shopping with the batboys ( + bruce )
to my pineapple pizza haters: know you are valid
warnings: none | divider by @cafekitsune | requests open!
With DICK GRAYSON, the most mundane of shopping trips turns into an expedition—leaving your heart rushing and blood pounding. He shoots you a flirty wink before steadying the grip on his shopping cart. “Ready, sweetheart? Because I don’t think you are. I’ve got the bread isle memorized like the back of my—”
“Go!” You exclaim, snorting when you see the shocked expression on his face, like he wasn’t expecting you to cheat to try to beat him. Hey, he was a super-fit vigilante, how else were you going to get a head start against Nightwing? Pushing off of a rack of magazines, you let out a shout of victory as you grab the milk from the fridge. One down, two to go. You quickly place the eggs into your cart, but not before you make eye contact with your menace of a boyfriend, who smirks at you before grabbing the last bag of whole wheat bread. Damn, he really did have the bread isle memorized like the back of his hand, didn’t he?
He bats his eyelashes at you innocently, but not before flashing you a crooked grin. “I think that’s three, sweetheart. 3-2, if you know what I mean, so…” he smiles, but there’s a glint of mirth in his eyes that absolutely melts your heart.
“I’m still calling a foul. It’s your walk-in pantry, and there’s no way that you didn’t have an advantage over me.” You huff, crossing your arms, trying to replicate the cute-but-hurt puppy dog eyes that Dick seemed to have mastered.
He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Sorry, but a deal’s a deal. I mean, I guess you could go back on it, but…” he looks up at you, with those eyes that could melt even the coldest of hearts, and probably a physical ice statue as well.
“Fine,” you grumble. “We can have pineapple on your stupid pizza. Do you want cereal for dessert?” The last question is supposed to be sarcastic, but the light in his eyes shifts from mischievous to downright carnal.
“Actually, I was thinking of having something else for dessert.”
Oh, boy.
You always knew that JASON TODD was going to spoil you rotten, and that was before you found out that he could cook. It wasn’t fair, actually, that he was probably the most gorgeous, intelligent, and caring person that you knew, all while being kick-ass and super talented at… basically everything. To some, God gave in abundance. Sighing dramatically, you propped yourself on his shoulder and leaned against him with your elbows.
His eyes twinkled at your new position. “What’s wrong, princess? Tacos not your scene anymore?” He was lying, obviously, because you demolished tacos like they were your last meal and you were on death row, but you still huffed and buried your face in his bicep.
“Jus’ thinking ‘bout how fuckin’ perfect you are, Jay,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the muscle that somehow managed to stay defined under a leather jacket. “You’re really awesome, you know that? I’ve never met someone as amazing as you. They should put a picture of you up at the Met—‘cause you’re a work of art, baby.”
It’s obvious that he’s holding back laughter, from the way that his broad shoulders are shaking, but something inspires him to keep entertaining this though. Probably your endless supply of charm. “Yeah, babe? I knew you wanted me just for my pretty face.” It’s interesting, honestly, how his relationship with you made him more comfortable with… all parts of himself.
You slap his chest, (not that it does anything), a s pout, your brows furrowed. “You’re not funny.” He send you a soft smile, something that should be uncharacteristic for a man of his size, but it works on you, like it usually does.
He presses his lips together before hoisting you up onto an empty display, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and out of your face. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m pretty.” Within a minute of staring at your unamused face, he’s howling in laughter, snickering to himself like he’s the comedian of the year.
And without a moment of warning, you’re sealing his lips with a kiss, sending a tingle all the way to the tips of your fingers, and he’s parting his lips to deepen it even further. His hands palm just above your ass, and you gaze at him with half-lidded eyes, softly running your thumb over his rough cheek, and it feels like paradise until—
“Hey! I thought this was a roommates only grocery trip?”
You and Jason both roll your eyes at the voice, and with varying levels of intensity, reply in unison.
“Shut up, Roy!”
Nothing made you shiver like the husky, low voice of BRUCE WAYNE whispering in your ear from behind you. It was an action that sent your poor heart into overdrive, but here, in this shop that was clearly out of your tax bracket (they had mannequins for diamond embellished puppy collars, for God’s sake) it was as if he was doing it just to show that you were at his mercy.
Not a bad place to be, if you thought about it.
“Try on the dress,” his voice is baritone, and he isn’t using his usual, suave business tone. No, this is the voice he uses when he wants something, and when he’s sure that he’s going to get it. It was like a spell was cast on you, and all you wanted to do was exactly what he said. You weren’t sure you really needed a spell for that anyway.
