#I LOVE BACHIRA

[damicxyy]

nagi is literally ice bear!

[sirhamburrger]

KINTSUGI (m. bachira x reader)

━☆ (soulmate au, for day four of @phantasmaebg) ━☆ in which you find him when you least expect to. ━☆ wc: 2805 (am i insane for this) || tags/cw: f!reader, reader is lowkey not listening but very much judging, bachira is a stoner confirmed, mentions of substance use (alcohol, drugs), nothing too specific, photog major reader and art major bachira || event m.list ━☆ day five ends in ten minutes... yeah i'm skipping that

there are only two undeniable truths in this world, as far as you know.

number one: everybody has recurring visions of the moment they’ll be the happiest with your soulmate.��

it’s always been like this, ever since the beginning of time. cleopatra and marc antony. frida kahlo and diego rivera. johnny cash and june carter. they knew, because it was foretold, written in the stars. the revelations come in daydreams, fantasies, trances, dreams. it’s different for every person, supposedly.

number two: you’ll never find your soulmate.

you’ve long since given up waiting for them. you think you might be a cupioromantic - aka you want a romantic relationship, but have never truly experienced romantic love. not uncommon, but you feel… unlucky, almost. 

for the past seventeen years, or for as long as you can remember, you’ve never experienced one of these visions. passing thoughts about guys in your classes, and eyebrows raised when you see a particularly attractive actor on-screen, but none of the euphoria that people say is supposed to accompany it. 

middle school and high school was when you felt the most left out of all of it. friends and classmates finding their soulmates left and right, squealing in delight when they happened to catch sight of someone who looked like the people in their dreams. 

these truths have held true for you, for seventeen whole years. so understandably, everything comes crashing down when you have your first dream about him. you dream it the night after, too, and on the nights that follow.

it’s always the same. the two of you are on some sort of grassy knoll; his hair is mussed, deep brown and bright yellow mixing, as he stares up at you from where his head lies in your lap. late afternoon sunlight spilling across his features, he looks like a veritable work of art, an angel. he opens his mouth, but no sound comes out -

you wake up.

sitting bolt upright in your bed, you deflate in disappointment. 

you don’t stop thinking about him on the walk from your dorm to your first class of the day. they’re the same questions from a week ago - is he your age? older? where is he from? if you know what he looks like in your dreams, why does your mind go blank when you wake up?

and most importantly: does he dream about you every night, just as you dream about him?

you don’t know if you can say for sure if you love someone just by dreaming about them, but you will anyway. because you already know you love him, wherever and whenever he might exist.

you might never find him, because you don’t even remember what he looked like in your head. and for this, you feel broken.

---

meguru feels her again tonight, when he's blackout drunk at a gatsby-esque party hosted by rin itoshi so he can get the attention of a girl in his psychology class. the couch he lays on is pristine, but probably won’t be for much longer.

he does not dream; if he does, he forgets it. visions of his soulmate, his other half - they come only when he’s out of it, only when he’s drunk, or high, or depressed.

and it is always the same.

it’s the feeling of soft warmth on his face, like gentle sunlight. a soft, calming chuckle. light touches on his hair, brushing his locks out of his face. it’s the feeling of being adored and cherished. 

it’s the feeling of being loved. 

he’s fairly sure he hasn’t known it before.

meguru dimly registers isagi calling out to him. yelling something about yet another round of beer pong. with that, he stumbles towards his friends and the promise of more alcohol, because he’s too drunk and full of an inexplicable euphoria to deal with this right now. 

---

your first class of the day is portraiture 302 with professor anri teieri. 

you flash a tiny smile at your classmate shidou, too tired for anything else. setting your things down at an empty seat, you pull your laptop out as people start to trickle in. 

it’s still starting up when someone sits down in the seat next to you.

“hey,” he says cheerfully. a bit too cheerful for your taste, seeing as it’s eight-thirty in the morning. “all the other seats are taken, so.”

