist: @mmondiz, @rainychi2, @roseqtee, @ninaceylan, @shinning-stars, @pookiei-bookie if you would like your oc to be added to the series: click this link (under the title: "˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 ‼")

amelie allaire: @mmondiz

seie amamiya: @ninaceylan

takashima michio: mine

the session dragged on. no matter how many times you shook your head or muttered focus, focus, the weight of those late-night messages clung stubbornly to the back of your mind. your fingers moved on instinct, tossing the ball into the air, setting cleanly, but your timing was off. each jump felt a fraction late, every read of the court dulled by that nagging pull in your chest.

“set, set, set!”

seie’s voice snapped through your haze. she was already soaring, her arm cocked back with that unstoppable energy of hers. you forced your body into position, sending the ball up, but it wasn’t quite right.

smack!

she still landed the spike cleanly, but the ball whizzed dangerously close past your ear. the rush of air made you flinch.

“oi! you sleeping on me or what?” seie shouted, though her grin softened the sting. “don’t make me work harder ‘cause your brain’s off in lala land!”

you offered her an apologetic smile, bowing your head briefly. “sorry… my bad.”

her brow furrowed, but only for a moment. “tch. whatever, just fix it next round!”

people started to pack up, signaling the end of the drill, and relief washed over you like cold water. you rubbed the back of your neck, sweat clinging, lungs burning, not just from exertion, but from the constant circling thoughts you couldn’t push down.

the walk to lunch felt dreamlike, like you were on autopilot. the sharp chatter of other athletes, the clatter of trays, the aroma of hot food, all of it blurred into white noise. you loaded your plate without thinking, barely recognizing what you grabbed.

it wasn’t until you stepped into the heart of the cafeteria that something broke through your fog.

takashima.

standing near the far wall, his shoulders hunched slightly, his back turned to you. your chest tightened. without thinking, your feet carried you forward.

“takashima!”

the name left your lips warm and casual, a greeting you hadn’t planned but didn’t regret.

he jolted. his whole body stiffened like you’d struck a nerve, and he half-turned, his hand tightening around the strap of his tray. his eyes, wide, sharp like glass but tinged with nerves, snapped to yours.

“you-!” his voice cracked before he cleared his throat and tried again, softer. “ah. it’s you.”

you blinked at his flustered reaction, tilting your head with a faint smile. “...who else would it be?”

he shifted on his feet, his ears faintly red, glancing aside as if searching for an escape before forcing himself to meet your gaze again.

for a moment, the chaos of the cafeteria faded, just the two of you caught in that silence.

“you surprised me,” he admitted at last, his voice low. his fingers fiddled with the corner of his tray before he realized and stopped, gripping it tight again.

you stepped closer, tilting your head playfully. “i just said hi, not spiked a ball at your head.”

a faint snort escaped him, so soft you almost missed it. but then he looked down, hiding the small tug at the corner of his lips.

“you seem off today.” his words were careful, hesitant, but direct enough to make you blink. “are you okay?”

you hadn’t thought anyone was paying attention that closely, except maybe seie, and she never minced words. but takashima noticing? that tugged at something you didn’t have the courage to name.

“yeah…” you admitted softly, staring at the floor for a beat before looking back at him. “guess my head’s a little cluttered.”

his eyes searched your face, quiet and intent, and for a second, you thought he might ask what was on your mind. instead, he cleared his throat and shifted again, awkward.

“you should… eat. that helps sometimes.”

“then sit with me,” you said before you could second-guess it.

“...okay.”

and with that, you found yourself weaving through the cafeteria together, the noise around you loud and messy, but somehow, everything felt sharper, more focused, just by walking beside him.

you and takashima managed to find a quieter corner, away from the loudest groups. for a moment, the only sound between you was the scrape of utensils and the muffled din of the cafeteria. 

“yo!”

the voice cut sharp and bright through the air. a flash of purple hair swooped into view before you even registered him fully.

reo plopped his tray down across from you with the casualness of someone who never asked for permission because he didn’t need to. his grin was wide, his energy untamed as ever, and just like that, the whole table felt like it shifted around him.

“well, well, fancy seeing you two hiding away here.” he leaned back in his seat, balancing his chopsticks effortlessly between his fingers. “thought i’d give my ears a break from nagi’s whining, guy acts like jogging five laps is a death sentence.”

you blinked, caught off guard by his sudden arrival. “uh… hey, reo.”

“hey man,”

“so. today’s drills were brutal.” his gaze locked on you now, the sparkle in his eyes daring you to admit it. “ego’s seriously trying to break us! half the room was ready to collapse before we even got to the scrimmage.”

you chuckled lightly. “it’s blue lock. after being trained by the best, you really think ego’s gonna go easy on you?”

“that’s the understatement of the year.” reo let out a laugh, then shook his head with mock disbelief. “i swear, i was out there thinking, ‘if i don’t get water in the next thirty seconds, this is the end of mikagereo.’”

his dramatics drew a soft, unguarded sound from you, half laugh, half sigh. takashima, though, stayed quiet, shoveling another bite of rice like he was trying to disappear into it.

reo’s sharp eyes flicked his way again. “what about you?”

takashima froze mid-chew, almost choking. he scrambled for his water, taking a gulp before managing a low reply. “…it was fine.”

“what’s up with you, dude?” reo echoed, tilting his head with exaggerated disbelief. “thought we got past the stage of you being shy around us.” he smirked, tapping his chopsticks against his tray. “well, i can’t blame you. we haven’t talked that much, have we?”

takashima blinked, startled by his directness. his ears pinkened faintly, though he tried to keep his expression even. “...sorry, my mind is on something.”

reo hummed thoughtfully, then grinned again. “really? what’s up? i’m happy to lend an ear.”

takashima’s eyes widened slightly, as though he wasn’t sure if reo was joking or serious. he opened his mouth, closed it, then finally muttered, “…it’s fine. i don’t with to bother you.”

that made reo laugh again, a full, easy sound. “haha, it’s no problem at all! but if you don’t wanna tell me, it’s fine.” 

he leaned back then, stabbing a piece of meat with his chopsticks and twirling it lazily before popping it into his mouth. “anyway, i figured i’d save you two from eating in silence. you’re welcome.”

you raised an eyebrow. “and here i thought you were just looking for someone to brag to.”

he grinned, utterly unapologetic. “that does seem like me.”

beside you, takashima let out the tiniest exhale, half amusement, half disbelief. you caught it, though, the smallest curve at the corner of his lips. reo had that effect: crashing into people’s space, yes, but leaving it just a little lighter once he did.

the three of you ate for a while, the cafeteria noise buzzing comfortably in the background. reo had filled most of the silence with his usual chatter, stories about drills, nagi’s laziness, even some wild tangent about how if ego really wanted to push them, he’d just make them spar with sumo wrestlers.

but even as you laughed and listened, your phone sat heavy in your pocket. the screen had lit up once during the meal, and you’d seen the preview of the message. no matter how many bites of food you forced down, the unease sat like a stone in your stomach.

finally, you couldn’t keep it in. you set your chopsticks down and exhaled slowly. “...they messaged me again.”

“who?”

“same number who messaged me like two weeks ago.”

both reo and takashima froze mid-motion. reo, who had been halfway to taking another bite, lowered his chopsticks with a sharp clink against the tray. takashima’s shoulders stiffened immediately, his gaze snapping toward you in alarm.

you pulled your phone out, unlocking it with a swipe, and held it where they could both see. on the screen were the photo and messages sent earlier today of you and sae.

you stared at the image for a moment longer before lowering the phone onto the table.

“i don’t get it,” you admitted, voice quieter than before. “why lie in the first place? and now they’re sending me pictures like this…”

“i thought you said that the person was a girl?”

“yeah, but they lied about being from gymnastics, so who’s to say that they’re not lying about their gender?”

takashima’s hand clenched tightly around his chopsticks. his lips pressed into a thin line, and his brows drew low over his eyes. for someone usually (sometimes) soft-spoken, the storm brewing on his face was impossible to miss.

“that’s… not okay,” he muttered, his voice low and rougher than usual. “taking pictures without asking. following you like that. it’s…” he trailed off, unable to finish, but the sharp shake of his head said enough.

reo leaned forward, the easy grin wiped completely off his face. his violet eyes were sharper now, colder, though his voice was still level. “basketball, huh?” he clicked his tongue. “that doesn’t change much. in fact, there are more basketball players than gymnasts. but that being said, i think i have a plan.”

you blinked at him. “you really think you can figure out who it is?”

reo gave a small shrug, but it was calculated, purposeful. “maybe not instantly, but people slip up when they get cocky. and whoever this is? they’re already slipping. lying about their sport and sending you proof they’re watching you.”

takashima finally set his chopsticks down with a soft clatter. he looked at you, expression tense. “why didn’t you tell someone sooner?”