But still, you hesitated. The dress in question was an Oscar de la Renta mermaid cut gown, in pitch black, no doubt matching Bruce’s own personal aesthetic. The only hesitation? The price. You balked instantly when you glanced at the bill for the first time. Shit, you knew that a custom made dress that didn’t even have a tag on it would be more than your yearly rent. “It’s… 15,000 dollars! Bruce, I can’t accept this.”
He frowned, making you notice the soft wrinkles starting to appear on his face. God, that man took way too much stress for his own good. You’d tried warning against it, but when did he ever listen to anyone but himself (and Alfred)?
“Pocket change, darling. And it’s your first gala, I don’t want you to be wearing something you’ve worn before.” He lightly rubs his fingers against your waist, a promise of something else to come once you accept.
“It’s…” you look down. “It’s a lot. Are you sure?”
“Never been surer. Now, why don’t you look at matching jewelry?”
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Sweet Girl
Summary: Miguel isn’t all that excited about you joining spider society, so why and how does he enter a spiral of maddening obsession?
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
Miguel POV. Obsessed Miguel. Soft/inexperienced reader. Pining.
This is more an of an introduction to my current series Frustration. You don’t have to read the first 3 parts to enjoy this.
Miguel crossed his arms as he stood on the lowered platform.
He was waiting.
And he hated being kept waiting.
Tense minutes went by until a swirling flash of light tore through the space continuum right in front of him.
Jessica Drew stepped out first, followed closely by Peter B. Parker.
And you.
You seemed so out of it, that Miguel wondered how a spider person could have been this badly affected by a mere dimensional travel.
As you tumbled out of the portal, you immediately lurched forward. “Oh, I’m going to be sick.”
Without further warning, you emptied the content of your stomach onto the floor.
Amazing.
Arching an eyebrow, he glared at Jess who was patting your back reassuringly.
“It’s her first time, Miguel,” she frowned lightly, helping you straighten up.
Peter offered you a tissue. “Oh, I remember my first time. My intestines were not the same for a week, and I do-”
Miguel immediately cut him off, not at all interested in hearing about Peter Parker’s bowl movements. “Welcome to Nueva York,” he stepped out of the platform, extending his hand to you. “I’m Miguel O’Hara.”
You cleared your throat and shook his hand. “So… you’re the boss.”
“I’m the boss.”
Miguel saw your eyes scanning him him up and down, widening slightly. “You’re… big.”
Peter snorted and Jessica chuckled.
But he could only roll his eyes. “You’ll eventually get used to your portal jumps.”
You scanned the room with curious eyes. “That portal really needs stabilisation,” you then mumbled, adjusting your suit. “The motion sickness…”
He scoffed. “You’re a spider-woman. I’m sure you can manage motion sickness.”
“Well… it’s not the same as swinging around in your web,” you retorted with a light shrug.
Jessica patted your shoulder. “That’s why we recruited you. Your intel might be able to helps us with some of these… instabilities.”
You immediately smiled brightly. “Oh, sure! I can’t wait to get started. This place looks so cool.”
Miguel groaned inwardly. Amateurs.
He had scanned your file thoroughly and had been against your recruitment initially, but Jess had brought up valid points in your favour, despite the fact that you had only been bitten less than six months ago.
Inexperienced and ambitious.
These two hardly ever worked together, but your vast knowledge in tech compounds had made him give Jess the benefit of the doubt.
“Follow me. I’ll have to draw blood to run some tests and Lyla here will fill you in later on other procedures.”
The hologram popped in obnoxiously by your shoulder. “If he asks nicely, that is.”
Your mouth dropped open in absolute bewilderment. “Woah! AI? That is really, really awesome!”
“Thank you, pumpkin,” she grinned with a wink.
Miguel paced through the long halled that stretched out towards Lab 1, with you following close by, as Peter and Jess flanked you.
From the corner of his eye, he saw you glaring out of the tall windows, completely transfixed by the the countless skyscrapers that sprawled out as far as the eye could see.
“You built this?” your voice echoed in sheer wonder.
“Yes.”
“All of this?”
“Miguel is really gifted with technology,” Peter chimed in proudly.
“Woah…”
That tingled his ego nicely.
As the four of you walked inside the lab, the surrounding spiders at work glanced over, voicing their greetings.
“Take a seat.”
You immediately did as he said with Jessica standing next to you, hand on your shoulder.
Miguel put his gloves on and readied the material for the blood testing.
