#challengers score match point starts playing

[txrully]

hii! I was wondering if i could request request a professional/upcoming volleyball player reader w blue lock boys?

thank you! do this whenever you free💕

ahhh tysm for your request anon!

actually my first time getting a request 🥹🩷

BLLK BOYS WITH A VOLLEYBALL PLAYER!

chars.: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi rin, hiori yo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness x gn!reader

( although reader is specified as fem in reo, shidou, and kaiser's parts.)

isagi yoichi

this man is obsessed with how you spike. like, borderline analysis mode every time you land a killer shot.

tries so hard to cheer you on during your games, but he’s also yelling tips from the sidelines like he’s your coach.

“nice spike, y/n!! BUT WATCH YOUR BACK LEFT—"

you once invited him to play volleyball, and he absolutely faceplanted while diving for the ball. his soccer instincts don’t always translate well.

lowkey jealous of how you dominate the court but 100% supportive—he’s your number-one fan, and he makes sure you know it.

bachira meguru

oh, he’s playing volleyball with you whether you like it or not.

turns every warmup into an opportunity to spike balls at you for fun.

“c’mon, y/n! block this one! oh, wait—oops, too fast?” giggles maniacally

definitely tries to incorporate soccer dribbling into volleyball. ( spoiler: it doesn’t work, but he thinks it’s hilarious )

somehow, he convinces you to play beach volleyball with him, and he dives into the sand just to make dramatic saves.

chigiri hyoma

he thinks volleyball is artistic—the way you move across the court? beautiful.

he’s not one for loud cheering, but his quiet, supportive claps when you win a point mean everything.

if you challenge him to play volleyball, he absolutely crushes it. His speed makes him terrifying at the net.

you might tease him for being too graceful, and he’ll shoot back with, “at least I don’t trip over my own feet, y/n.”

secretly memorizes your favorite post-game snacks and brings them to every match.

nagi seishiro

volleyball? too much effort. but watching you? sure, he can do that.

if you manage to drag him onto the court, he still dominates because his height makes him impossible to block. he doesn’t even try that hard, which makes it even more annoying.

“huh? i didn’t even jump that high…”

lowkey flexes how good he is when he wants to impress you though.

your games are one of the few things he’ll willingly stay awake for—he’s surprisingly proud when you win, even if he doesn’t say much.

mikage reo

treats your volleyball career like a business venture—he’s always hyping you up to sponsors and teams.

“did you know y/n scored 15 points last game? absolute MVP material.”

if you’re stressed about a big game, he’ll find a way to rent out a fancy gym for you to practice in.

when you win a match, he spoils you—dinner, gifts, whatever you want. you deserve it.

totally brags about you to the blue lock boys, claiming, “she could beat all of you on the court, no question.”

itoshi rin

at first, he doesn’t get why you’re so into volleyball—it’s not soccer, so why bother?

then he watches you play. big mistake. now he’s hooked. he won’t admit it, but he’s insanely proud when you dominate on the court.

refuses to join any friendly volleyball matches because he’s hyper-competitive and will lose it if he makes a mistake.

“volleyball isn’t even my sport, so why would I care if I mess up?”

( spoiler: he cares. a lot. )

secretly watches your games to pick apart your technique, then casually suggests improvements.

“you could be faster on your back-row defense.”

if someone mocks you during a game, rin’s death glare activates, and you have to hold him back from starting a fight.

hiori yo

he’s your calm and quiet supporter who loves the strategy of volleyball.

offers to help you study your opponents before big games and creates detailed notes about their playing styles.

if you’re feeling down after a tough match, hiori has the perfect playlist to cheer you up—it’s borderline magical.

you two bond over the mental aspect of sports, discussing how to stay focused under pressure.

lowkey amazing at volleyball when you play casually together. his precision makes him an insane setter, and he always puts the ball exactly where you need it.

your games are one of the few things he actively looks forward to, and he’s not shy about letting you know how proud he is of you.

shidou ryusei

this menace turns your volleyball practices into pure chaos. he spikes every ball like he’s trying to break the sound barrier.

“c’mon, y/n, don’t be scared! It’s just a little power spike!”

he has zero chill when watching your games.

he’s yelling from the stands, making the wildest comments, and hyping you up louder than anyone else.

“THAT’S MY GIRL! DESTROY THEM!!”

shidou’s energy is unmatched, and while it’s chaotic, it’s also incredibly motivating.

if anyone talks smack about your playing, they better run because shidou takes it personally.

itoshi sae

in the beginning, he acts indifferent—volleyball isn’t soccer, so why should he care?

but once he sees your precision and skill, his interest is piqued. he starts showing up to your games, claiming he’s “just passing by.”

he’s annoyingly good at volleyball when you play together. his smug smirk when he blocks your spikes is enough to make you want to scream.

“was that your best, y/n? try harder.”

despite his teasing, sae respects your dedication and often gives you genuine advice on handling pressure during big matches.

after a win, he’ll give you a subtle nod and say, “good job.”

( that’s basically a love confession coming from him. )

michael kaiser

volleyball? amateur sport. but you? an exception. he’s intrigued by how passionate you are about it.

always finds a way to make everything a competition—“i bet i’d be better at volleyball than you in a week.”

ends up eating his words when you destroy him during a friendly match. he’s so salty about it but tries to play it cool.

“i let you win. don’t get cocky, liebe.”

he calls you his “queen of the court” and insists on showing up to your games in the flashiest outfits, drawing attention everywhere.

secretly loves seeing you in your element and is constantly impressed, though he’ll only admit it in private.

alexis ness

the most polite and supportive fanboy you could ask for. he’s always clapping and smiling during your games.

if you’re nervous before a match, ness is the one calming you down with his soothing words and quiet confidence in you.

he’s surprisingly good at volleyball basics and helps you practice when you need a setter. his gentle encouragement makes training with him a joy.

“you’ve got this, y/n. i believe in you more than anyone.”

keeps a journal of your games where he writes down highlights and his favorite moments—it’s his way of showing how much he cares.

gets a little flustered when you thank him for his support but brushes it off with a shy smile.

© 𝘁𝘅𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 :: 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰

𝘥𝘰 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴.

[mapiforpresident]

Could you please do a Leah Williamson x Reader fic? Enemies to lovers. Reader captains Germany & as a striker often gets into exchanges with Leah during international games. The reader eventually transfers to Chelsea & now that they're in the same city a relationship starts to blossom.

New Beginning

Leah Williamson x reader

~~~

The streets of London buzzed with life as you navigated through the chaos. Your phone had decided to malfunction just when you needed it most, leaving you hopelessly lost in a city that felt foreign despite the countless times you had dreamed of playing here. With each turn you grew more and more confused and lost.

You had recently transferred to Chelsea after a stellar career with Wolfsburg, where you had captained the team to multiple titles. Leaving your old club had been bittersweet, the camaraderie and success you had shared with your teammates were hard to let go of. Yet the thrill of a new challenge in a city that loved football was exciting. You were excited for the big games at Stamford Bridge against big teams like Arsenal

Leah had always been a formidable presence on the pitch. As the captain of the Lionesses and a standout defender, she was known for her strategic mind and adorable frown. Your history with her was complex, marked by battles on the field where you often found yourselves in heated exchanges. As a striker, you had tangled with her more times than you could count. The tension between your national teams was intense especially after your loss to her in the Euros final, but there was also a mutual respect.

As you turned a corner, a familiar figure caught your eye, Leah was strolling casually down the street. You felt surprise mixed with apprehension, your rivalry had always felt more like a sports one than a personal one. But here she was, looking effortlessly put together, her hair slightly tousled in the cool breeze.

“Lost, are we?” Leah’s voice broke through the noise, a teasing smirk on her face.

You hesitated. “Yeah, my phone decided to give up on me,” you admitted, a hint of annoyance creeping into your voice.

“Need a hand?” she offered, the warmth in her tone surprising you.

“Uh, sure,” you replied, skeptical about if she was actual going to help you or lead you in the wrong direction. “I’m trying to find my way to Stamford Bridge for my tour. ”

“Not far from here, actually. Follow me,” Leah said, turning on her heel. You fell into step beside her, the initial tension still hanging in the air.

As you walked, the awkwardness began to dissipate. Leah was surprisingly engaging, telling you things about London and pointing out places she likes. You found yourself laughing with her, completely forgetting your previous apprehension. The cheeky smile that played on her lips lingered in your mind long after you parted ways.

You exchanged numbers, before she said goodbye outside of the stadium. But as the days turned into weeks, you encountered Leah more often than you anticipated—at a charity photoshoot, in a café after training, even at a local grocery store. Each time, the energy between you shifted slightly, subtle flirting and teasing becoming more frequent.

The real turning point came during a match between Chelsea and Arsenal at the Arsenal. The atmosphere was amazing, fans of both teams had sold out the stadium. But as the match unfolded and Arsenal won 3-2, you felt incredibly frustrated that you couldn't score a second goal.

Just as you turned to leave the pitch, you heard Leah call your name, her voice cutting through the noise of the stadium. You spun around, catching her gaze. “Hey! You played amazing out there,” she said, her expression softer than you had seen before.

“Yeah, you played well too,” you conceded, trying to keep your tone light, masking the disappointment of the loss.

“Want to grab a drink?” she suggested, her signature frown on her face even though her team just won an important game.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out?”

“Maybe” she replied, her frown turning into a slight smirk.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, your mind racing through all the possible implications. “Alright, I’m in,” you finally said, a rush of excitement coursing through you.

As you walked to a nearby bar, you shared stories and laughter, the conversation flowing easily as you discussed everything from football tactics to your favorite cities you have traveled to. There was a very calm and comfortable atmosphere between you, and you felt at ease.

You had an amazing night at the bar only having a drink each before switching to water, but still spending hours talking.

That night, as you parted ways, Leah leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. “We should do this again. This was even more fun than beating Chelsea?”

“Deal as long as you stop bringing up that we lost,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face.

In the weeks that followed, you began to see Leah in a new light. You found yourself thinking about her more and more often, replaying moments from your night at the bar. Embarrassingly you also found yourself stalking her instagram and watching tiktok edits of her.

~~~

The streets of London were draped in a misty rain as you sat curled up on your couch, lost in a novel Lucy had recommended you. It had been a day off for you, having won a game the previous day against Roma. Suddenly, your phone buzzed, pulling you from your book.

It was a text from Leah: “Hey want to grab a drink? I could use the company.” You knew that she had just lost a game against Real Madrid at the Emirates, having gotten a notification that the score was 2-1.

A mix of excitement and nervousness fluttered in your stomach. You quickly typed back, “Of course. Where do you want to meet?”

Less than an hour later, you found yourself at a small, intimate bar in the heart of London. You remembered Leah saying this was the bar she came to Leah walked in, her shoulders slightly hunched against the rain, but she gave you a small, shy smile as her eyes met yours.

As she settled into the seat next to you, you quickly fell into easy conversation. Leah spoke candidly about the disappointment of Arsenal's recent loss in the Champions League, and her frustration with Jonas and their tactics not working. You listened wishing you could help her and make her feel better or take her mind off the loss.

After a drink and a water, you both decided to head out, the rain still misting in the wind. “Let me walk you home,” you offered, and Leah nodded appreciatively and secretly just wanting to spend as much time with you as possible.

“Thanks for walking with me,” Leah said, her voice quiet. Throughout the walk your hand kept accidentally brushing hers and you blushed as Leah didn't pull her hand away. As you approached the door of her flat, the mood shifted slightly, and Leah turned to you, her eyes searching yours. “Can I kiss you?” she asked, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied, heart racing.

She leaned in, and your lips met in a gentle kiss. The world around you faded—the rain, the city, everything but the two of you in that moment. When you pulled away, Leah’s cheeks were flushed, and a grin spread across her face. Just then the rain started to pour down soaking both of you as you shrieked and Leah let out a genuine laugh.

“Want to come inside?” she asked trying to quickly find her key and get out of the rain.

You stepped into her flat, the warmth enveloping you like a comforting hug. “It’s cozy in here,” you remarked as you kicked off your shoes.

“Let me get us some tea,” Leah said, moving toward the kitchen. You went to the bathroom to freshen up and came back and sat at her small dining table.

After a few minutes, she returned with two steaming mugs, and sat across from you. “You know, I really enjoy spending time with you,” Leah said, her gaze sincere.

“Same here. This has probably been my favorite night in London so far,” you replied.

As the rain continued to pour outside, Leah glanced nervously at the couch. “I can take the couch if you want to stay the night,” she offered hesitantly.

You shook your head, your heart racing at the thought of sharing a bed. “I don’t mind sharing with you, I promise not to bite.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, wanting to make sure you were completely comfortable.

“Definitely,” you affirmed, a grin spreading across your face.

In her bedroom, you changed into a pair of her pajamas—soft and cozy, and they smelled like Leah. As you climbed into bed, Leah nestled beside you, her body warm and inviting.

The silence that followed was comfortable yet you could feel the nervous energy radiating from her. You glanced over, noticing the way she bit her lip, and decided to break the silence. “I really like you, Leah. I’d love to go on more dates and see where this goes.”

Her eyes lit up, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I’d like that too,” she replied, her voice soft and genuine.

You leaned in, capturing her lips again in a tender kiss, but this time she deepened it loving the feeling of your lips on hers.. When you finally pulled away, a content smile spread across your face.

The rain continued to fall outside, the sound soothing as you cuddled together under the covers. As you drifted off to sleep, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace, knowing that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. You realized that you would love nothing more than to fall asleep next to Leah every night.

[isthepame]

CONFIDENTIAL

"When I first started playing football, my older brother Sae had a significant influence on me. However, by the time I reached my third year of secondary school, I began approaching football with a more relaxed attitude, and I had mixed feelings about it. As a result, my motivation to fully commit to football began to wane.

That said, my mindset and the motivation I carried onto the pitch were what became my source of strength. In this regard, I had strong feelings that drove me forward and influenced my performance on the field. As for my entry into Blue Lock, I had planned to focus on my fitness and to track my progress in every area.

Regarding Blue Lock, I cleared all the challenges in the selection process, including rival battles, at the top. During matches, I consistently scored goals and earned some recognition. However, at no point has my performance been a problem. I’ve demonstrated my strength and determination, and no weaknesses have been."

@isthepame

[meazalykov]

new girl

kika nazareth x reader

summary: you never wanted to be vulnerable until she came along

trope: grumpy (reader) x sunshine (kika)

on the pitch, you were ruthless.

you were never afraid to accept a challenge, or do a tackle. the rock-hard mentality of yours never wavered.

you were given the captain role at an early age for your childhood club team-- accepting huge responsibility and holding others accountable for their faults was something you weren't scared of doing.

when barcelona offered you a contract to play for the B-team at 15, you accepted it. you were a ruthless defender and having you means that an oppositions striker wouldn't have a chance to score on you.

now at 21, you've grown into a reliable, if somewhat grumpy, presence on the senior team. however, you were the best defender in the world.

your serious demeanor on and off the field is well-known, and while you're never outright mean-- with your actions showing your teammates that you have a high level of respect for them-- your reserved nature keeps you at a tiny distance from them.

its the 24/25 season and the coach assigns you, patri, and keira to show the new girls around the place.

keira chose to help ellie around, patri chose to be with ewa, so you were chosen to be with kika nazareth-- a forward coming from benfica.

after showing her around the pitch, the media rooms, where the lounge area was-- you ended up in the locker rooms with her.

"so here is our last stop! this is the locker room-- your locker will be next to mine," you say, pointing to the empty space beside the locker where your blue cleats sat.

"thank you! i'm so excited to be here and get started." kika beams, her enthusiasm almost tangible.

"welcome to the team. if you need anything, just ask me or any of the captains." you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

over the next few weeks, kika's sunshine personality shines even brighter.

she greets everyone each morning with a smile, always has a positive word, and is the first to offer help or encouragement.

you find yourself drawn to kika's warmth, wanting to keep yourself around the fellow 21 year old-- even if you don't fully understand why.

in training, you started to notice how kika gravitated towards you, asking for advice or just chatting.

initially, you respond with your usual reserved tone. you wanted to stay focused on the training so you were on top of your game for there next match-- but kika's persistence starts to break down your walls.

in the locker rooms one day, you were finished chatting to ingrid and mapi about their future plans. they were talking about going to visit Ingrids family in norway during a week-long break, which you said that it would be good for them.

kika noticed that you were finished with your conversation with the couple, so she placed her hand on your shoulder to grab your attention before anyone else could.

"y/n, are you doing anything after this?" kika asked.

you looked at her with a light smile before turning away to put your cleats in the locker, "no, why?"

"do you want to go grab a coffee?" kika asks, a little hesitant that you might reject her offer.

"sure, I guess. coffee sounds good." you say before standing up and headed towards the doors.

kika watched you with knitted eyes before you turned around at the door, "are you coming?" you smirked.

"oh- yes!" kika jumped up and followed you out the doors.

your post-practice coffee runs with kika become a routine.

kika starts to talk about her family, her dreams, and her love for the game right away-- while you listen.

after a few weeks, you start to slowly open up about your own experiences. the way that kika kept her full attention on you while you spoke was something that you silently appreciated.

"you know, I've been admiring how dedicated you are to the team. I used to see it from another teams perspective and go, "damn she's tough." but now I realize how much you love and care for us." kika says one evening.

your eyes twinkle at this. if you had to pinpoint it, maybe this was the moment where you started to fall for the portuguese. nobody has made an effort to compliment you in such an unique way.

