#‘you are a person before you are a soccer player’

[lovegalor333]

fresh start

part two (chapters 4-6) previous part • next part

word count: 6.5k

content warnings: references to self-h*rm

Lily

Waking up with a hangover was humbling to say the least. My head pounded as I battled with myself to slowly open eyes, the sunlight streaming into my bedroom making me want to immediately close them again.

I needed coffee.

And after last night, I know my roommates did too.

I pulled on the closest clothes I could find. Some striped shorts and my favourite, over worn, UMass soccer hoodie before brushing my teeth hoping the taste of vokda would leave my mouth.

Walking to the coffee shop gave me the fresh air I desperately needed. There are few things that make me feel slightly humane again after a night of drinking: coffee, of course, a burning hot shower and fresh air. Coffee was next on the list and then I was going back to my apartment to shower away the remnants of my first night out here at UConn.

I cast my mind back to our evening at Huskies and the harmless flirting between me and Paige. She had a way with words that made my stomach flip and I wasn't mad about it. Kelsey said there were no rules about having fun when it came to our Single Sisters pact and that's exactly what I was doing, having fun. It felt refreshing to finally be feeling like myself again, sometimes it's hard to remember what I was like before everything happened. Before I loved and lost. But it's coming back to me naturally and the Lily I was two years ago would of had a field day flirting with Paige and that is what I intend to do.

I ordered Kelsey and I the same coffees we got yesterday and opted for simple americanos for Hannah and Madison, not knowing their personal orders just yet. The smell inside of the coffee shop alone was enough to bring me back to life an extra 10% so I couldn't wait to devour my drink. Once I had paid for and received my order, I took a big gulp, thanking myself for the early morning coffee run whilst my roommates slept in.

"Great minds think alike." I turned around at the sound of a familiar voice. A very tired looking Azzi, Ice and to my pleasure Paige walked into the cafè.

"Hey guys." I say, instinctively fixing my hair which, without looking at it, I knew was a mess. "Hungover?" I ask looking at the basketball players all dressed in some variation of Huskies gear. "Deathly." Ice replied strolling to the counter to get her caffeine fix. "Signs of a great night! Did you have fun?" Azzi asks me. "Yeah, for sure! Thanks for letting us hang." I smile at Azzi and she returns the pleasantry showing off her perfect teeth, "No worries, it was fun having y'all with us. We'll have to do it again sometime, build your Huskies tolerance." She laughs following behind Ice and getting in line to order.

Paige and I come face to face for the first time since last night and I can confidently say, it wasn't the alcohol or moody low lighting of the bar that made her look so good because she looks equally as good right now.

100% sober and in broad daylight.

"What is that?" She says scrunching her brows together pointing in my direction. I glance at the four coffees pushed into the holder in my left hand, "Coffee run. I was the first one awake, thought I'd get my good deed in early." I explain. "No, that." She says reaching out and tugging at the shoulder of my UMass soccer hoodie. "A hoodie?" I say confused. "Yeah, a hoodie from the wrong college darling. You need a Huskies one." She says matter of factly and I laugh. "The Huskies need to prove themselves to me first." I say cheekily. "Easily done." She quips back glowing with confidence...or cockiness, I couldn't decide but either way it was attractive.

"Here." Azzi hands Paige a to-go cup similar to the ones in my hand and Paige thanks her. "Walk back with us?" Azzi asks me and I nod, "Sure." Ice and Azzi lead while Paige and I follow them out of the cafè.

"Fan of nuts?" I direct at Paige as I glance down at her drink, 'Hazelnut' written on the lid. "Only the food kind." She smirks clearly remembering Kelseys joke from last night like I had hoped.

Being a girl who likes girls, it can be hard to navigate friendships and relationships. Not knowing if someone likes you or likes you can be confusing. Clarification from Paige, that she is in fact, for the girls put my questioning mind at ease.

"Ok, this is me." I say to the group as we reach my apartment building. The girls come to stop and we awkwardly hug each other over the numerous cups of coffee on our hands. "Happy hanging." Ice says as I wave the girls goodbye and walk into the building to supply my friends with the coffee I know they so desperately need.

"You're a literal angel!" Madison beams taking a sip of her coffee throwing her head back, eyes closed in exaggerated happiness. "A lifesaver!" Hannah agrees hugging the coffee to her chest. "My hero." Kelsey chimes in hugging me from behind, her head resting on my shoulder. I laugh at the girls around me and we all sit together on the couch ready to debrief our night. Real girlhood.

"I'm never doing that many shots again." Madison groans rubbing her temple. "Girl, you literally challenged a guy to see who could have the most and you did not back down." Kelsey laughed. "And I won." Madison says bowing to an imaginary crowd. "My best friends no quitter." Hannah hyped up her friend.

"Right, lets get juicy! Did anyone see someone they liked? Kels, don't think we didn't see you lip locking in the corner." Madison teases. "Actually, I didn't!" I say suddenly sitting up straight. "No, because you were with Paige most of the night. Don't think we didn't see that either." All three girls stared at me, brows raised, small smiles on their faces.

"No no, Kelsey first." I say diverting the attention back to Kelseys situation. "Listen, I saw a hot guy and took my chance, you can't blame a girl." She says shrugging her shoulders. "He's never hearing from me though, gave him a fake number." She grins happy with herself.

Three sets of eyes landed on me so I had no choice but to spill the beans.

"There was no lip locking, lets get that clear." I started with. "Just some harmless flirting, nothing serious." I tell the girls. "But Paige Bueckers, you know her lore right?" Hannah asks eyebrows raised. "Not exactly." I admit.

"She's the best college womens basketball player right now. She has thousands of boys and girls pining over her. She's wanted Lils and from what I could see she couldn't take her eyes off you the entire night." I roll my eyes, "Please, she was just messing. Clearly thats her personality." I defend the blonde. "Clearly not. I've been around Paige in bars enough times to know she doesn't pay anyone attention. She stays with her friends almost always." Madison chimed in. "And that's exactly what we are: friends!" I say exaggerating the last word to get my point across.

"Uh huh. I give it a few weeks max and there will be lip locking!" Kelsey nudges her elbow into my side. "Actually I'm taking my single junior year pledge very seriously, I will not be strayed." I stand my ground. "Who said anything about not being single. Word on the street is Paige doesn't do commitment but she does do - if you know what I mean." Madison says cheekily. "Oh my god! Enough." I stand up from the couch, covering my ears, slightly flustered at the thought.

Flirting is one thing anything further feels too soon. I'm notorious for catching feelings and I'm not about to get my heartbroken again.

The rest of the day was spent lazing around the apartment, going from each other rooms talking about anything and everything. At one point I was alone in my room aimlessly scrolling on my phone. I opened up Instagram and searched Paiges name without even thinking about it.

One million followers. Wow. Ok, maybe I didn't know much about Paige at all. I scrolled through her posts seeing endless streams of comments of adoration. People loved Paige. I went as far back as her ACL injury and my stomach sank a little for the girl. That must have been a hard thing to go through. I swipe off before I accidentally like something from two years ago, not that she'd notice. I choose not to follow her for the same reason but do find Kayla in her following list and follow her. Almost instantly she follows back.

"I'm about to cook some pasta, want some?" Kelsey asks, peeking her head round my bedroom door. Now that she's mentioned it, I am kind of hungry. "Sure, I'll come help." I say and stand up from my bed leaving my phone behind.

Kelsey puts some pasta noodles to boil on the stove while I cut some chicken to cook along side it. The small kitchen quickly becomes warm, too warm for me to be wearing a sweater. I do have a t-shirt on underneath, that's not the problem.

My scars are.

Kelsey has been nothing but understanding and loving in the few days I've got to know her but this is a big step for me. People don't always know how to react and I'd hate to make her uncomfortable.

"I'm sweating." Kelsey says as if reading my mind, pulling her own sweater over her head and throwing over onto the couch.

Fresh start, Lily. I remind myself.

Three, two, one. I count down in my head before mirroring my roommates actions, my own hoodie landing beside hers on the couch.

I feel vulnerable and slightly exposed but theres no way I would be able to hide this forever. I live with these girls and sooner or later, they were bound to see this part of me.

If Kelsey notices the deep scars along side the inside of my arm, she doesn't mention anything. We continue to cook our dinner and eat together at the table before washing our dishes.

"Look at us being housewives." She jokes as we finish tidying the kitchen. "Aren't we just perfect." I say back before flopping down on the couch still feeling the effects of last night. "The most perfect perfectly perfect pair." Kelsey says flopping down next to me linking her arm through mine.

She doesn't look at me when she says this and I understand why, "I'm here for you Lily. I don't know what exactly you've been through and I'll never push you to speak about it but I'm here when and if you're ever ready to talk." She says and squeezes my arm thats interlocked with hers before resting her head on my shoulder. "Thank you, Kels." I reply tears brimming my eyes. The reassurance and empathy from my roommate makes my heart swell, I'm so grateful for Kelsey.

I grab the TV remote and turn on Netflix and we settle down for an impromptu movie marathon. It was Friday and classes didn't start until Monday so the fact we we're still awake at 3AM watching our third movie of the night didn't matter.

I drag my defeated body to bed around 4AM desperate for sleep. I check my phone after leaving it for hours.

ice.bradyy followed you.

nika.muhl followed you.

azzi35 followed you.

janaelalfy8 followed you.

aaliyahedwards_24 followed you.

aubrey.griffin44 followed you.

kamoreaarnold followed you.

and last but not least,

paigebueckers followed you.

I cringe to myself at the thought of Paige scrolling through my feed the way I did hers. I quickly scan through my posts to see what Paige would have seen if she had and silently thank myself for the recent - and not to blow my own trumpet - hot selfie. Paige was quickly infiltrating my mind and I could only hope I was infiltrating hers.

I followed all of the girls back before falling into bed.

Paige

KK, Nika, Azzi, Kayla and I were spread out on the couches of our dorm all individually engrossed in our phones. We had been like this for most of the day, taking advantage of a rare down day before the basketball season and classes began again.

I didn't drink too much last night so I wasn't feeling the effects of the alcohol like some of the other girls were. Ice hadn't left her bedroom since we got back from getting coffee.

"Oh, Lily just followed me on Instagram." Kayla speaks up from her seat across from me. My attention was caught at the mention of the brunette that was living rent free in my mind at the moment.

"Whats her handle?" Nika asks, "I have some pictures from last night to send her." "Me too." Azzi adds.

"Lily.Kent." Kayla says turning her phone around to the group displaying Lilys feed.

I couldn't see too clearly from my position so I pulled up her page on my phone.

Damn.

"She's hot!" KK exclaims as if she had taken the words straight from my brain. I shoot her a glare, "She wants to stay single this year." I say to the girl. "And you know this, how?" Azzi asks quizzically. "She told me yesterday." I shrug.

"Wow, you already slid in? That's a new Paige record." Nika proclaimed. "And she rejected you?!" KK asks shocked but also slightly amused.

"She did not reject me." I make clear, "and I didn't slide in to anything. We were just talking and she mentioned wanting to stay single this year."

"And let me guess," Azzi starts, "you're taking that as a challenge."

"Damn right." I declared as I pushed the follow button on Lilys profile.

I'll be damned if I let anyone else be the reason she takes that bracelet off.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

Monday morning came around quicker than I expected and as I was sat with my roommates drinking our morning coffees before our classes started.

My phones ringtone rang out across the living room and I picked it up from its place face down on the couch.

Kayla was facetiming me.

It was 9AM on Monday morning so either Kayla was a morning person or she had something important to say.

"Hey K!" I smiled down at my phone and a very happy looking Kayla smiled back at me. "Morning Lily! Check your emails!" She blurted unable to stop grinning.

My emails? I've never given Kayla my email address.

"Ok, one second." I swiped off of FaceTime, Kayla now in a small box on the side of my screen. I opened up my mail app and refreshed.

The email at the top of my inbox was from Janet Knight. Oh my god! The job!

I quickly clicked on the email, "Oh my god!" I screech, "I got the job!" I say not only to Kayla but my roommates too who were all looking slightly concerned at my sudden high energy this early in the morning.

"Yeah you did!" Kayla triumphed with me as my roommates wrapped me in a hug.

"Congrats Lils." Hannah beams pressing a kiss on my cheek. "She's an employee!" Kelsey jokes.

"How did you know?" I turn my attention back to Kayla. She smirks, panning the camera around to reveal that she's seated in Janets office, "Thought I'd pop by and see Janet before class." She says winking at me.

"Welcome to the team, Kent." Janet says down the phone from her seat behind the desk. "Thank you so much Janet! You have no idea how much this means to me." I thank the woman, "I can't wait to start."

"That's music to my ears because - I'll send you your rota - but your first shift is Wednesday." She tells me.

"Ok, so we need to celebrate, right?" Kayla says turning the camera back to herself once Janet had stopped talking. "Oh please, not Huskies again so soon." Madison groans pushing herself in view of the camera, "I'm still recovering."

Kayla laughs, "I was thinking dinner at the Mexican restaurant downtown?" She asks us. "Immediately yes!" Kelsey calls from her place on the couch across from me. Madison, Hannah and I all agree.

"Amazing, it's a date! Now get to class y'all, you can't be late on your first day of junior year." She fake scolds before ending the call.

Kelsey, Madison, Hannah and I all leave the apartment together before eventually going our separate ways to our respective classes.

My day was filled with meeting my professors and classmates so time flew by and before I knew it the school day was over. Kayla had text me earlier, asking me to meet her at the athletics building once I had finished for the day so I was heading there now.

As I entered the building, the sound of balls bouncing let me know there was some sort of practice going on. I followed the sound to a set of double doors with the Huskies logo on the front. I peeked through the glass on the door, I saw KK and Azzi immediately, playing 1v1. I allowed my gaze to travel across the court, spotting the other girls and some I hadn't met yet too. I was slightly disheartened that a certain blonde wasn't on the court and was about to leave when my view was blocked by a body standing in front of the glass in the door, on the other side. The door was yanked open and I can only imagine I looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Lily? What are you doing here?" Paige was the body blocking my view of the court, now my view was her.

She stood in front of me, lightly sweating and panting ever so slightly. She wore navy, UConn shorts and a short sleeve compression shirt, the sleeves scrunched and tucked into her sports bra straps, showing off her toned arms.

"Um-"

Why could I never think straight around this girl?

A small smirk spread on her face as she watched me struggle to find words. "I'm meeting Kayla." I smile, proud of myself for stringing together a coherent sentence while in Paiges presence. "Lucky for you, I'm heading upstairs - I can show you the way." She says stepping past me and leading the way to the offices.

I'm sure I could have found Kaylas office by myself but Paige didn't need to know that.

"Did you start classes today?" She asks as we walk up the stairs, her slightly ahead of me. "Yeah, been in them all day." I reply. "How did you find them?"

"Good, I guess." "You guess? Better than your last college though, you must have transferred for a reason." She says turning to look at me as we walk down the familiar corridor towards the offices.

"I didn't transfer because UMass was a bad college, besides it was more of an induction day today, no actual work got done but it was good!" I try and sound more positive. "Ignore my lack of energy, I forgot what it was like to be in a routine." I explain myself. "Why did you transfer then?" She asks looking at me slightly confused, head tilted. "It's a secret." I say smirking, making the situation more lighthearted than it actually was.

My reason for transferring wasn't a secret, I liked Paige and didn't want to scare her away.

Before Paige could press me for an answer, Kayla stepped into the hallway, seeing us approaching her office, "Hi guys!" she smiles wide.

"Hi Kayla!" "Hi K!" Paige and I respond and follow her into her office.

"Now, I know why Lilys here but whats up Paige?" Kayla questions Paige.

We both look at her waiting for an answer, "I- um -I.." She stutters and Kayla and I giggle.

Did Paige really not have a reason to be here? Did she lie about going the same way as me?

"Relax P, sit down." Kayla instructs and Paige shuffles her way to the couch in the office and perches on the edge, elbows rested on her knees and her face rested in her hands.

Kayla had asked me to come to the office to fill out some paperwork before I had my first shift and to also get my staff ID badge printed.

"If you just position yourself in front of the camera and I'll count down before I take the photo." Kayla says as I sit in front of the tripod. I fuss with my hair for a second and straighten my posture before pulling my cheesiest grin. "3..2..1." Kayla counts down before the shutter clicks telling me the photo had been taken.

Kayla leaves the room to go and collect the printed ID card and before I've move from my seat in front of the tripod, Paige crosses the room and stands looking at the screen on the camera that was displaying my photo, she smiles. "Is it bad?" I ask, "Am I blinking or something?" "Come look." She says beckoning me over.

I take the few steps that's needed for me to reach Paige and the camera and I squish myself into her in an attempt to get a look and the picture of me on the small screen.

Our bodies touching made my stomach do that thing it loves to do around Paige and I shiver slightly.

"Cold?" Paige asks hooking an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to her. Jesus. It wasn't just my stomach feeling things now. I shake my head, "No, jumpscare after looking at that." I joke about my picture, it wasn't bad in all honesty, I just looked like it was my first day of high school with that big smile on my face.

"Don't play, Lily." She says looking down at me, eyes as blue as ever. "You're insanely beautiful." She removes her arm from my shoulder and brings her hand to my face, tucking my hair behind my ear, grazing my cheek as she does. "Don't forget it."

I swallowed hard not knowing how to react to Paiges compliment or her touch, I just stared up at her my eyes flicking down to her lips before we were interrupted.

"Here, all done!" Kayla enters the room again, my newly printed badge and lanyard in her out stretched hand. Her eyes flip between me and Paige and our proximity and the obvious tension in the air. I cough, clearing my throat and step away from Paige taking my lanyard from Kayla and hooking it around my neck. "Thank you, Kayla."

"No worries girl. You ready to EAT?" She asks emphasising the last the word as she packed a few things away in her bag, getting ready to leave.

"Yes! I'm starved." I say suddenly extremely hungry after a long first day.

"Hey! What's this, going to eat without me?" Paige asks giving us her best pout.

I look to Kayla, she was the one who made these plans so I don't know who she invited although I hoped Paige was on the list, she clearly wasn't.

"Actually, I mentioned it to Ice, she said y'all are training late tonight." Kayla turns to Paige as we followed her out of her office. "That is true." Paige says, "Geno wants us in the gym, not that I need it." She flexes her muscles and I feel a blush creep onto my face. "Put those away." Kayla huffs and rolls her eyes at Paige playfully.