“i just got it today, like an hour ago.”

“now it’s a problem,” reo finished firmly. his voice carried that air of authority, of someone used to solving things decisively. “and if ego doesn’t know, we tell him. simple.”

the idea of dragging ego into this made your stomach twist. you weren’t sure how he’d react, or if he’d even care. but before you could protest, takashima spoke again, his voice soft but urgent.

“you shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.” his hands were curled into fists on the table now, knuckles pale. “if they’re watching you, following you, what else will they do?”  you blinked at him, caught off guard by the intensity in his tone. 

reo smirked faintly, though there was no humour in it. “i’m with him.” he leaned closer, resting his arms on the table. “whoever this clown is, they think they can mess with you from the shadows. that’s their first mistake. because now?” his grin tilted, sharp and confident. “now you’ve got me paying attention. and trust me, i don’t lose when i decide to win.”

“weren’t you paying attention before?”

“i was, but i assumed it was a one-time thing. now that they’ve done it again, i won’t go so easy on ‘em.”

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. between takashima’s quiet anger and reo’s fierce certainty, something in you felt a little steadier, even if the knot in your chest hadn’t fully loosened.

still, the unease lingered. that picture was proof: someone was out there, watching, waiting.

and you had no idea why.

♡♡♡

the corridors of blue lock had a way of echoing, every laugh, every shout bouncing off the stark walls until it felt like the whole place was alive with noise. normally, walking back to your shared room after a long day of training was one of the few moments of calm you had: just the two of you, feet dragging, amelie’s clipped footsteps beside you.

“you looked distracted,” she said suddenly, her slight accent curling around the words like velvet-coated steel.

you blinked, glancing at her. “when?”

“most of today.” she flicked a stray lock of black hair behind her ear, her gaze fixed ahead. “your body moves, but your head is elsewhere. if i were your coach, i would tear you apart.”

you gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “thanks for the encouragement.”

“it was not encouragement. it was an observation.” but her eyes slid toward you briefly, just a flicker, and you caught the subtle concern buried beneath the frost.

before you could reply, the sound reached you: murmurs, rising voices, the low hum of a crowd ahead. amelie slowed slightly, her brow furrowing. “what is that?”

the hallway bent around the corner, and as you approached, the noise grew louder, sharper. dozens of bodies pressed close, a circle of athletes from different sports, their voices overlapping in a mess of curiosity and confusion.

“what’s going on?” you whispered, but no one answered. you and amelie exchanged a glance before you started pushing through the wall of bodies. shoulders bumped against yours, some people protesting, others too caught up in what they were holding to care.

then you saw them.

the photos.

your stomach dropped.

athletes had sheets of paper clutched in their hands, photos, dozens of them. the same one that had been sent to you earlier: you, walking with sae, your backs caught in grainy resolution. only this time it wasn’t confined to your phone. it was printed, passed out, everywhere.

and not just you.

other photos too. of other players, caught in candid moments, some from blue lock, aiku, chigiri, kurona, gagamaru, and others clearly from different sports. one person staring off during warmups, another player wiping sweat from his brow, and another person you vaguely recognized tying his cleats. all taken from behind, from the sides, from a distance. none posed. all stolen.

your breath hitched.

amelie was the first to move, plucking a sheet from the hands of someone nearby. she held it up, her eyes narrowing as she examined the grainy print. when she lowered it, her expression was as sharp as a knife.

“this is…” her voice trailed off, colder than ever. “disgusting.”

the word cut through the murmurs, though only for a second. people were still passing the photos around, whispering, speculating.

“who even took these?”

“are they spying on us?”

“why would someone do this?”

you reached for one of the sheets yourself, your hands trembling. the sight of your own back, side-by-side with sae’s unmistakable figure, made your chest tighten. it was one thing to receive it privately, but seeing it circulated, being watched so publicly, made your skin crawl.

beside you, amelie’s jaw set. she crumpled the paper in her hand with a sharp twist, the sound loud in your ear. “whoever did this wants attention.” her voice was low but certain, her arrogance sharpened into steel. “and they will get it. but not the kind they want. the fact that they tried to pull this stunt five days before the all-star training ends is appalling.”

you looked up at her, startled by the fire in her usually detached tone. “you think it’s the same person who messaged me?”

her eyes flicked to you, narrowing. “the same person?”

you froze. you hadn’t told her yet, not about the messages, not about the photo. heat rushed to your face as you realized you’d let it slip.

amelie studied you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then she let out a slow exhale, pinching the bridge of her nose. “you are going to explain everything later. in detail.”

the murmurs around you swelled again as more athletes noticed the photos. some were angry, some laughing it off, others whispering theories like this was some kind of game. but to you, every face, every whisper felt like it was directed squarely at you.

your breath caught, chest tightening. you wanted to disappear.

amelie, however, stepped closer, her presence grounding. she didn’t touch you, she wasn’t the type, but her sharp glare swept over the crowd, daring anyone to look too long at the paper in your hand.

“let’s go,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the noise. “standing here makes you a spectacle. it makes everyone here a spectacle.”

you hesitated, staring down at the crumpled photo, at the grainy image of yourself frozen in time. but amelie was right. the longer you stayed, the worse it would get.

so you let her guide you, the two of you pushing back through the sea of bodies, leaving the whispers and the rustling of paper behind.

still, even as the hallway stretched empty again, the unease clung to you like a shadow. whoever was behind this… they weren’t just watching anymore. they wanted everyone else to watch too.

the further you and amelie walked from the crowd, the quieter the hallway grew, until it wasn’t empty anymore.

ahead, leaning against the wall near a vending machine, you spotted aiku, sendou, and two girls who were laughing, their voices echoing.

at first glance, they seemed completely detached from the chaos you’d just witnessed, wrapped up in their own conversation.

you slowed. for a second, you almost thought about keeping quiet, keeping it away from them. but then you thought of the stack of photos being passed around, the whispers, the way your chest had tightened at the sight of your own face on those sheets.

no, if people didn’t know, they needed to.

“oi!” your voice carried down the hall before you could second-guess it.

four heads turned.

aiku’s eyes found you first, his grin faint but lazy, like he’d just been interrupted mid-joke. “well, well. look who decided to drop in.”

sendou straightened with a wave, his usual warmth spilling through. “yo! training done already?”

you and amelie approached, and you shook your head, serious. “something’s going on. you need to hear this.”

that got their attention. the girls exchanged a confused glance. sendou’s smile faltered a little. aiku pushed off the wall, standing taller, though his posture stayed relaxed.

“what’s up?” he asked, curiosity sparking in his tone.

you took a breath. “someone’s been taking pictures. without permission. of us. i saw one with aiku. they printed them out, left them in the halls for people to find. i just saw a crowd passing them around.”

the girls’ laughter cut off immediately. one of them shifted uncomfortably, her arms crossing over her chest. “wait, seriously?”

amelie gave a curt nod. “it is true. we saw them with our own eyes.” 

sendou’s brows knit, his easy smile dropping into something more serious. “that’s… messed up.”

but one of the girls shook her head, frowning. “i mean, yeah, it’s weird, but it’s just pictures, right? they’re not… hurting anyone.”

the other girl hesitated, chewing her lip. “she’s not wrong. i mean, yeah, it’s creepy, but… they’re not doing anything to us. just watching.”

the dismissiveness struck a nerve. your jaw tightened, heat rushing to your face. “it is something. having someone watch you like that, following you, printing it out for everyone to see, it’s not harmless. it’s invasive.”

for a moment, the group fell quiet. sendou shifted awkwardly, clearly agreeing with you but not sure how to argue further. the girls exchanged looks again, still uncertain.

you turned your eyes to aiku.

he’d been silent the whole time, studying you. not with the lazy disinterest he often carried, but with something sharper underneath. his gaze lingered, like he was weighing more than just your words.

finally, you asked, “what did you say, aiku? that we should just ignore it?”

the silence stretched for a beat.

then aiku’s grin curled, not careless this time, but cold, wolfish.

“guess not.”

the weight in his tone shifted the air. the easy joking edge was gone, replaced with something firm, commanding. his eyes flicked over the group, then back to you.

“pictures like that? someone going out of their way to stir things up?” he tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “that’s not just harmless fun. that’s a power move. i am curious to see who’s behind it.”

sendou gave a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “man… never thought we’d have to deal with stalker drama in here.”

amelie crossed her arms, unimpressed. “it is childish. but dangerous nonetheless.”

the two girls fell quiet, no longer arguing, though their discomfort lingered in the way they shifted on their feet.

you, though, felt aiku’s words settle heavy in your chest. it wasn’t the answer you’d wanted, but it was the one you needed. confirmation that you weren’t overreacting. that this wasn’t something to brush aside.

aiku shoved his hands into his pockets, his grin still sharp. “if they wanted attention, they’ve got it now. the only question is… what we’re gonna do about it.” his words sent a ripple of unease through the group, but under it, something else stirred, resolve.

because one thing was clear: ignoring it was no longer an option.