“Give me your arm.”
“So you’re a tech guy…” you started, and he gripped your forearm, rolled the sleeve of your suit up with fingers probing for a vein. “What else?”
“A geneticist.”
“Nice! So you’re like a two for one type of deal?”
Once he found what he was looking for, he aligned the tube with your skin. “This will sting a bit.”
Before you could reply, you let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion.
“And you work at the lab, too?”
“Do you always ask so many questions?” Miguel said, waiting for the tube to fill in.
You nodded with a warm smile. “I just like to know what I’m getting myself into.”
You had no idea, but Miguel was testing you, trying to gather as much of your personality as he could. He enjoyed piecing people together like puzzles. It stroked his sense of control.
“I thought Jessica had briefed you.”
“I did,” she immediately said.
“Yet you’re the one drawing my blood,” you chirped happily, your eyes fixed on his.
Well, maybe you had an idea.
Miguel felt the corner of his lips turn into a faint smile.
Good.
He needed perceptive people around.
He pulled away from from you slightly and pressed a cotton pad to the small puncture.
Sliding open one of the drawers nearby, he grabbed a watch, never letting go of your arm.
“This is a dimensional travel watch,” he explain, snapping it snugly around your wrist. “Keep it with you at all times.”
He let go of you and you seized the moment to inspect it closer, fascination never leaving your face.
“Let me guess… you also built this,” you said with a chuckle, pressing on the screen a few times.
He reached out his hand to stop you. “This is not a toy. Lyla will inform you on how to properly use it.”
You nodded firmly.
“Welcome to spider society.”
It didn’t take long for Miguel to start walking in on you sleeping in the lab.
For the fourth time.
He was all too familiar with the riveting excitement that came with scientific progress that often led to many sleepless nights.
But he still couldn’t allow this to keep happening.
Halting a few inches away from you, he took a moment to access the situation: you sat hunched over the lab table, head resting on folded arms and a string of drool dangling from the corner of your mouth.
A heavy sigh parted his lips.
He tapped his foot once on the leg of your chair, causing you to jolt upright with a yelp, nearly falling back from the loss of balance as the chair swayed dangerously.
But Miguel was fast enough to prevent that by steadying you with a firm grip on your shoulder. You then leaned forward, panting and clutching at your chest.
“Good morning.”
You turned your head to stare at him, deep bags under your eyes and sleep lines covering your face. “Miguel! Oh — hi! I’m… oh my… that was such a scare!”
His crimson eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s the fourth time this week.”
Trying to regain some composure, you straightened your clothes and wiped the string of drool trailing down your chin with the back of your hand.
“Right. I was… uh…” you paused abruptly and looked around, as if momentarily disoriented. “Oh. Yeah! I am — was working on running some diagnostics and must have dozed off waiting for the results… and-”
He clicked his tongue and spun your chair around, effectively silencing you, his eyes boring into yours. “This isn’t going to happen again. You need to rest.”
You swallowed. “I was resting…”
Miguel didn’t have neither the patience nor the time for this.
“You need proper rest,” he pressed on with a scowl. “Jessica scouted you for a reason, and if you’re too sleep-deprived to work, you’re of no use to us.”
You broke eye contact with him, lowering your head. “I’m sorry…”
The sincerity in your voice took him slightly aback, and he relaxed his face, wondering if he had perhaps been too harsh.
You were chewing on your lip, staring down at your entwined hands.
He had no idea why, but his heart skipped a beat.
Probably stress.
“Look,” he tried again, softer this time. “I know what it’s like to want more. To do more. I’ve been there,” he then crouched, so he could eye-level with you. “But you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. We have time to figure this out.”
You looked to the side, hesitating at first. “I… was talking to other spiders and some mentioned they feel the side effects of motion sickness if they use the portal more than twice a day,” you went on with newfound confidence, gripping the pad on the table and lighting up the screen. “I’m close to getting the chips to work and ther-”
Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop. Stop.”
You did.
“What part of me saying you need to sleep didn’t you understand?”
“I don’t mind sacrificing a few nights of sleep if it means I can help other spiders,” you said, a flash of defiance crossing your eyes. “Seriously, Miguel. I need to get this done… I need it.”
Miguel’s strictness shattered.
He then saw a reflection of himself staring right at him.
So much of your determination and persistence reminded him of his early days as a scientist. The struggle, the hunger for results, the need to achieve something that could help so many…
“I know you’re looking out for me,” you went on, placing one hand on his shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze. “And I’m grateful, but science and progress don’t wait. I know I can be helpful, so let me.”