“sure,” you mumble, jamming your thumb into the space bar repeatedly as if it’ll speed things up. you feel his eyes on you, silently judging, maybe, and look up - 

oh.

he’s one of rensuke kunigami’s friends. even within the friend group he might be considered an oddity; not all that forward like isagi, or as flirty as chigiri, or as gentlemanly as kunigami. he’s just… there.

he’s a real character, too, or so you’ve heard. famously wild at rin itoshi’s parties, though the version of him you see at present seems much more subdued. he plays soccer for the university, and he’s an art major.

and honestly? he makes you a little uncomfortable. not bad-looking, but there’s a scary depth in his eyes that makes you think he’s seen more than he should, knows more than anyone else does. 

in short: you think meguru bachira is a weirdo.

which begs the question: why is he even here taking this module, since he’s not one of your photography coursemates?

“- peers from the art department will be joining us for the next two months as we study composition and portraiture in greater depth -”

okay, well, that doesn’t mean you have to talk to him -

“- pair up with someone from a different major for your graded project -”

still, doesn’t have to be him -

“- these are your assigned pairings. try not to get on each other’s bad side.”

and you don’t even have to look at the projector screen to know the cruel fate the universe has bestowed upon you; all you do is notice bachira’s pleased reaction.

he starts, “i’m looking forward to working with you -”

“okay,” you say bluntly, turning your attention back to your laptop. you feel a little bad for the way his smile fades slightly when you cut him off, but you’re not about to apologise. 

at the end of the lecture, he hands you a slip of paper with his number on it, tells you you can text him if you want to work on the project. his voice sounds small, and you feel a strange pang in your chest as you watch him go.

---

lately your dreams have been shifting, changing. 

no longer are they impressionist paintings of quiet moments spent together in mother nature - they are pop art, abstract-expressionist, surrealist. which, quite ironically, are terms that bachira would use.

lingering touches in dimly-lit party venues. stolen kisses in secluded corridors. the high of alcohol and weed and who knows what else - they coagulate into a single stream of thoughts that have you seeing bright colours behind your eyes. though, they always return to the very first dream you had of him.

you wonder, is bachira’s party animal stoner personality rubbing off on your subconscious mind? 

in any case, you're currently keeping your interactions with him to a minimum. you talk for no more than one hour a week, then go your separate ways once more.

the project itself is deceptively simple: create a likeness of your partner in any form you want. and you plan to do well on it. right lighting, right composition, right everything - and bob’s your uncle.

but bachira can’t seem to get a grip. you’ve come to realise he’s flaky, fickle-minded. it’s like his thoughts are bouncing off the inside of his skull like a pinball machine. 

all his drawings and paintings bear a resemblance to you; charcoal captures your hair, acrylic your features. but when he’s finished he always insists they don’t look right, like something’s missing. and strangely enough, you find yourself agreeing with him.

you feel like with those scarily knowing eyes, bachira truly sees through you and into you. like takeichi does to yozo oba in osamu dazai’s no longer human. except bachira isn’t nearly as unattractive.

because with each dream you have of your soulmate, details of meguru bachira start to creep in. hands, slender but still larger than yours. the shape of his lips, perfect and pink. 

the euphoria just makes it all so much worse.

so now you wonder if your fate with your soulmate is to be kissed up against a wall, drunk, until you are breathless.

---

meguru doesn’t understand why she’s doing her damndest to avoid him. it’s not like he’s done anything particularly wrong, at least not to her face. sure, he’s been a little much at times. but he’s been nothing but nice to her. 

so why the cold shoulder, then? why the stiff smiles and the distant glances?

he doesn’t understand, but then again, he’s not sure he understands anything anymore. ever since his dreams have changed for the first time in ten years, he’s been walking around in a haze, trying to balance the his waking life with the dreamlike euphoria that drips from the edges of his consciousness. 

every vision he sees starts to feel more and more like her. and when he looks at her - really looks at her - he starts to feel as if maybe, just maybe, he knows her better than anyone else. 

but that thought scares him too much to admit, so instead, he swallows it down and pushes it to the back of his mind. better to focus on what’s in front of him. better to focus on the work that still doesn’t feel quite right.

one night, after a particularly frustrating session in the studio, he finds himself alone with her, just the two of the under the dim lights. his fingers grip his paintbrush, so hard he thinks it might snap.

“you’re avoiding me,” he says finally, point-blank. “why?”

she shrugs, but he notices her stiffen in her seat. “it’s not like that.”