"thank you, kika. you've been pretty amazing since you've gotten here. you are breath of fresh air that we've needed." you smile.

giving out verbal compliments weren't your thing, and kika seemed to notice that. you liked to express your liking for people through physical actions and gift giving. the portuguese's heart fluttered knowing that you're opening yours up for her.

another month goes by and its the beginning of 2025. the team begins to notice the change in you. you still maintain your serious persona, but with kika, you seem different—softer, happier.

the way you smile at kika, the way your eyes light up when kika enters the room, it becomes clear to everyone that there's something special between you two.

they're aware that they'll have to bring it up to you sometime, just to get clarification on your relationship with the girl, but they're content with observing for a bit.

during a particularly tough champions league match against PSG, you were frustrated.

after VAR cancelled a goal you scored due to a foul, and barcelona nearly conceding a goal thanks to an error from you-- you just wanted something good to happen for your team.

the score is 2-2, with the aggregate being 3-2 in favor of barcelona. you needed to make sure that psg didn't score, and you needed to create a chance for one of your forwards to score as well.

at the 60th minute, kika is subbed in for salma.

not even three minutes later, kika makes an impact.

aitana passed the ball back to you and you found kika up-top and on-side ready to receive a pass.

you shot the ball towards her and kika headed the ball behind the net, scoring the winning goal.

the team celebrates, but it's you who sprints to her first, lifting her up in a rare display of open joy.

"kika!!!" you screamed in joy as she holds you.

"what a great assist." kika says, focusing on you as the rest of the team joins for a group hug.

"don't give me all of the credit, you made a great header. ugh what a star!" you say.

the rest of the team is smiling in joy seeing the two of you. they're aware that your bond, emotionally, is passed the platonic stage-- but its a sight to see you so radiant and optimistic.

a week later, you invited kika over to your apartment. this is new, considering you never invited any of the barcelona girls over unless there was an event you were throwing.

kika and you were going to bake a few things while watching a new netflix show season that was released.

little did you know, kika was going to ask you something important.

"y/n, can I ask you something?" kika says, sitting down on your soft couch beside you.

you turn your head towards her, giving her a light smile as your eyes twinkled with a tiny bit of fear.

"of course, kika. what's on your mind?" you respond.

"do you ever think about... us? I mean, us being more than just friends?" she says, clenching her teeth together as she is nervous about a possible rejection.

"I do, actually. I've been every-night since the beginning of the season. kika, you're the first person who’s made me feel... alive in a long time." you look at her, the vulnerability in kika's eyes mirroring your own feelings.

kika reaches out, taking your hand in hers. "i feel the same way. you make me feel safe and loved."

"well, would me being your girlfriend make you feel more loved?" you squeeze her hand, a smile spreading across your face as you pull her body towards yours.

"yes it would, can I be your girlfriend?" kika smiles as her head rests inside of your neck.

its not the first time you've cuddled with kika like this, but it feels special now that she is your girlfriend.

"yes my love." you kiss the top of her head softly.

as a year goes by being with your girlfriend, you find yourself opening up more, your grumpiness tempered by kika's unwavering positivity.

kika, in turn, finds strength in your steady and strong presence, knowing she always has someone to lean on.

your teammates, patri claudia and cata in particular, often joke about how kika is the only one who can make you smile so effortlessly--but it's clear to everyone that your love has made you both better, on and off the field.

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[gothamgf]

bleachers — s.es + l.cy

tags sports!riize basketball!eunseok fencer!eunseok fencer!reader anton!swimmer, college au, fluff, angst, slight nsfw, hurt/comfort

wc 14k

summary when twenty-five twenty-one meets challengers.

author's note each 🤺 is a time jump!

(apple music playlist)

(spotify playlist)

You afforded the front-row.

Yet, sat right under the nose bleeds. 

A coat of velvety darkness covered the Grand Palais, raising the public, and everyone involved’s pulses to its climax. 

The hall tensed in its fullness, gradually silencing itself. 

Each and everyone’s mouths watering for victory in the name of their country, loved ones, or themselves. 

Light beams shot out of nowhere, putting on a grand show for the beginning of the awaited event. 

The Men Fencing Finals at the Paris 2024 Olympics. 

🤺

BEEP

13-0

Coach Lee manifested every single muscle of hers to stop herself from letting out a loud sigh of disappointment. She knew she’d let it out in a few minutes anyway. The only thing comforting her sorrow in witnessing her own student fail so miserably, was you, her little « protégée ». 

It was your opponent’s fifth time of trying to quit the game ever since you’ve started playing. 

It was, in consequence, one of those days where you knew the real training would only come after hours, once you would beg your coach to play a real match against you. 

Only, one of you would always ask for a rematch, and a match point to determine who turned out to be the winner of whatever day it was. 

So, in the meantime, you’d become the distracted teenager you rarely allowed yourself to be. 

« Please coach, I’ll never be as fast as her, just let me train on the mannequin… » whined Aeri’s to the unimpressed olympian champion, fully knowing her request will be met with a stern negative response. Useless negotiations started, followed with a series of beginner-level advices. Well, not beginner-level, but certainly nothing a competitor for the national team should be listening to at the moment. 

You took their bickering as an opportunity to cool off, dropping your suffocating mask on the floor. You then opened your water bottle with quick dexterity, without ever letting your sword out of your grasp. You were seen without it so rarely, word spread that you slept and showered with it. The truth wasn’t that far. 

The voices of everyone in the gym were muffled as the second bell of the afternoon ringed, and chatter bloomed out of the school’s walls. Normally, you’d be on your way to close the windows, so that nothing could disturb the hours left of training. But your skin sprinkled in sweat, and the ongoing match required no real focus on either part whatsoever. 

So you stayed there, and kept on drinking, sun-kissed. 

When the breeze would stop blowing on your face, you’d immediately pray for more, and for 2023 to come faster. It would be your very first Asia Games, if you’d manage to qualify for it, and before that, if you’d manage to qualify for the Korean women’s fencing team.  

You knew you would. 

The mere thought of it made your stomach tie itself in impossibly tight knots. 

In the clouds, floated the white of your suit, tattooed of your name in the colors of your country. The wind whispered chants celebrating it, as well as your scores going high, point by point, pushing you towards victory. And in the blinding reflections of the high school building’s windows, millions of medals shined. Your mind already displayed them in your room, in which you left an empty wall since you were 7. 

Your bones shook with impatience. Two dozens of months, and you’d be there.

Palpable greatness. 

Life have never tasted any better than on a random Thursday afternoon of a long high school day. And your heart never felt any lighter than when you were full of youth, hope, and thirsty for victory. 

Arms crossed and wrapped on the windowsill, your body slouched on it, you quickly checked if the interrupting conversation was near to be over. You caught the coach fiercely teaching Aeri how to make convincing feints, as if she was teaching her a choreography. Aeri offered you a desperate smile, as you mouthed her encouraging words to lighten up her mood. She couldn’t do anything but sigh. You giggled and let your eyes wander back into the outside world. Your back straightened itself the second you saw the building you were secretly eyeing this whole time open up its doors. 

The basketball building.

At this hour, they were going to run a few rounds on the track field before going back to training in their gymnasium. 

It’s not that you memorized it on purpose, you just knew. 

At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

The school’s team was so prestigious some of the students already had fan clubs within the school, and in other’s as well. It mainly consisted of little stickers of their favorite member’s number on the juniors’ lockers. Or, blocking entire days before their games to craft posters, decorations, and even merchandising. They swore it was to motivate them, but the « Marry Me Sungchan » cardboards told otherwise.

You thought it was all very silly, yet quite thrilling to have some of the « Riizing Boys » in your promotion. What a lie it would be to say none of them have tickled their way into your heart, but it would also take actual torture for you to admit it in front of your teammates. 

Your nose fully peeked out of the window when you watched the first tall guys step out. 

And there he was, Lee Anton, with his silver jersey and long tousled hair.

Your stomach tied itself in knots again as he looked back to the team, flashing them a million dollar smile, slowly jogging towards the track field, and warming-up his twisted body. Droplets already formed on his forehead as the unforgiving sun coated the giggling players.

Their happiness affected you. And perhaps, watching hot boys made life a little more worth living, or so your 18-year-old self thought. You also thought you were looking (oogling) at the team in its entirety, when a chestnut haired boy rushed to take place next to them on the starting line, their coach closing the door after him. He just wore a white t-shirt, and was definitely unfamiliar to you. 

He was new. 

And new is exciting. 

You kept watching him, comparing his physique with the other members, trying to figure out the sound of his voice and most importantly, what his face looked like. All of their broad backs and shoulders were turned to you, lowered to the ground, as they prepared themselves for the jog. You thought to yourself that they’d run fast enough for you to catch a glimpse of the new guy when they’d get closer to your window. 

But the whistle of their coach synchronized with yours, ripping you out of your reverie.

« Come on, let’s play again. » Coach Lee calmly ordered. « And remember Aeri, her muscles. Look at the way her muscles move, and anticipate your strike alright? »

Aeri nodded unconvincingly, knowing that it will be over in a few points anyway. She put on her helmet in a swift motion, seeming slightly more boosted than minutes ago. You, on the contrary, put a little more time to get ready. 

Your body might’ve been En Garde, but your mind was still on the track field, among the « Riizing Boys » and the faceless newbie. 

« Prêts? » Coach Lee exclaimed, her arms open on each side of her body.

The growing sound of the basketball teams’s step tangled with the sound of your own heartbeat. 

« Which club trains here? » A voice from outside the window asked.

You instinctively turned your head. 

« Allez! »

The new guy was looking at you.

And you were looking at him. 

BEEP 

13-1

🤺

The seat to your left was empty, whereas the one to your right was occupied by a pre-teen girl wearing both France and South Korea’s colors. You figured you’d find out who her hearts belongs to once the match would begin. 

« Now welcoming, France’s athlete : Yannick Borel ! » An automatic voice announced through the speakers.

The girl screamed as loudly as she possibly could.

You didn’t need to wait after all. 

The fencer’s walk was determined, slow and strong. The volume of the cheers made you slightly worry about the glass ceiling. You applauded still, feeling quite sorry in advance for the next athlete, knowing he won’t get half as much cheers as his opponent. 

You rapidly came to the realization that you might’ve under-estimated his popularity. The second his name was announced, you nearly jumped in surprise, hearing the girl next to you let out a inhumane screech. 

A sting that could not be stopped by any means attacked your heart as his name echoed through the Palace Hall. Huge screen glowed, his face and name plastered all over them, cheered in a country at the end of the world. Envy and pride fought within your overwhelmed soul, tied to him in ways that justified your presence here, as much as it made it questionable. 

« Now welcoming, South Korea’s athlete : Song Eunseok ! »

🤺

« Good session girls! » Coach Lee started cheering on to conclude the day. « Aeri, Manon and Y/N, it’s your turn to clean the room, I want to see my reflection on the floor tomorrow morning hm? Good night everyone, drink water and sleep for at the very least 9 hours, understood? »

You all agreed and greeted the coach back, as she left the gymnasium to her usual mantra. The doors were still clapping the wind when you rushed towards one of your juniors, begging her to trade your place this one time. 

This one time, and last week’s time. 

Promising her another autograph from Seunghan wasn’t enough, so the bid went up and your offer was now his signature on her sword. At this very moment, you finally understood what authors meant by « Her eyes glowed ». You took her struggle to say thank you as a « yes », and bowed to her appreciatively before rushing to the lockers. As you peeled your fencing suit out of your body and changed to your uniform, the note you received this morning fell on the floor. 

You got it during your French lessons with Mr. Vidal, half asleep and half drooling on the back of your hand. Your table mate gently tapped on your forehead, jolting you awake. Your beauty sleep, interrupted only for you to receive a crumpled piece of notebook that has been passed around from the very back of the amphitheater, where you felt a gaze burning through your nape. 

« Meet me at the bleachers. 

-seok »

And there you were, walking towards the blue bleachers as the Korean sun painted them orange. 

Again.

You saw his silhouette shaking two tiny strawberry yakults, the straws already planted on both of them. Your pearly eyes glowed from miles away. 

Excitement from meeting up with his new friend energized him, as if the previous 8 hours of intensive training vanished right there and then.

« No fancy fencing outfit today? » He playfully asked, carefully watching you climb up the stairs, two by two. 

« And hopefully you have your own jersey now? » You cheekily replied as you remember teasing him for always training in what seemed to be the same white t-shirt.

« I still can’t decide on a number… » He replied, lying through his teeth, both of you knowing the truth. He was still on a trial period.

« Well, what’s your birthday? » You plopped next to him, downing the strawberry milk as if you haven’t drank in years. 

« 19 and 03 are taken… » He dramatically sighed, taking a sip out of his. 

« Well… Speaking of 03… » Your interest spiking as soon as you heard Anton’s jersey number. Your back straightening itself on its own. 

Eunseok contained a smile, throwing his sport bag onto his lap. You stopped breathing as soon as you took a glimpse at the silver fabric shining inside. He paused, and lifted the jersey to your face. 

« AAAH! » You loudly gasped. 

« SHH! » He hushed you, trying so hard not to laugh at you. « They’re still inside the gymnasium, oh my God… you’re insufferable… » 

Fan-girling sounds escaped out of your bouncing body. The peak of excitement and joy plastered all over your face, as rarely as you expressed it. 

The truth was that, selling your youth to your sport built walls around you, which made building meaningful, yet carefree friendships close to impossible. Your teammates seemed to be your friend group, from the outside. But the giddying, feet kicking and giggling teenager you knew you were, only ever existed within the four walls of your bedroom. You’ve journaled about how lonely it was to have no girl sitting cross-legged at the end of your bed, ranting, from sunset to sunrise. 

Such is the cost of being so excellent in your discipline. 

No one seeks friendship in a playground foe. 

Good thing Eunseok had no wishes to challenge you. Or at least, without a sports career, or a scholarship at stake. 

Turned out 18 days of makeshift apprenticeship were enough for you to build the type of connexion you’ve longed for, since forever. It broke through the walls of youthful insecurity and shyness the day he caught you cleaning up the fencing studio on your own. 

You were on the third part of your sold out concert, the imaginary crowd going wild as you crossed the stage doing tricks with your broom turned microphone, turned guitar. Closed windows muffled the sound of your favorite band blasting through the stereo, as it has countless times before. There were no blinds, however, that could hide the silhouette of your body following severals choreographies for half an hour. 

Especially, from the late jogger on the tracking field. 

You remember feeling as if you’ve jumped to the roof when he knocked on the glass, teeth showing through his wide smile, framed by glistening cheekbones. The highest level of shame took over your whole being, immediately assuming he was about to make you the joke of his entire time here. Or worse, he would act as if you’ve never existed. 

In reality, he just mouthed for you to open up. You did, reluctantly so, fully aware of how cruel boys could be.

« There’s a duo part coming after, right? » He asked, nodding his head to the rythm, waiting for the said part. He sang it, as passionately as he could, not a single note of his, on key. He tilted his head waiting for you to hop on the duet. 

Not once did he offer you mockery coated side-eyes. 

No. He was all friendship, dimples, and love for One Direction.

Finding comfort in each other so rapidly, bloomed doubts on what truly lied within your heart. 

It was no difficult thing to admit that you have never wondered if there wasn’t a bit of attraction between the two of you. Though, the mere reminder of Lee Anton’s existence, made every single man that you have ever known disappear from the surface of Earth. 

So yes, when Eunseok held his promise of getting you one of his jersey’s in exchange of clandestine fencing lessons, your heart pounded its way out of your ribs. 

« Thank you, Thank you, Thank you !! » You beamed at him, diving into a hug. 

« You know » He started in a slightly strained voice, his hands ghosting over your back « Don’t freak out but, » He paused. « I told him it was for you. »

The summer breeze suddenly chilled your nape, down to the bottom of your back. Waves of embarrassment as strong as this could break down cruising ships in seconds. 

Your bodies automatically distanced themselves, as your expression died. 

« What. » You barely muttered. 

« Yeah… he’s a bit over his jerseys going to high schoolers and juniors he doesn’t know and stuff. I had to tell him but… » 

You cut him right there. « You couldn’t lie? You couldn’t say it was for your little sister or like, anyone else but me? »

You stared at a piece of void in horror. It creeped. The slow realization that all of the chances, as small as they were, with your first college crush definitely turned into dust creeped on you. You were just a fan now, to him. You asked yourself why you would ever trust a man to be your wingman when you let your face rest on your palms. 

Eunseok’s smirk haven’t left his face, though. « Can you let me finish? »

You didn’t respond. 

He sighed at how dramatic you were acting, in his opinion. « When I told him it was for you… » 

He paused. « He actually looked… quite happy about it. »

🤺

2-2

No weapons were allowed in the arena, but if anyone had a knife, they could easily cut through the tension that vibrated in the air. Waves from chatter to silence formed in between points, helping out the fencers to filter out their thoughts. Song Eunseok’s were now racing with heavy, borderline abusive motivations to create a gap of points between him and Yannick Borel. 

There were few things he hated more than equalizing point with his opponent. The idea of utter loss, a silver medal, caused by a single point could make him go feral. 

But now was no time to go feral. 

Now was the time to place his feet apart from each other. To flex his knees, bend his sword and agitate it out of habit. To then giggle his arms, one last time, and wait for the referee’s voice to echo through his mic. 

He took in a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second and felt the tingle of his opponent’s last strike on him. 

The fourth right rib. He would try to hit here again. And he knew just how to keep him from doing that.

« En Garde. »

You were sitting at the edge of your seat, his hate for equal scores coming from you. You, who couldn’t help but hope for your late night lessons from 4 years ago to still be tattooed in his mind. 

« Prêts ? »

All the sweat you poured until the school’s track fields’ lights went out, and your only way back home was from his passenger seat. Those trainings he paid with inviting you to his court, only so you could flirt with his curly-haired teammate. 

BEEP 

Your youth together.

You hoped he didn’t forget your youth together. 

2-3

It was like watching the two of you dance again. 

🤺

« There’s no way I can jump that high » You stated in defeat, breaking your neck from looking at the hoop. 

« Are you kidding? I saw you correct the cheerleaders’ choreo the other day… »

You shushed him, partly amused and partly annoyed from shooting only three scores since you’ve started training with him. It has been 2 weeks. 

Nothing was at stake there, no career, no scholarship, or not even a trophy. But the frustration of doing so many so mistakes when you were more than used to being excellent, couldn’t be helped. Especially since Eunseok has proven himself to be quite a fast learner from your not so amateur fencing sessions. 

« Let’s do it together one more time, hm? » He offered, clearly sensing your growing frustration. 