For the first time in a very long time, Miguel O’Hara was left speechless.
“Please don’t fire me,” you laughed nervously.
He blinked a couple of times and stared down at his watch.
6:14AM
“You can come back in twelve hours.”
Your eyes widened in sheer excitement, lips parting into a wide smile.
He quicky lifted one finger. “If you try to sneak in, I’ll know.”
Your smile faltered, as he saw right through your intentions.
“And I’ll have you sent back to your dimension faster than you can say Nueva York. Got it?”
You lifted one hand in a salute and nodded.
He scowled. “And… stop hanging around Hobie.”
Dropping your hand, you bolted forward from your chair to hug him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. ���Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
The sudden motion nearly caused him to topple over and you immediately let go of him, as he rose to his full height again.
“Oh! Sorry!” you stepped away, patting his arm apologetically.
He blinked.
Then, grabbing your pad, you began tapping rapidly. “I’m uploading all the data to your watch, so please take a look.”
He blinked again.
You gathered your backpack and threw him a final warm smile. “If you find anything important, please let me know!”
Miguel nodded curtly, but remained rooted in place, as you hurried across the lab and past the sliding door.
His heart skipped a beat for the second time that day.
Then it dawned on him: the last person who had hugged him had been Gabriella.
Miguel should probably call himself a hypocrite.
He was heavily against you or any other spider dozing off in the lab, but he had been indulging in this quite often as of late.
By the time he rose from his slumber, and sat back on his padded chair, he realised something soft had been placed around his shoulders.
He tugged on it and was met with a blanket covered in tiny prints of Peter B. Parker’s face.
This was definitely Mayday’s.
“What…” he drawled out, blinking a few times to adjust his eyes to the brightness that poured in from the windows.
The clock on the wall marked nine in the morning.
He stared down at his desk to find a handwritten note next to a plate of… empanadas?
“Hi~
wanted to wake you up, but you were sleeping so soundly and I didn’t want to disturb you. I found Mayday’s blankie on my lab desk — I suspect Hobie is sneaking her around to pull a prank on me hehe xOx
P.S. Jess told me you like empanadas, so I tried making some for you. Hope you like them~ (I’m crossing my fingers)
P.S. 2 You need proper rest :)”
You.
It had been you.
He glared at the plate containing the pastries, and grabbed one.
His heightened senses allowed him to immediately get flooded with an overwhelming delicious smell.
Taking a bite, he fluttered his eyes shut, allowing the overwhelming combination of flavours to take over.
It tasted so, so good.
It tasted like home.
He rose to his feet and walked out, scanning the lab for traces of you.
But he was met with Jessica instead who had just walked in.
“Oh, you look terrible.”
He swallowed what was left in his mouth. “Thanks.”
Her gaze dropped to your hand. “Oh! Did she make those for you?”
“Uh… yes.”
He felt ridiculous for having mumbled it like that.
The two of them paced along the corridors and into Lab 2, where you were sitting, back turned to them, visibly engrossed in your tasks.
“How’s she been doing?”
He took another bite. “Good. She’s persistent and focused. Those are good traits to have in this field.”
“She reminds me of yourself.”
Miguel wasn’t surprised in the slightest, because it was an undeniable fact.
“Hopefully, she won’t make the same mistakes I did.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll make some along the way,” she shrugged casually. “And she’ll learn from them, as you did.”
Miguel kept his gaze fixed on you and felt a strange need arise in him.
To look after you.
He took the last bite and savoured it in silence, as Jessica eyed him curiously.
“She really is a sweet girl,” she ended up saying lovingly. “She asked me what your comfort food was.”
Sweet girl.
He let the name replay in his head, and determined he liked the sound of it. It was fitting.
“Go on. Say it.”
Miguel arched an eyebrow at this. “Say what?”
Jess threw him a smug look. “That I was right for recruiting her. That you were wrong.”
In truth, Miguel hated having to admit to his mistakes, and it wasn’t even related to his ego or inability to take criticism.
As he had come to learn the hard way, his mistakes would usually lead to catastrophic consequences.
But when it came to you, he had no problem admitting he had been in the wrong. You had proved to be quite capable of handling a multitude of tasks.
… and now you were starting to grow on him.
“Yes. You were right, Jessica,” he mumbled, his eyes fixed on you. “She really is… something.”
She patted his back a few times. “Are you turning into a softie, Miguel?”
He scowled. “No.”