“not like what?” he presses. “you’re trying to keep your distance, and i get it. i’m not... i’m not normal. i know that.”

she blinks hard. swallows.

he watches her, waiting for a response, and the tension between them grows thicker, more charged with every passing second. finally, she manages to speak, though her voice trembles slightly. 

“i don’t know what you want from me.”

“i don’t want anything from you,” meguru murmurs. “i just… i don’t want to keep pretending i don’t feel something strange. i’ve been seeing things lately, and i -”

“don’t drag me into your delusions, bachira,” she snaps. 

he sees her cold exterior fracture for a second, and he knows. he knows that she knows. his breath hitches in his throat, his eyes never leaving hers. 

“maybe you should stop pretending you don’t know exactly what’s happening.”

it’s terrifying.

meguru doesn’t understand why she’s avoiding him, but maybe that’s okay. because in this moment, with the air thick with unspoken truths and something more between the two of them, she doesn't need to understand. not yet.

---

on sunday afternoon, bachira brings you to a local park two cities away. it’s where he used to go whenever he was bored, he tells you. he had very few friends growing up.

it’s beautiful, you admit. the perfect place for the photoshoot.

you make him lean on the only tree on the hill for half an hour, before deciding the photo doesn’t feel quite right. with a pang of shame, you realise that’s what bachira means when he says the art doesn’t feel right, like there’s something missing.

because no photo will ever be able to capture bachira’s beauty. 

facing towards the setting sun with the little houses in the background? the photo’s too empty. staring right into the camera lens? a little creepy. finally, after a long time of unsuccessful attempts, you slump against the tree, resting in the shade.

“sorry,” you mumble. “just doesn’t feel right.”

“yeah, i get that.” he sits down on the soft grass next to you, and you smell the tea tree shampoo in his hair. “just happens sometimes.”

the silence is nice and comfortable for once, but then you go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like -

“i’m sorry i’ve been avoiding you.”

meguru’s eyes flick to you, the sincerity in your voice making something inside him tighten. he tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that makes you feel like he’s reading between the lines of everything you’ve said and haven’t.

“it’s okay,” he says softly, like he’s trying to reassure himself as much as you. “i guess… i don’t blame you. i can be a lot sometimes.”

you shake your head quickly, catching his gaze. “no, that’s not it. it’s just…” you trail off, unsure how to voice the weight of everything that’s been pressing on your chest. the dreams. the confusion. the feeling that something inside you has shifted, and you don’t know how to adjust.

“i’ve just been… scared,” you admit, wanting to cringe at how vulnerable you sound. “i don’t even know what’s going on with me. it’s like everything i thought i knew is just… fading.”

meguru watches you quietly, his gaze unwavering. there’s a softness there that you haven’t seen before. the usual carefree grin is gone, replaced by something deeper - something that makes you feel like he’s truly hearing every word you don’t say.

“i get it,” he murmurs. “sometimes the things you don’t want to face, they catch up to you.” 

you glance up at him, surprised. “you do?”

“yeah.” he reaches a hand out, his fingers brushing against yours in the gentlest way possible, and to your own surprise, you don’t jerk your hand away. “sometimes you don’t even know what you’re running from until you stop.”

you swallow the lump in your throat. “okay.”

without thinking, you push yourself up from the tree and take a few steps back, your heart suddenly beating faster than before. it’s not just the project anymore - it’s something more.

meguru stands up, his movements fluid, as though he’s been waiting for this moment too. “what are you doing?” he asks, but there’s an edge to his voice now, an unspoken question that mirrors your own confusion.

“come here,” you say before you can stop yourself, your words shaky but firm.

he doesn’t hesitate. in two strides, he’s in front of you, his eyes searching yours for some kind of answer.

and then finally, you do what feels as natural as breathing.

you let your hands rest on his shoulders and guide him to sit back down on the grass. without a word, you slip into the same position as the dream you’ve had over and over again - the same moment that’s haunted you for countless nights -

his head in your lap, sunlight spilling over his face, the world hushed and peaceful around you.

he doesn’t speak. he just watches you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. his lips part slightly, but no sound comes out, and for the briefest moment, it feels like you’re back in the dream, like you’re both somewhere else entirely.

it’s only when you feel the softest weight of his hand on yours that you snap back to reality. he’s holding onto you now, fingers threading through yours, and his gaze is softer than it’s ever been.