♡♡♡

[acideathr]

♧ gun to the head?

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟱: 𝗝𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗬'𝗦 𝗔 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 🪻ㆍ₊⊹

work count: 1.4k | chapter logs (masterlist) taglist: @the-lazyyy-artist this whole series is inspired by this post made by @the-lazyyy-artist

the new kid arrives on a wednesday morning, and you barely notice him at first.

he’s standing stiffly at the front of the room, clutching his bag strap like it’s a lifeline, eyes down as your teacher claps her hands. “class, we have a transfer student. please welcome hayashi ren.”

polite applause. the kind that dies after two seconds.

ren bows, muttering, “nice to meet you.” his voice is quiet, polite, too careful. you almost tune out, until the teacher’s eyes land on you.

“you’ll be showing him around today, alright?”

your head snaps up. “me?”

“yes, you.” the teacher beams. “you know the school well, and you’re responsible enough. i trust you.”

responsible. that word stings a little, because you already know what it means: you don’t cause problems, and you won’t ditch him. basically, you’re safe.

ren glances at you when you stand, and there’s relief in his expression like he’s been thrown a lifeline. great. now you’re stuck.

♡♡♡

by mid-morning, you’ve walked him through classrooms, the library, the courtyard. you’ve pointed out the vending machines and warned him about the one on the third floor that eats coins. to your surprise, ren laughs at that, a short, genuine sound that makes his nervousness crack.

he’s easy to talk to, you realize. he listens, nods, asks questions. he doesn’t interrupt. it’s… kind of refreshing.

by the time lunch rolls around, you find yourself sitting with him, explaining which food lines move the fastest, which seats you should avoid unless you want to get beaned by a stray football. ren laughs again, shaking his head.

“you make this place sound like a war zone,” he says.

“because it is,” you reply with a small grin.

and it’s easy. almost too easy.

what you don’t notice is the gaze following you from across the cafeteria.

♡♡♡

oliver is sitting with shuto and a couple other guys, slouched in his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. except his eyes are fixed across the room, sharp and unblinking.

you.

and the new kid sitting too close.

“you hearing this?” shuto’s voice is loud, animated, dragging oliver’s attention back for a second. “i’m telling you, during the relay, she was staring at me. blonde ponytail, long legs, definitely a track girl. i felt the vibe.”

oliver doesn’t answer right away, smirking faintly but still watching you. the way you’re leaning in toward ren, the way you laugh at something he says. too comfortable.

finally, oliver murmurs, “who’s that with her?”

shuto follows his gaze, snorts. “oh, him? new kid. ren. teacher roped my sister into babysitting.”

“babysitting,” oliver repeats, still watching.

“yeah. he’s a transfer, pretty shy. guess she’s showing him the ropes. good for her, right?” shuto shrugs, shoveling rice into his mouth. “she could use more friends. or someone to mellow her out, you know?”

oliver leans back in his chair, smirk curling sharper at the edges. “she doesn’t look mellow. she looks… interested.”

shuto groans, rolling his eyes. “bro, don’t start. she wouldn’t go for him. she’s picky as hell. and besides-” his grin turns wolfish. “she’s too busy threatening to cut your dick off every other day.”

oliver laughs softly, finally looking away. but the sound doesn’t reach his eyes.

♡♡♡

over the next few days, it’s routine. you and ren walk together in the halls, sometimes sit together during breaks. he thanks you constantly, and though you tell him to quit it, you don’t really mind.

but it doesn’t escape oliver’s notice.

he’s there in the background, always. leaning against a wall when you’re showing ren the club rooms. passing through the courtyard when you’re sitting on a bench together. his smirk never wavers, but his eyes don’t leave you.

and when he does finally step in, it’s calculated.

it happens after class on friday. you’re at your locker, ren standing beside you, asking about club options. he’s fiddling with his notebook, brow furrowed as you explain which ones are worth joining.

“basketball’s competitive,” you say. “music club’s fun, but always loud. and art’s-”

“didn’t know you were running a tour guide service,” a smooth voice cuts in.

you stiffen immediately. turning your head, you see oliver leaning against the lockers across from you, arms folded, eyes glinting with that infuriating mix of amusement and something darker.

“just showing him around,” you say quickly, defensive before you can stop yourself.

oliver tilts his head. “for three days straight?”

ren straightens, bowing politely. “aiku-san, right? it’s nice to meet you. i’ve heard a lot about your football team.”

oliver doesn’t move. doesn’t bow back. he lets the silence stretch just long enough for ren’s polite smile to falter, before he finally smirks. “yeah. i’ve heard a lot about you too.”

there’s something in his tone that makes ren shift uncomfortably. after a beat, ren clears his throat, mumbling, “i should get to class. see you later.”

you whirl on oliver the moment ren’s gone. “what the hell was that?”

he pushes off the lockers, strolling closer with infuriating calm. “nothing. just saying hi.”

“that wasn’t hi. that was you being a dick.”

oliver’s smirk deepens. he leans just slightly closer, enough that you catch the low timbre of his voice. “maybe i don’t like competition.”

the words knock the breath out of you, but before you can snap back, he’s already walking away, hands shoved casually in his pockets, like he didn’t just drop a bomb and leave you standing there, heart hammering against your ribs.

♡♡♡

it starts small.

ren joins you in the library to study after class, and who’s suddenly there too? oliver.

he doesn’t even bother with an excuse, just strolls in, drops himself into the chair directly across from you, and grins like he owns the place.

“didn’t peg you for the library type,” you mutter, shoving a worksheet at him.

oliver props his chin on his hand, smirk unwavering. “didn’t peg you for babysitting duty, but here we are.”

ren blinks, looking between you two. “do you… need help with homework, aiku-san?”

oliver leans back, spreading his arms across the chair like he’s settling in for a show. “nope. just here for the atmosphere.”

you want to throw your pencil at him.

♡♡♡

then it escalates.

the next day, you’re walking down the hall with ren when oliver materializes at your side out of nowhere.

“funny seeing you here,” he drawls.

you give him a flat look. “it’s a hallway. at school. where else would i see you?”

oliver ignores you, glancing at ren. “so, new kid, what’s your deal?”

ren blinks. “my… deal?”

“yeah. you good at sports? clubs? got a girlfriend back home?”

ren stammers, “uh, i- i guess i like basketball. and no, i don’t-”

“basketball, huh?” oliver’s smirk sharpens. “that’s cute. i play real sports.”

you groan so loudly heads turn. “oh my god. please stop breathing near me.”

oliver grins wider. “she loves me, really.”

ren just laughs nervously, clearly confused.

♡♡♡

by lunchtime, it’s ridiculous.

you’re trying to eat in peace with ren, explaining which teachers to avoid, when a tray clatters down right beside you.

oliverslides into the seat so smoothly you’d think it was choreographed. “what’s up, lovebirds?”

“we’re not-” you start, glaring.

ren chuckles awkwardly. “we were just talking about classes.”

oliver leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, eyes locked on ren. “so tell me, ren. do you plan on stealing her away permanently, or is this a trial run?”

ren nearly chokes on his rice. “e-excuse me?”

you slam your chopsticks down. “oliver!”

“what? i’m just curious.” he smiles, infuriatingly calm. “gotta know if i should start planning the wedding.”

ren sputters, red to the tips of his ears. you, meanwhile, contemplate flipping the entire table onto oliver’s smug face.

♡♡♡

and the worst part? shuto notices none of it.

when you storm into the living room after school, ranting about oliver being the most insufferable human alive, shuto just blinks at you.

“wait, what’d he do?”

“he followed me around all day. he interrogated ren. he sat with us at lunch and- and- and proposed a wedding plan!”

shuto snorts. “sounds like classic oliver.”

“classic oliver?” you screech. “he’s unbearable!”

shuto shrugs, grabbing a soda. “eh, you’ll live. honestly, you should be flattered. usually, he only does that with girls he actually likes.”

you freeze.

shuto doesn’t notice. he just cracks his drink open, strolling away while you stand there, brain short-circuiting.

like you needed that thought lodged in your head.

