#at least she got to play scrabble 😭😭😭

[thebeigelunatics]

standish got in a fight with lamb at a petrol station, walked along the motorway in the dark, presumably had to get some sketchy transport back into the city, got back to her flat after having been abducted and betrayed and humiliated... only to find out shirley kicked her fucking door open. like that SUCKS. 😭😭😭

[ferg0s]

sorry sorry i meant a freak good at soccer 😭 not freaky shidou type 🤨

I’m doing both 😈 cuz I can.

Isagi would rather eat wet concrete than talk to a girl. It wasn’t that he was ugly, he had gotten his fair share of confessions, but it was the fact that he just didn’t know how. And the occasional timer he did talk to a girl he just rambled out soccer or stumbled on his words. Like a bumbling idiot.

As much as he was excited with the prospect of having a female partner to practice with - it dawned on him too late that he would actually need to converse with said person. That’s where the anxiety picked up. What would he talk about? Soccer, duh… but what if she wants to be his friend? What if she asks what his favourite colour is? Is black an acceptable answer?

It felt like Ego had a personal vendetta against him because he was the last to have a partner. But he has seen the others interact with theirs, and the girls seemed nice enough. Just as shy and nervous as the guys. That put him at ease. At least he wouldn’t be the only one feeling awkward.

“Oi-“

He snapped his head to where the voice came from. His heart dropping when he saw the girl standing infront of him, hands in her hips as she stared daggers at him. “Isagi Yoichi?” she asked, her tone far from the nice polite one the girl the guy next to him got. “Y-yes.” He replied, straighten up in the cafeteria bench he was sitting on. He scanned him, and he had never felt more naked in his life, and gave a ‘hmnf’ and sat down across from him. “A-and you are?” He asked, trying to muster up a smile. “(Y/N),” you replied bluntly. There was an awkward moment of silence, with Isagi trying to force himself to ask you the most basic questions while you had started to talk to the girl next to you.

It seemed like you had little to no interest in him. He had tried to approach you several times, hoping to establish a base plan with you regarding training - but you brushed him off and went about your own thing. You reminded him of Rin.

It wasn’t until practice that he actually got to talk to you.

“So I was thinking-“ “don’t think, just pass the ball to me.”

Oh god, you were exactly like Rin. And you played like it too - which just made him retreat in his shell more. Dealing with Rin was nerve wracking enough but ontop of that you were a girl. He was twice as scared of you.

Maybe it was out of fear, or the way you naturally had a commanding tone - but he would just follow whatever you told him to do. Like a literal lap dog. Until one day he decided he had enough, and decided to challenge you. Two stubborn forces going head to head, fighting for the ball with no chance of giving it up. He felt his legs get tangled with yours as you tried to save the ball from his grasp.

He felt himself falling and opened his eyes to meet the orbs of yours.

“I usually save this for the second date-“ you chuckle. His heart rate picked up when he realized what had happened, and the feeling of your body underneath his came to him in an instant. He scrabbled off you and began to apologize. You dusted yourself off as you got up, chuckling. “Take a girl out for dinner first-“ you joked. But that just fueled his embarrassment more rather than get a chuckle out of him.

There was no way to even attempt to get the ball from you without violating any sense of personal boundary. Much to his dismay. You were shorter compared to him and had more agility, so he needed to try and cover as much ground. In the heat of the match, his hand reached out and accidentally tugged on your jersey shirt. “Wow - that eager, huh?” You chuckled, looking at him with a grin. Maybe it was your tone, or what you were implying - but it always caught him off guard.

Those little comments you made were his personal level of hell.

“Is this an excuse to be near me?” You’d smirk when he’d try to get the ball from you.

“You like it rough, huh?” You’d chuckle when he would forcefully take the ball from you.

“I like a guy who takes charge,” you’d giggle when he would tell you the strategy to get a point over the simulated goalie.