“this… feels right,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

“yeah. it does.”

the sunlight is fading fast now, the sky painted with dusky shades of pink and orange. his hair is mussed, deep brown and bright yellow mixing, as he stares up at you from where his head lies in your lap.

you fumble for your phone, snap a quick photo of the scene with your shaky hands and almost sob -

because you know for certain, now, that this is the dream you had, and it’s about your soulmate, meguru bachira.

because here, in this stillness, you realize that maybe - just maybe - you weren’t running from him after all. 

because maybe you’ve always been running toward this moment, even before you knew it existed.

meguru lifts his head from your lap, his eyes searching yours, and for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel lost. not here. not with him. his lips move, forming a question you can’t quite hear. but you don’t need to. not anymore.

you lean down slightly and kiss him, and everything you’ve been trying to understand falls into place. amidst the salt of your tears he tastes sweet, like the dreams, the euphoria, the love you thought you’d never have.

his golden eyes are powdered gold dusted onto the lacquer that fills the cracks in your fragile heart. kintsugi.

and for once, you feel complete.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist © sirhamburrger 2025

[bbsloth28]

Bachira and Isagi doing Valentine gift exchanges and they’d definitely gift each other the same thing just in a different color 😭. They’d think it’s so cute and match together immediately.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

when you know, you know. - m. bachira

cw: bachira x fem!reader, bachira x chubby!reader, implied self harm, mentions of abuse, red string of fate

according to mythology, the red string of fate is tied on the pinkies of two lovers destined to be together. the string is invisible to the naked eye, as it is more symbolic then it is physical. however, some claimed that at a random time of their life, the string would suddenly appear visible. however, if they didn’t hurry and follow where the string leads them, they will never be able to meet their true lover ever again, even if they have met before.

you didn’t believe in the red string of fate.

red was the color of your cheek when your father had a particularly bad day at work. red was the color of your eyes when you mother told you some not-so-kind words. red was the color of your cheeks when people would pinch them and call you a pig while laughing as if it were the funniest thing known to man. red was the color of hearts that stopped beating, of hearts that broke. red wasn’t the color of love. it wasn’t the color of fate. it was the color of pain, nothing but soul shattering pain.

that’s why when you noticed the long, thin string of red tied around your pinky, you ignored it. the crowded train station had numerous people, and yet the red string was painfully visible. it was long, and continued to travel on the floor to who knows where.

bachira believed in the red string of fate.

red was the color of the liquid that dripped from bachira’s arm on a particularly doubtful day. red was the color of bachira’s face when he was the only one outside on a snowy day playing soccer. red sometimes meant pain. but red was also the color of the peonies in his mother’s paintings. red was also the color of the fresh strawberries and cherries on the farm near his house, the ones he always ate with a grin. red was the color of memories for bachira, whether they were good or bad.

that’s why when bachira noticed the long, thin string of red tied around his pinky, he followed it. the crowded train station was full of strangers, but also potential friends. he took a deep breath, and brought the string to his other fingers to find his truest lover more easily.

he couldn’t help but wonder who it could be. isagi? but isagi already found his soulmate, it wouldn’t make sense. rin? well, as fond as bachira was of rin, he really didn’t want rin to be his lover.

suddenly, bachira’s mind flashed to you.

the girl who wiped the blood from his nose whenever someone punched him. the girl who used to go out on snowy days when bachira was playing soccer alone just to wrap a long yellow scarf around him.

two small actions that meant the world to him each and every time.

when bachira finally saw the end of the long red string, you were in front of him, sitting on one of the benches to wait for the train. the end of the red string was tied around your pinky, and your eyes slowly glanced up at him.

your cheeks turned red. you wondered if bachira was upset that you of all people was his soulmate. but bachira’s bright amber eyes said otherwise. his eyes gleamed despite there being no sunlight, and a smile made way to his face. at his bright eyes, you can feel your world light up along with his.