You nodded, eyes closed, gathering every ounce of focus that was left in your body. 

Why where you there when Anton was nowhere to be seen anyway?

When you felt ready, you looked to your side, ready to mimic Eunseok’s movements as you have done countless times before. 

But you’ve turned your head to nothing. 

A breath ghosted over your neck. 

Fingertips on your left wrist, and a palm on your hip. 

« Bend your knees. » He softly spoke. 

The phrase ran twice, or thrice in your head before you actually registered and executed it. Your body temperature shifted, hoping it went unnoticed. And before you could form any other thought, his whole body stretched yours out towards the hoop. You automatically jumped, but he stayed on the ground, his hands now both pushing on your under arms. He boosted your jump, practically lifting you like you weighed nothing. You nearly screamed out of fright from the sudden gain of height. 

« Shoot ! » He shouted, shattering the blossoming tension. 

You did, and you scored, and you laughed, and he laughed. And coming down from the height, only made your excitement and adrenaline jump through the roof. Once you calmed down to your senses, you teasingly hit him with the ball instead of celebrating.

« Amazing shot, champ, how did you that? » He sarcastically chuckled, resting his hands on his knees. 

You couldn’t help but think he was probably wiping off your arm-pit sweat from his palms.

« It’s called talent. » You breathlessly replied, plopping down on the floor with your legs splayed out. 

« That’s a real basketball player answer there, you might get qualified for the team before me."

« I’m no real basketball player, though. » You stated, cutting out whatever game you were both playing at. « I literally have to be your puppet to score. »

« Were you having fun? » He asked, « Being my puppet? »

« Well, even though I didn’t ask to be… » You looked up at him, the spotlights making his traits manlier than you were used to see. « Yeah. » 

He collected the ball from the floor, dribbling it for a few seconds before effortlessly scoring, looking right into your eyes. « Then you’re a real basketball player. » 

« So fucking cheesy… » You sighed, smiling to the ground.

Half an hour later, Eunseok was mopping the squeaky court as he waited for your « just got home » text. He would usually enjoy some music while cleaning, just like you did. But that day was for racing thoughts, and the squelch of his soapy mop on the wooden floor was just what he needed as a background sound. The way he touched you earlier haven’t quite left his mind. Before that, he had never tried to initiate anything physical with you. But you always did. Pressing on his abs and back muscles to help him have good fencer posture. Or wrapping your fingers around his to teach him how to have a solid, yet, swift hold on her backup sword. Like any good coach would.

Eunseok kept rummaging his thoughts about how he held you today, if you perhaps thought it was too much, or if you thought nothing of it. He saw the goosebumps rise from under your skin, though. And he felt it heat up. 

« Someone’s in love… », Sohee said from the swinging doors. 

Eunseok’s heart jolted, his body remained unmoved. He eyed his smirking teammate from the reflection on the huge window in front of him. « The hell are you even doing here? »

« Not flirting with Y/N L/N, what about you? » He sarcastically replied, crossing his arms. 

Despite the slipperiness of the floor, Eunseok raced towards him, screaming incoherent things to his youngest. Their improvised game of tag, giggling from the sights of each other’s bouncing hair, made the previous teasing dust up in the records of history. 

« Just admit it, you have a thing for Anton’s girl. » Sohee exclaimed with a loud smile on his freckled face. 

Hearing that incorrect way of describing you made him icky, for a reason he was only admitting to himself, for now. Eunseok ran faster, shouting a childish « Hey! », Sohee finally within his reach, when his phone vibrated against his clothed thigh. He automatically stopped in his tracks, right after jumping over the benches. His friend’s eyes sparkled with thirst for drama, the sight of Eunseok’s lighted up smile ready to be spread in future gossip sessions. 

But Eunseok, as blissful as he could be, kept blushing at your awaited notification. 

It was followed by a messy, half asleep goodnight text. To which he replied : 

⌈ Sweet dreams, Y/N. ⌋

His finger hovered over the send button. Was it Sohee’s defying look over his phone that made him send this all or nothing second text? Or was it because he came to the realization that he didn’t like the fact that « Anton’s girl » could soon be a very correct way of describing you ? 

It was up to your interpretation anyway. Perhaps, it would mean nothing to you. 

So he sent :

⌈ ❤️ ⌋

Like any good friend would. 

🤺

It has only been 6 minutes since the match has started. Six terribly long minutes of observing your college’s best friend compete in the most important match of his life, with only yourself to debate or cheer with.

The time on your phone was rarely left unchecked, as for your watch, it would be the next second, as if time went by faster on the latter. There was a fencing olympic finale entertaining you, and a chanting crowd to follow along to. Nevertheless, pure loneliness bubbled right inside of you, perched with thousands of sports fans.

It was never lonely down there, you reminisced. 

A goal in mind, a weapon in hand, and a person to dance with was all you ever needed to feel fulfilled. To feel happy. 

You’d search for your partner’s sweet spot until they’d succeed to your teasing touches. 

Growing tensions, magnifying attractions, and the electronic sounds of the scores accumulating turning into music. There would be a moment in which both of you would understand each other completely, the map of each your souls clearly traced in the lines of your body. 

Synchronization. 

Harmony. 

The common folk mostly thought of fencing only as competition and infliction of pain. A deadly duel, resulting into a victor and a loser. But beneath the protective gear, and under the pulsing pearly skin of fencers, lied infinite pleasure. 

For both players.

And sometimes, even for the referee.  

Fencing was all about mutual connexion, understanding, and love.

And all of that came with patience, which left your body each an every minute there, sitting with a crowd that didn’t know Song Eunseok like you did. 

Nor the secret stake of the match.

That’s what, partly, justified your loneliness.

You hoped he didn’t feel any of that loneliness, as well. 

Because if he did, if he wasn’t having any fun, he would 100% lose. 

He took off his mask, strong breathes huffing out of his chest, as he waited for the referee’s verdict. He couldn’t help but twist the sweat off his pink glossy lips, lick them and bite them. 

The anticipation that grew within you, and your misplaced curiosity for his freshly licked lips, made you react a little later than you should have when you heard footsteps approaching you. 

There’s a hand on the crook of your neck. 

« So sorry my love, some fans wanted pictures. » Anton breathlessly whispered in your ear, before kissing it.

🤺

City lights shimmered all over the floor you slowly walked on. Your teammate’s complaints were muffled by the sound of your own troubles fogging your brain. There were no words to describe how much you loathed doing bad performances. 

And your coach pretending like it wasn’t the case. 

And the fact that the only thing keeping you away from being better, was your mental state. 

And your mental state, being the way it was because of a guy. 

Anton hadn’t talked to you today. 

You wore his jersey, today.

Embarrassment grew each and every time you felt a stare a second too long on the shining letters on your back. You’ve never wanted to hide under your epidermis more than when you walked by the team’s table at lunch, and received a glance, but no smile from him. 

It could have been just that, until the most irritating chuckles made their way into your ears, coming from their way.

If you could’ve died right there, it would have been a miracle. 

And if your sword could actually kill, Eunseok’s head would’ve been on a spike. 

Well, truth was that your mental state was that way, because of two guys.

It could also only be because of today’s treason, but it wasn’t.

Eunseok hasn’t left your mind a single day since you’ve met. 

It has been three months, now. 

Spring was ending, now. 

Your friendship grew out of the school’s walls with goodnight texts, stretching into nightly, hours long conversations. Your thumbs would get sore from all the texting, so it shifted to calls. And video calls. During the weekends, too. 

Eunseok then swore you needed to practice your shoots on your days off as well. He happened to have a park with a hoop, right at the end of the street in which he lived. So you met up there, every Saturdays, and practiced. 

He’d always drive you back home if those sessions, that eventually turned in gossip sessions, lasted until nighttime. 

Until one day, when his older brother went on a trip with his car.

There were no buses anymore, and your parents have had a little drink. 

Moments later, you left your shoes next to his by the entrance, ate with his parents and baby brother, saw Eunseok under his dining’s room light, and brushed your teeth next to him, laughing at the huge foam around his mouth.

His mother’s smell was all over your skin and hair when you got out of the shower. 

His own smell embraced you when you dived into his previous basketball team’s jersey. 

And being there, all up in his brother’s sheets, with his father snoring in the other room, scared you. It scared you because you felt like you could get used to this. 

Your lids grew heavier, as you silently wished to get used to it.

You opened them back up when your phone lit up by your face. 

« I have popcorn. » Eunseok had texted you. 

You didn’t need more to be tiptoeing to his bedroom.

« I’m out of here by 3 am, understood? » You warned him as you quietly closed the door behind you, knowing that it might cause trouble to be found here in the morning. He solemnly nodded, before breaking into a grin as he watched you get comfy by him, against his headboard.

Hours after demolishing the popcorn bag, you were still there, sharing life stories in the dark, from the funniest to the most unspeakable ones. You told him about how you puked on yourself after your first kiss, and he told you about all the nasty things he had seen in the showers of all the sports teams he had been in. He swore he hadn’t participated, but he gave away way too much details. 

It was way past the bedtime both of you knew you wouldn’t respect anyway, when he decided to put on one of your favorite animated movie on his laptop. Your reciting of the lines became more and more incoherent, and he spent more and more time watching you flutter your eyelashes shut.

You fell asleep to the feeling of Eunseok’s fingers waltzing on your temple, and woke up in his brother’s bedroom. 

« Do you speak French in your sleep because of fencing, or because of Ratatouille ? » He had asked you the next day, watching you wash your face through the bathroom mirror.

All of this shouldn’t have affected you the way it did, you thought. 

You were just happy to get closer to your friend, you thought. 

You were like brothers and sisters now, you thought.  

Replaying this in your head has made you oddly silent, as you kept on walking among your teammates. You were so silent, you started to recognize the now very familiar sound of a basketball rapidly bouncing, then clashing against the metal outdoor hoop.

« Oh, Guys, I forgot something at the gym. » You lied to the group of gasping girls. « You guys can go ahead. See you tomorrow! »

You rapidly pretended to walk back, immediately missing the shelter of Aeri’s umbrella as they cheerfully waved to you. Seeing their giggling backs under the rain made you wish to make more efforts to befriend them. An inexplicable rush of nostalgia washed over you, as raindrops coated your scalp. You were in your feels. And going to investigate towards the small court wasn’t going to help anything, no matter who was dramatically shooting hoops under the rain. 

It could’ve been one of the guys you were desperate to avoid tonight. 

Though, you couldn’t help but hope it was one of them.

You took a turn and quietly walked towards the huge white hoodie, cutting the mystery short.

« Think you’re Troy Bolton or something? » you teasingly asked. You knew better than to be mad at him off the start, even though you truly were. 

Eunseok turned around, missing the point he was about to miss anyway.

The fruit of his restless thoughts materialized before him. 

If you thought you were going mad over your sleepover at his’, it was solely because you knew nothing of how much it ran him, truly crazy. 

He introduced you to his parents, picked you up when you were sleeping, smelt your morning breath, and have spent, since then, hours to think about the next time he could have you that way again. Without acting like the worst, traitor, dipshit friend ever.

You were slowly tearing him into pieces, with no one but Sohee as a witness. 

The abandoned ball wasn’t bouncing off the floor nearly as fast as your pounding hearts. 

« If you consider yourself Gabriella, then it should be Anton’s role. » He stated, leaning down to pick it up. His tone ended up being colder than both of you expected it to be. 

« I’m not really sure he’d like to be my Troy anyway… » You scoffed, crossing your bare forearms. « But you all could be a little less cruel about it. » You then spat at him, slightly ashamed. 

He stopped in his motions, his back facing you. « What are you even talking about? »

You huffed a laugh, the frustration turning into a lump of sorrow in your throat. Have boys always been this oblivious to the fucked up things they do? « You know exactly what I’m talking about. » 

« No, I don’t actually. I don’t know, Y/N. » He turned to face you, jaw clenched. « And you really need to stop playing around, especially now. » He bitterly added. His tone was filled with despise, as if he was grounding some naughty spoiled kid. It vexed you.

« Is it not playing around when you let me hope that he likes me ? And proceed to then laugh at me, with him, behind my back? » You shouted, taking a few steps towards him, wondering where his common sense possibly went.

You didn’t mean for your voice to crack so easily. And you were pissed at his confused, twisted eyebrows under his wet strands of hair. 

« Lunch? Today? » You tried to refresh his memory. 

His expression shifted. A defeated smirk threatened to mark his face, as he slowly made the wet ball bounce from one of his hands to the other. 

« I can assure you, we weren’t laughing at you. » He calmly stated, now taking in your shivering form from under the flickering lamp post. 

You sighed out a big chunk of air, with closed eyes and your head held up high. Was it out of relief, annoyance or, as a way to relax your severely tensed muscles? You couldn’t tell, at all. 

But you knew what you felt. You felt sick of fighting the very person you’d go to when days were as shitty as today. 

So you decided to trust his words, though it felt too early to fully believe in them.

 « Whatever. He didn’t even talk to me today. » You muttered.

If this had happened a few weeks before, Eunseok would have confessed that the team was laughing at Anton’s reddening ears to the sight of you, proudly walking with his name on your back. 

However, whatever reason that was making him pull a dry sweater from his sports bag, was making him keep it all to himself. 

« You can’t afford to catch a cold, champ. » He softly spoke, as he stood up, closed the gap between you, and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

« So can’t you. » You replied, looking up to his face. He covered the top of yours with the hood of his sweater, slid his hands on your shoulders, and left them there. 

It wasn’t his first time taking the time to explore the map of your face. He retraced it all, meanwhile you felt like a first time explorer. The lamp-post lighting softly bounced of his high cheekbones, and made his earring shimmer. You couldn’t make up the sweat sliding down his forehead from the raindrops drenching him, in all places. From his ridiculously big eyes and lashes, to his puckered pouty lips, passing by his straight nose bridge, he was glowing. 

He was beautifully glowing. 

Your focus went back down his mouth. You blinked, a lot. You swore it was moving a second ago. But it wasn’t anymore. 

He had just finished talking and you haven’t heard a thing. 

« Sorry what did you say? » You asked, coughing your way out of awkwardness. 

He swallowed down a now flustered smirk and replied in all seriousness. « Our coach. He’s involved with a bribing case. » 

It took you a second too long to recover from your previous embarrassment, and register the dramatic information you have just gotten. « What? » You finally exclaimed.

« Yeah. » He looked down, your saddened expression pulling him back through the same deception he had faced earlier. «The headmasters were quick to announce that there would be no actually good replacement for the rest of the year though. Some are staying, some are switching sports, and others are switching… schools. » He sighed. He also remembered how hard he had gasped when Shohei, the one guy he was the most excited to train with, announced him that he’d fly out to Japan to have a chance at his dream basketball team. 

He paused, and half heartedly chuckled, « I wasn’t even selected so my choices are… Thin. That’s why I’m here. Stress-releasing. » He freed your shoulders of his tender grasp, burying his freezing hands in his hanging jogger’s pockets. 

You’ve let the rain wash over you for a moment, watching Eunseok’s gaze empty itself. You, quite selfishly, mentally placed yourself in his shoes. You knew you’d have gone bat-shit crazy if you were left with the choices of making a drastic change in your life in order to keep chasing after your dreams, or abandoning them completely. In your golden age. Just because of a man. 

Your heart broke for the promising athlete before you. 

It broke for your best friend. 

« God… » You gasped in horror. « I can’t even… begin to imagine how hard that must be for you.»

« For all of you. » You added, Anton coming to your mind, and his, to his own demise.

He dropped his head and bitterly nodded to your statement. As you watched him stand there thoroughly defeated and fighting tears, you’ve found yourself powerless, and lacking of words strong enough to provide him any satisfying reassurance. So, you instinctively reached for his head and placed it on your shoulder, like he would do when you’d fail anything, from getting Anton’s attention, to exams. 

His arms immediately wrapped around your back and waist for warmth, comfort, anything, like a man starved. He had convinced himself that you were going to turn into sand if he didn’t hold you tightly enough, hence the grip he had on you, that, despite yourself, made your face flush warm against his wet, cold body. The sound of the raindrops hitting his nape made you shiver for him. You attempted at covering it with your hand, but was rather caressing the small parcel of skin. 

You weren’t deaf to the sound of his breathing losing its regularity, though. 

Added up to his chest, beating against yours, his heart was helplessly finding ways of digging its way down your ribcage.

You liked the feel of it, though. 

So you held him tighter, too. 

« You really need to stop playing around. » He whispered, right into your ear.

« What are you talking about? » You softly spoke, right back into his ear.

He took another deep breath before his palms found their way onto your hips. He unglued your body from his, watching you look up at him with a puzzled, yet dazed look. « You think the coach’s thing is the only stressing me out? »

The world consisted only of the raindrops sliding off your huffed out bodies, and the lamp-post illuminating you. An aura surrounded the man, through your blurry, rained on gaze. 

« I like you, Y/N. »

There was no time for another thought to be formed in your mind before he leaned in to kiss you.

Song Eunseok kissed you.

His lips on yours were gone as quickly as they’ve landed. Your next view were the droplets free falling from his eyelashes. Behind them, secretly lied a gaze you mentally ordered yourself to memorize forever. You weren’t sure if it was love, though. Because how could you be sure of feeling an emotion you’ve never encountered before? And where were the fireworks that the stories you’ve been fed with your entire life have promised you?

You didn’t hate it. 

Whatever you felt, you wanted to feel more of it. 

He watched you reach for the back of his head with one hand, and the side of his neck with the other. He watched you lift yourself on your tippy toes, and he couldn’t believe his eyes. 

You planted a new kiss on his wet lips. Only, you felt like you couldn’t get enough of of it. 

Eunseok swore he could taste victory better on your lips than on any of the trophies he had left a peck on. He anchored you to him when he felt your toes struggling to stand still. And he prayed, to all of the higher forces that could exist, to make the moment last as long as possible. 

Not a single ounce of lust seeped through the near-divine kiss you shared, even after your tongues have exchanged many caresses of their own. 

Both of you found your opponents there, kissing like you fenced, wondering if each of your physical encounters would end up feeling so familiar. 