We say goodbye to Paige at the entrance of the basketball court and she disappears behind same the doors she appeared from earlier.

"The tension when you guys are in a room together is insane! Please tell me you're aware." Kayla says to me, grabbing onto my arm. I laugh, "Of course I'm aware, it's driving me crazy." I tell her. "So do something! Make a move." She encourages and I shake my head, "No. I made a pact to be single this year and I don't know Paige well enough yet." I say and both are true.

I mean, I care less about the pact - sorry Kelsey - but I feel like I need to know Paige more before our harmless flirting turns into anything else.

"But I know Paige, she a nice girl Lils, like really nice." Kayla defends her friend. "You would say that, you're her friend. How do I know she isn't entertaining a load of girls. I'm not looking to get my heartbroken." I say honestly to Kayla. "For what it's worth, she isn't entertaining anyone at the moment." Kayla continues, "Just say you'll be open minded." "I'm opened minded." I agree and I am, I'm just also healing and would like to minimise the need to heal again.

Paige

Practice ended around 9PM and I was beat. Ready to shower and go to sleep as soon as I was home. Azzi and I drove back to our dorm together, it was a short ride but it felt safer driving, especially at night.

"You're being weird." Azzi stated turning her body in the passenger seat to look at me fully. "Huh?" I asked even though I heard her perfectly. "You're so distracted, what's going on?" My best friend pushed, she knew me better than anyone else, sometimes I think she knows me better than I know myself.

I shifted in my seat unsure how to answer because "I've got a brain numbing crush on a girl I met four days ago and I can't do anything without the thought of her entering my mind and taking over" sounded way too insane. I liked to keep it nonchalant but I was feeling pretty chalant when it came to Lily.

"Hello," Azzi waved her hand at me, "Paige you're kinda worrying me now." She said suddenly serious. "What? No, don't worry! There's no need to worry Az. I'm just- I'm..I'm down bad." I admit, pulling the car into park as we reached our dorm.

Azzi wasted no time before bursting out laughing, I shot her a stern glare, "What is funny?" I scowl. "You!" She continues to laugh, "You're never usually like this, what's gotten into you?" She asks. "I don't know, I think I'm maturing." I half joke puffing out my chest.

Azzi was right, I was never usually like this. No girl had ever had me flustered before the way Lily does. It's like every time I'm a room with her I want to be next to her, speaking to her, touching her. Not in a sexual way just in a 'I want you close at all times' way.

"Yeah right." Azzi rolls her eyes at the thought of me ever maturing. "Maybe you need someone to tone down your cockiness." She jokes. "I'm not cocky, I'm confident." I defend myself. "And I'm confident that's your girl." Azzi says pointing through the windshield, I follow her gaze and sure enough Kayla, Lily, Hannah and Madison are walking towards the apartment building, they must have just finished up with their dinner. "Stay here and thank me later!" Azzi says swiftly jumping out of my car and jogging over to the group.

I watch as a few words are exchanged and Azzi gestures over in my direction. Kayla, Azzi, Madison and Hannah then walk into the apartment block, leaving Lily alone but its only a few seconds before she makes her way over to my car.

"Hey Lily." I say through my open window, "Hi Paige, what's up?" I was unsure what Azzi said to get Lily to come over to me so I had to think fast with what to say. "How was your dinner?" I ask. "Oh, it was great! I love Mexican food." She says with a smile. "How was practice?" She asks me in return. "It was good today, hit some personal records." I flex my biceps, "Can you tell?" I smirk at her. "Hmm I don't know." She squints her eyes dramatically. "Maybe you'd have a better view if you got in the car and it wouldn't look like I was trying to kidnap you to anyone walking past." I say matter of factly and watch as Lily walks round the front of my car, to the passenger side and lets herself in.

"So, I know the dessert at the Mexican place downtown sucks, let me make it up to you." I say to Lily as she makes herself comfortable in my passenger seat.

That was a view I could get used to.

"What exactly are you insinuating Paige Bueckers?" She asks, brows raised and a small smirk on her face. God damn. Normal Paige would have wasted no time taking Lily straight to her bedroom but right now, I just wanted to spend time with Lily, be in her presence. Everything else would happen in time.

"Fro-Yo, of course." I grin and start the car, pulling away from the dorm parking lot.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

Unlike me, Paige knew Storrs really well so it didn't take long for us to arrive at the Fro-Yo place she had in mind.

"I'm about to get the biggest tub of Fro-Yo ever bought!" Paige says as she brings the car to a halt, cutting the ignition and removing the key. "Not as big as mine!" I challenge her and we both exit the car, meeting side by side in front of it before walking up to the shop.

I hold sweet treats very close to my heart and frozen yogurt happens to be in my top three sweet treat options.

There were no other customers in the small dessert shop so we headed straight for the counter. I glanced over the numerous flavours and topping varieties as if I didn't already have a go to order. Obviously, this wasn't my usual place but they still had all my favourites.

"What can I get you ladies?" The man stood behind the counter, dressed in a pinstripe apron asked us.

Paige ordered hers first, "Can I get chocolate with strawberries, brownie bites, cookies and cream, fruity pebbles and chocolate sauce please?" She realed of her order. The man nodded reaching for a tub, "Any allergies before I start?" "Not for me but she's allergic to nuts. All kinds." Paige replies before I even have a chance to. "Noted." He says and starts to fill the tub.

Paige turns to me and smiles and I smile back, big and wide, "Thank you." I mummble. It made me feel warm inside that Paige cared enough to remember my allergy. It seems really insignificant but sometimes its the small things that have a big impact. "I got you." She says turning to face me and leaning back on the counter.

"How's that club of yours going?" She asks me raising her eyebrows glancing at my wrist, my shirt sleeve covered my bracelet but I knew what she was talking about. "It's going strong." I say pulling my sleeve up slightly, exposing the bracelet. "I don't know, it looks like it's getting a little loose to me." She says reaching out and tugging on it like she did the night in the bar. "If you keep yanking it, it'll be more than loose, it'll break." I say pulling my arm away from her. "That's the plan." She says quietly as she turns around to collect her order but I hear her loud and clear.

"And for you? No nuts obviously!" The man says looking at me. "Can I please get strawberry with raspberries, strawberries, mango, chocolate chips, cookie dough and chocolate sauce?" I tell him my order and he swiftly begins to fill my tub.

I look at Paige who's already started eating her Fro-Yo. Her hair is pulled into a slick ponytail and she's changed out of her workout gear from earlier and is now wearing sweatpants and UConn hoodie, she looks so effortlessly good, I can't imagine the girl ever looking bad.

"There you go." My order was complete and I took it from the server, "Thank you." I say to him. "That'll be $12." He says. I reach into my pocket to grab my phone to pay with ApplePay but by the time I look up, Paige's phone is already tapping the card machine. "My treat." She winks at me and we leave the shop.

"You didn't have to do that, thank you." I say to Paige as we climb back into her car, desserts in hand. "I dragged you here, it's only right." She says before digging back into her frozen yogurt. "I came willingly, actually." I say back to her, I liked being around Paige and I wanted her to know that. "Good to know."

We ate our frozen yogurt still sat outside the store. Paige asked me about my new job and I told her that my first shift was on Wednesday and how excited but also nervous I was.

"This Wednesday?" She asked and I nodded, "Yep." "That's our open training day. Media usually come in, see how we're doing and do interviews." She tells me.

Janet hadn't actually said what my first day would entail but I assume I'll be part of the open training Paige was talking about.

"I guess I'll be there then so no pressure." I say smirking. "I don't know pressure, never met her." Paige says confidently and I believe her, she doesn't strike me as someone who doesn't believe in herself. "I don't know much about basketball so it'll be day of learning for me." "Wait really? You don't watch basketball?" She looks genuinely confused, she stops eating and looks at me dead in the eyes. "Nope, I'm a soccer girl." I tell her. "Oh, we have got to change that." She stated shaking her head.

We finish off our Fro-Yo and Paige yawns, she must be exhausted after a day of training, I know I would be. "Tired?" I ask her pulling on my seatbelt preparing to drive again. She nods, "The first week back is always the hardest. Just getting back into the swing of things after downtime kinda shocks the body." She says beginning to drive. "Sorry for keeping you up." I say glancing at the time, it was almost 11PM. "Lily, you're not keeping me up, don't apologise. I want to be here..with you." She says and my stomach flips at the last two words.

I swallow my pride, "Paige, was this a date?" I ask, anxiety kicking in immediately at the thought of having misread this whole situation. She glances at me quickly before putting her eyes back on the road in front of us, "Would you want it to be a date?"

Yes.

"I-"

"I know you want to stay single and you're part of that club and have that bracelet on that I want to rip off so damn bad but I want to get to know you Lily, like really know you." Paige admits and for a moment I just stare at her in shock but also affection. It's dark now and its just the streetlights illuminating the car we're in, lighting up Paiges features in the most flattering way.

"Yes." I finally say.

"Yes?"

"Yes - I would want this to be a date." I breathed.

I watch a small smile appear on Paiges face and spread, "Really?" "Really, Paige. I want to get to know you too and I'm tired of making excuses when you catch me staring." I laugh and she laughs with me.

It takes no time at all for us to reach my apartment building, Paige pulls up outside and turns her car off.

"What about your club?" She questions turning to face me fully so her back is rested against the door. "What Kelsey doesn't know won't hurt her." I say mirroring Paiges position, my back also resting against the door. "Let's just get to know each other without anyone elses opinions for a bit?" I offer. "Sounds good to me." Paige says reaching for my hand across the console. She breaks the touch barrier and I could've sworn I felt sparks. Her fingers intertwine with mine and she fiddles with the ring on my index finger.

"So is the reason you transferred really a secret or can you tell me?" She asks looking up at me from our connected hands, her eyes looking straight into mine.

"Secret is probably the wrong word but it's... a long and complicated story." I say truthfully. "I've got time." She says back to me and I can tell by the look on her face she wants to know and I want to tell her, just not now. "You're tired." I say placing my free hand over ours still locked together. "Another time, I promise." "OK." She agrees, "I'll walk you to your apartment."

We exit the car and my hand immediately feels lonely without Paiges in it.

Paige leans up against the front of her car and pulls me to stand in front of her, "I had fun tonight." She tells me, one hand in mine, the other on my waist. "Me too." I blush at her hand placement as my waist burns at her touch. She leans down and plants a kiss on my cheek, "We'll have to do it again sometime." She says in jest. "I'll have to check my calendar." I quip back. "You'll be free for me." She smiles and we walk into my apartment building.

Paige walks me to my front door, "For what it's worth, whatever your reason for transferring, I'm glad you did." She says. "I'm glad I did too." I add pulling my key from my bag. "Goodnight, Lily." She says pulling me into a hug before I open the door.

"Paige." I call her back as she begins to walk away and she turns back to me I take a few steps towards her and have to stand on my tiptoes to reach her cheek before pressing my lips to it, "Goodnight." I say and walk into my apartment with the biggest grin on my face.

No-ones in the living room and I'm thankful I don't have to explain where I've been or what I've done.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

[blue-lock-rocky]

head empty only snuffy

[ssahotchnerr]

omg could you maybe write something about reader going to one of jacks soccer games and all of the moms are jealous of her bc she’s with hotch

not so friendly competition

omg i absolutely can cw; fem!reader, jealous suburban moms, one tries to make a pass at aaron, established relationship, small angst?, pettiness, aaron being adorable <3 wc; 1.3k

from the moment you arrived - a hand clasped in aaron's, jack excitedly sprinting ahead the two of you - you could feel the target on your back.

the warm, refreshing morning suddenly felt quite stuffy. as if strangely enough, there wasn't enough air to go around. the feeling especially solidified when aaron gave you a sweet, parting kiss - him off to uphold his coaching duties, you off to find a spot on the grass to set up your chair.

you half expected it, the feeling out of place and self consciousness; this was jack's second season playing soccer, aaron's second season coaching, and most of the players had returned from last year. long story short, and entering a relationship with aaron only a few weeks after jack's season had concluded, you were the new face.

not only that, you were missing a common trait amongst the others. you weren't, by definition, jack's mom.

it was a silly, technical notion, and it was quite possible you weren't the only outlier, but you simply wanted to belong there just as much as the others. to feel as if you belonged.

and that's definitely not how you currently felt.

despite your perception - hoping you had falsely and quickly misjudged the atmosphere - you offered the moms a smile and a hello as you got settled. you got maybe one, two responses in return, before they resumed their ongoing conversation without you. any hopefulness that remained, deflated as you sat there silently.

and while you weren't exactly listening to them, you could still make out bits and pieces of their conversation. however, your ears fully perked up at the mention of aaron. which also brought you into the discussion.

"you're with the coach?"

her question wasn't based on genuine interest, a getting-to-know-type basis, a friendly conversation starter. but, it was rather accusatory, as if you'd done something detrimentally wrong.

you nodded, your eyebrows furrowing briefly in confusion. "yes?"

"like... with him?"

oh.

the standoffish environment wasn't due to you being unwelcome, or, at least not in the way you had previously anticipated. it was jealousy, plain jealousy. they must've spent all of last season ogling aaron, and here you were, getting in the way.

again, you nodded in confirmation. a few grimaces were produced amongst several faces, igniting something deep within you, suddenly feeling very protective of aaron and your relationship.

you casually shot back, relentlessly, "why, is that a problem?"

the mom shrugged, pulling her eyes from yours annoyingly, as if you'd done her an injustice.

she didn't stop there though, uttering something under her breath. while you didn't hear what it was exactly - the low tone definitely indicated she had just insulted you in one way or another.

and choosing to remain on the civil side, you held your tongue.

the whispers continued sparingly; as much as it stung, and as much as the red-hot feeling that had settled in your body was uncomfortable, why should you let it affect you? they weren't a threat, they were suburban moms - probably peaked in high school, probably relied off their husband's salary, probably thought they were better than each and every person they came across.

you could be annoyed, but you weren't worried. the bigger picture, you had what they wanted; you had aaron. you've already won, despite any fights they attempted to pick.

"i need to stretch my legs." the same woman abruptly said, loudly to gain your interest.

she promptly rose, walking towards the team's bench. or more specifically, right up to aaron.

she was quick to strike up a conversation with him - overdramatizing her already-shrill laugh, displaying open body language, the sweetest smile she could muster up.

what did you in, a 'friendly' touch to his arm before she retreated, whenever she finished saying whatever the hell was so important she had felt the need to interrupt his coaching for.

and throughout such, aaron appeared as his typical friendly self as he engaged with her, as expected. although a look of confusion did flash across his face when she graced his arm.

your jaw clenched in anger, but you kept reminding yourself: her actions were just to spite you, just to piss you off, and you refused to give her the reaction she seemingly so desperately craved.

so when she returned, with an awfully smug look plastered on her face and dropping into her chair with a sense of pure satisfaction, you kept your focus forward. you came to watch jack's game, and that's exactly what you were going to do.

but during the mid-game break, once aaron had finished talking with the kids and they sprinted back onto the field to practice some goals, did you approach him.

"hi sweetheart," aaron mumbled into your skin as he kissed your temple, one of his hands comfortably finding your back. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, offering him a timid smile.

"what's wrong?"

"nothing." you lied, tucking yourself into his chest. you took a deep breath and sighed, smelling the traces of light sweat and grass clinging to him.

"you don't think i buy that, do you?" he asked, a gentle, almost comical tone to his words - all to lighten up your present tension. "what is it?"

you shook your head, "i don't want to talk about it..." your eyes shot over to your new best friends, whose eyes were glued to the two of you. "here."

aaron glanced over at them, profiling immediately. "are they giving you a hard time?"

after a moment's hesitation, an annoyed huff escaped you. "let's just say they're not too happy that the coach is taken."

"what?" aaron laughed breathlessly, his face scrunching the smallest amount in confusion. "half of them are married."

"clearly that doesn't matter, they're still over there undressing you with their eyes." you arched an eyebrow, the scowl on your face only deepening.

"c'mon, you're too pretty to make that face." aaron lightly teased, kissing your pout gently. at the touch, your face did relax, the ends of your lips itching to turn upwards into a smile.

"oh they're gonna hate that you did that."

aaron shrugged, kissing you again. "let them."

you surrendered yourself to your smile, but you still frustratedly crossed your arms in front of your chest. "it's ridiculous."

aaron was quick to untangle your hands, holding onto them and applying a gentle squeeze. "you know you don't have competition. you have me."

"i know. that's why i feel so stupid i'm letting it bother me." you gritted through your teeth. "what did that one woman even say to you?"

"truthfully, i couldn't tell you. i wasn't paying attention." he answered honestly, his eyebrows drawing into a line as he even attempted to mentally recall it.

you couldn't help but laugh, pressing yourself more into him. "you're insufferable."

"i try." aaron joked, but his expression switched tactics, to genuine concern as he moved in front of you, "in all seriousness, are you going to be okay?"

"yeah." you brought your hands to his chest, running your thumbs against his pecs affectionately. you already were. "i have you, don't i?"

"and you could always stay here with me." aaron playfully, but earnestly offered. "and be my beautiful, thoughtful, astounding, beautiful assistant coach."

"you drive a hard bargain," your eyebrows rose, feeling his chuckle underneath your fingers. "but it's okay. i'm not gonna let them think they're running the show, or that they can step on me like that." you shook your head. "and as needed, i might have to flaunt you around."

aaron grinned, proudly. "that's my girl."

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night !!

ᝰ.ᐟ there’s nothing nagi values more than getting his rest, but thoughts of you have been keeping him wide awake at night. someone has to help him get rid of all this annoying restless energy — and it has to be you, the whole entire reason why his sleeping schedule is fucked. ( fem!reader )

pairing seishiro nagi x reader word count 2.4k content contains jealousy (nagi is being a baby abt how chigiri has your attention)/jealous sex, soft yandere!nagi, possessive sex, biting/marking kinktober masterlist

Evil. 

That’s what you are. Nagi is convinced that you are the fucking devil, someone sent from the abyss to ruin his life and destroy his ego. 