“Go ahead and thank her, then,” she said with a smile.
Miguel didn’t like being told what to do. He had every intention of letting you know he was grateful for your efforts.
But it had to be in his own way.
He parted ways with Jess and mad his way to you.
“Hey.”
You turned in your chair, bearing that kind smile he had grown so accustomed to. “Hi! You’re awake.”
“Cearly,” he grumbled with a shrug.
“Did you like the empanadas?”
He nodded. “They tasted amazing. Thank you.”
Like home.
“Great!” you beamed, your smile never wavering. “You looked really adorable while sleeping. Sorry for not waking you up.”
Adorable…?
He felt a lump form in his throat. Your energy was contagious, and he considered embracing it.
But he didn’t want to cave in…
He was a stubborn man by nature.
But he also didn’t want you to think he was too cold and distant like many in Nueva York thought.
“I want to show you something,” he said, tapping on his watch.
You waited expectantly and the screen in front of your flickered momentarily before a video started playing.
File: Gabriella.006
He didn’t even bother staring at the screen. He already knew by heart its content, and he didn’t want to revist the pain today.
No.
His eyes were fixed on you, instead.
He knew Lyla had already mentioned the event that led to him deciding to protect the multiverse.
He knew you knew of Gabriella.
Of what he had done.
Your smile dropped as the video went on, even though the sound of giggles and splashing water echoed around you.
“I’m not showing you this for you to feel bad for me.”
You shook your head, parting your eyes from the screen. “That didn’t even cross my mind.”
He paused the video.
“Right.”
Your eyes held kindness and your voice became softer. “I know why you’re showing this to me.”
He highly doubted it, but he waited for you to go on.
“We take care of each other here,” you began, twirling your chair to fully face bim. “And that means being open to showing vulnerabilities.”
He remained silent, digesting your words.
“Am I wrong?”
Partially, but he wouldn’t tell you that. The justification he had settled for in his head didn’t come close to your own.
And his heart skipped a beat.
He grown used to it happening whenever around you, but this time it felt more alarming.
More urgent.
“Miguel?”
You were eyeing him with concern, your hand reaching out to touch his arm.
He snapped out of his thoughts, and took a step back. “Send me the files you were working on yesterday. I need to check the coding.”
You gave him a nod, and he saw understanding soften your expression. He had expected you to press him on for an answer, but he was grateful you hadn’t.
“Oh, and… thank you, again. For… you know…” he drawled out as he ran a hand through his hair.
“You got it, Miguel,” you said, smiling sweetly.
Sweet girl.
His sweet girl.
It took Miguel one week to start dreaming about you.
At first, it would be a conglomerate of nonsensical blobs with your face or voice here and there. But as days went by, some began to take shape.
Your shape.
Nowadays, it would be your face and voice that would keep him company after tiring missions.
He had gotten quite fond of it.
Until things took a turn.
And he would wake up with a throbbing ache in between his legs, begging for relief.
That was when he knew he was letting his admiration for you get the best of him.
As he rose from his bed and walked to the tall window in his bedroom, he saw the sun lighting up the horizon line, bathing Nueva York in rays of orange and yellow.
He had built all of this in the hopes of a better future.
But now he started longing for one that had you in it somehow.
As a fellow spider.
A fellow scientist.
A friend, even.
He squinted as his sensitive eyes became increasingly sore from the intense light, so he moved to his bedside table and grabbed the peace of paper you had left him days ago.
Your handwriting mirrored your personality: graceful and captivating.
Maybe he should have tossed it away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.
Walking into his living room, he booted up the screens on the wall.
There was this crescendo inside him that urged him to look for you.
He tapped through various sections of the lan, but he found you near the refrigeration area, tapping on your chin with a pencil, as you glared at the screens in front of you.
He wanted to call you.
To hear your voice first thing in the morning.
To commend you for being up so early already and committing to your duties.
Suddenly, he saw your lips turn into a soft knowing smile, and he knew you must have figured something out.
Of course you had.
Your perception and tenacity were unmatched.
As much as he wanted to talk to you, he decided against it.
In his mind, he was too undeserving of anything more than a friendship with you.
He convinced himself that he was not good enough, and that he was meant to watch you from afar.
You were just like a flame. Too close and it burns. Too far away and it freezes.
He grazed his thumb across the screen, close to you.
His sweet, sweet girl.
It would be better off this way. Not for him, of course. He was already in too deep. But it would be better for you.
You deserved better.
But he still craved you.
Miguel recognised the feeling that was started to seep into his heart and mind. He had almost forgotten how suffocating that felt.