[acideathr]

♡ all-star training: hearts in play

˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟭𝟵: 𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 ‼

work count: 3.0k | chapter logs (masterlist) summary: new drills push blue lock’s players to their limits, and an unexpected visit from sae blurs the line between rivalry and something far more personal. but just as understanding begins to spark, a single photo threatens to unravel everything, reminding you that in blue lock, every step is being watched. taglist: @mmondiz, @rainychi2, @roseqtee, @ninaceylan, @shinning-stars, @pookiei-bookie if you would like your oc to be added to the series: click this link (under the title: "˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 ‼")

seie amamiya: @ninaceylan

the facility buzzed with a different kind of energy now. with only five days left until the all-star training ended, the outsiders, the athletes pulled from other sports, had gone back to their own worlds, leaving blue lock’s corridors a little quieter, a little emptier.

but that didn’t mean ego had slowed things down. if anything, he doubled down. the drills were merciless, and today’s had scattered you across the training wings he’d set up for those sports. volleyball courts, basketball hoops, gymnastic bars, all designed to mimic actual training.

you were in the volleyball wing, knees bent, palms open, eyes sharp on the ball.

“up!” seie called, tossing another high ball your way.

you shifted, sprang lightly into position, and set it with practiced hands, the ball arcing perfectly into place for her spike. she slammed it down with enough force to echo in the empty hall.

“nice one!” she yelled, though her body was already locked on the next repetition.

you adjusted your stance, ready for the next. the rhythm was hypnotic: toss, set, spike. again and again, your body moving like clockwork, the familiar ache spreading through your shoulders and calves.

then, movement at the edge of your vision.

you glanced toward the glass door at the far end of the court.

someone stood there. still, quiet, watching.

sae?

the sight of him made your rhythm stutter. the ball brushed off your fingertips wrong, and seie let out what sounded like a yell of panic and a war cry as she lunged to keep it alive.

you exhaled sharply, jogging toward the sideline. “take five,” you called to seie.

she gives you a thumbs up with a grin, already turning away to grab water.

you pushed open the door, stepping into the hallway where sae waited. his presence was calm as ever, composed to the point of arrogance, as usual.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, eyebrows raising. “shouldn’t you be back with football?”

he didn’t answer immediately. instead, his gaze flicked back through the glass, watching seie pick up the ball. then he looked at you. “…setting really is like being a midfielder.”

your lips parted slightly, caught off guard. “…what?”

“you said it before.” his tone was flat, factual, as though he was recalling something trivial. “that being a setter in volleyball is like being a midfielder in football. i thought it was a stupid comparison.” he tilted his head faintly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “but you were right.”

the words were so simple, so devoid of fanfare, that they carried more weight than if he’d shouted them.

you blinked, momentarily speechless. “…you actually came here just to tell me that?”

his mouth twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “no. i came here to see if you actually understood it, or if you just got lucky saying it.”

typical sae. blunt, dismissive, but there was curiosity threading through his tone, subtle and sharp, the kind he couldn’t quite hide when something challenged his perspective.

you crossed your arms, matching his stance. “and? what’s your verdict?”

he shrugged lightly, gaze sliding past you toward the court again. “midfielders control the pace. they don’t get the glory, but they dictate everything. setters do the same. you don’t need the ball to score, but without you, nobody else can. same principle.”

you leaned against the wall beside him, the faintest smile tugging at your mouth. “glad you finally see it.”

his eyes flicked to you again, sharp and unreadable. “…don’t get smug. understanding is one thing. execution is another. midfielders are useless if they can’t set the right tempo. setters too.”

you exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “always gotta add the insult at the end, huh?”

“…show me again. i want to see it.”

he nodded toward the court.

you stared at him for a moment, caught between disbelief and exasperation. but then, of course, you sighed and turned back toward the door. because if there was one thing you’d learned about sae itoshi, it was this: when he decided something was worth his attention, you didn’t say no.

you stepped back onto the volleyball court, glancing over your shoulder to see if sae would actually follow. for a second, you thought he’d stay in the hallway, arms crossed, watching with that detached stare of his.

but then he moved, slipping through the doorway with a quiet ease, his presence filling the space without needing to say a word.

“alright,” you said, jogging over to scoop up one of the stray volleyballs from the floor. the synthetic surface felt familiar in your hands as you bounced it lightly, turning to face him. “now it’s my turn to teach you, haha!”

sae raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. “you’re giving me a lecture now?”

“you asked to see it.” you shrugged, taking your position near the net. “consider it hands-on education.”

that earned the faintest huff of amusement from him, though he tried to hide it.

you held the ball between your hands, fingers splayed. “first rule: it’s not about force. it’s about precision. you use your fingertips, not your palms, and you want the ball to leave your hands without spinning.” you gestured lightly. “smooth and controlled, like redirecting momentum instead of creating it.”

sae’s gaze never wavered. you felt his eyes on you, not in the way most people looked, but as though he was breaking you down into technique, dissecting every movement for efficiency.

you tossed the ball gently to him. “here. throw it to me naturally, like you would in a rally.”

he caught it without trouble, his hands sure. for someone who hadn’t touched a volleyball probably ever, his posture was instinctively athletic. he tossed the ball toward you with a clean arc.

you sprang into position, knees bending, hands rising. the ball met your fingertips and lifted, sailing cleanly through the air before dropping neatly back into his waiting arms.

“see?” you said, smiling slightly as you straightened. “that’s the whole job. the spiker can be anywhere, left, right, back row, and it’s my responsibility to put the ball exactly where they need it. they’re constantly moving to confuse the opponent, so i can’t just guess. i have to know.”

sae looked down at the ball in his arms, his expression thoughtful. then his eyes cut back to you, sharp and searching. “…so you’re basically reading the future.”

you laughed. “i wouldn’t put it that dramatically, but… yeah. in a way.”

for a brief moment, his gaze softened, just a flicker, but enough that you felt the shift. the wall of cool detachment cracked, and something warmer slipped through, unspoken but undeniable.

you tilted your head, smiling. “not bad for someone who thought it was a stupid comparison.”

sae let the ball drop, catching it again with lazy precision. “…don’t get cocky.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. he said it with the same dry tone as always, but there wasn’t a single ounce of bite in it this time.

when you took the ball back and got into position again, you felt his eyes follow you closely, not just studying, but lingering. and for the first time, maybe ever, sae itoshi didn’t look like he was just analyzing a game. he looked like he was curious about you.

you were about to grab another ball when curiosity got the better of you. you turned toward sae, who was standing there with his usual cool detachment, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“…what sport were you training for, anyway?” you asked, tilting your head, half expecting him to say basketball.

he glanced at you, then back toward the hallway like he’d been caught. “…gymnastics.”

that made you blink. “wait, what?”

“gymnastics.” he said it again, calmly, like it wasn’t strange at all for japan’s prodigy midfielder to be hanging upside down from uneven bars.

you pressed a hand to your mouth, trying not to laugh. “no way. you? gymnastics?”

he didn’t even flinch. “the book ego gave me said it would improve body control, flexibility, and balance. make my movement cleaner. fewer wasted steps. it made sense.”

you squinted at him. “so you actually tried it?”

“…yes.”

that single, flat word carried way too much weight, and the mental image hit you hard. sae itoshi, cold perfectionist, deadpanning his way through cartwheels and stretches.

you couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of you. “oh my god. please tell me you didn’t try a split.”

his expression didn’t change. “i did.”

you doubled over, clutching your stomach. “no! you’re lying.”

he let out the faintest exhale through his nose, the closest thing to a sigh. “…i tore something.”

that only made you laugh harder, your voice echoing in the empty volleyball wing. sae stood there, completely unbothered, waiting you out like a storm he’d seen before. when you finally managed to straighten, wiping your eyes, he was still watching you with that infuriatingly calm gaze.

“you think this is funny,” he said flatly.

“it’s hilarious,” you shot back between little bursts of laughter. “sae itoshi, breaking himself on a split. i can’t-”

he tilted his head slightly, and for a second, you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. just barely. “laugh all you want. i mastered the balance beam after.”

you froze, staring at him. “…no. you’re making that up.”

“i’m not.” his tone was absolute, as if daring you to call him a liar. “handstands. walking across without falling once. it was easy.”

you shook your head in disbelief, half laughing, half amazed. “you’re unbelievable. you take the most random thing and somehow turn it into a weapon.”

“that’s the point,” he said simply. “everything’s just another tool to win. even gymnastics.”

the words were matter-of-fact, but the way his eyes lingered on you, steady and unreadable, made your pulse skip.

you smirked faintly, bouncing the volleyball between your hands. “still… i wish i’d been there to see it. you, on a balance beam. that image is going to live in my head forever.”

the faintest flicker of dry amusement ghosts across his face. “…then my suffering wasn’t completely wasted.”

your laugh softened, something warmer creeping into your chest. sae never gave much away, but moments like this, quiet, unguarded, strangely human, felt rarer than gold in blue lock.

sae adjusted the sleeves of his training shirt, his eyes flicking briefly toward the door. “…i’m going to leave.”

you nodded automatically, though before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out, “okay. i’ll walk you.”

he paused, one brow arching faintly. “…do whatever you want.”

you grinned, jogging to catch up as he started walking, his stride steady, unhurried. together, you made your way down the wide corridors of blue lock, the faint hum of the facility echoing around you. the volleyball wing faded behind, replaced by the sharper sound of cleats striking turf somewhere in the distance.