Maybe that’s a harsh judgment to make — he doesn’t mean it; not really, anyway. But there is something about you that chips away at his nonchalance. Seishiro Nagi doesn’t care about a lot of things. He can’t be bothered to. He thought that after soccer found its way into whatever void is inside of him, he’d be fulfilled. That that was it — he found his purpose, he found his driving force, and now he can enter society as a functioning human being with actual hopes and dreams. 

He never realized that he had the capacity to care about anything else, and then you arrive on the field one day, camera in one hand, a bright smile plastered on your face as you’re being introduced as the new social media manager for Manshine City. 

And suddenly, Nagi realizes that not only does he have the capacity, he’s actually emptier than he thought. 

You had been receptive to his awkward, fumbling advances. For as attractive and cool he appears on the outside, Nagi’s never bothered to actually approach any girls before. Never really felt the need to. You had taken all his accidental rude comments in stride, and you harbored the same interests as him, and he finally has you now. 

He has you, and no one else can call you theirs, and yet here he is, on a Friday night, sulking in bed instead of getting his precious rest time. 

He’s frowning, looking up at his ceiling as he thinks about what had happened earlier today. 

There’s really no need for a dress code. The coaches are all decked out in athleisure, the athletes themselves are wearing practice jerseys, and since you’re expected to be constantly on the move and chasing after these athletes, trying to get good footage and spend the whole day with ‘em, Nagi can’t necessarily fault you for wanting to be comfortable. You’re wearing a cropped version of the Define Jacket with leggings that hug you in just the right way, and Nagi swears that he isn’t a jealous person.

He thinks being envious is a crude waste of his energy, energy that he can’t bother to exert, and he’s never really experienced jealousy before. 

Maybe that’s why he’s awake at midnight despite the fact that he has an early morning practice scheduled. A practice that you’ll be attending, once again. He frowns as he tosses and turns in his bed, trying to shut his eyes, but every time they’re closed, he keeps seeing you. 

More accurately, you and Chigiri. 

Just the thought of his teammate is enough to make a scowl appear on his face. 

You’re filming content for a TikTok, and Nagi can’t help but childishly pout when he asks himself why does the TikTok need to star Chigiri and Chigiri alone? It’s not like he’s the only member on the team, you know! You spent the whole day laughing at whatever Chigiri had to say, and Nagi knows that it sounds terrible, but he doubts his teammate is that hilarious. And the way you kept following him around, barely paying any attention to the other players, including your own boyfriend, wasn’t even Nagi’s breaking point. No — what his breaking point happened to be was the way your figure-flattering outfit was just too tantalizing. 

You’re so focused on Chigiri, with your back turned to everyone else, that Nagi gets quite a view every time you’re bending down to get a different angle. Even just the memory alone is enough to get him hard. 

Fuck. Now he’s sporting a semi, he’s still seething with jealousy with the memory of you all over Chigiri still constantly playing on a loop in his mind, and worst of all: you’re not here with him. Your laptop is in your apartment, and you had kissed him goodbye after practice because you needed to edit the footage you captured today, and so you can’t spend the night with him like you usually do. 

When thirty minutes go by, and he’s still wide awake, jealous, and hard, Nagi rolls over and groans in his pillow. The minute he gets his hands on, he’s intent on making sure you can’t walk. You won’t be able to chase after Chigiri, that’s for damn sure. 

Things don’t necessarily go according to Nagi’s grand plan. Sure, you’re laying in bed with him, wearing just his shirt and a pair of panties, but you barely paid any attention to him. He’s been pretending to be occupied with his Switch, but he keeps glancing over at you. 

You’re on your phone, eyebrows furrowed as you meticulously go through the footage for a video you plan on uploading. Nagi scowls when he catches a familiar glimpse of red hair moving on the screen. You’re still editing videos of him? Seriously? 

“I thought you weren’t working today,” he mumbles, tossing aside the Switch. You don’t even look up from your phone.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, but Hyoma asked if there’s anything he can improve on for the next promo vid we’re shooting, and I want to at least find something to comment on so he knows I’m taking him seriously.” Chigiri is surprisingly a perfectionist when it comes to videos of himself. He’s been constantly asking you if you’re sure he doesn’t look too nervous or too stiff on camera, and honestly, his worrying is a bit endearing. 

Hyoma — since when were you on a first name basis with his teammate?

This is what sets him off. This is his breaking point.

Sometimes, with how sloth-like Nagi acts, it’s easy to forget that he’s a bonafide professional athlete. A genius, even. He’s quick to pounce on you, tossing your phone somewhere on his massive bed while pinning your body down with his own. With no pesky phone in the way, the only person to give your undivided attention to is him. That’s exactly how it should be. 

“Sei— Ah!” You can’t help but let out a surprised gasp as you feel Nagi nip the soft skin of your neck, teeth grazing you. Not hard enough to leave a mark (he’ll save that for later, for when you’re too drunk on his cock to protest), but sharp enough for you to feel it, to feel the pressure and the intent and the promise behind a love bite. 

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.” Nagi grumbles, his head still buried in the crook of your neck. 

“I am, Seishiro.” You run a hand through the white strands of your boyfriend’s hair. It’s just as soft as it looks, and he leans into your touch, seemingly content. You didn’t realize just how neglected poor Nagi was feeling, and you wonder if it’s possible if he’s jealous. But that can’t be it — Nagi’s never been jealous a day in his life. He doesn’t even react when he catches guys flirting with you in public because he’s so confident in his relationship with you. 

You think he just wants to rest like this, but then you feel his lips dragging down the expanse of your neck. He sucks on your collarbone for a second, and returns back to your neck, sucking and biting, and all you can do is tangle your fingers into his hair, letting out little whimpers and gasps. 

“Sei, baby, you— you’re gonna leave marks.” 

He lifts his head up momentarily, staring up at you with a dark fog in his gray eyes that you normally don’t see. Underneath that haze of desire, though, lies something sharper in the gleam of his eyes. 

“That’s the point.” 

And then he does bite down on the fragile flesh of your neck. And you just lay there, allowing him to. 

Nagi wastes no time in using one hand to rub against your thigh, squeezing at the plushness of it before traveling further to slide your cotton panties to the side. When his thick fingers brush against your folds, he can’t hold back a smile as he finds you already wet. 

You’re embarrassed, heat rising to your cheeks when Nagi holds up his hand so you can see the way your essence is glistening on his middle and ring fingers. “You’re this wet, and I haven’t even kissed you yet.” His tone is half-teasing, half-in awe. He maintains eye contact with you, and you watch him stick his fingers in his mouth, obscenely sucking on his digits, groaning as the taste of you hits his tongue. 

And when he’s done, he finally does kiss you properly. 

You think you can taste a hint of yourself on him, and it only makes you feel even hotter. You’re subconsciously thrusting your hips upwards, trying to get any sort of friction from him. 

“Mm, ah, Sei—”

“Shh.” Nagi hushes you, pressing another kiss against your lips, swallowing up your would-be pleading and begging for something, anything — his fingers, his tongue, his cock, something to ease the heat building inside of you. “Gonna make my baby feel so good.” He rubs at your slit through the slickness of your panties, teasing you as he allows the thin fabric to act as the only barrier between his ring finger and your wet heat. You’re already soaking through the cotton.

He’s been fucking pent up since last night, finding no relief, and now that he has you pinned down on his bed, wet and whining for him, he figures you won’t mind if he rushes into things. He has plenty of stamina, anyway. He can go all night if you want him to.

You mewl out his name pathetically when he slides your panties to the side once more, only instead of his fingers toying with you, it’s the tip of his cock that you feel prodding the entrance of your cunt. 

“You feel that?” He gasps out, having to take a few breaths as he adjusts to the snugness and heat of your cunt. He’s slowly pressing forward, making himself at home inside of your pussy, slowly but surely. “That’s—” Just a few more inches ‘til he’s bottoming out. “—the only dick that’s ever gonna be inside of your pussy.” He’s pressed as deeply as possible, his entire length buried inside of you. 

He’s close, so close to you, and all you can do is whimper as you adjust to his size. Nagi’s cock isn’t just long, but thick. Even with your slick-soaked hole helping ease him in, it’s still a bit of a pain to take him all the way. 

“Say it.” His voice goes a bit deeper than his normal easy-going cadence. When you look into your boyfriend’s eyes, you see it once more: the pussydrunk, lustful haze clouding his vision, and the dark, sharp look that is the driving force behind why your boyfriend impatiently started burying his cock inside of you as soon as he could. “C’mon, tell me.” 

The thrusts he’s giving you right now are only shallow; an inch or two being pulled out, only to lightly be shoved back in. It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters, but you can hear the edge in his tone. He’s growing impatient once more, but he refuses to fuck you boneless unless you tell him what he wants to hear. 

Fortunately, it’s the truth. It’s the truth when you whine out, “This pussy is a-all yours, Seishiro.” 

“Yeah?” He’s pulling out slowly, licking his lips as he watches how submissive he can get you to be. He’ll start with a slower pace, he decides. Treat his girl to a couple of easy orgasms before he starts showcasing his true strength. 

At least, that was his plan. Then, your phone notifies you of a text message.

He stills, eyes glancing, squinting at your screen. 

It’s a text. 

From Chigiri. 

Nagi focuses his attention back on you, but inside his mind, all he sees is the notification with his teammate’s name on it. Your eyes are wide, as if you know what he just saw, but before you can explain yourself, Nagi abruptly slams back into you.

The pace he sets is brutal. He has one hand gripping the headboard to steady himself, his other is angrily tightened around your hip, sure to leave a bruise he’ll kiss all better later. 

“Fuck.” He practically snarls, never relenting. All you can do is let out a string of moans as his cock continues to pound your pussy. There’s another chime from your phone, another notification from Chigiri. He’s asking if the video looks okay. 

You don’t have work on the brain. The only thing your mind is capable of processing are the sensations that Nagi is serving up to you on a silver platter. Even with his brutal pace and hard thrusts, he finds enough kindness inside of him to move his hand from your hip and instead grind his palm against your clit. The callouses all over his hand only add to the pleasure, and you find yourself sobbing out his name as you feel the familiar, overwhelming need to cum. 

“You gonna cum?” Nagi grunts out, as if he doesn't already know. He can tell, y’know. He can tell, because your walls are clamping down on his dick so tightly, it’s a struggle to pull out because you’re clinging to him. He can tell, because you’ve got your adorable little fucked-out expression on your face. Drool on your lips, a string of incoherent pleading and broken mewls of his name. His name. Yeah, you better be moaning his name, and his only.

“Mm, Seishiro!” You squeal out, tightening even more against his cock. Your clit is so sensitive, so receptive to his touch, paired with the nonstop thrusting of his dick, you can’t help but cream all over him. 

“Fu-ck.” The swear comes out in broken syllables as Nagi feels you cumming on his cock. He looks away from your face to look at the messy scene between your legs. Your panties are still pushed to the side, the fabric wet from your juices, and when he pulls out a bit, he sees a nice, white ring around his girth. 

You’re still whimpering, eyes closed shut as you try to regain your breath, but Nagi isn’t done just yet. He still hasn’t cum.

When he hears another text message notification, certainly from Chigiri once again, Nagi knows that you’re in for a long night. He won’t stop even after he cums. 

No — for every text message you get from his teammate, that’s another orgasm he’ll just have to wring out of you.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

--

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach. 

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re���hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her. 

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?” 

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.” 

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long. 

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore. 

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you. 

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights. 

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.” 

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you. 

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give. 

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes. 

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong. 

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.” 

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth. 

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck. 

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field. 

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed. 

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. 

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too. 

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!” 

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before. 

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck. 

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.” 

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.” 

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?” 

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess. 

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that. 

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair. 

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.” 

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.” 

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.” 

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand.  “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry. 

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—” 

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does. 

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.” 

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done. 

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you. 

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look. 

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing. 

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness. 

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing. 

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused. 

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging. 

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist. 

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.  

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along. 

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

--

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

--

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[bokutosbabe]

Call It What You Want To

(soft launching with the bllk boys)

a / n — i love soft launches and blue lock…so why not combine them?

content — fluff, cutesie stuff, bllk characters x fem! reader, pretty much gn! but i did use ‘she’ so just to be safe, + your faves if you want!!

synopsis — soft launches with the boyfies <3

✿.｡. “ nobody’s heard from me for months , ” .｡.✿

is NEVER on social media. has accounts of course, but never posts on them. usually the most they do is repost things about soccer on their stories. so when they post these pictures as their first post EVER? it’s inevitable that their fans are going to go insane.

they preferred posting these pictures, neither of your faces showing. you’d both decided to keep your relationship “private but not secret” , if someone were to find out it was you in these photos? so be it. they would never dream of hiding you from the world.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ RIN ITOSHI, barou shouei, sae itoshi, jinpachi ego

they don't have many posts, but the ones they do have no less than a million likes each. their fans are adoring, so when they post a new photo, thousands of people get the notification and within seconds the post has 200k likes.

their fans are insane, and that's putting it lightly. they find your account within a minute all by looking at your phone case and finding your account.

the both of you wake up the next morning and find yourselves not only trending on twitter, but also with thousands of edits made of the two of you. AND A SHIP NAME??

so much for a soft launch.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ YUKIMIYA KENYU(im biased), shido ryusei, MICHAEL KAISER, hyoma chigiri

a chronic poster. i mean literal photo dumps GALORE. they had many fans, obviously with them being a famous soccer player, but also because of how 'real' they were. they would constantly post stories in the bathroom and ranting- all that fun stuff.

their fans had no indication that they'd been in a relationship at all. which was strange because due to their openness, their fans began thinking they deserved to know every little thing about them.

they just wanted to keep you their little secret for a little bit, so they posted these very inconspicuous photos and had the internet up in a frenzy.

soccerluver44: WHO IS THIS??

urmomshouse: no way

and thousands of comments just like that flooded their inbox.

this was fun, they thought. maybe for a little while longer they'd keep you their little secret. the thought crossed their mind as they pressed the 'your story' button, posting a photo of them sitting on the sink with your arms wrapped around them.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ MEGURU BACHIRA, isagi yoichi, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku

not a constant poster, but definitely has a social media presence. they mostly post about their upcoming games and where to get tickets and watch. they definitely don't post about their personal life, so when people log on and see a soft launch??

the world goes into a state of shock. the comments are limited, so no one besides people they follow back (most of which who already knew of the relationship) are allowed to comment.

they did this on purpose. they saw no point in having strangers question them when the caption said it all

" spoiling my girl <3 "

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ REO MIKAGE, tabito karasu, jyubei aryu, DON LORENZO

✿.｡. “ i'm doing better than i ever was ” .｡.✿

took myself to the computer version to do this since there's a photo limit on the mobile version.

hope yall liked it though, i've never done anything like this before!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[saerins]

ᯓ ᝰ CRAZY GOOD .ᐟ — itoshi sae

hold up, netizens. you’re in for a treat this time because guess what? out of all people, it’s time for itoshi sae to hard launch his girlfriend: you.

itoshi sae x female reader. content tags pro-player!sae, established relationship, profanity, kissing, kind of a tease here, he likes showing you off, oliver is the matchmaker. word count 1.5k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ hi guys i finally have some sae content for you all !!! >:) yes i’ve missed him , and no i didn’t abandon him :’) heh i hope all my sae lovers that are still here will like this mwah <3

there are many things that itoshi sae is good at.

soccer skills, one of them. snubbing people, the second. (that’s how he got the reputation of being rude—even if it’s not really true!) and three, not last and not least (but still substantially), it’s causing a buzz.

he caused a buzz the moment he debuted on the soccer field. his first game and he already made a name for himself. people started asking where he’d been his whole life (even if he was introduced to the people very early on), equating him to soccer megastars like cristiano ronaldo.

ever since that day, he’d been caught in the spotlight numerous times. mostly related to soccer, but some due to his personal life. more specifically, the media loves to take a guess on who he’s dating.

yeah, he’s had more than his fair share of dating rumours. if it were up to the media, sae would have had about thirty-four girlfriends by now and he’s only twenty-six this year. (go fish!)

but as many people do, almost everyone who consumes media content about sae is particularly interested in one thing that is shrouded in mystery: his dating life.

because despite all the rumours and whatnot, there’s never been any confirmation of any relationships at all. and no one in his circle has ever coughed anything up, so anything in that regard has been strictly hush-hush.

well, until tonight, when your boyfriend of six months invited you to one of his teammates’ high-profile birthday party.

“what, are you nervous?”

your boyfriend’s ever unbothered tone is still the same as when you first heard it a year ago. somehow you find it funny that one year later you’re living with the same guy you’d first found to be somewhat intolerable.

sighing, you try and zip up the back of your dress, looking into the mirror, making sure you have your best face on. “sae, you have fans that number in the millions, of course i’m nervous,” you comment, watching from the reflection in the mirror as sae saunters over to you, taking his hands out of his pocket.

he smirks at you through the mirror, his body pressed against you as he helps you zip your dress the rest of the way up, his lips right next to your ear. “i’ve never even seen you this nervous in front of me,” he says, poking a little fun at you as he gives you a light kiss on your temple.

a soft chuckle comes from him as you deadpan, obviously in much more distress than he’ll ever know. not that he’ll blame you; he’s used to the fame, you’re not. “relax, they’ll love you.”

“sae, they won’t.”

he shrugs. “yeah, you’re probably right,” he agrees, earning a small slap on the arm—and he’s laughing again, though this time he tilts your chin up and gives you a long, slow kiss. the kind that takes your breath away everytime he does it. “but who cares? i love you.”

and there he goes, saying that as if it’s no big deal. making your heart beat so quickly it’s not funny. and before you know it, he’s whisking you away into the lobby where a personal towncar is ready and waiting, with the chauffeur and everything.