He couldn’t tear his eyes from your face.
He couldn’t tear his heart from your hold.
The level of despair was unmistakable and he knew exactly what this feeling was.
Frustration.
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HERE TO SEND YOU BLUELOCK HEAD CANNONS! >:D
Can you do headcannons of the guys and how they would be like if they were teaching us how to play soccer? Hope this is interesting for you ^^, if you're interested to make them thanks in advance!
TEACHING YOU SOCCER?!
featuring: michael kaiser. itoshi rin. oliver aiku. isagi yoichi. bachira meguru.
n. yees darling, i was invested to write this (it's a challenging one because i don't really play soccer myself). hope i nailed it though, thank you to u too <3
MICHAEL KAISER. "nice shot!" kaiser exclaimed, clapping you on the back. "but don't get too cocky, mein liebling."
"learned from the best, i guess," you teased, nodding toward kaiser. "after all, my boyfriend's the world's number one striker, hmm?"
kaiser's eyes widened in mock surprise, a beam spreading across his face. "well, when you put it that way," he said, puffing out his chest with pride and sliding back his golden locks. "i suppose i am pretty amazing."
"ah, but if i'm the world's number one striker," he continued, trying to tease you with words, "then that must mean you have to kneel before me, right?"
you lifted an eyebrow, unable to stop snickering at his exaggerated claim. "huh, is that so?" playing along with his joke. "i guess i'll have to remember to bow down to the soccer king himself."
the guy grinned, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. "that's more like it," now his voice filled with mock superiority, typical kaiser. "but don't worry, i'll be a generous king."
ITOSHI RIN. "fine, i'll try my best, but just so you know, i'm not really good at teaching," rin confessed, feeling apologetic because he’s not used to teaching others. and now, his girlfriend wants to learn how to play soccer.
rin took a deep breath, trying to muster up some confidence as he began to explain the basics of dribbling. "uh, alright, first, dribbling. just try to keep the ball close to your feet for now," he instructed, a bit hesitant.
"oi, dont look at me, look at the ball," he reminded you. "sorry," you chuckled, truly didn't realize you weren't paying attention. come on, just look at him. "if i’m being honest, you look really hot like this," you teased, but, it’s true though!
rin's cheeks flushed slightly at your comment, but he quickly regained his composure. "focus," he replied. though there was a hint of annoyance, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at rin's face as he continued to give you instructions, his cheeks flushed slightly from your earlier comment.
suddenly, rin's voice broke through your reverie, snapping you back to reality. "i said focus!"
OLIVER AIKU. "keep your eye on the ball and follow through with your kick," aiku instructed while you attempted to pass the ball to him.
even when you struggled or made mistakes, aiku remained patient and supportive, offering gentle guidance to help you improve. "try to angle your foot a bit more next time," he suggested, as you missed the mark with your pass. "you're doing great, sweetie. just keep practicing."
by the end of the session, you were exhausted but thankful for aiku's patience and support. he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, a proud smile on his lips.
"you're making progress, sweetie," he soothed, genuine and affectionate. "with a little more practice, you'll beat me out here."
BACHIRA MEGURU. "okaaay, let's start with some dribbling drills," he said, bachira was overjoyed since this meant he had another friend to play soccer with. "try to keep the ball under control as you move around me, kaay?"
you nodded, determined to give it your best shot. as you began to dribble the ball, you stumbled a bit, but bachira was quick to offer a push. "nice job, baby! you're getting the hang of it," he cheered, clapping his hands in support.
with each effort, you gained confidence and dribbled past bachira with greater ease. bachira congratulated you on your small wins every time you successfully escaped him. "woah, that was awesome! baby, i’m so happy!" he exclaimed, giving you a high-five.
"great effort, babes! keep it up, and you'll get it," he encouraged, his words filling you with determination. “lets keep playing together!”
ISAGI YOICHI. "hey, it's okay," isagi said gently, stepping closer to you. "here, let me show you."
he moved behind you and gently guided your legs into the correct position, his touch firm yet gentle. "see? keep your body low and your touches light," he explained, moving your legs in rhythm with the ball. "you've got this, angel.”
with isagi's guidance, you began to feel more confident, dribbling the ball with increasing control. whenever you made a mistake, your boyfriend always offered gentle correction and encouragement.
"nice try, but try to keep the ball closer to your feet," he would say, his tone encouraging. "like this," demonstrating the correct form before guiding your legs to mimic his movements.
@uzurakis
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