“so,” you started, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, “what do you even do when you’re not tormenting yourself with gymnastics or showing up unannounced at volleyball practice?”

“football.” the answer was immediate, flat.

you laughed softly. “of course. should’ve known.”

he didn’t look at you, but you caught the faint shift in his expression.

the two of you walked in silence for a moment, your sneakers squeaking lightly on the polished floor. you fiddled with the edge of your sleeve, debating whether or not to bring up the thought that had been nagging at you for weeks. finally, you took a breath.

“hey… sae?”

“hm?”

“you and rin.” the words came out more tentative than you’d planned. “i’ve noticed you don’t… talk. at all. i mean, you’re brothers, but the way he looks at you-” you hesitated, then pressed on. “it’s like he despises you.”

sae kept walking, his face unreadable. for a moment, you thought he was just going to ignore you. but then his voice came, calm and clipped as ever. “…is that so?”

the bluntness made you blink. “…what, you didn’t realise?”

“of course i realised,” his tone was cool, matter-of-fact. “he hates me. i don’t blame him.”

your chest tightened at the way he said it, not with bitterness, but with a kind of detached acceptance, like he’d already dissected the whole thing and filed it away.

“but… why?” you asked quietly. “what happened between you two?”

for the first time since you left the court, sae slowed his pace, his gaze fixed on the floor ahead. his shoulders were relaxed, but there was a heaviness in his silence that filled the hallway.

“he wanted to catch up to me,” sae finally said. “and i changed my goals.”

“that’s all?” you frowned. “that sounds like more than just that.”

his eyes flicked to you, sharp as a blade. “you won’t understand.”

you swallowed, the weight of his words settling in. it was such a sae answer, cold on the surface, but underneath, you could feel the crack of something more complicated.

“…but he’s your brother. aren’t you gonna at least ask him how he’s doing or something?” you said softly.

“no.” sae shot back, tone even but merciless. “on the field, that doesn’t matter. blood doesn’t make you equal. talent does.”

you stopped walking for a moment, staring at him. he didn’t notice at first, or maybe he did, and just didn’t care. when he finally glanced back, his expression was cool, but his eyes… his eyes held something. a flicker.

you jogged to catch up again, shaking your head with a small sigh. “you’re unbelievable.”

“people keep saying that.” his voice was low, dry, but not mocking. almost thoughtful.

the silence that followed was heavier, but not uncomfortable. you found yourself watching him out of the corner of your eye, searching for the pieces of him that rin had lost sight of. the distance between them was vast, maybe irreparable, but in moments like this, you wondered if sae felt it too, deep down.

the two of you stepped out into the crisp air of the football grounds, the smell of turf immediately filling your senses. players’ voices echoed faintly from a field further away, but here, it was quiet. sae stopped, turning slightly as though this was where your paths split.

you shifted on your feet, biting back the urge to say something else, something that might make him stay just a little longer. but his gaze was already drifting back toward the pitch, the only place he ever truly belonged.

still, for a second, his eyes lingered on you. just a second longer than necessary.

the air outside the football grounds was cooler than inside the training wings, a faint breeze rolling over the turf. sae stood with his usual poise, shoulders loose, eyes fixed somewhere far away, like the field itself was calling him back.

you shifted beside him, your earlier words replaying in your head. about rin. about hatred. about family. you hadn’t meant to push too far, and yet you had.

“…sorry,” you murmured, your voice softer now. “i shouldn’t have asked about your personal life. that was… out of line.”

sae’s eyes cut toward you, sharp as always. for a moment, you braced for that signature dismissiveness of his, the way he could strip a conversation down to nothing with one word. but instead, his gaze lingered.

“don’t apologise.”

the way he said it, calm, even, but heavier than usual, caught you off guard.

you blinked. “what?”

“don’t apologise,” he repeated, shifting slightly so his body faced you more. “you asked because you wanted to know. there’s nothing wrong with that.”

the wind tugged at your shirt as the silence stretched. you searched his face, expecting him to look away like he always did, but he didn’t. he held your gaze, steady, unflinching.

“i’m used to people not asking,” he added finally, his voice low. “they don’t care. or they pretend not to. so when you do…” he trailed off, eyes narrowing faintly, as if he’d said more than he meant to.

your chest tightened. he sounded… tired. honest in a way that stripped all the armour from his words.

you shifted closer, not enough to cross the line, but enough to let him feel you were still there. “i wasn’t trying to pry,” you said carefully. “i just… i want to understand you better. that’s all.”

he studied you, the corner of his mouth twitching, though it never quite formed into a smile. “…you’re persistent.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

he huffed, a quiet sound, not quite a laugh, but close. “it’s not.”

your lips curved upward, warmth settling in your chest despite the chill air. for all of his sharpness, for all of his walls, sae wasn’t pushing you away. not now. if anything, it felt like he’d let you just one step closer than most ever got.

the two of you stood there, caught in that fragile pocket of silence, until finally he shifted again, tugging his sleeves back down.

“…i should go,” he said, his tone returning to its usual calm. but it wasn’t as sharp this time. more like a reminder to himself.

you nodded slowly. “yeah. see ya.”

you watched sae’s figure disappear onto the football pitch, swallowed by the distance and the echo of faint voices calling drills in the background. for a long moment, you just stood there, the breeze tugging at your hair, his words replaying in your head.

don’t apologise.

you exhaled, finally turning back toward the corridors you’d come from. the facility seemed quieter now, emptier somehow, like the silence had grown thicker after he left. your footsteps fell into rhythm with your thoughts, steady but aimless, until-

ping.

the sound cut through the stillness like a blade.

you froze mid-step as you reached into your pocket. your phone screen lit up, and your heart immediately dropped. the notification icon glared at you, the number sitting in your inbox heavy with implication.

hands suddenly clumsier than they should’ve been, you unlocked your phone and scrolled to the most recent message.

it wasn’t words that greeted you.

it was a photo.

your breath caught in your throat as the image filled the screen, a candid shot of you and sae, backs turned, walking together down the hall. both of you in perfect stride, close enough that the shadows stretching across the sterile floor almost blended into one.

♡♡♡

[acideathr]

♧ gun to the head?

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟰: 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧 🪻ㆍ₊⊹

work count: 1.6k | chapter logs (masterlist) taglist: @the-lazyyy-artist this whole series is inspired by this post made by @the-lazyyy-artist

the school’s annual sports festival is less about athletics and more about humiliation.

at least, that’s how you see it. every year, teachers insist it’s about “unity” and “team spirit,” but really it’s just an excuse for the boys to show off and the girls to scream like they’re front row at a boyband concert.

this year, the weather is annoyingly perfect. the sun’s out, a light breeze cuts through the heat, and every class is lined up across the field in bright, mismatched jerseys. banners hang over the fences, snack booths are already swarmed, and the student council is running around with megaphones like overworked event planners.

you stand with your class, tugging at the itchy polyester of your bib number, dreading your turn in the relay race. your friends chatter beside you, gossiping about who looks the hottest in shorts, but your attention is inevitably dragged to one person.

oliver aiku.

of course.

he’s not even in your class, but it doesn’t matter, his presence fills the whole field. he’s leaning casually against the starting line, jersey clinging to his broad shoulders, grinning at some joke one of his teammates made. his hair catches the sunlight like he’s starring in his own sports drink commercial.

and people notice. girls from every class are sneaking glances, whispering behind their hands. even the guys, half his supposed competition, look like they want to melt into the grass.

“ugh,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes.

but of course, shuto hears you. your brother appears at your side, adjusting his sweatband like he’s some kind of olympic athlete. “what’s with the groaning? can’t handle the heat already?”

you shoot him a flat look. “please. i’m groaning because your idiot best friend is milking all this attention.”

shuto follows your gaze, and immediately grins. “oliver? ha! can you blame him? look at him, he’s killing it.”

“he’s standing there,” you deadpan. “existing. that’s not talent.”

“existing hotly,” shuto corrects, nudging your shoulder. “big difference.”

you gag audibly. “i hate both of you.”

before shuto can argue back, the whistle blows, and the first event kicks off.