The other boys complained about the uniforms the girls wore, saying they wanted to see some ass or sum. But Isagi didn’t. He chalked it up to; “they’re not pieces of meat, they’re excellent soccer players and we should focus on that - not their bodies.” But he wasn’t being a feminist by choice. He knew what would happen if you managed to get your hands on one of those spandexes. And when he walked onto the field to see you in one, he prayed to God that maybe you’d lose the teasing.

But you didn’t.

He hated how good you were, it was your specialty to keep the ball on you at all times. Your foot work was insane. Better than his. You kept the ball under lock and key it seemed, and youd needed to get ready close to unlock it. And that’s what he did - and the dance for the ball began. “Wanted to see it up close huh?” You joked. He didn’t respond, trying to focus on the ball, his head low. “My eyes are up here-“ you chuckle. He immediately looked up - not wanting you to get the wrong idea. His mistake.

“Not the spheres that need your attention-“ you laugh as you run past him after scoring a goal. “I was just looking at the ball,” he mumbled as he followed you to the middle line. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t take a peak after that incident. He could tell that you’d bend over infront of him on purpose, him adverting his gaze or turning to tie his shoe for the 67th time in an hour. Whenever you needed him to not look at you, you’d puff out your chest and fake yawn.

God he hated you so much.

Being frustrated with the lack of points he had during the 1-on-1 between the two of you, he went all out. He just needed 1 goal. One fucking goal ( out of the entire week you two had been together ) to show you that you and your antics didn’t affect him. His mistake - you could see every move he made when before he even thought about it - but you didn’t expect him to lose his usual composed nature. His movement was erratic and not controlled.

You felt his legs hook under yours as dived for the ball. His legs stretched out as he tried to kick it out of your hold. He let out a gasp when he felt pressure on his lower stomach, opening his eyes to see yours once again. The weight of your body on his lower torso signalling what position you were in. Luckily, he had instinctively reached out and grabbed you, saving your head with his chest. He let you go, hearing you groan as you sat up.

You looked just as disoriented as him.

“That’s a foul-“ you say as you look down on him. He didn’t care - he would let you take a hundred penalties if it meant you were off him right now. Straddling his lap as you dust off the dirt from your arm, and him looking up at you like a deer in headlights. It took you a minute to realize what position you were in - and he saw the lightbulb turn on your head. He knew that look.

“I think I messed up my hip-“ you groan.

No. You hasn’t. You were moving just fine, he thought.

You reach down and grab his hands, placing them on your hips. He was dumbfounded. “Doesn’t it feel weird?” You ask, feigning innocence. “I- I think it’s fi-“ “no see,” you interrupted before moving your hips. Grinding on his groin. His breath got caught in his throat. “Doesn’t it feel weird - with the bone and stuff?” You ask. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. “I d-don’t think so-“

This was a new level of torture.

You bend down, your chest pressing against his. God the material was very thin. He could feel the cups of your bra on his chest. You lean into his ear, his hands gripping your hips at the sudden sensation of your breath on the side of his neck.

“If there is one fucking bruise or cut on me - I will fucking kill you. Understood?” “Understood-“ he replied.

You got off him and he swore you kicked his leg after you did.

You were terrifying. But in a way, you taught him so much. Because of you his ball handling (idk man I don’t play soccer bear with me) skills has Improved, quite a lot. And they came handy in the U-20 match.

“You copied that from me-“ you scoff as you walk up to him after the match. He had come to see his parents, and after they walked off he had planned on heading back to the bluelock boys. “You came?” He asked, already breaking into a nervous sweat. “Of course - nothing else to do.” You laugh. “Plus I told you I’d kill you if there were any bruises on me and there is so-“ you chuckle

Wait a minute. Were you… flirting? With him?

“Oh- sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He replied, his voice trying not to tremble. One thing had had learned by playing with you was that you were a direct attacker (again bear with me), so he cleared his throat and decided to take a risk. “How about I make it up to you? How about some ice cream?” He asked.

You raised your brow at him. “It’s fucking freezing outside-“

He felt his heart shatter.

“But that’s when it tastes the best,” you smile.