“geez, oliver sure loves to go over the top, huh?”

sae gives a sharp exhale at your comment. “hey, that’s your friend right there.”

you roll your eyes, getting in first and sticking your tongue out at him. “and you should be thanking him, without him we’d never have met.”

you look away from him right after saying that so you don’t see it, but sae’s smiling to himself, already thanking his lucky stars.

he thinks meeting you and getting to love you is the luckiest he’ll ever get in this lifetime.

by the time you’ve arrived at the venue—a hotel in the heart of the city—swarms of paparazzi already litter the streets outside. they’ve no doubt had their fill of the other soccer players and mega celebrities that have already arrived and are now ready for the real star of the night (aside from the birthday boy himself): itoshi sae.

of course, everyone’s expecting to see sae all by himself because that’s what usually happens; sae attending any and every event alone and unbothered by the scene. it’s never a surprise anymore, but sae’s a good payday and they’d never miss a single shot.

the moment sae exits the car, it sounds like there’s a million shutters pressed all at the same time, give or take a few milliseconds. (it’s nothing you’re used to.) he stands right where he got out for a few seconds, and even inside you can hear the amount of photographers just begging sae to look straight at them.

and if you think that’s rowdy enough, oh boy you’re in for a treat. because the moment the paparazzi realise that sae’s not, in fact, headed for the hotel just yet, you can hear just a few confused noises before it turns into even more pleading the moment they realise he’s opening your side of the door.

when he opens it and holds his hand out for you, that ever handsome smile on his face (which you forget that he only ever shows to you), you feel like you’re nearly blinded by all the flashes. you brave through it though, taking his hand and getting out of the town car, being greeted by the mass of photographers yelling out to you and sae.

“sae, who is that!”

“hey, girl! look over here! yes right there!”

“what’s your relationship?”

“obviously that’s his girlfriend! hey you!”

you’re a little wide-eyed, stunned at how chaotic this scene is. it’s easy to lose yourself in it, but as it always is, sae realises it whenever you are, and he’s quick to pull you back in.

in this case, he pulls you into his arms, a hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he rests his forehead against yours.

“hey, focus on me, just me,” he whispers to you, eyes looking into yours, eyelashes fluttering against one another’s.

(the paparazzi are having a field day.)

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you ask him, chuckling because you only now realise what a fucking tease he is.

sae shrugs, pulling your hair away from your face. (he’s actually just really grateful to you for doing this for him when you don’t need to—when you’re happy to just be able to support him behind the scenes but he really just wants the world to know that you exist, because it’s a blessing, really.) “maybe i am.”

and this time your heart’s beating faster than you know it ever could, his teal blue eyes melting into your gaze, lips getting closer and closer to your own, his calloused hand on the back of your neck.

like clockwork, his lips sink into yours, his tongue snaking its way in. (and the crowd goes absolutely wild.) you’re both laughing at the panicked and hurried yells from the photographers, slowly pulling away from each other.

you reach your hand out to wipe your lipstick stain off his lips but he doesn’t let you, winking at you and leaning in to whisper, “let everyone know who i belong to.”

such a fucking tease.

not that you’re opposed, so you let him be, shaking your head and following him as he holds your hand and leads you in.

within the next hour, pictures of you and sae flood the internet. (notifications come flooding into your phone too.)

itoshi sae hard launches new relationship with mystery woman!

soccer world loses another bachelor—everything we know about itoshi sae’s presumed girlfriend

most of them are pictures of your kiss, with a good chunk of it being his lipstick-stained lips.

as you scroll through some of the articles your friends texted to you, you’re probably never going to be used to it. you’re probably going to be anxious over everything you do in public now.

a slight panic bubbles up in your chest, but then sae comes over, pulling you backwards into his embrace, looking over your shoulder at your phone.

“that quick, huh?”

and suddenly it’s like anxiety has never existed. because even if it may not seem like much, a year of knowing itoshi sae has made you feel safer than you ever did, knowing that he’s always there to catch you, to never make you feel alone.

you melt into his embrace, turning your head and giving him a kiss, your lipstick stain still on his lips.

“i fucking love you, itoshi sae.”

his eyes widen a little before they grow soft, arms pulling you even closer. “i love you too, stupid.”

(and while the two of you are getting all lovey-dovey at his party, oliver’s just slightly—a lot—upset that sae upstaged him during his own birthday party.)

“i fucking hate the both of you,” oliver groans.

[narcjsistx]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆... | sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, kaiser micheal

part two with reo, rin and bachira soon!!

plot: you're in a nonpublic relationship, but one gesture in particular blows your cover <3

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

— sae itoshi

That you had always been attracted to impossible things was not unknown: as a child you loved unicorns, one of the most imaginative and magical creatures ever. You believed you could love even something impossible, and the same thing had more or less happened when you met your boyfriend, Sae Itoshi. Sae was something impossible, out of your reach for the simple fact that you were a very normal person when he was one of the most famous U-20 soccer players in the world and, above all, of the moment

Sae was impossible, and you had always liked the impossible. That's how you liked to tell your mother when she asked how you ended up in a relationship with him. Known for a big misunderstanding in a public laundry, for a reason still unknown to you, fate had decided that this was not the last time you would see each other

The choice had come when Sae had explicitly asked you for it: not that he was ashamed of you or anything like that, but fame brings negative things as well as positive ones. One of them was privacy. Although after years he was used to invasions of privacy even during a walk, he didn't want to ruin what had always been normality for you. So no one, other than your families and a few friends of yours, knew about you two

And so, a little over a year after you had made it official only to your families that you were together as a couple, the thing that was impossible for you was how your cover was still standing. You didn't mind being in a nonpublic relationship, in fact you found it more pleasant and intimate, but Sae was famous all over the world: you knew that sooner or later everything would collapse like a house of playing cards

And evidently that day was today

"So, who is she?" his teammate asks again, the Spanish accent thick in every word. Your fingers tighten around the handles of his sports bag, desperately searching for a way that doesn't confirm what practically everyone in the room has already assumed. 10 pairs of eyes stare at you curiously, waiting for either you or Sae to speak and make up an excuse that they can deny

The last match that ReAl had won against an equally Spanish team had ended less than an hour ago. It was Valentine's Day, and the stadium where the match was played had made VIP seats available to which only the players partners could access. The partners had a card previously given by the boyfriends which gave the possibility of walking in certain areas of the stadium, one of which was the locker room. You had remained in the popular stands for the entire match, and after the end you had decided to use your VIP pass, which Sae had given you a few days before, to go and congratulate and surprise him. You had purposely waited a full hour to get in just so all the other teammates would leave, but apparently something had been holding them back

The players didn't know you, it was a secret relationship after all. The partners who usually came to see their boyfriends knew each other, and Sae was still the only one no one had ever seen with a girl. Everything fit with the perfect fall of the cover that you had so carefully supported

"umh" you stutter embarrassed. The most damning proof you have is undoubtedly the Sae sports bag you have in your hands, which stands out for its black color instead of the white and red that ReAl uses. You take a few steps back, not knowing at all how to escape the situation, much less where Sae is, who you don't even see in the locker room. His stuff is here, his teammates are here, but where is he dammit?

"We've never eaten anyone, or at least off the field" says a boy who gets up, making the rest of his teammates laugh. You recognize him for being a braggart that Sae tells you about every now and then, who has 100 girls and every game brings a new one. You roll your eyes at the tasteless joke, trying not to let your annoyance show

"I probably went to the wrong locker room, please excuse me..." you say turning on your heel, heading towards the exit, but the boy's hand grabs your wrist just enough to make you immobilize "It's not a problem, you don't have to apologize. But I don't think you're here by mistake..." the boy says laughing cheerfully, and really, you don't understand all his humor. You try to free yourself from the grip on the wrist, but the soccer player doesn't seem to give in as he makes some of his teammates laugh with sleazy jokes

“Could you let go of my wrist?” you say trying to sound polite, but he shakes his head "We need to figure out who your boyfriend is first! Victor, is she your girlfriend?" the boy asks, making you turn towards another guy, who obviously shakes his head "Sanchez, is this yours?" he asks another again, and you can't explain why you have to suffer such humiliating treatment if you haven't actually done anything wrong

"Arion, is it your-" the boy says, but someone interrupts him "She's my girlfriend."

Everyone turns towards the voice, including you: Sae, fresh out of the shower wearing sweatpants and a simple towel around his neck, peeks out from the locker room showers. His eyes waver a little at seeing you here, surprised at the whole situation and above all not understanding how you ended up here. He tilts his head, his usual apathetic look at the boy next to you "You should let go her wrist" he says taking a few steps forward, the usual nonchalance typical of his character. "Oh! Oh, yes" says the boy, immediately pulling away, taking a few steps back. The grip on your wrist releases, easing the pressure you had built up. You breathe a sigh of relief, but at the same time remember what situation you are in: the relationship that you had covered for so long has just come to light

You look up at Sae, who you think is the least bit angry, but there isn't a shred of anger in his face, in fact, he almost seems relieved. He comes in front of you, taking his sports bag that you had in your hands "Thanks. Two minutes and we can go" he says putting it back on the floor, putting a clean t-shirt on and putting the towel back on in his black bag. You look at him embarrassed, not daring to look at any of his teammates who have remained silent in the meantime

Sae stands up, holding his bag with one hand and grabbing yours with the other, letting your palms and fingers connect "Let's go" he says, nodding his head. You leave the locker room, everyone's gaze still on you. Start walking towards the back of the stadium, heading towards the car parks dedicated to the players cars. A slight, uncomfortable silence hangs between you two, and you wonder if he's simply thinking of a way to restore everything to how it was and make your relationship nonpublic again

"It wasn't that bad anyway. You can ask your teammates to just shut up" you say, looking down, but a light squeeze on your hand makes you look up in his direction “Huh?” he asks, and you try to sound clearer "For the relationship. You can tell your classmates not to talk-" you say, but he cuts you off even before you finish "Do you want to make it nonpublic again?" he asks, and you find yourself thinking about it

Being nonpublic had never been a problem for you, you appreciated that Sae cared so much about your privacy. On the other hand, your privacy never really mattered much to you: you wanted to walk with him and hold his hand even in front of a crowd, not pretend not to know him as often happened. If being with him meant sacrificing something, you would have done so immediately and without even thinking about

“I'm actually okay with being public-” you say and at the same moment you see him sigh more calmly “What is it?” you ask curiously "I've been waiting a long time to ask you this. But I didn't want to seem hypocritical since I asked you to make it nonpublic" Sae says, and almost immediately you smile at his words

The impossible was something that actually often actually happened. It had happened that you got dating to the prodigy of Japan, and it was happening now when you were officially made his girlfriend for all his fans and the world

— shidou ryusei

“You went too far as usual” you say, rolling your eyes, albeit amused. Shidou chuckles, buttoning up the buttons that hide your chest “You should be used to it” he says looking up after finishing his work. You laugh softly, still amazed at how you let yourself be dragged into such a situation. But then you think about it and you understand that avoiding these situations with your boyfriend is far too difficult. Shidou cups your face in his hands, tilting your head slightly to look at his beautiful work: two red and purple marks stand out from many other small ones. He observes them with a certain pride, stroking the bite mark he left on you with his thumb

“I don't think this was the break the director intended” you say, walking towards the door, reluctantly releasing the grip Shidou had. You hear him murmuring something, but you don't pay attention to it as you brush your hair to the side, leaving the hickeys on your neck visible: you have to walk in an empty corridor and you're hot, so you're not at risk. You place your hand on the doorknob, headed to exit and return to the car, but you are petrified when the entire corridor turns out to be filled with journalists

You stand there, motionless, and Shidou appears behind you, also intending to leave. He stands still, but less shocked, a few steps behind you. Everyone turns in your direction, and an awkward silence hangs in the narrow space delimited by the walls. Many, if not all, notice the red marks on your neck and there are more than a few surprised expressions. Some cameras turn towards you, some journalists take their microphones in case the situation requires them

And you immediately regret having, for the umpteenth time, indulged Shidou's shitty ideas. You knew you had to wait for him in the car so that he could go home with you at the end of the interview, but his messages had convinced you that there was no harm in sneaking out for a few minutes. While you were waiting he had sent you messages telling you that his interview was late and that the director had advised him to go to a private room to relax before his shift. He had asked you to come in to keep him company, that you could sneak in for a few minutes since the corridors were empty, and that he simply needed you. And so you found yourself against the wall with your boyfriend's lips on your neck, killing time until his interview

But evidently something had gone wrong with the program in mind, because now you had more than 100 journalists waiting their turn and now they had a front page story. You and him had been together for a while, and the agreement between you was to keep your relationship nonpublic for a while because the media often went heavy on their idols partners

But the cover seemed to have been blown

"Shidou, Shidou Ryusei? With a mysterious girl?" says a journalist, directing the microphone at you "The king of the penalty area with a woman?" someone else says, and from then on you just hear everyone else making up name after name as they try to get some information out of you two

"Holy shit" you whisper to yourself, covering your hickeys with your hair, even though everyone has noticed them by now. You die of embarrassment at all these eyes staring at you, and the best option at the moment seems to be going back into the room and hoping that this is all just a trick your mind is playing on you. You knew that sooner or later you would make it official, but you didn't think this way and especially with you in these conditions. It all looked perfectly like the most colossal figure of shit the human lifeform had ever seen in this shitty life

You look for Shidou, but when you turn you can't find him anymore. You wonder if he seriously followed the advice to go back to the room and hope it's all a dream, but you know that's not your man's style: instead you feel your shoulders surrounded by his arm, which promptly squeezes you to the point of keeping you by your side alongside. You turn towards him, and on his face you notice that his usual smirk that never leads to anything good. Something's about to explode

"Ladies, gentlemen! One at a time, please" he says loudly, and the attention they previously had on you shifts to him, who has always dominated the scene better in a frighteningly natural way "This racket for WHAT? Two red marks? You've never seen worse, then" he says, and as you thought his joke provokes a small laugh from everyone

The journalists try to get the best place in front of you, and perplexed you turn to Shidou "Don't do anything I might regret" you say almost in a whisper, but he grins "Let me do it, babe. I tied them to my finger like fish to a fishing line" he says confidently, and it's his confidence that worries you. Some journalist raises the microphone, firing off questions that you don't even understand because of the speed. Shidou still doesn't understand them, and after several attempts he gives up; he waves his hand, moving the microphones away

"I thought I would talk today about my relationship with the beautiful girl in question here, but evidently the scoop will go to you and not to the agency we are in" he says dramatically, as if he actually regretted giving information to others. "What did you want to do?" you whisper perplexed, not knowing that his goal today was to make it official anyway. Shidou turns to you, grabs your waist and bends your back, his chest smeared against his “Media, meet my fucking beloved girlfriend!” he says, kissing you. Confused, you don't know how to react, but shortly after you give in and respond to the kiss, placing your hand against his face. The journalists explode, the cameras start filming and broadcasting. It's an understatement that you have shocked the media for at least the next few days, but with Shidou in the end everything is unpredictable and without explosions

It wasn't the way you expected to make it official, but as long as it works it's fine, right?

— micheal kaiser

The subtle smell of french fries hung in the air, mixing with the light air that resonated in the club. Everyone's chatting made the evening pleasant, which actually seemed to go too well

Hamburg was huge as a city, Ness himself recognized it, yet he had lived there for a good part of his life before moving to Berlin on the campus of Bastard Munchen. You had been here a few other times, and you had fallen in love with the small and cute clubs that the city offered

When you returned to the hotel room with Kaiser you had begged him to go out tonight, since you had arrived you had spent all your time at training or at the match, which had ended with the victory of the German team. And Kaiser has little chance of telling you no, it's something he just can't do: so, a few hours later, you and other team members found yourself in a club celebrating the victory. Sitting next to him you were calm, after all he was your boyfriend and his team knew about you two, unlike the rest of the world. However, being in a public place the only affectionate gesture you could allow yourself was his hand on your thigh, covered by the table and which no stranger could see

Everything was going well: Bastard Munchen had won today, tomorrow morning you would return home and take a few days break from being the team manager. Everything was perfect

But obviously perfection, even if sweated with difficulty and attention, does not last long

You were chatting with a team member when, from afar, you noticed a group of guys watching you. It was nothing new, the players were famous and you were also quite well known thanks to your role in the team. Kaiser notices the same thing, tilting his face towards the small crowd "You're wanted" you say jokingly, and he snorts in a mock annoyed way: you know how much he actually loves this attention from fans, which feeds his big ego. The guys step forward, followed by others and yet others, until the table is surrounded by all the guys shyly asking for an autograph or a photo

The group, made up of a girl and two boys, approaches Kaiser asking to take a photo. He accepts, reluctantly lifting the contact of his hand on your thigh, and you can read his slight annoyance in his cerulean eyes. You giggle a little at seeing him annoyed, but you don't let it show

Then, the dinner that was supposed to be quiet and a way to spend time with your boyfriend turns out to be yet another time when public life comes before private life; it doesn't make you sad though, because seeing Kaiser happy while talking to his fans makes you happy too

You stay to eat your chips and chat with Ness, who unlike Kaiser only had to sign a few quick autographs, and every now and then you glance at Kaiser who stayed behind to talk to the group of people. You notice how completely comfortable he seems, so you don't worry

But then something reaches your ear

"We are moving to another club to spend the rest of the night, would you join us?" a boy says, and the rest of the group nods. Kaiser is used to these somewhat sudden questions, fans often cross the line almost without wanting to "I can't guys. The team is celebrating together tonight" he says playing with a lock of his blue hair, and you try to be indiscreet in listening to the conversation

"What a shame..." says a boy, and Kaiser chuckles "I know guys. Maybe next time" he says, and he seems about to go back to the table, when the girl stops him by taking a few steps forward "Or maybe there's is it a girl you're waiting for?" the woman asks, and you immediately turn towards their direction, trying not to cough up what's in your mouth for the surprise

You see Kaiser a little perplexed, you notice it from the way he tilts his head trying to come up with an excuse that seems convincing "Maybe. But I shouldn't tell you, guys" he says, and this time you're the one who's perplexed

You see him turn towards you, just enough to give you a brief wink that you notice all too well. You pretend like you didn't see him, turning away, but you really don't understand where he's going with his speech. You've been together for quite a while and it's always been confidential for a matter of convenience, being nonpublic you had many pros but at the same time many cons. And at the time you had never talked about making it public, as much as you actually wanted to be like this

"Really? Are you in a relationship?" the boy asks, and Kaiser smiles satisfied "I don't know. Do you think I have it?" he asks, and everyone immediately nods "There are rumors that you are dating the German model who is always on the front page of Vogue" says one, but the other corrects him "What are you saying! He could be dating the girl he was spotted with last week passed in front of the city's cathedral" says the other, and you see in Kaiser's gaze an amusement you've never seen before. You nervously bite your nail, not knowing what he's doing and above all why he didn't complete the conversion a few minutes ago. What the fuck is going on?