♡♡♡

the morning blurs into a series of chaotic events. tug-of-war, three-legged races, the dreaded obstacle course. each time, oliver somehow makes himself the centre of attention, not because he tries (well, okay, maybe a little), but because everything he does just… lands. effortless.

when he runs, he’s smooth, long strides eating up the track while his teammates stumble to keep up. when he jumps hurdles, he clears them with ridiculous ease, hair flying back, grin plastered on his face. even when he trips on the rope in the obstacle course, just once, just barely, he turns it into a joke, landing in the dirt and then flexing dramatically until the crowd erupts in laughter.

by lunchtime, he’s practically untouchable. his name echoes across the field every time he steps up, cheers louder than anyone else’s.

and you?

you sit on the sidelines with your lunchbox, stabbing at your food with your chopsticks while trying very, very hard not to watch him.

your friends aren’t helping.

“god, look at aiku-san,” one sighs dreamily, fanning herself with her handkerchief. “he’s so cool.”

“did you see him in the relay? he’s insane! our class doesn’t stand a chance.”

“do you think he has a girlfriend? he totally seems like the type-”

you slam your chopsticks down, startling them. “he is the type. the worst type. don’t waste your time.”

they blink at you, startled. one raises an eyebrow. “what, do you hate him or something?”

“yes.” your voice is sharp. too sharp. you shovel rice into your mouth before you can say more.

but the truth is, it’s not hate. not exactly. not when every time oliver flashes a grin, your chest tightens in ways you don’t want to examine.

not when, after his last race, he turns his head just slightly, eyes scanning the crowd, and catches you staring.

the smirk he throws your way is blinding. deliberate.

your chopsticks nearly snap in half.

♡♡♡

the afternoon heats up, literally and figuratively. the final event is the boys’ relay, the highlight of the festival, and naturally, oliver is anchoring for his class. shuto’s up there too, bouncing on his feet, grinning like an idiot, already gassing himself up to anyone who’ll listen.

you stand on the sidelines, arms crossed, pretending not to care.

the whistle blows, and the runners take off. it’s chaos at first, arms and legs flailing, batons almost dropping, but the moment oliver gets the handoff, everything changes.

he takes off like a bullet. smooth, powerful strides, every muscle working in sync, expression sharp and focused. he eats up the track like it’s nothing, overtaking the runner in front of him with ease.

the crowd goes wild. screams, chants, your classmates pounding on the barriers.

and you-

you can’t breathe.

you hate it. you hate the way your pulse stutters watching him, the way his confidence radiates with every step, the way he crosses the finish line like he owns it.

he does own it. and he knows it.

because the second he slows, tugging his jersey off his shoulder and grinning at his team, he turns, scanning the crowd again.

and when his eyes find yours, he smirks. not at the screaming girls. not at shuto, who’s whooping and fist-pumping like an idiot.

at you.

like it’s a private victory.

your stomach flips, heat crawling up your neck.

you turn away immediately, heart hammering.

♡♡♡

the sun is already dipping low when the three of you finally leave campus, the field still buzzing behind with lingering students packing up booths and picking trash off the grass. your muscles ache from too much running, too much standing in the sun, and not enough water, and your throat feels raw from both yelling and, though you’d never admit it, trying very hard not to yell when oliver crossed that finish line like he owned the entire damn world.

you’re exhausted, and all you want is to shower and collapse in bed.

unfortunately, you’re stuck walking home with them.

shuto, of course, is in rare form. he swings his medal around his neck like it’s olympic gold, even though you know he barely squeaked into second place in the relay. sweatbands pushed up his arms, jersey stained, hair sticking everywhere, he looks ridiculous, but he’s beaming like he just saved japan.

“another successful year for me,” shuto crows, tossing the medal in the air and catching it. “what can i say? born to shine, baby.”

you make a gagging noise. “you tripped in the obstacle course and faceplanted into the sand pit. literally nobody’s calling that ‘shining.’”

he glares at you, jabbing a finger. “selective memory! i made a comeback.”

“selective brain cells,” you mutter.

shuto gasps dramatically, but before he can fire back, oliver, walking on his other side, hands in his pockets, as smooth as if he hadn’t just stolen half the spotlight of the entire festival, joins in.

“don’t be too hard on her,” he drawls, voice annoyingly light. “not everyone can be a natural athlete.”

you whip your head toward him. “excuse me?”

he smirks, eyes flicking over you lazily like he’s cataloging every unimpressive part of your performance today. “i mean, you tried. that’s what counts, right? you made it to the finish line. eventually.”

shuto howls, doubling over and almost dropping his medal. “oh my god, yes! i swear, you looked like you were running in slow motion during the relay. i thought you were doing it on purpose.”

you scowl, heat rushing up your neck. “i wasn’t slow.”

“yes, you were,” shuto and oliver say in unison, like it’s rehearsed.

you throw your hands up. “wow. incredible. two idiots with the combined brainpower of a microwave suddenly think they’re track stars. congratulations.”

shuto slings an arm around your shoulders anyway, pulling you into a headlock you immediately squirm against. “don’t be salty just because you didn’t get a medal. it’s okay to be average. someone’s gotta make us look better.”

“get off me!” you snap, shoving him away. “and for the record, i wasn’t average. i was fine.”

oliver chuckles, low and easy. he doesn’t even look at you when he says, “if you call tripping over the baton exchange ‘fine,’ then sure.”

your mouth drops open. “i didn’t trip-”

“yes, you did,” oliver cuts in smoothly, that insufferable smirk tugging at his mouth. “i saw it. whole crowd saw it.”

shuto claps his hands together like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “oh my god, yes! i thought i was imagining it. you nearly ate dirt!”

“i hate you both,” you mutter, quickening your pace to walk ahead of them.

but of course, they follow. shuto jogging to keep up, oliver strolling like he’s got all the time in the world.

“aw, don’t pout,” shuto teases, falling into step beside you again. “seriously, you were… okay. for you.”

“‘for me’?” you echo, glaring.

oliver cuts in before shuto can answer, his tone deceptively soft. “what he means is, you’re not terrible. just… not memorable.”

you stop walking, whirl on him, hands balled into fists. “do you want me to cut your dick off? because i swear-”

oliver only grins wider, that slow, infuriating curve of lips that says he’s enjoying every second of this. “relax. i’m just saying you’re not built for the spotlight.” his eyes glint, sharp even in the dimming light. “which is fine. some people look better in the audience.”

shuto bursts out laughing again, slapping oliver on the shoulder like they’re the best comedy duo alive. “oh man, you’re evil. but he’s right, sis. you’re better as the cheer squad.”

you groan loudly, stomping ahead, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing how hot your face feels.

behind you, their laughter carries down the street, shuto’s obnoxious and high-pitched, oliver’s smooth and unhurried, like he’s in on a joke you’ll never quite escape.

and worse?

a tiny, stupid, traitorous part of you wonders if oliver’s smirk, when he threw that last line, was aimed just at you.

[acideathr]

⚔︎ blood and silk

+. 𖥻 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗭𝗘𝗡𝗜𝗡 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗡 ˚♧

naoya zenin x reader historical au (non-sorcerer au)

i told myself i would stop writing blue lock series so instead i wrote a jjk, a series i think is mildly overrated of a character that's either hated by the majority because of very obvious and valid reasons or loved simply because he's smashable

+. 𖥻 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 ˚♧

in a world ruled by clans and tradition, a marriage is nothing more than a transaction. for you, it means leaving your family behind to become the wife of naoya zenin, heir of the infamous zenin clan, a man whose arrogance, cruelty, and disdain for women are as legendary as his pride.

you were raised to serve, to obey, to endure. yet life within the zenin household is not as simple as quiet submission. every day is a battle to keep your footing in the shifting ground of naoya’s temper, earning a sliver of grace one moment, only to lose it the next.

but love born in chains is never gentle.

it is jagged, dark, and dangerous-

and in the heart of naoya zenin, it may be the only kind that exists.