Him, strategically attacking you with an unsettling force. 

You, brutally uncovering all of his weaknesses after studying his every moves. 

Everything that your unsatisfied, complexed selves have been craving for, you ended up founding in the warmth of each your own dearest friend’s.

Your phone lit up once in your back pocket, but you couldn’t care less about anything else that wasn’t Eunseok eating your mouth open. His large cold hands slid their way down there, with the pretext of protecting themselves in said pockets. Your phone vibrated once again, and he felt it too. 

« Duty calls? » He whispered against your lips, both of yours covered in spit and fucked out smiles.

You scoffed, punched his forearm as a punishment for his wandering hands, and dived back into the kiss you started missing the second you left it. 

His stupid smile couldn’t be forced out of his lipgloss smeared lips as he lazily kept on kissing you, too. 

He was on cloud nine. It was so grossly obvious. Yet, thinking about all the time he had spent fancying you, made you want to kiss him a little harder. 

If it weren’t for the third, infuriating vibration against your butt-cheek, you would have been glued to his lips until sunrise. 

You reached for your phone in your back pocket, while he made your head rest on his chest to shelter you. He covered your phone and the top of your head with his hand, too, as it lat up your chest. It lat up Anton’s jersey.

The mere sight of it made it harder for him to swallow remains of your saliva. 

He innocently thought the notifications were just from your dad cockblocking him. 

But it would be underestimating his friends’ power over you. 

Plus, you were staring at your phone’s notifications center for way too long.

⌈ Lovely outfit today. ⌋

⌈ Would you wear it again Friday night? ⌋

⌈ I want to take you out, Y/N. ⌋ 

The inevitable smile that creeped on the lips he had just kissed, made his heart bleed to fatality. 

🤺

Eunseok just lost a point. 

Anton’s hand was still glued to your shoulder, even after dozens of people crossed lengths of bleachers, hopping over strangers’ knees, just to have the privilege of sharing a picture with him. You were rarely invited in them though, or acknowledged at all. Knowing your spotlight-craving nature, you were surprisingly unbothered by your partner’s new surge of fame. 

In fact, it made you love him more. You once shamelessly admitted to your girl friends how one’s sportsmanship could determine your attraction, and feelings for them. 

The more medals someone would win, the more points they’d win to get you. 

Anton cracked the code when he first tasted your lips, right after he beat his personal record for the 200M Freestyle in the selections for the school’s swim team. You celebrated in the very same pool he had newly decided to offer his body to, arms wrapped around his soaked shoulders, sharing wet, languorous kisses and splashed giggles. 

He couldn’t get enough of the way your face would lit up after each and every prizes he would bring home over the years. 

So he kept swimming. 

And kept winning. 

Just to come back to you, forget it all and drown in your eyes again. 

Your eyes happened to be just enough for him to be here, in Paris, collecting gold medals like pebbles. The last three days all ended with your most cherished trophy coming running over to you, spinning you around, feeding on the laughter and cheers he swam to win all along. 

His addiction to the proud look plastered all over your face whenever you glanced at him could have got him banished from competitions.

He once pillow-talked to you about his theory of your past lives, being that he once was a greek athlete, a pioneer olympian, that only competed in worship of you. He kissed each of your knuckles afterwards, and later that day, came back with your initial added in one of the Olympic rings tattooed on his right bicep.

He sat down, finally free of his whispered meet and greet, kissed your shoulder, and turned his focus back on the match, almost forgetting the bitter taste of his presence there. He grounded himself by firmly holding your knee, as the bleachers suddenly felt too high for him. 

You, however, were almost annihilated by the game, wondering just how will Eunseok get his point back. You were almost starting to get upset by it. By everything mad that has ever happened to you, too. You thought it boiled down, the resurfacing anger from the day he decided to switch schools without telling you.

Was it really resurfacing anger, though, when it has been burning your guts every single day since 2017? 

Will it ever truly leave you, when the mere thought of fencing makes you feel 18 and abandoned again? 

Will you ever be at peace with the man you were cheering for, next to the man you shared keys with? 

🤺

You were sending undelivered texts to Eunseok with your right hand, and holding your new boyfriend’s arm with the left one. 

« You should eat, it’s going cold. » Anton told you, softly shimmying your cheek out of his shoulder. 

You absently nodded, not even bothering to straighten up and pretending to obey. Every single soul around the table could see your mind wandering elsewhere, but they had much more interesting topics to focus on. Like practice, competitions, and Asia Games. All of their non-athlete friends and lovers barely kept it together as they felt like their heads were going to explode from hearing too much sporty non-sense. Even though you have finally acquired your title of « Riizing Boys’ Girlfriend, » you weren’t quite included in the second bubble of conversation that formed over lunch. No, you preferred having one with the ghost of your true first kiss who has decided to vanish from the surface of earth four days ago. 

Your messages delivered, though, four days sooner.

Your concern for his absence seemed to torment no one else but you. Anytime you’d ask one of his ex-teammates, their reply would leave you even more lost and confused. You have stopped interrogating the team after the third player, Wonbin, « jokingly » replied he must’ve been sick of being around you every day. But also, to not raise any suspicion on the fogged up nature of your friendship. 

Anton had gained your attention once again, asking you to eat once again, but the very little appetite you had was definitely lost when you saw your text bubble switch to green, in the corner of your eye. 

There was no way.

You quietly excused yourself out of the table, as discreetly as you could. 

However, your discretion happened to not have gone unnoticed by Sohee, who followed your steps right after unwrapping his arm around his emo brunette girlfriend’s shoulders. 

Your lonesome session of deeply inhaling the fading spring’s breeze was cut short by him walking up to you, burying the worry that crushed him in his huge jean’s pockets.

« It kills me to see you like this. » He simply stated.

You were taken aback by it, as you weren’t that close to him. 

But Eunseok is, or was. 

You smiled, and assured him that you were fine through your knotted throat. 

« No you’re not. » He sighs, his gaze fixated on your unevenly concealed eye-bags. « Listen, I’m not supposed to tell you this but I will anyway. My girl keeps telling me how bad it is to keep that away from you, and fuck it, she’s right. » 

You braced yourself, arms crossed, and nodded. « What’s up? »

 « Anton doesn’t know either though… » He added, before looking around and leaning towards you. 

Seconds later, you are hit with the news that scooped the ground right off your feet.

Not by surprise, because you expected it. 

You saw it coming like a lunge.

And there was no way to avoid the deadly strike, and scar it left on your poor self. 

Eunseok left to study in Japan. 

And broke contact with you.

4 years later

March 2021

« Are you sure you’re okay? » Jimin asked, as you were losing a third point into your first practice game of the day. 

You nodded, out of breath, admitting to your years-long opponent that your entire body was particularly sore today. 

She snatched her mask off, revealing a smirk curving her glossy lips « Oh right, it was Anton’s birthday yesterday, I almost forgot. »

You teasingly attacked her with your sword, shushing her up from revealing a half-truth. All three of her strikes have hit marked spots from the night before, you kept having stomach butterflies-inducing flashbacks of. What has gotten into him, you wondered, reminiscing the way your hip bones knocked on the kitchen counter, bathroom sink, and shower wall, all in an impossibly short span.

The other source of your lack of focus was not so thrilling. It was quite the opposite, since it actually terrified you, since you’ve listened, in disbelief, to your college best friend’s whereabouts on the radio. Hearing about it against your will for the past couple of years have made your grieving journey harder than it should’ve been. Four years, in which you’ve entered your twenties, moved in with your college crush, integrated the National Fencing team, adopted a kitten, and buried gold fishes have passed. Four years of secretly scrolling through Japan’s national fencing team social media posts, under Anton’s spoon, lullabied by his soft snoring. 

You hated yourself for it, though. 

But no hate you could feel against someone could possibly surpass the one you felt for Eunseok. 

Which is why you nearly crashed yourself into a tree when you heard the reason your coach was about to gather your team in the conference room. 

Song Eunseok has come back home. 

Neither did the radio host’s or your coach’s voice have made it real enough for you to believe it.

It wasn’t until he walked in under camera flashes that you’ve felt it. 

Everything. 

You felt everything come back. 

The creaking sound of the bleachers under your youthful laughs. The strawberry milk flavored, moonlit practices. The soaked kiss. His brother’s sheets and his mother’s shower gel. 

And the pain, the agonizing, visceral pain of everything being ripped out of your life on a random Thursday. 

Once the white blocky flashing lights stopped concealing the face that was once your home, you were hit with the stupid realization that, that man was your first love. 

As he blinked the lingering blindness, he looked for your face in the seated crowd.

And when he did find you, he smiled. 

He smiled at you, offering you nothing but friendship and dimples. 

As if it was enough. 

As if stupid dimples were enough to forgive leaving you in the other side of the sea, for a stupid sport. For your stupid sport. 

You couldn’t stand any of the bullshit he was standing on. You were mad, mad enough to leave the room, not as discreetly as you once did.

How dared he come back bothering the peace you have worked so hard to build, after he had so easily destroyed it? How could he smile so prettily for the cameras, knowing the one person he should be apologizing to on his knees is standing right there, apology-less? How could he not learn from his errors, and warn you this time? 

The walls of what you called home more than the one you shared with your boyfriend, suffocated you for the very first time. So you left them, and drove. And you could’ve gone to the warmth of Anton’s arms, of your bed or of your bathtub. 

But your mind longed for stress-relief, instead of relaxation. 

Although, your tensed and sore body screamed for the latter.

« Practice starts in an hour, alright? » Sohee stated, leaning on the door’s frame, the same worried expression frowning his youthful face.

Maybe, it was your heart that made you stand in front of a hoop.

« I’ll let Anton know you’re here » he added to deaf ears before leaving you, as you already started to loudly dribble the heavy ball on the shining wooden ground of the Seoul’s Basketball Team’s practice room.

You thought you were strong enough to feed your mind with thirst for scoring points, without ever drifting to Eunseok’s lips pressed against your ear, teaching you how to win. 

As you failed yet another shot, you also thought of the fact that you have never gotten close to winning against him in his discipline, when you have once shared a 9-15 points combat. 

He had been lying, you were just now realizing, dribbling away your confusion, making sense of the late epiphany you were now having. 

He didn’t approach you to teach him fencing. 

He wasn’t a genius, nor a fast-learner as he repeated. 

He already knew how to play. 

There just wasn’t any male fencing team.

And he just wanted to spend time with you. 

You scored. 

You were his first love, too. 

You picked up the ball, and scored again. 

He loved you so much, he crossed the sea so he wouldn’t have to see his first love get with what he thought was yours.

You felt lighter all of the sudden. As if the soreness and bruises from last night’s have been washed down your body. You felt light enough to dunk without sitting on Eunseok’s shoulder, for once. 

You truly felt like it. 

So you jumped, higher than you ever have in your life, and dunked. 

Adrenaline rushed in your veins in such a delightful way, that you have forgotten that as an athlete, listening to your body was the only thing that mattered. It wasn’t scores, performances, peers, sponsors, or money. It was your body. But it was too late to remember it now. 

You were on the floor.

And you couldn’t believe the thud followed by a cracking sound, was the sound of your knee. 

It couldn’t be.

🤺

Anton’s hand still rested right there, squeezing it every time a player scored. 

Uncertainty resided within your heart in his attempt to reassure you. Each squeezes feeling like thousands of swords plunging in the wound left by your crushed lifelong dreams. 

He meant well, though. He meant them like kisses. 

So you covered his hand with your palm, grounding yourself too, on the touch of your partner of 7 years. 

You thought you’d feel more sick than that, watching your first fencing game ever since the incident. 

It was not a harmless sight, nonetheless.

You missed it all so bad, thinking of it for more than a minute would make you undeniably cry rivers, for your grief was still young and fresh. It has only been two years since the Asia games’ doors closed right in front of your hopeful soul. 

Since you have been amputated of the life you have been building since you were a child. 

Since you have died on a basketball court. 

Your forehead sweat would never uncomfortably trickle down your collarbones under the hot white suit again.

You never got to unpack a new one again, smelling the fresh new fabric for days, until it would absorb your own salty smell.   

Your sword would never accidentally hit someone on public transportation again. 

And no one else would ever say that you were glued to it, whenever someone would see you eat, with it laid next to your food. 

You would never train at the gym with your teammates turned friends, giggling on the stair master for minutes again. 

You would never turn teammates into friends again.

You would never plug, and unplug yourself to the score counting matching again. 

And you would never roar from your guts whenever you’d win again. 

You would never win again. 

You never played again. 

🤺

From Anton’s arms, carrying you princess-style as he screamed for help, to the sun-bathed rehab center, a million things you were unable to properly recollect, have happened. 

You have seen therapists that have tried to find you a new purpose in life in the span of 60 minutes weekly consultations, eaten countless of close to tasteless food, received an overwhelming amount of bouquets from all of the coaches, teammates and friends you ever had, and cried after each and every one of their visits. You have dried gallons of your parent’s, Anton’s and every of your loved one’s tears. You have also started knitting, as Sungchan’s bride-to-be have brought you a starting kit to keep up with a new distraction, other than the torturing one you had of keeping up with fencing news. Keeping up with the life you should be living. The life you spent your days and nights mourning, within the four walls of your hospital room. You have even witnessed the reformation of the « Riizing Boys » within those same walls. The six of them filled it with laughter, as they decided to come playing cards and performing karaoke to you every weekends. 

All of them, except for Eunseok. 

His absence haunted your convalescence. Every day for 6 weeks, you’d meet the depressing grey ceiling first, as his face would pop-up in your mind. And every night for 6 weeks, your eyelids would heavily close to the hope of him showing up, leaning against the huge doorframe one day. 

You’d toss and turn in your sleep, wondering whether shame, guilt or none of the above refrained him from coming to visit you. And Anton, as sweet as he was, would only slip his hand out of yours when he’d be sure of your arrival in Morphea’s embrace. As long as you had him, you’d think it would be easier to forget Eunseok’s existence altogether. But you were only a girl who missed her college best friend, and the body she used to live for. 

Complaints and whines once slipped out of your mouth in the safe company of a handful of your girl friends. 

« He ain’t shit anyway », have Sohee’s high school sweetheart spat. Every one of them thoroughly nodded, agreeing to the brown-eyed woman’s truthful statement. 

« If I were you, » Started Sungchan’s promised, « I’d ask for Anton to beat him up. »

You laughed, fully knowing, by looking at her piercing blue eyes, that she meant it in all seriousness. Watching all of them tear him apart with witty insults and embarrassing memories of him during your college years brought peace to your heart. You weren’t alone, grieving the Eunseok you once knew, who’d carry bandages in his cargo pants’ pockets every day, for every single one of your aches, as tiny as they could be. The girls would sneak in the dark chocolates you’d share with him, high up in the bleachers, whilst you lined your future in the early evening stars. They’d also just sit there, merging complains and praises of their respective partners, as you crocheted them tops for their up-coming events you should’ve attended alongside them. 

Your bones would hurt less and less, whilst your prayers for his return would make themselves rarer and rarer. As you took your first trembling, impossibly challenging steps in the hospitals corridors, the idea that the hollow place in your heart for fencing could only be filled with love for a kid with Anton, bloomed in your head. You couldn’t imagine loving anything else. 

And you were everything, but ready to love again.

Your third re-walking session of the week have just ended when the hospital’s garden have looked most promenade-worthy. Soon enough, you were half hopping, half limping with your crutches among slow troupes of retired people, and limb-less recovering adults. Despite the nice track your healing was on, you have not quite often found yourself inhaling the herbal scented air, the freshly produced oxygen out of the tall trees that traced a rounded path. Finding an empty bench was a dreadful task, since everyone seemed to have chosen to take a break at the same time as you. 

You eventually found one, by a duck and koi pond. Little ducklings following around their mama suddenly made you miss Anton, when you’ve heard way too healthy steps to be from a wounded stroller, like you, right behind you. The way the rocks were smashed beneath their feet, instead of seductively dragging on the ground, immediately eliminated your boyfriend from the guessing list. 

Fear and curiosity fought a tough battle within you, as you debated whether you should turn around, or limp out of here. 

It could just be a nurse, you thought to yourself. 

Though you were far from believing in yourself. 

You didn’t even flinch, when the silhouette of a chestnut haired man quietly sat besides you. 

The koi fishes kept on aimlessly turning round and round, deep in the emerald water, and the duck family jumped out of it, one by one, as if they were giving you space to talk it out. 

Or find something to talk about. 

Clapping leaves, summer scented crickets, random droplets and wheelchairs’ wheels rolling on the rocky path. 

You were hearing everything, but an apology. 

You felt like tearing up, like dying even, when he finally spoke up.

« Break up with him. » He started.

« Be my coach. » He pleated. 

Clapping leaves, summer scented crickets, random droplets, wheelchairs’ wheels rolling on the rocky path…

And a slap. 

« What the fuck is wrong with you? » You asked, the tingling sensation lingering on your palm.

« I’m still in love with you. » He truthfully replied, his cheek reddening. 

Your ribs felt like shattering under the extreme pounding of your heart. Heat, flushed the entirety of your numbed-down, heavily medicated body. The cracking of his voice in his followings words made you realize that the only cause of your overwhelmed state was what came out of his mouth. You weren’t even looking at him, yet. And the slap seemed to already belong to history. 

« I… don’t think there are enough words to express how sorry I am. I left you before I could even give us a chance. I am so fucking stupid, and so fucking sorry. And… I’ve read it, you know. The last text you ever sent me. And, I couldn’t forget our kiss, too. To this day, I still replay it, like I’m a fucking broken disc, trying to make sense of a single kiss we shared years ago… Because you haunt me. You always have. And I’m barely brave enough to face you. And you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. » 

He paused. 

« If I could give you my career, my knee, my entire life, I would. In a heartbeat. »

He breathed out, letting his head down, accepting the fact that you, turning to look into his eyes, was not happening, no matter how much you were fighting every single one of your muscles to not succumb. 