"You're both wrong! The rumors all agree that he's dating the manager of Bastard Munchen, have you seen how they look at each other? Or how she's always the first one he greets when the players take the field?" says the girl very convinced, placing her hands on her waist

It is at that moment when all your beliefs fall away. You thought you hadn't made the situation so obvious, but evidently you failed

You turn towards them again, trying to hide the blush that you now know has taken up residence on your cheeks. Kaiser claps his hands happily "Right! I'm waiting for her" he says, and everyone in the group's jaw drops "Are you serious? Are you seriously with the manager?" the boy asks, and he nods. You notice too late how the girl, peeking out from Kaiser's figure, has noticed you: you hide your face by looking down, but it's too late now

"But she's here!" the girl says, and Kaiser rolls his eyes as if he hadn't noticed you “I know. My girlfriend, yu-hu Y/n!” he says, raising his hand to greet you as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell on a mere group of fans. You raise your face trying to look as calm as possible, as if everything is actually normal and your heart isn't going 100 times faster than normal. Kaiser comes closer, sitting next to you again and putting his arm around your shoulders, while the group looks at you surprised but happy "I don't like to keep my girlfriend waiting, guys. Have a good evening though!" he says, cuddling while you are literally trying not to start screaming

The guys nod, both saying goodbye and thanking Kaiser for his time. When they leave, you turn to him with the reddest face ever "What did you just do?!" you ask in surprise, but with his free hand he caresses your arm, making slow and gentle movements "Doing what I should have done a long time ago. Isn't it better this way, Schatz?" he asks. You suppress the urge to insult him, because the truth is, you too would have liked to make it official a long time ago

“Do you know that now you will have to confirm this to the whole world and not just to one group?” you ask with a sigh, relaxing the nerves that have been on edge for minutes. He smirks, nodding as he grabs his phone “I've had a post ready on Instagram for a while. It's been in the drafts for a long time, how about I post it now?” he asks, and you curse yourself for never being able to be mad at him

You both had each other's fingers tied, it was too obvious by now. Maybe it really was time to share your love with the world and not just with the team, as it has been until now

[leah-lover]

Behind her eyes.WNBA!reader x Alexia putellas.

Summary: Alexia and R's relationship is tested after what happened at one of r's basketball games

--------------------------------------------------

Your girlfriend’s eyes were the reason why you fell in love with her. They were the first thing that caught your attention when it came to her and they are the thing you looked for when you were lost, upset or angry.

You first noticed her hazel eyes when she sat court side at one of your games in barcelona. You had just joined the catalonian team after the end of the wnba season. It was your first time playing in the Spanish league. In fact, it was your first time playing overseas and you didn't acclimate very well. You didn't know anybody, you didn't speak the language, you were just lonely and homesick.

It all changed on one home game, alexia came with a bunch of her teammates to support your new team, she sat courtside and watched attentivly as your team played valencia. You weren't feeling like yourself in your new home yet so you hadn't put on your usual performance. It all changed when you got fouled and fell directly in front of her. Angry, you wanted to pick a fight with the player that fouled you but you got distracted by a perfect face or more less a pair of dreamy eyes. They took you back for a moment and you kept thinking about them for a couple plays. You even glanced at her direction when you weren't moving the ball. She lit a fire inside of you, one that you have been trying to ignite ever since you left the US. You had to do better, you had to impress this person and leave an impression on her.

After the break, in the 3rd quarter, you put your game face on and started to direct play on the floor. You shot 3s, layups, blocked shots, assisted your teammates and over all controlled play. By the end of the game, the crowd was loud , and your team was leading the game by 20 points, which is the most this team has ever led with . You were happy, and you were yourself again.

You were celebrating with your teammates and coach when the social media manager came to you and asked you to come take a picture with alexia and her teammates. You got nervous all of a sudden but you tried to keep your cool. You introduced yourself, took the photo and tried as much as you could to memorize her features.

“ Hey, your shooting ability is impressive.” she says, her spanish accent apparent in her english.

“ What we do here is easy compared to controlling a ball with your feet, and running on the giant field you guys play in for 90 minutes.” you reply.

“ I guess every sport has its ups and downs.” she added.

“ You want to take some shots?” you invited her while bouncing the ball on the floor. She hesitantly accepted and so you helped her by correcting her form allowing her to take shots.

“ Holy shit you might be coming for my job.” you complimented her.

“ I don't think so. I am pretty attached to football, or as you people say soccer.” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“ don't count me in with those people calling it soccer and not football is pretty stupid.” you take another shot while holding eye contact with alexia. “ Besides, I am pretty damn good at my job.”

You two continue talking about the differences of your sports all the way down to the locker room where alexia’s teammates were waiting for her.

“ Come on, capi, we're gonna be late. “ says one of her teammates.

“ I came to one of your games, now it's your turn to come to mine.”

“ will do capi.” you joked before giving her a kiss goodbye.

Throughout the next couple of months you went to every game of hers you could and she did the same to you. You always stayed late talking, laughing, sometimes even practicing each other's sports after every game.

Talking after the game turned into dinners, then sex, and eventually you two started dating. You met her friends and family, and slept regularly at her house when you were in barcelona.

Your life seemed perfect, you were in your A game, you had a gorgeous girlfriend and you two loved the hell out of each other, you had friends in this strange new country who you would go out to brunch with on the weekend. You frankly were the happiest person in the world. Well, that only lasted for about 8 months.

It all happened at once in one second your perfect life came crashing down. During the playoffs, It was a regular 1v1 battle, you tried to turn around and make a shot but your knee thought otherwise and caused you to fall to the floor and scream out loud. The pain was inimaginable. Quickly, tears were streaming down your face, your teammates formed a huddle around you to shield you from the cameras, and the medic came rushing towards you.

“ hey do you hear me?” she asked. It was hard for you to focus. But all of a sudden it became clear, you didn't feel the pain anymore, and you stopped crying.

“ Non-contact injury, my knee, it's an ACL tear right?” you looked at the medic with a little hope in your eyes.

“ most likely. I am so sorry.” she said as she and her assistant tried to pull you up and help you hop to the locker room.

On the way there you look to your left and see a scared alexia. You looked at her eyes where you usually find solace and hope only to find sympathy and fear. She gave a reassuring smile but you looked at the ground immediately.

Once in the locker room, the medics began explaining the situation.

“ I know everything that’s gonna happen, I have been through this before. Its hard and it fucking sucks. I just want to go home now. I will be back tomorrow for scans.”

The medical team complies with your request and helps you go to the locker room to collect your things. Once you find yourself alone you smash one of your crutches on the ground multiple times, you bend the steel. You weren't proud of what alexia saw when she came in to check on you but you had to get the anger out of you. You would find out later that the crutch didn't get all of it.

Throughout the whole car ride flashes of the pain of rehab and hard work you put on only 3 years ago flooded your memory. You only got out of your head when you noticed the route that the car you were in was taking.

“ alexia i want to go home.” you say in a surprisingly harsh tone. She didn't look at you and continued driving.

“ alexia.” you repeat again.

“ You are not gonna scare me into pulling away from you.” she replied calmly.

“ Alexia, I just want to go home.” you say again not giving up your harsh tone.

“ we are going home amor. Home where I can be with you and take care of you.” .

“ I didn't ask you to. Just take me to my fucking house.”

What you said seemed to anger her so she pulled over. “ Let's get this out of the way now. First you are not going to drive me away, I love and I won't let you go. Second , you don't talk to me like that, not with that town and ot with those words. Third, call me Alexia again and you won't like what happens.” she shares eye contact with you again before putting her seat belt back on and driving home.

You didn't say a word through the rest of the car ride, you just dove into the sea of painful memories your brain prepared for you. When alexia notices your sudden change of demeanor, she puts her hand on your thigh only for you to flinch. You flinching at her touch meant that you were thinking about your past relationship and that's when alexia put two and two together.

You didn't realize that you two were home until Alexia opened your door and handed you your crutches.

“ alexia just take me to my house.”

“ We will talk about it upstairs, come one.”

You felt sick to your stomach, all you wanted to do was throw yourself in her arms and let her stroke your hair and scratch your back until you fell asleep.

Outside in the world and to the media your personality was larger than the world. You were loud, fun , playful, and funny. When you came you closed the door behind you and your girlfriend you craved to just lay on her and let her take care of you. However you were too proud to ever say anything out of fear she might not like the other side of the coin.

“Bébé talk to me please.”

You tried to keep your mouth shut. You tried so hard to swallow your words. But you could you couldn't keep it in anymore.

“ I am just so tired of pretending.” you whisper.

“ louder mi amor.”

“ This person I am about to become is grumpy, sad, angry and in pain. I am not gonna be the fun cocky person anymore. I have been through this before. It never fails to break me so please just take me home . I want to go home,and cry about my season at home that I lost. I want to cry about the fact that I will go through this miserable journey again. I want to cry about the fact that all I want is to be held by my girlfriend but I can't ask for that because I am afraid you will leave me. i just want to fucking cry.” by now you were hysterically crying and yelling. Alexia was holding you tight , her hands were becoming white.

“ I love you so much.” she just kept repeating that phrase over and over until you calmed down.

“ I will never leave you. I would love to hold you and take care of you and I don't pity you. You just had a fantastic season in a strange country and I am so proud of that and we will battle this together. “ she continued to rub your arms and whisper how much she loved you no matter what your mood was. You couldn't resist the temptation to drop your guard and be who you are anymore.

“ promise you will never leave me ale.” you plead.

“ I promise you that I will never leave. I am so sorry I didn't make you sure enough in my love for you. I promise you to do better.”

“ Can you help me take a bath and go to bed then. tomorrow is gonna be tough i need to sleep.

“ alright amor but first i want to hold you some more and stroke your hair.”

Somehow , She knew that that's what you ached for the most.

You turn your head and look into her eyes again to find love and admiration instead of the sympathy and fear that was there before so you relaxed and let her take care of you.

You knew since the moment you saw her that her eyes were your saving grace.

[recklesssezon]

𝗕𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝗲 𝗶𝗶

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | aitana bonmati x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | aitana can't stop thinking about you

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 | none

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 | this been sitting in my drafts for months hehe

Two weeks.

Two weeks since Aitana met you.

Two weeks stuck in a limbo, wishing to see you again. In passing years, confidence had become Aitana’s best friend. Consistent wins and titles built Aitana’s reign in the football world, which eventually extended to her personal life. Aitana felt untouchable. All her blood, sweat, and tears led her to this point, and she wasn’t gonna stop now. 

Aitana knew she’s one of the best players of the generation, playing for the best club in Spain, and if she was being a hundred percent honest, Europe. She’s aware of the impact she has endlessly made in the community each year. It wasn’t ego talking but a simple fact to be acknowledged. 

What Aitana didn’t realize is that her status and image could only get her so far. The world doesn’t excuse star athletes from it's desire to hurt. Before you, Aitana loved the world, and in return, they loved her. But, when she laid eyes on you, Aitana was instantly a goner. When your figure shrinked in size as you walked on, she slowly began to despise the very thing that loved her. 

You barged into her perfect world with your hot Brazilian accent and beautiful smile. Who wouldn’t fall for you? 

No one. A simple answer Aitana believed. 

She just wished that when she fell, you would have caught her. Instead, you let her fall continuously into the void that you created with your absence, and Aitana hated it. You demolished her world, a world centered around football only to be destroyed so easily by a charming smile. Dumbfounded, Aitana spent days putting her picture-perfect world back together brick by brick.

For once in her life, Aitana felt pathetic. A familiar yet unfamiliar emotion aching in her chest. 

In her youth, Aitana understood it. After each loss, she didn’t feel worthy, she didn’t feel like the great soccer player she strived to be. Aitana felt pathic, so yes the emotion was familiar to her. But, unfamiliar because Aitana didn’t lose a game that day, no, she just let go of the one person that sparked the wick in her soul. 

Aitana never felt a spark with someone before, the spark that many described as fireworks when they met the one. As sad as it is, Aitana never experienced fireworks. She summed it up to the fact that she was busy with football, too busy building her career to feel those sparks. 

Time went on, and so did Aitana’s hidden search for those fireworks. She eventually became immune to the romance surrounding her, couples left and right displaying their love that consisted of hand holding, hugs, and kisses…the list goes on. Maybe once or twice out of the year, Aitana wished to find someone to love, but no shooting stars were granted.

Year after year, Aitana slowly became content with her lack of romance…until that day on the beach. 

Aitana remembers that day so bitterly yet so fondly, the team had just finished up their time in the ocean. Favoring their time left with the sun before it completely set. She recalls being at peace. The breeze blew cool air against her warm skin, a still state Aitana hoped she had more often. And then you came along, fresh out the water, surfboard in arm. Effortlessly, you exposed Aitana to a new adrenaline. 

One she didn’t know existed and then when you waved at her, Aitana panicked. This, she liked a lot less, clueless to why she felt such a thing. Cool, calm and collected Aitana Bonmati panicking over a girl waving at her, how gay of her. She can still feel the internal embarrassment coursing through her body. 

When you spoke, Aitana believed she entered paradise. You possibly gave her the best chat she’s ever had. Your heavy Brazilian accent was music to her ears. Your rolled r’s nearly had Aitana on her knees. You knew how to keep a conversation going, the lightness and flow lifted weight off Aitana’s chest. The freedom to speak without care was new to her and she loved it. You were interested in what she had to say, focusing on her like she was the most important person in the world. 

The easy smile you had when she started to ramble and the twitch of your eyebrow when you found something amusing, if this is what people felt when they were in love, Aitana understood the addiction. You made her heart beat to cupid’s song, a rhythm that stuck to Aitana everytime she thought of you. 

And it was cute until she found sad songs to sync her heart to. Her attempts to hide her feelings sucked, the team immediately noticed her shift in behavior. Not only was she actively restored to brooding, small ques of isolation and a long heartbreak playlist were following factors. They’ve never seen Aitana so emotionally impacted by someone, the Great Aitana Bonmati wallows in misery over a girl, never thought they’ll see the day. 

“Her first lesbian heartbreak, the final step to her slut phase.”

Patri groaned, rubbing the back of her head where Frido slapped her. The team was on water break and instead of sitting with the others, Aitana sat at the edge, airpods blasting James Arthur.

Mapi sighed, yanking out her airpod, wrapping an arm around Aitana’s shoulder. “It’s okay, mi amiga. There are plenty of other women in the sea. We just need to get you in the right space to find them. How about we hit that nightclub by-” Cut off by a cleared throat, Mapi smiled innocently at Ingrid. The Norwegian removed her girlfriend from her dear friend, taking the prior spot for herself. 

“Don’t pay attention to her. You don’t need to move on so fast, just go at your own pace.” 

Mapi threw her arms out in offense, it wasn't just her who wanted Aitana to enter her lesbian spree. Cata, Patri, Pina, Misa, and even Jenni, who was all the way in Mexico, wanted to break Aitana out of her shell and right into someone’s sheets. 

It was a daring plan that they created, too much riding on it if it got leaked. The amount of trouble they’d get in for messing with precious Tana was undoubtedly scary. Nonetheless, they got to work. Patri and Cata signed her up for dating apps, swiping left and right to find girls who looked similar to you. 

Jenni was assigned to find potential matches in Mexico which wasn't exactly hard but Mapi kept rejecting them on Aitana’s behalf when they looked nowhere near you. Misa had a hometown friend that shared the same color hair and eyes as you but Aitana quickly shut it down. Yet, it didn’t stop there. Each rejection and failure, they tried harder, determined to win their friend’s heart.

Aitana grew annoyed at their foolishness, Exhibit A.

"No."

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"I'm sure it will be. But, I want no part of it."

"Yes, you do. Trust me, right now you're experiencing your first girl heartbreak and its shitty. But, to get over someone is to get under someone. Now, what about her?”

Aitana glared at Mapi, eyes staring down at her friend, resisting the urge to push the phone that was shoved in her face. “I said no. So, get that phone out of my face before it ends across the field. Leave me alone before I tell Ingrid.” 

Mapi's jaw dropped, holding her phone tight to her chest. “That’s not fair!” She exclaimed, “We’re trying to help! Misa brought her friend to the city so you can meet her but you locked yourself at Keira’s which was really rude by the way! She was excited to meet you!” 

Aitana clenched her jaw, turning her back to Mapi to continue kicking penalties. Jana giggled, patting a pouting Mapi on the back. “She doesn't care for them because they're Spanish. She wants a little Brazilian instead.” Aitana's head snapped to Jana, the young girl cowdered behind Mapi at the fierce glare.

“Who told you that?”

Jana peeked out from Mapi’s shoulder, “Patri might've said something about an accent.” Patri said more than Jana claimed, she knew it, Mapi knew it, even Jana herself knew that Aitana wasn't buying her white lie. 

Mapi gasped, shaking Aitana in excitement. “You want a Brazilian?! Why didn't you say so, we can book a flight right now and grab the nearest one when we get off." Aitana stared at her friend eye-wide, Jana not too far off. Both looked at Mapi as if she lost her damn mind. 

“You want to kidnap someone?” Jana asked in disbelief, was it ever that serious? 

Mapi wagged her finger in the air, “No, I said grab. That’s different from kidnapping.” Jana shook her head, “I don’t think it is if they don’t go willingly.”

Mapi threw her arms to the side, almost smacking Aitana in the face. “Why wouldn't they come willingly? We show them Aitana and they’ll be dogs in heat wanting to meet her. I mean have you seen this face?” Mapi grabbed Aitana’s jaw in her hand, squishing the midfielder’s cheeks. “It’s so cute!” Mapi cooed, her baby voice in full effect. Aitana shoved the older girl away, sending a heavy glare for the mockery. 

“I’ll end you.” 

Aitana threatened, Mapi scoffed, not feeling the slightest worry. Aitana wasn’t a vengeful woman, she was calm and collected more than anything. 

“I’d like to see you try.” Mapi cockily said, calling Aitana’s bluff. Within a second, Aitana stocked up on Mapi, yanking the phone out of her hand before launching it across the field. “You bitch!” Mapi yelled, running after her precious phone, praying that it wasn’t broken. 

Aitana turned her back to Mapi’s slouching figure, pointing a finger at Jana. “You keep messing with me, you’re next.” Jana nodded rapidly, eyes snapping to Mapi as she cried dramatically over her phone. Aitana walked off leaving her two friends to deal with the mess they made. 