at that moment, two red hearts came together and finally began to beat in love.

a/n - happy lunar new year everyone!!! im from a chinese family, so i celebrated lunar new year. the red string of fate myth originated from china, so a lot of my favorite childhood stories and tv shows and movies all had the red string of fate involved in some way shape or form. anyways, i do hope that i didn’t make this too dark or ooc. and btw thank you guys so much for 500 followers, yall are the best🥹❤️

[kawoala]

need a meguru bachira fic where bachira is classified as the “weird kid” in school - he always has been, whereas the reader is classified as one of the more popular girls. they get partnered together for a school project and - woah, she’s nicer than he expected. then they fall in love and kiss kiss yay

would write it myself but i am sooo not confident in writing blue lock yet 😥

[saetoshi]

HAPPY BDAY TO MY FAV BACHIRA MEGURU 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

[alaia777]

pre-relationship! sae who saw you sitting on the curb, looking exhausted with your bag open. thinking you were asking for money, he dropped some bills in. you gave him a confused look, but he just shrugged and walked off.

pre-relationship! rin who always trailed two steps behind you at school, looking like he was on a secret mission to protect you from absolutely nothing. one time, someone tried to ask you a question, and rin stepped forward, cleared his throat, and said, “she’s busy.” you weren’t even talking to anyone.

pre-relationship! bachira who kept seeing you on his couch, thinking you were just another one of his imagination’s weird visitors. he’d wave at you, go about his day—until you started stealing his snacks. that’s when he realized you were real, and his mom was tutoring you in art.

pre-relationship! barou had this odd habit of pulling out a handkerchief whenever you sniffled from the cold, pressing it to your nose and saying, “blow.” the first time you were weirded out, but after a while, you just gave up and let him do it.

pre-relationship! nagi who would always destroy you in games, not knowing it was you he was playing against. the next day, he’d sit next to you in class, completely unaware that a few hours ago he was trash-talking you, and you were doing the same back. you’d share a look, but neither of you would say a word.

pre-relationship! isagi who tried so hard to act cool around you, but his ears always betrayed him, going red every time you acknowledged him. one day, in a nervous attempt to be smooth, he accidentally called you “your majesty.” after a beat of awkward silence, he just casually walked away like nothing happened—pretending he didn’t just say that.

[v-67]

What's this post about? (A feeling, anime, Blue lock, Haikyuu)

.

Does this happen with you?

I like doing things, and once I do something which reaches the peak, like it's good and the best, I casually stop doing those things little by little.

Eg : I love painting, but i created one absolutely perfect beauty and now I paint less and less.

And this happens with many things

And i don't like that, I wanna keep doing those things.

So I was watching Blue lock that day

And Isagi says something around : This cannot end with me scoring a lousy fluke.

And i really resonated with it.

Be it fluke or not, It cannot end with me doing one amazing job. It has to keep on going. Has to? Why? Because I want to create, and i want to do those things, i want to keep doing them.

So, yeah. I really love anime, it evokes such beautiful emotions within me. For real.

When Isagi scored, or stopped the other team from scoring that goal, I got GOOSEBUMPS.

I'm still on episode 8, so no spoilers.

But so far, people kept telling me it's so much better than Haikyuu,

I disagree. Not in the sense that it isn't great, but in the sense that they're both different and they're both great.

I LOVE HAIKYUU. And it is so much more than a sports anime.

And Blue lock, for as much as I've seen, has the spirt and energy but they're different anime, one cannot compare them.

How do I say it?

Blue lock has more of a competitive energy, the hunger, it's there. More about ego. More about creating the hunger to become a best striker, to just be, to goal and to be the best. Whatever the means.

Haikyuu has a more team approach. There's next level competition, amazing competition. It is also has that note of extreme warmth. Like literally. The color scheme, it's warm. The tones throughout the anime, it's sunny. You watch the anime and you feel the rays from the sun touch within you.

Blue lock too has positivity, it's difficult to explain, but their main focus is energy, and the hunger, in my opinion. The tones of the show are blue throughout, energetic blue, the hungry eyes. It's really beautiful.