« Fence through me, Y/N. Coach me, live everything I took from you through me. I miss you. I miss everything about you. I miss you so much that, » He practically collapses, kneeling on the humid grass before you, his nose grazing your broken bone. « I want to be anything for you, and I will do anything for you. Please. »

As if you were programmed to do so, your palm found his thick glowing hair, smoothly gliding beneath your hand. The thoughts that formed in your head made you tremble, as the truth of your following statement planted daggers through your heart and knee. 

« I’m not the girl you miss anymore. »

Your eyes went from the calming auras forming at the surface of the pond, to the stillness of his figure. 

« You’re not just a knee, Y/N. » He replied, looking up to you.

Was it the way the teary gaze you fell in love with dived into yours, or the fact that he was the one who just pronounced the very phrase you wished for your parents, doctors, therapists, and boyfriend to tell you, that made your entire self break into tears. 

The blood that pumped through your veins, rushed with ache for the unbearable, impossible love that has just crashed onto you, your life and story.

This was it, the fireworks they talked about in novels. 

And there he was sniffing on his knees, as your face melted in your soaked palms. Your imagination could have been playing you tricks, drunk on your own tears, but you swore you could hear a bunch of passing-by people gasping and congratulating your « proposal ». Eunseok took notice of your sobs growing in intensity from the irony of it all, and sat back next to you, his thigh now glued to yours. His entire body shielded you from your own violent shakes.  

The shushing, and sea-like sound of the weeping willow’s leaves soothed you to sheer sadness, instead of devastation. 

He protectively held you for a while.

A while long enough for his tear-stained shirt to dry, whilst your head was still laying on it. 

Against the strong, trembling surface of his chest, you thought of how silly it was of you to believe that you would remain unfazed, unmoved, grossed out even, by whatever he’d have to tell you at this stage of your rehabilitation. It was way too late to apologize, and the damage was way beyond repair by now. Or so you thought, before he’d crawl out of his guilt, begging to your feet for you, and everything you selfishly wished for. 

Nevertheless, your cries reflected no relief nor blissful satisfaction in being declared unconditional, almost over-the-top love to.  

You cried out of grief, again. 

You were now witnessing what could have been the start of the story you have silently, shamefully prayed for, and peeled out of your thoughts when you’d shampoo for a bit too long. The passionate declaration that would fast-forward to a happy, lively, and sporty marriage, that you would daydream about in every rides you’d take. The fireworks, the love that burns the blood and twists the bones, that you have looked for in every corners of the pools you’d have secret dates with your boyfriend. 

You loved Anton, though. 

Which is why your eyes would take days to completely dry. 

Eunseok walked you back into your room, softly pushing on a wheelchair, since love has weakened you all over. He tried to break a laugh out of you with slaloms motions, or teased you by having longer than necessary conversations with whoever passed by him. You’d try to roll away to get faster to your room, but he’d grip on your chair hard enough to refrain you from it. It made you giggle. There were few things that he did that didn’t have this effect on you. 

He never changed, only became a better fencer.

So, easier to love.

Thus, impossible to let go of. 

And you were doomed to do it. 

3 mere hours weren’t close to enough to catch up on 7 years apart, especially since it used to take you entire evenings to properly retell what happened over lunch, even though you sat at the ends of the same table. 

But there was no time to tell him about your pregnancy scare, the 6 months long fight you’ve had with Anton’s coach, the day you went skydiving, or the drama that happened over that one couple in your class you used to hate on back then. Because Anton would be there in less than half an hour. And because you cared about him, there was no way you’d have Eunseok like this again. 

Each and every seconds that passed before the inevitable felt all too cruel. 

Here you sat, under the ugly grey light of the room. It would be the last one you’d shine in as the best friend you once were to him, and vice versa.

Even under the ugly grey light, setting eyes on him only further confirmed the truth you were terrified to spend a lifetime coping with.

It was him. 

Your greatest love was him. 

After all, Anton never fenced with you. 

The conversation you were having on each of the boys’ career unwillingly died down now. Silence sat right between you, amplifying your fear of saying goodbye. It was palpable, the force that linked the two of you, now at breaking point.

The way your throat painfully knotted itself even made you doubt on the way you parted from fencing. Was it less, or as painful as choosing your boyfriend of seven years, the one guy you have fantasized about all your youth, over the one person who made the word « soulmate » make sense ?

Each of you exchanged sorry glances, carefully coated in humble gratefulness for the moment.

« Tell me there’s a way. » He ended up sighing, lacing his fingers together, wishing for his other hand to be yours.

You tilted your head in confusion, curiosity, and in all honesty, slight fear of what he was about to say. 

« Tell me there’s a way I can be yours. »

His last desperate word lingered in the air. The air that felt harder to breathe all of the sudden. 

He was right, there had to be a way. 

So you searched for inspiration on his face, lightly twisted in worry. And found it, on the tiny horizontal scar right above his left eyebrow. Seeing it up-close made you 18 again, watching your sword wiggling around in his hands as he yelled out matching sound effects. The memory of a single tear of blood slowly falling along his startled face made you chuckle on your growing tears. And here stood the adult version of the boy you were, and will always be, deeply fond of. 

You still couldn’t believe you were losing him.  

Sport was the most beautiful thing that have ever came into your life. Your baby teeth would fall into your helmet, and grow back during the youth you sacrificed to the épée. The only thing that made your parents buy four other shelves for your trophies was setting your mind to win. Your mind never lusted over anything else than winning, and seeing others putting their entire self into it. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that you lived for it. 

The thirst that turns your body in a unrecognizable anxiety-induced carnage, the adrenaline that endlessly floods from your brain to your toes, and the orgasmic, other-worldly sensation of having the victorious status placed upon you, shining like a crown. 

And if you wouldn’t be able to live through it all again, you deserved to watch it unravel. 

Your lips popped out of the cage of teeth you trapped them in. 

A tiny smirk stretched them, illuminating your desperate face. 

« Become an Olympic Champion next year. » 

🤺

14-13

Anton’s hand felt too heavy on your knee, your scar jolted awake in bolts of pains by his sweet, sweet thumb grazing it. This abnormal pressure was shared by every pieces of fabric that stuck on your sprinkling skin. The scores and whistles controlled your now manual breathing. Your stomach tied itself around nothing recent to digest. You barely blinked, your blown up irises hysterically dancing in between the two players, studying their every movements. You also turned your knuckles a worrying shade of white as you gripped your plastic seat. 

It was safe to say : you were losing your shit. 

Eunseok have carelessly lost points all over the second part, screaming his rage out every time he did so. Your tongue could be bleeding from all those times you have refrained yourself from joining him in his act, or downstairs. Glancing at the score, realizing that you might be a point away for your world to collapse, was making your skin burn in all sorts of places, an acidic taste slowly blooming in your mouth. If it weren’t for the delightful, gut-wrenching spectacle you were a lucky live witness of, you’d be cursing yourself to the hells for that stupid challenge you gave him. 

You actually thought he wouldn’t make it to the finale.

But now that he did, you found yourself praying for Yannick Borel’s immediate downfall. 

« En Garde… »

He just had to miss two times. 

« Prêts ? »

But he also just had to score, once. 

« Allez ! »

You stopped breathing. 

The players hopped in place, as did your indexes on the edge of your seat, as if they were little characters you controlled. The squeaky sound of their soles hitting the graphic floor echoed for a little while, until Eunseok decided to first break synchronization on their hops. 

He feinted attacks on Borel’s under defensed’s left arm. And another one, down his thigh.  

If Eunseok was a bolder fencer, he already would’ve had the point, you thought. 

But he was the surprising the type. 

The type you used to hate confronting. 

Constantly playing defense, until they see a breach open, an opportunity to seize when your guard is down, and run to you with big steps, like a recurrent nightmare catching you up in your needed sleep. 

Kissing you with death. 

Borel understood, and grew accustomed to his attacking style at least 5 points ago. 

Though, he still had a hard time defensing every parts of his body against it.

He defended his arm by wrapping it around his lower torso, crouched, now reaching for Eunseok’s thighs. 

His sword swooped the air. 

14-14

Eunseok landed from his jump, his point stinging Borel’s shoulder blades. 

As soon as he scooped the victory off Yannick’s back, you were on your feet, screaming your lungs out. Anton jolted, placing his hand on your hips as an attempt to hold you if you were to fall. He looked up at you, watching you roar a « Come on » from the depths of your guts, a sound he has never quite heard before. 

Under the Palais’ stadium lights, each and every strands of the crown of your hair, backlit to shades of blues and golds, made you look like an actual goddess. There he sat, in awe of the woman he was certain he could spend a lifetime worshipping. And there you stood, knowing you should be peeling your eyes away from Eunseok’s sweaty smile of relief plastered all over the screens, especially since Anton had a light grip on your shirt, but you thoroughly knew that you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop looking at him, the dark shiny hair strands that were glued to his forehead, the dimples that dug through his cheeks, and then, the switch in his eyes and furrowed eyebrows, when it was time to put the mask on, and lock back in. 

You were the last of your row to sit back down as the arena grew quieter. 

Waves of panic in it’s purest state crashed on your entire being, in forces that felt as if your soul would detach itself from your body. You were reaching stress-levels you thought unbeatable minutes ago. Anton quickly took notice of your trembling legs, and perfect manicure progressively getting ruined. His hands shielded yours from your shaking teeth, as he made you look at him for a second, thankfully, during time-out. 

The sight of his soft traits relaxed yours in a miraculous instant. 

His touch cooled you down. 

His thumb lovingly caressing the side of your fist slowed down your breathing. 

And as if your heart haven’t found enough peace in him, he reached for your hair, petting it, murmuring « Are you okay? » to the thresholds of your tortured soul. 

You nodded, gulping your huge lie down your chest, where you felt a big pressure. It finally came down to you, in a flash, the absolute stupidity of your challenge. 

You were possibly a point away from losing the one thing that made your life hold together.

The person who picked you up, pieces by pieces, from your shattered state on the court’s floor, to your first teary-eyed jogging session along the Han River. 

The one person you’ve granted access to each and every parts of your body. 

The one person who’d peel all of the pistachios, and gut out all the pomegranates for you. 

The one person who’d sneak a sample of your perfume in all of his coat’s pockets.

The one person you’d cook for his mother, father, siblings, and himself.

The one person you’ve made a home with, and made a home of.

In the end, Anton has proved himself to be your favorite person in the entire world. 

In the end, you were the one that always refused to teach him fencing, for your own selfish sake, when all he wanted was to know you, and each of the worlds you belonged to completely. 

There was a part of your soul that you’ve denied him access to, and instead of complaining, or forcing you, he just waited. 

You never ended your nod, your head still hanging low, out of shame, guilt, pain and everything else that has been crushing you for the entirety of the combat. Your partner peeked at your hidden face, and needed no more information than the muffled sound of you sniffing to bury your head in his chest. The last point was about to be gained, by a player or another, but you couldn’t peel yourself away from him. You couldn’t watch it. 

It was better this way.

Everything was better in Anton’s arms. 

Even losing him. 

The same squeaky sound of the fencer’s shoes on the platform echoed yet again through the hall. The church-like silence that dances with them, though, have never felt so heavy on everyone’s shoulders. It was okay, though, with Anton’s palms on yours, and the beating of his heart to focus on. It oddly felt comforting to imagine that he knew about what was at stake here. His tight hold on you, feeling like the last grasp of air a drowning person would do. His focused eyes, replacing yours, as if you sent him to battle to death with Eunseok for you.

The actual battle that occurred beneath you felt like a never-ending one. As calm and still as you could be, you tested your patience and almost meditated to the sound of Eunseok’s hops and grunts, tickling your burning ear. Even if you’ve mentally fought yourself a few times to just fuck it and turn around, Anton wouldn’t allow you. 

You were stuck to the bone, until the whistle would blow.

And it did. 

And the announcer’s voice from the speakers, unknowingly, cracked open your life into two, one part of which you will never know the outcome of.

A part you were doomed to mourn, again, forever. 

15-14

—

The sea of blue bleachers slowly cleared itself above you, as the Korean, French, and German flags lowered themselves to the ground. The rain of confettis slowly died down, also, pooling on people’s hair and shoulders. The crowd left in waves, the time in between the beautiful spectacle of sport they were all privileged enough to see, and the train of their lives about to restart, hanging in the air, lingering. Your eyes aimlessly swept around the Grand Palais, encountering as many celebrating and saddened faces as it could in a matter of seconds. 

Though, it left you thoughtless.

You felt like nothing but a bag of blood, bones and flesh, walking in your man’s steps, lighter and lighter as you walked, free of all the stress that previously crushed your heart. 

He guided you to an event you were certain of replaying throughout the rest of your life, but you numbly followed him still.

And you arrived to destination. Your first view being Eunseok’s shoes a meter away from yours. 

Losing your knee, your life, your entire career, and processing it all from the beginning each time you fell asleep, was a hundred times easier than simply looking up. 

Anton, your sweet Anton, slipped his hand out of your grasp to swiftly put it on your lower back, before he went reaching for Eunseok, who just like you, simply missed his college best friend. 

The devastating sight of their embrace cured you from your aches. You saw love pour out of them, for each other. So much, that you briefly caught yourself suspecting a secret connexion, as some of the lingering touches and glances they offered each other happened to be a second too long. An inch too loving. 

You didn’t have time, to investigate, though, as it was now your cue to get stabbed in the heart. You thought you’d explode out of love when you’d crash into Eunseok’s arms, and feel his heavy, dangling medal dig its way into your ribs. You thought you’d faint, or die, even. 

Even though they were close to happening, none of them occurred. 

He caged you in his sobbing body, matching yours, you melted, as did he. Your respective embraces crushed each of you, as much as it soothed you. You, by the salty smell of your firsts loves, fencing and Eunseok. And him, by the vanilla smell of the hair he’d lock in a singular braid before you’d go to battle, whether it was under the bleachers, or projectors. He had to stop himself from running his hand through it, for the sole public of this scene silently grew impatient, and jealous. 

You knew it. 

He knew it. 

And you stayed there, privately celebrating, inhaling and already missing each other.

Before he could peel himself off, you heard him whisper an apology by the crook of your neck, instantly raising the hairs on it, and making your fists tremble around his fresh suit. 

He patted the new growing sobs away on your back, and looked up to the glass ceiling, through which he caught the moon, looking down on your doomed, broken souls. 

You eventually parted, as the universe, and the referee decided.  

« Congratulations on your medal, Eunseok. » You managed to say, looking directly into his eyes. 

You haven’t known any heavier burden to carry other than the white silver rock on your ring finger, matching the shiny medal that covered the pieces you left his heart in. 

« Congratulations on your wedding, Y/N. » He replied, sincerely smiling. 

GOTHAMGF©

author's note : muahahaha.... this is my very first riize work and work in a long while. hope you enjoyed, I really liked writing this :)

[httpsdana]

I don't know if you write for Kenan Yıldız, if you happen to can you please write with prompt #33, thank you

Game On~Kenan Yildiz

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

I waited for the day I get a kenan request and now I got two 🙏🏻

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

33-"I hate you" "love you too sweetheart"

Whoever knew Kenan, knew that he was one competitive guy. Whether it was in real life on the pitch, or at home while playing Fifa.

So obviously when he started dating y/n, the first thing he did was teach her how to play. Which ended up with them having constant competitions, so they can settle the debate of which one of them is better.

"who are you playing with?" Kenan asked y/n, as they were choosing their teams.

"obviously barca. you know I have to choose then went hey have Pedri on the team" she teased, knowing how much Kenan hated whenever she mentioned the Spanish midfielder.

"haha funny" Kenan rolled his eyes, scrolling through the teams until he stopped at real madrid, knowing how much his girlfriend hated them.

With a smirk, he selected the team, watching how her face dropped.

"now you're being funny" she said sarcastically, already going to fix the line up.

When they both fixed their teams, their match started. Kenan had a rough start as y/n scored a goal in the first 2 minutes.

"ha! take that! my boy Pedri is just too good" she said dramatically, making Kenan scoff.

"he's not your boy" he mumbled, muttering some incoherent words under his breath.

y/n laughed at him, before they continued their game.

After a few moments, y/n managed to score another, this time with Raphinha.

"you're playing with the fastest players and can't even score against me? when have you gotten this bad baby" she teased, knowing she was getting under his skin

"whatever just skip the celebration" he mumbled

By the end of the first half, it was already 3-1 to y/n.

"I'm gonna get you back. you're gonna see" her warned, making her chuckle.

"we'll see about that" she said.

As the second half started, Kenan already scored his second goal, of course not skipping the celebration.

"I thought he hated vini" she mumbled, rolling her eyes.

"yeah I don't like him. but I know you don't too so I'm celebrating with him" he said, making y/n huff.

Then y/n started the game, already finding herself in the box of the opponent. She was about to shoot her shot, a player from Kenan's team did a harsh tackle on the player

"Hey penalty!" she said, pointing to the screen

She ended up getting a penalty, while Kenan was trying to sneak a peek at where she was gonna shoot the ball.

She aimed to the right, and for her luck, Kenan's gk jumped to the same side, saving the penalty.

"no!" y/n groaned, as Kenan was jumping u and down

"yes! I knew you were gonna shoot it there" he cheered, making y/n cross her arms

"just continue the game" she mumbled.

The match ended with Kenan winning 5-3

"haha! I told you I'm better than you" he teased y/n, as she sunk into the couch with a pout.

"i hate you" she mumbled, turning her head away from him.

"love you too sweetheart" he said in a teasing tone, making a smile curl up her lips

She quickly hid her smile, trying to act mad at him. He chuckled silently moving closer to her. He held her chin with his fingers, turning her head so she was looking at him.

She still had a pout on her face, and Kenan couldn't resist not kissing her pout away. He leaned down pecking her lips a few times, making her finally smile

"I promise I'll let you win next time" he teasing, making her push him away playfully

"i wouldn't need you to let me win. I'll do it myself" she challenged him, making him raise his hands up in surrender

"if you say so" he said in a teasing voice, leaning over to press a kiss on her cheek.