“And I’m telling Ingrid!”

“We’re not flying all the way to Brazil just for you to set me up with a random stranger.” Patri just couldn’t keep her mouth shut. The more the others knew, the more they pressed. Aitana didn’t want that, it was frustrating enough to deal with her own emotions but to have more people hound you for it was just as infuriating.

She didn't want anyone that wasn’t you, she didn’t care for the girls in Spain and she definitely didn’t care for some random girls in Brazil. She just wanted you and that’s all she’ll ever want. 

Aitana didn’t expect anyone to understand. Heck she didn’t understand it herself. The very first person she fell for, someone she couldn’t have known for no more than an hour, pained her in a way she couldn’t explain.

Her mind imagined scenarios of what could have been if you lived in Spain, if she found loopholes to see the relationship working out. It drained Aitana mentally, all these what ifs. And to show up at work or hang out to be constantly tested fueled her anger. 

She felt like a laughing stock. For the team to know that someone tugged her heart strings was humiliating, double the amount due to the evident impact it had on her. Every woman introduced to her by the helping hand of Mapi, Patri, whoever was a few, pushes away from tipping the iceberg. 

To the rest of the team, they knew very well that Aitana was bound to snap. She’s been teased relentlessly for weeks, they wouldn’t be surprised if Aitana became a loose cannon by the end of the month. 

Aitana sat in her cubby, undressing herself from all the sweat that lingered on her clothes. Patri hopped over, nudging Aitana who ignored her. Patri smiled nonetheless, leaning closer to her, whispering, “I heard what you did with Mapi’s phone. Did she tell you about the match you made on-” Aitana threw her boots into her cubby, whipping around to come face to face with Patri. 

The talking instantly ceased in the locker room, the sound of boots banging against metal gained rapid attention. The smile on Patri’s lips slowly faded away, the tension in Aitana’s face vanished any playfulness in her bones. “If you heard about that then you should’ve heard what I told her. Leave me alone, quit bringing up random girls for me to date. I don’t want them and I don't want you or anyone else meddling with my life!” 

Seeing that Aitana was blowing up, Mapi came over to try to do some damage control. “Hey, we’re just trying to help you get over that girl. You were so upset about her leaving we just wanted to help.” Despite the softness and genuine intention, that didn’t do anything to rid the annoyance and anger building up.

“Well don't! How many times did I ask you to stop?! And you didn’t?! You keep making fun of me! I’m sick of it!” 

Alexia quickly interfered, placing a hand on Aitana beating chest giving the younger girl a soft look. “Why don’t you head home and get some rest. I’ll handle this.” She assured, Aitana snatched her bag off the floor and stomped out the room, giving up the fight before it became physical. The doors slammed loudly against the wall with the force Aitana used. 

Alexia spun on her heels, hands on her lips as she glared at Mapi. “This needs to stop. It’s gone on for way too long. I mean it, Patri delete that app off your phone. I know you still have it. Mapi quit trying to set her up with people she doesn’t want to meet. And anyone else involved quit the shit before you’re running laps before practice for the entire season.” 

Alexia made it a mission to make eye contact with the four who were involved, the other two she couldn’t reach due to one being in Madrid and the other in Mexico but she’ll be sure to check them when nationals come. “Apologize to her. Buy her flowers, clean her apartment, I don’t care just make it up to her, Jonatan has a potential player visiting and we need to make a good impression as a team. Understand?” 

Various answers were said, all pleasing to Alexia to what she wanted to hear. “Good. Patri, Pina, and Mapi starting tomorrow you’ll be running laps until you apologize. And Cata, you’ll be in goal for Aitana’s balls tomorrow, better hope she’s cooled off by then.” The four protested but Alexia didn’t bother to stay to hear it. 

Keira winced at the slammed door, the blonde went by to pick up Aitana for their usual carpool and by the looks of it, yesterday’s mood still lingered. Aitana refused to visit their usual cafe after Pina exposed Aitana’s loneliness to one of the barista’s hoping to score Aitana an unwanted date. She even refused to listen to their morning playlist which always gets them in a peaceful mindset for the day. 

The ride was awkwardly silent, Keira respected Aitana’s need for silence but it killed her the entire time. As soon as the car stopped, Aitana wasted no time rushing out the car, Keira quickly caught up expecting Aitana to be more dragged with her movements to hold off seeing the team.

“Going a bit too fast for me, Tana. Mind slowing down a bit.” The blonde chucked but Aitana made no indication that she was listening, noticing Aitana lost in her thoughts Keira stood in front of her primarily stopping Aitana in her tracks. 

“Still bugged out from yesterday? Don’t worry, Alexia had a talk with the team after you left. They’re very sorry about their actions.” 

Aitana blinked, “Let’s just get to training.” She left it at that, leaving Keira behind. As much Aitana wanted to act like nothing had happened in the past weeks, the brewing irritation and embarrassment had risen to a boiling point that wasn’t going to cool soon. So unfortunately for the girls, they were going to be on the receiving end of Aitana’s fury for the next following days. 

Aitana pushed the doors open to the locker room, high energy today as loud chatter came from the walls. Time stopped for Aitana, her eyes caught onto the person standing in the middle of the room as if it's the norm. Talking to her teammates with a huge smile. How were you here? Why were you here? Millions of questions ran through Aitana's mind and none could she work out an answer to. 

Aitana didn’t realize that you began making way towards her, even as her eyes followed you as you navigated through the room like you've been here before. You stood right in front of her, except there was no sun blinding her, all she had was the ceiling light, a very dim light.

You had a stupid smile on your face, happiness filled your heart to its content. You counted down the remaining days to return to Barca, to see Aitana after your first encounter it made all the move to Spain more exciting. 

“Hi, Aitana.” 

Words breathless, your heart pumping to cupid’s song made it hard to catch your breath. A beat skipped and so did Aitana, well, more like bolted out the door leaving you standing stupidly in the middle of the room.

[dorabellingham]

El classico

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when after a bad game, he seeks comfort in you

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The night after El Clásico seemed to have been tinged with a weight too heavy to bear. The Santiago Bernabéu, which had previously been vibrating with the expectation of a victory, was now silent under the crushing defeat of 4-0. Jude could barely lift his face; the score was like a punch that had hit him straight in the heart, a mixture of humiliation and helplessness that he had not expected to feel so intensely.

The stadium corridors were quiet, the haggard faces of the players mingled with those of the few remaining staff. Jude walked with heavy steps, ignoring the greetings of his colleagues and the murmur of the journalists who tried to capture some reaction. He just wanted to get out of there, to escape the shadow of that defeat.

As soon as he reached the parking lot, he took out his cell phone and, without thinking much, called you. Your voice was the first thing he thought of; he didn't want to talk to anyone other than his girlfriend. Deep down, he knew that you were the only person who could understand without judging, without demanding anything.

—Hey, Jude!

You answered with that welcoming tone that made him breathe a little slower, even in the most tense situations.

Jude let out a heavy sigh before saying something, feeling tiredness mix with frustration.

—Babe... it was a disaster. A complete disaster.

His voice sounded tired, almost exhausted, and there was a vulnerability there that he rarely let show.

You, on the other end of the line, could feel every emotion through his tone, as if you were right there by his side.

—I saw it, babe. —You answered softly, trying not to let him feel like he was being judged. —Do you want to come over to my house? We can talk, or just... be quiet, if you prefer.

He nodded, even though you couldn’t see it.

—I need you now, Y/n... I don’t want to talk to anyone. Just you.

In less than half an hour, Bellingham arrived home. As soon as you opened the door, he walked in slowly, his shoulders still slumped, his eyes downcast, and his face marked by tension. You approached and wrapped him in a hug, a gesture that he returned with a grip so firm that it almost seemed desperate.

—I can’t believe what happened. —He murmured, hiding his face in your shoulder. —So many people were counting on me, you know? It’s not just a game, darling... it’s not just a defeat. It’s... it’s like I failed everyone, the club, the fans. They trusted me.

You stroked his back, feeling how shaken he was. Jude was always strong, a leader on and off the field, but moments like these showed his more human side.

—Honey, you’re an incredible player. One defeat doesn’t change that. Everyone who understands football knows that the sport is like that, sometimes, even the best player has bad days. But you’re an essential part of the team, and they know it.

He shook his head, still not convinced.

—I know it sounds easy to say this, but... I don’t feel that way. Today was humiliating. The pressure from the fans, the disapproving looks... it’s too much.

You held his face between your hands, looking him in the eyes tenderly.

—Jude, you’ve overcome so much. Remember when you were just a little boy who dreamed of playing professional soccer? Look how far you’ve come. And you know how capable you are. This game was just a stumbling block, but you’re much stronger than that.

For a moment, he remained silent, absorbing your words. Then he closed his eyes and nodded slowly. You were his anchor, and just having you there made him feel a lightness he couldn’t find in anyone else.

You smiled at him, pulling him to the couch.

—Sit down. I’ll get us some tea, and you can tell me what else is on your mind, if you want.

As you went to the kitchen, Jude threw himself on the couch, letting his body sink into the cushions. Anger still burned inside him, but the warmth of the house and your affection helped ease the weight.

You came back with a steaming mug of chamomile tea in your hands and sat down next to him, offering the mug. He held your hand before taking the tea, as if he needed that contact to steady himself. After a sip, he sighed deeply and began to talk, telling you every detail that bothered him –the plays that didn't work out, the pressure from the fans, the feeling of helplessness.

—I know it's weird to say this... —He confessed. —But even after everything, I feel like I owe them something. I don't know how I'm going to go back there and face all of this again.

You squeezed his hand and shook your head.

—It's not weird, Jude. It shows how much you care, how much you respect what you do. That feeling is what makes you a special player.

He smiled sideways, a slight smile, still without much conviction, but a little more hopeful.

—I’m lucky to have you, Y/n. Seriously. You have no idea how much this means.

You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, feeling grateful for being there for him.

—And I’m lucky to have you. Now, you’re going to rest, recharge your batteries, and tomorrow is a new day. You’re going back to the field, babe. Stronger than ever.

Jude looked at you, with deep gratitude in his eyes. He knew there would still be challenges, but with you by his side, he was sure he would be able to face anything.

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ FLOW ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. with your auto workshop at risk of closing down, your best friend kira ryosuke offers to introduce you to people who are definitely in need of your high quality services: underground street racers of blue lock, whose obsessions are winning the races. however, your arrival at the track makes them think otherwise. 

CHARACTERS. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, barou shouei, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, yukimiya kenyu, otoya eita, karasu tabito, shidou ryusei, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

CONTENT. f!reader. street racer au. fluff. 1.3k wc. rewrite of flow at my old main blog @/verxsyon. reader is labeled as “kira (ryosuke’s) girl” because they are always seen together. possessive behavior (barou). mentions of violence (shidou & rin).

VERA. what’s better than egoist soccer players? egoist street racers. you know what could be better than egoist street racers? the reonagi divorce arc in hd— oops, lmao. you know what could be better than the reonagi divorce arc in hd? season 2 premiere this week and sae has more screen time! i also bought a reo figure in his high school soccer uniform to celebrate, and it was the last one too. lucky!

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ISAGI YOICHI

the heart. quickly becomes popular for his freshness to the arena. isagi is a good friend of kira, so there’s one more person you can trust. while in his care as kira meets up with his team, he gives you a tour of blue lock to keep you entertained. sweet and kind, he fetches you water and asks if you feel alright because the racers have been ogling at you since you arrived. interrupted by an uproar caused by a racer who is standing on his car with paint all over his body, isagi is beyond irritated.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. BACHIRA MEGURU

the monster. obsessed with spray paint and loves decorating his car with it. bachira is terrible at being an artist. playful and cheerful outside, he holds amateur art performances for the crowd before races to get them pumped up. his gaze makes isagi flinch when he is told by the latter to quiet down. you can still hear the warning of staying close to someone you trust. he emits a dangerous aura, a strong first impression. bachira feels the same when he’s up at your face, studying you intensely.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. CHIGIRI HYOMA

the surge. the fastest racer in blue lock, securing victories at the speed of light. as chigiri approaches bachira to scold him for scaring newcomers, his beauty is so unreal that you don’t even realize you’ve been staring at him. he apologizes for his friend’s antics, justifying that he acts like this before a highly anticipated race. unfortunately, chigiri is not in this one due to a leg injury but luckily has someone helping him to stay in shape: an orange-haired racer waiting at the garage in his car.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

the hero. kunigami has the highest endurance in blue lock, outlasting all racers in long-distance races. he acts like an older brother as he is very protective and solves issues in a civil manner, balancing out his friends’ hot-blooded personalities. kira trusts him enough to take you home as your best friend has matters to take care of. you thank kunigami for the ride and being nice to you. embarrassed, he says he’ll see you at the race and nothing else before zooming away.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. BAROU SHOUEI

the king. barou is the racer that kira complains about for as long as you can remember. he’s selfish and arrogant based on what you gathered so far from kira, claiming that the venue is his throne and the next race is his for the taking. his attitude fits your expectations; you already dislike him upon the first encounter. barou has the audacity to “claim” you as his prize when he wins this race. you’ll definitely follow kira’s advice to avoid him for sure when you see this guy again.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. MIKAGE REO

the heir. reo considers kira to be one of the best in the arena, besides his best friend, nagi, of course. a master of negotiations due to his status as the future chairman of a corporation, he hopes you will find his terms reasonable and collaborate with him as a business partner. but what he doesn’t expect is you playing hard to get. a pretty rich boy does deserve wild goose chase, making his pursuit exhilarating just like races at blue lock. nagi thinks that what he is doing is a waste of time.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. NAGI SEISHIRO

the genius. most people are happy with their achievements, but nagi does not care less as they’re essentially reo’s efforts. all he cares about are his video games and his cactus until you arrive to the arena with kira. all of a sudden, he attempts to impress you; “attempts” being the keyword. yet reo does the work once again by introducing him to you as his precious treasure and brags that you will see nagi’s full potential at the upcoming race. nagi doesn’t find you to be a bother, so he hopes to see you again. 

𝄞༉‧₊˚. YUKIMIYA KENYU

the model. his charm is the focal point of his character, which drives the audience nuts. curious by nature, yukimiya wonders about the qualities you possess other than being “kira ryosuke’s girl” and how you manage to get the likes of barou, who treats everyone like trash, and nagi, who thinks of only going home, at your whim. seeing you teach nagi about car anatomy allows him to introduce himself. he believes that there is something special about you, but a friend of his thinks so otherwise.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. OTOYA EITA

the ninja. otoya claims to be not like his fellow racers and prefers to stay in the shadows. he doesn’t see you as an angel sent by god in the form of a mechanic to fix their cars, not understanding why everyone is smitten by you. he isn’t interested in interacting with you at first, however, that is proven wrong when yukimiya makes you laugh at a silly joke. it’s rude to make you feel unwelcome, so he decides to give you a chance. a crow- like racer mocks him for thinking he doesn’t find you attractive one bit.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KARASU TABITO

the assassin. all about good vibes and good times, karasu does not want anyone to act “mediocre” around you. many newcomers are notorious for never setting foot in this place after their first round. he is relieved to hear that you came at your own volition thanks to kira. majority of racers you met so far are nice to you, so he doesn’t need to worry about making an impromptu spiel of why blue lock is great. if you think he’s too friendly for your taste, what about the guy stalking you right now.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. SHIDOU RYUSEI

the joker. unrestrained both in words and action, shidou goes about his day and does everything as he pleases. judging by how yukimiya, otoya, and karasu are quick to shield you, he’s bad news. the altercation grabs kunigami’s attention, who he has massive beef with. being “kira’s girl” doesn’t phase him, nor your best friend going after his head for being near you. one of his rivals isn’t amused by the ongoing circus act, as if he didn’t break his nose in the previous race.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ITOSHI RIN

the puppeteer. rin has a score to settle with his older brother, sae, who is betting on shidou for the next race. physical violence is a usual solution to settle arguments, and it’s worse for rin to be involved in another fight with shidou, especially before a race that determines his fate and prove to his brother that he’s the best of the best. he doesn’t spare a glance at you or ask if you’re alright, as sae walks into the garage to check out the commotion.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ITOSHI SAE

the prodigy. sae is one of the top eleven racers at the underground. you now know that he is betting on shidou for the upcoming race. rin does not seem pleased. even if it’s not obvious at face value, everyone can tell that there’s bad blood between the brothers by the intense atmosphere created from their staring contest. sae looks at you then at his brother, who he scoffs at for his lack of concern for you. for a girl to experience this in the first week, he’ll stop by your shop as reparation after the race.

[fratttymatty]

Not Bullied No More

*All characters are 18 or over*

Johnny was at school and he had already been bullied by the homophobic, straight, soccer boys, Austin, Mason, Jake, Brady, and Carter, for being gay. They all had the same tiktok boy hair, fluffy and messy.

Later on at home, his cheerleader girl best friend, Cassie, messaged him on discord with a link with a message.

“Heyy! You should like totes join this super duper cool discord server it’s like totes really cool, I’m like in it too!!!!!!” She messaged.

You join it and he is met with the accounts of Cassie, Austin, Mason, Jake, Brady and Carter. Yhey all start sending hypnosis videos on the server to turn him into a new boy, one of the bullies.

"What are they?!" Johnny messages and then looks at one.

All of the videos were different lengths, the one that he looked at was one of the medium length ones.

At first it was normal pictures, pictures of cars, sports equipment, and a hot, popular girl then it started showing videos of his bullies, pictures of them at the gym, at football games, and at social events then there were words that pop out at him.

“YOU WILL BE GOOD BOY!”

“YOU WILL LOOK LIKE US!”

The video then shows more pictures of his bullies, more videos, the voices of his bullies saying “YOU ARE STRAIGHT”, and “WE ARE THE BULLIES”, then it becomes more intense the words start popping up on the screen more intense and more demanding.

“YOU LOVE GIRLS! YOU ARE HETERO!”

“YOU LOVE BEING POPULAR!”

“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND! YOU LOVE HER!”

“YOU ARE STRAIGHT!”

“YOU HATE BEING FEMININE!”

“ YOU ARE ONE OF THE BOYS!”