+. 𖥻 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗦 ˚♧

+. 𖥻 𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 ˚♧

i have no fucking clue when this series will be published, but it'll definitely be finished before 2025, i can smell it

by the time this series airs i'll probably have like three more raring to go

i'm not currently up-to-date with the jjk lore, particularly with the members of the zenin clan, all ik is toji, megumi (technically), maki, mai and naoya, so if someone can give me other people and their relationships with each other that'd be great. if not i'll be going off pure vibes

i would like to include other characters like gojo and choso, but they'll be making a short appearance, like a chapter or two so don't be excited lmao

+. 𖥻 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ˚♧

@dannysankletattoo, @aykiraa, @dreamerofthewest, @idkuluka, @yourlocalcatscammer

[acideathr]

♡ all-star training: hearts in play

˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟭𝟴: 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗙𝗧 ‼

work count: 3.3k | chapter logs (masterlist) summary: a hidden rooftop becomes the stage for unexpected encounters, where new bonds quietly take shape under the cover of night. but blue lock never lets moments of calm last for long, teasing rivals and absent friends remind you that every connection here is fragile, and nothing stays the same for long. taglist: @mmondiz, @rainychi2, @roseqtee, @ninaceylan, @shinning-stars, @pookiei-bookie if you would like your oc to be added to the series: click this link (under the title: "˗ˏˋ ★ ― 𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 ‼")

yuko nishida: @artistickidddo

takashima michio: mine

anrisa dela flueres: @6riix

amelie allaire (mentioned)

the night air was sharp, cleaner than anything you ever breathed inside the endless concrete of blue lock. up here, the stadiums and training fields shrank into quiet outlines below, the floodlights that usually bathed them in blinding white now dimmed, leaving only the sky and its scatter of stars as your backdrop.

you hugged your knees loosely to your chest, back pressed against the cold railing. the climb up had been reckless, slipping through an emergency ladder tucked behind one of the stairwells, but the view had been worth it. the roof felt like a secret world above the madness.

takashima sat a few feet away, hands folded loosely in his lap. he wasn’t looking at you, but at the night itself, like the stars had answers. for a while, neither of you spoke. just the occasional sound of the wind tugging at your clothes, and the far-off murmur of blue lock still buzzing with life below.

finally, you broke the silence. “didn’t think you’d follow me up here. kinda ruins the whole ‘secret hideout’ thing.”

takashima huffed softly, almost like a laugh but not quite. “i-i saw you sneaking off. thought if you got caught, i should at least know where you went.” his tone was shy, not scolding, the kind of quiet voice that made you lean closer just to hear.

you tilted your head. “and what if i said i wanted it just for myself?”

his lips twitched, the faintest of smiles. “then… i guess i’d sit a little farther away.”

the words hung there, simple but warm. you exhaled, watching the mist of your breath curl into the sky. “it’s nice up here, though. i just realised that this is the first time we’ve seen the outside world since three weeks ago,”

takashima was quiet for a beat, then nodded. “the world,” he repeated softly, as if testing the weight of the phrase. he leaned back on his hands, gaze fixed on the stars. “you ever think about what you’re going to do in the future?”

you turned to him. “after blue lock?”

“after everything.” he paused, fingers tightening faintly around the fabric of his pants. “i don’t talk about it much, but… i got scouted. by japan’s national team. after this training, they want me with them.”

the words sank in, heavier than the silence that followed. you blinked, taken off guard. “…you’re serious?”

he nodded once, his expression calm, though there was something flickering under it, nerves, or maybe the pressure he carried so well you almost forgot it was there. “it’s what i’ve been working for. since forever, really. and it’s finally… there.”

you let your knees drop, stretching your legs out beside his. “that’s insane, takashima. like, actually insane.”

he laughed under his breath, shoulders hunching slightly, as if embarrassed by his own achievement. “it doesn’t feel real. not yet. but it’s coming. and when it does…” his voice trailed, eyes shifting back up to the sky. “i can’t afford to waste this.”

you studied him, the way the moonlight softened his usually shy features, giving him an almost fragile determination. “you won’t waste it,” you said firmly. “you’re already there, aren’t you? just waiting for the rest of them to catch up.”

takashima gave a small smile, this one lasting longer, and glanced at you. “what about you? what’s your future look like?”

the question caught you off guard. you fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, buying time. “me? honestly? no clue. i played volleyball because i needed an extracurricular on my application to university. and now that i’m here, considered one of japan’s best… i don’t think i want to go to uni anymore,”

“i see,” he murmured. “i know when you make the choice between volleyball and university you’ll make the right choice.”

you chuckled lightly. “you sound like an old man.”

he ducked his head, a faint blush dusting his cheeks even in the dim light. “…sorry.”

“don’t be,” you said quickly. “it’s nice. talking about stuff that isn’t drills and matches for once.”

another lull passed between you, but it wasn’t empty. the roof felt like a pocket outside of blue lock’s endless demands, just two people and the sky above.

finally, takashima broke it, voice quiet but steady. “promise me something?”

you tilted your head. “what?”

“that we’ll keep in touch. to be honest, you’re the first friend i made on my own.” his eyes met yours briefly, then flicked away. “and because of you i made even more friends. i don’t wanna lose that…”

your throat tightened unexpectedly, but you managed a soft smile. “only if you promise not to forget me when you’re famous.”

takashima let out a quiet laugh, and for a moment, up on that secret roof, the future didn’t feel so daunting.

the rooftop door groaned as it eased open, cutting through the stillness of the night. a thin strip of hallway light spilled across the concrete, breaking the shadowy calm that had settled over the rooftop.

you and takashima both turned instinctively.

a girl froze in the doorway, her hand still gripping the handle. for a heartbeat, her expression was startled, wide eyes, lips parted, as though she’d stumbled into something private.

“oh.” her voice was soft, almost a breath.

she blinked quickly, recovering, then offered a sheepish half-smile. “didn’t think… anyone else came up here.”

takashima shifted beside you. his posture, usually drawn in on itself, tensed slightly at the sudden intrusion.

the girl hesitated. she stepped forward just enough for the door to close behind her with a muted click, sealing the three of you in with the night air. “i’m not… interrupting, am i?”

her words carried a tentative energy, like she wanted to backtrack but couldn’t stop herself from moving forward. she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes flicking between you and takashima as if gauging the weight of your silence.

takashima’s mouth opened, then closed again. for a moment, he looked like he wanted to shrink back into the shadows, the way he often did around strangers. but then his eyes flicked toward you, and the tension in his shoulders eased. when he spoke, his voice was quiet, steady, but not unkind.

“…no. you’re not.”

the girl’s smile flickered wider, more genuine, though there was still a carefulness to it. she took another step forward, arms folding loosely behind her back. “good. i’d hate to be a bother. i… actually found this place a week ago. after lights out. i thought it was just mine.”

there was a lightness in her tone, but it came paired with a faint undercurrent, like she was used to retreating into places like this, claiming corners no one else wanted, until suddenly they weren’t hers anymore.

she finally straightened, offering her name like a small gift. “i’m anrisa. anrisa dela fleures.”

takashima gave a small nod, a sound caught in his throat as though he was working up the effort to respond. “…takashima.” he gestured faintly in your direction. “and…”

his shyness pulled at the edges of the moment, but it wasn’t cold. it was almost awkwardly soft, a contrast to the commanding aura he carried on the field.

anrisa’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, her brows twitching upward in something close to recognition. not of him necessarily, but of the type of energy he radiated. then she turned back to you, her smile carrying a quiet brightness. “it’s nice to meet you. i… usually come here to reset. to let everything fall away for a bit.”

she walked a few steps closer to the edge, her shoes scuffing lightly against the rooftop. the wind tugged at her hair as she tilted her head upward, taking in the stars barely visible against the light pollution.

“it’s strange, isn’t it?” she said, her tone thoughtful now, though still carrying that subtle hum of athletic energy beneath it. “everything down there is loud, competitive, hungry. but up here… it feels like you can breathe without someone watching to see how strong you are.”

the words hung in the air for a moment.

takashima’s eyes dropped to the ground, but you caught the faint curl of his lips, a shy, almost unintentional agreement.

anrisa didn’t notice. or maybe she pretended not to. she wrapped her arms around herself, her smile still there but tinged with something quieter, something tired. “anyway. if i’m intruding, just say the word. i know how it feels to want a place that’s just yours.”

you shook your head quickly, lifting your hands. “no, no need,” you said, the words gentler than you intended. “i was… already thinking about heading back anyway.”

you pushed yourself up from the ledge, brushing the dust from your clothes. the night breeze tugged once at your sleeves before you let it go, turning toward the door. beside you, takashima rose as well, quiet as always, his shoulders hunched slightly but his steps falling in sync with yours.

anrisa watched you both, her expression caught between surprise and something unreadable. but she didn’t call after you, just tucked her arms around herself again, letting you and takashima slip past her, the door closing behind with a soft thud.

the rooftop’s silence gave way to the low hum of blue lock’s facility. the two of you moved through the dimly lit corridors, weaving past the endless grid of metal walls and glowing panels. 

takashima walked close but didn’t speak. his presence was steady, familiar in its quiet. it wasn’t awkward, though. just… comfortable. the kind of silence that didn’t need filling.

but then there were footsteps. light, unhurried, echoing faintly behind you.

you stiffened, instinctively half-turning, only for a smooth voice to cut through first.

“well, well,” it drawled. “if it isn’t blue lock’s newest little couple.”

you didn’t even have to see him to know. the arrogance in the tone, the lazy confidence dripping off every word, unmistakable. 