[httpswritings]

blind love

alexia putellas x reader; 412 words

You were born with congenital blindness, meaning you had a severe vision loss, that started to develop while you were still in the uterus

Alexia made you experience a genuine love since the very first time you met. She educated herself in the topic of vision loss, making her family learn about it too. Sometimes, she teased you about it, with harmless jokes you were about than comfortable with. They made you feel “normal”. It wasn't that you weren't, but people had made you feel like you were not throughout the years, whether they had the intention to hurt you or not, as a result of their misinformation.

One of the challenges you faced when you started dating Alexia was the inability to figure out how she played football. You had a burning desire to watch her play. But still, she made a world of information when she explained you different rules, different teams, etc. One of your favorite ways of experiencing football was with her by your side, narrating you what was happening. She always held your hand, and you could sense how the match was going by the movements of her hand. If her hand was tensing, something was about to happen. If her hand tensed, but then it released some tension, that was a missed opportunity. If she extended your intertwined hands, stretching your arm to the front, it was most likely that she was complaining about something. When Alexia noticed that someone was about to score a goal, she would warn you for two different reasons: The first reason was because if the goal was for your team's benefit, you both would stand up, celebrating the goal. The second reason was because due to your condition, your hearing tended more sensitive than other people's.

Alexia made you enjoyed football like nobody else ever did, to the point when you didn't even think about your vision loss. 

She was the perfect narrator of the outer world.

Every time she scored, she dedicated the goal to you.

You knew it because she'd tell you she'll do it before every match.

When she'd score, she'd look at you, watching you very happy as you paid attention to the stadium chanting Alexia's name.

As you knew she was looking towards you, you'd make a heart with your hands.

You had gotten better with time, your hands doing an almost perfect heart.

“That's right, baby. This is for you and only for you.”

[zweig-eater]

hitting partners | patrick zweig

part one

patrick zweig. even the way his name sat in your mouth annoyed you. everything about him did, from his smug smirk, to his attitude he convinced everyone was charming. everyone but you. you saw right through him. patrick zweig was nothing more than a privileged rich kid who never had to work for anything he got. and even worse, he believed he deserved it.

you on the other hand, devoted every moment of your life, since you were 8 years old, to tennis. you breathed it. you worshipped it, like a god. your family wasn’t wealthy, but they were good enough off to afford a tennis coach for you, and your equipment. but that was it. you sacrificed every birthday, christmas, and any other gift worthy milestone for tennis. and you were good, great even, though still young, and bursting with potential. but you would never be a prodigy. where you lacked natural talent, you made up for in discipline and utter devotion to your craft.

something patrick zweig could never even begin to comprehend. patrick was passionate about tennis for all the wrong reasons. he wanted to be great, the best even. but he had no desire in becoming the best. there was no work ethic, no diligence. potential? sure, tons of it. but no backbone to fulfill it. patrick zweig played tennis like he thought the trophy already had his name engraved into it.

and now? now he was your hitting partner.

you had never spent much time considering a career plan besides tennis. for that reason alone, the idea of college never really excited you. you weren’t interested in playing girls with no chance of going pro. matches that didn’t challenge you felt like a waste of time, and a risk of injury not necessary to take. you wanted to be a tennis player, a professional tennis player. so you started touring as soon as you graduated high school and were eligible.

unfortunately enough for you; that was also patrick’s plan. you first bumped into one another at the Tampa Bay Challenger tournament. it was both of your firsts. you watched the men’s final, zweig vs. tornids, and that was when your annoyance began. you had heard of patrick before then, seen his playstyle, you knew the reputation he held. his nickname of ‘fire’ following him into professional play. but without his ‘ice’ counter part, he played more like an inferno.

throughout the final match, you witnessed him smashing his racket to bits, audible swearing, and a brief verbal altercation with a line judge. none of these things were particularly character damning offenses, but they showed a lack of respect for the game. tennis has always been a clean sport, elegant almost. the behavior and temper of the players directly impacts the scoring of the matches. he was giving points away over anger. anger at himself no less, as he was the one tanking in the final set. you found it embarrassing. you knew you could be a bit of a prude with the seriousness you placed on tennis, and its equally prude rules at times. but it was all you had, all you had ever known. and watching someone as naturally talented as patrick zweig, throw games away got under your skin.

at the after party, later that night, you had the displeasure of meeting mr. zweig. you, the women’s Tampa Bay Challenger champion, and him, the men’s runner up. your managers knew each other, so they insisted you meet. you decided to play nice, as patrick had never done anything to you; his play style just had a way of annoying you. your managers briefly pointed to one another before occupying themselves with a conversation with each other.

“patrick zweig, it’s nice to finally meet you” he said outstretching his hand. “and congratulations” he added, as he nodded to the glass trophy settled atop your manager’s table next to you.

“y/n, yes, we must have just missed each other during juniors” you said as your hand, gently reached out and shook his. the gesture feeling a bit formal, but appreciating it nonetheless. his hand was warm, and much softer than you expected. your fingers ghosted past one another, almost aching not to be separated. before you could start out a lie about how he played well and had an unlucky break in his match, he met your eyes directly and asked

“do you always play so timidly, or was that just today?”

“excuse me?” you blinked at him and cocked your head slightly, thinking he must have misspoken and had a different intention behind the question.

“I mean your play style” he continued with no hesitation. “you looked like an entirely different player for the final set. you looked scared, almost shy. you didnt even really celebrate when you hit the winner” he had looked away from you by now, eyes drifting as if he was replaying your every move from the match in his head.

“do you always play that way?” he finished, eyes finding yours again. when he saw your furrowed brows, and blank eyes staring back at him, something washed over him. maybe it was a hint of regret, sorry for the way his question must have sounded, but you were in no mood to pay that any attention.

“actually patrick” you started, eyes locked on his, practically spitting the words down his throat. “i play to win. which i did. which i usually do” you placed your drink on the table, keeping a cool tone, despite the anger bubbling within you. “maybe if your play style were a bit more adaptive, or you showed any hint of control, you would as well” you retorted with a smug smile fueled by the signs of annoyance, your mention of his loss left all over his expression.

“hm” was all he could muster before he picked up the drink you had placed on the table next to you both. your eyes never parted, as if who ever looked away first was resigning the match. his hand steadily brought the glass to his lips and he took a big sip of whatever it was you were drinking. as he placed the glass back down, he smirked slightly, seeming almost fueled, or intrigued, by this rather polite argument. you broke the silence as you wanted to limit any possibility of him getting the last word.

“i have practice early tomorrow, so i need to get going. im sure you have an off day scheduled tomorrow, so please do enjoy the party.” you turned on your heels, perfume catching the wind and blowing right into patrick’s face. you walked away, swaying, content with how the conversation ended in you favor. a tiny part of you wanted to turn around, wanted to know if he was watching you walk away. the larger part of you, somehow, already knew that he was.

two hours later in your hotel room, showered and tucked away for the night, you brooded over his line of questioning again. how dare he? after everything, after how hard you worked, after securing your first professional tournament win, people like patrick zweig still questioned your skill… scared? shy? you were none of those things. you were a tennis player. the very thing patrick had yet to prove himself to be. yes he was talented, incredibly so. but he played tennis how he wanted to. you played tennis how you needed to.

you stirred, unable to drift asleep, thinking about him. you were hung up on the idea that he was willing to ruin your night, question your skill, despite having more than proved yourself just hours prior. hung up on the way he stared back at you, fire burning in his eyes. god, he was so annoying. somewhere, deep down, you were also hung up on the slight shine of your lipgloss painted across his bottom lip; where he had laid his lips a top the gloss stamp yours left on the rim of your glass.

[empresskadia]

I feel like Spartans would also be attracted to someone who can give them competition. Like, if Kelly had her fastest time at the Infinity's track tied by a medic in full kit, or Linda having her high score at the firing range beaten by another sharpshooter with unorthodox firing positions.

Oh, 100% and no one can convince me otherwise. Like the Spartans love a good challenge and I believe this causes some of them to obsess because they get overly excited, especially since this is out of the norm. Granted for this to work and be true, that someone would have to be at least Spartan-IV or have augmentations.

The words 'oh no,' would come out of Fred's mouth when Linda saw the leaderboard and she had been bumped into second place for the third time that week. First, all of Blue team was surprised but none of them were prepared for how excited Linda got, someone had beaten her? At shooting? Her? For the first time in her life? None of the other Spartan IIs could come close to making the shots she could, but here her name was, right above Fred's and finally, finally below someone else's. Linda has to know who it is, she is grilling Roland for information; she wants this Spartan's mission record, she wants their full profile and I believe this might be where Linda's obsession starts. Linda herself makes shots from unorthodox firing positions and to find another person who does it? She'll be asking Captain Lasky to pull some strings to get onto a mission with this Spartan and their team. And for the first time in the UNSC Infinity's history, the number one spot keeps bouncing between Spartan-058 and Spartan [L/n].

The day Kelly sees her record time tied with someone else, she stands there for a solid minute unmoving. She even goes to grab John or Linda and points asking if she's finally going insane and seeing things. Kelly wants to race. Who is this person and where can she find them? Fred has to hold her back from sprinting around the ship to find who the hell this other Spartan is. The longer this question goes unanswered, the more unraveled she gets, she's always been the fastest, and no one in the Spartan II program could catch her but here someone was with the same speed as her? This has got to be a lie, and she doesn't believe it until she sees a spartan playing rabbit for their team on the field and she immediately knows this bitch person is them. And when she finds out that they're the team's medic, Kelly wants to know more. She'll ambush them in the middle of the hall or in the medical facility, Kelly has question and you will answer them. Honestly, a part of her is excited to run full speed with someone matching her pace.

[overtaken-stream]

Hello friend! I was wondering if you could write a headcanon with Mitsui practicing with his s/o? If not that’s totally ok and I hope you have a good one 💝

Mitsui Hisashi practicing with his S/O

I have no understanding of Basketball aside from what was shown in the Manga, so don't come at me if this doesn't make sense :')

Warnings: gn!reader.

Mitsui is the type of boyfriend who starts randomly shadowboxing you, except with Basketball moves—dribbling with nothing in his hands, uselessly jumping, and avoiding you before shooting in an invisible basket, and he keeps track of the points too. This is his strategy to get you as a partner for 1v1. It's annoying when you don't expect it, but when you do expect it and start to join him, it's usually by "stopping" the invisible ball. It's a little silly, but it works.

If you also play basketball and have enough energy to spare, this is where the practice starts.

If you're feeling under the weather, or are irritated, Hisashi knows when to quit his shadow-basket-moves as he likes to call it, even if he's a little hurt on the inside, he gets over it in a second, it's understandable to decline his invite to play when you aren't up to it.

However, If you're new to basketball Hisashi won't ask for practice, especially if he is getting ready for a big match, it will just be unbalanced and won't do much for him. Mean, but practicing by himself will be more effective, he thinks.

Before the action begins, occasionally you compete for a snack, whoever scores the lowest has to buy it. It takes place in his neighborhood outdoor basketball court.

Experienced s/o brings a challenge he is happy to accept, it will be helpful for him to gain enthusiasm and stamina, particularly after his conflict. Not only that but his partner can also try to execute new moves against him. If they succeed and score a point, he is proud and happy for them, if they fail? He encourages them to get better.

It was frustrating for him to lose in practice again and again, after the hiatus, yet when you silently attempted to not go all out on him, he saw right through you, and it irritated him more. Hisashi told you to not go easy on him, he has to get better somehow and it should begin with losses, he has to spot the misstep and correct it himself.

``Sorry...``

``It's all good.`` A light sheen of sweat covers his face, now resting on the court with crossed legs and the ball in the center. His elbows are on the dirty ground, holding up his torso. Desperate gulps of air enter his lungs.

Already tired? Damn. That's what he gets for not touching anything else but people with his fists for that long.

A cold object taps his shoulder, forcing him to open his eyes and lift his head from his shoulder.

``Water?`` He meets your (E/C) eyes and finds the orange hue of sky behind your gentle smile, he notes that you've barely broken a sweat. Damn him again!

Taking the cold object from your hands, he straightens up, taking a big sip of water.

A giggle from you interrupts him. Are you laughing at him?

``What?`` He stretches out the syllables.

``Heh, You drink like a child Hisashi...!`` another burst of laughter comes out of your pretty lips.

He knows that the tips of his ears are becoming a bit red.

I drink like a kid?

``What does that mean!?`` His embarrassment only brightens your teasing laughter, a music he'll never get tired of.

Drinking with both hands on the bottle, inhaling water, and forgetting to breathe while gurgling, a loud sound emits whenever he finally takes a breather.

His eyes gradually blink at you before a red hue attacks his face, and his hands slowly reach out to give you the bottle, while he rethinks his entire life and concludes that he has never grown out of the habit.

Your hands around his shoulders only bring heat to his complexion, all while talking about how cute he is, not realizing his actions until too late, your kisses land on his cheek and he doesn't dare look your way. He doesn't acknowledge the smoke coming out of his ears either.

[aribarilol]

Soccer | B.Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader challenges Bucky to a game of soccer, and their competitive side is brought out. I know some people might not like or play soccer, but in this you are really good and trust this is really cute!!

Notes: Did yall see Seb at SDCC 2024?? raaaaahh go see photos rn

♤~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♤

"BUCKY!!" You yell out for your boyfriend from the front yard of the Compound. It was a bright, sunny day and the team had taken full advantage of that. Everyone was sat outside on the lawn, either reading, or chatting and eating. You had taken it upon you to challenge everyone on the team to a game of soccer. You had already whooped Sam, Steve, Clint and Bruce in 1 on 1 matches and was looking for your next opponent. Tony said no because apparently playing soccer was beneath him. Bucky was sitting- more like sulking because he didn't want to be outside. You knew Bucky had a big competitive side, but then again, so did you. Bucky looks up from his spot under a tree, sighs and gets up and walks towards you.

"What is it doll?" He says, and you throw the soccer ball at his chest. "Verse me. 1 on 1. First goal wins." You say as he catches it. "y/n you know I'm not gonna go easy on you, right?" He says, putting the ball on the ground. "Neither am I." You say. You point out whos goal is whos and he agrees. "Don't sulk when I beat you doll. Your ego is already soaring from beating the others." Bucky says, and you grin. Steve had probably gone easy on you, and Bruce didn't really know how to play, so he gave it his best shot- ending up in him tripping over the ball and you scoring anyways- Sam was a little bit tricky, but you found out that if you kept dribbling the ball around, he eventually got puffed out and you could score easily. "Who said you were going to beat me?" You say, grinning. He huffs and starts dribbling the ball towards your goal. Since you were obviously smaller than him, you were able to easily slide your foot in between his feet, dribbling the ball and take possession of it. You crossed Bucky, surprising him as the ball was stolen from him, before he chases after you. Luckily you were good with footwork and were able to keep the ball in possession. 

Bucky was secretly going easy on you, but he would never tell you that. He was grinning on the inside as you avoided his pathetic attempts of re-taking possession of the ball and took the lead, dribbling the ball closer to his goal. He decided he didn't want it to end yet so he ran behind you and picked you up, placing you behind him, as he stole possession of the ball and ran back to your goal. "Hey! That's not fair!! I can't pick you up! Arrgh!" You yell, running after him and he grins. "Too bad!" He says, dribbling the ball. Fine, if he was going to play dirty, so were you. In a burst of speed you run up behind Bucky and slide tackle him, taking out his feet from the floor. He topples over in a heap and you gain back possession of the ball. The bigger they are the harder they fall. Also just going for the feet is easier. He yells at you from the floor and you grin and don't look back. Sam yelled from the edges of the grass, "C'mon Buck! You really gonna take that?? What a wimp!" and Bucky shoots him a glare. He gets back up and runs towards me and you Rainbow Flick the ball behind you, surprising Bucky yet again as the ball goes over your head and lands in front of you. Bucky was gaining on you and you were running out of options to get out of it.

You decide to gamble it, shooting the ball for the goal standing from where you were, which was at least a good 10 meters (32 feet) from the goal. Somehow during all this, you gained an audience consisting of Sam, Steve, Bruce, Wanda, Nat and Tony who all watched in awe as the ball soared towards the goal. The ball looks as if its going to miss, heading towards the top-right of the goal. By some crazy luck- or your amazing skill, it goes in and the net goes backwards, catching the ball. Wanda, Nat and Sam cheer and Bucky grins. You let out a whoop and turn to face Bucky, who quickly changes his expression to one of fake disappointment. "You said you were going to beat me Bucket, what happened?" You say, taunting him. He rolls his eyes and speaks. "I was off my game today. Next time we match i'll beat you." He says, confidently. "Sure, sure, we'll see about all that Bucky." You say, getting the ball. He grins and wraps his arms around your waist, placing his head on your shoulder. "Good job doll" he says, and you turn over, placing a kiss on his lips. You pull away and run back to the others, yelling "WHOS NEXT!??" and in that moment, he fell in love with you even more, if that was even possible.

[kaiserposting]

Shidou Ryuusei — Like Teeth

PAIRING: Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 3.6k TYPE: Humor, Feelings realization, idfk what this even is but i threw in some surprise fluff at the end WARNING(S): Nsfw jokes but cmon it's shidou you gotta forgive me for finding sex funny this once, play-fighting that doesn't seem very playful, canon-typical mental illness, canon-typical unnecessary dramatics, canon-typical overly intense soccer rivalry NOTE: Reader is a part of the blue lock project but no concrete gender identity or pronouns are specified

It starts like this:

After the freaky nerd from the ceremony whose name you hadn’t bothered remembering finishes with his instructions about this game of tag you’re supposed to be playing, the biggest asshole in the room immediately targets you once he realizes you’re the one with the highest number on your jersey. You trap the ball with ease and then kick it straight into his face with as much power as you can muster, knocking him out, the force sending him reeling.

While the timer continues ticking, no one dares to make a move or even exhale too loudly in your presence, scared you might take their bodily functions as a challenge to your authority. Like every opponent before, they’ve submitted to you.

You stare at the ceiling, your lips set in a tight line, the despair settling in. Just this once, you want to meet someone who can excite you, and you’d hoped this ridiculous place could help.