The video then shows images of the bullies at parties, girls around them and having a good time. The words flash faster as the video goes in a spiral and the background is pink. The spiral starts going faster, the words become intense and start infiltrating his mind.

”YOU LOVE BEING STRAIGHT!”

”YOU LOVE FOOTBALL!”

”YOU HATE BEING GAY!”

”YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS HOT!”

“YOUR OLD LIFE SUCKED!”

The video then slowly changes colour and the background changes from the pink spiral to a picture of a popular girl. He feels himself start to change. His old personality starts to break down.

”YOU’RE A HOT FOOTBALL PLAYER!”

”YOU LOVE PARTYING!”

”GAY IS DISGUSTING!”

”GIRLS HAVE NICE TITS!”

”YOU COULDN’T EVEN MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH A GIRL.”

He goes into a deep trance as the video goes on. ”YOU HAVE A SUPER HOT GIRLFRIEND!”

”YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT FOOTBALL!”

”YOU HATE MATH!”

”YOU LOVE GOING TO THE GYM!”

”YOUR NAME IS JOSH!”

”YOU CAN STARE AT GIRLS’ TITS!”

”YOU WANT TO HAVE CHILDREN!”

He feels himself become hypnotized by the video and the words. He doesn’t want to stop watching, it feels so good.

”YOU’RE SUPER HUNKY!”

”YOU LOVE LIFTING WEIGHTS!”

”YOU LOVE TO GET DRUNK!”

”YOU HAVE ABS!"

”YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS BEAUTIFUL!”

”YOU HAVE A HOT CHEST!”

”YOU ARE A MAN!”

”YOU ALWAYS HAD A GIRLFRIEND!”

”YOU ARE ONE OF THE HOTTEST GUYS IN SCHOOL!”

”YOU LOVE DRINKING BEER!”

”YOU LOVE FOOTBALL AND SOCCER!”

”YOU NEVER HAD PROBLEMS TALKING TO A GIRL!”

”YOU ARE SUPER STRAIGHT!”

”YOU HATE FEM BOYS!”

”GIRLS WANT YOU!”

His mind started to change drastically.

”YOU LOVE BEING AT PARTIES!”

”YOU LOVE WHEN HOT CHICKS LOOK AT YOU!”

”YOU LOVE WHEN YOU WEAR YOUR FOOTBALL JERSEYS AND JEANS!”

”YOU LOVE WHEN YOU PUT ON YOUR SNEAKERS!"

”YOU HAVE SUPER BIG PECS!”

”GIRLS LOVE YOU!”

”YOU WILL ALWAYS LIKE PUSSY!”

The video then cuts to a picture of one of the bullies, Mason, in his room. Johnny, or Josh, been to his room before, it’s huge, and he’s rich. Mason is very fit and has a nice body and big muscles. The video then shows a picture of his muscles, then his arms, his back, and then his shorts. the audio then says one simple thing.

”YOU’RE HUNG!”

the video then shows a picture, one of Mason’s shorts that are a bit tight. then more words come across the screen that say:

”YOU HAVE BIG ABS!”

”YOU HAVE A WIDE CHEST!”

”YOU HAVE A MASSIVE CHAD!”

”YOU WOKE UP TODAY WITH MASSIVE BALLS!”

”YOU HAVE A THICK GIRTH!”

Suddenly a picture of Cassie appears, she’s a very ditzy and hot Latina cheerleader. The video suddenly then says the words…

“HOT GIRLFRIEND!”

"SHE’S ALL YOURS!"

He starts jerking off when he sees Cassie.

The video then shows pictures of Cassie, on the cheer squad, being a dumb bimbo, during the school day, and selfies.

”SHE’S YOUR GIRL!”

”SHE’S ALL YOURS, YOU’RE A HUNK!”

”SHE’S A SPICY LATINA GIRL!”

”YOUR GIRLFRIEND! YOU WAKE UP WITH HER IN YOUR MANLY BED!”

The video goes on with more pictures of Cassie and talks about his relationship with her. They flash quickly in his mind, pictures of him kissing her, her body against his super big chest, and even him in the locker room talking to her. The video then changes to pictures of football players, with strong bodies and big muscles and tight clothes.

”YOU LOVE FOOTBALL!”

”YOU LOOK HOT IN JERSEYS!”

It switches bac to talking about Cassie.

”SHE’S DUMB!"

”STUPID DITZ!”

Then a picture of his old personality comes on the screen.

”YOU USED TO THINK YOU WOULD NEED A SMART GIRL!”

”YOU THOUGHT YOU NEEDED A GIRLFRIEND YOU COULD TALK TO!”

”NOW YOU KNOW BETTER!"

”YOU WILL ALWAYS DATE DUMB GIRLS!”

”YOUR GIRLFRIEND JUST HAS TO BE DUMB!”

”DUMB CHICKS WITH BIG TITS WILL ALWAYS BE YOUR TYPE.”

He suddenly imagines himself with a new haircut, he suddenly pictures himself with a nice, fluffy, messy, clean haircut, one that girls love. Then a picture comes on the video of his new hair.

”YOU HAVE THE BEST HAIR IN SCHOOL, ONE GIRLS LOVE!”

”WITH YOUR NICER HAIR, AND YOUR CHAD BOY LOOKS, EVERY GIRL WILL FALL FOR YOU!”

The video changes to another picture of him with different hair, it’s dark brown, the perfect colour to make him look good. the video also says...

”YOUR NEW HAIR COLOR MAKES YOU LOOK GREAT”

The video shows more pictures of Johnny/Josh, in different clothes, different colours, and the video gets faster as it keeps spinning. Suddenly his new friends names, Jake, Brady, Austin, and Mason, pop up on the screen.

”YOUR NEW FRIENDS ARE AWESOME.”

”THEY ARE POPULAR, AWESOME, AND COOL!”

”THEY WILL HELP YOU BECOME EVEN MORE AWESOME!”

The video then shows videos of him and his new bully friends at football events, parties, and social events with girls around them.

”EVERY GIRL WANTS A BOYFRIEND LIKE THEM!”

”THOSE GUYS ARE THE ONES WHO ALWAYS GET ATTENTION!”

”YOU NOW LOOK LIKE THEM!”

The video then shows all the things he can do now.

”YOU WILL WEAR YOUR FOOTBALL JERSEY!”

”YOU WILL HAVE A SUPER HOT GIRLFRIEND!”

”YOU WILL BE A FOOTBALL STAR!”

”EVERY GIRL WILL WANT YOU!”

The video then says, one simple thing.

”YOU’RE PERFECT.”

And the video ends!

*THE NEXT DAY*

It’s a normal morning at school, and Josh is at his locker getting ready for his first period when he hears something from behind him.

”Hey bro!” says the person being Josh

"Yo brooo!" Josh replies.

He turns around to see Mason, his new football buddy. He stands at 6’2, super muscular, super good looking, and very cocky. Josh was now 6'1, lean and toned with big pecs, very good looking, and very cocky just like Mason.

”Yo wassup bro?” Asks Mason.

"Not much dude. You?" Josh replies.

Mason leans on the locker next to his as he gives him a smirk, his muscular body facing Josh now. 

”Just getting my stuff for soccer. You goin’ to the homecoming dance bro?” He asks.

"Yea dude, I should probably get my soccer stuff too. And yea, course I'm goin' to prom dude! Goin' with Cassie!" Josh replies.

”Oh yeah, you’re gettin’ with that Latina girl, lucky man. I'm goin' with Brittany, Austin's goin' with Valentina, Carter's goin' with Stacy, Jake's goin' with Dana, and Brady's goin' with Emmy!” Mason says.

Josh and Mason grab their stuff and go to soccer field where Jake, Carter, Brady, and Austin were already there. Josh saw Cassie and all their dates in their tight cheer uniforms.

This was Johnny's new life as Josh. And it would be forever!

[ultravioletrayz]

soccer dad!miguel who despises that shithead #10 for being too rough with his precious baby girl on the field. He can't wait until Gabi's old enough for the all girl's team, but until then, Miguel would have to cope with watching the boys on the opposition get away with completely barreling through his little angel.

soccer dad!miguel who yells over all the soccer moms on the sideline, making sure his booming praise reaches Gabriela and his childishly cruel berating throws off whoever's trying to tackle her as she dribbles the ball up the field.

soccer dad!miguel who loses his absolute shit when Gabi is elbowed to the ground by that #10 kid. His fatherly instincts consume him and without thinking, he storms onto the field cursing at the ref and yelling all sorts of profanities in both Spanish and English. His veins bulge in his biceps and head as he rushes over to console Gabriela, but he swallows his outrage momentarily to crouch down on the grass.

soccer dad!miguel who carries himself with such tenderness when checking to make sure his daughter isn't injured, sighing heavily with relief when he's met with a reassuring smile from the mildly frazzled little girl. That soft demeanour completely transforms into pure protectiveness and anger as he stands up and turns to glare at #10, his tall, tan, muscular body towering over the little boy.

"¿Qué demonios fue eso? Just because you want to win doesn’t mean you have to push and shove. That kind of behaviour is for losers. Weren’t you raised to treat girls with respect?" He scolds, his voice dripping with judgement as his sharp red eyes bore into the poor kid.

soccer dad!miguel who can't help but scoff, unimpressed, when the little boy starts crying, his stature and harsh words obviously scaring the kid as he sniffles and looks back and forth between Gabriela and Miguel apologetically, but he's unable to find his words in the presence of such an intimidating grown up. Miguel’s attention shifts to the young woman rushing onto the field towards #10, a scowl on his face.

“Watch your mouth, asshole. He’s just a kid playing a game, it’s not like he was trying to hurt her!” You yell at the tall, stoic man. You reach out to comfort the little boy, wiping away his tears.

soccer dad!miguel who hasn’t seen such a beautiful girl in his entire life. His ex-wife was okay, but their relationship turned nasty, all remnants of feelings completely soiled by her tendency to lie and cheat. He finds himself checking you out, sharp red eyes lingering on your curves before he feels Gabi hugging his leg and he’s immediately snapped back into his state of disdain and rage.

“Your kid has been roughing my daughter up the whole damn day. Doesn’t seem like a fun game to me.” Miguel counters, patting Gabriela’s head as he glares at you.

“For starters, he’s not my kid. And also, she’s not even hurt! I’ll admit, it wasn’t a clean tackle, but you’re overreacting and you’re making an innocent kid cry.” You scoff, finding this grown man’s behaviour unbelievable as your nephew cowers behind your leg, leaving you and Miguel staring each other down.

soccer dad!miguel who’s aware that he can be a bit overprotective of Gabriela at times, and begrudgingly decides to back down. Especially when you’re looking at him with those beautiful eyes. He’d let this random woman do anything to him as long as she’s looking at him with those eyes.

“Shit… look, I may have come off more aggressive than I intended. I didn’t mean to scare your…?” Miguel begins, shrugging his shoulders as he looks down at Gabi and then back up at you.

“Nephew.”

“Your nephew. He just needs to watch out not to do any damage to the other players, especially the girls.” Miguel says softly, trying to be the bigger person for Gabriela’s sake (and also because he wants to distract himself from how hot it was when you told him off)

soccer dad!miguel who forgets about being nice and friendly when you shrug him off with a frustrated “whatever” and walk off hand-in-hand with your nephew. That’s when he looks around in confusion to see that the game had ended and everyone had left the field. Miguel picks Gabi up and kisses the side of her head, although he's still seething at how that #10 got off unscathed and you didn't even attempt to acknowledge his attempts at an apology for losing his cool. He spends the entire afternoon silently dreading the next time the two teams have a game together, because he'll have to endure the sight of that little shit and his aunty with the fat ass.

NEXT PART

[egoistars]

HIT BRAKE! sae itoshi

(Sae needs to practice his goals and you… driving)

~3.8k words, humor, fluff, angst if you grab a magnifying glass, use of soccer instead of football (i have too much pride to do that), theyre so polar opposite they unfortunately come full circle and match each others freak

Sae Itoshi returned to Japan with several new things under his belt:

The ability to speak spanish (although his grammar structure can use some help from time to time)

An insane growth spurt

Probably shell shock syndrome

And the scariest new update to a chronic Resting Bitch Face that you had the displeasure of seeing thrown your way when you accidentally ran over his ball driving home. Maybe this is why most Japanese people rely on public transport instead of using their licenses

TWO was the number of times you had failed your driver’s test. Yes, you could always use the bus or ask your friends for a ride, but college doesn’t start for another few weeks and you’re determined by pure stubbornness to be driver certified before starting school. You think you’re doing pretty good so far: no accidents, no being pulled over, no getting cursed, and no one loudly complaining about your skills (no one has trusted you to drive them). The only thing you had left to master was parallel parking. 

It was a legacy in your family to be horrible at city parking.

One of your earliest memories was in the backseat of a rental car in a foreign country while your mother tried to park on the side of the street, only to get honked at by cars and drive against the flow of vehicles in a one-way zone. 

A bag of groceries lie in the trunk of your car as you drive to your family’s home. Humming along to the song softly playing through the radio, you slow down as you near the residential area, confident that this drive will end without a single thing gone wrong. Without speaking, you jinx your thoughts as you jolt when your car goes over a bump and a loud wheeze follows it. Turning your head to the side, your entire body freezes and your eyes go wide upon seeing the pissed off glare of Sae Itoshi, the infamous Japanese soccer player who just returned from Spain with a sexy tan.

With a shaky hand, you roll down your window and immediately start tumbling over your rushed apologies. You don’t even understand what you’re saying but you hope that Itoshi somehow understands. When he doesn’t react, which is what you expected but it hurts nonetheless, you immediately shut up and tumble out of your car before getting on your knees and seeing what you ran over. 

Your hand reaches and pulls out a deflated soccer ball, the entire thing flat with a large hole on the side from when it got run over by your car. You almost feel inclined to inflate it with the tears that are about to spill out of your eyes but the only realistic and socially acceptable choice was to give it to Itoshi and once again, apologize but with words that he and the average person can understand. 

Itoshi mumbles a “it’s okay” before taking the ball (can you even call it that?) a once-over. “I have more at home, I’ll just throw it out.”

“Holy shit I’m so sorry about that I can buy you a new one just please don’t sue me I can’t afford a good lawyer, I’m in student loan debt.”

“...why would I sue you?” he asks, his face slightly scrunched up in confusion. It’s not much different from his normal expression, just a slight crease of his brows but it makes all the difference.

“I didn’t mean to assume that you’re gonna sue me, please don’t sue me for assuming!” You think that you should begin to pack your bags and take out a loan to move to another country. It would be easier to be a criminal than to deal with a conversation with a guy who multiplies your humiliation. “I just thought that you might get your super prestigious and rich and wealthy and prosperous and exquisitely-copious-in-currency soccer team on my ass ‘cause I ran over one of their balls,” you nervously rambled. Your face heats up at every word and one Itoshi divides into two Itoshis and two Itoshis split into four.

“Are you schizophrenic? I thought you were normal back in middle school,” sixty-eight Itoshis say in unison.

Your body freezes, the now one hundred twenty-eight Itoshis all morphing back into one. “Wait, we went to middle school together?”

“Uh, yeah,” he blinks, this time looking even more awkward than you. “We were in the same class for two years straight and I sat next to you the semester before I left. I think I would remember the kid who slept through each period but still got all the answers right when called on.”

“Oh!” You perk up at the recollection of a scrawny red-haired boy from five years ago, one who would try to not-so-discreetly look at your worksheet answers and peek at your notes during class. “You’re the boy who would always copy off my work. I do remember you!”

“Is that all you remember about me?” If Itoshi were any other person, you’d say he looked uncomfortable but all he did was tilt his head a little more to the left and shift on his feet. 

“I mean, the only reason why you remember me is ‘cause I saved your academics without even knowing. Don’t think I didn’t hear our teacher whispering ‘good job’ to you while returning our tests and how you suddenly moved up in our class rankings.”

“Well you didn’t bother to hide anything when you were snoozing away so whose fault really is it?”

“You were gonna leave for Spain, anyway!” you point out, remembering being pissed off when hearing the reason why your seatmate left was because he was some kind of sport prodigy, basically having his entire future as a star secured at the age of thirteen.

“My parents would’ve killed me and held me by my feet if I flunked.” Itoshi grimaced, kissing his teeth and brushing his hair back as it had fallen over his eyes. His cheeks had returned to its usual color, removing the red flush of running and exhaustion.

“Huh, I guess I should be credited for your success. Spain should thank me.”

“Are we forgetting that I’m the one who plays the sport?” Sae’s voice came out harsher than he intended and cut through the playful atmosphere by the first syllable. His demeanor appeared unchanged but he felt himself tense. 

Conversation had never been strong for Sae, only ever talking when he needed to and the most of his words going to his teammates on the field or his little brother. His success was a sensitive subject whether he liked to admit it or not. Spain served as an eye-opener to the teenage boy, being left in a country where no one looked like you and no one spoke your language. The only thing he could rely on was a translator he barely trusted and the expressions of the people around him. 

When you don’t respond, Sae observes your face, noticing how you began to fidget with your fingers just as you had when you first stepped out of the car. You weren’t his previous coaches; you were just a former classmate who he happened to run into, or rather, you drove into. It was too late to laugh and he felt slightly guilty at freaking out someone that wasn’t his brother, an opponent, or a bothersome news anchor. 

“If you want to repay me for the ball, meet me at the sports store nearby.”

“Sorry, but I don’t really know where you’re talking about,” you sheepishly reply, wanting to sink more into the ground with every word. You decide that talking to athletes is more tiring than playing an actual sport.

“Give me your number, I’ll send you the address.”

You hand him your phone, hoping he doesn’t comment on the horrendously cracked screen protector that you had been telling yourself to replace for months. At the same time, you also want him to notice the small possibility of him offering to buy you a new one, taking advantage of rich people or whatever. “I can pick you up if you don’t mind.”

“Should I trust you to drive me?” he asks, carefully looking between you and your car with his turquoise eyes as if analyzing his opponents on a field, only, this was a residential street and the only other player was a balding middle aged man walking his dog. 

“I mean, you’ll be my first passenger so you can find out for everyone else.”

“If I get into an accident I’ll sue you for real.”

“I’ll try not to, I don’t have a job anymore and I’m going to college soon so even if I do please be merciful I swear I have good intentions.”