So all of this is actually to say, that we cannot compare them, they're really beautiful in their own way, i love them so much. So when you ask me if i like Haikyuu or Blue lock, I'll tell you I love them both. But Haikyuu is something which will always, and forever have a special place within me. The warmth it brings me, it makes me smile throughout. I need that. And when I was at my lowest, it was that warmth which pulled me out. Unburdened me from shackles. And so, yes i love them both. I would not compare them because they cannot be compared because they're different. But i love them.

[chodzacaparodia]

I can't believe Rin, of all the characters from Blue Lock, felt the power of friendship?

Nevermind, he hates it and rejects friendship

[obcyss]

bachira's gift for his partner.

[prettyboykatsuki]

childhood friend bachira who from birth is creepily and unhealthy obsessed with reader x reader who is violent and equally as possessive over him and his creep behavior

[damicxyy]

The Unstoppable Spirit: Why I Love Bachira Meguru

In the world of anime and sports, few characters resonate as deeply as Bachira Meguru from Blue Lock. His boundless energy, unorthodox style, and infectious love for soccer make him a truly unforgettable character. My admiration for Bachira goes beyond his skills on the field—it’s his fearless individuality, unwavering belief in his dreams, and magnetic personality that have left an indelible mark on my heart.

First and foremost, Bachira's unique approach to soccer is what initially captivated me. In a sport often defined by structure and strategy, Bachira brings creativity and unpredictability. He plays with a childlike joy, treating the ball as if it were his best friend. His dribbling skills and flair for the dramatic showcase not only his technical prowess but also his artistry. Watching him weave through opponents with seemingly effortless ease reminds me that passion and imagination can break through even the toughest barriers.

What truly sets Bachira apart, however, is his unshakable confidence in his individuality. From his wild hairstyle to his quirky mannerisms, he is unapologetically himself. In a high-pressure environment like Blue Lock, where individuality often clashes with the demands of teamwork, Bachira never lets go of his essence. His commitment to finding "a monster" within himself, and his belief in others' potential to do the same, inspires me to embrace my own quirks and pursue my goals with the same fearless determination.

Bachira’s personality is another aspect that makes him so endearing. Despite the cutthroat competition in Blue Lock, he remains warm, playful, and supportive of his teammates. His ability to bring out the best in others—whether it’s challenging them on the field or encouraging them to believe in their talents—is a testament to his generous spirit. Bachira’s interactions with Isagi, in particular, highlight his knack for building genuine connections, even in a hyper-competitive setting.

Lastly, Bachira embodies resilience. His backstory reveals a young boy who often felt isolated due to his unconventional style, yet he never let that loneliness dim his love for the game. Instead, he channeled it into his relentless drive to grow stronger and find others who shared his vision. Bachira’s journey is a reminder that embracing one's uniqueness can lead to profound personal growth and meaningful relationships.

In conclusion, my love for Bachira Meguru stems not only from his exceptional soccer skills but also from the life lessons he teaches through his character. He is a symbol of individuality, creativity, and resilience—a reminder that staying true to oneself can lead to extraordinary achievements. Watching Bachira play, laugh, and dream has not only deepened my appreciation for Blue Lock but also inspired me to approach life with the same passion and authenticity.

[sirhamburrger]

what is this feeling? (m. bachira x reader)

━☆ (accidental theatre date, for day one of @phantasmaebg) ━☆ in which an unfortunate situation turns into something less tragic. ━☆ wc: 728 || tags/cw: f!reader, reader is a wicked fan bachira is just a silly little guy || event m.list ━☆ late to the first day of ebg.... not a good start

meguru doesn’t understand why he has to be here.

okay, sure, so karasu has two tickets to see wicked the musical live in tokyo. and fine, he and otoya can’t make it last minute, so now he has both tickets and a growing impatience in his heart. 

it’ll be a good experience, he distinctly remembers the osaka-hailing teenager declaring. you need to learn how to appreciate the fine arts. he doesn’t even like musicals, and he certainly won’t be able to sit through a nearly-three-hour stage performance. even if it has a green-painted-lady in it.

he fishes out his phone, starts texting karasu an apology that he won’t be staying for the whole play. but then he hears a sniffling noise coming from behind him, and he turns to face…

her. 

her, with her wicked t-shirt and baggy jeans and her now-ruined green mascara, and the way she frantically looks through the contents of her bag, then wallet, muttering a watery, unintelligible curse under her breath. and the way looks absolutely devastated right now. 

his heart jumps in his chest, and he’s opening his mouth before he even realises it. 