___

As the top scorer of your pathetic excuse for a team — though behind your back they call you ‘the top red card holder,’ but considering how far up your own ass your head is, you’re yet to pay attention to this remark — by the second qualifying match they already know to pass the ball to you no matter what. In your defense, you’re not any more tyrannical than the average douche in this competition. It’s not your fault they’re too worthless to do what you can.

Two of the opponents are blocking your path, and you shuffle the ball between your feet trying to get the positioning right while they attempt to steal it. Everyone is making noises, but they never mean anything to you. You back up once you’ve felt that the stars have aligned and strike the ball through the tight opening between their bodies, taking the first goal of the match.

“You’re good!”

You blink, the words bringing you out of your perpetual trance to look at the guy in front of you. He starts rambling some nonsense about explosions and how he’s going to beat the ass of anyone who can’t give a good show and you think at some point he has started finding new roundabout ways of saying that he basically wants to bust a nut on the field. It is absurd. You understand it down to your bones, except maybe the last thing. For the first time, everything is coming into view. You can make out his face and you can hear his words and you see your teammates in your peripheral vision. How you didn’t notice him before, what with the hairstyle and his cartoonishly beautiful eyelashes, you’re not sure, but you’ve never been more present during a game before.

“Alright, gyaru,” you say. “Show me how you explode.”

“Gyaru?” he tilts his head, grin wide like a demon’s. “You think I’m pretty?”

Though Jinpachi Ego officially writes down what ensues as a round-robin tourney in his notes, the spectators (meaning literally anyone else who was in your physical proximity) would describe it as ‘The Longest Dick Measuring Contest They’ve Ever Seen.’

The way he moves fascinates you like nothing else. Just like you, he is a creature of instinct. You both circle around while trying to score or steal the ball, only to find that stopping the other is impossible.

After this match, two monsters glance at each other and think, ‘Maybe there is someone out here who understands me.’

___

There are still jitters in your veins. You can’t sleep. Is it ridiculous and maybe parasocial that the thought of ‘I want to see this guy again’ is keeping you up at night? Yeah, probably. You also feel like a creep lying down in the dark with your eyes wide open, yearning to bulldoze through something like you do when you want to calm down.

Frustrated, you slip out of the futon and leave the room while the rest of them are sleeping. The hallways let out ominous flickers, trailing after you while your steps echo and bounce off the walls. This building looks like a prison, you think, though you hadn’t noticed before.

You hate to think that your desperation is so strong you’ve developed the power of manifestation overnight, but when you step inside of the training room, he’s already there. He doesn’t have the decency to seem surprised at your entrance when you close in on him. His arms are crossed and he has a smug aura about him, but for the love of everything you cannot comprehend why he’s standing there doing nothing. At least you planned on being productive when you headed here with your plan to obliterate whatever you could get your hands on. Just so happens it’s him that you found.

The weird silence stretches, but it doesn’t bother either of you because as it turns out you have the same kind of social incompetence. You realize you don’t even know the guy’s name, but he declares, “You really came.”

You don’t really know what he means by this considering you didn’t arrange to meet here beforehand, but he’s saying it as if this was some unanimous agreement you came to earlier. “Waiting for me in the middle of the night all by yourself, handsome?”

“Every cell in my body was calling out to yours,” he says as if it explains anything. His expression is bordering on maniacal. Anyone else might’ve realized this was a bad idea, read the warning signs, but to someone like you who has lived their entire life sleepwalking, the excitement of such a strange encounter is addictive. “We’re the same… That’s why you felt it.”

“In that case, please avoid summoning me so late,” you say. “I value good sleep.”

He cannot tell if you’re just taking the piss or if you’re on the same page, but it’s rare that anyone entertains him when he says anything of that nature. To him, this is an amusing turn of events. “They say you’re some kinda unhinged delinquent. ‘s that true?”

“Sure, if that’s what you call putting a few sorry bums down in their place after they crossed me.”

“So you know how to scrap too, right?”

Right now, Shidou Ryuusei is like a kid at the candy store. You can’t discern any reason for him to swing at you, but he does, smiling all the while. After you respond to his provocation with a duck and a kick of your own — you avoid using your hands for anything if you can avoid it, finding it beneath you — you decide to consider this your friendly introduction to each other.

If he wants to coax the crazy out of you with his punches, then you’re trying to get him to settle down every time you retaliate, daring him to pipe down and turn boring just like everyone else. You’re not sure for how long you duke it out, but at some point you grow sloppy, and the last you remember of it before succumbing to your exhaustion is the last round of boneless slaps you offered each other.

___

Two of your teammates hatefully watch you and Shidou from across the cafeteria. You’re a selfish and insensitive person, of course, they know that. Before this, you’d always eat alone, but ever since the match where they were forced to watch you two flex on them, you’d hang out with him. Still, “I can’t believe [L/n] would rather have a romantic dinner with the only goddamn bastard in this goddamn building who gets better meals than share with us! I’m sick of this natto.”

“You’re telling me,” the other boy says, sadly eating a radish.

This must be an advanced form of psychological torture administered by Ego himself. Even if you don’t notice the audience, Shidou seems to be reveling in the negative attention. They can only watch and drool while you two push at each other and try to steal ingredients. At some point, you put Shidou in a suplex, making him cough out something. Then he wrestles his way out of your maneuver and shoves your head into your plate, forces you up again, and licks the food off your face while you scowl at him.

“I’d hardly call that a romantic dinner, though.”

“A guy from blondie’s team said he caught them asleep on top of each other in the training facility once.”

“Do you think they’re-?!”

“Oh my god, they’re…!”

They scream and point at each other and then hug as if traumatized. To add insult to injury, your voice rings from afar, “Are your eyes really pink? There’s no way that’s natural,” while some of the sauce still sticks to your skin.

“What? You think I’m some kinda fake?” asks Shidou, apparently offended.

“I’m gonna expose you, trust.”

How are you blowing everyone in your cell out of the water in terms of performance? You have to be the dumbest person in this entire wing.

___

“I want you,” he says.

Granted, this is out of context, but you still find that the words have some effect on you. But this won’t do no matter how hard you want to give in. With the first stage of the second selection cleared, you can’t continue as you are. You’ve been complacent in your talent. To expand your abilities, you need to observe whatever other powerful players there are in here instead of still chasing after him. Even the wet wipes on your old team have started catching up.

Besides, you’d always thought your appeal to him is as an opponent, someone who he wants on the other side of the field to face off against, and now Shidou is demanding to work together with you.

“I was in a coma before I met you,” you say. He pinches his eyebrows together, which is probably the first time you’ve seen him pull such an expression. To think you have the ability to utter something so strange, it weirds out even Shidou. “You pulled me out of it, but now I need to see other things, too.”

“If you tell me you wanna go watch other guys, I might get jealous.” Despite the initial waver, he sticks his tongue out at you, trying to be playful like always.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Shidou grabs you by the collar of your jersey and pushes you against the wall. You blink at him, finding this an inappropriate time for a spar seeing as this is regular enough for him, but then he invades your personal space in a way which doesn’t feel particularly combative, your noses brushing against each other, and he blatantly glances at your lips before closing his eyes. You don’t think about it when you pull him in by the neck, your body reacting to his cues.

It’s not even that great, he’s not really being effective at what he’s doing, mashing your mouth against his almost pointlessly, teeth clashing and all before moving far too quickly onto the tonguing part of making out. Your nails are digging into his neck and his hold against your waist is tight enough to bother you. There’s a latent aggression in it like there is in any other interaction between you two.

And you don’t enjoy this for the surface-level sensations but rather for the strange tightness in your chest, the headrush, the closeness where somehow he’s enveloping you and you’re enveloping him at the same time and it feels like you’re about to fuse. You don’t want to let go yet, maybe under the assumption that if you keep kissing him, he’s going to be polite and return your breath to you.

Steps come near the entrance of the hallway and then, “Ah! Uhhh…”

You snap out of it and push Shidou off of you. He has the gall to look offended, glaring.

There’s some puny kid with a buzz cut, standing there with his confusion clear on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, uh… whatever it was you were doing!” he says in a panic, waving his hands back and forth.

Yeah, that’s a good point. What the fuck were you doing? You just jumped at each other on instinct, ruled by some bizarre, mysterious need.

It must be because the air is so charged between you. Shidou is always in overdrive and he has a penchant for pulling you into his madness. You’re always doing something when you’re together — trading blows, trying to show the other up in soccer, saying heavy-handed things for no reason — and now a moment of stagnancy happened and you both turned into even bigger morons than usual.

He didn’t think about it either, you’re sure. Besides, even if you’re a crazy bastard on the field, you’re not like him. Shidou will meet even stronger players once he advances and he’ll move onto his next obsession. This doesn’t mean anything, at least not to him, you’re convinced.

You untangle yourself from him and ram your shoulder into his as goodbye before lamely saying, “I’m going now,” and offering a nonchalant wave.

He frowns before kicking imaginary dust off the floor. “Sure, fine. Be this way!”

Igaguri isn’t super puritanical or anything. Yeah, he grew up in a temple and all, but seeing two people kiss doesn’t offend his sensibilities. What freaked him out was how you managed to make it look like a fight while you were going at it, and like, he knows the hallway was deserted before he came out of thin air, but this is still a public place. Whatever happened to shame?

And now he has to be in the same vicinity as this scary guy who’s glaring daggers at the spot you were standing in, vein bursting out of his forehead and all, as if you ruined his life by walking out of here. He looks like a manchild who’s sulking because his mom forgot to make him chicken nuggies. A bead of nervous sweat rolls down his forehead.

___

Ever since the beginning, Isagi has been honing his technique, always hungry to add another skill to his repertoire. Rin and Shidou have no synergy; fine, he thinks, it’s not like he really even wants to set up a goal using them. It’s not enough to satisfy him anymore, not after the last match. He’d much rather score himself.

But the problem with the spatial awareness he has developed is that he can’t turn it off at will, or say ‘la-la-la’ and ignore something to focus on what’s important.

Well, being on the same stage as you and Shidou has to be the worst thing of all time. He wants to smell a goal for himself, but the most likely chemical reaction he can predict is one between you two, and you’re not even on the same team. It’s like a ticking time bomb, like those explosions Shidou has been vaguely rambling about, and it permeates the air.

You’ve started adapting his bodily control and precision, almost coming close to scoring with your back on the net. And Shidou has managed to pull off one of ridiculously tight angled shots to break through a two-on-one, passing the ball to Rin. If the phenomenon Isagi observed and achieved before is ‘consumption,’ then he has a first row seat to watch you two cannibalize each other.

The most unfortunate thing is the chase. The ball will come to you, but Shidou will steal it. He’ll be in the air ready to strike, but you’ll sabotage him from below. Isagi recognizes this as an unconscious prediction — on a molecular level, you know where the other one will be, and you’ll race there. It’s like he’s watching both of you swing neon signs and desperately scream ‘Please look at me!’ and overall beg for attention while also stubbornly refusing to make eye contact in fear of rejection.

It is revolting. He wants to gag.

Sure, Ego talked about how luck is a skill and how a pro takes advantage of it, but he never mentioned what to do when someone on his team is living through a low-rated soap opera episode with an opponent. With all of the emotional constipation among the participants of this godforsaken project, he’s sure this won’t be the last time he’ll need it.

___

Sitting down in the middle of practice isn’t productive, but you’re ‘taking a break,’ by which you mean you want to snap someone’s neck. It’s been boring again, ever since Shidou started disregarding your presence. You’re even on the same team now and it’s like you’re no better than air to him.

Of course, you’d predicted he’d find someone new to excite him. You just hadn’t anticipated it’d hurt your feelings. Why do you care, anyway? You should be used to this. The soccer you’ve played has always been selfish and lonely, and moping and jealousy are below you.

But during the match against U-20, you saw him look at Itoshi Sae the same way he first looked at you on the day you met, spouting nonsense with his unique expert-level yappery. And you don’t like that. You don’t like it at all.

He’s off doing his own thing again when you search for him with your eyes. You stand up.

And then you don’t think at all, breaking out into a sprint at full speed.

You’re behind him in the matter of a minute or so, slipping your foot between his and kicking the ball overhead so it lands behind him. He bristles, perhaps at your unwanted company, but you’ve already turned on your heel to run in the other direction.

You’re dribbling the ball when you glance over your shoulder. He’s onto you, trademark grin on his face. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to accomplish here, but all that comes to mind is, It doesn’t matter if it’s going way too fast or way too hard anymore. Just chase after me one more time.

You’re almost all the way over to the other goal, maintaining your lead, when Shidou kicks the ball after lunging around your side. It slips off half-assedly, but you don’t have much time to mock him for his technique because he grabs you by the wrists and pins you down, straddling you to the ground.

“That’s a foul,” you say, displeased.

“I don’t care.” His smile is so big you feel like he’s going to need to visit an orthodontist after you’re done here. The annoying strands of hair he keeps loose are hovering near your face, taunting you.

Your eyes dart again with your head in the fake grass and you see it straying off. “And the ball didn’t make it. To be honest, you were sloppy.”

“I don’t care.”

“You… don’t?”

There’s that sick fluttering feeling in your stomach again and your heart kicks against your chest painfully. Your cheeks are growing warm and you feel uncomfortable by the heat with Shidou so close to you. What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, he didn’t even tell you a line or anything. He just said ‘I don’t care’ twice. That’s not game! You need to get a grip.

“Yeah, why should I? I’ve got you right where I want you now.”

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. If making you look like an idiot is his revenge to you for making him mad, then fine, you’re going to pretend you can’t make your way out of his grip with ease.

“You can’t give me a big dopamine hit like that and pull away,” he says, leaning closer. By this point you really can’t see much apart from his big ass head right in your face. Does he even know what he’s implying to you while looking at you straight-on? Does he realize you know his weird euphemisms are all figures of speech for whatever makes him horny?

“What do you mean?”

“Tellin’ me all that romantic stuff and running away…” Shidou narrows his eyes as if the memory is enough to annoy him.

You blink. Oh. You thought he was throwing a temper tantrum because you refused to team up with him. But once again, you’re unimpressed. “So did that turn you on or what? I don’t get it.”

“Well, I’d put it in other words, like, let’s say, hypothetically, maybe you made me explode because you’re an oxidizer and I’m an organic-”

“Ok, I know, but I’m trying to figure out what’s going on here-”

He retreats and rolls away from you, allowing you to sit up again, so you cease talking without reaching the point you were trying to make. It flies out of your head anyway when he links his hand with yours, staring at you, seemingly subdued now. You’re not sure why you’re both acting like shy middle schoolers now while indulging in something so chaste considering you’ve done way more indecent things together, but you intertwine your fingers and offer him a smile. The sight catches him off-guard.

Before he can bask in another achievement (this time being the first person to make you express any kind of joy when everyone knows you’re one distant asshole), a ball hits him straight on the forehead.

Without any preamble, Rin deems it fit to announce his presence by saying, “Your lukewarm displays are appalling. You should both just die.”

You stare at him and then at each other and burst out in laughter, pointing at him. Though you finish your laughing fits at about the same time, you spur on another one by asking, “Do you think he even knows what lukewarm means?”

“No, I seriously doubt it!”

Rin thinks to ask you how come you think it’s chill when your shitty boyfriend or whatever he is says the grossest things imaginable, but suddenly it’s a problem when he wants to say his favorite word, though he doesn’t want to seem too offended or otherwise invested.

___

Im sorry if this is in any way contradictory or shitty or sucks balls I havent slept in 4 days except for a one-off 3 hour nap and wrote this while possessed. Maybe ill sleep again at some point and this will be the worst thing ive ever seen and ill have to delete it. God forbid.

[hum-suffer]

Rivals? Who, us?

(Set in future, IPL 2024)

Shubhman knows they're fighting an uphill battle. His team is doing all they can but Rohit Bhaiya and Ishan are on the crease and obviously washing out all the efforts.

(And isn't that surreal to think? His team. Oh, god, his team. They've already won a lot of matches and are already qualified for the semis. He can't believe this. It feels like a dream. He thinks he will wake up in his house in Mohali at any moment now and—

And he doesn't. He blinks. He's still here.)

Shubhman adjusts his tshirts superstitiously, studiously ignoring the crowd chanting about Sara Tendulkar. And really, he doesn't regret any friendship as he does his acquaintance with her. She might be fun to be around at some times but she is definately not worth the trouble that his name and reputation gets because of some coincidental twinning.

He focuses on the match.

Ishan is at strike and he's at 49* of 21 right now. As much of a challenge Ishan is posing, Shubhman feels a surge of immeasurable pride in his chest for his boyfriend. Rashid Bhai is bowling, and even if it's selfish, Shubhman wishes that Ishan scores at least one more run— gets one more milestone. He's allowed to be selfish this time, damn it, because it's clear to him that Ishan won't do it. Ishan will play to make sure Rohit Bhai stays on the ground and he will care only to chase the score, not for his own score.

Ishan hits a six, the ball goes flying in the stands and even from the mid off area of the ground, Shubhman can see the way Rohit Bhai is beaming at Ishan in pride and barely controls his own smile. Ishan removes his helmet and holds it up as if it's an award and Shubhman knows that for him, it is. His cricket is the biggest award he has.

It was the last bowl of the over and it's time to change the bowler and Shubhman has already told Shami Bhai to go for it. He's just checking the scoreboard when he sees the board showing off Ishan's six. Warmth fills him, seeing the potential Ishan has.

The video shows Arya Rajput abruptly, the model celebrating Ishan's half century. And Shubhman. He stares.

What the fuck.

Because he can tolerate people yelling about Sara at him but he knows for a fact that Ishan only knows Arya from a fucking jio ad and doesn't even like her all that much.

Ishan made that goddamn half century. They didn't show his celebration but cut to the woman who wasn't playing? What the fuck. No, what the fuck.

The crowd cheers and the chants start again. "Humari bhabhi kaisi ho?Arya bhabhi jaisi ho!"

Shubhman has the savage urge to cuss the crowd. He knows they're only having fun but he doesn't want it to be at his relationship's expense. He takes a deep breath and relaxes his body, the chewing mint in his mouth now feels bland.