“Pick me up tomorrow at 11 and I’ll give you a review,” he decides, handing over his phone with the contact ‘Sae Itoshi’ at the top of your phone and the name of a sports store sent to your conversation. You ponder for a moment about asking for a contact picture but you’d like to stay alive for at least one more day so you bid him farewell and sit back in the driver’s seat, hoping he doesn’t hate your taste in music when you turn the radio back on.

—

The Itoshi residence is rather normal, differing from your expectation of a lavish mansion with fountains and fences of gold, given that Sae was a famous athlete and his younger brother Rin was known throughout the prefecture for being a mini Sae. The previous night when you had just finished brushing your teeth, your phone screen illuminated with the presence of a new notification: a text from the older Itoshi.

>make sure you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow

>i’ll need to try each ball out

>you did this to yourself

>shitty driver

A jolt of pain had struck your pride, crumbling your ego at the realization that he was, unfortunately, right about needing to sacrifice your entire afternoon to babysit a (grown) stranger whom you haven’t talked to in years; those conversations were brief, lacking any substance to consider them actual conversations. For a moment, the thought of bailing on him had crossed your mind, the idea of leaving him stranded at his residence while you enjoyed a night in, marinating before a tumultuous college career seemed insatiably tempting. 

Disaster struck when you Googled Sae Itoshi’s net worth, his bank account leading you right to his front doorstep.

“Don’t get into any car accidents,” Sae told you as he dipped his head down to step into the passenger’s side of your car. You were suddenly struck with a moment of insecurity; a wealthy athlete who could probably buy your family and your ancestor’s mummified corpses is sitting in your car and is probably rich enough to get away with murdering you for having half a particle of dust fall onto his lap.

You realized you zoned out when Sae cleared his throat, blinking a few times at you with an unamused expression and eyebrows furrowed in judgment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, man. Just trying to remember the name of the place you mentioned. It’s a technique I use where if I think really hard in the same place I was when I thought of that thought, that thought I had thought of can reappear in my thoughtless mind.” You aren’t sure if you understand what you’re saying but you think you can get away with spouting bullshit if you use enough hand movements like a person on TedTalk.

“What the actual fuck are you saying?” Sae doesn’t seem to believe you but you’re an innovator—you simplify the problem down to something the average person (underling) can understand. 

“Can you give me the address again..?”

“You’re a freak.”

Sae picks up your phone, which was opened to the navigator app, and quickly typed in the name of the sporting good’s shop he had mentioned the day before. It was a small place, smaller than you would expect a star athlete to go to for equipment but you suppose it makes sense at the same time: less people, less paparazzi, less crazed fans, and a selection of items picked specifically for trained athletes. 

“So, uh, are you gonna make me pay for the ball too ‘cause I’m at least, like, five yen in student loan debt,” you sheepishly ask, hoping Sae can appreciate your humility in being a college student, taking a step forward in life by pursuing a higher education. 

“How cheap are you?” Sae scoffs, letting out a sound that started off as half of a chuckle but ended as a constipated grunt, making him sound like a diseased lab-grown goat that was raised by war-stricken alien society. You think Sae should become an experimental musical artist if soccer doesn’t work out, sorta like a fucked up version of Björk who’s slightly less musically talented and a total cunt instead. 

“I’m not cheap! I’m just curious. I brought my credit card just in case. I’m a responsible adult; this is all for budgeting and logging my payments or whatever else people do to save money.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” Sae comments as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world. For you though, you almost stepped on the breaks and begged him to repeat what he said. It would have been just another condescending compliment from anyone else but Sae Itoshi is notorious for not humoring anyone in the media and you quickly realized, even those in real life. Before you could doubt your memory, Sae opens his mouth again. “You lucked out on pretty privilege. All the bullshit you say would not slide if it came from any other person. I’m convinced the only social experience you have is talking to a mud wall.”

Any negative statement he had made went through one ear and directly out the other, keeping only the compliments for your brain to process. Without noticing, a giddy smile appeared on your face and to Sae, it was wildly masochistic the way you tolerated his foul personality and even relishing in his attention—no matter good or bad. He could almost pity you, deducing your attitude as a lack of self respect, but you somehow manage to surprise him every time.

“Nah, I think I had a lot of friends. I don’t know if we were actually friends but I knew their names so it’s probably good enough. Speaking of, there was this guy named Kota who I knew when I was seven and he seemed pretty cool until I caught him picking at his feet in the middle of class. Sometimes I wonder how he’s doing and if he’s still collecting foot gunk. But yeah, I think you’re just self projecting with the whole ‘no people, only soccer’ thing and moving to Spain with zero spanish skills. Damn, wait, that’s kinda sad. Shit, now I feel bad,” you take a look at Sae, searching for any sort of discomfort or offense but he simply shrugged. 

“It’s whatever, they all bothered me anyways. I was there to play soccer, not make lifelong friends. It’s not like I’m gonna stay in Spain forever. I’m back in Japan to renew my passport ‘cause I know I’m gonna come back eventually.”

“You’ve already made a name for yourself and you’re making insane money that can last more than a lifetime for the average person once your contract is over. It’s not gonna be long before you get onto the Olympic team for Japan. When you do make it on, you better thank me for making sure you kept on playing by bringing you to buy a replacement for a ball I ran over.”

You drove into a parking lot with two other cars directly in front of the sports shop. The building was in the middle of a small plaza, adjacent to an udon shop and a bar. It was undoubtedly an odd place for a sports shop to be and that might have been what caught Sae’s eye in the first place. In the window display, a tennis racket and a pair of soccer cleats are put on display and on the glass door, countless advertisements for events and brands are taped on, each barely correlating to the others.

Right in the corner of the shop is the checkout where an elderly man sits, scribbling something in a beaten journal. There is a stack of newspapers behind him, every issue marked with highlighted annotations and then neatly folded as if it were untouched. Sae greeted the man and turned to find someone else, this time, being a younger man who appeared to be in his thirties or forties. He gave Sae a warm smile and shook his hand, not as a business partner, but as an acquaintance. 

It’s here that you realize you’ll never be able to see the world the way Sae does. In your car he was just another boy in your neighborhood that you decided to get to know. But to others, he was Sae Itoshi, a prodigy who could conquer the world with just himself and a pair of cleats. Although his eyes are dimmed and his apathy anything but silent, his shine was lost to know one and when he boards a plane back to Spain while you settle into college, you think you’d be content calling him a shooting star.

Sae notices that you stopped following him and turns around in confusion, tilting his head to motion you to follow him. It takes a breath before you put your hands in the pocket of your jacket and tentatively follow him. It wasn’t until you walked into the store that you truly realized how out of place you felt and if it were just you and Sae, you might’ve thought to ask him what everything did. He’d call you a dense fuck and tell you that he plays soccer, that he doesn’t deal with anything else. You had even the smallest bit of shame so you kept your mouth shut and continued to trail after him, stealing glances at the stacked shelves until the employee came to a halt.

Before you was a wall, lined with four shelves of nothing but soccer balls, each decorated with the signatures of different brands and their series’.

“The guy said I can try them out in the back.” Sae tapped your shoulder and grabbed onto the fabric of your jacket, dragging you with him like a pet cat. “They have a lot of empty space there. You can help me carry everything I want to try.”

Agreeing turned out to be a mistake. In your arms you struggled to carry six different balls, with Sae dribbling one between his feet as the owner of the stop unlocked the door to the back where Sae would be testing things out. You felt like an overworked butler from some bad comic and in your head, you imagined yourself as a fainting princess—a damsel in distress being overworked by the evil kingdom in which she is supposed to be respected.

“Stop being dramatic,” Sae sighed, noticing your dejected pout and lost eyes. He could almost pity you if you didn’t look comically pathetic in the moment, almost adorable if he wanted to be slightly sentimental. “You can put them all down now. Just sit here and wait. Take a nap or something, you’ll be fine.”

The lack of standards you have would be an issue to address at a later date because the barely comforting words of the ever eloquent motivational speaker Sae Itoshi had you immediately perking up and cheering for him.

“Go! Go! You got this! Get that goal, ugly!”

“Who are you calling ugly? I could knock you out with this ball, you know. If you want to be supportive, don't be a freak.”

“Are you really gonna disrespect the only fan you have at the moment? What if I tweet about this and get you canceled or some shit?”

“Do you really think I care about that?”

“...no…”

“...”

“...”

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

“Kick that ball, little boy! You’re a prodigy! Number one soccer player in the world! Bend that net over!”

—

By the time Sae had finished shooting several goals and alternating dribbling between them at least five times, the sun had set and your throat was sore from bullshit cheering, half of which were incoherent sounds of moral support. Sae grabbed an unopened box of the ball he had chosen and denied a pump when offered one. When he placed the cardboard packaging onto the checkout table, your wallet was in your hand and ready to check out and pay off your debt to the Itoshi. 

However, you were met with a receipt in your hand instead and a farewell from the owner, bidding you and Sae a happy rest of your day. You quickly turned your head toward Sae, mouth agape as your brain twitched, trying to process if he was fucking with you or not.

“Do you want me to pay you online or write a check or what? Wait, why did you pay? I thought I owed you it? My complaining earlier was all joking. I literally popped your old ball. The least I can do is pay for a new one!” You rant, quickly taking your phone out of your bag to open up your banking app but Sae was quicker to take your hand in his and bring it down to where it was before.

“And I was fucking with you too, dumbass. Or are you too stupid to remember back in the car how I didn’t respond to you asking if you needed to pay? Start listening, will you?”

“I think this is the meanest act of generosity I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not being generous, I’m telling you that you owe me something else.”

“What the fuck?” You’re perplexed by the audacity of this man. You hope his athletic career flops and every brand deal that he has gotten offered drops him. “Are you gonna start charging me an insane amount of interest like a loan shark? Dude, aren’t you rich?”

“I’m not asking for money.”

“Then what is it?”

“Go on a date with me.”

“Are you being for real right now?” You’re still perplexed by the audacity of this man. You’re perplexed by how his words are chosen to form the most foul sentences with sweet meanings. You’re perplexed by how out of all who know him, and all whom he knows, he would take an interest in you. But you’re a selfish person—if Sae Itoshi is offering his beauty and his awful personality to you, then you’ll take it with all your heart. 

You move to Sae’s side, putting everything in your hands into your bag and intertwining your fingers with his, a dumb smile planted on your face. As you skip to the car and swing your hands between the two of you, Sae Itoshi’s grin is highlighted by the golden glow of the setting sun. 

He really can’t wait to come home.

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Bachira Meguru assuming he's unlovable.

Being called a monster for their whole childhood really makes a mark on a person's life and self-esteem. But for Bachira, they were unavoidable.

At first, he tried to ignore the mean comments and pretend he didn't hear them. Maybe that would make the loneliness go away. Maybe it would make the problems disappear.

"He's a freak!"

"Eww, don't get too close to Bachira! You'll get lice!!"

"He's stinky"

He heard the whispers. He just used to pretend he didn't. For both his and the children's sake. So he could pretend he was normal. At least for a while.

And, sometimes, even parents, grown-ass adults, called him weird. Shouldn't they set an example for their kids? They tell them: "Don't judge other people! You never know what they're going through!", but are always the first to talk shit about someone, even if said someone is a little kid.

"Poor kid. It's probably the parents fault."

"He says sees a 'monster'! He's probably schizophrenic."

"My son is afraid of him. Specially when he's playing soccer. He said he's very scary"

He tried to ignore them. He really did. He tried to smile through it all and treat people the same way he always had nevertheless: with respect. Because crying would make his problems real. He didn't want them to be real. And he was doing a good job at it! But one faithful day, he snapped. The final nail in the coffin.

"When I grow up, I want to be a football player, just like Zico!" 11 year old Bachira said, showing the whole class a drawing of him, Zico and his monster playing soccer together. His smile was as bright and blinding as ever, specially because he was talking about his passion: soccer. He loved it so much. It helped him escape the harsh reality for a while.

The class went silent. They used to think Bachira was weird, to put it slightly, but this? It just made him even more weird! They all knew that he could never be a football player. He was an outcast. A freak. He was a monster. And monsters couldn't live with humans. Nobody wanted a monster on their team.

And so, instead of clapping like they did with the other kids' drawings, the class started to laugh. It started out quiet, but later it turned into a full, loud laugh. All of them. And Bachira always dreamed of making everyone there laugh, but not like this. They weren't laughing with him or because of him, they were laughing at him.

"Uh? What's happening, miss?" He asked the teacher, confused and on the verge of crying. He couldn't cry here. Not in front of them, please. That would be another thing for them to laugh at.

He swears on his life that he heard the teacher laugh a little, before the adult crouched down to match his size, grabbed his drawing and put it on his desk, while the other kids' drawings were being stuck to the board with tape. And then, he heard one of the worst sentences he ever heard in his life. One that he knew would definitely keep him awake at night:

"Meguru, being a football player is too hard for you. Why don't you settle for something more real and reachable? Like a doctor or a lawyer?"

He didn't understand. Some kids here wanted to be astronauts, others wanted to be models. Hell, one wanted to be a dinosaur babysitter. And their drawings were hanging on the wall, like they were going to be achieved. Bachira felt like no one believed in him. Like he was being put aside.

He then realized the problem wasn't what he wanted to do. It was him. Anyone could be a football player, but he couldn't. Because he was a monster. He was different from others.

And so, the tears began to fall. One by one, first from his left away and then from his right eye. His vision began to blurry. Left eye, right eye. Left, right, left right. Kids laughing, teacher laughing. His drawing on the desk. Left, right. Left right. He couldn't even see his own hands anymore from how blurred his vision was. He looked to his side. Left, right. The door. His escape. He needed to leave.

So, without second thought, Bachira ran towards the door. He couldn't care less for the teacher calling his name. He wouldn't come looking for him anyway. Nobody would. Nobody cared enough to do it.

He sat behind a tree, protected by it's shadow. He continued to cry. Hard. He put his hands in his eyes to try and stop the tears from falling, but he couldn't. He needed to let it all out. He just wished he had someone by his side during his breakdown. He really wanted a shoulder to rely on.

"Hey"

Maybe he was, indeed, schizophrenic. Because, the moment he looked up, he saw a girl he swore was too pretty to be real. The sunset made her have an angelic glow, and the wind made her hair flow just the right way. Her face was like a greek statuate, and he swore he could hear a soothing symphony playing in the background when he met her eyes: they were the most beautiful color he had ever seen, and he could imagine himself being lost and found in them. She was just too pretty. Too pretty to be here for him. And so, he managed to stop crying for a while and said, between sniffs:

"Did you lose a bet?"

The way your face contorted was almost comic.

"What?"

"Did someone pay you to come here? Where are the cameras? And how much was it?"

"I didn't lose any bet" you said, frowning. "I came here to check on you because I wanted to. I don't get why everyone laughed at you. Your dream is not stupid. Nobody's dream is."

"Even Richard's? He said he wants to be a dinossaur nanny" he said before he even thought about it. He then widened his eyes, because what if you were Richard's friend? What if you hated him now because he said something bad about your friend? What if he already screwed everything up? What if...

"Okay, you win. That one's actually stupid." You laughed. He made you laugh. This time, someone was laughing because of him. He felt like he was capable of everything at that moment. Your laugh was a sweet, infecting, honey-like melody. It made him wanna laugh too. He didn't realize it, but he had already stopped crying, and was now just staring at you with big, blown and unwavering eyes. His mouth slightly parted, like he was studying you and comitting everything about you to memory. Almost as if you were indeed an ilusion, and would disappear the second he blinked. He couldn't believe you were real. You were real, and you were talking to him.

After a while, you stopped laughing and finally noticed his intense staring. Suddenly bashful, your cheeks turned a bright red.

"I-I just want you to know that you shouldn't be ashamed of your dream. I think- no, I'm sure you can achieve it. You just have to work hard for it. I-I've seen you playing sometimes, and it's honestly amazing how focused you are. Bachira, I want to be your friend. That's it, if you'll let me-"

He hugged you. Hard. If it was any other time, he would have been afraid of scaring you off with the sudden hug, but he couldn't care less right now. He needed this. He needed a friend. You were just what he needed. You were perfect.

He started to cry again. This time, the first tear came out of his right eye. Right, left. His vision was getting blurred from how hard he was smiling. Right, left. Right, left. Your arms hugging him back. Right, left. The sound of the school bell, signalizing the end of the school day. People would see you and him hugging and you would probably be called weird by them for being next to him, but you still didn't break the hug. Right, left.

He didn't want to escape like he did during the class incident. No. He wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted time to stop, to be in your arms for eternity. He didn't want to pull away. He finally made a friend. You were his first friend.

Bachira Meguru used to think he was unlovable, but you proved him wrong. You proved he could, in fact, be loved. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't a freak. He was Bachira Meguru. Your best friend. And he wore that title with pride. Later on, he had the honour to be called your boyfriend, and he was even prouder of that one.

He used to think he would never find happiness. That's why, the moment the ref blew the whistle signalizing the end of Japan U-20 against Blue Lock eleven match and securing Blue Lock's victory, he couldn't think of anything else besides his girl. He ran across the field to you. Because you were like a magnet. He couldn't be apart from you, or else it felt like the whole earth would explode. He was yours and you were his. You both were meant to be.

"You did it! I love you, Meguru!"

He laughed. A pretty, genuine laugh followed by a couple of tears, beginning from his right eye, of course. His mother was recording behind you both, the blue lock team was smirking and whistling at the sight of you two and the television was streaming the moment for the whole world to see. But neither of you cared about the extra eyes. You were the only ones on the world. You always made him feel like that, and he hopes he makes you feel that way, too.

"I love you so much. Thank you."

Thank you for being with me. Thank you for being there. Thank you for not leaving me. Thank you for accepting the title of being my girlfriend proudly. Thank you for being you. Thank you for everything. Thank you.

He then lifted you and spun you in the air, smiling hard. He brought your lips closer and then kissed you. A kiss full of emotion and love. So much love: raw and pure.

You proved he wasn't just lovable. He was also capable of loving. And there's nothing prettier than loving someone.

Bachira Meguru was lovable, and you made sure to show him that. You loved him, and he would do everything to keep it that way forever.

~A/N: there's a "saying" that says that if you're crying and the first tear is from the left eye, you're crying from sadness. If the first tear comes out of the right eye, they're happy tears!!

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