“eh? couple?!” another voice blurted out, louder, brasher. “don’t tell me we caught you two sneaking around for a secret date after hours!”

you turned fully now, and there they were.

aiku strolled casually down the corridor, posture loose as if he had all the time in the world. behind him, sendou jogged a few steps to keep pace, grinning ear to ear, his energy buzzing like he was thrilled just to be included.

your brows pulled together. “it’s not a date.”

aiku tilted his head, mock curiosity flickering across his features. “oh? then what do you call sneaking off to a hidden corner of the facility, just the two of you, after lights out?” his voice lowered just slightly, teasing, with that ever-present undertone of sly charm. “sounds pretty date-like to me.”

takashima shifted uncomfortably beside you, his shoulders tightening. he kept his eyes down, but you could feel the heat rising off him, the way he struggled when the spotlight landed on him outside the pitch.

sendou leaned in with a dramatic gasp, smacking his palm against aiku’s shoulder. “oi, he’s blushing! look at him! that’s 100% a date reaction, right?!”

takashima’s ears flushed red, and he ducked his head further, muttering something under his breath you barely caught.

“hey-” you started, stepping forward, irritation prickling at the corners of your voice. “i said it’s not a date. we were just… walking. that’s all.”

aiku’s smirk widened, slow and deliberate. “mhm. walking. at night. together.” he let the words hang, heavy with implication. then he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping into something conspiratorial. “you know, if you’re gonna sneak off, you might wanna be more discreet. guys like sendou here get the wrong idea.”

“wha- hey! not just me!” sendou sputtered, waving his arms. “anyone would think that, right?! don’t just throw me under the bus, aiku!”

aiku ignored him, eyes never leaving you. you always got the sense he enjoyed not just teasing, but testing, seeing how much he could push before someone broke.

takashima shifted closer to you, almost instinctively, his presence solid at your side. he still didn’t speak, but the small gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

sendou, of course, noticed immediately. his grin widened. “ohhh, look at that! he’s protecting you now! this is straight outta a drama, i swear!”

aiku chuckled, low and amused, finally leaning back to give you both space. “relax. i’m just messing around.” his gaze flicked knowingly between you and takashima, sharp despite the lazy lilt of his tone. 

and with that, he turned, hands sliding deeper into his pockets as he started down the corridor again, as if the conversation had been nothing but a passing game. sendou lingered a moment, wagging his eyebrows dramatically at you before scrambling after him, still laughing.

their voices faded into the distance, leaving the corridor quiet once more.

takashima let out a breath he’d been holding, shoulders sinking as if he’d just survived a full ninety minutes. “…they’re exhausting.”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension easing just a little. “yeah. tell me about it.”

the rest of the walk passed in silence, though it wasn’t the sharp kind that cut between people. with takashima at your side, the corridors felt a little less endless, the overhead lights less harsh. 

the dorm block eventually came into view, the split between the men’s and women’s wings. the faint sound of laughter drifted from somewhere deeper inside, probably a group still awake, sneaking in a few minutes of freedom before curfew really locked them down.

at the fork, takashima slowed. his shoulders hunched the way they always did when he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if it was worth saying. he glanced at you once, then quickly away.

“see you tomorrow.”

“yeah. see ya.”

he dipped his head, almost shyly, before turning left toward the men’s wing. you lingered for half a second longer, watching the quiet line of his back retreat into the shadows, before you finally turned right.

the women’s wing was calmer, the low hum of lights buzzing against the faint thud of footsteps from other rooms. you padded down the hallway until you reached your door, the familiar number gleaming dully on the plaque.

when you pushed it open, warm light spilled out.

yuko was already there, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her hair tied messily back, a notebook balanced against her knees. she looked up the second you entered, her eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.

“where have you been?” she asked, a lazy grin tugging at her lips.

you shut the door behind you, slipping your shoes off. “i… found something.”

her brow arched. “something?”

“mm.” you dropped onto your own bed with a sigh, letting the mattress dip beneath your weight. “there’s a stairway. leads to the roof. i went up there for a while.”

yuko’s notebook slipped slightly in her lap as her interest sparked. “the roof?!” she repeated, leaning forward. “no way! how did you even find that?!”

you shrugged, a small smile playing at your mouth. “accident, i guess. i was wandering last night and noticed a door that didn’t look like the others. tried it, and… there it was.”

yuko’s grin widened, mischief flickering in her eyes. “and you’ve been keeping this secret to yourself?”

“not entirely,” you admitted. “takashima found me up there tonight.”

that made her pause. a little too long. then she smirked, snapping her notebook closed with a playful slap. “oho. so you were up there with him.”

you groaned, already sensing where this was going. “don’t start. it wasn’t like that.”

yuko only hummed, tapping her chin dramatically. “mm-hm. sure. just two players, sitting under the stars on the rooftop of the most cutthroat training facility in the country. totally normal.”

you tossed a pillow at her, which she dodged easily, laughing.

“alright, alright,” she teased, setting the pillow back on your bed. “but seriously, the roof, huh? that… actually sounds nice!” 

“it’s quiet up there,” you murmured. “feels like you can hear yourself think for once.”

yuko tilted her head, studying you for a moment. then she leaned back against the wall, tugging her notebook open again. “you’ll have to take me sometime,” she said casually, though her tone carried a sincerity beneath the playfulness.

you smiled faintly. “maybe i will.”

the room lapsed into a comfortable silence, the only sounds the scratch of yuko’s pen and the soft hum of the lights overhead. 

you let yourself sink further into your mattress, the day’s weight pressing down on you. for a moment, all you wanted was to let your mind drift into nothingness, to let the white ceiling above blur until it meant nothing at all.

but then, something tugged at you. a faint emptiness.

you blinked, turning your head toward the other side of the room.

one bed was occupied, yuko’s, covered in the mess of her notes and half-folded blankets. the other was empty.

you frowned. “…wait. where’s amelie?”

yuko glanced up from her notebook, her eyes widening slightly, then rolling with a shrug. “huh? oh. she left like… half an hour ago? said nothing. just got up and went.”

“…and she hasn’t come back?”

“nope.” yuko popped the p at the end, leaning back against the wall. “which is weird, ‘cause curfew’s not really flexible here. but then again, she’s amelie. you know how she gets. always disappearing somewhere, like she’s allergic to sitting still.”

you turned your gaze back to the empty bed. somehow, the sight of it pulled at your chest.

you weren’t even leaving yet. you were still here, still in the thick of blue lock’s endless grind. and yet… you felt nostalgic. for what, exactly? you couldn’t pin down. maybe for the quiet nights when all three of you were crammed in here, laughing about something stupid yuko said. maybe for the early mornings when amelie’s alarm would drag you out of sleep before dawn, her voice grumbling in french as she kicked her sheets around. maybe for the fleeting moments when this place, this cage, felt almost like something to look forward too.

the thought caught you off guard.

blue lock wasn’t meant to feel like home. it was supposed to be ruthless, cold, a machine that spat out strikers and chewed up everyone else. and yet… here you were, already mourning the little pieces of it as if they were slipping through your fingers.

yuko noticed your silence. she closed her notebook with a soft snap and flopped sideways onto her bed, chin propped on her palm as she watched you. “you look like you’re writing poetry in your head,” she teased lightly. “what’s with the face?”

you let out a breath, shaking your head. “it’s nothing. just… weird. i know amelie wanders, but…” your eyes drifted back to the empty sheets. “it feels like she’s already gone.”

yuko tilted her head, the playful spark in her expression dimming just slightly. then she sat up straighter, her extroverted energy curling into something steadier, more grounded.

“she’s not gone,” she said firmly. “she’ll be back in ten minutes, probably with some story about she heard someone said something wrong and needed to correct them,” a small smile tugged at her lips, trying to lift yours with it. “don’t go turning sentimental on me now. we’ll still see each other after blue lock, you know. there are our matches!”

you chuckled weakly, though the heaviness didn’t quite leave your chest. “i know. it’s just… weird. i didn’t expect to feel like this already.”

“like what?”

“…like i’ll miss this. all of it. even the stupid stuff.”

yuko leaned back against the wall again, her laugh warm but a little sad at the edges. “that’s because you’re paying attention. most people here are too busy sharpening their claws to notice when things feel… human.”

her words settled over you, heavier than she probably intended. you looked back at amelie’s bed one last time before rolling onto your side, tucking yourself into the blankets.

the silence stretched. but it wasn’t empty. it was filled with memories that hadn’t even finished happening yet, with the strange ache of knowing that even here, in the place designed to strip you down to your rawest self, you’d already found things worth holding onto.

and the thought of losing them… scared you more than elimination ever could.

♡♡♡