“hey, you good?”

she jumps, startled, but then relaxes a little - it doesn’t seem as if she’s let her guard down just yet, though. he hands her a packet of wet wipes (once belonging to otoya) for her makeup, and he sees your cautious gaze turn into relief when the green glitter comes off easily.

“thanks,” she mumbles, folding the now-dry wipe into a little square in the centre of her palm. she fidgets with the already fraying corners.

“not an answer,” he presses further, watching he curiously.

she rolls her eyes. (he can’t tell if she’s genuinely irritated or if she finds him weirdly endearing. he sincerely hopes it’s the latter.)

“oh, i just… can’t find my ticket.” she glances between him and your bag, her left hand already reaching back in to search once more. “a stupid mistake, really.” when she sees he’s not leaving, she looks back up at him, quirking a brow upwards.

“well, what are you waiting for?” she gestures at the two tickets he has clutched in his hands, then tilts her chin towards the theatre entrance. “you should go meet up with your date or whoever. the show’s going to start at seven-thirty sharp. wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

meguru blinks. “why do you assume i have a date for tonight?”

she chuckles, and a glimmer emerges in her eyes, one he thinks suits her well. “let’s just say you don’t seem like the kind of person who goes to musicals just for the fun of it all.”

feeling particularly bold in the moment, he replies, “and you are?”

“yeah.” her eyes soften, and a wistful smile stretches her face ever so slightly. “yeah, i am.” she looks down at your empty hands, then back up at him. “too bad i lost my only ticket to a sold-out broadway show. pretty silly of me, huh?”

“come watch it with me, then.” 

meguru’s own words seem to ring in his ears, and for the first time in his life, he’s panicking. even when he was this close to losing the most important match of his football career, he was perfectly calm. but when the stakes are a pretty girl calling him a creepy bastard?

yeah, he thinks his heart is about to combust.

still, his outstretched hand - the one clutching the ticket - does not waver in the slightest. he sees her surprised expression, and tries again. “come with me.”

“i can’t possibly-”

“but you’ve wanted to go for so long,” he interrupts, earning himself a narrow-eyed glare that seems to scream, i don’t need your pity. he quickly breaks eye contact. “and i’m not meeting anyone tonight, so…”

the corners of her pretty mouth twitch up in an unexpected smile.

“i’ll be geeking out the whole time. oh, screaming in your ear, too. are you sure you're ready for that?”

“yeah, no, absolutely.” he attempts a smile of his own, hoping it doesn’t look like a grimace. “you can tell me all about it.”

she lets out a real laugh this time, so sudden and pure, and together they step through the gilded double doors.

end.

bonus:

me [7.25]: sorry  karasu🐦‍⬛[7.45]: sorry for what? karasu🐦‍⬛[7.45]: bruh reply karasu🐦‍⬛[7.47]: BRO WHAT FOR

bllk masterlist || general masterlist © sirhamburrger 2025

[bbsloth28]

Isagi loves taking photos of sunsets and sunrises because they remind him of Bachira. He’ll send them to Bachira too with messages like “Reminded me of you” and “It’s almost as pretty as you”.

[when-day-met-the-knight]

Hi I know halloween passed but I had an epiphany n couldn't move on til I drew it,,,,,

They r LITERALLY princess peach and princess daisy r u kidding me 😭😭

Also a Kunigiri/Bachisagi doodle ft Mario kunigami and Luigi isagi (save him 😭)

[miyamiwu]

How to say “I love you” in Blue Lock

I don’t really want to play soccer, but being with you isn’t a pain, so it’s fine.

Now that I can fight without you, being with you is even more fun

And then there’s this asshole...

I made it this far because of you. Since you allowed me to play soccer freely, I’ve grown this strong on Bastard München. But I can’t climb any higher that way. I figured that out in this match, I no longer need the freedom you give me. Forget about me, Ness. Find yourself a new king. It’s easier for me to live in restriction.