He forces his facial features to relax as well and cracks his knuckles, focusing back on the match.

____________________________________________________

Shubhman comes across Ishan back again after the match, for the obligatory 'well played' handshakes.

Ishan grins up at him, sparkles in his big eyes and hair matted to his sweaty forehead. "Kyu bhai, aa gaya swad?" He quotes the meme and laughs, throwing his head back to be a complete douche.

Shubhman can't help but smile at him. "Beta utna hi udo jitna seh sako. Abhi you have to still fight the semis."

"So do you," he retaliates. Shubhman knows they're holding up the line and steps away and Ishan follows him, as if on total instinct.

Shubhman smirks,"Ghar jaa ke points table dekhna."

And Shubhman knows what Ishan would have said but is holding back from saying.

They're both going to go to the same home, after all. After the tournament, they're gonna go back to Mohali for a month and then to Patna. After all, they're gonna go back to each other's arms. They're going to the same home— each other.

Ishan doesn't say it, raises an eyebrow and Shubhman smirks back. Ishan retaliates by lightly punching Shubhman's stomach and Shubhman gets back to him by pinching his nose, hard.

Before the thing escalates, Rohit bhaiya is here. "That's enough from you two," he says with a grin, pulling the two away from each other. "Merko zindagi me shaanti se kab rehne doge tum log dono?"

"Aise impossible wish nahi manga karte Rohit bhaiya," Ishan says, that little shit,"You'll only be disappointed."

Rohit bhaiya flicks the back of Ishan's head. Shubhman grins in victory until he too is swatted on his shoulder.

____________________________________________________

The dressing rooms are extremely near to eachother, so the both teams create a ruckus as they move to the upper floors, almost everyone laughing and talking. The tension created in the ground disappears.

Shubhman and Ishan are trailing at the end of the entrouge and Ishan has his hand around Shubhman's waist. He's very tactile, not only with Shubhman, and that reputation of his has helped them keep their relationship a secret. Till now.

They're stopped by a girl's voice calling for Ishan with so much familiarity, for a moment Shubhman thinks it must be some old friend, before they turn around and see Arya. Oh.

She jogs upto them with a big smile and her hand is instantly on Ishan's bicep as she gushes about how much she enjoyed seeing his innings. Ishan flinches away from her touch but she doesn't falter, stepping closer. Shubhman grits his teeth and tolerates it for about a minute before he rests his hand on Ishan's shoulder and digs his elbow there. Ishan turns stiff and Shubhman knows he has his attention.

"I'm so sorry," Ishan says,"but we have to meet Rohit bhaiya now and he said it's urgent."

Arya's face falls but she nods, squeezing Ishan's arm one last time as she says goodnight, not having enough manners to even greet Shubhman. He doesn't care either way, he's barely holding back from cussing and he knows his parents raised him better than to cuss at people. Even if they were annoying. And intrusive. And debatably worthy. And pushy. And—

Ishan reaches up to grab Shubhman's hand and pulls it around his shoulders, ensuring that his elbow is no longer digging into Ishan's shoulder.

Shubhman moves his hand to the back of Ishan's neck and squeezes lightly, willing away his urge to kiss his boyfriend silly in a common area. The grasp he has on Ishan's nape is possessive enough, enough so that he remembers that Ishan choses him everyday, that Ishan wants to be with him and not anyone else. That Ishan is his.

He feels Ishan shudder under his hold and squirm.

They've already reached the dressing room areas and Kane raises his eyebrows at them in concern. "You two okay, guys?"

Shubhman nods,"Yeah, don't worry about it."

"Mhm," Ishan hums, almost distracted,"Got held up by a fan. You know how it is."

Kane doesnt look convinced but he doesn't press. He gives them both a smile. "Yes, of course. Anyways, I'm going to go and change. Cap, come back whenever."

Shubhman feels overwhelmed that a man as great in cricket as Kane is, calls Shubhman his captain. He's never gonna get over it. He gives Kane a bashful grin and nods.

Ishan squirms under his hand again as Kane leaves, drawing attention to himself.

Shubhman narrows his eyes at Ishan and leans down to whisper in his ear. "Stay back in the dressing room after everyone leaves."

Ishan nods, no questions asked. Shubhman smiles at him and struts back to his dressing room, knowing how dazed Ishan is.

____________________________________________________

Ishan doesn't know what's going on with Shubhman but it's delicious.

He's pressed against the wall near the lockers as Shubhman kisses him, moaning and groaning. Ishan doesn't think he's ever seen Shubhman this uncaring to keep their relationship secret.

"You've got no idea how much I've wanted to do that," he says and Ishan grins at him.

He grabs Shubhman's wrist and presses his hand into Ishan's waist even more than it's already pressed. "I think I do." Ishan says, closing his eyes and resting his head against Shubhman's chest.

His boyfriend isn't anything less than eager today, though. He ducks down to kiss Ishan's cheek and trails a line of kisses down his throat. The collar of Ishan's uniform tshirt is hindering his path so Shubhman uses his free hand to wrap it around Ishan's throat, subtly pushing away the collar and oh, Ishan doesn't want to examine the things the gesture does to him.

It makes Ishan keen and Shubhman, that little fucker, grins. Ishan can feel it against his throat. He raises his hand and grabs the back of Shubhman's neck. "Talk."

"What about?"

Ishan pulls Shubhman off of him with narrowed eyes. "You've been too tense and you're acting different. Talk, before I make you."

Shubhman doesn't speak anything for a while and Ishan thinks he will have to pull out the annoying puppy eyes routine but before that, Shubhman sighs and mutters,"I don't like her."

Ishan frowns. "Who?"

A flash of victory flashes in his eyes before Shubhman looks down again. "Arya. I don't like her. Or the way people scream her name when you score. Or the way the board shows her. Or the way the people comment about her. Or the way people make edits of you and her. Or the way she touches you. Or the way she speaks your name. I don't like her."

Ishan nods understandingly. He's amused, but he knows what Shubhman feels, he's felt that everytime they attach his name to Sara or Raveena. More Raveena, perhaps, she's...weird. At least Sara knows personal space.

He drags Shubhman to sit down on a bench that's unofficially his. As Shubhman sits down, Ishan draps himself over his lap, knees on either side of Shubhman's thighs, essentially trapping him.

He holds Shubhman's face in his hands tenderly, staring into his big eyes that are so vulnerable right now. He begins peppering kisses over his face as he murmurs. "Shubhman. I like you. Or the way people merge our names together. Or the way everyone knows we are a package deal. Or the way people comment about the two of us and call you jiju. Or the way people make those gorgeous edits of us. I adore the way you touch me. I love the way you say my name, half, full, angry, sad, desperate. Anyway you speak it, I love my name in your mouth."

He's nipping at Shubhman's jaw by the time he finishes speaking and he leans fractionally to murmur in his ear,"You are mine. I am yours. Anyone else will never matter."

Shubhman shudders under him and his hands on Ishan's thighs flex and tighten. "I know," he says,"but, I just can't—"

Ishan nods, kissing Shubhman to shut him up,"I know." He whispers against Shubhman's lips. "But I'm yours, aren't I?"

Shubhman nods jerkily, almost like his nods are forcing the truth in him. "Yeah," he rasps,"you're mine. And I'm yours."

He kisses Ishan, like his life depends on it. It's bloody and ferocious and everything that they are and more. He squeezes Ishan's thighs and pulls him nearer, as close to meshing themselves as possible.

Hysterically, Ishan thinks of a song lyric. Phool bhi ho darmiyaan toh faasle hue. He's never understood it better before this moment.

Ishan's heart is beating fast, one of his hands is under Shubhman's tshirt and other hand is tangled in his ever perfect hair. Shubhman moves his hands from Ishan's thighs to his hips and the other one to his throat.

He digs his thumb just under Ishan's chin and Ishan moans in his mouth, his hips stuttering on their own accord.

"I'm gonna mark you up," Shubhman says, voice croaky. "That fine, Jaana?"

Ishan nods, dazed as all hell as he focuses on the way Shubhman feels under him, the friction delicious and his hold addictive.

Ishan only realises that he's had his eyes closed when Shubhman changes the position of the hand on his throat and Ishan whines. It's something he knows Shubhman will tease him later but right now, he dives to bite at Ishan's collarbone.

The sting makes him hiss but Shubhman blows air on it and presses a chaste kiss on the spot, following the ritual all over Ishan's collarbone.

Ishan has to wear high collared tshirts for the next two days.

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @mayakimayahai @kyayaarkiraa @ronika-writes-stuff @onthecloudseven @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou

[isthepame]

[English review] Chapter 277: “Genius and prodigy”

Right now, the intensity of the match has reached a whole new level; the players from both teams are desperate for victory, which is just a point away. After Rin scored the second goal for the French team, the strategic moves of the masters are becoming clear on the pitch.

Ego and Anri are watching the game while Teiri is surprised and excited by Loki’s entry onto the field, as well as the global impact this match between BM and PXG is having. The standout words from the opening pages are Ego’s: “But don’t get it twisted… and don’t fly too high. Don’t dare to try and become geniuses.” This message is aimed at the players on the pitch, warning them not to get carried away with arrogance or overconfidence. Yes, they’re at an advanced stage of the project; they’ve evolved and grown in every match they’ve played, but that unchecked confidence, that illusion of being invincible, could lead to a catastrophic fall. Football is an unpredictable competition, and you need to be careful about overestimating yourself. The whole idea of “becoming geniuses” and trying risky plays seems to be Ego’s way of telling them that could lead to their downfall. Any mistake in the match could have serious consequences.

Let’s move on to Isagi. Rin’s words resonate within him: “You have… the duty to try and kill me until you die,” highlighting the pressure he feels to be a strong competitor while also revealing his internal struggle. Isagi doesn’t want to be a stepping stone for Rin or anyone else. His independence and desire to carve his own path are clear, but this can be a challenge, both positive and risky. When he finds out he’s received a yellow card, Isagi vents his frustration and defiance with a “Oh, shut up!”, reflecting his internal battle with his intense emotions and how that confidence is starting to shift into arrogance. Isagi needs to learn how to manage his emotions in high-pressure situations. Watch out, Isagi Yoichi, watch out for that overconfidence!

As for Loki, his entrance comes with the line: “That trap is weak… and too slow.” The French player shows his physical superiority and absolute confidence in his skills. This confidence is very different from Isagi’s, as Loki, despite his youth, plays at a professional level. Isagi’s strategy gets dismantled by a player of a higher level at that moment.

“The slow ones die first. It’s a law of nature.” In Blue Lock, football is brutal; physical ability and speed are essential. This is a harsh blow to Isagi’s ego and style of play, as he faces the reality that, even though he’s worked hard to improve, there are still players with nearly superhuman talents. “The thought and logic make no sense here!!!” Isagi is overwhelmed by Loki’s speed and style of play and realises the gap between himself and players with exceptional physical abilities.

“This is… the abuse of physical talent… pure speed!!!” Isagi feels frustrated. His style of play relies on intelligence and analysis, but here he feels powerless against Loki’s skills.

In the final moments of the match, Loki passes the ball to Rin. By calling him a “monster of the tongue,” Loki seems to acknowledge Rin’s fierce attitude. However, these words carry a hint of condescension, suggesting Loki’s superiority. As a football prodigy, he gives Rin the goal as a bit of fun, to see how far he can push it. Rin accepts the challenge but does so with an ironic tone, showing he’s not entirely comfortable with Loki.

Igarashi appears surprisingly for everyone. Igaguri has always been seen as a weak player and has been ridiculed by others multiple times, but he uses his ability to effectively simulate a foul. The technique of “Malicious Genius Assassin” shows that, although he doesn’t have the physical or strategic talent of other players, he has a special knack for creating chaos in critical moments.

Rin looks surprised and frustrated. For him, the play is absurd and doesn’t fit with his vision of competition. Being stopped like that by Igarashi is a blow to his pride. The phrase “What’s your deal…?” reflects how incomprehensible it is for him that a player like Igaguri has changed the course of the match with a simulation. It’s also important to point out that, within Japanese culture, cheating is frowned upon; getting something through a trick like simulation is considered low, which explains the expression on Rin’s face.

Isagi acknowledges Igarashi’s skill, as he prevents a certain defeat for the team in that moment. Even in an unorthodox way, Isagi sees the value of Igaguri at that instant.

@isthepame

[obamousse]

Suna has such a slim waist because he has his own sets of abs exercise, and do them along with the team's practice exercises. New team members question it, but the coach only says "Suna has a special exercise". Suna's mom even registered those special exercises for him with the coach.

Suna also does those exercises when he's at home, which his mom observes. Suna might be nonchalant to everything, even volleyball, but he pays attention to it a lot. So much so, even if his exercises are gruesome (his teammates tried it out once and they ended up with sore abs for weeks), he still did it on routine. As if it was routine for him, as if it was the norm. She asked him about it, to which he answered:

"It's routine mom."

But routine doesn't appear out of nowhere, doesn't it?

Even if Suna does not notice how passionate he is, his mom knows. She has brought her son up to be independent and responsible for himself, to take initiative for the things he cares for.

Even Kita is impressed by Suna's maturity.

Suna started volleyball when he was in middle school, at a low point in his life, his parents divorcing. He was recruited into his school team because he was tall, but only stayed for a year. He was the ace, until he had to move back to China with his mom, and volleyball became a memory.

Until he picked it up in the final years ofmiddle school and also became the ace. The prefecture seemed to lack volleyball players. For the first time, he saw people with incredible skills, wits, and perseverance fighting one another for victory. He fought too, using his intuition to block the spiders, twisting his body in all directions, but failed to catch up to new, complex moves and strategies. Those he never learned in Aichi, those his teammates were also baffled and gave up on decoding. Except Suna. Except the persistent, annoying middle blocker who gradually reduced his jumping time and corrected his blocking until he became an actual threat in the final moments of the match. The battle for individual points between him, and the strong, bullheaded spiker. Two bulls, locking horns with one another. He lost. The ball landed on his side, and the final point belonged to Yako Junior High.

He stared at the people, no, twins, with identical and symmetrical black hair, staring at him, panting. He was panting too. He had never thought of exerting this much effort. He starts slow, and even slacks off when their team gains a comfortable score, but at the end when his team has less points, he works. Hard, persistent, his strange analytical mind in full use, never backing down, never giving in to fate. As if giving in to fate kills him, taking ever scrap of chance to win. He gets tired easily, yet has incredible stamina, able to last through 5 sets. It has been so long since he rested. Those twins must be using tricks to make him work hard, overexert himself because they thought he is easily tired from his lack of movement. They were dead wrong, because he was willing to go for another jump, forcing them to go for another jump, exhausting them out while exhausting himself too.

One of the twins, the loud setter, said:

"This one's hard ta crack, Samu."

A compliment. Suna felt weak and numb in his legs.

He fell down, body embracing the floor, arms out. Breathing, unblinking eyes staring at the high, high floor of the gymnasium. And he smiled. Exhilarating. Battling like that is exhilarating. Thinking, strategizing, competing, working with every tether of his body, everything he had. The first time he saw people play volleyball at a new level. How challenging, how diverse the number of attacks. How they elegantly outsmarts him and he cannot help but admire. He forgot time, smiling like a dork, as the twins of Yako Junior High walked away. The quiet spiker stole a glance at him anyway, staring down at him limp on the floor, smiling for no reason.

He is a lazy kid. He never felt so much love for working himself hard until he collapses, as if what he is working for is a passion. A passion, and so he realized.

For the first time (not like in year three as everyone around him assumes to be), he fell in love with volleyball.

That he still remembers. In his being, in his mind he knows, even in his muscles and flesh.

[tetragonia]

Masters of the Air x Hogwarts AU

Bucky Egan

is DEFINITELY the biggest prankster and the life of the party

will get wasted and sleep on the couch in Gryffindor's common room until McGonagall slap some senses to him at 4 pm, giving him a speech about being a Head Boy lalalalala

had a special pre-Quidditch match ritual which includes fire whisky, astronomy tower, and a special attention from a specific Hufflepuff's prefect

is very famous and (sometimes) well-respected

his Patronus is definitely either a cheetah or a lion

sometimes challenge the Fat Lady for a sing-off (you don't wanna know who wins)

thinks of the first-years as a tiny lil weaklings, but doesn't realize that many first-years idolize him

Buck Cleven

a stellar student, excels his OWLs ("What, like it's hard?"). the next Head Boy's candidate

he's like that one calm and reserve student, very handsome, good at what he does, humble and kind... so distant and unreachable

no one really gets close to him despite being all kind and smile... unless a certain Gryffindor beater

but that's another story

McGonagall always says his name as a student example

"Mr. Cleven is very bright for his age, he casts difficult spells easily..."

yes, it's true that he doesn't drink, but he silently loves to accompany someone to drink. you know

his Patronus is either a stallion or a swan...

he's very good with plants and magical creatures, obviously

Rosie Rosenthal

half of the school knows that the Head Boy title will be given to Rosie. the other half is rooting for Buck

another exemplary student, even more obvious because he's a Ravenclaw. a point-scoring machine, duh

cast his Greyhound Patronus at the first try

when he wins a Quidditch match, he always starts his speech with, "This victory wouldn't happen without a foundation of hard work and dedication from this team..."

is actually a very good Quidditch strategist and suitable for a career, although he wants to be an Auror (who doesn't?)

also doesn't drink, but very fond of a certain drink his Muggle friend smuggles, he's like addicted

it's called Coka Colla or something

Harry Crosby

oh

the Crosby

he was quite invisible during his first 3 years in Hogwarts, but when he defeated the undefeated dueler in his 4th year, he became popular

like very popular. even he's nominated to be the head of the Dueling Club

a very pretty boy... he's a bit shy, but people around him have given him tons of support

he's secretly one of Dumbledore's favorite student

Patronus is a brown hare, that's for sure. shy but not to be underestimate

doesn't play Quidditch because he has a severe air sickness... which also doesn't allow him to Apparate/Disapparate often, unfortunately